#yet again i'm posting thoughts that i starting having a decade ago

[mesaprotector]

was reading recently about the "to be lawful or good" trope (follow orders/respect rule of law, or do what's right?), and it occurred to me that western values are so idealistic on the matter that "good" is almost always chosen, and a character who believes the law is the greater good is usually painted as morally dubious and hypocritical. tvtropes points out that in the parallel "to be chaotic or good" dilemmas protagonists almost always choose chaotic. i guess that makes sense from the point of view of fiction as wish fulfillment, and the ideal world for an american is one where they can do whatever they want without consequences.

psycho-pass is a really good example of media where this does not happen. anime in general tends to be more respectful of "lawful" values, sometimes to excess from my own western point of view (too many anime i've seen, workplace abuse is "dealt" with by learning to work harder). but urobuchi at least has a nice concept of what a balance can look like. (spoilers below, of course).

akane tsunemori is the most lawful good character to ever lawful good. she has constant positive intentions, cares for everyone in her society, and does so by enforcing and interpreting the law - and would not have it any other way. there's an amazing quote from her near the end of s1 (i have not seen the later seasons):

"People have always detested evil and sought out a righteous way of living. Their feelings, the accumulation of those peoples feelings are the law. They’re neither the provisions, nor the system. They’re the fragile and irreplaceable feelings that everyone carries in their hearts."

when faced with "to be lawful or good", she never once gives up on the law, no matter what. she has at least two chances to kill a dangerous villain outright and rejects both as being against orders; when the law itself tries to ensnare someone she loves, she finds a way out by following the rules instead of just breaking them like any other hero would.

dungeons and dragons kind of threw the alignment system at players and told them "you, there, interpret this". it's difficult and a lot to ask. from the little experience i have with it, most players only care about good/neutral/evil, and as for law vs. chaos they're just treated like different flavors of ice cream. it's far more compelling to treat them as equally important - a lawful good character and a chaotic good character are as far apart, morally, as a lawful good and a lawful evil one.

psycho-pass s1 doesn't have a chaotic good character. the closest it gets is kagari, who could perhaps be called chaotic neutral (though i have trouble calling any literal cop chaotic, he was essentially forced into the role). but it does have a fantastic example of a chaotic vs. lawful conflict, just on the evil side - makishima vs. sibyl.

i think where i wanted to go with this is that part of maturity is learning that two people, or groups of people, who are fighting, may very well both be righteous, and talking it out is often not a solution. i think most modern politics is like this, but that's just my feeling. there are some fairly evil people around, to be sure, but the vast majority of people are not - and recognizing that those different from you are in some ways righteous, and that you yourself are in some ways capable of evil - is really a critical sort of humility.

i might be a little too thrilled with myself for having realized this so early - i was the only kid in my class who liked "lord of the flies", and i still do like it. tumblr used to really have a thing about hating it back when the audience on this website had an average age of 16. i hope those people who insisted "but i'd never have grown up to do anything bad" have learned better since. but looking at how many older people (including apparently most writers) haven't gotten the memo, i'm not too sure.

[alexanderlightweight]

Ok, so I read your pinned post and it says it's ok to prompt out of wed. But it feels wrong but I'm doing it, bc I happened to be rereading mob wife Alec (such a good verse, I have read it sooo many times now. Just 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻) and honestly this thought would not leave my mind. So imagine at one of these meetings, Alec happens to notice a sketchy smarmy guy and he's watching him closely bc he's concerned he's going to do something bad. (maybe something to one of the women who are there serving or one of the wives.) Sketchy guy notices Alec watching him and he assumes its bc Alec is interested. (bc straight guys and their absolutely stupid egos, do not get me started.) anyway, things happen, guy accuses Alec of coming onto him. And Alec is so insanely offended, he's speechless. All he can manage to do is point at Magnus and go, "have you seen my husband?!" Bc absolutely not a single person can hold a candle up to Magnus.

it doesn't quite match up 100% but this is where mob!wife Alec took it. it's been a while but I was delighted to write in this verse again so thank you for this delightful prompt

<3 lumine

dressed to kill

-

Now Alec knows he’s not the best at this undercover work.  

Whether as a distraction or in desperation, pretending to be something he’d not has never been one of his fortes. Something Magnus is very fond of reminding him of and well, enough time has passed that Alec can admit he was pretty terrible at pretending to be straight.  

Especially in front of Magnus.

And even now, for all the effort Alec, Magnus and even Simon have put in, Alec is still horrible at blending in with mundanes. 

Which leads him here. 

To a situation that he is truly unable to fathom and still doesn’t know how he ended up in.

“I’m not sure I heard you correctly.” Is what he automatically responds with, it’s an attempt to buy time but the thought of having to hear such stupidity again changes his mind.  “No,” he immediately says when the man opens his mouth again, “no need to repeat it.”

Alec knows denial intimately.

He lived submerged in it for over two decades and now he firmly reaches for the long since abandoned feeling and wraps it around himself.  Denial may not have worked in the face of Magnus but fortunately for Alec, no one compares to Magnus so he’s safe.

“I’ll ask someone to get you medical aid, you’ve clearly had more than you can handle.” Alec says it to be gracious.  He’s trying to not make a scene and he’s certainly not interested in having to explain his involvement in yet another mundane death. 

Or at least he tries.  

Then the true absurdity of the situation hits him and he can’t help it.

He laughs.

Not a full-bodied laugh, the kind Magnus, Izzy or Jace can draw from him, but the deep, darker chuckle that builds when he’s on a hunt.

“You think you’re something worth my interest?” Alec’s voice is low, the predatory instinct of a hunt entrenched in him. 

The quieter a shadowhunter is, the more deadly they are.

Alec has never needed to shout to make his threats known, he also doesn’t need a threat to teach this mundane a lesson.

“I am already married to the most gorgeous being in any dimension, who are you to think you can compete?” All the evidence Alec needs is the hand he points in Magnus’ direction and it’s with a scoff of disgust that Alec leaves. Even without active runes he’s faster than the most agile of mundanes and in an instant he’s at Magnus’ side. 

He really doubts he had the self-control to listen to one more assumption of Alec’s interest in someone other than Magnus.

-

It’s automatic, for Magnus to reach for Alexander even as he slots into place next to him.  No words of greeting are needed for Alexander to automatically tuck himself into Magnus’ side.

“What’s wrong?” It’s clear that Alexander is flustered, and not in a ‘I-lost-track-of-this-mundane-conversation-ten-minutes-ago-and-would-like-to-be-done’ kind of way.

“Someone had the audacity to think I was interested in them.”

Magnus’ hand tightens on Alexander’s hip even as he processes the words.

Unfortunately, despite how much he despises hearing such a thing, it’s not unexpected.  One of the prices Magnus has had to pay during these ventures are the mundanes who show interest in Magnus’ boy.

In the shadowworld they are fairly prominent figures and between the two of them, they have few enemies who would risk crossing them both.

That includes coveting what isn’t theirs to desire.

And while Magnus doesn’t doubt for a minute that the mundane was making absurd assumptions, he is curious as to how a mundane thought Alexander was approachable.

“How?”

It’s a genuine question, Magnus has met quite a few people who have been interested in Alexander, he’s just never met one that had the gall to think it was reciprocated.

Alexander pauses, brow furrowed as he thinks and then he shrugs, expression soft and a little sheepish. “I stopped paying attention pretty quickly. I just wanted him to stop talking.”

Magnus can’t help but laugh, delight thrumming through him as he disguises his humor with a kiss to Alexander’s hair.  

-

(the guy was too straight for alec to deal with, the vibes were just a no and the guy’s prey instinct kicked in via survival mode and he took off before Alec could point him out to Magnus. the reason the guy thought Alec was interested in him? Magnus and Alec will never find out but it was actually because alec was watching the bartender make drinks with fire -he was comparing it to Magnus talent and finding it lacking- and the guy happened to be somewhat in eye zone)

and it is 100% canon that Alec goes around this universe and all my universes comparing mundanes and shadow world beings to Magnus and finding everyone else lacking.

magnus finds it absolutely charming when Alec is tired and starts mumbling about how the bartender completely lacks the same elegant flair that makes Magnus' alcoholic fiery drinks so much more enticing and appealing (tipsy Alec admiting he only tried that first drink Magnus offered him because he wanted to see what Magnus' magic fire tasted like and instead he got a mouthful of blue vodka and everclear and a part of him has never forgiven Magnus for that betrayal and Magnus is always treated to a wrinkle of Alec's nose when he's offered a new drink before he tries it). Magnus doesn't say anything about it because he thinks its both adorable and hilarious.

[philtstone]

For the mini fic ask game? Han and Leia?

12. things you said when you thought i was asleep

pretty much immediately post-rotj. also on ao3

Leia wakes up sticky and comfortably sore.

"No. No, the other thing -- you know what it looks like. Oh, now you're gonna be offended that I don't like all your hair?"

There's half a warm body draped against her. She'd know the uncoordinated press of Han's hairy knee against her ass in this too-small ship bunk anywhere; six months was not nearly long enough for such things to be forgotten.

Her mind crawls out of sleep-state just enough to understand the next string of Shyrriwook rumbling through the room.

"If I don't do it now it'll get everywhere," Han mutters in response. "In little balls."

You humans are so unsanitary, says Chewie.

"You say that. Then you clog up my poor ship's vents with fuzz."

"Chewbacca and I are getting our own ship," Leia announces, without opening her eyes. "Shag carpet. Better than the expensive Myrnian pelts in the Imperial core."

The warm body against her stiffens. She cracks an eye open to catch her guilty lover with the auto-power hand vacuum hovering over their pillows.

"It gets in my mouth," Han says, apologetic. He's mostly unclothed. Right -- last night. One cycle in the Ewok huts with drunk rebels and drying meat next door was more than enough for them. Anyway, Leia has been processing, and she doesn't like doing that in public. She pushes herself into a sitting position.

"Han," she says, realizing. "You ass, you called Chewie in here while I'm lying in this bunk without any --"

"He's outside," Han interrupts, rolling his eyes. "Relax. I reached. Cracked door. Long arms," he stretches them above his head, only preening a little, "Princess, this is the Falcon, not a royal cruiser."

Remember? Snarky little lilt to that unspoken question, but Leia concedes it's a fair one. So much has happened over the last forty-eight hours that she's having a hard time keeping track of everything in her head. She pushes two hands against her bare back in a stretch and shoves her feet out against the cramped bunk's wall. Of course she remembers now: his shithole ship. That she practically lived in for six months. Looking for him.

Kriff, Leia did not expect to feel this maddeningly vulnerable seconds after awakening. She thought she'd paid her dues, that night Luke dashed off to confront (defend? redeem? protect?) Vader and she had to ask Han to hold her. Next morning, when Luke came to her pale faced and quietly devastated, and she couldn't bring herself to hold him. Eight hours ago when she started crying all tangled up on the bunk after Han slumped sweaty on top of her and she suddenly felt every emotion she's ever had in entire duration of her lifetime at once.

Maybe it's the Force. After all, she's related to -- fingers clenching -- Luke, isn't she?

She watches Han suck up all her hair into his little vacuum and shut the thing off, inspecting it.

"Half of that is Chewie's," she says.

He puts it aside, then puts his elbows on his knees. Han's all elbows and knees sometimes. He's also putting on quite a show, sitting like that. Leia wrinkles her nose at him.

"Jeez, Leia," he says, kind of laughing, which means he's not yet back to normal enough to not feel a little bit insecure -- now she feels bad. Kriff, again.

At least the Emperor's dead. Leia thinks she's going to be using that one as a standby comfort whenever she feels like Bantha shit for -- oh, decades to come, probably.

"You sound like Luke," she says, without thinking. Then she kisses his cheek -- zor fruit branch, if you will. Leia's a trained diplomat.

"Saw him, earlier."

"Dressed like this?"

"I dressed," Han says, wry but patient. "I woke up. Went out. Saw him. Came back."

"Stripped," Leia offers. "For what? Effect?"

"You feel good," Han says. "Your skin's real soft. I missed you."

It's a touch more sincere than she can deal with, right now, but also just the right amount of sincere, and she really wants to kiss him again, but they're talking about Luke -- who she needs to see, and comfort, because he's Luke and he's her Luke and he's their Luke and he's her brother -- anyway, kriff, Leia thinks. Third time's the charm.

At least the karking Emperor's dead.

"He's okay," Han tells her. He's lost weight. She had that thought when he was first getting his eyesight back and has it again now. Another reminder of that six months. Remember? Leia wrinkles her nose a second time -- "Well, no he's not. But," Han waves a hand, "the way you are."

"I," Leia says, "am not okay."

The Emperor. Dead.

Luke's father. Dead.

Leia stares down at her own naked legs.

"Alright," Han says, eyebrows raised like he is almost impressed and probably a little bit worried at the ease of this admission. Leia brushes a bit of hair out of her face impatiently. The two braids she's got her hair in, the style she always wears to bed, hang heavy down her bare back. Alert the holonet, she thinks. Only took her three years to admit.

"You made me all sore," she accuses him.

"You weren't complaining. Just made a lotta bossy commands. Hey, Leia," She can't believe he's been vacuuming up her hair when she isn't looking -- it shouldn't feel embarrassing, and it's not, but it's -- silly. That's what Leia thinks. The kind of domestic nonsense that one can and should laugh at. Since Bespin ...? "I'm serious, you can't just avoid him."

She focuses. Glares.

"I am not avoiding my brother."

Again, Han is impressed, this time by her very pointed word choice. Still a touch too mystified by the revelation -- Force, Leia thinks, it should've been so obvious, down to the twin ropes of hair down her back -- but, "Fine. In that case, we shower, I finish vacuuming, and you go find him."

She'll have to dodge Command on her way. Maybe Wicket can help her.

"I'm not talking about -- it," Leia says. Him could be too many people, Luke included. It is sufficiently broad, and sufficiently disparaging, and sufficiently avoidant.

Han only twirls two fingers around braid on the left, tugging at it with his clever spacer's fingers. He's always been unnaturally fascinated when her hair's unbound. The expression on his face says you don't have to talk to Luke about his father and the heat of his body says I wanna make you sore again and the gently pull of his fingers says I love you.

Leia knows all of that. Mostly.

"Okay," she says. "Alright."

With perfect timing, Chewbacca roars outside the cabin door: Lando kriffed the coolant system by turning the steer too hard, like I told him not to do. We have a bad leak, Han. It is getting everywhere. Into the mainframe wiring.

"Kriff," Han says it this time, loud and with gusto.

It will get worst if you spend all day in the Princess's mane.

"I told him to go easy on her," Han moans, abandoning her and getting up almost on autopilot to tug his pants on. "Don't worry, girl. We'll fix you up."

Leia rolls her eyes, but pats the claustrophobic hull of their beloved junk pile consolingly anyway.

"I don't have a mane," she says, just to be difficult. Luke, she thinks. Her twelve hours of hiding have proved counterproductive; she kind of really misses him. Han throws her a look and a scoundrel grin over his shoulder.

"Your Shyrriwook's still a little rusty, sweetheart. Chewie gets vulgar around family."

It's been three days. The Emperor is dead. The Falcon is just as irritatingly cramped as ever. She's used to being someone's princess, someone's commanding officer, someone's fighter, someone's daughter and -- recently -- someone's lover.

Time to face day one as a sister. In spite of herself, Leia smiles.

[lazyjellyfishcreation]

part two of a Witcher! jaskier post from a while ago

this is part two of this au: https://www.tumblr.com/lazyjellyfishcreation/754661152979566592/my-thoughts-on-witcherjaskier

One (1) person has asked me questions about this, so I'm about to expand on this. ( @kezikatescribbling )

So!

Julek becomes grandmaster, takes his son, stops being grandmaster (guxart takes over, it's popular vote) and fucks right off. He no longer goes there. He does not return to the caravan. He raises Aiden for the rest and is verry happy bc he's no longer hunted.

Eventually, Aiden grows up and starts walking the path more or less on his own. (they still walk together often, but also seperate more and more as time goes on) Note that Aiden does not, and never has, taken human contracts. Julek has and will continue to do so. Julek has no problems killing people, as long as the people are bad and he's getting paid. (Yet he never shames Aiden for not wanting to do the same. He's honestly kind of proud of his son's self restraint and moral code.)

years go by. The tournament happens, Julek and Aiden are across the country when it does. When they get the news, it's the first time in a long time Julek cries. 4 of his 7 remaining littermates died that day.

Sure, Julek would have happily killed them himself for their treason if he were there, but they were still his siblings. He still grieves them. (As does he grief the remaining 4 when Guxart and the grandmaster Wolf hunt down the traitorous cats, whom the 4 were part of.)

In the end, he's just glad Aiden wasn't there when it happened. He couldn't imagine what would have happened, what he would have done if his boy was in that fight.

Nonetheless, time goes on, years pass. Aiden grows up. They start meeting less and less, only once or twice a year now, where they walk to path together and catch up for a couple of weeks before splitting again. But that's okay. Aiden's a man now, he's grown. (He will always be Julek's baby, no matter how tall, strong or old he gets).

After 60-70 years of this, Julek starts noticing that his boy faintly smells of wolf in one of their bi-anual meetups. He smells of wolf and honey and fresh bread and... and oh melitele's tits his dumbass son has gone and fallen in love with a fucking wolf, hasn't he? Goddamn it Aiden, he's taught him better then this.

But Aiden seems so sweet on him, and apparently they usually split some weeks before Aiden and Julek meet up so that Aiden doesn't smell like wolf anymore by the time they get to their meeting spot, but he got careless this time. Apparently, this has been going on for about a decade at least. Julek is sceptical, but his boy seems so happy and in love.

He is happy. Aiden is happy. being a witcher is hard, after the tournament, being a cat even more so, but they have eachother and Aiden has his wolf (that he won't shut up about) and it's good. He sometimes sees Guxart, just to see how it goes. He's always met with the same joke of 'I may be a grandmaster, but don't kill me yet.'

And then a duo hunt goes wrong.

They're high in the mountains. treacherous terrain.

It was a stupid decision to take this contract. Cats don't do well in snow.

But two witchers are hard to feed, so they take what they can get hunting together.

The monster flings Aiden against a rock. (it's not bad, not for a witcher, but aiden spends a few precious miliseconds getting up and back)

Julek kills the monster, but the monster falls and the ledge he was standing on cracks and breaks and then he's falling.

Falling falling falling.

they were so high up in the mountains. not even a witcher could survive this.

Yet still, Aiden searches for his masters, and fahters, body. He can't find him. But the wild is wide and the wind is so strong it carries away what little smell the cold air carries.

Julek dies and Aiden gets sloppy.

A contract goes wrong.

He should have seen this coming.

His father taught him better then this.

His father taught him better then to walk into traps.

His father is dead, and soon he will be too.

Aiden could fight them. He was trained and raised and was now on par to one of the best swordsmen that ever lived. Even against 3 witchers, he stood a chanse of at least getting away.

Aiden didn't fight them.

Aiden hangs his head and doesn't protest as they shackle him and take him away.

He couldn't save his father, what right does he have to save himself.

(His father would be so disapointed in him, Aiden could almost smell it, but he can't. Julek is dead. God, he wishes he could smell his fathers disappointment again. It would mean he was alive.)

Aiden doesn't die.

His wolf comes for him. His beautifull, strong, angry wolf comes and saves him. Aiden smells like grief and pain and agony and Lambert takes him to kear moren to heal. What else is he supposed to do? Lambert doens't have a stellar relationship with Vesemir, but if he lost the old wolf... He doesn't know what he would do...

He doesn't tell them. Not at first. All the wolves (and one lone gryffin) know is that he's Lambets cat, and he's in pain. He tells them eventually. The wolves are talking in the dining hall. The topic of the legendary Julek comes up.

Vesemir mentions that if anyone ever took any of his pups away, he'd kill the fucker. Aiden almost sees red from anger. He tells them. And he tells them that they don't know what the fuck they are talking about (i really wanna write this scene)

But now the wolves know.

And information travels fast after that.

The rest of the witchers know in no time.

Julek, Kin killer, Grandmaster Slayer, kit stealer (because nobody ever realized that he saved Aiden instead is stealing him) is dead.

He is dead.

~

Julek is alive and he is cold as fuck. Everything is awful and all his bones hurt holy shit.

It takes him weeks to somehow claw his way out of the hole made of ice he fell into, surviving of snow hares and frozen roots.

Allas, he's too late. When he comes back to the land of the living to tell his son that he's alive. he's too late.

All he finds is a farmer that tells him what happened. He shows him the fake job listing, covered in blood, aiden's blood. He even told him about the other witcher (the wolf, Aiden's wolf was here) that wept in to his dead friends armor and swore revenge.

And just like that, only weeks before having died, Julek wishes he was dead again.

He couldn't do the one thing he had ever done right.

He couldn't save his son.

And now his boy is dead. His boy, his baby boy, whom he had raised and taught and cherished. Whom mean the whole entire world to him, was gone.

After days and days of grief and tearing himself apart, he realizes that he has a choise to make.

he crawls into a hole of alcohol until he finds himself dead in a ditch

he goes back to the caravan and becomes the monster everyone thinks he is, because a wold without his son is undeserving of his selfrestriant and he's about to go on a cat-madness fuled rampage

he becomes the man Aiden always belived him to be

he can remember it so well. The song and music he had taught his precious boy after he regained his ears. At first, his sensetive ears could only handle the faintest of sound, just the rumbeling purring of his chest. then humming. then words, then rymes and sentnches and conversation. and then music. Aiden, apparently, loved music. and he had missed it so so much after going deaf.

So, Julek spend Aidens entire childhood teaching himself as many songs as possible, he even picked up a lute (read: stole) and started composing his own songs for his boy. He was bad at it, but he enjoyed it as much as Aiden did and he had gotten better fast. Now, after 70 odd years of practice, he knew his instrument better then any (except it was gone now)

When he was still little, Aiden had always told him with childlike wonder that if Julek hadn't been a witcher, he surely would have been a bard with a voice that pretty.

He wasn't a bard then. But now. maybe now, now that his boy was gone, he had to live out that part. For Aiden if not himself. Because the path without his son wasn't worth walking. He had to be what he son thought him to be, or he would not be at all.

There was a witch that owed him a favor. She was powerful, but had been plagued with a creature that hunted her wherever she went. her spells did nothing, but his swords had. He had killed it but she had nothing to give him, so she gave him a boon.

And now it was time to collect.

The glamour was intracate. A golden stone sat between his colarbones with twine woven around them, and tread knotted in intracate paterns wraped around his neck to faster the stone to him. And just like that, his eyes were blue. Just like that his scars were gone and his scent lost it'd distinct Witchery tang.

But all that gives, takes as much. Julek couldn't sighn spells anymore, and his sences were reduced. Not as much as normal human senses, he was still better at seeing, smelling and hearing then people were, but he still felt deaf and blind with it.

And do, Julek was dead Jaskier was born.

Both witcher and bard grieved on other ends of the continent. thinking that they would never see the other again. Both thinking that they were to blame for the other's death. Both unable to forgive themselves.

Both were alive.

Neither of them knew it

EDIT: here's the link to the series!

https://archiveofourown.org/series/4746067

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

Susceptible - Jack Delroy/Reader

Warnings: Fully clothed grinding, very slight dirty talk, very light exhibitionism in a sense, no use of Y/N, female-hinted reader because of skirt/makeup mentions but other than that there's no real gender mention.

Wordcount: 4950

Summary: You spent a small fortune getting a ticket to Carmichael Haig's show on the promise of his new act showing his audience something the world has never seen before, as well as the possible attendance of one Jack Delroy, but will two hours of bullshit be worth the risk?

Notes: There is SO MUCH BUILDUP I'm so sorry I'm so weak for worldbuilding and plot I swear the other one I have planned will be shorter OTL I have never written a reader before but I am a huge fan of them, especially the DDverse ones I've been binging oop, so I hope this is a good first attempt! It's been a few years since I've written anything like this and probably a good decade or so since I last posted anything, so here's hoping I post more in the upcoming future~ This is also completely unbetaed so if you see any mistakes please let me know <3 The Manhattan Center is also real but didn't fit my needs entirely so I mashed it together with the theatre I went to as a kid lol

~~~~~~~~~~

Carmichael Haig was back in town and you had no idea why you were here. 

He had left for what felt like both forever and not nearly long enough for a few months to do his tour, seeing his smug face everywhere you looked between both digital and paper news and making your distaste grow a little more each time. You had been fond of his trickery for a time, but his move from magic man to skeptic had sucked all the fun out of the act, his determination to not only find the real but humiliate the fakes way past annoying to straight up sickening to you by this point. Tonight’s show proved to be another big presentation of the latter you’d decided when it’d been announced officially, promoted by your favourite talk show host - and current celebrity crush - Jack Delroy; his smile was wide for the cameras but it didn’t reach his eyes, you could always tell between them by now and he did not seem to be as pleased as the two talked about it that night.

‘I’m going to show the world something they’ve never seen before,’ Carmichael had said, his usual smug look in place as he hammed it up for the cameras like he could really pull that off, Jack running with it like the patron saint of patience he had to be.

‘Big talk, you sure I can’t convince you to give our wonderful audience a taste tonight?’ he asked, the crowd cheering at the mere thought of getting to experience his new act an entire month early, but if there was even an iota of temptation within him to share he hid it perfectly. He waved the offer away to everyone’s disappointment, Jack pouting on everyone’s behalf and putting those big eyes on display as his own plea; the ratings, you imagined, would be wonderful for a segment like this when his show was already starting to slip down the line, but even that was no use.

‘You’ll all get a chance to see it on the 13th,’ he promised them as he turned to face the audience, the place and date scrolling across the bottom of the screen yet again, they’d been flashing it every single time it was mentioned to the point where you were sure you’d see it in your sleep tonight, rolling across the bottom half of your dream. ‘Or, those of you who’ve been able to get your tickets will, we’re selling out fast,’ he smirked with a tip of his glass, yet another thing that’d been brought up and hammered home; you’d gone to the Manhattan Center to check a couple days ago, just out of curiosity, the ticket price absolutely ridiculous to the point that you were convinced they’d never sell out, but now you guessed your distaste of him wasn’t as widespread as you’d secretly hoped.

Jack slapped his leg in mock disappointment, Carmichael looking back to him at the sound. ‘Guess you’ll have to tell me all about it the next time you’re back in town, I had asked Gus to pick one up for me but it seems he missed that call,’ he joked, Gus’ surprise at the blame of his absence being placed on him getting a big laugh as his face fell and he tried to explain himself. 

Carmichael placed an understanding hand on Jack’s shoulder and leaned in closer, the other man leaning in in return as if to receive some kind of secret. ‘Well then, it’s a good thing my date canceled on me,’ he retorted, and when he pulled his hand back he revealed a ticket, Jack’s eyes going wide as he accepted the gift with a big smile, pointing to it before shaking Carmichael’s hand with a thanks.

Ah, so that was why you were here again.

You knew you’d never be able to get a seat on Night Owls because the thought of Jack seeing you in the crowd made you blush all the way to your shoulders, even on your bravest of nights you hadn’t been able to even call and see if there were any tickets left, but to maybe share an audience with him? To sit in the same room as him where you could steal glances if you were able to find him, with no risk whatsoever of him catching the way your eyes lit up when you looked at that handsome face, that dangerously attractive body? That was doable. 

It had cost an arm and a leg to convince that scalper to hand over one of the tickets he was parading around outside the Center, but it was worth it as you stepped inside, your heart racing because, unless he wanted to risk the aftermath of Carmichael calling him out for not going, he was here; somewhere in this building was the man you’d been dreaming about since his debut a few years ago, the one you watched nearly every night without fail just for that hour where he looked at you, talked to you, noticed you even if it was through a camera, and that was all you’d needed until tonight.

You’d gotten a pretty shitty seat despite the price but you didn’t mind, it actually worked out for you considering you weren’t actually there to see the show but to look for someone in the seats in front of you, and you hoped that you’d be able to spot him from where you were in the far back corner. As long as he wasn’t, say, the exact opposite of you then you probably stood a chance of at least a glance, since his ticket came from Carmichael himself you guessed that it was probably close to the front if not front row center just to mess with him and prove that he’d come, and you felt all the hair rise on your arms and neck when Carmichael walked on stage early to very loudly greet someone who’d just walked in.

There he was, leaving his seat to meet the other man in the middle, and he was so much further than you expected but it was still him, big smile in place, hair perfectly combed, his crisp suit being wrinkled by Carmichael’s hands as he gave him a showy hug, and he was beautiful. You froze in the middle of the row, unable to finish the walk as your eyes stayed on him, the people trying to get by you not as starstruck as they attempted to squeeze past when you ignored their presence.

‘Sorry,’ you murmured as you sat as fast as you could, eyes still trained on him as he waved to the crowd to prove that yes, he did honour the gift and was there to see this big new act he’d been promised. You let out an embarrassingly needy whine when he sat back down and you became unable to see him again, the mass of bodies behind him obscuring all but a sliver of the back of his head from this angle, and you’d be damned if you had to spend the next 2 hours stuck like this at a Carmichael Haig show of all things. The person at the end of the row finally arrived and you made your move, hurrying down and taking one last glance before getting ready to make this whole thing a little more bearable. ‘Excuse me,’ you nearly stuttered as the person, a man older than yourself who definitely gave off the air of being a Carmichael fan, looked up at you, ‘would you want to trade seats with me? I was really looking forward to the show but I was too late to grab an aisle seat.’

It’s a blatant lie but the quick glance from before proved that you could see him better from there, and the chance of getting to look at him for the next two hours was worth the look the man gave you at the request.

‘Which one are you?’ he asked, looking down to the few empty spaces still waiting for their owners, and you pulled out your ticket to double check, seeing that it was R51; wow, you didn’t realize how far away R was from A until you saw it firsthand. He looked back down to your seat and considered it, looking you over midthought when he thought you weren’t looking, and he almost got away with it if not for the fact that you felt his eyes on you. ‘$100,’ he decided, the offer knocking the wind right out of you.

‘What? The seat was already $350,’ you choke, giving away the fact that you were really, really late to the party.

‘Take it or leave it, I had the sense to order on time,’ is all he says to that, and you looked back at your possible view before sighing heavily and reaching for your wallet; goddamnit, Jack, if only he knew how worth it he was. You hand over the money and step aside, the man pocketing his fee and leaving the seat for you as promised, and the view is just barely better but there he is again, perfectly in view due to what can only be a miracle, the hole in your wallet feeling a little less big as you watched him turn his head to talk to someone, giving you a perfect side view.

He really was handsome, captivating even from this distance, and you swoon a little as the audience finished filling out, the lights dimming and obscuring your view a little more save the grace of the stage lights that illuminate him from the front as Carmichael walked back out on stage and started the show. You’d never been one for spacing out but you couldn’t take your eyes off him, the $450 price tag of this shitty aisle seat all for him and not feeling so bad even as Carmichael charms everyone around you. He didn’t look to the side that often, you guessed he didn’t actually know his neighbour since the seat was a gift, but the times that he did, where he laughed or sighed at the theatrics or even put his face in his hand because he wasn’t having too much fun, were all cataloged away in your head forever, the perfect souvenirs to last you a lifetime of home viewing after this. 

At about an hour in according to your old watch, Jack looked about ready to get up and find any reason to leave, which you couldn’t blame him for, the acts themselves were pretty damn good you realized in the times you actually paid attention, but it was getting so tiring to see Carmichael explain away all of their tricks, to see the joy leave their faces at being called a fraud or having all their mysteries revealed, and it was clear Jack felt the same down in row A. After a particularly rough walk-off from a woman who was trying very desperately to convince Carmichael that she could really read his mind and ending up with the humiliating reality that everything he answered to was false to get her to out herself, you noticed that when you looked back to his seat that Jack isn’t there, and you were in the middle of wondering where he went when the person coming up the aisle came into view so suddenly that it took your breath away.

It was Jack, his brow twitching slightly to keep a neutral face, his footsteps heavy as he tried not to stomp and draw attention to the fact that that last one really pissed him off, his hands already reaching into his suit pocket for something. You tried not to stare the closer he got but it was hard, years of being able to look all you want training your brain to look look look as he approached, and you forced yourself to stare straight ahead at the stage as he reached you. Your hands were clenched tight in your lap as he went to pass row R, and you were in the middle of thinking you were going to make it when he fumbled the small box in his pocket and dropped it with a low curse, the cigarettes he apparently smoked bouncing to the side and coming to a stop between your recently shined shoes.

Your head snapped down so fast you felt it in your neck as he came to a stop beside you, the two of you locating the box at the same time, and you stiffened as he reached for it before realizing how rude that would be despite his own sour mood. ‘I’m sorry, could I bother you for a second,’ he asked, his smile back in place despite being a bit tense, and you stuttered out a confirmation as you leaned down to pick them up.

‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ you blurted out before you could stop yourself, Jack’s hand frozen in midair as he reached for the box, his smile relaxing a little as he looked from your hand to your face.

‘Did I find myself a Night Owl in this sea of skeptics?’ he wondered aloud, your cheeks brightening in a way that really made you pray it was dark enough not to notice. 

‘I wanted to see what all the fuss was about,’ you lie, and he crouched down so he could hear your whispers as the crowd reacted to the next act.

‘I take it you’re also not very impressed,’ he figured, hitting the nail on the head based on your expression alone. He chuckled at your silent confirmation and looked back down to the cigarettes, his fingertips just barely touching yours as you both held it, you didn’t even know when he’d grabbed it and you let go before it got awkward, but he didn’t seem to notice. ‘Well, if you don’t tell my producer that I’m smoking again, then I won’t tell Haig that you didn’t like his show, deal?’

You sucked in a breath as he moved the box to his left hand, offering up his right for a handshake this time to seal the deal, your heart pounding as you shook on it, his smile more genuine than you’d seen all night, you could always tell. He stood back up as the act finished and Carmichael went back to his disproving, his mood dropping again as his need to escape rearose. You both offered a look of disdain at the stage before he stood back up to move again, something stopping him midstep before he turned on his heel and leaned back down to you, a shiver running down your spine at how close he was so he could be heard.

‘Have you ever been to one of my shows?’ he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice, his warm breath accidentally hitting your neck and rendering you unable to do anything but glance at him and shake your head no. ‘You’d have a much better time, I’ve got some great stuff coming up,’ he pitched, either completely unaware of your predicament or just used to people acting like this around him, either way he didn’t react when your eyes couldn’t help but flicker down to watch him lick his lips so fast you almost missed it. ‘The next one’s already booked up but if you go down to the studio and give them this card, you should be able to get a spot for a night you’re free, I'd like to see you there.’

He pulled out his wallet and grabbed a business card, flipping it around to the blank side on the back before resting it on the arm of the chair. A pen was found next, and he scribbled a quick note to the ticket seller on it on your behalf, signing it and handing it over with that big showman smile of his. You took it and placed it in your own wallet, the previous hole instantly filled with its presence, his mood clearly raised by the interaction as he wished you a quick goodbye and resumed his journey outside, oblivious to the fact that you were about to disrupt the entire theater if you didn’t find a place to scream and fast. 

You gave him a few minutes to reach the doors before jumping to your feet and making for the bathroom, your heels clickclacking on the tile the entire way until you found the correct door. The place was empty, which was great because once you caught sight of yourself you knew that it was bad enough he saw you this way, no one else should get the pleasure; your face was redder than you’d ever seen it, your pupils blown from the exchange and you could’ve sworn you could actually see yourself shaking you were buzzing so hard, your grin so wide anyone else would’ve assumed that Santa had just given you the toy you’d always wanted for Christmas early. 

You tried to calm yourself as you ripped off some paper towels and dampened them, patting them against your cheeks and neck to bring your body temperature back down to a normal person’s, carefully avoiding your makeup that you were thankful you spent the time putting on just on the ultra rare off chance you’d run into him. When you were ready to go back - and after a quick internal debate on whether you should try and meet him outside for another, less hushed conversation already - you made sure to calm your breathing before heading back out there, taking a quick moment to look for him before making the trek back to your seat. 

When you got back you noticed that no new act was on, Carmichael already talking to the audience and projecting himself up on the screens for all to see, you rolling your eyes as you collapsed into the rich red velvet and preparing for more of his bullshit until Jack returned, if he felt like it that was. Everyone around you was concentrating on his words, staring right ahead as the theater fell silent save for his voice and the sound of a ticking clock; ah, he was trying to hypnotize everyone, that must’ve been his big final act that he’d promised his audience. You weren’t impressed, you’d tried to be hypnotized before at a party in your youth, it hadn’t worked then so it wasn’t going to work now you knew, so you sat back and prepared to at least enjoy whatever he was going to make the audience do.

Your thoughts went back to Jack as Carmichael’s voice slowly got drowned out, the ticking a bit louder in your ears despite the distance, but you didn’t mind because it was nonsense anyway, ‘Now who’s the skeptic,’ you think to yourself as you sink deeper into your chair. You vaguely heard the words, ‘Your greatest desire,’ in your ear before you felt a hand on your shoulder, your eyes leaving the stage to travel up until you saw Jack standing just behind you in the aisle, his smile from before now more like a smirk as he motioned towards the doors like he wanted you to follow him. 

You looked back at the stage as Carmichael invited someone from the audience up to stand with him, some poor hypnotized fool who was bound to be humiliated along with everyone else who stood with him tonight, and you decided that you’d rather not see that again before standing and following Jack. There was a small hallway between the theater and the doors on that side of the back wall, the two of you out of view from everyone else but Carmichael’s voice still reaching, and you were about to wonder if he was leading you outside to just leave or talk when he turned and pushed you against the wall with a muffled thud. Your back met cold paint as your chest met with his, your eyes locking as he cornered you where no one could see, a confidence he saved for the cameras now focused solely on you as he looked you over the same way you’d done to him a thousand times over. 

‘I couldn’t wait for you to come to my show,’ he whispered, his voice impossibly low as he held you in place, a knee parting yours and making you gasp, ‘you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’

‘You’re just telling me what I wanna hear,’ you managed to get out, his eyes closing as he leaned in to grin against your cheek.

‘Is it working?’

You didn’t dare answer but you might as well have because your silence was enough to spur him into action, your head falling back against the wall as he started to kiss your neck, your hands grasping at anything because this was crazy. The man you’d wanted for years was kissing you not even 30ft away from a room full of people, anyone could come around the corner at any second and catch you, and you bit your lip at the thrill of it all. You’d had dreams like this before, ones that left you panting into your pillow when you awoke, but the real thing was so much better as he sucked a mark into your soft skin, your hand leaving his arm to cover your mouth lest you alert anyone within hearing distance to your current predicament.

You let him do as he pleased, let him ran his hands over your sides and down to the edge of where your lifted skirt was resting against his thigh, your legs shaking as your body tried not to grind against him; it was only due to him holding you that kept you standing as a matter of fact and he seemed fully aware of it as his nails scratched softly against your bare leg. He seemed to love all your reactions to what he did, he was in the entertainment business after all, every noise of approval that slipped through your fingers must’ve been like music to his ears but you had to hold back no matter how much you wanted to indulge him. Being denied what he wanted only made him work harder for it, the assault on your neck moving to your shoulder and collarbone instead of your covered lips, your mouth watering for just a taste as he started to move against you, one hand pulling your waist away from the wall by your lower back as the other moved up and under your skirt.

The first grind of his body against yours was decadent, you swore you could feel it in your soul the way he wanted you just as much as you’d wanted him, like he’d been watching you back through the screen for years and also craved this very moment, and now that he was getting it he wasn’t going to stop, you didn’t want him to stop. You’d never seen him act anything like this before in all his years on TV, a greedy flash of excitement running through you at getting to see such a new side of him quickly overcome by pleasure as he cupped your ass and pulled you even closer. You knew you couldn’t get undressed here, if you’d made it to the bathroom then maybe he’d be doing more but he hadn’t lasted even that long, but even with that desire being restrained you still wanted him here and now. Never in your life had you been this desperate for release but he was bringing out a demon inside of you that desired and needed and wanted so much that you were willing to throw your modesty out the fucking window for just a second of his hot skin pressed against your own, but this would have to do while the show still went on.

‘Jack…’ you moaned as your hand, moist from your panting, gripped his arm once again, Carmichael’s voice getting louder in the distance as you grew closer to your release.

‘Come home with me,’ he begged into your ear, his movements getting rougher as he also grew close, you knew you’d both have to leave before everyone saw you but it was worth it, god it was so worth it. ‘I want to have you all to myself, I need to taste you-’

You bit your lip and led his face away from your neck so you could look into his eyes, his mouth parted as he tried to control his own panting, he was coming apart at the seams for you right here in the hallway, the ticking in your ears either your heartbeat or a clock far away. You moaned his name again as you felt the heat build in your stomach, your back arching and pushing your body into him even more as the door to your right opened.

‘Dreamer, here, awake!’

All at once your knees gave out and you collapsed to the floor before that final wave could push you over the edge, your head heavy and your vision swimming as the body against yours vanished into nothing. ‘Are you okay? What happened?’ Jack’s voice from above asked as his worried expression came into view, the smell of rain and cigarette smoke invading your senses; the sound of the audience in a similar state of confusion drifted around the corner as Jack crouched down next to you, just back inside from his break from the show, the realization that you weren’t as immune to hypnosis as you’d thought hitting you like a bucket of cold water. You just panted in shock, surprise, and waning lust as Jack looked you over in concern, your hands moving to pull the bottom of your skirt down to cover your exposed legs in embarrassment, the scratches you were so certain he’d left behind not there, because he hadn’t been there.

‘I’m fine,’ you force yourself to say after you’d caught your breath, Jack believing you but still helping you to your feet like a gentleman, of course he would never act that way, that was only how you’d wanted him to act, you’d had dreams like that for god’s sake, the real Jack would never-

‘Is the show over?’ he asked as the roar of people applauding overtook the chatter, Carmichael now silent, and you avoided his eye as you started to edge towards the way out.

‘I think so.’

‘What was the big mind-blowing act?’

You put a little distance between yourself and him but he didn’t notice, Jack heading for the corner so he could look at the stage as he waited for your reply. ‘He hypnotized everyone,’ you answered curtly, his reaction big and full of surprise as he looked over the size of the crowd in an awe that wasn’t present for the first hour and a half.

‘Everyone? You should’ve come found me, I would’ve loved to see that.’ He was still looking at the room beyond, your eyes on him as he watched everyone else.

‘I got a little overwhelmed,’ you mumble, and he finally looked at you with that same concerned expression again, and it’s too much after what you’d just thought you’d seen, your eyes finding the floor.

‘What did he make you see?’ he asked, his curiosity quiet but still there under the concern, but you couldn’t answer him. ‘Do you need a ride home, or are you okay to drive?’

He’s too kind, he would never act that way, he would never say that to you.

‘I took a cab, I’ll be fine,’ you tried to say, but still you quickly found yourself being led to the front door as the audience swarmed around you, his hand on your back to make sure you stayed standing, a true gentleman. It had started raining while you were inside which explained the scent pairing with the smoke that covered up his cologne, and you just stood under the marquee as he hailed a cab for you as the sea of skeptics washed around you like rushing water. You hopped inside but he didn’t shut the door right away, leaning down in the rain once you were seated, and for a moment you wondered if he was going to get in when he spoke.

‘I do hope you come to my show, preferably Friday’s, it’s gunna be a good one, I promise,’ he said with that big genuine smile again, your heart pounding as your cheeks glowed red for a reason other than embarrassment as you gave him a small nod.

‘I’ll be there,’ you promised back, and he tapped the roof of the cab before shutting the door and letting you go. You looked out the back window as you drove away, the both of you waving as he ducked back inside and out of the rain, and as soon as you turned back around to face forward you found yourself reaching for your wallet. His card was in your hands as you looked it over, all in all it was an uninspiring, plain business card, and you flipped it over to read what he wrote for the ticketmaster on the back.

Wait for me by the back entrance at 11:00 Phil will let you in JD

Your cheeks turned red again as you put the card away, the cab driver giving you a look in the rearview mirror as you held your nearly empty wallet, now with one business card, to your thumping chest. Oh yeah, it definitely was all worth it after all.

[skyfallscotland]

A year ago today, I posted the first chapter on AO3 of a story called Fury.

A few months before that, I'd picked up A Court of Thorns & Roses. It was the first original work I'd read in years and when I finished Silver Flames a week later, I turned back to AO3, desperate to read more about these characters I'd fallen in love with. I couldn't find what I wanted. Feysand fic was all well and good, but there wasn't much of that, and Azriel didn't appeal to me, which ruled out...well, most of the archive.

Original character fic gets a bad rap and that's mostly because OC fic can often be an author's first foray into fandom and writing in general, making the quality hit and miss, but that's what I really wanted in the end—I wanted to read about other characters in this world and I wanted to flesh out the world itself. I had questions about Windhaven, about siphons and magic and all the things that had been mentioned and glossed over. I couldn't find fic that answered those questions. So I wrote one.

I'd written before, basically my whole life, but never finished anything. This time though, it was like something clicked in my brain. I wasn't back on Tumblr yet and I had no one to talk to about it, but I wrote and wrote and wrote. I'd been writing for months, in secret, not telling a single soul. I'd completely written both Fury and Siren, the second in the series, before ever posting a word of it.

I almost didn't write it, really. Almost didn't post it. I figured no one was going to read it with the way people look down on original character fic. But I felt compelled to write their stories, so I did—night after night. I actually think they might be the best stories I've ever written. The statistics don't reflect that, but I didn't have a storyline to follow, a framework to back me up, like I did later with Remi's Version, just a world and some characters and I'm very proud of them.

Remi's Version came after. I'd started writing it by September, but didn't start posting it until late October (that anniversary is next week) and I almost didn't write that either, because I thought maybe it was too much, too self-indulgent, too unbalanced. It's funny to think now, that I almost never wrote her at all.

I don't know why I'm writing this essay. Maybe just because it feels...some kind of way, you know? It's been a year, but that year felt like a decade, and it's been hard. Picking up ACOTAR was an act of self-preservation when I was at my lowest and Fury and Siren and everything that came after pulled me from somewhere I never want to be again.

It's been a year. My word count on AO3 is now 1,088,097. (That's like, twelve novels!). I've published 11 works. I've written a lot, I've laughed and cried and made friends with so many of you. I'm alive.

I guess I just wanted to say thanks, and to mark the milestone somehow because it feels like I've lived ten lives since October 17th, and in all of them, this was the high point. Happy Birthday, Tessa 🖤

[wrengrif]

It's Thought Time again

So I've been rolling over this in various posts and reblogs, and I'm finally going to pin down my thoughts and write them here. Some might call this my 'Aziraphale Defense Post', but that's not accurate.

This is my William James take - meaning, everyone's reality is different due to perspective. What is true to me is not going to be true to you, 100% of the time. However, there is a facet of truth in everything we do believe, because we wholeheartedly believe it. That gives us a rainbow of truths from one opinion, each in their own radiant color.

So here's what I believe to be true. 6000 years ago, Heaven and Hell, on two completely different missions, sent the angel and the demon they found the most annoying to Earth. Not the weakest, not the most problematic (not yet anyways), but the ones they all collectively rolled their eyes at. Crowley was too flash. Aziraphale was too soft.

So God plopped Aziraphale in Eden, told him to protect the humans and not let them eat the apple tree that was sitting right there in front of them. Didn't tell him to put up a fence, or wave the flaming sword at them.

Satan booted Crowley upwards and told him to vaguely, 'start some trouble'. Vaguest of orders, no real direction in them. Crowley could have just thrown rocks at Adam and Eve and it would have counted.

We all know what happened from there. However, instead of Heaven and Hell going, 'Okay we're going to really pin down these orders now, sending more troops, let's get humanity really going' ... they basically left Aziraphale and Crowley alone in the office for 6000 years. Oh, the head offices occasionally pop up. Threaten, in their own unique ways. Mostly though, Crowley and Aziraphale were the only immortal beings on a planet filled with human mayflies.

Human mayflies that nine times out of ten would just set fire to themselves, or show greater compassion than either one of them had ever known.

Crowley and Aziraphale were all alone, except for each other. Even among humans, who they clearly understood more than their superiors -- you had to know they both stuck out. Yeah, think on that. Crowley couldn't have been the only one outcast, with his red hair and his yellow eyes. Aziraphale has the most white-blonde, curly hair in existence. Tag along with blue eyes and fair skin and come on. So at the beginning, they only ever really had each other for safe company. As they moved towards Europe, it got easier to fit in but even then you know people were still giving them the side-eye.

They were both transitory - following where-ever a mission went. Probably a home for maybe ten or so years, but then they'd have to move on again. We talk a lot about how Crowley didn't have a physical home until the creation of the bookshop.

That means neither did Aziraphale.

So what happened? They became home to one another. A touchstone in the centuries that passed. Aziraphale never rejected being approached by Crowley, despite being a demon, and Crowley never held Heaven's stupid missions again Aziraphale, so they kept coming together. Over and over again. Think of Rome. Aziraphale is so happy to see Crowley, and it's only been a few decades. Crowley's mood improves the longer the conversation goes on, letting down his defenses, relaxing enough to smirk.

The Arrangement, thought of by Crowley, agreed to by Aziraphale, despite the dangers they both knew they would face, because at least it meant they could see each other without having to make an excuse or just 'happen to be in the area'. Now they could meet up at theatres or in graveyards. They had to be careful - they always, always had to be careful - or the other one could be hurt.

It is the worst thing that can happen to either one of them, if the other one is hurt, or worse, killed. Remember Aziraphale's face in the graveyard, that look of sheer horror when he realizes Hell has taken Crowley.

Remember Crowley yelling as he runs into a burning bookshop.

The bookshop and the Bentley are theirs, but they can lose those and still go on, as long as they have each other. Maybe it is co-dependent, but honestly who else can they depend on, if not each other? That's why I believe Aziraphale begged Crowley to come with him to Heaven, not because he wanted Crowley to be an angel, but because Crowley would be safe - Aziraphale's Home would be Safe. That's why he says, 'Nothing lasts forever'. No Thing.

Crowley is not a Thing, to Aziraphale. Crowley is Aziraphale's Person. His safe place, and he's Crowley's. They both know it. It's why Aziraphale never wants to run away because he knows he's not fighting for a place called home, he's fighting for Crowley. It's why Crowley walks away and always comes back - not because he's weak but because he knows that being with Aziraphale is what matters. It's what makes life worth living.

Which is what makes the Final Fifteen so heartbreaking because they are both saying the same thing, but they're on different wavelengths. Yet, Yet ... as time has passed and I've been able to look at the Final Fifteen with some space, I see that it's not as hopeless as it seems.

Because Crowley came back. Because Aziraphale looks ready to do what he has to do. I don't think it'll be violence, because they've never solved their problems with violence and I don't think they'll start now. I just know that They're Not Talking is not going to last as long as we think, and that anger and betrayal is not going to be the first thing on their minds when they finally see one another again.

Probably going to be that kiss, though.

This why I could never say I can't forgive Aziraphale for his actions, because he did what he had to do to keep his home, his Crowley safe. I know Crowley knows that, too. How is that all going to shape up - how they're going to find themselves in balance again?

Well. I guess we'll have to wait, and see.

[elizabeethan]

Not With Haste

An Overboard Conclusion

Oh hi, where the hell did this come from? I'm wondering the same thing. in reality, @donteattheappleshook talked to me about oarfish maybe 2 years ago and I started writing something stupid. I always intended to finish it and post it for @the-darkdragonfly's birthday, but I never found it in me to complete it. Then tonight I found that stupid thing and I finished it. You never know when that funny little creativity bug might bite, I guess.

I've always wanted to write some form of conclusion for Overboard because it's one of my favorite things that I've written. I first published Overboard way back in May of 2021, and looking back, I've grown and learned a lot and there are things I would probably do differently if I started the story over again, but I can't see myself ever editing it because I love what I wrote. Would I rewrite it into a novel and really flesh out the story and the characters? A girlie can dream, never say never, you never know when the creativity bug might bite, etc.

I hope everyone here is well, I know I am for the most part, and I'll never stop being grateful for this little community that I found all those years ago. More than that, I'll never stop being grateful for the feeling of being able to come back after a time away. It's been fun to log back in to everything and pick up where I left off as if no time has passed. (It's been so long since I've done this so if the formatting is all messed up, I'm really sorry, but I barely knew what I was doing.)

Long story short, this story is finally complete. It's barely edited and it's not beta'd, so thank you for giving it a chance.

Rated T I think

~2300 words

Read on Ao3

Read my Other Stuff

~~~~

Even after sixteen years of marriage, Killian often finds himself wondering what on earth could possibly be going through his wife’s head. 

  The thoughts of wonderment and confusion strike him at the oddest of times, always in response to something she’s said or done and never with any sort of answer. The first time he knew he was in trouble was fifteen years ago, when he returned home from a trip to find she had adopted a rottweiler. Still, Ripple refuses to retire from her post as the Jones’ Harbor Tours’ mascot, and Emma often tries to convince him that it’s because she’s as stubborn as her father. 

  In truth, Emma Jones is the most stubborn person he has ever met in his life, a fact which will likely never be contested. 

  He finds himself confused so often that he can barely recount any examples of her free spirited nature. (She calls herself a wild child, although she often shouts at him whenever he uses the term in bed.) There was the time she impulsively began tearing up the tile flooring in the bathroom after watching three whole YouTube tutorials (her words), only to sob into his already sea-soaked sweater when she realized how physically taxing reflooring an entire room is without any experience, general tiling knowledge, materials, or help. Then there was the time she randomly asked him if he would still love her if she was a worm, and then became irrationally angry when he found himself unable to answer without first asking clarifying questions. And the incident when she questioned his loyalty to her when he refused to hunt down and kill the person who bumped into her parked car and drove off. He later discovered that the question came after she had finished some romance novel about the mafia. He chose not to dig any deeper into that one.

  All this to say: Killian’s wife is a free spirit, a wild child, a confusing, strange, barely-readable woman who stole his heart in one breath and has yet to give it back almost two decades later. 

  And, he has no idea what the bloody hell she’s talking about more than half the time. 

  He wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): have you ever see this??? In the wild??????

  Emma (Trophy Wife): Attached: 1 Image

  Killian: What are you doing?

  He shakes his head, as exasperated as he is filled with a warm sense of comfort, just like he always is whenever he sees the name she gave herself the moment their vows were exchanged pop onto his phone screen.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): they inhabit the atlantic ocean. *vomiting emoji*

  Killian: Stop watching National Geographic if it’s going to make you nauseous. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): that’s where you worked!!

  Killian: That’s also where we live.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): you never saw one in your sexy fisherman days? LOOK at that thing. 

  Killian quickly discovers that she’s referring to an Oarfish. They’re the longest known bonefish and inhabit very deep water, are rarely seen or caught alive, and are thought to be generally harmless. Still, he knows that these facts will not prevent his wife from overreacting, so he chooses not to bother. 

  Though she’s always hidden it well, Emma has a strange fear of creatures of the deep, as she often calls them. She’s told him that the tuna he used to pull onto the deck of his boat didn’t bother her– even though they were often almost twice her height in length and weighed upwards of 1,000 pounds– because they were no longer in the water. But the thought of running into one of those slimy bastards while swimming gives her panicky symptoms— her words. He hasn’t bothered to point out the absolute impossibility of her ever running into a giant bluefin tuna while swimming, either. After sixteen years of marriage, he’s learned which battles are better left unfought. 

  Of course, there are times when his correcting her drives her absolutely mad, often to the point of her feeling compelled to kiss him in order to shut him up, and he navigates those moments very carefully and with a smirk on his lips. 

  Killian: They aren’t known to be predatory.

  Emma (Trophy Wife) disliked “They aren’t known to be predatory.”

  Killian: Attached: 1 Image

  Killian: You see? They have small mouths and no teeth. Harmless.

  It’s unlike her to wait so long to reply, as she’s often glued to her phone at least when she’s mid conversation. But it’s almost a full two minutes that he finds himself standing in front of the display of pasta sauce, looking like a complete fool and blocking the path of an elderly woman, breath bated as he waits for a response from her. Bloody hell, he thinks to himself as he shakes his head. He’s known the woman for eighteen years and he still can hardly breathe in anticipation of whatever adorably inane thought leaves her mouth without any sort of filter. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): Attached: 1 Video

  Lovely. Even as he watches the attached video of her silently dry heaving, he’s desperately in love with her. He watches it again. 

  Her blonde hair has gone lighter over the years, streaks of white coloring through the gold in a way that makes her look somehow even more sexy and playful than when he first laid eyes on her. There are soft creases beside her eyes as she squeezes them shut, her mouth open and her tongue out as she pretends to be so violently offended by the image he sent her that it’s made her ill. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): expect consequences when you get home. even if you get the good mac and cheese. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): you KNOW how i feel about serpents and sea monsters. 

  Killian: I do. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): … and????

  Killian: I’m sorry for traumatizing you with my serpent. 

  Killian: And for how that just sounded. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): if you’re not home in 34 minutes i’m not touching your serpent for two whole days. 

  Killian: Well, now that I'm familiar with your gag reflex… 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): 33 minutes. 

  ~~~~

  Ripple is the oldest dog Killian has ever known. Her silver snout and eyebrows catch in the setting sun, and it’s painfully obvious from her gait how sore her joints are, but still, at his arrival home, she hurries her way towards him with as much enthusiasm as she can muster. 

  Their vet has told them that she’s the healthiest dog he’s treated in a while, considering her age, and Emma uses that as a point of pride for their perfect child. 

  “Hi, darling,” he says when she finally reaches him, her soft smile lighting up her face once he drops the reusable grocery bags in order to give her a scratch behind the ears. Killian’s getting up there in age, too, but he still manages to squat down to her level and kiss her nose. 

  The two of them make quite the pair while Killian struggles back into a standing position and then they both hobble towards the front door. His fishing career was lucrative and rewarding, but dammit if it didn’t lead to stiff joints that his wife pokes fun at. She’s never met a “my husband is older than me” joke she hasn’t loved. 

  “I’m glad you both made it,” she happily chortles from the kitchen, making him smile. He’s never smiled more widely than he does with Emma. 

  “The abuse I’m subjected to,” he mutters as he drops the bags on the floor for her to peruse. It’s a deal they made years ago; Killian does the shopping because the grocery store makes Emma too itchy, and she puts the groceries away in exchange. 

  She snorts when she pulls out the bag of goldfish, sending Killian a playful smirk. “Looks like a good haul.”

  “Aye, love. I thought you might enjoy a fishy treat after our conversation.”

  “Always so thoughtful,” she murmurs as she makes her way to him. The kitchen is small, but they’ve always had just enough space for the three of them. 

  “It’s a difficult cross to bear,” he nods, catching her wrist as soon as she’s close enough to pull towards him. “But anticipating your needs is one of the many responsibilities I take very seriously.”

  Emma’s hands land on his neck, fingers tangling with the silver hair at the back of his head while her thumbs trace along his jaw. She likes to call him a silver fox when she’s feeling playful. “My perfect husband,” she says softly, voice syrupy sweet in that way that still manages to get him excited. 

  “I couldn’t be a perfect husband without my perfect wife,” he answers, earning a beaming grin that he barely catches before her lips press to his. 

  It never ends. The way he wants her has been an inferno so intense since the day they met, and it hasn’t been snuffed out in all these years. The moment she’s near him, his blood starts to simmer, and once she touches him, kisses him like she is now, he’s a goner. 

  Her tongue is soft as it sweeps over the seam of his lips, lazily working to deepen the kiss they share. She kissed him with urgency, but not with haste, never rushing but always desperate. It’s enough to have him pushing her backwards, her lower back softly pressing against the counter before he lifts her onto it. Emma’s legs part seemingly without her even thinking about it, and before either of them have a chance to put the rotisserie chicken in the refrigerator, he wonders if he should just carry her to their room. Part of him has this never ending need to show her just how desperate he still is for her. 

  But then, she speaks. 

  “Wait,” she breathes, chest rising and falling rapidly as her warm breath fans over his mouth, her forehead still pressed to his and her fingers clinging to the collar of the light sweater he wears. 

  “Yes, love?” he asks, perfectly prepared to answer whatever silly question she likely has as long as he can have her after. 

  “About the oarfish…”

  He fights a groan. “I promise you, there is absolutely no chance of you ever seeing an oarfish for as long as you live.”

  “I know, I did plenty of research while you were gone.”

  He breathes out a soft laugh, his smile growing when she kisses it. “What’s wrong, then?”

  “Would you still love me if I was an oarfish?”

  His world stops for just a moment. Just a second, really, as he tries to right his mind and will a tiny bit of blood back to his brain so that he can answer this very unimportant and yet somehow very vital question correctly. 

  “If you were an oarfish,” he starts, hand sliding up from her hip to her ribs before finding her cheek, “then I would be an oarfish. And we would be married and have a pet… eel, perhaps. Named Ripple. And we would live in a tiny oarfish cottage and be happy and in love for as long as oarfish live.”

  Emma sighs, the softest smile on her perfect lips making him crazy as her arms wrap around his neck in one of his favorite hugs. 

  “I love you,” she whispers into his ear. He’ll never tire of this. Of the soft, almost unfathomable way that the love they have for one another strikes at the most random times. 

  “I love you, too, Swan. Always. No matter what species we are.”  

  “And I love you, no matter how much older you are than me.”

  He grabs her then, hoisting her against him to the best of his ability as her ankles cross at his back. “Disrespectful,” he murmurs, carrying her from the kitchen and happily forgetting about the frozen broccoli florets, not cuts she made him buy. 

  “You better teach me a lesson, then,” she taunts with a smirk, as if that isn’t exactly what she was after. 

  “Don’t act like that isn’t exactly what you want, love.”

  “Don’t act like you don’t get off on giving me exactly what I want.”

  To that, he just returns her smirk and offers a quick smack to her ass before dropping her onto the bed they share, because he knows she’s right. For the rest of his days, he’ll be happy, as long as he has his family. 

~~~~

I'm using my old tag list from 2 years ago. If you don't want to be tagged, I'm real sorry and let me know if I should remove you

@kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones-blog @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @winterbaby89 ​@ultraluckycatnd @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @pirateprincessofpizza @killianslefthook

[bluegekk0]

Now I'm all curious about Irma, since you mentioned her when posting more Lion King AU Arts-

I can't remember if you've talked about Irma before, but... I take it her relationship to Grimm didn't end well? What's their story? Will we learn more about Grimm's history? 🤔

I mentioned her in passing before, at some point she had a different name but I ended up changing it (only recently realized that it's very similar to Isma, but hey, it happens). She's a very minor character who was part of Grimm's life many decades ago, in the first half of his life, so she's long gone now.

In summary, Irma was a writer, not an especially famous one, but she had some books of hers published that were fairly successful. The two met after one of Grimm's performances, Irma approached him to ask what he thought about her using him as inspiration for the main character of her upcoming book, but eventually their conversation got far more casual, it was clear there was chemistry between them from the start. Grimm loved anything related to literature to he immediately found her fascinating, meanwhile Irma was surprised by him - she heard he was a god who usually kept to himself, so she expected someone who wouldn't give her much time; instead, he was incredibly polite and a great conversation partner.

They met more times, Grimm was curious about her book and would try to find her whenever he was passing through her homeland to say hi and ask how her work is going. And at some point they both realized they were attracted to each other, so they started dating. They were happy for a while, Grimm always craved a soulmate and someone he could spend his life with, so he was excited.

But soon enough, cracks began to show. First of all, Irma was a mortal, which is something Grimm realized when he kept her company following the passing of her father. The thought that she would grow old in front of him was dreadful, he couldn't get it out of his head and enjoy the time he had with her. But it wasn't all, there was another, more present issue. Simply put, Grimm was never in a long-term relationship, which on its own wouldn't be an issue, but he had many, many casual partners in the past. And that warped how he viewed love and affection, he really struggled to show his affection in non-sexual ways, which became an issue. Not only was he unsatisfied in that aspect, but there were times he made her uncomfortable, which made him very angry at himself, and yet he struggled to express his love in other ways. It made him realize that he wasn't ready for a relationship like that, not when every month and year counted before he would lose her. He offered her a place in the Troupe, so that his Nightmare King powers could keep her alive like they do with his Grimmkin, but she refused. And he couldn't help but agree with her decision - the thought of having this much power over her made him feel gross.

And so he made a decision that he'd regret for many years afterwards. He left and never returned to her. She did feel that things weren't working out, they talked about it from time to time, but Grimm's tendency to keep his own feelings bottled up as a self-defense mechanism unfortunately made it much more difficult. He was ashamed of himself, of his inability to love to the fullest, he started to believe that sexual encounters is the only thing he's good for. And paired with the dread of the inevitable loss he would have to deal with as old age consumed her, it all simply became too much for him. So, instead of officially breaking up with her, he simply abandoned her. They never saw each other again after that, he never learned where she was buried either, it was too painful to think about. The only thing that reminds him of her is the book she wrote inspired by him, that he still has in his personal library.

His relationship with Vyrm certainly helped him deal with some of that guilt. He realized that he did something terrible, but at least now he knew that he was capable of love, he just needed time to learn how to love fully. Irma deserved better than him at the time, and he hopes that she found happiness in the end. He can't change the past, but he can try to do better in the future, and so far he's doing a tremendous job. His long-term friendship with Vyrm was what helped him get close and vulnerable with someone without going to bed with them, so now he can give him the best he has to offer.

As for the Lion King AU, I think making her the mother of Lewk, even though it's a massive change, offers a really interesting opportunity to explore her character and her potential dynamic with Grimm. I'll share more details about that when I post the full TLK AU designs ^^

[just-a-little-unionoid]

In which Ivo try to refrain himself from openly antagonizing a child, part 2

part 1 here

so that's the last part of what I wrote 4 years ago (again, just slightly edited), now if I want to post anything more I will have to actually write it :') but! I've started to take a few dialogue notes, so it seems like I'm on the good track!

again, tagging @thebadevil @alexcole1326 @nosebleedy99 and @apoli-meow because of their comments on the other posts, if anyone want to be tagged or untagged don't hesitate to ask

Now and without further ado, the fic:

He woke up in what was seemingly a motel room all filled with a big machine in some state of dismantling, and he was tied up to a bed. He felt strangely calm, and he didn't like that in the slightest, it probably meant he was drugged.

He observed the situation in more detail.

First, apart from himself, it seemed empty.

Second, the bed he was in was pretty fine. Well, maybe it was shit and it just felt like a five stars hotel bed because he just passed months outside, sleeping on mushrooms and without any change of clothes.

Speaking of which, third, where were his fucking clothes?

While he was tied up, and now that he realised that, handcuffed, he was able to move in the bed pretty easily, whoever did this wanded him to be somewhat comfortable. He looked under the sheet, while most of his clothes were removed he was still in his underwear—it was still that, he guessed—and it looked like his injuries had been sparsely treated, or at least that someone had a look at them.

He was starting to study the rest of the room when the lock opened, followed by the door.

A small personne came out of it, seemingly carrying paper bags. "Ah, you're awake," said the child without much inflection in their voice. "Good, I won't have to wait." They put the paper bags on the table.

"You look terrible," they declared. "I can't bring you back in this condition, it wouldn't look good. So what you're gonna do next is take a shower, eat something that is not mushroom, brush your teeth and take care of your injuries. Then, if your clothing order has not yet arrived, we could talk about stuff. There is a notebook on your nightstand, write your measurements and the type of garments you want, as well as the kind of food you would like to order."

He didn't plan to listen to that little shit for long, but right know he didn't have many options and he had to admit that their plan wasn't too stupid. Not that he would say it out loud, he'd rather die, but it was to his advantage. Yeah that was it, he was just buying time and resources and he was already thinking about a plan to outsmart them, it would be a piece of cake.

He thought for a minute about the food, he would kill for a big feast with meat, dishes in sauce and fried things. Not that he was usually a big fan of them, but after months of only mushrooms he felt quite up for decadence. Unfortunately, after months of monotrophic diet of an alien food, it was probably not judicious. He settled on a light meal: soup, roasted vegetable, maybe a yogurt or two if he felt it on the moment, and he also put on some fruits and juices for later.

When he was done, he looked at the child who was already busy dismantling the machine. They weren't a big child, he wasn't really good at guessing people's ages, especially children, but they clearly hadn't hit the puberty yet, so they should be around... Five? Maybe? No. That's the age the average human learned how to read, and even tho this one seemed less stupid than the standard they were older then that. So maybe seven? Eight? He was pretty sure they wouldn't be more than ten.

They had a pale skin and mid length dark hair (he couldn't tell better with that lighting). They were wearing a short black dress, tights, ankle-length shoes, gloves looking filled with electronic, and what he only now realized were noise canceling earbuds, as well as all black sunglasses with side shields that were currently folded on the table. Excellent, sensory processing sensitivity, just the kind of weakness he was searching for.

"Maybe you could uncuff me now, so I could shower and all that stuff you said."

They looked at him.

"Yeah, right. But obviously there will be some rules, as you understand that I can't just let you free and able to strangle me to death. Don't take it personally but I know you're a dangerous person man and as much as I want you presentable, I would also rather not die." They searched in a corner for something, then threw it on the bed. "Those are old boring traditional handcuffs. You are going to put them on, then throw me the key back. No playing around, you just throw them on the end of the bed. Then I'm gonna untie you and then I will turn off the electronic ones. Again don't try anything funny because I have a gun."

Okay now that was just degrading. He was not sure before about whether or not he would really kill the child, but now he was certain. It must have appeared on his face because said child chirped:

"Don't take it like that, I would also have prefered to not come to such extremes, but I heard you already tried to kill a child because he was in your way, and right now I sure am in it too, and again it's just a precaution so I can stay alive. Take it as a compliment, I recognize that you're competent and dangerous and I treat you as such."

It was... sort of flattering, at least they knew who they were dealing with. He was still going to kill them painfully, obviously, but it was nice to be treated as a real threat for once. And he could feel it was genuine, the child was good as hinding emotions but he could still sense their underlying fear, what a delight!

So he played along, for now. He took the vitamins and food supplements the child gave him, and desappeared in the bathroom with the paper bag filled with bath products.

It was small, just a couple square feet, with only a narrow shower cubicle, toilet and a small sink with a cupboard underneath, on top of which was a slightly chipped mirror. It immediately made him feel claustrophobic in a way even being tied up had not.

He put down the paper bag next to the sink as he felt nauseous, anxiety creeping in like a tarantula down his throat and making it difficult to breathe. Of course, he had spent months living outside, on a wild planet with only giant mushrooms as far as the eye can see, really the closest he had from an actual room were shelters he carved himself in mushroom stems.

He alowed himself to slide to the ground and closed his eyes. He had to focus on the matter at hand, and he wasn't going to let some stupid feelings get the best of him. Priority number one: shower. Hot shower. He had dreams about hot showers so many times on that motherfucking mushroom hell.

He turned on the shower, set it to the desired temperature and stepped out of the cubicle to wait for the water to warm up.

Good. Now it was time to see what was up with those bath products? He took them out one by one from the brown bag. Neutral pH soap; shaving soap and brush, shampoo and conditioner—what was that for anyway?—; disposable razor; moisturizer; disinfectant; cotton swabs; sterile compresses; nail clipper; mustache comb; after shave and cologne—which were incidentally the ones he used to use—; cotton pads; pocket mirror; mustach wax; lip balm; exfoliant??? A couple basic makeup products and what the even fuck was micellar water? Clearly he wouldn't need half of those things.

He only took the soap and a washcloth, discarded his underwear and got into the shower.

He thought it would be nice, he was wrong.

From memory not once water hurt him like that. It was not a problem of temperature, if so he could have just changed it. It was that every drop of water felt like a sharp pebble, piercing through the skin, setting his flesh on fire.

He didn't paid much attention to it, back on the mushroom planet, because he was too focused on survival and finding a way back, but his short stay on the alien planet had consequences. Even its two moons in nearly constant partial eclipse couldn't hide the deadly rays of the nearby star, and he was pretty sure the hot humidity and the fungal spores had not helped.

He had to reluctantly accept to remove the hot shower from his planning. Instead, he turned off the water and sat down in the narrow shower tray as best he could.

He then proceeded to carefully wash himself, with the washcloth for the parts of his anatomy that weren't too damaged and with only soap and non-falling water for those that hurt too much. He did it in an almost surreal state, not really feeling in his body. Sure he was paying attention, cleaning his badly treated wounds, taking notes of all the bruises and burns, but it could as well have been someone else's body. He was deep inside his thoughts, classify everything that has happened in the past few hours, dressing a picture of the situation.

Surely there had to be some good in it, he concludes after a while. Let's try to see the main upsides.

First, he was back on Earth, and that was a marked improvement, no matter what.

Second, whoever asked for him to be brought back seemed to want him alive and in good health, and that too was positive.

And third, whoever asked for him to be brought back was stupid enough to underestimate him and only send him a child, and he was going to make them pay for this miscalculation.

A malevolent grin raised his bubbly mustache.

This was going to be fun, after all.

[reimeichan]

As I start nearing 30 years old, and also as I become more integrated, I've started exploring who "I" am, as a person, and as a single identity. I know that not too long ago I made a post talking about these aspects of who I am, as a person, post-fusion. But I've also been finding more and more bits and pieces of myself and working through my trauma since then, and as new information crops up, I'm starting to once again re-examine who I am.

Mainly, I've been exploring my gender and sexuality. My sexuality especially has always been very clear to me since I was 14. I'm asexual. Nothing had really changed that for well over a decade. And not for lack of trying, too; I explored my feelings on sexuality and sex for a long time and it was something I would regularly rotate around in my head. Am I truly ace? I enjoy reading hentai and watching porn and reading smut, does that mean I'm sexually attracted to people? I'm hypersexual, how does that factor in to my ace-ness? Am I maybe aro as well? Am I demi-ace? Is my asexuality a result of my trauma? Does that make my asexuality more or less valid in that way? I explored every aspect of my asexual identity as thoroughly as I could, and each time I emerged on the other side even more certain that "asexual" was the best and closest label to describe my sexuality.

But, now... as I work through these different parts of me and understand the bits of me I had dissociated away, I'm starting to become more connected to... having sexual attraction to others. It's not that I was wrong about being ace for all these years; I think it's important to honor and acknowledge that part of my history. But I also think that to continue to call myself "asexual" is doing a disservice to myself. I do find people "hot". I do think about and fantasize about people's bodies. It's no longer about just the act of sex or kink itself turning me on (as it had been when I was ace), I'm very much attracted to people's bodies. And in that way I think it's more accurate to tell others that I am bisexual. And... that's quite a change, for me. To start acknowledging that I have sexual feelings towards others, and am sexually attracted to them, is so new to me, when in the past this wasn't something I ever felt like I had experienced.

And similarly, my gender. The thing that I could never figure out, but with each passing day I find further clarity. I think I know how to explain my gender now. I was a girl. For much of my childhood, I was absolutely a girl. But as I hit my preteen years and my teenage years, that started to shift. I saw myself less as a girl, and more as something.... in-between and outside of that. Nonbinary. Agender. Androgynous. I don't know what term works best, but I know what it was for me. And again, in early adulthood, that shifted yet again. I was genderfluid, a girly guy, a femboy. But I'm not going to be a young adult for much longer, and I find myself looking into the future. In my middle age, who I am? Who do I see myself becoming? And, beyond that, who will I be when I'm even older, at retirement age or even as an elderly 80, 90 year old?

And as I think about this future version of me, I realize that I am no longer a genderfluid girly femboy. I'm... a guy. I'm a middle aged Asian man. I don't know if "transmasc" or "trans man" really is the best way to describe that, but it's the closest word I have for what I see and what I feel. But really, just calling myself a guy is enough I think. I'm going to be a middle aged guy sooner than later, and I want to take some steps for this future version of me so that he can feel more comfortable in his skin.

I'm still a femboy right now. I like this version of me and I plan to stick with it as long as it feels right. But I also know this isn't who I'm going to be forever, and that's okay.

It's so weird, exploring all of these feelings at my age, especially when I thought I had it all figured out. But life isn't so clear cut, and you're never too old to figure out who you are. And it's okay for things to change as you get older, too. Either way, I'm excited for whoever I end up becoming, and I'm proud of who I am right now.

[multif0rmed]

Wrong Side of Heaven - Chapt. 1

Rating : T (mostly for Xehanort, really)

Summary : During that year Ventus had been apprentice underneath Xehanort. Follow both of them as they navigate throughout this time - as their relationship starts off strong and eventually deteriorates. Presented as snippets within the year.

Brings in Dark Road elements, along with BBS, because we've never gotten the mix for the two.

Will be posted here as well as on ArchiveOfOurOwn.

Index HERE.

Chapter 2 - HERE.

Chapter underneath the Read More.

The road to Hell is paved with good intentions .... Or ...as they always say.

---

His eyes snapped open.

Such light ... It tickled him. Sun poured in from the cracks in between the curtains, prompting him to immediately shut his eyes once more. A groan slid out from his mouth as he shifted underneath his sheets to face away from the intruding light. Tan fingers pulled the soft blanket up, their owner wondering if he could just get a couple more hours. It'd be incredibly nice ...

The dreams still whirled within his consciousness, their presence persistent. They always were, especially these ones. Yellow showed itself again within the atmosphere as it looked at the clock on the nightstand nearby, its displaying imposing.

How dreadful. It was only 8:16 AM. A grunt now escaped from the recesses of his throat , as he turned away to be on his back. The cervices on his ceiling seemed interesting, as if it could truly distract him from his dreams ...

Dreams about his friends decades ago.

From another life.

Jarring -- they hadn't appeared in his thoughts since about a decade ago, so why now?

It's not like I can find them.

A certain pain jutted itself within the bounds of his heart. With that thought, he shoved away the material from his body. Yeah, he wasn't going to get anymore sleep.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

The abrupt startle nearby almost caused his keyblade to appear within his fingers, if he did not realize what had happened.

Eyes of blue stared right into his yellow.

A young boy had poked his side, his fingers still lingering within the air. “So you're not dead, mister?” His form hadn't been more than seven or so years old.

Eyebrows ticked down. “No, some of us like to sleep,” the elder replied groggily, sand still clinging to the corner of his eyes. As much as he disliked the current situation, he couldn't help but to focus on the other's hues. It reminds me of … His thought trailed off, as he picked out the boy's non-verbal ticks. They, also, were familiar. Curious, relaxed, the older male noted.

It didn't deter the younger. “I'm Alexander,” the boy belted out, only pausing briefly, “.. Who are you?”

All too innocent, much like … What had been the blonde's name within his dreams? “Xehanort, lad,” Xehanort revealed, a halfway forced smile dancing across his features.

“Do you --”

“Alex, don't bother the old man,” a chiding voice came upon the scene. Like a hot knife to butter, the conversation got sliced in half, leaving a mess in its wake.

Alone, all over again, but unsurprising. The old master really did just end up keeping to himself over the years .. He preferred it anyways; things presented themselves less messy that way. Safer. It allowed his heart to keep pure as possible – keeping outside influences away – for when the time would come to open Kingdom Hearts. An ambition that could be finally fulfilled. Being alone – he had long since burned any bridges with other keyblade masters and even with his best friend, his lover.

Necessary, Xehanort harshly reminded himself, though the pain from such decision always burned within the back of his mind. Besides, the other master had never seen his view on things.

And that hurt.

But he had to press forward.

Yet, while he watched the crowds on the streets, the wonderment poked at him. A clean slate – Hopefully it would also provide a shorter opportunity, a shorter connection. What if, what if he were to have one of those friends by his side as he carried out his plans? Or more than one?

How ridiculous.

Even he couldn't control such an emotion, despite closing off majority of his heart.

Disappointing.

His gaze tore away from the multitude of people, and he shifted from laying down on the wooden planks to a better position. It started to hurt. Like a bolt of lightning, a pain shot through his knee as he swung his feet back down to the ground. Annoyance intermixed with the coldness that always presented itself within his expression – and a harsh frown drew at the corners of his mouth.

I am not getting any younger, am I?

A vessel – a subject that flowed through Xehanort's mind more and more as of late. He flexed his leg, testing the joint. It popped, but fortunately, the usual small pains presented itself. A test of his other joints started – little jabs of pain throughout various points of his body. Even his fingers … He held up a hand, hues studying it. More than proud of being a master of his art …

One of them could be a new vessel, couldn't they?

Assuming that they could be found.

… The one I like the least would be a vessel.

Amusing, wasn't it? A little laugh left him, as he settled carefully against the back of the bench, his leather coat crinkling.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

The dreams persisted over the next couple of weeks, tirelessly prodding at his emotional walls. Trying to rip away at them. Laugh, mock. There had even been instances of his friends from his time at Scala Ad Caelum intermingling with them ..

It became harder and harder to dismiss such thoughts from crawling into his mind during the day.

Remnant feelings were trying to be shaken off one morning as the bald male popped out of a dark corridor right out in front of his two-story house - a home that stood proudly in between the residential and commercial area within Twilight Town. Immediately, laughter could be heard off to his left ; children were running around. Their footsteps pounded heavy against the pavement, making it hard for those near to simply ignore them and their activity.

“Tag, you're it!” One of them yelled.

“Aw, man!” The other complained.

While mostly unfazed, Xehanort still stared towards them, drawn to such energy.

I have to solve this. I refuse for this to control me for any longer …

Where can I find potential answers?

Pushing himself forward, he allowed the portal from behind him to fade into nothingness. His hand lifted – coming out from its usual spot and waved in front of the front door to his home. The dark magick that clung to the surface scattered, and he could hear an audible click. In an instant, the elder master entered the building. A semi-organized living room stood before him - a couple pile of books and the art pieces lining the walls were the most defining features. A half – finished plate of food sat on the nearby coffee table had caught his attention, and he scooped it up. Hey, he could still find motivation within the small things … despite their ultimate insignificance.

I'll get to it later, a thought showed itself as he placed the plate within the kitchen sink from within the adjacent room. He swept his attention away to getting some Maple Vanilla tea prepared, hoping for it to calm him. To bring back focus. To let him be back in control – its calming properties always managing to work their magick on him.

Like a filing system, memories of the past were carefully sorted as clinks and clangs filled the air. Regardless of any small aches, he flowed around to make sure everything would be perfect. The pleasant smell wafted up and out of the room, letting the house feel far more inviting than previously. A grin couldn't help but to fall onto his face – one of his favorite rituals to partake in. Stopping – it would only occur once he had set the tea tray onto his kitchen table. “At least,” he said outloud, fingers running over his empty teacup for a moment, as a detail leaped out at him. Narrowed eyes. A chip? No, several, he corrected himself. Shame. He couldn't afford such luxuries, anyways – despite this having been his favorite designed set.

Tea poured into the cup, its steam rising and looping through the air. Having an eye for artful detail, he studied the little design lining the top of the teacup, fingers working to get a good amount of sugar cubes from storage all the while. There were little leaves, and little branches intermixing into a fantastic design – a blend of browns and greens.

One, two, three .. five sugar cubes had dropped into his cup, splish-splashing the flavored water nearly out of its bounds.

I had gotten these in …

Memories were still correctly sorting themselves – as he let that thought be unfinished for now. He took a sip, mm'ing from the all-time-best flavor. Fingers found a cookie as well, but before he could enjoy it something suddenly clicked.

Of course.

Dawrf Woodlands.

Relief – no, success. He could easily start there.

Once he had finished his tea, he scooted his chair out and dark wisps started to gather within the atmosphere beside him – a Corridor. His environment soon abruptly changed – pulling him into the familiar dark surroundings. The pull felt a touch overwhelming, but that had been all but expected with the recent thoughts and feelings as of late. Nothing to be concerned over – mastery over the element had been accomplished a long time ago. Each step carried the elder steadily through the void and they soon let him pop easily out on the other side in less than a minute.

No harm done.

The sun cracked down harshly onto his skin as it soaked up the new presence, causing a malformed shadow to appear behind him. He squinted his eyes. Birds chirped and leaves rustled – an essential part of the scenery that had painted itself to be quite beautiful through its many colors. A smile smeared across his face despite knowing his upcoming task – and one color struck him all of a sudden within his view. Red. A rose poked its head out along the dirt path leading up to the bridge – wanting attention. His fingers briefly cupped the small flower, prompting a small thought of potentially paint something later to float through his consciousness. Maybe plants. His vision trailed upwards, eyes following along the wooden planks of the brigde and beyond. His goal … Yellow stopped onto the pointy architecture along the horizon.

The castle.

The flower bobbed lightly as he moved away, the gravel crunching underneath his boots. Trees watched him as he passed by and eventually he had stopped, nowhere close to the castle. His neck stretched as he peered towards the sky through a clearing. A hand rose, palm up and fingers stretched.

“Come out and play,” he commanded, as a portal spun open, its colors seeming hypnotizing as it came to life. Dark blobs erupted forth, splotching and contrasting with the environment. They fell, confused – their yellow eyes staring up at whoever had summoned them.

But he was already gone.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ Darkness fell from Xehanort as he found himself within the castle walls – the situation outside them dwindling even further with each passing second. A smug expression remained on his face as he hid behind one of the walls, simply waiting. From the voice past the walls, it seemed like several guards were already out there – their frantic voices trying to make sense of what exactly had happened.

One, two .. five ..

There should be one more …

The keyblade master had about peeked around the corner to visually check – but as soon as he heard footsteps against the cobblestone he moved back into position.

“Hurry, my Queen!” The guard exclaimed, racing out in front of her.

“I am, only if you were patient,” she cracked out, a mix of concern and detachment within her voice. She slowly made her way down the steps, wanting to remain graceful despite all that had been happening around her. “Has there been any damage to the castle?”

“N-No, fortunately ..” The guard sounded relieved. Anything for his Queen – even if it would cost his life. He swallowed thickly. “It seems like the strange creatures are more interested in us ...”

A sigh. “How tiresome.” Her robes dragged on the ground, as she made more of her way towards the castle's gate along the side of the other.

Time to deal with the mess – a fine assortment of magick was at her disposal.

A few dark wisps and Xehanort disappeared – as if he hadn't even been there. The instant he stepped out into the room from the Corridor, a rush of nostalgia had washed over him. His eyes adjusted to the light within the room, and he tossed his head off to the side, overlooking his shoulder. He and Eraqus stood there, right past the steps … Vor had gone with the upperclassmen.

To go seek, to discover.

And yet, she had returned …

He turned his head sharply away, letting them to fall onto the Magick Mirror – the mask stoic as ever. His steps scraped forward – and he stopped right before the steps, eyes curious.

“What wouldst thou know?” The neutral voice boomed.

A little smile played onto his face, as he gestured off to the side. “Do you recognize me?” No doubt that it did. No reason that its power would have changed since then, or ever.

Simply, it replied without skipping a single beat, “A young boy then, now a man grown. Fewer hairs grace thy head, but you are known.”

A little laugh – a reminder. To keep pressing forward no matter what – Despite Eraqus. It always trailed back to his love … his old friend. His hand lifted, letting the thin leather brush against his head. Cleanly shaven too, not a single hair. “A demonstration of my resolve.”

“What else wouldst thou know?” It inquired, non-judgmentally.

His eyes snapped open – that had always been a nice change of pace. He moved his hand back down to his side. “Over the years, I have lost many comrades. Some passed on --” A jab at his heart, even if as a brief flickering of emotion. “-- while others chose a different path.” Another.

Xehanort shut his eyes again, gently guiding his hand back up – but it stopped and rested right where his heart was. Brief images played behind his eyelids. “... However, there will always be a special place in my heart … for those friends I never met save in my dreams as a young lad.”

Notes of silence soon followed – and the Mirror patiently allowed it as the elder stepped closer.

“Alas, my efforts to find them have been in vain. I don't even know their names. But I can see their faces still.” He bowed his head, while threads of sadness weaved themselves within his cold tone. His hand remained gripping his shirt's material. He'd test the Mirror – but he hardly thought it would be necessary, the threads of paranoia weaving themselves even into such a genuine conversation.

His eyes flickered up onto the Mirror – deciding to look at it head-on now.

“I ask you: did they ever exist, or were they merely a figment of my imagination?” He finished, feeling the shift into a somewhat more rational state as he let his hand fall away from his chest.

The Mirror remained impassive, answering, “Much lies beyond our world, even more beyond our time … Some in this world reside, their toll has yet to chime.”

Beyond time … It knew. And yet – more information had been needed. “How can you be sure?” He demanded. Another step, his coat swaying. He became less relaxed – placing a hand directly onto the Mirror itself. “Without even their names?” This is hardly rational .. analytical ..

So much for its test – so much for coldness.

“Your heart speaks more clearly than your words,” it bluntly pointed out.

A small scoff left him. How dare it? He couldn't be angry; it spoke of the truth. “Where are they now?” He asked, grateful that his tone crawled back to its usual state of coldness.

“Where, indeed? Amongst an ocean of keys on a vast barren land --” Xehanort listened carefully to its words, anticipation building. “-- a boy bearing great light and darkness doth stand.”

Realization hit him, and excitement coursed through him. “The Keyblade Graveyard!” He exclaimed, now turning away to go to that specific world. He paused however, turning halfway back towards it with a grin. “You are thanked.” Dark wisps swirled nearby to form a portal.

Time to visited the fated place.

[melkyt]

Major Character Death, Post Canon, Older Lawlu. The end of their journey and maybe the beginning of a new one.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56080912

“We got old, huh Traffy?” Luffy groans as he settles down on the bench. The sun dances over the waves that crash against the beach. His ship is a small miniature version of the merry that he uses to get around these days. 

“Forty isn’t that old, Luffy” Law scratches at his graying beard. There is an ache in his joints that not even his power can do anything about. The white splotches that he had grown to know well through his life have started to spread again as if his disease is catching up to him after being dormant for so many years. There is nothing his fruit can do about it anymore. There is only so much of a beating his body can take. 

“It is for us, shishishi” He laughs with that distinct trill that has not changed over the decades. It is the sound of freedom. “Think I’m ready to go Traffy” His smile is a soft bright thing, part of it is tired. “We had a good life, huh.” He taps on the wood. “Almost boring to go out like this, maybe we should go find a fight.” 

“There is no fight, you made the world ‘boring’.” Law settles, using the words that Luffy has repeated over the years. There is nothing but the ocean and the redline, and the countless ships that traverse the oceans. Yet the pirate age is long over. Its end was run when Luffy first put on the ‘crown’ almost two decades ago now. 

“Yeah, but we had fun doing so” Luffy yawns, stretching, wrapping one arm around Law. “I hate saying goodbye” 

“Yeah” Law settles into the embrace, he has gotten much more comfortable with Luffy’s touch over the years. It feels warm and safe. “They are going to find us here in a few hours” 

They said goodbye at a week-long party, and a memories trip around the world, but now it is all over. They celebrated life, and they celebrated death. There was no use crying about it. Luffy wanted his last moments with the crew to be happy, and they were. “Did you have fun Traffy?” 

Law sighs. He hates to admit but yes he did have fun, in his own way. “I always have fun with you” 

“Ha, of course!” Luffy wraps his legs around Law. “We have the best parties!” He leaves a gentle kiss on one of Law’s cheeks where there is a pale patch spreading up over his eye. “I love you, Traffy” 

“I love you too” Law repeats in turn, with no hesitation. When they were young he struggled with returning the words as freely as Luffy, yet another thing he got used to. They have been through so much together, even more after Luffy’s journey came to an end. It was when their relationship started, when they were not running from one fight to another, but could relax, could be boring just for the sake of it. 

It was nothing but adventure and the freedom to love each other. He has nothing but fond memories of those days. “I’m glad I joined you” Law sits up to meet Luffy’s eyes, forcing the man to untwist his body and sit up until they are facing each other. “I'm glad I met you all those years ago” 

“I’m glad you saved me” Luffy closes the distance, their lips meet. The kiss is soft, gentle. “You helped me so much, Traffy.” 

“I saved you…” Law snorts. “Then what did you do for me Luffy?” 

“Right now, I kissed you” Luffy chuckles, going in for another. He presses his tongue in, tasting Law with enthusiasm that has not faded even now. “I love you, I love you” He wants to say it as many times as he can before they go. “The sun looks so pretty on your skin” He traces the pattern, they always remind him of clouds. 

“You are my sun” Law hums. 

Luffy chuckles. “That's cheesy Traffy” He plops down in his lover’s lap, turning so he can see Law’s beautiful eyes. 

“You’re one to talk” Law ruffles the tight curls, they have tinges of white that spread the more he would use his power. They once thought it would go white all the way, but when the world got boring, Luffy did not need to go all the way in a long long time. “What do you think is out there?” 

“Another adventure?” Luffy chuckles. He does not know if there is another world, or if there is anything. He doesn’t much care, as long as it's fun. He shrugs. “Whatever it is, I hope you’re there again Traffy!” 

“You think we will meet again?” Law never was one for fate, never to believe that there is anything more than chance in the world, otherwise, his life was full of suffering because of some bastard's will. The only god he ever really needed to believe is Luffy. He is flesh and blood. Real. 

“We’re gonna meet in every world!” Luffy's grin never falters, even as he is starting to get sleepy. “That's a promise!” His speech slurs. 

“That would be nice” Law brushes a thumb over a cheek, making the man hum.

“I’m getting tired…” Luffy yawns, eyes fluttering shut. He is starting to fade. “I love you…” His voice is at a whisper. 

Law bends down, brushing his lips over Luffy’s. “Rest now” He feels tears sting at the corners of his eyes. Law promised himself that he wouldn’t cry. His breath shudders. “I’ll follow you, soon.” He feels Luffy’s heart, its drumming falters. That steady beat goes off-tune. It’s getting weak. Not long now. “You gave me everything, thank you” Another kiss, on lips that only just respond. “Room” His power takes longer to respond. There is a small temptation to use his power, to give Luffy back his life. Yet they talked about it plenty of times, and Luffy never even entertained the idea of forever. He never wanted to be alone, not without those he calls dear. Brook gave him a first-hand experience of forever, and only made him want it less. 

Law would never give him that curse, not when he doesn’t want it. “You always do things first.” He feels the time between beats increase. Then stop, the last breath escapes Luffy’s lips. 

Law can't hold back the tears anymore. They drip down his cheeks and sobs escape past trembling lips. “I was always supposed to go first, with everyone” He takes a deep breath. “My family, Cora, and now you” He wheezes. “At least I’m not long behind you” Law cradles Luffy, he wants the last thing he sees to be of this man. He looks peaceful like this, happy as he could ever be. Years ago, this was not the death Luffy would have wanted, he always wanted to go out with a bang, and well maybe he did. Everyone will wonder what happened to the pirate king after the party they threw. Their story will go down in legend. 

“It was a good ride” Law settles back on the bench, looking out over the ocean and the setting sun. He places a hand over his heart. “I never thought I would have a good life but that's what you gave me” He leans back. “I hope I did the same for you.” Law lets his eyes slide close. “I love you, thank you” Law lets go, of his power that has supported him for the last three decades. He lets go of all the that keep his heart beating, his mind working. It’s almost refreshing. Law has not relaxed this much in a long time. The pain starts to fade as his body gives up. “See you in the next life, Monkey D. Luffy” 

[objectivesubjectivity]

My Favorite Albums of 2024*

*not necessarily from 2024

I'm back at it once again, sharing my Top 10 CDs, in alphabetical order by title, from the 151 I've acquired over the past year. They may not be from 2024. Hell, they may not even be from this century. But I didn't physically own them until this year. That's the only rule. And boy do I love making up absolutely meaningless rules. Let's get into it!

Say Anything - All My Friends Are Enemies: Early Rarities

Say Anything released one of the most unhinged, passionate, and self-indulgent albums I picked up this year and it may have made it on this list if it wasn’t for splurging on a 3-disc (!!!) compilation of all of their pre-Is A Real Boy material showcasing just how great of a songwriter Bemis can be. Plus, his commentary all over the liner notes is *chef’s kiss*.

Charlie XCX - Brat

I spent a decent amount of time declaring how this was “not for me” (I’m in my late 30s, I don’t go to clubs, I’ve never done coke, etc…) but it just didn’t let up. The overarching concept of accepting one’s full self, flaws and all, is universal and these songs have a depth that blossoms on repeat listens. There’s a reason this is on all the "best of" lists.

Cursive - Devourer

It’s been a year of “return to form albums” and none has been as exciting or as potent as Cursive’s 10th. The cello is back. The horns are back. It’s as loud, brash, and pessimistic as ever but Kasher also reminds everyone that he can also write one hell of a hook. Also, while “MUSTARDDDDDDDDDD” takes the cake for greatest yelled lyric of the year, Tim spewing “MOTHER FUCKER” on “The Age of Impotence,” is a close second.

Eels - EELS TIME!

I had given up on E’s lyrical prowess a good decade ago but maybe that was premature. While this album has a smattering of the lazy, cringeworthy rhymes gracing most things post “Blinking Lights,” it also is home to a myriad thoughtful and earnest ponderings on the temporal nature of life and how we choose to spend our finite amount of time. Oh, and an incredible verse about going on a date with someone who likes furries. EELS ARE FUCKING BACK, BABY.

Hello Mary - Emita Ox

I wanted to like Hello Mary’s self-titled album a lot more than I did. The Brooklyn 3 piece possessed a delicate fury and 90s post-grunge aesthetic that warmed my heart but the album never really stuck. That’s not the case with Emita Ox: it’s heavier and more mathy but it balances those elements with lush harmonies and superb melodies. This sounds like a band finding themselves and I cannot wait to see what they discover next.

Devon Kay & The Solutions - Grieving Expectation

Every year I go on a Pure Noise Records shopping spree (it helps that their cds are frequently quite cheap and BOGO) which allows me to discover a ton of music I otherwise wouldn’t have heard and every now and then, I find a gem. This is one of those gems. Blurring the lines between ska, punk, emo, and good ol’ fashioned “Alt-Rock,” this album hits like Jeff Rosenstock by way of “Bring Your Own Stereo” era Jimmie's Chicken Shack. It’s got great choruses, a killer horn section, and I found myself frequently reaching the end and starting it right back over again. Easily my favorite discovery of the year.

MJ Lenderman - Manning Fireworks

This is popping up in one of the top 3 slots on many of the End of Year lists I’ve checked out and for good reason. It’s instantly approachable with humorous and poignant lyrics that unearth themselves more and more on repeat listens. Also, to stand out in the crowded “Americana” field these days is a feat in itself. Bravo.

Macseal - Permanent Repeat

I saw this four-piece open for The Wonder Years a couple years ago and was immediately intrigued by how their melodies and chord progressions consistently shifted away from where I expected but not at the expense of the song itself. In yet another crowded field, this time emo-tinged Americana (“Emoacana?”), they definitely made a mark. A couple years later, they’ve replaced some of the twists and turns with a deeper ability to craft great, memorable songs, and, holy shit, is it effective. It’s pretty ballsy to name your album “Permanent Repeat” but that’s basically what this disc has been doing ever since it showed up in my mailbox. This is, hands down, my album of the year.

Martha - Please Don’t Take Me Back

Positively pleasing, practically perfect, politically-charged, pop-punk from across the pond. Head-bopped to this one many times this past year. No skips.

The Pharmaceutical Bandits - Those Damn Bandits

This isn’t a “good” album per se (it’s the debut album from a late 90s teenage ska-punk band so expectations probably shouldn't be that high in the first place) but it was one of the only Drive-Thru Records CD I didn’t own, so of course it had to be on this list. 

To their credit, after this album, they altered their name to Rx Bandits and put out a ton of great ska-punk tracks. And then they went prog-rock and put out some great tracks in that style as well. It’s a strange journey but well worth it.

Other albums I liked from 2024 but haven't yet physically acquired.

Doechii - Alligator Bites Never Heal (Only Vinyl pre-release at the moment. Hoping for a CD as well.)

Tyler, The Creator - Chromakopia (Ordered it back in November. Possibly still stuck in transit?)

Kendrick Lamar - GNX (pre-ordered the CD from Amoeba. Feels right to get that from a Cali based store)

Other Assorted 2024 Stuff

Favorite Live Bands seen in 2024:

Emperor X (The Broadway - 4/27)

Something Corporate (Asbury Park - 8/23)

Soul Coughing (Brooklyn Steel - 10/4)

Hello Mary - (Warsaw 10/26)

The Blood Brothers (Irving Plaza - 12/13)

Favorite Plays seen in 2024

The Ally (The Public)

Wicked (Apollo Victoria Theatre)

Life and Trust (Connell Tower)

Medea RE: Versed (Sheen Center)

Gypsy (Majestic)

Favorite Movies seen in 2024

Love Lies Bleeding

Strange Darling

The Substance

Longlegs

The Endless

Beetlejuice (the original, I haven't seen the sequel)

We’re All Going to the World’s Fair

Late Night with the Devil

Milk and Serial

Labyrinth

Favorite TV seen in 2024

Alice in Borderland (Season 2)

Baby Reindeer

Rhythm and Flow (Season 2 - even though I disagreed with their final choice)

Abbott Elementary

Only Murders

Last Week Tonight

Just For Us

Favorite Podcasts listened to in 2024

Entrée PeeE Neur’s Entrepreneur Tour Featuring Appetizer P Neur

The "Drop Dead Gorgeous" Episode from Scott Hasn't Seen

The Secrets Hotline

Detoxicity

The Run Up

538 Politics Podcast

The Daily

Favorite Books read in 2024

All The Kings Men by Robert Penn Warren

Frankenstein by Mary Shelly

Basketball (and Other Things) by Shea Serrano

Slonim 9: A Memoir by Daniel Barban Levin

[sachikoii]

My thoughts on what year ikevil is set

I just finished Harrison's route a few days ago so I wanted to share some of my thoughts 👀

THIS IS JUST A POST FOR FUN 🥺

SPOILERS AHEAD (just in case)

The premise of Ikemen Villain is that you are living in 19th century London. Crown works for the Queen. This would have to refer to the only female British monarch in that century, Queen Victoria, who reigned from 1837-1901 aka the Victorian era.

I think most people know by now that Arthur Conan Doyle (the non-vampire version) makes an appearance in Harrison's route. Harrison's day job is being an editor and he's also a big fan of mystery novels. He mentions enjoying Conan Doyle's novels and being excited for new releases.

Sherlock Holmes is also mentioned a few times in his route, and not just by Harrison. MC also references Watson (wish I had the screenshot for this, it was in the middle of Harrison's route 🥲). We can assume at this point that Sherlock Holmes has reached enough mainstream popularity as even regular, literate folk like MC vaguely know the characters.

Sherlock Holmes made his first appearance in 1887, meaning our setting is already quite late in the Victorian era. He became increasingly popular after having his short stories published in a magazine, beginning in 1891.

To add to this, Liam mentions Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (William's route, Chapter 2) and specifically says it is "a story released a few decades ago". That book was published in 1865. A few is usually considered to be 2 or more, confirming again that it is late in the 1800s (at least 1885).

Therefore, Ikevil takes place between 1891-1899. Of course, this assumes the timeline matches our timeline and it isn't in an alternate universe where things we know from history are sprinkled in here and there haha wouldn't that be funny 🙂

Honestly though, I do know that Cybird hasn't always been the most accurate when it comes to historical events (I wouldn't really expect that of them either). I just think it's fun to imagine that Ikevil and Ikevamp could be happening in the same universe ☺️ I would love to see a crossover event (I know there's one with Harrison and Arthur my two favs)

Let me know if you have a different perspective! I'm so curious if they added any other historical references in other routes. I just started William's and haven't done Liam's yet.

[ceaseless-watchers-special-girl]

you guys. you guys you guys. i think i know what i want from the final season of the penumbra podcast. i have spent the past ten minutes pacing around my room. yesterday i read up to chapter 17 of prydon's fic separate but syncopated (https://archiveofourown.org/works/30943430/chapters/76417991) which let's be honest, you've probably read already. it's phenomenal. if you haven't, you should.

so i've been thinking. i just really want to go back to brahma. i want to go back to brahma and take down the guardian angel system.

the thing is, the junoverse is a very character driven storyline, and i love that about it. the second citadel is more event driven i think, and it was more difficult for me to get into that storyline and stick with it (i'm weak i'm sorry). for example, although the first season focuses a lot on juno solving the whole martian artefact doodah, back then the penumbra crew were still finding their feet.

then junoverse season 2 happened, and the entire point of that season was basically "get juno over his trauma" (that's why it was so long oh my god). sure, there was a whole plot with ramses and the theia souls, but i think we can all agree that was secondary to juno's character development.

next, season 3. season 3 is definitely character driven, you literally can't deny it. it focuses on each member of the carte blanche in turn, and it uses the plot, finding the curemother prime, as a secondary tool to further the true point of the season: getting to know the characters.

season 4 i'm a little less certain about because i'm typing this post straight into tumblr fresh out of my brain (if anyone wants to help out with the analysis i'd love that). but i think the point of season 4 is to test and showcase the bonds of the carte blanche with each other, and juno rescuing them all is not only a good story, but also a good way to show off the relationships they built in season 3. his relationship with nureyev is shown through periodic reading of the journal, and juno's copious inner monologues (i say like i'm one to talk when all of these thoughts are swirling around in my own head).

then, season 5. the point of this season mirrors that of season 2, but this time, we need to get nureyev over his trauma. this is way trickier, because we're not inside nureyev's head, we're still in juno's. it's still character driven because the aim is to help nureyev, but the plot is given by juno having to chase him across the galaxy. hence, juno's hesitation when he finally finds nureyev.

well, steel, you've caught him. now what the hell are you going to do with him?

there is no plot to drive the character study anymore. our goal was to help nureyev, and juno (poor juno) has done all he can. the ball falls squarely into nureyev's court now, and juno has no say in the plot of the rest of the story. this is why i have been chewing myself alive since the last episode — we know what's next for the characters emotionally, but we have absolutely zero idea what's happening next plot-wise. it's killing me.

(what was the point of this post again?)

OH WAIT I'VE GOT IT. so. since our whole thing for this season is helping nureyev, and we all want him to go batshit fucking insane, i really want nureyev to go back to brahma, and finish what he started two decades ago. i think it's the perfect circular story arc to keep them occupied while nureyev heals emotionally from the fallout from everything going on with slip.

also, sorry to get real for a second, but i've just been tearing myself apart being morally outraged at the world we live in, and the fact that i'm barely able to do anything about it. maybe one day i could, but until then, it would be nice to see my favourite space gays set an example.

now, i know there's complications with this. nureyev refused to take the guardian angel system down in the first place because of the damage it would cause, and i'm willing to bet he hasn't excised that moral core just yet, no matter how hard he's trying. but i'm sure they can find a way to make it work. they have rita, after all!!

they're definitely hinting at a homecoming arc for juno. i think nureyev needs one too, is all.