#obviously there's bigger fish to fry in the world but still something to be annoyed at haha

[ponyguru]

Just got my latest amazon order (days early yay!), realized as soon as I had it in hand that I already bought this pony item. >.<

It's only $10, but ugh! Frustration! I guess it's all the more reason to try and catch up faster on my backlog of photos, because I think I photographed this and didn't post it yet from like, a year ago.

I don't want to have to spam my page (since I like having a backlog as well as not spamming my followers, it saves me from worrying about what to post!), but like. Argh! Annoyed!

[crash-cinematic-universe]

beautiful

pairing: adrian chase/reader

summary: adrian chase is too good for this world, and you intend to let him know it

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort

notes: yes, lords and ladies, I finally finished writing an actual fic after a 3 million year long, writer’s-block inspired hiatus. i hope you enjoy it. and I hope that i can continue to do more in the future. I appreciate those of you who stuck around even though I was making 0 content 100% of the time. i love you all dearly and i pray that this writer’s block stays away. i might be a little rusty but once i get back into my groove the quality will improve probably

For most of your life, you were never considered particularly desirable. There aren’t a lot of lovable traits about a murderous anti-hero that spends their nights perched on street corners waiting for any signs of conflict. You were almost always injured, constantly littered with open wounds and deep purple bruises. Very few people find being constantly caked in blood and dirt an attractive trait, and when coupled with your aversion to empathy, it became clear that you weren’t exactly a catch. You didn’t care; you had bigger fish to fry. You’d much rather be turning criminals inside out than be stuck in a relationship, platonic or otherwise. 

Then, after a twisted chain of events, you found yourself here, in the middle of a black ops team with a bunch of strangers that irritated you endlessly. Harcourt and Murn are so emotionally stunted any attempt at socializing with them would probably yield worse results than trying to make out with a brick wall. Chris and Economos always manage to be on the opposite sides of a very, very annoying spectrum. Adebayo is… pretty cool, actually. She’s always nice to you, even when you’re not very nice back. However, none of them hold a candle to the Vigilante himself, Adrian Chase. 

Adrian is beautiful. Like a whirlwind of endearing violence and shitty puns, you found yourself being tangled in his life. He’s hyperactive and talkative— every time he starts one of his long-winded tangents, you worry he’ll die of suffocation. The entire team finds him near insufferable, and they make it painfully obvious that they dislike him. He tries his best to hide it, but you know it hurts his feelings. Maybe that’s why you’re so drawn to him, the unfamiliar sense of empathy (or is it pity?) luring you in like a gnat to a lantern. Instead of a fatal shock, you’re met with a paralyzing warmth (though, it could be argued that there is warmth to be found in lethal electricity).

As wonderfully kind, passionate, and caring Adrian is, there’s also something so profoundly sad about him. A grand sense of hurt lies within those glittering puppy-dog eyes, and it kills you to see it grow as the days go by. While he may deny that he has “regular people feelings” the excuse falls flat every time you catch his gaze during a team meeting. Still, he usually kept his composure and somehow managed to shake it off by the end of the day.

So, when you hear muffled crying coming from the back of the van, you’re inclined to investigate. Your movements are careful and calculated as you approach the van as quietly as possible. A part of you knows who’s inside, and you’d hate to humiliate him further by attracting attention from the rest of the team. Softly, you knock on the metal door.

The sound of hasty shuffling and quiet ‘fuck!’ comes through the barrier as the van door swings open. You’re unsurprised to see Adrian standing above you, face flushed and eyes red. An obviously forced smile is plastered on his face as he greets you.

“Oh, hey!” 

“Hey…” you trail off, unsure on how to approach the situation. “Whatcha doin’ back there?”

“Oh, I was just…” Adrian stands there, eyes frantic as he attempts to come up with an excuse. “...smoking weed,”

“What? Adrian, you hate weed. You threatened to shoot multiple people for possession alone,”

“I had a change of heart,” he defended. “Now my favorite hobby is blazing it. I love sitting in the back of our van and chasing the dragon,” his words come out awkward and unsteady.

“You do realize that the phrase ‘chasing the dragon’ refers to heroin, right?” Adrian’s eyes widen. Heroin is much more illegal than weed. Before he had a chance to deepen the hole he dug himself into any further, you cut in.

“Adrian, are you doing okay?” He froze. The faux-grin on his face faltered, and his body tensed. A small twang shot through your heart as you realized he was struggling to maintain his composure. He doesn’t look you in the eyes. He can’t, because he knows if he does, you’re going to see right through him. Somehow, you always seemed to cut through his façade with a single glance. 

“For sure! I’m doing totally awesome. I’m 100% fine,” His voice trembled. You didn’t buy it. He didn’t buy it either. Adrian’s hands were balled up into tight fists, his fingernails leaving crescent-shaped indentations on the meaty part of his palms. 

You step forward, gently guiding Adrian further back into the van before shutting the door. The isolation seemed to sooth his nerves a bit, but he was still clinging to his happy façade. The two of you sat there in silence for a minute, and you spent the seconds studying his face. He’s written with anguish and hurt, and the fact that he’s trying so hard to hide it feels like a punch to the gut. 

“Adrian,” You had to choose your words carefully. Adrian didn’t experience emotions in the same way that most people do, so you had to ensure you wouldn’t scare him off or upset him further. Instead of facing the problem head-on, you decided to let him come to you.

Nonchalantly, you leaned back against the van wall, letting your shoulder brush against his. “How was your day?”

Adrian seemed surprised by the question, but he answered it nonetheless. “It was okay. I’m still sore from getting tossed around like a ragdoll by that gorilla,”

“God, that sucked,” You chuckled. “I always liked Charlie as a kid. I never thought he would betray me like this,”

Adrian paused, his eyes flitting from your face to the floor. “Pretty cool to see Economos with the chainsaw, wasn’t it?” 

“Eh,” you shrugged. “It was okay, I guess. It was kind of overkill— and you totally called the whole ‘chainsaw kill’ thing.” Adrian seemed shocked to hear your answer, but judging by the pleased look that flashes across his face, he isn’t upset. 

“Peacemaker didn’t think so,” He sighed, and that sullen look returned. “I think he finds me annoying. Harcourt, too. Oh, and definitely Murn and John. Adebayo, maybe…” With a sharp inhale, he holds his breath for a moment. You struggle to meet his gaze as he turns away from you, letting his shoulders slump and his head hang. “The whole team hates me, I think,” Adrian’s voice was thick with tears. 

“Adrian, they don’t hate you,” You cooed, gently running your fingers up and down his spine. “They’re all just… emotionally stunted and really mean,”

“I don’t know what I did wrong,” he sobbed openly, hastily moving to bury his face in your shoulder. The sudden burst takes you by surprise, but still, you pulled him close and carded your fingers through his hair in an attempt to give him any and all comfort possible. “I tried so hard to make friends. I tried so hard to—to make myself more… appealing. For my entire life, I always existed as some awkward, scrawny nerd that embarrassed his older brother. I just wanted to have a real group of friends for once,”

“I can see everything they do, y’know. Sometimes it’s easier to play dumb and pretend like I don’t notice that they think it’s a burden to be paired with me on stakeouts. The rock-paper-scissors games, the coin tosses, the drawn straws; they’re all competing and being near me is the punishment. I know they think I’m crazy—that I’m some fucking freak that spends his time following Peacemaker around like a lost puppy. I guess they’re right, though. Gut always told me that I was like a parasite he couldn’t ever manage to shake off,” He cut himself off with a humorless laugh.

“No, no, Adrian, please don’t say that. You’re not a parasite. You’re a great teammate and a better friend,” Adrian was growing more and more overwhelmed by the minute, and you had no idea how to help him. “We don’t deserve you,” 

Adrian was trembling violently, his body wracked with sobs. He’d been holding everything in for an incredibly long time, and now it came rushing out all at once. You can tell this is probably the most kindness he’s received in a while.  You silently removed his glasses and took his face in your hands, swiping your thumbs under his eyes and wiping away the tear tracks staining his face. His alabaster skin was flushed a soft red and his eyelashes were shimmering with tears. He was beautiful. For some reason, you didn’t realize it until this moment, but regardless, it’s true. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Adrian. Everyone else is just fucking mean,” You brushed his hair out of his face. “You deserve better friends than them. You deserve to surround yourself with people who make you feel loved and accepted as you are, not a group of near-strangers who make you try to force yourself into a box that’s palatable for them,”

“Who do I have if I don’t have them?” He looks up at you expectantly, desperately, and you respond without really thinking.

“You have me,” 

“I do?” Adrian gazes into your eyes in astonishment. 

“Always,” A small smile plays on his lips, a sharp contrast from the fake one that had donned his perfect face twenty minutes prior. Quickly, you place his glasses back on his face and allow him to curl around your abdomen comfortably. “I’m always here for you, Adrian. Rain or shine, always feel free to hunt me down if you need me. It’s not healthy to keep all of your emotions bottled up,”

“Why?” His question stunned you. A thick silence hung over you as you pondered your response.

“Because… you’re one of the only people in the world that can make life bearable. At least, to me. And I would hate for someone so wonderful to have to live with the shit you have to,” A shiver runs down Adrian’s spine. “You’re passionate and dedicated, you’re good at your job, you somehow always manage to make me laugh—it’s almost scary how good of a friend you are. Everything you do is done with good intentions, and you’ve got a good heart. You deserve the world, Adrian, and I’m willing to give it to you,”

Adrian is silent. He’s looking at you inquisitively, as if he’s trying to solve a math problem in his head. With his dark eyebrows furrowed, he stares. Finally, after a solid two minutes had passed in dead silence, Adrian’s eyes widen and his mouth falls slightly agape, as if he’d come to some grand realization—

“I’m in love with you,”

Oh. 

Oh.

“What?” 

“I’m in love with you,” Adrian repeats. “I have been for a while, I think. It just took me a long time to realize. Originally, I just thought you were a really, really good friend, but now I realize that most people don’t feel this way about their friends,”

“Adrian…” 

“I don’t want the world,” he cut in, echoing your words from before. “I only want you, if you’ll have me, of course,”

A smirk plays on your lips as your brain begins to catch up with the rest of your body. “Why?”

Adrian shifts closer to you, his once tear-filled eyes now wide with adoration and admiration. “Because you’re the only person in the world who makes my life worth living,” With that, you take his face in your hands once again. Softly, you press a quick, chaste kiss to his lips. When you pull away, you study his face once again, and only one word comes to mind: beautiful. 

[patriciasage]

promises, promises

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: The Adventure Zone - Balance

Summary: 

Taako made two promises to his sister early on in this seemingly endless mission. Firstly, he isn’t allowed to intentionally cut a cycle short, no matter how much time is left, no matter how much he misses her. Secondly, if she’s gone, he has to take care of Barry.

He isn’t sure what his sister was thinking with the second one. ‘Taako’ and ‘take care of’ are not words that naturally go together for anyone other than Lup. He loves the entire crew, of course he does, but he would rather kill for them than comfort them.

This is the first cycle where Lup is dead and neither Taako nor Barry had gone with her.

posted in full under the break but you can find me on AO3!!

There are two months left in the cycle and Lup is gone. She, Merle, and Davenport were poisoned during a political meeting.

Taako hadn’t been hungry that day. He wishes he would have taken a drink. Magnus hates when he says it, but he prefers to die by her side than live without her. And death would have been much more preferable to watching her choke and spasm in front of him. Helpless.

Lucretia has a lot on her plate now, attempting to negotiate with the bastards who killed them. There was death on both sides, since Taako literally burned the place to the ground. It seems as though they’re on the verge of war – the four remaining crewmembers versus this country’s royal armies.

Taako doesn’t give a shit.

“What’s the fucking point?” he asks Lucretia when she made plans to meet with the royal representative. “This cycle’s gone to Hell; let’s just go.”

“We have two months left,” Lucretia says. “We have a chance to work through this and get the Light. Then they didn’t die in vain.” Her voice cracks. Taako attempts to be gentle with his friend, even though rage flows through him like a roaring stream.

But quiet vitriol escapes his mouth. “Are they even worth saving?”

Lucretia looks at him with bright, brown eyes. “Taako.”

“They killed Merle and Davenport and Lup! And they should have killed me too. And we’re still going to bend over backwards in order to save them? They obviously wouldn’t do the same for us.”

“That’s not how this works,” Lucretia says, quiet and stern. “We don’t decide who is worth saving or not.” She places her dark hand on Taako’s shoulder. “I know you’re hurting, T. And I won’t make you be a part of this. But I’m going to try and get the Light of Creation. And you’re going to make it through these next few months to see her again.”

Taako could see her again right now if he wanted to. But he doesn’t say that. And he doesn’t let himself truly entertain the thought. He promised.

Everyone on the ship is grieving in their own way. Barry becomes entirely reclusive, locking himself in his lab. Magnus cries a lot over the first few days and blames himself for not being at the meeting to protect them, but then he focuses his energy into learning to pilot the Starblaster. Taako attempts to distract his mind from the grief that sits deep in his bones.

Knowing their deaths are temporary doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Magnus makes it his personal mission to take care of Taako, which is very annoying but also helps with his plan for distraction. He sits next to the Magnus as the fighter test-drives the ship. It’s hard to think about your dead sister when your friend is crashing a spaceship into a lake.

But Magnus isn’t only recklessness and aggressive enthusiasm. He’s also soft and sensitive – and fucking manipulative. He tells Taako he needs a hug or someone to keep him company when he sleeps. Taako knows these are partial lies. He knows that Magnus just wants to hold his pieces together, to shield Taako from the nightmares that tear him apart.

Taako travels through the days like molasses. He wants to exist in the bare minimum, avoid the smouldering flame threatening to burn him up. But it’s hard to exist, unfeeling, in a world where he’s always had her at his side. He can’t do anything without thinking of her.

He drinks too much.

It helps a little, but it causes Magnus to make that sad, helpless expression, so Taako hides it as best he can.

He made two promises to his sister early on in this seemingly endless mission. Firstly, he isn’t allowed to intentionally cut a cycle short, no matter how much time is left, no matter how much he misses her. Secondly, if she’s gone, he has to take care of Barry.

Taako isn’t sure what his sister was thinking with the second one. ‘Taako’ and ‘take care of’ are not words that naturally go together for anyone other than Lup. He loves the entire crew, of course he does, but he would rather kill for them than comfort them.

This is the first cycle where Lup is dead and neither Taako nor Barry had gone with her.

Food is always an effective way to build a bridge between two stubborn souls. Taako steps foot into the Starblaster’s kitchen for the first time since the disaster a few weeks ago. Lucretia is a passable cook, so the remaining crew haven’t been suffering too much, but her meals are nothing compared to the twins’ concoctions.

Absolutely everything on this ship reminds Taako of his sister (pretty much every aspect of existence reminds him of his sister), but the kitchen is particularly salient. He stands in the doorway and breathes through it, thankful that no one is around. Lup is the only one who knows him at his core, the only one who’s ever seen his soft, fragile centre. Magnus has been digging closer and closer every cycle with his big hands and even bigger smile. But there’s no one Taako trusts like he trusts Lup.

And she’s gone.

And he made her a promise.

There are so many lakes on this world. Taako had spent most of springtime fishing and filleting, so the freezer is full. He takes out a few cuts of cod, expertly deboned, as well as some salt, pepper, lemon, chili powder, and dill. He starts the rice boiling and thaws the fish with a flick of his wand. The meat hasn’t been frying for too long before Magnus and Lucretia appear at the kitchen table, summoned by the smell. They’re looking at him with an irritating mixture of encouragement and wariness. He ignores them and focuses on cooking. He’s mentally batting away memories and feelings constantly and it’s starting to take a toll.

The kitchen is silent except for the sizzle of fish in the pan and the soft murmur of boiling rice. Taako transmutes some beans into asparagus and tosses that in the pan as well.

“Fucking talk,” he says to the stove.

Magnus startles into conversation. Taako feels his friends’ gazes move away from his back and toward each other. He focuses on their chat even though it’s boring. It’s easier than fighting his heart’s insistent ache.

He avoids looking at their faces while he places their meals in front of them. “Thank you,” Lucretia says softly. Magnus places a big, warm hand on the wizard’s shoulder.

Taako feels his mouth press into a shadow of a smile. He squeezes Magnus’s hand and steps away. “Dig in. I’m gonna bring some to the lab rat.”

Barry is asleep at his desk, drooling on a sketch of one of his prototypes. Taako sets the plate down next to him and watches the smell wake him up. His glasses are askew even when he lifts his head.

There’s an awful moment when he looks at Taako and his face softly lights up. Taako’s stomach sinks, and then Barry comes fully into awareness and looks away. Taako regrets shaving his face his morning and he regrets wearing his hair up the way Lup usually does before bed. He doesn’t blame Barry for the disappointment.

“This is good shit, so you’d better not let it get cold,” Taako says. He leans against the workbench with his arms crossed.

“Smells good,” Barry replies with his characteristic, gruff awkwardness. Taako tries not to fidget. The chill of Lup’s absence is strongest in the kitchen, but it’s swirling around the lab, too. It’s typical to see Lup sprawled on the couch pretty much every evening, chattering while Barry tries and fails to focus on his work.

Barry puts a forkful of rice in his mouth and speaks around it. Gross. “Did you eat already?”

Taako is absentmindedly surprised when he realizes he hasn’t eaten anything except a bite of toast that Magnus practically shoved in his mouth this morning. He curses himself for thinking about it too long and ruining what could have been a perfectly good lie. “Yep, sure did.”

“Taako…” Barry says disapprovingly, lowering his fork.

“Get outta my ass, Barry. I’m, like, a hundred years old, or something.” Age doesn’t mean much to them, anymore. “Don’t treat me like a child.”

“I’m not treating you like a child. I’m treating you like – ” He sighs. “Do you have some left over upstairs?”

“Yeah,” Taako lies. He walks toward the door. “Gonna go eat now, so…enjoy, or whatever.”

Barry rubs his eyes under his glasses. “Thanks, Taako.”

“Shit,” Taako mutters as he climbs the stairs. Why didn’t Lup tell Magnus or Lucretia to take care of Barry? Hell, anyone would do a better job than him.

Taako enters the now empty kitchen and casts Prestidigitation to clean the dishes, but he stops before he can leave for the upper deck. There’s a full plate of food on the table. It’s obvious that Magnus and Lucretia had each put half of their meal onto a clean plate. They’re taking advantage of his inability to throw away food, engrained from his childhood. Taako sighs but sits at the table to eat. He feels more solid when he’s done, but just as empty.

The next day is better.

“Come for a walk,” Taako demands from Barry’s bedroom doorway. Barry yelps and covers his chest with a blanket.

“Taako!”

“Come for a walk!” the elf repeats, leaving the door ajar as he leaves.

Barry joins him on the Starblaster’s lower deck in a few minutes, hair messy but fully clothed. “Where are we going?”

Before Taako has a chance to respond, Magnus rushes in. “Don’t forget your cloak – it’s kinda cold. Oh, hey, Barry. You coming with us?”

“I guess I am.”

“Great!”

Magnus hands Barry his denim jacket and throws Taako’s thicker cloak in his direction. The security officer himself is wearing a wool-lined vest with no sleeves. Taako resists the urge to roll his eyes when he notices.

The men don’t talk a lot as they traverse the path that Magnus and Taako have worn down over the last few weeks. They skip rocks on the surface of the still water. Barry stays far away from the water’s edge. Magnus picks Taako up and pretends he’s about to throw him in. Instead of protesting, Taako looks the man in the eyes with a challenge. “Do it. I fucking dare you, Burnsides.” Magnus freezes and just stands there holding the elf in his arms for a moment. Taako smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

Barry disappears into his lab when they return to the ship, but Taako still considers it a success. After a few days, Barry no longer needs to be woken up; he joins them in the foyer, sleepy but ready, every morning. Lucretia comes, too, when she’s not out negotiating.

Taako cooks when he can.

Sometimes he’s good. Sometimes the air of the kitchen suffocates him. Barry sees him once, standing in the pantry, frozen and overwhelmed. “Hey,” he says. There’s something soft and complex in his expression when Taako whirls around.

“What’s up, my man?” Taako’s voice breaks more than usual. The stiffness of his hands betrays him, too. Barry beckons him out of the pantry. Taako follows quietly as the scientist travels to the Starblaster’s upper deck.

The endless night sky is strangely comforting. There aren’t many constants in their life besides each other, their target, and their enemy. But the sky is always there and ready to take them away.

Barry opens a hatch near the centre of the deck and brings out what looks like a piece from a broken chair. “Ready?” he asks.

“What?”

Barry just nods and then throws the item high into the air. Taako understands when it reaches his highest peak, but he can’t bring himself to take out his wand. The piece of wood falls into a nearby like with a soft splash.

“Oh, sorry,” Barry says awkwardly. “You’re supposed to hit it with a spell –”

“I know what I’m supposed to do, Barry. I’ve lived with her my whole life,” Taako snaps. He takes a breath and tries again. “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, man. But that’s her. She feels things build up inside and needs to let ‘em out in a way she can control. But I- …I’m not full of anything.” He turns to leave. “So, thanks, dude, but this isn’t gonna work for me.”

Barry grabs his wrist. “Taako, wait!” He looks a little helpless. “Then what does work for you? Tell me.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on.” Barry attempts a smile but he’s shivering a little in the night air. “Like you said to me the other day – you’re over a hundred years old. You know. So, tell me what makes you feel better when you feel like shit so I can help you out.”

“I don’t want your fucking help, Barry.”

“Well, that’s too damn bad!” Barry rarely raises his voice. It echoes across the empty deck and is swallowed by the night sky. “Tell me, Taako.”

He knows the answer will hurt both of them when it leaves his mouth, but he says it anyway. “Being with her.” Barry averts his gaze and Taako feels both sick and triumphant. “Just…being in her company makes me feel like a person again. So. Unless you can do that for me, I think we’re done here.”

Taako stands outside Magnus’s bedroom door for a few minutes. He raises his hand to knock then lowers it again. He spends the night on a nearby dock, listening to the waves lap against the shore and slowly emptying a bottle of rum.

The next morning, they pretend it didn’t happen. They go for their morning walk and let Magnus carry the conversation.

Lucretia gets the Light of Creation against all odds – and just in time. There’s only about two days left in this Cycle. Taako makes her favourite dish, piri piri chicken, and they allow themselves to celebrate with wine and music. It never feels completely right to celebrate, knowing the Hunger is still going to cause a lot of damage, but they need to allow themselves these small successes. The men also feel the need to show appreciation to Lucretia, since she worked tirelessly to save this world while they went for walks and crashed the ship into lakes.

Magnus is dancing with Lucretia in the kitchen and Taako makes a quick exit before the big man can trap him in another embrace. He finds Barry on the couch, lost in thought. He sits down beside him, touching their wine glasses together in a small toast. “We made it,” the wizard says before taking another drink.

“Yeah,” Barry says. They’re both thinking the same thing. They’ll see her again soon.

Barry turns to face him. “Listen, Taako, I’m sorry I was so pushy the other night.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s just…” Barry sighs. “I promised her I’d take care of you and I –”

“What?” Taako interrupts. They look at each other, incredulous and inquiring. “She made me promise to take care of you, dude.”

Barry smiles and laughs. Taako fumes. As if Barry Bluejeans could take care of him – what was she thinking? “We both did kind of a shit job, didn’t we?” Barry says.

“Hey, without me you would’ve starved to death.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

A few days later, Magnus flies the Starblaster through the Hunger’s advancing tendrils, their bodies fragment, and the entire crew materializes in their set places. Before Lup can even take a breath, Taako shoves her hard. “What the fuck?” she sputters. He silences her with a hug.

The IPRE crew puts the past behind them and they settle into a new life on a new world. Barry and Lup go back to their routine of being attached at the hip and stubbornly not talking about their feelings. Lup and Taako cook and practice magic together. Barry and Taako aren’t close, per se, but they tolerate each other in a new, honest and kind way.

It’s worth it to see the smile on Lup’s face.

[itsclydebitches]

A fifth of the way through! Who’s proud of me? :D

Noisy - After a certain seance Aziraphale is feeling insecure about how much he talks.

Aziraphale was speaking.

Had been for the majority of their meal, pausing only to take bites of the Norfolk crab with ossetra caviar, veal fillet with asparagus in a wild garlic sauce, chocolate and hazelnut mousse for dessert with a second order of the fruit sorbet because he hadn’t been able to decide and really, why not both?

Why not both?, Crowley agreed. He adored watching Aziraphale eat. All those quirky mannerisms that positively screamed his personality for all to see. The way he would slide each fork-full from his mouth with agonizing slowness, ensuring that he’d picked up every morsel from between the tongs. Raising his napkin after every fourth or fifth bite, whether there was a mess to clean up or not. Aziraphale went deathly still when he ate, as if he couldn’t bear to distract from the taste with any unnecessary movement. Except when he’d taste something new or unexpected and then it was all wide-eyed surprise; that absurd little wiggle. Aziraphale flipped his spoon before taking a bite because, “The mousse should hit my tongue, dear, not the roof of my mouth. Obviously.”

Obviously. On nights like this Crowley was grateful they hadn’t had to keep up their ruse any longer. One look at Aziraphale-as-him digging into that popsicle and the whole jig would have been up.

And Crowley could never hope to re-create this.

So yes, he loved watching Aziraphale eat. He loved hearing him speak more though.

Why not have both?

“So I told the dear girl—quite firmly, I should say—that we would have to undergo a true apocalypse before I gave her those sigils. Hell would need to freeze over and such. Though I suppose you could manage that if you put your mind to it.” Aziraphale took another bite of his sorbet and dropped a wink that sent a flush rising up Crowley’s neck. “Anathema is a brilliant young woman but really? Giving her access to Enochian symbols? I can only imagine the horrors that would produce! And trust me, dear boy, I have quite the active imagination.” Another bite; another flipped spoon. “She swore she only wanted to study them, but if any mortal is capable of sketching out a true celestial circle it would be that witch. Then where would she be? Accidentally killed, that’s what. Or worse, getting through to them! Can you imagine Anathema summoning Metatron into that little cottage? No, no, no. We’ve had quite enough upheaval for one millennium, thank you.”

Crowley had long ceased trying to get a word in edgewise. In truth he didn’t want to. Six-thousand years together, but so little of it spent together. They’d meet randomly or clandestinely and it would never matter which because they knew it could only be for a brief moment or two. One side could always be watching them. Both, even. And it took Crowley decades to realize how much of that precious time was just spent posturing. Aziraphale feigning shock at their latest arrangement. Crowley pretending like that actually annoyed him. They had their routines down, a script they read from, and though Crowley had learned to love that for its familiarity, he hadn’t realized just how much he’d been missing. Hearing Aziraphale wax on about oysters or give summary accounts of Hamlet couldn’t compare to this: hours upon hours of meandering, casual thoughts.

Crowley settled his chin further into his hand. Beneath the table his free fingers circled in a clockwise motion, a bit of extra energy spent on slowing down time. Nothing terribly noticeable. It wouldn’t even affect the humans. Much. Just a devilish little miracle that would give Aziraphale more time than what the real world had to offer.

Because they’d been sitting here four hours now and Crowley was fully prepared to sit another four.

“What do you think?” Aziraphale asked. He downed the rest of his La Grande Année and smiled over the rim of the glass. Like he somehow knew that, whatever Crowley’s answer, it would be well worth knowing.

Problem was, Crowley hadn’t the faintest idea what Aziraphale had just said.

Hmm. Distraction via flipped spoon. It happened. Not that there was much danger here. Aziraphale had the distinct talent of being able to talk about a single topic for hours—if not days—on end. Always easy to slide into.

“Really, angel? Giving me a say?” Crowley pushed his own, untouched tart across the table. “I thought you’d already made up your mind about the witch?”

He’d meant it as a bit of light teasing. Poking fun, making jokes, being a nuisance and all that. So watching Aziraphale’s expression fall took the breath right out of Crowley’s lungs.

“Oh,” he said, voice suddenly soft. “Yes. I have been prattling on, haven’t I?”

And Crowley, in a moment of incredible insight and sensitivity said,

“What?”

Aziraphale had been reaching for the tart but now drew his hand back, beginning to fiddle with the edge of his vest instead. “I’m terribly sorry. Rather rude, isn’t it? All things considered. I promise to make more of an effort in the future and you must stop me if I suddenly start rambling once again. You deserve to—” Aziraphale’s mouth suddenly clicked shut, eyes popping wide as he realized what was happening. Crowley could see his jaw working for a long moment. “I want to hear what you have to say too,” he said. Simply.

Meanwhile, Crowley’s elbow had slipped off the table and he nearly took the rest of the food with him. When he came back up there were splashes of champagne on his sleeve.

“I—why—?” Crowley tugged his glasses just low enough to take a good, long look. “I haven’t got anything to say.” Which wasn’t true exactly. Plenty of ribbing to indulge in when it actually managed to land, but right now Crowley had bigger fish to fry. Flay ‘em, cook ‘em, and serve 'em up with lemon butter so his angel would actually smile again. “What precisely are you on about?”

Aziraphale shrugged. He never shrugged. “Just thought I might be...”

“Be?”

“...talking too much.”

Crowley slipped off the table a second time.

“It’s just—”Aziraphale said, clearly trying to explain without continuing to talk. Which most people will realize is rather the lost cause. “Madame Tracy. Or rather, her friend. Or perhaps not a friend exactly. A client? Follower?” Aziraphale scowled when Crowley just went on blinking at him from halfway out of his seat. “A woman asked to speak to her dead husband and being an angel currently existing between planes I accommodated her and he told her to shut up.” He exhaled after all that, lips trembling. “Separated for who knows how long and the only words he had for her were ‘shut up.’ Because she’d never let him have his say. I... I would never want you to feel the same way, dear boy. I couldn't stand it. ”

Jesus-H-Bloody-Fucking-Are-You-Kidding-Me-Christ.

If Aziraphale wanted him to talk more he was shit out of luck because Crowley’s voice had died a mangled, embarrassing death. Giving up the ghost via shock was like that. And oh sure, sure, plenty of things he could say if his vocal cords kicked back in. Like how Aziraphale was stupid for thinking he could compare them to some random human couple who clearly needed therapy. Or ask if Aziraphale had ever paid one ounce of attention these last six thousand years because if Crowley wanted to say something? He’d damn well say it. No fussy angel was going to stand in his way.

(Not unless he asked really nicely. Or looked at Crowley in that particular way of his. Or so much as thought about wanting him to shut up. Because those were all entirely different situations.)

Speech seemed to be the enemy now. Which was all kinds of horrible since Crowley liked Aziraphale speaking and had hoped to soak up another couple hours of it before the night was over. Who could put something like that into words though? Even when words were an option? Not Crowley.

So instead he summoned up a small black book and slid it across the table.

Aziraphale blinked. "What's this?"

"Read it."

Just a small, ironically innocent notebook. Every demon had one. Standard issue for the bastards lucky enough to go topside. Recounting your deeds was all well and good provided you actually remembered what evil deeds you’d been up to each day. Too often demons melted back into hell having forgotten half of what they’d done. They might not be good at record keeping down there, but there was something like an effort. So, yeah. Write it all down like a good little worker bee.

“Go on,” Crowley said, keeping his voice at a whisper. Aziraphale hesitantly took the book in hand. “Out loud.”

Crowley hadn’t written a deed down for thousands of years.

“June—” Aziraphale paused, having opened to a recent date. He swallowed hard. “June 3rd. Angel went on about gilding again all through lunch. Improper heating techniques and wet vs. depletion. I currently know more about pretty books than any decent demon ever should. Good thing I’ve never been decent.

“June 4th. Got reamed out for going over 90mph again today. Wonder how many times I can get Zira to squeak like that? Half-hour lecture to follow. Gonna start just as soon as he gets back with the shawarma. In three... two... one...

“June 5th. Talked a lot about knitting today. Thinking of picking it back up before winter. Zira had a whole pro/con list for crocheted vs. knitwear but honestly? If it’s warm?? Who cares??? Angel, apparently. There were many thoughts on socks.

“June 6th. Some bugger on the bus had his music blasting while I was trying to hear Zira’s latest Gabriel impression. The kid is gonna end up with wet jeans one way or another for the next week.

“June 7th. Right. Zira might have been onto something with the whole crocheted socks rant. Pretty sure this is one of Beelzebub’s inventions—Crowley.”

Aziraphale finally looked up, his eyes wet in a way that made Crowley shift uncomfortably in his seat. “You keep a diary.”

He winced. “It’s not a diary!”

“It most certainly is,” Aziraphale crowed, flipping through some of the older entries. “I'm astounded at what a faithful record this is—especially since Armageddon—and so many of them are about me. They're...” The impact of that last bit seemed to hit Aziraphale all at once, stilling his hands. “Oh. They’re all about me.”

Talking.

Crowley shrugged. Because he was the one who shrugged in this relationship. He pressed the little book back into Aziraphale’s hand when he tried to pass it back. Crowley’s fingers ran over his knuckles then, soft and slow.

“Keep it awhile,” he said. “For the next time you get some ridiculous idea stuck in your head. Now, what were you saying about the witch girl? My memory’s worse than a goldfish’s, angel. You know that. Best you start from the beginning."

Aziraphale wasn’t much for public displays of affection, but he did bring their still-intwined hands up to his lips, resting them there for a moment.

When he started speaking again Crowley’s skin was gifted with the very first words.

[nellie-elizabeth]

Supernatural: Moriah (14x20)

Well then! Yeesh!

Cons:

I wish we could do a bit more to sort out this whole Cas vs. Dean thing. Now that we've got bigger fish to fry for next season, it seems like Dean and Cas' pretty intense disagreement will likely be pushed aside in favor of... you know... surviving the end-times. But maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised, and their relationship drama will continue to be a factor as we enter into the final season of this show.

I really, really like the direction this is going, but I can't help but wonder if there were re-writes once the decision was made that Season Fifteen would be the end. It seems to me that several elements of the story, especially the stuff with Lucifer coming back, wound up being scrapped in favor of the ridiculously awesome reveal that Chuck is our final Big Bad. So while this finale on its own kicked some major ass, there were definitely some elements that didn't add up for me in terms of the buildup from the rest of the season.

Pros:

What a smart episode this was, though. Honestly. Usually the finales of Supernatural have to escalate things to some new extreme height so that we know what's coming in the next season. Oh no, we've started the apocalypse! Oh no, all the angels have fallen from Heaven! Oh no, the Darkness has been released! This season is, in some ways, no exception to that. Apparently, God is the villain. And he's done playing nice. While this might seem like just another classic Supernatural power-creep escalation, it's actually something a little different. And I love it. This is an opportunity to pit early show vs. late show against each other, by bringing back old villains, but letting Sam, Dean, and Cas handle it in the way they've learned to do over their many years of being hunters. It's an opportunity for nostalgia while at the same time a chance to focus on the one and only true central theme of Supernatural: free will. Honestly, this show goes all over the place with its plots and messaging, but at the center of it all, from day one, has been the idea of free will, and I love that we're setting up the final season to be a direct reckoning of that theme.

This episode was also a lot more down-to-earth than some other finales we've got. It's very focused - Jack is out there. Dean wants to kill him. Sam admits that killing him is maybe their only option. Cas is not on board. Three different approaches to one big problem. Meanwhile, Jack is trying to do the right thing without a soul to guide his conscience. And then God is there, and we learn once and for all that he truly does view the Winchesters as a story. That they've been puppets all along, dancing for his amusement. The end. I love that a lot of this episode really was just sitting around talking things out, making plans. It felt real, and grounded, in a way that I really appreciate from this show.

Let's talk Dean and Sam for a minute - I loved the scene when Dean said he was going to take the shot at Jack, effectively killing both Jack and himself. They don't even need to have the full conversation, because they've been there so many times before. And Sam says no - he's not going to be okay with a plan that makes him lose Jack and Dean in one fell swoop. He's lost enough as it is. Dean, who has over the last few seasons grown into a person who actually respects his brother's right to make his own decisions, has been having a bit of a relapse on account of Mary's death. He takes the gun and leaves without telling Sam. It's predictable, and frustrating, and it was easy for me to feel Sam's pain.

I love how angry Dean is, how his tight grip on his control seems to be in constant danger of snapping. He loves Sam, he loves Cas, and he loved Jack, but he can't bring himself to process those emotions in a healthy way right now. He needs to be a man on a mission, otherwise he'll fall apart. Jensen is doing such a great job with this. There's the moment in his conversation with Sam where he talks about the fact that God told them that Jack needed to die, so that's the end of the discussion. It's just so Dean to be such a hypocrite about this. Billie tells him that locking himself in a box is the only way to save the world? Cool. He'll do it. God tells him to kill his foster son? Cool. He'll do it. Because Dean Winchester kind of hates himself. And he definitely hates himself for Mary's death. It's just that in this case, he can kill Jack, the person who he outwardly blames, and himself, the person who he blames for everything, in one fell swoop. Yeesh. Poor Dean.

The moment when Dean shows up to kill Jack, and Cas is there and tells Jack to run? I fucking lost my mind. I am so in love with the way they've positioned Dean and Cas on opposite sides of this debate. These are two men who would die for each other - who have died for each other in fact. And in this moment, they are as opposed as they've ever been. Not since Season Six have we seen Cas and Dean at such odds with one another. There's this delicious tension to knowing that Dean is going to kill Jack at any cost, and Cas is going to stop Dean from killing Jack at any cost, and yet the thought of either of these people doing anything to hurt the other is so ludicrous. This is the stuff good drama is made of.

Then there's Sam Winchester, who easily gets MVP from me for this episode. We've seen, from the very early stages of this show when angels were considered an unrealistic fairy-tale, that Sam has always had faith. Maybe he hasn't quite understood the specifics of his own belief, but he's believed in a higher power and he's believed in the essential goodness of that power. We saw the way he behaved with Chuck when they met the last time. He was worshipful. Dean didn't quite understand it, but Sam... even when Sam was annoyed or frustrated with Chuck, he actually believed in him. So the moment when Sam says "hey, Chuck," and shoots God in the shoulder is honestly just... exquisite.

Sam spends this episode trying to contextualize everything that's been happening to them recently - he blames himself for Mary's death, because he's the one who brought Jack back without a soul. He tries to understand why Chuck hasn't been showing up to help them before now. He tries to explain himself to Dean, to make his brother hear him. He tries to reconcile his love for Jack with what Jack has become. And then he picks up a gun and he shoots God, even knowing he'll hurt or even kill himself to do it. And it's not a brave sacrifice play, or a planned moment - it's done in anger, in desperation, in fear. The realization that Chuck doesn't care about them is the biggest betrayal Sam Winchester has ever faced, and that's saying something, given the life he's lead. It's so hugely important to me that Sam is the one to make this move, and not Dean. It represents a breaking point for his character that I cannot wait to see play out next season.

Obviously I figured that Dean wouldn't really kill Jack, but I admire how much tension they still managed to put into that scene, and how, as Cas says "writers lie." The magic gun doesn't kill Jack; Chuck does that directly once he realizes that Dean isn't going to play the little game he's devised. We get this final shot of Sam, Dean, and Cas all standing back to back, ready to fight against the hoard of returned villains that are closing in on them. Cas has the angel blade, but Sam and Dean are practically unarmed, and Sam is bleeding from a gunshot wound to the shoulder. It's bleak, and on top of it all there's Jack's corpse just sitting there, a reminder of their failure.

We see Jack awaken in the Empty, and Billie seems to have plans for him, so now we've got a Billie vs. Chuck situation, with Jack, Cas, and the Winchesters as potential pawns. I am beyond excited to see how this plays out, and where Team Free Will lands in this battle for their own agency.

Before I finish this review, I want to praise the episode for suggesting the apocalyptic scope of Jack's powers. This show has never managed to really convey the way the whole world is affected by the various apocalypse-y type things that have come up over the years. But here we see that Jack's order to "stop lying" actually throws the whole world into chaos. If Chuck had wanted to see that play out, he would have; it's only his ability to reset things that saves the world. We see how people's inability to lie leads to instant resentments and chaos. It's actually a pretty great trope to explore some inter-character drama, so at first I was a little surprised that Sam and Dean didn't accidentally drop any uncomfortable truth bombs on each other when they both lacked the ability to lie. But then I realized - while Sam and Dean are having a rough time because of Mary right now, they are firmly on each other's sides and fighting to preserve their family at all costs. They actually aren't hiding anything from each other, and they haven't been for quite some time.

As a plus, all of this stuff is actually pretty humorous too - I loved the Celine Dion bit, and Dean going on and on about internet gossip, and the guys fighting about yogurt, the newscaster confessing his love, and the not-so-subtle dig at Trump.

Okay. This review is long, but I think that's allowed, given that it's for a finale. I greatly enjoyed it. I thought the smaller scale and the more character-driven story worked in its favor, and I love that everything from the plot to the framing is placing Castiel on equal footing with Sam and Dean as a protagonist for the finale season. I can't wait to see what we get next year! This time in 2020, I'll be sobbing my eyes out as "Carry On Wayward Son" plays over one last montage... it's going to be a wild ride.

9/10

[sheikah]

I really think Mophie was exaggerating in that interview, but it also made me think about something. I remember that at the end of s7 we were all scared they were going to tease Targ bowl in interviews for s8, but instead what we are having is basically Jonerys against the world lol Not that it's less annoying, but definitely surprising (at least for me).

I don’t think that what actually happens in s8 will be as pronounced as Mophie are making it seem lol. I get that the password thing was just a joke. But I do fully believe that Dany will receive a cold welcome from the North and that it will be wholly based on a war that happened before she was born and the IDEA that she could be a threat to Northern Independence. And I’m just still not cool with that whole conflict because it feels so silly and small to me for so many reasons. First and foremost, end of the world is coming, bigger fish to fry etc etc. But also, the Northerners have been painted as (and mostly have displayed traits that support this) forgiving and rational people. They have allied with the wildlings, wildlings who we SAW pillaging Northern villages and murdering innocent Northerners. They’ve forgiven that and accepted the wildlings into the fold as per Jon’s order as King in the North. So, that’s fine with them. But Dany and her forces, literally the only hope against the AOTD, and they have to show her their asses? I just don’t get it lol. S7 made a huge point of ending on the notion that Dany no longer wants Northern subservience and she isn’t conquering them. S7 also made a point of how intensely Arya stans Jon. And I feel like both those facts are kind of being shrugged at in the name of juicy political drama. And I’m sad about it because we’ve waited 8 years for all these characters to be under the same roof. Obviously there is unavoidable conflict and bad blood between SOME of them. Yes, Dany and Sam need to have a talk. Yes, Jaime isn’t going to be welcomed with open arms. But I also feel like the conflict is being milked and I’m tired of it. That’s it lol. I’m sorry if this diverged from your point.

[atruththatyoudeny]

MONTHLY READS | December 2018

Happy 1D Fanworks Appreciation Day! Thank you so much for all the hard work you put into your stories and the courage to share them with us! I am so grateful for all the amazing authors in this fandom! Here are the fics I read this month, as always, Top 5 + 12 more under the cut.

Captain Jack

by jaerie for 1D Fanworks For Charity | DARK DRUG FIC - Please read the tags on the fic page carefully! | a/b/o | 31k Louis has been searching for something and Harry is there to give it to him. Drugs, sex, disappointment, and the tangled web they’ve woven that keeps them trapped in the same cycle.

Better Not Pout, I'm Telling You Why

by runaway_train for Larry Holiday Fic Fest | Christmas | fluff | strangers to lovers | workplace relationship | 24k Niall wipes his hands again with his cloth, jaw tense as his eyes narrow in contemplation at the man in front of him. After a pause, he opens his mouth. “OK, I need to tell you something and you have to promise not to laugh.” Oh here we go, now the truth is away to come out. “Okaaaay…” He drops the towel. “Harry still believes in Santa Claus.” Louis hoots out a single loud chord of laughter. “Fuck off. No he doesn’t.” “He does. I swear.” Niall manages to say it with a completely straight face, but he must be taking the piss. “Niall, he’s twenty two. Do you honestly expect me to believe he’s managed to make it this far through life without someone telling him the truth that Santa isn’t real?” Or The one where Harry still believes in Santa Claus and Louis doesn't want to be the one to burst his bubble.

Santa Baby Honey

by SadaVeniren | Christmas | crack | fluff | humor | BDSM | exhibitionism | 28k “Let’s cut right to the chase,” Niall said, loading the powerpoint, which was just one page, comprised of Louis’ face and the words How do you solve a problem like this asshole? “It’s the beginning of November and Louis is already being a fuckwit. How are we gonna have him knock that shit off this year?” aka Louis is the CEO of a toy company and Christmas is a stressful time of year so his assistant decides the best way to make him chill out is by getting him laid through a Secret Santa

O' Christmas Tree

by Justalittlelouislove for Larry Holiday Fic Fest | Christmas | kid fic | fluff | 15k At a stoplight, he finds himself doing some retrospective thinking of his own. Instead of going over one of his fifty or so mental to-do lists, his mind drifts to Harry’s dimples, the way his whole face changed when he smiled, how some of the pine trees almost matched the green of his eyes perfectly. It’s- well it’s annoying is what it is. He can’t spend all his time thinking about some tree farmer with broad shoulders, he’s got bigger fish to fry. Girl Scout meetings, homework charts, client lists, lots and lots of very large fish sitting around waiting to be fried. or: Louis has a busy schedule to keep and a daughter to raise. He definitely isn't looking for a relationship. Enter Harry Styles, a local Christmas tree farmer that seems just a little too good to be true.

Along The Heather

by noellehenry for HLRegencyVictorianFicChallenge | Victorian AU | Jane Eyre AU | verbal abuse | physical abuse | Minor Character Death | panic attack | attemped murder | angst | mystery | 35k Orphaned Harry Styles grows up with his cruel aunt and cousins, before he is sent away to a boys' boarding school, which teaches poor and orphaned boys. Even though his aunt tries to undermine Harry's experience at the school, he does well in school, and stays on at the school as a teacher after he graduates. When he becomes restless after significant changes at the school, he applies for a job as a tutor at Thorgill Hall, teaching the younger brother of Mr. Louis Tomlinson. Harry develops romantic feelings for his pupil's brother... Thorgill Hall,however, holds a secret; it’s becoming slightly more eerie every day and when his life is threatened, Harry makes a drastic decision…

Your touch is the only thing I feel

by 2tiedships2 | a/b/o | strangers to lovers | fluff | 15k Liam. Liam was finally here. Louis kept his eyes closed and cuddled farther into Liam’s side, revelling in the pheromones Louis’ body desperately needed. He wasn’t sure how long Liam had been holding him, but Louis figured it had to have been at least an hour by the way his body had loosened. The need of an alpha’s touch seemed to have been temporarily lifted from his mind. Louis listened to the sounds of the pub around him. It was louder than before he had fallen asleep and he briefly wondered why Liam hadn’t just woken him to go back to their flat. “Who the fuck are you?” Louis’ eyes flew open at the sound of Niall’s voice, and the arm that had been around Louis shoulders lifted in the same instant. He missed the warmth immediately. Louis looked from Niall’s stormy face over to the person who was definitely not Liam. The alpha Liam impersonator, who smelled a lot better than the actual Liam now that Louis was alert, looked back at Louis with wide eyes and familiar furrowed brows. Or the one where Louis refuses to settle for just any alpha despite intense touch deprivation. Fortunately Harry isn't just any alpha.

Pull your-elf together

by EmmyLouWho for Larry Holiday Fic Fest | Christmas | fluff | pining | 4k Louis looks Harry up and down. “Hang on, aren't you a bit tall to be an elf?” “Alright, Princess Leia,” Harry says, and Niall loses it. “Ohhhhhh,” he says. “Harry, we are definitely going to be good friends.” Or: Santa's Winter Wonderland is a great place to fall in love.

And Touch Me Like You Never

by runaway_train for Larry Holiday Fic Fest | Christmas | implied/ referenced drug use | implied/ referenced alcohol abuse | mildly dubious consent | angst | roommates | coming out | friends with benefits | dom/sub undertones | friends to lovers | pining | 35k “Lets move back a bit yeah?” Harry clutches at his waist with a free hand and tugs him to move through the crowd until they are almost at the back of the group and settles them both beside the far wall. “There. That better?” Louis looks up at him, as if he’s a tad dazed. “Uh, yeah, thanks. Can’t really see much from back here either though.” Harry lifts a shoulder and grins at him, placing a hand on the wall behind Louis to pen him in. “We’ll just have to create our own fireworks then, won’t we?” He says it jokingly with a wink, and Louis laughs but he seems nervous. He must know that Harry is harmlessly flirting. Harry flirts with everyone after all, including Louis. “Do you think this is a good idea Haz?” Louis asks quietly, almost too quietly in the clamour of the room, his head bowed as he scuffs his shoe on the carpet. “Stop over thinking it Lou, it’s one kiss. What’s the worst that could happen?” Or The one where Harry and Louis agree to be each other's New Year's kiss and it ends up being a lot more than they bargained for.

Head Over Heels

by Sasparella76 for Larry Holiday Fic Fest | Christmas | enemies to friends to lovers | 26k Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles are both up and coming editors at Cowell Publishing. Louis thinks Harry is brilliant at his job and beyond gorgeous. It’s just a pity that Harry is also the most annoying man Louis has ever met.

Holiday Greetings (And Gay Happy Meetings)

by 2tiedships2 | Part I of It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year | a/b/o | Christmas | strangers to lovers | enemies to lovers | fluff | 18k "Onwards to drop me off at Robert's before you go to Harry's!" Louis proclaimed when they were safely in the car. Or at least Louis was safely in. Niall was still brushing the snow out of his hair that Louis had accidentally dropped on him. "We're picking up biscuits first," Niall grumbled as the snow melted into his hair. "You can wait in the car." After three times of the car sounding like it was dying a slow and tragic death, it finally decided to start. "This is what happens when you try to change the name of your car after five years," Louis said as a reminder of Niall's stupidity. "You'd be upset too if you were a car named Greased Lightning with a passenger trying to get it renamed to Dusty." "To be fair," Niall explained, "the name Dusty does seem a bit more accurate." "Make sure to leave the car running while you're getting whatever you're getting from Harry," Louis said in disgust. "This car is going to choke for good after that comment and I don't want to be stuck at Harry's place when that happens." Or the one where Niall's dead car and and a foot of snow conspire to force Louis into spending time with an alpha he hates.... or does he?

(That's Just) The Way I Am

by lululawrence for 1D Fanworks For Charity | fake/pretend relationship | lights angst | 17k There was no way Harry would want to bring anyone out for an introductory trip like this. The fighting between himself and his father was sure to be be worse than usual and father still hadn’t accepted Harry’s pansexual identity. Harry wasn’t dating anyone at the moment, but at this point he almost wished he were dating a man just so he could incense his father. The door jingled, pulling Harry’s attention away from the window and to the man who had just walked into the cafe. Now that was exactly who Harry should try bringing home. The man was dressed in ratty black skinny jeans and what was obviously a self cut tank top that used to be a Stone Roses t-shirt. His black chucks had holes in the canvas, indicating exactly how old they were, and his maroon beanie wasn’t in much better shape. The more Harry studied the man’s smoky eyeliner rimmed eyes and the lipstick he had swiped on to match his hat, the more Harry started hatching an idea. What if Harry really did bring this man home?

I Just Wanna Give You Love

lululawrence for 1D Fanworks For Charity | soulmates | famous/not famous | 18k Graham Norton appeared on the screen introducing his guests and out of nowhere, everything in Louis’ world was turned upside down. Louis gasped as he intently took in the man on the screen, smiling and waving from his seat beside Sir Ian McKellen. “Oh my God,” Louis said before it all sank in as to what it meant. “Holy fucking shit!” “Louis William, you watch your mouth,” Jay said. “What has got into you?” Feeling like a madman, his palms to his cheeks, Louis couldn’t help the tears of surprise, relief, and fear as he turned to his mum. “What colour are his eyes? What do you call that colour?” “Louis, are you telling me that the man on the screen, Harry Styles, is your soulmate?” Or the one where the world is in black and white until you meet your soulmate, but Harry is world famous and Louis is...well...not.

This is a Rainbow War

by lululawrence for 1D Fanworks For Charity | famous/ not famous | friends to lovers | fluff | pining | travel | 15k “So what are we doing?” Niall asked as he slipped in. “Harry seems to really like rainbows,” Louis said, purposefully vague. “So let’s go ahead and make sure he’s really in the spirit.” Louis untaped the flag he’d used to hold it together and showed Niall what he had inside. He’d been keeping a wide variety of flags from each show and gathering them until he had enough to cover Harry’s entire dressing room with them. “Oh this is going to be great,” Niall said with a chuckle. “Oh my God,” Shawn said excitedly. “It’s going to look like someone puked pride flags all over a campsite.” “Exactly,” Louis said. Or, the one where Harry's a famous singer, Louis is part of his road crew, and after Harry gives Louis a special assignment regarding rainbow flags, things maybe turn out a little differently than either of them planned.

Naughty or Nice

by noellehenry | Christmas | miscommunication | innuendo | humour | fluff | 10 Louis never intended for his boss, the very attractive Harry Styles, to find out he has a temporary, additional job as a Christmas Elf at Harrods Department Store. When he gets a request to show up in his elf costume at Mr. Styles' office, after office hours, Louis' mind goes wild...

Nobody Likes To Be Played

by rosegoldhl for Girl Direction Fic Fest | Girl Direction | infidelity | implied/ referenced homophobia | fluff | friends to lovers | emotional/psychological abuse | 19k The first thing she realized as she walked into the bar was that there was some sort of gig from an unknown, obscure rock band, the kind of music Louis enjoyed. The second thing was that the place was packed with teenagers and university students, and Harry looked out of place in trousers and a polka-dot shirt. The third was that this outing was destined to ruin her life.

Until I Found You

by dimpled_halo | a/b/o | Cam Boy/ Porn Star | enemies to friends to lovers | slow burn | fluff | 45k Harry Styles is the popstar of the century, or so the media proclaims. He’s linked to every omega he’s seen with, donned as an alpha lothario who isn’t ready to settle down any time soon. His team works hard to publicise him as an alpha who can’t keep his knot in his pants, but not everything is as it seems. Louis Tomlinson, an aspiring musician working as a porn star and camboy, is waiting for his big break. When he meets Harry Styles he can’t stand the alpha that only uses his power and fame to bed as many omegas as possible. He runs into him at a party and hopes to never see him again only to find that Harry’s assistant is dating Louis’ best friend. To make matters worse, Harry’s about to embark on a world tour and is in need of a guitarist at the last minute, an opportunity Zayn uses to put in a good word for Louis. What happens when the opportunity that Louis has been waiting for finally comes, but at the price of having to share the stage with one Harry Styles?

Merry Birthday

by jaerie | Christmas | a/b/o | soulmates | soul marks | 9k Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson have unfortunate soulmarks branded onto their skin. The first words their soulmate will ever speak to them are two of the most common greetings, so common that they don't even notice when it finally happens for real. A Christmas soulmate AU.

[greyias]

What does Grey think about Koths views about Valkorion?

TL;DR – It annoys her, but she ultimately likes Koth for the guy he is

The Longer/Rambly Version:It’s a bit complicated, because she really, really doesn’t like Valkorion, but the people of Zakuul aren’t him. She’s always taken care to try and be respectful of beliefs different to her own, like the Voss, or even Scourge (to an extent – when he started the Dark Side recruitment speeches she happily threw Jedi philosophy back at him). However, the idea of Valkorion as a benevolent god-king is a little too hard for her to completely swallow and stretches that understanding.

By the time the conversation comes up in game (which I had to refresh my memory on, because context is always important!), she and Koth have had time to get to know each other, and know what kind of person each other is. Koth is a man who wants to do the right thing, and protect others. Just because he was indoctrinated into a false belief system* doesn’t make him a bad person. He in fact disobeys direct orders and gets himself branded as a criminal because he refused to kill innocent civilians. For Grey, that itself speaks more for his character than him muttering petulantly that Valkorion “was always good to Zakuul”.

(* - It’s important to note, that as players, and the character with outside knowledge of Valky, him being a god is obviously false, but that doesn’t change that to Koth it’s a truth he’s known from birth. It takes a long time for someone to untangle that kind of thing, and it’s not like Vitiate left a calling card on Ziost that said “Thanks for the souls peepz, totally immortal now! Gonna fuck off and pretend to be a sexy grandpa god-king in Wild Space. Those suckers are so gonna get punk’d!” to really lend any actual tangible evidence to the “world devourer” theory we all know is true.)

And well, they had bigger fish to fry (so to speak) at the time than argue about what basically came down to religion. And his disapproval of her calling his favorite fake deity a world-devouring monster didn’t stop him from rushing to the rescue when Arcann stabbed her in the gut. (Because Grey is apparently too much of a goodie two shoes and had more approval with Koth than with Lana during Chapter 8 of KotFE). He also seemed to take the hint, and doesn’t bring up his Valky worship much after this.

Ultimately, though, I think she views the people of Zakuul as more of Valkorion’s victims – just ones he hadn’t turned on yet. He was still viewing them as playthings – his model society that he had groomed to worship and view him as a god. He co-opted their pantheon and belief system to gain power. He carefully crafted Zakuulan society to feel that their entire lives, comfort, and everything they had was dependent on him. He had twisted the Force users of the planet to believe that their power came from devotion to him. As players, we know that this, and the other belief systems in-universe (the Jedi, Sith, Voss, etc) are just human systems built to explain something intangible.

The-Sith-With-Too-Many-Names always struck me as that charming sociopath type, where he dips into roles to “pretend” to be one of those “lower beings” – but he will throw them away when he gets bored or angry with them. As much as he talks about Zakuul like some proud father, at some point he would turn on them, just as he had done to every single other society he had built up or taken over. Because ultimately, Valkorion doesn’t view any one as a “person” but himself – everyone else is just an object, an obstacle, or a possession. 

He’s a great villain – but a horrible, horrible person. It’s going to take Zakuulan society a long time to detangle their actual culture from what he wrapped his dirty little Force signature around.

[kierongillen]

Writer Notes: The Wicked + the Divine #29

Spoilers, obv.

Weird issue this, for me.

We've been away for a few months, so this is the reintroduction. As I've said, the second half of Imperial Phase is more constricted in time than the first, so we've got to set all that up. And in terms of my “stuff to do” list, I obviously had a bunch. I also had a structure, which was putting the focus on Persephone and take her through her day (akin to 24). It's about that hangover, juxtaposing the realisation of Sakhmet's actions and the feeling of being sapped and wrecked and regretful.

(I'm writing this with a hangover, oddly, though it's the “last night was amazing!” sort of hangover, so not exactly right.)

Anyway – I have the story goals and the structural means and all that, and basically hit them. But I also didn't do something more than that, despite having plans for a Big Swing issue. I simply choked. I hit the point and just didn't want to write what I had planned. Not even “didn't want to”. Maybe “wasn't capable of putting myself through it.”

As such, even though the issue has gone down well – better than I would have thought – it nags at me. I suspect it was best for me not to do it, and may even show character growth on my part in choosing not to, but it's still mildly annoying. I suspect it'll be my least favourite issue of the arc... but that may have been true anyway. I am particularly fond of the rest of this arc.

Anyway – that ennui and reluctance fed into what the script ended up being: “I'm tired and I don't want to do this any more but what other choice is there?” is very much the mood and the point.

(Why has this gone down well? The character focus, I suspect. We've got 10 main characters, and all of them bar Baph (and arguably Woden) get meaningful scenes.)

Okay – remember back in issue 27 on Phased I talked about how I solved trying to fit all the information in by realising one sub-plot could be excised and then pushed later? That was the Sakhmet/Persephone relationship stuff from this issue and the rest of the arc. We obviously had some of it in 27, but it was the absolute minimum necessary for 28 to make sense and to establish their interactions. I realised the rest would be just as effective if it's stuff Persephone remembers, in terms of the ghosts of their past together. It integrated well with the themes of Waking Up The Night After And Thinking Back.

Jamie's Cover

Was mildly annoying that this was released online just before the last issue dropped, as the blood coated coat is something of a spoiler. But you end up shrugging, because “Sakhmet covered in blood” is very much her look anyway.

Jamie covered this one, due to Matt being away on well deserved holiday.

The breaking of the portrait is the theme for the second half of Imperial Phase, as those who've seen the future covers will know.

Jock's Cover

Very happy to get Jock doing a cover – one of the definitive cover artists of the 21st century, and one of the nicest people in comics. If I ever made a faustian deal, it was made on the floor of Jock's hotel room in Dublin, waking up and picking fluff off my tongue and thinking “you need to earn some money at some point, Kieron.” Jock had let Jamie and me crash on his floor, like the kind and lovely fella he is.

Anyway! Morrigan, in full fashion-sepulcharal. Obviously look at how Jock uses space here, and plays with the logo. That sort of awareness of the specifics of any individual cover is one of the reasons why he is what he is. Lovely stuff.

The 25 Issues In Future Cover

For Image's theme months, we normally say yes or no depending on whether it strikes us as a worthwhile idea in terms of the book – which normally means “do we have a good idea instantly.” In this case, Eric went “A hypothetical cover for your book 25 issues in the future.” Everyone on the team went “Well, by that point the book is over so...”

Original idea was a graveyard, but realised that a monument would be the way to go. It's based on one in Glasgow, which Jamie pointed out as we went past it.

One day I'll get the HUMANITY statue in London into the book, but not yet.

IFC

Deciding what information gets added to these is always an interesting challenge. What matters? What doesn't?

Page 1-2

We're back, and first panel is the Laura narration we haven't seen since issue 11. I miss that girl.

Jamie does this whole sequence so well. Matt too, in terms of mood. I'm always interested in the question Jamie asks me – in this case it was “why the hell is she living in a crappy room in the underworld? She's rich.” And then I have to justify it, which is nice, because it reminds me that my choices actually do have the justifications built in. I suspect I believe I used Bojack Horseman and Sid Vicious in crappy hotel as my references.

Yes, the Lucifer fangirl is cruel and unusual. That Persephone left the party saying she wanted to be alone and wasn't in the mood, and between then and now she's picked up someone else, and someone who reminds her of her old friend says a lot about her. Same as later, when she goes clubbing rather than go home.

Really interesting colour choices in the second panel of the second page by matt – that beige-y red of the cigarette light. And then look at the cold blue/white light when the phone clicks in.

I think a lot about how we hear about news, both personal and world news. Occasionally it's in person, but I think of refreshing the Warren Ellis Forum and then the top post being “Plane flies into World Trade Center” with one unread message or anything else. Just a line of text that is going to change everything.  We do a lot of stuff like that – I find myself thinking of the climax of The Immaterial Girl.

Page 3

I believe I was thinking of Bananarama's Love In The First Degree. Bananarama were my original text pop band. Huge chunks of what I love in Pop Music can be traced back to Bananarama.

Page 4-5

Earliest scene in the current recurrence, I believe... at least in terms of showing gods.

This is in part to make sure the timeline was clear. As Baal's Death Day was revealed, we know when he must have appeared... which was before 2013 Ragnarock which still clearly believed the gods not have returned yet. If this is Baal's first gig, then we know he spent a couple of weeks not doing performances.

The question of when Sakhmet came is open. I suspect I'm never going to actually say it in the script, but I can see Sakhmet's appearance basically prompting Baal into doing his first gig just to make sure he gets to be first. Those would be fun conversations. I could talk about our choices in terms of when we started our story, but there's certainly another version of WicDiv which did everything in straight chronological. If I was writing it for (say) television, I suspect I'd take that route.

(The short version is that in a monthly comic “Gods reincarnating as pop stars” isn't a big enough hook. That's a theme and setting. I needed the specific big plot, which was the Did Lucifer Do It?)

Anyway – party in a Warehouse, but look at what Matt does with the colours here, which are brutal. In an issue with so little joy, this level of pop just shows what the book isn't now.

Page 6

I'm always interested in Jamie's choices for the gods when they're not on stage. Amaterasu's clearly herself, but not quite as loud.

Eight panel grid, which is my standard choice. I suspect I could have pushed either of these half scenes to longer scenes, but I have bigger fish to fry.

Jamie does great stuff here with the body language – being questioned by the police about your girlfriend murdering a bunch of folk when you're hungover can't be much fun, and panel 2 really shows it. And then there's panel 4 – Persephone holding herself as she trudges away. The contrast between that and the detective's words is a lovely bit of irony by Jamie – she really doesn't look like someone who could.

Matt's colouring in the fifth panel is just startlingly wonderful. Just look at that.

Chrissy's ongoing biggest regret is that we did PERSY instead of PERSEY when we first did Amaterasu's nickname for Persephone.

Page 7-9

The formalist in me is a little annoyed that I break the purity of “follow around Persephone on her hangover day” and have a scene which starts before her.

Jamie and Matt always realign their work between arcs, and Jamie is trying some slightly different approaches to the page. I mention, as for me, this scene is where it's most obvious in terms of “something is a little different to usual.”

Return to the I Can't Believe It's Not The Danger Room, introduced in issue 17. Also, Minerva and Baal in Valhalla, which says how seriously they're taking it – neither live there any more.

I smile at the hot pink in panel 4 on page 8. Hot pink! Hot Pink!

The last panel of page 8 took some tweaking – originally Amaterasu didn't have a line, which made it easy to overlook their entrance, which made Persephone appear to come out of nowhere in the next panel. Adding a line to her solves that problem, but does undercut the beat of Baal/Minerva – Baal had a line which we lost, which meant the reader's eye would treat the panel as two moments. The celebration of the two – a gap on the page – and then Amaterasu coming in on the right.

I think Marlboro Shite has been in my notes since issue 4 or 5. Everything eventually finds a home.

(It's so old I was worried I'd used it before somewhere. Baal repeating himself would be terrible.)

Writing that has also reminded me that I had a stress dream last night about a continuity error in Uber where someone pointed out we'd changed names of one character mid-through the story. My subconscious is totally crap.

Page 10-11

I don't use that sort of caption-dialogue transition a lot in WicDiv, even though it's a classic story writer trope. In terms of modern writers, I always connect it to Rick Remender. It's one of his main bridging devices.

More about the gig next issue, but it was important to set up a bunch of stuff here. It's been talked about, but not in this level of specific. Clearly it's going to be a big part of the plot. It's been a while since we've done a big performance scene, after all. Imperial Phase is all about getting to your Knebworth, after all.

God, Cass is almost translucent here. She works too hard.

I really like Persephone's necklace in this page. Just noticed it.

Page 12-15

Highbury & Islington, as seen in issue 5 and returned repeatedly to since then.

I'm still not bored of how we flipped Young Avenger's White Backgrounds As Aesthetic Device when dealing with the Underground. Which probably says everything about the two books.

Obvious setting up key stuff for the Underground we'll need later in the issue on page 12 – namely that we can find to places you've been before, but it is infinite down here.

I believe ”Crap Narnia” was a last minute tweak of the script, but it does please me. The Norns are not have it with these tropes.

Panel 3 on page 13: Awwwwkward.

I have no idea how Jamie keeps on doing these outfits. He's an amazing talent. I should do a comic with him.

The specific choice of “At least 3G” makes me smile, as if Cass is working out what signal is reasonable to get in a magical underworld. “Yeah, maybe you'll lose 4G, but 3G should be good” she thinks to herself.

Yes, nothing at all comfortable in any of this.

It's always interesting to me how Cassandra is as vulnerable as she clearly is. You choose the right places to hit her, and she'll be derailed. Some characters clearly understand that, and others don't.

The last panel is the point where people who read the solicits are thinking “wait – when Kieron said “Wherein Dionysus sits in the darkness for most of an issue, but in an awesome way. Honestly, you'll love it. Also: other stuff.” was he being literal?”

Last panel is great. Full bleed gets the sense of the endlessness of the dark, and Dionysus sitting there, facing it. Art against the void. Our comic in a panel.

Page 16-17

There's more interaction with the public in this issue for a while, but the crowd stuff is where we're trying to show the responses more. Some people are petrified. Some people are still trying to snap her. Some are both.

Yet more fine gods-casual-clubbing looks.

The club they're leaving would be the Buffalo Bar, as seen in issue 18 of WicDiv (since repaired in WicDiv). They're stairs leading down on the right. Also showed up in Phonogram: The Immaterial Girl.

Interesting flashback colour choices here from Matt. Teal and turquoise? Colourists are amazing.

The Bridge Reconstruction sign is 100% period Highbury & Islington sign. We moved dialogue over it to try and signal “I know this looks important, but it's not.”

Deciding which exact euphemism for sex Cassandra should use on 17.1 was some degree of thought. Originally I'd written “Fucking” but that jarred with Persephone's own Fuck. “Banging” was the most comic option – it just speaks to the lack of respect Cass has for Pers/Baph's act.

“I've never said that out loud before” echoes with Young Avengers, of course.

I wanted the hard – mid sentence to set up for a hard-cut to the club. I'm a fan of hard-cut jokes, but doing it as an anti-joke was kind of the point. Let's go home, as I need to OH NO I AM IN A CLUB AND HAVING A SHIT TIME.

Page 18-19

I look at the first page, and smile, in purely a “I love comics” way. When I talk about “Wanting to write comics” versus “wanting to write stories that get turned into comics” way, it's stuff like this I'm thinking of. If I didn't write full script, it wouldn't work like this. Well... not as easily. It's calling for specific effects that Jamie and Matt completely get. Matt bleeding the red in is pretty astounding – that third panel especially. The second one you can think it's just the club lights, but the third is saturating the image, and then it just takes over. And that expression on panel 5. Yay, jamie. Comics!

Thinking this was a pro-pantheon fan club, so the response is different than on the streets. These people are shook up. They mean well. But... yes.

Obvious call back to Baphomet's dialogue way back in issue 7.

I believe the last panel description was “Hmm. I do like coke?”

Page 20

A general sentiment, but dancing with Taylor Swift's Blank Space.

21-22

And we return to where we started.

How good was the coke? Will we ever find out? Stay tuned to The Wicked + The Divine, kids!

(Not the first time Coke has been explicitly referenced in Imperial Phase. It was implied in episode 24, and Woden's memorable nose-piece in 28. Imperial Phase, proggy double albums and all that shit is just connected with that particular drug for terrible people. Year 4 will be less coke-y, hopefully)

And Ruth's surname revealed.

It's odd – when writing this I'd completely forgotten the obvious fact that Persephone is disobeying the television's instructions. I am useless.

That this is the second time that data access in the underworld has been referenced in this issue makes me wonder whether my own router problems were working their way into the comic. All work is autobiographical, but not usually that crappily.

(Don't worry. It's solved now.)

Great Jamie expression on the final panel, of course. The colouring of the section was one of the most debated bits of the book, and I like where we ended.

Page 23

I suspect I've got some pun interstitials which are worse than this ahead, but not many. That would be impossible.

Anyway – back next month for top sitting in the dark adventures.

Thanks for reading.