#infinitely better than the ones where she still doesn’t want anything to do with me

[dreams-in-daylight]

.

[tsaomengde]

The Ones Who Found The City

Ursula K. LeGuin's "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" is a classic short story, and obviously I knew of it, but I'd never actually read it until recently. Well, I finally got around to it, and as many timeless classics do, it got stuck in my brain. This story is my - response? homage? sequel? pale imitation? - to it. I suggest you go and read "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" if you haven't. Not because it's actually required reading for this story - I think it stands on its own more or less okay - but because it is a classic for a reason.

---

Initially, no one is quite certain of what they’ve found when the Animus breaches the next manifold layer.  This is in and of itself expected, of course.  Exploring psychspace is by its very nature an unpredictable venture.  Each of the various infinite layers is unique and bizarre in its own way, reflecting the archetypal underpinnings of an entire species present, past, or future across an infinitude of possible realities.  The crew of the Animus, therefore, has seen things so utterly alien and inexplicable that only the rigors of their training and the care put into their psychic warding saved them from insanity.

It is somewhat disappointing, then, to find that this sub-domain is just a city.  Definitely not Terranic, certainly not, but still following the Terranic modality, with no more than a seven-degree quantum drift.

“Towers,” Thromby says into the recorder as they sit at their post at the nose of the Animus’s command center.  “Following the standard skyscrape pattern.  Unclear if they’re domiciles or business centers or both.  Coastal city, bay appears to be oceanic rather than lake.  Pleasing blend of urbanization with natural setting.”  They glance at Vigil.  “Anything on the lifescope?”

Vigil shakes his head.  “Nothing.  It’s empty.  Totally empty.”

“That’s odd,” Katrina speaks up from the helm.  “The city doesn’t show signs of decay or reclamation by nature.”

“Entropy may not work in the usual way in this sub-domain,” Teasha reminds her.  “The city itself could be the natural growth, reclaiming the artificial countryside.  We’ve seen things like that before.”

Thromby feels Katrina’s unconscious bristling at the subtle reminder that she is the newest member of the crew and thus less experienced in the vagaries of psychspace than everyone else.  Next to Vigil, who is only nineteen, she is also the youngest.  “I would expect,” Katrina says, her voice cool, “that in a sub-domain so obviously based on human archetypes, entropy and nature-versus-civilization tropes would function more or less as usual.”

“I’m certain you would,” Teasha replies, her voice equally cool.  “When you’ve been at this as long as me and Thromby, you’ll learn better.”

“Enough of that,” Thromby says before Katrina can reply.  They love Teasha, but she tends to be too harsh on new crewmembers.  A defense mechanism, they know, to insulate her from the all-too-common pain of losing them.  But Katrina has too much to prove.  The clash is natural and to be expected, and even useful at times, but now is not one of them.  “Vigil, get me readings on atmosphere, microbiome, and psychic radiation, if any.  Katrina, pick a spot on the coast and bring us down there.  I want to see if the ocean is actually an ocean or a liminality representation.  Teasha, get the Animus tuning to this sub-domain’s resonance frequency.  I don’t want any dissociation issues.”

The orders are mostly unnecessary, since everyone already knows what they’re about, but they serve their intended purpose, which is to re-focus everyone on the task at hand and redirect their nervous energies, particularly Katrina’s.  Thromby still isn’t sure she’s going to make the cut after this expedition is over, but there’s potential there.  They would be foolish to ignore someone with Katrina’s strength of identity grounding. 

There are plenty of sub-domains out there where it’s useful to be entirely certain of who you are, and not everyone can be.

---

The first day’s worth of exploration yields more questions than answers, which is normal and expected.  Thromby is indeed certain that Katrina’s initial assumption that this is a human-archetypal sub-domain is correct.  Human atmosphere, human shadow- and ontological concepts, Terranic fish in the very-real ocean.  But the iconography is sparse and mostly nonsensical.  It’s clear that the city was able to actually function as a city, but it feels purposeful, designed, in a way that actual cities outside psychspace rarely do.

“It’s a metaphor,” Vigil says as they sit around a campfire on the beach after the first day.

“Well, obviously,” Katrina agrees, and Vigil lights up – both visibly and psychically – at her concordance.  Thromby knows Vigil has been nursing burgeoning feelings for Katrina since she joined them, and has so far seen no need to make anything of it.  “But a metaphor for what?”

“We don’t have enough data,” Vigil replies.  “But I’m certain of it.  We just need to keep exploring.”

Thromby takes a bite of the fish they’ve been roasting over the fire.  It’s a pleasant change of pace to be able to eat something real, instead of the platonic nourishment suggestions dispensed by the Animus.  “Agreed.  I’m curious to see what the point of this place was.  We have five more days before we have to resurface and the expedition has been quite successful already.  I think we can spare the time.  Teasha?”

Taking a bite of her own fish, Teasha purses her lips as she chews.  “I concur, but I’m uneasy.”

Teasha is their psychometry specialist, so this makes all of them sit up a little straighter.  “Are we in danger?” Katrina asks.

“Of course we’re in danger, we’re in psychspace.  But in this particular sub-domain?  Metaphorical danger, as Vigil says.  Ideological or memetic patterning rather than physical.”

Thromby nods.  “I suspected that might be the axis of it, here.  We will need to split up to cover the necessary ground in the time we have left, so everyone stays in contact while exploring.  Mechanical and psychic.  No exceptions.”

None of them are particularly happy with this pronouncement, but they see the wisdom of it.  It’s distracting and somewhat draining to keep a four-way psychic connection going, especially over distance, but their implanted transceivers sometimes don’t function properly, depending on the sub-domain.  Electromagnetism and causality both seem to be standard here, but such things have been known to change in an instant depending on whether the sub-domain is actively malicious or not.

Thromby doesn’t feel any such malice here, though.  That doesn’t mean it isn’t present; such things are often quite good at hiding themselves.  But they’ve been exploring psychspace for seventy-eight years subjective.  They’ve learned to trust their instincts.

---

Two more days of exploration are frustratingly unrevealing.  The city is the size of a proper metropolis, and they know it will be impossible to actually explore any significant percentage of it in only a few days, but Thromby is still irritated by their lack of progress.  They find evidence of cultural signifiers, rituals, and traditions, but again, the iconography is vague and appears opaque to standard Jungian-Jingweian analysis.

Teasha spends the two days on a different investigative track than the rest of them.  “Psychometrically speaking the city is remarkably healthy,” she said on the morning of their second day.  “Most locations, metaphorical or otherwise, bear the echoes of trauma or strife, but this place seems to have been almost entirely peaceful.  Totally voluntary anarcho-communism or ordnung-socialism, perhaps, without the usual markers of systemic violence inherent to capitalistic or fascistic systems.  But there’s a thread somewhere that I keep detecting the edges of.”

“A thread of what?” Thromby asked.

“Pain, of course.”

It is on the evening of their third day in the city that Teasha calls them to her.  She uses their transceiver link rather than a psychic summons.  “To avoid contamination,” she explains.  “I’ve found the source of the thread.  Double your usual wardings and enter seclusive patterning before you come inside.”

Thromby does so, of course, though they dislike cutting themselves off from their extrasensory perception.  It feels like trying to see with only one eye.�� When they arrive at Teasha’s location, however, they immediately understand why she insisted on it.  The possibility of psychic contamination here is very high.

“What is this?” Katrina asks, holding her nose in disgust.

“The point of the metaphor, of course,” Teasha replies.  She indicates the filthy cellar in which they’ve found themselves, the only part of the city so far that has seemed actively decrepit.  “I guarantee you that even if we spent the rest of our lives exploring this city we would find only this one place showing any signs of entropy.”

The cellar stinks of excrement, a combination of ammonia and fetid shit, despite the physical processes creating such smells having terminated long ago.  The floor is dirt.  There are no windows.  In one corner there are two mops, their heads stiff with drying waste, and a bucket, the metal bands around its circumference orange with rust.

“They concentrated all of the city’s entropy into a single space?” Vigil asks.

“Not entropy,” Teasha tells him.  “Cruelty.”

Katrina gapes, her hand falling away from her nose for a moment.  “Come again?”

“Something lived here,” Teasha explains to her.  “Or, more precisely, was forced to live here.  It functioned as a psychic magnet, of sorts.  The functioning of the city relied entirely upon its imprisonment and use as a scapegoat.”

“What was it?” Vigil asks.

“One of the innocence-sacrifice archetypes.  An animal or a child.  I suspect a child; an animal can feel pain and misery, certainly, but it doesn’t conceive of injustice in the same way a child does.”

Thromby feels their stomach turn a little.  “Ah.  I see.”

“See what?” Katrina demands.

“The point of the metaphor indeed,” Thromby replies.  “This entire city and all its inhabitants, predicated on the suffering on a child.  It’s a morality construct, and a good one, too.”

“A good one?” Vigil asks.  “It’s grotesque.”

“Your deontological leanings are showing,” Katrina tells him.  “From a utilitarian perspective it’s perfect.  Nothing exists without imposing an energy burden on the system in which it exists.  Even the nourishment suggestions the Animus feeds us in liminal space between manifolds is distilled from universal krill.  But this?  The concentration of all of a society’s utility burden onto a single individual.  The ultimate maximization principle.”

“And your teleological leanings are showing,” Teasha sniffs.  “You’re missing the point of the metaphor entirely, Katrina.  It isn’t about utility.  It’s about cruelty.  The cruelty is the point.”

Katrina’s nostrils flare and Thromby cuts in before she can start really arguing.  “Enough,” they say.  “A conflict here in this space could be dangerous.  We’re at the focus of the sub-domain and things have a way of rippling.  We’ve discovered the point of the metaphor, so we can go back to the Animus and leave in the morning.”

Both Katrina and Teasha look ready to argue the point with them, but then they master themselves and both nod.

“Do we have to wait until morning?” Vigil asks, looking around the cellar in transparent disgust.  “I would prefer to leave sooner rather than later.”

“You know the rules,” Thromby replies.  “We don’t transit without everyone being rested.  A tired mind is a vulnerable mind.”

Reluctantly, Vigil nods, too.  The four of them walk away from the cellar, their thoughts opaque to one another.

---

Thromby is jolted out of sleep by Teasha screaming.

They sit bolt upright and look down at Teasha in the bed next to them.  She is clutching at her head, shaking, writhing beneath the sheets.  “Teasha!” Thromby snaps.  “Focus!  Center yourself!”  They grab her by the wrists and pry her hands from her face; her nails are leaving bloody marks in her skin.

“Too much, it’s too much!” she shrieks.  “I’m lost!”

Thromby forces their way into her mind.  She previously gave them her consent for this, knowing that it might be necessary in a moment like this one.  What they see there –

“Aquinas,” they say aloud.  The implants in Teasha’s cochlear nerves pick up on the trigger word and activate, sending the kill-signal to other implants deeper within her brain.  She stops screaming and slumps, unconscious, temporarily brain-dead.  When Thromby says the word again she will be switched back on, but for the moment she is safe from the psychic contamination that was attacking her along her psychometric vector.

Which, of course, means that Thromby has to deal with this issue alone.

They dress quickly and exit the Animus into a beautiful summer day.  Pennants and banners wave atop the rigging of ships in the harbor, bells sound from the city, and people, so many people, cavort and revel on the beach, in the waves, in the streets.  There is laughter, merriment, the intoxicating psychic swell of happiness and excitement.  Thromby threads their way through the crowds in the streets – mothers carrying their infants, children running through the streets in elaborate games of some variation of Terran tag, huge parades of horse-drawn carts with animalistic balloon totems floating in the air above them.  Vendors call out to Thromby, offering delicious food, intricately made jewelry, amazing clockwork-mechanical toys, sensory-enhancing drugs, and a thousand other variegated temptations.  Street musicians play upon cunningly crafted instruments – strings, pipes, percussion, keys – and revelers cavort to the tunes.

Thromby can feel the bright sparks of all of these people in their mind.  These are real, thinking, feeling beings.  They belong to the metaphor, certainly, but Thromby could speak to them, touch them, verify their self-consciousness and interiority, even invite them to come and join them onboard the Animus and explore psychspace.  They could bring them up into the real, return home with them, have a life with them.  That is how it has to be, of course.  Thromby knows they themself may belong to a different metaphor of a different order, after all.  The real is only real because enough people agree it is.

But they do none of these things.  They just walk, stolidly, back to where they know they have to go.

Katrina is waiting for them outside the cellar, barring the way in.  Thromby has their wards up at triple strength and has been in seclusive patterning since before leaving the Animus, but they don’t need to be psychic to read her mind.  Everything she is feeling and thinking is there in plain sight – the proud and defiant way her chin is thrust out, the blaze in her eyes, the way she has her arms crossed and feet at shoulder width.  She is ready to fight.

“Let me through,” Thromby says without preamble.

“No.”

Well, that’s their respective positions, Thromby thinks, articulated clearly and easily enough.  “Why not?” they ask.

“Vigil consented.”

“Vigil is in love with you and you know as well as I do that consent is a matter of framing,” Thromby snaps.  “Move.”

“No.  I explained everything to him and he consented.  It has nothing to do with whatever feelings he might have for me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it, but fine.  For the sake of argument, tell me how you explained it.”

Katrina hesitates, and Thromby can tell she wasn’t expecting them to actually offer her a chance to proselytize.  “The point of the metaphor is that no matter how great and beautiful the society, if it’s predicated on cruelty, it’s unjust,” she says.  “Deontological thinking, obviously, but cruelty is by definition nonconsensual.  I explained to Vigil that if he allowed it, we could collaboratively put blocks in his mind, purposefully regress him to a childlike mental state, and put him in the cellar to suffer for a specific length of time.  Then we can pull him back out, remove the blocks, and even erase the memories of the trauma.  The child-Vigil won’t, can’t, consent, but it also won’t exist for more than a day, and pragmatically speaking never will have.”

Thromby massages their temples.  “Congratulations.  Once again, you have missed the point of the metaphor.”

“Damnit, Thromby, I’m not a child!  I have the same training and grounding in theory that you and Teasha do.  Everything I’m doing is teleologically sound, and Vigil agreed that with the steps we’re taking –”

“You’re trying to outsmart it,” Thromby cuts her off.  “That’s how I know you’ve missed the point.  You can’t outsmart this, Katrina.  There is no perfect set of circumstances you can construct to get around the simple fact that this city functions, exists, because of deliberate and terrible cruelty.  That’s the entire point of it, just like Teasha said.  Teasha, who, by the way, is currently in a coma.  I had to put her into it to keep Vigil’s misery from damaging her.”

“It’s a thought experiment,” she argues, obviously not addressing the point about Teasha because she knows she won’t win that argument.  “There’s always a correct answer for them.  The trolley, the Gettier, the –”

“It’s about fucking sin,” Thromby sighs.

“Are you joking right now?  You’re going back to the religious well?”

“Yes, because that’s what’s happening right now.  The city is a sin, Katrina.  The excesses of its beauty, its wonder, its perfection, are obscene precisely because of how and why they function.  It’s rooted in the ideology of disgust and taint.  Utility, teleology, all of these justifications and rationalizations exist and have their use, but at the end of the day, answer me one question: will you trade places with Vigil?”

Katrina hesitates.

It’s only a bare moment, less than a second, even, but it’s there.  And Thromby sees it, and Katrina sees it.

“Yes,” she says, finally.

“I knew that would be your answer.  But you know that the answer doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Katrina lowers her head.  “No.”

“You know why you hesitated.”

“Yes.”  She looks back up at them.  “But – there’s no such thing as absolute morality, any more than there’s a single objective reality.”

“Of course there isn’t.  And yet, you hesitated.”

They just lock eyes for a few seconds.  Then she lowers her gaze again.  “And yet, I did.”

Thromby steps past her and opens the cellar.

[lemon-natalia]

Gideon the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 27

‘pure humbuggery’ sound the alarm bells, palamedes is using british-isms, in this book thats a sure sign someone’s gonna die

ooohh it literally only just occurred to me as Harrow was talking about ‘lyctoral power’ that its very likely all of the facility stuff, the key challenges themselves etc. were probaly all set up by previous Lyctors 🤦

i mean given the one clue they were given was about locked doors, Harrow’s whole ‘secret door’ theory actually makes a lot of sense

i won’t lie, i still don’t really understand all of the thanergy stuff, so the beginning of this chapter was a little hard to parse. i don't think its because of bad writing or anything, i'm just not really into magic systems or understanding how they work honestly

i mean the five deadlocks on the door make some sense, but given Jeannemary got killed in a sealed room unfortunately i doubt they’re gonna do the Sixth much good now

ok someone, possibly the same someone involved with the constructs is actively trying to stop them from accessing another door. the question is whether it’s another member of the Houses wanting to prevent competition, or something that only just occurred to me is that some outside/other force is trying to stop all of them. which given the fact that the big amalgamate monster things were made by someone apparently very necromantically powerful … are the lyctors somehow involved in all of the deaths? maybe they don’t want to give up their positions, we only have the emperor’s word for it that they do after all

listen i don't think this is actually the case, its against the singular rule and there's probably some kind of magic stopping it, but it would be funny if someone just like, picked the lock on any of these doors. just speed-run the entire thing without any necromancy

wow Palamedes isn’t wrong the both of them are getting wayyy too comfortable using the whole energy transfer thing 

i’m not so sure coronabeth is the one to really watch out for - she seems more confident/outgoing than ianthe, but ianthe is clearly comfortable keeping things from her 

aaaand things are really kicking off between Harrow and Gideon. there’s unresolved issues for days here, it was only really a matter of time before their tentative alliance started disintegrating honestly

there’s a Lot to unpack here about their fight… on one hand, Harrow is clearly a lot more jealous than she wants to admit and making a real dick move to keep Gideon away from Dulcinea, no matter how far they’ve come Harrow still seems to be in that mindset of being in control of/feeling superior to Gideon as she was back on the Ninth. 

but on the other hand, Gideon is very clearly projecting her own feelings of guilt about Jeannemary and everything else onto Harrow. plus Dulcinea has proven herself to be more clever and shady than she initally appears already, i don’t think Harrow’s wrong to still be wary of her. there’s just, y'know, an infinite number of ways she could have handled it better

‘Jeannemary the Fourth was ten times the cavalier I am’ i’m SOBBING

ohhhh and now they’re back at where they were at the start … Gideon saying she hates Harrow, Harrow saying she doesn’t think about Gideon. except now after everything they’ve been through, and how much they clearly do care, it hurts so much worse. Tamsyn Muir you’re driving me crazy

‘Gideon decided there and then her betrayal’ what an absolute banger of a line to end the chapter with

[wolfnesta]

I was thinking of the Rhysand and Nesta dynamic and how I would not hate Rhysand so much if it was just done so much infinitely better. So with that if you are absolutely pro rhysand, absolutely pro SJM, here-for-the-fun, just click away, block me, filter, do what you want. Other than that here we go.

So I feel like I understand the read between the lines, kind of relationship were supposed to see between Rhysand’s dislike of Nesta, as in we can read between the lines that Rhysand can’t stand her because of her tendency to resort to insults (which I find personally questionable with the actual material vs what sjm has to blatantly tell the reader left and right and that’s not even considering the retcons but that’s another topic) especially in regard to those that he loves. Him being merely tolerant of her because he’s defensive for those he loves, like Cassian for example, who has been fighting against words like bastard since birth and Mor being from the Hewn city where they are abusive and she is apparently the only good person there (another sjm writing critique but whatever).

So onto what I think Nesta disliking Rhysand should have been portrayed as in acosf.

Let me remind everyone that at this point every single character has dirt on them, every single one has done questionable things, and so I think that a good way to balance this sort of moral compass that we have going on, with Rhysand disliking Nesta for these reasons above, I would’ve liked to see Nesta point out or atleast in the same read between the lines fashion assert her annoyance/defense and insults, specifically towards Rhysand— Since that is what we got is, that it is her way of protecting herself, to insult before she could be insulted which can manifest as cold and calculating— for her to recognize that cold calculating attitude Rhysand has. Albeit not for the same reasons or in the same way Nesta’s barbs are but in his decisions and actions because Rhsyand has that. I’m not open to hearing people say ‘but Rhysand only did this because of that’— let’s not take away the morally gray aspects of a character. Much in the way that Nesta’s defenses aren’t excusable because of trauma the topic here is that Rhsyand has done/does questionable things regardless of reason. Back to the topic, Rhysand has shown to have cold, calculating tendencies yet all SJM let Nesta tell the reader about him— ‘Rhysand might be an arrogant, vain bastard, but he was honorable. He fought like hell to protect innocents. Her dislike of him had nothing to do with what he'd proved so many times: he was a fair, just ruler, who put his people before himself. No, she just found his personality-that slick smugness grating.’ the way that this line is the worst that Nesta ever really says about Rhysand in the entire book and even then its peppered with compliments that seem borderline absurd is so telling of the entire book. Not only that but Nesta encourages the reader throughout acosf that Rhysand has all the right to hate her and she’ll even go as far as say that she hates her self as well yet she doesn’t know how to fix that. That’s the whole point of acosf, right, that she’s healing and learning a better way to cope (much to my loathing). So personally I detest Rhsyands character in that book because Nesta could have given us so much of her own ‘redemption’ as well as touch on Rhysands flaws. Maybe even come to an understanding because of them. Because no Rhysand is not always morally correct but that book insisted on nothing but that. If anything that books served as a huge reminder of real life problems were the men get praised for doing the most basic, standard things that women have been doing all of their lives yet women do something that men do and are still crucified that’s not even considering being a woman w children. The mom works= she’s not present for her children. Mom doesn’t work= she’s just mooching off of the husband. The house unkept= the woman is lazy. It’s always the women that are questioned first/only. Nesta is calculating and cold but let’s not touch upon the 500 year old man’s actions and repercussions, matter of fact let’s flatter him and explain why he hates her. Absolutely hate that and therefore I cannot stand his character. Just butchered. And that’s without touching the infamous pregnancy plot line

[freedomfireflies]

HIII BESTIE I HAVE MOREEE (its the anon from the like tiktok trend of putting less or ur plate than the bf)

two things can i be 🦦 anon or is it taken!!

and most importantly!!! IDEAS

the one trend where like the boyfriend has snacks & his phone & you reach for what looks like the snacks but its rlly his phone LMAOOAOA

knockoutrry protects NOTHING. “snacks? you want snacks? here, cherry, why didn’t you ask? do you want something different? i can run out and go grab it. oh, my phone? here.” NO SHAME IN HIS GAME BRO IS DOWN BAD

minerry i feel would be the same except with a hint of if someone ELSE had got their snacks “did you ask for something and they didn’t get it? i’ll fuckin’-“ “NONONO I WAS GOING FOR YOUR PHONE.” “oh. here.”

same with teach me harry except… he’s snatching those damn snacks. “NO. you said you DIDNT WANT ANYTHING BEE. LET ME EAT PLS😭😭😭” “… i was reaching for your phone you fucking weirdo.” “oh. here.” “thanks.. can i still have a chip?” “fine.”

oftmrry would ??? protect his phone?? i fear?? in the beginning at least, after a while he’d just hand it over without a thought but def at first dont touch his mf phone

infinite yourry would protect his phone but i think it’d be for her sake. like he knows she gets upset so he doesn’t want her seeing his texts with other girls / guys, even if they’re old. but that’d just make her MORE upset. like she’s thinking he’s sleeping with someone else and she’s like??? i already suck at sharing now i have to DOUBLE SHARE? and then he has to explain it LMAOOAO

404rry is snatching those snacks. no remorse. “i just wanted your phone, dumbass.” “oh. that’s still a no.” “why, are you hiding something?” “no, i just don’t like idiots messing up my phone.” “okay, rude. i just wanna see your texts.” “why?” “just let me see.” “no.” “yes.” “no.” “yes.” “no.” “yes.” “jesus— fine.”

OMG YES YOU CAN BE!!!

EEEEEEEEE THESE ARE SO FREAKING FUNNY AND CUTE HAHAH I cannot tell you how accurate these are, I could not have done them better myself!!!!

These men are absolutely so protective of their snacks, their women, and their phones hahah the only three things they care about (in that order alfjdf) Of course their women are also their snacks so...best of both worlds!!!!

I'm so obsessed with these, I could read these forever 😭💞💞💞 you do such an amazing job, I'm STILL SQUEALING!!!!

[lemonluvgirl]

Anything

Based on the prompt: could you write a oneshot role reversal where Katniss is kidnapped in the Capitol and this is the everlark reunion scene?

In my opinion its not a real reunion between lovers unless they are both gettting naked! But I can’t just make it a Porn without Plot fic, so...Ok so, here’s the deal. Peeta went on the mission to free the captured victors in the Capitol and took his helmet off when he found Katniss in her cell. She then proceeded to strangle the shit out of him, because she was hijaked, but Boggs stopped her from killing Peeta and they all made it back to District 13. This ‘real’ reunion happens after moths of therapy and everlark fighting their way back through the hijacking. 

I find myself staring at him. 

Peeta’s full, plush looking lips are tinted a dark pink. I'm perversely proud of how swollen they look from my furious onslaught of kisses. I smile at him, just barely for a second and he gives me a heated but tender look. I flick my gaze away. Those mesmerizing lips of his quirk up at the corners, then he lowers his head past my mouth, skimming down my jaw. His lips are soft and reverent when he uses them to trace the column of my neck. 

Gently, feather soft kisses descend on my skin and ignite like live wires sparking and crackling with increasing intensity. Then, his hands, wonderfully callused from all that training, mirror the position of my own, tracing up and down my body. He feels strong and hard under my fingertips. I feel like I could touch him forever and forget about everything else in existence. 

There are a million unsaid words he exhales against my skin with each ragged breath he draws across the pulse point in my neck. I wonder how he manages to say so much with just the slight pressure of his hands or his lips? 

It's intoxicating and…different. I wonder why his lips feel so different from anyone else's.  

More importantly,  how can he still want to do this after everything I've done to him? After everything that’s been done to me?

I draw back just enough to look at his expression.  I'm startled to find his blue eyes openly staring into me, unguarded and suffused with longing and adoration. 

That look makes my breath hitch and my blood sing. 

I'm so impatient to have him naked and panting over me, under me, in every way imaginable, that it's unbelievable. 

But then of course, I'm certifiable now. 

I wonder if he's slightly mad too, or maybe he's just too naive to know when to quit. 

He stares back at me, letting me drink my fill of him with my eyes. And slowly, like peeling back layer after layer of false impressions and shiny memories I uncover the truth in his gaze. 

He's not insane. Or stupid. 

The distress of opening himself up like this again is evident in the crease of his brow, the uncertain tilt of his mouth, the tension in his hands as they shake just slightly while continuing to caress me. 

There's an impossibly deep look in his eyes, like a promise or a vow known only to himself. I wonder if he thinks that by coming back again and again he will somehow make up for leaving me to rot in the Capitol for so long. 

But the quiet pant of his breath and the wide sincerity in his eyes doesn't speak predominantly of guilt. 

He's got that look that Finnick gets when he looks at Annie. 

That wonderfully grateful look that silently screams of devotion. 

It makes me uncomfortable.  

But before I can shift away from him, his lips are back on my neck, and he's breathing soft words into my skin. 

"I'm yours," 

"Body and soul."

"Whatever you want, only if you want."

"Anything for you, Katniss." 

Even though his lips barely move and his voice is so light I have to strain to catch what he's saying, I hear him just the same. It's not quite an apology, (which is good because I don’t want one) it’s more an overture. Which I can handle infinitely better than a tear soaked 'sorry', and if for only that reason I find myself relaxing into him a little more. 

I'm glad, infinitely glad, that he doesn't try to tell me I'm sexy or beautiful, or something like that. Those words would have made me gag after all the times I'd heard them repeated to me in the Capitol. 

And he doesn't try to touch my breasts or my ass right away, either. 

He just keeps kissing along my collarbone and murmuring how he'll follow my lead. 

And it's the best offer I've gotten in a long time. My core throbs, achy and enticed with the idea of a partner eager to give instead of take from me. 

Was he always this generous in bed? Or did he only become such an attentive lover in response to what he thought I needed after all I had been through?

I pushed the questions out of my mind and focused on the only thought that mattered. 

This is what I wanted right now. 

He is what I need. 

I don’t need to psychoanalyze his motivations. I just need him to show me why this strange connection we share hasn’t been severed, by time, distance, or even the mad science of the Capitol. 

It's with that knowledge that I pull his shirt free from the waistband of his pants, slipping my hands inside and ghosting my fingers over his skin.

He shudders above me. I watch as his thickly muscled arms tremble as they work to keep his body hovering over mine. I know it's not fatigue that's affecting him, but my touch. I pry his shirt off of him and toss it somewhere on the floor. He doesn't blink when I do, but his pupils dilate even further, the pretty blue of his eyes slowly being swallowed up by the black. 

It's an effervescent feeling that rises up inside of me, when I realize how much I affect him. I want to revel in it at first and touch every inch of him slowly. But I don't know if it's wise to draw this out. Who knows how long this clarity of need will last? 

What I do know is I want to feel the weight of his body over mine. I want it to settle into my bones and I want to taste the moans off his tongue when he slips inside me. 

I want to watch his blue eyes grow dark with lust and then roll to the back of his head when he floods me with his warmth. 

I want everything he is offering and then some. Because the hazy memories I have aren’t enough. 

"Take off my clothes Peeta." I command, in a stern voice. It might sound laughable to someone else, the bossy tone in my voice even though I’m on bottom. But it’s not really a laughing matter for either of us. We will be equals in this no matter who’s physically taking the lead. I can see it in his eyes and I feel it in the way he holds me.

But I must still catch him a little off guard with my boldness. 

Peeta’s eyes widen slightly in response and he searches my face for only a moment before he finds the certainty he's looking for.

Then, as if someone has thrown a switch, he's different. 

His hands are steady and efficient as they unzip the front of my jumpsuit. He doesn't fumble when he reaches behind me and  unclips my bra. 

Neither does he hesitate when he unbuttons my pants and drags my underwear down at the same time. 

And he doesn't break eye contact with me the entire time. Waiting for me to make the next move. 

I love it. His confidence, his patience, the practiced way he undresses me. He’s quick and efficient but not possessive or disrespectful. It’s hot, and I can admit that to myself before I attack him with my mouth again.  

I latch onto the spot below his ear, and swirl my tongue in light circles in between kisses before I begin to suck on his slightly salty skin. It's all I can do to not bite down hard, when I inhale the scent and taste that feels so familiar and delicious.  

Peeta's breath hitches and he mumbles something incoherent against my hair that sounds like 'I've missed you so much.' Since he seems to be speaking more to himself than me I don't let it phase me. I can do without the emotional declarations. So I kiss him again on the mouth to stop anymore from leaking out. 

 If he's put off by my one track mind he doesn't show it. He kisses me back with a fervor and passion that makes heat spread through me like colored ink bleeding onto a page. 

It's only when my teeth scrape against the large artery in his neck that he reacts adversely for the first time. He stiffens up, as a tremor of fear runs through him. Because of course, even though the bruises have faded, and even though he’s already hard as steel against my thigh, he no doubt remembers the last time I paid so much attention to his neck. 

Right before I strangled him. 

“Are you scared of me Peeta?” I ask him out of morbid curiosity, between breaths as I continue to lavish his neck with my mouth, albeit slightly more gently and without the scrape of my teeth. 

He automatically starts to shake his head, but pauses mid shake. 

“A little,” He admits in a breathless voice. 

“Hummm,” I murmur vaguely in reply, giving him no assurances or warnings either way. He’s bigger than me, stronger too. But I’ve been training the same as him. Harder and more frequently too, since he spends more time filming propos than practicing his hand to hand combat. 

“If you're going to try to kill me, I think I’ll be ready this time.” He adds, as he threads his fingers through the hair at the base of my neck and tugs just a little. I clench my thighs and bite my own tongue to stifle the moan that threatens to slip out and slowly cast my gaze upward until I meet his eyes. 

He looks as serious as he sounds. It’s a promise that while he is more than happy to keep getting naked with me, he’s also on alert. 

I grin lazily up at him, while deliberately brushing my leg back and forth over his erection, delighting in the tortured groan that springs from deep in his throat. 

“Good. That makes two of us.” I tell him with a smirk. 

He lowers his head to my shoulder and curses quietly and I continue to rub him through his pants. 

“Katniss, I never tried to kill you. You have to know that by now.” He tells me, in a flustered, out of breath tone. I stop stimulating him with my leg and give him a breather.

I chuckle in reply before slipping my hands slowly down his chest and back respectively, feeling every peak and dip, every muscle rippling and tensing as I recommit them to memory. I close my eyes briefly, indulgently. 

“There are a lot of things I should know, Peeta. But so many of them get mixed up when you’re near me. You’re like a drug, and I can never quite predict the side effects you’ll bring with you after the first hit. Sometimes it's an unbelievable almost unending high. Sometimes it's terrible, stress filled paranoia. Sometimes it’s painful lows that drag me into endless waking nightmares. But always, it's intense. And no matter how broken I feel afterwards, you still leave me craving more.” I admit. 

I feel his strong arms tighten around me, and he emits a soft mournful sound. 

I’m glad that at that moment I can’t see his face. 

I don’t think I’d like what I would find. 

So instead of searching his expression I reach between our bodies and unzip his pants. His fingers dig into my skin, and his tightened grip only serves to spur me on. 

I don’t want to stop. In fact I don’t think I could at this point even if I wanted to. 

I think it's the same for Peeta, because even though he doesn't help me remove the rest of his clothes at first, he does nothing to impede me. 

After I push his pants and underwear down over his ankles, he kicks them the rest of the way off. We’re both naked now, but he still holds himself gingerly over me, not quite touching. 

He sucks in a huge breath and finally looks at me. His eyes sweep up and down my body slowly and I allow him his time. 

I stare back at him unapologetically as well. My gaze linger over his well toned stomach, his trim hips, and his thick cock that bobs in the empty gap between our bodies, pointed like an arrow at me. I lick my lips in anticipation but when I look back at Peeta he seems withdrawn from the immediacy of the moment. 

“I wish it could be different. I wish there was a way I could wipe away all the fear between us.” He whispers as he tucks a loose tendril of hair behind my ear. 

I stare up at him, unblinking. 

I don’t think it needs to be said that I wish for the same thing. I’m sure that’s obvious. 

But I know I have to say something. 

“No one else's hands can make me forget the bad memories like yours can.” I tell him quietly. 

He gives me an unreadable look. I think he’s trying not to show how sad or happy that makes him. I know I shouldn’t be irritated by this, but I am. I don’t want his pity, if that’s what this is. 

He notices my mouth tipping down into a scowl almost immediately, and mumbles a shaky ‘sorry’, before his mouth descends to kiss the frown off my lips. 

Everything else is forgotten, and it's just him invading everyone of my senses. 

Taste first. 

His lips are clean and sweet, washing away the memory of rough mouths that tasted stale and bitter like too much alcohol and something rotten underneath the lingering traces of decadent Capitol delicacies. With each swipe of his tongue against mine he paints a different picture, of something pure and pristine.  

Smell next. 

The sweet and spicy aroma of his skin intermingled with the light sheen of sweat condensing on both our bodies makes me feel dizzy with pleasure. It's such an eroticly familiar smell. I’m so wet, and getting wetter by the second that I can distinguish the light scent of my own arousal that is slowly perfuming the room with its headiness. There’s also a small amount of fluid that must be leaking from his tip, that I can smell him too and I revel in the knowledge that our scents will ultimately combine to create something unique that is all our own.

Hearing directly after that. 

Peeta groans so long and low when my scent hits him, that I feel it rolling through my core like thunder. He inhales deeply, like I’m an aphrodisiac. He hardens even further, and seemingly can’t help rocking his hips into mine, his erection dragging hot and hard over my naked skin. A small whimper escapes my throat at the thought of him being so turned on. I claw at his skin, trying to get him closer, as close as I can. 

Then touch. 

He lowers himself over me until his strong chest touches mine, and the nearly invisible blond hairs on his chest brush against my beasts and tease my hardened nipples into harder peaks, making me gasp and urging me to rub up against him like a cat. The planes of his torso fit perfectly against my diminutive curves and I get the feeling we fit better together than most. I hook a leg behind his right thigh, the one made completely of flesh and close my eyes to enjoy the building tension and pleasure at every point where our  bare skin meets. With my other hand I reach down and caress what remains of his left thigh, dragging my blunt nails lightly over his stump and enjoying the feeling of his coarse leg hair. He doesn’t flinch, just allows me to caress him thoroughly. I toy with the idea of taking him in my hand and pumping him for a while, anticipating the velvety texture of the soft skin of his cock over the beautiful hardness it conceals. But I refrain, worried that he might get too worked up. I certainly feel overstimulated and we’ve barely done anything yet. 

Finally sight is the last. 

We both open our eyes to look at each other and I know he can read my silent request for him to skip the rest of the foreplay. I want him now, and I don’t want to wait to feel him filling me up. He holds my gaze for what seems like an endless moment. 

He’s amazingly focused as he looks down at me, hair golden and tousled from my wandering hands. I have a small flash of memory of him years younger, being backlit by a flaming cape and headdress while a crowd roars around us instead of the weak light from the overhead fluorescents and the silence that’s only broken by our ragged breathing now. 

But in my memory he’s looking at me the exact same way he is presently, like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The memory fades, and I don’t try to catch it, preferring instead to live completely in the here and now. 

I suck in a breath before I lift my hand to trace the seductive outline of his lips lazily with the tip of my finger. He mirrors my actions by brushing his thumbs in circles over the tips of my breasts. Twin bolts of pleasure shoot down my body and pool in my core, swirling and tightening all at once.

“Don’t make me wait any longer.” I tell him as I exhale and close my eyes for a second before opening them again. He blinks at me, those impossibly darkened blue eyes inviting me to drown inside their beautiful fathomless depths. 

I don’t think I’ll ever get over his eyes. They entrance me. Especially after the hijacking. Looking headlong into them leaves me feeling like I’m staring over the edge of a great precipice. It's wonderful, frightening, and maddening all at once. For a moment I feel like a fly caught in amber, trapped within his hypnotic gaze. 

And it's only when his lips simultaneously capture mine at the same moment he pushes inside me that I feel like I can breathe again. 

“Fuck!” My shout is almost immediately stifled by his mouth, and my eyes tilt up to the ceiling of their own volition. He groans against my lips and twitches inside me and it makes my clench around him. He breaks our kiss and hisses my name, in a mixture of pleasure and strained warning. His eyes are screwed adorably shut in an expressoin that screams of tortured pleasure. All I can do is kiss it off his softly trembling lips. 

“Oh Peeta…..” I whisper, reveling in the quiet satisfaction I feel. My voice trails off as he presses his forehead against mine and briefly opens and closes his eyes against the raptourus sensation of finally uniting himself with me. He’s bigger than I anticipated and I feel wonderfully, perfectly stretched. He holds off on moving though until he feels me relax completely. His teeth gritted and his eyelashes that go on forever fluttering while he waits. 

It feels like the universe is holding its breath along with me. 

He draws a shaky breath and retreats an inch or two.

Then he sinks into me again, and I’m as lost in him as he seems in me. 

And we’re burning, meeting, yielding, and combining in between each breath. 

My hands are everywhere, his shoulders, his back, his hips, and his ass as he moves in a deliberately slow and steady pattern where he alternates grinding his hips into me and thrusting deeply. 

I can’t fight the noises that escape me, soft and high and desperate as I lift my hips to meet him. 

And words tumble from his mouth. Confessions, adorations, and praise that’s so earnest and sincere that it rips away any pretense I have of guarding myself against his captivatingly open heart. 

I rush headlong into the all encompassing feeling of him worshiping me with his own body. And I can’t help but respond in kind. I comb my fingers through his hair as I kiss along his neck tenderly, trailing my tongue along his skin and nibbling on his soft earlobe. The strained sounds of pleasure he makes when I do are almost as satisfying as the feeling of him filling me over and over again. 

I moan his name while I arch against him, inviting him deeper, welcoming him to touch and fill me as deeply as I can stand. 

This kicks him into overdrive and he shifts my legs forward until I’m tilted at a different angle, breaking my mouth’s contact with his neck, before he begins driving into me with abandon, my name punctuating every thrust. It's just what I need, and after only about a minute I come hard, sharp and bursting, unable to even scream his name. All I can do is squeeze him inside and out, my muscles clenching around his hard length and my hands grabbing his thighs for dear life.

 Once the euphoria begins to subside, I stutter out his name and he licks his way into my mouth, drinking the blissful pleasure off my tongue, as if my orgasm was a shot of liquid adrenaline that energized him further. 

From the way he pulls me up, quick as lightning, into a sitting position on his lap as he moves me bodily up and down his cock, it might as well have been. He knows exactly what he’s doing. I can see it in the serious and determined look in his eyes. I can feel it in the powerful flex of his legs and hips as he pumps into me expertly. My thighs tremble and I can feel my mouth quivering as I stare at him wide-eyed and caught off guard. 

He knows me and what I like. He remembers everything apparently. He reads my expression and the signs my body gives off as easily as a child reading from their favorite book that they have lovingly memorized. 

 It takes just seconds for me to come again in this new position, and he rides out the waves with me with a joyfulness that makes me forget absolutely everything but his steadiness and his sweet tenderness underneath the power and strength he keeps humbly in check. 

It’s such a contradiction to the venom tainted lies that the Capitol force fed me. 

His hands affirm every secret pleasure that only an experienced lover could remember, and it doesn’t feel cheap or tawdry when he palms the cheeks of my ass, or when his mouth dips to suck one of my nipples in between his lips. 

It feels exquisite. 

I feel exquisite. 

I cling to him like he’s the only anchor I have in this seemingly endless sea of pleasure as he rewrites so many ideas I had of what sex between us was supposed to feel like. He holds onto me just as tightly, as if he never wants to let go. We fuse together until there’s no way to distinguish us as separate entities. My hands gripped his closely shorn hair and my breath came hard and fast against his ear as he increased his tempo, giving it his all, while our sweat slicked bodies slid against each other in a frantic push and pull that hurdled both of us towards a brilliant end. 

 “I’m close.” He says between gritted teeth, as his hands struggle to find purchase on my slippery skin. I dig my knees into the threadbare mattress and wordlessly throw myself into his pounding rhythm wholeheartedly, rising and sinking with him. 

“You feel so-” He tries to say, but shakes his head, drops of perspiration scattering as he does so. I merely nod. He doesn’t have to explain, I know what he means. 

“Please,” He whispers entreatingly against my shoulder, and it’s all I need. 

 I feel myself splinter into a thousand little pieces filled with sharp, bursting pleasure. Distantly I hear myself screaming his name. 

His hips snap against me, all instinct now as I pull him along with me, catching him up in the undertow of my climax. 

He comes with a startled cry, burying himself impossibly deep inside me. I feel every throbbing inch of him emptying hotly into me and for a single blissful moment the entire world feels good and right and clear while we fell apart together. 

We fall backwards until my back hits the bed and his considerable weight settles on me heavily. He’s uncomfortably heavy but I savor the solidness of him pressing me down into the mattress. It feels like he’s the only thing keeping me from floating away. 

I gently comb my fingers through his short hair as I try to recover. My touch seems to revive him, or remind him, and he eases some of his weight off me, by supporting himself on his elbows. 

We stayed like that for several seconds, just trying to regain our equilibrium. 

“Was it always that good?” I ask him, more out of curiosity than a real need to know. I had a feeling I already knew what the answer was. 

He’s quiet for a few beats, and when he speaks it is in a reverent tone. 

“It was for me.” He whispers, and exhales a long breath, “I think, it was good for you too. At least it always seemed that way.” He concludes before looking up into my eyes. 

I released a long held breath and nodded before returning to play with his hair. 

“I think you’re right.” I finally say before closing my eyes and letting sleep begin to claim me. I miss his reply, if he even gave one, and only frowned slightly when I felt him slip out of me, having grown too soft to remain.

My last conscious thought was of how I missed the feeling of him already. 

[dustedmagazine]

Ian Mathers’ 2022: Are you with me even now?

For the third year in a row, Low are part of my reflection on the year that just happened. But this time I don’t want them to be. They didn’t put out a record, I didn’t see them play live (virtually or not) even once. I don’t really want to spend a ton of time going over Mimi Parker’s death and the reactions to it (including my own); I can say this is the one time ever in my life that mourning an artist whose work I love felt anything at all like mourning someone I actually knew. For at least a month I thought about it all the time, read about it constantly, watched and listened to everything I could get my hands on, talked about it often. It felt ridiculous and necessary. I don’t know what happens with my favorite band now; I mainly just hope her family and other loved ones are doing as ok as possible. One wonderful and horrible thing about the reactions is that they were both more numerous and more heartfelt than I would have guessed; up until a few years ago running into other fans of their work felt a lot more rare. 30 years into what I personally think stacks up as one of the greatest creative runs in all of popular music (I’ve been ringing the bell about Low doing better, more vital and interesting work than other bands [x] years into their career since… 2007’s The Great Destroyer at least), I’m glad that people were noticing what they did. The bittersweetness of that, that at least by the end Low were a lot more widely and deeply loved than I would have guessed... I hope she knew that too. How many artists have passed before they made their Double Negative and HEY WHAT? We can never really know the extent of what the world misses out on when someone dies.

Other than that horrible pall weighing down the end of the year, though, at least on the small scale 2022 was pretty good to me. The world in general continues to feel more and more fraught (here in Canada too!) and we’re still not properly dealing with a pandemic. With us being an immunocompromised household… when you see people talking about leaving behind the chronically ill, it absolutely includes those of us who, pre-COVID, nobody could tell weren’t “normal” or “healthy.” I did get to a very few shows this year, masked. But mostly this was a third year in a row of just… never going out or doing most of the things we used to do. Both my wife and I switched jobs to positions that are both much more satisfying and important to us and, not incidentally, quite a bit better paying. By the end of 2022 we’ve hit the first time in our adult lives where (despite how little it would take to knock us back down) we’re not experiencing constant financial stress.

I could have guessed this would change my relationship with music, but honestly, would have underestimated the degree to which that would be true. I’m happier with my writing this year, both frequency and end result, although there’s always more work to do on those fronts. And without feeling like I was trying very hard to do so, I somehow listened to 170 new LPs and EPs over the course of the year. And I found a lot to like, too: my 2022 playlist in Swinsian (which I tried out and then switched to when the Apple Music program started having weird glitches and hours of tech support couldn’t help at all) currently has a little over 1000 tracks in it, equaling over 3 days of music. There’s still a near-infinite amount of stuff out there I’ve never touched or even heard of. But more than ever, it feels like I covered my particularly bailiwick(s) as thoroughly as could be expected of someone who still has a day job and relatively normal life.

This increased volume of input doesn’t necessarily make me think 2022 was a better (or worse!) year for music than any other, but it does lead to a list of records that I feel more strongly about. There are plenty of good records I am keeping in full that just didn’t make it onto my list(s), especially since I’m sticking with a top 40 like I did in 2021. In years where I’ve ‘only’ managed to check out 80-90 records, even a top 20 often covers just about everything I’ve solidly enjoyed from the year. In 2022, 40 records isn’t even half of that group. It has made me reflect a bit on just how sustainable this all is — do I just keep accumulating dozens of records I love every year I’m here? How often am I going to go back to any of them? And sure enough, one thing all this new listening has done has drastically slowed progress on my now years-long effort to corral and organize my existing collection. But I do feel strongly enough about what I loved this year, both from existing favorites and acts totally new to me, that I’m probably just going to kick those cans a little further down the road. I’m also mulling over how, if at all, I want to change my listening in the new year, not least because one of the major ways I discover new things ended in 2022 (RIP, The Singles Jukebox).

As I’ve mentioned before in these roundups, I don’t necessarily feel like every year these days I have an “album of the year” (and am generally loathe to try and rank things). This year I can’t decide if I have one or two; Cloakroom’s Dissolution Wave was one of my most anticipated and ever since I first got the promo back in January, I’ve been listening to it very regularly. One of the things I like about music writing (at least the way I do it) is that it forces me to listen to records a lot more than I would even if I otherwise adore them, and at this point I have an almost Pavlovian joy reaction to the beginning of “Lost Meaning.” For a long time, it seemed like it stood alone for me, and I think it still does, but I need to give at least an honorable mention to Let’s Eat Grandma’s Two Ribbons. It didn’t have the immediate impact on me the Cloakroom did, even though that first half, especially, is immediately ingratiating. But over months I found myself going back to it more and more and in another year, I could easily see it having the unquestioned top spot. I’ve seen neither in most year-end stuff, which makes me a bit sad.

So here are the lists; my 40 favorite LPs, followed by 5 EPs, 5 reissues and/or compilations, 5 releases from Aidan Baker (which makes up not even half of the releases from his various projects!), and 20 ‘loose’ songs either from records I liked but who don’t make it into the main list, or where this song was really the only one I liked, or just ones that came out on their own. If all the little extra lists seem like cheating, well, they kind of are. But this was as narrowed down as I could get it. All of the lists are in alphabetical order, and for all but the songs list any links are to where I’ve written about them here at Dusted. For the songs, partly because so many of them do have music videos (and I love music videos), I’ve actually just provided a link to the song on YouTube should you be so moved. Last year I ended by saying I hoped we’d all continue to get better at taking care of ourselves and each other in 2022. On a micro level, I can say that did happen for us, and many of our loved ones. I hope as much as possible it did for you too, and we can all find the strength to keep at it in 2023.

40 LPs

Aarktica — We Will Find the Light

Alvvays — Blue Rev

Aoife O'Donovan — Age of Apathy

Beyoncé — RENAISSANCE

Billow Observatory — Stareside

Black Ox Orkestar — Everything Returns

The Body & OAA — Enemy of Love

Bruno Bavota & Chantal Acda — A Closer Distance

Carly Rae Jepsen — The Loneliest Time

Charli XCX — Crash

Chelsea Jade — Soft Spot

Cloakroom — Dissolution Wave

Earthless — Night Parade of One Hundred Demons

Eric Cheneaux — Say Laura

Esmerine — Everything Was Forever Until It Was No More

Ethel Cain — Preacher’s Daughter

Fujiya & Miyagi — Slight Variations

Hagop Tchaparian — Bolts

Hatchie — Giving the World Away

High Vis — Blending

Horsegirl — Versions of Modern Performance

Hot Chip — Freakout/Release

Jessica Moss — Galaxy Heart

Kali Malone — Living Torch

Let’s Eat Grandma — Two Ribbons

Locrian — New Catastrophism

Loop — Sonancy

loscil — The Sails p.1/p.2

Michael Beharie — Promise

Oneida — Success

Party Dozen — The Real Work

SASAMI — Squeeze

Spiritualized — Everything Was Beautiful

Szun Waves — Earth Patterns

Use Knife — The Shedding of Skin

Vince Staples — RAMONA PARK BROKE MY HEART

Water Damage — Repeater

Wet Leg — Wet Leg

Winged Wheel — No Island

Winter — What Kind of Blue Are You?

5 EPs

Gillian Stone — Spirit Photographs

Greet Death — New Low

Picastro — I’ve Never Met a Stranger

Sun’s Signature — Sun’s Signature

Trauma Ray — Transmissions

5 Reissues/Compilations

Broadcast — Maida Vale Sessions

Laddio Bolocko — '97​-​'99

Les Rallizes Dénudés —’77 LIVE

Prolapse — John Peel session 20.08.94/John Peel session 08.04.97

Wire — Not About to Die

5 Releases From Aidan Baker

Aidan Baker — The Evelyn Tables

Aidan Baker — Tenebrist

Baker Ja Lehtisalo — Crocodile Tears

Nadja — Labyrinthine

Nadja — Nalepa

20 More Songs

Animal Collective — “Prester John”

Boy Harsher ft Lucy - Cooper B. Handy — “Autonomy”

Caroline Polachek — “Billions”

Chappell Roan — “Casual”

Death Cab for Cutie — “I Won’t Give Up on You”

Diatom Deli — “False Alarm”

Duke Deuce ft GloRilla — “Just Say That”

Flume ft Caroline Polachek — “Sirens”

HAAi ft. Jon Hopkins — “Baby, We’re Ascending”

Ibibio Sound Machine — “Protection From Evil”

Miči & Sun-EL Musician — “Respond”

MUNA — “Anything But Me”

Porridge Radio — “Back to the Radio”

Spoon — “Wild”

Steve Lacy — “Bad Habit”

Storefront Church ft Phoebe Bridgers — “Words”

Stromae — “L’enfer”

Sudan Archives — “Selfish Soul”

Yeah Yeah Yeahs ft Perfume Genius — “Spitting Off the Edge of the World”

yeule — “Bites on My Neck”

Ian Mathers

[ofyoonas]

☆ welcome to infinite entertainment! it's BAE YOONAH (YOONA), who is the MAIN VOCALIST of BRAVEHEART. i’ve heard whispers that the 26 year old is pretty ADAPTABLE but lowkey SCEPTICAL. also, doesn’t she remind you of JEON SOMIN?

Yeah, I know, it's Esme again. Truth to be told, I've been working on this darling for about a year and I can't believe she's now a reality. Yoona is my onion, as my good sis Donkey would say, and you don't get to see her true self unless you earn that right. So don't get discouraged if she's not the most open of my muses. Despite that, she's very friendly and likes to be around people, so give her a try. As always, you can message me on @offleurs to plot with her!!

Childhood

Born during a snowstorm, Yoonah was always meant to bring chaos into the world. Her mother was barely nineteen when Yoona came into the world screaming her lungs out, all on their own as the father ran as soon as he knew about the pregnancy.

Her mother did what she could to give her a good life, finding any job that gave her enough to pay for a small one-bedroom apartment and keep food on their table. It was never enough, and Yoona learned from a very young age that life was very difficult for those who couldn't afford it.

Her mother dated plenty of men, looking for acceptance and a family for Yoona. But they were mostly men who only wanted to take advantage of a single mother and were pretty much always mean to Yoona.

So Yoona grew up hating men, thinking they were really just a mistake of nature. Men never brought anything good into her life, and she was always relieved when she found her mother crying because she had been dumped once again.

Despite that, her mother was still very loving and wanted Yoona to have everything she didn't - a good life, and a good education, so she wasn't allowed to date anyone and she couldn't befriend boys. Which, really, Yoonah was more than happy to accept that because they weren't worth her time.

By the time she went to high school, tired of the life they had, knew she had to do something to help her mother.

In reality, being an idol wasn't something she wanted to do. In fact, she thought that maybe a modeling job would be good enough. It was then we scouted by Vibe Productions, because of her pretty face and how nice she would look in a girl group. Her singing voice was a surprise, one that needed a lot of work because she had no training, but it could be great if she actually tried.

Training Years

It was funny how she went to a house where she barely had anything to a dorm where she had to share every single thing and yet there was always food in her belly and a warm bed to sleep in. It was crazy how she could take a hot shower every day and stop taking those cold but quick showers at home just to save water and gas. It was a whole new world for her and she wasn't going to waste the opportunity.

So she kept to herself and minded her business, worked hard, and trained. She wanted to debut and finally make some money so she could take her mother out of that place and give her a better life. After so many sacrifices, her mother deserved peace.

It was difficult, though, when the company made sure all the girls fought for their place in the next group, practically encouraging them to step on each other or move the other out of the way no matter the way just to earn it. It could have been easy to do it, she was competitive enough and had reasons to try and be better than others, but Yoona didn't fall for it. She did her best to stay at the top without hurting others in the process. That didn't make her immune, she went through a lot and others did hurt her, and yet she managed to rise above.

Still, it was a surprise when she was selected to be part of a group with other three girls. She didn't mind, she could adapt and work with them, as long as they could make it. But she was terrified - there were so many things that could go wrong. Every day she went to practice hoping they wouldn't be told that their debut wouldn't happen, that when it did happen, Yoona wondered if this was what she truly wanted.

Debut

Sharing everything with other three girls was a challenge, not wanting to step on anyone's fingers but also trying her best to work hard and make sure Braveheart did well. She hadn't expected to feel comfortable around them, even if they all were so different. Yoonah didn't want to be the leader, she didn't want to be the spoiled maknae or anything at all. Being on the stage was fun, she got to see the world in a different light, and that was enough for her.

She really didn't have a role in the group, she felt. She went out there and did her job, but other than that, she was more than happy to be away. After all, she wanted to stay out of trouble so there was no reason to kick her out of the group.

So it took her a while to open up to her members, but when she did, they became her world.

Merge

Just another company, right? They still got to be on the stage and got paid, so what was the issue? Infinite couldn't be worse or better than Vibe, at least she supposed. As long as Braveheart was still together and could make music, Yoona didn't mind much. It was difficult to see so many familiar faces and have to see them around as much now, when she was used to Vibe and being just a few artists around. But still, she made new friends, allowed herself to relax, and maybe being around others wasn't so bad.

And maybe, as she realized how big the group was and that she was irreplaceable, then maybe she began living life and enjoying the fact she had the freedom to spend her own money as she pleased, to have fun, to go out and meet others. Men were good between the sheets at night, but the morning came and so she walked out the door before she could be stopped.

Tour

She got to travel and be on the stage with her girls, she didn't need much. She explored every city, had fun, did many things at night and forgot the next day. Met people in a city and left them behind, because that was life, and getting attached sounded like too much job.

Yoonah is a free spirit, she doesn't really need to overthink or feel when she can just enjoy life as it goes. Whilst it was really long, she still managed to survive without any major scandal or having the managers lose all their hair trying to control her ways.

Present

Life is boring, she accepts. Traveling was fun, if anything very tiring, but at least she didn't feel the need to run because they were moving every two weeks and she didn't have to worry about what she left behind.

Now she's forced to stay in one place, dealing with the consequences of her actions and having to be more careful with what she does.

Her wanderlust asks her to run away and never come back, she has enough money to make it and she can make sure her mother has everything she needs in her absence. But she's attached to the other Braveheart girls and can't do that to them. Oh, but she considers it every day.

Random Facts

Even if she's closed off with her thoughts and feelings, you don't have to get close enough to her to be her friend.

She has two sides - the one she gives everyone; funny, daring, reckless. And the real one; a girl that never got to be a child, so she can be quite childish and silly when she feels comfortable with the person.

She's perceived as the silly member of Braveheart - she's a sore loser and still always loses lmao. She also always says the wrong thing at the worst possible moment, she has just terrible timing to speak.

[casliveblog]

Custom Toonami Block Week 158 Rundown

Spy X Family: So the season starts out with a banger as Yor gets shot in the butt and has to avoid doing butt stuff. Loid thinks she’s just in a really bad mood like that episode of Ed Edd and Eddy where Ed gets a rock stuck in his shoe, I do think it’s fun that the two immediately think they did something wrong whenever anything happens, like they’re basically always off but it’s quite considerate in their own ways. I feel like this could’ve been solved if Yor just said she threw out her back lifting boxes at work but then we wouldn’t have an episode and it’s a comedy so it’s alright. But yeah Yor eventually drinks some poison from one of her enemies that ends up solving her butt troubles (this is way funnier because we’re talking about Yor’s butt instead of her back or anything) and Anya has to stop the guy from building a bomb, somehow reading his mind about how to build it and doing it before he has a chance to even get there and setting up several Satoko Hojo-level traps along the way, no clue how the timeline of that works but point being it’s pretty awesome and she scares the guy off. Yor’s feeling better (until the morning at least) and they have a nice date where Anya finally stops tailing them and just fucking crashes it. I also kinda like that Yor has an immunity to poisons from her job as an assassin and Yuri basically became Shizuo Heiwajima from eating her cooking all his life so like it runs in the family but for two separate reasons. Seems like we’re back to the light stuff with mild idiot plots for comedy after the back half of season 1 had several heavier arcs in a row, personally I like more of the ones that at least make some logical sense and take up a whole episode as opposed to the ones that are half an episode with the clearly telegraphed gags and this one was probably half and half.

Inuyasha: So Naraku’s sitting there like ‘okay that was definitely Kikyo’s arrow that nearly killed me so she’s still alive so let’s smoke her out real quick before she keeps this shit up’. Kohaku’s doing his best to pretend to still be a coma victim and not reveal he’s regained his memories but Naraku and Hakudoshi are sharp enough they’ve probably already figured it out because despite not disobeying them he’s not doing great hiding his emotions or anything. Inuyasha goes to look for Kikyo but doesn’t find her and because Kagome can’t take that on faith despite her supposed character development last time she gives him like five Sits for no reason only for everyone to complain about how she’s being mistreated. Usually I love Kagome but this is something that happens throughout the series where the girls are abusive and sometimes it’s more warranted than others but sometimes it’s just for nothing and it’s a little psychotic, like I get it’s for comedy and like half the time it’s filler stuff the anime snuck in to add more gags to a scene because from what I know the manga supposedly does have the characters get less abusive towards each other as things go on and relationships progress and they have less of their gag spats. So yeah on to the main plot, Hakudoshi and Kohaku unleash a plague of Demon Rats on the world and like they steal the Infinite Rat Box from its master and just kinda… leave it open? Like idk why the Rat Master wasn’t doing that to begin with since there seems to be no downside to havening infinite rats but I guess he was rather weak and didn’t want to draw attention to himself or have someone destroy the box. It’s actually a moment where Miroku gets to be MVP because destroying them only makes more rats so he gets to play Human Vacuum Cleaner and suck them up since Naraku doesn’t have enough Saimyosho to give the whole rat horde an escort I guess. It’s kind of funny because Kohaku brings up this being how to smoke Kikyo out and Hakudoshi’s like ‘oh right that’s what we were doing, I was just having fun unleashing plagues on the world’ like he fucking forgot the mission and was just enjoying being rat boi. Kikyo’s smarter than that though and finds a way to lure the rats out without giving herself away and creates a big fuck off spirit tree for them all to climb while Inuyasha and Kagome head to the tree and Sango and Miroku try to find the Infinite Rat Box now that the stream is more focused. Sango eventually finds Kohaku in front of the box as he’s contemplating if saving the five guys the rats haven’t killed yet is worth blowing his cover with Naraku (it’s not) and Sango gets to play the ‘I have to kill Kohaku even though I decided last time it was best to let him live’ game for like the fifth times because character development in this series is a sequence of small circles.

Yu Yu Hakusho: Yusuke meets with Yomi and his proposal is one that’s kind of beautiful in its simplicity, and also the most Yusuke thing that could’ve happened: he wants to have another tournament. This time the winner will be the ruler of Demon World no questions asked and it simultaneously stops a bloody war and dissolves all the complicated allegiance shit Mukuro and Yomi had been planning, like Yusuke just snapped Game of Thrones in half and made it into DBZ and it’s kinda great. The beautiful thing about it is Demon World is a Might Makes Right place so if any of the kings refuse to participate they’ll look weak, Yusuke wrapped them in the Chains of Command without even trying. Kurama breaks off ties with Yomi to fight on his own side (not sure how that’ll affect him being blackmailed into his mom being murdered but we’ll see I guess) and Yomi eventually agrees too though he’s secretly hedging his bets with his kingdom’s fighters fighting in his name, while also growing his own little Meruem/Cell child that’s supposed to be ridiculously strong to cheat more. Still, a bunch of Raizen’s old sparring partners come to visit his grave and tell Yusuke about how they live more peacefully now after seeing Raizen literally die to avoid killing humans and Yusuke gets a measure of respect for him in  a way you only can by learning about how someone else sees someone you know, so that’s pretty cool even if Raizen’s backstory is still the stupidest shit. The power levels of all Raizen’s old drinking buddies doing a Half Blood Prince ending into the air gives Yomi and Yomi Jr. battle boners and they both decide to only go in for themselves after all. I can see why people would be mad about what was set up as a big convoluted Pirates of the Carribean arc of allegiances just turning into another Tournament arc but I kinda love it, like the power of Yusuke’s big dumb pride and confidence overthrowing centuries of ridiculous plotting and scheming is pretty cool.  

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo and Geto beat their big fights from the cliffhanger off-screen and are formally introduced to Riko who’s a bit of a chunni but I guess that’s kinda how you have to do this kind of character, like if you’re sending a demure quiet girl to her death it’s kinda both more sad because she’s just accepting it but also less sad because she makes less of an impact so this is probably how it has to be by writing law. Megumi’s dad’s just bumming around gambling on random shit, he seems to be trying an Arkham City approach and waiting for everyone else to bombard Gojo and Geto with assaults so they get tired and have divided attention but they seem to be literally having no problem with anyone and literally made a big criminal organization go defunct off-screen. Still we get a neat little fight of Geto owning an old man and Riko’s maid crushing a paper bag man’s dick with a mop so that’s fun, plus Gojo uses his still incredibly undefined powers to own the rest of paper bag man’s clones though he shows he hasn’t fully mastered the big kamehameha thing yet so he’s stuck on Almighty Push and Almighty Pull mode, also Riko’s maid has been kidnapped so uhh yeah that’s not good.

Scott Pilgrim Takes Off: So… Scott’s dead, short series right? The mini-boss guy is for some reason surprised that turning a guy into coins doesn’t make Ramona want to date him and kinda kills the party vibe but I guess you don’t self-identify as evil and devote yourself to stalking a single girl you dated for two weeks in high school by having social skills. Ramona dyes her hair a new color and heads over to Scott’s funeral where Knives Out is kinda mad about her being there since while she didn’t really have anything to do with his death she is the manic pixie ignition switch that got him punched into coins so she has a full Gorillaz makeover to show how angry she is. Also Envy Adams is there and she’s a model I’m guessing based on the billboards but also Scott’s ex and a weird Ragyo Kiryuin knockoff because she has an entourage and sparkles everywhere. Also I’m noticing that you kind of have to use someone’s full name whenever they mention someone like you use their first and last name even when they know who you’re talking about. Anyway Envy upstages a fucking funeral and for some reason they had an open casket funeral just to show off the fucking coins Scott got turned into so yeah it’s a fucking shitshow. The Evil Exes all get invited to their own lair and #1 is like ‘hey bro I just killed the protagonist so I should be in charge’ and #7 is just like ‘fuck you bro get out of here with your midboss vibes’ and also apparently one of them is dating Envy? Like if you’re currently dating someone why are you in an self-proclaimed evil league to win back another separate girlfriend? Is dating in-universe Lady Gaga just an automatic poly relationship? Anyway Gideon and Matt fight and they do this cool Tekken/Soul Calibur stage transfer thing where each part of the fight is in a different thematic location and both of them equally look like they’re fucking up at various points but Matt has magic Stand User cheerleader girls and Gideon’s… kinda good with swords I guess? So yeah, Stand Powers win and Gideon signs Kaibacorp over to Matt so he can fully Starscream it up and fuck things up with his new leadership position and ungodly amounts of wealth that Gideon probably shouldn’t have agreed to wager over a fight, like betting the League was probably enough. Ramona’s probably a bit more broken up about a guy she knew for two days dying but she did kinda get him involved in some supervillain shit on accident and her having seven exes in her early twenties does suggest she’s the type of person to fall for people easily. So yeah we end the episode with a suggestion from right out of Futurama that Scott’s still alive and only the woman he loves can help find him, I’ve seen this one it turns out Ramona was in a coma and she got all the space bee venom while Scott lives with a hole in his gut.  

Ranking of Kings: Okay as much as I’ve been ragging on the filler season, this one does actually answer a question I’ve been looking forward to: finding out how Hilling assembled her squad and recruited Ann, like it still amounts to ‘fight bandits’ with just the names and places changing like one of those Radiant Quests in Skyrim like half the stories have been this season but yeah it’s cool to see more of Hilling’s backstory back when she was just the white mage of a Frieren-esque party and Ann is cool but it’s still not much to talk about. The second story is about Daida learning healing magic and finally getting the hang of it after pushing Bojji off a comedically well-hidden cliff that’s like five feet from where they were playing. I like the detail that Bojji was initially going to meet his snake friends since he was hissing to call snakes before Daida jumped him but yeah otherwise pretty paint by numbers and kinda makes the big reveal of Daida’s magic during the climax of last season less surprising given half the cast should already know he has it but okay.

Vinland Saga: Thorfinn and Einar get properly acquainted and honestly for being a slave it sounds like a prtty good deal, they get their own plot and get to sell off what they grow and they’re free once they earn more than they were sold for. Like the guy’s using slaves to expand his farm and I get you can’t really do that indefinitely without recouping costs somewhere and the land is completely untended and this may turn out to be way more impossible than it looks but still kinda on the boat that this is a very doable deal if there aren’t any surprises (there will almost certainly be surprises). Thorfinn’s about as talkative as he was as a kid so Einar doesn’t get much out of him except advice to keep his head down about some of the local assholes and Einar gets too much of a boner for one of the local girls to remember to tell them off so it all works out. Meanwhile we get introduced to the lord’s son who’s kind of a whiny jackass but they also do a decent job of showing things from his side and how the expectations put on him weigh on him and how everyone just seems him as an extension of his dad and he’s caught up in the warrior pride BS that Thorfinn was on back in the day, it’s a good combo of wanting to punch him in the face but understanding why he’s like that. Einar gives us the usual ‘war bad’ speech but most importantly he tells Thorfinn about how the Danes burned down his village and it gives him a chance to reflect on when he was doing the burning and pillaging.

[ladyhindsight]

The last chapter. FINALLY. And yet it’s still ass and I have nothing constructive to say anymore.

The big bad has been vanquished. Clary is coming to and hears Simon and Jace talking above her. Jace has fallen into the depth of self-pity again. Jace asks Simon to carry Clary. Simon doesn’t just yet.

I am not a fan of this “Even Clary” concept.

Simon carries Clary inside and over to the elevator, but it opens before them and the Inverstigation Team arrives at the scene, conveniently late.

Heyyy, parabatai makes a sudden return now that there is a prequel series wholly dedicated to one pair above everyone else. 

This is the first and only time in the book that Alec and Jace see each other face to face and interact in person. And I hate that the focus is immediately in explaining Alec might-have-been feelings for Jace. 

→ ...but then his attention went, as it always did, to Jace. They were parabatai, and Jace was always first on his mind in battle.

Jace prioritizes his own punishment (not allowed to touch her after not being able to protect or save her, thinking Clary doesn’t want him to touch her because apparently Jace doesn’t know Clary at all) over comforting Clary and helping her with her injuries. Clary’s pain becomes all about Jace and his guilt. Jace asks Alec to take care of Clary for him while Jace wallows in self-pity. Alec should’ve acted anyway since no one else lifted a finger to heal Clary’s injuries.

Great bonding moment for Clary and Alec. Would’ve been greater if Alec had initiated it without being told. But all is about Jace’s pain so what can you expect.

→ There was confusion on Alec’s face...

→ could see, could see, could see, could see, could see, the amount of things these characters can see in this book is astonishing.

It’s funny how Clary thinks, the whole book, how well she knows Jace and is able to read him like a book, but the moment someone comes in and does it infinitely better, Clary is confused. Could there possibly be people who also know Jace? Maybe actually better than me?

It’s also funny because it’s probably unintentional.

This, if anything, highlights how barren is the field where Clare grows her fucks about anyone else than Jace and Clary. Alec and Isabelle do not have any reaction to the truth about Jace. They have no feelings, no nothing, because Clare didn’t want them to have that.

Alec and Isabelle should be furious with Jace and Clary, and that fury should carry over to the next book when Jace goes missing because of the secret they kept. And let’s not pretend that they kept it a secret in order to protect anyone, they kept it secret because it was their little secret, and that’s all.

Alec and Isabelle don’t get to have a reaction! UNBELIEVABLE. Nothing in this book quite upset me more than this. This is Clare protecting Clary and Jace from any real consequence as to their relationships. Sure, they can have consequences as long as it results in Jace’s man pain and everyone’s sympathy being on him. More than that, anger and hatred towards them is unacceptable.

Fucking boohoo. You made sure enough, and then ran to help Clary and stop Valentine. Stop throwing this pity party for yourself. The only reason this happened was because you weren’t being honest FOR NO GOOD REASON.

Then we go from one obnoxious thing to another and have Jordan’s annoying and pushy behavior pay off and they kiss with Maia.

Unearned and wrong on so many levels.

Could see, could see, could see.

Fuck off.

Shut the hell up.

Quit being dumb. As if Isabelle would let Simon suffer or die because of the current relationship status. Do you know her at all??? DO these characters actually know each other???

Another wrong thing to say. The previous one in chapter 18.

Alec and Magnus’ fight started because Alec was upset to face part of Magnus’ past and realized he knew diddly-squat about him or his past. Magnus refusing to tell him anything made Alec feel like he was a mere fleeting moment in Magnus’ life and for Alec Magnus was infinitely more. Magnus acts like he can’t do anything to help the situation and everything just reels from there to the point where the only thing they make up about is that Alec is not trivial.

What about all the other stuff like Magnus not telling anything about himself to Alec? THE UNDERLYING ISSUES IN THEIR RELATIONSHIP?

They’ve dated like, what, six weeks and Magnus was already trying to be fine with the idea that Alec will die and therefore he does not need to open up? 

And to cap it all off, all of this conflict THAT SHOULD BE ONGOING is ended with them making out in a corner, Simon once again as their awkward spectator. God lord, I had forgotten how much I despised this.

→ Behind Clary’s family the Shadowhunters crowded around Isabelle...

This is a nice sentiment. Only that Luke is not a bachelor  → For a man who’d never had children

Can you not mention Jace, for once in your life, especially in a scene that was between Simon and Luke and about their familial relationships?

So the book ends with Jace being beckoned by Sebastian.

Okay, so Simon’s bite woke him up. Doesn’t he still need the Daylighter blood to wake from the dead? What did Simon biting Sebastian even do?

Seaweed #3

It appears you don’t need to tell that.

→ His mind was screaming at his body to stop, but is left hand came down...

How come it is a new voice, Sebastian’s voice, when Sebastian’s voice already spoke to him?

I said before that City of Bones was the worst book ever, but I was wrong. This is it, shittiness so unparalleled so these two books might as well stand on the podium together.

[coralhoneyrose]

Here are some I think it would be cool to know about: 7, 10, 13, 25, 31

Feel free to not answer all of them if there's any too tricky to do so

-nath :3

Hi Nath! Ty for sending these ^-^

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

My deepest joy related to writing is uncovering more about an emotion or gaining a deeper understanding of a character through it. Sometimes I will go into a scene intent on writing about a character reacting or feeling a certain way and while trying to write it, realize it doesn’t feel quite right. And then if I dig into it more, discover there are actually some other angles there that I think would be significant or meaningful to the character that had never occurred to me, usually because my POV is different than theirs. It’s a cool feeling and really does feel like stepping out of your own head and life and into someone else’s for a little bit.

My other greatest joy with writing is just how weird brains are and how mystifying and cool it can be to pull some imagery or turn of phrase out of nowhere that you’re actually pretty happy with, particularly when you have no idea where the inspiration for it came from.

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

Pieces of writing have definitely haunted me before. I think I tend to consider a piece of writing haunting if I am still thinking back on it years later with questions and trying to re-examine it from different lenses to understand it better. A few examples that come to mind are Despair by Vladimir Nabokov, Tess of the d’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy and A Perfect Day for Banana Fish by J.D. Salinger. I don’t even necessarily *enjoy* all of these stories but they sure have kept me up at night before.  

I don’t think my own writing has ever haunted me in THAT way. I do have this one dystopian novella idea that’s been floating around in my head for years though and keeps telling me to write it, but I don’t want to because I’m a wimp and it’s too sad LOL. So I guess that’s a different form of being “haunted” by writing?

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

Subject matter that is difficult for me to write about would be grieving. Subject matter that’s easy for me to write about would be pining (I know, shocker…I’m sure nothing about my collective ao3 works would have given this away LOL).

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

On my character sheets I have a note that Lady Cecily’s favorite color is yellow and she dresses pretty much exclusively in warm colors LOL. This has never and will never come up in the story because, generally speaking, Chrom doesn’t care about or take note of what anyone is wearing except Robin gkdfgk

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

Dear Readers,

The idea that you would willingly take time out of your day to read anything I’ve created is so genuinely extraordinary to me. You could be reading or doing a thousand other things instead and I am so infinitely grateful to you for letting my words into your life. Your support and kindness have brought me so many smiles and helped to pick me back up more times than you’ll probably ever know. I’ll be thankful forever.

Lots and lots and lots of love,

Rose

[electricbluebutterflies]

"you scared me yesterday, y'know? i thought you had hypothermia or something...i've never seen you like that."

First time writing Joel/Tess... I have known weaknesses, I like the amount of unexplained backstory, I'm gonna have a good time here. PG-ish and also on ao3.

There are days when Tess suspects she’s more of a masochist than she’ll ever feel like trying to fix.

Days like this one, mid-winter in Boston, she’s at least lived places where it snows her entire life and she can handle it and the correct survival mech is to stay indoors as much as possible, ideally under a blanket pile with another body next to hers as much as possible, but that’s her. This is the kind of circumstantial improvisation that she understands and plans around and was good at long before the world took a certain detour. This is apparently not something her partner understands so well.

Partner. Is that a word she gets to use yet, four years in? Does the shared apartment justify any kind of claim? Does her surprisingly existent patience, perhaps the only positive personality trait she’s developed in the past eight years, let her explain how she’s lost her thirties to what she already suspects will never be more than an unrequited crush with benefits?

It doesn’t matter right now. There’s a questionably conscious man on her couch who has some explaining to do. They can deal with the technicalities later, maybe.

The current situation itself is as much of a routine as they have, even if the previous night’s events are less so. They are domestic but not domesticated, separate sleeping arrangements more common than the shared warmth she wants more and more, they feel like ships passing in the night sometimes, they feel like-

Fuck it, her patience isn’t infinite and she’s worried.

“Hey. You in there?” Hands putting moderate pressure on his shoulders, be calm be calm, they can fight later. She glanced out the window on her way into the main room and it looks like just enough snow out there for smart people to stay inside, and-

Joel wakes up with a low growl, the familiar noises of someone who is not by nature a morning person, so far normal enough. “Hello to you too.”

Awake, talking, making eye contact, and as per usual no visible idea how much stress he adds to her life. Tess feels something annoyingly close to relief, and she’s half tempted to take a kiss but they don’t do that like this and-

“That’s where you’re gonna start?”

She knows she’s too loud too early, too much of a bitch and not enough context, passive-aggressive martyr complex, why is she like this, why is she-

“I’m missing something.”

Fucking idiot thinks that as long as he doesn’t come home with an open wound she’ll be calm, huh? She’s learning to pick her battles, fine, but she is still human and worse she has trust issues and an emotional attachment and fuck her and-

“You scared me yesterday,” she says, be calm be calm do not say anything she can’t take back. “I thought you had hypothermia or something… I’ve never seen you like that.”

Not that she’d acted accordingly, she’d point out if she weren’t still trying to push her worry back in its box. Not that she’d done anything other than make sure there were adequate blankets. He’d been late, and late without visible damage gets her a different kind of worried, and-

“I’m fine.”

Means something different when a man says those words, Tess thinks, realizing she’s not going to get anywhere. Something real, almost. Like end of conversation, yeah, but also-

“We’re not getting out of the building today,” she shrugs, deciding that a change of subject might be safest right now. “Hazard pay ain’t worth it.”

“What kind of not worth it?”

“Foot of snow and not stopping kind of not worth it.” Their dynamic is still evolving, may never stop evolving, but at least she knows her power. If she says something, she will be heard. Better than she’s had before. Better than-

“Yeah. Not worth it.”

If she were a different kind of woman, a little better at the romantic side than she’s ever been, she’d take a kiss or something and try to escalate. But she is the person she is, and sleeping alone was bad enough, and she settles for slipping her body under the blanket pile on the couch and making space for herself. Much better, she thinks, much more-

“You don’t get to worry me like that,” she says, not the first time and definitely not the last. “I’d sleep better without you, but…”

“Anyone ever tell you how cute you are like this?”

Not a word anyone’s ever used for her in her goddamn life, she’s tempted to point out, but they’re not normally sweet like this so she lets it go with a roll of her eyes. “You’re lucky I put up with you.”

There’s no point in a conversation, not like this, not stuck in a cold apartment with nothing better to do. Nothing to plan, none of the routines that haven’t quite set, nothing that seems like a life yet, not-

Tess shifts her position for a little more body-warmth, and even now she knows she can’t stay mad for too long. She’ll put up with too much as long as the worst she gets is some communication fail. The worry will be worth it… right?

[badnikbreaker]

@spiinsparks : ❛  just do this for me and we’ll never have to speak to each other again once this is all over.  ❜ (rain u didn't even have to ask for an ava!taken au bc I WAS THINKING IT B3333 also he is lying through his teeth but he also wants her... to COME WITH HIM)     /     accepting.

The rabbit stares at him, lips pursed into a thin line.  The images in their skull replay, again and again, like a natural memory : Sonic hurting them.  Sonic trying to kill them, getting so close.  Why — or what happened before their battle — is fuzzy or nonexistent, makes their head hurt to even try to remember.  Infinite says not to bother.  THIS PERSON TRIED TO KILL THEM, BUT SO DID...

She grasps her arm, feeling at one of the new bruises under her fur.  BUT SO DID INFINITE.  At the very least, he was more than willing to let her die in Null Space.  Null Space, that still haunts her dreams, that she shouldn’t have entered, that she doesn’t understand why she did.  To save the hedgehog who would have killed her?  WHO DIDN’T, WHEN THEY WERE IN THAT HELL TOGETHER?  a thought, barely - formed, i’m not letting infinite take more of my friends.  but when has he ever taken any?  Infinite saved her!  She owes everything to Infinite, who left her to die in Null Space, who made it clear when she returned that he was LESS THAN PLEASED WITH HER PERFORMANCE.

Her hand tightens at the bruise, in the shape of a hand much larger than hers.  Maybe Sonic tried to kill her, but — but Infinite isn’t treating her like an ally he seeks to protect and even with the truth of that staring her in the face her head still pounds, screams, tries to split as though questioning him IS AGAINST THE RULES.  She doesn’t trust Sonic, but he — but he acts like he knows her, knows something she doesn’t.  THERE’S SO MUCH SHE DOESN’T KNOW.

They know Infinite saved them.  They know Infinite left bruises on them for failing, they know it hurts to think of that as wrong.  They know Infinite would have left them to die in Null Space.  THEY KNOW THEY’RE AFRAID OF HIM.  They know that —— something is wrong ——— even if they can’t think of what without their skull splitting in two.  It hurts so much as entertain it, a dull throbbing in the chest where the ruby shard is, and a sharp, screaming pain in their head.  They push past, endure.

The boy who tried to kill you...at least that’s better than the ally that’s trying, too.

<  explain, > they sign, fingers shaking but only a little.  Expression still harsh, not trusting, but they need ANYTHING.  Anything that makes sense.  <  i don’t...understand what’s happening.  why you...don’t want to kill me anymore.  >

[britcision]

I’m fuckin trying my best for the Mighty Nein Reunited but I swear it’s like Travis read a list of my least favourite shit he did for Fjorester and is checking them off againnnnnn

Like giving up the orb, it’s the point of the show, we know it’s coming, it’s gonna happen

And on one hand, I can see where he’s going? He wants this to be the big romantic moment, the “I love you and I would break the world for you”

But Laura is LITERALLY insisting “no it is not your turn you cannot do this do not do this thing”

And it’s giving me violent flashbacks to twitter and someone who Actually Said The Words that who Jester dates should not be up to Jester back when Beau and Caleb were “nobly stepping back”

(I just

They can decide not to pursue her, perfectly fine, no big deal

Them going and telling FJORD “hey we’re not going to date her you do it” was fucking gross

Caleb PHYSICALLY HANDING HER TO FJORD was fucking gross

If she is a person with agency, you do not do that. That is what you do with a trophy or a prize you give to the winner.

You ASK a person with agency WHAT SHE WANTS.

“Do you want to dance with Fjord”.

Even fucking better, FJORD COULD ASK HER. Infinitely more romantic, better ship material, treats her like an actual goddamn person who might even be able to choose who she fucking worships.

The goddamn Fjorester reveal was the biggest let down I have ever seen because in the Big Five Scenes leading up to the big question and ship becoming canon?

Maybe I’m fucking old fashioned but I like to think that the love interest should be in MORE THAN TWO OF THEM. PREFERABLY IN ALL FIVE.

But no. We got

1) Beau tells Fjord he should date Jester

2) Caleb tells Fjord he should date Jester

3) Caleb physically hands Jester to Fjord and earns my eternal wrath

4) Fjord gives Jester cute unicorn while they have cute dance (yes please why could it not just be this)

5) The Question (woulda preferred a longer talk but Travis was skittish and that’s fine)

Only Yasha and Caduceus came out of that mess looking good and that’s because they wisely did not get involved with someone else’s ship

Be like Yasha and Caduceus)

And THEN

THIS TIME IN THE ONESHOT

Fjord does this grand dramatic gesture of giving up the orb to save Jester DIRECTLY AGAINST HER WILL WHILE SHE TOLD HIM NOT TO

And when she voices her frustration and explains she had a plan to get him out? He gets fucking POUTY

“I saved you from dying”

Motherfucker they literally sank the fucking boat ANYWAY, you still had to use Kingsley’s dick boat in a box to escape and nearly had to use Jester’s spell

Like sir, my good bitch, I know this scene had to happen and you had to give up the orb but for fucks sake did you have to make it Jester’s fault??

Why the hell did this have ANYTHING to do with her?? It was his bonehead decision to go back to sea WITH THE ORB, and SHE had a plan to get you out without losing it

He could have thought of the crew, he could have thought of Kingsley, he could have let his ass get knocked out, he could have LISTENED TO THE PERSON HE WAS OSTENSIBLY DOING THIS FOR

WHILE SHE SPECIFICALLY TOLD HIM NOT TO AND THAT SHE DIRECTLY DID NOT WANT THIS

It is not a fucking romantic gesture if it is something the other person is telling you not to do.

I haven’t even gotten to the “I fell in love and when that was threatened” and holy shit if things do not improve or he doesn’t find a new spin I will explode

Jester is not a delicate fucking flower

She is not a weakling waif you must protect and make stupid decisions for

She has gone down before

She has DIED before

There was no way they could win that fight but she coulda got most of them home in the next round

She has been in way worse situations, in way more danger, just around the orbs

And Fjord’s biggest fucking failure with her all campaign was not fucking listening to her and treating her like a grown ass adult who might know what she’s doing

He didn’t believe she could have solved the problem with the hag on her own (oh we can go back)

He didn’t believe she might know Artagan better than him to know he wasn’t Uk’otoa and that she could trust him

He didn’t even think to ask her if she wanted the others to know they were dating, he walked up and kissed her in front of Veth and then LEFT. So SHE had to deal with it.

The fact that she fucking lied and said “I dunno he’s never done that before” says a whole fucking lot

Jester’s whole arc was around finding out who she was and growing past her lonely child fantasies and instead of helping and supporting her he pushed back on her actual main shining moment with Travelercon

(He did 100% stop flirting with her only after he’d just unequivocally pissed her off after Assarius so he can learn, he can do better, and they had so much genuinely good chemistry…

It’s just a fucking crime that almost all of it was before they agreed to date because Travis got bogged down in what romance means)

[menalez]

Tbh I agree that Kinsey 1 bisexuals shouldn’t really be grouped with 50/50 or Kinsey 5 bisexuals. Like I fully understand why they are, it doesn’t make any sense at all to divide bisexuals up based on preference for either sex because you could basically have infinite labels (and it can prob change throughout your life, idk). But the fact is (like some of the notes on that post say), a Kinsey 1 bi is effectively and practically heterosexual, and a Kinsey 5 bi is effectively homosexual (not ACTUALLY homosexual, I need to clarify. But practically.)

Like, I am a febfem. I have been with one man (was drunk and thought I should try it) and I found it repulsive. I do have some degree of attraction for males (maybe like movie or book characters who I would never meet in real life?) but never would want to touch one or actually be in a relationship with one. Any attraction is basically theoretical. I have a friend who calls herself “a little bit bi” because, according to her “women are objectively prettier than men and boobs are hot I guess, but I’m disgusted by vaginas and would never want to touch one other than my own”. Now, according to the definitions we operate under, she is just as bi as I am. Despite having no desire to be with a woman whatsoever, just maybe gets turned on by boobs or something.

I fully agree that there’s no practical way of dividing us up but at the same time I find it frustrating that myself and my friend are grouped into the exact same sexuality and there’s no real way of specifying here. My friend will never be with a woman and back a few decades ago when it was less acceptable, would never have even acknowledged any attraction to women and would have happily lived a straight life. I would’ve struggled terribly as I only have a (realistic) desire to be with women.

I’m not arguing for the definitions to change or anything, I’m just having a rant really. Like we have the term “febfem” but that’s very niche and tbh most people have never heard of it, and that still implies a “choice” to only be with women, whether out of preference or for political reasons. I prefer women because I was born this way, not because I chose it. Just like my friend who prefers men.

imo someone primarily dating the opposite sex vs primarily dating the same sex vs dating both equally is what should be used to differentiate not where you fall on the kinsey scale. bisexuality is a broad spectrum with a wide range of experiences and sure some bisexuals will have lived experiences almost identical to heterosexuals. but i think it’s also important to be open about not actually being heterosexual & vice versa for bi ppl with strong preference for the same sex regardless and putting an end to the myth that gay & het people can also be attracted to both sexes to some degree.

also ngl your friend doesn’t even sound bi to me lol “boobs are hot i guess and women are prettier than men” doesn’t sound convincing. lots of het women sexualise female bodies bc female bodies are sexualised in general but express no actual interest in women. they just acknowledge what even gay men will acknowledge, which is that women are pretty (even gay men will say women are better looking than men).

[argothiathedreamer]

One line, any fic

tagged by @bakageta

Rules: Pick any 10 of your fics and scroll somewhere in the midpoint, pick a line, and share it! Then tag 10 people!

I tag whoever wants to be tagged!

I think I will also be doing WIPs and finished fics, especially since the vast majority of my fics are WIPs lol.

-

Auguries (BatFam), Chapter 1: He doesn't jump when fingers entwine with his and a slight weight leans against his shoulder. She doesn't speak, just stands there beside him. A warm presence in the cold.

The Myth of the Bat Part 1 (Batman Mythos series) (Batman fandom) (WIP): Some day, on Gotham's darkest night, when smog and the earth blots out the moon, Vicki is going to strangle Roger with his own stupid necktie.

But You Could Hide Beside Me Maybe For A While (FMA): Opening his eyes Ed tilts his head to look at Ling, finding him looking back. There’s no goofy smile on Ling’s face and Ed takes in again how that makes him seem so much more stern than he is. Still Ed kind of likes this look on Ling better than the goofy grins. This is the real Ling after all and Ling trusts Ed enough to show it to him.

Still Breathing (Rewrite) (BatFam) (WIP): More than anything Dick wishes he could just erase every nasty thing he ever said to the kid and start over from the very beginning. So that right now he could feel like he’d have the right to tell the kid he looks like shit when he wakes up and know that he and Jason could laugh about it. As it stands he knows that it’d just sound like another unfair criticism in a long long line of them.

Terminal Pun Disease (BatFam): Jason grimaces. “If you mean the latest additions to my ‘that’s gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow’ list, they’ll mend. The case of compulsive pun disease I contracted from a certain someone way back when though, I’m afraid that’s terminal. One day it will absolutely be the death of me.”

We’ll Be Carrying Each Other (BatFam) (WIP): Despite all their arguments and everything Drake represents, Damian does not actually want him dead anymore. He blames Grayson for this. It certainly has nothing to do with Drake's winning personality.

Literal Drake (BatFam): Damian snarls right back at Tim like he thinks his display has anywhere near the same impact and that’s just adorable. Well, it would be, if he weren’t goading an actual dragon directly after Jason just prevented him from getting crispy-fried. Some gratitude. “Pathetic as usual, Drake. Even in a form where you have all the power you defer to Todd of all people! Shamef--”

Heavens Doors, Hell’s Gates (BatFam) (WIP): Hood chuckles, which sounds infinitely creepier through the voice modulator. “Yes, I do. Because you’re not stupid, Robin. You know how dangerous I am and exactly why I should terrify you. Now I suggest you use some of that self preservation instinct I hope Batman drilled into you and remember to stay far away from me. I might not be in so merciful a mood next time, little bird.”

Bad Influence (BatFam): “Well, you see, it’s very simple…” Jason eats the chip he fished from the bowl before continuing, “Fuck you. Fuck you is how.”

Rescue (BatFam) (WIP): “Ow.” Jason grumbles as he bangs his knee on the corner of the vent he's managed to crawl into. He really really hates being so damn huge sometimes. When he was a kid he could have crawled through spaces smaller than this one no problem. Now it's like stuffing an elephant in a horse trailer and this is the biggest vent in the entire place. Replacement owes him big time for this shit.