#I'm turning that phrase over and over in my mind anyhow

[hephaestuscrew]

I just read this poem by Rick Barot and I want to make Wooden Overcoats fans read these lines:

I know the difference doesn’t matter, except in poetry, where a coffin is just another coffin until someone at a funeral calls it a wooden overcoat, an image so heavy and warm at the same time that you forget it’s about death.

[lazuleilex]

Metro Man x Fem!Reader

╭──────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────────╮ Anyhow, I'm just moving some on my stuff from PoeAi over to here, I may continue it if I can. Enjoy :P

╰──────── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ────────╯

"Excuse me, beautiful, do you know where the music section was at again?" Wayne, a consistent regular in your family's library, asked. The fingers of his large hand gently tapping the counter you worked on inside, a sly grin spreading across his face as his icy blue eyes moved faintly across your body, so much so you wouldn't notice. It wasn't everyday that you met Wayne, just coincidentally at times when it's your turn to work at the front desk. It was just that for every visit he had, he'd always ask the same question, sometimes changing up a bit, saying something else that's still synonymous to the phrase, 'Where's the music section?'. You don't exactly remember when he first came here. The closest would have been when....Metro Man died.

Your mind wandered to memories of days past, as it often did in quiet moments. You remembered Metro Man's visits - how he would chat with you for hours under the guise of browsing books, making you laugh with his witty jokes and charm. The first time you exchanged words, you thought of the worst. Maybe some wonder boy who's here for a late night booty call, hidden away from his status as an all-so-noble hero of Metro City. Much to your surprise, he wasn't. There was an earnest kindness in his eyes that used to give you flutters, thoughts of how his eyes would feel looking down at you under covers where no one else but you two would know about.

But those days were long gone now. Metro Man had sacrificed himself to save the city, leaving only bittersweet recollections in his wake. The city had moved on under Megamind's leadership, but some wounds still ached. You snapped your head back to reality, attention back to the present, where Megamind had a change of heart, peace back to Metro City.

Oh, and also Wayne waiting for you to lead him to the music section of the library. "Crap, sorry, Wayne, Hold on," You muttered, walking out of the counter as you two walked together to that specific section. There was something soothing in his company that set your mind at ease. Maybe the thought of Metro Man was making you unable to take your eyes off of Wayne. There was a resemblance, after all. Too bad he noticed your eyes too quick. "Like what you see?" He snickered, teasingly. Your lips thinned, a bit embarrassed from getting caught. "No, I just...Just..." "Just what?" He interrupted, enjoying the fact that he was making you all flustered. "You just look like someone." You finally answered, straining yourself from your face flushing in front of him. That made his head tilt. "Someone?" He asked. Heat rose from your cheeks as a reminder of your thoughts about Metro Man surfaced, you cute little 'dreams' about him and what-not. "Metro Man." Wayne paused, looking back at you, smirking, "Do I?". You shrugged, just wanting this conversation to end as quickly as it started. "Yes. Now, music section. We're already here." you state, grabbing a wheeler near by to clean up some books customers left behind. You sighed, looking back at him, still standing still from where you left him momentarily. "Now, don't change the subject. Just what about me strikes you to think of Metro Man? His charm? Looks? Body?" "Wayne...." You mutter embarrassingly as you gently placed some books back on their shelves. "What? Just asking. Never expected you to be interested in a hero." Wayne chuckled, pulling out a random book, flipping it's pages absentmindedly, but also as if in thought. "And what do you mean by that?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest, making Wayne to let out a choked laugh. "Listen, tiny, don't get me wrong, but I really thought you'd be more into cool guys. You know. Like me." He grinned, satisfied from his own words. However, there was a hint of nervousness laced up tightly behind his lips. An uncertainty? You couldn't pin point it, only responding with a raised eyebrow. "You're a cool guy? The same guy that always magically forgets the location of the music section in this already small library?"

"How mean. Is it that hard to understand a man's intentions?" "Intentions? If it's for the intent to read, then I see nothing." Wayne let out a loud, long sigh before shaking his head and mumbling something to himself. "Tiny, you still know nothing about flirting now, do you?". You almost spat out a non-existing drink from you lips as you looked back at him, dumbfounded. "Don't tell me you're just finding out." He continues and when he saw your expression, he lets out another frustrated sigh. "You didn't think my words and how I'm literally here 24/7, was flirting?" You shook your head. For all you know, he was probably just some player, but damn. This feels somewhat nostalgic. When was it again? You took a moment of thinking before finally arriving at the thought destination in your brain. It was another memory of Metro Man back when he was still visiting. A memory you just want to get over with already, but it's still eating at you every night. I'll be making a PART II for this because tumblr said it was too large to fit in one blog so :"( I'll put the link here soon __________________________________ PART II

[rochelle-echidna]

@micheladee tagged me in the "post a couple paragraphs of your WIP" share-a-thon, so figured I'd go through my Word docs and see what I could find - thank you so much for the tag, Michela :)

Truth be told, if y'all will allow me to vent a bit first... it's been a bit of a shitter these last couple years, especially wrt getting any sort of writing done. Never mind with fics (of which I feel awful I've barely started anything new, even the WIP below is from last year) - but I've also been trying to finally write a novel of my own after realising I really, really want to... and the words just aren't coming. Whether it's because of fear of ridicule, fear of failure, fear of not being good enough, fear of financial stresses, fear of whatever... it's been really fucking rough since my spouse and I moved cross-country, and I've def been feeling ashamed at my lack of creative output :(

On the bright side, I'm getting some help with therapy and I'm doing a couple workshops to get me back into the swing of being creative so that I can tackle the work-life balance and not feel like the entirety of my (and my spouse's) survival rests squarely on my shoulders. Whether that means I'll be able to post any new work soon is up for debate, but honestly just taking these baby steps is better than nothing, so I'll take what I can get (and my body + mind can give).

And I know there's no "admission fee" to partake in fandom, but I still feel I'd be remiss if I didn't offer a huge apology for not positing fics recently, and especially for not commenting on fics y'all have made in these last several months - please believe me when I say I see y'all's work and it's great and makes me feel so many necessary things, even if I'm not able to type the words on AO3 atm.

Anyhow, just wanted to share an update with y'all and let you know I'm still here, still alive... just taking it one day at a time for now in order to keep my sanity strong!

Enjoy this little snippet of a WIP below, and I tag whoever so chooses to participate in this game - even if I'm quiet, I love seeing everything you lovely people write :D

When he was thrust back to reality in his own body, there was the usual disorientation that was to be expected of someone summoned through the dark arts. After all, if the infamous Thief King from 3,000 years ago had existed as a separate being before, there was no reason Malik’s other half couldn’t, too. Except… Ryou Bakura hadn’t exactly planned for this extra passenger to crawl his way back from the shadows alongside the former spirit. And what “Malik’s other half” – the phrase enough to make said individual gag – definitely hadn’t expected was for such confusion to be tainted by a profound sadness… one that had permeated his entire being for the last six months. Or however long it had been. Malik had gotten what he’d wanted, Ryou had gotten what he wanted, the Thief King had kind of gotten what he wanted – and all that “Malik’s other half” had gotten was a sense of displacement, dysmorphia and disdain. “You know… he’s welcome to stay here, Malik.” “You weren’t conscious during that damned duel fifteen years ago, host. Just be glad you weren’t privy to his cruelty firsthand.” “He’s right, Ryou. You’ve done enough already. There’s no need to put yourself in more danger.” “But there’s not much harm he can do now. I mean—" “I can hear you all.” Three pairs of eyes had greeted him when he’d first turned over on a – soft – bed. His hands had been bound, and he’d growled and snarled so much that he’d made Malik and the Thief King back up – but not the white-haired man in-between them. “You probably have lots of questions right now. And…” The blush that formed on the man’s cheeks had sent a – strange – shiver down his spine, warming his bound wrists. “I’m sorry I don’t have many answers.” He had merely hmphed at that, avoiding eye contact with his “main personality” and the thief who’d dared face him. Instead, he focused on the wide eyes of the man who must have been called— “Ryou… it’s no use. We need to send him back before he does some real damage again.” “Snap out of it, landlord. Just look at how he’s staring at you.” But the man – Ryou – had just tilted his head and let loose a very small smile. “What’s your name?”

[dzpenumbra]

1/15/23

Today did not go as planned. I think I'm going to make that my new catch phrase.

Instead of scrolling social media in bed - a nasty habit I have been successfully avoiding lately - I tried something else. A dating app. Like that's any fucking different, honestly. It's more of a shitty mobile game, to be honest. Like a really shitty not-fun pay-to-win mobile game, with pretty high stakes. It frustrates me, and depresses me.

I shifted my attention over to... anything else at all after a bit. It was just getting frustrating. 2 matches in like 3 years, one ghosted (which isn't the end of the world, honestly) and one literally used me to get rid of 2 entire goat skeletons and then never talked to me again. I wish I was kidding. And to be fair to myself, I'm not unattractive, I'm intelligent, I'm not currently in a relationship (which apparently is pretty uncommon for people in my demographic by how much I see that coming up), I'm emotionally in-touch, I keep myself moderately active, I work on mind, body and soul, and I am constantly seeking self-improvement. I don't really know why I don't get any hits for like... years at a time. It makes me feel like there's something wrong with me. :(

I have been on one "date" since 2018 and that was some alcoholic chick driving over in her pajamas, dropping off two giant bags full of goat bones, having me watch Bo Burnham's "Inside" with her, which induced a gigantic panic attack which I gracefully recovered from within like 3 minutes, then... she just peaced out and I never saw her again. Is this what dating in your mid-30's is like? Or was this an extreme example here...?

Anyhow, that was depressing as fuck so I decided to... schedule an appointment for a vaccine booster. Because I haven't gotten a vaccine shot since like... 2021. And I think it might make me feel a bit better about going and doing things in society if I get that taken care of. So I set an appointment for 4 this afternoon and got up and started my day.

Yoga was nice, not too intense, not too relaxing, a happy median that went by surprisingly quickly. I peeled a whole bag of potatoes, prepping to make slow-cooker mashed potatoes while I get shit done. I showered. I took the compost out and cleaned the snow off the car by hand, you know, because I don't have a scraper or a brush or anything at all. Just gloves. It took a while but I got it done.

I drive up to the pharmacy and say I'm there for my appointment, and they just look at me like I've got 3 heads. I double check, give them my name, nothing. I ask if they can just pencil me in or something, or help me set up an appointment. "You have to do it online". While I'm literally standing in the store. ... So I walk to another aisle and schedule an appointment for tomorrow. I noticed my mistake. There was a big red button that said "Book Appointment" that I didn't hit, I thought I already had the appointment set and everything. -_-

Then I went to check for pushpins. Nothing. Again. I just got two big bags of candy and some batteries for my Xbox controller so the trip wasn't a complete wash.

I got home and actually did some home decorating. I got my dartboard set up, which is cool. I hung some string lights. I finally got my big whiteboard up and running. Lots of things started coming together. Then my Mom called.

I told her the story, she thought it was amusing. Then she started just... volunteering to help me get a workbench for my apartment, and started like... just doing it. As I was trying to finish cooking my potatoes. It was a bit confusing. And it wasn't working at all. It quickly started to create a conflict. It just started stressing me out, she clearly had no idea what she was looking for and I just didn't have the patience to literally draw her a picture like she was asking me to. It turned into a fight pretty quick. The second she caught wind of my stress, it was curtains. And the kicker? It's her birthday. And I completely forgot. I barely even know what day of the week it is most of the time. I felt bad, but like... birthday isn't a free pass to vent stress on me.

I managed to get through to her, which has been getting surprisingly a lot easier lately. But this time, I did it differently. I made a point to point out that I cannot make these conflicts resolve. That it might seem to her that I am making them stop, that me explaining the situation and calming her down is what's making the "fight" (aka panic) stop. But it isn't. It's not me at all. I'm just an accessory. I'm just feeding information. I'm just a narrator. She is the one who stops it. By letting it go. By trusting. By shifting gears. I simply put out my empirical perspective of what I've experienced, and my pleas of what I wish for the direction of the conversation. The rest is out of my hands. And it actually got through. Which is huge progress. And I'm really proud to see it. That's really hard work, to snatch the steering wheel from Fear brain and start being more deliberate about the Now.

I felt bad that I didn't really do anything for her birthday. And I didn't even remember. She deserves better than that. But, you know, she has two other sons and a husband. And she had gotten like 3 other phone calls that day, so... it doesn't all weigh on my shoulders. And I rarely get that kind of fanfare for my birthday so... *shrug*. I've still got a jewelry piece to finish for her, I'll just combo deal the two. It's a pretty sentimental piece, I'm sure she'll be pleased either way.

The rest of the night was just eating tons of food and playing/recording Rimworld. The story is definitely interesting, I'm just... not fully pulled into it. I don't know, I'll see how it plays out.

Bed. I have that appointment in the afternoon, and I'm nodding off already.

[starter-library]

Hadestown Act 2 Lyric Starters

FEEL FREE TO CHANGE PRONOUNS/NAMES/PHRASING AS YOU SEE FIT

“I don't know about you, boys but if you're like me then hanging around this old manhole is bringing you down”

“You're stir crazy! Stuck in a rut! Oh you could use a little pick-me-up”

“I can give you what it is you crave, a little something from the good old days”

“Come here, brother—let me guess: It's the little things you miss”

“Look a little closer and everything will be revealed”

“How long's it been? A little moonshine ain't no sin”

“Tell my husband to take his time! What the boss don't know, the boss won't mind”

“I did what I had to do.”

“They can hear, But they don't care. No one has a name down here.”

“Why won't anybody look at me?”

“Down in the river of oblivion, You kissed your little life goodbye”

“So what was your name again?”

“What I wanted was to fall asleep, Close my eyes and disappear”

“Dreams are sweet, until they're not. Men are kind, until they aren’t”

“Is anybody listening? I open my mouth and nothing comes out”

“Whatever happened, I’m to blame”

“Young man, I don't think we've met before.”

“You're not from around here, son. Don't know who the hell you are but I can tell you don't belong”

“You hear me, son? You better run!”

“I'm not goin' back alone— I came to take her home!”

“Who the hell do you think you are? Who the hell you think you're talkin' to?”

“You're not from around here, son. If you were, then you would know.”

“Everybody gather 'round! Everybody look and see, what becomes of trespassers with no respect for property!”

“Why the struggle, why the strain? Why make trouble, why make scenes?”

“Why go against the grain, why swim upstream? It ain't no use, you're bound to lose”

“What's done is done that's the way the river runs”

“Why waste your precious breath? Why beat your handsome brow? Nothing changes anyhow”

“Is this how the world is? To be beaten and betrayed and then be told that nothing changes?”

“If it's true what they say, What's the purpose of a man? Just to turn his eyes away? Just to throw up both his hands?”

“What's the use of his backbone if he never stands upright? If he turns his back on everyone that he could've stood beside?”

“If it's true what they say I'll be on my way. But who are they to say what the truth is anyway?”

“The ones who tell the lies are the solemnest to swear”

“The ones who load the dice always say the toss is fair”

“The ones who deal the cards are the ones who take the tricks with their hands over their hearts while we play the game they fix”

“The ones who speak the words Always say it is the last and no answer will be heard to the question no one asks”

“So I'm askin' if it's true, I’m askin' me and you, I believe our answer matters more than anything they say”

“I believe if there is still a will, then there is still a way”

“I believe there is a way, I believe in us together more than anyone alone”

“I believe that with each other, we are stronger than we know”

“I believe we're stronger than they know”

“I believe that we are many, I believe that they are few, And it isn't for the few to tell the many what is true”

“What are you afraid of? He's just a boy in love.”

“He has the kind of love for her that you and I once had”

“[Name] my husband, [Name] my light, [Name] my darkness”

“All of the sorrow won't fit in his chest, It just burns like a fire in the pit of his chest and his heart is a bird on a spit in his chest”

“Nothing comes of wishing on stars and nothing comes of the songs people sing however sorry they are”

“It is only for love that he sings he sings for the love of a girl”

“You and your pity don't fit in my bed”

“It's true the earth must die, but then the earth comes back to life and the sun must go on rising”

“Why do we turn away when our brother is bleeding?”

“If we're free tell me why I can't look in my brother's eye?”

“Got to hand it to you, guess you don't scare easy, do ya?”

“Are you brave or stupid, son? Doesn't matter which one”

“If I raise my voice, If I raise my head, Could I change my fate?”

“If I raise my voice could I change the way it is?”

“Why do we turn away instead of standing with him?”

“Why are we digging our own graves for a living?”

“If we're free tell me when we can stand with our fellow man”

“Young man, I was young once too, sang a song of love like you”

“Young man, you can strum your lyre, I have strung the world in wire”

“Give me one more song, one more song before I send you to the great beyond, where nobody can hear you singing”

“Sing a song for me. Make me laugh, make me weep, Make the king feel young again. Sing for an old man!”

“And you didn't know how, And you didn't know why, But you knew that you wanted to take her home”

“It was like you were holding the world when you held her, Like yours were the arms that the whole world was in”

“And what has become of the heart of that man now that the man is king? What has become of the heart of that man now that he has everything?”

“He's grown so afraid that he'll lose what he owns but what he doesn't know is that what he's defending is already gone”

“Where is the treasure inside of your chest? Where is your pleasure? Where is your youth?

Where is the man with his arms outstretched to the woman he loves, with nothing to lose?”

“This poor boy brought the world back into tune is what he did”

“It's a long road, It's a long walk back into the cold and dark. Are you sure you wanna go?”

“I can't promise you fair sky above, can't promise you kind road below but I'll walk beside you, love any way the wind blows”

“I don't need gold, don't need silver, just bread when I'm hungry, fire when I'm cold”

“Don't need a ring for my finger just need a steady hand to hold”

“We'll show the way, If we can do it, so can they.”

“I don't know where this road will end but I'll walk it with you, hand in hand”

“Gotta think quick, Gotta save face, Caught 'tween a rock and a hard place. Whatcha gonna do now?”

“If you tell him no, Oh, you're a heartless man and you're gonna have a martyr on your hands”

“If you let him go, Oh, you're a spineless king and you're never gonna get 'em in line again”

“Damned if you don’t, Damned if you do, Whole damn nation's watching you”

“Here’s a little snippet of advice: Men are fools, men are frail, give them the rope and they’ll hang themselves”

“The devil take this [name], and his belladonna kiss. Beautiful, poisonous, lovely, deadly.”

“Dangerous this jack of hearts, With his kiss, the riot starts”

“Have I made myself their lord just to fall upon the sword”

“Who will lead them? Who lays all our best-laid plans? Who makes work for idle hands?”

“Every coward seems courageous in the safety of a crowd”

“Bravery can be contagious when the band is playing loud”

“Nothing makes a man so bold as a woman's smile and a hand to hold”

“The meanest dog you'll ever meet, he ain't the hound dog in the street, he bares some teeth and tears some skin, but brother, that's the worst of him.”

“The dog you really got to dread, is the one that howls inside your head, It's him whose howling drives men mad, and a mind to its undoing.”

“Show her the way so we can see show her the way the world could be”

“We will follow where you lead we will follow with you”

“And how 'bout you and I? Are we gonna try again?”

“Who are you? Who do you think you are?”

“Who are you to think that you can hold your head up higher than your fellow man?”

“I'll tell you where the real road lies: between your ears, behind your eyes. That is the path to Paradise, likewise, the road to ruin.”

“Who am I? Where do I think I'm goin’?”

“Who am I? Why am I all alone?”

“Who do I think I am? Who am I to think that she would follow me into the cold and dark again?”

“I am right here and I will be to the end. And the coldest night Of the coldest year comes right before the spring”

“Who am I? Who am I against him? Who am I? Why would he let me win?”

“Why would he let her go? Who am I to think that he wouldn't deceive me just to make me leave alone?”

“Is this a trap that's bein' laid for me? Is this a trick that's bein' played on me?”

“I used to see the way the world could be but now the way it is is all I see”

“To know how it ends, and still begin to sing it again as if it might turn out this time, I learned that from a friend of mine.”

“Pour the wine and raise a cup. Drink up, brothers, you know how”

“Some birds sing when the sun shines bright our praise is not for them but the ones who sing in the dead of night we raise our cups to them”

“Goodnight, brothers, goodnight”

[astriefer]

Please have this messy, badly written scenario as a humble gift to you, because I wanted to do something since I reached 200 followers!

Bits of Truth

They stood in front of the Carstairs' townhouse in Cornwall Gardens. Christopher seemed mildly confused about what they were doing there as if he had not been paying attention. James shared one last glance with Thomas before he knocked on the door.

A few bits of silence flew by, in which they had held their breaths. Then footsteps tapped on the floor, and the door cracked open.

A wave of relief passed through James that not Sona nor Risa or any other maid came to open the door. Then he thought what a peculiar thought it was for him to be relieved by. Alastair looked at them, frozen in place, blinking a few times as if he didn't believe they were truly there. He rejoined his composure hastily. He didn't let them in - he stood in the front door and his eyes searched theirs for an explanation. It was like a weird staring contest. Eventually, Alastair spoke first. "Cordelia is not here. You know it fairly well."

He moved to close the door. "We haven't come for Cordelia," he said quickly, which received another incredulous glance from Alastair. "Well, we have. But not because we thought she'd show up here. We came to talk to you."

Alastair narrowed his eyes, expressionless, and considered James. Then he glanced at Christopher and Thomas, noting their desperate eyes. "About my sister?"

"We won't take long," promised James, despite he wasn't sure it's true. Alastair studied him, and James felt himself going rigid. He leveled Alastair with his indecipherable gaze.

Then Alastair had stepped back from the door and ushered them in. "My mother is in her bedroom, resting, and Risa went shopping for supper. So, you have to be quiet. Make it quick.'

~~~~

Alastair took their coats and tilted his head towered the parlor. A kettle whiselted in the kitchen. As he gestured them inside he turned the other way. A fire burned in the chimney, and a book rested peacefully on the armchair. When James examined closer he discovered it was written in Persian. Thomas mumbled something about Persian poetry.

Alastair came inside with a tray and James thought he was, for a change, being hospitable, but he ignored them and disappeared up the stairs. When he got back, empty-handed, James assumed the tea was for his mother. Alastair placed the book on the table as he sat down in front of them. Thomas and Christopher set on a love sofa and James set stoned on another armchair. He didn't waste time being the kind host, James presumed. "What it is about my sister?"

The golden-eyed boy decided the best tactic was started from what he knew. That wasn't much, but it was the most important thing, and he was certain about it, at the very least. "I love your sister."

Alastair raised his eyebrows, amused. "Yes, that's something that tends to happen between married couples, I've been told."

James shook his head. "This marriage, of Cordelia and I," just saying her name on his lips made a treacherous skip of his heartbeat, full of hurt and love. "It was a sham marriage."

Alastair pools of dark marble were fixed on James when he explained, rather awkwardly, the events that led to their marriage. And then events that led to Cordelia leaving the country. He prospected Alastair would be outraged, throw spears at them, maybe even recite some very angry poetry phrases in Persian. Instead, Alastair was very still for very long. When he did speak, the words weren't the James expected them to be. "I knew the marriage wasn't out of love," Alastair said calmly. "But I didn't expect you to tell all that rubbish."

James blinked. "It's the truth."

"Oh, I know," Alastair returned with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I doubt you would come up with such a ludicrous idea on your own, even if just to spite me. and I also know Cordelia wouldn't have slept with you unwedded, no matter how much she loved you."

All the thieves caught their breath when Alastair leaned forward, his month curving in an odd angle. "I also know being married to you was a wish she never thought would come true, and that you cared for her. You claimed her as yours and you defended her. It was good for Cordelia, and so I said nothing."

James snorted, although he hadn't found the conversation funny. Not the least. "I thought I loved Grace at that time. I felt bad when the thought of living with Cordelia was more appealing than I expected." The thought of Grace made his features harden. "And because of Grace, for years I've been blind. Manipulated. I lost my wife and Parabatai. She played with me like a doll; messed with my feelings, messed with my life. This is unforgivable."

He did not notice Christopher who tensed up and fixed his spectacles on his nose. "She did some bad things," he said, surprising them all. "But I don't think she's evil."

James furrowed his brow. "She's like a siren: beautiful and compelling, but going after her will only end in you being drowned."

"I see," Alastair said, turning back to James. "But why? Why did she do it?"

"Does it matter?" James asked. "She hurt so many people. She doesn't even deserve to apologize. It won't matter anyhow - the damage is done. After all she has done...sorry will never be enough. Nothing will."

"It matters," Alastair said. "Because you don't know her side of the tale. You don't know what she thinks. What she feels. You don't know if she had to do what she did."

He was tempted to say Grace has no feelings at all. "I believe I'm allowed to be angry."

"I do agree that what she had done to you is far above a jest or a play with hearts," there was a strange flame burning in the deep ponds of Alastair's dark eyes. "And you have no obligation to forgive her. But why not hear what she has to say? You are the one with the power. You know the truth. She can not affect you any longer."

James shook his head. "You don't know Grace," he said coldly, gravely. "She will try to use me. She will try and make me do as she wishes. I will not be a pawn in her game again. She controlled my life long enough."

Alastair glanced away, pondering over something. Thomas turned his head nervously between James and Alastair. For the first time since the beginning of their conversation, Thomas inquired, "Why do you insist James will hear her out?"

"You have no idea of her motives," Alastair retorted. "What she's done - she must know it's wrong. And she will have to live with this knowledge for the rest of her days. You are allowed to be angry, James, and rightfully so. But don't let it blind you. That you have been kept from certain kinds of evil doesn't mean everyone else had. You have no clue what led her to those decisions." Alastair looked distanced. James managed to guess he's not been talking only about Grace. "You should talk to her. You may not forgive her, but you deserve to understand, to know why to hear the plain truth. And you should let her mourn what she could have had and lost."

James wasn't sure he fully comprehended. "I wouldn't have loved her. Even without the bracelet issue - my heart belongs to Cordelia."

"What do you mean?" Christopher asked. "That not everyone had been kept from evil."

Alastair shrugged. "I met Tatiana Blackthorn only once. She's a madwoman. She doesn't seem like the kind of caring, kind mother to pet her daughter's shoulder. Besides, Grace seemed to be controlled by Tatiana, rather than working alone or alongside her."

"She took the love of my life away from me," James growled. "Nothing can atone for that."

"The love of your life is my sister," he reminded James. "I can hardly find the idea of her being heartbroken a good thing. And the one who caused this pain is not much liked, as well. But you shouldn't think that just because you would've done it otherwise, it was an option for her. You can't know what are the options in front of people. You can't know how they feel unless you talk to them. So talk to Grace, James. Then seek out my sister. If you love her like you claim you do, will you give up on her so easily?"

"No," James stood up, "I will not."

Alastair nodded. "why did you come and tell me about your little schemes? Why now?"

Now, after so much time of lying, why tell the truth? Why not keep it in its cage of delicately made lies?

James cut his gaze to the book on the table. Thomas answered instead in a quiet voice. "She is your sister. You must have been worried about her. We wanted to tell you because - because you deserve to know the truth and understand why things happened the way they did."

What Thomas did not say was what none of them wanted to admit. Cordelia ran away to Paris with Matthew. Even if she'll be back in only two weeks - they all were worried sick. James couldn't blame her, he was awful and blind. All of this was a mess. If she needed time to calm down in Paris, he couldn't deny it of her, even if he had a say in this choice.

Alastair studied Thomas, and James felt the half-Persian hadn't quite believed them. It was true - they needed his help in the future. But it was a start. "Anything else? A ghost friend? Another evil aunt?"

"No," Christopher affirmed.

"Good," Alastair said. James might have imagined it but he thought he saw Alastair sneak a glance at Thomas before standing up. "Now get out of my house. Risa will be here any minute."

~~~~

I- how?? Thank you so much, everyone!! 🙈 Thank you, you can't understand how much it means to me. 🥺

This is mind-blowing. Truly. For whatever reason you follow me, know that I love you <3

Tagging some of my mutuals, you are all wonderful and make my time here so much better (not all of them because my brain is all wonky, but I mean all of you): @kit-12 @littlx-songbxrd @pink-party-dino @shadowhuntertrash @gummybears-4u @itsdaughterofthemoon @mcrrythievcs @fictionally-fantastic @reyna-herondale I'll tag more but I don't want to bother anyone so... thank you!! I don't know what people find in my blog, but I am grateful, and I appreciate all of you endlessly.

[vera-dauriac]

Tell me about Joe Abercrombie? (I was going to PM you this but I figured if you're like me you'll have a really long answer to this question and might be better suited to it being a proper ask!) - I'm curious and need a decent new (to me) fantasy author with some right long series to get into. What's he like? Where would be a good place to start? Sell me him! (if you don't mind of course, no hurry and if you would!)

Eek! I am both ridiculously excited, and sweating, because I want people to read Abercrombie because he’s amazing and omg I love him so much.

*deep breath*

(Telling people about books and why they might appeal to them is literally my job I can do this. Right? Right.)

OK. So. What you should actually know about Abercrombie. First off, he has embraced the moniker Lord Grimdark, and while he thinks it’s hilarious, it’s also entirely accurate. Which means…

He’s not for the queasy. The books are violent and graphic, with plenty of blood and torture and whatnot. If you don’t have a strong constitution, he’s not for you. Also, there’s not a lot of sex, but almost none of it is sexy. The word “squelch” gets used a lot.

The overall outlook can be bleak. “Truly, life is the misery we endure between disappointments.” One of the characters says this, and I feel it could be a mission statement for the entire world of The First Law.

And yet…

The humor. Abercrombie is one of the funniest writers I’ve ever read. The humor is dark, I mean, pitch black, but truly hilarious.

The characters. If there is fantasy out there being written with better characters, I haven’t read it. It’s not just his ability to make otherwise unsympathetic characters interesting and likable, but that they feel so distinct and lived in.

So what are his book actually about?

Let’s get this out of the way. He wrote a YA trilogy that opens with Half a King. I really like that book, but the rest of the series didn’t click with me. Others feel different.

I’m just here to talk about his adult books, which are all set in the same universe, often referred to as The First Law world. The books are the original First Law trilogy: The Blade Itself, Before They Are Hanged, and The Last Argument of Kings. This series was followed by three standalone books: Best Served Cold, The Heroes, and Red Country. After that came the new The Age of Madness Trilogy: A Little Hatred, The Trouble with Peace, and The Wisdom of Crowds (coming in September!). This is also the internal chronology of the ‘verse. (There’s also a short story collection, Sharp Ends.) It covers several decades, and there are still characters from the original trilogy who survived the standalones and are kicking around the latest trilogy, but the focus is now on their adult children.

Anyhow, The First Law world is secondary world fantasy with really good, but not watch-me-showoff, overwhelming worldbuilding. (In other worlds, the kind of worldbuilding that really appeals to me. I feel immersed, but I don’t feel like the world is the point. The characters are always the point in Abercrombie.) It’s swords and chainmail to start with. Lots of battles and fights, light on magic. But there is a Magus many of thousands of years old who is clearly fucking with everything and has his own agenda, and there are a few other magical types floating around. Slowly, canon begin to emerge in the world, and The Age of Madness is full on Industrial Revolution.

The original trilogy is good and where I started, but the books have gotten stronger. My favorite book is probably the first standalone, Best Served Cold, which I think makes a solid entry point. One of the most remarkable women in fantasy, and someone who occasionally eats my brain, Monzcarro Murcatto, is the general of the best mercenary army company in her corner of the world, and she gets fucked over and builds a team of killers to go get her revenge. She is also part of my very favorite ships in the 'verse. (Aside—Abercrombie is not necessarily an intentionally shippy author, especially early on, but you can definitely set sail.) In a world of great characters, I think BSC has my favorite cast, including the world’s funniest alcoholic general, an incel poisoner, and the start of a character arc that’s still happening in the latest books that owns my soul.

For what it’s worth, if I had to speak on behalf of the fandom, I’d say The Heroes is probably the favorite book. It’s a three-day battle, and fairly self-contained, and probably not a bad place to start. I think of it as fantasy The Killer Angels. It’s really very good.

On top of this, all of the books have really fantastic prose. The man knows how to turn a phrase and find just the right words. (Seriously, when I’m drafting new stuff, I have a hard time reading Abercrombie because I feel so inadequate compared to his use of language.) Just, every word choice sinks you a little deeper into the characters and the world. It’s a genuine feat.

I could go on. Talk more about specific characters and plots. But I wouldn’t know when to stop, and I want to leave you something to discover on your own. 😉

[roccinan]

I hope all my asks got though I haven't numbered them 🙈 and it doesn't help that I'm too shy to turn off anon anyhow, just a daily reminder that you're amazing! I love you, you're my favourite author ever! Please never ever stop writing. You deserve all the joy and peace and good things!! keep smiling :) 💕💗💕💗💕💗💕 also can i just say, I LOVE your little hermanos headcanons, thank you for writing them, please keep giving us our daily doses :D

I got them all :) Aww, thanks again for the sweet words anon- you’re so kind :’D I love you too, and I wish all sorts of good things for you too!! Stay on anon for as long as you’d like, but if you ever want to come off, I’ll welcome you with open arms!

Ah, glad you liked the hermano headcanon doses!! Thank you for indulging!

Here’s a little snippet for an AU of “Dies Irae” which is also an AU lmao, au-ception. And alt. take on ch. 2, which is still a wip lmao, where Martin succeeded at [redacted] and it’s a “happy” end (tw for mentions of blood and illness):

                                                          XXX

I remained curled on Andres’ shoulder, fur warmed by fire from the hearth. My eyes slipped shut through the night, sporadically, heavily. But I didn’t fall asleep Martin. I could still see you through the slit of my pupils.

I imagine you were shivering in that threadbare shirt. You rubbed your muddied hands, eyed the dirt crusted beneath your nails, knee bobbing over the bedside stool. But if you were cold, I doubt you noticed. You only had one thing on your mind- Andres, and whether he would live or die. And if he perished, you would have died with him, no? I suspect he knew this, so he told you to live on. Living on, that would be a hard task indeed.

You rummaged his pillow through the night. I saw you shift the covers, from his waist to his chest, then finally to the chin. From where I lay, I could hear the faint thrum of his heart, behind the cracked ribs you’d so painstakingly wrapped in gauze. And because I lived, I believed he would as well.

But you could only see his ashen face and the faint remnant of blood on his lips. When you thought me asleep, you touched the bandages around his throat. No, caressed.

I watched you smooth the hair from his fevered brow; if you kissed him then, he wouldn’t have minded. But you only took his hand instead, gingerly stroking the bandaged wrist. You never stroked me so gently, have you? I went to sleep then. I knew you were crying. I didn’t have to see the tears in your eyes to know they were welling. I doubt they fell though- you seemed to close in on yourself, like you were trying to bundle all your grief away. I’m not wrong, am I, Martin?

When I awoke, the fire was still burning. But Andres had shifted. Awake. I saw the white on his forearm, a coil of bandages holding his trembling limb in place. His hand was on your face, trying- and I think, failing- to brush some of the tears away.

“Martin,” he whispered, eyes yet to open all the way, “how? I thought-”

“Shut up,” you said, “Andres, shut up for once in your life.”

When his arm fell, you cupped his jaw with both palms, your gaze bloodshot and wet. But your smile, I believe, was enough to silence whatever Andres wished to say next. He could only stare, and perhaps marvel at how this man, who we knew to be so sour and fowl, could look so radiant with a simple grin. We’ve seen you grin before, but not like this, not like your face had been sculpted from light.

“You’ll be fine,” you told him feverishly, “you’ll be alright now, you’re free, you’re free. We’ll open a bottle of red wine. We’ll travel the world, get married at a monastery-”

“Ah-” He smiled at you, barely, and rasped, “No monastery would welcome me.”

“I don’t care!” You laughed. “I don’t care, Andres! I’ll kick the doors open. And I’ll say, ‘this is the man I love, and if you’ve got a problem with that, too fucking bad.’ I’ll say it at the chapel, shout it down the bells- and your brother will be there.”

Your lips almost grazed his, and before he could react, you’d already taken his hands in yours. “I love you-”

“Martin-”

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

I heard him chuckle as you repeated that phrase. But I could see the fear in his eyes, the panic in his gulps. Martin, he had spent his entire life learning to live with his wounds. I don’t think he remembers what it meant to live without pain, to be regarded with anything but hate and fear. I felt his fear, I sensed it. He was afraid of healing, and maybe even more so, of being loved.

When he said- “I love you”- back, it might have been a whisper to you. But I knew it to be the world on his tongue. I would have clawed your eyes out if you dared take back what you said, Martin.

That was how Sergio found us when he rushed in, coat still dripping from midnight rain, the two of you sobbing like children while I hopped on the pillow.

~END of a scene that will never happen :’)

[straykats]

hello! here to send the translation of hain ka. it's not perfect but i did my best. there are just so many emotions this song exudes that i can't perfectly encapsulate by merely translating it (so maybe that's why i wrote the fic hskjdf) anyhow, i inserted bits of my own thoughts as well bc the bridge is hard to take in literally.

hain ka (where are you)

wherever you’re headed now i only ask that you don’t forget me. because i remember (think of) you often from the moment the sun rises  until the moon and stars paint the night sky 

what if you were still here? there’s just so much i still want to tell you. what if you were still here? maybe my life would’ve turned out differently.

wherever you are now i hope you think of us (our friendship) fondly i wouldn’t have turned out this way without you you have my heartfelt gratitude. (it’s literally ‘my heart says thank you’) 

what if you were still here? my life would’ve turned out differently. what if you were still here? there’s just so much i still want to tell you.

[i interpreted this part as someone going through the stages of grief or reminiscing. they feel like internal monologues of the singer telling themselves that they can get through this, then there’s wishing ill on the person that left them bc let’s be real, no matter how much we love them the frustration would get to us at some point. there are phrases of things you’d typically hear when someone’s trying to comfort you (the three lines before the final one) and finally the last one which is the sad truth.]

we dream of the same things. hold your breath before you leap. i hope you trip over your own feet. you can cry if you need to. there’s no need to lash out stand up, you’re stronger than that. come here, come with us. this silence is deafening. (mamingaw in our language means both quiet/silence and describing the feeling of missing someone, also this bridge just repeats twice lol)

if you’re determined to stay there and there’s nothing i can do to change your mind you can leave everything to me if you’re no longer coming back all i ask is for you to wait for me there and someday i know we will meet again. (or literally, i’ll see you again)

i honestly feel like so many things were lost in translation but there's nothing more i can do about it jdksjs i just hope it gives a bit more depth for the fic. THIS IS QUITE THE LONG ASK HJSHD thank you for sending those in!! and i'm sorry for this chonky thing :'D

oh man okay yeah man okay yep no yep i yeah um yes

understanding the lurics and hearing it alongside the actual song really did hit different? and theast verse dont get me started (im starting) its such like.. yeah stages of grief and its acceptance but its almost like a resignated acceptance? 'okay, fine, just wait for me, yeah?' resignation and sadness and heavy but gentle grief? ANDJNWJDJSNS fricking fricks.

100% understand that things were probably kost in translation and the english trans youve given me lacks the context that having it in the priginal lamguage would have - and my imability to fully grasp the full meaning and emotions and understand the proper words is <///3 but thank you for putting in the effort. absolutely no need to apologise for anything at all. and yes i do love the little thoughts u added in.