#i wonder if maybe i should have been listening to audiobooks all along

[menkhu]

wait. ok. hold on.

[cailynwrites]

Harry Potter Rec Fest Day 13 - Over 100K

I so appreciate the dedication that it takes for someone to write over 100K words; I think even my M.A. thesis topped out at 30K (with much academic padding). I've read a ton of long fics so there's probably some recency bias here for @hprecfest day 13, but I've also tried to share a couple different pairings ...

Blood Magic (Podfic) written and read by houseofthehebrideanblcks and thestralsofspinnersend Pairing: Draco x Harry Word count: 334,676 Length: 33:05:11 Rating: E

@thistlecatfics already said all the things about this fic in their recommendation for the podfic the other day, and said it in a much lovelier and more eloquent way than I ever could. I guess I came at it from a different perspective though - as someone who is very lucky to feel not too traumatized by life or struggling with addiction or mental health (not a brag, just context), I got to see inside the brains of people like that and feel great empathy for them. Isn't that what art should do - put you in the shoes of different people and make you see the world differently? This is a slow, beautiful story of down-and-out Draco AND Harry heading toward something like peace and love, but it's a long road to get there. Also featuring endlessly patient counselor Luna, supportive Ron & Hermione, and lots of magical creatures.

The podfic is also really well done. The authors recorded it as a podcast originally. If the 33 hour single file on InternetArchive isn't really your speed, you can get the podcast version here, which includes their commentary after each chapter. Maybe not for everyone, but I found it interesting as a companion piece to hear their writing process and talk about trauma, treatment, and recovery in their own lives.

Choice and Chance by @chaoticcrumpets (Podfic by @etl-echo-audiobooks) Pairing: Draco x Hermione Word count: 116,972 Length: almost 10 hours Rating: M

This fic is so interesting. I had gotten a little burned out on Dramione before listening to this fic and this fully resparked my interest. I don't want to give too much away, but it's a mystery, a time travel adventure, and a romance. All the characterizations are very real, even though there might be more than one characterization of some of the characters. Can I use character more times in one sentence? Ah, and the twist at the end!!! *Chef's kiss*

Sweater Weather written by @lumosinlove (Podfic by @itsaash & cast) Pairing: Wolfstar, other adorable OC pairings and more! Word count: 156,108 Length: 15:23:00 Rating: E

I didn't think a hockey AU would be for me, even though I kinda like hockey. I was tempted by the prospect of Everyone Lives (TM) and I'm so grateful for it. This fic is beautiful, the development of all the characters, both canon and original, is incredible. I laughed, I cried, I gasped, I sighed, and when I was done, I wanted to start reading it all over again. At the time, it was newly finished and a sequel was on the way. I've been waiting for a nice vacation or sick day to reread it and its sequel, Vaincre. @lumosinlove has created a wonderful world and I just want to see the characters play around in it forever. I haven't listened to the podfic, but I'd encourage everyone to give it a shot!

************************************************************************

This one barely counts as a self-rec because I'm really just gushing about the author ...

Way Down We Go by @xiaq Podfic read by Cailynwrites (with @etl-echo-audiobooks) with beautiful album art by @abrilas-art Pairing: Draco x Harry Word count: 109,767 Length: 13 hours Rating: T

If you had asked me the ratings of my two out of three of my favorite novel-length Drarry fics yesterday, I wouldn't have thought the answer would be T, but apparently it is. This story, along with Away Childish Things, rewired my brain. I love the pace, I love the development of both boys' characters, I love the ancillary characters both old and new. It's just a perfectly told story. Although I should be encouraging you to go listen to my podfic on AO3 or Spotify, I can definitely also recommend the reading experience. Don't skip the adorable author's notes containing the adventures of the author's dog and grad school woes (relatable).

If you want to get a taste for the podfic before diving in, try this snippet or this one.

[scumtrout]

I'm listening to an audiobook of The Bigamist while working, and from the sounds of it, the author had a lot of things go right in her life (e.g. her job history sounds interesting). and I wonder to what extent this influenced her willingness to believe the lies of her sketchy boyfriend.

If I had someone turn up and say 'oh yeah occasionally I flake out on you because I'm SECRETLY WORKING FOR THE CIA', then this would be so far outside the realm of plausibilty for me that I'd tell them to fuck off, because I do not expect to encounter Secret Agent Man in the course of my life. (However, I do expect to encounter people who tell grandiose lies and string you along for money and/or attention.) But if it's BAU to meet interesting, well-paid, well-connected people, then I can see how someone might think, 'hey, I suppose this guy who says he's a CIA employee could be telling the truth about that'.

That said, I do wonder if her desperation for a relationship was a bigger factor, because... Say someone tells me they work for the CIA, and I believe them. My next concern is then, 'oh fuck, what kind of problems will this create? Maybe I should treat this as a dealbreaker?', not 'well I'm sure a relationship will be COMPLETELY FINE, then!'

I'm once again reminded of how the people who fall for cons and cults are meant to generally be intelligent, hard-working, and financially stable (although god I can't cite the studies that give credence to this) and I do wonder about how... If you have a certain number of things go right for you (e.g. you've been conditioned to think there's a strong correlation between hard work and reward), then you can end up with a worldview where you expect this trend to continue indefinitely, and all a con artist has to do is nurture that worldview.

[livingasaghost]

i have soooo much editing and life admin to do and yet i spent most of the afternoon annotating villains and reading caesar monologues help

was under the impression i'm disconnected from most of my friends (still believe this is the case) but have now reached the conclusion that i just....don't have enough friends these days! mostly in person tho, long distance is another beast that i don't have the capacity to think on especially bc most of my friends are just supremely busy at this time of year so i can't really ask them to make more of an effort and i don't even have the brainpower to make more of an effort myself so it's a wash

but when i was texting my friend about it the other day she literally was just like ....you're being too hard on yourself you're a good friend so. there's that

grief day was actually fine yesterday (aside from work being on fire metaphorically) but when i made myself do yoga before bed i had a nice little cry sesh over how hard 2017 was like damn it was rough!

been mourning 2019 today for some reason......

i miss a lot of the friends i used to have back then ):

i miss when i had friends to hang out with actually

i miss living down the street from laura (always)

like imagine if we could climb on the weekends and get food during the week wahhhh

speaking of ! i have concluded that i'm back in a disordered eating era.....which means i don't want to prep food and i really have no interest in eating although i know i need to and i am hungry....which is a bad place to be!!! because i need to be eating protein if i'm gonna keep climbing but alas i just cannot bring myself to eat much

i'm not....depressed per se, like i do think i feel mostly okay but self-care is rough right now and i don't know how to connect with anybody and it's very frustrating

reading is still going good i guess but i'm in the middle of THREE books now because i couldn't bring myself to read the last 20% of discord of gods and i'm stuck in my grief non-fic audiobook so.......who knows what read #100 will be!

i'm stuck on what i should say to ml rio when i meet her next month like how am i supposed to tell her this is one of the greatest books of all time

i was supposed to go shopping today for clothes for the rehearsal dinner and deadass just....didn't. because shopping for nice clothes is so stressful mainly because i do not want to wear a dress but i don't know where to find another jumpsuit/regular suit and i should've just gotten my mint suit tailored but now it's too late unless i wanna pay a fuckton of money and i do wonder how much of this is related to gender stuff in my brain.....problem for another day!

i have a video shoot tomorrow and i am soooo anxious about it

it's like i don't feel bad but i don't feel good and i wanna fast forward to when i'm with laura again and i wanna fast forward to us going to pnw because i do think that trip will fix me!!!! we're just gonna take photos and go hiking and eat yummy food and watch things at midnight and listen to music in the car and maybe i'll just cry because we've been hoping to do this trip since we were in high school and now we're turning thirty and she's getting married and neither of us is probably gonna publish the books we worked so hard on in the pandemic but we're still here and we have seen each other so many times this year and every thing always always comes back to laura for me and god i just miss her so much )))):

*lizzo voice* ANYWAY...

OH AND ALSO! i think i've been screaming/singing too much on my commutes because i started getting this weird JAW PAIN? and my vocal cords are mad at me a little??? like damn sorry i wanted to sing along to daddy i love him wHATEVER....

[adeniverville]

My relationship with writing has been complicated at best in recent times. Before 2020, I'd been trucking along, steadily increasing my speed and rate of production. But then everything changed.

First, there was the pandemic. My concentration really took a hit during the lockdowns, as I'm sure it did for a lot of people. I started out strong, writing and reading and crafting so much, but as time wore on and the endlessness of the situation sunk in, doing any sort of "productive" thing beyond my job was way too much.

In addition, I had a book released in 2020 (or was it 2021??) where the sales just tanked. My previous book had done well, considering it was an indie release, and I'd banked on my readers coming back. They didn't. The first full month after the book was released, I had 0 sales. I was devastated.

I think one of those things happening would've slowed me down for a bit, but both at once? It was a huge hit. I couldn't do anything. I used to love writing. Basically any moment I wasn't at work or with friends, I'd be writing. But those days were suddenly gone.

Over time, I got back into writing. At first, I wrote just for my own amusement, things outside my genre or things I'd never publish professionally. That helped quite a bit. But when I felt I "should" go back to working on my novels I'd abandoned during COVID, after taking a several-year break, it was very hard to do so. I thought carving some time out for writing would help me get back into the swing of things, but all it really did was make me feel like writing was a job.

And in a lot of ways, it is a job. I have published novels, after all! But the thing was, it never felt like a job. It felt more like a hobby I got paid to do. Now, suddenly, I couldn't bear to do what came so naturally.

I wondered if maybe my time as a published author was coming to an end. If I wasn't finding joy from it anymore, maybe it was time to pack it in and just collect the pocket change from my backlist. But I wanted to at least finish the things I'd started working on, then make my decision.

I sent a finished manuscript to an editor to help me prepare it for publication. I'd already made revisions years ago, there wasn't much left to do. I also hoped it would give me motivation to work on the other finished (much rougher) manuscript I had.

Unfortunately, the rush of publishing my 3rd novel wasn't enough to motivate me. I worked on my revisions, but it was a constant uphill battle, and I had to force myself to sit down and work on it. When I published it, my close friends and family purchased it and enjoyed it, and that reassured me. I decided to produce an audiobook despite the low sales. I liked the process of making an audiobook for my first novel, and I thought this one would make for a good audiobook too.

Then, as I was reviewing the audiobook, something clicked.

I don't know what it was, but as I was listening to my words read back to me, I began to feel that spark again. I started remembering all these old ideas I'd had, and I felt excited about writing them down. Those feelings even extended to my document I needed to revise, and I've been working on it ever since. I even wanted to work on it while I was doing my regular job, which I haven't felt in a long time.

I think it helped to hear my words read by someone else, to hear their interpretation. It was like I was reading the story for the first time entirely. I didn't feel the need to pick out my mistakes or things I should've changed. I could just sit and enjoy it.

Maybe all I needed was a fresh perspective on the whole thing. Maybe I just needed more time. Whatever it is, I'm glad to be mostly back in the swing of things. I hope this lasts. And if it doesn't, I think I'll be okay with it. I can wait for my writing brain to come back, if I need to. It'll all be fine.

[kiingocreative]

I recently listened to the audiobook version of Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert. I’d read the book a while back, but I fancied immersing myself in it again, and what better way to do it than by listening to it (especially when it’s so well narrated, by Liz Gilbert herself).

I’d been going through an odd phase in my writing journey. My new book was with BETA readers. I had a somewhat steady stream of blog articles and beta reading reports that kept me busy. I had the first two pages of a novel that I’d written on the plane on my way to Greece last September, but hadn’t touched again because I didn’t really know where to take things from there.

All in all, it had been a while since I’d written something just because I wanted to, rather than because there was a need for it. I’d gotten a little bit out of balance of late. I’d sort of assumed that, when creativity stroke, I’d start writing my own stories again.

And so I waited. And waited. And waited…

A Two-Way Street

Listening to Big Magic reminded me of something crucial: that you can’t keep waiting for your writing to show up for you, if you’re not ready to show up for your writing in the first place. I can very well picture my creativity crossing her arms and throwing me a sidelong look, thinking ‘dude, if you’re not really committed to this, why should I even bother to tag along?’

It’s a two-way street, and I’d been treating it as though I could just wait, distract myself with other things, and see what happened without taking any steps of my own. By this time in my writing journey, I should have known better, but it’s easy to fall into those traps every once in a while, even when you know exactly what they are and what you should do to avoid them.

Whilst this article isn’t an advert for Big Magic, I will say that reading the book, and listening to it recently unblocked a lot of things for me, creativity-wise. It helped me reconnect with the source of it all, it reminded me of what it’s all about. It made me pick up those two lone pages of my new novel and give them some proper TLC.

And, it made rethink some of the ways in which I’d been regarding and treating my writing that simply needed to change.

Be the Spokesperson for your Writing

I don’t know about you, but I struggle speaking up for my writing. It feels almost embarrassing. Like I’m bragging or singing my own praises. I could go to war for another writer’s book that I loved, screaming about it on every platform I can. But doing the same thing for my own work? Not a chance.

I know I’m not alone in this, because I’ve had this conversation with fellow writers, and they confessed to the same thing.

…How crazy is that?

There again, in comes Big Magic and the concept that creatives are merely a vessel for their creativity. That you aren’t your creativity, and neither do you own your creativity. Your creativity comes and goes, looking for the right partner at the right time to make some magic happen. Just like any collaboration or relationship we keep, if we’re not supportive of our creativity, would it really want to stick around and do all the work for us? For a while, maybe, if our creativity finds itself in the mood to cut us some slack. But not forever. Definitely not forever.

I’ve found the idea of dissociating myself from my writing in that way helpful. Because then, if I’m going to war for my writing or screaming about it on every platform I can, it’s no longer about me singing my own praises, it’s about me speaking up for this great partner I have, this amazing collaboration with my creativity, and the wonderful magic we’re making together. It’s me celebrating the beauty we came together to make. It’s not bragging, it’s taking pride in the work creativity and I do together.

Now, should I learn to be able to speak up for myself and my work regardless of whether creativity happens to be by my side? Yes. A hundred per cent, yes. But, one step at a time. For now, this is helping me overcome this huge impostor syndrome I get every time I talk about my writing, because it’s much harder to feel like a fraud when you’re singing your partner’s praises rather than your own.

Be your Writing’s Very Own Patron

One thing that’s been bothering me is that I don’t live off my writing. I simply don’t make enough money out of my writing endeavours to lead the life I want to lead. And, for a long that’s something I’ve found frustrating.

…Until I came across this passage in Big Magic in which Elizabeth Gilbert says something like this (and I’m massively paraphrasing, here): Why on earth would you put that kind of pressure on yourself and on your writing? Why would you demand that your writing support all your financial needs? Why would you risk suffocating it to the point that it may one day desert you?

By having a job that pays for your bills, your mortgage, your groceries, your coffee beans and your pets’ kibble, you take away the need for your writing to be the main breadwinner in your relationship. You create space for it to breathe and to do what it does best: to show up for you, unencumbered, so you can do some incredible work together.

So what if your day job has nothing to do with writing? If it pays for the space you need to write in, isn’t that sufficient? If it pays for your peace of mind so you don’t have to stress about money, isn’t it all that’s required? Of course, we’d all like to write a bestseller that takes care of us for life, but realistically, the chances of that happening to most people are slim. And what would that be saying to our creativity? It’d be like entering a new collaboration and saying to your partner, before work’s even begun: ‘listen, you seem nice, so I’ll give it to you straight. I’m in this for the big bucks. If you don’t have what it takes to make that happen, we might as well not bother and just end this thing right here’. If there’s one sure way to scare your creativity away, I’d say this is it.

Think of it this way: By taking care of your own financial needs, you become your writing’s very own patron. You become the top sponsor for your writing endeavours. Patrons in the Renaissance would pay for their artists’ material needs—their paint, brushes, their studio, and so on—so that they could do what they did best in the best possible conditions: paint.

Be your writing’s patron. Be the one who pays for the logistics of daily life so that your writing doesn’t have the pressure of wondering how it can pay for your electricity bill.

Be your Writing’s Biggest Cheerleader

We all have our down moments. We all have our doubts. We all face uncertainty. When it comes to writing, it happens to the best of us. Times when writing doesn’t come naturally. When the words aren’t quite flowing. When a chapter isn’t working. A time when you simply can’t be bothered with it. I’ve been there more than once.

My knee-jerk reaction used to be to berate myself. To get frustrated and to eventually let things be until I felt like writing again. Usually, the longer I left it the harder it became to ‘feel like’ getting back to it. And then there were the guilt trips because I wasn’t writing and the spirals about how terrible a writer I was if I couldn’t write consistently—if I could even call myself a writer. You get the picture.

But now I think of my writing as my partner, it’s a lot trickier to be so hard on it. I wouldn’t talk to a friend the way I sometimes talk to myself. So, in those instances, I started addressing my writing the way I would a friend in need: with kind, supportive words, but without letting it get away with procrastinating for no reason. I remind my writing that we all have our moments. That, yes, taking a break is important, but that you need to watch out for those times where you’re stepping away from the task at hand because you’re simply scared or doubt your own abilities. I tell my writing that I know it has what it takes to face whatever challenge there is and that, whatever happens, I’ll be there by its side to lend a helping hand.

…You’re joking, right?

I can see the most sceptical amongst you roll their eyes at all this like I’ve just lost my mind. Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t, who’s to say? All I can tell you is that building a healthy relationship with my writing, and my creativity in general, has helped me treat it (and ultimately, myself) with a lot more care and respect. It’s allowed me to build trust with my writing, and a sense of diligence I was struggling to achieve before. If that’s madness, I guess I’m a little mad, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. And I know my writing thanks me for it.

[carriagelamp]

Weirdly enough, I often find myself reading less in the summer, since I have more time than I do during the rest of the year to do other things. Also artfight has been eating up more than a bit of my free time! But here’s a collection a graphic novels I sat around on the hammock reading, and some novels I finished up...

(Everyone go read All Systems Red, holy crow guys)

A Whale of the Wild

The “sequel” to A Wolf Called Wander, though it doesn’t actually connect to the previous novel except in the stylistic/thematic sense. A Whale of the Wild is very much a standalone novel. And a pretty decent one! Personally, I think I liked Wolf more, but this one was a pleasant, informative read, with just the right amount of crushing dread sprinkled in. It’s about a young orca called Vega who is learning to become a new wayfinder for her pod but who still has a lot to learn, especially in an ocean that is becoming increasingly hostile to orcas and the other sealife that live alongside humans. When a devastating earthquake hits, Vega and her little brother find themselves separated from their family, lost in a now horrifyingly unfamiliar environment, and fighting starvation as the salmon that sustain them become more and more unreliable. It’s a desperate fight for survival as they search for food and their missing family. This book is written for a middle grade level, and does a really good job of putting the current environmental crisis into an animal’s perspective while giving the readers something to hope for.

The Adventure Zone: The Crystal Kingdom

Every July I eagerly anticipate the next Adventure Zone graphic novel. This one is for their fourth arc, The Crystal Kingdom, in which Magnus, Taako, and Merle respond to a SOS from a floating laboratory that is gradually being consumed by crystals and which threatens the entire world should it fall into the ocean. Carey Pietsch’s art continues to be absolutely fantastic, so beautifully and hilariously expressive, and this one delivers some great Merle moments, lots of Carey Fangbattle, and, of course, Kravtiz. Kravitz, my beloved…

Anyway, I obviously always recommend these. If you’ve never gotten into The Adventure Zone, I totally recommend either trying these graphic novels — or even better, just go listen to the podcast because it really is both hilarious and creates a shockingly good and heart-wrenching story by the end.

All Systems Red

I’ve seen The Murderbot Diaries on my dash occasionally, and it always looked interesting, but a friend’s recommendation finally compelled me to read the first novella of the series. And holy shit y’all. Absolutely the best book I’ve read this month, it’s amazing. Mind-blowingly good. Also, if you’re like me and want a good audiobook, it’s a nice three-hour listen, very chill!

Anyway, All Systems Red is about a Security Unit, an artificially created being that’s part-organic part-mechanical and all-company-owned-and-controlled. However, self-named “Murderbot” has managed to hack into the system that suppresses its own will, and is now coasting along, doing the least amount of work its job requires not to be noticed, while preferring to spend all its time watching the hours and hours of soap operas it has downloaded into its brain. And it’s a tolerable if somewhat dull life, until the science team that it's currently rented to is attacked and the whole mission goes pear-shaped. Suddenly Murderbot has to scramble to keep its humans alive… while its humans scramble with the realization that their “SecUnit” isn’t actually a mindless robot like they had all believed...

This story is both gripping and hilariously funny. Murderbot has such a unique voice and perspective and it’s an absolute pleasure to follow its story. I reallly need to read the next book...

Asterix and the Banquet

A classic. I was startled when I realized I hadn’t actually read this Asterix story… but hell I’m not gonna complain, it lets me read one of the originals for the first time again! In this Asterix volume, the Indomitable Gauls and the Romans end up arranging a bet — the Romans intend to keep them under siege, trapped in their village, while Asterix is confident that he can easily evade them… and will prove it by going on a tour around all of Gaul, collecting iconic foods from each region in order to return and put on a fine banquet. So we get a fantastic adventure in which Asterix and Obelix run all over the country, pursued the whole way, while making cheerful stops at the various eateries along the way. Also the first book Dogmatix shows up in! All around, a wonderful read, fun like all the best Asterix comics are.

Beauty Pop v4

A less impressive graphic novel. The first Beauty Pop is one of my guilty pleasure manga because… it really is pretty stupid but in the best possible ways. I mean, the whole thing is framed around hairstyling battles, like a shojo sports manga without the sports. It’s bonkers. Unfortunately, the series does not really manage to hold up, and it really begins to feel repetitive and dragging as it continues… as a lot of series like this do. *shrug* Unsurprising but still kinda disappointing I suppose. The building three-way romantic tension is mildly interesting if for no other reason than the main character Does Not Notice and Does Not Care about any of it, which is amusing and refreshing.

FRNCK v5

Now this series only gets better and better as it goes. This is the first book of the second arc, and somehow the danger just seems to be ramping up and up and up. The cavefamily have lost their home… as well as Léonard and Gargouille. Heartbroken, shocked, and angry, Franck is the one who ends up shouldering the blame for their presumed deaths as the others mourn. Things only get worse when Franck finds himself separated from the family, and in the territory of another tribe, this one hostile and cannibalistic...

Haikyuu v5

I continue to read this series because it continues to be charming… though it is beginning to feel, maybe, just a little repetitive. Kind of an inevitability with sports manga. But so far it continues to be good enough to overcome that. I’m not sure what I can say about this series that I haven’t already, so I’ll simply say it continues to be one of the most impressive sports manga I’ve read, and the author does a fantastic job of creating engaging characters, fleshed out teams, and really compelling relationships. I do genuinely adore all the main members of Crows, along with a number of characters from the rival teams as well. And of course it has some kickass volleyball scenes that are just drawn so dramatically they can’t help but take your breath away a little.

M*A*S*H Goes To Maine

Meh. The original book of the series was actually quite good in my opinion. This one… considerably less so. The first part I enjoyed more, since it was about Hawkeye, Trapper, Duke, and Oliver Jones trying to set up the FinestKind Clinic and Fishmarket in Crabapple Cove (which… is just the best premise I could have ever asked for). However, the book spends most of its time describing the quirky lives and times of other people living in the area and I… just… don’t care. It was funny at times but… I just don’t care. I wanted to hear more about the main cast. Also I found this book felt more racist and misogynistic than the first which also put me off :/ Wouldn’t bother if I were you. Go read the first book instead, or better yet just watch the TV show which is an obvious banger.

My Heart’s in the Highlands

I have had this on my “currently reading” list for so long but I’m officially giving up. It’s a really good book in theory but my god I can’t get over the pacing.

It’s about Lady Jane, a woman studying medicine in Edinburgh in 1888, and who suddenly finds herself back in the Highlands in the 13th century. Lost and confused, Jane is now at the mercy Clan Donald’s hospitality while she tries to adjust to this new world and hunts for her broken time machine. Fortunately, this hospitality include a burgeoning friendship with a red-haired warrior woman, Ainslie nic Dòmhnaill, who opens Jane’s eyes to the way the world could be.

Listen. It drives me nuts. This book should be completely up my alley, it has everything I like — IT HAS ALL OF ITS HISTORICAL FOOTNOTES CITED AT THE BACK, LITTLE EXTRA DETAILS ABOUT EVERY CHAPTER. THAT’S MY SHIT RIGHT THERE. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LIKE BEING ABLE TO GO OVER HISTORICAL DETAILS?? AND WELL RESEARCHED FOOTNOTES?? And yet it doesn’t. Fucking. Work for me. It has a kickass Scottish warrior lady as a love interest! It has a badass lady doctor! It has fish-out-of-water culture shock! But it also has a completely meandering plot, no sense of building tension, and a romance that just happens out of nowhere and feels completely unearned and uninteresting.

I would genuinely just rather read Outlander again, which I know has its own host of problems, but at least Outlander felt exciting and interesting and tense and funny. The romance built in fits and starts, it was complicated, and kept me interested. That book had me hooked (and has me hooked every time I reread it) whereas this book I’ve been sadly picking at for months like its a plate of overcooked spinach. This felt like an attempt at a queer, historically accurate knockoff which I would normally be super into but which just could not stick the landing.

Moomin on the Riviera

My first time actually reading anything from the Moomin canon. I have zero idea how to feel about it! It certainly is as feral as I’ve heard described! Overall, I think I enjoyed it but it sure made me feel strange emotions I didn’t know existed. I’m not even going to try to describe it. Read it if you want a batshit insane anti-capitalist comic.

Surviving the City

This was good in some areas, less good in others. It had a very interesting indigenous perspective on life in the modern city, the foster system, and The Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women issue, which I’ve never seen handled in a book before. Something about the pacing did not completely click with me and I found myself getting easily distracted, but it’s definitely worth the read just to experience it and look at the issues it deals with through the characters’ (and author’s) eyes. It did give me a lot to think about and wrestle with, which is sometimes the best thing a book can give you.

Torchwood: Pack Animals

A really fun read, more so than I had ever expected! If you like Torchwood and want more stories about the team before everything goes to shit, this is perfect for that. It includes the entire cast, an interest mystery to be unravelled, lots of slavering monsters, Rhys being really wonderful and sweet (which I didn’t know I wanted until I read this book), and all the humour I expect from Torchwood. I had to send a lot of quotes to my long-suffering girlfriend who a) does not watch this show but b) needs to tolerate it because I find it too funny to keep to myself. It was good enough to make me go out another book of the series since this was the only one my library carried.

[nerdygaymormon]

A big step...then one goes backwards & the other forward

This past Christmas, I was at my brother’s home to celebrate. I was in the kitchen with my sister-in-law and she had started reading Richard Ostler’s book Listen, Learn and Love: Embracing LGBTQ Latter-day Saints. I was telling her about a message I’d received this Christmas morning from Richard Ostler, saying that when he was a YSA bishop and decided he should learn from LGBT LDS people about our viewpoint and our experience, that I was one of the first people he came across (the blog post that went viral), and I was one of the first Twitter accounts he followed. That I’ve influenced his thinking and his heart. It was a very nice message. 

My sister-in-law was still in chapter 1, and said she learned that what is required of her is to love, she doesn’t have to approve of a person’s choices. Love is what she’s asked to do. She can go to a gay wedding to show support for the people she loves without having to think of it as showing support for gay marriage, how that’s similar to attending the christening of a friend’s baby even though that’s against our religion. We were having a good conversation about the things she’d read. 

My mom heard us speaking and came over to say she had just come to the same conclusion after reading Becky Mackintosh’s book Love Loudly: Embracing Your LGBTQ Loved Ones And Your Faith. Frankly, I was shocked. Usually this is a subject she avoids because she thinks I'm ripping apart her eternal family and she wishes I'd go back in the closet and no one else ever know.

My mother & my sister-in-law started talking with each other about how they never realized this, they just have to love the gay people in their lives. 

That night, my mom sent me a text: “I love you and I am very glad you were sent to our family.” That’s the first time she’s said that since I came out. 

On December 26th she had a long drive planned to drop off some items. She asked me to come along and we listened to the audiobook of Charlie Bird’s book Without the Mask. 

This felt like a significant advancement in my relationship with my mother. 

I read the book by Becky Mackintosh that had affected her so much. I finished it on Dec 29th and that night I wrote my mom an email saying I feel like it’s time to her in on my life as a gay person. I’ve tried to make being a Mormon mom of a gay son as easy as possible, and usually that has meant keeping things from her. I then listed some important highlights from my life. 

Some of the highlights were important moments in figuring out who I am or of something said at school or church that wounded me deeply. Some of the highlights were providing additional parts to stories that she already knew about. And some important things in my life as relates to my faith and going to therapy. I finished the email with these words, “Two of the things people want is to be loved and to be included. I hope my family will always be a place where I’m loved and included. I’m sure I’ve given you a lot to think about. I hope it’s not too overwhelming to read all this at once.” 

I waited, wondering how she would respond. After a few days, I thought perhaps she doesn’t check that email address often or perhaps because it was the holidays she wasn’t checking her messages, so I mentioned I sent her an email. She indicated she’d received it. That’s it. That’s the only reaction I got. I hoped maybe she wanted a little time to reflect and choose what to say, but I received nothing. I felt like we moved back to where things had been before, which is my family ignores and doesn’t talk about things which are hard. To be honest, after having those 2 days where my mom seemed to be open to learning & listening about this part of who I am, I felt very sad that we’d gone back to this being an unmentionable thing. 

———————————————————— 

Why am I bringing up these moments from the end of December? This past weekend I was at my sister-in-law’s home and she shared with me that she’d finished reading Richard Ostler’s book. She also listened to a podcast episode I did with Richard. She said it was interesting to hear me speak my thoughts and share my experiences, things my family has never heard or only heard about in a truncated form. 

She spoke to me of how her understanding has changed. She previously accepted the Plan of Salvation is this great path for everyone, but learning the experiences of LGBTQ members, she gets that it’s incomplete and it’s no wonder that most LGBTQ members leave this church. She has only gotten a glimpse of the negative messages and the wounds the church heaps on queer members, and she can see that she was blind to this. She recognizes she has more to learn. 

She expressed her love for me and asked some questions and I shared some of my experiences with her. 

This is such a contrast from how my mother responded that it brought back those memories & feelings and I thought I should share as this is the place I write about my experience as a gay Mormon. Being unable to be authentic with my mother is part of this experience, as is a sister-in-law who loves me and wants to understand and is willing to learn difficult truths about the church she loves.

[cultivating-wildflowers]

Books of 2021, August

#54 - Anne of the Island by L.M. Montgomery (re-read) - 5/5 stars

Each of these books seems sweeter than the last. Even knowing how it ends, I was in agony over Anne continually rejecting Gilbert. I wept over Ruby and laughed with Phil and highlighted so many bits and pieces. The next book in the series is where I left off ages ago when I first picked up these books, so I’m doubly excited to get to it.

#55 - Anne of Windy Poplars by L.M. Montgomery - 4/5 stars

Had to get the audiobook for this one. It’s such a different style and tone in the beginning than the others in the series that it was a little difficult to keep engaged. I discovered only after that, while chronologically it’s the fourth in the series, it was the seventh published. It felt sleepy compared to the prequels.

#56 - Anne's House of Dreams by L.M. Montgomery - 5/5 stars

This whole series really is a love song to life, isn’t it? And we finally get a bit more of Anne and Gilbert’s romance, which is always great. Did enjoy that little twist near the end. (Honestly should have seen it coming.) As always, I adore the characters.

#57 - My Man Jeeves by P.G. Wodehouse - 4/5 stars

This book was plain fun. I read it as an audiobook during a slow period at work and kept struggling not to laugh out loud.

#58 - A Conspiracy of Kings by Megan Whalen Turner (re-read) - 4/5 stars

It’s taken me so long to get to this one that I finally caved and just listened to the audio again, making notes in my hard copy as I went. And then I listened to the whole thing in a day.

While this isn’t my favorite of the series, I do still very much love it (particularly the gun gag, but who doesn’t love that?). Sophos is in my top four favorite characters. The way he constantly tries to emulate Gen and constantly underestimates his own strength kills me every time. Also, while I love reading about Gen and Irene’s romance, Sophos and Helen’s is more what I crave, so of course I adore them.

#59 - A Wind from the Wilderness by Suzannah Rowntree - 3/5 stars

For the life of me I can’t remember where I first heard of this book. I know I ended up getting it on Kindle a while ago and then forgot about it until I was searching for a different book. Decided to read it on a whim and enjoyed it pretty well, overall. No I lied this story frustrated me to no end.

Like, for a while there I could kind of enjoy it. The romance felt a little forced to me, and the book had a couple of basic editing issues (might have been related to ebook formatting, really), but I enjoyed the historical setting and details (minus the inaccuracy about the size of an average Crusades-era warhorse), even if the plot didn’t really grab me.

Then a lot of stuff happened in quick succession near the end and I just kind of gave up. Here I was hoping for a slightly happy ending and did I get that? Oh, no.

I don’t plan to finish the series.

#60 - Eagle of the Ninth by Rosemary Sutcliff - 5/5 stars

This one ended up on my TBR after I saw it rec’d in the Queen’s Thief Fandom (I want to say it in someway inspired TQT but not 100% on that). Got it as an audibook and listened to it during a housework Saturday.

The audiobook was all of 4.5 hours, tops, and the narrative style is very easy to listen to. Not a lot of high action, but a solid adventure all the same. Reminded me a little of Stephen Lawhead but that could just be the Roman Britain setting.

There is a short series that follows, but I like this as a standalone.

(Tried recommending it to my dad since it seems in his taste, but he remembers the movie and I don’t think he liked that one. Said something about it being less accurate than Gladiator which is low abuse for him. So I don’t think he’d willingly read this.)

#61 - Children of the Mind by Orson Scott Card  - 4/5 stars

And that’s the first Ender series finished!

I listened to the first three in audio form (library didn’t have the audiobook for this) so actually reading was kind of weird. That and it’s been a while since I read the other books so half of the details were lost to the ether and I had to keep looking up summaries.

I really struggled with the first half of this book. Maybe I just wasn’t in the right mood for it, but it felt a little slow (that and I kept reading it before bed and falling asleep). It proved to be just as introspective and challenging and surprisingly emotional as the rest of the series. I love the way Card’s experiences and research are clearly evidenced, just off the page. I love how I’d be reading along and bam! Bit of poetry on the gentle and reliable nature of real love here; hilarious and witty dialogue there; oh, and we’re back to discussing the nature of humanity.

Yes, I definitely cried at one point, quite to my own (hormonal) surprise.

On one downside, while I like a lot of Card’s ideas and especially how he communicates those ideas, I do not like how he (or at least many of his characters) treats marriage. It’s a little too flippant for my taste. Especially among the cradle Catholics in his cast.

Also how DARE Card make me sympathize with Peter 2.0?

#62 - Adorning the Dark by Andrew Peterson - 4/5 stars (original ‘21 TBR)

My first nonfiction of the year! And wow, this one was good! (Yes it took me a while to get through but I kept getting distracted.) I’ll be coming back to this one again and again. So much wisdom here, and I love how Peterson writes like it’s a conversation with the reader. It’s such a warm, welcoming style.

It did get a little long-winded and rambly at points, hence the four stars.

(I definitely prefer this to his children’s fiction but that’s down to taste.)

#63 - Anne of Ingleside by L.M. Montgomery - 4/5 stars

My only true complaint of the series at this point is that SO MANY characters have been introduced up to now that I’ve lost track of all of them. Took me forever to remember who Rebecca Dew was.

As always, I adore Anne and her family.

#64 - Thick as Thieves by Megan Whalen Turner (re-read) - 4/5 stars

Listened to this at warp speed during work on the 31st. It remains my least favorite of the series (for whatever that’s worth). I miss Gen.

That said, there’s plenty I appreciate about this installment:  the different pantheon to explore, the myths and appearances from those gods and heroes, the fulfillment of Gen’s promise made to Costis in KOA, the shift from straight-up court intrigue and trickery to adventure, and getting to see Costis from an outside perspective that isn’t Gen’s.

It was also interesting reading this after finally getting ROTT and knowing now what was going on back on the Little Peninsula at the same time.

And HELLO PHERIS IS RIGHT FRICKIN THERE. No wonder I recognized his POV of that scene in ROTT. AND THE LETTER KAMET WRITES HIM.

DNF:

Fable by Adrienne Young - Irritating MC, bland story building, and I didn’t like where the romance was headed.

Heartless by Anne Elisabeth Stengl (original ‘21 TBR) - unsympathetic MC (another princess who complains about her lessons and her clothes and refuses to marry a man because he’s “stodgy” and “probably doesn’t read poetry” and “isn’t romantic”). Writing style wasn’t terrible, but didn’t hold my interest. Also the cat creeped me out. I read a book once that included a horse that was born without eyes and I have never recovered. (Several reviews also mentioned this was allegorical, though I’m not entirely sure how.)

[rigelmejo]

Things I’d like to do, in order of me doing them versus no time yet lol. Bold - i plan to genuinely freaking commit to doing it even if other things come up. italic - i really want to be able to do these, if i don’t have time now i’ll try to do them later on.

Currently doing:

finish reading hanshe (currently doing, on chapter 52 out of 155 haha rip me)

finish reading guardian english translation (currently doing, also dang my reading speed got slow lately lol)

finish listening to chinese spoonfed audio (on like 12 or 15 out of like 39. i’d like to finish it so i can say i’ve done it, and at least have some exposure to everything it’s got to offer word/sentence wise once)

exercise 5 times a week. 50 crunches, 70 pushups, 15 minutes cardio at least. until the end of the month (i tried this last week then bam twisted my ankle lol - someone tried this to get fit and it worked and you know me i Love proving to myself if things work and i also Love simply things i can remember that are flexible. i have been switching between jogging or HIIT that’s mainly muscle building, depending on how i feel... gonna count it all as long as i do something consistently 5 times a week. maybe next month i’ll do that kpop dance challenge i found that looked cool but for now i just wanna do something i know i can stick to because its simple and flexible)

finish reading Tae Kim’s Grammar Guide (i almost forgot ToT but unless i’m giving up japanese again lol... well... we’ll see... either way i am in the process of doing this and there isn’t really a good stopping spot so i should just finish reading it)

Also just general watching chinese shows, reading chinese (so hanshe OR whatever i feel like). I’ve been pretty consistent about that and it helps even if i jump around to different materials so i don’t have to really list anything specific.

And for japanese? I would really like to try one of my games in japanese this summer but that is Highly dependent on how prepared i feel. i’d like to try maybe though, just because like... even if i never learn as much as i’d like, a big goal had always been just to play my favorite games the way they were originally written. if i can follow enough to just see a lets play and look up words i want to understand, follow the grammar, catch some line differences between the original and localization, i will already be so happy. even though more in depth understanding will be a long way away from now.

Going to do soon:

listen-read method guardian (because i literally have avenuex’s wonderful audiobook that PERFECTLY matches the webnovel chapters - i plan to listen-read with just the eng translation tho)

read guardian chinese print version (while i may push this off a while... it would be appropriate to read in august as an anniversary of watching guardian drama lol... i also kind of think the closer i do this to the listening-reading method, the more i will comprehend and easier it will be and more details i’ll get out of the sections that are unique to my print novel version... after hanshe i would love to put this as my actively-reading chinese novel)

read His Evening Star (<3 <3 asap! like as soon as Guardian eng translation read, i’m starting this)

read Silent Reading english translation

continue doing Nukemarines LLJ memrise decks (i made some progress, and wanted to go back after reading Tae Kim’s Grammar Guide... again IF i do this is highly relevant on if i can keep managing some time for japanese study we’ll SEE lol ;-;)

Going to do eventually...:

listen-read method Silent Reading (at least TRY, although i already know the chapters and audiobook-episodes do NOT end in the same place so like... its valid if i try and give up... I would just love to do this because i WANT to listen to the audiobook... and if its too annoying trying to sync audio to text when i know the audio varies off from the text half the time, then i might just try to listen to the audiobook ON its own)

listen to DeFrancis Chinese Readers Audio (i can look at the book, optional, if i’d like... i should USE the books since i bought them lol. Emphasis on trying to shadowing the dialogues because so much is basics i should be able to speak decently. I’m thinking this would be a good replacement for ‘background listening’ for when i finish chinese spoonfed audio. Also i really want to utilize these textbooks since i bought them ToT)

read 2ha

read Can Ci Pin!

read Tian Ya Ke (extensive reading like guardian, the eng translation then the chinese chapters... reading might go faster this way then with constant word lookup in Pleco, tho i can of course read in Pleco instead if I want)

read Qi Ye (same thing as above - read the eng translation, and then the chinese version either extensive or in Pleco with word lookup)

read yuwu

read the new priest novels E Danglars translated!

FINISH tamendegushi (the chinese novel i keep reading HALF of then giving up)

FINISH tamendegushi COMIC (i literally own the manhua print but when will i finish reading ToT)

Possibly Listen-Read to MoDaoZuShi, SVSSS (both have audiobooks now. A plus of mdzs is i have never read it so it would be a surprise. A plut of svsss is i’ve l-r method 8 chapters before and the audiobook matches VERY in line with the chapter endings so its super easy to follow along)

read DaoMuBiJi books (a long endeavor... currently mostly just reading the english translations, i’m on book 3. But I was reading the chinese version too which i could switch to if i want a reading material in Pleco or just extensive reading... but reading it in chinese is not a priority yet...)

[theunvanquishedzims]

The Michigan Fleet authors posted their AUs so here are mine

theunvanquishedzims: I have SO MANY Boat Boy ideas but I'm sitting on them because I came up with a bunch halfway through the book and they got jossed by the end rollerskatinglizard: Hah! Uhhh, sorry? I think?? theunvanquishedzims: (i.e. Basil gets sad and weepy over Rich and Liam flirting at a party, Trimmer plays fairy godmother a la ripping half his shirt off, giving him a pep talk, and sending him back out there to Win Back His Man) rollerskatinglizard: *whooping* theunvanquishedzims: Jossed so hard rollerskatinglizard:Okay, that's DELIGHTFUL rollerskatinglizard: Trimmer is the most terrifying fairy godmother rollerskatinglizard: Anything else? :Dc theunvanquishedzims: Lemme get my notes rollerskatinglizard: *gleeful wiggling*

theunvanquishedzims: Okay so I stopped reading when the Sympatico grabbed Rich during the storm and it took me a month or so to get back and finish, so I was under the impression that the ship was still being fixed in drydock and not, y'know, actually being crewed and sailed. (Trimmer yelling "just let her sink" hits reeeeeaaaallly different when you know that) rollerskatinglizard: Ahaha oh dang theunvanquishedzims: So the big idea was the gangsters needing something from the Sympatico. Not the general thugs and delinquents crewing the Sympatico but the actual organized crime of the Fleet, who were getting pretty used to using ships like the Sympatico to run their dirty deeds through. Except it's basically impossible to get what they need out of it, even when they drag out one of the old IST guys. He finally tells them Rich was the one who did the heavy lifting for the past few years rollerskatinglizard: Ooooh! rollerskatinglizard: What an interesting idea! theunvanquishedzims: Hang on I need to restart rollerskatinglizard: Ah yes, computers theunvanquishedzims: Sorry, that turned into a dinner break and running errands During which I came up with a couple new AUs theunvanquishedzims: Okay, back to mafia: they track Rich down, probably snag him after he's been out boarding. Off work, not expected back on the ship, tired from all the exercise, etc. They're not overtly threatening, just pick up his skimmer and politely suggest that he comes help them, and he probably goes quietly because there's like, six of them. I'm thinking only one of whom was actually posted on the Sympatico theunvanquishedzims: So they get back to the Sympatico. She's been temporarily decommissioned until the Fleet can fix her broken processes, but that's also a cover story by the mob. They want to clear out all the smuggled goods and information, but she's basically a ghost ship, silent and empty, and even the other IST guy couldn't get more than a few blinking lights. She's sulking basically, she knows they're not there to fix her so she's digging in her heels and playing dead. Like a toddler going ragdoll when they don't want to go to bed. theunvanquishedzims: They explain to Rich that they can't get a response and want him to take a crack at it. "Has she said anything?" "Who?" "The Sympatico." "...we didn't talk to it." "Well that's half your problem right there." theunvanquishedzims: At this point you should watch Show Yourself from Frozen 2, and the crystal scene from Atlantis the Lost Empire. Stepping into the place you've been called, making your presence known, and having a greater power reach out for you. Shiny lights, chasing the spark of life to its source, and having the power consume and embody you. Rich is used to it but it's probably pretty freaky from the outside, and way less magical-looking than a Disney movie. Probably more like when Magneto activated the machine in the first X-Men movie. Step up, turn it on, and suddenly it's sucking the life out of you, making you a living battery theunvanquishedzims: In my head I am picturing the glowing blue eyes, lights cracking along the skin like lightning or circuit patterns, the implants glowing in his temples, standing at a terminal like a star trek deck, maybe a faint breeze-like movement of the hair and clothes to indicate the sheer power radiating off of him. In reality it's probably more like he falls down, gets up, stumbles along to a good spot out of the weather, and curls up in a secluded defensible spot to stare emptily at the wall for a few hours while lights randomly go on and off around the ship theunvanquishedzims: Just being trailed by six very wary mafia dudes who have probably never seen someone mind-meld a ship, and definitely not solo. He's like a zombie, and when he does talk it's very clear he's talking for the both of them theunvanquishedzims: If any of them are in sync with the ship they definitely feel the !!!Rich you're back!!! vibe theunvanquishedzims: No idea how that resolves, I guess it depends on how powerful the mafia is. If they're the kind of entrenched criminals who are ongoing characters, then they have Rich scrub out what they need then dump him back on his skimmer to face the fallout alone. He might report it to the spooks? Or at least try to tell Basil and Mitch theunvanquishedzims: If they're not recurring characters then they were definitely being tracked by the spooks, who move in once the Sympatico comes back online. Rich has to answer some very tough questions but he cooperates fully and winds up digging up a LOT of dirt out of the Sympatico, now that the mafia showed him where to look. It's another one of the super traumatizing moments that makes him look cool and heroic. Oh yeah, totally got kidnapped, single-handedly piloted a ship, and helped bust the mafia, please stop talking about it, I need a nap, and also someone to go with me next time I go boarding. theunvanquishedzims: (And then I finished reading the book and found out that the Sympatico had a new crew and was out on the water with her AI still fried and broken, how did no one notice that)

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theunvanquishedzims: Okay I don't have Trimmer's voice well enough to write this fic so I'm feeding it to you raw: Trucker AU theunvanquishedzims: Rich is a long-haul trucker, much to the disappointment of his elder sister Angela, who is in law enforcement and thought he had a decent future in it too. Athena is a pro wrestler and totally down to support her brother traveling the country (and hopefully being in the same city as him sometime, she wants him to see her kick ass!) Rich wants to pursue a degree in [tech or engineering] but college is expensive, and trucking is a good way to make money, on top of which you don't have to pay rent when you're on the road. So he's saving up for school, probably listening to a lot of audiobooks, podcasts, and training guides while chugging along. theunvanquishedzims: Not nearly as bad or sketchy as the Sympatico, but life on the road can get pretty sketch sometimes, especially when you're alone. Enter Trimmer. Or rather, enter Rich into the middle-of-nowhere trucker stopover bar where Trimmer is getting his ass kicked. theunvanquishedzims: (Gonna go ahead and say the bar is called the Sympatico, and this is a very bad night to be there, which is saying something because any night at the Sympatico is a bad night to be there.) theunvanquishedzims: Fortunately, Rich is not trapped there by the cold uncaring waters of Lake Michigan, he can just turn around and leave when he sees the nightly fight brewing. Unfortunately, he has a weakness for cute twinks, and no matter how much the guy is insulting their mothers four on one is really not fair, so he winds up wading in, scooping Trimmer up, and murder-stalking to the exit theunvanquishedzims: [At this point I pause to stare out the window and wonder wistfully what their canon meeting was like, who approached who, if Trimmer just straight-up used his lunch to hire a bodyguard or if Rich did the "are you gonna finish that" puppy-eyes and Trimmer realized how easily he could be bribed, etc etc] theunvanquishedzims: In the Trucker AU Trimmer waits until they're outside to go feral goblin on the arm that's holding him, Rich drops him, and negotiation commences theunvanquishedzims: I don't have Trimmer's backstory nailed down, the "teenage runaway" archetype doesn't really suit someone with a large loving family, but safe to say that whatever lead him to hitchhiking across the Midwest he is determined to see through out of sheer bullheaded stubbornness. The only thing worse than calling your parents to bail you out with bus money home is calling your grandma. It might have involved stabbing a college advisor when the guy got rapey, he's technically not on the run from the law, he DEFINITELY is not on track to getting his degree. Halfway between college dropout and missing person. If he was wealthy he'd be backpacking Europe for a semester, but he's not, so he's hitchhiking America. And getting molested by truckers, because Trimmer can't have nice things. theunvanquishedzims: He is really not interested in getting molested by Rich! But, as Rich points out, he did just save him from getting stabbed, Trimmer doesn't seem to have any exit options for this backwater town, and holy #&$^ the bar's on fire. (The Sympatico burns to the ground that night, to the betterment of the world at large.) rollerskatinglizard: You have no idea how much I'm enjoying this But you should totally post it Splick and Roach would both scream in glee theunvanquishedzims: Rich and Trimmer get out while the getting is good, and it's nearly dawn before they finally hash out details. Rich offers to drop him off at the next town, but they're still pretty close to the epicenter of the mass exodus so the next few hundred miles are probably not going to be safe for Trimmer. By this point Trimmer has found a bunch of the old textbooks Rich bought secondhand to study in his free time and come to the conclusion that [this nerd is a nerd] his story checks out. Just a college kid trying to scrape together the cash to get an education and make a decent living. Reminds Trimmer of Trimmer. (Reminds Trimmer of Joey.) rollerskatinglizard: ;u; <3 Beautiful theunvanquishedzims: So now Rich has a little traveling buddy! Helps him stay awake on the long hauls, lets him use the carpool lanes, even reads to him out of the textbooks sometimes, with commentary. Trimmer is really smart and surprisingly easy to get along with. They nap in the cab, eat in diners, and share motel rooms. Trimmer unclenches a little. Rich is good about not asking personal questions. They definitely watch Athena's fights on tv more than once, much to Rich's chagrin and Trimmer's loud encouragement. He started fanboying over it to annoy and embarrass Rich, but it is surprisingly cathartic to watch someone get trash-talked and respond by just BODYSLAMMING their opponent. ("Why are you rooting for her, you're the biggest trash-talker I know," Rich mutters into his beer, face bright red as Trimmer whoops and high-fives the waitress he got to change the channel in the sports bar.) theunvanquishedzims: ("She would wipe the floor with me," Trimmer responds with a smirk, watching smugly as Rich tries to figure out if Trimmer is having impure thoughts about his baby sister) theunvanquishedzims: (They have already established that Trimmer does not have impure thoughts about Rich, that Rich DOES have impure thoughts about Trimmer, but as long as he stays in his own motel bed that's fine.) (Trimmer still sleeps with a knife under his pillow but doesn't bother in the cab, where their co-naps occasionally verge on snuggling.) rollerskatinglizard: <3 <3 <3 *perfect* theunvanquishedzims: They finally reach their destination. It has been [days to drive a rig between NJ and CA] and they make it there slightly ahead of schedule. Rich drops off the delivery, Trimmer comes face-to-face with the reality of the trip ending. He'd been hitchhiking for months and felt like he was going nowhere, and now a few days and suddenly he's crossed the entire country, and almost kinda maybe had fun doing it! And California's as good a place as any to stay, at least he won't freeze to death if he doesn't find a place to crash for the night. theunvanquishedzims: Then Rich comes back and hands him a wad of cash, pocketing a stack of his own. "Got a cash bonus for finishing early! And since you're the reason I made it here this fast, I just figured part of it is your share..." he peters out, trying to explain his reasoning. They sit in silence for a while, both thinking about Trimmer in California, far away from anyone who would want to hurt him, with a few hundred dollars in his pocket. theunvanquishedzims: "...Let's get lunch," Trimmer finally decrees, and Rich can't keep the relieved smile off his face. They renegotiate some things over lunch, and then go to pick up the next load to haul cross-country. Together. rollerskatinglizard: AWWWWWW!!!! *YES,* I love it!!! theunvanquishedzims: And then eventually they go to college together, and get their degrees, and good jobs, and meet the families, and Trimmer absolutely drags Rich to as many of Athena's fights as they can manage on the road. It's just to save money, things are cheaper when you split the rent, Trimmer hollers on the phone. You put a ring on that boy's finger, y'hear?! Hellbender hollers back. I am so glad the word moirail exists rollerskatinglizard: YES God yes Also this AU pleases me greatly rollerskatinglizard: Blessings upon you for it theunvanquishedzims: ...technically the Michigan Fleet takes place in a post-Homestuck world, so theoretically it could have time to enter mainstream lexicon. It's better than "bromance" theunvanquishedzims: JUST THROWING THAT OUT THERE >.> rollerskatinglizard: Yeah, totally different feel than bromance!

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theunvanquishedzims: Speaking of Homestuck! Wanna hear the Helmsman AU? :3 rollerskatinglizard: YES PLEASE theunvanquishedzims: Okay gimme a minute to get my notes, it's not based on One of Our Submarines but I can't remember the fic title. Have you read the one where the kids redesign the helmsrig and use that to garner support for Feferi as Empress? Lots of political drama, Sollux-centric, [spoiler], and in the end they win *but at what cost* (((If someone knows what fic I'm talking about please link me, I can't find it.))) rollerskatinglizard: No, I haven't theunvanquishedzims: It's good, if you like the nitty-gritty of rebellions. The piece I'm cherry picking is the new Empress introducing a new way of helming that allows more freedom. Instead of a single enslaved lowblood being hung up in tentacle wires until they drop dead, it's something you can unplug from, allowing psionics to swap out, take shifts, etc. So Empress Clearwater (yay seadweller name) is dead, long live Empress Clearwater, and she shakes things up by introducing her new helmsrig and orders it implemented Fleet-wide theunvanquishedzims: I don't think this universe is as bad as canon but it's still pretty rough on the bad ships, and the Sympatico is a very bad ship theunvanquishedzims: Angie is still a security officer, probably fairly high-ranking as a greenblood. Athena is a pro wrestler. Sports are probably a bigger part of life in a Fleet that doesn't center around conquest. The three probably grew up in the same neighborhood, maybe dabbled in quadrants before settling on hatefriends. Oooh, or ash, Athena setting them up to talk out their issues over lunch and then heckle each other over their other quadrants could fit in that quadrant. theunvanquishedzims: Rich is, of course, a helmsman. It's rare for someone that close to jade to be so powerful, he was actually planning on a career in tech, but when he got called in for psionic testing he basically crushed it. Possibly literally. And olive is still technically a lowblood, so off to the helm with you. theunvanquishedzims: His first posting is the Sympatico, and it's a nightmare. The one bright spot (dark spot? How do trolls even. *insert rant about Kanaya being pastel goth not goth-goth*) theunvanquishedzims: The one bright spot is Trimmer, a technician whose survival method is to lock himself in the helm dock and stab anybody who tries to mess with Rich when he's piloting. It's basically how things work in the superstorms, but 75-90% of the time instead of a few times a year theunvanquishedzims: Rich can barely talk most days, they communicate via chat client, and even that requires a lot of brainpower so they can't do it when the Sympatico has to fight something or do difficult maneuvers in space, which is pretty frequently. But Rich keeps an eye out for Trimmer, directing him through the ship to help him avoid people and fights, and tweaking things like hall lights when things get hairy. I think at least once he turned off the gravity, it cost him but it got Trimmer out of a really bad situation and gave him an excuse to hole up in the helmsdeck for a few days until things cooled off theunvanquishedzims: But all that is in the past! There's a new Empress, a new crew, and a new way of helming! theunvanquishedzims: The Sympatico is one of the flagships to roll out the new helmsrig. The original crew was disbanded, culled, reassigned. Trimmer was allowed to stay (at Rich's request) to ease the transition. It's a big day, lots of media attention documenting the new helmsmen, and Rich is doing his best to keep calm. He had to do some physical therapy to stand upright and be able to walk from the big speech to his shiny new helmsrig, but as a fairly young recruit he's not nearly as bad off as some older helmsmen whose bodies have atrophied. He's still pretty skinny though, especially when compared to Angie and Athena, who he reunited with (for the cameras) #helmsmenaretrollstoo, #greenc3<green, #omgishipit, see things are much better now, people can reclaim their lives and quadrants, helming is something to be excited for not scared of, etc. Lots of propaganda, lots of attention, lots of pressure to get this right theunvanquishedzims: And then he walks into the helm and Trimmer is there. Rich would probably have had a meltdown if he hadn't been, but no one can tell because they're so calm and professional. They're both cleaned up and impeccably uniformed, the plugging in goes smoothly, and the Sympatico comes to life and lifts off into the sky into a sunset that would make a Hollywood director weep. The cameras turn off, great job everybody, and things return to normal. Except Rich and Trimmer have no idea how to handle normal. For the first 8 hours it's fine, it's good, it's a little weird that Trimmer looks so tidy and that Rich is sitting in a padded chair instead of being flesh-jacked by tentacles, but it's fine. They chat over text, a little stilted but plenty to catch up on theunvanquishedzims: Rich spies on the new crew and gossips about how boring they are and how weird the ship looks with everything cleared out and well-lit, and wow where did that section of storage come from? Oh right that used to be a hidden smuggling nook. Haha nook. See they're fine, they're laughing at the same old jokes. DEFINITELY weird that Rich is physically laughing. And then their relief shift comes on, with the new 2nd shift helmsman, and it's time for Rich to get unplugged for the day and go. Go to his room, which he has now, or to eat, which he can do now, or any one of a million things that normal trolls do, because he's a normal troll now. (This is turning out a little different from in my head but I like it.) He makes it about two hallways, walking silently side-by-side with Trimmer, before he breaks down. Or rather Trimmer breaks down. Or maybe they both simultaneously break, there is a lot of breaking happening, and it's not great that it's happening in the hall where anybody could walk by and where the new helmsman is almost certainly seeing them and possibly reporting them, and Trimmer's flight instincts are to run back to the helm where it's safe but Rich isn't there, RICH was the reason it was safe and he's not at the helm, he's right there in the hall. Rich, I know not how, picks up Trimmer and gets them to him room. It' close by, thank goodness, and it has a lock on the door, how weird, and Trimmer is there. He missed Trimmer so so much. rollerskatinglizard: ;u; <3<3<3<3 theunvanquishedzims: [The following scene contains content too graphic for wigglers under the age of seven sweeps] rollerskatinglizard: *laughing* Hardcore conciliation!!! theunvanquishedzims: From Trimmer's POV: Merrill requested him to remain a tech on the Sympatico. Makes sense, he was the only one who treated the guy like an actual troll and not a drooling mass of computational power. They got caught up, it's weird how clean and quiet the ship is, no fights to report beyond a spat in the cafeteria that turned out to be pitch flirtation. His shirtcuffs itch and he wants to roll them up but it's day one of the new empire and he doesn't want to get culled for being untidy on the Empress's pet project ship. There's so many other things to get culled for, anyway. And then shift is over. (Weird, he's used to working 16-hour days and sleeping in the helmdeck half the time.) And he has to unplug Merrill (double weird, he's not used to touching Merrill unless it's for a physical repair. Very aware of Rich as a physical person, especially when he's standing up and not obscured in a mass of tentacles.) And then they leave, together, which is WEIRD, because for sweeps Trimmer has been sneaking out of the helmdeck to go on a food run with Merrill texting him directions, and there's no Merrill on screen providing guidance to avoid fights, but there's not gonna BE any fights, and everything is the same but different and looks weird and shiny and there's a giant troll right next to him, stalking him, why didn't Merrill warn him?! rollerskatinglizard: Oh NO, ahaha, oh these poor doofuses theunvanquishedzims: From Rich's POV: he's been seeing these hallways for sweeps, but not from this angle, the ship is so familiar but so foreign to him, and he can't hear her, can't feel her, and he keeps reaching out for her even after all that training he did to get used to the new tech, there's still an absence and some part of his brain that says not being linked to the ship means something has gone catastrophically wrong and everyone onboard is going to die, TRIMMER is going to die, Trimmer is freaking out and hyperventilating next to him, Trimmer's running out of oxygen and the ship isn't responding to him to tell him what's wrong with the oxygen, and then Trimmer goes to bolt back to the helm but that's full of strange trolls and a new helmsman, and that knowledge is enough to shake him back to the situation at hand. He doesn't know where he finds the strength or the presence of mind, but he manages to grab up Trimmer and get them back to safety. It's just that safety is now his berth, not the helm. They're alone in his berth. And Trimmer is still freaking out. Sh-shoosh? Shoosh. Shooooooosh. theunvanquishedzims: Everything is diamonds and snow and beautiful shining crystals (in the movies that will someday be made about this day.) In the moment there's a lot more hyperventilating and snot. Basically, culmination behind the entire fic: do they actually have feelings for each other, or was it just about mutual survival the whole time? rollerskatinglizard: INCREDIBLY ADORABLE AND INTIMATE COMFORT, *YESSSS* Thank you yes, I'll have a dozen God that's splendid theunvanquishedzims: And they're both freaking out, Rich is hungry and physically tired and needs to do a lot of stretches, Trimmer is not used to Rich being huge and mobile and right next to him, and they both have crazy big trust issues, but...yeah, they're pale. They're so pale for each other, and it was so hard during the transition not seeing each other and not knowing how the other felt, not knowing how THEY felt, if they really had feelings or if it was all a bad situation. And now they know. They have feelings. And because they're trolls and not humans, they can flop on a pile and talk about those feelings in a non-platonic way, and Rich can pet Trimmer's hair and tell him how pretty he is and how Rich is glad that Trimmer got it properly cut instead of just hacking it too short for someone to grab, and how much he worried in the hall about not being able to see farther than his own field of vision to keep Trimmer out of harm's way, and how this whole thing is so weird and Rich is so scared but he's just really, really happy that Trimmer took the posting on the Sympatico, because he pities Trimmer and he wants him around and he was so glad that Trimmer wanted to still be around him too theunvanquishedzims: The media always depicts piling as either the traditional fairytale highblood freakout, or an extremely mellow ASMR-ish chillout with lots of hairpetting and horn polishing. Not two midbloods looting a mostly-empty room for enough junk to make a large enough pile to sit on, shrieking at each other about their feelings and how weird this is and why didn't you SAY something, me?! why didn't YOU say something?! Three SWEEPS we've been dancing around this! Well I didn't know if you felt the same way or if you just needed me to survive! Etc etc etc. Lots of getting up and stomping around , pacing the floor while ranting, trying to scavenge more stuff to throw on the pile. Rich owns basically nothing and it's the first time he's not judging Trimmer for keeping his room a garbage heap, even empty pizza boxes would be better than trying to make a pile out of two sweaters and a toothbrush. rollerskatinglizard: XDDD TuT aaaaah, YES theunvanquishedzims: Rich definitely rips off a wall panel and pulls out some wires, Trimmer doesn't even question it, they've lived and breathed this ship long enough to know what every wire does and which are nonessential to ship functioning. And with the wall panel crunched up they can pile stuff around it to make it seem less sparse, and wow it doesn't even matter that he pulled a panel down, this is HIS wall in HIS room now, he can "redecorate" as he sees fit, cue more yelling about how he doesn't know what to do with himself or his newfound freedom. The whole thing is just yelling and cussing and grabbing and shaking. It probably looks black from the outside, but they are swimming in palest cream. theunvanquishedzims: Eventually they give up on the pile. They go through Rich's entire perigee of snack rations to avoid having to go to the cafeteria, halfheartedly make fun of Rich's chewing, then crawl into the recuperacoon together. Thank goodness there was such a big push to show off how great helmsmen's lives will be, Rich scored a blueblood-huge 'coon and he's still skinny enough that they can both fit in it together. They sleep together, in sopor like proper trolls with proper lives as opposed to surrounded by pink tentacles and misery. Tomorrow they'll have to venture out for food, and do Rich's stretches and physical therapy, and head to their shift like the galaxy hasn't flipped upside-down, but they're handle that together. rollerskatinglizard: Oh help, my heart!! TuT It's SO CUTE, AAAAAAAH theunvanquishedzims: Okay my computer has been trying to shut down for the last three paragraphs so I think it's time to log off for the night, but I hope you enjoy the AUs, I will tell you more tomorrow rollerskatinglizard: Thank you so much!! Have a good night! theunvanquishedzims: (In the original version Rich and Trimmer came face-to-face for the first time since the Sympatico was busted up and Rich pulled out for rehab, and basically had a giant pale meltdown right there against the wall. There was purring, and crying, and confessions, all caught on film. Athena and Angie definitely saw. It had to be censored out of the broadcast. Someone uploaded it to Troll Pornhub and it won a Troll Pornhub Emmy for Truth in Journalism, which was not a category the Troll Pornhub Emmys had before, so congrats Merrill and Trimmer) rollerskatinglizard: *dying* oh my GOD Rich would blush so hard he'd keel over

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theunvanquishedzims: I woke up to the idea of Rich as Fezzik and Trimmer as Inigo Montoya (book version.) rollerskatinglizard: Hah! Oh man, delightful theunvanquishedzims: Soft-hearted giant and stabby little friend rollerskatinglizard: Yesss theunvanquishedzims: Only problem is Trimmer's grudge seems to be against the entire world, not any particular murderer theunvanquishedzims: But they could definitely take on the Zoo of Death together rollerskatinglizard: It could be both, in the AU! Specific grudge and also he hates everyone theunvanquishedzims: Instead of not being left-handed he pulls his feet out of his boots and surprise! More hands to stab you with Makes the acrobatics on top of the cliff more exciting rollerskatinglizard: *dying* YES Perfect! theunvanquishedzims: I don't know who the Man in Black of most beautiful woman in the world would be, but Rich catching them jumping out a window to whisk them away on horseback is lovely rollerskatinglizard: *strokes chin thoughtfully* If Rich is Fezzik, I think Basil might as well be the beautiful love interest, and Mitch is his farm boy turned dashing rogue theunvanquishedzims: Mitch and Trimmer sword fighting rollerskatinglizard: YES theunvanquishedzims: Mitch going through hell and back to save his lady love, then Rich shows up with the horses and says "hello pretty lady" and Basil is just swooning over him rollerskatinglizard: Mitch is pretty chill with Rich by then, he can handle sharing Rich didn't try *hard* to kill him, after all theunvanquishedzims: He even made it a fair fight instead of ambushing him He put down the rock and Mitch put down the sword and they tried to kill each other like civilized people rollerskatinglizard: *laughing* Yes, exactly theunvanquishedzims: Rich even helped bring him back from being mostly dead rollerskatinglizard: They're practically best buddies now! theunvanquishedzims: Which I imagine is 1000x funnier because Trimmer hates this guy and doesn't want to help him but he has info Trimmer needs rollerskatinglizard: Rich just being reprovingly like Come on, buddy, he's cool really I KNOW you bonded over your sword fight with him Don't lie Trimmer: HE'S STILL A DIPSHIT theunvanquishedzims: Trimmer: It was a little fun to take the boots off I guess, I don't get to do that often rollerskatinglizard: Hahaha yes theunvanquishedzims: Downside of being the best swordsman in the world, nobody can touch you. UNTIL NOW. Trimmer: I killed the guy but now I have nothing to live for. Mitch: Have you considered piracy? Stabbing people all day and all the rope ladders you can climb rollerskatinglizard: *dying* theunvanquishedzims: Now Trimmer's life goal is to reclaim his title of Best Swordsman, which means fighting Mitch a lot rollerskatinglizard: Which they both enjoy Sometimes Trimmer wins, sometimes Mitch does rollerskatinglizard: Roach points out that Liam would be Miracle Max theunvanquishedzims: I was just about to type that! rollerskatinglizard: Heee! Good brain wave theunvanquishedzims: You need a cure for death? Nope, sorry. You need to it humiliate my mortal enemy? Coming right up! rollerskatinglizard: YUP theunvanquishedzims: Slipping Rich the holocaust cloak "because it fits so nice" rollerskatinglizard: Pfff yes theunvanquishedzims: Which is said with a million more winky faces than the movie rollerskatinglizard: XDDD Naturally Liam is a much higher-libido mad scientist-substitute theunvanquishedzims: He doesn't have a wife he has like six boyfriend minions hanging around in various states of undress. He got fired for banging the king when he was the royal miracle man, he did a good job but the prince found it icky. rollerskatinglizard: *dying* YES theunvanquishedzims: Basil as Buttercup tho. Basil: Mitch is a good friend. :) Just a great buddy. :)) Kind of smelly but a nice boy. :))) Someone: *might possibly find Mitch attractive* Basil: What? Why. No. Why would she. I mean yeah he's smart and muscular and tan and broad-shouldered and has perfect teeth and his sweat glistens in the sun as he does his chores shirtless, but c'mon, he's not THAT much hotter than her middle-aged husband. No way. rollerskatinglizard: *snickering* rollerskatinglizard: My cowriters very enjoy this AU concept, btw, thank you theunvanquishedzims: Excellent theunvanquishedzims: Trimmer: I told him I was there to kill him and he just...ran away? Mitch: Who does that? rollerskatinglizard: *snickering* theunvanquishedzims: Basil being a slobby peasant until two minutes after Mitch leaves, then realizing he has to take care of himself if he wants to keep Mitch's attention, and only then starting to regularly bathe and brush his hair and work on his figure. rollerskatinglizard: Snirk! Sounds about right, doofus nerd that he is theunvanquishedzims: Then he becomes a princess and has two servants per limb to keep him clean and shining, so when Mitch sneaks into the wedding announcement crowd his first view of Basil is 1. clean 2. shiny hair 3. dressed like a queen

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General book chit-chat, no specific AU

theunvanquishedzims: I saw the post about the Sympatico crew having a very different view of Rich than his friends and now I am consumed with the idea of Rich being seen as scary by anyone who knows him for more than a single minute. Like, he flinches at the sight of a uniform, he can't stand to be in a room with more than one other person in it, and he's so busy working he doesn't really have time to go around carving out a territory rollerskatinglizard: Right? You'd think it'd be tricky, but apparently no theunvanquishedzims: And now there's video of him covered in kittens, and doing cool board tricks, and pretending a little barbel is too heavy to lift, and also he might be in the news for taking down a murderous conspiracy at the Mall. rollerskatinglizard: *laughing* Indeed theunvanquishedzims: Where did big scary monster Merrill go, who is this marshmallow rollerskatinglizard: What scam is he trying to run?!? theunvanquishedzims: Oooh, I pity the fool who is assigned to a boat with Officer Merrill. Double flinch response rollerskatinglizard: RIGHT? *OH SHIT, THERE'S ANOTHER ONE* And she's ARMED theunvanquishedzims: Try to blow off some steam by watching some wrestling, A THIRD ONE rollerskatinglizard: Some poor dumbass who sneered at Trimmer once ends up hiding out on a penny boat bc there's MERRILLS EVERYWHERE, IT'S NOT SAFE OUT THERE theunvanquishedzims: *dying laughing* I imagine a non-terrible Sympatico crew member meeting reformed Rich is like those Very Special Episodes where the hero's high school bully or childhood bad influence friend comes to town, and they're so nice and friendly and apologetic about what happened back in the day rollerskatinglizard: We actually have an encounter something like that planned! theunvanquishedzims: The hero's friends are all charmed and the hero can't convince anyone that it's all an act, he's secretly still terrible, look I'll prove it *does something that makes the hero look bad and the reformed guy look like a victim* Yaaaaaaaaay!!! Outside perspective is the BEST rollerskatinglizard: Rich and this random dude, both acting like the other one is a total menace Meanwhile, anyone who's known either of them since is like ....No?? He's a fine guy, perfectly reasonable Merrill, stop growling theunvanquishedzims: Two Spider-Men pointing at each other rollerskatinglizard: Hah! Yes theunvanquishedzims: Also the fact that Rich has gotten BIGGER since leaving the Sympatico is probably a shock rollerskatinglizard: OH yeah theunvanquishedzims: Richard "Cranky Because He's Slowly Starving To Death" Merrill rollerskatinglizard: I mean, it's a shock to Rich When he hits another growth spurt So it's definitely a shock to anyone else theunvanquishedzims: Oh yeah, he was like 17 when he was first assigned there, nowhere near done growing yet Richard "My Shirts Rip When I Flex Wrong" Merrill rollerskatinglizard: *snickering* He'd look so sheepish and disgruntled if someone gave him that "I flexed and the sleeves fell off" shirt theunvanquishedzims: I am so glad Trimmer got to him before, like, a gang could figure out he's easily bribed with food. Things could have gone so much worse, corruption-wise rollerskatinglizard: YUP theunvanquishedzims: I just finished Athena and the Midnight Chicken and WOW Rich was actually kind of close to giving in to peer pressure there, if Athena hadn't thrown herself towards the proverbial sword he might have let himself be talked into something he really didn't want to do. rollerskatinglizard: It's possible! Baby Rich is very weak to peer pressure theunvanquishedzims: If they had been smart and manipulative and laid the groundwork first it would have been even easier, not just "here's a knife let your ingrained killing instincts do the work" rollerskatinglizard: Yeah! It could've gone much worse theunvanquishedzims: In the wrong hands Rich would make a very good, very sad soldier But like, deep down inside sad where no one could see it. rollerskatinglizard: That was actually close to his original story when I came up with him

[I’ll check with Skates to see if it’s okay to post that bit]

theunvanquishedzims: I'm already nervous about those two Horrible Old Men rollerskatinglizard: Which two? theunvanquishedzims: My face went D: at the idea that there's more than two rollerskatinglizard: *pats u gently* theunvanquishedzims: The werewolf guy with the boys on leashes is the one that makes my instincts scream KILL IT WITH FIRE, but there's also the one with the scar on his face? I wanna say Arthur Carroway rollerskatinglizard: >u> Gosh, Zims, idk WHY you'd be worried about him Just bc my tablet keyboard knows how to spell Carraway That's no reason to be concerned! rollerskatinglizard: Maybe Splick made him the [tarot] Devil bc he's devilishly handsome! Did you think of that?? theunvanquishedzims: I am terrified of him showing up, I know I'll be cringing too hard to keep reading right away. Men who abuse positions of power are so squicky, I couldn't even stand to watch the Office and Michael Scott is like, the most benign example of the trope But yeah a guy like that getting to Rich as a younger more mallable person, fresh-faced and eager to please. Ugh. Such a bad ending. rollerskatinglizard: YUP theunvanquishedzims: William Sandgren is the other one, I think rollerskatinglizard: Fortunately Rich did get rescued originally! I don't do sad endings theunvanquishedzims: He looks cool, I don't immediately want him dead for my own safety rollerskatinglizard: <u< theunvanquishedzims: ...I will ignore that face and continue to think of him as the lesser of two evils for now rollerskatinglizard: Absolutely feel free! ^u^ theunvanquishedzims: When I thought about this earlier I imagined Liam actually being the one to start a pissing contest with Arthur. Rich guy vs criminal guy, my grandmother bedazzled the skulls of her enemies, your teeth would make a lovely necklace, etc etc "Well I'd love to get them around your throat" ;) rollerskatinglizard: You know Liam QUITE well theunvanquishedzims: I'm a visual learner, so all the illustrations are helping me flesh out characteristics. Liam smiling like a psycho while his face drips blood is very telling. rollerskatinglizard: Hah!!! Right? God, he's SUCH a little firebrand theunvanquishedzims: (Also, AU where Liam is the babydoll heir and Rich is the soldier mod bodyguard he climbs like a tree) rollerskatinglizard: We have definitely discussed that AU thoughtfully >u> It's good, v tasty theunvanquishedzims: Rich is all THIS GOES AGAINST THE RULES and Liam is all oh you like being told what to do hmm? >:3~ rollerskatinglizard: Rich: God this is SUCH a bad idea, I'm gonna get so fired Liam: Not if you're good enough at it! theunvanquishedzims: I imagine without a pregnancy they'd be able to keep it under wraps slightly longer than grandma Beaker rollerskatinglizard: True! theunvanquishedzims: "Under wraps" like everyone in the house can't hear them rollerskatinglizard: Pffff YUP theunvanquishedzims: Ugh now I'm remembering Trimmer being scared of Rich getting drunk and pushy and I'm sad again rollerskatinglizard: No one likes Rich's drinking except Rich rollerskatinglizard: It's okay tho, Trimmer trusts Rich more after that theunvanquishedzims:I think he'll figure it out given enough time. Rich: Well everyone drinks because work sucks. Basil and Mitch: Nope! Rich: Well I'm a soldier mod so it just LOOKS like I'm drinking a lot. Angie and Thena: Nope! Rich: Well I have trauma from the Sympatico so I need alcohol to deal with that. Trimmer: Nope! Rich: ...well I guess I have a problem then. :< Everyone: Yep! rollerskatinglizard: Indeed theunvanquishedzims: I am so curious about their origins, how the relationship developed, how apparently they had half a handjob between them and went NOPE NEVER AGAIN, how they wound up co-sleeping, if they ever cried on one another, etc etc rollerskatinglizard: I'm 100% certain that Rich cried on Trimmer at least once, while Trimmer awkwardly patted his hair and gently called him a wuss or something If Trimmer ever cried it would've been in the middle of the night, and none of them would ever mention it in the light of day theunvanquishedzims: Was that Trimmer's first posting? I know it was Rich's, so he kiiiind of didn't know any better, but Trimmer is older by a bit rollerskatinglizard: It definitely wasn't Trimmer's first, no, the latest in a long string of postings that went from okay to bad to worse theunvanquishedzims: Oh nooooooo No wonder he finally said screw it and got a solo boat rollerskatinglizard: Yep

[coal-wings-and-cold-fronts]

maple, amber, spice?

Maple: Is there a hobby/skill you’ve always wanted to try but never did?

Archery. My current hobbies are all very sedentary activities and I’d like to find one that involves a little more activity. I’m a complete failure at sports though lol, so archery seems like something I could do that doesn’t require much running or jumping.

Amber: Share an unpopular opinion you may have.

Chocolate flavored anything is good except for ice cream. And black licorice also tastes better than red. Going to the beach is overrated. Listening to an audiobook shouldn’t be considered “reading.” Most pajamas are unwearable and are either too scratchy or feel too silken to be comfortable. Twilight was an okay read for what it was. Not high class literature, but certainly not as horrible as everyone claims it is. Romantic comedies can be fun to watch, even if they might be a little corny sometimes. Guinea pigs are not good first time pets for young children. They’re a lot more fragile than most rodents and can get stressed very easily.

Spice: Have you ever encountered a house that you believed to be haunted?

Now this is a question! lol

Only once when I was a little kid and I went along with my mom to take a tour of this house when we were looking for somewhere to move. It looked like a normal Victorian style house, if a little worn from the outside. But as soon as I stepped inside I felt this cold dread wash over me, and I started to feel vaguely nauseated. As we walked around, it felt like I was being watched, as if the walls had eyes that were following my every move. It was also very dark, even though some of the lights were on. It’s hard to describe, but it was just dark, like the shadows seemed bigger than they should have been and the colorful wallpaper just looked off and distorted. It was dead silent and everything was still. Then the next thing I remember, I was walking to the car with my mom, and the feeling of dread instantly lifted. I still look back on that experience and swear there’s a logical explanation for it, like maybe it was anxiety or something similar, but I’m no stranger to anxious feelings and I’ve never felt anything like that again. Sometimes I really do wonder if there was something malicious in there with us.

[glittercracker]

Kingkiller Crap

So, I’ve never really posted much here that involves my own thoughts. There are a number of reasons why, but whatever. I feel the need NOW to post some thoughts, and having no working independent blog (yet!) I suppose this is the place to dump them. PSA: none of this is about anime. None of this is frivolous or fun. TW for sexual abuse. You have been warned! So. I’ve been rereading the Kingkiller Chronicles. aka “Name of the Wind” and “The Wise Man’s Fear” and “That Other One That Shall Not Be Named.” This reread was, at the beginning, almost an afterthought. A way to keep my 13 yo happy on a 7 hour car ride. Except, he could not have cared less, and I got sucked back into the story (and okay, if that is how all our audiobook car rides go, meh? At least it keeps me sharp!) I raced through book one, and bought book 2 on audible with an eye to my upcoming surgery and recooperation. Book one was problematic in the places I remembered, but also as generally engaging as I remembered. And then book 2 happened, and surgery happened, and I have had weeks to lie in bed listening to this bloody interminable sequel, and I find myself lost in a morass of, “WTF was I ever THINKING?” Namely, how did I ever love this book enough to pine for the next? It’s been hard to put a finger on exactly what is making this time through book 2 both a slog and also vaguely, creepily uncomfortable, but if you’re interested, my rather stream-of-consciousness ramble of thoughts ensues. First, the male gaze that rears its head at times in book 1 predominates here. But while I don’t love the way Kvothe describes women, I also have 2 degrees in literature, and I’m beyond that being a reason not to read an otherwise engaging book. Second, Kvothe is a Gary Stu, for all of Rothfuss’s protestations to the contrary. Again, so far, so much traditional high fantasy. But while, say, Aragorn is content to just quietly be Awesome At Everything, Kvothe is a braggy little shit of a Gary Stu: the person you hated for announcing their perfect scores in that hs class you could never quite master. I could fill several pages with examples, but for some reason what really made me want to kick him in the head was not Felurian’s disbelief of his virginity (though really, jfc, REALLY?) Nope, it was the end of his time w the Ademrae (sp may be off, remember, I’m listening not reading!) when he crows about having learned the history of his sword 2 days earlier than expected. Why does this stick out? Oh, idk. Maybe bc he sucks so hard he can’t even get past the first obstacle in his practical final exam? Yet he still has to tell us how fucking awesome he is for remembering 6000 names of previous owners.

I know, I’m supposed to forgive his teenage idiocy. The internet sympathists (no pun intended!) keep telling me this. And I suppose that I would, IF this were a simple first-person narrative - but it isn’t. Let’s repeat that, and really think about it. This story is being narrated by an older and presumably wiser Kvothe who has lost everything - whose abilities have been expunged to the extent that he can’t open his own chest of Cool Stuff. He shows humility in his actions, mostly. And yet when discussing his 16 yo self, the humility evaporates, and he speaks with no kind of perspective or lens of accrued wisdom. He still compares women to instruments waiting for the “right” player (i.e. him) and defends this choice of words by saying, essentially, “You aren’t a musician, you don’t know!”

Interesting assumption for an innkeeper in a medieval-esque world. Interesting assumption if this is in fact authorial interjection, too, because I suspect the majority of this book’s audience *are* musicians to at least an extent, and I also suspect that the majority of us (yes, us - I own several beloved instruments, including a harp custom made for me as a wedding present from my husband) would not equate a human lover to even the most beloved of instruments.

But all of this is well-trodden critical ground. As far as I can tell, though, my third issue isn’t: although it’s perhaps the most glaringly tone-deaf example of all of Rothfuss’s excruciatingly tone-deaf portrayal of his world’s women. Namely, the two girls kidnapped and gang-raped by the fake Ruh.

Almost all of the criticism I’ve read on this section of TWMF concentrates on Kvothe’s treatment of the girls’ abusers. What’s interesting is that no one ever seems to write about Kvothe’s treatment of the girls themselves. Yes, he treats them kindly. He tends their wounds, he feeds them, he tries (and succeeds, of course) to draw Ellie out of her shocked stupor. 

Yet what he never once does, from the moment he takes control of the situation, is ask their opinions on any of this, including what their next step should be. He just decides to bring them back to their families - families who, in this type of society, might well disown them for being “ruined”. And the girls themselves, namely the intelligent and savvy Krin, seem to go blindly along with what he says. Why? Would Krin at least not question this, or object to his making decisions for her, when a group of men had so recently and brutally taken away all of her agency? Would she not question whether being brought back to her family is the best thing for the catatonic Ellie?

Okay, apparently not. So they return to their apparently very forgiving town. Kvothe stands up for the girls against the village shithead: thank you, Kvothe, bc I’m sure Krin could not have said those words herself. He assures the reader that they are with people who will love and care for them despite what has happened to them: thank you, Kvothe, though it’s stretching my credulity a bit that you would assume that no one will take issue with their deflowering. But then he “gifts” the girls the spoils of his slaughter: the horses, the valuables, the wagons. And I was about to give him a (grudging) pass for being decent about this, EXCEPT: he goes on to say that these goods are meant for the girls’ dowries. Specifically, to make them worth enough financially for potential husbands to overlook their loss of virginity. He even tells Krin not to settle for a less-than-lucrative marriage.

And suddenly, I was outraged. Why? Because a man who had witnessed the full extend of these women’s abuse brought them back to a backwater town believing that he was being magnanimous both in doing so, and in giving up whatever share he might have taken of the spoils of the debacle to make them financially lucrative marriage prospects. Because he never asked these traumatized girls if they might rather cut and run with the money than use it to make some man overlook their abuse in order to make them his property. He never even questions the idea that they will be grateful to submit to marriage contracts that will no doubt require them to have sex with their husbands, even though these women have been abused to the extent that they cannot sit a horse for *two days* after being rescued. And the worst part is that 20-something frame-story Kvothe doesn’t question this either; he just goes on to gloat about people singing songs about his daring rescue. Maybe I was just ready for a straw to break my benefit of the doubt. Or maybe this really is as outrageous as it feels. Either way, I can’t help being angry at Rothfuss. As a writer, I am very well aware that character and author are not the same thing; that authorial intent is not the same as authorial beliefs. But there are moments in some books when I have to wonder if that line is blurring, and this is one of them. Kvothe has literally JUST left a female-dominated country full of independent women happily doing their own thing. He has given these girls the means to find themselves a situation that will never require them to be beholden to a man again - even houses ffs, in the shape of those 2 wagons, should they want them. There are so many options beyond marriage: I can’t, for instance, think of a medieval society that didn’t have its version of a convent. Or, for Krin at least, why not the University? For that matter, why not marry her himself, and then set her free to do as she likes under the awning of a respectable marriage? 

Instead he returns them to their fathers, and likewise gives their fathers the means to marry them off with no argument. Who, after all, holds the reins of the horses at the end? Why does Kvothe assume that these families will actually use the wealth even in the dubious way that he recommends?

And in this, I think, I am justified in giving Rothfuss the stink-eye. This is one more instance for Kvothe to play the hero with no real attention given to the consequences. Kvothe himself, I think, would be appalled. He has suffered so much deprivation in his life, so often been marginalized, scapegoated, powerless, how on earth could he so easily consign others to that fate? How could he think, loving Denna as he does, having heard her words to the beaten girl in Severin, that buying these girls husbands who will “overlook” their abuse for the sake of wealth is anything but a wretched life sentence for them?

Sigh. There was a time when I desperate awaited book three. Now, given the other women’s lives at stake in this series, I’m not so sure I want to know.

[bexterbex]

A Soul To Mend His Own | Ch. 39

[Gif by @cloudyfacewithjam​]

Warning, if it hasn’t been obvious in the movies there is Nazi symbolism within the First Order. I will expand on this much more throughout the story. If this is something that bothers you, please just exit the story. The author does not condone any Nazi ideals, this is just for fictional uses only.

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 39: No But They Can Try

You finished breakfast and bid the lieutenant a good day, sending him off to go get rest. You turned to the general. “So what is it that we are learning today?”

The general was over on one of the walls preparing a giant screen that you didn’t know existed. “It has been requested by the Supreme Leader that you take some finishing lessons.”

“Finishing lessons?”

He successfully brought a video to the screen. “Yes, along with your diplomacy lessons the Supreme Leader has requested that you take finishing lessons or etiquette lessons. You are to be a refined lady, an empress. He has made it clear that you are to succeed in the areas he does not.”

He started the video or lack of video as it seemed to be an audiobook.  

Ch. 1: What is Best Society?

Ch. 2: Introductions

Ch. 3: Greetings 10 min

Ch. 4: Salutations of Courtesy

Ch. 5: On the Street and in Public

There wasn’t much discussion as he had talked about with the lieutenant. You both just sat back and listened, rather you listened and he worked on his data pad. After the fifth chapter, you had enough of listening to rules of etiquette, so you decided to strike up a conversation in hopes of ending the lesson.

“Why is it that I am learning this and you are working on something else?”

“Because I am not going to become a lady. That is your job, my job is to make sure that you are learning what you are learning. I am currently working on my other job of running the First Order. Just because the Supreme Leader has assigned me to be in charge of your care and your lessons does not mean any of my other duties have ceased.” He still failed to look up from his data pad.

“I thought the Supreme Leader ran the First Order?” You were digging for something.

The data pad hit the redhead’s lap in frustration, but before the words you suspected that he wanted to say came out of his mouth he answered, “of course the Supreme Leader does, but there are many, many duties he cannot do himself and so he leaves them in the very capable hands of others.”

“I sense some hostility in you general. You don’t have to keep it from me that you wished he would do more or that you did less.” You were looking at the man rather pointedly.

“The Supreme Leader and I knew each other before he became the Supreme Leader. At that time we were both competing for the previous Supreme Leader’s good graces. Ones that he never really gave out. And then the Supreme Leader usurped him. I was afraid that because of our past grievances that he would just put me out, but he looked past that and saw the greater good I could do for the First Order. He gets the glorious title of Supreme Leader and the ability to supersede anyone that questions him, but I get to make the First Order into a legacy that outshines the Empire.”

The man sitting next to you loved what he was doing. Married to his duty. Has the love of creating a great empire of his own.

“I’m sure he’s thankful, even if it just means he doesn’t have to do all of the paperwork. In my lessons of the Empire, Vader and Tarkin had a similar relationship. Maybe not as vicious as your relationship has been, but a parallel none the less. I am thankful, from what I have seen from the Supreme Leader, he is much more an intimidation tool than he is a leader.” You were being honest with the man, after all he really has only kept things from you because of Kylo’s orders.

“That he is. He is very effective in leading Stormtroopers. They gladly follow him into battle. And not just because he will kill them, but because the enemy focuses on him, and it is almost a guaranteed win if he is with them. You saw him in training, but seeing him on the battlefield is something else entirely. He becomes the human embodiment of rage and destruction. Which unfortunately can transfer back to damages on board the ship.”

“Is this what you meant by needing to ‘brace ourselves’? I understand that he is quick to anger but isn’t there something that we can do about it?”

“If I knew the answer to that m’lady I would be the richest man in the galaxy. Yes, that is partially the reason why I said it. The other reason is that any time an issue is about you, before or after he met you he becomes even more unstable, more unpredictable. I may have known him for years but I have no idea what he will be like when he gets here.”

“I see, so are you suggesting that I should be scared?”

“No, m’lady just prepared.”

“Prepared for what? You just called him unstable and unpredictable.”

“Prepared for the unexpected, occasionally and I mean rarely he surprises me. The last few times that has happened it has been about you. So just be prepared for anything.”

You didn’t know whether to find his words comforting or horrifying. You could already see that Kylo was unstable. You glanced down at your wrist, to the faded Ben Solo. You wondered if the unstableness was Kylo or Kylo’s struggle with Ben. You had seen him almost kill a man who spoke and thought ill of you. What would he do this time because you did it to yourself, accidentally but to yourself?

“I believe it is time for lunch,” said the general.

You then went about ordering and eating lunch in the dining room, not really talking about anything in particular but just light conversation. He then escorted you down the halls to the large conference room that you usually met in for your lessons. This time the room was filled with generals and admirals and holograms of generals and admirals. You took a seat next to Hux, who was sitting across the table from Pryde. Phasma was on guard in the corner of the room in her silver armored glory. You wondered when would be the best time to apologize.

“As you all know the Supreme Leader will be here in a matter of minutes. He will give us the rundown on his mission, and maybe his next plans. He is currently not in the best of moods so brace yourselves. Everyone,” said Hux.

The room went about idle chatter for a few moments before you heard loud footsteps coming down the hall, and some screaming too. If the door had hinges you would have guessed that it would have slammed open. He stalked in with the Knights of Ren filling in the back of the room along with Commander Pyre.

You saw Ap’lek eye Phasma up and down with hostility, almost assessing whether or not he could take here out now. But he then turned to face the Kylo on the other side of the room. You could see Phasma’s body language change, she was now ready for an attack.

Your attention quickly shifted to Kylo, who seemed to refrain himself from slamming his palms on the table, but just barely. His clothes were slightly singed in various places, he and the knights seemed to have some light mud on them as well. They look as if they have come straight off the battlefield, Pyre even had scuffs on his gold armor.

“Skywalker is dead.”

There was malice in his voice. You could sense the anger and hostility that radiated off of him in dark waves. His own personal storm cloud.

The other generals and admirals around you lifted their heads in what seemed to be acknowledgment and relief.

A balding general whom you have never seen before spoke up, “And what of the scavenger?”

In an instant, he was on the ceiling choking. His chair had been thrown back and clattered to the ground. He was crying out, gasping for air.

Kylo’s head turned quickly to you, assessing you. He moved swiftly from the front of the room and grabbed you by the arm pulling you up and out of the room. He was grabbing your arm so tightly you were sure that it was going to bruise. He did not stop until you were both in your chambers.

You were scared.

“I have half a mind to kill her.” The helmet was still on.

You were confused, “to kill who.”

“Phasma, you were under her care and she let it happen.” He then abruptly took the helmet on and backed you into a corner. “Why did you do it? Are you that unhappy with me?” His voice was still laced and stitched with anger.

You were frozen in fear.

His eyes were almost black. You could literally feel the anger that was radiating off of him in the electricity in the air. Or was it the Force that you were feeling?

His hand slammed into the wall next to you. “Answer me!” He was yelling, his voice dripping with fury and rage.

You thought you were going to die.

His other hand hooked itself under your chin and yanked your face upwards while he stood over you menacingly.

No, you knew you were going to die.

You trembled out, “It was an accident, I didn’t mean to.” Your voice barely a whisper. Your eyes were wide in fear.

“What do you mean it was an accident? How could it have been an accident?” He was still yelling.

“I wanted them to stop.”

“What to stop?” He was a tiny bit calmer.

“The lights.”

“What lights.”

“The lights I saw every time I closed my eyes since you have been gone.”

His face shifted slightly, you could see the concern start to brew in the cauldron of his eyes. “What did these lights look like?”

“They were red and blue and they were fighting. Every time I closed my eyes I could see them.”

The hand that was under your chin shifted to caress the side of your face. “Tell me more.”

“There was also an ocean, I don’t know where it was but it was big. I haven’t been able to really sleep since you have been gone.”

“All you wanted was for them to stop, and you didn’t realize what was happening?”

“Yes, and Phasma saved me. I had ordered her to stay away from me. I wanted to be alone.”

The hand then shifted down to your neck. It rested there. “Why did you want to be alone?”

“I feel like a songbird in a cage here. People constantly telling me what to do, say and think. I am watched 24/7. You give them orders to tell me, without telling me anything. I wanted to be free, if only for a few minutes.”

The hand shifted back up to your face, his thumb ran over your lips. “You are a beautiful songbird Kitten.” He then drew you in and kissed you. You missed this, oh how you missed this.

When you broke apart, “but kisses won’t fix this.”

“No, but they can try.” He leaned back in to kiss you. Pushing you into the wall, eventually, his kisses started to roam down to your neck, “no, but they can try.”

[shitty-check-please-aus]

2020 Books Read So Far

Note: Most of these are audiobooks (listening to books counts as reading books and if you disagree I’d ask you to consider why you believe that), books I started and didn’t finish will be listed but not reviewed, and all my opinions are extremely subjective. I’m putting this on this blog because I want to and I think it’ll help me keep track of what I’ve read if I write it down in a couple places. 

Some notes:

I’m surprised that most of these are nonfiction! I don’t usually think of myself as a nonfiction reader. 

Having audiobooks has made me way more productive as a reader, since I can read while I’m doing repetitive tasks at work, when I have to stand on the bus, when I’m running, etc. 

Naked, by David Sedaris

3/5, the audiobook was “unabridged selections” which means “we didn’t edit the individual essays but you’re only getting half the book”– it would probably have been a 4/5 if it was a whole book. I liked that Amy Sedaris was reading parts of it, but that’s because I like her more than I like her brother. This is sort of an example of the difference between “comedic” and “humorous,” because it’s definitely the latter. 

Read it if: you want to read something pretty fucking weird. 

Lafayette in the Somewhat United States, by Sarah Vowell

4/5, I saw this recommended a lot when Hamilton first came out so it’s been in the back of my mind for a good while. The book had a great cast, and having different people reading the historical quotes was an excellent touch! 

However, I think Vowell’s conversational style is a little jarring here sometimes. It’s like “wait, why are you talking about Bruce Springsteen, I’m not that familiar with his work but he definitely isn’t from Revolutionary War times.” I got her book Assassination Vacation at a used bookshop recently as well, and both books suffer from post-2016 hindsight, where she’ll say something about how incompetent and foolish the politicians of her time are, and I just have to snort to myself and say “Sarah, you’re going to lose your goddamn mind soon.” That’s a bit of an unfair reaction, but it’s hard to avoid having it.

I was also, maybe unfairly, expecting to learn more than I did. The problem is that I know a Lot about the Revolutionary War, and from the introduction I thought we’d hear more about Lafayette’s later life (my knowledge drops sharply after about 1810). The book basically ends after the Battle of Yorktown, though.

Read it if: you have not seen/listened to both Hamilton and 1776, or if you want to read a summary of the Revolutionary War with a focus on one French captain. 

Assassination Vacation, by Sarah Vowell

3/5, honestly maybe a 2.5/5. Okay, so. Either I know a lot more about American History than I felt like I did or this is again a very surface level thing. Part of it is because she spends 123 pages on Abe Lincoln. There are 255 pages total. 2/3 of the states I’ve lived in are Indiana and Illinois, two states that fight about claiming Lincoln as their own, and I’ve been to D.C. 4 or 5 times, so I feel like I know enough about Lincoln. I know about John Wilkes Booth, and his brother Edwin who saved Lincoln’s son’s life, and the death train that took Lincoln’s body around the country. I did enjoy learning about the doctor who was probably conspiring with Booth and how he ended up saving tons of lives in prison when there was a yellow fever outbreak (also to be briefly unbearably nitpicky: I think she might have mixed up dengue and yellow fever? She calls yellow fever “breakbone” but I can only find instances online of people calling dengue fever that. Maybe they called them all breakbone in the late 1800s. If anyone reading this is an epidemiologist, let me know).

It was interesting to hear that Charles Guiteau, killer of President Garfield, was part of the Oneida cult. I’m trying to think of anything notable she said about Leon Czolgosz, killer of President McKinley. I guess she talks about how people assumed he was a foreigner because of his name, but I already listened to “The Ballad of Czolgosz” in Assassins, so I knew “Czolgosz, angry man, born in the middle of Michigan.”

This one is from 2005 so the politics stuff is a little more interesting, since at the time I was busy learning multiplication and spending one entire baseball season learning about baseball and following my team (they won the world series, I have excellent timing). I will say that in 2005 we did have Google, so I am again annoyed with some of her asides and personal anecdotes. Look, if you go to the Hemingway house and you don’t know there will be cats there, that’s on you if you don’t bring your Claritin. Hemingway is associated with only two good things, six-toed cats and Daiquiris. 

She also does not acknowledge that the parties basically switched platforms? Lincoln’s Republican party is not today’s Republican party, in fact kind of the opposite, so it’s weird that she starts the book with a dedication that’s like “to my lifelong Democrat grandpa, he’d be pissed I dedicated a book about 3 Republicans to him.” I guess she does sometimes say stuff like “how did Lincoln’s party become Reagan’s” (paraphrase), but she doesn’t actually get into it. 

Speaking of Democrats, she literally spends more time talking about Pablo Picasso than she spends talking about JFK. She doesn’t explain why she didn’t talk about JFK, but it seems bizarre to me to write a book about American assassinations and to leave out John Fucking Kennedy. Literally I’ve talked more about JFK in this section than she did in her assassin book. It’s not until page 253 that JFK gets a full paragraph. There are 255 pages total. Truly, if she’d taken a paragraph to be like “I’m focusing on the presidents who were elected before 1900″ or “the presidents whose immediate families aren’t still alive” or even “I didn’t want to travel to Dallas for research” or SOMETHING to explain why she left out JFK, I would have understood it more instead of flipping through the pages wondering what was going on. 

Read it if: You do not listen to too many history podcasts and you didn’t read the Wikipedia page for the musical Assassins. And I guess if you don’t want to acknowledge that JFK did also get assassinated and that was kind of a big deal. Actually just listen to Assassins instead. 

And Then There Were None, Agatha Christie

5/5 as a mystery, 0/5 for its original title (not gonna say it here but if you’ve ever googled the name of HP Lovecraft’s cat, it’s along those lines). Less than 6 hours, narrated by Dan Stevens from Downton Abbey, fairly ideal as an audiobook. I am 95% sure I’ve already read this, because I spent the summer before I started high school reading every Agatha Christie book in the library (I do not have a list of all the Agatha Christie books in my library the summer of 2010, so there is some question). 

Read if: you want to hear the guy from Downton Abbey deliver the line “I’m not a complete fool!” in a tone that makes it sound like “I’m not a fucking moron!” Sidenote: Can anyone tell me if Brits say “solder” by pronouncing the L that I’ve always heard as a silent L? Or if Dan Stevens just fucked up that one word?

Over The Top: A Raw Journey to Self-Love, by Jonathan Van Ness

4.5/5

This was a super enjoyable audiobook! It’s a testament to JVN’s considerable charisma that this book is full of him giving people in his past who would rather be anonymous Russian names, and it doesn’t get grating (as a Marina, however, I was shocked to not hear my name at any point; most of the other Marina’s I’ve met in my life are Russian). JVN has had a wild ride in life, and it’s a really raw, honest story of how he became who he is. I will say that if you are interested in reading this, please look up the trigger warnings; there are a lot of things that could be triggering to people. 

I feel a little bad at how much more I liked this one compared to Tan France’s memoir, but I also feel like whoever was ghostwriting that one did a bad job at making Tan seem... not extremely defensive, cocky, and prickly (it seems that JVN did not use a ghostwriter; Tan’s on the other hand, let the phrase “I’m proud to be a petty bitch” make it into the final proof several times). Also JVN advocates going to therapy in his book, while Tan kind of says that you should only go to therapy if you have no friends or family or life partner to talk to, which I fundamentally disagree with. I don’t know. I also feel like, if I were to get a makeover from the Fab 5, Jonathan would love my hair (I have great hair) while Tan would say that I’m dressing too old for a 24 year old and then take me to fucking Lane Bryant or Torrid (I wear a size 16 US so IRL options are limited). 

Read if: You like Queer Eye or Getting Curious with Jonathan Van Ness

Medallion Status, by John Hodgman

4.5/5

I really like John Hodgman’s podcast, and I got to ask him a question at an event he did at the Field Museum and he was very nice, so I went into this inclined to enjoy it. 

And I did! I had a good time reading it. I read it the first week of January and now it’s the second week of February so I have already erased much of the book’s content from my mind, but he somehow made the perspective of being a formerly kinda famous person really interesting. I would also recommend Vacationland, particularly if anyone wants to write an au where Nursey, as a New Yorker, has a vacation home in Dex’s town in Maine. That’s right, I brought it back around to the topic of this blog. And that would be a fucking fantastic au. 

Read it if: you like memoirs! it’s a good one. 

Murder on the Orient Express, by Agatha Christie

Gonna give this one a 3/5 for performance, because Dan Stevens (again, because I liked his narration in the other one) does a really annoying American accent for a few characters, and an extremely bad Italian accent for another. I’m starting this review only a few hours in, so if it turns out that the Italian man is not Italian, I’ll revoke my criticism. Still a 5/5 mystery, though. I did have to stop many times when they were talking about Istanbul to go over to Spotify and play “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” by They Might Be Giants. 

Books abandoned in 2020 (so far) (no real spoilers, I didn’t get more than a few chapters into any of them):

The Unhoneymooners, Christina Lauren

I got to a point where the main character was telling a lie that would put her newly accepted job into jeopardy, and it stressed me out so much as a relatively new hire that I stopped listening for the day and started another one, and then the week had passed and then the library took it back. I think I’d enjoy it more if I was reading it physically and I could control how fast I got through awkward parts (I am practically allergic to secondhand embarrassment). The performance was good and I did get a hankering for cheese curds. 

Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris

I had like three audiobooks checked out at the same time, and even though this was again an abridged version, I just didn’t have time for all of them. My mom has a physical copy, I’ll borrow that at some point. 

The Witch Elm, Tana French

This is one I may revisit someday. The main character is kind of an asshole, which is the point of his character I think, but it made it hard to get into the story. It’s also a 22 hour audiobook, which is kind of insanely long. Additionally, the narrator has a very slow way of talking, but if I tried to speed up the rate of playback I had trouble understanding his accent (I think I just have trouble processing really fast speech in general as well, but I would’ve had an easier time understanding someone with the same accent as me). Anyways, someone put a hold on it at the library and then I didn’t check it out again. 

[megglesthegeek]

Merry Christmas! (But I think I’ll skip this one this year)

For @jukeboxomens​ Song event.

Rating: T

Word count: 14223

AO3:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/28081347/chapters/68800308

Summery:  Human AU. Aziraphale Fell and Anthony Crowley met on a flight from New York to London and were instantly smitten with one another. But busy schedules, as well as plain stupidity, lead them to some hit and miss encounters that always feel a bit too long in between. As the calendar moves along, both begin to wonder if maybe it all means it just won't work out. At least, that's what they think until the hit December. A sort of songfic based on "Christmas Wrapping"

January

 Aziraphale Fell sat in his business class seat heading back from New York to London and sighed. His publishers in America were always a little more daunting to deal with than the ones back in the UK, but he couldn’t deny that being in person to discuss the movie rights to his book series was the smart move. After all, he may have lost nearly all his creative control if he hadn’t. Goodness knows what sort of butchering would have happened to his story if he hadn’t been there to amend that yes, he did want to be part of the scriptwriting process, thank you.

But it was done, and a bonus was being able to do a few book signings while he was in town and getting to meet his fans. He was terrible at social media, typically allowing his assistant Anathema to help him with it. Rarely did he ever post something directly. Gabriel had insisted it was absolutely necessary to have a “presence”, otherwise, he’d not bother. So these encounters had meant something to the people who read his books, and more so he got to hear from them directly.

The encounters from just earlier in the day were still warming his soul as he peeked out the window at the tarmac, watching as the people on the ground below went about their pre-flight work while they continued the boarding process. 

There was a shuffling to his right, and he half expected to look up and see a flight attendant, but instead, he saw a tall, thin man with red hair and sunglasses putting his bag in the overhead compartment.

Without meaning to, Aziraphale traced the man’s figure with his eyes. Lean, so painfully lean, legs for days. Not hard to look at in the least. Then he forced himself to look away and back out the window at something safe.

“Sorry, mate,” the man said as he dropped into the seat next to Aziraphale’s. “‘Magine you were hoping to get by without a seatmate.”

“It’s no trouble at all, I assure you. Plenty of room.” Aziraphale smiled as he turned back to the man and good lord he was not prepared for the cheekbones. Or the golden-brown eyes. Or the devastating half-smile. 

“Still, no one really shells out this sorta money to spend eight-odd hours next to a stranger.”

“Well, if I had been that adamant on not having a seat partner, I would have ensured I had booked one of those,” He said, indicating the middle row where single seats were located. “But it’s never particularly bothered me.”

“For the best then.” The man replied, giving a more toothy grin this time before offering his hand. “Anthony Crowley, last-minute flight booker.”

“Aziraphale Fell,” he said as he took Anthony’s hand and shook it. “You’re heading… home?” He wagered, taking Anthony’s accent into consideration.

“Yeah, can’t bloody wait, either. I love New York, but I hate America you know what I mean?” He asked with a wrinkle of his brow.

“I believe I do,” Aziraphale replied as the flight attendant went about closing the overhead bins. “New York, while it does have its flaws, almost feels like it’s an entirely different world. Especially when one goes into Central Park.”

“Bloody baffling, right? You almost can’t hear the city depending on where you are. Get in the right spots, no tourists, just the trees and the grass and the pigeons and you’d never even know.”

Aziraphale hummed in agreement, nodding, noting Anthony buckling his seatbelt without being prompted. 

He didn’t really sit back in the chair. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if what Anthony was doing could be called sitting, but he was at least in the chair, buckled, legs out of the aisle.

“So were you in the city long?” Anthony asked.

“Oh, no, just a few days on business.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I’m an author. I was meeting with some of the folks here to discuss plans for future projects. What about you?”

“Oh, I’m a musician. Part of a band, not in the spotlight directly, yeah? I was here to help write a song with someone else.”

“You came all the way to New York to write a song?” Aziraphale asked as the flight attendant came back through, peeking in to make sure everyone was buckled.

“Well,” Anthony stretched out the word. “I was in LA originally, finishing up some stuff with my band when I got the call. Buddy I was working with is a friend so I thought I would pop over. Rest of them are already back in London far as I know.”

“Oh, well, staying behind, helping a friend instead of going home, that was very kind of you.”

“Shut up,” Anthony groaned, blushing all the same. 

Aziraphale was completely and utterly charmed. It had been a long time since he looked at a man and found him magnetic, someone terribly difficult to look away from. Anthony Crowley utterly gorgeous, and on top of it he seemed a rather nice person. Aziraphale couldn’t be absolutely sure, but there seemed to signs that Anthony was of the same persuasion as Aziraphale. Certainly not at all in the same league, but it meant that he didn’t have to worry about a sudden cold shoulder when his quirks and mannerisms gave him away.

The pilot came over the speaker, announcing their pending departure, and Anthony partly straightened in his seat. He stuck his hand in his pocket, withdrawing from it a pack of gum. He took out a couple of sticks, then turned to Aziraphale.

“Want one? For the…?” He scrunched his face, gesturing to his ears with his free hand.

“Oh, no thank you,” Aziraphale decline with a smile.

Anthony swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Right,” He said as if partly in a daze then turning abruptly away. Shyly, he said, “I, um, I never got used to it, ya know? The whole ear popping thing. Been doing this for something like fifteen years and I still can’t find a way to get’em to pop besides this.”

“I’ve always just made a swallowing motion,” Aziraphale said as Anthony began to unwrap one of the sticks of gum.

He fumbled it on his lap while making a sound in his throat that sounded vaguely like they were made of consonants of the English language but no real words.

Aziraphale pursed his lips to stop himself from laughing, though he was sure he didn’t do well to hide his amusement altogether.

“So,” Anthony began, his voice pitching a little high before he cleared his throat, “Author. What sorta books do you write?” Anthony asked, adjusting his position so he was turned slightly more toward Aziraphale and very much gave off the air of “cool”. He popped the unwrapped stick of gum in his mouth and began to chew as the plane began to taxi.

Aziraphale felt suddenly flushed. “Oh, well. Umm, you see… I write, umm, fantasy novels. Nothing, nothing too… I’m no Tolkien, that’s for sure. But there’s, you know… magic. Fantastical creatures. Sword fights.”

“Anything I might’ve heard of? Not a big reader, mind, so if I haven’t don’t take that as a marker of any sort of renowned.”

Aziraphale swallowed. “Well, it’s the, umm… well the main character’s Landon, and his friend is umm… Artemis, and-“

“Oh my god, you’re A.Z. Fell.” Anthony interrupted him, eyes wide and jaw dropped. “Listen, mate, I don’t read. When I say I’m not a reader, I’m serious. Books, unless it’s something in my field - a biography or something - I don’t tend to pick it up. If I want a fantasy world I put on a film. But I have listened to the audiobooks of your stuff, and it’s bloody brilliant. That gets made into a movie I’ll be first in line to see it. Hell, I’ll probably try to convince the band to try and get on the soundtrack.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale grinned. “Funny you should say that.”

 ~C~

 Three hours into the flight from New York to London and Crowley knew he was in love. 

He’d had moments similar to these in the past, meeting a random stranger and finding himself utterly enamored with them while making small talk in an airport, at a bar, wherever they may be. A pretty face with a bit of intrigue behind it, and he could probably churn out a song when he thought back to it. 

It never stuck, of course. Half the time he might get their number, only to either be ghosted or find the luster had worn off and he’d move on. He avoided saying he was the guitarist of The Demons, knowing full well it would mean they would look at him differently. These little flights of fancy never led to the reveal of his minor fame. And since he wasn’t usually the main focus of albums, photographs, and all that he could get away with it.

But this was so very different. Because Aziraphale was so very different.

By this point on a flight, Crowley usually had his earbuds in, either watching some movie he’d seen a dozen times or listening to something and drift off. But he couldn’t bear the idea of not talking to Aziraphale.

He was just so bloody interesting. 

The man had inherited a bookshop that had been in his family for generations, dating back to the 1800s. And while he did carry plenty of new, modern titles and sold those with ease and relish there was a case in the back of repaired tomes and first editions that Aziraphale wouldn’t part with if he could help it. Half of them had apparently been repaired by his grandfather or father, and he had far too much sentimental attachment to them to let them go. And while he would never host a book signing at his own shop, his was the only place in all of London that had signed editions of all his work.

Where Crowley wasn’t a big reader, Aziraphale wasn’t a fan of most modern music though he heard it often enough pumped through the speakers of the shop. He had heard of his band and was fairly sure that he had heard the music but couldn’t say for certain. Same with film and most television, Aziraphale had heard of it, was exposed to it now and then, but tended to stick to the classics he was fond of and familiar with.

“Except for The Lord of the Rings ,” he’d confessed to Crowley as the two ate from their fruit, cheese, and cracker tray, glasses of wine at their sides. “I must confess I was eager to see each and every film when they were released and did so in the theater no less.”

“And did you munch popcorn?” Crowley asked before popping a grape in his mouth.

“No,” Aziraphale scoffed. “I’m not afraid to admit I’m a bit of a snob when it comes to food.”

Crowley looked from him to the tray with an arched brow, and the bastard rolled his eyes. 

“I’m not saying this is any sort of haute cuisine, but it’s also some of the only food I’ll have for another five hours. Though I must admit I would hate to see what they’re serving back in economy.”

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed, taking a sip of his wine. “Suppose this isn’t so bad. So what will you do when you get back?”

“Probably begin another book,” Aziraphale admitted. “At least until they get me a script to look over, work with. I imagine my agent will likely try and sell more of them now. But either way, I foresee many hours of work on my laptop. To which my assistant will try and convince me needs an update. What about you?”

“Oh, easily we’ll be recording and promoting,” Crowley replied. “We won’t tour until next year, I’m sure. Just a few smaller gigs throughout the year, slowly starting to unveil songs and such. Be busy, but I’ll get to sleep in my own bed at the end of it.”

Yell at his plants, but he wasn’t about to tell Aziraphale that.

“It sounds lovely,” Aziraphale commented. “What more do you miss about London aside from your bed?”

“Ooooh,” be blew a breath out of pursed lips, looking at the ceiling of the plane. “St James Park. Love walking about there. And maybe this little bar not far from my place where I like to get a quiet drink.”

“I’m a big fan of St James Park myself,” Aziraphale said before taking a sip of his wine. “I frequently go to feed the ducks. Helps work out my writer’s block.”

“Same. When I’m writing. Most times I go just to feed the ducks. Usually… toss a few peas down, then chuck the next few bits towards some unsuspecting picnickers. Gets the ducks to sorta bug them for a bit.”

“You’re quite the mischief-maker,” Aziraphale said with a smirk that would have made Crowley’s knees buckle had he been standing.

As it was, he had to shift a bit in his seat.

“Can be.” He agreed.

By the time the flight landed it was dark out, Crowley was exhausted but so utterly happy. He’d spent the whole time talking with Aziraphale and was walking off the plane without his heart, having decided to give it the cherubic, old-timey professor sorta man he just happened to sit next to by chance.

“Well,” Aziraphale said as they grabbed their luggage from baggage claim. “It was lovely to meet you.” He offered Crowley his hand.

Crowley beamed, taking it, clasping the wonderful warmth of it and shaking. “You too.” He said, someone calling Aziraphale’s name causing the men to look over. 

“Ah,” He said as a gorgeous, witchy looking woman smiled and waved him over. “That would be my lift. I probably shouldn’t keep her.”

“Yeah, right, gotta… get my car.” Crowley stuttered. “So umm, yeah….”

Aziraphale gave him another one of those grins, then wheeled his tartan suitcase toward where the woman was waiting just on the other side of the security line.

Crowley watched him the whole time, and was pleased as punch when Aziraphale turned and gave him a little wave when he spotted him still looking.

Crowley then began to make his way out of the airport to the secure parking facility where the Bentley had been kept while he was away.

He was nearly there when it hit him like a ton of bricks that he never asked for Aziraphale’s number.

“Fuck,” He said rather too loudly, earning him a glare from a well-to-do looking woman. He gave her a sarcastic grin then moved with a bit more purpose to where the Bentley was waiting, wondering what the chances were that he would find Aziraphale’s number in the directory, or what bookshop he actually owned.

 February

 “Well you’re a bloody idiot, aren’t you?” Bea said, smacking Crowley upside the head with their drumstick.

He lifted his face from his hands long enough to glare at his petite band member before reburying them. He felt a hand on his back, knowing it was Hastur’s, and braced himself for what was coming.

“Don’t feel too terrible. At least you didn’t-“

“Tell the story of how you told Scarlet Johanson to fuck off again, and I swear, Hastur, we will all murder you gladly.” Ligur interrupted, saving Crowley from hearing the tale for at least the dozenth time. “And I doubt very much she had wanted your number anyway.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted his number. Bloody hell he was fucking gorgeous.”

“So why don’t you call the publishing house and ask for his contact info?” Bea asked, and Crowley dropped his hands to look at them as though they had spoken a completely different language.

“Right, yes, of course. I should just call them up. Right, yes, excuse me, just looking for the contact information of one A.Z. Fell. Wondering if you might help me with my inquiries.” He mocked in return.

“Throw your name around.” Bea shrugged.

“Yes, my name. As the guitarist of The Demons, I would be widely known by name outside the music industry. I’m sure they’ll drop everything as quick as they would for ol’ Ligur here.” He gestured off to the side. 

“Well, what good is celebrity if you don’t use it to your advantage?” Bea asked. “Where’s this bookstore he has. It’s never mentioned in his bio. Then again, it’s a half-faced picture and he goes by A.Z..” 

“I don’t know. You’d think I’d have been smart enough to ask where in London his little bookshop is, but I didn’t because I’m a bloody genius.”

“Well, suppose it doesn’t matter now, does it?” Bea said in their stoic way. “You’ll either find him or you won’t. But not in time for the Brit Awards, so figure out who you’re taking so we can call Tracy and let her know already.”

 ~A~

 “Oh,” Aziraphale said as he caught sight of a very familiar face on Anathema’s television. “I guess he’s gay after all.”

Anathema looked from him to the TV just as they showed Anthony with a half-smile, a rather handsome looking man with his hand in his.

“Tabloids said they broke up.” Anathema commented in a “huh” sort of tone, and Aziraphale couldn’t help gaping at her. She watched the TV for a moment, narrowing her eyes before shrugging and going back to the magazine she was flipping through while they waited for the actual award show to begin.

For reasons Aziraphale couldn’t fathom, Anathema had managed to convince a few of the people from the publishing firm to bet on various awards given out, and she insisted Aziraphale join her with his laptop and a bottle of wine so they could toast all of her victories. Apparently there enough people who hadn’t known of her talent for predicting outcomes with uncanny results. 

He had had every intention of writing on his latest draft, but it seemed now Aziraphale would find his eyes focused on the television more often than not in order to glimpse a look at the beautiful stranger he met on a plane.

“Who’s he with?” He asked Anathema.

She didn’t even look up from her magazine. “He’s with an actor he was dating last year. Not anyone too well known, was pretty sure he was only using that guy to get ahead but it didn’t work.”

Aziraphale felt a pang of pity at the idea of Anthony being used in such a way. That someone would only ever consider dating him to advance their own career. If he’d had the chance, he would….

But it didn’t really matter, did it? No, he mucked that up well, hadn’t he? Not even asking for an email or a phone number. And anyway, it probably didn’t matter. Anthony Crowley probably walked away from the flight with a fun story about meeting an author he liked, getting some insider information, and likely would

April 

 The flat in Mayfair was starting to feel stifling. It was still sparse and mostly utilitarian, but after a week inside, writing, recording a few demos to get back to Ligur and the others, Crowley was beginning to feel caged in. 

Ligur’s voice was something else, smooth and beautiful, deep in a sensual way, easily what anyone would call tempting. Bea was the sort of drummer many strived to be. Hastur…. Well, Hastur had never broken a string to Crowley’s knowledge, and that was something he supposed.

But none of that would matter if there wasn’t a killer song for them to apply their talents to, and that’s where Crowley really came in. Because unlike the others, Crowley had an imagination. He didn’t need to be angry to write a song that expressed that rage. He didn’t need to be in pain to supply an adequate amount of angst. And he’d never been in love, not properly, and yet they could top charts with their love songs. He had a vast amount of songwriting awards in his office to prove it.

And yet. Yet. Being in love with someone he hadn’t seen in literally three months (two at a stretch, they did meet at the end of January) was beginning to provide some heavily romantic and very angsty material that The Demons didn’t want anything to do with. It was, however, selling to other musicians spectacularly well.

Which meant, of course, that there were so many people wanting him to fly here or there to help them with this album and that. The offers were bountiful, and since Bea and Ligur were currently bickering about bringing Dagon on as a full-time member of the band again, there wasn’t anything getting done within The Demons.

And if Hastur asked one more time if Crowley wanted to get together for a drink, maybe a jam, Crowley may damn well lose his mind.

Still, did he really want to go out of town again, and nearly all of the best offers for co-writing was across the pond. He liked London. He liked England. But the money would be really good, and he could work out some of these excess feelings through lyrics and melody.

He needed to get some air, for a walk, clear his mind so he could possibly make a bloody decision and get back to Tracy with a decisive answer as to where he was going to be for the next few weeks, if not longer.

Grabbing his jacket, putting on his sunglasses, slipping on his snake-skin boots, and Crowley glared in warning to his plants before heading out the door. 

He hadn’t been at all surprised when his feet led him to St James Park. Admittedly since that encounter in January, he’d taken to walking there almost exclusively. Once in a while, he would wander into Hyde Park for a change, but he constantly worried that maybe that was the one time the person he wanted to see the most was feeding the ducks somewhere else.

The crowds were thin, the dark clouds above threatening to open up at any moment and unleash a down power on unsuspecting tourists. He wasn’t really any more prepared for the possible deluge himself, but it was always a bit funnier to watch people with the big, expensive cameras and their fanny packs go fleeing. As if they hadn’t realized they’d chosen one of the rainiest places in the world to pay a visit to.

Crowley weaved his way along the path, fingers in the pockets of his denim and a swagger to his hips that he really couldn’t control, something that fit when he looked more like the rock star he rightfully was.  Though strangers who saw him would likely not know what to make of him. He hadn’t done anything with his hair so it hung a bit flat against his head, and he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days which allowed a nice layer of growth to form on his face meaning that even the biggest fans of the band likely wouldn’t pick him out of a crowd. 

He probably should have done something before he left.

Crowley made his way toward the duck pond, prepared to watch the little bastards as they bothered some unsuspecting fool when he stopped so suddenly he nearly fell on his face.

Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale was standing exactly where Crowley tended to go, still looking exactly like some stereotypical processor without the elbow guards on the sleeves of his beige morning coat. He was wearing a waistcoat, as well, paired with a tartan bow tie. His trousers were a shade of color between the coat and the waistcoat, making the blue collared shirt a pop of color in the monochrome. He gripped the handle of a white umbrella as one would a cane, both hands resting on it making him look that much more dapper.

No one had the right to look that gorgeous while also being completely ridiculous and Crowley very nearly took out his phone to snap a photo of him just in case he would never catch a glimpse of the man again. But that was something paparazzi-like, and Crowley couldn’t bring himself to stoop to that sort of low.

He recalled how he looked, and very nearly turned around and went back to his flat so he could at least look somewhat like the successful man he was. Lucky for him, some higher function he could thank later had his feet moving forward with more confidence than he’d ever recalled faking before, ensuring he wouldn’t let the chance of Aziraphale slipping away happen.

As he neared the Aziraphale, the blonde man glanced up, then did a double-take before his eyes positively lit up and a smile graced his lips.

“Anthony.” He said with utter delight.

Crowley’s knees buckled a bit.

“‘Lo,” He grinned back. “Fancy running into you here.”

“Yes, quite,” Aziraphale replied. “And how’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know,” Crowley replied vaguely, shrugging one shoulder. “Working. Pretty much always working, really. You?”

“I’ve been well, thank you,” Aziraphale replied, the smile no longer reaching his eyes. “I, umm, saw you on television back in February. Congratulations on your awards, you must be proud.”

Crowley blushed but shrugged. “Yeah, guess.”

“Your partner looked very happy for you, anyway,” Aziraphale added, and Crowley narrowed his eyes at him a moment, trying to figure out what the deuce he was on about. “The, umm, the fellow there. That you went with, I’m afraid I don’t recall his name.”

“Oh, John!” Crowley half yelled, startling a few of the waterfowl nearby. “Oh, yeah, no he’s not… he’s not my partner. I mean he was, once, but we broke up last year. I just asked him to go with me then. See, Ligur always brings his wife, and Hastur tends to bring a friend of his. Bea and Dagon have been going together since … fuck, I can’t even remember. Since she first started touring with us? I just didn’t want to go alone, ya know?”

“I suppose it is rather lonely, otherwise.” Aziraphale bowed his head, looking at his hands where he gripped the umbrella.

“Take it there aren’t any sorta literary award shows where you would ask a former flame to tag along?”

“Not so much, no,” Aziraphale replied with a half grin that went nowhere near his eyes. “And if there were, I’m afraid I wouldn’t have a former partner I could ask. The ones I parted with amicably all have new partners now, and those I didn’t… well, why in Heaven’s name would I ask someone I didn’t part on good terms with to something like that?”

“No, guess not.” Crowley replied, trying his best not to remember the screaming fight that had ended with John storming out of the Mayfair flat, the smashed potted plant on the floor that was the victim of one of his great, dramatic fits, and the vow Crowley made to himself never to date an actor again. “So, no former flames. Are you… seeing anyone now?”

That went, to Crowley’s mind, about a smooth as a pumice stone, but he couldn’t rightly think of a better way of approaching the subject. Award-winning lyricist praised for the way he could string words together in a poignant and eloquent way, and he stumbles on the most basic question. 

He watched as Aziraphale’s eye crinkled ever so slightly, and a wicked smirk curled his lips.

“As a matter of fact, I am not. I’ve actually come from what was easily the worst date I’ve had in ages.”

Crowley blinked, then looked at his watch. “It’s bloody eleven o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday.”

“Yes, I’m aware. He’s a friend of my agent, I mostly did it as a favor to him. The man was persistent to the point of obsession. I had thought if I told him the only time I was available was early on a weekday morning then he would have to back down. Sadly, he agreed.”

“No chance for the poor sap, eh?”

“Oh, none,” Aziraphale said emphatically. “I’d met him at writer’s convention last year, though he is neither writer nor agent. He merely wanted to be there for the sake of it, though I can’t understand why. He’d been hounding Gabriel - my agent - ever since, though I had never had an interest. I still don’t, and to be frank, am even less willing to see him again. I had Anathema call me to fake an emergency.”

“Ha!” Crowley barked, “what emergency happens that early in the morning?”

“A problem with the register at the shop. Which is next to impossible, because the thing is an antique. My assistant manager, bless him, is inept with modern technology. While updating the system would certainly make things easier, I would hate to see what sort of damage he can do.”

“Quite right,” Crowley grinned. “So,” Crowley said a bit too loudly, earning a disgruntled quack from a mallard that he ignored. “Bad date. Not doing anything or seeing anyone. I’m not doing anything or seeing someone. Perhaps….”

“Yes?” Aziraphale smirked knowingly.

“Could I tempt you to a spot of lunch?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale’s smirk turned into a smile.

“Temptation accomplished.”

 ~A~

 The pub they went to was the sort that served a proper English fish and chips and a pint that somehow paired well with the food without trying. In a corner booth near the back, Aziraphale and Crowley ( “Please call my Crowley, no one ever calls me Anthony.”) carried on as though they’d been friends for years and not a pair of men that met exactly one other time.

They talked about everything and nothing, a pint with lunch becoming two or three more heading into dinner. Around them, the crowd waned and grew once more until their server came by and pointedly gave them their bills. She did so with a knowing smirk so reminiscent of Anathema Aziraphale was starkly reminded that he hadn’t done a single bit of work - writing or at the shop - all day.

“Oh,” he said as he looked at the slip of paper. “I suppose I really should be getting on. I’ve been rather neglectful of my duties.” He added with a quick upturn of his lips.”

“Shit, suppose you probably wanted to get some writing done.”

“Oh, it’s no bother at all,” Aziraphale waved Crowley’s concern off. “I’ll go and let Newton and Alice head home, close up, do some writing this evening if I can.”

“Is it far from the shop to your home?” Crowley asked as the two of them stood, each moving slowly to the bar to pay their tab.

“No, it’s right above the shop.” Aziraphale grinned. “It’s a bit small, only one room, really. But I’m rather fond of it. Admittedly it looks almost like an extension of the shop, what with all the bookcases and their wares. But they were some of the original cases from when the shop first opened, and while I did have to modernize it for safety reasons, I simply couldn’t part with some of the better ones.”

“A one-room flat above your shop?” Crowley asked as the bartender took their pound notes and bills to ring them through. Once they were given the wave that they could leave, they meandered to the doors. “I mean, I know it’s not really my business, but you’re a best selling author. There’s bloody merchandise for your novels. You mean to tell me you don’t make enough to afford something a little more grander? Or is it a choice, or you need to live there for trust reasons?”

“Ah,” Aziraphale blushed even though he had nothing to be embarrassed about.

They emerged out on the sidewalk, concrete beneath their feet stained darker from the earlier rain that mercifully had already stopped. Aziraphale looked up and down the road for no reason at all, then down at the handle of his umbrella. 

“You see, yes. I suppose… I would have made that much over the years. The thing is, though, I uh… well the money. Most of I … I give it away.”

Crowley blinked.

“Sorry, you what?”

“I give it away,” Aziraphale said with a shrug. “I kept a good chunk, don’t get me wrong. Enough to ensure I would live comfortably if I never wrote another book again or even sold the shop. But I don’t need big and fancy. I pay my employees more than a fair wage, Anathema included. The rest? I give to charities. Anonymously, of course, I would hate for it to get out on the internet that I donate as much as I do, I would rather not draw the attention. But yes, I … give it away.”

Crowley stared at him with something like awe, his sunglasses had come off when they were inside and had yet to be replaced. It made Aziraphale shift his weight from one foot to the other, want to look anywhere else but at the beautiful man who seemed entirely focused on him.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” He asked with a sideways glance at Crowley.

“Like what?” Crowley blinked, shaking his head subtly. “Sorry, you’re just so bloody selfless. Give it away? I know people with three houses because it never occurs to them that maybe they don’t need it. Damn angel, you are.”

“Oh please,” Aziraphale rolled his eyes but really couldn’t help but smile from the warmth that surged through him. “Much as I hate to-“

“Let me walk you,” Crowley offered, gesturing for Aziraphale to lead the way.

Aziraphale turned toward the shop, leading Crowley through the streets in silence at first.

“So,” He started. “What’s next for you, did you say?”

“Not sure.” Crowley sighed. “Still trying to debate if I want to go write with others or not for a while.”

“Right,” Aziraphale nodded, suppressing the need to tell Crowley he wished he wouldn’t go anywhere simply because he had no reason to say that. They weren’t together, they weren’t even friends, not properly.

“But, I mean, even if I travel I could… call you?” Crowley offered uncertainly.

Aziraphale stopped and looked at him, eyes a bit too wide. “Oh, really?”

Crowley shrugged. “Why not?” Then smacking himself, yelled, “phone number!” 

A woman passing them on the street looked at Crowley with uneasiness before hurrying along.

“What?” Aziraphale asked him.

“Phone number. Mine, let me, yeah, I could… give it. To you, that is… if you want it.”

Tension Aziraphale hadn’t realized was building suddenly left his body, and he grinned rather bashfully. “I’d like that. Perhaps I could give you mine as well.”

Crowley took his mobile from his pocket so quick he nearly dropped it, fumbling with it as he did. After a few moments of his long fingers dancing around the screen, he handed it back to Aziraphale. “Just... Yeah.” He said, gesturing to it before attempting to stuff his hands in his pockets, and looked anywhere but at Aziraphale.

Once his contact information was given, Crowley took his phone and they continued walking in silence. It was only a little awkward, but if Aziraphale was honest with himself he could admit he wouldn’t have known what to say if he tried. Oh, he could have his hero give a declaration of love that had readers sighing wistfully, that he was told many times over could be felt deep in their soul. Talking to a beautiful man whom he fancied quite a bit in real life, however, was next to impossible. 

So they spent that walk back to the shop subtly stealing glances at one another and blushing and smiling when they were caught. 

Once at the little shop at the corner, Crowley looked up, and his jaw dropped.

“Seriously?” He asked, pointing up at the simply gold lettering above the shop.

Aziraphale grinned. “Now, I’ll have you know that A.Z. Fell - that would be Andrew Zachery Fell - was the original owner of the shop in the eighteen hundreds. The name remained, but for obvious reasons, the number isn’t listed as such in the phone book. It’s simply Fell and Co’s Books and Sundry.” 

Crowley giggled, shaking his head. “Suppose that’s why it hadn’t popped up when I Googled you.”

“Precisely.” Aziraphale agreed. “So, perhaps we can do this again sometime? Perhaps… soon?”

“Yeah,” Crowley replied. “Yeah, definitely.”

Aziraphale smiled once more, then waved, going up the steps and entering the well-lit shop. 

“Date went well then?” Newton greeted him with a hopeful smile.

Aziraphale glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of Crowley as he walked down the sidewalk away from the shop.

“I suppose that depends on which man I consider my proper date.” He replied. While Newton stammered, he added, “Go home, Mr. Pulsifer. I’ll take it from here.”

Newton knew better to argue, so he didn’t. 

And Aziraphale spent the last hour of the shop’s opening hours forming a dashing hero with red hair and golden eyes in his mind, not the least bit ashamed of where the inspiration sprung from.

June

 They, of course, would not do lunch or anything even close to it for a while.

Crowley had indeed gone off to various places to work for a while, which limited them to random phone or video calls, as well as equally unpredictable text conversations since April. 

And, of course, among these many random and unpredictable conversations, the topic of whether or not the lunch they did have was a date had never come up.

Aziraphale was fairly certain it wasn’t.  

He had no doubt that Crowley had some interest in him, though how or why he couldn’t fathom. 

He certainly had an interest in him, but who wouldn’t. Crowley was so aesthetically pleasing anyone would be hard-pressed not to take a second look at him. But Aziraphale had also gotten to know the man behind the lovely face, and that man was so wonderful. Clever, witty, charming, playing at being cool when he was very much not. 

Aziraphale had given Crowley his heart without even having realized he’d done so.

But feelings and their reciprocation did not mean their singular outing was a date. And it certainly seemed to mean that they were going to talk about it.

Instead, they chatted about anything else.

“I hate coffee here,” Crowley complained over video, grimacing as he took a sip from a paper takeaway cup. “Realize we’re not known for our coffee, but we do it better than they do here.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Aziraphale replied, holding his phone a decent distance away from his face so it would capture him entirely. He took a sip of his wine and smirked as Crowley rolled his eyes.

“You’re the epitome of British, you know that?” He said fondly despite the scowl he tried to wear. “Surprised you don’t lift your pinky when you take a drink.”

“Only if the cup is dainty enough,” Aziraphale replied. “I just could never quite find a way to enjoy coffee. It’s far too bitter.”

“Says the man who’s likely drinking the driest of red wines available to him.” Crowley countered, his lips ticking up ever so slightly.

“Well, I have standards,” Aziraphale replied with a smirk. “How’s the work going, then?”

“Awful. She’s a bloody diva.” Crowley replied, seemingly not caring an iota if anyone heard him. “And she can’t properly sing, from what I’ve noted. She’s only here so she can say she has songwriting credit, but she contributes nothing and rejects everything. And she smacks gum, just,” He mimicked the sound, and Aziraphale grimaced. “Yeah,” Crowley said wide-eyed, shaking his head a little. “Exactly that.”

“And how old is she again?” Aziraphale asked.

“A few years younger than us. Mid-thirties, I believe. Been around for ages, she was in a group thing for most of it. She either left or was kicked out, I dunno. I don’t rightly care, either, she’s a bloody nightmare.”

“Perhaps she simply wants to feel heard. Probably didn’t get much say in the way things went before.”

Crowley moved his head from side to side, face screwed up in uncertainty. “Maybe.” He assented. “Possibly. I dunno. How’s the rewiring going?”

“Slow,” Aziraphale replied. “Dreadfully, painfully slow,” he took a pointed drink of his wine. “I do realize and appreciate the need for them to maintain the building’s original structure, but this fishing the wiring through the walls is taking forever. I’m glad they at least did my flat first since, as I think I would have absolutely dreaded the prospect, seeing them slowly move their way through the shop day by day.”

“Not sure you complained too much about that week in Paris,” Crowley smirked.

“Would have been much better had I had someone to share it with.” Aziraphale let slip.

Crowley’s features softened, a gentle hope glimmering in his eyes. “’Magine it would have been. Had you anyone in mind?”

“Oh, just this gentleman I’ve only ever seen twice,” Aziraphale replied casually while his heart pounded furiously in his chest. “I imagine there is likely decent coffee in Paris, so I’m sure he’d enjoy himself at least in that regard.”

“Probably wouldn’t mind a museum or two,” Crowley added with his own put-on casualness. 

Aziraphale hummed in agreement. “No, I don’t imagine he would.”

After a beat, Crowley said, “Sounds like a right asshole, though, only ever seeing you twice. I’m willing to bet he didn’t even give his number first go, the sorry sod.”

Aziraphale giggled in delight, taking a drink of his wine. “He certainly didn’t.”

“Ah, see, I was right. Asshole, don’t have anything to do with him.” Crowley grinned.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure he has his moments, but overall I think he’s rather nice.”

“Not nice,” Crowley half scowled. “Nice is a four-letter word.”

“Please, you can’t be that offended, can you?” Aziraphale countered with an eye roll.

“You had said something like that to me when someone could hear - like now - but in person, I might’ve had you shoved against a wall and gotten in your face.” He said with utter seriousness.

Aziraphale quirked a brow and barely suppressed a smirk. “Really?”

“Done before,” Crowley replied

“Against a wall and in my face? You’re not really making a case for deterrence. If anything, I might just add on a few other four-letter words -kind, good  - just to see what further responses I would solicit from you.”

He watched how even on the small screen of his phone he could see Crowley’s throat work and a slight blush creep up his cheeks.

“You’re something else, let me tell you,” He eventually said. “Do you talk like that to all the men you’ve only really seen once or twice?”

“No, but these are rather special circumstances, aren’t they?” Aziraphale countered, butterflies suddenly springing up in his stomach, fluttering about nervously.

“Yeah,” Crowley smiled. “I think they are, anyway.” 

“Crowley,” Someone off-camera said, “she’s ready.”

“Right, be right there,” Crowley told the person before turning back to Aziraphale. “Gotta go.” 

“Until next time then,” Aziraphale acknowledged.

“Bye, angel.”

Crowley disappeared from his screen, and Aziraphale dropped his arm down on his lap, sighing heavily as he rested his head on the back of his chair.

Oh, how he hated this. This being rather inconveniently in love with a man he never even really got to properly see in person, had barely in the physical orbit of. He wondered if this is how those who fancy themselves in love with a public figure they’d never met felt. If this deep yearning for something unattainable was more universal than he would have believed before.

The problem was that he knew the man on the other end of the call. He knew Anthony Crowley better than he knew Anathema. Certainly more than he knew Newton. 

Draining the remainder of his wine, Aziraphale decided not to dwell on it. He couldn’t change how things were, and it may be that before they encountered one another in person again, Crowley might meet someone else and that will be the end of things.

Rising from his chair, Aziraphale decided a nice, relaxing shower was in order before he turned in to bed and read until he grew tired.

 ~C~

 Why had he agreed to this date?

The bloke was bloody boring. He’d been droning on for the last twenty minutes about a coding language that Crowley had never heard of (not that he had really heard of any) and how it was superior to all other languages. 

It wasn’t that Crowley had found the man attractive, though he could admit he wasn’t hard on the eyes. It wasn’t even that the man had asked Crowley on this date directly. But one of the blokes he’d been working with for the last few weeks had mentioned he had a cousin who Crowley might get on with.

Crowley’s immediate instinct had been to say no, and sadly it had nothing to do with the fact that this bloke lived in America and Crowley lived in England. No, he only wanted to say no because of Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale who wasn’t actually dating. Aziraphale who Crowley couldn’t say for one-hundred percent certainty returned all the warm fuzzy feelings Crowley got when he spoke to him. Oh, the bastard flirted like no one’s business, often saying or doing things that would make Crowley blush and stammer like an idiot. But it didn’t mean that he actually wanted a romantic connection with Crowley.

So he agreed to this date, which he was now greatly regretting. No amount of good food or great wine was worth enduring this circle of hell, but Crowley hadn’t thought to come up with an escape plan, and just leaving seemed far too rude even for him.

His phone began to vibrate in his pocket just as the bill came by, and Crowley took it out to check the name, hoping to see one of the bandmates or even Tracy so he would have a viable reason to cut out.

Instead, he saw Aziraphale’s.

“Oh,” He said with an appropriate amount of worry, cutting the bloke off mid monotoned rant. “I’m sorry, really, I have to take this. It’s my, umm, landlord back in England.” He said, flashing his phone toward the bloke so he could at least see the foreign number. “I’ll, ah, just take the bill up and pay for the both of us, yeah? It was great meeting you.”

“You too,” The bloke said who didn’t seem to care either way. 

It caused Crowley to pause and blink but ultimately just shake his head as he grabbed the bill and headed for the front. He answered the phone as he spotted his waiter, flagging him down. “Hey angel,” He said, the waiter taking the bill and Crowley’s credit card. He pointed to the front, and the waiter nodded.

“Hello,” Aziraphale replied a little shyly. “Why do I have the feeling I’m calling at a rather inconvenient time?”

“Actually, you’re calling at exactly the right time. I think my brain was about to liquefy and drip out my ears. Terrible dinner with a bloke.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale replied, and Crowley tensed at the tone. “Oh, that’s… I’m so sorry.”

“No, please don’t be. I wasn’t interested. It was a thing.” He replied as the waiter came back with the receipt. Crowley signed it, adding a very generous tip before taking his card and waving, heading back out into the warm evening.

“Right,” Aziraphale replied, still sounding uncertain.

The realization of the time had Crowley stopping a little ways away from the restaurant, trying to do the mental math as to what the time would be in London.

“Why are you… is everything alright?” He asked, heart starting to pound in his chest.

“Oh, yes. It is, I just… well, I couldn’t sleep, so I thought perhaps if you weren’t working we could chat. But if you’re in the middle-“

“I’m available,” Crowley assured, making his way down the road to the temporary flat he’d been living in while working here.

“You’re almost finished there, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but when I get back Ligur wants us in the studio.” Crowley sighed heavily. “Means not a lot of free time.”

“I suppose that lunch would be out of the question then.”

“We can try!” Crowley insisted. “I mean, I had a lot of fun when we did that last time, you know?”

“I do know.” Aziraphale agreed. “And I would love to do it again.”

 July

 “This wine is fantastic,” Crowley half groaned after taking a sip from his glass.

“Told you,” Aziraphale replied smugly.

Crowley picked up a cheese cube, popped it in his mouth. “You know this is almost like the time we met. Only better nibbles and better wine.”

“I tend to agree.” Aziraphale nodded. “Though-“ He was cut off by a rather loud horn blaring in the background on his end, and he turned to glare at the traffic over his shoulder before turning back to the screen he had propped up somehow on his picnic blanket. “Though I couldn’t be absolutely sure without being able to participate myself. I’ll have to stick to tea.”

“I’m surprised you’re outside, given how hot it tends to get there,” Crowley commented with a frown before popping a grape in his mouth.

Aziraphale lifted his arms to the camera, and Crowley had to suppress a groan at the idea that the man he was pining for having his forearms exposed. It was bad enough that there was no coat, waistcoat, or bow tie. Agony that the top button of Aziraphale’s shirt was undone. Now he was exposing his forearms? Bloody torture, that.

“I realize inside is far more comfortable, given the central air and all, but there’s something to be said for feeling the sun on your face. That, of course, and the fact that the scriptwriters are inside and I would very much like to be where they are not at the moment.”

“That bad, huh?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale blinked.

“Well, they’re trying to make Meg and Landon a couple, for a start.”

“No!” Crowley snapped. “No, no! No! That jus- no! No, he’s meant to be with Artemis. He and Artemis… the kiss! The kiss that Artemis gives… while he’s sorta… what are they…?”

“One bloke thought it would be best to eliminate it altogether,” Aziraphale said, an icy edge to his voice that Crowley was certain would be a prelude to a murder. “Another thought they should change the speech to make it more buddy-like. A bromance, I believe they called it.”

“Do those idiots even understand that half of the appeal of the story is the fact that the hero has no intention whatsoever of ‘getting the girl’?”

“I would wager not,” Aziraphale replied with a sigh. He ran his hand through his hair (forearms!!) and glanced at the house before looking back to Crowley. “I’ve already spoken to Gabriel, told him this was a complete nightmare. He agreed we need to have a talk with the studio, tell them to either hire new scriptwriters or tell these lot to not take away the biggest selling point of the story.”

“You sound like you need a break,” Crowley said sympathetically.

“I rather do.” Aziraphale agreed, then smiled wistfully. “I regret not being able to spend any time with you before I left.”

“Don’t worry about it, angel. Shit happens.” Crowley replied, telling the ache in his chest to kindly sod off.

He’d been in the studio with the band almost every hour of the day once he’d gotten back from the States. Of course, just as they were finishing up, Aziraphale informed him that he was requested to join the writers across the pond. It seemed weird, but now Crowley understood why. 

“When do you head this way next? Soon?”

I’m in New York the first week of August. Maybe… if you’re still there?”

“Given that that’s a week from now, I would say so. If nothing else, I could possibly pop your way for a day or two.”

Crowley beamed. “I look forward to it.”

 August

 Coney Island was busy, the beach crowded, and yet they were essentially ignored. 

“So you’re finally going on a date with this bloke tomorrow?” Bea asked Dagon on the other side of her sitting up from her towel and looking over her lover at Crowley.

“Dunno if you can call it a date,” Crowley grumbled. “His agent got wind that Aziraphale was popping this way and insisted that we go on his big boat thing for the day. So, you know, not much is gonna happen.”

“You’re not having much luck with this guy, are you?” Dagon asked with a frown. “It’s been, what? Eight months of pretty much nothing?”

“We call. And text.” Crowley argued. 

“Right,” She said, looking at Bea, the two exchanging a rather loaded look.

“Hey, yeah, alright. It sucks that I haven’t actually physically seen him since April. But he’s clever. He’s clever and gorgeous, and a right bastard and I am quite in love with him.”

“In love with someone you’ve met twice. Yeah, you almost sound like a really rabid fan.”

“Not a rabid fan. I mean, I am a fan of his, but it’s not like that. We actually, you know, talk. Know each other.”

“Crowley,” Bea said flatly. “I’m not saying this to be mean, for once, but I think you gotta chalk this one up to a lost cause. I mean, think of what it was like when Ligur was dating that girl from that band in the beginning before he met Lenore. Their relationship was pretty much just like whatever you got going on with this author, only maybe a bit better because we toured together for a bit.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Crowley assured confidently, laying back on his blanket with his arms tucked behind his head, closing his eyes. “You’ll see, we’re gonna meet up tomorrow, and things will be just great.”

 ~A~

 “Crowley?” Aziraphale questioned when he answered the video call and found no image of Crowley looking back at him.

“Right, please don’t be upset. I can’t make it to the boat thing today.”

Aziraphale frowned. “Did something come up with work?”

“No,” Crowley hesitated. “But, umm… alright, don’t laugh. I’m going to turn my video on.”

“Alright, but I’m not sure why you would need to preface it with that, why would I - Oh good lord!” Aziraphale cut himself off and then promptly pressed his lips together in a herculean effort not to grin, let alone allow the laugh he really wanted to let loose out.

Crowley was red. His face, while still handsome, was very lobster like except around his eyes where he quite obviously had sunglasses. 

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale managed to ask with only a minor giggle. 

“It hurts to talk,” Crowley admitted. “It hurts to move my mouth at all. The assholes who I call friends and bandmates let me, a bloody ginger, fall asleep without reapplying the sunscreen to my face, and this is what happened.”

“I do hope you don’t have any television,” Aziraphale began to ask, but at the distraught look flashing over Crowley’s features, he giggled. Briefly. Just a little. “Oh my dear, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s tomorrow night.” He said. “Which is why I need to stay here, inside, aloeing, hydrating, just… trying to heal as much as I possibly can before they have to cake me in make up. When do you fly-“

“Tomorrow afternoon, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale said with a sigh, all the good humor at the situation gone at the realization that he wasn’t going to see Crowley as he’d planned. Like this whole weekend trip across the country had been for. “We’ll miss each other again. I suppose I could tell Gabriel I’m unwell? Sneak over to see you?”

“No, please, don’t. I’m not gonna be much company anyway. I’m tired, I keep falling asleep. I purposely set this alarm so I could call you so you wouldn’t wait around for me.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Aziraphale said without much feeling, though he still managed a bit of a smile. “I wonder when we’ll manage to be in the same area again?”

“I don’t know, we’re supposed to be popping up to Canada for a few cities after tomorrow night,” Crowley said dispassionately. He went to rub at his face and hissed, looking at his hand like it had offended him, then turned back to the camera. “I should… I should probably let you go, get ready and all that.”

“If you must,” Aziraphale said. “Until… when?”

“Call me whenever. Send me pictures of today, if you’d like.”

“Right, might do, then,” Aziraphale said. They gave a pair of solemn farewells, and then the call was done.

Aziraphale collapsed on the guest bed in Gabriel’s home and looked at his phone despite the screen being blank.

It hadn’t escaped his notice that in the eight months since he’d met Crowley, he’d only been in the man’s physical presence twice. They may talk nearly every single day, and speak on video as often as possible, but it seemed like a rather cruel twist of fate that their paths never seemed to cross. It had been easily the dozenth time since April their plans fell through, or had to change. Lunches, dinners, simple outings, all of it was held up for one reason or another. A schedule change, an unexpected cold, meetings that went on longer than expected. It was as though some higher power didn’t want them together. Fate put them together on the plane, reuniting them in St James Park, and ensuring that they would remain out of reach from one another.

He couldn’t keep doing this to himself. Aziraphale knew that if this kept going on for too long he would regret it. Being hopelessly attached to someone you couldn’t have never ended well. One more chance. Three at a stretch, and then he would call the whole possibility of anything more than friendship with Crowley a wash.

With one last wistful sigh, he got up from the bed to seek out Gabriel and infor

October

 September had brought with it a busy time for both. Aziraphale frankly couldn’t tell anyone what Crowley was up to for they barely did much more than send the occasional message.

Gabriel had decided that it would be absolutely imperative that Aziraphale have a book ready for release when it was announced there would be a film based on his work, and another one ready to go around the time the movie was released. Which would have been something Aziraphale would have readily agreed with had he any idea, any clue whatsoever what was supposed to come next. 

It was bad enough trying to figure out a plot or three, trying to twist his current draft into something that allowed for another few storylines. But trying to focus became worse when he discovered he’d missed Crowley in the shop not once, not twice, but three times in September.

“I would almost think you’re avoiding me,” Crowley said over the phone. Not even a video call because Aziraphale had wanted to work while he conversed.

“Hardly,” Aziraphale replied. “Though I could say the same. What is this now, two skipped lunches?”

“I have to meet with my manager. She’s lovely, I adore her, and normally she would be chomping at the bit to let me go out with someone I like, but with Ligur and Bea fighting so much… she wants these meetings more and more with her as a whole until whatever is going on blows over.”

“I understand, dear boy. Hardly like I haven’t had to reschedule because of my agent.”

“I know,” Crowley said mournfully, and Aziraphale tensed. “This… we haven’t… it’s been months.”

“I know,” it was Aziraphale’s turn to say, though it came out more of a whisper. He said it somewhere between acknowledgment and a plea. Understanding that this, whatever t was, wasn’t going anywhere. And a plea that despite his own quiet ponderings Crowley wouldn’t give in.

“So,” Crowley began, a bit of hope in his tone. “There’s this bloke who does a radio show here in London who has the best Halloween party ever. I have a thing I need to do around Canary Wharf earlier in the day. But, thought maybe you might wanna be my plus one. Have anything on the go?”

“No, not that I’m aware of. I can certainly make a point to take some time off. Will there be a costume require?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Crowley replied. “Nothing too fancy, though. You don’t need to go all out. Slap some wings, grab a halo, dress like you normally do, and call yourself an angel.”

“I think it would require a bit more than that.” Aziraphale pointed out with a smirk.

“I won’t complain if you show up in some sort of heavenly robe thing,” Crowley replied, sounding like he might be flirting a little.

“We’ll see what I come up with.” Aziraphale grinned. “But for now I must get back to work.”

“Right Angel. I’ll text you the details, alright?”

“Okay, my dear. Until next time.”

 ~C~

 It took him ten minutes after putting the call through first to the insurance company and then to the towing company before Crowley could work up the nerve to call Aziraphale. 

He would never admit to anyone that part of the reason it took that long was because his eyes stung and his throat felt like it would close up. He wouldn’t say that it took an impressive amount of lying to himself to make him find Aziraphale in his contacts and call.

It ran twice. 

“Oh, are you already close? Or perhaps I simply didn’t get your text right away. I know Canary wharf isn’t terribly far, but-“

“I, no, I’m not…,” Crowley interrupted then paused to sigh, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t think I’ll be making it tonight. It would take a miracle, really.”

Aziraphale was silent for a few seconds too long. “What happened?” He asked calmly, a note of concern in his tone.

Crowley looked out the windshield at his beautiful Bentley’s hood, knowing that something inside had come loose to make him putter over to the side of the road. He didn’t want to look at the back again, even if he could have. Despite four-ways and clear car trouble the asshole behind him didn’t slow down and ended up clipping the back of Crowley’s car. 

“My car,” Crowley started. “You know it’s vintage, which means special mechanic, and towing. Something… and then a guy…. Anyway, my point is… I’m not going to make it tonight. Not by the time, someone can come get me, and I do all the intake shit and whatnot for insurance.” He huffed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s… it’s alright.” Aziraphale said despite the heavy disappointment in his voice. 

“What did… what did you decide to go as?” Crowley asked tentatively.

“Oh, well, I suppose I won’t be um… but I had gone with a Victorian gentleman.” 

Crowley smiled. “Cheater,” He teased. “Pretty much how you dress every day.”

“Oh, hush you.” Aziraphale teased back, but Crowley could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

After a rather long stretch of time, Aziraphale said very quietly, “This is never going to work, is it?”

Crowley immediately wanted to deny it. Assure Aziraphale that this was a fluke, that there would be other times. But the problem was, and he knew, that this wasn’t a fluke, and there had been other times, and it was like the same universe that threw them together on the flight was now doing everything it could to rip them apart. Like Crowley asking Aziraphale for his phone number had set in motion a chain of events where they could talk all they wanted but would never properly see one another again.

“I want it to,” Crowley said, knowing it likely wouldn’t make a difference but wanting to put it out there anyway. His voice croaked a bit with regret, feeling the farewell already being spoken between them.

“As do I, Crowley. But it seems… well, it seems we just can’t get it right, can we?”

Crowley swallowed, his eyes blurring a little.

“We could,” He tried, “We could… Guy Fawkes day. You must… shit, I’m actually in Scotland for the 5th, umm….”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said gently. “I adore you,” the words held so much tenderness, but it was flavored too strongly with goodbye.”

“I adore you, too, angel.”

“And I think… well, much as I’m not one to believe in such things, the more we miss each other, the more I wonder if-“

“Please don’t say it,” Crowley interrupted. “I know what it feels like, I know, I thought the same thing.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said again. “You’re in Scotland than Ireland than France, and so on for the next month. You’re not sure what else is going to happen, you even said there was a strong possibility of needing to go back stateside.”

“You’re breaking up with me,” Crowley said flatly.

Aziraphale let out a watery laugh. “My dear, I think we would have actually have had to be together for there to be a break-up.” He sighed. “Perhaps, maybe, in the new year… maybe if you’re in town for more than a few days you could look me up, see if I’m available. And if I am, we will go have lunch again, and perhaps we can start this whole thing over.”

“Or we could just keep going,” Crowley argued.

“I adore you,” Aziraphale repeated. “So much. But I strive for honesty, and I honestly am not sure I can continue the way things are.”

Crowley nodded before realizing he would need to speak. “Right. Right, yeah, I … yeah.”

“I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale replied, his voice cracking. 

��Yeah, me too.” Crowley huffed, resting his head on the seat. “But this isn’t goodbye, right? It’s just… bye for a bit. To give you space, to see if maybe….”

“Yes,” Aziraphale agreed. “Yes, just for a bit. A few months, maybe….”

Crowley heard the “maybe longer” that almost slipped out and was glad Aziraphale had never given it voice.

“Can I still text? Once in a while to keep in touch?”

“Oh, oh my dear, of course. Yes, absolutely I… I just… I want to keep you as my friend at the very least.”

“Me too,” Crowley said softly, voice barely loud enough to carry. “Anyway, I won’t keep you. And I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Aziraphale replied. “Mind how you go.”

 December

 “I hate to think of you alone,” Said as she followed Aziraphale around the shop’s back room. “You should come over! Newt’s coming, so’s my neighbor, Tracy. You’d love her.”

“Anathema, my dear, I really appreciate the offer. Truly. But I’m afraid I really just want to take some time to myself. I have finished two drafts to the point that I’m willing to let Gabriel look at. I plan to sit with a bottle of wine and a good book and enjoy that special sort of quiet Christmas always seems to bring.”

Anathema blinked. “Did you say bottle?”

“Yes, you’re right, of course, I think it’s more likely that there will be two, perhaps a third.”

“Lush,” She grumbled with a half-hearted smile. “As long as you’re sure. The invitation to come is open.”

“I’m positive,” Aziraphale assured.

It wasn’t actually what was likely to happen. 

After Halloween and the break-up with a man he wasn’t even really dating, Aziraphale poured himself into his work. Any moment he wasn’t writing he was either sleeping, eating something too delicious to be given half a mind to, or in the shop assisting until more staff came in.

And he only really just finished the work the night before, feeling as though he was finally finished and ready to move on to the more rigorous editing stages. The shop was in its last few minutes of business before they closed for Christmas eve, so when all was settled there would be nothing left to distract Aziraphale from the fact that a man who was rather perfect had slipped through his fingers.

He and Crowley still texted, of course. Their communication was spottier than it had been, far more random, but still very much them. The only thing they didn’t talk about was the man Crowley had been photographed with many times. Not that Aziraphale had been purposely looking for them, but he might have had a glance through the social media thing Anathema used, and he may have searched a few things. Which led to the images of Crowley with some bloke.

He supposed he could have asked, but how does one say “oh, I’ve seen you’ve moved on” without sounding rather like a stalker.

So Aziraphale did plan to read, to drink, but more he planned to allow himself a few moments to grieve while doing the drinking. To mourn the love that could have been with a man who was wonderful, and curse the stars for not aligning.

And, maybe, he might watch a film or two. There were some delightfully predictable holiday movies that would either lead to wistful sighing or mild raging.

Anathema probably suspected all of this, though she would say come the twenty-seventh that she predicted it. It’s probably why she kept staring at him while he bustled about pretending to look busy.

“Fine,” She said with a smile. “We’ll see you in a few days, okay? And call if you need to.”

“Will do, my dear girl. Mind how you go.” He said with a forced smile, giving a little wave to her as she turned and headed out the door. Once he was sure she was gone, he let out a sigh and flopped down in his office chair. A tiny bit of bookkeeping, then it’s up to his flat for some leftover lasagna and a bottle or two of wine.

 ~C~

 “Absolutely fucking not,” Crowley said pointedly as he checked on the very tiny turkey he had in his oven. Actually, it was labeled as a turkey breast roast, but he didn’t give a toss as long as it fell somewhere in the range of traditional.

“Oh come on,” Hastur egged him.

“No,” Crowley repeated. “Not going to any fucking parties, mate. I’m tired. It’s been a long-ass two months with Ligur and Bea always at each other’s throats. And if Eric’s going to be there? Look, he’s a great bloke, great on a keyboard, but it was low of Ligur to hire someone else when we’ve had Dagon doing this with us for years. All because he doesn’t want the fact that Bea and Dagon are a couple overshadowing him in the media.”

“Eric won’t be there, he’s with his partner in Edinburgh for the holidays. No drama.”

“Bullshit,” Crowley said, turning off the oven light and then checking on the rest of his little feast for one. “I have plans anyway.”

“You don’t have plans,” Hastur accused.

“I do,” Crowley retorted.

He wouldn’t say that those plans involved his little turkey roast, the potatoes that were premade and just had to be popped in the oven, the bag of frozen vegetables in the freezer, and the jar of gravy waiting on the counter. He didn’t mention he intended to watch the Muppet version of a Christmas Carol, and depending on how he was feeling, perhaps some other festive-

Wait. Turkey, potatoes, vegetables, gravy….

“Oh fuck sakes!” Crowley cursed.

“What?” Hastur asked.

“Nothing,” Crowley replied, glancing at the time, seeing now he would have to go a bit further than a simple walk to get what he needed. “Look, you guys enjoy your drunken merriment. I’m going to remember we’re in our forties and stay the fuck home.”

“Right,” Haster sighed, apparently giving up. “Enjoy your Christmas, loser.”

“Yeah, happy Christmas to you, too.” He grumbled before getting on his boots and coat and heading down to the parking garage to get his Bentley.

A blood loose fuel hose had been the cause of her stuttering to a stop nearly two months ago. The mechanic was good, though. Better apparently than the one who had serviced the Bentley just a month before the accident. He’d gotten the hose fixed, the dent properly taken out, and refinished the car just in time for Crowley to get her the day before. 

As he drove to the shop, he wondered how different things would be now if he’d only taken his car to be serviced by a decent mechanic. One who probably had hoped to make a little extra money off a semi-celebrity when the fuel hose inevitably needed fixing.

Would Aziraphale be his by the end of the night, or would they continue in this sort of cat and mouse over video they had been doing? Would the universe have deemed them ready to actually have what they both wanted? 

Probably not. Not with the way every other aspect of Crowley’s life had been going.

He wasn’t even sure there would be a band to be in for his minor celebrity come the new year.

Most everyone was home, even in this area of London, and so Crowley was able to find parking on the side of the road in front of the little shop. He got out, noting the first signs of new snow fluttering down around him, then went inside.

The little bell tinkled, and the man at the counter glanced up at him with a smile before continuing to serve the line of customers getting their last-minute wares.

Crowley weaved his way around the aisles, heading for the canned goods and spotting the missing piece to his sad little dinner: jellied cranberry sauce.

Prize obtained, he spun on his heel and headed for the cue,  prepared to spend the next fifteen to twenty minutes waiting to make his purchase.

The bell chimed over the door, and Crowley looked up from the can as the man in front of him looked over his shoulder to the door, and their eyes met.

“Aziraphale?”

 “Crowley,” Aziraphale clutched his bottle of wine a little tighter, unsure how to handle this unexpected encounter.

He hadn’t had anything more than a bottle of wine in his flat, which was rather suspect as he recalled Anathema leaving his flat while holding her bag rather more steady than normal. Likely out of concern for him since it was the cheaper bottle that had gone missing.

The cork in the good one had been stubborn, and Aziraphale had jerked just enough, just near enough to the counter, that he hit the bottle on the edge and smashed it. He got the cork out, at least.

Once the mess and himself were cleaned up, he put on his winter gear and headed out on the longer than he’d like to have walk to the nearest shop still open. The wine selection was poor, no surprise there. But cheap was better than none, and while he was rather particular he wasn’t going to spend all of Christmas eve night tromping around London looking for a place still open that had a bottle of wine at least a decade old.

He wasn’t sure why he looked up when the bell chimed a moment ago. Maybe to silently warn the patron that they would be in for a long wait, maybe just because he was curious. He hadn’t expected to see Crowley behind him seemingly completely unaware of his being there.

“H-hi.” Crowley stuttered, jaw still dropped and eyes still wide. “H-happy Christmas.”

“You as well,” Aziraphale replied warmly. He looked down to see the loan can of cranberry sauce in Crowley’s hand. “Forgot something?” He mused.

“Ah, yeah,” Crowley said, looking down at the can in his hands momentarily like he forgot he even had it. “Umm… was… well the turkey was almost done. Turkey roast, actually. And, umm… cranberries. Mum was always big on having them and…. Well, you know, I told you the whole thing. Just thought I would do right by her, you know?”

“You volunteered, I take it? Letting that fellow you’ve been seeing stay home, relax?” Aziraphale asked, moving ahead.  

Crowley frowned as he followed. “Not seeing anyone.” He replied.

Aziraphale frowned. “But the photos. On the, umm, insta-thing. And in the news. Well, no news, I suppose, but you know what I mean.”

“Oh!” Crowley’s face lit up, a smile curling his lips. “No, not seeing him. That’s Eric. Sorta’ve a war thing going on in the band right now. ‘S a long story.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, trying not to let the rush of relief overwhelm him as he found himself next in line. He paid for his bottle, then stepped aside, waiting for Crowley who glanced his way every couple of seconds.

Once Crowley had paid for his item, they headed out of the shop together.

Aziraphale found himself standing on the sidewalk a few feet away from the door, looking at Crowley who shuffled from one foot to the other.

“Well-“

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” Crowley cut Aziraphale off, the words rushing out rather quickly as he suddenly went still. “You can come to my place, if you’d like. I, umm… it’s just me. And it’s nothing really fancy but it’s, you know, traditional, sorta.”

A whole year of wanting exactly this. A dinner with this man whom he’d gotten to know so very well, who he still loved rather dearly despite never having had a date with him.

He would never have been out had it not been for that silly cork in the bottle. He wouldn’t have had to work so hard for the cork to come loose if Anathema hadn’t presumably stolen the other. 

He could say no, let Crowley walk away, say he wasn’t ready to try this all over again. But after all those lost moments they could have had, that they planned, only to find himself in the same shop as Crowley on Christmas eve? Well, it felt like part of some grand, ineffable plan that Aziraphale wasn’t about to question.

He smiled, “I’d be delighted.”

 ~C~

 Christmas morning was bright and sunny, the light peeking through Crowley’s blinds and stirring him into awareness. He tightened his hold around Aziraphale and smiled against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his skin and thinking it was by far the absolute best Christmas ever.

They shared the dinner Crowley made with the bottle of wine Aziraphale had purchased. Like the plane ride, like that one lunch, like all their many video calls the conversation flowed easily. It was like they hadn’t spent nearly two months barely speaking, trying to give one another space.

“You know,” Aziraphale had said as they finished up their meal, “Call me an old silly, but I rather think that maybe we were meant to meet around now. If you believe in such things as destiny and all that.” He had amended before taking a sip of his wine.

“I had thought that,” Crowley had admitted. “That maybe fate or the universe or whatever was purposely keeping us apart.”

“You know I happen to be finished with writing for a bit. I imagine I might have about two weeks before I really need to get back to it all. Holidays and all.”

“Yeah, me too.” Crowley had agreed. “Maybe we can spend them together?”

Aziraphale had merely blushed and smiled but didn’t agree. Which wasn’t what Crowley had been hoping for since the moment he had seen Aziraphale in the shop.

It had felt like all the stars aligned and he was being given the gift of the one thing he really wanted that year for Christmas, his angel. A chance to maybe try this all over again. He couldn’t let Aziraphale walk away without an invitation, and Crowley tried very hard to continue to act cool when Aziraphale had agreed.

Dinner finished and they moved to the sofa. Another bottle of wine was open, and Crowley and Aziraphale lost themselves in conversation, drifting ever closer with one another with every lean forward to the coffee table. 

“You could stay for the night if you’d like.” Crowley had said when the clock hit eleven and the pair realized how much time they had lost together. “I’m not anywhere near drunk but I’m feeling the wine a little and I don’t dare drive. It’s a bit back to your place from here for a walk, and the buses-“

“Crowley,” Aziraphale had interrupted, causing him to snap his mouth shut.

Aziraphale had seemed to debate with himself for a while, hands wringing and brow furrowing until he sat suddenly straighter. He slowly reached for Crowley, cupping his cheek before leaning in at the same speed. Crowley was very certain he knew what was about to happen, but he didn’t dare move at all until Aziraphale’s lips made contact with his.

And then he went absolutely mad. 

At some point, they had stumbled down to Crowley’s bedroom.

“Happy Christmas,” Aziraphale mumbled sleepily, a smile to his voice.

“It is a happy Christmas indeed,” Crowley agreed, leaning away to allow Aziraphale to roll over and face him. He was given the gift of the first of what he hoped were many good morning kisses. “Have anywhere you need to be today?”

“No,” Aziraphale assured. “Anathema, Newton, and I all exchanged presents yesterday. And you, are you expecting anyone?”

“No, me and the band do something for the new year instead.”

“So I suppose, if we wanted to, we could stay here for the whole day,” Aziraphale observed as he ran a hand down Crowley’s back. 

“Oh, I rather like the sound of that.” Crowley agreed, leaning in and kissing Aziraphale as if he would never see him again.

 January

 When Crowley got home from the studio, he felt absolutely wretched. Days of being cooped up, sleeping on the floor when he could, drinking far too much coffee, and eating the absolute worst food he just wanted to climb in the shower, drink a liter of water, and sleep for a week.

But when he opened the door to the flat the most wonderful aroma of Italian herbs and warm bread wafted toward him. He could hear the faint bubbling of something cooking on the stove, and soothing jazz from the 1920s was playing at just the right volume on his high-end sound system.

He didn’t feel quite so wretched anymore, nor tired, and he shut the door with a smile. Tossing his jacket on the rack, and toeing off his boots, he scooted his way into the kitchen to find Aziraphale at the stove with a gentle smile on his face.

“You weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow,” Crowley said as he went up behind his boyfriend and wrapped his arms around him.

Aziraphale chuckled. “I bumped my flight up a day. There wasn’t anything I needed to do further, so I came home. Thought I would surprise you.”

“You did, I like it.” He said, kissing Aziraphale’s neck before going to get himself a glass of water. “So when I texted you that I was leaving the studio and would call when I got in?”

“I was already here. I came here right from the airport, actually. I caught a few hours of sleep, then simply worked until I heard from you.”

Crowley grinned, increasingly pleased with himself that he gave Aziraphale a key two days after Christmas. They had only just officially started to see each other, but it was hardly like they hadn’t already known more about each other than most couples do when officially moving in.

And since that day, they spent more time together than apart. It was almost like Aziraphale had moved in. There was a draw of his things and a spot in Crowley’s closet. He had a toothbrush by the bathroom sink and even had a few of his favorite books and records mingled in with Crowley’s collection.

“So, no charming ginger blokes on the flight then?” Crowley teased before taking a drink of his water.

“No, I actually was alone this time. No seat partner.”

“Good. ‘M not sharing.”

“Quite right,” Aziraphale chuckled. “Now, go wash up so we can have dinner together before you sleep.”

Crowley kissed his boyfriend quickly before heading off to do just that.

And after dinner, they did settle into bed. It was still quite early, so Aziraphale had brought a book, planning to read while Crowley caught up on some much-needed rest.

As he began to drift off to sleep, Crowley became quite determined that if they made it through the whole year with fewer video calls than physically being with one another in person then he would ask this man to marry him.