#she's very spartan michael

[beastsovrevelation]

Imagine you are a demon, and get captured by Heaven, but the Most Glorious She-Prince

takes you as her companion... Meaning, she takes you to wherever she spends her time, and puts you between her thighs.

...Diplomatic relations, am I right?..

Wonder what the'd say in Hell, once they find out you had your mouth on the enemy General's pussy.

I mean, the softness of her pussy certainly contrasts her rough soldier's fingers in your hair.

Oh, and she's in Roman armour.

[tlexx]

Anthem of The Angels: The Spartan

Warnings: blood, gore, talk of religion

In collaboration with @streamsofstardust

Unfortunately, it’s not like the movies. There is no sitting on a cloud, looking down on humanity with a big smile. No playing a game of complicated chess, using humans as pawns. 

No, Evangeline had to be in the middle of it. Watching each couple with their hands tightly intertwined walking down the street, looking so in love that jealousy causes goosebumps to litter her arms. They don’t know how good they have it, getting to spend years upon years with one another. 

Evangeline twirled the straw around her glass of lemonade, sitting outside a small café somewhere in Nashville. Her ears perked up when she heard a woman talking on her cellphone, discussing how she couldn’t wait to be older, to be done with college. Humans are funny like that, wishing to be older, wishing for years to fly by. Then they always like to reminisce on the good old days. It’s not very angelic, but Evangeline grew bitter. Bitter of every human that got to experience a moment with the one they loved, something that she should be doing with him.

He was perfect. Perfect in every era that she got the pleasure of being by his side. Instinctively, she ran her hand through her hair. A gesture he had done thousands of times before. As her gentle hand scraped the blade of her shoulder, something soft embedded itself between her fingers.

Bringing her white-painted nails up to her line of sight, a feather shone in the bright spring sun. One from her wings. 

This was a bad sign for an angel, a tell tale sign that even immortality had its cruel limits. It was a fail safe, put in place by the angel Michael. If an angel spends more time on earth than in heaven, their divinity leaves them, starting with their wings.

She had been losing feathers since the first meeting. Evangeline had to be there, had to be there for the one week every twenty-five years that she got to spend in pure bliss.

Going home would keep her locked there for over a century, having to serve time in the name of God for the sins she engaged in whilst on Earth. Repenting for angels is different, more involved, more harsh, sometimes even bloody. She would be recharged, fully divine again, but she couldn’t bear the thought of losing four cycles with her beloved.

However, Evangeline worried that this could potentially be the last time she could spend with her lover. She knew she was dwindling, literally feeling her power leave her body. The books, along with the one in front of her, never alluded to a cure or anything of the such for a matter like this. Maybe, this was her punishment for defying the archangels and her father, a hell loop with an even sadder ending. 

“Ma’am?” The waiter, a tall lanky boy with hair as red as cartoon devils, stood in front of her with a notepad dangling on his long freckled fingers. “Are you ready to order?”

“Just the lemonade, hun. Thank you.” She rarely had to eat, and today of all days her stomach was in knots from the nerves. 

The sheepish waiter left Evangeline alone with her book and planner once more in the outside of the cafe. With a shaky sigh, she sat the book down and turned her focus on the planner on the metal table. It was open to the month of April, a month of the greatest highs and the darkest lows. The month of him.

On today’s date, April 16th, a small heart was sketched in the corner of the box. Evangeline smiled, knowing that within the hour he’d be back in her life. But, her eyes couldn’t help but wander down to the 23rd, his birthday, that had a simple black dot. She never knew how to mark it, nothing felt appropriate, yet that black dot seemed to mock her sorrow. It festered on the page and in the back of her mind, reminding her to never get used to having him in her arms. 

A loud, boisterous group of men viciously tore her eyes from the calendar. There stood about six men, around mid twenties, half naked with only an over-sexualized sad excuse for a Spartan outfit. It was the soon to be groom that caught Evangeline’s eye, parading around as if he owned the town. It reminded her of the first time, the first time her eyes fell upon Josh. 

Evangeline’s feet touched the earth for the first time in her life. She had been nervous, not expecting to ever be a chosen angel to look after a blessed soul. It was her duty to ensure that her mark was to meet their destiny. 

Her white robes flooded around her feet as she appeared on a hillside, it was quiet but she knew that was not for long. With the time she had, she quickly grabbed the tiny scroll from the chords that were tied around her waist. 

“The name, what is the name?” She spoke to herself anxiously. She didn’t want to mess this up, angels weren’t the forgiving kind when it came to one another. They wanted perfection and obedience, something that Evangeline struggled with since the moment she came to be. 

“Joshua.” It felt funny on her tongue, the name. Like as if a spark of light tumbled its way from her soul, down her tongue, and on the ground before her. 

She repeated herself, only to become disappointed when the same sensation never found her again. 

Evangeline was told that she would be dropped on earth just before the sun reached its highest point, then the soul that was under her protection would reveal itself. She knew what was happening, a war that had casualties in numbers that the Silver City had never faced before. If she was allowed to admit it, she was scared of the human race. Evangeline had seen all that her father had to do, along with her sisters and brothers, when humanity thought they could control fate. They pillaged and tortured each other with ease, sometimes going as far as using her father’s name to justify it. 

Metal clashing against metal, scraping in a high-pitched ear-piercing cry, called Evangeline closer. That was her sign, Joshua must be there. Walking slowly, as it was her first time on land, she made her way west on the hillside. Small blades of grass tripped her newborn deer-like legs, causing her to focus more on her gold sandal clad feet rather than a group of six men running towards her. 

“Retreat!” One screamed in his native tongue. “We do not have enough men to face them today, retreat! Retreat, I say!” 

Evangeline stood cemented in her place, barely being noticed by the exhausted and wounded soldiers, until the last one. A warm feeling bubbled deep in her stomach, the same spark that fell from her tongue before had returned. She was certain that this was him.

Joshua, tanned with a curly head of hair, huffed as he tried to fight his way up the hill. He was quite far behind the rest. Huffing and struggling to stay up right. The leather band tied tightly around his bicep stuck to his slick skin with a mixture of mud, sweat, and blood. Blood that rapidly poured from the large gash on the apex of his shoulder. It was deep enough that the yellow fatty tissue of his muscle glistened when the sunlight hit it.

“Joshua.” Evangeline quietly gasped. Even in his disheveled shape, she had never imagined a human could be so beautiful. They used to be just miniscule creatures to her, but he had to be different. Joshua must have had some type of divinity running through his veins, he looked like an angel, therefore he must be. 

His brown hooded eyes peered up to Evangeline, almost entirely covered by his long eyelashes. The highest point of his left cheek bone had another cut, matching the vertical one that split his bottom lip in two. Joshua didn’t deserve this.

Evangeline felt an overpowering need to heal and comfort this man, he needed to survive. If not for the war, just so she could get to know him better. 

“Athena?” Josh’s hoarse voice called out. “Have you come to lead me to the afterlife? Will I die a hero?” 

Speaking proved to be too much for Joshua. He collapsed on the ground in front of her, clutching his stomach that was covered in a gold tinted armor. The helmet that he was clutching before rolled towards Evangeline, landing right next to her feet.

Her white robe flowed behind her as she ran to him, placing a protective hand on the middle of his back. “I am not Athena, Joshua.”

Joshua chuckled, only to wince in pain immediately after. “Ah, Aphrodite. Of course you are, with that beauty. Do you not think it is a little late for me to fall in love?”

“I am not Aphrodite.” Evangeline held her hand above the cut on his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, channeling her powers to heal him. 

She expected to see a warm light flow from her hands down to the wound, healing it instantly. But, nothing. She knew she could heal a human, it was an innate power within her capabilities. Another reason for Evangeline to believe there was something special about this human. 

“What are you?” Evangeline looked at Joshua, their faces remarkably close to be considered strangers. 

“A boy.” He responded with a sorrowful tone. 

Her heart ached at his obvious defeat. Joshua welcomed the death that seemed to be fastly approaching. 

“A boy who will live another day.” Evangeline wrapped Josh’s arms around his shoulder, lifting him up with ease. He appeared shocked by her strength, giving her a wide eyed look once he was up right. She walked with him, as slow as he needed. 

“My aspis.” He stopped her, turning to look back on the bronze circled shield with a forged point in the center. “I can go nowhere without my aspis and helmet.” 

Evangeline could hear the roar of approaching soldiers, presumably not ones that would be friendly to Josh. She looked towards the way his comrades ran, they were nowhere to be found. They abandoned him, in his time of need. Just like she knew they would. Joshua did not deserve this, he did not deserve to die alone.

“Where are your other comrades?” Evangeline asked.

He looked down, swallowing hard. After a moment, he nodded towards the battlefield behind them. “There. Dead.”

Evangeline copied his reaction, feeling an unfamiliar sensation in her throat. Her eyes burned slightly and her breath hitched. She knew that this was her task, to protect Joshua by any means necessary. 

“You will not die today, Joshua.” 

Evangeline gently put Joshua back on the ground, making sure he did little to harm herself further. She didn’t understand it, but the shield that was stained, dented, and scratched was of the utmost importance to Joshua. Therefore, it was important to get it for him. 

Evangeline was warned not to reveal herself to any humans, and since she already had tried to heal Joshua, she thought her next decision would be of little importance. After standing up straight and rolling her shoulders back, a set of giant wings protruded from her shoulder blades. Each feather was pure white, with the slightest flecks of gold concentrated on the bottoms. 

Joshua stared up at her, dumbfounded wonder written all over his face only to be interrupted by the herd of aggressive Persian soldiers running her way. 

“Stay low.” She commanded the weak boy next to her. To emphasize her point, an arrow came barrelling towards the two. If continued on the same path, the projectile would surely land in Josh’s back. Concentrating on the arrow, Evangeline was able to slow down time, tracking it before it could cause any harm. Unceremoniously, Evangeline picked the arrow out of the sky. 

Joshua, not following her directions, stood next to her. A lengthy spear grasped in his hand, his left foot leading his body, shoulders square to his enemies, despite the injury. Evangeline was taken aback, not expecting him to be ready for a fight. He was foremittable, a brave soul that was willing to jump into battle so no one had to fight alone. 

“Artemis.” He chuckled to himself under his breath.

Evangeline didn’t have time to respond to him. There were about fifteen men sprinting towards her, each one looking more ferocious than the last. It was evident that this group did not go through the hardships that Joshua and his allies did. It must have been an ambush of sorts. 

With wide steps and no fear, Evangeline ran towards the adversaries. Her wingspan was large enough to cover Joshua from the arrows and spears until he could get his shield. Evangeline forcefully pushed off her back foot, shooting into the sky, catching the attention of everyone in the vicinity other than Joshua. He had his time to admire her and he knew that now his focus had to be elsewhere. 

Looking down, Evangeline noticed one Persian archer having his bow pointed directly at her. His face was flooded with panic, not entirely comprehending what he was witnessing. His hands shaking would work in her favor, she would be able to easily pivot her wings to avoid the arrow. Yet, she didn’t have to. Joshua’s spear landed directly through the archer’s throat, blood spurting behind him. The archer fell backwards, his legs giving out now that his life was lost. She looked down at Joshua, just to receive a wink. Stupid mortal. He was left without any weapon, nothing to defend himself with.

Evangeline had even less time now. She must hurry to ensure that she successfully completed her task. Diving down, she was able to maneuver between the Persians, collecting his aspis in one fell swoop. The leather straps were loose on her forearm, his being larger than hers, so the aspis swang back and forth hitting her thighs, while she flew to him. No fear could be detected on Joshua. It was as if he already put all his faith into her. 

“Grab my hand!” She called out to him. Evangeline could feel the tips of spears slicing against her bare thighs and catching on the coverts of her wings. It was painful, but his face blinded her from the damage being caused. The world seemed to go black around her, the only light being Joshua. 

His hand was covered in blood, making it even more difficult for her to grab in her hasty escape. Her fingers slid against his, but she was able to just catch his wrist. Gripping as hard as she could, she lifted Josh up with her. His aspis was in the way, so Joshua hung from Evangeline’s arm. He did not seem to mind, actually smiling triumphantly down at the Persians he so nearly invaded. 

“Evangeline, my name is Evangeline.” She informed him once they were far enough into safety.

“Evangeline, where you go I will follow.”

It warmed her. His sweet gentle words engulfed her with a sense of pride and something unidentifiable. 

“Joshua, we just need to get you to safety.” He didn’t respond. Rather he just enjoyed the ride until she found a place to stop. 

There was a small cove with a water source that fell between three rolling hills. It was covered enough by trees and hills that Evangeline and Joshua would be able to see anyone that approached them, a defensive measure that was desperately needed.

The two gently landed, and Joshua was finally able to see all the wounds that littered Evangeline’s porcelain like skin. They were nowhere near as deep or worrying as his, yet he rushed over to her in concern.

“Evangeline, how bad did they hurt you?” His muscles tensed once he grabbed her hands, bringing her arms up to examine. His squinted eyes traveled from her knuckles, up her forearm, to the wings that still protruded from her back. “Your - your, your uh...”

“My wings.” She pulled her hands from his then looked down with slight shame. “They’ll be okay.”

Evangeline rolled her shoulders back again, this time the wings disappeared quicker than they appeared. She was the more powerful being, yet she was overly aware of how Joshua saw her. Her wings made her different, and if she knew anything she knew that humans aren't kind to those who were different. 

Joshua averted his eyes, the gentleman's thing to do. Seeing this as an invasion of her privacy. Evangeline placed her finger under his chin, gently lifting it so she could meet the Spartan’s eyes. “Do not worry, Joshua. I’ll heal, it is you we need to worry about.”

Both of them looked over to the oozing wound on his shoulder. While throwing the spear, he must have torn it further. The gash took up most of his upper arm now, caked in dirt and tissue. This was not something that would heal fast nor easy, this was a wound that could potentially change his life forever. 

Evangeline held out her hand, letting it hover over the wound. She had a lapse of judgment, thinking that she would be able to heal him. There was no way, he was somehow immune to her powers. So after a brief moment, she lowered her hand in defeat. If she was unable to help him with her divinity, then she would have to help him the mortal way. Evangeline grabbed a small knife that was tucked in the waistband of his deep red pteruges. The slight sliver of skin peeking from underneath his armor pricked up with goosebumps as her fingertips softly brushed it. She could hear Joshua gasp, and she wondered if this was his first time being touched so gently.

Evangeline pulled at the bottom of her robes to make the fabric taught, with one swift motion she cut a long strip of the white fibers that could act as a type of gauze. Joshua grimaced as soon as it was placed over the gash, tightening his jaw and sneering so he wouldn’t scream out. Evangeline paused her actions to give him a moment to collect himself so there was less of a chance that he’d pass out. She shouldn’t have, but Evangeline took that moment to soak in every detail of his face. His high cheekbones, pointed nose, rosy cheeks, and sharp jawline. They were all so perfectly crafted, reminding her of the marble statues that were prayed to in Athens. 

“Just do it.” He spoke through gritted teeth. She obeyed his wish, tying the fabric as tight as she could around his arm. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it would have to work for now. “Fuck!”

Evagneline jumped back, shocked by his aggression and vulgar language. She outstretched her arm as a protective measure, not sure if he would act out in a response to his pain. His face softened instantly when the space between them grew. 

“I would not hurt the one that saved me, Evangeline.”

“Humans lie.”

Joshua opened his mouth to speak, yet shut it quickly. He took a step closer, a crooked smile on his face. “It is common knowledge that your father, Zeus, lies regularly.”

“Zeus is not my father, Joshua.” She took a step back.

“Are you not a goddess?” He took a step forward. 

“No.” A step back.

“A nymph?” Forward step. She slowly shook her head in response.

“So what then, Evangeline?” Joshua took one last step forward, this time Evangeline had nowhere to go. Her foot caught on a rock, causing her to stumble backwards. Angels usually were full of grace and elegance, never stumbling or tripping, yet it felt like the closer he got the farther away she got from heaven. He caught her hand, the same hand she carried him with earlier, pulling her into him before she could hit the ground. Her face was close to his, his breath tickling her nose and lips. The feeling within her felt innately wrong, yet something that she could completely lose herself in forever. 

“An angel, your angel.”

“My angel.” He repeated with a smile.

At that moment, Evangeline changed. There was no Heaven or Hell. No Silver City for her to go back to. No tests or tasks given to her from her father. There was only this one soul. That one smile made her forget the difference between faith and sin. There was only Joshua. 

Evangeline came crashing back from the memory of her first meeting. A single tear fell from her face. She had to mourn the previous versions of her soulmate forever, only feeling peace when she got the one week to spend with the next. 

That first week with him was bliss, she lived in her ignorance. She thought that she would spend a long life with Joshua, watching him grow old and sharing life experiences with him. Yet just a week later on the first day of twenty-fifth year of his life, Joshua passed away.

The wound on his shoulder never healed, only growing infected and causing him to lose all feeling. The infection must have spread to his lungs because the morning after spending the night together for the first time, Evangeline woke up to Joshua in a worse state than before. She did all she could but before the sun set that night, she was burying the Spartan. The image of his aspis and helmet resting against the rock was permanently burned in her brain, becoming a living nightmare. 

She wore a gold bracelet on her left wrist, the Spartan charm catching the sunlight reflecting a sharp light into her eyes. It must be time. 

Evangeline counted to thirty, then rose from her seat. Just as she planned, she ran into a solid chest. Her rapid heartbeat picked up as his hand wrapped around her biceps to stabilize her. 

“Woah! I’m sorry, I need to watch where I am going!” His voice never changed, just the language he spoke in. “Are you alright?”

She knew what he would look like in this lifetime, following his music career closely. But nothing was going to prepare her for seeing him in person. His curly hair was perfectly shaped, shaved on the sides to expose gold hoop earrings. He wore white, a small detail she couldn’t help but smile at.

“No, you’re okay. That was my fault.” She finally raised her eyes to meet his, and finally after twenty-five years the spark returned. 

“It’s never the lady’s fault.” There was a blush on his cheeks, more than normal. He looked shocked by her, as if he found a treasured item he had lost for years. 

“A gentleman.” Evangeline responded with a small laugh. She took notice of the fact that Josh had yet to remove his hands from her body, she felt whole.

“I guess so.” He looked at her again, this time with confusion. “This might sound crazy, but have we met?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think I’d forget someone like you.” 

“Is that right?” To Evangeline’s dismay, Josh removed his hands from her. He reached out his hand to introduce himself. “I am Josh.”

“Evangeline.”

The two stood there shaking the other’s hand, longer than socially appropriate. They were unable to take their eyes off of one another, caught in the moment completely. 

“Beautiful.” He whispered under his breath. Once Evangeline’s smile grew even larger, he coughed nervously. “Your name, I mean. Your name is beautiful.”

“Sure, Josh.” A soft smile appeared on her face. 

Josh took a step back, looking her up and down before he dropped her hand. “I hope this isn’t too forward, but do you have plans tomorrow night?”

“Not at all.” 

“Would you like to go to dinner?” The dimple on his cheek appeared once he smirked. “There is just something telling me I need to see you again.”

“I’d love to.”

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[capthayes]

SIERRA ANNE HAYES

Born into the lingering shadows of a scandal that rocked Wilmington to its core, Sierra Hayes has carved a path of resilience and dedication through the town's fire department, rising to the role of Midtown's youngest female Fire Captain. With a life shaped by the complexities of her family's past and her own defiant acts of bravery, Sierra stands as a beacon of strength and hope in a community on the cusp of rebirth. Beyond the firehouse, she nurtures a passion for outdoor adventure and a commitment to community service, embodying the spirit of leadership and the courage to face both the flames and the whispers of yesterday.

Sierra Hayes is Wilmington’s youngest female Fire Captain, celebrated for her bravery, highlighting her commitment to duty over protocol.

Growing up under the cloud of a scandal linked to her father being a suspect of killing the mayor in the past, and battling personal demons like anxiety and OCD, Sierra's resilience is as much personal as it is professional.

Beyond firefighting, Sierra dedicates herself to environmental conservation and community service, aiming to empower and educate through her survival training camp.

As an openly lesbian woman in a traditional field, Sierra navigates her identity with grace, advocating for equality and acceptance in and out of the firehouse.

Sierra aspires to mentor the next generation of firefighters and expand her community initiatives, all while seeking personal growth and reconciliation within her family.

Older sister to Harrison Hayes, but they've drifted apart for over a decade now.

SELF

Nicknames: Cap, Captain, Capt Hayes, Sese/Cece, Sissy (very rare people allowed to) Faceclaim: Danielle Savre Gender & Pronouns: Cis Female (She/Her) Age: 35 Birthday: November 19, 1988 Sexuality: Lesbian Occupation: Fire Captain in Midtown; runs a part-time outdoor survival training camp Location: Midtown, Wilmington Race/Ethnicity: Caucasian Nationality: American Height: 5'8" Build: Athletic Hair: Blonde, long Eye Color: Blue Allergies: None Disorders: Anxiety, OCD Fashion: Functional fire department attire on duty; casual and comfortable off duty, with a preference for simplicity and utility Nervous Tics: Taps fingers when thinking deeply or stressed Hobbies: Running, working out, rock climbing, camping Interests: Fire safety education, environmental conservation, community service Positive Traits: Resilient, dedicated, courageous, empathetic Negative Traits: Guarded, sometimes too self-reliant, struggles with authority due to past defiance MBTI Personality: ISTJ Zodiac Chart: Scorpio Sun, Virgo Moon, Capricorn Rising Core Values: Duty, loyalty, perseverance, community Personal Challenges: Reconciling with her past, especially her complicated family dynamics and the shadow of her father’s suspected involvement in a local scandal; balancing personal life with demanding professional responsibilities Personal Achievements: Becoming the youngest female Fire Captain in Wilmington; establishing a survival training camp that empowers and educates the community on safety and survival skills Lifestyle: Spartan and disciplined, reflecting her commitment to her profession and personal fitness; environmentally conscious Quirks: Has a ritual of running at dawn, likes to keep everything very clean and organized  Future Aspirations: To mentor young firefighters and expand her survival training camp; to work towards reconciliation and understanding within her family, particularly regarding her father’s past

FAMILY

Mother: Ellen Hayes (née Carter) Father: Michael Hayes Siblings: @harrisonhayes

BIOGRAPHY

TW: mention of mental abuse

Born into the lingering shadow of Wilmington’s most gripping scandal, Sierra Hayes grew up under the scrutiny reserved for the family of one of the suspects in Mayor Thompson’s mysterious death. Her father, while never the prime suspect, was implicated enough to cast a shadow over Sierra, her mother and her sibling. This suspicion, coupled with her father's mentally abusive behavior and their strained relationship, forged Sierra’s resilient and steadfast character. Despite his presence in town, Sierra maintains a significant distance, choosing to focus on her career and community work rather than mend a relationship she deems beyond repair.

Choosing to rise above the whispers and the stigma, Sierra dedicated her life to serving her community, a decision that led her to become the youngest female Fire Captain of Wilmington, in Midtown. Her leadership style, marked by unwavering dedication and an innate ability to inspire trust and bravery in her team, shows her commitment to not only protect but also uplift her community.

Her career, however, hasn't been without its challenges. Sierra's bold decision to save a civilian by disobeying direct orders brought her professional judgment into question, nearly derailing her ascent within the fire department. This incident, though portrayed her bravery and unyielding commitment to life, remains a closely guarded secret, a blemish on her otherwise commendable record.

Sierra's personal and professional life is a reflection of her strength in the face of adversity. She embodies resilience, leadership, and the complex dance between vulnerability and strength. She stands out by her professional dedication, even with all the personal struggles with her family that haunt her still, and navigating her identity, particularly her sexuality, in a profession dominated by traditional expectations—and traditional men.

As Wilmington stands on the precipice of rebirth, with The Tattler’s sudden reappearance stirring old fears and suspicions, Sierra finds herself at the heart of the storm. Her role as Fire Captain places her in the thick of the town's mysteries, balancing her duty to protect with her personal quest for truth.

[juodojimirtis]

I was screwing around on Starryai (andAirBrush) and made all my Warrior Nun fankids... So far, anyway.

Adriel/Ava 》 Ariane, Calixtus, Celestin, Claudius (aka The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse; all four are divine beings, and born with "Halo Light", as in naturally possess the Halo's powers)

Has mom's beauty and dad's Machiavellian genius, as well as his diabolical charisma. Adriel's favorite, his evil angel baby, Antichrist Superstar 2.0, his true Firstborn Child (well, I suppose the firstborn thing in the literal sense depends on if Adriel and Areala's son is alive); Heir of the family, born politician, diplomat and leader. Despite her being a "daddy's girl", I think the bond between Ava and her only daughter would be very close and interesting to explore.

Has dad's genius and mom's noble, yet fiery spirit. A very charming, magnetizing character like his sister (the two are extremely close). If Ava had to choose a favorite, it would probably be him. Has a "familia ante omnia" mentality. As proven by his handsome face, his name suits him.

Looks stern, but has a sunny personality. Rather quiet, very studious, probably works closely with Arq-Tech. An old soul. Hopeless romantic, had a crush on Yasmine as a child.

Golden retriever incarnate like Ava. Likeable, sociable, adventurous, at times can be reckless and a party animal. Very talented artist.

With these four, the saying "eyes are a mirror of the soul" is probably true - Ariane and Calixtus have green eyes, and are more like Adriel; Celestin and Claudius have black eyes, and are more like Ava.

Good thing Claudius is such a noble name. Because looking at the meaning alone... They gave their first three names meaning "most holy", "most beautiful" and "heavenly", and then their youngest a name meaning "limp". 🤣

Adriel/Lilith 》 Lucifer (of course they named him that)

• Divine being; inherited both Lilith and Adriel's powers. Mama's boy. He and Lilith are very protective of each other (she lost it at him only one time - when he seeked out her mom, despite her forbiding him to ever do it). Quite a Spartan character, a solemn man of few words, though he can be very charming if he wants to. Extremely intelligent, well-educated and skilled in combat (Lilith's mom was an example of a parent to not be, but Lilith was unwilling to give her son less than she had received due to her family's power).

I have no idea why Reya threw Lilith out of the other realm, instead of explaining to her what was going on. But I think she'd accept her and Lucifer because grandchildren (not to mention he'd be a being of such immense power they both would need guidance).

If Lilith had had a girl, she would undoubtedly have named her Mary.

Adriel/Areala 》 Balthazar

Divine being; born with "Halo Light". Inherited Adriel's genius, and definitely has the potential to be Machiavellian, but due to Areala’s parenting grew up the incarnation of a noble Holy Warrior. Mama's boy. Areala is the greatest authority to him. Bitter towards Adriel (at least for a while), because in his eyes, his father tore their family apart, not to mention hurt his mother. At times conflicted, likes to compare himself to both Satan and St. Michael (Areala had a medal with St. Michael to keep herself safe during battle; when Balthazar was born, she gave it to him*). He and Michael Salvius consider themselves brothers. Skilled in combat, brilliant strategist, extremely intelligent. Natural leader, but can be a loner.

I'm conflicted whether he survives or not. Obviously, in some versions he does, hence the adult picture and character description. Still, my original thought was Areala and Adriel's son is either stillborn or very premature (so doesn't survive). Hell, Adriel/Areala is bittersweet... But I'm sure being like Adriel, he could survive after being born premature. Perhaps, after Areala's death, Reya comes to take her grandson to the Other Realm, so his mother can raise him.

Hell, that would make the verse where Ava reincarnated Areala... Awkward. Imagine, after everything she went through already, she realizes she has a son... Who's older than her. Balthazar would probably feel so guilty he couldn't save her from her time at the orphanage. If he could have, he would have taken her and raised her himself, but for whatever cosmic reason, he couldn't. And he'd receive quite a shock, since he was raised by a virtuous She-Templar, yet his mom's reincarnation curses and drinks. 🤣 Not that they'd be less elated to reunite.

*It may odd in the stories where Adriel is an angel, and St. Michael is actually Balthazar's uncle... Imagine keeping a picture of your uncle Mike for protection. 🤣 Still, he keeps it as a family heirloom.

Adriel/Ava, but with a twist 》 Selene

Divine being; born with "Halo Light". Adriel treats her as a living miracle, God incarnate, his Holy Heir; honestly, I'm not sure she wouldn't end up with a Messiah complex and a drinking problem due to his parenting. Daddy's girl, very protective of Adriel. Charismatic, Machiavellian, extremely intelligent, sociable. Genius in politics, diplomacy and military strategy. Talented artist. Probably did write her own Bible... I mean she was groomed to be a cult leader from birth. Essentially has child star issues.

So the twist is... Adriel was the one to give birth. It's my most insane WN fanfiction idea. There's two versions. First, is Adriel and Ava duel, and a Halo blast combined with her phasing through him... You know. Adriel is elated, since it's a miracle to end all miracles. The situation fucks her up - she feel she can't abandon the child because of her trauma of being abandoned. Besides, someone has to keep Adriel from performing a c-section on himself on global broadcast. Reya probably shows up like "Son, what in the fuck did you get yourself into now". The other is Ava/Adriel/Lilith scenario where he convinces them to perform a dark ritual which would end in him carrying a pregnancy. Because he associates giving birth to being God. Besides, he wants to carry his own weight in the relationship. Or his own... Pregnancy... The ritual is quite bloody (it involves the crown, the Halo and a knife to the stomach), and the whole ordeal is grotesque. Reya probably also shows up yelling "Son, wtf did you do". Mostly because she's worried about him, since he can die in the process... He doesn't. Almost, but he doesn't.

All in all, many of the kids have similar personalities. And similar appearance.... Which is not surprising, they have the same dad. Adriel's like a rabbit. 🤣 Good to know all his sons pull off the family beard. 🤣

All of Adriel's sons are like "in this family, we look like Jesus". And all Adriel's daughters are like "in this family, we are Machiavellian political genius cult leaders". Why did the AI make Selene's brooch look like an uterus... Maybe that's supposed to be a ram's head? Or some sort of a floral ornament? Or an inappropriate gift from grandma 🤣

All the kids have mom's last name. Adriel doesn't have one anyway (aside from the verse where his whole family goes by the last name Ambrosi... Which is really the Antichrist's mom's last name).

[bearbait-adventures]

Looking for No One

This fic will be an extension off of one of my previous fics called Perfect for Me. It will be set in the same AU Omegaverse I'm just continuing down the story line because Season 15 in RvB is very whumpy and I think it will work out perfectly.

Chapter 2: Church?

Prompts:

No. 12 “Mayday, mayday!”

No. 14 “I’ll be right behind you.”

No. 26 Separated

No. 28 Headache

No. 30/Alt Prompt No. 2 Whimpering

No. 31 Comfort

Summary: The gang gets a message from Church they need to find him.

Trigger Warnings: Head Injury/References to Prescription Pain Medicine/References to Past Injuries

The Reds and Blues have been talking to these two reporters for a while now. Caboose was starting to loose interest, mostly because his head hurt. The one reporter, ‘What was her name again, Dylan? Maybe, something like that.’ He had trouble remembering names of people sometimes especially if he had just met them. She had surprised him earlier and he had backed off the cliff side accidentally landing on his head.

Luckily when he woke up he still remembered stuff he didn’t want to forget again, it always made Agent Washington sad. The headache he was quietly nursing however was pretty bad, he wanted to take his helmet off so he could press his fingers into his temples and dull the pain at least a bit. Just as he was about to excuse himself though.

Dylan threw a hologram projector into the middle of the table and it flashed to life. At first the voice was static to hard to make out. Then a light blue figure appeared the same color as Church. The voice that came next was clearer, it was Church’s voice.

“This is Church...or um, Alpha...if your getting this it’s an emergency...Send help...PLEASE, please send help.” The static riddled distress call cut off at the moment leaving the room deathly quiet.

The spike of adrenaline that pulsed through the Spartan when he realized what was going on made the pain in his head seem like nothing, he was already on his way out the door. He had no idea what he was going to do or how, but they had to help. They would figure it out they always did somehow. He wasn’t the only one either Tucker was right beside him also eager to go find Church.

Agent Washington and Carolina were not far behind as they called out to the two of them to stop. Turning to face the Freelancers, Caboose could barely contain his need to go, to DO SOMETHING, anything was better then standing here. He found it extremely hard to focus on the conversation as Tucker and the agents argued about what to do, as the headache he forgot about was starting to come throbbing back to the surface.

“So you guys want to go on a Fucking Freelancer adventure, while Church is in trouble?!” Tucker’s voice broke through his distraction.

‘Wait were Wash and Carolina going somewhere else? As in separately ?,’ the blue tried to think. Since they had retired to this moon Caboose had not been apart from his alpha for more then a few days at most. He didn’t like the idea of being separated from him at all, now all the sudden he was torn. ‘Should they really even look for Church? Was it worth it?’

He wasn’t sure, in the time he was thinking Tucker had stormed off in a tizzy. Carolina had followed. Leaving Caboose and Washington standing there. The large omega reached up to unclasp his helmet. The suit made a hissing sound as it lost it’s seal. Wash had seen what his omega was doing and followed suit also removing his helmet.

Agent Washington noticed the Spartan flinch when the light from outside the helmet hit his eyes and grew concerned when Caboose hissed and held his head as if was hurting. He stepped closer to make sure his omega was okay. He could smell the hurt in Michael’s pheromone when he got closer.

“Hey, are you okay?,” the alpha cooed as he cupped his omega’s face and carefully pulled his forehead down to meet his, the Spartan was a lot taller then him.

“No, I hit my head and now I have a really bad headache,” Caboose whined as he dropped his head down to Agent Washington’s shoulder taking comfort in the alpha’s bubble gum scent. He wrapped his arms around Wash’s shoulders in a needy hug. The agent could only reciprocate with his hands around the Spartan’s lower back as he couldn’t lift his arms any further up. The alpha chuckled lowly at their predicament.

“So you and Carolina are going not going with the rest of us?” Caboose asked while still against Washington’s neck. The omega’s breath tickling his skin as he spoke, the sensation made his alpha side begin to purr the sound vibrated through his chest hopefully calming the blue soldier down.

“Don’t worry we won’t take to long. I’ll be right behind you,” the Freelancer tried to console his Spartan.

“Here let’s go back to base and get you something for your head we can’t be leaving you like that,” Wash said as he lead Caboose back to their shared room.

“But, what about Church’s mayday thing?” the omega whimpered.

“It’ll be a while until everyone is ready to go, so let me take care of you first,” Washington soothed.

The agent got some food and some medicine into his omega. Dr. Grey had prescribed the good pain pills for Caboose as the Spartan had many lingering issues that popped up every now and then. Washington let the omega pull him into his lap as he sat back on their bed, using the Freelancer as a big teddy bear.

Michael laid his head on Wash’s shoulder who then leaned his head against his, while he brought his hand up to play with the Spartan’s hair. The two sat there in each other's company until the omega’s headache finally went away. Not long after the heard commotion in the base and chatter over the radios signaling it was probably time to go.

Notes: I hope I did this correctly never done whumptober before but here you go.

[cherubcow]

“Invincible”, Season 1 (2021) Review

Somehow both very cool and very fucking stupid :D

About Created and written primarily by Robert Kirkman (principle writer for The Walking Dead comic and TV show), this Young Adult cartoon basically synthesizes a number of comic book characters (e.g., Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, Hellboy, Wonder Woman, Gambit) and tries to balance their heroism with cynical twists and dark realities. It's an exercise like Brightburn (2019) in that it mirrors existing comic writing all too closely in order to make violent twists. The cool stuff arrives pretty much immediately. You can tell right away that the physics have some level of realism, and it quickly gets serious because of this. The easy comparison would be to The Boys (also by Amazon, also about violent heroes, and also very well-produced). So, if you like The Boys (2019–), you'll probably like Invincible only a little less.

(( Some spoilers but nothing too specific ))

Wrong Focus But, the stupid stuff comes from the same error that the Kick-Ass movie (2010) made: it focuses on the wrong person(s). In Kick-Ass, the error was focusing on.. well.. "Kick-Ass", an irredeemable loser and waste of screen time. Invincible makes the same mistake, focusing on.. well.. "Invincible", a (so far) irredeemable loser and waste of screen time. So, despite its virtues, this show cannot escape that it made the decision to go for the Young Adult viewing demographic. It reminds me of Alita: Battle Angel (2019) in that way too: some very cool adult concepts ruined by the dramatic devices of unrepentant teenage stupidity and irrelevance. I didn't even like that stuff when I was a teenager, though Jordan Catalano gets a pass.

Main Cast and Characters The supporting characters were also very stupid. The most annoying was definitely Amber Bennett (voiced by the otherwise cool Zazie Beetz from Deadpool 2 (2018) and Joker (2019)), 

who is supposed to be attractive somehow to Mark Grayson ("Invincible", voiced by Steven Yeun, who played Glenn on The Walking Dead) 

despite the fact that she constantly judges him, fails to understand him, often fails to give him any kind of benefit of the doubt, and continues to scowl at him and be hurtful towards him even when she has information that should change her outlook towards him. And because she is part of the love triangle shared between herself, Invincible/Mark, and "Atom Eve"/Samantha (voiced by the awesome Gillian Jacobs from Community (2009–2014)), 

audiences simply have to bear with it that Amber's annoying character will be present and wasting time until Mark can realize that Amber is in fact toxic and that Eve actually understands him and can improve him in more positive directions. That love triangle should have been a 20-minute distraction, but I'm guessing that it will eat up a season or two more, especially if the writers become cowardly and fail to change things for fear of messing up a perceived "winning" formula. In my ideal story line, they would skip ahead 10 years, drop the teen drama, the love triangle, and the stupid jokes and have Invincible and Eve paired in defense of Earth, with the main tension being from their worry that the other would be horribly gored in front of them during lethal fights against cosmic enemies ;)

Aside, I am aware of Amber’s motivation for being a bad person, I just think her justification is not based in understanding, empathy, and a regard for the gravity of Invincible’s situation. In a strict political sense, Invincible should not commit a lie of omission by keeping her in the dark about his identity — even if for the “noble lie” reason of protecting her — but in a real sense, he is a fucking teenager who just developed his super powers. For her to pretend that he should reveal his entire identity to her — a potentially transformative and even dangerous decision — after a few months of teenage romance paints an absurd portrait of her mind. It does, however, align her with Omni-Man, because where Omni-Man forces Invincible to become an adult in the fighting sense (pushing with full force early on), Amber forces Invincible to become an emotional adult by getting him to understand that toxic people such as herself need to be given boundaries — and he needs to learn to clearly delineate and communicate his real desires. By knowing that he does not want Amber, people who regiment his free time, or people who do not suit him, for instance, he can realize why Eve was an obvious decision: Eve understands, can make time when they have time, and will let him find his decisions. Part of a coming-of-age story tends to be realizing what one actually wants, and Invincible’s hesitation in telling Amber his identity shows that he does not truly want her. This separates Invincible from, say, Spider-Man, who avoided telling Mary Jane his identity not because he did not want her but because he wanted at all costs to protect her.

The next most annoying character has to be Debbie Grayson (voiced by TV-cancer Sandra Oh and who luckily was not animated to look like the real Sandra Oh and who should have been voiced instead by Bobby Lee due to Lee's successful MadTV parody of Sandra Oh). 

Debbie basically fills the role of Skyler in Breaking Bad, except that Debbie's character tends to be slightly more understanding before her inevitable and toxic Skyler-resentment and undermining behavior. Despite having an 8-episode arc of change, Debbie's character flips too quickly and lacks the empathy and Omni-Man motive-justifying that would make her interesting (the comic's development may vary). For instance, if she refused to believe that Omni-Man meant his own words, that would make her empathetic and perhaps virtuous even if misled, but instead she dropped their "20 years" of understanding after viewing Omni-Man in action, which makes her appear shallow, easily manipulated, and unsympathetic. That was a definite "Young Adult" genre move because it shows immaturity by the writers to break apart a bond of 20 years so quickly. Mediocre teens might accept such a fissure because their lives have not yet seen or may not comprehend that level of time, but adults know that even long-standing and problematic relationships (which, beyond the lie, Omni-Man's and Debbie's was not shown to be) take a lot of time to break — even with lies exposed.

Omni-Man The biggest show strength for me was of course Omni-Man, who in a success of casting was voiced by J.K. Simmons in a kind of reprisal of Simmons' role as Fletcher from Whiplash (2014). 

The Fletcher/Omni-Man parallel shows through their being incredibly harsh but extremely disciplined and principled, forcing people to become beyond even their own ideal selves (this via Omni-Man's tough-love teaching of Invincible — comically, Omni-Man was actually psychologically easier on Invincible than Fletcher was on Whiplash's Andrew character). Despite the show's attempts to villainize Omni-Man, he, like Fletcher and also like Breaking Bad's Walter White, becomes progressively more awesome, eventually representing a Spartan will, an unconquerable drive, and a realistic and martial understanding of a hero's role.

To the show's credit, while it wrote Omni-Man to be outright genocidal and from a culture of eugenicists (again, Spartan), they could not help but admire him and his "violence" and "naked force" (for a Starship Troopers reference), giving him a path to redemption. That redemption comes in part because — despite the show's attempt to be often realistic and violent — its decision to be directed at young adults via dumb jokes, petty relationship drama, the characters’ reckless lack of anonymity and security in their neighborhood (loudly taking off and landing right at the doorstep), and light indy music also made the portrayed violence far less literal. With a less literal violence, the real statement becomes not that Omni-Man really did kill so many people (though he certainly did kill those people within the show's plot) but that he was symbolically capable of terrible violence but could be reformed for good. That's the shortcoming with putting violence under demographic limitations. If it's a PG-13 Godzilla knocking down cities, the deaths in the many fallen skyscrapers don't matter so much (the audience will even forgive Godzilla for mass death if it happens mostly in removed spectacle), whereas if it's Cormac McCarthy envisioning a very realistic fiction, every death rides the edge of true trauma.

By showing light between the real and the symbolic, it is much easier to identify and agree with Omni-Man. For instance, when Robot (voiced by Zachary Quinto of Heroes and the newer Star Trek movies) 

shows too much empathy for the revealed weakness of "Monster Girl" (voiced by Grey Griffin), the audience may have thought, "Pathetic," even before Omni-Man himself said it. And this because Omni-Man knows that true and powerful enemies (including himself) will not hesitate to use ultra-violence against these avenues of weakness. "Invincible" can make his Spider-Man quips while in lethal battles, but he does so while riding the edge of death — something that Omni-Man has to teach Invincible by riding him to the brink of his own.

Other Cast/Characters and Amazon's Hidden Budget It was impressive how many big-name actors were thrown into this — a true hemorrhage of producer funding. Amazon has so far hidden the budget numbers, perhaps because they don't want people to know that the show (like many of its shows) represents a kind of loss-leader to jump-start its entertainment brand.

Aside from those already mentioned, the show borrows a number of actors from The Walking Dead (WD), including.. • Chad L. Coleman ("Martian Man"; "Tyreese" on WD),

• Khary Payton ("Black Samson"; "Ezekiel" on WD),

• Ross Marquand (several characters; "Aaron" on WD)

• Lauren Cohan ("War Woman"; "Maggie" on WD)

• Michael Cudlitz ("Red Rush"; "Abraham" on WD)

• Lennie James ("Darkwing"; "Morgan" on WD)

• Sonequa Martin-Green ("Green Ghost"; "Sasha" on WD) 

There were also connections to Rick and Morty and Community, not just with Gillian Jacobs but also with... • Justin Roiland ("Doug Cheston"), who voices both Rick and Morty in Rick and Morty,

• Jason Mantzoukas ("Rex"),

• Walton Goggins ("Cecil"),

• Chris Diamantopoulos (several characters),

• Clancy Brown ("Damien Darkblood"),

• Kevin Michael Richardson ("Mauler Twins"), and

• Ryan Ridley (writing)

That's a lot of overlap. They even had Michael Dorn from Star Trek: TNG (1987–1994) (there he played Worf) and Reginald VelJohnson from Family Matters (1989–1998) and Die Hard (1988), and even Mark Hamill. Pretty much everyone in the voice cast was significant and known. Maybe Amazon got a discount for COVID since the actors could all do voice-work from home? ;)

Overall Bad that it was for the Young Adult target demo but good for the infrequent adult themes and ultra-violence. Very high production value and a good watch for those who like dark superhero stories. I have heard that the comic gets progressively darker, which fits for Robert Kirkman, so it will likely be worth keeping up with this show.

[heartlandians]

Shocking reveal from the set of CBC’s Heartland: Equine Co-Stars Don't Get Along in Real Life

While co-stars often share chemistry onscreen, that doesn't mean their personalities mesh in real life. 

If you are familiar with CBC’s hit drama “Heartland”, you might know that one of the main stars of the show for the last 14 seasons has been Amy Fleming’s loyal companion, Spartan. The duo has shared scenes and made TV history on screen for over a decade now, and while the role of Spartan has been played by many horses over the years, the main star behind the equine role has been played by a gelding named Stormy, a Quarter Horse who started his role at the age of five. 

“I know Spartan has a big spot in my heart, so I hope I have at least a little spot in his heart. He’s just so nonchalant about everything so I wouldn’t know if he was happy to see me or not but it appears that way”, Amber Marshall, who plays the horse whisperer Amy Fleming, shared with COWGIRL Magazine back in 2019.

Ever since Spartan’s screen time has been reduced past few years for the fear of overworking Stormy, as his age is starting to show, the writers introduced a new horse friend to Amy and the fans back in season 13, in episode “Wild One” to be exact. This past season has seen Amy intensely building a relationship with this former wild horse - who the character named “Shadow” - showing them working together and even doing few jumping scenes, something Stormy (and Spartan) used to enjoy doing with Marshall in the past.

While the journey has been interesting for the actress portraying Amy to explore, Stormy doesn’t share the sentiment and has been starting to act out, according to our sources.

“It is largely thanks to editing, body doubles and TV magic that we’ve been able to even have them together in scenes as the two horses don’t get along at all in real life”, tells Heartland’s showrunner Heather Conkie. “It was disappointing for all of us behind the scenes, as this storyline with the characters Spartan and Shadow was something we were really excited to portray this season as Amy was starting to heal from this huge loss she had faced with the help of her two horse friends. Still, we were determined to bring the story to life and thankfully we had a talented set of wranglers and an editing team that were able to make it seem like we had no problems on set during the filming. Based on the feedback we’ve gotten, I don’t think the fans suspected anything.”

“The past year of filming was difficult enough with the covid safety regulations and losing one of our main characters alone, so the way Stormy’s been making things even harder is very unfortunate for us”, adds the show’s  executive producer Michael Weinberg. “During filming, we had challenges getting Stormy to the set as he was acting like a diva and refusing to come out of his trailer if ‘Spartan’ wasn’t going to be in the focus during the scenes he was needed. We had to add in couple of scenes with him just - and I quote - to make sure our audience still remembers who the Real Star of the show is.”

(Read Stormy’s extensive rider list of demands under the cut!)

Okay, you guessed it - this is April Fools!

According to Amber, the two horses get along swimmingly :) [Also, Stormy don’t get mad at me for this!]

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 7, Number 4

Axel Ruley x Verbo Flow

A little bit of optimism is creeping into the air as Dusted writers start to get their shots. We’re all starting to think about live music, maybe outside, maybe this summer. But as the spate of freak snow storms demonstrates, summer’s not here yet, and in the meantime, piles of records and gigs of MP3s beckon. This early spring version of Dust covers the map, literally, with artists representing Pakistan, Australia, Canada, Sweden, the UK and the USA, and stylistically with jazz, rock, punk, rap, improv and many other genres in play. Contributors include Jennifer Kelly, Justin Cober-Lake, Bill Meyer, Ray Garraty, Patrick Masterson, Tim Clarke and Bryon Hayes.

Arooj Aftab — Vulture Prince (New Amsterdam)

Vulture Prince by Arooj Aftab

Arooj Aftab is a classical composer originally from Pakistan but now living in Brooklyn. Vulture Prince, her third full-length album, blends the bright clarity of new age music with the fluid, non-Western vocal tones of her Central Asian roots. “Last Night,” from an old Rumi poem but sung mostly in English, lilts in dub-scented syncopation, the thump and pop of stand-up bass underlining its bittersweet melody. An interlude in some other language shifts the song entirely, pitting vintage reggae reverberation against an exotic melisma. “Mohabbat” (which is apparently Urdu for sex) soothes in the pristine instrumentals, lucid guitars, a horn, scattered drumbeats, but smolders and beckons in the vocals. None of these tracks feel wholly traditional or wholly Western and modern day, but sit somewhere in a well-lit, idealized space. Timeless and placeless, Vulture Prince is nonetheless very beautiful.

Jennifer Kelly

 Assertion — Intermission (Spartan)

Intermission comes from an alternate timeline. Founding drummer William Goldsmith started his musical career in Sunny Day Real Estate and had a notable stint with Foo Fighters. To cut the biography short, Goldsmith took a decade off from the music industry. He's returned now with Assertion, joined by guitarist/vocalist Justin Tamminga and bassist Bryan Gorder (both of Blind Guides, among other acts). This band picks up in the late 1990s, imagining a new path for post-hardcore/post-grunge music. The trio's name suits, as the songs' energy and the lyrical assertiveness develops the intensity of the release. The group works carefully with dynamics, neither parroting the loud-quiet tradition nor simply pushing their emo leanings toward 11.

“The Lamb to the Slaughter Pulls a Knife” epitomizes the album. The track sounds like Foo Fighters decided to get dirtier rather than more arena-friendly, while the lyrics mix violence with emotional persistence. First single “Supervised Suffering” finds triumph in endurance, turning the aggressive chorus into something of a victory. “Set Fire” closes the album with something more delicate, but it's just the gauze over a seething anger. Goldsmith's time off seems to have served him well, as does collaborating with some new partners. Assertion makes its case clearly and effectively, and if the intermission's over for Goldsmith, the second half sounds promising.

Justin Cober-Lake  

 Michael Beach — Dream Violence (Goner/Poison City)

Dream Violence by Michael Beach

“De Facto Blues,” from Michael Beach’s fourth solo album, is a barn-burner of a song, rough and messy and passionate, the kind of song that makes you want to take a stand on something, who cares what as long as it matters to you. It snarls like Radio Birdman, slashes like the Wipers and follows its muse through chaos to righteousness like an off-cut from Crazy Horse, just back from rockin’ the free world. It’s got Matt Ford and Inez Tulloch from Thigh Master on guitar and bass, respectively, Utrillo Kushner from Colossal Yes (and Comets on Fire) on drums, and Kelley Stoltz at the boards, and it’s a killer. The rest of the album is varied and, honestly, not uniformly astounding, but there’s a nice Summer of Love-style psych dream in “Metaphysical Dice,” a slow-burning post-rocker in the title track and a driving, pounding punk anthem in the opener “Irregardless.” Beach has been splitting his time between San Francisco and Melbourne, Australia, and lately settled on Melbourne, where he will fit like a native into their thriving punk-garage scene.

Jennifer Kelly

 Bloop — Proof (Lumo)

Proof by BLOOP (Lina Allemano / Mike Smith)

The trumpet is already a catalog of sound effects waiting to happen, and Lina Allemano knows the table of contents by heart. So, to shake things up, she has paired up with electronic musician Mike Smith, who contributes live processing and effects to Allemano’s improvisations. A blind listen to Proof might leave you with the impression that you’re hearing a horn player jamming with some outer space cats, and we’re not talking about hip, lingo-slinging jazz dudes. In fact, everything on these eight tracks happened in real time. Smith’s a strategic intervener, aware that too much sauce can spoil the stew, so he mixes up precise layering and pitch-shifting with more disorienting transformations. It’s hard to say how much Allemano responds to the simulacra that surround her brass voice, but there’s no denying the persuasiveness of her melodic and timbral ideas.

Bill Meyer

 Bris — Tricky Dance Moves (TrueStory Entertainment)

Bris left some music behind when he died in 2020, but it took almost a year to shape these recordings into a proper CD. The label CEO Mac J (a fine artist himself) could easily capitalize on his friend’s death, stacking Tricky Dance Moves with features from the artists Bris never would have worked with. Yet the album was prepared with the utmost care, not giving an ugly Frankenstein monster feel. Bris’s references to his possible early death are scattered throughout the whole tape: “Heard they wanna pop Bris cause they mad I’m poppin.” Almost every song could be easily turned into a prophetic tale (a cheap move one wants to avoid at all costs). Nonetheless, something is missing here. Or maybe it is just an image of death that disturbs the whole picture, making us realize that this is the last we’d hear from Bris.

Ray Garraty

 Dreamwell — Modern Grotesque (self-released)

Modern Grotesque by Dreamwell

I recently read an interview with Providence’s Dreamwell breaking down in almost excruciating detail the influences that led to the quintet’s sophomore full-length Modern Grotesque. I kept scrolling past Daughters and Deftones and Deafheaven and increasingly disconnected influences like The Mountain Goats and Nina Simone. I went back to the top and looked again. I typed Ctrl+F and put in “Thursday.” Nothing. This is preposterous. I may not be in the post-hardcore trenches the way I once was, but even I’d know a good Full Collapse homage if it swung a mic right into my face the way this one did; hell, just listen to “The Lost Ballad of Dominic Anneghi” and tell me singer Keziah Staska doesn’t know every single word of “Paris in Flames.” That may not look like flattery on a first read, but too often, bands striding the emo/pop divide have chased the latter into sub-Taking Back Sunday oblivion; what Thursday did was much harder, and Dreamwell has ably taken up the torch here. That they did it unintentionally is a curious, bewildering footnote.

Patrick Masterson

  Paul Dunmall / Matthew Shipp / Joe Morris / Gerald Cleaver — The Bright Awakening (Rogue Art)

It’s a bit perplexing that reeds player Paul Dunmall hasn’t spent more time playing with American musicians. He’s firmly situated within the English improvisation community, where he’s perhaps best known for his longer tenure with the quartet Mujician, and his ability to double on bagpipes has allowed him to establish links between improvised and folk music. But

his jazz-rooted approach makes him a natural to work in settings such as this one. When Dunmall toted his tenor to the Vision Festival in 2012 (even then, it could be costly to lug multiple horns on a plane), he found three sympatico partners in Fest regulars pianist Matthew Shipp, double bassist Joe Morris and drummer Gerald Cleaver. They all hit the ground running, generating a barrage of pulsing, roiling sound for over 20 minutes before the piano and drums peel off, leaving Morris to sustain momentum alone. Dunmall’s gruff, spiraling lines find common cause with each of his fellows, and the gradual addition and subtraction of players from that point makes it easier to hear the exchange of ideas, which often seem to take place between dyads operating within the larger flow.

Bill Meyer 

 Editrix — Tell Me I’m Bad (Exploding in Sound)

Tell Me I'm Bad by Editrix

Wendy Eisenberg’s rock band is like her solo output in that it snarls delicate, self-aware, mini-short stories in complex tangles of guitar, hemming in high, sing-song-y verses with riffs and licks of daunting difficulty. The main differences are speed, volume and aggression (i.e. it rocks.) and a certain communal energy. That’s down to two collaborators who can more than keep up, Josh Daniel on surging, rattling, break-it-all-down percussion and Steve Cameron, equally anarchic and fast on bass. The title track is an all-out rager, thrusting jagged arena riffs of guitar and bass forward, then clearing space for off-kilter verses and time-shifting, irregular instrumental interplay. “Chelsea” follows a similar chaotic pattern, setting up a teeth-shaking cadence of rock instruments, with Eisenberg keening over the top of it. “I know, perfectly well, that we’re not safe, safe from the men in power,” she croons, engaged in the knotting difficulties of the world as we know it, but winning.

Jennifer Kelly

Elephant Micah — Vague Tidings (Western Vinyl)

Vague Tidings by Elephant Micah

The new Elephant Micah album, the follow-up to 2018’s excellent Genericana, has an apposite title. Vague Tidings conveys an atmosphere of feeling conscious of something carried on the wind, a story passed on that may have shifted through various iterations, leaving only a sense of its original meaning. All that can be sure is that this is sad, sober music, unafraid to brace against the chill of mortality and speak of all that is felt. The instruments — guitar, piano, percussion, violin and woodwinds — move around Joseph O’Connell’s voice in stiff yet graceful arcs, distanced by an unspoken etiquette. Repetitive melodic figures, stark yet steady, gradually accumulate weight as they roll along like tumbleweeds. It’s a crisp, forlorn country-blues, in no hurry to get nowhere, carrying ancient wisdom that seems to acknowledge the empty resonance of its own import.

Tim Clarke

 Fraufraulein — Solum (Notice Recordings)

Fraufraulein’s music is immersive. Anne Guthrie and Billy Gomberg beam themselves, and us along with them, Quantum Leap-style directly into multiple environments in medias res. Through the clever employment of field recordings, they transport us to a hurricane-addled beach, performing a voice/piano duet as driftwood missiles careen through the air. In another “episode,” the manipulation of small objects conjures up the intimacy of a water garden filled with windchimes. Partners in both life and art, Guthrie and Gomberg are also consummate solo artists. He is a master of spike-textured drones, while she explores the intimate properties of physical entities. Like a child tends to resemble one parent while borrowing subtle traits from the other, Solum identifies more with Guthrie’s electroacoustic tendencies than it does with Gomberg’s electronics. This is in stark contrast to 2015’s Extinguishment, which felt a little more balanced between those two modes. Both approaches work, yet Solum feels more meticulously crafted and nuanced. Careful listening unveils multiple subtle tones and textures, and each piece is an adventure for the ears.

Bryon Hayes

 Gerrit Hatcher / Rob Magill / Patrick Shiroishi — Triplet Fawns (Kettle Hole)

Triplet Fawns by Gerrit Hatcher / Rob Magill / Patrick Shiroishi

The album’s title implies a crew you wouldn’t want on your yard; while those adolescent ungulate appetites do a number on your bushes, the hooves are hacking up your grass. But if they knocked on your door, saxophone cases in their respective hands, you could do worse than invite them around the back for some blowing. Hatcher, Magill and Shiroishi present with sufficient lung power to be heard fine without the reflective assistance of walls, even when they aren’t making like Sonore (that was Gustafsson, Vandermark, and Brötzmann, about a dozen years back). This album, which was released in a micro-edition of 100 CD-Rs on Hatcher’s Kettle Hole imprint, builds gradually from restrained melancholy to pointillistic jousting to a climactic blow-out, and the assured development of each piece suggests that each player was listening not only to what each of the others was doing, but where the music was headed.

Bill Meyer

A.Karperyd — GND (Novoton)

GND by A.Karperyd

On his second solo release, GND, Swedish artist Andreas Karperyd broodingly ruminates on snatches of musical ideas that have been percolating in his consciousness over extended periods. Anyone familiar with his 2015 debut, Woodwork, will find these 55 minutes similarly immersive, as Karperyd manipulates live instruments such as piano and strings into shimmering, alien tapestries. Opener “The Well-Defined Rules of Certainty” appears to take Fennesz’s Venice as its blueprint, issuing forth cascading, percolating tones that tickle the ears. “The Desire to Invoke Balance with Our Eyes Closed” and “Failures and Small Observations” have a Satie-esque elegance to their piano lines, albeit refracted via a hall of mirrors. The 12-minute “Reminiscence of Tar” sounds like a slow-motion pan across the hulking mass of a shadowy space station. And closing track “Mummification of an Empire” slowly fries its piano in static, then unfurls wistful melodica and throbbing synth across the wreckage.

Tim Clarke

  Kiwi Jr. — Cooler Returns (Subpop)

Cooler Returns by Kiwi jr

Kiwi Jr.’s brash, brainy indie pop punk vibrates with nervy energy, like the first Feelies album or Violent Femmes’ 1983 debut or that one great S-T from the Soft Pack. Those are all opening salvos for their respective bands, but this one is a second outing, suffering not a bit from sophomore slackening. Instead, Cooler Returns tightens up everything that was already stinging on the Toronto band’s debut and adds a giddy careening glee. An oddball thread of Robin Hood-ness runs through the disc, with Sherwood forest getting a nod in the title track and “Maid Marian’s Toast” tipping the love interest, but these songs are anything but archaic. “Undecided Voters,” the single jangles harder than anything I’ve heard since Woolen Men, slyly upending creative pretensions in a verse that goes: “You take a photo of the CN tower/you take another of the Honest Ed sign/Well, I take photos of your photos/and they really move people.” Has it been done before? Maybe. Does it move us. Yes indeed.

Jennifer Kelly

 Kool John — Get Rich, Die $moppin ($moplife Entertainment)

A year ago, Kool John was shot six times. Yet you wouldn’t know about it from the general mood of Get Rich, Die $moppin, his first tape since then. He does name one song “6 Shots” and explicitly mentions the shooting accident a few times on other songs, but his bouncy music says he wasn’t hurt bad after all. The beats perfectly match the rhymes, playfully ignorant and ignorantly playful. Kool John still doesn’t mix with broke people, doesn’t return calls if it’s not about money and “doesn’t get stressed out.” Instead, he gets high. His new tape is nothing groundbreaking, even though he’s pretending that is: “If I had no legs I’d still be outstanding.”

Ray Garraty

Nick Mazzarella / Quin Kirchner — See or Seem: Live at the Hyde Park Jazz Festival (Out Of Your Head)

See or Seem: Live at the Hyde Park Jazz Festival by Nick Mazzarella / Quin Kirchner

 Perhaps the most remarkable thing about this recording is that the titular festival happened at all. While most festivals either canceled or went on line, Chicago’s Hyde Park Jazz Festival dealt with COVID by spreading out. Instead of big stages and indoor shows, last September it staged little pop-up events on sidewalks and in parks. So, if the sound of See or Seem feels a bit diffuse, it’s because it was recorded with a device propped in front of two guys playing on a grassy median. There are moments when the buzz of bugs rises up for a second behind Nick Mazzarella’s darting alto sax and Quin Kirchner’s brisk, mercurial beats. But the thrill of actually playing in front of some people (or actually being surrounded by them; when there’s no stage and social distancing is in effect, it makes sense to walk slow circles around the performers) infuses this music, extracting an extra ounce of joyousness from Mazzarella’s free, boppish lines, and adding a restlessness charge to the drumming, as though Kirchner really wanted to squeeze as much music as possible into this 31-minute set. This release is part of Out Of Your Head Records’ Untamed series of download-only albums recorded under less than pristine conditions. A portion of each title’s income is directed to a charity of the artists’ choice; the duo selected St. Jude’s Children’s Research Hospital.

Bill Meyer

 Dean McPhee — Witch’s Ladder (Hood Faire)

Witch's Ladder by Dean McPhee

Finger-picked melodies cut through haunted landscapes of echo and hum on this fourth LP from the British guitarist Dean McPhee. Track titles like “The Alchemist” and “Witch’s Ladder” evoke the supernatural, as does the spectral ambient tone, reminiscent of Chuck Johnson’s recent Cinder Grove or Mark Nelson’s last Pan•American album. Yet while an e-bow traces ghostly chills through “The Alder Tree,” there’s also a grounding in lovely, well-rooted folk forms; it’s like seeing a familiar landscape in moonlight, well-known landmarks suddenly turned unearthly and strange. The long closing title track has an introspective air. Pensive, jazz-infused runs flower into bright bursts of notes, not quite blues, not quite folk, not quite jazz, not quite anything but gorgeous.

Jennifer Kelly

 Moontype — Bodies of Water (Born Yesterday)

Bodies of Water by Moontype

Margaret McCarthy’s voice swims across your headphones like being on an innertube drifting languidly downstream. Typically, saying someone’s vocals are like water indicates a degree of timidity or laziness, obscured in reverb or simply buried by the mix, but on Moontype’s debut LP, it’s a compliment: McCarthy floats across the different styles of music she makes with guitarist Ben Cruz and drummer Emerson Hunton. You notice it not just because she often sings of water or because it’s right there in the title, but also because the Chicago trio hasn’t settled on any particular style yet — just listen to the three-song stretch at the heart of the record where achingly beautiful alt-country ballad “3 Weeks” leads into “When You Say Yes,” a sub-three-minute power-pop number Weezer ought to be jealous of, followed immediately by crunching alt-rock swoon and first single “Ferry.” All the while, McCarthy lets her melodies drift to the will of the songs. I’m reminded of recent efforts from Great Grandpa, Squirrel Flower and Lucy Dacus, but the brief, jazzy curveball of “Alpha” is a peek into whole other possibilities. Bodies of Water is a fine record, but perhaps its most exciting aspect is how much ground you can see Moontype has already conquered. One can’t help but wonder what sonic worlds awash in water await.

Patrick Masterson   

 Rob Noyes / Joseph Allred — Avoidance Language (Feeding Tube)

Avoidance Language by Rob Noyes and Joseph Allred

The 12-string guitar can emit such a prodigious amount of sound, and there are two of them on Avoidance Language. If Joseph Allred and Rob Noyes had planned things out in order to avoid canceling each other out, they might never have picked their instruments up, so they just started playing and listening. The result is not so much a summing of two broad spectrums of sound, but an instinctual blending of similar textures that ends up sounding significantly different from what either musician does on their own. Even when Allred switches to harmonium or banjo, as he does on the album’s two shorter tracks, the music rushes in torrential fashion. Their collaboration is so compatible that it often seems more like a recital for one big stringed thing played by one four-handed musician than a doubled instrumental duet.

Bill Meyer

NRCSSSST — S-T (Slimstyle)

NRCSSST by NRCSSST

There’s no “I” in NRCSSSST but there’s plenty of swagger. The Atlanta-based synth pop band, formed around Coathangers drummer and singer Stephanie Luke and Dropsonic’s Dan Dixon, taunts and teases in its opening salvo “All I Ever Wanted.” Luke rasps appealingly atop Spoon-style piano banging, and big shout along choruses erupt from sudden flares of synths. It’s all hedonism, but done with conviction. You haven’t heard a big rock song kick up this much fun in ages. “Love Suicide” bangs just as hard, its bass line muttering like a crazy person, unstable and ready to explode (and yet it doesn’t, it maintains its restraint even when the rest of the cut goes deliriously off the rails). Dixon can really sing, too, holding the long vibrating notes that lift these prickly jams into anthemry. It’s been a while since a band reminded me of INXS and U2 without sucking, but here we are. Sometimes guilty pleasures are just pleasures.

Jennifer Kelly

 Zeena Parkins / Mette Rasmussen /Ryan Sawyer — Glass Triangle (Relative Pitch)

Glass Triangle by Zeena Parkins, Mette Rasmussen, Ryan Sawyer

Harpist Zeena Parkins and Ryan Sawyer have a long-standing partnership in the trio substitutes Moss Garden, a chamber improv ensemble with pianist Ryan Ross. But swapping in Danish alto saxophonist Mette Rasmussen brings about a change, not just in instrumentation, but attitude. She plays free jazz like a punk, impatient and aggressive, and Parkins and Sawyer are up for the challenge. This music often plays out like a battle between two titans, one blowing and the other pummeling, while Parkins seeks to liquify the ground upon which they stand. She sticks exclusively to an electric harp whose effects-laden tone is disorientingly alien, blinking beacon-like one moment, low as a backhoe engage in earth removal the next. The combination of new and old relationships promotes a combination of instability and trust that yields splendid results.

Bill Meyer

 claire rousay — A Softer Focus (American Dreams)

a softer focus by claire rousay

In film, soft focus is a technique of contrast reduction that lends a scene a dreamlike quality. With A Softer Focus, claire rousay imbues her already intimate compositions with a noctilucent aura. She has created a dreamworld with sound. One glimpse at the glowing flowers that grace the cover art created by visual artist Dani Toral, with whom rousay closely collaborated on this release, and the illusory nature of the record is revealed. The reds, oranges, blues and purples of deep twilight are reflected in both the textures rousay weaves into her soundscapes and the visual themes that Toral conjures. Violin, cello, piano and synth are the musical origins of this warmth, which rousay wraps around environments crafted from the sounds of everyday life. She recorded herself moving about her apartment, visiting a farmer’s market, observing kids playing and just existing. These field recordings of the mundane, when coupled with the radiance of the musical elements, are magical. Snatches of conversation become incantations; auto-tuned vocals are the whisperings of spirits; fireworks explode into brilliant shards of crystal. With A Softer Focus, rousay takes a glimpse into the beauty of the everyday, showing us just how precious our most humdrum moments can be.

Bryon Hayes

Axel Rulay x Verbo Flow — Si Es Trucho Es Trucho / Axel Rulay (La Granja)

Axel Rulay must be kicking himself right now. With more than three million plays on the original version and more than five million on the remix that adds verses from Farruko and El Alfa into the fray, the Dominican is cruising into our second pandemic summer with an unbeatable poolside anthem — and to think, after years of clawing his way up through the industry dregs, working to get his name out there, all he had to do was make himself the chorus over Venezuelan producer Manybeat’s 2019 tropical house trip “El Tiempo.” Presto: Massive visibility in the Spanish-speaking world and a song that ought to transcend any linguistic barriers unlocked even if the best I can manage is a title that translates as “If It’s Trout It’s Trout.” Expect that long-desired Daddy Yankee collabo to follow any day now.

Patrick Masterson

  Rx Nephew — Listen Here Are You Here to Hear Me (NewBreedTrapper)

Rochester rapper Rx Nephew trailed brother-turned-archrival-turned-back Rx Papi’s coming out party 100 Miles and Walk’in by just a few weeks with the 53-minute all-in proposition Listen Here Are You Here to Hear Me. Unlike Papi’s Max B-ish smoothness, Nephew is all rough n’ tumble through these 17 tracks, provocative pump action with narrative bursts of violence and street hustling delivered with a verve most akin to DaBaby or, in some of his more elastic enunciations, peak Ludacris. A recent Creative Hustle interview provides some insight: The first time he went into the booth, “I didn’t write anything. I just started talking about selling crack and robbing people.” The stories haven’t stopped since. If he can keep putting out music as engaging as Listen Here…, Rx Nephew is destined for more than just the margins; until then, we have one of the year’s densest rap records to hold the line.

Patrick Masterson

 Nick Schofield — Glass Gallery (Backward Music)

Glass Gallery by Nick Schofield

Nick Schoefield, out of Montreal, composed these 13 tracks entirely on a vintage Prophet 600, the first synthesizer to designed to employ the then-new MIDI standard established by the instrument’s inventor Dave Smith and Roland’s Ikutaru Kakahashi. The instrument has a lovely, crystalline quality, floating effortless arpeggios through vaulting sonic spaces. Though clearly synthesized, these pieces of music resonate in serene and peaceful ways, evoking light, water, air and contemplation with a simplicity that evokes Japan. “Water Court” drips notes of startling purity into deep pools of tone-washed whoosh and hum. “Snow Blue Square” flutters an oboe-like melody over eddying gusts of keyboard motifs. The pieces fit together with calm precision, leading from one beautiful space to the next like a stroll through a museum.

Jennifer Kelly

  Archie Shepp — Blasé And Yasmina Revisited (Ezz-thetics)

The Ezz-thetics campaign to keep the best of mid-20th century free jazz on CD shelves (yes, CD, not streaming or LP) breaches the walls of the BYG catalog with a disc that issues one and a half albums from Archie Shepp’s busy week in August 1969. Blasé is a stand-out for the participation of singer Jeanne Lee, whose indomitable and flexible delivery as equal to the demands of material that’s be turns pungently earthy and steeped in antiquity. But the rest of the band, which includes Philly Joe Jones, Dave Burrell, some harmonica players, and a couple members of the Art Ensemble, is also more than equal to the task of filtering the blues and Ellingtonia through the gestures of the then-contemporary avant-garde. “Yasmina,” which originally occupied one side of another LP, makes sense here as an extension of the raw, rippling “Touareg,” the last tune on Blasé, into exultantly African territory.

Bill Meyer

 Juanita Stein — Snapshot (Handwritten)

Juanita Stein was the cool, serene, Mazzy Star-evoking vocal presence in the Aussie dream-gaze outfit Howling Bells, and she plays more or less the same role on her third solo album. Yet she is also the source of mayhem here, kicking up an angst of guitar-freaked turmoil on “1,2,3,4,5,6” then soothing it away with singing, hanging long threads of feedback from the thump-thump-thumping blues-rock architecture of “L.O.T.F.” and crooning dulcetly, but with a little yip, in the trance-y title track. This latter cut reflects on the death of her father, a kindred soul who wrote a couple of Howling Bells songs for her and passed away recently. It distills a palpable ache into pure, distanced poetry, finding a cool, dispassionate way to consider the mysteries of human loss.

Jennifer Kelly

 The Tiptons Sax Quartet & Drums — Wabi Sabi (Sowiesound)

Wabi Sabi by Tiptons Sax Quartet & Drums

Over its 30 years together, the Tiptons Sax Quartet has done less to hone its sound and more to figure out how many styles to embrace. The group (typically a soprano, alto, tenor, and baritone sax joined by percussion and even including some vocals) can dig into trad jazz but sounds more at home in exploration, adapting world music or other traditional American styles. The title of their latest album, Wabi Sabi refers to the Japanese concept of finding beauty in and accepting imperfection. The Tiptons, despite that sentiment, don't approach their play with a sloppy sound; in fact, they're as tight as ever. The understanding of impermanence and imperfection does help contextualize their risk-taking. When they turn to odd yodeling on “Moadl Joadl,” they find joy in an odd vocal moment that highlights expression and discovery over formal rigor. When they tap in New Orleans energy for “Jouissance,” we can connect the dots between parades and funerals, celebrating all the while. The whole album serves as a tour of styles and moods, always with an energetic potency. If it's more of the same from the Tiptons, that just means continuance of difference.

Justin Cober-Lake

[normal-thoughts-official]

Actually, anti parabatai plot as a criticism of the oppressive regime would have been super interesting. Like they literally perform some magical ritual on minors. Moreover, it’s seen as prestigious and is highly encouraged. Moreover, if children have doubts they can’t even properly discuss them. Notice how in 2x03 Alec is left so alone he only has his baby sister to share his misgivings about the ritual. Moreover, he isn’t even happy about the upcoming ceremony. It really feels like he only ->

-> out of obligation (reminds me of ‘are you happy’, ‘yes, I’m following my duty’). Idk maybe it was indoctrinated that cancelling the ceremony once you gave your word is unthinkable, dishonourable, shameful or some other shit. Anyway, Alec didn’t look enthusiastic AT ALL. We don’t see what role Maryse and Robert played in this but they were probably their toxic selves. Besides, it’s strange to make a team out of two people so different both personality and career wise. And speaking of indoctrination, you can see children getting ingrained with this shit from the very young age. Like little Izzy may not have wanted a parabatai herself but you can see she was still affected. Jace legit said that they were gonna be REAL brothers as if something stopped him seeing Alec as such without a magical tattoo which is major yikes

EXACTLY!!! you get it!!!!!! not only that but the whole "the biggest pain a shadowhunter could ever know is losing a parabatai", "parabatai are the most important people to each other", "parabatai are in perfect tune" etc like so much shit that was straight up NOT SHOWN TO BE TRUE throughout the plot. valentine and luke were parabatai and he betrayed him, jace basically never gave a fuck about alec's wellbeing, he couldn't even tell when alec was literally dying lol also the bond isn't even that strong, like if ur away for a while or try to TRACK THEM it breaks??? and in the books robert and michael were parabatai as well and then they never talked again and robert legit straight up couldnt tell when michael DIED AND WAS REPLACED BY VALENTINE WITH A GLAMOUR like My God

my hc for this whole thing is that the parabatai thing was invented to increase sh loyalty to each other as well as their teamwork, and they made up this bunch of bullshit about it being like family and super important and their pain is your pain and blah blah blah to seem more desirable. kinda like how spartans encouraged relationships between soldiers to make them stronger? or how compulsory monogamy teaches you that the way to achieve happiness is through One Single Person who will be perfect for you always oops

actually o shit there are plenty of parallels between parabataiship and compulsory monogamy and i think i'm gonna go into that now. so mandatory disclaimer that compulsory monogamy =/= your monogamous relationship, just like heteronormativity =/= your heterosexual relationship. okay? okay. if yall come for me screaming that Monogamous People Aren't All Toxic i will ignore you because that's not what i'm saying and i just explicitly stated that. okay? okay

so i’m gonna skip the historical part because compulsory monogamy is very intimately related with the invention of capitalism, private property and etc., and that doesn’t work quite as well in the context of sh since it’s more of a military society than anything, and again, i do believe that it’s more of a “making them more likely to be loyal”/less likely to question missions and stuff thing. but the effects of parabataiship as it is constructed in sh lore are very similar to those of compulsory monogamy in real life:

the whole loyalty thing that can be very easily turned into toxicity/co-dependency/straight up abusive and unequal dynamics. again, i’m talking about monogamy as a system, not saying that all monogamous relationships are toxic, okay? if i sound insistent here, it’s because you wouldn’t believe the amount of times i put 4981749318 disclaimers like that and ppl still got offended on behalf of their monogamous relationships i wasn’t talking about

i’ll go further into that. monogamy ideology, like parabatai ideology, tells us that there’s a kind of relationship that is superior to all others and should be prioritized above all others (romantic relationships for monogamy ideology, parabataiship for parabatai ideology. compulsory monogamy and amatonormativity are more than just intimately related, they are a part of the other). this means that not putting the person you have this kind of relationship with above all others is seen as a crime and betrayal. and i’m not talking about cheating here, i’m talking about stuff such as “would you let your partner go to parties without you?”, seeing you at a place without your partner and asking where they are and why they didn’t come with you/assuming that you must have fought or broken up, considering that a relationship is doomed or not very close if its parts are not literally inseparable, turning the two parts of a relationship into some kind of almost symbiotic creature, where you stop being “A and B” and become “A-and-B” (this exact wording is even a trope in romantic fiction, esp fanfic), “would your missus let you come with us?”, having huge fights because one party wants to go somewhere and the other doesn’t and they can’t come to an agreement on that, etc., i think you get it by now

this mindset that the person you have this particular kind of relationship with should be prioritized above all others, that a part of your sense of self should be merged with theirs, that you essentially have to become a unit, and that it’s hard, but you have to fight to make it work (”love hurts”, “love is tough, it’s like that”, “if you love someone you have to make sacrifices for them”, etc) makes people feel guilty whenever they don’t put that person and their wishes above all else, or even when they want to do something without them, because that is seen as not loving them enough. not only that, but monogamy ideology promises you that once you find The One™ you will achieve a kind of happiness and perfection in your life that you couldn’t get any other way. this means that people are effectively scared of breaking up or of not having/wanting a relationship like that, because it means that they are broken and will never be truly happy (see what i meant when i said that amatonormativity and monogamy ideology are a part of each other?). that’s why you see people saying shit like “my greatest fear is to waste many years on a relationship and break up in the end”, “if you aren’t dating to get married you’re dating to get your heart broken”, etc. 

so you see people trying their damn hardest to stay loyal to the relationship even when it obviously doesn’t make them happy, feeling guilty for not being happy, and accepting toxic mindsets and abuse because they feel like they owe it to them. especially the weakest link in the relationship - notably women in monogamy ideology, as monogamy is also inherently linked with the patriarchy and in monogamy ideology specifically a woman in a het relationship is seen as more than just a part of the man she is in a relationship with, she’s seen as his property, but that dynamic can also be inverted or ruled by other factors such as race, sexuality, gender identity, class, etc. - are way more likely to be seen as owing their partners loyalty. not just that, but in particular with people who are otherwise oppressed, being loved is seen as almost a favor, because again, being in a romantic relationship is supposed to be your exclusive golden ticket to heavenly happiness and whatnot, and oppressed people (esp queer ppl and poc) as seen as undeserving of that, and effectively denied that in many ways, so they are more likely to want to stay in a toxic relationship out of fear that they won’t ever find anything better (it’s not a coincidence that “no one will ever love you like i do” is such a common phrase to hear from abusers). also, let’s not forget that even the right to break up in itself is something that had to be fought for. the feminist movement spent years trying to make divorce legal (in the places where it is) and still fights to make it be seen as acceptable. if it weren’t for other pressures trying to change the rules of monogamy, a “breakup” would quite literally not even be allowed, and this always benefits the strongest link

so now that that’s been explained, back to parabataiship. i think the parallels here are very clear - i mean, for one, you can’t really break it up, unless you purposefully use soul tracking or stay away for a long time, so it’s like, old fashioned monogamy. but more than that, breaking your parabatai bond is seen as terrifying. there is a lot of purposeful rethoric that directly says that the pain of the parabatai bond being severed (whether by will or by one of the parts dying) is unmatchable, and that plants a horrible fear into people, to the point where villains use that against parabatai shadowhunters (for example, the owl possessing jace and telling him that it’ll kill alec so he knows what the pain of losing a parabatai is like). this means that loyalty is owed, because even if you just want to be away from your parabatai, this might break the bond and put you through unspeakable pain (in theory. as i’ve been saying, it’s basically been proved that that’s not true, because when jace died that was far from being the worst pain that alec’s ever felt) 

moreover: the whole thing about how this kind of relationship is sacred, above all else, and will bring you a kind of happiness that is impossible to achieve otherwise. this is said many times - like you said, parabataiship is seen as something desirable and that brings honor. the vows are very similar to marriage (the highest pillar of monogamy) vows (“your family will be my family, your people will be my people”, “entreat me not to leave thee”), clary is constantly told that she could never understand the relationship jace and alec have because they’re parabatai and being parabatai is special and basically uncomparable to anything else, even by izzy, who never wanted to have a parabatai (and in the end she ends up wanting to, which reminds me of the whole “oh, you’ll want it once you grow up” trope with heterosexual romantic relationships. like, basically, you’ll want it once you find the right person. that is something aro, gay, and non-monog ppl hear all the damn time). the whole thing about how obviously jace is supposed to be the one alec loves the most, they’re parabatai, the whole thing about how “alec would die for me, we’re parabatai” like that is unquestionable; the souls becoming one, the being able to feel each other’s feelings and blah blah blah. in short: sacred, above all else, and, unless you do something very wrong, able to bring you a kind of connection and happiness you wouldn’t be able to get otherwise no matter how strong your feelings or your compatibility is; and once you get it, you can’t get out

and then there’s the imbalance it brings. like i said, notably in monogamy as a pillar of heteronormativity the imbalance lays on women, altho other factors can change that balance or be more prominent. with parabataiship, there’s an obvious trope of queer people getting heterosexual parabatai and being very obviously the weakest link (alec with jace, michael with robert, there are others but i don’t remember. the exception to this is luke, who is written as equally heterosexual and, in the books, equally white, to valentine, but who’s still the weakest link anyway because valentine gains power and prestige luke doesn’t have). again, the whole “alec would die for me” thing tells a lot. he didn’t say “we would die for each other”. he said “alec would die for me”. despite the rethoric being that both parts should be endlessly devoted, the expectation that one should fulfill that obviously falls harder on one than on the other. with monogamy, there’s even a kind of rethoric that you have to work for the reciprocation to be there (for example, victims of domestic abuse being told that if they dedicate themselves to their partners enough, the abuse would stop, like they owe their partners dedication and love and comprehension, and then their partners will give it back only once they get enough of it) that we haven’t really seen with parabatai (at least i don’t remember it) but that i wouldn’t be surprised to see present there. after all, alec can feel it when jace gets a papercut and jace can’t tell when alec is literally dying, and none of that is ever questioned in canon

and then the imbalance is kept because, again, breaking up parabataiship is unthinkable and shameful, not to mention kind of impossible/not allowed to do officially. so the weakest link is basically stuck in this situation of imbalance and, in many cases, toxicity and abuse, but can’t break out of it and effectively feel guilty because according to everything they’ve ever been told, they should be elated that they’ve found their one and they should be happy. if they aren’t happy, then they’re broken, or not trying hard enough, and it’s taboo to even talk about that

again, i’m not saying that all monogamous relationships or all parabataiships are toxic, okay? i’m saying that, as a structurer of our society (and sh’s fictional society) they favor this kind of dynamic, allow it, and justify it through their ideologies. in the same way that heteronormativity allied with misoginy makes it more likely for women to be abuse or r-word victims than men. is every het relationship toxic? no. is heteronormativity toxic? yes. monogamy works the same way

in short, parabataiship is not a relationship model. or rather, it is, but way before and more than that, parabataiship is an ideology that is specifically structured to subjugate shadowhunters, notably queer shadowhunters, and keep their loyalty to each other and to the clave, and most of its rethoric (nothing can ever be stronger than the love for a parabatai, nothing can match the pain of losing a parabatai, parabatai are one and the same and they share a soul) is absolute bullshit built to make it more desirable and make sure that structure is left unquestioned. a plotline that questions the buildings of parabataiship and shows how the whole myth that’s around parabataiship is that, a myth, built to subjugate and control people, would have been amazing, but of course we couldn’t get that so crumbles of meta it is

me: i’m tired of discourse in my blog i’m going to chill for now. me the very same day: what if i went on my first more detailed anti-monogamy rant when that is 100% guaranteed to attract aggressive people who can’t read and also criticized sh fandom’s beloved parabataiship all in one post?

[prouvaireafterdark]

“I wish you would write a fic where...” Michael and Alex hook up at some point during the Lost Decade.

Sorry this took so long! I’d kind of told myself I wasn’t going to write a Lost Decade fic 'cause I figured it'd been done a lot before, but when I got this prompt I just knew I had to give it a try and if I was gonna do it I wanted to do it right. I hope it lives up!

Also, I should warn you that this is canon compliant, so expect a lot of hurt mixed in with the comfort here.

Also on AO3!

***

When Michael pulls up to the stretch of Foster’s Ranch his Airstream is parked on, he’s surprised to find someone waiting for him.

There’s an unfamiliar Jeep parked out front and a man with short dark hair standing beside it wearing dark-wash jeans and a green sweater. When the rumbling of his truck grows loud enough for him to hear, the stranger turns around to face him and Michael just about has a heart attack.

Standing in front of his trailer, looking just as achingly beautiful as he had the last time Michael saw him three years ago, is Alex fucking Manes.

Michael’s truck jerks to a stop an awkward distance away from his doorstep. He sits there, foot on the brake, car still in drive, his ears ringing to the tune of Alex, Alex, Alex.

He’s not sure how much time passes before Alex gives an awkward little wave, but it jolts Michael out of his own head. He parks the car hastily and climbs out, the desert floor crunching under his boots as he walks the rest of the way over.

“Alex,” he says once he’s close enough, eyes wide as he takes in every detail like Alex will disappear the moment he closes them. Alex’s nose ring is gone, and so is the eyeliner, but that little flash of teeth as he smiles—oh, that’s still very much the same and Michael’s heart aches.

“Guerin,” Alex greets back, sounding every bit as effected as Michael feels. Hearing his name from those lips again just about sends Michael to his knees.

Michael hangs onto his dignity by a thread and says, “I didn’t know you were back.”

Alex’s smile dims a little and Michael could kick himself.

“Yeah, about that…” Alex says, a strange, sad quality to his voice. “Can I… can I come in?”

Michael swallows the lump in his throat, nods, and heads toward his Airstream.

As he leads Alex inside, he’s suddenly thankful Isobel bullied him into cleaning up when she stopped by for one of their bitch sessions the other day. His bed’s not made, but his clothes are in his closet where they’re supposed to be and his research, which is usually scattered here and there, has been collected and stored in a bin under his bed.

“Nice place,” Alex comments, taking in his surroundings. Michael’s about to laugh when it occurs to him that Alex’s barracks might be even more Spartan than his tin can.

“Eh, it’s nothing special,” Michael shrugs.

Alex makes a face like he disagrees. “You’ve got a safe place you can go and do whatever you want in. You have a home now, Guerin,” Alex insists. “How’s that not special?”

It’s the mention of home more than anything else that shatters the dream he’s been living in these past few minutes. Because, yeah, he’s not roughing it in his truck anymore and this place is a decent upgrade with actual walls and a real bed, but the only home he’s ever had is standing right in front of him. And he left.

“Why are you here, Alex?” The question is out of his mouth before he gives his lips permission.

Alex lets out a breath, taking a hesitant step closer. “I wanted to see you.”

“Why?” Alex looks wounded the second he says it, but Michael needs to know.

“Do you really need to ask?” Alex reaches for him, but Michael takes a step back, needing to maintain a little distance to keep a clear head. He’ll give Alex his whole heart if he wants it, but first he has some explaining to do.

“A little bit, yeah,” Michael asks, his voice raising in pitch and Alex looks down at his feet, cowed by Michael’s rejection. “I mean, shit, Alex, I haven’t gotten so much as a postcard from you in years. You ignored every letter I sent you, how am I—“ Michael stops suddenly when Alex’s head snaps up.  

“You sent me letters?” Alex asks, eyes wide and surprised.

That makes Michael pause. “Yeah. You didn’t get them?”

Alex shakes his head. “Did you get mine?”

Michael’s mouth drops as he shakes his head. Alex wrote to him?

Silence hangs between them before Alex curses angrily, “That motherfucking son of a bitch,” and Michael connects the dots from there all on his own.

Michael stands there in shocked silence, though a voice inside his head tells him he shouldn’t be. Of course Alex being thousands of miles away, in the goddamn Air Force, wasn’t enough of a victory for him. Of course he just had to salt the wound and burn out every last piece of evidence that Michael and Alex had ever had something. Of course he had to make them both think they’d been forgotten, that they didn’t care about each other anymore, or maybe never did at all.

Michael’s no stranger to being hated by people, but the depth of Jesse Manes’ disdain for his youngest son stretches the bounds of comprehension.

“God,” Alex continues, “just when I think he can’t possibly fuck me over any more than he already has...” Alex’s voice drops off in disbelief.

“So…” Michael starts eventually, drawing Alex’s attention back to him, “you thought I ignored your letters and you still came all the way over here?”

“I had to,” Alex says softly but with conviction and, fuck, now Michael wants to fucking cry. This time when Alex reaches for his face to cradle his jaw, Michael lets him. “And all this time you thought I just left and that was it? That I just forgot about you?”

Michael shrugs and sniffles a little, the look on his face all the confirmation Alex needs. Alex makes a pained noise, bringing their foreheads together, and Michael’s entire world narrows to the scant few inches of space between them, to Alex’s palm warm against his cheek.

“I could never,” Alex whispers, and Michael closes the distance between them without another thought.

Michael has kissed a lot of people in his life, some more memorable than others, but not a single one has ever felt anything like this. Kissing Alex feels like a homecoming, his lips soft against his mouth, drawing him in deeper and deeper passed the point of no return. As Alex’s fingers twist their way into his wild curls, Michael yields to the sensation completely and inexorably, sinking into that place where he’s safe and loved and warm, a place he’s only ever reached in Alex’s arms. When Alex licks across the seam of his lips, Michael moans, powerless to resist, his mouth opening freely to Alex’s tongue.

They’re horizontal on Michael’s bed before he knows it, Alex straddling his lap and pushing his hands under Michael’s t-shirt, his sweatshirt and shoes already abandoned in a heap on the floor. Michael rolls them over as gracefully as he can, pulling back to take in the perfect image of Alex’s head resting on his pillow.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Michael says, leaning down to brush their noses together, overcome with happiness because Alex is here and kissing him like every dream he’s ever had.

“Me neither,“ Alex echoes, caressing his cheek before claiming Michael’s lips with his own once more.

“God, never fucking leave me again, Alex,” Michael gasps between fierce kisses, but instead of the affirmation Michael hopes for, Alex tenses under his fingers. A horrible feeling sinks into Michael’s gut. He pulls back to look at Alex and the second he sees the pain in his eyes he knows. “You’re not staying, are you?” he asks, voice hollow, feeling the ignorant bliss of a moment ago crashing down around his ears.

Alex shakes his head, and as soon as the words, “I’m sorry,” are out of his mouth, Michael pushes himself off of him and leans his back against the wall.

“Guerin, I’m sorry, don’t go,” Alex says, sitting up and reaching for him as if to pull him close again.

“I’m not the one who’s leaving, Alex,” Michael snaps, drawing his legs up to his chest. God, why can’t he ever catch a fucking break?

“I know,” Alex sighs and crosses his legs, placing his right elbow on his knee and running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t have a choice.”

Michael doesn’t need to ask why.

“You know, your startling lack of autonomy isn’t really cheering me up right now, Alex.” Michael can feel another apology on the tip of Alex’s tongue, but before he can say anything else he sighs and asks, “When do you leave?”

Alex hangs his head when he says, “Tomorrow morning.”

A hysterical laugh bubbles out of Michael’s chest.

“So—So, what, after three years I get one night with you?” he asks, despising the tears that well in his eyes, the tremble in his voice.

It’s not enough. Michael’s not sure any amount of time would ever be enough, but if he’s going to tear open his heart for Alex Manes again he’d hoped he’d get more than a single night to enjoy it.

“I know, I’m—I’m sorry, okay? I only just got back a few days ago and he’s had me running around doing all kinds of shit for him to keep me busy—“

“You’re on leave, Alex, he can’t control you—“

Alex laughs harshly. “Are we talking about the same person? You know what he’s capable of,” Alex argues and Michael flinches just a little at the memory, his left hand twitching against his knee. Alex tracks the movement and, slow enough so Michael could stop him if he wants to, he reaches forward to wrap his fingers around Michael’s ankle, the only part of him that’s close enough to touch. His thumb starts rubbing gentle circles when Michael doesn’t pull away from him.

“I couldn’t give him a reason to hurt you again, Michael,” Alex says, a desperate look in his eye. “I can’t and I won’t.”

“So how’d you get out here then?” Michael asks, voice rough when he finds it again.

“Well, he’s got cameras all over the property now. I was in the middle of trying to hack them so I could sneak out to see you when he ambushed me with plane tickets earlier today. Wouldn’t tell me where we’re going or why, just that I won’t be back in Roswell before I have to report back to base. I was able to convince him to let me spend my last night here with Maria.”

“Does she know about us?” Michael asks.

“A little,” he answers. “She doesn’t know who you are, but she agreed to cover for me.”

When Michael doesn’t say anything right away, Alex continues, voice barely above a whisper, “Look, I… I know tonight’s not enough to make up for the last three years, but… it’s all I’ve got.” Alex’s eyes shine with tears and Michael’s heart twists painfully in his chest. “But, um, I can go if you want me to,” he adds, voice shaking as he releases Michael’s ankle and leans a little further away from him. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to let me stay or anything.”

Michael swallows thickly, afraid if he lets himself cry like he wants to he’ll never stop. This isn’t fair. Jesse Manes shouldn’t have this much power over them. Alex shouldn’t be able to just waltz back into his life for a single night after years of no contact and tear him apart like it’s the first time all over again. And maybe worst of all, Michael shouldn’t be so fucking willing to let him.

No, none of this is fair, but the thought of letting Alex walk out that door a second before he has to, of giving up what could be the last chance Michael ever has to be with him… Well. Maybe Alex isn’t the only one without much of a choice here.

Alex looks to be bracing for a blow when Michael shifts on the bed, but once Michael pushes him back against the headboard with a hand against his chest and settles on his lap, his eyes are wide and awestruck. Alex’s hands come up to hover at Michael’s sides, unsure if he’s allowed to touch, but when Michael guides his hands to his hips, Alex grips them hard and without hesitation, as if Michael will drift away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. Michael relishes the pleasure-pain it brings him, secretly hoping he’ll bruise there in the shape of Alex’s fingers.

Michael leans down to brush a gentle kiss against Alex’s lips, deepening it when he tastes the salt of Alex’s tears finally spilling over. He pulls back a moment later, wiping the tear tracks from under Alex’s eyes as he looks at him, this beautiful, kind boy who owns his whole heart. Michael brings their foreheads together as he threads his fingers into Alex’s too-short hair, committing the way it feels to memory.

“If we’ve only got one night, we better make the most of it,” Michael says into the space between them.

Michael feels Alex nod. “Yeah,” he says, his breath ghosting over Michael’s mouth.

He cradles Michael’s jaw like something precious in his palm and Michael struggles to control the urge to sob into his shirt and beg him to stay with him forever. Instead, Michael leans in to kiss him again, pouring every emotion roiling through him into it until they’re both gasping and tearing at each others clothes.

They undress each other with unbridled urgency, skin seeking skin. Michael winds up with his back against the mattress as Alex gets his underwear off, pressing open-mouthed kisses against his stomach as he journeys farther south. Michael’s eyes roll up into his head as Alex gets his mouth on him, pulling whimper after whimper from him as he starts to suck.

It’s—fuck, it’s so good. Michael can’t tear his eyes away from where Alex works between his thighs, Alex’s mouth hot and wet around him, those pink lips stretched wide to accommodate his cock. His hips twitch upward in half-aborted thrusts as he tries not to fuck Alex’s throat. Alex presses down on his thighs to keep him still, making Michael feel open and on display in a way he never has before, and the intensity with which he wants that, to be entirely at Alex’s mercy, catches him completely off guard.

“Fuck me,” Michael begs, suddenly desperate for it.

Alex’s mouth stops working his cock and Michael doesn’t have to guess why. They’ve had sex dozens of times, but they’ve never done it that way before. He pulls off gently with a wet noise that makes Michael flush hotter.

“Are you sure?” Alex asks, pulling back to look him in the eye.

Michael nods.

“Have you—have you ever done that before?”

“Not really,” Michael confesses.

“Define ‘not really,’ please,” Alex asks.

Michael bites his bottom lip before he answers, “I’ve fingered myself before.”

“Yeah?” Alex asks, his voice rough with want at the mental picture. One of the hands he had anchoring Michael’s hips to the bed comes up to grip his cock again, thumb rubbing into that spot under the head that makes Michael see stars. “How many did you get in you?”

“Two,” Michael says, flushing high on his cheeks. He thinks about telling Alex about the dildo he bought but never worked up to using. He’s not sure why he’s feeling so vulnerable about it, but it feels like more than he’s willing to admit in this moment.

“Gonna need more than two tonight.”

“I know, I remember.” The few times Michael got inside him, he’d made Alex take at least three fingers before he even thought about fucking him. “Have you ever topped before?”

Alex shakes his head and blushes a little. “You’re still the only guy I’ve ever been with.”

Michael probably shouldn’t be happy about Alex’s lack of sexual intimacy for the last three years, especially when he himself has not been what one might call celibate, but he can’t help the little thrill that goes through him at the idea that he’s still the only one who’s ever made Alex come.

“So, you wanna?” Michael asks.

Alex laughs, “Of fucking course I want to.”

“Then get over here,” Michael whines.

“Do you even have lube?”

“Yeah, it’s—“ Michael rolls over, careful not to kick Alex as he feels around for something under the bed. He can’t reach it, so he feels out for it with his mind and suddenly there it is, sliding across the floor into his waiting palm. “Here,” he says, holding it out to Alex. He grabs the box of condoms under there as well and  puts it on the edge of the narrow bed.

Alex arranges Michael on his hands and knees. He wishes he could watch Alex while they do this, but he knows it’ll be more comfortable for him this way so he follows Alex’s lead. His cock hangs hard between his thighs as Alex settles behind him on his knees. There’s the soft snik of the lube being uncapped and then Michael feels Alex grip his cheeks and separate them and oh god if he felt exposed before this is really something else.

“Fuck,” he hears Alex whisper just before he feels that first touch against his hole as Alex spreads lube around it before dipping the tip of his finger inside.

Michael is tight, really tight, but Alex is patient as he slowly works him open with one finger, and then two, murmuring encouragements against Michael’s spine and stroking his cock to distract him from the stretch.

Just when Michael is getting used to the sensation of Alex moving steadily in and out of him, Alex hits a certain spot inside him that has Michael keening.

“Oh fuck!” Michael shouts, shocks of pleasure ripping through him.

“It’s good, huh,” Alex says, his smug smile audible as he passes over that spot again, making Michael moan and arch his back like a cat. “Remember the first time you found mine?”

“Y-yeah,” Michael pants. The memory of Alex mewling under him and clenching down on his fingers is something that’ll stick with him forever. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

Alex gets back to work. By the time he’s is twisting three inside him, Michael is an utter mess, gasping and moaning as he fucks himself back on his fingers, his thighs spread wide and straining with the effort. It’s so much, but not enough, he needs more, he needs—

“Fuck me, Alex, please, ‘m ready, ‘m so ready, Alex,” Michael begs, desperate tears clinging to his lashes.

“God, Michael,” Alex moans, and Michael nearly cries when Alex pulls his fingers free from his body, the sudden feeling of emptiness not at all what he wants right now. “Never knew you’d get like this. Should’ve started fucking you ages ago.”

Before Michael can scoop enough of his brain off the floor to think of a response,  he hears the tearing of a foil packet behind him. There’s a pause when Alex rolls the condom on before he nocks the thick head of his cock at Michael’s hole and pushes in and in and in.

“Oh my god, Michael,” Alex groans once he’s seated. “You’re so hot inside, Jesus Christ.”

Michael moans weakly, too overwhelmed by the stretch of Alex’s cock inside him to do much else. Alex waits until Michael’s adjusted to the fullness before he starts to move, driving his cock in and out of him with slow, measured thrusts. It’s good, really good, for a while, but soon Michael wants more.

“Harder,” he begs, rocking his hips back to fuck himself harder on Alex’s cock. Alex grabs his hips to stop him and Michael whines, “Alex.”

“Take it easy, I don’t want to hurt you,” Alex says, running his right hand up from his hip to stroke along his side.

“I can handle it, please,” Michael insists. He doesn’t want to think, doesn’t want to feel anything other than Alex, wants him to overwhelm the ever-present chaos swirling in his head, but more than anything… “Wanna feel you for days after you leave.”

Something in Alex’s willpower crumbles and he curses before he starts pounding into Michael’s body harder, faster, just like Michael wants, chasing every conscious thought that isn’t yes, fuck, right there, right out of his head. The sound of skin slapping on skin surrounds them as Michael reaches between his legs and starts jerking himself off in time with Alex’s thrusts, the combined stimulation on his prostate and his cock getting him closer and closer to coming.

Alex doesn’t last long after that, stilling suddenly behind him and then moaning loudly as he grinds his cock as deep as it’ll go. He rests his head against Michael’s back, his ragged breaths hitting his spine as Michael squirms under him, still hard and aching.

Alex pulls out and Michael whines at the empty feeling before Alex flips him over onto his back and slips three fingers inside him, seeking his prostate with brutal efficiency. He was already so close that Michael comes with a scream the second Alex seals his lips over the head of his cock and sucks, Michael’s body shaking as his release pulses down Alex’s throat.

Alex works him through it until Michael pushes him away, spent and overstimulated. Alex gently withdraws his fingers before he leans down over Michael to kiss him, but Michael’s too fucked out to do much more than lay there and let Alex lick into his mouth, the taste of his own come bitter on his tongue.

The kiss ends when Alex pulls back and lays down beside him, his right leg resting between Michael’s and his right arm hugging around his middle.

“Hey, you still with me?” Alex asks him, and Michael’s thoughts are still slow and thick as honey, but he nods all the same. “C’mon, use your words.”

“Just had my brain fucked out of me, gimme a minute,” he slurs, opening his eyes to see Alex smiling at him.

Alex laughs, a sound as sweet as it is smug. “So I did alright then?”

“You really have to ask?” Michael rolls over onto his side to face him. “Better than alright, Jesus, Alex, I don’t think I’ll be able to walk tomorrow.”

Alex smiles at the praise and Michael leans in to kiss him again, savoring every gasp, every press of Alex’s lips on his like they’ll be the last ones he ever gets.

They lie there in silence long after their kisses have slowed to a stop, comfortably wrapped up in one another until Alex touches his face and whispers into the dark, “I wish I could stay here forever.”

“Me too,” Michael whispers back.

When Alex starts to shake in his arms, Michael holds him tighter and buries his nose in his hair. He staves off his own tears as best he can while Alex cries, but it becomes a losing battle when Alex’s hitching little sobs reach his ears.

“One day…” Michael starts once Alex has settled down again, his voice wobbling a little, “one day, we’re gonna figure this out, Alex. One day, you’re gonna be free of him.”

“You really believe that?”

No. Yes. I don’t know.

“I have to.”

“‘One day’ could be years from now,” Alex says pathetically. “What do we do until then?”

Michael sniffles. “Well, we still have tonight, right?”

Alex nods. “Yeah.”

Michael captures Alex’s lips in a slow kiss that lasts until Michael rolls Alex onto his back and straddles his hips.

“What are you doing?” Alex asks as Michael grasps his cock. He’s not hard yet, but Michael can feel him twitch against his palm.

“Making the most of it,” Michael shrugs, and then there’s not much talking after that.

Michael wakes up alone, the only traces that Alex was ever there the ache between his thighs and the slip of paper resting on the other side of his pillow.

It’s a note, scrawled hastily on a piece of graph paper Michael must have had lying around.

Michael,

I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. I just knew if I waited til you were awake, I’d never be able to make myself leave you again.

I wish things could be different. Maybe you’re right and one day they will be, but for now… I’m sorry.

And if this is my last chance to say it, I want you to know: I love you. He can keep us apart, but he can’t ever take that away from me.

Yours,

Alex

The letter tumbles from his fingers as Michael turns his face into his pillow, the fading scent of Alex’s shampoo his only comfort as his body is wracked with sobs.

That evening, Michael limps into the Wild Pony, feeling Alex in every step he takes. He winces a little as he settles on the wooden barstool and Maria serves him a glass of bottom shelf whiskey before he can order one.

“You get in a fight or something?” she asks, cocking her head to the side as she studies him.

“Huh?” he asks, glass halfway to his lips already.

“You walked in here looking like you just got your ass beat,” she explains.

Michael laughs, a bitter, broken sound. “You should see the other guy.”

[beastsovrevelation]

A complete travesty in the Good Omens universe? Michael not being portrayed the leader of angels.

She's supposed to be the Supreme Commander, and she's supposed to be the boss. I sincerely suggest you don't fight me on this hill. For Hell's sake, the actress has the perfect vibe... A crime has been commited here.

Therefore, I swear to fix it in my fanfictions. General, I'll do right by you. ❤

If you can't tell, in spite of being on the opposite side, I'm attached to this figure. I'm protective of this figure. I'll defend this figure with claws and teeth.

[internetandnetwork]

Video Games That Could Be Adapted To Make Great Movies

Video games have great stories in them. But for over 30 years, there has not been any film adapted from games.

There are so many incredible video games that can be translated into an incredible screenplay. However, the filmmaker must understand the theme and source material of the game.

Marc Ecko’s Getting Up: Contents Under Pressure

Marc Ecko’s Getting Up: Contents Under Pressure is available for Xbox, Windows, and PlayStation. The game was developed and published by The Collective and Atari, Inc., respectively.

The plot of the game begins in the New Radius Slums. It follows an amateur graffiti artist who runs away from home to pursue his dreams.

Film director, producer, and screenwriter Ryan Coogler would be the best person to adapt to the film. The filmmaker is best known for his projects, including Rocky, Black Panther, and Creed. Coogler’s projects are mostly commercially successful and have received critical acclaim.

His movies are about society and politics with an enormous amount of entertainment. Coogler and actor Michael B. Jordan form an amazing duo. And Jordan will also be perfect for the role.

Shadow Of The Colossus

Bluepoint Games’ 2018 action-adventure video game, Shadow of the Colossus, was published for PlayStation 4 by Sony Interactive Entertainment. The game has received much appreciation and is critically acclaimed.

The plot of the gameplay follows the young man Wander, who goes to a prohibited land. He is then forced to kill 16 giant beasts. Gareth Edwards is the best person to direct the adapted film.

The director gained popularity for his 2010 independent movie Monsters. Later he directed many amazing movies, including Rogue One: A Star Wars Story, Godzilla, and the Star Wars Anthology.

The 2014 Godzilla had many issues with the film, but the film’s design was incredible, which helped the movie impress the audience. Hence there is no filmmaker other than Edwards to create the project.

Grand Theft Auto: Vice City

Rockstar North’s 2002 action-adventure game Grand Theft Auto: Vice City was published by Rockstar Games. It is set in the fictional Vice City, based on Miami, in 1986. The game follows gangster Tommy Vercetti after he is released from prison. Slowly he builds an empire of criminals and takes power from other criminal organizations.

Martin Scorsese should direct the film of the adaptation. According to past projects, Scorsese is best for directing gangster movies. He is best known for his work theme related to nihilism, machismo, crime, and tribalism. Some of his popular projects are Taxi Driver, The Departed, The Wolf of Wall Street, The Irishman, and many more.

God Of War

David Jaffe’s action-adventure game, God Of War, began with the PlayStation 2 video game console. The game is based on ancient mythology and follows a Spartan warrior, Kratos. Kratos’ family was killed by the former master, the Greek God of War Ares. God Of War is the story of Kratos’ path of revenge.

Zack Snyder should be considered for the project as his works’ have a dark tone in the films and consist of superhero characters. The game has enough source material that can be connected to Synder’s style.

Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater

Neversoft’s Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater was released on 29 September 1999 only for PlayStation. The game is later ported to Dreamcast, Nintendo 64, N-Gage, and Boy Color.

The game does not have a linear narrative, but there are many more games and narrative-driven entries in the series. Director Catherine Hardwicke is the best person for the direction of the movie. She has a good understanding of shooting a sequence of skateboarding. Hardwicke is best known for her work, including Lords of Dogtown, The Nativity Story, Twilight, Red Riding Hood, Plush, Miss You Already, Miss Bala, and Thirteen.

The above are a few games that can be adapted into films.

Harry Williams is an inventive person who has been doing intensive research in particular topics and writing blogs and articles for Fegon Group on Norton, Webroot, McAfee, Microsoft Office and many other related topics. He is a very knowledgeable person with lots of experience.To get in touch with the internet security service provider, just dial 8445134111.

SOURCE : Video Games

[insanityclause]

When coronavirus closed the theaters on March 12, there were still 16 shows left to open in the Broadway season. Audiences will get to see some of them later, others probably not — but what of the more than 20 plays, musicals and miscellaneous offerings that had already faced the press? It seemed unfair not to celebrate them, so on Friday, just after it was announced that the Tony Awards will not go on as usual this year, we sat down (in cyberspace) to devise a Tonys of our own. Naturally, we made our own rules.

BEN BRANTLEY Well, Jesse, even in a season that’s 16 plays short, there’s still a fat if imbalanced roster of intriguing shows. Have we ever before had such a preponderance of jukebox musicals that might qualify for Best Musical? The good news is that some enterprising minds managed to inventively retool the genre you once described as the “cockroach” of Broadway.

JESSE GREEN The cockroach has evolved! “Jagged Little Pill,” “Tina: The Tina Turner Musical,” “Girl From the North Country,” “Moulin Rouge!” and — since we’re playing by our own rules here — even “American Utopia,” the David Byrne show that was deemed ineligible for the real Tonys, are all jukeboxes, all worthy and all eligible for ours. Maybe not quite all worthy.

BRANTLEY Perhaps it’s appropriate then that the last show to open on Broadway was the most unorthodox of the “jukebox” shows. I use quotation marks here because that label seems too confining for “Girl From the North Country,” the Irish playwright and director Conor McPherson’s work that uses the songs of Bob Dylan to imagine life during the Great Depression in Duluth, Minn. The more I think about “Girl,” the more innovative and haunting it seems to me.

GREEN For me it took some time, and the show’s move from the Public Theater to Broadway, to appreciate how McPherson was deploying the music in this musical. The songs do not function the way songs normally do; they never address the situation at hand, and sometimes even contradict it. Yet in that gap, poetry grew.

BRANTLEY For me, “Girl” deals with the ineffable and unsayable through song in a way that makes it the most religious, or at least spiritual, show on Broadway. I have found this aspect of the show stays with me, as an oddly comforting reminder of the hunger for communion in this time of isolation. But moving on to matters closer to profane than sacred, what about another mold-breaker in a very different sense: “Moulin Rouge!,” based on the Baz Luhrmann movie about la vie bohème in gaslight-era Paris.

GREEN Here was a case where the gap between the story, such as it is, and the musical materials — found pop from Offenbach to Rihanna — did not produce poetry. For me it produced a headache.

BRANTLEY Ah, I had a swell time at “Moulin Rouge,” and I thought the far-reaching songbook became a kind of commentary on how such songs form the wallpaper of our minds. And then there was “Tina,” which was more business-as-usual bio-musical fare, although illuminated by a radiant, cliché-transcending performance by Adrienne Warren as Turner.

GREEN The creators of musicals really offered a sampler of ways to respond to the jukebox problem. “Jagged Little Pill,” built on the Alanis Morissette catalog, made the smart choice of abjuring biography and instead attaching her songs to a new plot (by Diablo Cody) that grew out of the same concerns and vocabulary. Or perhaps I should say “new plots,” because it is not shy with them. There are at least eight story lines.

BRANTLEY To be honest, this was the show that gave me a headache, because it was so insistently earnest in its topicality and, even when it was trying to be funny, humorless. So, of the new musicals (and we haven’t touched on “The Lightning Thief,” your personal favorite) what would you give the premature Tony to?

GREEN The one that wouldn’t be eligible: “American Utopia.” Joy and sadness bound to each other through David Byrne’s music and Annie-B Parson’s movement: What else do you want from a musical, even if it’s just a concert?

BRANTLEY I loved “American Utopia.” I think, though, I’d have to go with “Girl From the North Country,” but I wouldn’t have predicted that after seeing it in London two years ago. I find more in it every time I revisit it.

GREEN Despite all the Best Musical possibilities this truncated season, only one, “The Lightning Thief,” had a new score. Yet most of the offerings sounded new anyway, the result of terrific arrangements and orchestrations. I’m thinking especially of Justin Levine’s magpie-on-Ecstasy song collages for “Moulin Rouge!,” Tom Kitt’s theatricalization of post-grunge pop for “Jagged Little Pill” and Simon Hale’s excavation of the deeply layered Americana in Dylan’s catalog for “Girl.”

BRANTLEY Here, I’d have to say it’s a tie between “Girl” and “Moulin Rouge!,” each a remarkable accomplishment in a very different way. As for best revival, the undisputed winner is Ivo van Hove’s divisive revival of “West Side Story,” but that’s because it is, remarkably, the only musical revival so far.

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GREEN I liked “West Side Story” better than you did, Ben, perhaps because I wasn’t reviewing it. I lapped up the new things it wanted to show me (while also hunting for the old things it wanted to hide from me) and didn’t worry about the elements that laid an egg. (“Gee, Officer Krupke.”) Its evocation of innocence and hopelessness felt more like real life now than I’ve experienced in previous revivals.

BRANTLEY I concede the point intellectually. But the acid test for me with theater — and musicals in particular — is how much it makes you feel. And to borrow a lyric from “A Chorus Line,” for the most part “I felt nothing.”

GREEN I admit it was odd that there were no obvious breakout performances in “West Side Story” — which brings us to our first lightning round. Who wins our Tonys for leading actor and actress in a musical?

BRANTLEY Best Actress: Adrienne Warren, for “Tina” (though Karen Olivo in “Moulin Rouge!” is pretty fab, too). Best Actor: Jay O. Sanders in, perversely, a non-singing role in “Girl From the North Country.” You?

GREEN Same. I think we are having a socially distanced mindmeld. Will that also be the case with the nine new plays and four revivals that opened before March 12? With one exception, the revivals were not as thrilling as the full slate promised to be.

BRANTLEY For me, the winner is Jamie Lloyd’s spartan, merciless revival of Harold Pinter’s “Betrayal,” which brought harsh clarity to the work’s emotional ambiguity.

GREEN And ambiguity to the play’s harsh formality — its semi-backward construction. It was certainly the best “Betrayal” I’ve seen, yet I hold out some love for the revival of “Frankie and Johnny in the Clair de Lune,” which in retrospect turned out to be a farewell to Terrence McNally, its author, who died last week. I felt that Michael Shannon and Audra McDonald did it, and him, justice.

BRANTLEY It was certainly a reminder of his shrewdness and compassion. I was perhaps a little too conscious of the Acting, with a capital A. But it was a welcome addition to the season. For Best Play, we have a far more varied field, no? I suspect we’ll agree on the winner here, the season’s great iconoclast.

GREEN Yes, “Slave Play,” by Jeremy O. Harris, wins on sheer disruptive energy, even before considering its intelligence as playwriting, its knockout production (directed by Robert O’Hara) and its fearsome challenge to renegotiate race in America.

BRANTLEY But for all its shock value, what made it a wonderful play — as opposed to just a bracing exploration of dangerous ground — was its heart. By the end, you felt so completely the pain of its characters, all trying to navigate the perhaps insuperable hurdles of interracial relationships.

GREEN I think “The Inheritance” wanted to be that kind of play, too: a story of intimate relationships yet also a gay manifesto with the multipart heft of “Angels in America.” It got the heft, anyway; “Slave Play” ran 120 minutes; “The Inheritance,” 385.

BRANTLEY “The Inheritance” certainly gets points for ambition — and for the fluidity of Stephen Daldry’s production. And might I put in a word for the prickly comic abrasiveness of Tracy Letts’s “Linda Vista,” a lacerating anatomy of toxic masculinity disguised as brooding charm?

GREEN I liked what “Linda Vista” wanted to do but found it flabby. Perhaps straitened times demand slender plays. Certainly, the other new drama I greatly admired was whippetlike: Adam Rapp’s “The Sound Inside,” an existential mystery wrapped in a literary one, or vice versa. Among other things, it allowed Mary-Louise Parker, as a Yale writing instructor, to deliver a Tony-worthy performance. And now that “How I Learned to Drive,” the other play in which she was set to star this season, has been postponed, she doesn’t have to compete against herself. Is she our winner?

BRANTLEY I am going to declare a tie between her and Laura Linney, who gave a very subtle, and emotionally transparent, performance as the title character of “My Name Is Lucy Barton,” adapted by Rona Munro from Elizabeth Strout’s novel.

GREEN I buy that. But let’s not forget Joaquina Kalukango in “Slave Play,” Eileen Atkins in “The Height of the Storm,” Zawe Ashton in “Betrayal” and Jane Alexander in “Grand Horizons.” It was a very strong semi-season for Best Actress in a Leading Role.

BRANTLEY And for Best Actor?

GREEN The real Tonys decreed that Paul Alexander Nolan was eligible for his “supporting” role in “Slave Play,” but in my Tonys he’s a strong candidate for “leading.” Still, I’ll go with Tom Hiddleston, in “Betrayal.” Or at least he wins in my newly invented category of Best Use of the Lack of a Tissue. His facial leakage was Vesuvian.

BRANTLEY He was superb — and a reminder of the cathartic value of the tears of others in theater. Of course, there’s so much to cry about now in terms of opportunities lost this season. But I’m not writing an elegy for, or even a definitive summary of, this season yet. It will be fascinating to see how it reincarnates itself, won’t it?

[prvtbugsbuggins]

Caboose and his ungodly amount of sisters.

A post for both my reference and for you all to enjoy.

The idea of Military Alphabet being used as names was inspired by Red Battalion, Blue Regiment by @tinfoil-jones. It's a great fic u guys plz.

More stuff under the cut.

Caboose and his sisters were all taken from a pool of war orphans during the great war. All of them had their homes glassed and barely escaped with their lives. The oldest at the time was little more than a small kid, so many of them don't remember having parents or a life before they were taken into the SPARTAN III program. For all they know, this was all normal to them.

Indiana was the oldest and was the one to remember what parental love was all about, so she was the one who kept an eye on everyone else and did her best to be sure that they had love while growing up. Their training was extremely harsh and she made sure it was as fair as it could be.

Here are the siblings, from oldest to youngest. Once they were old enough to leave the program, all of them chose their own names. Caboose was chosen as the last name, and all of them keep it as a sign of solidarity.

Name: Indiana ‘Indy’ Carnation Caboose

Rank: Lieutenant General

Armor Color: Dark brown and tan

Designation: INDIA

Description: Freckled pale skin with green eyes and red hair that she keeps short. Absolutely stacked. 9Ft tall even. Is missing a leg but has a cool cyborg one to replace it. Defacto ‘leader’ of the Spartan Siblings and tends to call the shots. Is high enough rank to make sure her siblings are treated well no matter where they end up.

Currently: Alive and still in active duty. Works mostly with Holly.

---

Name: Holiday ‘Holly’ Yuletide Caboose

Rank: Major General

Armor Color: Green and Red

Designation: HOTEL

Description: Tan skin with brown eyes and black hair that she keeps long. 8’11’’ tall. Is built more slender but can still break your neck. Is the one who usually keeps track of all the siblings and makes sure they are okay. Organizes the yearly get together.

Currently: Alive and still in active duty. Works mostly with Indiana.

---

Name: Winter Solstice Caboose

Rank: Chief Warrant Officer 5

Armor Color: White and Winter-mint Green

Designation: WHISKEY

Description: Pale skin with blue eyes and white-blonde hair that she keeps short. 7’9’’ tall. Is built more slender and is stupidly flexible, giving her a rep as an escape artist.

Currently: Alive and still in active duty. Works as a battlefield tactician and invents war-games for training purposes.

---

Name: Tango Rio Caboose

Rank: Second Lieutenant

Armor Color: Black and White

Designation: TANGO

Description: Tan skin with brown eyes and blonde hair that was kept short. Was more short and squat but absolutely stacked. 8 ft tall even. Used to bench press actual benches with people on it.

Currently: MIA. Was last seen on Reach.

---

Name: Vicky Ableton Caboose

Rank: First Lieutenant

Armor Color: Teal and Pink

Designation: VICTOR

Description: Pale skin with blue eyes and hair that’s always in a different color done in a ‘fluff hawk’ hairstyle. 8Ft tall even and built more slender. Is faster than the other siblings in terms of speed.

Currently: Alive and retired. Currently works as a DJ and plays for raves while making her own music.

---

Name: Sierra Nevada Caboose

Rank: Second Lieutenant

Armor Color: Tan and Gold

Designation: SIERRA

Description: Rust colored skin with black eyes and black hair kept long. 8’5’’ tall and was more focused on martial arts, so she was rather slender. Could one inch punch people across a room.

Currently: MIA. Was last seen on Reach.

---

Name: Charlie Beatrix Caboose

Rank: Sergeant Major

Armor Color: Green and Brown

Designation: CHARLIE

Description: Warm dark skin with brown eyes and black hair kept short. Built more chubby and squat at 8’6’’ tall. Can hug you to death though, so be careful. Used to be able to pick up cars so the wheels could get changed faster.

Currently: Alive and retired. Writes and illustrates children's books based off stories she told Caboose when he was little.

---

Name: Luna Moonbeam Caboose

Rank: Sergeant Major

Armor Color: Black and Blue

Designation: LIMA

Description: Pale skin with pale blue eyes and pale blonde hair kept long. Just pale, lol. 7’11’’ tall and built slender and trim. Is really good at psychology and has a knack for motivating people without them realizing it. Takes active interest in troop morale and writes papers on how to improve it.

Currently: Alive and in active duty. Works as a drill sergeant and her teams perform better because she gives them all lollipops when they do a good job.

---

Name: Juliet Romeo Caboose

Rank: First Lieutenant

Armor Color: Yellow and Green

Designation: JULIET

Description: Freckled pale skin with brown eyes and blonde hair kept long. Built like a muscular country farm-girl at 8’7’’ tall. Can pick up fully grown cattle and move them where they need to go.

Currently: Alive and retired. Works on a farm where she raises various livestock with her wife. Caboose gets to name all the baby animals born on said farm.

---

Name: Fox (Foxy) Trot Caboose

Rank: First Lieutenant

Armor Color: Orange and Black

Designation: FOXTROT

Description: Tan skin with blue eyes and red hair kept short. More wiry and slender than most other sisters and stuck more to stealth tactics than outright assault. 7’10’’ tall.

Currently: MIA. Last seen on Reach.

---

Name: Echo Echo Caboose

Rank: First Lieutenant

Armor Color: Dark Blue and light Blue

Designation: ECHO

Description: Dark skin with brown eyes and black hair kept short. Quite muscular and built at 8’6’’ tall. Usually specialized in hand to hand combat and liked to use knives and other bladed weapons.

Currently: MIA. Last seen scouting uncharted territory.

---

Name: Ollie Oxenfree Caboose

Rank: Major

Armor Color: Pink and White

Designation: OSCAR

Description: Pale skin with brown eyes and black hair, kept short. Is more slender and built more for stealth and misdirection type of combat. 8’4’’ tall and can pluck your heart out of your rib-cage if need be.

Currently: Alive and retired. Works as a therapist and specializes in PTSD traumas.

---

Name: November Showers Caboose

Rank: Lieutenant Colonel

Armor Color: Dark Red and Orange

Designation: NOVEMBER

Description: Tan skin with brown eyes and orange hair kept short. Is built like a bruiser at a good 8’10’’ tall and a body to put bodybuilders to shame. Likes to count how many teeth she can knock out of someone’s head with one punch.

Currently: MIA. Was last seen on Reach.

---

Name: Kiki Piña Colada Caboose

Rank: Major

Armor Color: Light Pink and Light Yellow

Designation: KILO

Description: The smallest sister at 7’8’’ tall and slender. Pale skin with blue eyes and pink/blonde hair kept long. Enjoys looking pretty but is scarily good at assassinations. Likes to use her unassuming looks against people. Has beaten up selfish lovers.

Currently: Alive and in active duty. Trains special forces troops.

---

Name: Bravo Blue Caboose

Rank: Lieutenant General

Armor Color: Blue and Black

Designation: BRAVO

Description: Pale skin with blue eyes and brown hair kept short in a buzz cut. Likes piercings and body mods. Has an unbelievable pain tolerance and likes to freak out her recruits using it. 8’10’’ tall and built like a linebacker. Sometimes will stand there and let people attack her and laugh at their attempts to hurt her. Will kill you if you make her siblings cry.

Currently: Alive and in active duty. Works on top secret things that are secret. It’s mostly boring stuff, like paperwork. She hates it.

---

Name: Quinn Sable Caboose

Rank: Captain

Armor Color: Grey and Purple

Designation: QUEBEC

Description: Tan skin with green eyes and brown hair kept short. Tends to dye tips of hair purple. Is covered in tattoos. Is very muscular and big at 8’7’’ tall and can pop someone’s head off their body like a grape. Makes a newsletter for all her siblings so they know what’s going on with each other.

Currently: Alive and in active duty. Trains forces in how to work together as a team and not die.

---

Name: Zelda Triforce Caboose

Rank: Captain

Armor Color: Dark green and Light Blue.

Designation: ZULU

Description: Dark skin with brown eyes and long dreads dyed in a wide range of colors. Built to be trim and slender. Could choke you out with her legs. Is 8ft tall even. Probably has ADHD and is very excitable.

Currently: Alive and retired. Currently makes VR video games and programs for a living.

---

Name: Michael Jaybird Caboose

Rank: Major

Armor Color: Blue (the best blue)

Designation: MIKE

Description: It’s Caboose, our boy. 7Ft tall even with brown hair, blue eyes, and is built like a brick house. Gives the softest hugs, though.

Currently: Alive and in a mix of active duty and ‘retired’. Pets dinosaurs and plays ‘games’ with his squad.

---

If possible they all try to meet up together at least once a year and they actively send letters to each other. They will call if close enough, but since everyone is doing something different, it's unlikely that two siblings would be on a planet together at the same time. All of them are extremely protective over each other, especially to Caboose since he is the baby. Despite some being retired, they still have and wear their armor because it's so ingrained in themselves. Eventually many more will decide to retire and pursue other interests once they figure out what they like.

Also all of them have a barcode tattooed on them somewhere. Not for evil purposes, but because it's easier to scan a code that can't be removed and make sure you aren't going to kill your Spartan by accidently giving them a medication they are allergic to.

Feel free to use if you like as well. I will be using this as a reference for my own works, lol.

[aewriting]

Fic Friday: "love is a burning thing"

For this Fic Friday, I’d like to share one of my very favorite fics in the fandom: “love is a burning thing” by @sabrinachill

This one was published back in May, and I’ve reread it countless times.  Normally, I’m not a big fan of AUs in which Michael, Isobel, and Max aren’t aliens, but this one is just so well done. 

The characterizations in this are absolutely spot-on, perfectly in character for this world that sabrinachill has created. 

There will be spoilers below, so if you have not read this, go now, and then come back.

The whole story starts with a really stand-out meet-cute in which Michael crashes on Alex’s couch, thinking that it’s his own apartment.  I think I loved this so much because something like this ACTUALLY happened to me and my roommate in college with our upstairs neighbor.  I love how, in this scene, Michael is so flirtatious with Alex, thinking he was a hookup, until he realizes he’s in the wrong apartment, then he gets contrite.  But by then, damage is done, right?  There’s already been that connection, and it just continues from there. The verbal sparring in this one is Olympic-level. I loved this line, from that scene: “[Alex is] certain the threat level is zero. (To his life and safety, anyway.  Potential threats to his heart, dick, personal life… well, definitely greater than zero.)”

I don’t know about you, but this is really something I respond to in fic, where Alex is trying to live the life others have told him is “right,” and this very real connection with Michael keeps threatening to shake that up, disrupt it, and challenge Alex to live more authentically.

I think sabrinachill does such an excellent job with Alex’s characterization in this one.  His military background and veteran status are woven into this in explicit ways, and also in ways that are less obvious.  There’s something about the image of Alex working from home, living a well-disciplined, spartan, but lonely life (“It’s quiet and ordinary and safe.”) that just rings so true, but is very affecting.  The little details she includes (“He’s sitting in his office upstairs, writing code while Bendon Urie croons at him from a pair of small speakers on his desk…”) make this feel so rich and help really immerse the reader in the story.

As I was rereading the story for this post, I just marveled at sabrinachill’s prose, the way she wrote certain lines, and the way she was able to convey such intense emotion.  There’s a scene in this in which Alex checks Michael over after he’s set off the fire alarm in his apartment following an experiment gone wrong:

“…no mistake [Alex] ever made was allowed to be met with a laugh and self-deprecating joke.  No Manes would ever sit literally soaked in failure in the broad sunlight, smiling and shrugging and letting embarrassment simply roll away. 

The idea of that kind of freedom is intriguing to Alex. Intoxicating, even.”

Ugh, so good – love the writing style here. As the story continues, sabrinachill just sort of unspools Alex’s discovery of himself, acceptance of himself and his desires:

“Alex was never allowed to want things for himself, so he never learned how.  How to recognize the itch in his fingers, the way his eyes are drawn to Michael time and time again, the magnetic pull in his chest like waves beating themselves tirelessly against a shore, crashing and falling flat to earth in an endless cycle.

So it takes him far too long to recognize those feelings, to give them names.  Names like want. And craving.  And desire.”

I would highly recommend reading this whole passage in the context of the story, because it continues, and I think that it really captures an awakening, as well as the way a person’s sense of self can be stunted and disrupted by abuse. In the next part of the story, Alex works up the nerve to ask Michael to come over for dinner, an act that sabrinachill describes as a “monumental act of bravery,” which, in this story, is not an overstatement. I also think that her handling of Alex’s thoughts about his prosthetic are so nuanced, and feel very real. 

Despite the title, on the first read-through I did not even realize until I got to the big fire at the end of the piece that sabrinachill had managed to weave fire references throughout the fic.  The fact that an act of destruction literally burned down a barrier that separated them (their apartment wall) feels very fitting in the context of this story, and even as a call-out to canon, in which Michael and Alex’s love is inextricably bound up in the trauma they have suffered.  This story, though, ends so happily and hopefully. 

So thank you, sabrinachill, for creating such an amazing story!

[baldwin-montclair]

Baldwin’s Nightingale (Part 4)

Characters: Baldwin Montclair/OC

Timeframe: Before the S1 Finale, TV Show canon only (haven’t read the books yet)

Summary: Baldwin reveals his retreat from the world to Alisha and makes a case for her to become his Nightingale.

Tag requests: @christi14 @poemfreak306 @pookie-cleary

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

The dark glass building loomed almost ominously against the Manhattan skyline as Baldwin’s car approached and entered the underground parking garage.

It was largely empty, save for a few cars.

“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to your apartment.”

“We did, and this isn’t. Come on, don’t want to miss the show do you?” He got out of the car but for some reason her door wouldn’t budge until he opened it for her.

“Safety lock, really? Did you honestly think I was gonna try a duck and roll in Manhattan at night?” She glared up at him but took the hand that he offered to help her out.

“No, you just don’t allow me to open doors for you and it’s irritating.”

“Just because you’re old, doesn’t give you an excuse to be old fashioned!”

“Perhaps, however, consider that I may just be trying to detect danger before exposing you to it.”

“The only danger anyone’s in is the dumbass mugger who tries to part you from the Tag Heuer around your wrist!” She admonished as he pushed the elevator button which opened automatically.

“Things have...changed, in the creature world.”

“Changed how?”

“Let’s just say I have a few more enemies today than I had yesterday.” He explained, placing a key inside the floor selection panel and punched in a code.

The elevator destination flashed PH and it was clear they were headed to the top.

“No offence, but they’re not after me.”

“They will be. When I don’t provide the information they’re looking for, they’ll harm those I care for.”

“Like who?

“Well, they wouldn’t dare so much as look at Ysabeau or Marthe the wrong way, regardless my involvement and my nephew’s safe enough with a small army under him.”

“You don’t care for your brother?” She asked.

“The information they want relates to his location.”

She was surprised by his candid relating of events.

“You should speak with Michael when you return home, it’s all common gossip now, he should be able to tell you everything.”

Three steps forward and two back.

He wasn’t sharing anything she couldn’t discover elsewhere and she felt disappointed and slightly foolish for believing she’d somehow cracked his exterior a fraction.

After a moment of silence she felt him grasp her hand in his.

“I do care about Matthew, I’m even slightly concerned about the Witch, Diana, given where they’ve gone.”

“Baldwin-”

“But I care for you also. They’re beyond my protection, you are not.”

His frank confession shocked her more than the view that met her eyes when the elevator door opened.

“Come on.” He led her into the spartan space. In the centre of the room sat a large, comfortable armchair with a small antique table at the side.

“What is this place?” She asked, puzzled as the glass ceiling rolled back at an angle and she was looking at a fairly large portion of the night sky but it was much darker and the stars were easier to see.

“There’s only one chair.” She stated, an observation more than a complaint.

“Observant little Nightingale aren’t you?” He teased.

“I’m not-“ she started, trying to ignore just how wholly into being called that by him she was.

“I was simply returning the favour from your ‘old’ comment!” He answered, slipping out of his coat before hanging it up on a coat stand.

“Wow, he does joke!” She grinned as he approached and slowly unbuttoned the fasteners on her coat for her, whilst meeting her gaze.

“Turn around.” He told her and she did, without thinking.

He stepped closer behind her and slipped the garment from her shoulders.

“It seems you’re not as against the title as you claim!” He spoke quietly but the proximity to her ear made her shiver.

“Is there any other furniture in here?” She asked when he moved away.

“I’m sure we can improvise.” He answered and she turned to see him remove his suit jacket, revealing the shirt and waistcoat underneath.

His tie was even loosened slightly and the stiff collar was unfastened by the top shirt button. Baldwin looked almost relaxed like this and Alisha certainly approved of the view of him pouring a golden liquid from a decanter into two glasses.

The black wall had looked solid but it actually seemed to contain various cupboards, cavities and even the table where Baldwin was now topping up both glasses from a metallic water jug.

“I can sense you watching me,” he spoke without looking up, “making sure I’m not about to attack?”

This was a much better explanation than the actual reason.

“No, just wondering what you’re pouring if not wine.” She explained before he handed her a glass.

“You believe we only drink wine?”

“Not ‘only’ wine but yeah, pretty much.” She answered, taking a drink and realising it was actually a Scotch, pretty strong one.

“Mmm, that’s a cask strength, right?” She asked.

“It is, aged fifty years, no dilution from barrel to bottle.”

“Please tell me this is not a Glenfiddich!” She demanded.

“It is actually, you have a developed taste for Scotch!” He looked puzzled when she continued to stare in horror.

“What’s wrong, do you not like it?”

“Like it? It’s fucking amazing but that sip I took was worth more than this month’s wages!”

He rolled his eyes at her admonishment of his frivolous spending.

“Can I ask why you did not simply order a scotch back at the bar?”

“The fact you’re asking tells me you already have a theory.” She took another drink and inhaled the smoky scent of the long aged liquor.

“I have my suspicions.” He told her as he took a seat in the armchair, studying her, considering his next move like a chess master.

This too was a very attractive sight, glass in hand, sleeves rolled up to just passed his watch as he held out the other in her direction.

“I’m sure you do.” She accepted and allowed him to pull her closer until he was sitting forward and she was standing directly in front of him when he pointedly placed both of their glasses on the small table.

“How’s the knee?” He asked, allowing the back of his hand to slowly graze from her ankle to the hem of her dress.

“It’s fine.” She managed through an increasingly dry throat.

“Show me.”

Alisha could actually feel the blood pool in her cheeks under his close attention.

When she leant down to lift the hem, their lips were tantalisingly close but Baldwin kept his gaze on the almost healed cut. She watched as he leant down and placed a light kiss over the area, making her breath hitch in her throat.

“Baldwin...” she shook her head as though shaking the spell off.

“Yes?”

“I already know you’re wealthy, and powerful, so if this place was meant to convince me of that-“

“It wasn’t,” he assured, “do you know what today is?”

“Thursday?”

“Also, the Zenith of the Leonids meteor shower, and we have the perfect view.”

“Seriously?”

“Look.” He nodded to something behind her and she turned just in time to catch a streak of light.

Baldwin placed his hands on her waist and guided her back until she was seated in his lap with her back against his chest.

“You said you wouldn’t be a ‘Caged Nightingale’, I wanted to show you the view from that cage before you made your mind up.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m giving you this apartment, I purchased it with no paper trail, any real-estate I show interest in now could be a target, nobody knows about this place.”

“But you fitted this place out specifically for you.” She answered, shifting her position slightly to look at him.

“And when I’m in New York, I’ll get the benefit of sharing this with you.” He replied, cupping her face in his hand.

“Baldwin, I can’t accept this, it’s too much!”

“I don’t expect or want an answer right away. Unfortunately I’ve been called back to Venice, shouldn’t be more than a few days, it will give you time to think.”

“When do you leave?”

“Have to be at the airport in two hours.”

“Probably best I think about it.” She agreed, trying to hide the disappointment in her face and voice.

“In the meantime, that last one was lucky, you’re looking in the wrong place.” He teased, brushing her hair from the right side of her neck.

“Have you ever watched a meteor shower?”

“Nope, I’ve always lived in a high light pollution area, parents weren’t really science minded and Michael’s more art aligned. I just never got round to it.”

“Then it’s my pleasure to show you, right there,” he pointed at a collection of stars, “keep your eyes on that part of the sky.” He shifted backwards backwards in the chair, giving her more room to comfortably sit with his legs at either side of her.

“There’s another one!” She grinned widely.

“Are you counting?” He asked with a hint of mischief in his voice.

“Should I be?” The change in position meant that she could turn her head to took at him.

He quirked his head to the side for a moment and reached up to run a finger from her temple, down her cheek and along her jaw to stop at her chin and tilted it to make her mouth more accessible.

“You are now.”

This kiss was not the same as the one on the street. This one strayed, from her mouth to her neck and along her shoulder then back to her ear.

“Keep counting them, and if you miss, I stop.” He explained, his hand brushing the light strap of her dress down her shoulder as his other hand came to rest on her waist

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked.

“Three!” Was the answer he received, her way of playing his game.

In response, he slid his hand down the front of her dress, the coldness in contact with her nipple made her gasp a little, her eyes almost fluttering closed until she remembered her task.

The hand that was on her waist moved slowly, torturously, to her hip and down further, to rest just on her thigh.

“Four.”

“I want to touch you but you have to let me in Alisha.” She nodded slowly, and shyly, she opened up for him.

He was still in no rush, preferring instead to tease her by starting halfway up the inside of her thigh, his cool fingers trailing slowly towards her underwear until he could go no further without deepening the intimacy.

“Five.” Her voice was full of anticipation and when he finally placed two fingers against her already sensitive nerve bundle, she had to rest her head back against his shoulder just to focus on both the pleasure and the stars.

By the time she reached eight, he’d coaxed the most delightful sounds from her body and, satiated, she turned and kissed him deeply.

“Your turn.” She reached for his fly but he caught her hand.

“Next time. Tonight was for you, something to consider or a pleasant memory if you decide otherwise.”

“Not used to being told what to do, maybe I like it.” She confessed shyly.

“You might not desire a cage but you do sing as sweet as a songbird.”

“Shut up!” She giggled with embarrassment.

“Our time, it would appear, is at an end.” He stated, helping to replace the strap of her dress.

“Already?”

“Unfortunately yes, have to account for traffic.“ He explained, scooting her up and helping to steady her shaking legs.

“It’s past 2am!” She argued, still in post orgasm attachment.

“Which is why I want you to stay here tonight.” He told her as he slipped on his jacket and coat.

“Sleep on the floor?”

“No, I had the fridge stocked,” he opened the panel to show her a large, full fridge of juice, vegetables and cold meats, “the bedroom is made up for you, as is the washroom, shower room.”

“Wait, there’s a bedroom and you didn’t mention it?”

“Complaining?”

“No! That was...not complaining.”

“Your Mobile?”

“My...”

“Your Cell?”

She retrieved it from her coat, punched in the code and handed it to him, watching him type in some numbers before handing it back.

“My contact details are in there, as are Christina’s, call her when you want picked up tomorrow.”

“Okay.” She shrugged and he caught her face in his hands.

“Don’t shrug, tell me you will call her.”

“I will call her.” She assured him and, satisfied, he leant down to place one last, long and slow kiss on her lips before heading out the door.

She noticed the glasses still on the table, and shook her head at the tragic waste, deciding it would be too awful if it went unappreciated. Pouring the contents of one glass into the other, she resumed her watch of the night sky.

————

PART 5