#i've seen them twice and both times were incredible

[ricekrispyjoints]

Beneath the Brine listener!! Hell yeah!!

that album rewired my brain

[are-you-fucking-with-me-rn]

dead boy detectives has, in my opinion, the best queer rep/storyline i've seen in any media today. it's the lack of labels.

at the very beginning of my own queer-discovery journey, my main sources of queer media were either love, simon(the movie, i never ended up reading the book) or the webcomic heartstopper. In stories like the former, the character already knew their identity before the story even started. And Nick's journey in heartstopper was very lead by the constant "am I gay or bi?". So, naturally, I OBSESSED over labels. I read wikis with hundreds of descriptions. I had to figure out which identity i belonged with so i could feel part of a community, right? Even when I had finally decided I was tired of this, and decided to go unlabeled, i found someone had made a flag for unlabeled and it was yet ANOTHER box. (btw, I'm not saying any of this is bad. for some people it's incredible to put a single word to your complex feelings, and really gain a sense of belonging. Media like that is fine and important.)

Dead Boy Detectives only uses the label "gay", and it is said twice within the same scene, and neither time is it used to describe a character going through any queer journey.

Edwin's story isn't a struggle of "am I gay or straight or bi?" it's "i've never felt this way before, why do i feel this way? how does this change things? what does this mean?" He is never once pushed by other characters to give a label. When Niko inquires, its about his feelings ("do you want to kiss monty/the cat king?", even saying "boys can like like boys" isnt targeted towards ONE specific identity). Charles accepts Edwin so openly, without once asking even out of curiosity a specific label. The labels are great, but i feel like it can be kinda easy to get caught up in them. Edwin's queer journey is led by feelings alone, something I've never seen done before in media, and i think this is so so important both for those just starting their own discoveries but also to normalize the whole thing.

Holy shit i wrote alot. thanks to anyone who actually reads this far😭

[gravityrises]

The Virtues of Stanford Pines

Summary: I've seen people accuse Ford of doing horrible things on one side, and people defending his actions on the other side. But how about we turn the tables and talk about all of the good Ford has done. (At least, that was the plan.)

Word Count: 2813.

Spoilers: Gravity Falls series, Journal 3, The Book of Bill, Lost Legends, thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com

1. He's incredibly hard-working:

Just because someone is smart doesn't mean they don't put a lot of effort into studying and Ford definitely did. It's mentioned twice just in "A Tale of Two Stans," when he tries to convince the college board to give him another chance and when he describes his years at Backupsmore.

And it doesn't stop at intellectual pursuits. In Journal 3 Ford says he exercises daily, despite having always hated physical activity.

Anyway, I don't think anyone is going to argue this point, so let's leave it at that.

2. He's supportive of his friend:

There are going to be a few controversial takes, but I truly believe that Ford was trying to be a good friend to Fiddleford. Now, there were fights between them, and Ford did say quite a few insensitive things both to his face and in the Journal. But overall, I don't think he ever intended to hurt Fiddleford, and he definitely appreciated his friend's company.

When Ford invited Fiddleford to work on the portal, he wrote in the journal: "He (Fiddleford) has sacrificed so much to come to my aid. He has temporarily left his bride and their young son... he has abandoned his own professional aspirations... I must do my best to make him feel at home.... I am off to the store for some banjo strings and microchips!" (quote shortened, because I'm lazy) Clearly, Ford cared about his friend and wanted to make him feel welcome.

He also compliments Fiddleford's "brilliant mind," "amusing quirks" and scrupulous work ethic, by saying "I double-check my equations. He quintuple-checks!"

And I hear you, didn't he claim the complete opposite in the series? According to him, Fiddleford "was wasting his talent trying to make personal computers", right? Well, if we ignore the fact that the creators weren't 100% consistent in their writing, here's how I would reconcile those two statements. Ford thought (erroneously) that his friend's research wasn't important in the grand scheme of things, but it was important to Fiddleford personally. And can you really blame Ford? He was about to demostrate the existence of other dimensions and create a gateway that would allow us to visit them. If something like that happened irl, it would've been a groundbreaking discovery, altering our very understanding of the natural world and how it works. Meanwhile, laptops, at least in Ford's opinion, were just "heavy, slow journals." Still, he knew this work was important to Fiddleford, and he wanted to accommodate that. Hence, his trip to buy microchips (and banjo strings.)

Ford tried (and unfortunately, failed) to help Fiddleford deal with his anxiety. In Journal 3, he mentions teaching Fiddleford some meditation techniques and going to the Carnival, so that Fiddleford would enjoy "a day of relaxation." In the Book of Bill, Ford feels guilty about not getting his friend a gift and decides to throw a surprise Christmas party instead. This was also an attempt to cheer Fiddleford up after his fight with his wife.

"But Ford didn't take Fiddleford's anxiety seriously, and it ruined his life." Okay, let's say you're right. Remember, Ford was raised in the 60s. A time when mental illness or just mental distress were looked down on. What was he supposed to do? Suggest Fiddleford goes to the therapist? I mean, they were studying paranormal creatures, if Fiddleford told those stories to a therapist who didn't believe in these things, there would've been a really high chance of misdiagnosis. Should Ford have simply fired Fiddleford? Well, that wouldn't have been very nice. Also, there is no need to infantilize Fiddleford in the first place, he's a grown-up person capable of makind his own decisions. If the job is too stressful, if the relationship doesn't work out, he has every right to leave, because his life and mental well-being are his responsibility. Instead, he ignored Ford's warnings and decided to use the Memory Gun and start a cult. It was, by the end of the day, Fiddleford's decision. And it's tragic. It really is. No one deserves to lose their family, their mind and their sense of self. It's something Ford feels guilty about, because whether it was intentional or not, he did indirectly contribute to Fiddleford's downfall. That's why, when they finally reunited after 30 years, Ford apologized to Fiddleford. And according to Journal 3, Fiddleford dissmised his apology, leading Ford to say that "Not only is this man's mind superior to mine, but he has one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen."

3. He has no reservations about helping others out:

There's a reason why Ford's the first person people turn to, when there's a problem. He has both the desire and the skills to help people out. Using Dipper's idea, he stops agents from investigating his family. He goes above and beyond just to change a lightbulb in the kitchen. Though morally questionable, he did give the kids a mind control tie with the intent of helping Stan win the elections. In the comics, Stan turns to Ford when Mabel's face is stolen and when Stan himself is cursed by an old chest.

And that's how things were in the past too. In "The Pines Boys in: The Jersey Devil's in the Details", Ford defends his brother, twice. First, when Filbrick accuses Stan of stealing the gold chain from his pawn shop. And then, when the Sibling Brothers offered Ford to let him keep the monster and become famous in exchange for photos that would prove Stan's guilt. And just to add an incentive, they threatened to frame both twins, if Ford didn't comply. Obviously, it didn't work.

According to thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com, that's also how he became friends with Fiddleford: on the very first day, he spent nine hours helping his new friend prove his theory. And in the Book of Bill, when Ford learns that Bill's home dimension was destroyed by a monster, his immediate reaction is to offer help with hunting it down.

Whenever someone's in distress, Ford really wants to help them out, and I don't know about you, but to me that doesn't sound like someone lacking empathy.

4. He's got no qualms questioning the status quo:

In Journal 3, Ford mentions traveling to Northwest Manor to confront Old Man Northwest with evidence of his family's deceit. Instead, he was met by young Preston, who wasn't impressed with his speech and forcibly escorted Ford from the premises.

Also in Journal 3, Ford wanted to debate politics with Reagan. Make of that what you will.

Now this one is more of a conjecture, but in the Book of Bill, this is how Bill compliments him: "Guys as smart as you come along once every century, and they scare the pants off of authority figures!" This lie wouldn't have worked, if it wasn't what Ford actually wanted.

And of course, learning that his former "muse" is one of the most feared beings in the entire multiverse, didn't stop Ford from going on a quest to defeat Bill. Even after witnessing other creatures shriek and cover their ears at the mere mention of Bill's name. Which leads me to my next point.

5. Calling him determined would be a massive understatement:

Forget his sleepless nights at college, forget his extensive research in Gravity Falls, Ford has spent 30 years, let me repeat that again, 30 years traveling across dimensions and looking for a way to destroy Bill Cipher. I haven't even been alive for that long! From the little we know about those years, they were anything but easy. In fact, Ford describes them as "frightening, exciting, cruel, and strange." (And of course, the guy actually does use the Oxford comma in his writing. Who would've thought?) Let me stress that Ford was under no obligation to continue his quest, maybe he could've found a quiet dimension to settle down and live peacefully, in fact, that's something he contemplates while visiting A Better World in Journal 3. But he decides against it. Not because he didn't want to, he literally says that he wanted to revel in his parallel self's success. Not because defeating Bill would get him recognition. It wouldn't, at least not in his home dimension, where no one is even aware of the danger. No, he didn't stay, because his own conscience wouldn't allow it. Ford just couldn't break his vow from 30 years ago, it's as simple as that.

And what does he do, when his plans fall apart? Does he even consider giving up? Of course not! In fact, he ends his tale of interdimensional travel with the following sentence: "My resolve to defeat Bill has never been stronger." It's almost comical, watching him throw anything he can think of at Bill and see what might stick. His battle in the Nightmare Realm was interrupted? He jumps through the portal to stop Bill's forces from entering his dimension. The portal created an interdimensional rift? He tries to contain it. Bill threatens to get his hands on the rift? This time Ford has two ideas: he tries to encrypt Dipper's thoughts and creates a mystical barrier around the house. The worst happens and the world is about to end? Well, get in loser, we're going to shoot Bill with Quantum Destabilizer. Ford misses and is captured? Not to worry, there's a Zodiac prophecy, we can give that a try. It doesn't work, because two grown men can't put aside their grievances for just a few seconds, gosh that scene is so frustrating to watch. Well, here is another idea: one can erase Bill with a memory gun as long as he's in someone's mind. I don't know what else to say, Ford really did his homework, when he set out to destroy Bill.

6. He has the patience of a saint:

Wow, now here's a controversial take. Remember Stan's "Beep boop. I am a nerd robot. That's you. That's what you sound like," which Ford just laughs off. Yes, that's what siblings do all the time. And yes, this teasing does come from a place of hurt. Stan was feeling like "the stupid twin," "a dumb idiot who screws everything up," so Ford felt like he just had to put up with this. But it's still hurtful to be mocked for your interests. It really feels like their relationship was already a little strained even before the Science Fair Project Incident.

What about the fact that he was the first to stop the fight in "Dungeons, Dungeons, and more Dungeons" and suggesting Stan might actually have fun, if he joined their game?

Or all the snide comments Stan made, when they reunited during Weirdmageddon, including "Well, he's lost his mind" and "You really think some caveman graffiti is gonna stop that monster?" All of which Ford simply ignored. Yes, he did correct Stan's grammar under the worst of circumstances, I agree, but you know, everyone has their pet peeves.

What people often forget is just how difficult it is to be a kind person, when you're stressed. It is much easier to treat people with respect and understanding, when you yourself are doing fine. So is it that big of a surprise, that someone who's under pressure, sleep-deprived and/or in pain might be more prone to outbursts? And we know how traumatic Ford's experience of being bullied as a kid was, how much suffering Bill put him through, how difficult his years on the other side of the portal were and how much pressure he was under, trying to prevent a literal end of the world. It's ironic that the people who blame Ford for his lack of empathy, really don't show him any empathy themselves.

7. Even under torture, he didn't reveal the equation that would've allowed Bill to take over the world:

Do I really have to spell it out? Look, as someone who was on the verge of mental breakdown from a simple toothache, I have nothing else to say other than: This is admirable. And he did it to protect the world that, need I remind you, wasn't particularly kind to him. On the same note, he just never joined Bill in the first place: not in the 80s, and not during Weirdmageddon.

"Oh, but he's the one who started the Apocalypse, so he kind of deserved it." Seriously? No, I mean it, are you being serious? Is that something you would say to a person suffering from diabetes type 2, that it's their fault for eating too many sweets; or to someone with liver cirrhosis that they deserve to suffer because of their alcohol addiction? Because this is neither appropriate, nor helpful. Talk about kicking someone when they're down...

8. He's fiercely loyal to his family:

I think the way Ford compliments his grandniece in "The Last Mabelcorn" is very revealing: "You've protected your family. You're a good person, Mabel." His very definition of a "good person" is "someone who supports and protects their family." Which is... interesting to say the least, considering that Ford has spent a very long time away from his family and completely alone. But it does sound like something he aspires to. That's why he goes out of his way to help his family out, whenever they're in trouble. (See point 3 for more on this.)

When Bill threatens the kids, Ford is willing to risk the entire universe for a slim chance that they might be spared. It's a cruel Trolley Problem, which once again proves just how much he values his family. Still, this is some Fate/Zero level angst and I don't want to talk about it more than I absolutely have to. Let's finish this up with something more lighthearted.

9. He's never lost curiosity and childlike wonder:

This! This is what made me fall in love with the man and why I'm wasting my time writing this nonsense in the first place. This allconsuming excitement, when he finds a new anomaly to study; this seemingly endless energy, when he explores new places; this pure joy, when he gets to play DD&MD with Dipper! I don't know how to talk about it without gushing.

Ford obviously loves games, and not just DD&MD. He plays chess with Bill. He mentions being great at charades in the comics. And what cracks me up the most: during Weirdmageddon, when Pacifica compared the Zodiac to a game of hopscotch, not only did not Ford get offended, but he replied: "It would be a pretty fun game of hopscotch." Ford, darling, the world is about to end, is this really the best time to contemplate a hypothetical game of hopscotch? Also, you've just been through something traumatic... Forget it, you've been through 3 decades of traumatic experiences, can you at least have the decency to become a tad more cynical as you age, like the rest of us. I guess, mirth really is the mail of anguish. (It's from Emily Dickinson's poem and the quote means that some people act cheerful to hide their suffering.)

Also, something Ford doesn't get enough credit for, mostly because people usually focus on his academic achievements, but he is quite creative. He draws incredibly detailed sketches not only depicting various anomalies he encounters, but also whatever happens in his life. (Probably off-topic, but I find the implications of that karaoke page so funny. Think about it: the guy sobered up, looked at the incomprehensible nonsense he had written the previous night and thought: "You know what? This could really use an illustration.") Also don't forget that he canonically plays piano. Yeah, if I were Stan, I'd be jealous too.

And of course, that's why he's so passionate about science. Sure, part of him wants the fame and recognition that would come, if he makes a big discovery, but you can't deny that he genuinely enjoys learning new things. And that he enjoys sharing them with whoever is willing to listen.

In conclusion, I'm not trying to say that Ford is perfect in every way and has never done a single wrong thing in his life. To be honest, that would've made him a really boring character. So, yes, he is flawed, and misguided, and sometimes insensitive. He's made a lot of missteps because of his upbringing, personality and, as many have speculated, neurodivergence. But I really take issue with people saying Ford's a bad person, when he clearly isn't. Ford is and always was a good person, and by the end of all the trials he became a better person. One who understands that the only way to success is cooperation, not being a lone vigilante. That it's not a weakness to ask for help or to need help in the first place. And that a sea otter shared is a sea otter halved.

That's strange... why did I write that?

[cy-cyborg]

I've seen my new GP twice now, and omg I didn't realise how bad things were with my previous one until now. Like I knew it was bad, but having someone who actually listens and cares to contrast to makes the shitty treatment stand out so much more. Some of the highlights:

My memory isn't great, so my partner wrote out a full report of what had been happening with a list of symptoms and a timeline of the most recent events, as well as printed versions of whatever tests results we could get before we arrived. Id summerised it at the top because every doctor id been to never reads what i give them, even when its from other doctors, but he read all of it, and asked clarifying questions as he did to make sure we were on the same page.

He actually read what little bits of my medical history had access to (while I've never seen this doctor before, I attended this clinic as a child, which was when most of the stuff associated with my primary disability was happening, so he could see that) and agreed that there is almost certainly something chronic going on that he will gladly investigate once the immediate issue is dealt with.

The fact I was autistic came up at some point, and I explained that I'm not formally diagnosed. My current psychologist and one other has done all the testing they can and they were both very confident I am autistic, but we can't get the formal diagnosis without a review from a neuropsyc because of something in my history, and I don't have the money to do that. My autistic traits are in my medical files but they're incorrectly attributed to something else. He was incredibly understanding of that and told me not to stress about the diagnosis (unless i want to, in which case he said hed support me from his end if he can) and asked if I could get something from my psychologist to explain how this might effect my treatment (not noticing symptoms, not being able to articulate problems consistently etc) so he knows what additional support I might need in the clinic.

He admitted to not knowing things, and told me how he was going to go about fixing that gap in his knowledge before my next appointment. For example, He admitted to never having a trans patient before, but that he's going to do some research on his own time to learn what he needs to do to be a better Dr for me.

He asked me to get some scans from a previous hospital stay, and picked up that I was hesitant. mum was with me and explained my auditory processing issues and how it makes communicating via phone hard. he told me not to stress and said he can get the receptionist to do it with my concent.

A lot of these aren't big things, but they make the world of difference when you have a complex medical history and its so refreshing just to feel heard after all this

[writing-havoc]

HEY! HOW ARE YOU? would you be willing to make a kaz brekker x reader? if possible a soulmate au? I'm obsessed with this trope! maybe name on the wrist or the one where with just a touch of skin you see the colors? I imagine one where r is not part of the dregs but is quite indifferent/receptive to the fact that kaz is the leader of a gang. r is a seamstress, using her skills to hide that she is a fabrikator, and she (can be gn if you want!) and kaz know they are soulmates, though they never talk about it. they can even be a 'thing' secretly, and it would be adorable if they were both childhood friends. maybe before the events of SoC kaz decided to make their relationship official (with a request for courtship alá brekker or even a marriage on paper) and after CK he is even more desperate for this, wanting to protect r at all costs. oh, it would be very interesting if r had a younger sister aged 8/9 who loves kaz and vice versa since she is very quiet and obedient and loves to listen to kaz's stories. even better if he secretly called her little crow. bonus if the girl's name is astra and she is also a hidden grisha, an inferni or another etherealki i would love to see this from your point of view and with her writing it would be amazing but feel free to decline if you don't want to. Did I already say that you write very well? well then know. YOU ARE INCREDIBLY TALENTED!!!!!!

Silent tears

♡ Summary: Before the events of the ice court, Kaz feels relatively content with his feelings and relationship with you. After? Not so much.

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Mentions vomit a few times, Gun, Death, uses yn twice

♡ WC: 5.4k

Aaaa thank you sm for this request!! Loved all the little details I had to include. It was interesting writing for a reader that wasn't part of the dregs.

Thank you for your kind words <3

I made Astra a Squallor here. And it's up to your interpretation if the reader and Kaz are dating or otherwise before the ending.

As always, please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

The sound of a sewing machine filled the small shop. It was loud, punching the table he knows it's rested on and creating a rumbling in the floor.

Gowns and suits and vests filled the racks around the store, some on display on fake bodices. They wore outfits, tantalizing window shoppers to enter and run their fingers along the fabrics.

The velveteen looked high quality, mixed with some sort of spandex fabric around the waist to hug its wearer. Pearls and lace flow across shoulders and down the side of gowns, some even including embroidery.

As he moved along, suits and gowns turns into vests and petticoats. The walls were decorated with hats of various function, most made for looks and flare rather than functionality. Behind the desk even existed a rack of long coats and various sweaters, more than likely just to fill up space than to be sold.

The sound ceased, and he rung the bell at the desk.

"Coming!" Called a voice. He stopped himself from smoothing out his own coat, in turn adjusting his gloves.

Heavy footsteps presented him with your kind figure, heels unconsciously stomping against the wood floor compared to the concrete of the backroom.

You smiled at him, picking off little strings of thread the fell into your lap and stuffing them into a pouch at your side.

"I've just finished your order." He felt just as much as he seen you change from business to something more lax, shoulders drooping and the lines between your brows disappearing. "Gimme one moment to put everything in the box- oh, would you turn the sign around, please?"

"A bit all over the place, are we?" He turned around, hearing you release a big sigh.

"Just about, it seems."

The people walking outside turned to look at the store, smiles on their faces. It was mildly amusing to watch them fall as he turned the sign, giving him a glare as he continued to stare them down. He didn't turn until they left, everyone else's eyes only flashing to the window for a moment before diverting elsewhere the second the closed sign came into view.

Window shopping is pointless when the building is closed.

"You wanted... two suits, one the shade of coal and the other a light purple, a wine red gown, a mask, and a pair of gloves?"

He turned his attention back to you, holding a rather large, yet flat, wooden crate. The inside was filled with the colors you just mentioned, a pair of leather gloves on top acting as paperweights for his order.

You set the crate down for him to look through. He removes the paper, taking the gloves into his hands and holding them out to examine.

And admire.

You aren't a leatherworker. You're a seamstress. And yet, you make the finest pair of leather gloves he has ever seen. Sometimes he'll even catch little designs marked into the gloves, the integrity of the material somehow unfazed.

"Make the slits bigger. Just two millimeters." He hands them to you.

You raise a brow, knowing that you made everything to his usual specifications.

But you take them back, entertaining him. You look at the locked door, and then raise your hand over the gloves.

Grisha power isnt super fascinating to him anymore. When he was little he would beg you to demonstrate your power, handing you pieces of worn fabric to do as you pleased with.

He would watch the thin threads thickened and the material became warped around the edges. Jordie would stand next to him, watching you solely because Kaz dragged him over every single time. You would hold out the newly mended piece of cloth, and he and his brother would clap ans rejoice.

But he still likes to watch you work. To see as your mouth opens and your tongue folds over your canines as you focused.

You give them back to him, and he inspects them once more.

"These will do." He ends up saying, appreciation left for the darker hours in the night.

You roll your eyes and rustle around with the paper held underneath your arm, fingers quickly calculating the math of the order.

Usually he doesn't do a batch of this size while he's still figuring out a job, but the way he sees it there's no way he can't have just about everybody present. Which these days is incredibly rare.

A pin is taken from the cushion on your wrist, planting itself into the red gown. But as you take out two pieces of paper, writing probably a total and your name, he can't help but stare at the ink peeking out from beneath it.

He knows what it says, just as well as he knows the name on his own.

He's seen it once as you pulled up your sleeve during the summer, the fine etching displaying his name, his old name, clear as day before you hurriedly slipped the pin cushion back onto it. He looked away that day, pretending he didn't see.

It feels so much harder to pretend now.

"This is your total. And I will need your signature on both of them, Mr. Brekker."

Your smile is playful, then. As he takes the pen from your outstretched hand.

"As I've told you before, yn, Kaz is fine."

"Oh, but how could I be so informal, Mr. Brekker?" You put your hand on your chest, face twisted into a poor impression of someone who has just been scandalized. "We are business partners, after all."

And just like in those books you always read, he feels his eyes soften, if only a bit as his brows and jaw relax. "Business partners doesn't cover the surface."

You take the confession and relax with it, rubbing the center of your chest. "You're right."

He thinks back to a time when you were both little, each staring at your blank wrist with solemn eyes. He would look at you as you rubbed the soft skin, fingertips and dirty nails gently tracing lines into it.

He would sit next to you, shoulders knocking together, and you would look up at him, expression changing as you grabbed his wrist and squeezed it.

At the time, he would never say it, the thought turning his ears pink and quickening his adolescent heart, but he would hope that your wrists would match, displaying the others name. He would hope that one day that sad and far off face would cease to exist, and instead would be full of complete and utter joy as you looked at him and exclaim that you knew it. Because you wanted him, too.

But now that he knows, he still wouldn't say anything. You never said anything, and he wasn't in any position or state of mind to say anything to you when he eventually saw his, ash sticky and cold flesh tainting the memory, your scream as you watched him swim to the harbor on Jordie's corpse, and his own as you went to grab him.

It stays locked away, with the rest of the things that feel too hard to touch.

He signs a fake name on both of them, taking one and handing the other to you for your personal records, and then takes out the kruge and hands it to you.

"Is Dirix out back to handle these or do you want a bag for them?"

He sighs. "Dirix is down at the Harbour. A bag will have to do."

"Can I pick the bag?" A new voice calls from the backroom.

He holds back a smile, but fails to stop the corner of his lips from turning up temporarily. He averts his eyes to the doorway where a little girl peeks around the corner, a wide smile on her face as she looks right at him.

"Of course, Astra." You say, and immediately she scurried up to the counter to take a look at the load she has to find a bag for.

Your younger sister, Astra, was moved up here a few years after you were, your parents having passed from the flu and grandparents too old to take on the task of raising a six year old. Much less a six year old who could summon the wind at any time she wants.

Thankfully, you had started your seamstress business a year before that, and had this store with your living space up above to take her in with.

Business was always booming here, your talent for fabrics and all things fashion put on display and loved by the masses. You spent pretty much your entire life studying the trends that wormed their way here, even getting ahead of the train numerous times and working into the darkest hours to make your profit.

Now you can afford the more pricey fabrics, and get the attention of the richer folk over in the Geldstraat.

He helps, of course, with his dirty work.

"I know the perfect one." Astra scurries away.

You chuckle, hearing a small "wow!" and a flurry of footsteps. "She's going to pick the most obnoxious bag, I hope you know."

He takes a breath then, and looks down at the gloves still in his hand. "I wouldn't expect anything less from her."

There's a moment of silence, watching you from his peripheral as you stare at the gloves too.

"I didnt like the last pair." You admit. "So I made the design more low-key. The last one was too flashy for your aesthetic."

He's wearing those gloves now, and they aren't even flashy. The design is just slightly more pronounced.

The way you measure how flashy something is has a much smaller threshold than most. Even by his standards, it's very small, and he's far from the most colorful being in Ketterdam.

Astra comes back with, of course, a large bright pink fabric bag, twine tied in the shape of a flower tied around the handles.

"Good choice!" You praise, taking the clothes out of the crate and laying them neatly in the bag while she beams at him.

"Do you like the bag?"

And normally, he'd say something incredibly passive aggressive.

But he actually likes Astra, and knows how easy it is to stamp out a child's heart, that level of emotional regulation and individuality not yet found in them.

"Its wonderful, little crow."

"Alright, give this to him, like I showed you." You pushed her along, and she rounded the counter, holding the sides of the bag, leaving the handles free for him to grab.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't just a little moved by that.

Astra wasn't allowed to help you until a few months ago, when she basically got on her hands and knees and begged to be of some help. You claim that you didn't give in right away, but he knows you better than that.

You have told her that he doesn't like to be touched, and it was a little hard for such a touch reliant girl to wrap her mind around that. After a few close calls, she got the general idea down.

"Pleasure doing business with you." He tips his hat, and watches as her little cheeks become pink as she curtsies.

"Ill be making stew like my mom made if you want to stop by later." You suggest.

Astra grins from ear to ear. "But not too later, if you can help it. I want to hear another story."

"At this rate I won't have any stories left to tell you."

She thinks about that for a moment, lips pursing and looking around the room. "Oh!" She shouts, face lighting up. "Can you tell me that one story again? About you and my sister getting lost in the woods down south?"

He pretends to think about it, looking around the room as if in search for the memory. "I think I can do that. You and your sister might have to fill in on some of the details, though."

She grins, pride welling up in her chest that she puffs out, holding out her hand. "The deal is the deal."

He takes her hand into his, giving it a firm shake. "The deal is the deal."

Kaz takes a moment to look back up at you, and his heart nearly leaps out his chest when he sees the way you're looking at him, a small smile he doesn't think he's seen before and eyes filled with so /much/ that he's surprised your whole eye isn't black. Your head rests into your fingers, arm wrapped around your waist. It's an expression he's seen rarely, but it always seems to catch him off guard.

It looks a lot like yearning, he thinks.

But he puts it away for later.

When you catch that he's looking, you take a deep breath, schooling your expression and wiping off imaginary dust from your clothes.

"Alright Astra, Kaz has important business to attend to."

Astra pouts from beside him, but gives him her goodbyes and walks into the backroom again.

He straightens. It's oddly difficult to keep eye contact with you, but he does anyway, flicking between the both of them.

"If I have time, I'll stop by." He gives in.

You're happy with that. "Ill even add extra broth for you."

"Sweetening the offer I see."

You put your hands on your hips, shrugging. "A girl's got to do what she's got to do."

The implications of that are hefty, too hefty with a cane in one hand and a bright pink bag of clothes in the other.

So he ignores it, and nods, taking his leave out the front door and back to the Slat.

-----

He stares at the plan before him in his mind, going over each and every way this can and probably will go sideways.

Breaking into the most secure prison in probably the whole world with nothing more than the scrapings of a plan, one of the essential persons in a different prison, and your presense completely plaguing his mind.

The third one isn't exactly new, but he can't help but think about you when his survival rate went from low on the daily average to basically zero with one handshake.

But thirty million kruge...

Thirty million kruge could go a long way. That's four million for him, most of which he could put towards the crow club and expanding his empire, taking down Pekka, and securing his place as one of the top bosses in Ketterdam.

He could secure his place in the food chain, and maybe, maybe then he...

Maybe.

He entertains the thought of a marriage certificate. Having something that ties you and him together both eternally and in the eyes of everyone else. Being able to hold that slip of paper when he can't hold your hand and feeling like it matters.

It's hard to keep the thought away, now that he's alone with a glass of kvas and death staring him in the eyes.

He doesn't plan on dying soon. Not for a long time. He has vengeance to exact and many more dinners to join you for.

But it's a very real possibility, and he must debate with himself going to you and telling you all this before he leaves.

If it was any other job, Kaz would send Inej to tell you that he would be gone for a few days and to not expect him. If it was literally any other job, he wouldn't even consider getting up from his chair, marching down those stairs and up yours, and discussing the undiscussable to at least satisfy the gnawing in his stomach.

Because he knows that if you find out he died and he knew that he was basically guaranteed to do so and he didn't bother to tell you himself, you would never forgive him.

Granted, he would be dead, so in theory it doesn't matter.

He picks up his cane and gloves, shoving them over his hands and throwing on his long coat. He doesn't even have to look at the coat rack to find his hat, putting it on and making his way out of the Slat and to your address without a word to anyone else.

The theories mean nothing, in the face of reality.

You're making stew with extra broth, he might die in a few days, and he doesn't want you to think ill of him when he can't look you in the eye and try to convince you to feel otherwise.

As the cold bites his nose, he thinks back to that look you were giving him when he made that deal with your sister.

It's nearly enough to make him turn around, muscles tingling and a shiver rolling down his back that's unrelated to the cold. He feels sick. Warm and a feeling in his stomach he only feels late in the night in the comfort of his own bed.

He can't do this.

He picks the lock on your door.

He can't tell you.

He opens the door, locking it behind him.

He can't think of you like that.

He walks up the stairs, the smell of stew just barely reaching his senses as he enters the kitchen.

He can't.

You're sitting at the table, two empty bowls on the table and fabric thrown over your legs, threading them together. Your finger is bleeding, and he wants to wipe it away.

"You're late." You smile, eyelids heavy.

He takes off his hat, putting it on the hook you installed when he started coming over. "Or I'm just in time."

You laugh quietly, sticking the needle in the fabric and pulling it off your lap. "Just in time about sums it up."

He's a monster.

You turn your back to him and enter your room, draping the project on your desk.

The pot is still steaming, and his throat feels clogged.

"Ill be gone for a while."

You turn around, and he can't watch you anymore. He takes off his coat and drapes it over the chair.

"How long?" Your voice is soft, approaching him.

"Few weeks."

He's a coward.

You hum, setting down a bowl of stew with extra broth in front of him. "Thats a long time, even for you."

He clenched his jaw, heart pounding in his ears. The light catches the stew, making rainbows in the broth. Chunks of lamb, potatoes, pieces of ham, carrots, and greens he can't see dance in the soup as he stirs it.

"Bigger reward for the troubles." Is all he says.

The troubles, he thinks, that he can't get past the lump in his throat. The trouble that you of all people deserve to know.

He glances up at you, and he recognizes the look on your face all too well.

You're very aware of his gang affiliation.

He actually attempted to cut ties with you after he got associated with the Dregs. You threw a crate at him and called him mad for suggesting as such. He only risked to bring it up one other time, and you had yelled at him and about cried when he turned to leave, throwing a rock at his freshly poorly healed leg.

He swiveled around at glared at you, but you didn't flinch in the face of Dirtyhands. Just glared at him, told him you're not going anywhere, and then left /him/ before he could protest.

It took him a week to figure out that, despite you not wanting to cut ties with him, you didn't completely agree either. You didn't bother trying to convince him to leave, but you have on numerous occasions begged him to be careful, adorning this exhausted look.

You don't say a lot anymore, but the expression has stayed relatively the same, if a bit rounder on the edges.

"How bad?" You asked.

He abhors the way his heart squeezes, like it has a mind of its own while his brain yells at him to keep you out of it.

He wants to throw up.

How does he tell you there's a greater chance than not he'll die, now matter how much he wants to make it back to you?

How does he tell you you might never get to see him again? Or see Jesper or Inej?

He swallowed some broth, licking his lips.

"Pretty bad."

He's such a fucking coward.

"Ynnn." He hears a hoarse voice call. He looks up, seeing Astra stroll in and rest her chin on the kitchen table. "You didnt tell me Kaz finally came."

When he looks at you to see your response, its to his absolute horror that he catches you wiping your eyes, then pull your little sister to your side.

"You were sleeping. I didn't want to wake you."

"M'you should've."

You glance up at him, and smile against Astra's hair.

"You're right. I should've."

-----

'Damn it all,' he thought in a panic. 'Damn everything. Go find them.'

It was a dangerous, recurring thought that he had when he went anywhere near the Zelver District, whenever he had to go through the canals that run along its edge and connect to nearly every other canal.

Even now as he puts everything in place to send Kuwei off on a fake bodyboat. It only half surprises him that the sight doesn't make him all that uncomfortable. He's exhausted, lovesick, and has had the experience of several lifetimes within just a few weeks.

He wanted to send word to you to stay put during the alarms. But Pekka's crew strolled through your storefront not a few days ago, asking about your wares and probing for information. Inej had seen as such when she finally had the opportunity to check on you.

There was no guarantee that this plan would work. Pekka would have been dealt with regardless but the auction with Kuwei could have gone differently. No matter the confidence with which he laid out facts or with Wylan's newfound acting skills, there were too many variables that relied heavily on the actions of people outside his control.

It worked out, though. But now he has to worry about being unable to find you. It makes him nauseous. He actually feels his mouth begin to fill with saliva, but he keeps it down. Right now, he just has to get rid of Kuwei, and send off Colm, Nina, and Matthias to the boats that will take them to their respective countries.

A small part of his conscious nags at him. Of course he feels grief for his fallen Crow, incomparable to the grief Nina will have to face for the rest of her life.

But there's that much larger part of him that can't feel anything except the itching for your eyes on him.

Kaz makes a snarky comment about Kuwei's dead position, and leaves everyone to fill in the silence around him. There isn't much talking, aside from Jesper and his father, and then they're hugging and parting.

He hardly has it in him to stay while they leave, and eventually, before they even disappear from his eyesight, he's turning and marching up the Van Eck lawn towards the Zelver District.

He feels like he's going insane. Energy is surging through him like there's a heartrender pumping his system. When everything becomes familiar, that coffee shop you like with the Stroopwafel's coming into view, he can't help but break out into a run.

His leg feels like it may splinter.

But he's 4 million kruge richer, and he has something to ask you.

He's learned a lot, quite a bit of it against his will, since he left for Fjerda.

He will not let you become another life lesson.

Your door comes into view, and he nearly slams into it when his legs can't seem to stop and one of them is straining against his own body weight.

The lock picks nearly fell to the floor before he manages to unlock the store. He didn't even let the door close behind him before he rocketed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

You were at the top, rifle in hand, pointing it at him with a fierceness in your eyes.

It all but crumbled when you seen who he was.

"Kaz?" You called, disbelief choking your words.

It takes a moment for him to catch his breath, most of his gasping done before he unlocked the door. But again, hes exhausted and lovesick, so air isnt really a luxury he seems to be able to afford. "The bruises don't make me that unrecognizable." He stands straighter, favoring his left leg.

You had half the mind to put the rifle on your kitchen table before you completely broke down in tears. Your arms hug your sides while your eyes boil over with tears and hot rage.

"You're such an asshole!" You yelled. "Getting put on the Stadwatch and the entire barrels shitlist? What the fuck kind of job did you take?"

He stepped forward, setting his cane next to your rifle and dropping into the chair next to you.

It still made his skin crawl. It still made his lungs burn with freezing cold water. It still made deadly blue hands grip at his legs and pull him under.

But he reached out, pulled you between his legs, and hugged your body to his, his cheek resting against your stomach.

You were warm. So very warm from working yourself up. And stiff. He could feel it under his arms as your thighs stuck together and the muscles surrounding your spine tightened into stone.

"Ka-Kaz?"

He ignored you in favor of ignoring his own body, tightening you into him as the waters punched his stomach and licked up his back.

You were warm, and as you relaxed, his face further sinking into your stomach, the water began to still. Still crushing against his organs, but not going any further.

Tears pushed on the back of his eyes. He squeezed them shut, taking in a shakey breath.

He was doing it. He was holding you, touching you, and it only made half his mind scream to be yanked away.

"I fought." He whispered. "I fought to come back." He swallows. "To you."

Tears thumped against the crown of his skull. He could hear your heart pounding despite its location.

"You left-" Your voice cut off in a squeak. Clearing your throat, he could feel, felt like a chore. "You left. And then you didn't come back. Your face was all over Ketterdam, and I didn't know what to do. I couldn't eat I couldn't sleep- I couldn't answer Astra's questions because I didn't know anything-"

"I was tricked." He gritted his teeth, loosening his grip on you just as you reached down and dragged your fingers over his shoulder, fixing a loose thread. "Deceived, and made a complete fool out of. I couldn't come back because they would have got you too."

Your fingers stopped. "Who did they get?"

A few tears leaked out the side of his eyes. The only tears, he decided, he was going to allow through. He was not a crier. And he had no intention of becoming one.

"Inej." You gasped, hand flying away from his head to cover your mouth, he would presume. "Which is why I couldn't get word to you. Why you had to remain in the dark."

He pulled back, looking up at your tear stained face. You wiped them away, sniffing up any snot that remained in your nose and cleared your throat.

For a while you didn't speak. You just stared at him. His hands had fallen to his knees, fingers barely touching your leg while your own held your elbows.

You were deep in thought. Occasionally a silent tear would work it's way down your cheek and tick against the floor. He remained still, watching as you worked your way through your thoughts.

Whatever you had to say, you were fighting for a better way to word it.

Eventually you reached out, swallowing as you searched for any indication he would retreat.

Instead he stared you head on, sweat building on brow. He was all touched out at the moment, but you wanted this. And he thinks it's the least you deserved after the complete emotional shipwreck he just put you through.

Your thumb brushed over his bruises, watching him wince when you accidentally pushed on them.

Scabs had begun to form over some of the wounds he refused to be healed. Two thin lines on his lips, one on his cheek, and one to his brow. You went over all of them, touching his lips last.

He thinks you meant to do that.

"If I had known this would be my fate when I saw my name on your wrist when we were children," you whispered, "I'd have slapped you stupid."

That makes his lips twitch. "And now?"

You swallow again, carefully brushing his hair away from his forehead so that your nails barely scratched the surface. "Now, I just want to look at you." You smiled, taking your hand back. "Somebody's already slapped you stupid for me."

"Believe me, there was no slapping."

The words make your smile disappear. He regrets saying them.

Somethings missing though, and he realizes it a lot later than he likes.

"Where's Astra?"

You smile, an airy breath escaping your nose. "She went down about half an hour before you stormed in here."

"You didn't send her off to your grandparents when the sirens went off?"

You scoffed. "And go where you couldn't find us?" You looked down, scuffing the floor with your sock covered feet. "You'd have lost your mind."

And that, you knowing him so intrinsically, is what he's going to use as an excuse for what he says next.

"Marry me."

It's so unlike him. He should have been less forward about it. Presented it to you like a business offer instead of demanding it of you.

Your head snaps up. Eyes wide as they stare at him.

"What?"

He scoots back, chair scraping across the floor as he stands.

"I do not present this to you lightly. After the events that have taken place, there will only be more people willing to tear me down. People who will want to use you to get to me."

The thought almost makes him want to back out. But if Kaz Brekker is anything, he is not someone who back tracks.

"It would be done in private. No one would know but the Dregs, or only the Crows, and your family. But if anybody does any digging and finds that certificate, you and Astra would be in danger."

You continue to stare, eyes still wide and mouth agape.

Sweat beads down his back, not helped by the long coat he neglected to take off. He also realizes that he's lost his hat somewhere on the way here, probably flown off in his rush to get here.

You close your mouth, clearing your throat. "I will marry you, Kaz, on one condition."

He shifts on his feet, leg still horribly sore. "That is?"

You cant help but smile. "I won't have to wear white."

And a giddy, childish sort of glee bubbles in his chest. There isn't anything, he thinks, that could have stopped the smile forming in his face, growing so wide as to show teeth. "You could wear the muckiest yellow the nation as to offer if you so wished."

Your nose scrunches, and one day he thinks he could kiss it.

"Astra will want to hear about your adventure." He could see your exhaustion from just thinking about that, your gaze averting once again to her door. "She'll be so excited to hear about your proposal too."

He follows your gaze, seeing the little drawing nailed to surface of her door.

One of them shows you and him with smiling faces, a little heart above your heads. You're holding hands, Kaz's gloves a distinct part of the portrait, with Astra above, clouds and a sun at the top of the page.

"Little crow will blow the entire building apart." He grimaces, thinking of a way to cover that up if the neighboring businesses hear it.

You sigh. "I have no idea what to do with her."

He turns back to you and leans forward, arms clasped behind his back as he presses his lips to your temple.

It didn't feel real, the way he could initiate touch despite his body screaming at him to stop. Your hair stuck to his lips as he pulled away, but it was worth it to see the way your face fell open, eyes boaring into his.

Silently, he tells you he'll get better. With time, a long time, he'll be able to hold your hand, kiss your lips, stand shoulder to shoulder and lay with you. He tells you that fleeting kisses and barriers will be a thing reserved for bad days only, and even on those bad days he'll still love you in other ways.

He thinks you understand.

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

Tags:

@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @a-candle-maker

[blackmosscupcakes]

I'm fascinated by how this arc of The Wizard the Witch and the Wild One has really flipped the narrative on who's in the right and wrong compared to the first arc, because the key thing is NONE OF THEM are acting differently than they did then--they're all acting incredibly true to character traits that were established from the get go--the only thing that's changed is the surroundings and the context of the backdrop around them.

Out in the world, among ordinary people, Suvi often came across as imperial-minded, deeply indoctrinated, and carrying a feeling of being superior to those who weren't of the citadel. Her feelings and actions were understandable, but the reaction of the audience was often to read her as being overly hostile to the other two and determined to cleave to the Citadel and the beliefs of her upbringing to a degree that was detrimental to their task.

Ame and Eursulon showed a willingness to go off half-cocked and act impulsively based on their feelings in the first arc just as they did in this latest episode, but in the context of the wider world this often came across as deep empathy with ordinary people and spirits and a sense of responsibility to deeper matters beyond the politics of humans. Sure, their actions were a bit reckless and had some negative consequences, but they were acting with their hearts and for the right reasons and everyone was down for Quest Fever!

And then last night we see exactly the same dynamic play out once again--Suvi trying to balance the needs of her adoptive mother and her home and the entire institution in which she grew up against the needs of her friends, while her friends run off and literally blow up the Citadel's shit in absolute defiance of everything Suvi was raised to believe. Now, standing there alone and reeling from a curse as her friends tear off leaving destruction in their wake, she seems understandably hurt, as well as obedient, measured, restrained, sensible, if perhaps a little too blindly trusting in Citadel processes*. And likewise, amidst the context of seeing how the Citadel runs and how generally well it's treated Ame and Eursulon, the two of them seemed reckless, ungrateful, disrespectful, and short-sighted with an unwillingness to play along with the realpolitik of going through the proper channels. Instead they (quite literally) burned important bridges and damaged Suvi's life in the process (though it's also understandable that in light of the revelations about Eursulon's sister they rightly felt unsafe even if Steel was understanding).

It's fascinating how incredibly similar the climactic sequences from these two arcs have been. The characters have followed their natures and it's led them down exactly the same path twice in a row. But the context surrounding their actions is VERY different this time, and each mirrors and recontextualizes the OTHER occurrence. People were largely on Ame and Eursulon's side last time, and they're largely seeing Suvi's side this time. It's been a really complex ethical and practical tangle to navigate both times (and good on Brennan for setting it up that way), but I feel like seeing the two together helps us understand and respond to ALL of the characters in a better way than just having one of these situations would have. It's been really cool to watch, and I've been absolutely loving reading all the thoughts and opinions from people on every side of it. It's already been some of the best fandom discussion I've seen about a TTRPG show.

*I read an interesting perspective from someone who believed they would have had to escape even if they'd trusted Steel, as she already went from "meet me at this time" to "give me more time to talk to the diviners" and they thought she would have continued to delay and delay in order to check all of the Citadel's bureaucratic boxes--I'm not sure whether that's what would have happened but it's an interesting possibility, and one that prevents Steel being used as basically a deus ex machina powerful ally any time they're in trouble.

[nocompromise-noregrets]

d'you know what? it's TIME. Time for what? you ask. Well, my lovelies, it is time for me to finally commit to the internet the theory I've had for twenty years, since I spent the last three evenings watching the Extended Editions at the cinema and am finally possessed of the executive function to do something about it. You guys, I am convinced that Elladan, Elrohir and Glorfindel are in Return of the King, and here's why.

Firstly, the reforging the sword scene (for which several people very kindly indulged me last Innumerable Stars when I nominated 'the twins are the smiths who reforge the sword' as a worldbuilding tag):

Look (at 1:48), there's two of them, you can't clearly see both faces (so they might be identical, there's no proof otherwise), and I'm convinced the one whose face we can see is Jason Secto, who also played Orophin. This is significant because he's there in the coronation scene, and he's there twice. Look:

At 2:25, there he is on the right of the screen, at Arwen's left shoulder. Then at 2:52 he's behind her right shoulder and he has had no opportunity to move. The only explanation is that there's two of him. HAS to be the twins. (there are also two other, non-identical dark-haired Elves over Legolas' right shoulder just before Arwen appears, one of whom bears a passing resemblance to Jason Secto but isn't him, and is in the right position to be a placeholder for his second appearance, so I maintain my point. :D )

(as an aside, because I've seen some speculation that the twins are fraternal and therefore not identical, and so could be any of the Elves in that scene: while Tolkien doesn't use the word 'identical', the description of them in 'The Passing of the Grey Company' in The Return of the King is pretty unequivocal: "...two tall men, neither young nor old. So much alike were they, the sons of Elrond, that few could tell them apart; dark-haired, grey-eyed, and their faces elven-fair, clad alike in bright mail beneath cloaks of silver-grey.")

Meanwhile, also at 2:25 on the left of the screen, I am well aware that is Jarl Benzon who was on a trading card as Glorfindel (and is also seen walking ahead of Arwen's horse in the leaving-for-the-Grey-Havens scene), but I see you your Jarl Benzon and I raise you this incredibly smug-looking fucker behind Elrond's right shoulder:

This is Sandro Kopp, and I contend that there is nobody else that he could be than Mr I-Told-You-So-Not-By-The-Hand-Of-Man-I-Said-And-I-Was-RIGHT.

*insert guy-with-red-string-filled-pinboard.jpg here*

There. I rest my case. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[fadelbison]

The 25th hour and the kindness Boston unwittingly pays forward to Sand

The 25th hour is such a neat yet complex concept. The fact that Sand's episode is called 'The Extra Hour' and that this extremely rigid, disciplined man's 25th hour is Ray is at once heartwarming and gut wrenching. I've seen multiple people discuss what the 25th hour is and most interpretations were to my surprise very positive! In fact, when I think back to my reaction to the start of the episode I thought it was delightful! What a delightfully irrational way for Sand to think of Ray's role in his life, for a delightfully irrational man who really needs a little bit of magic and fairy tale in his life. And yet by the end no matter how you slice it, the only thing about the 25th hour that stays absolute till the end is that it's not real. There's no such thing as a 25th hour. Whatever was happening between them was happening entirely within the 24 hours of their lives and neither were able admit to it. There is a separate meta to be written about how there are elements of healing in their relationship - definitely for Ray and maybe even for Sand who benefits from being near someone who prescribes to whatever the opposite of his 'The Grind and Hustle' lifestyle is. But there are two sides to every coin and the side that Sand had completely blinded himself to even thought it was all right there - long before Boston showed up - is that Ray is an addict. And the way Ray chases the pleasure impulse of Sand's company is - more than just a little mildly concerning. Both times that they engage in anything sexual is Sand giving and Ray receiving, but more importantly Ray talking Sand into it - not in any way that is even remotely close to coercive but doesn't it niggle at the back of your head a little - just how good Ray is at getting Sand to do things for him? I could let the list run from protecting him, cooking for him, driving him, putting on his helmet for him, dressing him, taking him to concerts all such wonderful beautiful, heartwarming, wounded inner child healing things and yet...there are patterns. 'Thank you for saving my life' once is beautiful, sexy, gut wrenchingly vulnerable. But twice?

The guy did have a bottle so it could have been dangerous and his target could have been Ray's head but he also could have smashed it on a table to scare him, on his back, heck he could have been going for Sand too. Doesn't Ray have a tendency to slightly embellish situations to make himself more sympathetic?

My boy Sand has literally been on the receiving end of it adjfkldshjf. Further, when Sand is aiming to bash the guy's head in turn Ray makes zero moves to stop him. Sand could get into a lot of trouble for intervening here and injuring a random customer while he's not bar security and P'Yo and her boyfriend are the only ones actually concerned about Sand here.

Ray is so turned on by his man going all psycho to protect him (understandable) that his only thought is to fuck him (also very very understandable) but he's just gotten so good at asking for it

Incredibly, incredibly good

And he knows how much Sand eats it up

He knows it turns Sand on, uses it repeatedly in the context of sex. In fact it's the only way we've watched him initiate sex this episode

And worst of all, in the times that Sand doesn't quite take the bait Ray knows how to frame it so that it somehow still becomes Sand's idea, Sand's initiative:

And this scene is so mind bogglingly sexy that I was legit SCREAMING because Ray is being SO sneaky and he's an addict and you can see it from a mile away and imagine being Sand and horny and turned on by how much people need you and then having the cutest puppy of a man constantly wagging his tail at you and needing you and being so generous about how much he appreciates you and constantly telling you how big and strong you are and how you're such a great protector like help this man he is so entirely caught in the web that Ray is spinning. I was so into it but I was also like alarm bells ringing like 'Fire! Fire! Fire!' Sand this is exactly the fire that you were once conscious of playing with but he's totally been blinded to it - how could he not be??? Ray is an addict but he's also a creature made entirely of love, what defenses can Sand possibly have against Ray's innocence and sincerity? This has already gotten so long that I need to stop here or my mind will explode but there's more to be said here about how that scene where Boston outs Ray's crush plays out and Ray's complete inability to reach out and comfort Sand. What I can end this part with is that - Sand really, really needed to hear it. Boston's whole 'Sand deserves to know' thing might have been the shittiest cover to his real motivations of just totally fucking up Ray's life but he's not wrong about this. Boston is not wrong about the farce of Sand and Ray's relationship that he so mercilessly calls out. The 25th hour isn't real and Sand knows it. The show is very heavy handed about it and it fits so goddamn well with my Sand and Mew don't exist on the same paradigm of Ray's life idea that I have been peddling since Ep2

[em1e]

⠀めぐみ // SKATES ⠀ ༝ ༝ megumi fushiguro [ft. brother!gojo] ⠀༝ ༝ 3.6k words ⠀ ⚠︎ unrequited love!itadori + ice skater/hockey player au + mentions of drinking + i've never watched a hockey game in my life ⠀ — since the ripe age of eight, you’d pined for him and since he was seventeen, megumi had eyed you with that puppy-dog gaze, and neither of you seemed to notice it from the other. 

“it’s just so hard to talk to them.” 

megumi was never one to confide in others about his problems, but itadori somehow brings out a special side of him. 

“have you tried . . . you know, actually speaking to them?” the teasing grin doesn’t escape the dark-haired male, earning itadori a swipe from megumi. the former narrowly dodges the attack on the ice, holding his hockey stick out as if it’d help keep some amount of distance between the two. “hey, i’m only trying to help!” 

megumi skates closer to itadori despite the stick staying between the two of them, “i’ve already told you why it’s . . . difficult.” 

unintentionally, both pairs of eyes settle on a mop of white hair, off to the side of the rink giving instructions to another one of their teammates. 

“i get they’re related to coach gojo or whatever, and you have some weird mentor-parental-figure thing going on with him, but is that really enough reason to not talk to them?” 

megumi only turns his nose in response, choosing the option of not answering to be the lesser of two evils. 

“don’t think i’ve ever seen you get so worked up over somethin’,” itadori muses with a grin, “you must’ve liked ‘em for a real long time.” 

“shut up.” megumi’s eyes cut to meet itadori’s, narrowed, “just . . . help me, or whatever.” 

“help with what? talking to them? or dealing with whatever you have between coach gojo?” 

megumi mulls over the questions for a second before grimacing, “both?”

“alright,” itadori grins, “here’s what you gotta do . . . “

⠀ ༝ ༝ 

okay, megumi has to hand it to itadori. he isn’t as stupid as some might think. he may be beefy and thick-headed, but he does have some decent ideas. megumi can admit that easily- to himself at least. 

one of the many brilliant things he’s conjured up is watching one of your skating competitions. 

but he only agrees because it’s convenient! your match just happened to be in the same stadium as theirs, set thirty minutes before they need to pull on their own skates, and gojo might’ve invited him to watch what little he could - in front of itadori, no less, leaving megumi to only be able to say ‘sure!’, lest he face itadori later in the locker rooms with that weird judgmental look he likes to give. so -

the three of them sit in the stands. 

decked in their hockey jerseys, waiting for the twirling to start. 

itadori grins, watching megumi from the corner of his eye. his friend bounces his leg anxiously, while the announcer introduces the performers; you and a figure skating partner. maki zenin? the name sounds familiar. 

gojo mumbles something about how nervous you were for this competition, how you practiced day and night and would come back to your shared apartment with bruises littering your arms and legs. 

the two of you skate onto the ice, masks covering your eyes and sparkling outfits adorning your figures; both blue and open chested. it’s cute, how they match, even though itadori has some understanding that it’s only for aesthetics. 

you both take a bow, turn to face each other, and then the music starts. 

and damn is it impressive. 

it starts off measured, in tandem with the music. but slowly, slowly, it picks up until you’re both jumping and spinning and doing all these other incredible moves and everything is synchronized together. 

gojo kicks at itadori’s foot, shaking his daze from the incredible show. 

“match is gonna start soon, gotta get you guys into your skates.” 

itadori blinks once. twice. then nods. he forgot entirely about their own thing. itadori spares a glance to megumi, who’s still completely entranced by your performance. he nudges his friend, who almost recoils at being caught watching so intently. 

“what?” he grinds out, trying to hide the blush forming on his cheeks. 

“our match.” itadori says dumbly, “gotta go.” 

megumi’s eyes flicker from the rink, then back to his friend, before he stands and walks briskly past the two of them without another word. the remaining pairs of eyes meet, before the contact is broken as itadori stands to get his own skates on. 

⠀ ༝ ༝

it’s kind of surprising how many bruises one person can acquire in such a short period of time. 

getting absolutely bodied time and time again isn’t something they’re unused to, but damn. what do these guys eat for breakfast? they’ve managed to keep the score even the entire game, and if megumi gets slammed into the side panels one more time, he thinks he might fucking snap. 

they aren’t quitters, though. the whole team knows that, and they all know that they’ll never hear the end of it from gojo if they lose after being so close to winning. 

it’s interesting to watch from the stand, you note yourself; now in sweats and a hoodie instead of the sparkly skating outfit. maki sits beside you silently taking in each hit your home team takes against the see-through panels. you have the gist down of the game; get the puck into the enemy's goal, but the rest isn’t really your forte. getting smacked around by guys bigger than you isn’t the ideal way to spend your time. 

the game reaches its end with your brother’s team just barely winning. a close call, but you can tell they’re excited nonetheless - skating off the ice with high-fives and chest bumps despite their surely aching muscles. you tap maki’s arm, signaling that you were leaving; plans to meet with your brother after their match pre-made. 

you wait outside of the locker room, thinking back on your performance and the things you should practice; certain jumps for the next competition, possible new routines and the like. one by one, the team files out the door, still as cheery as when they got off the ice. gojo pushes past his players with a laugh as he exits, ducking and narrowly avoiding a kneepad to the head. his shoes aren’t even tied, tripping over his own feet and running straight into you. 

he takes you down in one swoop, grimacing at the impact before realizing you didn’t hit your head. thankfully. 

“god satoru, what’s your problem?”

“sorry!” he hurries out, “megumi was trying to-” 

“you idiot-!” 

you grin at their antics, despite having practically all the air knocked from your lungs. gojo moves to help you stand, shoving you forward in front of your dear friend megumi, who does a double-take at your brother using you as a shield. 

megumi opens his mouth to say something, probably a snide comment to gojo, before thinking better of it and settling on a glare directed at your brother. another player stumbles out the door, grabbing at megumi’s shoulder to pull him back. 

“woah, fushi, let’s take a breather!” 

you can’t help the snort that escapes you, covering your mouth while both pairs of eyes snap to you. 

“‘fushi’?” you giggle out, “didn’t know you had other nicknames, ‘gumi.” 

he flushes, ears tinting red while glaring daggers at the imbecile who dared to call him something so ridiculous. 

“only idiots call me that.” 

itadori finally looks at you instead of his friend, really taking a look at you and damn. you’re nothing like he expected, though he doesn’t even know what he expected. 

you’re the one megumi is head over heels for, and he can really see why. charming in every way it counts, with a bright smile that has him looking away to evade the blush wanting to seep its way onto his cheeks. 

what an odd turn of events. 

⠀ ༝ ༝

somehow, the four of you end up at your apartment; gojo insisting on buying dinner despite everyone trying to pitch in. 

“think of it as a congrats for a well played game - and well performed dance.” he says with a wave of his hand and a grin. not one of you has the energy to argue, so you watch as he leaves the apartment to pick up the take-out. 

megumi and itadori make themselves comfortable on your couch while you make drinks for everyone. tea you’d settled, the promise of it helping their achy muscles on the tip of your tongue as you bring them their cups. 

you find yourself in the loveseat across from them, legs tucked under you while you hold the warm cup close to you, “so, when did you guys meet? it’s rare to meet a friend of ‘gumi’s who hasn’t jumped ship within a month of knowing him.” 

megumi glares at the nickname, transferring it to itadori as he snickers. 

“i knew him in highschool, but we didn’t really talk ‘til i joined the team like ten . . . months ago?” he smiles as he answers, knocking shoulders with his friend, before his brows furrow, “come to think of it, gojo was coaching the school’s team then before he transferred to this one.” 

an unasked question sits on his tongue, head tilting slightly when you smile, “i went to a different high school, didn’t want to be known as the coaches sibling,” you explain with a giggle, “got accepted to a private school with a focus on figure skating.” 

“have you done figure skating long?” itadori sets his cup down and leans back against the couch. 

“pretty much my whole life, since i was like nine. it’s how i met maki , actually.” you smile fondly at the thought of your friend, gaze softening, and the shift in your demeanor isn’t missed by the two, who share a look. 

“are you guys . . . ?” itadori starts, only to be nudged by megumi who gives him a glare. don’t ask. don’t tell. 

your eyebrows raise at the question before you laugh, having to set down your own cup of tea in order to not spill it all over yourself, “dating? no, god no. she’s been pining after yuuta for the last two years-” you say before you can stop yourself. itadori’s face matches your previously surprised one, brows almost reaching his hairline. their yuuta? number one goalie and worst person at flirting? that yuuta? 

“don’t um. . . tell yuuta. or anyone.” 

megumi visibly relaxes at hearing there’s no secret relationship between the two of you, side eyeing itadori. itadori, who hums, “well does yuuta. . . ya know, like her back?” 

you mull over the question before shrugging, “maybe? i don’t really know him super well, but when we do talk, he blushes when her name is mentioned and always speaks so highly of her. i think he doesn’t realize maki feels the same, so they both just keep it to themselves.” 

“yuuta wouldn’t know someone had a crush on him if it hit him in the face.” megumi grumbles, earning a giggle from you. 

“he seems like the type.”  

megumi snorts, eyes narrowing, “yeah, like you’re any better. remember when that kid left a letter in your locker to meet ‘em at the cafe near your school and you made me go with you? poor kid looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole afterwards.” 

your face warms as you rush to sit up straighter, waving your hands, “no, oh my god, don’t remind me!” you squeak out, “that was so embarrassing! he told his friends and i never got another confession letter after that!” 

“maybe you shouldn’t bring people with you to deny your dumb confessions,” megumi argues with no malice, grinning at your dismay. 

you continue to bicker back and forth between each other, reminiscing on the past and adding teasing remarks to each memory. through it all, itadori watches from the sidelines, a grin on his face. 

it’s cute, almost, seeing megumi speak to someone who isn’t a teammate or a rival or a coach or a fan or whatever and there be nothing but warmth in his tone. it’s sweet and refreshing and feels like a breath of fresh air after a long hockey game that’s kept them on the brink of failing and yet . . . 

his chest aches. 

there’s a burn somewhere deep down that has him clenching his jaw and looking down to his lap when you laugh loudly at a joke megumi makes. he feels almost like he doesn’t belong here, in the space with the two of you. it’s too intimate, despite you sitting several feet apart. he’s an intruder on this precious moment that he helped megumi prepare for. all for someone he could have never known he’d want just as much. 

“is there a bathroom?” itadori asks when your laughter dies down to a small fit of giggles, hand covering your mouth to hide your smile. 

“yeah, of course!” you scramble to get up, “let me show you, the lock is kinda finicky sometimes.”

you lead the way and itadori is left behind in the scent of fresh linen and lavender and everything that can only be described as you, and when you explain with a smile on your face how to twist the knob while locking it to make sure it clicks in place, itadori feels the burn in his chest swirl down deep into his gut until it settles there heavily. 

he sits in the bathroom for a little longer than necessary after you leave him alone. 

⠀ ༝ ༝

the ride back to their apartment is silent, stomachs full and tired beyond anyone's belief from their game. 

itadori stares solemnly out the window, noting how it’s almost dramatic the way raindrops roll down the glass, how the clouds make the night sky look a hundred times inkier than it naturally is. 

it’s megumi who breaks the silence, clearing his throat before he speaks, “do you um . . . what . . . what’s the verdict?” 

if itadori could see his friend in the dark, he’d be able to make out the way his cheeks light up pink, unable to to return a glance and gripping the steering wheel unnecessarily tight. 

“for?” he prompts, though he’s sure he knows where this conversation is headed. 

“them.” megumi clarifies ominously, “do you think i might have a chance or whatever.” his voice trails off. 

the sinking feeling returns in the pit of his stomach, and itadori fights to push it down. 

“yeah,” he answers honestly, “they’re sweet on you, talk to you in a different way than everyone else.” 

megumi’s breath stutters at his friend's confession, and itadori has half a mind to remind him to breathe before he kills the both of them; one death due to asphyxiation, the other in a fiery crash. 

“cool.” he says after a moment, “cool, cool, cool.” 

“i’ll help you.” itadori decides to settle with as they pull into the parking lot, “i’ll get the rundown for how they feel and stuff - like a secret wingman.” he sends megumi a toothy grin, and megumi finds himself sending a smile back, albeit small compared to the shining of itadori’s pearly whites. 

and as they carry their hockey gear up two flights of stairs, itadori wonders for a second if his reasoning is all-that innocent. he’s sure, no, positive he wants to help his friend get the person of his dreams. but as he lays in bed, the sinking feeling returns with a dull ache below his gut, and he fears the implication. 

⠀ ༝ ༝

you’re so much easier to talk to than he realized. 

conversation flows so freely from you, and itadori eats up each word that passes your lips without hesitation, eager to keep the flux constant and take everything you have to say with greed. 

he commits each detail to memory with the intention to relay every bit of information you offer to megumi when the two of them are in the safe confines of their home. 

just last week, he’d managed to squeeze a blush out of you as you admitted megumi was your first kiss (a dare, he learned, in middle school when a game of truth or dare threw the two of you into something much more intimate than either you would have ever thought). and tonight, through drunken giggles, celebrating in your apartment after a well-earned win, you delve into the fact that megumi has been your only kiss. almost a decade since, and he’s the only person your lips have touched. 

itadori was practically vibrating as he tells megumi, so very certain of one reason as to why that could be. 

“they totally have the hots for you.” itadori manages to slur out, one too many wine coolers consumed when the two of you tried to out-drink each other. 

megumi grunts, half-heartedly pushing at itadori’s shoulders to get him to pass the threshold of their door, “you think so?” 

“know so.” the reply is almost instant, “you should hear the way they talk ‘bout ya, so sweet nd pretty nd soft.” he grins, “s’cute.” 

megumi freezes behind him, pausing his efforts to get him inside for only a second before he’s back to it, “right.” 

megumi fushiguro may be many things. awkward, aggressive, easily annoyed, but he’s not stupid. 

he sees the way itadori looks at you. sees how his eyes light up in a way that's all-too familiar, and the thought of itadori, his best friend, having a crush on you twists his stomach into intangible knots. 

he pushes the possibility away as he eases his friend into bed, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face when he looks at his phone as he tucks himself away into his room. 

      The Annoying Gojo     txt me ypu made it homw safe!!

he can overlook the misspells, just this once, warmth setting in his chest at your concern. 

     gumi <3       Made it home safe. Drink some water.

you smile stupidly as your eyes dance across your screen, shoving your phone into gojo’s face. 

“look, look, look!” gojo has to grab your wrist and force you to steady yourself, squinting to read. 

“. . . okay?” 

you press the phone closer to his eyes as if that could make him understand clearer what you want him to understand, “he cares, 'toru! ‘gumi cares ‘bout me.” 

he already knows, if the way he acts around you is anything to go by. still, gojo rolls his eyes and pushes your phone away, “don’t go distracting one of my best players now, or you’ll be banned from coming to games.” 

you pout, pulling your phone to your chest protectively, mumbling something about that not being fair and him being so mean for even suggesting the thought. 

still, as gojo leads you to bed, he wonders for a second what truly could be going on in his prodigies mind when it comes to you. you’d been quick friends since gojo practically took megumi in to raise him, much to the boy’s dismay at the time, and he’s watched from the sidelines as the two of you blossomed into incredible young adults. 

since the ripe age of eight, you’d pined for him and since he was seventeen, megumi had eyed you with that puppy-dog gaze, and neither of you seemed to notice it from the other. 

⠀ ༝ ༝

you and maki won your competition. you qualify for nationals. the excitement is palpable, and as you exit the locker room, maki in tow behind you, it’s megumi’s arms you jump into excitedly (completely ignoring your brother and the whines he gives when you don’t immediately accept the flowers he’s brought for you). when you finally separate to acknowledge the rest of the group, itadori finds it impossible to tear his gaze from the blush on your cheeks. 

you hug him, too, and finish with your brother, who picks you up and spins you for your well-earned win. your laughter is infectious, bubbling something warm in his chest that has him smiling too while a now dating yuuta and maki say their goodbyes - hands held together and matching blushes on their cheeks in their retreat. 

and of course to celebrate, there’s drinking. 

after a nice dinner (that gojo paid for), the four of you settle with your liquor (that gojo bought) in your apartment. you’re already pretty tipsy by the time you settle on the couch beside megumi, itadori on the loveseat across from you. a giggle passes your lips as gojo leaves the apartment on the phone, saying something about business, reminded easily of the first time the three of you had been left in your home together. 

“‘gumi, ‘gumi, you’re coming to my finals right?” you ask, disregarding the blush that decorates his cheeks as you practically stick to his side. megumi’s eyes meet itadori’s for help, and the latter only shrugs while giving him a thumbs up. he can handle this. 

itadori excuses himself to the bathroom. 

and as he hears your giggle drifting through the apartment, saccharine sweet and not for him, he finds himself closing the door with a little more force than necessary. it’s then that itadori realizes how unfair life can be. when he looks at himself in the mirror, hands braced against the granite counter, he wonders if things could’ve been different. 

if he had met you sooner, would things be different? 

he’s reminded how crudely unfair it is that you were introduced to him so late in life. he's known gojo since high school, but you've known megumi since you were six - and some part of him comes to the conclusion that you’ve probably loved him since then, too. 

when he comes out of the bathroom, you’re tucked safely into megumi’s side, with him whispering things only you could hear, and itadori feels that bitter feelings returning without warning as he makes himself another drink. it’s wrong, he knows, to allow it to settle in a pit, but he knows he never really had a shot to begin with.

not when he can see you giving megumi one of those soft smiles only reserved for him from his spot in the kitchen. not when megumi returns it with his own gentleness that comes by cupping your cheek, by pressing the tenderest of kisses to your lips.

[not-poignant]

Omg please drop some of your fave 00s Midwestern emo

Absolutely!

So first thing I should say is that I love a lot of emo, not just 00s Midwest. And most of the musicians I loved then, I still follow to some capacity now (it's also how I found musicians like Manchester Orchestra long before they went viral.

For specifically Midwest era, it'd have to be:

The Get Up Kids (I would die for Matt Pryor, his prolificness and songwriting is incredible. He's also The New Amsterdams, and writes as Matt Pryor, he also did children's albums as The Terrible Twos and now has a punk band I always forget the name of). For people new to TGUK, would highly recommend Red Letter Day, and I'll Catch You

There's also Jets To Brazil, mewithoutYou, Sunny Day Real Estate, Spanish Love Songs (folks who listen to my playlists might recognise the song Brave Faces Everyone, which I'm also using as an upcoming chapter title). I've seen The Shins listed as Midwest emo and I enjoy them but I don't think they fit the genre, lol. There's also Mineral, Rainer Maria, Modest Mouse etc.

In terms of more broadly, the emo artists I've love/d are like Brand New (controversial these days, I know), Taking Back Sunday, Acceptance, The Academy Is..., Panic! at the Disco (they've strayed from their roots but I still like em), Say Anything, Matchbook Romance, Dashboard Confessional, The Early November, All Time Low (do an amazing cover of Umbrella), Fall Out Boy, The Format (not really emo but they were in this crowd), Jimmy Eat World, JamisonParker, Death Cab for Cutie, Alexisonfire! (Screamo), Anberlin, Hellogoodbye, and probably a bunch of others I'm missing!

I've been to see Dashboard Confessional and Brand New live (the latter was the first band I ever flew to another state to see, because they weren't going to come to Perth), and I've intended to see Taking Back Sunday twice but both times was too sick to go.

I live with a music journalist, and we're both very interested in all kinds of music, usually with different projects going on at the same time. Currently he's trying to get through all the top albums by year since albums existed (he's now in the early 90s), curating a playlist of '100 top songs per year' series of playlists. I'm doing my Colourways project this year, which is creating playlists of 30 unique songs each that match some of the top selected colours of the year. (I'm currently listening to Kenepuru Sound in that collection).

Last year were both actively tried to listen outside of our music spaces, so Glen targeted a lot of foreign countries, and I specifically lasered in on Indonesia, because that suited some worldbuilding I was doing. Consequently made a giant Indonesian-songs playlist, and fell in love with Padi. Everyone should. (Go listen to Semua Tak Sama, especially if you love Radiohead). I also focused on listening to a lot of Indigenous Australian music, which led me to Alf the Great, who made the song Running that I added to a few playlists. He's Kalkadungu/Bidjara.

The year before that I was followed on playlist curation, etc. We're both a bit neurodivergent about our music habits, except that Glen can't listen to the same song over and over again, and I can to his dismay, so I have to be careful how I do it (and normally not when he's home).

[somorrow]

Can I request a Naruto character (your pick ofc) meeting reader’s parents for the first time!

“It could be worse. She could be dating an Uchiha.” As you opened your own door to exit the vehicle that had just parked in front of the house, Jiraiya’s narrowed optics bored into the dark, piercing eyes of his wife. Tsunade’s arms were crossed over her chest as they stood before the front window. Jiraiya shook his head, a heavy feeling in his gut. "This is worse. I've seen that kid at signings before."

He could never forget that sideways, spiky silver hair. He’d never seen any other man with locks that defied gravity the way his had — not other than himself at least, and maybe his godson.

Tsunade’s brows narrowed, her pink lips scowling. “What?! You know him?!”

“Yeah, Kakashi was his name. Kakashi Hatake. I remember it from the signing.”

“Sakumo’s boy?”

“Yup.”

“Wasn’t he always in trouble for fighting?”

“Yup.”

“Damn it,” Tsunade cursed, clenching her fists. "A pervert and a delinquent. What the hell are you thinking, (Name)?!"

"It's a new relationship. We could ruin it."

Tsunade gave it a genuine thought before clicking her tongue. "We shouldn't. She seems happy." "It's only been two months. It won't kill her to start again." He let out a scoff of disbelief when the two of you began to walk over his freshly cut grass, hand-in-hand. "Oooh, it's so over." "Cut it out! Get away from the window before they see us!" "Let him see me." Tsunade groaned and wrapped her arms around her husbands toned bicep and pulled. "Let's go, big boy. Time to pretend you've never met him."

The doorbell echoed throughout the house, and Jiraya propelled himself forward to reach it before her. He swung the door open in a flash, face already flushing in a swirl of anger and humiliation. As he opened the door, your happy greeting took all thoughts of assault from his mind. You immediately disregarded your boyfriend's hand for a hug from your father, latching onto your mother next. "Hi, dad! Sorry we're late! My cat got out, and Kakashi had to help me chase her." Kakashi had a face of stone, though it was pressed into a smile. He lowered himself into a substantially low bow. Unusually so, for Kakashi, but you knew he had to really lay it on in order to get out of this alive. Especially after you'd just botched it all to hell. What the hell had you been thinking?! Your cat got out?! She was terrified of the outdoors! "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Senju. My name is Kakashi Hatake." You gave your mom a second hug - almost an apologetic one - before pulling back. An awkward pause settled between the four of you. If looks could kill, your boyfriend would be 12 feet deep twice over. Your father especially appeared to be seconds away from lashing out - either in a vicious, verbal way or, you were afraid he'd really punch him. A mix of emotions filled him as he eyed Kakashi. He was composed and respectful thus far - it would be unfair to keep the pressure mounting much further. Trying to keep his tone neutral, Jiraiya invited you in. "Well, let's not just stand in the doorway. Come on in." Kakashi bowed again before smiling. "Thank you. It's an honor to meet you, truly. (Name) is incredible in every way." Kakashi continued to lay on the charm throughout the next hour and a half, through a meal your mother had cooked (one of his least favorites, although he didn't particularly mind it this time), and both of you managed to stumble through conversations without any accidental innuendos. The time came, though, to where the dinner had ended, the conversations had died, and you needed to leave to prepare for work the next morning. It was evident they were still wary, though they had eased with time. You figured this would have to be something they got used to - you had been single for a long time, after all. During your goodbyes, though, it felt far much more lighthearted than before. You turned to your mother for one last hug, with Kakashi bowing to them both and shaking your fathers hand. "Take care of my daughter, Hatake." Your heart fluttered at the sound. Kakashi's eyes widened a bit as Jiraiya pulled him in. "And throw out every copy you own," he whispered threateningly. "Every. Last. One." He'd burn them. "Yes, sir. Of course," Kakashi agreed, fighting through a stutter. With that, Jiraiya's crushing grip eased, and your mother finally let go of her hug. You crossed the grass once more, hand-in-hand. "That went well!" You chimed. Kakashi winced a bit as you squeezed it reassuringly, an energetic lift to your step. "I hope so..." He said, rubbing the back of his neck, looking up at the tail end of the sunset, stars beginning to glitter above. "Next time, we won't be late." Edit: I moved this to ao3! Thanks for the inspiration. Here's the link: xxx.

[heartinportuairk]

I went to the final performance of Macbeth last night and I wanted to make some notes for myself so I would remember some things. I only use this account for lurking but I am making this public in case anyone scouring the David Tennant / Macbeth tags is interested in my musings for some reason.

I had been lucky enough to have seen this production three times already before last night - twice in December and once in January - so I have been able to track its journey and pick out what changes night on night and what doesn't. I have found that fascinating. Any changes were minor and pretty much exclusively found in simply the way a line was spoken. For example, the brilliant Noof Oussellam (Macduff)'s "but I must also feel it as a man" was impassioned and angry the first and last times, but the two times inbetween I found it to be more subtle. More sadness, more despair than anger. I guess it comes down to how the actor is feeling it in that point in time and I think it shows a great understanding of the character that they play them in the moment and don't just mimic themselves night after night.

The other great thing about going multiple times is viewing it from different angles. I saw it from all sides, twice from the stalls and twice from the front row of the circle. Honestly, circle was better, especially for Macbeth's death in the closing moments. You do not get the effect of the blood seeping out from under him from the stalls and I tell you now, that image from above sears itself onto your brain.

All of the actors are incredible and have been from the start, but there were a few times last night where I could feel them step up their game. Like they knew it was the last time they were going to say that line (at least for a while) so they were going to give it their all.

One of those times was Macbeth's "tomorrow and tomorrow" soliloquy which had always been brilliant and very moving, but about which something was a little different last night. The quiet, raw emotion in that speech felt as though it had been ramped up (or down??) a notch and was so palpable that it brought a tear to my eye.

Another moment came from Lady Macbeth's sleepwalking scene. Again, always brilliant and always moving but somehow desperately sadder this time around. I wanted to give that murderous, conniving fiend a big hug.

The Porter:

The porter scene is funny but obviously not as much when you know what's coming. Which is why when somebody in the audience yelled out "who's there?" right before he got a chance to say his "ok seriously do none of you understand the concept of a knock-knock joke?" line last night, it was both a shame and a blessing. I felt a bit bad for the guy!

"Alright, you've seen the show before! That was my favourite-... and it's the final show!"

But what followed was a hilarious bit of improvisation and it changed things up a bit, especially as Laura the sound engineer proceeded to make his job even harder with the timing of the sound effects that followed. It meant I was able to enjoy the porter scene as much as I did the first time, but like I said, I did feel a bit bad that his favourite line got taken away from him! (It wasn't me who called out, by the way.)

David bloody Tennant:

I've not seen much Shakespeare live (I want to remedy that, I have become completely obsessed), but I can believe people when they say David Tennant is arguably the greatest Shakespearean actor of his time. You can tell he feels and understands completely the meaning behind the words he is saying. He's not just reciting, not just reeling it off. The pauses, the intonations, the passion, sadness, grief, guilt behind every line just shows his deep understanding of the character and his innermost thoughts. On that stage, he is Macbeth.

What's more is you can tell he absolutely delights in it. Anybody who knows anything about DT knows he loves Shakespeare and it is glaringly evident when he is out on stage. He puts everything he has into it and it is wonderful to witness.

He is truly an amazing actor and a treasure and I have been so delighted to watch his career somehow continue to hit new highs of late. Everything he touches seems to turn to gold. As many have said before me, this really is David Tennant's world and the rest of us are just living in it.

The bows:

The reception this group of actors received at the end of the performance was phenomenal and no more than they deserved. Everybody on their feet, whooping, cheering. A lot of noise coming from such a small audience. The cast were both playful and tearful. To see some of the actors get a bit emotional was very touching and I hope that was, at least in part, due to the love and admiration pouring out of us and on to that stage.

[ofliterarynature]

SEPTEMBER 2024 WRAP UP

[loved liked ok nope dnf reread* (book club)]

Bryony & Roses • The Paragon Hotel • The Invisible Library • (The Magic Fish) • The Gathering • Paladin of Souls • Mislaid in Parts Half-Known • Red White & Royal Blue* • North Woods • The Empty Grave* • Barda • Lost in the Moment & Found • The Creeping Shadow* • The Spellshop • Lalani of the Distant Sea

* * * * *

Lockwood & Co - not much to say, but it was fun revisiting an old favorite! It's becoming clearer with age and rereads that there are things about this series that I don't like, but the things I like definitely outweigh them - the way it does ghosts and uses a casebook structure among them! Would highly recommend if you're looking for something a bit spooky and mysterious.

Lost in the Moment and Found - this book was very hard to get into, because as it warns you, the opening involves a child experiencing grooming and gaslighting from an adult, and it is tense. Oof. But that said, between this and Mislaid in Parts Half-Known, I think Antsy's story and the Shop Where the Lost Things Go might be my favorite place and narrative arc we've seen yet.

Barda - I was obsessed with Ngozi's Check Please! for a number of years, and I think she's a very funny person in general! I read this on the strength of that alone despite no previous knowledge of the DC characters involved. I do honestly think this needed to be twice as long to get the depth of story necessary for an outsider, but dang did she pack the emotions in! I can fully see why she's obsessed with these characters, even if I don't feel like I have enough info to get into it myself.

North Woods - honest to god I'm so glad I picked up a copy of this at the library book sale, because I don't know if OR when I might have gotten to it otherwise. I don't really have the words, but it's one of those slow, literary, speculative, books that you have to work to put together that I love to listen to on audiobook and just marinate in for a few days. I would highly recommend to fans of Emily St John Mandel.

Red White & Royal Blue - I'll be honest, I somehow found myself on a FirstPrince fanfic binge and eventually hit a point where I thought to myself, you know, I've only read the book once, maybe I should go check that out again. It was fun! Remarkably similar in tone to the fanfic, so keep up the good work yall ;D

Paladin of Souls - Y'all. I'm so mad it took me this long to get to this after Curse of Chalion. I've seen this recommended so many times independent of the first book and they were so right, I loved it. Character-driven fantasy, great world building, a middle-aged female character who's on a journey of self-discovery and also so done with everyone's shit (including the gods, lol).

The Gathering - a murder investigation in Alaska with vampires *sounds* cool, but... the vampires are people, they're sentient, they have a culture, but they're also deeply hated and treated like predatory animals and are designated a protected species? It's trying to say something, but I'm not sure it works. Definitely taught me that I don't like crime novels or thrillers, but some bonus points for being unexpectedly queer.

The Magic Fish - I've see this around, but tumblr finally convinced me that I needed to read it and I got it onto the book club list. It was completely not what I was expecting, it was so much better! The description really led me to think it would be a lot more YA-ish and be about the son, but his mom is just as important to the story! It's got fairy tales, it's got complexity, the art was incredibly beautiful, ah!!! I'll be needing to get my own copy so I can read it again and think about it some more.

The Invisible Library - tumblr apparently finds this book very divisive, and both times I've asked about it there's been a 50/50 split on whether people liked or hated it lol. SO I went in with very low expectations, and I thought it was fun! It's not a great work of fantasy, I will give you that, but I do enjoy a tropey alt/historical fantasy adventure on occasion, and this filled that niche pretty well. It also didn't lean into a romance plot like I was afraid it would, and as long as it continues to do so (or at least handles it well), I think I could have fun with the rest of this series.

The Paragon Hotel - this is somehow my third Lydsay Faye, and while I don't think I've particularly loved any of them, she can really write a very solid book! A good read, with queer identities playing an unexpectedly major part in the plot!

Bryony & Roses - I have so far epically failed in my goal this year to read more of T Kingfisher's fantasy backlist, but I saw this on hoopla and thought I could fit it in. A very good time as always!

DNF

The Spellshop (16%) - I've read the author's YA in the past and (mostly) liked it at the time, and have been meaning to read her previous adult book for ages. Unfortunately, I've been having terrible luck with anything recent being marketed as cozy fantasy. I put 2 hours into this on audiobook and my initial impression of the story was earnestly quirky, charming, and anxious. Perhaps better than L&L, but I wasn't feeling much more than a vague interest and decided to cut my losses before my feelings entirely soured.

Lalani of the Distant Sea (10%) - this book sounds really cool (yes I did love Moana), the mythology and worldbuilding in the bit I read was interesting, but it is very much written for a younger reader. If I had any in my life currently I would be happy to give this to them! Just not the right pick for me right now.

[myfriendsstinkyfeet]

2022 was an extremely fragrant year, Tom's feet left my nose no respite. I didn't expect 2023 to start with a kind of "ceremony of allegiance at his feet" for this new year which, apparently, still has a lot of surprises in store for me!

"I took care to wear the same socks for several months just to test your resistance to my feet and their stench!" 😏

The smell was indeed very strong, I could feel the heat emanating from his feet through his dirty socks!

The color of his socks testifies to the intensity of the smell they contained!

"You didn't expect this! I've been wearing these socks non-stop for months! Every day, no matter what shoes I'm wearing! When I work all day in my work shoes? I have them on my feet! In my Airmax? I have them on my feet! In the evening under the duvet? I have them on my feet!" 😈

The smell is so strong that I can't resist sticking my nose in it!

I barely have time to make up my mind when Tom sticks his two hot, smelly feet on my face!

"Come on, smell that! I know you've been dying to stick your nose in! That's good huh?! I know what makes you hard!" 😈

I end up lying on the floor, his two stinky, wet and hot feet abusing my face, forcing me to inhale this smell that caused my undoing... 🤤

"Stay with me! You ain't seen nothing yet honey! Take my socks off..."😏

Wow!🤯 One sock can hide another!

"Two pairs of socks, twice the smell honey!😈" Barely time to realize what was happening that both feet were glued to my face! The smell was even stronger and more intense! I could feel how dirty his socks were. They have never been washed and that turns me on even more!

His socks had lost their original gray as they had been worn.

"Come on, don't be shy! Worship my feet like they deserve! My two dirty smelly feet are going to enjoy your sweet face! This will be even better than the last one!" 😈

This bewitching smell completely hypnotizes me.

"He is taking the most important step in this allegiance!" Tom started to take off his socks.

"This part is important because it will show whether or not you are ready to worship my feet properly in this New Year! To close this allegiance, you will have to give of yourself, make an offering! "

What offering could I give him?

Tom rubbed his foot on my face and then slowly descended to the bump in my pants...

“Your precious nectar!”😈

"Drop your pants! I want to see if your peacock likes my feet that much!" 😏

Faced with his two soles, I could hardly resist. My boxers were full of wet. By lowering my pants and my boxers, my peacock released a net of wet which landed on the sole of Tom's foot 😅 "It's already a good start! 😏 My feet will have no difficulty emptying it to the last drop!"

Tom stuck a sole of his foot on my pubis to hold my peacock, and the other foot could take care of my glans which wet even more when Tom's sole crashed and rubbed on him 🤤 I was so wet that the sole of the foot was flooded! His foot slid perfectly along my peacock and especially on my glans as his sole was lubricated!

I couldn't contain my moans as the feeling was incredible! I let his feet enjoy my helpless peacock!

"Now it's high time to make your offering to thank my feet for all they do for you and for all they will do this year! Feed them your nectar! That's all they ask for! "😈

The touch of his soles against my slobbery glans was so good that I couldn't last very long... "5...4...3...2...1...0...Spit your nectar on my feet now!!!!"

My glans made its offering and spat out all its juice, flooding the soles of its feet! "That's good Chéri! This year promises to be very abundant! Your nose and your peacock won't be able to rest!" 😈

#Tom'sFeet

[darkesttimelinestuff]

"Do you recognize this?"

Day 7 of Fictober! How am I still doing this? Really proud that I've been able to write every day.

I had a lot of fun finding pictures for today's story.

Prompt #7 - "Do you recognize this?"

Find me on Ao3

Scully had turned her office upside down and inside out looking for her passport. She knew exactly where it was. Where she always kept it. Or, at least where it should have been. 

Maybe Mulder had moved it. He sometimes tossed things aside without realizing it. That’s how she had lost her paycheck once, until it turned up at the bottom of some of Mulder’s papers. Neither was quite sure how it had happened, but from then on Scully was certain to keep important documents as far from Mulder’s reach as possible. 

“Mulder, are you sure you didn’t touch the things in my desk?” she called across the room.

“I’m sure!” he shouted back defensively. “What business would I have going through your desk?”

“Because I always keep my passport right here,” she said, pointing to a drawer, “and I don’t see it. And if I can’t find it, we can’t go to Mexico tomorrow.”

Mulder stood and crossed the room to her desk. “Let me check,” he offered. “Two sets of eyes are better than one, right?”

She motioned with her hand, giving him permission to look.

“Be my guest, but I doubt you’ll find it. I’ve searched that desk twice,” she insisted, slumping in a nearby chair in frustration. 

As Mulder bent over the desk in concentration, Scully checked out his ass. Even in his 50s he had killer buns! 

“It’s so unlike you to misplace these things,” he was saying. “I’m a little disappoint…”

And then he stopped. 

“What?” she asked, worried that maybe he found her passport but it was damaged or expired. 

“Oh wow!” he exclaimed, standing up and examining something she couldn’t quite see. 

It looked like a small paper and she suddenly became very self-conscious. 

“What is it?” she asked, reaching for his hands, hoping to pry them open.

“Oh, it is the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen,” Mulder said, “and I can’t believe you never showed me!”

“Mulder, what is it?” she demanded, cursing her short stature. 

“Do you recognize this?” He held up a photograph.

“Oh, my god,” she said, feeling both embarrassed and defensive about the picture. “I haven't thought about that in a very long time.”

The picture showed a young Dana Katherine Scully on a bed in a black lace push-up bra and panties. She hated that word, but there was no better term for it. They weren’t underwear; that was too plain. No, these were panties. The kind a partner used their teeth to slide down your legs. 

This was Dana, not Scully, and she was bold and sensual, rather than pragmatic and sensible. Her smothering eyes said, “come fuck me,” and you couldn’t deny her anything. 

“Well,” Mulder said, licking his lips, “this is fucking incredible.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes! I love this! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this.”

“There are,” Scully said hesitantly, “more.”

“I need to see them,” he replied, almost too excited.

“Well, this was back when I first started at the F.B.I.,” she said, searching for the other pictures. “My friend suggested it and I don’t know what possessed me, but it seemed like a good idea.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No, not at all! I’m very proud of these pictures. But they’re more for me than anyone else. Ah! Here they are,” she said, handing him the rest of the photos.

The pictures showed a progression of Dana Scully shedding a man’s white button-up shirt, so that she was hugging her lace-clad breasts, posing suggestively on a bed, and, in the last one, looking right into the camera with nothing but a sheet wrapped around her.

“Well, I would be honored if they could also be for me.”

“They aren’t a secret. I just forgot about them,” she admitted. “So much has happened to us.”

“We’ve known each other, what, over twenty years,” Mulder said, “and you never thought to show me these?”

“Twenty-five years.”

“I’m really glad you lost your passport,” Mulder said, studying each and every photo.

[agirlandherquill]

Written In Smoke - The Letter Stained In Ink

this week's letter comes to you fresh off the high of finishing reading a book, which i'll be sure to ramble about a little later on so bear with me, a few things have happened this week so here goes!

A Glimpse Through Time - little bits about me and what I’ve been up to this week

the past few days at least have been a lot, a good lot don't get me wrong, but a lot, now here's what I've been up to

A great chunk of my Saturday afternoon comprised of watching F1 (slipping in another fact about me, i'm a big fan), watching the practice, then an F2 sprint and then the F1 Qualifying for the big race - and i'm so freaking happy because my two favourite drivers are in the top 3 positions for tomorrow (you can tell this is written mere minutes after watching the madness) - it's also pretty cool because the track for the UK's race isn't all that far from me, and I'm hoping to grab tickets for next season

While I was watching the incredible chaos of F1, I was also reading, bit more on that below, but the universe must love me because the race finished the same moment that I read the final sentence of my book - talk about timing

I BOOKED MY TRIP TO BATH - I'm so so excited to go and see the Jane Austen Centre and Mary Shelley's House of Frankenstein, issue is I have just over a week to read 4 more Jane Austen books (I've only read persuasion and pride and prejudice, both twice) and Frankenstein (this is my motivation to finally read it haha), but it'll be doable for sure

This absolute genius was 3 hours late (cough, attempting to renew at 2am, cough) returning library books, but the people at the library were so sweet and got rid of the 15p charge and renewed them for me instead - first, and hopefully only time I'm late with library books fingers crossed

Books - This week's been a bit more productive writing-wise, so I only had time to read one book this week, and I finished it today (saturday, incase I take too long to write the rest of this week's entry and send it off tomorrow instead, and let's be honest, it's likely) - You, by Caroline Kepnes, and I've seen the show many, many times, and the book was just as addictive, I'm thinking of reading the rest but that might be a plan for the future since my bookshelves and kindle library are begging me to read the books i own and have yet to read rather than buying more - I did however grab a copy of P.S I Love You in a charity shop and I can't believe it, it literally looks NEW, so I'm going to look forward to reading and watching the movie at some point - I'm also halfway through Love, Theoretically and I am OBSESSED, that and Love Hypothesis were the only books I was planning on reading by the author but now I'm not so sure, they're so GOOD

Shows/Movies - My. Lady. Jane. SPEECHLESS (as of writing this I'm only on episode 5, but I'm hoping to finish it this weekend) and I can't wait to devour the book when the tie-in edition comes out (this is one I NEED in paperback, sorry bookshelves), I also watched Empire Strikes Back this week and can I just say I'm more of a Leia and Han fan than I expected to be - they're so good

Music - us. by Gracie Abrams (this is one of very few of her songs that I know but it is so good to write with, on loop, or it was for the scene I was writing, but that's just what it's like being a writer I suppose, music changes with each scene and some songs fit better than most), Chlorine by TOP - my friends introduced me to them and this is probably my favourite song of theirs, and that's it for this little segment they're the two main songs I can think of

oh and I can include a slightly major adulting achievement - I voted for the first time this week, it was a strange, strange feeling but it happened - I'm not big on politics, not at all, so I won't say too much about it but the thought of crossing a box to decide a country's future is really funny to me, I could not tell you why, but it makes me laugh

Spills From The Ink-Pot - writing, writing, and more writing

this is England, it may be July but the skies sure do know how to pour - which means more time indoors for me writing (I do love writing outside, when it's not too cold, but the rain's brought a little bit of an anti-summer chill, shocker, so this week's been more of an indoors-y one for me)

The current draft of Ruin's Reprisal took a bit of a hammering, as did my keyboard - in the last 3 days alone I've written 6,000 (ish) words, which is a lot for me recently, and it's only going to be more still throughout the rest of this weekend - people ask me why I have a keyboard cover on my laptop, this is why, I hate the thought of wearing down the keys and leaving fingerprints on my screen when I shut my laptop- and with a keyboard cover none of that happens, and my keyboard survives just a little longer (pray for the poor thing, I know I am) - at the time of almost publishing this letter I'm now sitting at 12,000 words written by the end of the weekend (whoops)

Current Word Count is sitting at 212,525, but that's with me having edited up to halfway through Part Two, it's by no means a set number given the amount of chapters I still have to go through, but it's progress (and i love progress)

I'm thinking of making a checklist in these letters to encourage myself to do more writing things in the next week, so here's next week's goals:

Come up with Part Titles - I have Chapter ones, why not for Parts too?

I want to finish Part Two by next week - that's 5 chapters away, possibly doable?

Slightly bigger goal than just next week - I want to write a short story, or a story, maybe not so short, but I want to write start to finish over the summer (maybe it'll be a novella?), it's a challenge I'm setting for myself alongside writing Ruin's Reprisal, and it starts with the little snippet I released earlier this week - writing on a clueless whim becomes an actual, surprisingly good thing, who knew?

I have plenty to show you this time around dear reader, so here's a few snippets for you to sink your teeth into:

She grabbed his hand and pressed it over her bleeding thigh. “Do it. Heal me.” Fenley frowned. “Edeva-” “There’s no time. They’ll find us. I need you to do it.” His brows furrowed, he watched her carefully. “You’ll reject it, won’t you?” He’s figured it out, or he thinks he has. Either way, it doesn’t matter. “This Exilza will survive.” Fenley’s jaw tightened. “I’ll hurt you.” His eyes swept up from her leg to her face. She caught his stare, and she held it. “Then hurt me. I know you’ll make it right.” “…But I can’t.” She watched his throat bob up and down. He’s not willing to hurt me more before he heals me. Her fingers twitched by her sides. It’s going to take drastic measures to make him do it.  She reached up and slung her arm over his shoulders, drawing him in close, Fenley grunted in shock, she used his distraction to grab one of the knives from his coat, he jerked back, his mouth hanging open as she buried the blade in her thigh, close to her wound, and buried her face in his chest to muffle a cry of pain. She breathed deeply and braced herself to rip out his knife. She pressed it into his hands.  “Until I bleed out, my life is yours. Decide.”

This was not hunting, this was not defence, this was murder through and through.  Edeva had taken a life, and now the epithet hanging over her name was true. I am a murderer. Vanquisher. Slaughterer. Monster. She sank to her knees, clutching her head, as the names began to swirl, over and over until they blurred, becoming a perpetual scream in her mind, she could think, still she could not breathe, she could not move. The ground shook, the Oksa were coming for her. She did not look, she did not lift her chin from her chest, she remained still on her knees, succumbing to her fate, her punishment for what she had done. I deserve it. I took a life of theirs and they’ll take this life of mine. The darkness crept in, it took over her, numbing the world until all she could see was the dark, shrouding her like a cloak. Her heart stuttered in her chest. This was not death, this was Shael. “Edeva.” Fenley’s whisper forced her to lift her head. He was on his knees too, one hand on her shoulder. “What are you doing?” “Accepting.” She hadn’t the strength to say more, or the strength to look him in the eye, but he stopped her, he made her, his fingers grasped the hair at the nape of her neck and pulled back sharply enough to force her to meet his gaze. “There is nothing to accept and I will not see you give up, I will not see you submit, not to them. I will not stand around watch your neck break - I won’t,” His jaw clenched. “I won’t, and you won’t either.” The hand on her shoulder pushed roughly and she fell, she fell from the ethereal cloak of Shael and back to the world, back to the fighting. Where Oksa had been there were now smoking remains, such smoke wasn’t normal, and she realised it wasn’t. It was shadow. Whatever Fenley had done she was glad she hadn’t seen it, but he had done it to help her, to save her, to help her save herself - for just a little longer.  Something glinted to her right, it was her sword, sticking out of the dirt. Fenley. He wants me to fight. He wanted her to do the impossible. “I can’t.” She closed her eyes, her fingers curling in on themselves as her hand hung limply by her side. Vitaires do not fall. We stand. We stay standing.  Her Mama’s words had never been so loud in her mind. They were true, they were everything she needed, much like Fenley’s push. I am Edeva Vitarie and I will stand. She took her first breath, then another, I. Will. Stand.

and this next snippet comes from the short story i'm writing (alas yet to be given a title): “It isn’t very often someone gets away with saying no to me.” She startled at his voice. She turned to see him squatting atop a large bin, crammed against a wall, overflowing with rubbish, none of it seemed to bother him as he prowled over its lid and crept down to her level. Her fingers stilled against her laces. “Have I?” “Not quite.” “I should warn you I’m expected somewhere.” “This won’t take long, I came only to give you this.” She flinched at an envelope hitting her lap, she hadn’t felt him move, let alone seen it.  “If I open it, will it kill me?” “That envelope contains ink and paper, nothing more.” “Nothing less, either.” She mused, slipping the envelope into her coat. “Your stationery is what most would die for.” “Really? I thought I was using the cheaper stuff.” “Rich, are we?”  His laugh almost tempted one of hers. “Not quite. Save your questions for another night, I trust we’ll have one.” He sounds more self assured than the corporate suits that rule the city, is such a thing possible? She stood, laces tied, envelope secure, and hugged herself. The chill of the night had never been so clear to her as it was now.  “If I tell you no, again, will you seek me out?” “You sought me first, I only thought to return the favour.” Is that… A touch of defence? How interesting.  “Very well, I-” “I thought I’d lost you for a minute there, everything all right?” The Assistant’s voice cut through the alley, she turned around, putting on a reassuring smile. “I needed to tie my laces that’s all.” She took a few steps toward him, only glancing back as they went to turn back onto the street. The alley was empty, he was gone.  His letter seemed to weigh more in her pocket before, she placed a hand over it to steady it, and herself. My refusal paid off, he’s more interested than ever before. The more interest, the more willing he is to tell his story. He wanted another night, she sought out plenty more - and she would have them. She had him hooked, and she knew it. 

good grief this week's one is LATE (apologies dear reader, these past few days have been busy ones) but here you go! this week's letter is all typed up, compiled and heading your way!

~ A Girl and Her Quill

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