#when the current storyteller doesn't know who it really is

[kuipernebula]

The Rashomon Job might be one of my favorite Leverage episodes

[th0rax]

(Primarily Horror) Audio Drama & Podcast Master List

Thanks for all the suggestions everyone! I'm in the midst of a pretty big and complicated fiber arts project at the moment, so I really needed the hours upon hours of listening material. I thought it might be nice to list everything that has been suggested (including what I myself listed) in case others are looking for new podcasts and want a quick reference.

The Magnus Archives.

Wolf 359.

Archive 81.

Alice Isn't Dead.

Welcome to Night Vale.

The Magnus Protocol*

Sherlock & Co* (not horror)

Camp Here & There*

Malevolent*

Ethics Town*

Red Valley*

Dracula: The Danse Macabre

Death by Dying

Unwell: A Midwestern Gothic Mystery.

The White Vault.

Old Gods of Appalacia

Eeler's Choice

Twigs and Hearts

WOE.BEGONE

I Am In Eskew

Impact Winter

Spines

The Silt Verses

Within the Wires

Shelterwood

The NoSleep Podcast

Shadows at the Door

Limetown

Hello From the Hallowoods

King Falls AM

The Penumbra

The Message

Hi Nay

The Night Post

Midst

Do You Copy?

The Bridge (warning: unfinished and will never be finished)

Margaret's Garden

Out of Place

Sayer

Leeches & Liars

Asterisk* denotes an ongoing work

Period. denotes a completed work

Will add more to the list as I see them. May organize better later.

Green - Loved.

Blue - Liked.

Orange - not my audio drama preference, but maybe it's yours. Like teen characters and/or literary storytelling? Browse the orange titles under the cut for details!

Red - Haven't truly hated anything just yet but this is here just in case

Purple - Currently listening

Original post under the Orange Explanations under the cut.

Not For Me, Maybe For You

This is the section for every podcast I haven't cared for, but for reasons that may actually be points of appeal to other people. I typically enjoy immersive storytelling with a diverse cast of primarily adult characters, and I have trouble engaging with stories that could easily be someone reading or acting out an audiobook. None of this means the storytelling isn't good or doesn't deserve your attention!

There may be other reasons a story isn't for me, but if you wish to know, message me to learn.

Old Gods of Appalacia

Do you want to feel like you're sitting around a fire, listening to an older gentleman recount fables and legends from the Appalacian woods? This podcast features antlered gods and witchy women in the context of early American settlements and superstition.

Eeler's Choice

Eeler's Choice takes place in an alternative 1800s setting, in a world where magical, celestial eels are hunted for profit to benefit the rich. It's dangerous and unethical work - eeler's make decent money as far as fishermen go, but many ships never return. This maritime story is told through both acting and narration, switching perspectives as it follows several precocious young protagonists who learn their relationship to the powers that govern the sea, the questionable ethics of eeling, and what they're going to do about it.

Twigs & Hearts

Campers have been going missing...and those who set out to find them often disappear just as quickly. The fair folk can be mischievous lot, and they like to play with the lives of humans. When her crush disappears in the woods, one teen girl sets out with a friend to find them, determined to take every precaution and never lower her guard. But will she be able to trust her own perception long enough to save anyone? Give this scrappy indie production a try and find out.

-----

Horror Audio Drama Recommendations?

Or adjacent. I enjoy nuanced explorations of the complexity of what it means to be human and the extent of forgiveness, the complexity of morality, acceptance of the strange and unsettling, ideally with a supernatural element, bonus points if there is a ritual component.

My favorites ranked so far:

1. Malevolent

2. The Magnus Archives

3. Wolf 359

4. Sherlock & Co (one of these things is not like the others)

5. Camp Here & There

6. Archive 81 (favorite to least favorite seasons: 3,1,2)

[aethesfaelibrarae]

Mouthwashing has given me a lot of brain worms and we've got thoughts—time to share them with the hungry void that is Tumblr. One of the last places I'm 90% certain my words won't show up stolen or regurgitated by machine.

Warning for spoilers about the game and rambling!

I believe that Mouthwashing is a modern-day Lolita. The storytelling is similar, in that, almost against their own better judgement and will, the audience finds themselves thinking like our unreliable narrator(s).

Most people.. Sorry, some people have cottoned on to the fact that Anya's personality is not that of a scared, timid and ultimately, useless nurse and she's been in fight or flight response for months now with no other choice but to fawn. As someone who has been in a similar situation for only one day a week for months, the fear only got worse, the longer I went without support. And the things that she does in the background.. No doubt similar to the way that Daisuke kept track of their food supply was brushed over and unsung.. So is the fact that Anya has been keeping a severe burn victim—with 4th degree burns so severe, any treatment we currently have is experimental and expensive.. If the pain does not kill you first—she's been keeping Curly alive for months with no help and incredibly minimal supplies. (I personally think that Anya probably was on the side of giving him an easier death or maybe even suggested a gentler way of giving him medicine—but (sterile) syringes in space? Limited water? An especially dismissive Swansea and go with the flow Daisuke?.. Easier to try and give Jimmy what he wants.)

But. I believe that people overlook the ways in which Catastrophe Jim's perspective on Curly twists our own. Pre-Crash Curly exists upon a pedestal—a good man, better than Jimmy could ever hope to be; a good, well-liked captain. Well-off, better looking (I say this because of the similarities in how Jimmy mentally views himself in similar shape and age as Curly) and still reaching for more. For better. People catch the underlying jealous and resentment for the life that Jimmy wants at all cost but.. They miss the pedestal. The miss the fact that if Jimmy says that Curly's better than he is, a good and better Captain.. That means that Curly is doing the bare fucking minimum: keeping them all alive year after year. Curly is a nice captain with the capacity to soothe over minor issues and keep a cool head and keep the crew on schedule.. But he is not a good one. He's not even a good person. Not really. Jimmy thinks of him as a good person, puts him on this pedestal that he's foaming at the mouth with excitement to pull him off of. Dirty the golden boy and spit on his silver-threaded bootstraps once and for all.

Except.. What evidence do we have that Curly is especially liked or respected? Where is this cheering crew? Where is Curly good?

Curly is a human, at the end of the day.

And.. Which comes to my more complicated and no doubt contriversal take... Curly is also a victim of Jimmy stuck in fawn response. This doesn't absolve him of the ways in which he failed the crew but Anya especially by letting Jimmy run amok and failing to take any action while he still had the chance. He stood by when Anya begins to hint at something beneath the shiny veneer of a happy tight-knit crew and most damningly, he stood by as Jimothy entered the cockpit immediately after suggesting a plan to kill everyone aboard.

I genuinely.. Genuinely.. Don't know what he thought would happen.

But he does take action.. And his last action is what makes he and Anya swap places. Except.. Not truly.

Yes, they are in similar situations—vulnerable to the whims of a psychotic madman with an inferiority complex and their plight largely ignored by the crew; a necessary sacrifice to keep the peace.. Just until safe harbor—but where Anya begins to gain autonomy and some relief from Jimmy no longer having a need for her.. Curly finds himself the center of Jimmy's world.

And that is not a great place to be in.

Curly is systemically isolated (bad-mouthed to the crew over and over again, berated publicly, blamed for an awful accident that Jimmy caused) and his torture and abuse mirrors the continuous, silent medical, emotional and physical abuse that many disabled people face. And almost in a worse way, his voice is stolen from him and used in such insidious inspiration porn.. A lot of people think that he actually said those things.

But we won't know. And if he did say these things.. Why does Jimmy only seem to (mis)understand them in the final acts? Recalling them in Curly's voice but not as the Captain but as a savior, his last charitable act to wipe the ledger of blood clean.

Jimmy doesn't want to see Curly better. He likes feeling useful. He enjoys having Curly watch him and in the same breath, he loathes it. He wants Curly's judgement. He wants Curly's praise. He wants.. Everything that makes Curly Curly.

Curly as a silent observer isn't remarked on often.. Nor is the fact that more than likely, the others heard Curly's sobs of pain from the medbay. But Curly is very conscious, very aware and very alone in his thoughts.

There's a point in which the perspective changes during Swansea's mercy killing—a gift that no one offers Curly—and once again, Curly is stuck watching all of his mistakes play out, one after the other. Unable to do anything but laugh.

But is it a laugh or a sob? Jimmy doesn't care and neither does the player—what's important is the objective: the gun. 739. Click. He steps over Anya's body like it's not even there and runs away.

We don't find out what set Swansea off—maybe Jimmy couldn't help himself and said something about Daisuke or Anya that blamed them. Maybe it was something else. Curly watches on. Helplessly.

There's something to be said about the black screens and the static that occurs when Jimmy hurts Curly or kills Swansea—like he's cutting the memory off before the guilt can get to him. And it's the same thing I'd like to bring up about Curly's voice. Yes, it takes a lot to speak without lips.. Or from what it looks like a tongue.. But there are more noises Curly can make. Noises that can refute Jimmy.

And in the same way that he's at the precipice of something so terrifying he keeps returning to the same spot that's slowly killing him, he's learned that fighting is useless.

It's 2 months after the crash when see Jimmy's perspective again, after all. And while Anya's requests for help seem to be new.. Who's to say that the beatings are?

The worse type of abuse is the type that leaves no bruises. After all, Curly cries all the time in pain.. What's the difference here?

To cycle back to my original point in this.. I don't see a lot of people consider Post-Crash Curly's living hell as another facet of Jimmy's abuse going unchecked by the people around him as anything other than comeuppance. As Karma. And it's the coldest take I've seen from the fandom so far. Allow me to reheat it up for you: disability so severe that you must rely on others is not divine punishment. It's not just desserts. Just as disabled people are your infantilazed, idealized, inspirational iron woobie that can take pain and push through it.. They are also not being punished by the divine. They are humans and sometimes shit just happens and it sucks.

The way that Jimmy views Post-Crash Curly as a saving prop.. Proof that he can indeed fix it.. is so normalized that as the audience, it can be something that you aim to achieve–one of the earliest and easiest achievements you can get is opening and closing Curly's mouth like a mannequin.

There's a relief that we share when Curly shuts up. There's a shutdown in empathy when Jimmy brutalizes him. Up until we can no longer look away.

Because Jimmy can no longer look away. And that is the chilling part of all this. Jimmy gets away with it—all of it—because of the crew's inability to overcome their own apathetic acceptance of the monster in their midst.

Just like most people accept the main character from Lolita as a gentleman, the crew accepts Jimmy as a guy. A little rough and short-tempered but what do you expect from blue collar work? Hold your nose, it'll be over in a year. In 8 months. In 10. Soon. It'll be over soon.

I can't help but worry if Jimmy weren't so bad at being likable and if he were even a smidgen of the charismatic mastermind, he so clearly wants to be..

We'd have another Valentino on our hands.

Mouthwashing is a horror that I can't help but devour. FEAST, indeed.

[iwoulddieforher]

Rigid | Casey Novak × Alex Cabot

Author's Note: This got super out of hand with the length- I think this is the longest fanfiction I've ever written. Hope you enjoy it, though <3 ~16k+ words

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff. I like the idea of Alex being neurodivergent in some way, even if she doesn't know it herself, so some of her self-descriptions will come off that way.

Summary: Alex wants desperately to be able to relax like she sees her colleagues doing, and a night watching a coworker she has her eye on- Casey Novak- might present itself as the opportunity to get what she wants.

Porcelain dolls strung up by small transparent strings were significantly less rigid than Alex Cabot currently felt. How she usually felt, even.

High-class family, posh preparatory school, strategically made connections rather than real relationships were all she grew up knowing. Everything had a meaning, a purpose, a reason for why it was so, and that also applied to every detail of her appearance and demeanor must similarly be intentional. She grew up internalizing that, and thus, as an adult she utterly lacked the ability to let her spine curve into a natural slump, to lay in bed without wondering what it would look like to a non-existent observer, to kiss someone in a way that focused on the intimacy rather than the shifted facade that she displayed in order to appear desirable.

It felt inhuman. She really hated it. The feeling she coped with daily made her skin crawl as if it was begging to be torn off to reveal a real person behind it instead of the ever-complicating mask.

It was especially noticeable to her on days like these, where a high-profile case had just been absolutely devoured by her colleague, Casey Novak, so the squad room was positively thrumming with excitement and a collective sense of triumph. Olivia, the one Alex had made a habit of perching herself by, was currently at the corner store to pick up a bottle of something to share, so the attorney was standing almost aimlessly against the brunette detective's desk. Across the desk was Stabler, in his respective chair, looking up at Casey who had chosen to place herself on the edge of his desk. Munch was in his rolly-chair, with Tutuola leaning over the back of it, Cragen standing stiffly but not uncomfortably near the commotion like a proud father.

"And that absolutely little weasel of a man-" Casey chirps, as much as a voice as low as hers could sound like a chirp, interrupted by a bark of laughter from Stabler, "Sorry, that boot-licking short ass bottom-feeding rodent-"

"Casey!" Stabler admonished, although his eyes were shining with amusement, and the faux blonde woman laughed and swatted at him half-heartedly.

"Yes, okay, I'll mind my manners. The defense counselor, before the trial, told me that because I'm pretty if I want after the duration of court he'll give me some tips on improving- and now I won, and when he was walking out, I managed to shoot him a smile and say 'if you want any tips, just call Novak at the DA's office'- I thought he was going to deck me right there-"

Casey's storytelling is rewarded with a roar of laughter from the men, her face shining with victory and the aftereffects of a battle well fought, and Alex can't help but find her beautiful. Casey Novak was anything but rigid, and Alex wished she was more like that- even if Casey's temper did get her in trouble more frequently than one would wish.

"Okay, well, don't let your victory get you all haughty, I'm still going to kick your ass tonight." Stabler snorts, after the laughter had died down, which sends Casey into a refreshed cascade of giggles.

"You? Kick my ass? Oh, you wish."

"Wait," Alex cuts in, everyone's eyes flickering to her as if they were slightly off guard that she was still following the conversation, "what's this about kicking each other's asses?"

"I'm going to hand Stabler his balls on the softball field tonight-" Casey starts before Stabler swings at her playfully and she gets distracted by shooting him a playful warning look. Alex forgot how much they acted like siblings sometimes, but the way they seemed to bounce off each other and banter so smoothly made them seem like twins. She could very easily imagine them in early teens kicking each other under a dining room table.

"Recently we've all started getting together to play softball together," Stabler interjects, granting Alex a serious response, "after big cases on the weekends we get together with some other cops and some other lawyers at night. Good way to blow off steam if justice isn't served or good way to celebrate if we do."

“It used to be a big thing, there were inter-department tournaments at the DA’s office or whatever, but now us who liked it so much just play for the hell of it, and also against the cops.” Casey nods, finally done with Stabler after managing to flick him in the middle of the forehead with her finger, which he glares at her for.

"And us who don't play softball get drunk while watching 'em." Munch says, leaning back in his swivel, with Tutuola adding a nod from just above him.

Alex bit her tongue, blinking in mild surprise. Back before she had 'died', they had gone to bars together to celebrate such things, and she didn't know any of them had really had any penchant for sports outside of Stabler occasionally mentioning his daughter's soccer or basketball results. She certainly had no clue Casey was apparently formidable enough on a softball field to hold on against a built detective such as Stabler.

"Speaking of drunk, I'm back." Olivia announces, strolling into the precinct once more, finding her way to stand beside Alex while cradling two bottles of some discounted wine, holding one up as evidence.

"Oh I got the worst fucking hangover from that shit-" Fin fires off immediately, who then gets silenced by a snort from Olivia, and the warm atmosphere is immediately resumed, Novak and Stabler beginning to chatter about proper swinging technique and which one of them was doing it wrong while Munch, Benson, and Tutuola start arguing over alcohol. Alex felt rather out of place.

Tone switching over to something light and banter-y was usually a bit difficult for her after grueling caseloads, and today especially she was just done. She didn't want to leave, though, she didn't want to be alone or god forbid find company with other stiff-necked attorneys to chat with hollow words about unnecessary topics, but involving herself in this easy exchange- especially since she wasn't entirely sure if she was invited- was hard.

"Oh, how about you join us, Alex?" Olivia suddenly exits her own argument to turn towards the blonde, her face soft the way it usually was when it came to her. "I know it's not your type of thing, probably, but it would be nice to have you there."

Her voice is earnest, and Alex had been wishing someone would invite her to accompany the drinkers, so although she entertained the puppy-eyes Benson made at her for a few seconds longer than necessary she did ultimately accept.

"Does this mean we can put bottles of something more worth drinking on Cabot's platinum card?" Munch mutters, pushing his dark glasses up the bridge of his nose, and Alex snorts.

"Tough luck, but if we go to a bar after I'll carry a round."

Olivia's head whips around and stares pointedly at Casey, firing off a quick, "No tequila," to which Casey makes the most indignant face Alex could possibly imagine on the copper-headed woman.

"Hey, that was not my fault- and also only once-" Casey defends, and Stabler starts laughing, slapping his fist on the table.

"Do you remember the whole thing with that-"

"Yes," Casey snaps, "I'm sure mostly everyone does, and if they don't then-"

"Casey, Alex wouldn't know." Olivia says lightly, elbowing the mentioned blonde, "Come on, Alex, aren't you curious? We should retell this for your sake, right?"

Alex's icy blue eyes met Casey's dense green ones, and she was momentarily indecisive. She wasn't friends with Novak, and she wasn't going to pretend that she was, as much as she enjoyed watching the copper-headed attorney play with the coworkers she was genuinely close to. She wanted to know, but as soon as she saw the guard up in Casey's posture, the way that Alex's rigid demeanor was mirrored immediately by the younger woman, she faltered.

Alex was stiff. Her spine was held to an excessively intentional angle. Even though to everyone else she seemed almost as natural as the rest of them, learned iron in her veins commanded her to be a degree of rigidness that came close to robotic. And Casey was the farthest thing from imperceptive.

In the courtroom, it was necessary to shoot the same metaphorical bullet as the one that had been fired at you, and Casey did nothing short, her vertebrae stacking above one another as she readjusted herself, jaw growing more firm, her eyes flickering to become hard and sharp in a way that would almost seem predatory had it not been for Alex's recognition that this was entirely procedural for the younger attorney. Alex knew in her head too that if she was interacting with someone else like this, she'd have done the same thing.

Lawyers had a way of exchanging thoughts without verbalization, and Casey and Alex were currently having an odd back-and-forth that happened within a fraction of a second completely unbeknownst to the rest of the room. Casey registered the swirl of thoughts in Alex's mind and her inability to formulate a response in time to seem natural, and with the ball in her court, decided to give the blonde attorney an out.

"Okay, fine," she huffed, as though she was actually unwilling to share, despite the fact she was fully aware Alex would not have moved to force her to and she could easily tamp down or distract the eager detectives, "long story short, Olivia and I started fighting, and she made a jab about me no longer being white collar's youth prodigy, so I tried.. to prove how youthful I still was- er, still am."

Alex wrinkled the tip of her nose, pursing her lips to stop from laughing at that, and Casey twitched an eyebrow jokingly before shaking her head.

As soon as her head turned, the copper-headed attorney decided to release the inelastic facade she had just momentarily constructed, leaning backward once more. To the eye of the others, nothing that demanded the level of thought that had just been executed had come close to occurring.

The older attorney wasn't entirely sure how to reward Casey for her kindness in that exchange, but she felt like she should. She made a mental note that she owed Casey something- perhaps if the copper-headed woman snarked at her sometime in the future, she'd let it go without question, or some similar social grace. Her uncle has drilled in the 'advice' that one never forgets what they owe another, lest suddenly be surprised when the other expects to collect.

"She ended up kissing this random blonde woman who was going through a divorce." Munch supplied helpfully, who earned a glare from Casey in return, and the seconds returned to passing at a more natural rate rather than the slowed pace Alex had just felt like they moved in. The conversation was resumed.

"No, the bad part wasn't even that she made out with her, but the fact her flirting consisted entirely of legal jargon-" Olivia filled in, and Alex snorted softly as Casey's head whipped in the other direction to glare at her instead.

"Okay, okay, listen- first of all, she was not a random woman, her name was Jane and we did keep in contact for the duration of her vacation here-" Casey raised a finger, cutting Liv off, "and if you understood any sort of vocabulary past fifth grade, it would have made perfect sense to you."

Alex paused, deciding this was probably a point at which a response was required to reestablish her presence so she could stop relying on Olivia to make her involved, "Well, it does seem like a- ... youthful thing to do?"

Casey's jaw fell slightly agape, and then she closed it with a huff. "Okay, well. Olivia's just pissed because I can actually involve myself with women."

"I'm not gay!" The brunette protested indignantly, to which Casey and Elliot exchanged a look that read as what-is-she-on.

Olivia was silenced for a moment, bristling, before extending her arm to rest on Alex's. "Alex, help me out, us straight girls need to stick together with all this-"

"Straight?" Alex questioned, an uncomfortable chuckle in her throat, "Olivia, you didn't know I'm-?"

"What?!" Olivia cried, straightening immediately, not affronted but apparently incredibly surprised, which Alex internally sighed at, only to be distracted by a low whistle from Casey that she decided not to respond to.

Internally, Alex was grappling with the new information that Casey was sapphic. She was too, although she understood why Liv hadn't known, she wasn't super forthright with her identity- but Casey?

After a moment's contemplation, she realized that this actually made a lot of sense and she felt mildly stupid for not having realized on her own.

"Yeah," Stabler says after a pause, "I think this is our cue to get going to the softball diamond before Liv has her whole am-i-gay breakdown right here in the squad room."

The rag-tag group collectively nods, shuffling for possessions, with Olivia still apparently on edge and lost in an internal conversation with herself about the possibility of homosexuality. After a few more moments of collecting items or putting things into respective places, and after Casey pats Olivia sympathetically on the shoulder, they begin to head out to the parking lot.

Alex clicked the key to her Cadillac, briefly pausing to obtain the address of the sports place as well as a time, since a few people wanted to drop by home to discard professional belongings or change, and because a few members of the DA's teams were still in session, before studying the exits of her colleagues.

Tutuola and Munch separate to respective vehicles, with Olivia being given a ride by Stabler as usual, and Casey splitting off from the group entirely to unlock her bike. Cragen excuses himself with the explanation that he's not going to meet up with the rest of them, he doesn't play softball nor does he drink so he's spending a nice night in instead.

Everyone's method of transportation seemed in some way reflective of themselves. Munch's windows were so tinted Alex was vaguely concerned about the potential illegality of it and Fin's car is beat up in a way that shows he doesn't abide by the physics of curbs. Olivia and Elliot's carpooling constantly served as a testament to their bond as detectives, and Casey...

"I still can't believe you actually bike here every morning. While wearing the suit? Jesus." Stabler bantered, leaning on the hood of his own car while watching Casey fumble with the lock on her bike.

"Well," she replied in a curt rasp, straightening, "that's why my legs are toned and yours would snap under water pressure-" she stopped to point at him almost accusingly, "and don't get me started on cardiovascular health."

Olivia drags Elliot into his car before the two start bickering again, and that leaves Alex watching Casey out of the corner of her eye as the attorney fixes her bike locks to the luggage rack before swinging one leg over the seat and taking off, her chin nestled in her scarf, her mid-length hair swirling behind her.

For a second too long, she lingers, but then Alex climbs into her cold car, groaning slightly at the feeling of the stiff leather on her back, before driving without picking out a destination. She didn't have anything she felt uncomfortable leaving in her car, nor did she have anything to pick up, so going to her penthouse was somewhat pointless. However, with about an hour until the designated time, staring out the window at the city streets far below seemed more interesting than staring at said streets on the ground level while seated aimlessly in her car, so she went home.

The elevator opened directly into her apartment, so she needed to use her key in the elevator pad itself, and when she did and the doors opened she dropped her briefcase right next to the door- it fell exactly the same way it would've if she had intentionally placed it, which makes her mildly irritated.

She didn't bother to kick off her shoes, placing herself on the couch in her apartment, and staring blankly at the wall. Her spine was straight, her legs angled to the side in the way her mother had taught her to make them look longer, her hands folded in her lap. Her apartment felt desolate. Her skin crawled.

She tried to focus on something- anything, really, in her apartment- but all she was met with was cold, smooth marble that her eyes slid off of. Plaquettes held her accomplishments that suddenly felt utterly pointless, framed pictures of her family or college friends that seemed impersonal. She couldn't keep a plant alive and she had never actually gone decor shopping herself, so the place was devoid of color, only shades of grey.

Alex groaned and placed her hands over her eyes under her glasses, tilting her spine backward until it hit the back of the sofa. It felt wrong, everything felt wrong, and her skin felt like it was crawling, her bones turning and burning inside her like she imagined cement would feel. It was uncomfortable in a way that wasn't painful- but that didn't stop her from fixating on the discomfort immensely.

The attorney rolled to the side, swinging her heels up onto the couch, one hand cradling her head and the other reaching to tug off her glasses. Strangely, in the dim blue lighting of the sun setting behind heavy clouds, her mind shifted to the opposite of said cold color- it landed on the shade of Casey's hair.

In the DA's office or in court when they crossed paths, Casey was stiff in the way every lawyer Alex had ever encountered was. The degree of rigidness that was learned by years of constant practice of saying and acting exclusively in intentional ways. Still, though, her eyes were always warm, in a way lawyer's eyes seldom were. But when she relaxed, which she was able to do, unlike Alex, she was simultaneously the same and also a completely different person.

She'd be lying to say she didn't know Casey was athletic- despite her unaware that she played softball, or was to any degree interested in her own physique the way her exchanges with Stabler today suggested- Alex had let her eyes linger on the other woman's arms on occasion in warmer environments when the redhead rolled her sleeves up. Her mind constructed the image of running her finger along the toned curve of her forearm, up her arm, and towards the delicate curve of her neck. In her imagination, Casey's skin was warm, and it only warmed further at Alex's motion. When she met Casey's olive-colored eyes, she was already looking back at her, eyes only half-lidded.

She felt her own cheek flush in her palm, and she sat up, shaking off the thought, but the sensation of warmth in her cheeks and the imagined feeling in the pad of her fingertip was enough to pull her off the couch, to the bathroom, where she took off the makeup she had done for court, tugging her suit jacket off, fumbling off her belt.

She wanted out of the porcelain, out of her skin for a night. She had seen the way Casey's guard had flickered up when she had faced her in the squad room, holding a mirror to the rigid body across from her, and she wanted out. The solution to that was to try to force the stiffness out of her soul so Casey wouldn't have any such thing to mirror. She had a reputation to uphold with the rest of the squad, with Liv and with Stabler, but Casey was more perceptive than Liv was- at least when it came to her- and she felt as though she knew enough to play it safe while still getting what she wanted. It would be an issue if Liv or Stabler or any of the other detectives or such lost respect for her professional standing. She was diligent, and hardworking, and she valued that about herself immensely, and she was not about to make the mistake of letting that persona fumble for a night’s activity. But still, she wanted a night where her skin felt like it belonged to her. If Casey's eyes didn't harden when she looked at her, maybe that would be close enough.

Her formal attire was replaced quickly, boot cut jeans instead of her slacks and although she didn't remove her white blouse she layered it with a loose sweater. She ran her fingers through her hair, intentionally messing with it, before nodding with satisfaction at her now slightly more casual appearance. The collar of her blouse sticking up through the neckline of her sweater was enough to not shift the persona the detectives identified with her, but she decided it was enough. It was enough that her uncle would click his tongue at her for wearing jeans while around a colleague.

She then proceeded to sit almost aimlessly on her couch again, drumming her fingers on her lap while waiting for the time to elapse so she could go to the softball field without being the first one there. In her mind, she debated writing up some notes or preparing for a case in the coming week, but she knew if she went back into lawyer mode it would just be worse trying to shake it off again. Unfortunately for her, as a kid all her hobbies were dictated- fencing, equestrian, ballroom dance and such, and since she never really grew attached to any of them and then failed to procure a hobby or pastime in her adult life, she didn't have much else to do.

Her phone chimed and she picked it up, assuming it would be something idle or law-related, only to find a text from a number she recognized, her heart thrumming insistently when it realized whose message she was currently reading.

Casey Novak→ Hello Alex, this is Casey (Novak, the one you work with, in case you know another)

Casey Novak→ Apologies for jumping this on you, but any chance we could carpool tonight? My bike is having a technical issue I can't be bothered with fixing it currently.

She waited a couple seconds before answering with,

← Seems doable. Send me your address?

Casey responded to that within a minute and Alex exhaled, mentally registering where that was, before standing up. With the detour of picking up Casey as well as the fact it doesn't really matter if she's early now because she's accompanying a player, she feels soothed to leave soon.

← Would you find it alright if I came in about a half hour?

Casey Novak→ More than alright, you have my thanks

← I'm more than happy to help.

After a pause, the message goes on read, and Alex doesn't really know what she had expected as a response. Mildly discontented, she put her phone down.

If she wasn't about to be driving, she would drink a glass of wine, but alas that was quite literally the point so she could not indulge herself. She pondered briefly the logistics of getting drunk when she was at the softball diamond, but worst comes to worst she’d just have to taxi. And, she supposed, would have to take Casey also in said taxi.

She felt her jaw grow a bit firmer at the constant resurfacing of Casey Novak in the back of her mind. Alright, sure, now they actually had plans and she was picking her up, so it made sense. But still. It wasn't exactly unlike her to develop random infatuations, desires to knock people she admired and simultaneously was irritated by down a peg, god knows the mistake with Jim Steele- but… Casey seemed… different.

Her heart muttered that Casey seemed warm and alive and her skin seemed soft and she was entirely unlike anyone Alex had ever grown attached to, Casey was not a power play, Casey was not a mind game. Casey was Casey. Alex didn't really understand what that meant.

She clicked her tongue to herself and then decided that no, she would not pursue anything with Casey. She had been toying with the idea of making that dream of tracing up Casey’s forearms with her fingertips a reality, perhaps as a flirty joke she could pass off as drunken boldness. But now her heart started to fumble in her chest at the thought, and not only in a good way. She wasn't exactly sure why her mind was suddenly reeled in the polar opposite direction of what she had been fantasizing about only a couple of minutes ago, but now she felt mildly stressed. Her skin crept little patterns on her nerves like ants blacking out a lamp, eating through power cords.

Maybe the fact she didn't really understand Casey is what sent little alarm bells ringing in her mind. To pursue meant to trust and to trust meant she had to know it all. She felt like she knew essentially nothing.

Sometimes Alex really wished she was less self-aware. She analyzed every thought or feeling she had like it was someone else’s, and therefore frequently felt as though she was drowning in someone else’s brain when in reality she was still sitting on her couch in her apartment in her clothes in her- supposedly her- skin.

It was time to leave now, anyway, so she cut herself off from her own train of thoughts to stand, and collect some items in one of her more used purses in case alcohol was split, it got snatched, or some other random misfortune that may occur to a handbag. Once she was pleased with her level of preparation she double-checked the contents one last time- car keys, one of her more mildly used wallets, phone, power bank, medical emergency kit, a notepad, a block of sticky notes, her pager, and a pen. She pulled a scarf on as an afterthought, not entirely sure if the temperature would drop as it got dark out but decided not to take that risk.

With that, she left her penthouse, standing stiffly in the elevator on the way down, staring at herself in the reflective wall the metal box had. Hmm.

Within twenty minutes, and exactly on time to the thirty minutes she had offered Casey earlier, she was parked on the street outside Casey’s address, looking up at a rather elegant brownstone. Sometimes she mused to herself that the modern aesthetic of her apartment complex far outranked the sort of shabby, oftentimes falling apart older buildings, but this seemed.. it seemed vaguely Elysian. She approved of it.

← I’m outside

Casey Novak → I’m sorry, I’m running a little late. Would you like to come up? I’ll buzz you in.

← I can wait in my car, I don't want to intrude.

Casey Novak → I’ll feel better if you just come on in. I’m inviting you. Please.

Alex blinked at that message, slowly typing out,

← Okay, then. If you're sure.

She exited her car with a furrow in her brow, locking the vehicle, and then continuing the steps up to the doorbell placard, where she found Novak’s name printed in a thin, flat font. She pressed the small silver button next to it, making a mental note of the floor and roughly which door it should be based on doorbell placement. A startling buzzing sound went off that Alex was thankfully prepared for, and she pushed open the frankly unnecessary large wood door. She traveled up the steps, to the third floor, deciding that she should start exercising more often if going up only three floors already had her inhaling a bit sharper, and she didn't need to wander reading the names next to the ringers because Casey’s door was open ajar and she was peeking her eye through the crack.

Alex caught a glimpse of Casey’s smile through the small opening, before the copper-headed woman disappeared in a flash, waving Alex in. She did as instructed, closing the door behind her tentatively. Immediately, she could not see Casey in her own apartment.

“Sorry,” the woman called, “I decided I wanted to shower beforehand so I need to straighten my hair again. That's why it's taking me a minute. Just sit down wherever you like, I’ll be done in just a second.”

“You straighten your hair?” Alex asked curiously, standing awkwardly in the foyer. Although Casey had instructed her to sit, she couldn't imagine pulling a chair out anywhere or settling herself on the younger attorney’s couch.

Inhaling deeply, she resigned to studying Casey's apartment interior with interest.

The interior walls were a smooth ivory, the floorboards a dark wood that matched the accents- the window and door frames, the stairs. Casey’s apartment was a lot more vertical than her own- where Alex had half of a floor, so her apartment was wide horizontally as well as deep, the walls were only a couple of feet on each side in the entry hallway and Alex couldn't imagine the rooms being, well, anywhere as large as her’s. But somehow, the comparison did not change the charm of the apartment.

Perhaps that had something to do with the atmosphere. It smelled like sandalwood and caramel, and the walls were lined with memorabilia- which Alex considered briefly was strange, because Casey's desk and office were almost barren considering some of the other workstations she had seen. She skimmed over smiling faces, Casey with dozens of people she’d see in this photo and never again. Casey with a little girl propped up on her hip, holding a little boy by the hand on a beach, all three smiling at the camera, but in a way that made it seem like it was almost unintentional, like someone had captured a moment in a camera which usually only existed in fond memory. Casey kissing a man with short brown hair, her arms, which seemed slightly thinner in the photo than Alex had grown to know them, (although the woman was always slim,) wrapping around his shoulders. She looked younger, happy, smiling into the kiss, and he did too. Probably during college, Alex mused. Casey’s finger, resting lovingly on his shoulder, was adorned with a silver band. Alex blinked.

She chided herself to move on with her inspection. Whoever this person was, it didn't seem like they were still in her life, unless Casey had been cheating on him with ‘Jane’. Stabler didn't take well to cheaters, so Alex really doubted that. She wasn't sure what the thrum of her heart was meant for- so she just exhaled. She couldn't drag her eyes away from it, though.

When she inhaled again, she was greeted with the scent of whatever hair products Casey was currently employing. It dragged her out of her thoughts, and it made her twinge with guilt at the thought of analyzing Casey’s history through her personal pictures. Casey was kind enough to be undeserving of an inspection.

There was no door between the foyer and the kitchen, so Alex turned to focus on that instead, her blue eyes skimming over what appeared to be a sourdough starter. Music played quietly out of some surround sound speaker, somewhere, something idle, and indie.

The dark brown of the floor was complimented well by the constant appearance of plants- not flowers, but succulents or similar. Apparently, Casey was in the middle of repotting one, because the table had a large tray with items that would suggest that.

“Oh, sorry about that-” Casey mused, appearing suddenly next to her, “I was trying to swap out pots for that one- roots were getting too big, you know, but then I got buzzed for a warrant this morning and dropped it.”

She smelled really good, and Alex wasn't happy that that was the first thing she noticed, but she did. Casey’s perfume, which Alex had noted a couple of times in the DA’s office, had just been freshly reapplied, and her hair was perfect in a way that only lasted a couple of moments after styling it. She looked in a way that Alex could only describe as warm.

Casey was dressed in a blue softball jersey that had ‘Sex Crimes’ bolded on the front in a lacy font and tracksuit pants. The usual frustration carried in her eyes and eyebrows was gone entirely, replaced with lights of excitement that showed in the way she held her hands and smiled. She wasn't wearing any makeup, only a dark lip balm that Alex now wanted to know the brand of.

“And yes,” Casey said, replying to Alex’s comment from a moment ago, despite it having felt like an eternity since then to Alex, “I do have to straighten my hair. Not all of us can be blessed with locks like yours, Miss Cabot.”

Ignoring the teasing nature of her voice as she said Alex’s more formal name, the blonde still lifted her eyebrows as if pained and shot her a look. “Please never call me ‘Miss Cabot' again- It’s just Alex to you.”

“Alright, ‘just Alex’-” Casey said, with an amused huff, before turning and waving at her abode, “verdict? You seemed interested.”

“I-” Alex pursed her lips. Casey was not stupid. If she hadn't been interested, she would've sat down like Casey had initially instructed or been on her phone, or been staring off into space. “I like it. You have a very lovely apartment. It suits you.”

“Thank you.” Casey smiles, pleased, before glancing back down at the houseplant activity. “It would feel better if I had gotten to finish this, though. My mom insists I keep them all.”

“Why?”

“You know how in law school, you’d stay shut in all the time, sleep at horrible hours, and keep the blinds drawn? She bought me a million plants and kept making me show her they were still alive to make sure I was airing my dorm and letting sunlight in. And that I was looking up from my laptop at least for a minute a day.” Casey snorts, but she seems fond of my memory. “I guess she doesn't really insist I keep them anymore. She hasn't checked, anyway. But I got used to it. I swapped out her delicate plants for succulents, though, because I forget to water them sometimes. I’m not here very much.”

“Your mother seems like an attentive woman,” Alex comments, watching as Casey’s eyes grow momentarily heavy, staring still at the plant, before she blinked it off.

“I’ve been blessed,” she answers smoothly instead, “with a wonderful family.”

There's an awkward beat of hesitation, where neither knows what to say, before Casey exhales and forces a smile. “Have you eaten anything? If you're going to drink with Tutuola, you probably need something to eat. And I need to grab my gear and such. If we leave now, we’d still be significantly early.”

“I had breakfast-” Alex starts, before seeing Casey raise an eyebrow at her, “but it was a large one, Casey, I’m not trying to tear up your kitchen.”

“Sweet or savory?” Was the other woman’s only response as she strolled into her kitchen, opening cabinets and ruffling through items.

“I don't have the time to make you something properly right now, but God help it if I let you leave here without eating something.”

Alex stood uncomfortably in the doorway to the kitchen, a small unsure frown on her face, so Casey shot her a pointed look, walked over, grabbed her arm, lightly guided and then shoved her into a chair, and then went back to trying to find something to offer her.

“You seem,” Casey looked at her as if studying her brain through her skull, “as though you’d have a sweet tooth.”

“Why do you say that?” Alex looked at her, slightly indignant. Outside of being used as a method of intimidation, it was normally rude to brazenly note observations as such in the world she was used to. It was far more polite to make it sound as though it was a question.

But Casey just laughed softly, pulling a box out of the fridge and popping the lid. She fumbled with the contents for a few seconds. In the chair Casey had set her down in, Alex could not see what it was until Casey approached, holding a dessert fork in one hand with her other carrying a plate with a generous portion of red velvet cake.

“Fancy ass cake for a fancy ass lady. I made this yesterday, so I think it's still fine to serve you, even if the frosting set a bit more than I prefer. You don't have to eat it all, but I hope you at least try it.”

With that, and not even waiting for a thank you, Casey brushed past, going to collect her sports gear. Alex felt like her head was spinning slightly with the lack of normal procedure. She was being left alone to eat cake in Casey’s apartment? Wasn't the redhead worried she would- well, Casey had commented on the fact she knew Alex was borderline snooping, but to leave her alone after that? How trusting was she? Unless this was some sort of test.

Alex decided to proceed as if it were. What would Casey be testing? How much Alex trusted her? Maybe she thought Alex wouldn't eat food a stranger gave her, well- not entirely stranger, but still. But she couldn't fault her for that, could she? Regardless, Alex wasn't like that anyway. Maybe she was testing if Alex was too prudish to eat what she had provided. That sent a small jolt down her spine- she really didn't want Casey to think she was a snob- so she lifted the fork and in small, precise movements separated a small piece from the slice.

As soon as she felt it on her tongue, she immediately broke off a much larger portion to follow it with. Fuck. It was delicious.

Soft vanilla cream coated somehow equally soft red velvet generously, but not overwhelmingly, and once Alex separated off the middle she could see it was triple layered. The flavor was delicate, but in a way that made every taste bud in her mouth moan.

If she had to go celibate for the rest of her life to eat something like this again, she just might have to consider that. This was better than sex.

“Grandmother’s recipe,” Casey purred, reappearing with a large duffel slung over her shoulder, leaning in the doorway. “Well, not really, but it was one of the first things she made after she got access to the Internet and all the baking blogs one can find on there.”

Alex was physically startled, too engrossed in her eating to have realized Casey’s presence had reappeared. Casey easily could have murdered her while she was eating cake, and she wouldn't have looked up once.

She pushed the plate as if making to stand up, holding a hand in front of her mouth as her mother had taught her- it was impolite to see people see one chew, after all- but Casey shook her head quickly and took a seat next to her, leaning back, the duffel hitting the floor with a soft thud while Casey stretched out her arms, arched her spine languidly. Alex tried not to let her eyes linger on the soft amount of muscle coating her.

“By all means, I don't mean to interrupt your indulgence.”

Alex sheepishly turned back, pausing only for a fraction of a second before returning to shoveling the cake into her mouth as gracefully as she could. Casey looked very pleased, so that settled her nerves by a fraction. She couldn't and also wouldn't complain about Casey's bemused grin.

“It's- it’s just been a while since I’ve eaten anything this good.” Alex said after a swallow, straightening in her chair a little bit, looking at the remaining bites on her plate as if they were whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

“You look good like this,” Casey said, which Alex’s eyes widened at, blinking up from the cake to Casey, who strangely looked equally delicious, “you're normally so tense. Glad my baking can fix that.”

“I- uhm,”

Casey chuckled at Alex’s fluster, resting her head in her hand. “Just teasing you. But really, I am glad you're enjoying it.”

“How did you learn to bake like this?” Alex murmured, decided to switch tracks since she wasn't very sure what was happening.

The copper-headed woman only shrugged. “You learn in a family as large as mine. I mean, if both of my parents were busy, I’m not about to let all the younger ones go hungry because the older one decided to order something only for herself. And now all my nieces and nephews demand I make them sugary shit when I’m over, so my pastries are decent enough.”

In the back of her mind, Alex was now a bit upset that she couldn't cook. Casey’s reasoning that it was due to her family made sense, but it also twinged Alex’s mind that if her parents were busy and she had nothing to eat, they'd just call for the private chef to come up and make her something nutritious enough. When she was in college, on her allowance, she had just kept ordering delivery. Casey and her seemed to contrast each other notably in that way.

“How many siblings, if I may ask?”

“Four. I have an older sister, and then there was me, and then two twin brothers and my baby sister. Not that she’s much of a baby anymore- she graduated college last year- but still. She'll always be little to me.” Casey exhaled, evidently very fond, before glancing back up. “And you, Alex?”

“I’m- I’m an only child.” Alex said, after a second, and before she could stop herself, “they needed an heir.”

Casey paused, looking up at her thoughtfully, before nodding. “I wished I was an only child a lot growing up. It's different now that I have my own life and everything, but… mm. Families are complicated.”

Alex nodded sagely at that, finally finishing her cake, and then after a small pause asked, “Did you want your own?”

The second she said it, she felt like it was wrong. It was an intrusion, and she was already in Casey’s apartment in Casey’s chair eating Casey's food with Casey's utensils. She was overstepping everything, and she was asking something from Casey she could not possibly believe she was entitled to knowing, without giving her an out.

Casey froze, her eyes icing over. She stared at Alex for a long moment, who now was sure she had done something horribly wrong, but then Casey’s eyes shifted from blank shock to mildly upset.

“Sorry- yes, I did. It didn't work out that way.”

Alex swallowed, and realized this was a decisive moment. She had relaxed, and she had slipped up, and now Casey was rigid, and if she bounced back off of Casey and tensed, she’d never get what she wanted.

So then, biting back her nature and what she was taught to say in such situations, she said softly, “It didn't for me, either.”

The atmosphere shifted entirely, so much it seemed like the colors had changed spectrum. Alex was now used to how fast her colleague could run through emotions and facades, and although that familiarity was from the courtroom, Casey’s demeanor now changing into something almost like solidarity reminded her a lot of it. Casey dropped her momentary coldness as fast as Alex could put down her form, but unlike when Alex changed the face she wore in order to elicit the response she wanted, Casey seemed like she genuinely just had a change of emotion.

“You're still young, Casey,” Alex continued, encouraged by the attorney’s return to warmth, “it’ll happen.”

“Oh, please. Alex. You’re what- two years older than me?” Casey chided, her voice light. “And you're hot as hell, so I’m sure you have suitors.”

“Casey, have you looked in a mirror recently? If I have suitors, you must have a line from here to the DA’s office.”

“Oh, you charmer.” Casey scoffed, but Alex meant it. She slid her hand underneath the now empty plate, bringing it to the kitchen, before picking up her duffel once more. “And now you get to be my driver.”

“I’m honored,” Alex smoothly joked back, collecting her purse and standing up.

She glanced around Casey’s kitchen, then glanced around the foyer, one last time before she followed the redhead out of her apartment. She noted the shift of atmosphere the second she stepped over the doorstep, and internally found herself hoping it wasn’t the last time she was there.

A more sensible part of her brain reminded her just now that she had decided against pursuing Casey, so such thoughts were not worth lingering on. Another part of her brain indignantly riled that she could enter someone’s apartment without any sort of connotation. A third part of her brain wanted to reexamine the circumstances of the decision to blacklist Casey from the possible companion category, while a third sighed loudly and wished they would all shut up. A fourth part snarled that she was not going to allow herself to be vulnerable with this enigma- yes, despite her niceness and her willingness to provide her with cake she still didn't have any grasp on Casey's psyche, so that's what she was- until she had enough to cover her ass if something went wrong. A fifth part just wanted to see Casey smile at her in the kitchen like that again. The fifth part managed to distract most of the others with daydreams.

Casey understood that Alex was in thoughts, so she did nothing to compel a response, although Alex was sure she thought she was musing about family or law or such.

Nothing was said until they reached the front door of the building, which Casey opened and offered, and then resigned to follow Alex to where she had parked. She gave a low appreciative whistle when she climbed into the front passenger seat tugging her duffel down and into the legroom.

“Fuck. I knew from the outside you had a nice car, but… jesus christ, Alex.”

“What? Oh.” Alex glanced behind her as if only just now registering that. It was a nice car. Her Cadillac had been a birthday present from her uncle, especially because her Bentley was sold off after her death. “I- thank you. Well, only the best for you, right? Now that I’m your cabbie.”

She was rather pleased with the hints of a surprised blush forming on Casey's cheekbones. If Casey kept throwing out random compliments at her, she should return that, right?

“It's just because of my bike-…”

“Please. You’re so quick to dish out the teases until I do so?” Alex hummed, amused, and Casey only huffed in response, pointedly looking forward.

Alex set the softball arena as her navigation’s destination, and allows Casey on aux, the same melodious background sound filling the car speakers as they begin on their way. Being the driver is good. If she was the passenger, she’d be darting her eyes too constantly to look at Casey. Casey apparently does not have this struggle.

“So tell me, honestly,” Alex starts, to fill the silence with a topic she knows Casey will yap over, “between you and Stabler, who has the better swing?”

“Me,” Casey says, with absolutely no question in her voice. “Elliot is good- but he’s too used to his job. In softball, most of the swing is supposed to come from the rotation of the shoulders, not the movement of the arm. Elliot relies so much on the idea of punching he doesn't really get that. He tries to push his palms forward and pushes one shoulder down. Besides, I’ve been playing softball for a much longer time than him.”

“How long?” Alex asked, glancing over at her in the passenger seat. Casey was so forthcoming with information- well, yes, Alex had asked, but…

“Since my sophomore year of high school,” Casey answered, “There was this fight involving one of my little brothers and I- well, that's beside the point. Regardless, the coach took me aside the next day, said he’d never seen someone swing like that, and asked me to try out. I did, and that was that.”

Alex let out an exhale that felt like a soft laugh, so Casey quipped in response, “Have you ever played any sports?”

“Fencing,” Alex offered, “and equestrian, for a little.”

“Equestrian?” Casey perked up, “Wow, that's amazing. I’ve always wanted to try riding a horse.”

“I didn't really enjoy it much-” Alex looked over again, and she realized that was a mistake, because Casey was looking at her with such interest in her eyes that Alex felt as though she needed to run for the hills. “I- I… it just wasn't for me.”

“Why not? If I can ask.”

“My instructors had to scold me constantly for being too stiff,” Alex murmured, trying to make it sound lighthearted despite to some degree admitting the biggest self-struggle she had, “when you're on a horse, the horse has to be an extension of you, the same way when you hold a bat- actually, I’m not entirely sure of that, I’ve never played a ball-sport, but- when the muscles of the horse move, you need to adapt and move with it. Otherwise, the horse becomes vexed.”

“So young Alexandra was just being a vex to horses?” Casey chuckled, and Alex tilted her head at the jest.

“But if you tell anyone, they’d never believe you.”

“Oh trust me,” Casey snorted, “I’m not about to let other people know about baby Alex being a thorn in some training horse’s side. That’s something only I get to know.”

“Hey. You just used the adjective ‘young’, and now ‘baby’- am I regressing? And I was more a pain in their back rather than side, unless I very immensely misunderstood where you're supposed to ride horses.”

In reality, the small thrum in her heart that she now associated with the younger attorney was very pleased with the information Casey apparently felt territorial on information regarding her. She couldn't describe to herself why that made her happy, but it did.

“Sigh. ADAs and their technicalities,” Casey shook her head, “and no, I could never accuse you of regression. You only ascend.”

“Good. Quick study, Casey.” Alex purred, the words a bit too soft and a bit too smooth, although she hadn't really thought about it that way until she saw Casey shift and decided she was very pleased she had said it.

It was Casey’s turn to fall into a blushed silence, her eyes fixing suddenly very straight on the road, as if she had never seen New York City before. Alex felt victorious, and she basked in that feeling.

They arrived at the softball field shortly, and as soon as they pulled over in the dirt parking lot and Casey stepped out of the vehicle with her duffel she was essentially jumped by a collection of random people Alex believed she probably had seen previously in the DA’s office- other ADAs, a couple interns. They surrounded Casey eagerly, spouting game talk- apparently feeding Alex cake had delayed her arrival, and she was the last one, so they had been waiting for it. The copper-headed woman gave her an apologetic wave over the shoulder as she was yanked off, and Alex felt uncomfortable. She tried not to feel as though she had just been shunned. If she had spent less time in her intern years sucking up and networking with her uncle and her uncle’s friends, perhaps she would know some of them. Her career was jump-started, she did not have the bond the others seemed to share of watching each other pull themselves up the ladder- despite knowing logically some of them must have also come from nepotism, at least to some degree.

The softball field was fenced in by wired mesh, and ‘softball field’ was really the only way she could describe it, because it was nothing else. There were a couple of bleachers that reminded her of a cheap high school movie- her school had definitely never had anything like that- but otherwise, it was just a meshed-in square in the middle of a flat field, with a large brick box-like building on the side. She spotted Munch already seated on said bleacher, though, and although she didn't know him as well as she knew Olivia, who her mind had been looking for initially, she wandered over.

“Hey,” he greeted her on arrival, motioning to the place next to him, which she tentatively sat down on after her eyes skimmed it to ensure there wasn't a layer of filth (there was, but she ignored it) “Liv's trying to hype up Elliot. He really wants to get Casey back for the last match.”

“What happened in the last match?” Alex muttered, not especially interested but aware she was required to continue the conversation, inspecting the floor of the bleachers for a place to put her purse. She decided directly beneath her was probably the cleanest.

“She- well, nothing exactly. She’s just ridiculously good. Not many of the DA team have her skill, but so long as she’s there she continuously wipes the floor with ‘em. MVP, easy.”

Munch turns to her, almost accusingly. “Oh, you're rooting for that team, aren't you?”

Alex considered that for a moment, then, “I’m rooting for Casey.”

“But, team-wise, you're on our side?”

“I’m just rooting for Casey.”

Well, we had the whole gay talk in the squad room earlier, so-”

“Careful,” Alex chided, cutting him off with a harsh look in her marble blue eyes, “your boyfriend is here.”

Munch looked over with confusion, then saw Tutuola walking towards them, and shot Alex back a glare through his dark glasses. As if on cue, Olivia materialized and plopped herself down next to Alex, handing her a flask and wiping her mouth with the back of her palm indicative of the fact she had just taken a swallow. “El has been given the best pep talk I physically know how to give. If he doesn't win, I’m done showing up to these.”

“Alex is rooting for the enemy while drinking our alcohol,” John fired, but Alex turned to him and, apparently intimidated, he visibly backed off. Olivia just laughed.

Alex took a swig from Olivia’s flask, grimacing at the feeling of vodka burning down her throat, but she took a second swig almost immediately. She already felt uncomfortable, skin prickling and writhing, and being drunk would make it better.

The game began with little issue, and Casey had meant it when she said it wasn't a real tournament so much so as a large group of very competitive friends being cheered on by a large group of friendly drinkers.

She was bored until Casey took the batter’s stand. Alex had absolutely no clue how softball was played, but Casey looked perfect.

It was probably the alcohol talking. Between her and Olivia, they had made quick work of the flask, Liv because she had started to become anxious on Stabler’s behalf, and Alex because she was double-thinking her decision to show up. But if she hadn't shown up, she never would've gone to Casey’s, she never would've gotten that cake and she never would've seen the younger woman's reaction to being told she was good.

And God, Casey was good. Alex watched her sprint, the way she swung so relaxed but so intentionally, completely in her element. It was dark other than the stadium lights, which definitely were not up to standard, but when Alex caught a glimpse of Casey's eyes she could see very clearly the glint of fierce determination.

John Munch had been very correct that the DA’s team- Casey’s teammates, were not comparable to the copper-blonde’s skill. But to that matter, neither were most of the detectives. Alex noted the reality in the way that Stabler swung as if he was trying to hook something instead of swinging a bat- Casey was right- but he still did fairly well.

Not well enough to keep up with Casey.

Every time she hit the ball with a heavy ‘thwack’ that reverberated in Alex’s spine, every time she started darting, long legs stretching out to slide the last meter, the furrow in her brow, the light reflecting off her hair. Alex felt positively dizzy. That last part could very well be from Olivia’s vodka- or so she reminded herself.

She had tied her hair into a bun- Alex mused to herself it was unnecessary for her to have straightened it, then- but it bounced as she walked up to take- no, own the stand. Her lips were pressed into that thin line she made when she was concentrating in the courtroom and was similarly undeniably attractive here, except the corners of her mouth tugged up in a fierce smile. Her movements were fluid and Alex decided that if she would've done well in equestrian, with the way she moved- her intensity was elegant, her movements as refined as a swimmer’s. Alex felt her chest tighten and her heart pounding as she watched, feeling almost greedy for more sight of Casey.

Other than her, she was displeased with essentially everything else. The people next to her were becoming progressively more drunk and more rowdy, cheering and applauding and calling out encouragement or jests to active players, who would yell incoherently back at them. The bleachers had grit stuck in the groves in the aluminum and she mused to herself she’d need to get the pants she was wearing cleaned.

The game simultaneously lasted fucking forever and was much faster than Alex thought it would be. Casey's team won, so Alex had to deal with Olivia huffing and chastising the DA’s team next to her and John giving her a very pointed look, competitive in the way of the observer, that she returned coldly.

Casey didn't come around until the detectives were almost ready to go. Stabler had returned, clenching his jaw after trying to convince a couple people to do some more practice runs with him, and Olivia bolted to her feet to sympathetically pat him on the shoulder. Alex, after a fraction of a second, rose too, and followed. “I don't get how she does that,” He kept grumbling, and Alex had to agree- but her opinion of that was different.

Alex watched out of the corner of her eye as Casey bounced around- literally bounced around, some of the younger interns were literally jumping with the adrenaline and Casey was mimicking it for their benefit- and they hugged each other tight around the shoulders, fluid motions and hearty laughs, until their noses and cheeks were tinted pink with breathlessness. Casey was here celebrating a win- a double win, now- but apparently, some other girl on the team had just lost a major suit according to someone Alex had overheard on the bleachers and the DA’s team was clearly playing on the enthusiasm and adrenaline to cheer her up. Alex watched as Casey grabbed the other lawyer in a tight hug, then pressed a kiss to her cheek, and her stomach fluttered and she looked away very quickly. She hoped no one noticed.

She looked back in time, though, to see Casey shaking the woman off her arm, and that settled the unease in her bones quickly. The other woman held her hand for as long as possible, looking at her with eyes akin to a lost puppy, but Casey only flashed her a bright smile and kept walking, letting her arm fall loosely over to her side as she walked away. She quickened her pace of exit when she saw Alex looking in her direction, jogging over.

“So, Alex?”

“So yourself. You were fantastic.” Alex chimed, and even though Casey was sweaty and was coated in dirt from the floor of the field she extended an arm to give her a half-hug and Casey took it, resting her head on Alex’s shoulder for a moment before letting go.

The others in the group shared similar observations, albeit half-heartedly, while Casey just grinned apologetically at Stabler who stood staring at her blankly. After a moment, the two exchanged a very informal fist bump, and tension eased from Elliot’s broad shoulders.

They chatter about the game for a while, recounting moments of note or teammates that were new or actions that were game-changing, until it was randomly noticed they were the last ones outside, the other legal system workers apparently having moved on to their own after-party that Alex noted Casey apparently had turned down and the other detectives had sullenly collected belongings and dipped.

“So, McMullen’s?” Stabler muttered, “I could use a beer after all this.”

“That's the one all the way near the precinct,” Munch argued, but Alex interjected with, “Let's do it.” That place was familiar- she had grown accustomed to it, and selfishly it was also very close to her apartment. John was left alone in his argument and they all nodded, separating towards cars with the knowledge they’d meet up shortly.

“You may have to drive,” Alex murmured, “I’m above the legal limit. That okay?”

“I get to drive your fancy-ass car? Hell yeah!” Casey cheered, “That's a reward on its own. Come with me, though, I have to grab my things.”

There was a small building off to the side, big enough to serve its only purpose as being a locker room. There were two doors and no windows, effectively a brick block that had no aesthetical component at all, and the lights flickered on as Casey went into one of the doors and hit the light. It kept flickering, though.

Alex stood in the doorway for a second, wrinkling her nose at the smell of very heavy spray deodorant and sweat, but Casey was talking to her, so it felt rude to let the door close separating the two, and after a second Alex stepped in behind her and tugged the metal door closed behind her.

“Did you mean it, though? That in the fourth inning I-”

“Yes, Casey,” Alex interrupted her, “you played very well. I don't say things I don't genuinely stand behind.”

It was rather endearing that Casey wanted her verbal approval, despite the fact Alex was completely aware Casey knew she had played well. She had been getting a stream of compliments and attention from her peers. It made Alex salivate that Casey had chosen to ditch the girl who had reminded her of a dog to talk to her instead. Maybe that was the alcohol talking. Maybe she should keep reminding herself that it was the alcohol talking.

“Hold on- look away, I’m going to change really quickly, and then we can get going.”

Alex felt her cheeks grow warm but she obediently turned on her heel to face the metal door, hearing the tug of a zipper as Casey stripped off her pants, then the rustling of fabric as her shirt came off, and Alex ground her teeth against each other trying not to imagine what was directly behind her. Casey sighed deeply, and Alex bit into her cheek.

She stayed like that, staring bolts of lightning into the door, until she felt Casey tap her shoulder, relinquishing her of the obligation. “Alright. Car keys, counselor?”

Alex pawed them over from her pocket wordlessly and Casey offered her a confused smile but did not press the issue, letting herself out of the locker room and heading towards the car.

She had changed into a white polo shirt, the top two buttons missing to dip and show her distinct collarbones, the cut of the sleeves emphasizing the subtle but firm muscles of her forearms. Beneath it, she carried dark jeans with a leather belt. She hadn't removed her hair from the bun, even though several strands of hair had fallen out near the front, and Alex tried to fixate on the shape of said bun on the back of her head while following her towards her own car.

Her internal monologue was failing to come up with reasons why she shouldn't be allowed to touch Casey's shoulders just a little bit. She could see the groves of muscle through the polo shirt- a little bit, right? Just a little bit?

Alex turned the music up in the car when Casey put it back on so she wouldn't need to make shaky conversation, and Casey seemed content enough with that. The duffel bag had been discarded in the back, Alex now in the passenger with Casey in the driver.

“You seem happy,” Casey commented finally during a lapse in the music- a long outro, or a long intro- and Alex just smiled slyly back at her. She was.

The bar was wonderfully familiar. Alex followed Casey to the booth in the back, the one their group always frequented, and the others were already there, looking up from menus no one really needed because they'd been there so many times everyone already had a signature.

Alex ended in between Olivia and Casey, the brunette on her left towards the wall, and Casey in the gap between her and the end of the couch. Casey struggled slightly- the booth wasn't large enough to accommodate a group of six people, but Alex was more than happy that it forced Casey to try to curve into her side. She didn't move over, didn't try to shove herself against Olivia to make more room for the redhead. With one leg crossed over the other and her shoulder firmly on Alex's, though, Casey made due.

They chirp orders to a bartender who wanders over, Alex graciously agreeing to carry this first round as she had earlier mentioned. Stabler ordered a beer more expensive than the type he normally drank, and Casey shot him a pointed look. He looked mildly apologetic, and Casey rolled her eyes.

John and Fin quickly began chattering about things below Alex’s pay grade, so she turned her attention towards Olivia and Elliot, who were discussing an upcoming event at Stabler’s children’s high school- a fundraiser, or some other such thing- and Casey listened eagerly. Alex stayed mostly quiet, unaware of how to participate in a conversation about public schools and children.

Besides, she had a much larger problem to attend to.

Casey's arm had snuck around her waist and was currently resting on the slight ridge of her hip.

Logically, she could reason that it was because she was intentionally making it more difficult for Casey to sit comfortably, the younger attorney still awkwardly very close to the edge of the faux-leather booth, but still. Her thumb was resting directly on the iliac crest, and if Alex paid close attention it was almost as if Casey was moving it, the rest of her fingers snaking just below it, grasping at the fabric of Alex’s pants. Maybe this was her punishment for enjoying forcing Casey to wriggle and balance on the very end of the seat.

She opened her mouth to join the conversation, but Casey, as though experimenting, ran her thumb in a line across the jut of her hip bone and Alex stiffened on impulse. As soon as Casey felt her spine tense like that, she hastily let go. Alex wished she could ask her to leave her hand there, though.

Why are you thinking like that, she internally chastised herself, Alex, you don't- you said you wouldn't try to do anything with… but she’s pursuing you, now, isn't she?

“Yes, Alex?” Olivia asked with a note of confusion, and she realized she had made to speak and then lost herself in thought. She didn't really remember what she was going to say, though. Her jaw was still open, but she just snapped it shut and shook her head quickly with a ‘never mind’.

Casey's hand did not return for the rest of the hour or so spent chatting at the bar, despite Alex’s struggling attempts at manifesting. She was uncomfortable, now, not because of Casey, but because of Casey's absence. She was pressed so close to her side but somehow it felt as though Alex had messed up, prematurely rejected her, and that something would shift in the dynamic now. The itch and ache behind her skin got progressively worse as she tried to mask her anxiety behind the mask, when really all she wanted to do was talk to Casey. The copper-headed woman’s conversations always included either Olivia or Stabler or Munch, though, and there was never a moment in which Alex could separate her off to start a banter or a hushed conversation between the two of them alone. So, mostly, Alex just sat there, watching her coworkers indulge in the moment while feeling isolated and cold. Her spine was not able to relax after Casey’s hand had left.

She started to feel sick with the rigidness of her body. She wanted to peel it off.

“You seem distracted,” Casey murmured lightly, her breath warm over the side of Alex’s face, her mouth precariously close as she leaned her face towards the side of Alex’s jaw, speaking into her ear. Alex hadn't even realized she had moved.

She steeled her eyes and turned to stare at Casey coldly, almost as if trying to scare her off, a habit she regretted the second she realized what she was doing- I won't let you get this close, I'm warning you- it said, but Casey simultaneously picked up on it, picked up on her regret, and simply grinned at her. She seemed pleased, even, that she was eliciting a response. Alex fumed inside of her mind at the amount of control the redhead had attained over her in the span of a night that wasn't even over yet.

“I’m fine.” Alex said in a hushed whisper, “Just- just drunk.”

Casey provided a low hum in the back of her throat, placing her jaw on Alex’s shoulder, blinking up at her through slightly narrowed eyes.

“Aren't you, Casey?”

“I assumed I’d be driving. I had a beer, but that was around an hour ago, now.”

“Oh.” Alex shifted, her face heating up slightly, “You're taking me home?”

“Do you not want me to do that?”

“I- but, how would you get home from mine? I don't- I can't really give you my car-”

“I can walk from yours,” Casey responded easily, to which Alex shook her head quickly.

“God, Casey, I’m not letting you walk home alone in the middle of the night, just-”

“Are you two planning on leaving soon?” Olivia interrupted loudly, who had drunk a bit more than both of them and seemed irritated in the way drunk people were. “I cannot wait to get away from this guy here,” the brunette sighed, jabbing a thumb at Stabler, who stared at her incredulously. Like Casey, he had also refrained from drinking so he could drop Olivia and John off.

“Olivia, I’m driving you home, and I stand by what I said.”

“But that doesn't even make sense!” She scolded him, “Why is the plural of mouse mice and the plural of goose geese and the plural form of moose still moose? Who the hell has ever said ‘Oh yes, what a lovely pack of moose there in the distance’-”

“Liv, I didn't say it didn't make sense, I just said it wasn't relevant-”

“Excuse you. This is very relevant to my day-to-day life.”

They blinked at each other for a long, slow moment, and Alex decided she did in fact need to get away from them. But, as she reached for her purse to drop what she owed, shame bloomed suddenly in her heart. Fuck.

She groaned quietly, her index extending automatically to rub the base of her glabella, tilting her head backward and squeezing her eyes shut with frustration and also an unwillingness to share what she definitely needed to.

Her discontent at her mistake triggered something else in her stomach, and she felt the familiar sensation of everything inside of her moving uncomfortably, skin aching and turning. She felt like she was about to be scolded by her father- or worse, her uncle- for lacking composure, for forgetting to keep track of every minor detail and interaction held.

It was important to be on top of everything constantly- no, it was necessary. She needed to. It was drilled into her as much as her skin was part of her anatomy, and regardless of how stressed it made her, she needed it compulsively.

She wanted to be someone else, and now she'd have to pay the price for it.

“Alex?” Casey’s voice sounded mildly concerned, and Alex tried her best to hide the embarrassment in her voice when she turned to the redhead and conspiratorially muttered, “I forgot my purse.”

She knew exactly where it was- well, unless it had been stolen since then, but she knew where she had left it. Putting it directly beneath her on the aluminum bleachers of the softball field had not been a wise choice given the principle of ‘out of sight, out of mind' and her lusting after Casey and Casey’s ridiculously attractive shoulders had not helped to remind her to grab it before they left.

Luckily she always kept three hundred dollar bills in her phone case in case of an emergency, so she popped it open and removed one to cover the table, waving off the others who tried to offer her change and similarly dismissing people offering to cover her drinks the next time the group joined at a bar.

“Well, we’ll just go back for it, then.” Casey replied smoothly, and Alex thanked the heavens Casey had not taken this as an opportunity to try to tease her, because Alex genuinely would've gotten mad if she had.

“But that's- that's half an hour each way,” Alex sighed, “and I’ve had too much to drive, but I don't want to ask you too-”

“Extra time with you? I can't complain. Come, now.” Casey grinned, swiping at her shoulder gently the way she had with Elliot earlier, and Alex couldn't help but crack a weak smile and follow her and she made her way out of the bar, waving goodbyes to the others.

“I meant it, though,” Casey starts once they're outside of the building, “you did seem distant back there. Is everything… alright?”

“I-” Alex started without meaning to, clamping her jaw shut and watching Casey unlock her car so they could both climb in, Casey placing the duffel in the back again as prior.

She watched the younger attorney raise an eyebrow inquisitively, which she responded to with a loose sigh.

“Nothing.” She said blankly, and listened as Casey echoed her sigh.

Alex could see the gears churning in Casey's head as they both clambered into Alex’s Cadillac, Casey’s eyes roving over the interior with awe once more. The copper-headed woman wasn't verbally pushing her to explain her issue but Alex wasn't stupid enough to think Casey would let it drop. She briefly worried that Casey thought it was her fault, but if she did, maybe she wouldn't provoke an explanation, and Alex was okay with that. She didn't feel like she wanted to verbalize this discomfort with Casey.

This car drive was again quiet, but not because Alex was in a state of drunken content, but rather because Alex was fighting personal demons and Casey was trying very hard to run through every possible list of what could've upset the older attorney.

“It was just one of my mulberry set, so it doesn't matter that much if it's actually missing or if someone stole it.” Alex said finally, to fill the void of silence.

Casey squinted at her, trying to figure out if that was sarcasm, but it didn't seem to be.

“I’m not going to grant that a response,” she said finally. “You rich kids are something else.”

Alex thinned her lips into a straight line but didn't respond. Casey was right, of course, they had very different upbringings. That's why Casey's skin suited her body, and Alex’s was constantly irritating her.

Neither attorney tried to fill the void of silence after that, not even with music, Alex staring blankly out of the side window while Casey focused on the dark road in front of her. Alex had moved on from her demons to anxiously smoothing her thumb in little patterns on her wrist, very uncomfortable without a distinct reason. This wasn't really about the purse, to put it plainly.

After what felt like an eternity, Casey pulled over, and Alex stumbled out of the car. The place was utterly devoid of people, although the lights were still on for some reason, and it wasn't hard to spot the dot of her bag in the distance even with her glasses. There was a light behind the bleachers that illuminated the spaces between plates of metal and she could make out a shape that blocked out the light exactly where she had been sitting. Without checking to see if Casey was following, she set out, wincing at the feeling of gravel and damp dirt beneath her shoes.

She had picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder before she registered Casey’s presence again, behind her, and the attorney's voice was soft as she spoke.

“Put it back down, Alex, play ball with me.”

Alex froze.

“What?”

“Play ball with me,” Casey echoed, and when Alex turned around the copperhead was simply tossing the softball up and down in one hand without even looking at it. Casey’s eyes were instead fixated intently on her.

Alex shrugged her purse strap tighter to her side as if it were a life raft of sorts. “I don't play sports, Casey-” she tried, but Casey just shook her head slightly, the bun that had slowly been coming out over the duration of the evening bouncing along with the rotation of her head.

“Just catch it,” Casey soothed, “and if you really hate it we’ll go back to the car. Put your purse down- come off the bleachers, come over here.”

It was hard to disobey when Casey sounded so direct, so after a moment of hesitation and a minor internal thrashing Alex set her bag down once more and stepped off the bleachers, onto the grass where Casey was. She knew her face must be exerting a twisted, concerned expression, but although Casey’s eyes were soft they were also immensely firm. Determined.

“I don't know… how to catch a ball.” Alex said lamely, holding her hands out stiffly in front of her. She was rewarded for her confession with Casey’s chuckle.

“Don't think about it,” Casey said, “just focus on me. You’ll catch it.”

The redhead paused her casual toss-catch rhythm, cupping the ball in her palm and letting her arm hang down by her side. She smiled reassuringly at Alex, who hadn't felt nervous like this since grade school.

“You've been doing fine focusing on me tonight,” Casey teased, after Alex hadn't answered, and Alex flushed, “so- should be doable. Ready?”

Alex wanted to curl into a ball and hide, honestly, so no, she wasn't ready. Straight spine, stiff shoulders, her head feeling like it was propped up on a pedestal rather than a neck. Her hands still were held loosely in front of her, as though someone was passing her a wine glass to nurse rather than a ball to catch, and her feet were right beside each other in the ‘natural’ resting position for her- which had been very unnaturally taught, and then forced, until young Alex did not automatically stand any other way. Casey’s brow quirked as if this was amusing to her.

The blonde’s brow furrowed in anxious concentration, and she took a quick breath, trying to focus on Casey as the redhead had so advised. And despite her teasing tone, she had been right, it was easy for Alex to focus on her.

It was really dark out, now, so Alex could only see the parts of Casey that were illuminated by the overhead beam, but it was angled in a way that she could still see most of her. Casey’s eyes were teasing but attentive, and her posture was entirely relaxed. She didn't look like she had when she was actually playing, which relieved Alex immensely.

When Casey had been playing, she had seemed athletic and agile, with muscles that rippled under her skin the way that a leopard’s might as it pounced. Now, more similarly to her courtroom appearances, her arms had relaxed back into how they normally appeared- although they always looked wonderfully lean- only slightly more built than the average woman’s. Her fingers were lithe as they wrapped around the softball she held, a degree of comfort interacting with the object that read easily as years of experience. Alex tried not to note the details of how the white polo shirt clung and accentuated her bust, or the curve of her waist. Casey’s stance- leaning slightly, more weight on one leg than the other casually, did not help Alex scrape her eyes off of her figure. She felt herself relax, slightly, drawn in by the details of the other woman’s form. She supposed it was easy to stop paying so much attention to herself and everything that was right or wrong in herself and her posture when she was given permission to study someone as- well, frankly, hot- as Casey.

“I’m ready,” Alex said after a long pause, running her tongue over her dry bottom lip to ease the nerves. She wasn't sure what prompted her to say it.

Casey eased her arm in a low arc, passing it once, then twice, the arc getting larger each time, before curling her fingers around the ball as she let it go in a firm underhand toss. Trained as she was, it flew in a bow formation, slow and controlled as it made its way directly towards Alex, who caught it instinctively, trapping it between her two palms.

She looked up at Casey with eyes as concerned as if she was carrying a grenade, and Casey laughed, her hands on her knees, evidently pleased.

“Good! Go on, throw it back to me.”

Alex’s nose scrunched up with focus as she tried to recreate the same motion Casey had done, her limbs feeling weird and disjointed, stiff and loose, unlike the fluid motion Casey had produced. But regardless, she threw it.

Casey catching it was entirely due to the redhead’s own ability, because unlike when Alex had caught it due to Casey’s precise aim, Alex had no clue how to direct the ball properly, and it fell short by about a meter, which was anticipated the second the ball left her hand by Casey who scrambled to get it, achieving the fear with only a mild degree of difficulty.

“You did it!” She cheered, bouncing with excitement the way she had when she had won the softball match hours prior, and Alex couldn't help but acknowledge her enthusiasm as very infectious. A small, genuine yet shy smile played on her lips and Casey darted backward again, taking her stance to throw it once more, which Alex did not move to protest.

Unlike last time, when Alex had caught it very close to her chest, the blonde with some degree of determination reached her arms slightly higher, managing to catch it while it was still in the air above her. She still used both hands, but it was a stark degree of progress.

Alex's face split open into a grin of genuine emotion, now, a smile that awkwardly expressed the strange pride she felt at managing the relatively very simple task, and without hesitation she threw it back to Casey, using enough force this time- correcting her precious mistake- so the ball was easily once again resting in Casey's hand.

“Look at you go,” Casey beamed, the corners of her eyes angling with the intensity of the smile she flashed Alex with, “now, this one’s harder, okay?”

This time, Casey threw it overhead, albeit still much gentler than she normally would. Her previous throws were meant to land directly at Alex’s stand, but this one aimed for a foot or so behind her. The blonde, however, had seemingly gained enough understanding of the ball’s arch to realize, hastily taking a few steps backward to once again encase it.

Alex mused to herself that she felt as though she was getting the hang of this, so she returned the ball once more, still using underhand, watching as Casey bounced backward twice to give them more distance. She threw it, and Alex realized it was flying too far to the side, and she scrambled in that direction, bending down strangely but managing to catch the softball before it hit the floor.

She looked up with a very sheepish expression, but was rewarded with the sight of Casey smiling as if it were Christmas morning, and she relaxed, standing up. Casey had apparently taken a few more long strides backwards, away from her.

“I can't throw that far, come closer.” She called, but Casey shook her head.

“You can make it to me- try out throwing overhead.” Casey urged, “And if it falls short, I’ll run and get it anyway.”

Alex stood, awkwardly still for a long second, staring at Casey, who just kept her bright smile. After a second, she glanced at the ball in her hand, and, mimicking Casey’s movement once again, extended one arm behind her slightly, rotating her torso, and then shot it forward, leaning forward into her swing.

Although she stumbled, looking up prematurely to see if the throw would arc the way she had wanted it to, it did fly almost all the way to the other attorney, who easily lifted a singular hand to catch it in her palm.

This time, Casey did not wait for Alex to recompose before swinging- and she did it differently, this time, lifting a leg to fire the ball at her the way she had during softball except with a bit less force. Enough force, though, that although Alex again scrambled for it, the softball flew too far to the side and the blonde woman ended up on her knees in the shortly clipped grass. She turned her head to stare indignantly at her companion, who just poked the tip of her tongue out of her mouth nonchalantly and motioned for Alex to go fetch.

She would never do anything so.. unpretentious. However, with Casey patiently grinning at her, Alex sighed, standing, brushing off her knees quickly, and then briskly pacing to retrieve the ball, which had landed only a few meters to her side.

“Are we done, counselor?” Novak called from her place a ways away, and Alex raised her eyebrow at the other woman incredulously.

“After that?” She scoffed, and threw the ball again more forcefully, purposely not really aiming at Casey who thus had to hasten towards it, reading its path but still needing to scurry multiple meters, catching it but only just barely. Alex refused to note how elegant the motion was, despite how awkward it really should've seemed.

Alex did not have the time to further study Casey’s elegance because the redhead was already firing back at her, one leg raised high at the knee as prior, and that only really made her understand how attractive Casey’s legs were- her undivided attention to the attorney’s arms had made her miss out on something else equally appealing.

This time Casey was gracious enough to aim at her once more, and Alex caught it, each grab easier than the previous.

They repeated this exchange, Casey’s throws were much smoother and intentional, except she kept occasionally throwing slightly higher or lower or to either side to force Alex to move herself. Alex occasionally missed her grab or not being able to close the distance in time, which only fueled her play intensity when she returned the ball. Alex’s throws were mostly loose, but for the most part, they went far enough, and Casey was more than happy to scramble for them, ending up on her knees multiple times but never failing to catch it firmly.

Casey had started laughing, at some point, delighted to be playing no matter how bad her play partner was, and Alex hadn't even realized when her grin became permanent and her exhales started to sound like breathless giggles.

Eventually, Alex’s breathing started coming faster, and there was a thrum in her heart unrelated to Casey, and said woman realized the blonde was starting to get tired. She stopped the back and forth once the ball returned to her palm, choosing instead to jog over.

“Let's try something- hold this.” She murmured, tossing the ball into the air, which Alex now easily and casually managed to snag.

She reached over and adjusted Alex’s position, smooth hands gliding to shape the rotation of the older woman’s shoulders, lightly pressing to move her hips, gliding across her arms to rearrange the assortment of limbs.

She then turned to stand beside her, mirroring the posture she had just moved Alex into, looking at her with a sly grin. “Now, when you throw, I want you to curve like this-” she demonstrated, her motions causing the fabric to ruffle, her shirt rising up slightly at the hem to tease Alex with a thin strip of the woman’s abdomen, “and raise your leg like this, and then,-” she made a hushed whooshing sound, a cartoonist version of a ball being thrown.

Alex nodded obediently, starting to prepare herself before Casey shook her head quickly. “Give me a headstart- I go on two, and you go on zero. Okay?”

The blonde was now mildly confused on what Casey was attempting, but regardless nodded, frozen in the position Casey had sculpted.

“Five, four, three..” Casey counted down, slowly creeping her body down into a low lunge, “two-!” she bolted forward, and then Alex understood, mentally counting down the last two numbers before flinging the ball as hard as she physically was able to.

She was then content to straighten out, catching her breath, while watching Casey sprint after it. Her strides were so long and so light Alex wasn't sure she was even really touching the ground. With the movement, her ever-loosening bun snapped open, and auburn hair flowed as if cascading behind her, and Alex's breath caught still in her lungs.

Even though the ball did manage to outfly her sprint, she was damn near close when she dove for it, sliding on one knee to retrieve it, skidding to a halt a little ways away from where she had initially landed. She jumped up, shook herself off, and then jogged back, a breathless grin on her face.

“I thought I had it,” she panted, “I’ve always wanted to try doing that.”

The copper-headed woman proceeded to flop down on the grass, rolling so she was lying on her back looking up at Alex who was still breathing with a little more labor than she’d like to admit from their previous shenanigans. After a second, Alex carefully sat down next to her, near but not close enough to be on her loose hair by accident.

“You were very close,” Alex agreed, eyes never leaving Casey’s enthusiastic ones. “I didn't know people could be that fast.”

After a brief second, she reached out and rested her hand on the front of Casey’s shoulder, who blinked up at her. It was a reassurance that Alex’s earlier silence wasn't her fault, Alex tried to convey, that Casey had done nothing wrong and everything right.

Casey sat up to look at Alex more directly, but she raised a hand to keep Alex’s fingers resting on the flat of her chest and an inch below her collarbone. Her face was close to Alex’s leaning forward so boldly Alex almost thought to lean back.

“You look good like this,” She cooed so lightly it was almost smug, almost victorious, “you’re normally so rigid, so overtly mannered.”

It was then that Alex realized she had not registered anything of herself outside of trying to figure out how to position her arm to throw better for the past while.

Nothing had seemed to exist outside of Casey laughing gleefully across the field, bouncing from one foot to the other while waiting for her to launch her softball back to her- as much as Alex could launch it- and as soon as the ball had left her hands, the only thing she thought of was the sight of Casey running to snatch it midair, her hand itching to feel the leather again so she could try again, see if she could throw it farther, and more forcefully.

See if she could make Casey laugh harder, the giddy sound almost echoing in the night, filling the void and almost creepy vacant softball field with audio so genuine it made Alex’s heart flutter. See if she could elicit another called praise, or another witty comment from the woman she had been eyeing so intently.

Her limbs and joints felt loose but connected, blood racing through her veins happily as if finally allowed to dart around her body, resurfacing energy and releasing dopamine in a way she hadn't felt in what must now be years. Her bones felt as light as a bird’s, and her skin was so enthusiastic at the play it nestled onto her body like a puzzle piece that finally clicked into place, and even now that she was finished, it felt like her own. For once, Alex had earned the right to feel comfortable in her own skin.

She hadn't cared to ponder what she must look like, in a blouse layered by a sweater in a field with her glasses, tripping over herself to try to play ball with a woman who could pass as a semi-professional athlete. Her chest must be heaving in an effort to catch her breath, her lungs entirely unused to anything more strenuous than stairs, her legs long but her ability to use them only equivalent to a fawn’s. But whenever she had caught Casey's playful eyes, they looked at her like her stumbling self was a million bucks, and that was enough for her.

This was enough for her. Her goal for the night had been realized in full.

“What are you thinking about, counselor?” Casey breathed, and Alex realized she had leaned even closer, dark green eyes searching her’s as if she could read words in Alex’s pupils.

Alex almost thought she was assuming something until she caught the microaction of Casey’s eyes darting to her lips, before glancing up a fraction of a second later with a hint of shyness in her expression- something Alex had never seen, but certainly wasn't complaining about- and Alex was more than happy to indulge her, seeing as how Casey had spent the last hour trying to ensure Alex could ease some of the rigidness from her soul.

She left the hand Casey had touched on her collar, but brought her other hand up to cradle the back of the redhead’s skull, closing the small gap between their faces, and pressing her lips gently against the other woman’s.

Casey let out a small, whimpered sound, and Alex tried to let her go, only to be tugged back with ferocious intensity.

The younger woman pushed her into a more structured sitting position, one leg swinging over Alex’s lap to straddle her hips, Casey’s hands cupping the sides of Alex’s neck, one thumb on her jaw. Her lips were so soft, but so exhilarating, Alex felt as though she could melt, Casey pulling them apart every couple seconds just to come back closer a second later. Due to the nature of their position, Alex had to crane her neck to angle her face up at her, the column of her throat exposed, and Casey was clearly thrilled, her hands exploring her jaw and below it, soft touches that felt rather greedy.

Alex was finally able to take what she had been fantasizing about- when Casey pulled them apart for a second, panting for breath much harsher than she ever had while exercising, she untangled her hand from the auburn locks she had grasped and ran her hand instead down Casey’s shoulder blade, reveling in the feeling of the soft muscles and the small noise Casey made when she did so, catching the woman’s mouth once more to swallow the sounds she made as her hands both moved to smooth over Casey’s biceps, her triceps, her forearms, and then back up again.

“Alex,” Casey breathed into her mouth, before Alex shifted, pressing her back into her lips, to which Casey had no protest. The copper-headed woman’s hands stopped so much exploring as they did holding for support, and Alex mused to herself- the first coherent thought to break through the haze of bliss she had found herself in- that Casey must have thought she’d be the one to have the other squirming. The thought amused her, and only compelled her to continue feeling her up.

“Alex-,” Casey was whining now, Alex’s hand slipping behind her lithe figure to her shoulder blades again, running her fingers down savoringly before turning her attention to her ribs, using her thumbs to brush against her breast only slightly before moving down her to waist, utterly enraptured.

Alex bucked her hips, startling Casey as the blonde pushed her off entirely, and then kept pushing, rolling them over until Casey was flat on her back, and Alex was over her, her knees buried hard into the dirt to keep her above in a way that would've made her quite upset at the grass stains they’d be sporting later had she not been so enchanted by the feeling of Casey moving, Casey’s muscles bunching and twitching as she moved against her.

“Oh,” Casey gasped, and Alex paused, raising her hands to either side of Casey’s head so she could smile down at the woman whose cheeks were so red they almost matched her hair.

Her blonde hair fell to frame Casey’s face, who breathlessly tried to push it out of the way so she could see the triumphant gleam in Alex’s eyes, and then Casey propped herself up on her elbows to land a soft kiss on Alex’s grinning lips.

The normally overtly composed woman broke into a giddy laugh, sitting up, before rolling to the side so she could lay next to Casey in the dark grass. Casey snorted lightly at the sound of it, rolling to the side so she could study Alex’s gorgeous side profile as the woman looked up to the dark night sky above them.

“I guess this solves the issue of us going to separate apartments with only one car,” Casey breathed, and that just made Alex laugh harder, lulling her head to the side to meet Casey’s eyes and see her quiet smile.

All of Alex’s strings had been cut. Right now, she felt anything but stiff. Anything but rigid.

[miss-may-i]

Miss May I: Season 5 Part 56

Damian: Hey. You making a bottle for the little guy?

Julian: Oh, no. Just ice cream. The boys are asleep.

Damian: Hey, I wanted to apologize for earlier.

Julian: Why? You're single. This is your house.

Damian: This isn't just my house. It's our house. And Bella's. You and the boys shouldn't have seen that, so I'm sorry.

Julian: It's okay.

Damian: Why were you back so soon anyways?

Julian: Noah never showed up.

Damian: For real?

Julian: For real.

Damian: Fuck that guy pisses me off. So many people would kill for two great kids and a beautiful wife, and he doesn't care. All he cares about is himself and drugs.

Damian: Don't let that idiot tear you down. You're doing a great job all on your own.

Julian: Really? 'Cause it feels like I keep fucking up. I don't even know how I'm going to feed my kids without the lodge. Our whole world was relying on that piece of shit.

Damian: It's not a piece of shit just because you worked so hard on it. You've come so far. Don't let this set you back now.

Julian: I just wish Nathan had the decency to die with Jade.

Damian: Who knows, maybe you'll get lucky.

Julian: I don't get lucky. I only get a small glimpse of good things so the universe has something to take away from me.

Damian: You have your boys, and they're not going anywhere. You have Vivi, you have your friends. You have me ...

Julian: You're just lucky I haven't brought you down with me yet. I almost did ... when we were 15.

Damian: To tell you the truth ... I was hoping I was Jasper's father.

Julian: You don't mean that. You don't know how hard it is.

Damian: I do mean that. My life is hard as it is already, and I have nothing to show for it. I have nothing that makes all this hard worth it.

Julian: What about Luna?

Damian: It's nothing serious. I'm tired of being used by people.

Julian: Yeah, tell me about it.

Damian: Do you remember that time when we were 15? Behind the bush?

Julian: We were so bad.

Damian: Me having a girlfriend didn't stop us that time, and I'm tired of being good.

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[dalliancekay]

Crowley is not stupid, Aziraphale is not an idiot and other assorted thoughts

Or how nothing is black and white and my bullying home and religious trauma is a metaphor not a direct translation to what our immortals experience. And vice versa. -

I don't know what it's like to hang out on Earth since the beginning but I'm sure it is richer than we can imagine, than we could imagine.

Our two favourite, currently men shaped beings, are captured for our storytelling enjoyment when their time on the Blue Planet is about to be cut off.

One has been thrown out from their family home ages ago, we are not sure for what misdemeanour exactly, and is now working for a dumpy place where they don't mind inflicting pain if you misbehave nor do they care whether anything is fair. So, a mafia, basically. And our hero is tasked with collecting new additions to the unhappy family on top of that. He doesn't much care for it and seems to do the bare minimum only and/or collect victims who,ve already proven they belong there.

The other has been sent to the young planet to guard the indigenous humans and told something vague about an Ineffable Plan that will all work out when there's a War in a few thousand years, which 'our, the 'good' side will win and everyone will be happy. Just tell the humans to behave and if they don't kick up a fuss, we will welcome them here too.

And here is a vast, empty place, overly lit, with busy, lonely bees working and filing, and checking, making sure rules are in place and are followed as written and everything is ticking over; the higher ranks' punishments rare but swift. Everyone has learnt a lesson when half of them were unceremoniously fired when someone said some nasty things about the CEO. So things might not be perfect but at least if you stick to your tasks you will be left alone.

So, we meet demon Crowley, whose family threw him out as mentioned above and his job sucks and he hates it but it's not hard and his placement is rather a nice place so he does his best to not to lose the position. Sometimes he wonders what is the point of it all and that's when he runs into his adorable archenemy, the angel Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was sent to Earth and given a job, one that doesn't seem to quite work out (or does it?) as he follows his heart instead of the rules almost immediately but surprisingly is not punished for it by the CEO. So he spends his time helping the natives where he can, following orders he receives as far as he must and when he runs into his archenemy the demon Crowley, he feels a certain strange tingle and flutter in his heart at the sight of the rulebreaker.

They have done a fair job of it for 6 millennia. They avoid getting fired and even manage to take on each other's tasks to lighten up the load and the (pointlessly) random business trips (does anyone Up or Down there ever heard of geography?)

When we meet our heroes in present day-ish, they've been told the End of the World sequence has been triggered and life as they know it is about to end. 

How do they feel about this? Well. Our demon is appalled. He knew this was coming. But not really. It's just something to sort of work towards right? After all, the Earth has been developing rather nicely. The alcohol got better, the food for his Angel, the music got interesting, the clothes tighter... He's having a good time. Yes, he pushes his luck sometimes. Sleeps too long, gives in and saves someone instead of ruining them. He gets into all kinds of tangles to spend time with his crush. He is rash but he's not stupid. He knows what's at stake. But he is angry. And sometimes that's hard to contain. He does go too fast. But Aziraphale is always there to catch him. And if he can't, he waits and worries and is there when Crowley returns.

So about the angel? He knows he should dislike the demon. He knows he should follow his directives. He knows he should not meet or talk to Crowley. And what does he do? Gets himself arrested in his fanciest silks so they can have crepes when the world and humanity is bringing them down with their relentless hate towards each other. He puts on a magical performance when the demon fails to deliver some contraband liquor in the midst of the Blitz bombing to save his face.

And, now. Here's the funny bit. Our angel has gotten himself a part time job in the past few centuries. He's had a few before, but not quite like this. He has a place he loves now. A safe, cluttered place where a demon is welcome. It's not much like his original home. You could say... it's rather quite the opposite of it. In any case, he never really got on with his managers but tbf he likes his job. It makes the humans happy and he loves the humans and loves making them happy.

He also does not want the world to end. But his fam has always told him that that's the Plan. It was The Plan since before Earth was even formed and humans were just a design concept. Once this bit is over, an even better one will come along etc.

What is my point?

That neither Crowley or Aziraphale are wrong. Or right. Doing the correct thing. Or not. Me. You. We come from broken families, we have been friends and lovers with bad people, we have escaped religions, cults, home countries. Lies. Rules. Hate. We have fought for our love to be recognised as love.

Crowley and Aziraphale live in a world where Heaven and Hell are real. Where Satan rules over a smelly place with mould on the walls and God is engrossed in her sci fi novels and seems to have forgotten about Her Earth project.

You can't call Aziraphale an idiot for believing in God. She exists. Whether She has a plan is open to debate, sure. She seems to have claimed so at some point, but then, we all change don't we. Maybe She changed Her mind and forgot to tell the upper management. Maybe She thought She didn't need to spell out all the details to them and so in their zealousness, they want to kill Job's kids. Maybe She was vague on purpose much in the style of King Henry II and Thomas Beckett.. Anyway. Back to Aziraphale, our angel on Earth. He is kind, clever, anxious and in love. With humanity and with one particular demon. And in the millennia he holds his post, he changes. He slowly learns to trust himself more. Trust his judgment. Find 'technicalities to do what he prefers, not what he is told. It started with the sword and his giving away of it. He made a decision to protect Job's children. Risked Falling for it. Trusted the demon over his bosses.

Nobody noticed (or did they) how our two field agents fell in love (neither did they tbf) and how fiercely they guard the little secret they share.

So. Things happen. Plan A, War and Destruction, did not work out. The youngster they sent from Below decided he likes the new place and refused to ruin it. Both Aziraphale and Crowley learned things. They are still learning. The demon how to trust someone. The angel how to trust himself.

So what's next? The place Above is going to send their trusted agent. He followed the rules last time seamlessly. It did not quite work out but no problem, they'll send Him out again. With a rather more final arrangement.

In the meantime, the disgraced and rather troubling Earth agents have been lying low. Unsure of their places and overall safety, they went on with their lives as best as they could until the angel happened to help his former boss run away with his paramour from the other side and is visited by the Big Boss.

Big Boss wastes no time and suggests to our angel he should come back Upstairs and take the place of his disgraced superior. To use his skills. To be better looked after perhaps. New opportunities. To be close to the big upcoming decisions or - under a close watchful eye.

Aziraphale, not surprisingly, refuses. He does not want to put any of his 'skills' to any good causes but his own. But then. THEN. He is not so subtly made aware that his dangerous liaisons with the other side have been noted and their help in the latest Complication might not go unpunished if he's not careful.

And this job offer suddenly seems FAR more sinister than it did 15 minutes ago. Especially when it is handed over with a coffee (that he does not much like) from a place called Give Me Coffee Or Give me Death.

Our angel goes home to cautiously tell his demon about the trouble they are in and his world comes crashing down around him.

This post turned out to be completely different to what I originally wanted to write. Is there a point? You decide.

Aziraphale's decision makes complete sense to me, he loves the Earth, his home and Crowley over and above everything else. And he WILL fight for their safety. AND the humans in the process if he can. He's not going to Heaven to be a good little angel.

This is my very first Tumblr post. Way to go me etc. Please be kind.

[irrealisms]

hi! yr probably not lookin for asks anymore, but. what's your lifesteal elevator pitch? i know absolutely nothing abt it or any of the folks on the server except the vague things i've absorbed frm reading yr analysis as it crosses my dash, but it compels me, etc.+ also merry christmas! <33 🎄🌟

good news: i am always looking for asks

bad news: my parents DID go to sleep and i was able to wrap presents and put them beneath the tree and so on, so i wasn't going to do more asks tonight

good news again: i actually already have a lifesteal pitch. in a google doc. bc i'm normal

the pitch does assume you're basically already into mcrp and just curious about lifesteal in specific BUT we went to dsmp together so this works out

I really love shitty little tryhards causing problems via impressive feats of minecraft, and lifesteal is full of those. if you like people being good at minecraft, I really recommend lifesteal--in s2, clownpierce was top 50 worldwide at crystal pvp, and now he's washed and in s6 there are 2-3 (depending on who you ask) lifestealers who are better than him at pvp (admittedly maybe not at crystal); in s4, there's some stuff that's impressive in ~vanilla (eg parrot wins a 1v1 while on one heart) and some stuff that's impressive through exploits/social stuff (eg a group of people use a glitch + social engineering to get /op and prove to mojang that the glitch is a security issue that needs patched). every season is like this! lifestealers have backdoored the server 3 seasons in a row (s3-5). for a more recent weird Lifestealer Behavior, rekrap and jumper filled in every end portal room and built new fake ones to make it look like the world glitched and generated without them. lifesteal is weird and constantly coming up with new weird yet impressive things to do. a lot of stuff that's currently banned on lifesteal (F3+A, pie ray) are things i only learned were possible from lifesteal. (on the flip side i'd say: if you are not into shitty little tryhards making weird impressive clickbait, you probably won't like lifesteal, although you may still like hearing about it from time to time.)

related to them being shitty little tryhards causing problems: the rules are...more of a suggestion. getting around the rules, and hiding from the server owner and/or other players that you're doing so, is often part of the fun of lifesteal! (see also the thing where i mentioned that it's been backdoored three seasons in a row.) if that's intriguing: check it out. if not: once again, you have been warned.

lifesteal absolutely has lore and some people roleplay on it, there is nonzero c/cc divide, but it's more like traffic life than, say, late dsmp--it's fully improv, not scripted, and even more than traffic life it is genuinely adversarial. you can sometimes be confident that someone is in character but you can never be sure if someone is out of character, on lifesteal-- things like "going to someone's house irl to turn off their computer" or "lying about your homework/school/sleep schedule" or "changing your entire discord layout so that when you DM someone they think you're someone else" or "claiming you need their footage of an event for your video when actually you just want to see where their spawn point is" are all things that have been done on lifesteal that are considered fair game! everything on lifesteal is real; sometimes this goes well, sometimes it doesn't, but both are interesting to see imo because they are real

partially for this reason and partially for other reasons, lifesteal is fascinating to me as a piece of unique storytelling? a lot of mcyt is doing interesting things with its medium and being improv, lifesteal's not fully unique in that, but definitely if you like that you might like lifesteal. along with the improv, there's the fact that many lifestealers lie about what actually happened in their videos (comparing different videos with the vods, or in some cases with "what people say in various vods" when events weren't streamed, gives some fascinating insights imo--how do people frame their stories? how honest are they? what do they blatantly lie about, what do they gloss over or omit, what do they include in full? who, if anyone, do they see as the heroes or villains? whose videos agree with each other, and whose present a totally different story?), and the fact that conflict about "where do we want the story to go next, what do we think would be an interesting video/the best ending" is often the driving motive for in-character wars and conflicts! if you're interested at all in lifesteal and storytelling, check out barrier blocks part 2 by @mering/@myrmica, which is a deep dive on eclipse federation and the end of lifesteal s4 (those are my special guys); it dips into some academic game studies and it's really, really good. i genuinely cannot recommend it highly enough. (part one is also real good for non-lifesteal-specific discussion of mcrp!)

if you want a more specific plot summary (esp of s4) and/or "how do i actually, like, watch this" (of any seasons): hmu! but that's my pitch. also, read barrier blocks

[agirlandherquill]

the eleventh day of writemas

day 11 comes to you in the midst of a break in my genetics study all-nighter, because who doesn't love a test on their final day of term? (gotta love uni, no really i'm sequestered in the library with music and hot coco, if only i had the time to write my word count for my current project would be SOARING, but that'll come, tomorrow, when i finally have nothing to study for for a few weeks, thank the gods) and because i have every intention of making myself suffer tonight, i thought why not be a little bit evil and make these prompts about suffering too? - also we're at double digit days now, this is incredible, thank you all for taking part!

the rules, for those of you that are new or simply need a refresher: choose a prompt from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared! and of course, tag me in your responses because i cannot wait to see them!

p.s - the game is open to all, as discussed in the invitation post - which, if you'd like to be added to the tag list, is still being monitored for newcomers and late additions - all are welcome to the game!

now for the part you're all here to see - the prompts!

Prompt List:

Dialogue Prompts:

"What did I do for you to hurt me?"

"Every time I see that look on your face, it hurts."

"I cannot stand the sight of you. Leave."

Setting Prompts:

A clocktower

A nightmare

A battlefield

Narration Prompts:

The shaking in her limbs was loud, she could hear her bones rattling, the nerves crawling under her skin, and it drove her beyond the brink of madness.

He hoped for salvation, he prayed to the Gods, every one he could think of, even though he knew they would never listen.

The cacophony of screams bled into everyone's ears. It was the song of pain, the whisper of vengeance, and everyone knew there was more to come. Worse to come, but it was coming.

Feeling Prompts:

The graze of a blade

The drowning of loneliness

The restlessness of hatred

(because i'm insanely overeager, this post like its predecessor will be going live at 00:01 UK Time, apologies to those of you that receive it early but hey, early presents are still pretty good presents :) )

eagerly awaiting your creations, and as always, happy holidays!

~ A Girl And Her Quill

the invitations have been received so here you all are, i bestow upon you the gift of writemas! p.s if you want to be added to the tag list, interact with this post <3

@365runesofthesystem @glasshouses-and-stones @tildeathiwillwrite @sunakore @nothoughtsjustmhaandotherthings

@willtheweaver @theverumproject @phoenixradiant @thatuselesshuman @melpomenelamusa

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[isagrimorie]

[initial reactions] Agatha All Along 1x05 - Darkest Hour / Wake Thy Power

🎵 You should see me in a crown... 🎵

Single best needle drop in the whole of MCU or the single BEST needle drop in the whole of MCU???

That was an excellent episode of TV.

One of the things I like about Jac Schaeffer's story sensibilities is that the whole point is for the audience to figure out the clues they laid out. It's not about keeping secrets.

If knowing the secret is enough to derail a story that means it's not a well-executed story to begin with. The twist should only enhance storytelling, and not be its point.

This is something Jonathan Nolan forgot in Westworld.

Jac Schaeffer knows the best thing out of a secret known is the 'what happens next'.

This episode confirms my theory:

Agatha suspected Teen had to do with Mrs. Harts's death and suspected he was either her son, Nicky, or she was Wanda's.

Rio confirmed he isn't Nicky.

The best discussions happen after.

This episode also confirmed a couple of things:

Agatha's mother hated her since she was a baby. She probably tried to keep the knowledge of witchcraft away from Agatha and when Agatha stubbornly still tried to learn more, her mother had her executed.

Rio hates ghosts and really, really hates Evanora Harkness.

Agatha Harkness' magical absorption works like Rogue's power absorption. She has no control over it. It feels good to happen but she has no measure of control over her magical absorption.

We now know who Teen is.

Agatha suspected Teen was either her son or Wanda's.

But god am I sad that Alice died. She just got her life back and that Agatha was the cause and you can see she didn't want to be doing what she's doing but there seems to be Euphoria when she gets to absorb powers.

What kind of mutant magic curse is that -- it's like the TVD's Gemini coven siphoners but worse because she can't control it.

I hope the death that happens on the Road is reversible or something because I want Alice back.

Rio wants Agatha dead but not the kind of dead that she would suffer an eternity of Evanora Harkness.

Now that we know about Teen -- how conscious Teen is about her powers, about what she's doing. I like that Teen is manipulative like a true student of Agatha, all along.

Also, in WandaVision Agatha's always been simpatico with Billy, she liked Billy. (Agatha: I like all of Wanda's children-- Tommy who?)

I love that we have more episodes ahead of us because this means they have time to hash out all the issues, but this time when Agatha, Jen, and Lilia return to the Road and confront Teen/Billy it with the full knowledge of who they all are and without artifice.

That's the truth of it.

Also, my theories about Teen wanting to ingratiate himself as part of the coven and pushing this walking the Road feels like it's been validated.

As for Billy, I'm not gonna stand here and have people question how real he is because as we've proven with Dawn Summers, he is REAL. Wanda has Chaos magic and is capable of spontaneous creation which means whatever Wanda made is REAL.

How Billy returned is beside the point. (Well, it will be explored in the show, I bet).

It also doesn't take away that even if Billy isn't Nicholas, Agatha does care for Billy even if she is currently furious with him. Agatha can hold multiple truths within her.

The point of the story isn't the revelation -- even though the cast and crew made an effort not to say anything. The point is the audience will find out and what will be the fallout then?

Also, Jac Schaeffer is the kind of storyteller who is not into Big Bads as the point of the story. She's about human relationships and conflicts. By the end of this, my theory is that Agatha and Billy will be shoulder to shoulder at the end.

It is also an unfortunate reality about Agatha that witches around her die whether she likes it or not. More frequently, not.

No wonder she doesn't like the Convenstead rule. Among other things relating to her issues.

I like the moral ambiguity of this show starting with the star of the show who is selfish and manipulative but that doesn't mean she doesn't care. She just has to learn to care for somebody else above her own skin.

I don't think the whole coven is dead, I think they'll wake up somewhere else and Jen is going to be so pissed about what happened.

[comicaurora]

Hey red, what's your opinion on some modern writing that's very lamp shady? And do you have any advice on how to avoid "Well that just happened" dialogue?

It's an interesting question!

The thing is, lampshading exists for a reason, but it's not the reason it gets used a lot of the time. Writers might lampshade a narrative choice they're insecure about, while characters lampshade because the things they go through in a typical story are kind of bonkers, and we might expect them to notice. If a character signs on for a simple mercenary expedition and ends up discovering they're the long-lost prince of a kingdom they've never heard of, that's weird and they probably feel weird about it. If an ally is determined to 1v1 their super overpowered nemesis with no help from their friends, those friends might have opinions about how dumb that is.

This is a form of lampshading that doesn't break immersion because it's entirely in-character and doesn't lean on the fourth wall. There's a difference between a character noticing how weird their life is and a character pointing out how cliched a recent experience was. In the latter case, the character is treating their life like a story, and while it IS a story, they shouldn't know that.

There's a spectrum here, with "complete sincerity and taking every turn of the plot at face value" defining the 0-point and "complete self-aware uninvestment" at the far end, but healthy levels of lampshading live somewhere in the middle. Characters at the 0-point accepting everything that happens without question can feel just as weird as characters that won't stop pointing out the TVTropes entry they're currently living. It's about what it makes sense for the character to find disruptive or noteworthy. A hardened badass probably won't see the need to point out how bonkers a recent fight scene was, but a newcomer to the Cool Bombastic Adventure scene might be really excited when they pull off a cool special move and want to point it out.

I think this is why the recent D&D movie worked for a lot of people, because while the main characters all lampshade their lives to varying degrees, the way they do so makes sense for all of them. Edgin is a bard and storyteller so he has a slightly meta perspective on a lot of things, purposefully avoids playing along with certain narrative conventions and sometimes responds to other people's dialogue by critiquing their dialogue instead of just responding normally; Holga doesn't really care to understand how the world works and so keeps pointing out that they should just use magic to solve their problems, which is probably the most popular lampshade in the whole genre; Doric and Simon don't get a ton of time to shine character-wise, but they'll both occasionally poke holes in the pretense of the story they're in. The thing that makes this all work is Xenk, who plays absolutely every moment completely 100% straight and is entirely immersed in the objectively ridiculous setting of D&D. Same goes for most of the villains, except for Forge, who's probably the wackiest and most self-aware character in the entire movie, but in a way that makes him feel callous and disregarding of the people around him, like he's uninvested in the world not because he knows he's a fictional character but because he has too much money and power to care about anything. The ways each character does or does not lampshade their surroundings make sense for who they are as people and reinforce their characterization and place in the world instead of undermining it.

I recently watched a couple episodes of Stargate Atlantis and noticed something similar - the main character and, to a lesser extent, the rest of his associates from Earth have a tendency to make wry observations about his objectively bizarre life and the eccentricities of the people around him, which helps contrast against the extremely serious and businesslike Cool Space Warriors they keep accumulating, which helps make them feel (a) distinct from each other and (b) relatable considering all the weird stuff that happens. And the protagonist switches off the quips as soon as things start looking perilous for his team, so you never get the impression that they aren't invested in the story they're living, and as a result the various quips and lampshades come across more as a habit or a coping mechanism than a disruption to the narrative itself.

So basically I think you can get away with a lot of lampshades as long as the character doesn't feel like they know they're in a story.

[verdantwyrm]

hello!! i always love your takes and you are truly a joy to read. i hope you know that and you haven't been getting any harassment for your opinions at all. <3 you are a gem of this fandom and i read your blog like the newspaper.

i just wanted to get your take if you would like to give it - today i read a thread on twitter where someone said that the reason anya's ID is in the cockpit's locker is because curly stole it to prevent her from going to hr. and i had to just sit there stunned for a solid while because people are uncritically retweeting it saying it changed their view on curly and how he's pure evil etc etc when... even aside from the fact not having an ID would not stop her, the ID positions in the game are pretty obviously (at least to me) a metaphorical device? otherwise how is curly's in utility post-crash for example. they always seemed to me like they were showing up in moments/chapters and in places where that character had a connection. the choice of which ones are/aren't visible in the weird ID corridor later in the game (curly and anya's being covered by jimmy's) certainly makes me feel like they're not to be taken at face value, they're there to represent something. curly's whole sad enabling style is inaction as well, not direct and malicious action. he fails anya but he's not like that. and even aside from all that - why would anya even go to HR? pony express is a defunct company that punishes people for HR complaints. she's not going to get anything out of that. she seems mostly just to want to get through a harrowing time of her life with as little conflict as possible.

sorry for rambling majorly lol. just wanted to see what your thoughts were. peace and love on earth

＼(≧▽≦)／ Thank you!! I'm so glad people actually like my analysis' even though I think they're very scattered and all over the place. I have been receiving some hate here and there, mostly people who haven't even bought the game for themselves and only know of it through streamers who aren't very bright to begin with. I've actually been receiving an overwhelming number of people sending in asks and giving me praise, and my inbox has never been this busy!

As for your actual question, I too saw that post and I rolled my eyes so hard they almost fell out of my head. (ーー;)

Curly doesn't take Anya's ID to stop her from reporting to HR or anyone else about being raped or harassed, he took it because of the gun incident, and how he mentions that none of this has to be on their record, he's taking her ID to ensure that doesn't happen. I don't know how people constantly miss it, but not once in the game does Curly ever doubt Anya, blame or even try to praise Jimmy. Anya does not want to create conflict, she has a lot of worries about telling Curly about the possibility that he doesn't even believe her or worse, report her to HR himself.

But your point about them being metaphorically placed is correct! I'd honestly say it could be a bit of both, but it is definitely a storytelling point and how they represent something in the current chapter they're found in. Just like how the state of their ID cards also reflects on their character in a way. Anya's is perfectly untouched, a reflection of how Jimmy feels no remorse or guilt towards what he did to her, whereas Curly's is completely destroyed.

But thank you so much for your question! And thank you for the kind words, It's all so very appreciated! ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶ That post was very dumb, and the number of likes on it is even more stupid. Bush you really did leave some kids behind...

[rorywritesjunk]

No longer locked upon the land but free on the rolling waves

You and Buggy come face to face with himself from the past, and while you're fully accepting that this is your husband as a child, Buggy doesn't want to accept it.

Rating: PG-13ish, but just due to some swearing.

Warning: Upset kid, upset husband. Reader is way too nice, doesn't necessarily take husband's feelings into account as well.

A/N: A combined request. I did a few versions of this story before feeling like it hit the marks I was wanting to hit. Also, I'm just trying to vibe off what I've seen of Kid Buggy. I'm no expert. I'd protect that kid with my life. He's so adorable. I also like the trope of "Meeting your self from another time" and "gets turned back into kid-self". This is the former, and I know shit about time travel but I just kind of made something up. Also, kelpies. Are they in One Piece? I honestly don't know but I love kelpies and needed an excuse to mention them.

Title comes from "Sailing Song" by S.J. Tucker.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6/Epilogue

Chapter One

You would have thought you drank the pub dry the night before and were still drunk with what you were seeing in front of you. Except you very much didn’t drink. You stayed back on the ship, wanting a quiet night while the rest of the crew and captain went to drink the pub dry. You were perfectly sober, no hangover in sight, but you really weren’t sure what you were staring at.

Blue hair, red nose, and a scowl you knew all too well was in front of you, clutching something in his little hands while looking you up and down. “What?!”

“I… don’t know.” Which was true, you didn’t know. The kid in front of you looked every bit like the captain who was currently sleeping back on the ship, having managed to find his way home without falling off the docks and into the water to drown(this time). He never mentioned having a kid, ever, and considering how long you knew the captain and your relationship with him, and guessing the kid’s age, you would have been having a very serious talk about infidelity and why keeping your love child a secret? Seriously? wasn’t good for relationships. 

“Why are you staring at me?!” The kid snapped. “Don’t stare at me!”

“Sorry!” You smiled and knelt down in front of him. “You just look so much like someone I know, I was confused. I promise I wasn’t staring.”

The kid was on guard, tense, and looked ready to bolt, but you were curious. He just looked so much like Buggy that he had to be an offspring or some kind of relative, but the scary thing to you was how much he really looked like Buggy; he had kept some photos of his childhood onboard the Oro Jackson, and you knew what he looked like as a kid. He would show them to you on nights when he was drunk and reminiscing about the good ol’ days, singing shanties and drinking heavily. Last night was one of those nights before he passed out asleep in bed. 

“What’s your name?” You finally asked. The kid didn’t seem sure about telling you, but he must have felt brave because he straightened up and smirked at you.

“I’m Buggy!” He told you, puffing his chest out proudly. “I’m an apprentice under Captain Roger, y’know, and I’m one of the best already!”

Oh.

Oh shit.

Yea, no, something weird was going on. Why was there a kid who looked like Buggy, had the same name, and was talking about Captain Roger like he was still alive? Was this an elaborate make believe game the kid was playing, or were you staring into the eyes of your husband’s childhood self?

Weirdly enough, the latter made more sense to you. You heard of this happening, stories from sailors and pirates alike, but the stories were overheard at the bar after too much alcohol was consumed. Stories of children appearing for several days on a ship, like ghosts from a distant past, only to disappear again without a trace, but sometimes it happened the other way around, with the storytellers insisting that they met themselves as a child in the past, got to relive some memories, good and bad, before coming home again. 

“Yea?” You grinned. “That’s impressive, so where’s your crew? Your ship?”

The smirk vanished and he deflated a bit, looking around with the smallest bit of worry. “I don’t know. I was in front of them and there was some kind of flash of light, and… I don’t know where I am.”

“Oh, well, want me to help you look for them?” You asked, knowing all too well that his crew was nowhere around, he was not where he thought he was, but you didn’t want him getting into any trouble (which you knew was difficult because as an adult he managed to get himself into enough trouble). “If we don’t find them, you can stay with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

“I-I don’t need to be kept safe!” He snapped. “I’m tough, okay? I can take care of myself!” 

You made sure not to laugh, but it was hard not too. He was so cute as a kid that saying those things with such passion and intensity just made him even more adorable. Instead, you nodded, agreeing with him as you held your hand out to him to take.

“Well, how about something to eat? I’m just finishing up a supply run for my ship.” You said. “I’m happy to make you something before we find your crew.”

He looked at your hand, looked at you, then back at your hand before hesitantly taking it. Whatever he held in his hand he put in his pocket, making you wonder what he stole before coming here. You decided not to test the waters yet, he was feisty, proud, and if you treated him like a kid then he wouldn’t be very happy. You needed to treat him like the apprentice that he is, proud, determined, and passionate. Once his hand was in yours, you gave it a gentle squeeze and smiled at him as you started walking back to the docks.

“I have fresh apples and peanut butter, if you’d like that as a snack.” You said, eyeing him with a grin as his face lit up. That was the same snack you’d promise the captain whenever you wanted something from him. It wasn’t fancy by any means, just a simple snack, but you kept the peanut butter hidden from him so he never knew where to find it. The way the kid’s face lit up told you all you needed to know that this really was Buggy as a kid.

Oh, it was about to get fun on the ship.

~

“-and then I stole it!” Buggy exclaimed with a laugh, holding up the pendant for you to see. He had just finished telling you of his latest act of piracy, stealing some necklace from a vendor on the streets. You had fed him, given him something to drink, and you couldn’t help but walk over to him once he finished talking to wipe some of the food off his face with a dish towel. He was caught off guard and made a face at you when you did that.

“Pirates with food on their face scare no one.” You chuckled as you slung the towel over your shoulder before clearing the dishes in front of him. “And then what happened, Buggy?”

He fell silent, brow furrowed as he thought of your question. What did happen? He took off running, met up with the crew, and then a flash of light and he bumped into you-

“Buggy?” You tapped on the table in front of him, bringing him out of his thoughts. “You okay, sweetie?”

“Yea, yea.” He mumbled as he looked down at the pendant in his hand. “Next thing that happened was I ran into you.”

He quite literally did. You had just stepped out of a shop when he walked right into you, and you had been in shock of seeing him that you weren't bothered that a kid was yelling at you about being in the way.

“Oh!” You nodded and went to refill his glass. “Well, you can stay with me until we find your crew, okay?”

“Are you a pirate?” He asked. “I'm on a pirate ship, but you don't seem like a pirate.”

You laughed softly at that, shaking your head. “I'm not, no. I don't do piracy, just help with the upkeep of the ship. My husband, however, is a pirate.”

“What?!” 

“Yea, he-”

“It's too loud in here.” Someone grumbled from the doorway. You both turned to look; the kid’s eyes widened and you grinned. And there he was, groggy, a little hungover, and obviously needing food and coffee if he was going to start the day. You went over to him and led him to the table, helping him sit down before you started on the coffee. “Time?”

“Lunch time.” You chuckled. “That's what time it is, honey.”

He glared at you, oblivious to the guest that was staring at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. Buggy was a little hungover, having had his fair share of alcohol the night before. Normally you had the coffee ready for him before he woke up, so he was confused and unhappy that it wasn't readily available for him at that moment.

“It's too early.” He grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What's for lunch?”

“Wake up first.” You brought him a cup and kissed the top of his head. “But I need you to look across the table before you drink that coffee, honey.”

Buggy looked up at you, eyes squinting in confusion. You took hold of his head and turned it in the direction you wanted him to look, and a few seconds later he pushed back from the table while you still held his head. Swearing, you popped it back onto his neck.

“W-What is going on?” He shrieked upon seeing the kid. Thankfully Kid Buggy remained seated, but you could see the confused look on his face. The two were staring at each other, mirror images except for the age difference. Before you could explain, your husband got up, marched over to the kid, and picked him up by the back of the shirt, carrying him out of the kitchen.

“Buggy-” You went after him, not sure what was happening.

“Hey! Put me down!” The kid shrieked, fists swinging and legs kicking. 

Buggy didn't respond and before you could stop him, he tossed the kid over the side of the ship and into the water. You couldn't believe he did that. You rushed to the side to look over, relieved you saw the kid treading water. So this was definitely a young Buggy, pre-Devil Fruit, otherwise you would have thrown your husband overboard after the kid. You threw a rope down to him while your husband went back to the kitchen, rambling on about curses and bad omens. 

You wanted to know what the hell that was about.

~

“I’m fine!” The kid insisted as you wrapped his hair up in a towel. His clothes were soaked and you did not have anything that would fit him, so he was currently wearing an old shirt of Buggy’s until his clothes dried. They were draped over a chair in the bedroom, the pendant he stole earlier sitting on your shared dressing table. 

“I don’t need you getting sick, sweetie.” You sighed as you used another towel to make sure his face was clean. You were mindful of the nose, touching the towel to his face except there. “I’m sorry he did that.”

“Why did he do that?” He grumbled as he crossed his arms, glaring up at you.

“Because pirates are superstitious fools.” You told him. “And… seeing you scared him I guess. I don’t know, I’m going to talk to him.” Carefully, you unwrapped his hair, making note that he needed to have it brushed to keep from tangling too much. You got up and set the towels aside before grabbing your hairbrush. “Buggy, I’m going to tell you something and I don’t want you to get scared, okay?”

“I don’t get scared!” He insisted. “Not like that guy! I’m braver than him!”

“Okay, here’s the thing about my husband-”

“Don’t tell him anything!” Your husband suddenly appeared in the doorway, glaring at the two of you. “Where did you find him? Who is he?!”

You weren’t bothered by his mood, but you wanted to make sure the kid felt safe. Without a word you moved between the two, keeping Kid Buggy behind you as you crossed your arms.

“We ran into each other, Buggy.” You told him firmly. “He got separated from his crew.”

“Crew?!” Buggy shook his head. “No, get him off this ship. He could be… a kelpie or something. Get him out of here!”

“He’s not a kelpie.” You sighed. 

“You don’t know that!”

Rolling your eyes you looked down at the kid. He had grabbed hold of your pant leg, gripping it tightly as he stared at the man in the doorway. This was a lot for both of them but you needed the captain to calm down. You knelt down and touched the kid’s bare toes. He took a step back and gave you a weird look.

“Human toes, no hooves.” You pointed out. “He also mentioned the Oro Jackson and being an apprentice…” You looked back at your husband. He paled and shook his head. This was too much. This was not him, this had to be some form of trickery, or a shapeshifter. “Besides, I’ve spent enough time with my husband to know when I’m with him as a child.”

Kid Buggy’s eyes widened, looking between you and Adult Buggy. Child? Was… this supposed to be him in the future? As an adult? His jaw dropped, he couldn’t believe it. You smiled at the expression on his face, pleased the kid was in awe of this.

“I turn out to be a drunk loser?!” The kid shrieked. “Why?!”

Okay, that was not what you expected. You slapped your hand to your face while your husband looked ready to throw the kid overboard once again. Kid Buggy just shook his head, not believing this. Was this an alternate reality of some kind? He wouldn’t be like this. Was this guy even a pirate? He didn’t seem like it from the little bit the kid had seen already. He was not impressed in the slightest.

“I want him gone.” Buggy snapped. “No kelpie or bad omen crap is allowed on this ship!”

He stormed off after that. 

[malinowaj]

selected figure skating

so, @almostlake said they wanted to watch and learn more about figure skating. i will take any excuse to talk about this wretched sport (the love-hate relationship is strong, okay), so i've put together a list of my favourite programs. the original list was about 45 programs, so this is significantly scaled down. however, i'm always happy to talk skating, so you can ask me my current olympic quad favourites or favourite element or whatever comes to mind.

this also serves as a sort of behind-the-scenes for hope and legacy, because obviously some of these programs have heavily influenced how i write about skating in that story.

i'd like to say i love all disciplines equally, but the heart wants what it wants and unfortunately it wants chaos in the form of men's figure skating. this'll be heavy on that, though i'm letting my roots as an ice dance enthusiast show.

note: i acknowledge that russia has been a majorly significant powerhouse in figure skating, and there are several programs from russian skaters that could be on this list. however, due to basically two reasons i stopped paying any attention to anything russian skating related in february 2022 and everything i've learned since has been against my will. there is one russian program on this list, but that's the extent i'm going to discuss russian skating. all other skating though, let's chat.

men

yuzuru hanyu: seimei, hope and legacy, origin and let me entertain you. look, it's no secret yuzu is my favourite skater of all time. he's a once in a lifetime skater and pretty much changed the way i watch, analyse and feel figure skating. to me, skating is all about storytelling and yuzu does it like no one else. i could've really picked any of his programs, because there isn't a single one i don't like. i've had the privilege of seeing him live three times and i still remember, years later, how my comment after the last time was "i don't know if i should laugh or cry, because how can someone be so good".

junhwan cha: fate of the clockmaker/clock and dagger. i've never fallen for a skater as fast as i did for jun when i saw this program. i'd seen him around, of course, but this program was so perfect for him. the mood, the storytelling, the step sequence, the final spin.

deniss vasiljevs: romeo and juliet. a few years back i didn't watch that much skating because of life. then back in 2022 i actually sat down to watch euros and deniss, someone whose skating i've loved for years, did this. he doesn't just skate, he creates art and definitely makes me feel a lot when watching him. also, hands down the best spins in current men's skating. (also my reference program for simon's free skate.)

matteo rizzo: talking to the moon/that's what i like. is this matteo's best program? maybe not. (even i'm partial to his two men in love.) but this performance. the moment after his last spin and the step sequence. i saw this live and it was LOUD. he brought the arena alive like no one else and sadly this video doesn't quite capture it. depending on where in the world you are, i'd say get a VPN and watch the video on ISU's channel, with his reaction and bows, because that sort of gives you an idea how much we all loved this, and how much this meant for him. every time i write simon's step sequence, this moment is what i think about. out of everything i've ever seen live, that might be my favourite figure skating moment.

jason brown: sinnerman. jason has so many good programs, but i think this captures so well all his strengths, and is wonderfully different too.

jeremy abbott: exogenesis. an absolutely exquisite skater who sadly never quite kept it together under pressure. easily his best program, it has so much feeling to it.

stephane lambiel: wilhelm tell. could've been any of his programs, because i just want everyone to see what the bestest of best spins look like. (nowadays coaching deniss vasiljevs, which explains his spins.)

daisuke takahashi: bachelorette and blues for klook. i remember sitting on my grandma's uncomfortable leather couch with my mouth open when i saw bachelorette, because you're telling me skating can be like this too? dai's skating skills are to die for and he knew how to sell a story too.

women

carolina kostner: bolero. look, i hate bolero. it's possibly the worst figure skating music choice one can make. but i've watched caro's bolero more times than i can count, because it's incredible. there are so many of her programs i could've picked, but for the aforementioned reason this is notable. skating skills, spins, interpretation. god, i love her.

satoko miyahara: song for the little sparrow. program so good there's a guy doing a tribute to it. satton is easily one of the best and overall most well-rounded skaters of recent years, with spins to die for, and i'm so sad she never got to shine like she deserved. and i adore her recent show numbers.

akiko suzuki: O. the way she embodies the music is pure magic. this program should be the benchmark for all aspiring skaters, and it sure is my favourite women's program of all time.

pairs

wenjing sui/cong han: rain, in your black eyes. THE pairs program of all time. it's so effortless, it's so difficult, and it's so stunning. every time i watch it i go "oh, it's over already" when the finish, because they capture your attention and suck you in with this program so that you wish it would last at least three times as long as it does. also, my reference program for wille and stella.

aliona savchenko/robin szolkowy: pina. they have so many good programs, but i remember watching this in awe because it was different from what they'd done before. and the risk for a pairs team to do a dance-themed program, i think they were the only ones who could pull it off.

tatiana volozoshar/maxim trankov: masquerade waltz. the chemistry, the technique. i got to see this live at art on ice almost right after they won at the sochi olympics and it was magical. the height of their twists and throws was something unbelievable. my other reference program for wille and stella.

ice dance

tessa virtue/scott moir: moulin rouge. there's a thing that goes along the lines of 'someone who's seen one ice dance program will say v/m's moulin rouge is the best of all time. someone who's seen 100 programs will say it's some obscure original dance from a pair that was together for two seasons. and someone who's seen 1000 programs will say v/m's moulin rouge is the best of all time.' that's how good it is. the timing of the twizzles is my favourite thing in the world. i also love their farrucas. you want to watch amazing ice dance, you watch tessa and scott. (and then weep because they don't do ice dance like this anymore.)

meryl davis/charlie white: bollywood. the 2010 olympics original dance competition was definitely one for the books. this stood out with its originality, with it's attention to detail and it'll always be one of my favourites. (i'm going to start a petition to bring back original dance.)

sinead kerr/john kerr: scottish dance. i loved the kerrs, so much. they did so many things no one else did, especially when it came to lifts. and this one is legendary for john's kilt alone. (original dance i miss you so.)

kana muramoto/daisuke takahashi: soran bushi. yes, the same daisuke takahashi that appeared in men's. he ended his career in ice dance and this program is the best thing they did. the music choice, the details of the choreography, the way they perform.

kaitlin hawayek/jean-luc baker: with or without you. the best rhythm dance we never saw in competition last season. such an original take on the 80s theme, and an absolutely perfect fit for them. the skating skills are among the best, and there is so much emotion. if there was justice in the world, they'd have been USA's top pair after beijing, but sadly there isn't. i sometimes watch this when i want to cry, because it'll make me shed tears every single time.

ignore any and all typos, but please tell me if the links don't work. (i'm typing this after a 6-day workweek on too little sleep.)

finding skating videos, especially if you want a specific performance, is needle in a haystack stuff these days. the best way to get into skating is to watch it, preferably a lot, to find what works for you and who you like. the skating ISU channel has a lot of videos from recent seasons, and apart from the olympics does all major competitions live. depending on where you are in the world, you might need a VPN. (setting it to the netherlands works pretty much always.)

and if you ever get the chance, go watch skating live. it's the best, i promise.

[jq37]

I'm like genuinely interested as someone who thinks a lot about the craft of critique and fandoms the ways in which the current Rat Grinders discourse shows why you can't really apply the same lens you use to critique a pre written story vs an improvised actual play show by a bunch of comedians who are first and foremost concerned with committing to the bit. Like Porter's a great example of this, he went from a nothingburher to secretly evil with a whole lore and backstory!

In the same vein the Rat Grinders probably could have turned out to be not as culpable in all of this had the Bad Kids really tried to bond with them, but instead they focused on other things with the way downtime was structured! And because they did that they could pass the Last Stand, and are safe from Porter's rage thing! Like legitimately I really liked the mechanics of downtime this season, it just also came at the cost of developing the Rat Grinders!

(Though to be entirely fair, the BKs did try to engage with Oisin, Ivy, and Ruben and then Oisin launched the house, Ivy was racist, and Ruben still attacked Wanda so)

I think it's really fascinating from a storytelling/game design perspective! The downside is the Discourse is so tiring

Yeah it's interesting. I covered some of this in other asks so I'm gonna hit on the stuff I haven't yet.

If you're telling a story that is based partially on user input, it's not entirely fair to be like, "This subplot was underdeveloped" if the reason for that was that the players didn't make choices to facilitate that development. When DM's push hard for the players to care about things they're not interested in, they get hit with railroading accusations.

And even outside of the player choices, there are also the rolls. A BIG part of D&D is the randomness of the dice. Even if the players care about something, it doesn't mean they'll get it. I'll mention again that Kristen tried to roll Insight on Buddy before the final fight and got a Nat 1. What is she supposed to do? Roll again until she gets a good read on him? That's not how that works. If the dice aren't cooperating, there's not much you can do. And you can make sure your big story beats don't rely on dice but at the end of the day they *will* shape your story in ways you can't control.

Another key thing about the medium, as you pointed out, is things can change on the fly. The confluence of high rolls and serious interest can change things that were behind the screen canon in an instant. In Burrow's End, Aabria planned for Bennet to have a family but as soon as Tula/Brennan expressed interest in romancing him, she Thanos snapped that family out of existence. I don't know how much Brennan wanted the Rat Grinders to be recruitable but even if he'd planned them all to just be foils and evil and nothing else, I can totally see him flipping one if they'd really wanted to and it would have made for a good story beat.

Anyway, yeah! Interesting stuff to think about. Even though D20 often feels like a TV show, it's important to remember that it's a different beast in many ways.

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2024-09-29

(Previous post - current page 666)

Section 6 is finally here! (And the part at the bottom is gone, possibly never meant to be clickable?!) Time for possibly the last or second-to-last portion of one of my favorite Homestuck storytelling sections so far, let's see if and how this situation ends!

Time to see if it really HAS been a whole eight years before she finishes her therapy like the joke Davepeta left on last time, or if it'll add up to 6 for the whole thing to go with the Hell/purgatory/666 theme, I suppose! *click*

"LATER"

Well, I suppose it isn't going to tell us HOW LONG just yet...

Ooh Davepeta's theme again, it sounds a bit jazzier than usual if I'm not imagining it, like a slight remix!

Gosh she looks so proud and happy! (Even though the next line could easily pull the rug out from under us.) I can't wait to see grown-up Vriska having almost-sort-of resolved her biggest issues! (No change in her sprite when I compare to my earlier screenshots, although that doesn't tell us much about how much time has passed since there was always a good chance she had grown as much as she's going to physically the prior new sprite switchup.)

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < its b33n a long ass time but were cr33ping up behind the grand finale DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < that finale is never gonna s33 it coming

:D

VRISKA: The final 8oss.

Ooh, who is it? I mean, probably herself obviously. But who else could it be? There are possibilities I'm sure but they're not coming to mind easily. I'm reminded very much, the way I have been this entire time, of the conversation in original Homestuck where the retcon-returned Vriska berated her possibly-inverted ghost self, insulting her and shouting her down in a way that was wrong and proved all the ways the version of her who HADN'T survived had grown and the one who HAD survived hadn't. She insisted that being the hero and hiding her self-hatred to go have an Epic Final Story Battle with Lord English was the only way forward for her while everyone else was escaping the bounds of canon to enjoy a life and hopefully true happiness outside the story's confines, and what she'd gone up to before The Plot Point was her reward, consigned to irrelevance again and now WITHIN the Plot Point shown that none of what she'd been pursuing up until now would have ever made her happy, or into a better person. Now she has to finish learning that lesson, or at least get close enough, of what to actually do and what true freedom ("Ultimate Freedom") and happiness is to finally do what's right for her and potentially everyone around her.

I guess that means I expect her to have to "fight" herself, because she's been the enemy this whole time, right? Everyone she's "reconciled" with has been, in effect, the reflection of those people that exists within HER Heart, much like Jake was able to invoke Brain Ghost Dirk. Lines in here in previous sections indicated that she really is "alone", that these people she's talking to are an illusion and really besides her tagalong therapists she's the "only one here", the only one keeping herself here and torturing herself. Because SHE'S always been the one torturing herself, and SHE needs to learn how and when and why NOT TO in order to be the best version of herself. The Jung in Homestuck shows itself again in the form of the shadow, in the lesson of merging to ascend, of accepting yourself and your flaws with a humility that doesn't deny your ability to affect the world around you, to understand how to leave your mark on reality and how you're WORTH doing so, without stamping down the wills of others.

I'm rambling and stalling, let's see what they have for us.

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < master hand, your days are fucking numbered

I know this is just a smash reference, but does Vriska think she needs to go at Doc Scratch again? His chess playing with her on the board is sort of some "master hand" shit, I'd think.

VRISKA: More like minutes!

A clock hand joke perhaps?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < finally ready to take that final step

whatisitwhatisitwhatisit :D

VRISKA: I needed a 8reather!

Huh. I didn't think that maybe she had been just, not going back in AT ALL after the Doc Scratch thing and maybe just, resting for a LONG time that's about to be divulged after the first try, or perhaps multiple tries?

Oh wait is that a Breath aspect and freedom pun hint too? You can't always buckle down and go at your responsibilities (Blood) all the time or you'll snap like a rusty chain.

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < you sure did!

I know I'm stopping like, every line, but... I'm sensing a punchline coming of THE BREATHER'S BEEN X YEARS.

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < *a tear begins to well up in dps eye behind their shades* DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < *they f33l like a mom s33ing their freshly pupated charge about to finish their final trials and march off to the subgrubs or maybe a dope ass cave* DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < *dp wonders will they be safe out there? will she make use of all the lessons theyve learned here?*

Dave and Nepeta as a fusion is never not fun and interesting to listen to.

I don't expect The Plot Point to have "fully cured her" so to speak because not even comprehensive therapy is the full answer to solving your issues, and because we still have a good amount of plot LEFT besides all the attention Vriska is sucking up here of it. But if she leaves The Plot Point having identified her issues, confronted them, and with a true resolution to accept herself AND her flaws and do better out there in the real or quasi-real world, with a bit more of an understanding of how to ACTUALLY strive to be the best version of herself (the answer to the ultimate riddle) and begin honestly trying without much leftover regret, then yeah. That may be all she needs from here. We'll see.

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < *will she remember to wipe the lid?*

O-of what? The toilet? Huh? >_>"

(Is this a stealthy reference to Vriska being a trans gal in side content as per Toblerone and urinating standing up...?)

FEFETASPRITE: 3833 < 383

WAIT WHAT? Was she always here?!? Did I forget a comment about her showing up before? Is she real?? She's a sprite who DIED, isn't she, which would mean that since this isn't a reflection of Vriska's, sprites still HAVE ghosts that went to the Furthest Ring and could be sucked down here?! This is a heck of a random sprites-having-ghosts confirmation!

...I could have sworn that the joke of Fefeta being so talkative but never doing so onscreen was repeated SOMEWHERE in HS^2 since Beyond Canon and my liveblog of it resumed, but I can't freakin' remember where. I think I was just coincidentally talking with a friend about Fefeta's explosion recently on a random subject matter and I'm confusing it with having read/heard SOME mention of her again in the comic. Like from Roxy or something. Roxy might have brought up her past with Fefeta to remind us she existed so she could be dropped again on us in here, or... fuck I'm confused. Someone let me know if we had any clue Fefeta was here or mention of her elsewhere in Beyond Canon, or if her living again had been confirmed elsewhere before this, because my memory could NOT be failing me harder right now.

VRISKA: *The Thief proudly puffs out her chest with her hands on her hips and her 8ack to the sun, looking heroic and 8adass.*

--Okay I know that Vriska HAS roleplayed before, or we've been told enough that she has, but doing so ONSCREEN so shamelessly with Davepeta speaks of a really really strong friendship she'd have to be pretty vulnerable with them to do this, I think. Which is adorable.

Also, her back to the sun, huh? Nah, no need to dig into that.

VRISKA: Ha! You've got nothing to fear. VRISKA: I'm older and wiser now.

And the time it's taken punchline is coming aaany second now...

VRISKA: I want to thank you, too.

AWW! Gosh she's improved SO MUCH to be talking so freely vulnerably; the last time she approached this sort of opening-up was the moirallegiance with Terezi that was always too one-sided because she never intended to listen to her moirail's advice, back in the last stretch of original Homestuck.

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < what for DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i barely did shit

HAH! Don't be modest, you kept her (relatively) sane this whole time! Davepeta looks genuinely confused, that's hilarious.

VRISKA: Haha yeah, 8ut I'm glad you were here anyway. VRISKA: You and everyone else! FEFETASPRITE: 3833 < 383

EXACTLY. You all spent X years with her in here just to keep her company!!! That's not nothing, that's a whole fucking ton of something! Even if I get the feeling that The Plot Point was partially a sink of sorts to suck up all the ghosts from the Ghost Rain and keep them from mucking up the place.

But no seriously, was Fefeta here before??? Did I genuinely forget she was? Because I'm finding it hard to believe I hadn't noticed her and the implications a formerly exploded sprite surviving here would have had before.

VRISKA: ........

Yeah I'm apparently with you there. XD Is she running into the same confusion as me? (Or is the fact that there are sort of two half-Nepetas here about to invite a conversation about Heart and the Ultimate Self again?)

VRISKA: So, DP, you're half Nepeta, right?

Oh, it is!!! :D (And Fefeta's just a sprite, or a ghost of one, not a sprite squared and thus automatic Ultimate Self of both Dave AND Nepeta.) We're about to get some Heart aspect to help stick in Vriska's mind to break down the ultimate answers for her and the audience I bet.

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < yeah VRISKA: Well, more of a whole Nepeta, along with a whole other dude. DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < ... yeah? FEFETASPRITE: 3833 < 383 VRISKA: 8ut Fefeta's also a whole Nepeta!

It feels like Vriska shouldn't be too confused on this, unless she's gotten lucky and subconsciously sensed that there's an answer she needs for herself, here.

FEFETASPRITE: 3833 < ...

Just don't explode on us again :p

VRISKA: So like... how does that work?

Vriska, you've met who knows how many alternate copies of literally everyone, right?

Nooooo don't make her Fefetasplode again!

VRISKA: Why are there two Nepetas?

A MEOW SOUND EFFECT AND THEN SHE FADES INTO NOTHING. Dammit!!!

I mean, solid joke, sure, except on the Fefeta lovers, but. Is this a consequence of Davepeta being an Ultimate Nepeta and sucking up any spare nonliving Nepeta air in the room passively when it's pointed out? All of HS^2, plus the Epilogues, had a theme in part of Dirk concentrating his power as an Ultimate Self by taking parts of himself back in from places like Candy where it wasn't convenient to exist to achieve his ultimate (hah) goal, which it was IMPLIED made him more powerful-- and we just saw alt!Calliope lose power when she divided herself and have to spend time meditating to reunite enough of herself to control any sort of Jade body again. (Which again, makes her super vulnerable to being disrupted by a Prince of Heart, by the way, which I have no clue how she can be so arrogant as to dismiss and think she can do this with just her squad.)

(Did I mention that there's a TINY chance that Ultimate Davebot's chosen purpose, in alt!Callie's quest to tie up all the loose ends and bring the plot back together, might be to have him scratch Caliborn's session so that alt!Calliope could properly exist? You know, my old debunked-and-defunct Third Scratch theory, the three scratches on Gamzee's face? Oh shit that post has old broken image links I need to fix too, I'll do that by tonight. It's only a small chance, though. EDIT 20240930: After sleeping on it, it seems even less likely than I thought, actually. Alt!Calliope's ship with Davebot and Aradia on it is headed for Dirk and Rose's new planet-- for Davebot to pull off what I just proposed, he'd normally need to use time travel on Earth C to leap to the distant near-death of its star when the cherubs lived and get an easy route into Caliborn's session. I can't say it 100% rules it out, especially if Davebot might (or might not) be able to rewind his entire ship journey when he's done with it to make a full Spacetime move instead of just Time; and that's given that when they entered the Meat timeline they even started at the Meat version of Earth C anyway, too, which is only really an assumption. But it doesn't seem to add up to alt!Callie's need for Davebot in the confrontation itself, at least.)

Okay back to poor, sweet Fefeta just having vanished under the slightest bit of scrutiny.

VRISKA: ... What the fuck was that? DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < you just fucking sent dear sw33t precious fefeta to sprite city.

Is that a literal Sprite City like the kingdoms founded on Earth C where Jasprose was hanging out, or a figurative Sprite City as in sprites tend to die?

Does an Ultimate Nepeta's presence here mean that unless avoiding scrutiny (Voidily) they all become part of the present Ultimate Nepeta and can't exist in this space at the same time? Also with the Umineko connection pointed out last time as something this whole sequence is apparently referencing, I know from my partial experience from the series that there's precedent for someone unable to exist and falling apart if their true paradoxical origins are revealed.

VRISKA: ???????? DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < hahahaha anyway

NO NOT ANYWAY, EXPLAIN

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i was just fucking around earlier but honestly, im actually gonna miss you

Yeah, much like her ghost self from the pre-retcon timeline, this Vriska was likely a lot more gratifying to hang out with. (NO EXPLANATION AT ALL FOR FEFETAFADEOUT, GREAT)

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i think im f33ling a goodbye glomp coming on

Yeah, they would. (Sorry for quoting and commenting on basically every irrelevant line it's become ingrained habit already and we've only been back here a few times aaaa)

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < oh yeah sorry

This is too fun a reaction for me not to screenshot, though. Yeah, personal space, Davepeta! Consent of contact!

Ohhhkay I think this is my sign that if I don't stop screencapping and retyping every single line of dialogue I'm never going to get through this final section. Time for more selective quoting and paraphrasing of action!!! (I promise! Kinda!)

VRISKA: Alright fine, one hug 8efore I crush this and I'm outta here.

Daww. :D

I wonder where everyone here is going to go... I don't think Davepeta is going to voluntarily stop existing, but they're pretty hard to pin down.

Yaaaay! :D :D :D

Davepeta you are by NO means allowed to stop existing once the Plot Point is resolved by the way. You can be as plot irrelevant as you want, just don't stop existing.

Oh shit, it's somewhat literal.

One of the eight-balls she compulsively broke, "increasing her bad luck" and leaving things to step on earlier that Kanaya pointed out she could have found her perceived luck returning just by cleaning up. The metaphor that she's been the one putting HERSELF through hell for much of her life, especially ever since she escaped her parent.

VRISKA: I've 8een waiting for this one.

You know who it is?! Is it you?

VRISKA: I have a pretty good feeling I know who's waiting on the other side.

Oh come on, I didn't break the habit of retyping every single line of dialogue at all!!! She's just guessing. Which raises the chance significantly that this might instead be Terezi she has to confront, within herself, to help bring this full circle and decide what she has to do. Everything about their arcs seems to be leading the two of them together again, and not just in their ghost versions, I feel like.

It's just as possible though that when we finally see the message Vriska left Terezi at the end of the epilogues, though, still unseen, that that represents the final word between the Scourge Sisters and these versions of themselves are meant to find their own paths, even though Terezi spent all those years searching the wreckage of the Furthest Ring for her. I can't say for sure.

Okay I'm going to start paraphrasing... pff, Davepeta lampshading the Silent Hill mind prison -ness of this, yeah plenty of works have had this sort of trope and that's certainly a good one (so much as I've heard/read of it anyway).

The quite possibly final goodbye from Vriska to Davepeta! Hope "see you around" remains literal and Davepeta doesn't go to Sprite City </euphemism>.

Wishing her luck!

Black screen, Vriska waits...

A tree fading in in the distance... multiple colors of tree... this feels like Terezi.

VRISKA: Hey!!!!!!!!

VRISKA: Is that you?

Ohh fuuuck the touching slow piano music is kicking in. D':

It's time for emotions

VRISKA: I knew it would 8e you!

I can't tell from here if it's her or if it's Ghost (Vriska) but... oh wait. Wait if all the ghosts are here. Could she be confronting, possibly... ACTUAL ghost Vriska with the actual ghost Terezi that reunited with her? That would be a knife-twist she'd learn a lesson from. Clicking further...

VRISKA: You were the one thing missing from this!

D': What a thing to say.

VRISKA: Even if you're just a phantom designed explicitly to torture me, I'mso happy to see-

It's not her like you wanted, is it? And you're the one who picked a path that you thought would lead yourself away from her forever. YOU kicked her away for the sake of your own glory. So maybe it wouldn't be as simple as just seeing her again here and making amends, hm? Let's see.

VRISKA: you...?

Oh this is totally DEFINITELY the ghost (Vriska) that she chewed out in ways that everything she just spent time in The Plot Point showed were completely wrong. The time she REJECTED her inverse shadow self instead of ACCEPTING and merging with all the parts of herself she hated most, showing how and why she was on the path to fighting Lord English and abandoning Terezi instead of finding any sort of true happiness for herself. Let me find the part in Homestuck AND where I talked about it, to link y'all... GOSH without the full text of Homestuck on command-F/control-F it's so much harder to find stuff like "(VRISKA)"...

Yep, "VRISKA" first showed up to see ghost "(VRISKA)" when I wrote this upd8 reaction in June 2015, then went on for the bulk of the conversation over here on my blog, and here in the comic. I explained how she was dressed like a Page, representing her shadow self, her inner Page of Void-- and still on a happier path than the main Vriska who gave HERSELF such an unjustified verbal beatdown for seeming "pathetic". If you want more from back then, look at my posts tagged Vriska from late June 2015.

It completely fits that Vriska would find the disappointment of not having Terezi here, AND simultaneously have to confront herself in this form as the so-called final boss.

Heck... I figured this hell was driven by Vriska's Heart, her ultimate existence across all timelines, but what if (VRISKA) has been having some specific hand in showing the other Vriska how she can finally be happy, like she figured out?

(Anyway that search took like an hour, I'm finally clicking forward now.)

Oh the way the music just STOPS when (Vriska) turns to the camera. THAT'S a sure sign Vriska isn't taking this well. But she's going to be able to figure this one out without any return trips, this time, I'm sure of it. *click*

Oh, THIS music is different from what I expected. Interesting. It's too slow for my mind to figure out if it's a play on Vriska's old walkaround theme.

GOSH SHE'S SO FREAKIN' TINY D':

Clicking... they stare back and forth a bit more...

Aww, Vriska's awkwardly holding her arm. (I'll resist the urge to screenshot absolutely everything.) She may really be catching onto the fact that she has to apologize to herself. Learn from herself-- from ALL of herself. The parts of herself she used to loathe most because she saw her own weakness in them. That's her Jungian Shadow.

And... perhaps it's also in part why we were reminded again of an Ultimate Self's being all of someone just before she dove in.

VRISKA: Alright, fine. VRISKA: Makes sense I'd have to do this eventually.

Yeah, you're smart enough to get it a bit already.

VRISKA: I'm sorry. VRISKA: For all that shit I said to- did to you.

No-- I mean, sure, that's a start, Vriska, but you don't just have to APOLOGIZE to yourself, your shadow, your perceived flaws. You have to ACCEPT yourself. That's more than a quick apology can do.

VRISKA: It was wrong of me to hate you for getting soft. VRISKA: For knowing when to quit.

Holy shit. SHE FUCKING GETS IT. WOW HAS SHE COME SO FAR. This is exactly what we've been saying since nearly a DECADE ago when that argument happened, just like what I said from my upd8 reaction back then to above!

And (Vriska) gives her back an expansive, pained shrug, huh?

VRISKA: HUH???????? What the hell...

Or... wait. No, she couldn't be. That wasn't a shrug was it. Was (Vriska) offering... a HUG?

That's the answer, isn't it? And why we got a Davepeta hug too? That on the inside, when you finally reach a hand out and offer to accept your shadow as an essential-but-not-predominant part of yourself... your shadow is willing to reach back. She was willing to accept Vriska all along if Vriska just tried. But the fear of one's flaws is a horribly hard thing to conquer, to love yourself-- your ENTIRE self-- enough to take that crucial step.

--yeah, that's an offer to hug it out, isn't it? Vriska probably needs a bit to accept that it's really THAT EASY. Because it wasn't. It wasn't easy. Vriska needed to spend ALL those years to really understand enough to do something like this.

And I'm heavily betting that when Vriska and (Vriska) hug, there's a good chance THEY'LL MERGE. Embracing and assimilating the Jungian Shadow, just like the ascent to God-Tier and merging with the dreamself, except this is part of how you become, in a sense-- at least closer to-- your Ultimate Self. Jung-- "while "no one should deny the danger of the descent [...] every descent is followed by an ascent", and assimilation of – rather than possession by – the shadow becomes a possibility." "NANNASPRITE: All the gates do, John. To ascend, each time you must first descend!" Jung-- "We begin to travel [up] through the healing spirals...straight up." Right from the spirograph gates above their houses to their dreamselves and merging to God-Tier, Sburb and Homestuck has been loaded with intentional Jungian psychology references, and this is just the latest instance of the story spelling it out for us.

Anyway, clicking forward. Yeah, Vriska's nervous. She isn't huggy, and this is one of the hardest embraces one can possibly make, whether she realizes it now or not given all the work she's done to get here.

VRISKA: You're asking for too much. VRISKA: You're really going to make me do this? VRISKA: ...

See? It's no wonder this is so hard for her. She was always in the way of herself.

What will you do?

HAH!

Clicking... she hesitates further, of course...

VRISKA: I...

You're so damn close. But that's the reason this is the final 8oss, isn't it? Accepting the shadow is the hardest step. Accepting that she deserves it, that she can deserve to forgive even herself for hurting herself.

VRISKA: I can't.

You can!

And... OH WOW SHE ACTUALLY OLLIES OUTIE?!?!?!??!?!?

It really IS that hard for her to accept herself. I've long covered exactly why it can be the hardest thing of all. Not inverting, but integrating, balancing, accepting ALL of yourself, the good and the bad, your right to make a difference and the importance of recognizing where you may do wrong. Everything Doc Scratch lectured her to fear about herself in part 5.

So she's back at the beach. Clicking...

And that's the end of the upd8. That was... excellent. I loved it.

Seems like we need to wait one more step for her to finally embrace herself. But that's all that's left! Just one more step.

See you next time!

[lesbianabril]

My S6 BTVS rewrite

I know this season has a lot of haters but I actually love season 6, I don't mind the depressing parts (meaning: most of the season) because I think it all makes sense for where the characters are at, and I think that after fighting a literal God having a season where the villain is Life really works storytelling-wise.

Having said that, though, I think that a lot of things could have been handled better and since all I have are correct opinions I'm gonna tell you what those are.

1. Willow's magic addiction

Basically I think they went too far when the magic became drugs in the most basic sense, when they start acting like she's "taking a hit" every time she uses it.

I think all of the important plot points could have been kept while making willow's addiction to magic about her need to be in control of everything (and everyone). Up to Tabula Rasa I wouldn't change anything, her use of magic is wrong because she starts using it to bend the world at her will, empowered by having successfully brought Buffy back to life.

After Tara leaves her she starts using even more magic while being reckless with it, she injures Dawn and she commits to stop using it because she realizes it wasn't healthy for her or for the people she loves.

I would eliminate Rack and his stupid crack house hide out, and everything that has to do with the physical withdrawal of going "cold turkey".

I think this also makes Willow responsible for her actions, while making magic = literal heroin absolves her of the blame, in the end. The fallout of having to deal with her dependence of it would also be way more compelling.

2. Spike's attempted r4pe

I would keep their toxic relationship and everything that led up to that god-awful bathroom scene, my only change is that I would make it so Spike is trying to turn her instead.

Hear me out. It would make a lot of narrative sense because all through the season he's trying to convince her she's a dark being just like him, he wants them to be equals because he doesn't think himself worthy of her so he's trying to lower her to his level. So, after Buffy rejects him again he's not thinking clearly and, in his desperation, tries the only thing he swore himself he wouldn't do since he loves Buffy because of her goodness.

After it happens, Buffy feels betrayed, Spike leaves and decides to try to get to her level, to truly change himself instead of trying to change her.

This is a minor thing too but in this rewrite after Spike leaves we don't know where he went and we don't see him again until the start of s7 when he already has his soul. I know this couldn't be done because of James Marsters' contract but in my dream s6 we don't know what happened to him so when we see him again everything about his sudden disappearence and current mental state is a mystery and we find out along with Buffy.

3. Xander dies instead of Tara

Ok maybe this one is based on my dislike of Xander and my love of Tara but I think this would work really well:

Willow and Tara haven't gotten together yet, Willow is working on her more controlling tendencies and they're just friends right now. When Warren shows up Buffy is in the garden with Dawn and Xander went up to Willow's room to talk to her, so both Buffy and Xander get shot, Dawn takes Buffy to the hospital and dark Willow is born after she's not able to revive Xander.

After that things are mostly the same, only this time we get a grieving Buffy trying to deal with the sudden loss of both of her best friends. She's devastated and a part of her says that yes, Warren deserves to die.

After everything happens and Willow is close to destroying the world, Tara is the one who shows up, she appeals to Willow's humanity and, through her love and compassion, saves the world.