#i’m listening to a random soundtrack and it’s like yeah i could vaguely do that??? not as well but??? i see the patterns and have the ideas

[autism-disco]

i could be a film composer,,,

[trashcreatyre]

I'm gonna explain one of my TMA playlists bc I've been wanting to do that for several months, and how else am I supposed to procrastinate my animatic project at one in the morning?

(here's the link to the playlist bc I think its pretty slappin')

General:

Body Terror Song By AJJ-

I know that it could technically be a flesh song, but I feel like its a bit more vague than that? if that makes sense?

The Afternoon By Lemon Demon-

there's gonna be a lot of Lemon Demon songs in this lol- This one is also pretty vague, but for some reason it kinda reminds me of Michael specifically? I don't 100% know how to describe it.

thrifted youth By dalynn-

Most of the descriptions/reasonings in the general section are pretty simplistic and vague huh? I guess it just kinda fits the vibe? I might be saying that for a lot of the general ones-

Aurora Borealis By Lemon Demon-

this one reminds me of the season five, kinda feels like a jmart song. (also you'll probably notice that there's not much in the ship theme in this playlist. I like to keep my ship playlists separate from my more general ones, don't know why.)

Under My Skin By Jukebox The Ghost-

just kinda fits the vibe y'know? other than that I don't really know.

Turn the Lights Off By Tally Hall-

i can't actually remember why I put this one specifically- that's a bit unfortunate-

When He Died By Lemon Demon-

This one mostly just fits the vibe, makes me think about the really old Victorian era statements.

Ancient Aliens By Lemon Demon-

again, fits the vibe.

She Doesn't Sleep By Anthony Amorim-

Feels like a random statement tbh. also reminds me of Not!Sasha too.

Nightmare Fuel By Lemon Demon-

funky song- fits the vibe- I don't know what more I can say-

Everybody Loves Me by OneRepublic-

I don't remember actually???? I think It was an Elias one??? but thinking about it now that doesn't really make much sense???? I'm gonna keep it tho, fits the vibe, at least it does to me.

Bloody Nose By Jack Conte-

fits the vibe :)

Christmas Kids By Roar-

I think I saw an animatic to this one time? now I can only think of the season one archival staff,,,, my beloveds,,,,

La nuit en matin By OH MU-

imma be honest, I have no idea what this one's actually about, but It lowkey reminds me of the intro music during end of season three- y'know, the clown vibes :D

9 to 5 By Dolly Parton-

Archival staff moment

American Healthcare By Penelope Scott-

I guess it could technically be seen as an End themed one? but I put it on bc I felt like it fit the vibes (are you getting sick of reading vibes? i'm getting sick of typing it)

Butch 4 Butch By Rio Romeo-

mostly just the rat filled piano line,,,,,, and also it fits the vibes to me.

Oblivion By Grimes-

Kinda feels like a statement?? In a way?

Murders By Miracle Musical-

the vibes. hopefully thats the last time i type that for this-

oh yeah woo yeah, we're onto the specific Entities now B) lets start with the one that probably has the most, if not, it sure feels like it-

The Spiral:

Spiral Eyes By Rewenge-

yeahhhh,,,, I know it doesn't really fit the vibes all that well, But the title fits and I like it so-

The Distortionist By Ghost and Pals-

this one is SUPER obvious, but it fits REALLY well in my mind.

Out of Her Head (Outerlude) [From The Film Possibly in Michigan] By Korban Baxter-

I can literally picture this one- I lowkey wanna do an animatic of this one one day.

A Crow's Trial By Vane Lily-

OKAY- so this last one is because it's the song from an absolutely GORGEOUS animation/animatic by Akidachi on YouTube, I ADORE this animation. please watch it omg-

again, I'm like, 90% sure that The Spiral has the most songs on this playlist, definitely not a bias or anything. next up is the mf uhhhh-

The Corruption:

Spiral of Ants By Lemon Demon-

no explanation needed.

Maggot By Slutever-

Mostly just the name, but it's a good song too so-

Sick On Seventh Street By Sarah and the Safe Word-

fits the vibe title and actual song wise.

in retrospect under my skin probably could be here-

The Web:

Redesign Your Logo (Bonus Track) By Lemon Demon-

Feels like a very web song,,,

Boris The Spider By The Who-

Spider,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Spider Dance By Toby Fox-

Yes,,, like from undertale,,,,,,,

i think thats it for the web (i swore there were more,,,,)

The Lonely:

Nobody By Mitski-

C'mon, you didn't think I WOULDN'T put this one on, did you?

This December By Ricky Montgomery-

idk what it is exactly about this one, just,,,, feels correct?

Blue Jay Way By The Beatles-

MANNNNNNN- i love this song, my mom hates it- that's unrelated- but I always just feel like there's fog or like, an eerie sea, or something- while listening to it. it feels very lonely-

I'm a Member of the Midnight Crew (1909) By Eddie Morton-

I have no idea why spotify suggested this song to me, but I will never not find it funny. Anyway- reminds me of the crew on Peter's ship :)

The Stranger:

Rattlesnake By Kabaret Sybarit-

Idk, feels like smth Nikola would sing at jon- idk how else to explain it-

A Mask of My Own Face By Lemon Demon-

pretty self explanatory lolll

The Slaughter:

War Pigs By Black Sabbath-

war.

The Hunt:

The Hunter By Slaves-

maybe this one is because it's because it's litterally called the hunter, and that they say hunter a bunch, but it is fun to listen to-

Teeth By 8 Graves-

I cannot remember my reasoning at this current moment-

The Flesh:

Body By Mother Mother-

the lyrics do be fittin doe

The Dark:

Everything Goes Dark By The Hoosiers-

i mean- everything goes dark- what more do you want me to say-

Dr.Sunshine Is Dead By Will Wood and the Tapeworms-

i think its mostly the song's vibe and the title.

The End:

The Trick to life By The Hoosiers-

the trick to life is not to get too attached to it.

Memento Mori: the most important thing in the world By Will Wood-

remember death.

YOOO OKAY NOW WE'RE ON THE ONES THAT I HAVE ACTUAL THINGS TO SAY ABOUT NOW- at least for the most part-

Characters:

i think i'm gonna go from least to most for this- (spoilers, Jon has the most ones because I care him)

Cryptid Hunt- Demo By Averno, Sushi Soucy-

this one makes me think of the WTGFs,,,,,

You're at the Party (Bonus Track) By Lemon Demon-

makes me think about Micheal Shelley,,,,,,,

Saint Bernard By Lincoln-

Alice "daisy" Toner moment-

Mary By The Happy Fits-

mary keay,,,,,,

there used to be a gerry one too, but the more I heard it in the context of the playlist and him, It just didn't fit,,,,,

Ew it's Elias/jonah time-

The Fine Print By The Stupendium-

capitalism- jk- kinda- Idk, just feels like it fits because he really just kinda,,, doesn't care about his employees-

How Bad Can I Be? from the lorax-

I had to-

Boss 3 from the terraria soundtrack-

Listen- I don't know why- but- it has elias/jonah vibes- the vibes are fowl, but the song is good.

Ruler of Everything By Tally Hill-

Panopticon/eyepocolypes time-

Ayooo it's jon time- I really hope I can write out my thoughts in a way that makes any kind of sense- /foreshadowing

A Sadness Runs Through Him By The Hoosiers-

Goddddd,,,,, he's just kinda filled with sadness and survivors guilt, just like, all the time huh?

Home By Cavetown-

the lyrics are just- very him- like- I just gjbdjgsflkjns-

Broken Crown By Mumford & Sons-

frick- the foreshadowing was accurate- the best I can describe it is that the lyrics just???? y'know??? hhh why am I like this sometimes-

Sweet HIbiscus Tea By Penelope Scott-

i'm willing to bet that he never wanted to be the main character-

Honey I'm Home By Ghost and Pals-

I saw a Jon centric animatic to this one time- I can't for the life of me remember who by, But everytime I hear the moth lines, my brain goes ":0" Because I remember there was a time when people kept drawing moth jon- I don't know where that came from but I thought it was very cool.

Who Are You, Really? By Mikky Ekko-

I'm like- actually starting to get frustrated with how poorly im articulating my thoughts right now- this just isn't funny anymore-

Sleep By My Chemical Romance-

I'm not actually sure why for this one- I just remeber putting on my black parade CD, hearing this, and being like, "damn, that do kinda be jon tho-"

I hope you enjoyed my ramblings- tbh, all this sounded and read out better in my head. My words might not make sense, but I do like how the playlist is. also im very tired, maybe this would've been written better if I wasn't struggling to keep my eyes open lol. I'm gonna fall asleep now- or maybe i'll post a spiral themed doodle dump again, who knows. I don't know.

[originalcontent]

Oooookay. Welcome back. Posting about pathologic part 4 I think? Part 4. We just reached Act 4 too, so everything’s going according to schedule. This gaming session had some ups and downs. Ups: That good good lore, and a lot of quality time spent with my good pals Daniil  and Changeling and also Clara apparently, although she might not be my good pal after all, but w/e. Downs: FUuuuUUUUCKkkk we are so bad at video games, and also the kin folk have become A Lot, holy shit. Where to start.

Okay so this time the game wasn’t actually super stressful for me personally bc this time I kind of just handed off the controls to my sister every time shit got dangerous. She’s a lot better at video games than me. Shoutout @akpaley​ for keeping me from dying from stress in real life.

The drawback of this is that since she’s a lot better at video games she’s also a lot more willing to actually take risks rather than just running away from literally everything. Which I won’t deny, has gotten us a lot of much-needed money and resources but also.

WELCOME TO THE FUCKING DEATH SPIRAL PART OF THE GAME. I guess it had to happen eventually, right? Fuuuuuuuck us, do you have any fucking idea how much shit you have to redo when you’re randomly shanked by some dude every fifteen minutes? And they’re harder to fight every time we come back, apparently, and also our health is like permanently half gone? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck why are there not more clocks.

Victor Kain, you were the one who made the clocks?? I could fucking kiss you. I owe you my life. Or like, six hundred of my lives. Hhh.

Okay, seriously though, the clock lore is actually kind of sick. Victor told us that they’re smaller versions of the cathedral, and we were like “!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THaT’S WHerE wE RESET THE GaME IN THe PROLOGUE!!!!!!! METAPHYSICS!!!!!!!!!” The Kains are so cool.

(Maria Kaina got infected tho. Sorry, you. :( Although technically that happens later.)

Um, we gave the rest of our shmowder to Khan. We’re out now. We’ve been looking for more but haven’t found anything.

Also we made a random potion, and the plague showed up and was like “fuck you,” and I was like “damn, calm the hell down, you’re the one fucking killing people.”

Met with the Saburovs more. They were like “we have another suspect!” and I was like “yeah they probably don’t but w/e” and my sister was like “they’re in an infected land and we should probably save their lives” and I was like “why do we care about helping the Saburovs again, literally all they do is accuse random people of killing my dad, the Kains are obviously the best family, we should just be throwing in with them” and she was like “that’s not all they do, they also run the guards, you know those guys who patrol plague districts?” and I was like “okay fuck you’re right let’s visit them” and it turns out that that there was actually some super cool lore pertaining to the town’s mistresses. Also, god if they don’t have some cool reflections. I love everything about this town’s history.

Afterwards we randomly decided to visit Yulia for literally no reason, and she was like “I’m glad you’re here, I have a lot of super heavy important shit to discuss with you about the Inquisition that will be here tomorrow, it sure is convenient that you’re in my neighborhood for some reason even though I live in an incredibly inconvenient location?” Also she knows something about the nature of Artemy, Daniil, and Clara-or maybe the Changeling but she called her Clara? Oh yeah, Daniil was there too for some reason. Poor guy, I don’t think he’s okay. He cried on my shoulder a lot, he was endearingly open and earnest and for once I felt bad about the dialogue options wherein Artemy throws shade.

And then Clara happened to be standing outside literally right then? I wonder if that was going to be a big quest location and we just happened to arrive right before the game told us to go there anyway. I think that’s it actually. We’re so good, damn. Clara keeps pulling shit and then immediately trying to reconcile and asking for help. I really like her, but we really shouldn’t be trusting her right?

Oh Murky was also there and she set up a meeting between us and her “friend” and that night we went and Clara and Changeling were both there and I’m so confused???? What is her deal? But!! Changeling facilitated a deal between me and the plague! And Murky is now off the hit list!!!!!!!!!! Does this mean she’ll live? Anyway the plague started talking to us, and our infection rose a bit in an unhealable way, and, dumbasses that we were, said “wow this is probably all just the natural consequence of the bargain we made. Guess there’s literally nothing we can do to address this.” (Spoiler: That is not the case, the cost of the pact was literally just that we became infected and would have to cure it with fire before it killed us. We figured that out eventually, I promise.)

Fast forward to the next day after we finish the day’s entire fucking plotline, when we have done literally nothing so our infection’s increased a shit ton and it starts actually killing us. And since we only have like half our potential health bar from getting killed so much, we literally can’t survive long enough to treat it. We run around trying to cure ourselves and die like ten more times before we finally accept that we just have to go back in time to before the infection was this bad, try to get cured immediately, and redo the whole day. There’s a whole fucking skeleton out by the theatre by now btw. Fucking death spirals. This play session took a long fucking time okay?

Alright, flash backward again. After talking with Changeling, we visit Stakh because after rescuing him twice in a row he promised we could talk. We go to his house and he’s sleeping, or maybe just pretending to sleep, but either way Artemy has the absolute sweetest little monologue, just talking to him, and so much has happened but I can tell there’s still a lot of tenderness there between them even if it’s buried deep, and it’s just such a soft scene against such a harsh story.

Guess who’s dead by morning.

The next day Aglaya showed up and was like “see me immediately,” so obviously we visit Capella and then town hall first off. Daniil’s there, he bitches to me about Aglaya for a bit. So cute, we really are friends. I promise to help him with corpse duty bc Capella wanted me to visit Grace anyway. We talk to the official people at the official desks, one is collecting babies, one is giving me some lunch money as a very good reward for being a very good little surgeon, and one is telling me that actually money is illegal now but here are some free coupons that actually are too cheap to buy anything with.

Aglaya is the woman from the prologue! Hhhh things are really building to a point, aren’t they. I wonder how Yulia knows her. But damn, the whole village was out there waiting to meet with her weren’t they.

I made a deal with the rat prophet to clear some space in the graveyard so Grace would be okay. Dunno what will come of that. I’ve been seeing him everywhere lately though.

I met with Oyun and gave him my dad’s house. I met with Aspity and was like “did you kill Stakh” and she gave me some vague shit, and in general I am very upset at the kinfolk right now but I tried to save them anyway. Went to the termitary and did the whole termitary thing. Wow that sure is a place, right? God, have I ever mentioned how much I love all the screaming soundtracks  in this game.

Damn, Taya’s whole child queen vibe is unsettling.

The whole termitary is horrible, and what the kin folk have been put through is horrible, but their obsession with blood and strength legit terrifies me. I’ve spent all my time until now trying to convince everyone that they aren’t bad, and that they aren’t to blame for the disease, but now they want to kill? And they really really really want me to be a killer too. And the whole thing with Taya is creepy as fuck too, she’s just a kid. Anyway, we’re sending Vlad the older to them, I don’t know whether he or his son deserves to be torn apart more, but Changeling was really upset at the idea of Vlad the younger going there, so I guess we’re backing her. We run all around town making sure the right Olgimsky is going, and then we realize we actually have a few hours left so we take a hospital shift too! And then we die of disease like six times.

Okay, flash forward again, we’ve gone back, gotten some guy to molotov cocktail us, redone the entire termitary thing, saved the game on Vlad’s clock after sending him to his doom (sorry dude). That’s where we’re at currently.

(Only it’s not actually, we went back and spent like an hour going back and forth between the termitary and Oyun again trying to deal with their shit, and everyone was like “murder all dissenters :D” and I was like “what the fuck” and the day was almost over but then a dude stabbed us and we randomly died, and none of these places had clocks, so at that point we were basically like “yeah it’s after midnight, let’s just call it quits.”)

Anything else......oh, the warehouses are at risk again. Notkin and Sticky, what would I do if anything happened to them. I hope my medicines are good enough, I gave some to Bad Grief too but now all there really is to do is wait. :(

Oh, I once again have thoughts on how fucking theatrical is it that everything in the game is simultaneously literal and metaphorical, it’s gorgeous, and have I mentioned the costuming choices for the Orderlies and the Plague, hhhhhhhh, not to say anything nice about Mark fucking Immortell, but he knows what he’s doing with this thing. Listen if this post weren’t already way too long I would just gush about the theatrical elements again, but sadly it is too long.

Okay, that was our latest session! We’ll be back either very soon or in like three weeks.

[casual-eumetazoa]

thanks for the prompt @confused-android​ ! oof, took me longer to write this than i thought (or actually it took me like an hour but i postponed it till my exams were almost over). first - the word “enthralled”? i vibe with it. second - this kinda turned into a vaguely brotzly piece with some autism acceptance on the side, hope that’s okay. third… hope you like this! so here goes

———————

The Case of the Stolen Flower Basket (as dubbed, unofficially, by Dirk) started out on a more relaxed note than most of their cases: in a flowershop, with a stolen basket. A basket, mind you, that was stolen in broad daylight from a closed room, under mysterious circumstances.

It also started with Dirk ending up in a flowershop, accidentally, while he was trying to find an ice-cream place. And it wasn’t even a case then, as much as Dirk’s brief but intense obsession with closed room mysteries, but I digress.

Point is, a basket was missing, a basket thief was at large, and the holistic crew of the holistic detective agency found themselves in a huge abandoned storing space, following up on a “lead”. Todd, Dirk and Farah walked the damp bleak corridors, opening any block that seemed suspicious. Most of them did, and most contained a truly bizarre collection of items.

One was filled up entirely with broken IKEA furniture. One was stuffed to the brim with an assortment of left shoes. And, perhaps most unsettling, one consisted of nothing but headless dolls of various shapes and sizes, along with some disfigured plush animals.

-What the hell was this place? – Todd wondered, prying open yet another door.

Behind it was an empty space, containing exactly one chair with exactly one empty jar perched on the edge of its seat.

-The warehouse of a profoundly odd collector. – Dirk proclaimed. – He… had an excess of money, and wanted to collect things, but the normal things people collect like stamps or candy wrappers were too boring for him, so he did this instead.

-Found anything important? – Farah’s voice echoed against the crumbling walls.

-Yes! – Dirk yelled back.

-No. – Todd corrected, then turned back to Dirk. – An eccentric collector then huh? – Evidently, he had decided to entertain Dirk’s guess. – What about this one then?

He pointed at the nearest door and immediately proceeded to kick it down. It was meant to be a slight push, but instead the door caved in completely, slipping off its hinges and crashing against the floor with a deafening metal rumble.

-Sorry! – Todd bit his lip.

He saw Dirk wince and then almost shrivel up at the sound, arms pulled suddenly towards his chest, as if trying to protect himself from the noise.

Noises. Dirk did not do well with them. And Todd knew that all too well.

-Sorry. – He repeated. – I didn’t mean to do… that.

-It’s fine. – Dirk mumbled, trying his best to shake off the feeling and get back into investigative mood. – What’s in it then?

They stepped over the dilapidated door and into the tight storage space. Inside it were a few pieces of old furniture, half a dozen sealed boxes, at least a whole heap of sawdust, and…

-Todd! – Dirk really did try to tone down the enthusiasm, but alas. – Look!

First, Todd noticed Dirk’s flapping arms, and the smile on his face, and felt his own lips stretch into a grin. Only then he turned to check what was in there, and realized that the wall of the storage space was lined up with various musical instruments. Guitars, mostly; electric, acoustic, even toy ones…

-It’s your thing! – Dirk beamed.

-Yeah. – Todd agreed. – It’s my thing.

He approached the wall and picked up one of the guitars.

-It’s expensive. – He declared, and checked the instrument for any signs of wear and tear. – And new. Damn. – He went slowly through the collection. – Well, these aren’t the very top of the chain, but they’re fancier than I used to have.

He took one of the electric guitars – a slick, bright red beauty – and held it gently in his hands. He hadn’t played guitar since he bashed his last one against the wall of the Ridgley building… that happened less than a year prior, and yet it seemed a lifetime away.

-Can we take some? – Dirk asked, then, not waiting for a reply, picked out one of the guitars at random. – They’re no-ones so it doesn’t count as stealing.

-I guess I could take one or two. – Todd agreed. – They’re as good as thrown out at this point. No use for them collecting dust in here.

-Where the hell are you two? – Farah’s voice chimed through the corridor.

-Over here! – Dirk shouted back.

-Ugh. – Todd muttered. – I have to pick now. Wait. Actually… - He looked at the guitar he had in his hands, then the one Dirk was still holding, and smiled with the corner of his mouth. – Those two are good. Let’s go.

-Guys. – Farah nearly avoided a collision with the broken door as she entered the storage space. – You should see this. Now. – She paused. – I think I found a skeleton.

The guitars were then stashed in the corner, and waited patiently for their new owner to crawl on all fours into a basement, poke some human bones with a stick, and emerge – dusty, exhausted, and deeply confused.

*

The evening was slow and peaceful. While Farah was busy making phone calls and trying to arrange for someone to examine, discretely and unofficially, a mysterious unidentified skeleton, Todd and Dirk stayed in Todd’s apartment. Or, rather, at the apartment that used to be Todd’s. He didn’t remember the last time he had a dinner there, and besides, Dirk spent more nights than not in the guest bedroom, so it was really their apartment.

-Do you have any ideas about how the basket connects to the skeleton yet? – Todd asked, placing two cups of tea on the table.

He didn’t have to ask Dirk what he wanted; he knew his (rather narrow) range of food and drink preferences by heart.

-Not a clue. – Dirk admitted, and raised his gaze to the ceiling, staring attentively at some smudge. – I think we should go to Claire’s house.

-Why the owner’s house? – Todd asked.

-Feels relevant. – Dirk shrugged, eyes still focused on the smudge. – Oh. – He turned in his seat suddenly. – The guitars! Can you play for me?

Todd sighed. He anticipated this happening.

-Well, - he said, - I can’t play the electric one cause you need equipment for it and we didn’t steal any, and I haven’t played an acoustic guitar in like two years, but…

-I don’t care if it’s not your best or some equally stupid excuse. – Dirk interrupted him. – You know I’ll be impressed no matter what.

Todd laughed shortly, and nodded. It was true – Dirk was impressed and excited by seemingly everything, from the fluffy blanket assortment at Walmart (he had to touch every. single. one.) to the Sacred Wisdom shared with him by Todd that the number on the package of pasta tells you how long it will take to cook it. Dirk was also somehow oblivious to his own talents, insisting that connecting eleven entirely unrelated pieces of information into a complete narrative was “simple” and “obvious”.

-Fine. – Todd caved in, and got up to fetch the acoustic guitar. – But I probably won’t know the cords of the songs you like.

Considering that Dirk mostly listened to obscure European rock music, 80s pop, and Disney soundtracks, it was hardly surprising.

-Not tuned at all, probably. – Todd, the guitar now in hands, returned to his seat and gave the strings a test stroke. – Yep. – He nodded. – Gimme a few minutes.

He tuned the guitar as best as he could, and tapped his fingers on the table, trying to decide what to play. Dirk had watched him with curiosity and was now sipping his tea, waiting for the music to start. Todd paused, took a deep breath in, and began to play the first song that he was sure he remembered – “Behind Blue Eyes”.

The music flowed; Todd focused on the movement of his fingers, on the vibration of the string, and the metal at his fingertips. He sang the words softly, almost as an afterthought. He had forgotten how good it felt to make music happen. The song was in the air, brought to life by the motion of his hands, and the night was young, and he was lost in the moment. He skipped the electric guitar solo and went straight to the final reprise of the chorus.

Then the music stopped, and silence fell on his shoulders. He kept quiet, not saying anything, waiting for Dirk to react. That is when Todd realized that Dirk wasn’t talking – and Dirk was always talking. He talked over movies, and news on the TV, and shop assistants and, on one memorable occasion, over a talking parrot. It’s not that he was rude - it’s just that his head was so full of words, constantly, that they had to be let out.

But Dirk wasn’t talking now. Now he simply sat in his place, eyes transfixed on Todd’s hands, blinking.

-Are you okay? – Todd asked.

There was a pause.

-Mmm? – Dirk blinked faster and looked up, meeting Todd’s gaze, startled slightly, as if waking up from a pleasant dream. – Yes. Yes of course I’m okay.

-You kinda zoned out a little bit.

-I did?

-Yeah.

-You play really good music. – Dirk smiled softly.

-Thanks. – Todd smiled back.

-It’s nice to not be… attacked by sound for a change. – Dirk added.  – Can you… keep, playing, please?

-Sure. – Todd replied. -I mean, I don’t remember that many songs, and…

He remembered enough songs for a whole mini-at-home concert.

*

It doesn’t end there.

Together, they spend many an evening consumed by music, music brought to life by Todd, for Dirk, specifically for Dirk, and for him only. Todd plays everything – every song he has ever loved, acoustic versions of Mexican Funeral pieces, approximate renditions of whatever is on the radio these days…

Dirk makes requests. Todd googles guitar tabs and practices while Dirk is still asleep, in the ungodly early hours of the morning, sitting on the windowsill of the apartment block while people leave for first shifts at work. He has performed in front of huge crowds, and music journalists, and many girls (and guys…) he was trying to impress – but nothing has ever felt as personal, crucial, tender, as playing for Dirk.

The skeleton is identified, and the stolen basket is discovered. The convoluted twists and turns of the story, which involves a near-extinct flower, a 77-year-old Russian spy and an actual African prince, come to their natural close. The excitement and danger are over, if only for a brief respite, and peace is restored. A new case will arrive soon enough… but until then, they have their tiny apartment, and Todd has his guitars, and music lingers in the air, and Dirk is enthralled with the music, still and speechless in his seat.

They look at each other, and they understand each other precisely, and, for once in his life, Dirk has no words, and needs no words, and wants nothing else but to listen. God knows, his life is never safe or simple, but now Todd is here, and the world is really not that bad, and he is happy.

The Earth continues to spin. New bizarre, perplexing and astonishing things will happen. Songs will be played, and words will be said in time. Maybe, in part at least, because someone ran, and never looked back, and left behind all their belongings, even their very expensive guitars…

Sometimes – most of the times – the Universe wants them to help it. But, on this occasion, it is gracious enough to help them in return.

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Happiness Begins

Part 9

Chapter Summary: The reader gears up for a New Year's Eve party hosted at the Padalecki's Austin home. Her hopes for good fortune in the New Year are quickly dashed when Jensen no longer seems to want anything to do with her. 

Word Count: 1.6K+

Warnings: Language, angst

Author’s Note: This one is short and sweet because I wanted the next part to stand on its own. That being said it does not downplay the significance of this part. As always, thanks for reading and giving feedback, it’s always amazing to read. xo Alex

Catch up with the series masterlist and check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

After a while, her mother came up to apologize. The two of them mended their tift and her mother promised to drop the argument. Y/n knew it was an empty promise and the same one that her mother made every year, but as much as she hated it, she hated confrontation more. So, she put on a happy smile for the rest of the evening and decided to leave as early as she could the next morning. 

The next few days consisted of mindlessly filling her time with anything that she could. She found a new gym in Austin for when she was done in Vancouver. Then she spent a few days catching up with her close friends that she hadn’t seen in a few months. But, much like her last few days in Vancouver, nothing was doing much to help her mood. Her troubles would hide away in the back of her mind while she was busy, but the second she was alone again, she would slip back into her dark space. At least when she was in Vancouver, she had work to keep her mind occupied for long hours in the day. What was supposed to be her rest and relaxation time quickly faded into her desperation to be back at work. Which was something she never thought she would have considered before. 

When New Years Eve rolled around, she made herself remarkably early for Jared and Genevieve’s party. They were going all out this year. The house was going to be packed for their Gatsby themed party. They had spared no expense to put on a party that would modestly put Gatsby himself to shame. This party had promise for distraction for the majority of the night, something she had been looking forward to since Christmas. As much as she wanted to just drink the night away, she also wanted to spend some time with the kids before they were carted upstairs for the party, so she pulled up with about an hour to spare before the rest of the guests were to start arriving. 

She let herself inside, the only sounds in the house was music that sounded like it was from the Gatsby soundtrack itself. It was odd that she didn’t even hear the kids running amuck, let alone Gen putting the finishing touches on everything. 

“Hello?” Her voice was tentative as she grew a bit worried at the silence. She stepped around the corner as she headed towards the kitchen, running smack into Jensen. 

“Ah, fuck.” She exclaimed, her heart racing as she stumbled backwards. “Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?” She growled as she tried to focus on slowing her breathing once she regained her footing.

“I didn’t hear you, I just came in from outside.” Jensen pointed over his shoulder towards the large windows that lead outside. She could see Genevieve checking the chicken coops in her flapper gown that was remarkably similar to the one that Y/n was wearing. Her gaze cast across the expanse of windows to also see Jared running around with the kids in the grass. 

“Hmm,” she hummed, deciding she couldn’t be mad at him for that, no matter how much he had startled her. She brought her attention back to him as he shuffled around her.  She took in his tuxedo, minus the jacket, the bow tie hanging untied around his neck. “You’re here early?” She noted. 

“Been here, for a few days.” 

“Oh?” 

“”M working on remodeling my home and Jared offered for me to stay in the guest house instead of a hotel.” Jensen explained, his voice monotone as he did. She narrowed her eyes at him as she took in the thin line his mouth was set in and the wrinkles in his forehead from his furrowed brow. 

“That was nice of him.” The words slipped slowly from her as she tried to assess what was bothering the man across from her. Jensen shifted his weight from foot to foot as he scratched his fingers in the beard that now adorned his face in his absence from work.

“It was. Listen, we’ll talk later, yeah?” He looked back over his shoulder before continuing past her and into the house without waiting for her response. 

“Sure… I guess.” She mumbled before continuing to the backyard. She continued past Shep and Tom playing in the grass and went over to where Jared now stood, pushing Odette in a swing. 

“Hey, smalls.” Jared gave her a warm smile when he noticed her heading his way. 

“Hey. So, I just ran into Jensen inside and he seems a little miffed, you know what that’s about?” She leaned against the wooden railing of the swings, unable to get his expression out of her mind. She had never seen him like that before, and he had never been that curt with her either. It was selfish, but she couldn’t help wondering if she had done something to make him mad at her. What that something may have been, she couldn’t rack her brain for it, and she hoped maybe it was something else.

“Hmm, no. I know he’s been stressed about the work going on at his house lately though.” Jared offered her with a shrug. Something about the way his eyes flickered from her when he gave his possible explanation set her on edge. His nonchalance about was even weirder. Jared and Jensen spent more time together than any other person in their lives, they told each other everything, but he supposedly didn’t know what had Jensen in a mood. She wasn’t buying it. Jared was lying, that much was obvious. He clearly didn’t want to tell her though, and she had to relent that ultimately it was none of her business. It was Jensen’s life and if he wanted to tell her, it was his place and only his place to do so. 

“Alright.” She accepted his answer, for now.  

Clara, the kids’ nanny, arrived shortly after she did. Y/n helped her get the kids settled in upstairs as more guests started arriving before joining the festivities herself. 

She knew many people who were in attendance. There were old friends of the family, a few cousins, and even just some of Jared and Gen’s parent friends. It meant that she wouldn’t be in short supply of people to talk to for the night. It was the perfect escape and her night continued to look up, even if she couldn’t stop wondering what was going on with Jensen. 

She spirited around the house, jumping from group to group and laughing with old friends. Even with her hopes for a great night, the thought that the night would just be a repeat of her last night in Vancouver, especially after the whole debacle with her mother at Christmas, never left the back of her mind. The further the truth slipped from her fears, the more she realized that things could be looking up for her. Could the cloud that seemed to be following her for the past few months finally be dissipating? Maybe it was a sign that good changes were just around the corner? She could only continue to revel in the happiness as long as it would allow her. 

The only thing was, no matter how much hope she had for the future, she couldn’t get Jensen’s sour attitude out of her mind. As the night continued on, she failed to find him anywhere she went in the house. She couldn’t let it go, as much as she reminded herself whatever was going on with him wasn’t about her, she just wanted to clear the air.

In Vancouver, it had seemed that they were becoming good friends, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. She hated thinking that maybe she did something that had irked him. And if it wasn’t her fault, she wanted to be there for him like he had been there for her. After all, that’s what friends do, help pick you up when you are down. 

That proved difficult though when she couldn’t find him anywhere. She had given up after a while, figuring she could talk to him once they were back to work. She slipped away from the crowd to refill her drink in the quiet kitchen. Much to her surprise and relief, she found Jensen alone in the kitchen when she entered it, refilling his own glass. He was completely done up now, his bow tie perfectly center at his collar, and his jacket now on his shoulders. 

“Hey,” She smiled warmly at him. He looked up at her, his own smile weak. “You having a good time tonight?” 

“Yeah.” He answered simply as he rifled through the drink options. 

“Good, good.” She mumbled, trying to come up with something else to say. He wasn’t helping her at all either, so she figured she should just cut right to the chase. “Listen, are you okay? You seem off, like you’re pissed about something…”

Jensen’s head snapped to her, his expression falling as he took in her concerned gaze. “I’m fine.” He stated after a beat.

“Are you sure? It’s just, and I don’t mean to pry, but you haven’t said more than a few words to me, and I thought we were becoming friends, so, if something is on your mind, you know you can tell me, right?” She was rambling, feeling awkward the more her words began to tumble from her mouth. 

“We are friends, Y/n. It’s nothing you need to worry about.” His answer to her question could not have been more vague. Again, he didn’t give her a chance to refute it before he was skirting past her and out of the kitchen, leaving without his drink. She stood there, contemplating what he had said. Even with his reassurance, she did not feel any better about whatever was going on with him. He didn’t seem to want to tell her either. Apparently, they were not as close as she had thought they were, and that hurt more than him being mad at her over some random thing. Her hopes for a new beginning this year were quickly being dashed as the one person that had been able to get her to open up, was pushing her away.

Part 10

Forevers: @spn-impala @22sarah08 @turtlepad @callmekda @chaldei @hobby27 @casualfestivaltrashpainter @cowboysnwinchesters @tranquility-or-chaos @pikabootoyouchu @dawnie1988 @grease222 @frackinawesomeninja @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @polina-93 @clarinette07 @moonlight-babeh @suckerforfanfic @witandnargles @sleepylunarwolf @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan

Et Cetera: @jbbarnesgirl @hillface89 @arses21434 @thevelvetseries @sslater34 @mrsirishboru @smoothdogsgirl @spnfamily-j2 @encounterthepast @facadeformyrealblog  @supernatural-bellawinchester​  @screechingartisancashbailiff @rebeccathefangirl @squirrelnotsam @heartinmyhead1 @1d-killed-me @samsgirl93 @deans-baby-momma @deanmonandnegansbitch @woodworthti666 @supraveng @onethirstyunicorn @heartsaved @know2grow @littlewhiterose @surprisinglysarah @stoneyggirl 

[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.

[tellmewhatyouc]

Fanfic Writer Ask Meme

[source]

Writing

Writing implements – pens?  Pencils?  Laptop? Tablet? Lined paper? Leather-bound notebook? Why?

laptop! i’d prefer desktop but i don’t have one yet. from like 4th-7th grade i used to write everything in this giant binder i brought to school and none of it is legible and idk how i ever did that shit

When do you write best?

either right after i get up & shower or at like 2am sometimes

Favourite things to write about?

medical things & friendships

What (in your opinion) are your strengths as a writer?

developing relationships maybe?

Any genres or characters you’d like to write, and haven’t yet?

i think i’m gonna have a lot of fun with corazon & doflamingo once i see more of them in canon

Where do your ideas come from?

a lot of prompt lists, lately

Plotting or pantsing?

really depends on the situation, i think both can be good

Do you have any writing buddies?

@bajillianwrites​ and various people who participate in the r/fanfiction discord sprints!

Do you make playlists or soundtracks for your stories?

yeS the soft focus playlist is one of my favorite things to listen to

Do you have any rituals to prepare you for writing – making moodboards? Having a cup of tea? Exercise?

not rituals necessarily but i do schedule my writing time in google calendar bc having a set amount of time to write before a break helps me Focus

Do you write in chronological order, in complete chaos, or something in between?

usually in chronological order but sometimes i switch scenes around after the fact

What’s hardest – beginning, middle or end?

MIDDLE god i’m there with both of my posted wips rn i think

Are there any ideas you’re holding off writing? Why?

eternity bc i want it to be Good, and some vague ideas set after where i currently am in canon

Is there anything you’re uncomfortable writing?

probably though i haven’t hit it yet

Do you dream and/or daydream about your stories?

surprisingly no? i think i just come up with ideas when i’m like half awake and then desperately try to remember them later

How do you feel about family and friends reading your work?

family is a big no-no unless it’s maybe the fellow Gay Cousin(tm) who probably reads/writes fic themself

i’d probably let non-fandom friends read soft focus or one of my one shots if they really wanted to? but i wouldn’t like. link them to my ao3 u know

What’s your favourite writing quote?

probably something like “fuck it”

Best and/or worst piece of feedback you’ve ever received.

best was probably someone saying they loved all my works and were going to make their way through all of them and also like every single comment i’ve gotten on soft focus

worst was probably when i first posted op fic and someone left a comment just to tell me i’d tagged my story wrong (when i didn’t)

Most random thing you’ve become an expert in, Because Research.

i sure know a lot about pregnancy for someone who never wants to have biological childreen

Favourite thing you’ve ever written.

hmgnhmghg

probably either soft focus or my first long term wip from my previous fandom, it was a messy time travel adventure and i had so much fun writing it

Would you ever collaborate with another author?

hell yeah, i used to collaborate A Ton with an old friend in another fandom and i write a lot with jill nowadays

Share an unpublished snippet.  Go on, you know you want to!

Marco’s response came much faster than he expected it to.

Of course, don’t worry about it! Feel free to drop by whenever you’re ready, I just have to change out of my work clothes.

The phrase ‘work clothes’ brought back some memories from that morning that Ace didn’t quite care to recall, but he simply shoved those thoughts down before he went to his room to change his own clothes.

Favourite character(s)

Least favourite character(s)

we don’t hate characters here but sometimes i hate sanji a little bit

Character you’d most like to go for coffee with

i feel like robin would make good conversation

Character you’d turn to in a crisis

oh marco that bitch knows what’s going on

Character you’d trust your life with

am i allowed to say marco twice   

Character you’d most like to share a house with

i’m gonna say robin again bc she’s Mature and Dependable

Character you’d go on a camping trip with

i h8 camping but i feel like ace could make it fun

Favourite canon friendship

hmmmm franky & robin maybe

Favourite canon pairing

we don’t rlly do that here but i’m also going to say franky & robin

Favourite non-canon friendship

hmmm i want law and chopper to be closer

Favourite non-canon pairing

ohgouhg

rn it’s acelaw

A minor character you have a disproportionate amount of thoughts and feelings about

THE YETI COOL BROTHERS

A character you recently got interested in

doflamingo maybe? and corazon but i’m kinda just avoiding him until i actually See him in canon

An under-appreciated character

robin 🥺

A character who haunts you

fucking spandam

A character you interpret unconventionally

probably law honestly, though i haven’t seem him too much in canon so i can’t say

A character who grew on you over time

oh franky i fucking hated him when he was first introduced

Have you ever gone off a character you used to love?

back in weeb phase no. 1 sanji was my fave and i still appreciate him but also i kinda wanna punch him

Which character is a secret romantic?

franky,,

Which character is tougher than they appear?

nami bc when i finally got to see her fight she rocked my world

Any favourite animal characters?

chopper Of Course

Pick a pair or group of characters unlikely to share a natural bond, and describe how they might become friends.

um hello ace and law bond over trauma, self loathing, and the existence of luffy

[swingxilly]

20 random facts about yourself that might surprise people

I got tagged by @sapphicmadameumbralis, thanks friend!

Do you make your bed? Uh, I didnt use to but I tend to now. Its fairly new, I think I only started a bit over a year ago, when I moved away for half a year. But nothing fancy. Like. Only folding the blanket a bit usually. Bc I think its annoying if you have to remove all the pillows etc before being able to go to bed and stuff

What's your favourite number? Easy. 5. The story behind it is: I used to read a lot of manga. And usually they put like a character on the cover of the volumes. And very very often, not always but most of the time, on volume 5 was my favourite character. So I decided its my lucky number and it stuck

What's your job? Well its not really a job yet? More of a voluntary year? Its a thing in Germany, you get a bit of money and go to a few seminars and stuff. Mostly its to pass time until getting into university or whatever and getting a bit of experience. I work in a little library in town. Pretty sure it helped with my application business :D

If you could, would you go back to school? Oh, Id love to. Im a very nostalgic person, like... VERY. So. Idk! I miss my friends and how things were between us bc we all have changed and yknow kinda lost a few. I miss a lot and Im not gonna list it all bc I could probably write pages about this. Dont miss the less pleasant parts tho

Can you parallel park? Not yet but I hope I will in the future bc Im currently working on getting my drivers license. :') Lots of anxiety involved in that

A job you had which would surprise people? Im not sure if anything like that exists? At least not for me since I dont have a lot of life experience yet, so I cant think of anything rn. Im just 20 dude and Im scared of shit, so I'm not trying a lot of new stuff

Do you think aliens are real? Yeah. Universe is big, so why not 🤷‍♀️ Sounds reasonable to me

Can you drive a manual car? Im gonna go with yes. Dont have a license yet but as long as Im not in a crazy situation or inside a city, I should be fine. Country roads are fun. And manual cars, well we learn with manual ones here. Automatic isnt as common in Germany as far as I know. My aunts struggling to get a new one bc hers (its automatic) isnt in such a great shape anymore. And its not easy to find automatic cars that arent super expensive I believe? Idk, just what I heard

What's your guilty pleasure? Uh... Idk, everything I do? Does procrastinating count? Bc everything I do always feels like procrastinating all the time

Tattoos? Nope, I have commitment issues

Favourite colour? Yellow, orange and green

Things people do that drive you crazy? A lot. My mom and brother both smh love to not respond when you ask them sth. My brother especially loves to answer sth vague that doesnt answer anything at all. Idk, just one example, Im always annoyed about everything probably

Any phobias? Idk about phobias, just assume Im scared of everything. People, animals, being perceived, mistakes, the future, etc etc

Favourite childhood sport? There was a time when I was watching this volley ball anime and I REALLY loved volley ball. Batminton was also fun

Do you talk to yourself? All the time, constantly

What movie do you adore? Most Ghibli movies... Tangled I also really like and plan on rewatching.. Hmmm, I dont have an absolute favourite tho I think

Do you like doing puzzles? A few months ago I was a little obsessed with it. I had an app on my phone and would do puzzles while listening to some podcasts and it was a lot of fun. I kinda lost interest now tho

Favourite music? Oh boy, a lot of different things. A few soundtracks here and there, some bands here some there, its a mix

Tea or coffee? I hate both, but I drink tea when Im sick sometimes. I hate it tho

The first thing you remember you wanted to be when you grew up? An author?? I used to write stories and then I wrote together with a friend and now I dont write anymore. Also an artist probably? Aaalso a librarian bc my mom is one. (librarian is awfully close to barbarian and I love this actually? Just noticed it). The latter one Im currently actually going for

Im tagging... @rottentidepod and @hedwigs-art if you want to! Have fun if you do :D

[wackpainterkid]

I felt like jokingly messaging "coffee shop au!" but I'll be nice, a serious drabble request, Liv gathers the whole gang to surprise them with a first listen to her album (if she's signed or goes indie you can decide)

a/n: Okay this prompt was sent in ages upon ages ago and I’m like half convinced there isn’t even an audience for it anymore but I needed to make myself a bit happier in these troubled times and it’s actually the one year anniversary of my first skam nl fic (this one) and it’s Monday so I’m back again! I hope you’re all doing well ♥

rating: T

1500 words

ephemeral feelings

“Welcome everyone! I’m so happy you all could come. Before we start, let me just give a tiny introduction because you’re probably wondering why you are all here.”

Because they all are; each and every one of Liv’s friends accepted her quite frankly vague invitation and is now bunched up in Hotel Overvecht’s living room, watching her with curious and expectant eyes. She has to admit that her heart is beating faster than it probably ever has, that the stress is rushing through her veins.

“You’ve probably all noticed that I’ve been very busy lately and that I have not been as present as I usually am. Well, the reason for my absence is that I’ve been working on an EP and it required a lot of work because I wanted it to be perfect. But I finished it and I invited all of you here tonight to listen to it. This is the first time I let anyone hear the whole thing and I wanted you guys to be the first because your opinion means the world to me.”

What if they hate it, what if they don’t recognize her or think that being signed to a label has changed her too much. And who cares if her producers and her label love it, if her friends don’t. Their opinion means everything. Which is why she has not told any of them about her project, in fear of failing, in fear of the pressure becoming too much. She didn’t want to go through what she did with her dad, where making music became a burden, lost its essence and its allure.

Liv wanted to make this record only because she wanted it. And she had and it had become something she is so proud of.

Her friends clap and cheer in response and while they hadn’t known about the existence of this project two minutes ago, they have now gone into full supporting mode.

“I’m so excited!” Isa exclaims with a wide grin.

“You guys have got to be honest about what you think of it, okay?” Liv says, stepping over Janna’s legs, avoiding Esra’s fingers, heading towards her stereo with her most prized possession in an unmarked box between her ever so slightly shaking hands.

“We will, don’t worry,” Ralph replies, nestled between Lucas and Bennie.

“I’m sure we’ll love it, Liv.” Engel smiles at her and her other friends all nod in acquiescence.

“I hope you will,” she says quietly, brushing a stray curl behind her ear.

“Does it have a title yet?” Esra asks, just when Liv is about to start the CD.

“Oh, it does!” She turns around to face her audience. “It’s called Ephemeral Feelings and it has six songs.” 

Liv takes a deep breath and presses play. 

It’s out of her hands right now. 

There’s a vacant spot left on the couch, right next to Noah–who probably has something to do with that– and she settles there. He intertwines their fingers and winks at her, a silent reassurance that it will turn out alright.

He is the only one who knew in advance why she organized this evening; the only one who had heard bits and pieces of her songs here and there; those times when she got a sudden burst of inspiration and had to record a voice note before it disappeared again, before the hum became silent again, before the words lost their coherence. However, he hasn’t heard the full thing either.

Some of her nerves dissipate as she feels his pulse against her skin; she lets it guide her, steady her. He’s good at that, calming her down, sometimes even without being aware.

The EP is six songs. 

21 minutes and 56 seconds. 

Lyrics she’d poured her heart out for, she’d dug so deep to retrieve, melodies that had been the soundtrack of her life for so long without being uttered, without being whole. And now they were. Now they were being listened to by her loved ones. 

The stereo whirrs and the disk comes to a halt. 21 minutes and 56 seconds have passed.

And it’s quiet.

Painfully quiet.

So quiet you could hear a pin drop.

No “Well done, Liv!” No “Song two was my favorite.”

Nothing.

They must hate it. Fuck. 

Fear inhabits her and she doesn’t dare to look around and see the disappointment on everyone’s face. She keeps her eyes trained on her lap. 

“There’s something I don’t get,” Janna breaks the silence and Liv braces herself for the rest of her sentence.

“Why do you have to be so fucking talented?”

“I know, right?” Ralph concurs.

And it’s like a spell is lifted.

Because everyone starts talking at once.

“Does anyone else have the urge to cry right now?” Isa asks and both Micha and Jayden raise their hand.

“Hey, but this is definitely worthy of a Grammy,” Esra tells the room.

Liv gets overwhelmed by the response and by the utter positivity that her friends send her.

Engel requests Liv’s attention. “Could we listen again?” she asks with a hopeful look.

“Yeah, can we?” other voices join in.

“Umm, sure.”

So Liv restarts the disk. And her friends are as excited as the first time, some of them sitting with their eyes closed, some slightly leaning forward, as if they want to hear even better.

“Hey Liv, what’s that song called?”

“It’s called And Away We Go,” she replies.

Noah’s eyes settle on her and she returns his look with a promise of a conversation, not now but later. She knows that’s what he’d prefer either way. He hasn’t said anything yet but Liv knows he’s reserving it for when they’re alone. 

What follows the EP ending for a second time is an evening of praise, of compliments left and right and while the night could not have gone any better, the minute everyone is gone, that she closes the door behind them, Liv finally feels like she can breathe again.

It’s just her right now.

Well, her and Noah, who is waiting on the couch until she returns. 

She catches him inspecting the record’s unmarked box before subtly laying it back on the coffee table as she enters. As always, they’re drawn to each other, sitting as close as they were sitting before, as if the couch was still packed with other people. Noah softly kisses her and asks, “How are you feeling?”

She thinks about it for a second and then answers truthfully, “I kinda wanna cry. For various reasons,” she adds.

Noah chuckles. “I know how big of a deal this was. You did great, Liv. Like, “I agree with what everyone was saying and then some” great.”

A smile appears on Liv’s face. “Thanks.”

“And Away We Go was my favorite one, how did you come up with that original title?”

Liv rolls her eyes before laughing. Of course he would gloat.

“Funny story actually,” she recounts, “It’s from this random note I got from this random dude and he thought he was a poet or something. I don’t know, I thought it sounded good.”

“It does,” he agrees. “It’s pretty incredible to see all of those tiny bits and lyrics from the last few months come together and to finally understand the bigger picture.” His eyes land on the box again and Liv lifts a corner of her mouth.

She is lucky to have him, to be with someone who understands her. And not just as a person, not just her walls and her moods, but on a deeper level. On the level of an artist, of a creator, of someone that can get consumed by an idea buzzing in the back of their mind and won’t relent until it’s realized. He’s like that as well.

Liv places her and on his shoulder causing him to look up at her. “Speaking of pictures, it’s quite convenient that you’ve got this whole artist thing going on because, as you’ve probably noticed, I don’t have a cover yet.”

“That’s going to cost you, Ms. Reijners,” he retorts without even batting eye. He starts counting on his fingers. “First plagiarism, now customized art. I see your fame is already rising to your head.”

“Oh, you’re asking for it, Mr. Boom” Liv grabs a pillow from the couch and hits him with it. It doesn’t take long for him to retaliate. He pounces, heading straight for her waist and lifting her up and she bursts out in laughter. 

Noah carries Liv from the living room to her bedroom, drops her on her bed and kisses her deeply.

“That’s a yes to my business proposition, I presume?” she asks

He hums against her skin.

“Good. You know what they say: teamwork makes the dream work.”

“Liv, shut up.”

And she no choice but to comply.

[whatwouldwaltdo]

PM ramble

(or: I wanted to collect all my PM update thoughts in one place for your convenience. But seriously, it gets rambly and looong.)

Hey guys, so as I’ve said before, I have some Things to Say about the PM changes coming up in just a few days (sorry, I meant to finish this before the opening). Here are those Things. I do want to start off by saying that, as a whole, I don’t have a problem with change. It’s inevitable, and in some cases, it’s for the better. However, changing under the guise of “enhancing” what was already there, only to muddy the waters even more, isn’t really for the better.

I still remember seeing the preview video that Disney released for the refurb and getting really excited, thinking, “wow, this is great!” Tom Fitzgerald mentioned that they’d be revealing some secrets, including the Phantom’s identity, and I felt very excited but very nervous - I was glad the ride was getting some love, but I was afraid they were going to take it in a new direction that would be entirely different from the original. 

WELL

The ride loses its sense of mystery. What I think I’ve always loved about the original ride is its ambiguity. One thing that was especially vague was the story - who is the Phantom? What does he want with this young woman? The official story always posed that the Phantom was Henry Ravenswood, Melanie’s father, but it was never stated outright, leaving the story open to interpretation. Some thought he was the father, some thought he was a former suitor, some thought he was a random spirit, all completely obsessed (or infatuated - or enamored) with this girl. The ride takes a strong cue from The Phantom of the Opera, and some interpreted the story that way.

All, I think, were valid, as everything was so vague. It was fun coming up with new theories, too - maybe he was hanging her father, or the skeleton face was just a mask when the zombie at the end was his true form. (Clearly, there’s a big focus on the Phantom here.) (Another burning question: What happened to that AA? Is he rotting away for real somewhere?)

Unfortunately, that’s all been tossed out for the sake of “nope nope nope, guys, he’s definitely the dad. Make no mistake. Everything’s cleared up now. Stop asking.” In every scene in which Melanie appears, he’s directly behind her, because heaven forbid we forget about his stranglehold on her. (Seriously, why is he so obsessed with her? It’s weird.) The ride becomes his story now, not Melanie’s.

It’s a very romantic ride. There are a lot of grand designs, the music and scenery are incredibly dramatic, and characters do things with strong emotional resonance. Just listening to the soundtrack can make me tear up. But watching ridethroughs, the ride has an entirely different feeling now - like it’s trying too hard to be Mansion and not its own thing. (Read: the Ballroom, the Séance, the Corridor of Doors sound effects, the Music Room.) Touches of Mansion are totally fine, but too much is overkill.

Melanie becomes a completely different character. I think there’s a reason Melanie has always had such appeal in the Haunted Mansion fan community - she’s really sympathetic and goes down a hero. Her one true love, maybe the only man she ever loved, was taken from her, and she stays faithful to the idea that he’ll return, even though, deep down, perhaps she knows he never will. She defies the Phantom by staying in her wedding dress and saves the Guests by showing the way out, despite any desperate attempts by the Phantom to get them to stay. It’s her role as Pure Good that endears her to visitors, I think, as she upsets the power of Pure Evil. It’s all very powerful.

In the new ride, that’s been completely removed. (Again, for me.) The multiple suitors takes away from the romantic “one true love” notion. (Also, were they killed off by Henry? Somehow? Or did they just die horrible, un-Phantom-related deaths?) The story’s become about the men in her life, and she feels reduced to an object. Which is...ew. Like, all she wants to do is grow up and get married to somebody, but her dad won’t let her, so she “goes a little stir-crazy” (again: ew) and becomes Constance Lite, going after anybody that walks in. (Who’s so obsessed with Connie that we needed another one?) The thing that absolutely destroys her sympathy is the ending, as she’s apparently just resigned to living in this house and looking for someone to marry instead of bothering to save the Guests from the Phantom. No time for that, she’s got a wedding to get to!

On a side note: Others have talked about this more eloquently than I could, but the whole “she’s gone a little stir-crazy” thing is really off. She’s been isolated(?) in this house by her father for years, watching her suitors get offed one by one and tormented by a party she’ll never be able to attend, and now she’ll just ask any rando to marry her? Well, at least she takes after dad in the “crazy” department. *eyeroll* (Perhaps they’re working together to lure you into a trap? Maybe the “Will you marry me?” is an illusion by the Phantom?)

The parade ≠ the new ride. In a big way. Another big sticking point for me is that the Halloween parade (where the Phantom and Melanie were interacting in a very not-father-daughter way) is also completely scrapped. It was incredible to see them brought out of the ride and into a very public parade. To be honest, it really seemed like Disney was heading in the ex-suitor direction, and I got really excited about it. I had never denied the idea that he might be her dad, but with the parade being kinda romantic, it was looking less likely. Well, NEVERMIND, I guess. It was really misleading. 

(On a side note, I’ve decided that anytime I draw them interacting, being cute, etc., it’ll be in a weird “parade-verse” where everything’s fine and she’s got a spooky suitor and also throw my take on the original ride and C’est Magique in there because why not. I like the theory that there are two Phantoms - a glittery ex-suitor one that she falls in love with and a non-glittery dad who’s a jerk. On the bright side, I get to draw her being all, “oh, Dad, you’re so annoying!”)

Really, it just feels like a totally different ride to me now. It doesn’t feel like an enhanced version because there are so many changes to the basic story. I can’t say I’m not impressed by some of the effects - the Phantom AAs are gorgeous, that transforming wallpaper is something else, And everything looks so clean and nice and smooth now. But it’s become something that I don’t personally care for, although I won’t tell anyone they’re wrong for preferring it. 

So...yeah. That was a ramble. I’m tired now. G’night, everybody.

[anchoredtether]

Title: A Cappella

Author/Artist: AnchoredTether

Rating: T [mild swearing, graphic depictions of violence]

Pairings: Plance [Lance x Pidge]

Series: Harmonious Conjunction

Chapter: 2/?

Summary: After discovering a secret (or not so secret?) talent of Lance’s, Pidge finds herself realizing how little she actually knows about her longtime obnoxiously flirty teammate. She thought she had Lance figured out, but the more she learns the more she realizes the complexity of the Blue Paladin’s personality. It turns out her curiosity just might be the death of her.

Timeline: Takes place after the end of season 5

CHAPTER 02 ][ A CAPPELLA

Pidge made a mental note to look into her hacked Garrison files still on her laptop and find Lance's file, delve into his test scores or something to find out the hidden whatever it was that piqued her interest in the Blue Paladin. The team went on a mission the next morning to free citizens from Galra forces, so Pidge didn't exactly have time to work on her "research." Between shooting warships and forming Voltron and fighting Galra soldiers, it wasn't until a few days later that the crew found some much needed peace and quiet after an exhausting battle.

"This juice is incredible, Hunk! What's it made of?" Lance slurped his straw obnoxiously as he finished his seventh serving of the stuff. They were all lounging in the common room, enjoying some refreshments Hunk whipped up from the planet they were currently occupying.

"You don't wanna know." Hunk replied ominously.

"Ew, please don't tell me this is made of intestinal juices or something." Keith made a face at the cup in his hand.

"Gross Keith! Why would your mind go there first, of all places??" Pidge stuck out her tongue as if the juice she was just drinking was, in fact, made up of intestinal juices.

"Ohmygosh guys, it's not from something that bad!!" Hunk cried. "Give me some credit!!"

Lance had turned a few shades paler. "So...." His eyes slowly moved to glare inquisitively at his friend. "What iiiiiis it made of??" When Hunk didn't answer, Lance stuck out his neck. "I GOTTA KNOW MAN! I DRANK SEVEN CUPS OF THIS STUFF!"

Hunk sighed. "It's from a plant similar to a coffee bean, one of the natives showed me how to make it."

"Okay, so it's like coffee, I can handle that. Tastes more like pineapple orange juice though, which is weird."

"But the 'beans' used to brew it come from... from..."

"FROM WHERE?!?"

"....from the regurgitations of a creature that looks like a field mouse."

"SO WE'RE EATING MOUSE VOMIT JUICE!?!" Keith looked ready to snap, but the whole crew looked equally disgusted or abhorrent.

"But...it's delicious mouse vomit juice." Hunk protested.

"It's perfectly safe, Paladins." Allura assured them, the only one aside from Coran who seemed unphased by this information. "Food preparation can come in all kinds of strange forms. This juice that Hunk learned to create is actually incredibly nutritious and will no doubt help you all replenish after a hard battle!"

"Allura's right, ya know." Coran butted in, taking a pitcher of the stuff to refill his own cup, then went around filling everyone else's cups despite their looks of disgust and horror. "Besides, there are plenty of weirder drinks you Earthlings are accustomed to, such as the deliciously disturbing drink produced from Kaltenecker."

"Oh don't remind me of that." Allura said softly as if she were reminded of a nightmare.

"What!? I thought you two loved milkshakes. You drank em faster than Lance." Hunk said.

"Ehhhh, yeah." Lance took a sip of his refilled mouse vomit juice before continuing. "I showed them how one 'acquires' milkshakes and they were... horrified."

Pidge still frowned at the drink she held in her hand. "That's perfectly normal on Earth. We get milk from cows, goats, camels, yaks... all mammals get milk from their mothers as infants. I'm surprised you Alteans are weirded out by such a... natural concept. Or do you guys not... breastfeed...?" She only realized how awkward the question was after she said it.

Lance interrupted the awkward silence with his obnoxious slurping.

"How are you still drinking this stuff?" Keith asked, impressed but disgusted.

He shrugged. "It tastes good. You can't let the psychological-ness of it get to you. Let your taste buds decide if you want it."

"That is something Lance would say." Shiro finally spoke. Although his expression was hesitant, he drank the juice as well.

"That is something Lance would say." Keith echoed in agreement.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Lance didn't quite sound offended, but moreso confused.

"Well, I'm sorry about the uhh... 'psychological-ness' of this, as Lance puts it." Hunk apologized. "I'll try to make something less... you know what, I just won't tell you guys what's in my recipes anymore."

Pidge sighed. "That's probably for the best."

In the end, it was mostly Lance, Hunk, Allura, and Coran who drank the juice. Shiro seemed to like it the more he drank, but Pidge downed her glass like it was medicine (complete with disgusted noises) while Keith gave his cup to Lance. They slowly trickled off from the common room one by one, heading to get ready for bed after a long day of fighting.

][ --- ][

Pidge retired to her room, ready to take off her Paladin armor and plop down on her bed, but she decided instead to take a well-needed shower. She was normally a morning shower person, but her shoulders were sore and she figured the hot water would help her relax to get an even better sleep. She gathered her towel and pajamas and headed towards the bathrooms. As she approached, she heard something that sounded vaguely familiar, something that reminded her of Earth.

It was music, no, singing, faintly coming from the bathroom door. When the door slid open with a whirring sound and she stepped into the steamy room, she could hear it with greater clarity. She recognized the song, but she couldn't put a name on the artist who originally sang it. Pidge had more of a taste for techno and movie soundtracks, so the more popular songs were less familiar to her. She was drawn further into the communal bathroom, lingering just past the edge where the mens side began. She was mesmerized by the voice, the words beautiful and passionate.

This is it, boys, this is war - what are we waiting for? Why don't we break the rules already? I was never one to believe the hype Save that for the black and white I try twice as hard and I'm half as liked, But here they come again to jack my style That's alright I found a martyr in my bed tonight She stops my bones from wondering just who I, who I, who I ammm Oh, who am I? Mhmm... Mhmm...

Pidge's honey brown eyes widened as she realized who was singing. It was Lance. Since when could Lance sing? How had she not known? But now that she thought about it, she had never heard him sing. Usually individuals who had a voice like that were constantly singing, whether along with their headphones, with the radio, or a cappella at random spurts. It seemed incredibly contradictory - Lance, the one who was always batting his eyes at women and sliding smooth pick up lines, didn't ever use his siren-like singing ability to woo the ladies. Why would he hide such a talent? Lance wasn't exactly one to be bashful. He continued, and Pidge couldn't help but sit down on the cool tile floor and listen intently as he sang the chorus even louder.

Well, some nights I wish that this all would end 'Cause I could use some friends for a change. And some nights I'm scared you'll forget me again Some nights I always win, I always win...

She couldn't help the small giggle when he started singing overlapping parts of the song, although he did it amazingly well for a one-man-choir. She was about to head towards the girls' side to shower when he ended the song, but as she was in the middle of getting up onto her feet he started singing another song with hardly any pause to catch his breath. This song had a much different feel than the last, but Lance still sang it with all his heart.

I am a question to the world, Not an answer to be heard Or a moment that's held in your arms. And what do you think you'd ever say? I won't listen anyway… You don't know me, And I’ll never be what you want me to be.

And what do you think you'd understand? I'm a boy, no, I'm a man.. You can't take me and throw me away. And how can you learn what's never shown? Yeah, you stand here on your own. They don't know me 'cause I'm not here.

Pidge was standing now, her towel and clothes held tight to her chest, her eyes staring vacantly at the floor as his words struck something deep inside her. She knew this song. She loved this song. It reminded her of home, of Earth, of her family, and it brought tears to her eyes. She could hear the music in between the words Lance sung. As the song enveloped her core, she felt how the words applied so strongly to the boy who sang them, the boy she was starting to finally better understand.

And I want a moment to be real, Wanna touch things I don't feel, Wanna hold on and feel I belong. And how can the world want me to change? They’re the ones that stay the same. They don’t know me, 'Cause I’m not here.

And you see the things they never see All you wanted, I could be Now you know me, and I'm not afraid And I wanna tell you who I am Can you help me be a man? They can't break me As long as I know who I am

When she felt the tears spill over her lashes and fall upon her towel did she blink rapidly, snapped out of her trance. His words weren't just notes to be sung. She could tell this was a favorite song of his and the words resonated with him and who he was. In a sense, hearing him sing I'm Still Here felt more personal than something akin to reading his diary. Pidge contemplated leaving the bathroom and going back to her bed so he wouldn't know anyone heard him, but she couldn't find it in her feet to leave the bathroom. She wanted to continue listening, not only because it made her bittersweetly nostalgic for Earth but because it was a side of Lance she never knew... a side she was starting to admire, if only in secret.

Finally she made her way towards the girls' showers, albeit slowly. She hesitated to turn on the water because that meant it would be harder to hear Lance's voice, but eventually she shook her head and willed herself to take her shower. Lance unknowingly serenaded her and she found herself standing under the stream of hot water completely lost in thought. In time she heard the shower water stop on the opposite side of the bathroom and the Blue Paladin's voice ceased its beautiful chorus. For a moment Pidge panicked, realizing that he would know that either she or Allura had heard him, and shut off her water. It was a desperate attempt to hide the fact she was there, and Lance would never be a hundred percent certain unless he dared to walk over to the girls side and see Pidge's feet beneath the curtain. There was a long, terrifyingly anxious pause of silence where she tried her best to hold her breath. To her relief, she heard the door to the bathroom open and close and let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

She didn't know what to think of the whole encounter.

And for Pidge, not knowing what to think was a first.

[vgm-in-irregular-time-of-the-day]

DAY 1200) Charge Cycles - No One Cares About the Letter L

Composer: me (Chimeratio)

DAY 1200!!!! To celebrate, posting music to a soundtrack I wrote myself AGAIN of course. As I’ve said before it’s to a quirky puzzle game by my cool friend CHz (who has helped out a ton with this blog! thank you CHz!) You can play it here!: https://chz.itch.io/charge-cycles

As I’ve stated every time, I write music without actually paying attention to or writing in the time signature changes, just writing in 4/4 or 1/4 or whatever and ignoring barlines (though definitely consciously making sure my writing is free enough for odd time/polyrhythms/polymeter to form itself). So these timesig changes I had to spend a lot of time figuring out on my own just now as much as I would with any other song pretty much.

This soundtrack has music where the drums are only playing when triggered by your actions in the game, so for these soundtrack uploads I just played one version first and the other version second. In this case the version without drums plays first and then the version with drums plays second, but the loop point is still 1:49 really.

This song is ridiculously polymetric to the point I’m going to have to write the timesig chart out multiple times for different layers and in general am going to have to talk about a bunch of parts separately. Here I go!

1) Focusing mainly on whatever I personally consider the ‘base’ groove at a given moment (ie what i’d actually write on sheet music):

(0:00 - 0:15) 6 bars of 4/4, 1 bar of 7/8

(0:15 - 0:24) 3 bars of 4/4, 1 bar of 5/4

(0:24 - 0:33) 4 bars of 4/4

(0:33 - 1:05) [4/4, 4/4, 11/8, 4 bars of 4/4]x2

(1:05 - 1:12) 4/4, 4/4, 24/20*

(1:12 - 1:21) 3 bars of 4/4, 2 bars of 5/8

(1:21 - 1:26) 2 bars of 9/8

(1:26 - 1:44) [3 bars of 4/4, 1 bar of 17/16]x2

(1:44 - 1:49) 4/4, 4/4, 2/4

(1:49 - end) [same as 0:00 - 1:49 except with drums]

*Yes that is a bar of 24/20, it’s very concretely interpreted as irrational time to me personally, rather than a sudden tempo shift with metric modulation. The bass is doing constant quintuplets, but it does 24 in one bar instead of an even group of 5 so you can’t count it as 5/4 or 4/4 or anything. Some might argue this would be easier to read as a tempo change where the quintuplet becomes the 16th note temporarily, but I feel it’s best thought of as just quintuplets at the same tempo as everything else. If someone wrote it out as metric modulation where the quintuplets become the 16th note though it would still be a perfectly valid way to write it!

As another note, the drums from 3:11 to the end are all just a constant quarter note pulse, but I still wrote x/8 and x/16 time signatures over it because I felt those were a more dominant feel at those points, and instead interpret that hi-hat click as beat displacement layered on top of non-4/4 timesig changes until it finally lines up toward the end.

Also yeah the 4/4 at the VERY start here for the first 15 seconds mostly only makes sense in the with-drums version of the tune. Otherwise your only real feel to go by is the part I have listed below. If you were writing an arrangement for people to play this where you didn’t have drums come in the first time, the way this does, you’d be better off writing the first 15 seconds the way I have it below.

2) Focusing on the main mixed meter synth figure

(0:00 - 0:15) 7/8, 13/16, 7/8, 11/16, 7/8, 13/16, 7/8, 6/8, 5/16

(0:15 - 0:33) 7/8, 13/16, 7/8, 11/16, [the rest of this section is random notes from the 7/8 + 13/16 + 7/8 + 11/16 groove being randomly chosen (based on the random hard L vs hard R panning) and the L layer and R layer going out of phase with each other at different rates. This is barely audible in the final mix but here’s :15 - :33 with this layer isolated to make it easier to hear. https://instaud.io/2P1Y ]

(0:33 - 1:05) [7/8, 13/16, 7/8, 13/16, 7/8, 13/16, 7/8, 11/16, 6/8]x2 (note: this section has two layers of that bass synth, one offset to play 1 16th note later and 1 octave higher. Both layers have completely different random panning as well, so this makes it challenging to feel this mixed meter pattern clearly because more likely you’ll be paying attention to the high note that’s a 16th note late, or accidentally alternate what part you’re hearing)

(1:05 - 1:37) [same as the version 1 of the timesig chart since that synth line isn’t present here]

(1:37 - 1:44) 7/8, 13/16, 7/8, 11/16

(1:44 - 1:49) 7/8, 13/16, 13/16

Additionally at :20 there’s a layer that’s playing this same figure added on top except it’s playing in dotted 16th notes relative to everything else. It’s a solid loop of 7/8 played at the tempo of “if those dotted 16ths were 8th notes”, rather than the tempo of everything else (this was inspired heavily by Fez - Knowledge, which does a similar thing). I guess you could interpret them as being played in 21/32 time too, but that’s a weird way to think of it since it’s all groups of 3 32 note beats.

3) The organ and piano stabs

These are basically RANDOM, there’s not really a convenient way to write a time signature chart around them even if they exist in a “polymetric” state to everything else, it’s really just random rhythmic stabs to convolute this even more hahaha. I just picked a random feeling rhythmic feeling that I thought sounded cool. There is methodology to their layering against each other however:

In the first use of them from :06 - :15 though the piano rhythm is exactly the same as the organ rhythm except delayed to play 15 16th note beats later.

The 2nd instance from :28 - :33 is just hocketing (one instrument playing in the gaps of the other).

In final instance at 1:30 - 1:44 the piano rhythm’s exactly the same as the organ rhythm except the piano rhythm is delayed to play exactly 7 quarter note beats later.

4) The polyrhythms in the drums!!

Starting at 2:56 the drum loops start stretching/squashing an amount of beats into one bar that isn’t the same tempo as everything else.

2:56 - 2:59 is 6/4 squashed to the space of 4/4

2:59 - 3:01 I already addressed far above, it’s an irrational time bar where there’s 24 quintuplets, but you could interpret the drums there as 5+5+5+9 6/4 squashed into the space of 24/20 but that obviously makes little sense.

3:01 - 3:04 is “10.6666.../16″ stretched to the space of 4/4 (this is really just dotted 16th notes in 4/4 except since that doesn’t line up nicely with 4/4 evenly the last beat has 1/3 cut off of it)

3:04 - 3:05 is just normal 16ths/32nds in 2/4

3:05 - 3:06 is 11/16 stretched to the space of 2/4

3:06 - 3:08 is just normal 16ths in 4/4

3:08 - 3:09 is 4/4 stretched to the length of a 5/8 bar

Then after that it’s back to normal 16ths in 4/4 for the rest

In sheet music you’d most likely just write these as tuplets, but I’m describing them the way I am here because they’re drum loops originally at different tempos, so this should make the sound easier to understand exactly how I stretch/squashed their speed.

I really thought it would be fun to play with the feel being entirely different with drums vs. without drums so that’s why I did a ton of playing around with that. In the drumless version of that section obviously it all just feels like normal 16ths in 4/4 (or 5/8 for 2 bars) but once the drums come in that feeling entirely changes.

- - - - -

HOPEFULLY THAT ADDresses everything and hopefully I explained it all articulately enough for it to all make sense! This track has possibly the most rhythmic eccentricity going on in this entire soundtrack, despite arguably being the most conventionally pleasant one to listen to and technically being mostly written in 4/4 in typical sheet music. You wouldn’t think it’s this difficult to write out but it definitely is.

Oh yeah also this has my voice from when I was like 15 years old in it hahaha.

This tune is in general a tribute to what my taste in music (and life) was like when I was that age so it borrows a lot of traits from it.

That was when I first got into steve reich and that sort of polymetric minimalist music (it is probably very obvious that this is inspired by steve reich and similar minimalism stuff haha).

Was also when I first got interested in tracker music (some patches from this are the same as ones in tracker module files I was really into at the time and stylistically this is vaguely similar to some of the tracker musicians I listened to a ton back then).

I also was just very enamored by electronic music with this type of sound to it.

It’s also when I first started using fl studio so i intentionally used a few fairly blunt fl studio sytrus/etc presets here haha.

Among various other reasons I could list, this tune is a pretty personal tribute to my life and interests in 2007, a time I consider one of the best in my life. Just felt like adding that info in right now!

[tumblunni]

Today’s random Thought about gamemaking, I guess? Does anyone else get inexplicably super pissed off when a song seems to give the wrong meaning to a scene?

Like seriously i do not know ANYTHING about making music, I don’t even know how to read music notation at a basic primary school level. So it seems bewhildering to me when super talented viddygame musicians seem to take a ‘ehh it doesnt matter’ attitude to their soundtrack. I can’t understand why any game would not even TRY to have music match to the story stuff that’s happening, seriously why are there so many mediocre products like that. EVEN STUPID BUNNI CAN SEE IT!!! WE EXPECT BETTER FROM YOU!!! Good retort for any other ‘don’t listen to the players, they couldn’t make their own game’ type argument- you don’t have to be a master chef to know a cake is burnt.

sorry, sorry, I’m getting offtopic here, I’m just a little fired up!

Well basically what I mean is that music can be REALLY IMPORTANT to enhance an emotional moment in a game, and it can backfire horribly if one of those moments has a bad soundtrack. Not that it’s the be all and end all of sorywriting though, I mean there are plenty of games out there with forgettable soundtracks that still made me cry. But.. I mean.. usually they were just forgettable, and not outright terrible. Not many games where I had to play the whole thing muted managed to stir up as much emotion, yknow...? RAMBLING AGAIN Summary: music is not > writing, but can add +1 to writing if they work in harmony.

But the point that bothered me today is remembering how a failed musical moment can confuse players on the meaning of a scene, if the writing didn’t outright spell it out. Or if the writing is very clear on the intended reaction and the music still seems to say something else, the disconnect can ruin your immersion even if you still understood what was trying to be said. or, hypothetically, if a situation exists with two versions of the same story and one of them has a fitting, meaningful song while the other has a rather generic one, that moment could seem to hold more ‘importance’ in the narrative depending on which version you bought. JUST SAYIN’

which actually happened once in pokemon ruby and sapphire and it still rustles my jimmies!!!

okay so we have two versions of the same game where the villain guy has a different personality and tries to harness the power of a legendary monster of either fire or water. They both still follow the same general plotline, and both have a moment where villain guy’s plan fails and he isn’t able control [insert monster name here], thus causing Apocolypse Time for some damn reason this was chosen as one of the only songs that differs between games, despite its emotional resonance being CRITICALLY important to this goddamn scene

I guess that’s bad? I suppose?

but then the other one gets the fuckin creepiest music i have ever heard in a pokemon game

I THINK THAT EVER SO SLIGHTLY CHANGES THE TONE OF THE SCENE, GUYS

seriously, the water one sounds more like a vaguely ominous dungeon exploration theme and like.. a music.. in general??? not a YOU DONE FUCKED UP! YOU DONE FUCKED UP! alarm blaring right in maximillian’s goddamn face. it’s deliberately dissonant non-music, and the other one doesn’t even try to capture the same sort of aesthetic!

and lil kid me had only played Sapphire Version, so I never even heard the spookier version until I played the Ruby remake a decade later I know it sounds weird to not grasp the gravity of a literal apocolypse if the music isn’t scary enough, but I mean.. its a jrpg cliche. The world is always under threat and we already knew it was under threat and that’s why we wanted to beat this guy. That spooky music moment was necessary to sell the audience on something that’s often lost its shock value in this genre. And it was also an emotional moment because its where the villain sees the consequences of his actions and realizes what he was doing was wrong. It shouldnt be just a ‘wow, new sea adventure dungeon, better get moving kiddo’ sort of thing, but something that knocks you off your tracks for a second and makes you pause to take in what this guy is saying and feel sympathy for his horrific realization. Its a moment that’s so disarming for him that you just have to leave him there nigh-catatonic as you rush off to fix his mistake, and he only properly teams up with you to help save the day a dungeon or two later. That just seemed like a plot contrivance in Sapphire because there wasn’t that same desperate urgency that you have to rush off NOW, and can’t wait for this guy. Apocolypses happen all the time in rpg games, you need to specify to the audience when you want it to feel like an URGENT apocolypse! FF7 had a similar moment where you learn a bunch of revelations about the main villain and he succeeds in summoning the magic meteor that was more of an abstract threat this entire time. Now you can see it hovering in the distant sky, and the world map music has a drastic spooky change similar to this game. it worked there, it worked in pokemon ruby, pokemon sapphire why did you change it?

also, a more random minor issue I had with another song in the same game

Is it just me or does Wally’s theme sound more like ‘classy rich guy’ than ‘unconfident younger child with a chronic illness whom you play a mentor role to’? It also sounds really cheerful and upbeat and reminds me more of the generic ‘HI I AM GIRL AND CUTE AND CRUSH ON YOU’ rival characters like May and Shauna. Its just kinda got that ‘hyperactive and clumsy but in a way that’s supposed to be seen as a love interest’ sort of vibe. So yeah to me it says ‘fancy high class characters are usually egotistical jerk rivals, but I personally want to assure you that this rich lady is actually super nice and adorable and possibly has cute comic relief aspects’. Aka Sonia Nevermind from Danganronpa. Is this just my brain making nonsensical associations or does anyone see where I’m coming from??

Also ‘Wally Emotion’ doesnt seem to have ANYTHING in common with it and I never even knew this was a Wally-only theme AT ALL until I saw the track listing.

THINGS THAT SOUND WAY MORE LIKE THAT: THIS seriously why is this just the generic song for the town the guy lives in, instead you don’t even really take enough time passing through it to hear the full thing...

also obligatory mention to possibly the greatest change in the whole remake being SPECIFICALLY GIVING THIS GUY ANOTHER ACTUALLY FITTING REMIX SONG hey guess what didnt give me emotions in the first version hey guess what gives me all the emotions now FUCK YEAH that’s how you sell ‘the student becomes the master’ entirely without words! this thing was so goddamn successful that it took me half an hour to even find a video of his ‘main theme’, youtube search was overwhelmingly shoved full of cover of this badass piece i cant believe that the original game just used the same old minor trainer battle theme for him...

[gottagobuycheese]

Tag Thingy

Tagged by @sailorlock. (Thanks for the much-needed distraction!)

Rules: answer 30 questions and tag 10 people (oh jeez that’s a lot)

Nickname(s): Cheese, Extremely Curdled Milk, Vaguely Solid Dairy Product, or any variation thereof 

Gender/Pronouns: what zit tooya 

Star sign: Gemini! 

Height: As of last semester, exactly 160.5 centimeters what the heck’s a centimeter which according to my calculator and probably incorrect memory is around 63.19 in, which in turn is approximately 5′3″! Oh hey that’s taller than I thought

Time: 11:49:30 P.M., UTC+0

Birthday: Not today 

Favorite bands: uhhhh I don’t know any bands so I’m gonna list three composers from three of my favorite soundtracks: Joe Hisaishi, Hans Zimmer, and Arata Iiyoshi 

Favorite solo artist composer again: Koji Kondo is it obvious that I listen almost exclusively to Nintendo music at this point or 

Song stuck in your head: it’s not a song but for some reason I’ve got random whale calls stuck in my head? I think it’s because it’s windy outside and now it’s just repeating in my head on a loop and it’s surprisingly not that annoying 

Last move you watched: I think it was probably the Greatest Showman? Unless I watched something on Netflix between last Friday and now, which is extremely possible 

Last show: My Hero Academia I’m relapsing something fierce I am so sorry to the 98% of you who do not care 

Why you created your blog: back in ye olden days, I wanted to archive all the stuff I made (drawing/writing/what have you) some place where no one I knew could find them, but at this point it’s pretty much just inertia also it did not stop no one from finding them but oh well life can’t be perfect 

What you post: Honestly I have no idea at this point (sorry!). I like a bunch of stuff that’s related to the shows/movies/books I like, but when it comes to actually reblogging it so it actually shows up, I am suffocated by sudden episodes of existential fatigue. But if I had to put it generally, I guess fanworks, art/writing tips, resources posts, and current event stuff. And things I found funny at the time, probably 

Last thing you googled: ...um......follow-up treatment for strangulation. (sshhh it’s for writing. Alas, I didn’t really find what I was looking for, but I found a really handy 49-slide powerpoint about The Medical-Forensic Evaluation of Strangulation! Unfortunately we are not studying injuries this semester but rather pathology/microbiology/illness at large and oh yeah I forgot I was procrastinating on studying that) 

Other blogs: N/A 

AO3: oh look at that I finally do, under the same name (but I wouldn’t waste your time there)

Do you get asks? Haha, not really. But to be fair, my activity on here is sporadic at best. 

How did you get the idea for your URL? From my Playstation account on my brother’s and my Playstation 3 back in the day. 

I follow: 174 (it was a mistake my dash is so busy it’s overwhelming but now I’m too sentimentally attached to let go) 

Followers: 54, but I’m reasonably certain that about 5-10% of them are bots of some sort. As for the rest, please do not be too sentimentally attached to let go; if you want to unfollow please do I will not take it personally unless you want me to 

Average hours of sleep: 4-6, usually between the hours of 2 and 8 in the morning. Unless it’s Saturday or a day off, in which case it’s closer to 8/9 from around 4/5 A.M. to 12/1 P.M. 

Lucky number: dunno if I have a lucky number, but my favorites are 9 and 2 

Instruments: piano, trumpet (not in almost a year though), basics of guitar (as in, I was looking at a book a few days over break) 

What are you wearing? T-shirt, shorts, jacket. 

Dream job: kind of just want to sleep for the rest of my life, but that’ s not a job... no idea 

Dream trip: my bed the moon or Venus (but without the heat) 

Favorite food: man, I don’t know. There’s so much good food out there! (that being said, I also probably wouldn’t particularly care if I had to eat sawdust instead)

Significant other: yikes 

Last book I read: The Martian by Andy Weir. 

Top 3 fictional universes: Avatar/LoK, Pokémon, and the Legend of Zelda (but in between all the fighting) 

Tagging: @pachelbelsheadcanon, @nails-by-zai, @regalbelievers, @confusedgerman, @feathers196, @eiramew, @christlovez, @stealingyourdreams, @saigneux, @princetomatoe ( + honorarily tagging @averybritishbumblebee​ but I know you’ve already been tagged so oh well) 

[sarcastic-doodle]

11 questions thingy

Rules : Answer the 11 questions given to you ( below my answered questions) then create your own 11 questions and tag 11 people to answer them. Always post the rules.

I got tagged twice by my lovely hufflepuff grandma rae ( @shakespeareandsprinkles ) and my new fanfic obsession T ( @wherestoriescomefrom ) Yay!! I’m doing both of them together because then I don’t have to think up 11 more questions to ask! Also scroll to the end you two, I’ve got questions for you. Here we go :

▪If you could be a mentor to any fictional character what character would it be? Right now, the first name off the top of my mind is Caroline Forbes from TVD. Lordy what a pitfall her character took when the writers at the helm changed. Her especially because she is just soo giving to all those in need, even at the expense of her own hopes and dreams and aspirations, despite them not realising her worth. I’d like to be there to remind her that sweetie it’s okay to take a step back for yourself. Prioritise yourself. ( this has been the main reason for me not watching the show past s4). Or Draco Malfoy.

▪Do you prefer listening to music with headphones or without headphones. With. Once they’re in, I’m dead to the world.

▪What’s your favourite childhood memory? Ooohh. Ok so what I recall right now is me and my sister playing our own version of LARP when we were kids in our apartment. Like nothing extensive or over the top but exciting nonetheless. We would use mum’s old satchels and handbags to use as backpacks and arm ourselves with tiny water pistols, lunch, bandaids, pellet guns and banadanas for the chosen story of the day. A recent memory is of a few years ago with my younger brother(we have a larger age gap between us). He had asked me to teach him how to do a handstand and/or headstand. Younger me didn’t know how either so we looked it up. What then, out came the pillows to secure the area, my brother was 6 or 7yo at that time I think, and both of us trying to stay upright with the help of the wall, with our shirts slipping down our faces. I remember I kept falling sideways on him as he was beside me not on purpose i swear , maybe because I was older and heavier. idk why my body went sideways when I lost balance instead of front, but it was funnier because it irritated him too, and that’s always a plus. We had finally gotten the hang of it and so when our cousins visited in the following weeks, my brother was eager to show off his skills. So there we were 4 of us, in the spare room, a 3×6 spread of pillows along the longest wall (we have lots of pillows) around us, trying to latch ourselves to the wall because we had the stupid idea of competing on who reached the other end of the wall while doing a handstand and failing miserably because we kept laughing so hard. 😂that was a good day.

▪If you were the protagonist of a novel what would your story be about? Lol I dunno. A gothic novel where I’m the ghost with strange predilictions scaring away people who dare tread in my territory without an adequate compensation of salty-chips with unexpected bursts of MUSE soundtracks in the background.

▪Tell me about your favourite thing, without actually saying what your favourite thing is. …zzZZzz… (as an overworked student, this is a treasured entity)

▪Do you think that in the future we’ll have flying cars? With the advances technology has been making since the last century? Most definitely.

▪Would you rather be a mutant than an Inhuman? Mutant. And powers could be like Betsy or Rogue (but w/ control pls) or Gambit

▪What is something you’d like to do in the future? Travel. Cliché I know. But yeah.

▪You can travel between fictional universes. What are your first five stops? Hogwarts. Doctor Whoverse. Not exactly fiction, but a world where I’m a wandering fly on the wall and P&P is taking place. Storybrooke. PJOverse.

▪If you could name an animal, what would you name it? I had fishes named Velma and Daphne and a chicken named Henry. I don’t think you can trust me with nomenclature

▪Say something completely random. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

▪'Murder is the first on your list.’ - first thing you thought when you read that. Jim Moriarty. My current interest in fictional psychopaths.

▪Shakespeare could have totally been a superspy stopping the Gunpowder plot. Yay or Nay. ▪If Shakespeare wasn’t a superspy who do you think is? Historical figures only. Ok so I had to look this up because I only vaguely remembered reading about this. Tbh I dunno..maybe? I feel I haven’t read enough about the whole situation to make an educated guess. Butttt…sure, why not? Uhh if i had toooo…The brontë sisters lol.

▪Preferred methods of torture Ahem. I sense a common subtext here. But speaking from experience….eating nachos with cheese dip or cream-and-onion chips right in front of them relishing every bite but not sharing(on brother), playing JB out loud (on me) and clicking the pen continuously and periodically in a silent room(on sister)

▪Give an out of context quote which you like. “For ducks sake”

Which afterworld myth/legend/belief would you prefer?Oblivion. The idea of suffering even after death seems scary. Though reincarnation sounds cool. But only if you remember your previous lives. I’d like to remember if I had been Medusa once and used to stun people by my appearance;)

▪Part of you that you don’t want touched. Or can’t bear to have touched The sides of my abdomen. You know, the place people target for tickling? I literally cannot bear it, I have trouble breathing if someone pokes me there or tickles it. Other than that, my cheeks. I mean it’s basic knowledge that one doesn’t poke the indentation of the dimples of a grown ass person. RUDE

▪Favourite Book. Pride and Prejudice. The first classic I ever read. Shall always remain my fave.

▪A character that really fucked up big time and you want to hold them by the shoulders, look them in the eye and make sure that they understand they fucked up.That’s….oddly specific. There are countless of them. Randomly choosing…Draco Malfoy? John Watson?

Do you like your reasoned existence of misery or would the animal life be a blessing. Definitely our reasoned existence. An animal’s life seems tempting when the going gets tough, but I’d never trade this state of conscious for blissful ignorance permanently.

▪Childhood food you loved

Panipuri. Though I now eat them on a lower extent, I used to love them when I was younger.

My Questions : 1. What is the weirdest thing you ever believed that wasn’t true? 2.Favourite fictional character? 3. Something popular that you just don’t get. 4.Your favourite song. 5. If you had an unlimited supply of money, what would you do. 6. You have a choice to live in the body of either Sherlock or Jim for a day. No naughty business. Who would you choose? 7. You have the unprecedented power of recolouring the universe. Name atleast 3 items/place/thing that would be your first use of power. 8. Do you like tattoos? If yes, what is/would be you first tattoo. 9. What is the one thing you wish to change (major or minor) in the Harry Potterverse. If you don’t want this fandom, choose one of your picking. 10. The one colour you won’t be found dead wearing. 11. Your best memory. (Childhood or Adult)

I tag @shakespeareandsprinkles @wherestoriescomefrom @simplyshelbs16xoxo @elennemigo @penaltywaltz @jimmoriartyisking @theleftpill @rainmyselfinharmony @mrsfrankensteinwinchester  that’s all i can remember do it if you want to guys and if anyone else wants to do it, consider yourselves tagged by me! This was fun😃

[nonewingedangel]

I was tagged by @arsuf, love these unnecessary long ones that distract me from the misery of life for at least half an hour, in other words thank you.

Tagging whoever wants to do it.

THE LAST: 1. drink: water 2. phone call: father 3. text message: mom (EXTREMELY social, I know) 4. song you listened to: Дахабраха - Ой, у Києві 5. time you cried: yesterday while listening to the LOTR soundtrack, a usual occurrence

HAVE YOU: 6. dated someone twice: I’ve never even dated someone once 7. kissed someone and regretted it: thought so but turns out it’s a funny story to tell 8. been cheated on: nah 9. lost someone special: yea 10. been depressed: happening as we speak 11. gotten drunk and thrown up: yea

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: 12-14: green, bordeaux, grey

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU: 15. made new friends: an absolute miracle but yes 16. fallen out of love: nah 17. laughed until you cried: when I found out my mom’s missing her pinky finger since she was a kid after sharing a roof with her for more than 20 years 18. found out someone was talking about you: nah 19. met someone who changed you: nah 20. found out who your friends are: I’ve always known it 21. kissed someone on your facebook list: nah

GENERAL: 22. how many of your facebook friends do you know in real life: all but one 23. do you have any pets: unfortunately no :( 24.do you want to change your name: there was such time but now I think it’s cool 25. what did you do for your last birthday: went to a Chinese restaurant with two of my friends 26. what time did you wake up: around 10am?? 27. what were you doing at midnight last night: ehh watching stuff or fiddling with photoshop

28. name something you can’t wait for: Sweet embrace of death. <-keeping that one, also to finally go home next week 29. when was the last time you saw your mom: three weeks ago 30. what is one thing you wish you could change in your life: wish I could be strong enough not to procrastinate to the point of ruining my own life, not because of myself but bc of my mother who didn’t deserve a living failure as a kid 31. what are you listening right now: Hozier - Angel of Small Death & the Codeine Scene 32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: welp we don’t have that name, we do have Tomislav and if that’s close enough then yes, my uncle 33. something that is getting on your nerves: college 34. most visited website: YouTube and Tumblr, also Reddit

LOST QUESTIONS. I JUST PUT IN RANDOM INFO ABOUT ME 35. mole/s: nothing seriously big 36. mark/s: if that includes scars then too many to even count 37. childhood dream: wanted to be a librarian 38. haircolor: bordeaux, naturally brown 39. long or short hair: shoulder length 40. do you have a crush on someone: real life people no, fictional characters you bet I do 41. what do you like about you: height, eye colour, nails, teeth too since I worked hard for those (let’s assume this question was about looks idk that was my first thought) 43. bloodtype: want to know so badly but am afraid of needles to the point of immediate fainting 44. nickname: no point in writing it down without pronouncing it too 45. relationship status: single 46. zodiac: libra 47. pronouns: whatever, go nuts 48. favorite TV Show: The Walking Dead, Bron, Malcolm in the Middle 49. tattoos: none 50. right or left hand: right 51. surgery: third tonsil, some tricky teeth stuff too 52. hair dyed in different color: yeah, been dyeing it for 3 years now 53. sport: hiking 55. vacation: Brazilian favelas, American West 56. pair of trainers: what are those can you eat them?

MORE GENERAL: 57. eating: haven’t eaten a thing all day bc too lazy to cook 58. drinking: water 59. i’m about to: who knows, might eat something or go throw myself into ongoing traffic 61. waiting for: H O M E 62. want: P I Z Z A 63. get married: probably not 64. career: environmental or animal protection, or at least something that gets me deep in dem forests and far from dem people

65. hugs or kisses: beautiful and well ventilated personal space 66. lips or eyes: eyes 67. shorter or taller: taller 68. older or younger: older 70. nice arms or nice stomach: who cares 71. sensitive or loud: neither 72. hook up or relationship: why are hook ups even a thing 73. troublemaker or hesitant: depends

HAVE YOU EVER: 74. kissed a stranger: nah 75. drank hard liquor: yea 76. lost glasses/contact lenses: nah 77. turned someone down: yea 78. had sex on the first date: nah 79. broken someone’s heart: not that I know of 80. had your heart broken: nah 81. been arrested: nah 82. cried when someone died: yea 83. fallen for a friend: don’t think so

DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 84. yourself: vaguely 85. miracles: it happens 86. love at first sight: maybe 87. santa claus: nah 88. kiss on the first date: nah

OTHER: 90. current best friend name: Filipa, and not current, been like that for 13 years now 91. eye color: some sort of swamp green 92. favorite movie: The Lord of the Rings