#reading back my own writing gives me so many revelations about. what i think of his character

[yea-baiyi]

writing commentary from yesterday’s beefleaf writing session bender

[kyuujo]

↳ thinkin of u <3

↳ sae itoshi, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro x fem!reader (separate) ↳ nsfw(ish) ↳ established relationships, nudes, descriptions of masturbation (fem), “sending them nudes/spicy vids while they’re in public”, slight sexting?, contains crack (sorry i can’t help myself), no explicit sex but lots of allusions to it, language, aged up characters, not proof read :x, my writing

↳ 1k words

↳ tbh i’ve thought about this trope for a long time and finally got the creativity and inspiration to write it! i’m not entirely sure of the quality of this as i’ve never written anything like this before, but i hope it’s still enjoyable! thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoy!! <3

“… now that you’ve played alongside japan’s u-20, would you ever reconsider your decision not to join? the people want to know.”

sae sent an icy glare to the reporter across from him; he’d thought he’d made his stance on this vividly clear, but obviously not.

“no.” sae said simply, reveling in the spark of indignation his refusal brought to the man’s eyes.

“well, why not—?”

sae lifted a hand to silence the man when his phone pinged twice — maybe that was rude, but sae had the feeling that whatever had just come through his phone would be a thousand times more entertaining and engaging than the sleaze across from him.

and boy, was sae right.

my wife: seeing you on tv has me all worked up. maybe hurry it along? 😘

my wife: [video attachment]

despite his current surroundings and the many cameras pointed at him, sae opened the attachment — it was a video, one without sound, but the muteness didn’t take away from the sheer tempting nature of it.

you looked so good, back resting against the armrest of the couch and legs spread lazily and slit glistening in the flash of the camera. your fingers teased at your clit lightly, and desire shot through sae’s body as he itched to replace them with his own.

sae didn’t even get halfway through the video before his phone pinged with another message — and then another.

my wife: SAE YOU ARENT SUPPOSED TO LOOK YET

my wife: YOURE ON LIVE TV PUT IT DOWN

sae smirked and gave the reporter a lazy wave before standing.

“my deepest apologies, but i’m cutting this short. i have some other business to attend to.”

sae couldn’t give two shits about the way both the reporter and his pr manager sputtered and desperately attempted to flag him back — his woman was waiting on him at home, and that was far more important.

shidou rarely ever felt bored during matches — but so far, this one had simply been a drag. the opposing team didn’t really offer much of a challenge, and shidou had scored more points off of them than he could justly remember.

by the time half-time rolled around, shidou was seething and sweating, feeling incredibly tense and antsy as he whipped into the locker room.

his teammates knew not to bother him when he was in a dip like this, so they cleared a path for him and avoided eye contact at all costs. if shidou weren’t so frustrated he would have found it amusing.

there was only one thing that may make shidou feel the least bit better — messages from you, something he was guaranteed to find at half-time. a trickle of excitement slithered down his body when he pulled his phone from his locker and plopped down on the nearest bench. his phone read ‘3 unread messages’ when he clicked the screen on.

shidou didn’t think twice about tapping open the chat log between the two of you, a smile instantly gracing his lips at your first message.

babygirl💕: hope your match is going well baby!! i know you’re gonna rock it

babygirl💕: but on the slim to none chance that it may not be, i want to give you some motivation ;)

babygirl💕: [video attachment]

shidou probably should have ensured his sound was off before opening it — but your legs were spread open so deliciously and your fingers were working your cunt at a desperate speed, what was shidou supposed to do? think rationally? tough chance.

lewd moans and whines of “shidouuuuu” filled the locker room and ten pairs of shocked eyes met his. shidou’s cheeks warmed and anger sparked in his chest at the knowledge that now his teammates knew how absolutely angelic you sounded in the throes of pleasure.

all it took was a heavy glare and they were clearing out of the room to give him and your video some privacy.

every single tiny box on the shelf looked exactly the same.

what was he even supposed to get again? he’d read over the front of every box at least three times. pearl, radiant, braided… none of those words rung any bells in his head. what was it you had told him before he left?

“maybe it was the pearl…?” nagi murmured to himself, eyes narrowed as if that would somehow help the answer become more clearer to him. he gingerly grabbed a box and examined it before promptly putting it back on the shelf.

nagi didn’t like to admit defeat, but he’d been perusing this shelf for nearly thirty minutes and still didn’t know shit from shat — he’d have to phone a friend, unfortunately.

nagi slipped his phone from his pocket and was just about to tap open his contacts when his phone pinged with a message; ironically, it was from you.

babycake <3: hurry home love. i’m waiting for you 💕

babycake <3: [image attachment]

nagi’s eyes nearly bugged from his skull when he caught sight of the picture you’d sent him — you, sprawled across the lush queen bed, donning nothing but his freshly washed jersey. if he looked close enough, he could see the faintest tease of your nipples perked up beneath the fabric, and the hem of it fell to your mid thighs, hiding the sweet spot between your legs.

nagi sucked in a breath and clicked off his phone screen, willing his half-hard dick to calm down — at least while he was in the store. with furtive glances down each side of the isle nagi powered his screen on and, while avoiding letting his gaze fall to the tempting picture, typed a quick response.

me: omw. don’t move.

your period wasn’t due for another week, anyway. nagi always had time to figure out the pearl-versus-radiant-versus-braided debacle before then.

i genuinely had so much fun cooking these up! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments and reblogs are not at all required but are much appreciated!! <33

[k1ngpin42]

Abby being insecure about how needy she is ;)

Warnings: Not proof read at all 😭 I wrote this while sick at like 3am so sorry for this monstrosity. Pretty intense sexual references, some fluff if you can call it that. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this…” Abby breathes out apologetically, bringing one of her large hands to the soft flesh on your face. You cock your head, smiling at her softly. Your wide eyes bring a smile of her own to Abby’s face as she makes the comparison to a deer in headlights in her mind. 

“I just…” Abby explains, letting out a deep breath. “Don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you. I mean I- feel like I’m taking advantage of you.” You were stunned by her words. In fact, you were stunned by the whole situation. Abby; without her cocky fucking facade about her, the fact Abby would think she’s taking advantage of you. 

You had wanted this from the start, so if in any plane of reality she was somehow taking advantage of you, you’d let her, 100 times over.

“What are you talking about? You know I love our sex…”

“I’m objectifying you.” Abby tries, and you let out a laugh in disbelief. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve tried not to think about it, but I can’t. It makes me feel so selfish I can barely say it.”

“Say what, Abby? I’m so confused-“

“I want to have sex with you. Every minute of every day. I think about you when you’re on assignments, I dream about you when you’re sleeping elsewhere, I want to fuck you senseless in front of everyone I- Jesus what am I saying? What am I doing, even? But it’s true I just…whether you’re wearing tight jeans, short skirts, long dresses, even a fucking hoodie I want to tear it off and do so many things to you. Maybe…maybe we should break up, this shouldn’t be normal, it isn’t-“ You stop her by planting a soft kiss on her lips. 

Abbys gaze softened and her shoulders slouch back into place.

“Just calm down Abby….I love our sex. Fucking love it.”

“But-“ You shake your head, quickly preventing  her doubts from festering.

“Love…we’re in a relationship….if you didn’t feel passionate for me there wouldn’t be much of one, would there? Now just look at the place around us. This place was once used for actual football…by people who lived in a world with an abundance of simple pleasures. We live in a world where pleasure is so much rarer, it’s no surprise that you revel in what we have…what you can give me….especially since you’re a soldier. Always so…tense.” She listens to your explanation intently and nods, hesitantly. 

“I still feel…you know….” You look at her with a comforting smile, but it was still clear to her you weren’t a mind reader.

“I know that I love being around you…hugging you…kissing you…I could probably survive without the sex but I still feel like I’m using you somehow…I mean we’ve…” she clears her throat, now wondering why the word ‘sex' suddenly felt like poison in her throat.

“Had sex at least twice a day every day that we’ve been together. I mean that one Saturday I-“ She pauses and you both blush remembering it.

“You were still limping by Monday….” She concludes. You can’t help but laugh at her babbling. 

“Abigail Anderson…this is emotional stuff, you know you should write this down…ooh maybe you can try poetry?” She shuts the idea down with a playful hit to your shoulder. 

“Ow.” You laugh. Your smile fades a little and you close the gap between you guys, leaning into her ear. 

“You think you’re the only one who craves it every day? I know you don’t want to hurt me but when you’re rough holy fuck….the marks you leave on my body…it’s stupid and embarrassing but I get off to them….” Her eyes widen.

“What? You never said-“

“Well because I thought it was toxic at the time-“

“Hey you said this stuff was normal!”

“It is!” You exclaim back, playfully. You both laugh and you kiss her deeply. She leans back onto her bed and you fall onto her lap, kissing her fully again.

“Hm, so what other shit do you want to tell me, then?” She asked, playing with your hair. You just smirk at her.

“To be honest…I think I’ve had enough talking for one afternoon wouldn’t you agree my little sex addict?” She rolls her eyes.

“You’re so annoying.” Abby replies, unbuckling her belt. 

[kanmom51]

https://www.tumblr.com/kanmom51/712812388735418368/is-letter-a-song-for-army-the-baby-jm-never?source=share

I was going through this particular post and felt emotional...

Jm really calls jk baby isn't it?? We saw in the show too...things are slowly falling back to places just like many had doubts like why would the two bandmates supposed friends or the worst "not good mates, hate eachother so much to breathein the same place" travel to countries shooting a show in their last moment of freedom instead of laying happily beside their supposed gf or bf right.

They did tell us indirectly that they are together in their life without saying anything...just like everytime they did...

Hey there. :)

This is the post you linked:

Just read it again and ok then, what can I say, I am impressed. Quite the talented writer whoever wrote that one.😜

But seriously, am I a fortune teller or what? This was way before we even dreamt of a Jikook travel show giving us 9 hours more or less of authentic Jikook interactions. I'm not going to say uncensored, because there was clearly some censorship going on, at times on their part (awareness of cameras) and at times from the editors. But man, even with all of that, now that we are on the other side of this show you need to be really daft not to see they are telling us they are a couple. And if the show didn't convince us, well, this HAD to:

Oh, and JM calling JK baby... lol.

You know, like he did while talking to him in Letter...

Admit it.

You weren't surprised, right?

Only surprise was that once again it was allowed in.

But then again, purposefully so.

I know many are calling it a soft launch and well maybe you can call it that. But I would rather not label it. I will just sit here and enjoy what they have given us, which is so so much.

In this show we basically got first and foremost JM and JK telling us and showing us that they are, without a doubt, the closest duo in the group of 7. This comes on the tail of a couple of years where oh so many were claiming and reveling in what they thought was an apparent distance between the two. Apparent to those that for some reason think that these young superstars live their private lives for us to fully see. I guess (more so hope) that those ideas were laid to rest. And that for once and for all people finally realize that the two actually have a private life that we are not fully aware of. That the two spend time together even if we don't hear about it. That the two were and still are super close - intimately close.

And that takes me to my next point. It's not that the show revealed something that we weren't aware of when it comes to the level of intimacy between the two of them. It's not that they hadn't told us all of this over the years. It's that people were unwilling to hear it or see it and with the show we got to see it, 9 hours worth of it. Them on their own and them with their good friend that insisted on joining and was for most part allowing them to do their own thing. Not only did Tae's presence not disprove Jikook's closeness and intimacy (something many were hoping for), it actually highlighted it. It highlighted just how different, how much MORE JM and JK are with each other as opposed to either of them with Tae. Even when the three were spending time together (and I say even because much of the time Tae just left them to do their own thing or even if he was with them).

So yes, this was them allowing us to see just a little bit more of THEM. Together. The playfulness, the chemistry (again, something we were "warned" about in the promos - their known chemistry...), the way they just flow with each other, JK clearly being JM's cook (we get that in words and actions) and so much more.

I am not a fortuneteller and as such I can only write in hopes and wishes. I do hope and wish that this is them setting a new reality for the fandom. Yes the fandom should have caught on by now just how close they are. They basically never hid it, even if at times they pulled back with what we were shown (for many many reasons, some personal some towing the company line). But I am really hoping that post AYS Jikook will indeed be louder in the sense that they will allow us to continue and see THEM without the pullback we got at times. Because Army will accept THEM and embrace THEM. That the Jikook we get post military will be able to mention one another and it will be a new normal, not an eyebrow raising event. That JK won't have to say he'll get his toiletries and go over to shower at JM's because they will be living together in JK's new mansion. That they wouldn't have to hide it because people would finally accept them for who they are and who they love.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The art of Daniel Danger

[Image ID: Daniel Danger's art print, 'To all who home to this happy place,' depicting a ruined Disneyland castle in a post-apocalyptic landscape with a statue of Walt and Mickey in the rubble.]

There’s this behavioral economics study that completely changed the way i thought about art, teaching, and critique: it’s a 1993 study called “Introspecting about Reasons can Reduce Post-Choice Satisfaction” by Timothy D Wilson, Douglas J Lisle, Jonathan Schooler, Sara Hodges, Kristen Klaaren and Suzanne LaFleur:

https://www.researchgate.net/publication/240281868_Introspecting_about_Reasons_can_Reduce_Post-Choice_Satisfaction

The experimenters asked subjects to preference-rank some art posters; half the posters were cute cartoony posters, and the other half were fine art posters. One group of subjects assigned a simple numeric rank to the posters, and the other had to rank them and explain their ranking. Once they were done, they got to keep their posters.

There was a stark difference in the two groups’ preferences: the group that had to explain their choices picked the cartoony images, while the group that basically got to point at their favorite and say, “Ooh, I like that!” chose the fine art posters.

Then, months later, the experimenters followed up and asked the subjects what they’d done with the poster they got to take home. The ones who’d had to explain their choices and had brought home cartoony images had thrown those posters away. The ones who didn’t have to explain what they liked about their choice, who’d chosen fine art, had hung them up at home and kept them there.

The implication is that it’s hard to explain what makes art good, and the better art is, the harder it is to put your finger on what makes it so good. More: the obvious, easy-to-articulate virtues of art are the less important virtues. Art’s virtues are easy to spot and hard to explain.

The reason this stuck with me is that I learned to be a writer through writing workshops where we would go around in a circle and explain what we liked and didn’t like about someone’s story, and suggest ways to make it better. I started as a teenager in workshops organized by Judith Merril in Toronto, then through my high-school workshop (which Judy had actually founded a decade-plus earlier through a writer in the schools grant), and then at the Clarion workshop in 1992. I went on to teach many of these workshops: Clarion, Clarion West and Viable Paradise.

So I’ve spent a lot of time trying to explain what was and wasn’t good about other peoples’ art (and my own!), and how to make it better. There’s a kind of checklist to help with this: when a story is falling short in some way, writers roll out these “rules” for what makes for good and bad prose. There are a bunch of these rulesets (think of Strunk & White’s Elements of Style), including some genre-specific ones like the Turkey City Lexicon:

https://www.sfwa.org/2009/06/18/turkey-city-lexicon-a-primer-for-sf-workshops/

A few years ago, I was teaching on the Writing Excuses cruise and a student said something like, “Hey, I know all these rules for writing good stories, but I keep reading these stories I really like and they break the rules. When can I break the rules?”

There’s a stock answer a writing teacher is supposed to give here: “Well, first you have to master the rules, then you can break them. You can’t improvise a jazz solo without first learning your scales.”

But in that moment, I thought back to the study with the posters and I had a revelation. These weren’t “rules” at all — they were just things that are hard and therefore easy to screw up. No one really knows why a story isn’t working, but they absolutely know when it doesn’t, and so, like the experimental subject called upon to explain their preferences, they reach for simple answers: “there’s too much exposition,” or “you don’t foreshadow the ending enough.”

There are lots of amazing stories that are full of exposition (readers of mine will not be shocked to learn I hold this view). There are lots of twist endings that are incredible — and not despite coming out of left field, but because of it.

The thing is, if you can’t say what’s wrong, but you know something is wrong, it’s perfectly reasonable to say, “Well, why don’t you try to replace or polish the things that are hardest to do right. Whatever it is that isn’t working here, chances are it’s the thing that’s hardest to make work”:

https://locusmag.com/2020/05/cory-doctorow-rules-for-writers/

But if I could change one thing about how we talk about writing and its “rules,” it would be to draw this distinction, characterizing certain literary feats as easier to screw up than others, having the humility to admit that we just don’t know what’s wrong with a story, and then helping the writer create probabilistically ranked lists of the things they could tinker with to try and improve their execution.

Which is all a very, very long-winded way to explain why I bought a giant, gorgeous art-print at Comic-Con this weekend, even though I have nowhere to hang it and had sworn I would absolutely not buy any art at the con.

I was walking the floor, peeking into booths, when I happened on Daniel Danger’s booth (#5034, if you’re at the con today), and I was just fuckin’ poleaxed by his work.

http://www.tinymediaempire.com/

[Image ID: Daniel Danger’s ‘It stopped being about the panic,’ depicting a ruined mansion interwoven with the skeletal branches of a tree, with a weeping statue and two human figures]

Now, see above. I can’t tell you why I loved this work so much (and that’s OK!), but boy oh boy did it speak to me. I just kind of stood there with my mouth open, slowly moving from print to print, admiring works like “It stopped being about the panic.”

https://tinymediaempire.myshopify.com/products/2022-sdcc-it-stopped-being-about-the-panic-v4

[Image ID: Daniel Danger’s ‘headlight in the path of,’ depicting a ruined mall with a pair of stags standing at the top of the escalator.]

On the surface, this is moody, post-apocalyptic stuff, heavily influenced by classic monster/haunter tropes, but it’s shot through with hope and renewal and the sense of something beautiful growing out of the ashes of something that has toppled. There’s real “(Nothing But) Flowers” energy in “Headlight in the path of”:

https://tinymediaempire.myshopify.com/products/sdcc2023-headlight-in-the-path-of-v2

[Image ID: Daniel Danger’s ‘We are no longer able to protect you,’ depicting a ruined factory with a coming-apart sign reading ‘We can no longer protect you forever,’ and a statue of a sword-bearing angel.]

Danger isn’t just a

very

talented artist, he’s also an

extremely

talented craftsman. As a recovering pre-press geek, I was (nearly) as impressed by the wild use of spot color and foils as I was by the art, like in “We are no longer able to protect you”:

https://tinymediaempire.myshopify.com/products/sdcc-2022-we-can-no-longer-protect-you-forever-v3

[Image  ID: Daniel Danger’s ‘made of smoke and chains,’ depicting a ruined landscape with a pair of derelict subway trains at the foot of a hill on whose peak is a rotting mansion. A pair of human figures, holding hands, are approaching the mansion.]

Danger himself calls this work “weird sad hyper-detailed artwork of dreamy buildings of ghosts and trees,” which is a very apt description of this work, as you can see in “Made of smoke and chains”:

https://tinymediaempire.myshopify.com/products/made-of-smoke-and-chains-mist-preorder

So I looked at this stuff and sternly reminded myself that there was no way I was going to buy any art at the con. Then I walked away. I got about two aisles over when I realized I had to go back and ask permission to take some pictures so I could put a little link to Danger in my blog’s linkdump, which he graciously permitted:

https://www.flickr.com/search/?sort=interestingness-desc&safe_search=1&tags=danieldanger&min_taken_date=1687478400&max_taken_date=1690156799&view_all=1

[Image ID: Daniel Danger’s art print, ‘To all who home to this happy place,’ depicting a ruined Disneyland castle in a post-apocalyptic landscape with a statue of Walt and Mickey in the rubble.]

But then I got all the way ass over to the other ass end of the convention center and I realized I had to go back and buy one of these prints. Which I did, “To all who come to this happy place,” because fuckin’ wow:

https://tinymediaempire.myshopify.com/products/sdcc2023-this-happy-place-v6-foil

This was unequivocally the best thing I saw at this year’s SDCC, but I also got some very good news while there, namely, that Emil Ferris’s long, long-awaited My Favorite Thing Is Monsters Vol 2 is finally on the schedule from Fantagraphics:

https://www.fantagraphics.com/collections/emil-ferris/products/my-favorite-thing-is-monsters-book-two

It’s coming out in April, which gives you plenty of time to read volume one, which I called, “a haunting diary of a young girl as a dazzling graphic novel”:

https://memex.craphound.com/2017/06/20/my-favorite-thing-is-monsters-a-haunting-diary-of-a-young-girl-as-a-dazzling-graphic-novel/

If you are or were a monster kid or a haunter, this is your goddamned must-read of the summer. It’s a fully queered, stunning memoir for anyone whose erotic imagination intersected with Famous Monsters of Filmland.

(Also, if you’re that kind of person and you’re in the region, you should know about Midsummer Scream, a giant haunter show in Long Beach; I’ll be there on Sunday, July 30, for a panel about the Ghost Post, the legendary Haunted Mansion puzzle-boxes I helped make:

https://midsummerscream.org/

Now Favorite Thing book two was the best news, but the best experience was watching Felicia Day get her Inkpot Award and give a moving speech:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inkpot_Award

And then learning that Raina Telgemeier also got an Inkpot; I love Raina’s work so much:

https://memex.craphound.com/2016/10/04/ghosts-raina-telgemeiers-upbeat-tale-of-death-assimilation-and-cystic-fibrosis/

[Image ID: A photo of me with Chuck Tingle, who wears a pink bag over his head on which he has written ‘Love is Real.’]

To cap yesterday off, I also ran into @ChuckTingle, which is as fine a capstone to a successful con as anyone could ask for:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/53065500076/in/dateposted/

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/23/but-i-know-what-i-like/#daniel-danger

[starfall-spirit]

@officialfeysandweek Day 6: First of Their Kind

🎨: the_megabee33

Feysand Week Masterlist // Read on Ao3 // SFW Commission

Summary: Rhys and Feyre spend Solstice Eve bringing a fantasy to life at the Court of Nightmares.

AN: Art is awesome, but I think I speak for many of us when I say it's twice as fun to have art and a story. It was an absolute honor to write this for my fellow commissioners, @popjunkie42, @moonpatroclus, @foundress0fnothing, @tunaababee, and @cauldronblssd

CW: Public sex, egregious use of "good girl", naturally.

"I feel slighted, you know."

Rhys looked up from where he was fastening his cufflink, slowly crossing the room to join his mate at her vanity, reaching for a comb to start running it through her damp hair. "How's that, darling? Have I neglected you somehow?"

She huffed, meeting his eyes in the mirror. They'd be attending the revel held in the Court of Nightmares this evening, just as they were obligated to every Solstice Eve. "Not recently."

"Holding a grudge, are we?" He twisted the upper half of her hair into a smooth knot, gathering a few pins to keep it in place. "What's this about, Feyre?"

"Do you remember the first time you took me to the Court of Nightmares?" Even now he held a careful mask, but Feyre could sense the subtle shift in her mate all the same. "Before we were mated, all pent up, waiting for something to happen. I wanted you to take me right there, Rhys."

He cursed behind her, taking a large step back to finish dressing himself for the evening. "You can't—" He let out a long breath. "You can't say something like that when we're expected somewhere, Feyre. Fuck."

There was no way he was unaware of what her desires had been, now several years into their mating. There were no true secrets between them. But she'd never discussed that particular moment so brazenly. Put it in bold lettering for him to read. "Can't I, though? It's a revel after all. I'm sure that after living this long our dear subjects know how we came to have two children. If they can fuck out in the open why shouldn't we do the same from your throne?"

"My little exhibitionist," he teased, shrugging into his evening jacket. The slight amusement she caught in his voice faded when he rejoined her at the vanity, gripping her chin. "You're sure?" She nodded and his smile returned. "They won't know what to do with you, wearing a crown and warming my cock." She shivered, eyes fluttering shut when he pressed a kiss to the corner of her painted mouth. "I hardly know half the time. Come, my love. Let's go give the sycophants a show."

~~~~~

They started with a dance. “I suppose we should be someone respectable this evening,” she’d told him upon arrival. He’dd taken her in his arms, pressed another kiss beneath her ear, kept his head bent low to whisper every filthy thing he planned for her tonight, before their court and behind closed doors. She made it through two songs before letting him lead her up the dais. She passed her own throne without hesitation and let him turn her around to more easily pull her down by her hips. She only paused a moment before a soft tap against her leg had her reclining into his chest, slightly off center so her legs were parted over one muscled thigh. Not that she had any intention of resisting if he wanted to keep her spread open to play with.

Feyre had no fear when it came to what the court would think tonight. She wore a crown from their High Lord’s family trove, was happily mated to a male with unwavering loyalty. There was a tender stroke of affection at the very edge of her mental shields that reinforced the thought all the more.

But most importantly when it came to the views of the people not-so-discreetly watching the two of them, in the near decade since she’d been Made her power had only grown, a force to rival their High Lord’s when his had gone unmatched for so long. Even if she spread her legs and bowed to his whim tonight they new better than to make a comment to degrade her when the walls of the Hewn City had ears of their own.

The proclaimed Cursebreaker could be just as ruthless as the male holding her.

“I love you more for it, you know.”

She let herself grant him a slow smile, tilting her head back to expose the length of her throat, almost hoping to feel his teeth there. “Show me how much.”

His thumb was already slipping under the dark panel covering her breast, absently teasing her nipple, the other four fingers dropping down to cup her breast from beneath. She barely started to roll her hips before his other arm banded around her waist. “Rhys,” she whined, curling into that little space he left open for her in his mind, content to stay there for the remainder of the evening.

“Keep still for me, darling. You want to be a good pet for me, don’t you?”

“Yes, High Lord.”

He groaned softly, the tip of his tongue flicking the sensitive skin beneath her ear. “Good girl. Close your eyes. You’re going to sit here and take what I give you.”

Feyre took a breath, deep and slow. Let her legs go limp against him and bit back her whimper when he spread them wide, her ankles caught between the cold throne and his knees. Cool air brushed over her center when he slipped his hand beneath the fabric, the chill made worse by the wetness already building there.

Rhys let out a low hum and she honestly couldn’t tell if it was a chastisement of praise for what he found waiting for him. Thoughts muddled, all she knew was that she was left open and waiting for him to torment or please. “I’ll always please you, little mate,” he said just loud enough for the nearest court members to hear. “The only question is how long I want to play with you first.”

She couldn’t suppress her whine at that. The promise in her ear, his fingers dragging up her center, thumb circling her clit. The shadows rising from the throne should have been warning enough that Rhys was up to something, but it hardly took a moment for the dark wisps to secure her wrists on either side of Rhys’ thighs. She still couldn’t contain her sharp cry when Rhys pushed two fingers into her core, the sharp curl of his fingers hitting a tender spot he was well aquainted with by now. She’d put herself in the lap of a male who could play her like a fiddle. And he had every intention of doing just that.

“Rhys.”

“Do we need to stop?” His movements slowed, the drag of his fingers gentling.

“No. Just wasn’t expecting that.”

He kissed her temple, keeping the slow pace, but pushing a little deeper. “Alright, darling. I need you to breath through it. If you want my cock tonight you’ve got to come on my fingers first. That’s it. Breathe. Good girl.” She thought to open her eyes. See how much attention she’d drawn, yelling like that. “No, pet. That’s not for you to worry about. I don’t want you thinking anymore tonight. The only thing you need to do is feel.” He gave her a third finger and she whined, teeth scraping his neck. “Good girl. Good.”

“Close. Need—”

“I know. I know, pet. I need you to come like this first. Then you can have my cock, sweet girl.”

She let out another whine, jaw clenched tight to keep from crying out even as she trembled in his arms. She was halfway down his length before she came back to herself, panting between her teeth.

“Such a good little pet,” he crooned. “Now that you’ve been satisfied, darling, I believe we have a few matters of the court to tend to this evening. A shame to mix business and pleasure, but such is life.”

“Rhys.”

It was hardly a whisper. It couldn’t be considered a true protest, but she needed something else in that moment. Not necessarily soft comfort. An anchor of another kind. He snapped to summon a nearby courtier and then his hand was around her throat. Not applying pressure, just a steady weight, guiding her to lean back into his chest, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

She felt like she was there for ages, still as a statue even as she soaked through the fabric of his pants. A good pet, there to warm his cock while he conferred with the members of their court. He let her get away with biting and sucking at his neck, but nothing more than that. By the end of the night she was trembling in his arms, overstimulated from the constant edging through the evening. In the years they’d been mated they never stayed in attendance for so long.

An hour or two at most, making an appearance for their people before winnowing home to celebrate Solstice Eve in their own way. But Rhys had always enjoyed testing her limits. Confessing she wanted to be his plaything, she should have known he’d drag it out until she was a desperate mess. She could have told him to stop. He would have respected it. Took her home and finished what they started in the privacy of their room. But part of her liked it too. Letting go of that control, endless thoughts and worries evaporating simply because she was told not to resist. To channel her focus to feeling alone.

Maybe she was her mate’s plaything tonight, but she was also cherished. “Always, darling. Never forget that.”

“Can we go home?” she whispered. He kissed her brow, lifting her off of him. A moment later her feet were planted on the familiar wood of their bedroom at the Riverhouse. “How long was that?”

“Three hours,” Rhys murmured, setting her crown aside and easing the dress from her shoulders before carrying her to the bed.

“It felt like years.”

“I’m sure,” he responded, not showing any sign of amusement, though Feyre was sure she sounded ridiculous. Vanishing his clothes with his magic, he settled in too, bracing himself over her, hips resting between her legs. “You’ve been so patient for me tonight, sweet girl. Gonna take you nice and slow. You can come when you need to.”

He did his best to ease into her, but it did little to help the sensitivity that had built through the past few hours. Whimpering, she started to push up the bed. Her plan was foiled when Rhys used one hand to catch her leg, rubbing soothing circles to the inside of her knee. “Deep breath.” She obeyed. “Again. Good girl. Again.” He peppered tiny kisses along her cheeks and brow, thumbs sweeping just under her eyes when a tear fell. “Alright?”

“Yes."

“Good.” He was careful, his movements slow and even until she wrapped her legs around his waist, raising her hips with his next thrust. The pressure inside of her was climbing, just starting to overtake that teetering edge she’d been standing on all night. “Don’t try to stop it, darling.”

Squeezing a hand down between them, he flicked her clit, sending her flying over the edge, nails biting into his shoulders in a weak attempt to ground herself. He swore when she clenched around him, shuddering through his own release before reversing their positions so he wouldn’t crush her with his weight.

For a good long while they stayed just like that, time meaningless when the only thing either of them cared to think about was the bond glowing between them. Shields down, connected in every way, they could rest for a while. Rhys was the first to speak, drawing back enough to meet her eyes. “That was… something.”

“A lot,” she murmured in response. “But I liked it.”

He bent to kiss her, stroking her hair back from where it clung to her sweaty face. “I’m going to draw you a bath.”

“Alone?” she pouted.

He chuckled, pecking her lips again. “I’m going to look in on the kids, then I’ll join you. How does that sound?”

Feyre sighed, pure contentment overtaking any other feeling she’d faced that evening. “That sounds perfect.”

~~~~~

Taglist: @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @reverie-tales

[army93bangya]

The Moon Goddess’s Chosen | Chapter 2 | MYG [M]

Chapter 2

*Summary: Y/N has been sheltered and hidden within her pack her whole life. She is gifted and her father the alpha of the pack does not want her to find her mate and leave the birth pack. But not even he can stop her from attending the mate gathering between many packs every year to find one’s fated mate. Y/N is worried what her father will do should her mate find her and try to take her. Add in the revelation that the talked about fairly new pack Bangtan will be in attendance this year. Rumored to be ruthless and their alpha heartless, Y/N has every reason to be concerned and riddled with anxiety.

*Genre/Rating: Mature, 18+, Werewolf/Fated mates, eventual smut?

*Warnings/Potential Triggers: Talks of Child Abuse, Abuse, Non-con Touching, Mistreatment, Non-con Confinement, Angst, Anxiety, Nervousness, Character Poisoning, Explicit Language, Mention of plotting Murder, Mention of Murder/Massacre, Reader is going thru it, Possible future Smut,….more to be added in future chapters.

*Disclaimer: This work was written and owned by Army93bangya and there is no consent for anyone else to post it as theirs, this story is intended for entertainment purposes only, this story is a work of fantasy, seems a bit ridiculous to say but I do not own or have rights to BTS or the members and the characters in this story are a fictional interpretation of members.

*Notes: ATTENTION! Pov change to second person writing. OMG I was really amped up after posting the first chapter/teaser and immediately started working on chapter 2. My sleep has suffered getting this all typed out, but I just could not help it! I worked really hard on this, and I just have to say, as a long-time avid fanfic reader I now have an extreme appreciation to all the writers out there. I knew that writers put a lot of time, energy, and passion into their work, but I never truly sat and thought about how much work it is. So, for all the writers out there and the ones whose stories I have read and love I just want to say ya'll are rockstars in my book! I wrote this and thought I was done but then went back to proofread and edit and ended up writing another 1k words last night. Anyways again, if you come upon this story and give it a chance, Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy!

*Words: 4k

*Date posted: 01/14/2024

Previous Chapter —- Next Chapter

Maddie left your tent a few minutes ago to join the other pack members that were already making their way to the gathering. Sitting silently you wait for your father to come fetch you when Darius storms in. Grabbing you he throws you on the bedding. You let out a surprised yelp and try to get back up, but he pushes your body back down growling as a warning before climbing on top of you to start rubbing his entire body against yours practically squishing you, and seemingly trying to scent you as much as he can. Grabbing the bottom half of your face and yanking your head to the side, he starts laving his tongue roughly against your pulse point where a mating mark should go, before moving your head to the other side giving it the same treatment. Feeling disgusted by his actions and close proximity you attempt to push him off, but he grips harder, an even louder growl rumbling through him causes you to freeze knowing better than to keep resisting.  

“Don’t think for one second you’re going to find your mate and be free of us. If you bond tonight with anyone he will be dead before you can even make it out of this territory!” You glare at him as he pulls himself off you, yanking you up to stand, heavily sniffing the air to make sure his scenting was efficient. You now reeked of this fucker and wouldn’t be able to get his scent off without having to bathe again. He shoots you a threatening look “You can glare and act like you don’t want me as much as you desire, but we both know that someday your father is going to stop dangling you over my head as motivation for my eventual secession finally letting me sink my teeth into that pretty neck”  

Your father waltzes into the tent with a stern look permanently etched onto his face and glances between you two. “You did a good job Darius, I can hardly smell her scent.” Darius’s face turns smug and you have an almost irresistible impulse to find something sturdy that you could pick up and land the hardest blow you can against his unappealing mug. Words sink in and your mouth almost drops open in realization before schooling your features and looking at the ground instead like your father usually preferred. Of fucking course these two had come up with this tactic. Drenching you in Darius' scent, basically claiming you as his future chosen mate to mask your own so that you have less chance of your mate smelling you. You feel upset but at the same time if your mate is in attendance today and doesn’t catch your scent, or thinks you already have a chosen mate and decides not to approach you, then you don’t have to worry about him being killed. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if your mate finds you and is a kind decent wolf, only to be murdered because of what you are and your father’s desperation to keep you forever captive for his own selfishness.  

Being the Goddess’s chosen, the mage wolf, you are supposed to be one that all wolves from any pack can seek out for guidance as you are a direct link to the goddess herself. You feel her at times and you know she is displeased for how you have been treated. The fact that the gifts she bestowed upon you has been kept hidden from the world. To be selfishly used for the benefit of one pack, for one alphas greed, has angered her. Not that you are offering a whole hell of alot for your birth pack. The link between the Goddess and yourself feels frayed, your abilities not as controlled as they should be.  As a child you wanted to learn the intricacies of the link  and figure out how to manage your gifts. You was happy to be her mage wolf, to have that connection with the Moon Goddess. Gaining hers and your fathers approval was just about the only thing you cared about. But eventually you got tired. You were not progressing quick enough for your father, he began to get frustrated and irate because you could not fulfill all his requests. That's when the abuse started, first you would just be locked in a room for days on end only receiving your meals. When that did not give the results he hoped for, the amount of food you received began to lessen as well. He always let you have just enough nutrients to keep you alive and somewhat mobile so that he could stretch out how long he kept you locked up before letting you out. You remember being so weak but reaching out through the link, you wanted your goddess to help you, to help you mend your fathers soul or to escape if he could not be healed. But she never did. Only sending feelings of patience and reassurance. You used to think that she was telling you to be patient and that you would be liberated from this loneliness and confinement. But your spirit broke and eventually you just gave up. Now you just don’t care. Choosing to try and ignore the link, not listen, not feel the goddess as much as you can. You have long come to terms that the destiny she has thrust upon you wasn’t meant to be. Greed and a thirst for power had corrupted it.  

Your father walking towards you interrupts your thoughts. Glancing up but not looking at his face you see the cup in his hands and your stomach immediately churns knowing the contents that it held. He stops in front of you and holds the cup out for you to take. “Drink up. We can’t have any of your abilities making an unwanted appearance today or anyone finding out what you are.” Reaching for the cup hand shaking as you grasp your fingers around it, you know that you cannot refuse or there will be consequences. Accepting your present fate you respond. “Yes father.” Bringing the cup to your mouth, you down the contents as fast as you can the burn of it agonizing as it enters your body, a feeling you're all too familiar with. Tea laced with wolfsbane, not enough to fully poison or kill you but enough to make you feel weak, subdued, and to temporarily mute your gifts so that they will not surface when out in public. Your father makes you drink it whenever he wants to punish or establish control over you, it is also a method of containing your abilities if they start to go haywire. It makes you weak and unable to resist, not that you resist much of anything anymore. The wolfsbane leaves your body in pain until it is out of your system. You feel it causing a burning pain in your muscles and joints, your body beginning to feel heavier, the pounding beginning in your head. If they had given you a little bit of a stronger dose you would have been bedridden. As the wolfsbane makes its way through your system you once again contemplate for maybe the millionth time why your father didn’t just tell the other packs that you have already found your mate in your birth pack. The only thing you can think of is because of Darius. He means to eventually let his pupil mark you. If he says you already found your fated mate only to later be marked by Darius as his chosen mate and the other packs somehow found out? The packs would be outraged at your fathers blatant disrespect to tradition. It would make him look bad in front of the other packs, possibly losing him the few allies he has. 

You sway just slightly on your feet and Darius moves to your side placing his arm around your waist, holding you up squeezing slightly uncomfortably. “You will stay by my side tonight. You will not go anywhere without me, keep your head down and do not speak unless spoken to. Do you understand Y/N?” His hand squeezes your side harder prompting you to answer. “I understand.” Secretly thinking that if you hurl today you hope It lands on him.The plan they have come up with is beginning to piece together for you and you have to say it’s a good one. First cover you in Darius’s scent, marking you as his and warding off other wolves. Give you wolfsbane to not only subdue your gifts and keep them from making an appearance, as sometimes you can’t control it when you are facing strong emotions no matter how good you are at hiding them. Also with the wolfsbane in your system you have no choice but to stay at Darius’s side, too weak to be able to walk around and mingle by yourself. Lastly, keeping your head down is not only keeping you submissive, it is also another way of making sure no connection to a mate is made. Mate connections can be made by scent, touch, and lastly eye contact. Yeah, you hate yourself for admitting the two banes of your existence have seemingly come up with a pretty good plan. 

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The gathering is massive with multiple packs attending, even if the crowd is mostly just unmated wolves and the pack leaders. It is a huge clearing that stretches far in a neutral territory. With enormously long tables and benches set up on all the outskirts of the field. There are several piles of stacked wood placed strategically in areas throughout the field to be lit when the sun goes down so that the event can last through the night giving as much time for everyone to mingle in hopes to find one's fated mate. The mate gathering is sacred and bloodshed is prohibited. All these packs come together for one night peacefully lest they be banned from ever getting to attend again.

Darius, you, and the four pack betas follow behind your father to an area more so reserved for the leaders. You steal quick glances of your surroundings but keep your head lowered for the most part and stand next to Darius who stays close to your fathers side even after he dismisses his betas to go enjoy themselves but be on guard. A few alphas come up to your father and comment on your presence, asking if this was the mysterious daughter that has not been able to attend due to sickness. These alphas must be his adversaries, the ones that would not let your father continue to withhold you from a chance at being a mate to someone in their packs. But you must not seem to be as much of a mystery as they were hoping for because they do not stick around for very long after they get the acknowledgement that you are the daughter he has been hiding. Or they just can't stand to be around your father which seems more likely. The wolfsbane in your system and your demeanor makes it believable that you are sickly and you can feel the stares on your form concluding that they are most likely expressions of either concern or disgust. Your father just laughs about how you haven't been feeling well this day and that you are an incredibly shy girl. For fucks sake this whole experience is painful, and its not just cause of the literal poison in your system. Being paraded around all these strangers reeking of the asshole next to you, being forced to look docile and pathetic while masking the extensive discomfort of wolfsbane flowing through your body, you have a strong desire to throw your head back and scream as loud as you can. But that little act of defiance would probably get you starved and locked away for a month. 

A growl accompanied by yelling rings out somewhere to the left and your head instinctively snaps up, eyes following the sound. You let out gasp at the scene, Maddie stands with a distraught look on her face while a man in front of her towers over another male, fist clenched and growling threateningly. A quick realization flashes through your mind recognizing the man on the ground. His name is Vix, Maddie always talks about him, that he has been pursuing her for almost a year now. He wants her to be his choice mate and after four years of not finding her fated mate at any gatherings, she has agreed that if she didn't find her mate this year she would be open to attempt a relationship with him. You focus back on the events unfolding as another unfamiliar wolf appears and grabs Mr.pissed offs arm whispering in his ear, his body relaxes and they both turn to look at Maddie. Your heart clenches at the terror on her face, she remains frozen, eyes wide as the seemingly now calm man walks up to her slowly like she is a skittish doe, standing before her his back is now to you so you can’t see Maddie on the other side of him. Slowly raising his arm, hand extended out to her, he speaks so softly that you can’t make out what he says, but a moment later she takes his hand and is being led out of the field on the opposite side that your pack entered. Your knowing perception somehow makes an appearance and it tells you that Maddie just found her mate. Vix gets up with a look that speaks of his anguish as one of your fathers' betas approaches him, grabbing his arm and leading him in the direction that will take him back to camp. You feel terrible for the wolf whose heart longed for your best friend. You recall her once telling you that much like Darius, Vix mate had died before he could ever find her. The feeling one gets when your wolf side senses the death of their fated mate is said to be gut-wrenching and leaves inside a feeling of hopelessness that can last weeks.

Darius' arm tightens around your waist in warning urging to once again lower your gaze. As you oblige you overhear a conversation happening not too far away. "Wasn't that one of the betas from Bangtan?” Your body feels like it just took a physical blow. That pack name had completely slipped your mind with all the stress of your own predicament bearing down on you. From a further distance away you hear the guy's companion reply “Yeah that was one of them. I would keep my distance if I were you, those betas are rumored to be just as powerful as an alpha” You can barely make out the first guys scoff and Darius who was apparently also listening to snickers before leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Looks like you're going to need a new maid. Don't agonize over it too much, she just got a raise in position. From lowly maid to the mate of a beta, I'm sure she will be ‘very’ well taken care of.” Dick. How you wish you could retaliate to his nasty derogatory words. Tears start to prick your eyes and you take a deep breath to subdue the panic you now feel for your best friend. She was your chosen family, the one person you could fully trust in the world. In the rare instances when you would lash out or if your abilities became overwhelming and started acting up, your father would lock you back into your solitude room. Maddie would sneak extra food to you and risk sitting by the door to talk to you for a while. She took care of you, encouraged you, lifted your spirits when everything got to be too much. She was your person and now she is gone. The grief you feel is immense but you lock it all away as best you can, you still have to get through this day.

“Well wasn't that a spectacle?” “Alpha Sharp, it's good to see a friend amongst these miscreants.” You almost snort, did your father just call other alphas ‘miscreants’? What a master of projection. “Alpha Y/L/N it's been awhile since we have had a chance to talk. How is your territory fairing?” You begin to tune them out and focus on your body and willing it to stay strong. Knowing your father you would not be attending for too much longer having already been here a few hours. He is just waiting for an adequate amount of time to pass before sending you back to your temporary camp without seeming suspicious. Or heck maybe he wants you to pass out and he can use such a display to keep you from ever having to attend again. Wouldn't put it past him to be elated with that outcome.

“That's Alpha Min over there and his other five betas with him.” If your ears could have perked up in this form they definitely would have. Fuck you want to look, to see the leaders of the pack everybody is apprehensive of and gossiping about. The thought shoots a pang through you reminding you again of Maddie. Of Course the halfwit next to you has to chime in. “That's him!? He's the powerful merciless alpha everybody whispers about?” You don't have to be looking to know that your father and Alpha Sharp have stiffened and are probably throwing warning looks at Darius for the volume he spoke those words in an area filled with sensitive ears. “Darius speak that loudly again and you will return to the camp.” You can't help the small upturn of your mouth at the reprimand. Promises promises. 

“Sharp you always have your ears open, what have you heard about him?” You start to feel prickly. Maybe the wolfsbane didn't subdue your gifts as well as you thought because you begin to have a knowing feeling that you are being looked at, and not by anyone standing close to you.“Plenty. But whether what I've been told is factual or not I don’t know.” His audience must be staring at him expectantly because ‘alpha not so sharp’ sighs before continuing. “Let me start by telling you the only thing I do know for sure; Min Yoongi is the son of Alpha Min Hoon of the Min pack.” You startle hearing that pack name but it goes unnoticed as Darius and your father both stiffen and must be paying undivided attention to Alpha Sharp. Why didn’t this alphas surname spark recollection in you before. The Min pack was revered and old, very old. Everybody knows that the last mage wolf the goddess created was born into the Min pack. Darius’s voice breaks your train of thoughts. "I didn't know there was any survivors from Alpha Min's family.” “Well if what I heard is true you can't exactly call him a survivor. We all knew that the Min pack was decimated eight years ago, but it's all been speculation as to what exactly happened. What I was told is Min Yoongi ran away from his pack and went missing for an entire week before returning with a bunch of rogue wolves who helped him slaughter his entire pack before running off again.” 

You feel bile rising in your throat, your heart quickening from hearing something so heinous. Why? What would have been the reason to do something that vile? That knowing prick starts again, somebody is watching you and the desire to look up in the direction you feel it coming from is almost overwhelming. From the ringing that has started in your ears you hear your father being the one to reply to Alpha Sharps words. “I knew that after it happened that there was a fight over the Min territory from the Crimson pack and the Kim pack who was the Mins ally” Alpha Sharp exhales a dry laugh before responding. “Yes from what I heard both sides lost quite a few wolves before they came to an agreement to split the territory, but then we know that two years after that the Kim pack was destroyed and the Bangtan pack was formed under Min Yoongi. For five years Bangtan and Crimson packs feuded and had territory disputes, Crimson being weakened from their previous fighting with the Kims was not able to get rid of Bangtan. That is until last year when the new Alpha Min once again slaughtered the entire Crimson pack leaving no survivors.”

Darius cuts in being fully engrossed in what he is being told. “I find all this hard to believe. How did one wolf take down not one but three damn packs. I know Bangtan now has all three territories, but there has to be more to this than him supposedly being blessed by the moon goddess.” You wish that whoever kept stealing glances at you would just stop. It is a foreboding feeling that is filling your already exhausted and overstimulated self with unease. You long to be able to just turn it off, to not be forced to be so acutely aware of this wolf's interest of your person. Focusing back on the conversation before you, Sharp answers captain oblivious. “How did I say that I was told he did it the first time? Rogues. Eight years ago, he ran and returned with rogues only to vanish again. It was said to me that those two years before he took the Kim pack down, that he was moving between the territories collecting rogues to fight for him. If I had to guess, he gave them promises of being a part of a pack again to earn their loyalty and that started to form what would become the Bangtan pack.”

You feel like you're having some bizarre out of body experience. You feel what you have felt since you drank the wolfsbane, the pain in your body, the throbbing in your head, and your seemingly muted gifts. Your emotions from what you are hearing, and being distraught over Maddie are there too, but the knowing sense is what is taking over and beginning to feel hefty. Someone will not stop observing you, and this sensation is so strong that a tingling feeling has also spread throughout your body. You feel this immense urge to lift your eyes, to finally gaze upon whoever this person is that your precognitive gift is screaming at you to see. 

You're abruptly alarmed and left even further unsettled when your father, Darius, and Alpha Sharp's body language all abruptly change, taking on a more defensive but still somewhat of a civil stance. Darius’s arm once again tightens around your waist gripping and would probably feel more painful if you weren't so shell shocked and overwhelmed. You can no longer stop yourself from raising your eyes, first glancing at the man you despise, who hasn’t let go of you since you got here. His face is drawn tight with a look that says whoever he is gazing at is very much unwelcome. Somehow even with the wolfsbane poisoning your system, your link to the moon goddess comes bursting through your soul like a battle cry possibly stronger than you have ever felt it before. It is as if she is beseeching you, piercing you with cries to look! Just follow your gift, heed my command! The insistence, the urging is so shattering that you just can't take the torture of it anymore.

With your head raised you turn it slowly in trepidation, and to not cause yourself a wave of dizziness. Shifting your sight to immediately follow the feeling of compulsion and glance at who the moon goddess has implored you to gaze upon. A wolf with cat-like eyes has approached your group. His face holds blank, but his eyes speak. His wolf coming through them and shining amber with the bond of a fated mate being placed in him, and you know without a shadow of a doubt that your eyes are doing the same. Somebody's voice breaks through but your mind is so gone you don't have the slightest recognition of who it belongs to.

“To what do we owe this pleasure Alpha Min?”

[thehours2002]

in my kayabeth feelings tonight

have been trying to write fic for them (that probably won’t see the light of day) and puzzling over how elsbeth and kaya might conceive of their own sexualities.

the idea i’m running with now is that elsbeth’s marriage did not break up because of her sexuality (at least not primarily but it had to be a major reason that she was unsatisfied with her marriage) and that that came after, sometime between her last appearance on the good wife and her move to new york (probably between her season one and season and season six appearances on the good fight).

[digression: i love that elsbeth/kalinda fic on ao3 that suggests elsbeth’s marriage broke up because her son is trans and her ex-husband fought in court to prevent him from using puberty blockers. who else is here for the teddy tascioni gay trans agenda!]

i can’t remember where i read someone say that elsbeth seems to be on good terms with her husband but that their relationship is fueled by competition and that was a 💡moment for me because i think that’s the common denominator between her husband and the ausa josh perrotti situationship—she confuses the excitement of competition with sexual attraction for her male adversaries. i think maybe she puts these pieces together when she sees her ex again in the last season of the good wife and finds herself becoming enthralled with him again, but she catches herself: she’s not turned on by him, but by the thrill of getting to outsmart him.

her feelings for women have always been there but not interrogated. they’re definitely healthier—her relationships with women are shaped by mutual respect and admiration. but maybe the breakneck speed of her adhd brain didn’t give her the time to circle back to those many, many digressions about how she loves the clothing of the women around her and how elegant diane lockhart is… they mostly drift away unexamined

i’d link to think that in these interim years before her move to new york she does get to test the waters dating women (affairs with kalinda and deirdre [aka kelli o’hara] would be a slay) but doesn’t get into anything serious

kaya is more of a question mark because we’re still learning who she is, but my initial read on her is that she’s bisexual but hasn’t thought too deeply about it or even arrived at that label yet. maybe because she didn’t have to since all her serious relationships so far have been with men. maybe she was one of those girls who kissed other women at parties in college idk (i didn’t go to parties in college so i don’t have a firm grasp of this type)

so in a fun twist i think it would be neat if kaya is the one doing more Realizing Things re: her sexuality BUT once she knows she’s into women i think it’s just one more thing she knows about herself rather than the trigger for some sort of identity crisis (which i do think it was for elsbeth to a certain extent). and that’s partly a generational thing and partly just kaya’s disposition.

the kernel of the idea for the fic i was trying out is that elsbeth “comes out” to kaya after the keegan michael key episode where kaya and donnelly are like “you’re married?!” the path toward that revelation is kaya not being able to suppress her surprise in a follow up conversation in which elsbeth uses he/him pronouns to refer to her spouse (internally kaya’s like: he/him? as in husband? this walking pride flag had a husband?)

would love to hear what others have in mind for them though!

[kerryweaverlesbian]

I love your Daphne Allen posts; all of your posts talking about characters struggling with gender and sexual identity are so well written and thought out, especially genderqueer!Dean. Do you have any other thoughts on Daphne, no matter how small? I love hearing about your ideas ♥️

[Anon is referring to this fic and this poem]

:") everyone is nice to meeeee, thank you ❤️ I'm going to call Daphne he throughout this so don't get confused. I don't have bonus headcanons about him at the moment, I usually construct those for minor characters as I'm making a fic about them, but I'll talk broadly about my thoughts about him under the cut (it got long LOL).

I think Daphne gets to me in particular with gender, because:

a) Meet My Girlfriend by Transgenderism was the first time it really clicked in my head that you can just. Choose. To change your pronouns. If it makes you happy. And you can still be a lesbian. So he's linked in my mind with that revelation.

b) pulling some man out of a river and marrying him on the spot is PEAK compulsory (cis)heterosexuality. Like. Ah yes :) God has sent me a man to solve my problem and he doesn't know what Being A Man is so he's Safe plus 'this is normal heterosexual behaviour I'm pretty sure [it absolutely is not]'.

(Reading Adorned With Smoke For Clothes by lesbiansailor, where Daphne prays for salvation [from being a lesbian] and there stumbles upon "Emmanuel" and is like 'oh okay' really sank into my brain, that's definitely what happened.)

c) I've always loved 'teaching someone how to be human' but the sweet, sweet juice of "teaching someone how to be A Man when you are insecure and unhappy about your own gender role"? YUM YUM YUM. The act of finding yourself through the other!! That's how. To get a little introspective lol. That's how I tend to work through figuring stuff out about myself. There is someone in my life and I think to myself "ah they might be _. This explains me thinking about it so much." And then like 3-5 months later I'm like wait. I think I am _. Lol. So I can project that projection onto Daphne, but with bonus resentment because I love resentment it's so fun to write.

d) obviously him being partnered with Castiel, who I view as a secure trans man (he "became a father", he went from agender to man, he literally changed from a female vessel to a male one, many people in fandom have said this. He literally invented free will to choose to be a trans gay man ❤️*). Having someone SO sure that he's a man even when he lost ALL his memories and didn't even know how to use a toothbrush at first AND when he's doing manhood "wrong" and sensitively and queerly, to a transmasc Daphne that's got to feel like "he doesn't even care about what it means to be a man so I have to care about it for both of us and I still don't get to be one!!! I don't want to think about it!!!!"

e) the way prescriptive religion ties in with him, doubting his gender role means doubting God which means potentially upending his entire community and being so fucking lonely. We only see Daphne for like. 1 minute of screentime lmao so it is for the best that they didn't pile on more side characters but it gives the impression that he doesn't have any friends**, which makes me think about how Marge Simpson doesn't have any friends (highly recommend the Lola Sebastian video about Marge) which makes me think about (my) fear of becoming a housewife with no friends.

So, I think Daphne is afraid of being himself with the (justified!) fear of losing his present community, but in trying to avoid that, he can't get truly close to people and thus causes that lonliness anyway. A vicious cycle...

f) Daphne is a character firmly discarded by Supernatural - which is fine, I don't want every 3 second character to keep coming back or we'd have 100 Cole's and I couldn't stand 1 Cole - but finding love for minor characters in spn has become a particular fascination of mine ❤️ mostly due to the sapphicnatural community 🧡 With the meta context that minor characters are not only disregarded by the characters amd writers but disregarded by GOD, for a character like Daphne who throws himself so firmly into faith that he marries a man whom - I cannot stress enough - he found in a river, that dramatic irony is so delicious. He's putting his life in service of a guy who, if asked, might not even remember his name. JUICY.

And e and f together beg the question, if it doesn't make him less lonely and if God [who is also a misogynist just btw] doesn't care what he does. Why is he putting himself through the agony of the closest. If his life is so flimsy that he can marry a stranger like it's nothing, why can't he pursue a life that makes him HAPPY?

g) Johanna Marlowe's performance of Daphne....she [the actor] just looks so strangely afraid? Daphne had just been attacked, but even when he's safe and looking up at Emmanuel, there's something fearful there I think:

Like maybe that's just how her face looks, but there's also the way she decided to touch him glancingly, hesitant and fleeting. Look at her physicality choices in her one scene. If I were just attacked by a demon and my spouse came and untied me, I would probably, like, hug them and find reassurance in them? But Marlowe says no. I will touch his face as quickly as possible and then let him drag me around. They're not even holding hands!! He grabs her wrist and she makes a fist! I never noticed that before that's crazy. Anyway this may have been directorial just to get through the scene quickly, there's a lot to get through in the episode, but regardless of the practical reasons behind her performance, it is Text and it is Strange!

And finally. I realised I do actually have a small headcanon. I think Daphne's transmasc new name is one of three:

Emmanuel (he chose the name, he should get to keep it!); Samson (biblical, raised according to the instructions of angels, had his dark night of the soul from his beloved cutting his hair [PS I think Daphne grows out his hair through transition]); or he keeps Daphne. He can still be Daphne if he wants. You can do whatever you want forever!

I also think he keeps his faith in God. His logic is that he asked for salvation -> Emmanuel appeared -> Emmanuel's questioning of his life brought him to true understanding of himself, and this must be holy.

*(I actually think Cas can also be attracted to women personally but this post isn't about him)

** also the fact that no one talked him out of marrying Emmanuel lmao

***Also from the Wikipedia recounting of the bible version he might be really into bondage??? Get it Samson!!

[scaly-freaks]

I love love love dark stories. I don’t know why but they just itch my brain perfectly. Your stories I swear are thoughts I’ve had (let’s not get into that) and written out in a way I couldn’t fully conceive.

I’ve been practicing some writing just as a hobby and I think for me to write dark stories it feels like I need to fully cross a wall of some sort to out those thoughts on paper. Not sure how to overcome it but I’m trying.

But yeah idk why but the sadder and more brutal a story is the better and I think it’s because on an emotional level I can just connect with it if that makes sense?

Anyways this is just a long winded way of me saying that I love your work and appreciate the effort you put into fleshing out characters and having us connect with them in that way. (I also love sappy moments too but idk with dark stories they feel earned in a way like we worked for it and achieved a short lived reprieve)

Also just a quick little question, how would an interaction between Daemon and Amara go? This is gonna sound terrible but when you mentioned the stepdad au my mind went to him before our Egg boy.

No because...same. I write dark stories and revel in them the way people revel in comfort media. I understand them, and the necessity of finding light amidst the darkness is something I've lived with all my life so familiarity breeds comfort in me. Sometimes I get a little startled because someone will read what I wrote and be like wtf how does this happen? How is it ever allowed to happen? And I'm like yeah...why did that happen to me? Why was it allowed to happen? But then I turn off the switch and dive back into fiction to cope (as I think many people who create art out of trauma will profess to - it's a way of distancing yourself but acknowledging it).

That wall (I know what you mean) will be crossed eventually I think. Just stay aware that it's not a wall you want to cross often or live beyond all the time. It's somewhere to retreat to, but always remember to climb over it and return to the other side otherwise it can get too much.

Thank you so much for this ask though, it makes me feel so seen and appreciated. I often worry that I'm upsetting people with how abjectly miserable my work can get, and force myself to lighten it up so it'll be more palatable. But the AU idea I posted yesterday named 'fuck puppet' is mostly what I write well and consistently (Amara does kill him in the end, so there's no romanticisation there, it's just pure victim vs abuser, beast vs human, and she wins).

And HMMM okay, so if you asked me about Daemon and Amara two years ago, I'd be like ew no. He really irritated me as a character when everyone was defending him, but the defence of him as stopped being as cloying and the writers have dug into the pathetic aspects of his nature more so I'm open to exploring him.

Plus, ironically whenever he interacted with Amara in my fics even when I hated him, there were readers who pointed out that there was sexual tension there (which I didn't even intend!) So clearly, there'd be something there, what with her daddy issues and his ability to appear put together and intelligent in front of a much younger woman.

I think where it takes Aegon longer to identify Amara's childishness and immaturity (because his own outshines hers a lot of the time), Daemon would snap at it in an instant. Eventually, Aegon gets there and is like okay, my turn to take care of you but Daemon reaches the destination immediately and does softer things to figure out whether she sees him in a remotely romantic/sexual way. So maybe a gentle hand on her waist to move her aside, resting it on the small of her back to comfort her (but only for a second) or giving her that odd little smile when she's yapping that has a twinkle of endearment in it. I think she'd fall for it pretty fast, and get a kick out of all her friends being disgusted by the idea of her having sex with an 'old man' (because obviously to them he is). She doesn't see it as exploitation, and she doesn't have to. When she's in his bed for entire weekends and he's using every trick in his extensive book of sexual tricks on her, she barely has time to think never mind wonder if this is right. I think he probably would need Viagra though bc canon Daemon strikes me as the type to wear out pretty fast, but Amara would be the insatiable party and well...there we go.

Anyway, over time, she is a little flighty, and her friends' constant judgement does weigh on her, along with the fact that Daemon's immaturity isn't like her immaturity. He's still ahead of her in experience. He can gaslight her into believing his pettiness is actually adult wisdom. So if he doesn't like her hanging out with boys her own age, he'll cut at her intelligence and make her feel diminished and stupid for thinking those boys could possibly want her for anything more than sex. And she'd fully believe him. She'd probably be reduced to tears after screaming at him for being a dickhead, and then accept his palm caressing her face telling her it's fine, and that he didn't mean it, and has she seen herself? She's so beautiful, anyone would want her. He just loves her and is worried someone will take advantage. And then that of course leads to sex and her feeling relieved Daemon cares so much and giving him everything she's got to make sure he feels the pleasure in return. Thus, the whole cycle starts again.

I can't believe I'm saying this but...Aegon might just have to be the rescuer in this situation LMAO. Daemon would not let her go easily.

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

hi im gonna write a drifteris fic (with different names) for a creative writing contest but i desperately need a prompt, you are The Drifteris Person™ and i would trust you with my life so please do you have any prompt recommendations 😭

I do not know when I became the Drifteris person but, while I feel unworthy of the title, I will try my very best to give you something lovely.  If at some point in future you wish to share what you've written I would love to read it.  Anything I can do to increase the amount of Drifteris in the world delights me intensely.

Here's a bunch of story ideas for things I might write some day that you (and anyone else who wants) are free to use (ideas are not stories - take them, use them, write your thing and revel in the glory that is human creativity).  Some are quite unoriginal, but the thing about writing is if you get too original no one can relate to it, so always give yourself permission to do something that's already been done.  Only you can write a thing like you.  No matter what the base idea is, the actual writing is still your own.

Specifically set in Beyond Light: Europa (because I feel robbed we did not get enough of those two in BL - for research, watch the awesome cutscene: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IAD6E_vESJY&t=18s or the videos of their conversations with the player by the fire)

Exo Stranger is busy and there's a strange signal so they go investigate

They find something in an ice cave

Why did they leave Europa? (We just showed up one week and they were gone - maybe there was a specific reason that caused them to run off?)

There is a blizzard and one of them is late coming back from a patrol so the other goes out looking for them

Ice fishing gone wrong

Snowball fight

Scenes from learning how to use/practicing Stasis

More generic anytime/anywhere:

One calls the other after waking up from a bad dream

"Saw this, thought of you." (bonus points if it seems vaguely insulting on the surface but is actually really sweet)

Cooking lessons

Pick a location in the game, think of a reason for Eris to want to investigate something there and drag the Drifter along in a similar manner to the Eidolon Pursuant clothing ( https://www.ishtar-collective.net/categories/eidolon-pursuant-suit-warlock?highlight=eidolon+pursuant )

The Drifter takes Eris fishing to one of the fishing spots in game (why does she go with him?  she lost a bet? or perhaps she asked him to take her fishing and he's nervous about them getting shot? so many possibilities!)

Drifter shows up on the Moon having fixed something for her (maybe he stole it and she didn't know he had it? maybe she asked him to fix it so he made it better?  maybe she didn't know it was broken?  maybe he broke it?)

She shows up to the Annex because he asked her to come look at something he found after one of the Salvage operations on Titan (and of course he never mentioned it to anyone because Drifter be like that)

Immaru says some shit to Eris and gets bullied (the possibilities are endless - I support more Immaru bullying in the world) 

Eido asks Eris about something the Drifter once said to her and wants an explanation of what that 'human custom' means (it is of course something Drifter-terrible - or maybe not - perhaps it’s emotionally revealing and he never expected Eido to notice never mind ask about it - you decide!)

Ikora asks Eris to investigate something in a lost sector and Eris brings the Drifter along (or the Drifter finds out Eris is going and shows up uninvited - I love lost sectors - they're such interesting bits of the game and easy to explore for research purposes after you've cleared them out)

Go in game to one of their locations (Annex or the Moon or Athenaeum...) and wander around looking at the details.  Find something intriguing.  Have one of them ask the other what it is and why it's there (why the hell does Eris have Hive eyeballs floating in her bowl in the Athenaeum?  Seriously... what is she even doing with that?)

Sometimes I just go stand beside Drifter in the Annex or Eris on the Moon and listen to their idle diaogue and then go “I wonder what that was all about.  There’s a story in there!” and get inspired.

I will stop now or I'll just keep going on forever.  I would love to read any/all of these.  Please write them.  I may write them too at some point but that’s ok.  There’s no such thing as too much Drifteris.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

For the director's cut ask game - ⭐ for your favorite fic you've written!

As the Sun Rose and Seasons Changed: Director's Commentary

I already got to talk about my favorite fic, This is (Kinda) the Way, so I thought I'd share instead another fic I'm proud of. This one is an important missing moment from my favorite 1907 novel, The Shuttle, one that I keep saying "oh, surely someone already wrote a fanfic about this!" about, but once I realized no one had, I knew the torch must be passed to me.

This commentary contains spoilers for Frances Hodgson Burnett's The Shuttle. If you've not read The Shuttle, don't read this commentary! Instead, read this list of reasons you should read The Shuttle, or just cut out the middleman of my campaigning and go read it for free right now on libby, project gutenburg, or as a pdf!

Starting right off, why did I name it what I did? Well, the title of the fic is taken from this quote from Lord Mount Dunstan in ch. 35: The Tidal Wave, which, if you remember, is the scene in which Dunstan finally confesses his feelings about Betty to Penzance.

“The Book of Revelations has shown to me how—how MAGNIFICENT life might be!” Mount Dunstan clenched and unclenched his hands, his eyes flashing. “Magnificent—that is the word. To go to her on equal ground to take her hands and speak one's passion as one would—as her eyes answered. Oh, one would know! To bring her home to this place—having made it as it once was—to live with her here—to be WITH her as the sun rose and set and the seasons changed—with the joy of life filling each of them. SHE is the joy of Life—the very heart of it. You see where I am—you see!”

The first chapter title "As Any Lunatic Has Ever Been," is also taken from the same chapter of the book.

Mount Dunstan threw back his head with a big, harsh laugh. He came out of the shadow and stood still. “Well,” he said, “I am in love—as much in love as any lunatic ever was—with the daughter of Reuben S. Vanderpoel. There you are—and there I am!”

This line has always struck me as a beautiful one, especially held in contrast to this line from his narrative foil, the dearly despised Nigel Anstruthers.

“Are you QUITE mad?” she said. “Not quite,” he answered; “only three parts—but I am beyond my own control.

There's something to be said about Nigel only allowing his lust towards Betty to drive him "three parts" of the way mad, but Dunstan finally admitting that his love and devotion for Betty has finally driven him all the way to the point of what may as well be insanity.

Anyway, we're here to talk about my fic, not about parallels in The Shuttle.

(Though, if you'd LIKE to talk about parallels in The Shuttle, or even just about The Shuttle in general, my dms and inbox are always open ;))

I love writing fics based on this book because I tend to match the voice of the media I'm writing from (dwampyist humor in Milo Murphy's Law fics; first person in Percy Jackson fics, ect.) and The Shuttle fics give me a chance to write before an audience with great pomp and splendor, using many archaic and descriptive words, copying Burnett's style, filling in with seventy-five words what a modern author might write in only seven. It's almost a form of poetry tucked away inside a form of prose, that here I can write a story in a way that makes the magic of every slightest moment come alive.

One of the recurring themes throughout the novel is that of pride, which could be said to define both Bettina and Nigel, but especially Dunstan. This is highlighted by Penzance, again in chapter 35:

“You think your reasons for holding aloof from her are the reasons of a man.” Mr. Penzance's voice sounded to him remote. “They are the reasons of a man's pride—but that is not the strongest thing in the world. It only imagines it is. You think that you cannot go to her as a luckier man could. You think nothing shall force you to speak. Ask yourself why. It is because you believe that to show your heart would be to place yourself in the humiliating position of a man who might seem to her and to the world to be a base fellow.” “An impudent, pushing, base fellow,” thrust in Mount Dunstan fiercely. “One of a vulgar lot. A thing fancying even its beggary worth buying. What has a man—whose very name is hung with tattered ugliness—to offer?” Penzance's hand was still on his shoulder and his look at him was long. “His very pride,” he said at last, “his very obstinacy and haughty, stubborn determination. Those broken because the other feeling is the stronger and overcomes him utterly.” A flush leaped to Mount Dunstan's forehead. He set both elbows on the mantel and let his forehead fall on his clenched fists. And the savage Briton rose in him. “No!” he said passionately. “By God, no!” “You say that,” said the older man, “because you have not yet reached the end of your tether. Unhappy as you are, you are not unhappy enough. Of the two, you love yourself the more—your pride and your stubbornness.” “Yes,” between his teeth. “I suppose I retain yet a sort of respect—and affection—for my pride. May God leave it to me!”

And this idea of both Betty and Dunstan sacrificing the pride that's held them both apart for too long reaches its climax at the end of chapter 44:

“Listen,” he broke out suddenly. “Penzance told me—warned me—that some time a moment would come which would be stronger than all else in a man—than all else in the world. It has come now. Let me take you home.” “Than what else?” she said slowly, and became even paler than before. He strove to release himself from the possession of the moment, and in his struggle answered with a sort of savagery. “Than scruple—than power—even than a man's determination and decent pride.” “Are you proud?” she half whispered quite brokenly. “I am not—since I waited for the ringing of the church bell—since I heard it toll. After that the world was empty—and it was as empty of decent pride as of everything else. There was nothing left. I was the humblest broken thing on earth.” “You!” he gasped. “Do you know I think I shall go mad directly perhaps it is happening now. YOU were humble and broken—your world was empty! Because——?” “Look at me, Lord Mount Dunstan,” and the sweetest voice in the world was a tender, wild little cry to him. “Oh LOOK at me!”

This all sets up as a backdrop to Dunstan's line to Reuben in my fic:

"All I own is a crumbling ruin, overgrown lawns, a title of a blackguard– unjustly endowed, but the fact still remains. Of graces, I have none, and of learning, nothing of note, and I've not a shilling to my name. I once believed I could even offer my pride, but with how I've allowed it to be stripped away, I'm afraid I've not even that left to offer."

{and for extra credit, with humillity and the sacrifice of pride being prevalent in this book, I feel it a good time to bring up that another recurring theme in this story is bluebells, and that of bluebells underwater. It should be noted that this book was written in and around the Victorian era, and in the Victorian flower language, bluebells represent, you guessed it, humility.}

I also included shortly thereafter the line "with the boldness and determination of a knight set out to war, determined to conquer and return to his beloved." This is in reference to the passages in ch. 15 and ch. 18, in which Betty notes that Dunstan "would have looked well in a coat of mail," and Penzance notes the way Dunstan carries himself: "his right hand was clenched on his hip, as a man's might be as he clenched the hilt of his sword."

Now onto chapter two of the fic!

This title, "Two strong forces drawing together," also comes from one of Penzance's lines in, no surprise, chapter 35 of The Shuttle.

“I have spent my quiet life in thinking of the forces for which we find no explanation—of the causes of which we only see the effects. Long ago in looking at you in one of my pondering moments I said to myself that YOU were of the Primeval Force which cannot lose its way—which sweeps a clear pathway for itself as it moves—and which cannot be held back. I said to you just now that because you are a strong man you cannot be sure that a woman you are—even in spite of yourself—making mad love to, is unconscious that you are doing it. You do not know what your strength lies in. I do not, the woman does not, but we must all feel it, whether we comprehend it or no. You said of this fine creature, some time since, that she was Life, and you have just said again something of the same kind. It is quite true. She is Life, and the joy of it. You are two strong forces, and you are drawing together.”

To this day, one of the most romantic lines I've ever written probably comes in this proposal right here:

"You've no reason to be afraid, James."  "You've no idea what I fear to lose, Miss Vanderpoel. I know of your love for Dunstanwolde, and your disdain for its condition– and of my love for it as well. If all I were offering was my land and my title, to watch from the sides as you touch all around me with your life, I'd give even that. But what I ask is something deeper. I do not ask you to love a sullied name or a crumbled ruin. I ask you to love the man who holds nothing besides them. I'm asking you to love me."

This one also ranks pretty high on the list, though:

 He wasn't the first man who'd proposed to her– but somehow she'd hoped all along that he would be the last.

(This, of course, has cannonical basis as well, as it's mentioned that both Lord Westholt and Sir Thomas proposed to her, and she turned them both down.)

And, anyways, there's my director's commentary! Thanks for reading!

[s12e28]

How I feel knowing the vast majority of this fandom's missing out on sotdae's fics—especially the multi-chaptered ones—because of the language barrier. All their works are completed and of top quality, with rich plot and character dynamics not limited to that of the ship. Please give even MTL a chance...

Like, they wrote a whole SCI-FI LCF AU! and what's really crazy is how they pulled off making it fairly canon compliant! Choi Han being the last remaining 'original human' from the Harris Village experiment... scientist on steroids Rosalyn... cyborg Mary... AI eugenicist White Star... it's seriously so good. When you read it, you can't help but imagine a movie play out...!!!

Adaptation of Ron coming back from losing his arm scene:

"Oh father..."

"I feel like he's been exposed to radiation."

Cale nervously took out his portable terminal. There is nothing money can't buy. Fortunately, there is an abundance of money. You can buy both equipment and people. At that moment, another call came. It was a familiar alert sound. Cale's fingers roughly swiped the screen.

"Oh, Cale. I was thinking about it because you didn't contact me about compensation—"

"I'm busy right now."

There was a brief silence as the communication device was suddenly cut off.

"Young Master, but—"

"It's okay, Vicross. I'll do whatever it takes."

"Then there is no realistic solution."

Cale looked up crookedly. This kid is secretly delicate. Ron must have raised him well. Meanwhile, I'm a cruel person who would keep Ron alive for as long as possible even if he rolled around the floor in pain and— Hmm?

"What does that mean?"

It sounded like there are out-of-the-box solutions, only, they were unrealistic.

"That... all the medical equipment is state-owned, and the procedure for getting access is too—"

Cale pressed redial. The other person picked up not even two rings later.

"What? You said you were busy."

"I apologize for your busy schedule. I need to use state property for the work you've entrusted me, so please give me authority."

"For further explanation or permission—"

"I'll do it later. Please."

A brief silence passed over the line.

"I'll give you a card that can bypass every agency. A temporary issuance will be sent to your terminal. If you need it for the long term, contact me again."

"Thank you."

Then suddenly, the communication device was cut off again. Long live science and technology.

"Don't look at me like that. Why do you think I brought a medical transport vehicle? Don't worry, I've got everything you need."

Then there's one where previous secret services agent KRS dies and transmigrates into child!Cale, who then meets the young prince Alver in boarding school... it's starts off fairly silly and sweet, but then revelations happen... and things happen... things happen!!! Cale is one BAMF here...

Another of Earth 2 KRS and Temple Test Illusion Alver... "You live in a world that Cale abandoned, I live in a world that the hero saved." man!!! besides being a shipfic, it was also an interesting introspection on how That KRS must have felt... here's my favorite passage:

Roksoo reached out and touched Alver's face. He had gradually come to love many things in this world, but there was nothing he loved as fiercely as you. You were you. You were real as you were. So different and so unique, that he didn't even fear that loving you might be an imitation of the original.

The second part gets twisted, but such is the way of sotdae's writing. Seriously, their fics are beautiful beyond words...

[starseneyes]

Ineffable Husbands / Aziracrow / Crowley x Aziraphale - Good Omens - A Thought

Y'all, I am super late to this fandom. But, I devoured both seasons like Aziraphale with a plate of ribs and then went back for seconds, and thirds.

Up until now, WayHaught has been my favorite queer ship, but these two adorable beings have slithered their way into my heart and flown into my mind.

I'm not planning to Meta these (I'm still behind on the Spapel finale, the Chenford REWINDS, and never even got to start Nace). But, I do have a thought that I can't get outta my head.

SPOILER ALERT: There's no removing this once it's in your system. I will be talking about both seasons. So, if you're still unspoiled (as I was until very recently), and want to stay that way, proceed no further.

Again, this isn't a full Meta. Just my own weird contribution to the conversation based on uneducated observation and fanatical attention to detail. I might be way off in my interpretation, but I haven't seen this thought discussed elsewhere, so I thought it should be said.

Ready? Let's dive in.

Aziraphale Feels Love

We establish early in Season 1 that Aziraphale is able to feel love. We don't know if all angels share this ability from the show (maybe the book-readers can tell in the comments), but we know he can.

He feels it when they go to the former Nunnery. He feels it when they're driving right before they run into Anathema. Aziraphale feels love.

And, yes, the book is in my TBR pile. I promised a friend to give them script notes, and I've told myself until I fulfill that promise, no other reading. So, soon enough I'll be caught up! But, in the meantime, I treasure the wisdom of those of you who've gone before.

I could wait to write this until later... but like Aziraphale after doing a good deed, I'm about to pop!

Anyway, we also see Aziraphale reveling in the ball and the pureness of the perception of the era. He loves a slow-moving romance spoken through kissing hands and whispered conversation. While Aziraphale has not experienced physical love, he's no stranger to the concept of love in its many facets.

Crowley/[Insert Angel Name Here] and Aziraphale have been doing a dance since before the Earth began. The first time they met, Aziraphale was immediately keen on him. And The-Angel-Futurely-Known-As-Crowley was happy to have someone to share in his moment of triumph.

If we look at the Bible, there's the idea of companionship—that humans were not meant to be alone. I would argue that the same could be said of our favorite eternal beings.

The-Angel-Futurely-Known-As-Crowley was trying to crank all this up by himself. It's not that he wasn't capable. He could've held the plans between his feet, or something. But, an angel happened by who was willing to stop and help—a pure heart eager to lend a hand.

That's where it started for them. And I argue that at the Eastern Wall, Crowley wasn't sure how he'd be received by Aziraphale... but he had to try. And being the angel he is, Aziraphale chose kindness toward the fallen angel.

By the time we reach 1941 (which sounds like a very critical year for these two), they've been through a lot. They've formed "our side" and Crowley's loneliness got a little more bearable while the weight of Aziraphale's conscious increased.

They've traded temptations and blessings, flipped coins, shared meals, supped and sipped. But in their last documented interaction before 1941—in 1862—they had a fight.

Crowley asked for Holy Water. For insurance. And Aziraphale's poor word choice led to their first real breakup (that we've seen.. 1650 and 1793 had the "I Was Wrong" dance, so they might've broken up, then, too, for all we know).

"Look, I've been thinking, what if it all goes wrong? We have a lot in common, you and me."

They're still not putting a label on it. These cutie-pies have been doing this for 6,000ish years and they still don't know what to call it.

Now, to be fair, they're doing this in secret knowing that if either side finds out they'll be destroyed. So, can't really blame 'em for not knowing what to call it.

"I don't know. We might have both started off as angels, but you are fallen."

Gee wiz, Aziraphale! I get that you have to ground yourself in your deeply instilled rote morality, but way to alienate the love of your life, dude!

"I need a favor." "We already have the Agreement, Crowley..."

Before, Aziraphale didn't want to put a label on that, either. Now, we saw back with Shakespeare that Crowley's the one who came up with that label.

But labeling aspects of their relationship is easy for Crowley. Labeling them is another thing entirely. And it's the last thing on Crowley's mind—this time he's actively asking for something outside the norm.

This is a new layer to their trust in one another. Crowley is asking Aziraphale to take a huge risk, and Aziraphale is mis-reading the situation.

"Out of the question." "Why not?" "It would destroy you. I'm not bringing you a suicide pill, Crowley." "That's not what I want it for."

They're talking past one another. Yes, I know this is classic them. But before the bickering can get much further, Aziraphale drops this on him:

"I'm not an idiot, Crowley. Do you know what trouble I'd be in if... if they knew I'd been fraternising?" ... "Fraternising?"

"Fraternising" applies to brotherhood and friendship. To this point, the only one we've seen call them "friends" was an outsider at the Theater. Neither of them has yet adopted the moniker "friend" when addressing the other or speaking conversationally about the other.

And, yes, we're going with the English spelling on this one. No, the characters aren't actually English. But they've both chosen English accents for their existence, so we're gonna roll with it.

"I have lots of other people to fraternise with, Angel." "Of course you do." "I don't need you." "And the feeling is mutual, obviously."

Of course these two idiots need each other. They're utterly alone in the world without one another—both aligned with a side... as far as they can go... but also with each other.

But Crowley is lashing out. Because he's not ready to put a label on this, and he has to keep himself distanced from Aziraphale and anyone associated with his former bosses.

And Aziraphale's fighting to maintain his very black-and-white view of good and evil, here, so as soon as Crowley seems ready to walk away, so is he. Though, we all know deep down neither of them truly want that.

In a fit of anger, Aziraphale flings the paper at the water. And, in an appropriate measure of response, the scrap obeys the laws of physics and flits down to the water rather than sinking into it like a thrown stone.

That's how we leave them (so far as we know)... at odds and decoupled in 1862.

Then comes 1941. The blissfully gullible angel has tried to do right and found himself in the snares of a trap. Bless his heart. (Yes, I'm a Southern Yank—which sounds contradictory, but I briefly studied at Leicester, so I know what my Uni mates'd call me)

"What are you doing here?"

The last interaction of which we're aware prior to this is the one where Crowley dramatically announced he didn't need Aziraphale, and our angel boy responded in kind.

So, while there have been many scrapes before where Crowley played hero to Aziraphale's damsel-in-distress, our angel wasn't awaiting rescue this time. He's genuinely surprised to see Crowley there.

But Crowley has had time in the in-between to consider their friendship and what it would mean to him if Aziraphale were to be discorporated, and if that would lead to him losing his place on Earth. Crowley can't have that.

Aziraphale assumes Crowley's there with the baddies. But, no, he's there for his angel.

"I just didn't want to see you embarrassed."

Watch Aziraphale soak that in. He turns his head to the left, away from Crowley, as he often does when confused or struck by something his sweet demon has said.

"Anthony?" "You don't like it?" "No, no. I didn't say that. I'll get used to it." ... "What does the J stand for?" "It's just a J, really."

Without so much as an apology from either one, they've fallen into a familiar rhythm. And, yes, apologies are very important, and these two need to get the hang of them, someday. But we can clearly see why they've survived so long without them.

When you're about the be discorporated at any moment, time for apologies is short.

"And if, in thirty seconds, a bomb does land here, it would take a real miracle for my friend and I to survive it." "A real miracle."

Of course, we're all focusing on the fact that Crowley is saying, "I did the bomb, you're doing the saving". But there's also a key word in there... friend.

Not so long ago (in their time, anyway), Crowley was incensed at the use of the word "fraternising", yet here he is calling this angel his friend.

I think in the time apart, Crowley realized just how important Aziraphale is to him. He really doesn't get along with the other demons on a social level, and he's failed to make any lasting human attachments. In all the universe, there's one being he can count on—his angel.

So, while we all know "friend" barely begins to cover it with these two, Crowley is finally ready for that label. Friends.

"That was very kind of you." "Shut up."

There's Aziraphale trying to thank Crowley without thanking him, once again pointing out what he sees as angelic traces in the demon before him.

And there's Crowley rejecting those same traces with all his being because he's embraced his exile internally and can't sever from that headspace anymore than Aziraphale from his desire for Heaven's affirmation and acceptance.

"Oh, the book! Oh, I forgot all the books."

Because in this moment of importance, he's going to prioritize Crowley. He put everything he had into keeping them from being discorporated.

But Crowley's wearing a smirk with flare. While the angel flails, Crowley strides confidently to the waiting bag of books.

"Oh, they'll all be blown to…"

His words trail off as he sees Crowley's right hand holding the precious bag. The music shifts as soon as Aziraphale makes the realization—Crowley saved the books.

"Little demonic miracle of my own. Lift home?"

Their fingers barely overlap as they exchange the bag, Crowley looking to not make a big deal of this. But it is a big deal.

Much as Gabriel was smitten with Beelzebub for a gift, Aziraphale is swayed by Crowley's first true act of love towards him this side of Heaven.

Yes, Crowley has saved Aziraphale multiple times. They've crossed paths over and over. But something's different. This time, Crowley called them friends. This time, there was something extra.

And while I know we were all taken in by Aziraphale looking at Crowley like he'd hung the moon and stars in the sky... which he technically did... there's a little sigh there that makes me wonder—was this the moment Aziraphale felt love from Crowley for the first time?

Remember, Aziraphale feels love. And we can tell he's enamored with Crowley long before this moment. Remember how his eyes lit up to hear his love's voice when he was locked in the Bastille? Remember the heart eyes he gave Crowley in hopes that the demon would work a miracle for Hamlet?

Yes, I believe Aziraphale feels his own affection for Crowley growing... but in part because he feels Crowley's love for him.

Now, there are many types of love. It doesn't have to necessarily be romantic (though we all know it is). But it plays into Aziraphale's prevailing theory that the demon is at least a little good and capable of good things—including love.

I think it's easy to pass off waves of love from around you as something else when you're not touching the person who loves you. Because they did touch as they traded that precious bag of books.

And that was an act of love. Beyond saving lives, Crowley protected something material that held meaning for Aziraphale. We all know Crowley's repeatedly stated that he doesn't read books. He doesn't adore them as Aziraphale does—but that doesn't matter.

Crowley saved the books because no matter what they meant to him—nothing—he knew they meant the world to the one who means the world to him.

It was an act of love. And I fully believe Aziraphale felt it.

Slipping into Season 2 with that same night, we can see that Aziraphale's still reveling in that feeling in the car with Crowley as they race through the embattled streets of London during the Blitz.

I paused it at a particularly adoring look from Aziraphale to Crowley. I mean, he's basking in his love.

"You know, that was a very nice thing you did for me." "Shut up." "There must be something I can do for you in return?" "Forget it, will you?"

Crowley's not ready to talk about it. He's never ready to talk about it... not until it's too late. And it's always too late, right?

But Aziraphale is fully enamored and looking for a way to reciprocate. This goes outside their usual Arrangement, and you can tell he's filled with feelings and wants to channel them into an act of love for Crowley.

And Crowley's brushing it off. Because it's easier for him to act than it is for him to talk. If you label it or try to define it, he's going to jump ship. But if you let it be, he's happy to ride the wave of... whatever this is.

Rather than wait in the car, Aziraphale follows Crowley inside. They're both savoring the time together, this time. It's somehow different, and I love that.

"Um, I wonder if I might be able to help you on behalf of my... uh, good friend here."

And, there it is. Aziraphale sees a way to live one of his greatest fantasies and help out Crowley. He has nothing to give him, but this'll do the trick, eh?

Also, look at him adopting "friend" as quickly as Crowley was willing to claim it. While Crowley is the one pushing them forward in many ways, he holds them back in others. This was a case where Aziraphale was a little faster to move forward emotionally than Crowley.

And this is the first night they've spent together in some time, if what we know of canon holds true.

Why am I going into all this!? Because, 1941 feels like one of the bigger turning points of their relationship. Of course, Job was, too. But I spent so much time watching that final confrontational scene of Season 2 Episode 6 only to keep returning to 1941 in my head.

I saw folks positing that Crowley's confession was the first time Aziraphale felt his beloved's love... but I argue he's felt it in waves throughout the centuries and been able to dismiss it as coming from somewhere else.

When their fingers touched in 1941 as Crowley gave Aziraphale a most-treasured gift—his books' survival—it was undeniable. Aziraphale felt Crowley's love.

And he spends the rest of this night trying to return Crowley's affection.

"Cheers for getting me off the hook." "Oh, there's no need to thank me. That's what... friends... are for."

He's still testing it out. The last time he used a word even close to that, Crowley had walked out of his life for half a century. But this time Crowley isn't correcting him, and Aziraphale loves that.

"You're going to need a 100% reliable marksman. Someone you can really trust." ... "Oh, I've got the perfect man for the job. At least, I think I have."

There's no question in Aziraphale's mind that he trusts Crowley enough to aim a bloody firearm at his face, pull the trigger, and that he'll be just fine afterwards.

And Crowley knows he's never fired a gun, but he also knows that if he doesn't say yes to this, his angel's gonna try to find someone else who will—and he can't have that.

He knows he'll miracle it away if something goes wrong. Crowley has to be the one to keep his angel out of harm's way.

"Haven't you fired a gun before?" "Not as such."

You. Two. Idiots. Seriously gotta work on your communication skills. but watch how Crowley's trigger finger actually shakes as he feels the weight of Aziraphale's trust in him.

That's love. That absolute trust. And while Crowley doesn't fully understand what's going on between them, he knows he can't betray that trust. He can't let anything happen to Aziraphale, and he's going to find a way to protect him.

Afterwards, backstage they're sharing the evening like a pair of old lovers celebrating a win. Crowley's lounging on the chaise longue. A triumphant Aziraphale winds a feathered boa around his neck. They're reveling in this moment, and it's the most relaxed we've seen them together to this point.

They could have gone separate ways as soon as the trick was achieved, but Crowley chooses to stay with Aziraphale. He's spent the last 50 years without him, realizing just how much this angel means to him, so he lingers.

Afterwards, they're back in the bookshop sharing wine on what Crowley believes may be his last night on Earth. He chose to spend it with the person he most wanted to be near.

And, yes, Aziraphale knows that he switched out the photo, but Crowley doesn't. For all his anger at their last meeting about "fraternising", it's all he seems to want to do, now.

Aziraphale notes that Crowley's glass is empty and fills it—a small act of love... but it's there. Feeling enamored and inspired, he tests the waters of discussion.

"I, uh, I knew you would come through for me. You always do."

Crowley tosses it off, but doesn't completely ignore the subject, for once.

"Well, you said, 'trust me'." "And you did."

He almost whispers it, like the three little words a lover whispers affectionately to their dear one. It's trust.

For an angel to be able to trust a demon... for a demon to be able to trust an angel... that right there is so far outside the bounds of what they both have been told is supposed to be.

But in one another they found one being in existence that they know will trust them wholeheartedly, and whom they can trust in return.

"You could've walked away. If you were truly as evil as you like to paint yourself, you would've done." "Nah, that's the trouble with you lot. You tend to see things in black and white. Sometimes, you've just gotta blur the edges."

And, let's be honest, his lot tend to see things the same way. Crowley is unique in that he truly wishes to understand. It's not that he wanted to thwart the will of God. He wanted to understand what was happening, to question it, to delve deeper than unanswered, unwavering dedication to a "Great Plan" that didn't make sense.

In Aziraphale, he's found someone as close to his morality as he'll ever discover (someone who goes as far as he can, but ultimately has a separate moral code). But Aziraphale lacks Crowley's distance from Heaven, and thus lacks his perspective. That'll eventually catch up to them.

But, tonight, they're both savoring the seconds of shared security. In the safety of the bookshop, they toast to, well, them.

"Well maybe there is something to be said for... shades of grey."

Aziraphale holds out his glass to Crowley, inviting the agreement. And, of course, Crowley will drink to that. Because that's where their love lies. In the black and white, it wouldn't be possible.

But because these two beings are able to think in the grey, to live in the grey, to love in the grey... they have a snowball's chance in hell of making it. Because something majorly shifts between them in 1941.

Yes, they've been doing this love dance since the beginning. But I think in feeling Crowley's love, Aziraphale is that tiny bit more emboldened.

Yet even after all that... Aziraphale hasn't quite reciprocated Crowley's act of love. Yes, he got him out of a bind with the delivery, but we can argue that Crowley had to rescue him right back with the bullet drama.

Enter 1967. We can assume that these two saw each other again in 1941 based on the fact that the "I was wrong, you were right" dance was in-play and we didn't see it. But we don't know what else might've transpired before 1967.

All we know is that Crowley's planning a "caper" to get the one thing he thinks he needs for insurance... the one thing Aziraphale outright denied him when he asked as a favour.

Crowley slides into his Bentley as the familiar swish of Aziraphale's miracle magic fills the air. The demon's tail lands in his seat just as the angel appears.

"What are you doing here?"

He's echoing Aziraphale's words from 1941. This isn't one of their planned clandestine meetings, and Aziraphale clearly doesn't want to risk the tiniest chance at an audience overhearing or witnessing this exchange.

Where the bookshop is the angel's sanctuary, this Bentley is Crowley's. And they're about to have a very secret exchange.

"I needed a word with you." "What?" "I work in SoHo. I hear things. I hear you're setting up a... caper to rob a church."

In a very Aziraphale coded move, Crowley looks away from the angel at the mention of an uncomfortable topic.

"Crowley, it's too dangerous. Holy Water won't just kill your body. It will destroy you completely." "You told me what you think 105 years ago." "And I haven't changed my mind, but I can't have you risking your life."

Here's the thing, as much as Crowley felt fiercely protective of Aziraphale in 1941, that's how much more Aziraphale feels now. That level of trust and love builds and builds.

Because what Aziraphale is saying to Crowley right now is—I can't lose you. Even though I hate this. Even though I don't want this for you, if it means I get to protect you, I'll do whatever it takes. Because I need you.

Which is why Aziraphale gives Crowley the Holy Water without understanding why he wants it. It's a gift without strings, without conditions, without preamble. Because Aziraphale knows if he's the one to do it... Crowley will at least be safe for now.

Just as Crowley agreed to do the shooting trick... for the exact same reason.

And while Crowley doesn't feel love in the air the way Aziraphale does, he does feel it from his angel. He understand the risks that Aziraphale took for him. And it means even more that his angel took these risks without understanding the reason... simply because this angel trusts this demon.

Crowley's lips part as he accepts the gift, and the two are very careful not to let their fingers touch, this time. Perhaps Aziraphale already feels quite exposed and doesn't want to risk the rush of another wave of love.

"Should I say thank you?" "Better not."

Aziraphale can't even look at Crowley. He's terrified he's just given the love of his life a suicide pill, but also so thankful to know he's safe, for now.

"Well, can I drop you anywhere?" "No, thank you. Oh, don't look so disappointed. Perhaps one day we could, I don't know... go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz."

And this scene really shows me that Aziraphale is not oblivious to what's going on here and how he feels. But, he's placing very clear boundaries on where he hopes they can someday reach... sharing meals together in public.

Because I tend to agree with those who say that celestial beings love differently. We saw with Gabriel and Beelzebub that there was almost nothing physical to their affection. Their connection was enough for them. Without labels. Without definitions. Just... love.

But I think Aziraphale and Crowley are different, still, from the other celestial beings... partially because of their long time spent on Earth.

They like to eat and drink. They both like to listen to Earth music (though on different ends of the spectrum). Crowley canonically likes to go to the movies. Aziraphale soaks up books like sunshine, and loves learning new "human" things the human way.

These two can love in a purely celestial way. But, I argue they both have formed ideas of love that are a little different from their peers. They experience so much of existence in the human manner that it's impossible for their perspective of love to not be thus colored.

And right now, Crowley is feeling the impact of Aziraphale's love, much as the angel felt his in 1941.

"I'll give you a lift anywhere you wanna go."

Crowley is willing to let Aziraphale set the destination, here. And he'll go. Anywhere. Anywhere with him.

But Aziraphale's not quite ready for it. He knows he doesn't want to lose Crowley, but he doesn't yet know how to move past his angelic programming to fully embrace what they can be to one another.

"You go too fast for me, Crowley."

My. Heart. Stopped. The first time I heard this sentence come out of Aziraphale's mouth, I had to immediately rewind and rewatch. Because the hardest part for these two is always going to be the boundaries they put up in their own minds.

They've spent a long, long time on "opposite sides" while sharing an existence built on half-truths and trauma. They're both traumatized and both struggling through it. It's a miracle (heh) that in all this they've found one another at all.

And when it all comes crashing down in that truly devastating confession/kiss at the end of Season 2... Oh, they're both breaking apart because that trust that has been the foundation of everything for so long finally feels broken.

Crowley admits what they are. Out loud. No more, "Shut up" or "Forget about it". He opens himself up in a way he never imagined to the one being he could always trust.

And David Tennant takes us on the ride of our lives. Look, I'm a long-time fan of Tennant, starting with when he took over the role of The Doctor. But, golly, he destroyed us all with this confession.

Crowley removes his glasses before his beloved at the start of the conversation. And once he realizes how lost Aziraphale is to the system, he could have given up and left. Instead, he gathers his courage to speak his truth.

They're a team. A group of two. And he wants to spend... every second with him. Just being... them.

And they can't really run away from it all. It'll find them, eventually. But they also can't go rushing into the lion's den wide-eyed and unprepared.

But neither's truly hearing the other right now.

Aziraphale wants to bring Crowley with him to change things from the inside. Crowley sees there's no changing anything, and wants to spend whatever time he has left loving Aziraphale.

And. He. Falls.

Aziraphale isn't there to catch him. Because our poor sweet angel has drank the Heavenly kool-aid and earnestly believes he can make Heaven better for his beloved fallen angel.

They're both so bitterly lost.

Crowley covers his eyes and stalks away, muttering "good luck" to his thoroughly confused angel. They're both confused, really.

Because they both want to ultimately be together, but they're talking past one another. The mixed messages that once shielded them through suspicion and scrutiny have sealed their undoing. At least, for now.

In a last-ditch effort to get through to Aziraphale, Crowley takes a truly human approach with "one fabulous kiss". But it's not loving or tender. It's hurt. It's angry. It's as broken as they are.

Crowley takes one step, two steps, hands land on Aziraphale on step three before he gather's the angel's lapel in his hands and tugs him in. The choreography probably had to be perfect for poor David Tennant to make his mark through the glasses and contacts.

As their lips connect, Aziraphale's eyes widen in confusion. But it doesn't taken long for them to close, and as he relaxes into the kiss, his brow furrows as he presses himself into Crowley, wrapping his arms briefly around him.

When the perspective shifts and we're looking at the kiss from Crowley's back, Aziraphale's hand slides down Crowley's shoulder blades, where his angelic/demonic wings rest, hidden from human eyes. The angel's answering Crowley, now.

But fear kicks in, and the angel starts to flail. He's terrified. He's terrified of what he feels. Of what he wants. Of what this means. And he's heartbroken that Crowley would do this now when he's already refused Aziraphale's offer.

But the angel never. breaks. away.

He doesn't shove Crowley off. He waits until Crowley releases him to step back, and once he does he's overcome with emotions. There are too many feelings, too many thoughts, too many possibilities.

And Michael Sheen takes us through all the heartache, the pain, the longing, the hurt, the love, the devastation... Oh, he gives us every emotion and then some.

His, "I forgive you" cuts in jagged edges along our souls, like a papercut shreds skin, but on a cosmic level. And it shatters Crowley, similarly.

They part ways... broken.

Aziraphale is gutted to watch him go. More than any other time, this one feels final. In his confusion and pain, Aziraphale's trembling fingers find their way to his mouth, the taste of Crowley still fresh on his lips.

He presses his fingers against his mouth, trying to figure out where that sensation came from, but all he can recreate is a dim memory of the feelings crashing through him when Crowley's lips met his.

But the one thing that gives me hope is how Aziraphale keeps looking out that window. He can feel Crowley there. He can feel Crowley's love.

I've often wondered how they constantly find one another. Can Crowley feel where Aziraphale is and makes sure to be close in case of calamity, claiming that he's in town for a temptation? Does Aziraphale feel where Crowley may be and maneuvers himself as close as possible while feigning nearby blessings?

Because in the wake of their heartbreak, it's clear that he knows exactly where Crowley is.

He steps back to look out that window because he know that's where Crowley will be. He knows that Crowley hasn't peeled out of there in his Bentley. He knows he's waiting for him.

He feels Crowley's love. And when the Metatron confirms Crowley's words by mentioning the Second Coming, the way that Aziraphale looks back that last time feels charged.

I feel like Aziraphale wanted to run back right then exclaiming, "You were right. I was wrong!" But he can't. I mean, the Metatron is standing right there and expects him to come up and run this thing. If Aziraphale backs out now, who will be in position to stop this thing once and for all?

And maybe, maybe Aziraphale can protect the being he loves most by being in the room where it happens. Maybe that's the key, right?

But this is all projection. I'm more clueless than most of you because I've yet to read the book (yes, I will prioritize it after I finish these script notes!).

These are just my uninformed thoughts! But, I really do think that Aziraphale feels Crowley's love. And I think he's felt it for a very long time, at least since 1941. And I really can't wait until we get our Season 3 renewal notice.

Will I ever write full Metas on this ship? Gee, I don't know. We shall see, I suppose (which is only marginally less annoying than "wait and see").

Be good to one another. Spread love. Choose kindness. Give yourself grace. And don't forget to breathe.

[redrocketpanda]

Today is my 1 year anniversary of fic writing! I wanted to do something to celebrate but couldn't think of anything, so here's a little reflective ramble post about writing instead

For well over a decade (tbh closer to 15 years) I struggled with severe writing anxiety and, with the exception of one thing I posted in 2014, my anxiety became so bad that I completely disengaged from writing altogether. Whenever I sat down to write I would be filled with such powerful negative thoughts that I would become paralysed by them. I tried so many things to help combat this including writing workshops + classes, nanowrimo, mentoring, journaling, and reading tonnes of self-help advice, but nothing seemed to work. I grew increasingly despondent, afraid that nothing would "fix" me, which was incredibly depressing because when I was younger I loved writing. I wanted to get back to that space of creativity and joy that writing brought but instead felt like I was being pushed further and further away from it.

Then, in November 2022, I was talking to one of my best friends - @parad0xymoron - about how distressing I was finding S6 of My Hero Academia, to the point where I was struggling to watch it. Socket's suggestion? Write fic! If something is happening that I don't like or is upsetting me, then I can write a different version of events. And thus the first chapter of Just Watch Me - my Kirishima/Bakugou fic - was born.

And once I'd started, I found I couldn't stop.

Suddenly, all of the characters, and scenarios, and plots I was imagining in my head came spilling out onto the page. Between November - April, I not only posted all 4 chapters of Just Watch Me but I also wrote and published 7 other one-shots as well. This isn't to say that writing "suddenly" became easy. Of course it didn't. It was - and is - still stressful for me. There were times when I felt that all too familiar sense of paralysis creeping up on me, but I drew on all the tools I had learned over a decade to deal with it.

I stopped. Took a deep breath. Looked inside to see what was going on: What was I scared or anxious of? Then I addressed the issue myself, or spoke to friends who helped me process. And then I kept going. I didn't let the fear or the anxiety or the obsessive need for perfection to stop me.

In exactly 1 year (27th November 2022 - 27th November 2023) I went from 0 words to:

I repeat: In exactly 1 year I went from 0 words in (almost) 10 years to 87, 852 words across 12 published fics for 5 different fandoms. And that's not even including the thousands of words I have from my wips.

During this time, I didn't just write though. I spent time devouring other people's fics and learning from their writing. I spoke to a whole bunch of wonderful fic writers who gave me tonnes of useful feedback, ideas, reassurance, and validation. I began analysing media I enjoy to begin breaking down the parts of them that I loved so that I could learn from it. I joined a bunch of bang events (which, honestly, has been incredible). And I made friends with some of the most wonderful people + writers who are now very dear to my heart.

Perhaps ironically, I cannot even put into words how life changing writing fic and participating in fandom has been for me. It has given me back what no workshops or classes or professionals has ever been able to give me - my ability to write, and to enjoy writing.

So let me just be a sap for a minute and say a very tearful thank you to any of you who have been part of my journey - whether that's been in leaving kudos or comments on my fics, or talking through ideas with me, or beta-reading my fics, or gifting me your valuable writing advice, or sharing your own writing journeys with me, or being someone who I've made friends with.

I'm literally so grateful to every single experience I've had over the past year, and it makes me very excited to see what the next year brings. I still have far to go and much to learn, but damn am I revelling in the fucking joy of being able to write. I'm so excited to keep writing, keep creating, and keep sharing with you all <3

[tokiro07]

Martial Master Asumi ch.32 thoughts

[And Then There Was One]

(Contents: speculation - cancelation)

I wonder how I would have taken the news that MMA was ending had Cipher Academy not ended at the same time?

I wonder how I'd be reacting if I hadn't been told prior to the previous review?

I wrote last week's fresh off of that news, so I almost feel like I already did my end-of-series review

I almost don't know what to write here, but I owe it to this series and Kawada to at least try

Like with Cipher Academy, the roadmap that we skipped is pretty well laid out here - we see the key opponents that Asumi would have needed to face in the J-Future Cup (Takanori obviously being one of them, and I'm willing to bet would have been the final one), we see that Baku had a violent and deadly past that likely would have been a major revelation that raised the stakes for the entire series, and finally we see Asumi vs. Kazuro, with Kazuro's bloodlust manifesting as fire to complement Asumi's water. I don't remember if I predicted that specifically, but it doesn't come at all as a surprise

I definitely would have liked to see other characters show off their bloodlust like that, and I think it's a tremendous shame that no one ever got the chance to. I don't have a good idea of what it is that prevented the series from catching on, but if I had to guess, I think it might be that it established itself as a continuation of Hinomaru Zumou without matching the level of escalation quite quickly enough

To illustrate: Hinomaru revealed the concept of bloodlust around chapter 60-ish as I recall, while Asumi did it around chapter 20; now that we know that they're using the same mechanics, we would expect to see it being used by other fighters just as quickly rather than having it sprinkled through, but the only glimpse we ever got of it after that was from Okiba. I think since Asumi reached the professional stage in about an eighth of the time it took Hinomaru, then we as the audience should have been given a glimpse of how the ceilings of the professional worlds compared

The moment we knew Kunisaki was here, I think it would have helped if we had gotten to see him fighting. Maybe we could have seen the fight that inspired Amagaki, or the first professional bout we saw could have been one of his rather than Okiba's one-sided beatdown. The sense of escalation was fine for me, but maybe it felt too laid back for everyone else. Hinomaru fans know that we could be seeing people with lightning coursing their entire bodies, why are we only seeing Asumi splashing a little bit of water?

Like I said, this is just my best guess, but I think the connection to Hinomaru established too strong of an expectation that wasn't really being delivered on. That said, wow did people not give it any time to do anything with it! It's been what, a quarter year since we saw Asumi enter bloodlust mode?? That's nothing! We only got to see two fights since then! But I guess maybe people were just impatient?

Or they just...weren't up for reading an MMA manga? Maybe MMA's not that popular in Japan? I think Hinomaru Zumou found a really good niche cus sumo itself is big, but also from how Kawada portrayed it, kind of dwindling. It seems like sumo is having a harder time connecting with the youth, so maybe Hinomaru helped bridge that gap, or appealed to the fans who felt like their favorite sport wasn't as popular as it should be?

Or maybe there are too many MMA manga. I don't read any, but I've seen a few here and there like Teppu, so maybe the market's oversaturated with them and I didn't realize it

There are so many possible factors, but in the end, knowing what to blame wouldn't really change the fact that another one of my favorites is gone. It's especially disheartening because of how Kawada seemed to take the news, berating himself in the author comments this week. Maybe his tone was more light-hearted in Japanese, but calling himself an amateur and blaming himself for his own failures leaves such a negative taste in my mouth. I hate to see an author I love get down on himself, and it makes me so worried that he's going to give up, like I said last week too. I want to see his work again; his art style is so pleasing, his choreography is great, and his character writing is fantastic. I think it would be a tremendous loss to the art form if he were to quit, but alas, he will never hear me say that. I hope someone feels like I do in Japan and sends him a nice, heartfelt letter expressing how much he means to people like us, and that we'll get to see him again as soon as possible

I'm going to stop here, lest I work myself up into a lather. I know I pretty rarely had engagement on these posts compared to UU and CA, but I hope that the few of you who read them enjoyed yourselves, and I hope it deepened your experience and appreciation for the series like it did for me. Hope to see you all again with Kawada's next work

Until next time