#these men have not lived in the real world in decades and are disconnected and unsocial and spoilt and u can see that this does impact

[feline-evil]

Never gonna be over how unutterably pathetic and in dire need of ANY kind of companionship or friendship that doesn't revolve around their band the entirety of dethklok are. I love these horrible idiots who are so devoid of any real connections outside of themselves that they will latch onto anyone unfortunate enough to get too close to any one of them! And GOD help anyone they latch onto!!

[irrevocablecondition]

What have some of your favourite reads been this year? I am dying to find more books to fall in love with, my selection of books this year has been disappointing vfjnbjgnb

okayyy hello !!! here's some of the ones i've rated 4 stars or above this year (also some i've rated lower but think they're necessary nonetheless)

Icarus - K. Ancrum

incredible story of personal art heists, fraught family relations, and a forbidden romance. bonus points for the intersex representation and a special mention to the quotes "you think i would know art and not know this?" "there have been men before you before we had words for it". just,,, such a lovely relationship. such a good read.

The Push - Ashley Audrain

a harrowing story of motherhood that isn't quite what our protagonist expected it to be. a descent into madness, incredibly tense relationships. this one has stuck with me So Much. it was so raw, so real, and i have never felt so connected to a protagonist that is so disconnected from herself. incredible mhm.

Nineteen Minutes - Jodi Picoult

everything i have read from picoult so far has been incredible but thissss one?? had me in tears. picoult has such a unique voice that neverrr fails to pick apart even the most important questions from so many perspectives. this one is about a school shooting, how so much can change in nineteen minutes but that time will change everyone's life forever. we follow a bunch of different characters as we try to understand why this happened and what led the kid to do it. we watch relationships end and begin, we watch lives irrevocably change and people remain stagnant and just,,, UGH. i also recommend "The Storyteller" by picoult if you like this! though that one was a lot more intense imo.

Don't Let the Forest In - C.G Drews

if you haven't heard of or read this one then you neeedddd to!!! i can't even summarise this or describe it in a way that will do it justice but this book consumedddd me. fell in love with the world and the characters and felt like i was going mad with them.

Beartooth - Callan Wink

two brothers in yellowstone embarking on a dangerous mission to settle debts. a Real and Raw sibling relationship. this book was so visceral i could Feel it. i could Smell it. i was in there with them. the most important thing in this book is growing after grief and finding yourself amongst that, the plot is slow based and the prose is easily digestable - it's the Characters that draw you in and keep you on that little makeshift raft rushing down the rapids with them.

Grey Dog - Elliot Gish

a lesser known classic that i'll recommend until the end of time. it's the early 1900s and we're following a teacher as she goes to a new school in the middle of nowhere with a handful of students. it's gay, it's a descent into madness (again, i have a theme going here), it's journal entries and nights of misrememberings. it's a tragic and messy woman just being Tragic and Messy and her journal giving her the space to do that in the most authentic way. a steady but rapid decline into insanity and a grey dog that may or may not be real. loved it.

The Last Whaler - Cynthia Reeves

ohhh just lovely. i finished this the other day and !!! so we're in the arctic, we're hunting whales but we're also finding letters from our deceased wife from decades ago and we're watching these two trips happen parallel to one another. once again - descent into madness. grief. the loss of a child, the loss of a mother. but also,,, a warm hug all at once? i just fell in love with this couples relationship, this location, this proseeee. 5 stars for whale book 🙂↕️

okertttt !! that's a good handful me thinks !!! lemme know if you read any and like them :33 i have endless recs to provide <333

[lavelled]

the trickster three.

Prince Hurst:

In the strange logic of your cyber-hopscotch, normalizing rape and underage female ownership, at least you’re unable to play victim now.

I’m sad about Shannen.

She presented herself as steely and composed, but to me she was a fragile young woman taken suddenly and in too much pain. If I glance at any artificial cancer campaign that I feel demeans real patients or preys on the public’s humiliations, I’ll call you out.

A Kate caption: “She’s gone through something awful.” Yes, marrying into the House of Windsor. Anything you insensitive superficial blokes wish to say to Michael Strahan? Why not? You’re both well-versed on apathy, and an easier life, might you shed light on cycles of chemo?

A headline: “Tyler Perry, godfather…” Except. He’s not. You don’t have Hollywood friends. Nobody likes the unvirtuous Rachel Rosa Shirley Henry Marty Luther imposters, living apart. I wrote of A Few Good Men in Washington, DC, that’s why. As if I wasn’t erased, gone, at all.

To complete the unobstructed view: Indigenous Peruvian tribe, Mashco-Piro, risked disease and violence days ago to emerge from the rainforest. The most uncontacted, most reclusive, most withdrawn tribe in the world knows me. Hello! Peruse a tribe called quest. Google: Mashco-Piro asks for food August 20, 2013 BBC. Video of hand on hair pose, elbows-out, asking villagers for bananas. Get them bananas! (just bananas?) Traditional plant-based food! They detest you.

In Xaviour Twitter, we’ve lifted digital camouflaging on Archillect, Murat Pak, Elon Musk, and Piers Morgan. The snitching is Minor 101. Cyber users spy your regalia. I want the amplification of your unremorseful felon admissions with a high chance of pedophile rapist to destroy any label of boyish humanitarian aid worker, so that you don’t get that award—even in irony—no Netflix series, no podcasting series, no prime-time interviews, no meetings with dignitaries, minimizing your godforsaken earthly imprint after four decades of calculated family pedophilia.

Minority Report. Tom’s in a technological nightmare. Clairvoyant humanoids, one female and two males, in a pool, visualize future crimes for a government organization. The rival boss is played by Ireland’s Colin Farrell. There’s this weird disconnect. In every scene, he chews gum. You’d think the movie’s integrity would be more important than Trident—wait. He’s warning a little girl of rapey pedos. No wonder you left California: Steven Spielberg knows what you did.

The avec moi politician I grew up with is also chewing gum in his video. It’s titled: 18 Year-Old Trudeau on Quebec Sovereignty. I’m 17. You’re 5. Which means the no-life, no-choice, rape clause in the crayon-kinship philandering legalese was already in place. Normal dad.

Details are vague, but back in twitter’s profile, I was wrapped in an old, old, red, looped Where’s Waldo scarf. Thrifty. Yes. One of the most iconic fashion designers knew me, read emails, published essays and Twit doodling, waited, and, I think, was disappointed I hadn’t yet realized you were certifiably evil. Seventeen days after your ivory wedding, Kate Spade hung herself with her signature red scarf in her Park Avenue apartment.

Then, Bed Bath & Beyond CFO, Gustavo Arnal jumped in NYC.

Then, Fandango founder, J. Michael Cline jumped in NYC.

Overly educated. Overly successful. With loving families.

But for now, we have you etching puerile algae about orifices and winning. As you do. On Piers Morgan’s son, Spencer Morgan’s Twitter page.

Three years after September 11, you staged a folly paparazzi scuffle in London to confuse people. Judging from the way you’re held back by guards, you’re mad. At that older brute for leashing a young love like a prized pet, so cruelly and prolonged, it ignited global pain and suffering. You did that. Why not embrace it? Google: 9 Cringe-Worthy Prince Harry Scandals We’ve All Conveniently Forgotten About. 2017 article. Number 5. Kennel Club.

I know your dad was equestrian-minded when I was younger than a teenager. I just don’t ink it on billboarded, televised, mural canvas. You and I won’t meet.

K

[coochiequeens]

Orthodox Jewish leaders couldn’t convince men to give up their smartphones so they can pay more attention to their families. So the leaders guilt tripped the women into giving up their smart phones. And in doing so the women lost their social media and business accounts that connected them to other women.

Shaindy Braun and her wig business had nearly 40,000 followers on Instagram, amassed over nine years, when she abruptly announced her departure from the social media platform.

“I choose to leave this world of likes, followers and filters,” Braun wrote last week. “I will be leaving Instagram to live in the real world. I want to focus on curating my real life, filtering my thoughts and speech and sending love and likes to the important people in my life.”

Then she deleted her profile, cutting off a major line of communication to clients — and potential buyers — of Sary Wigs, a Lakewood-based company providing human-hair wigs to Orthodox Jewish women in New Jersey and beyond.

She wasn’t the only one: Moonlight Layette, a baby clothing brand, announced it would stop engaging actively on Instagram, directing customers to a WhatsApp number instead. So did Rivka Dayan, a resin artist who makes Judaica products, and others.

Their decisions might have come as a surprise to the brands’ followers — except that many of them had also tuned into two massive gatherings in Newark last week exhorting Orthodox Jewish women to put away their phones and disconnect from social networks.

Nekadesh rallies

“They force themselves to sit through this, being told how evil they are, how decadent they are today with their obsessions with ridiculous things and how spiritually inferior they are.”

Coming a decade after a landmark rally aimed at warning Orthodox men about the dangers of the internet, the rallies were meant to inspire women to spend more time away from their cell phones, according to its organizers. But critics in the Hasidic Orthodox community, including women who attended or listened in via a special phone line for remote participation, said pressure to attend was intense — and that the message was far from uplifting.

“They force themselves to sit through this, being told how evil they are, how decadent they are today with their obsessions with ridiculous things and how spiritually inferior they are,” one Hasidic woman told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency on the condition of anonymity because she still lives in a Hasidic community in Borough Park. “And they sit there and they listen to it and they nod and they accept it all and they internalize it.”

Known as an asifa or kinus (Hebrew words for gathering), the rallies drew tens of thousands of Hasidic Orthodox women to the Prudential Center in Newark last week, many transported on charter buses from Orthodox areas such as Lakewood, New Jersey, and Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Women with children in the Bais Yaakov network of schools received text messages and letters saying that the school rabbis urged them to attend; one mother told JTA that she was told her children would be expelled if she did not attend the rally, where tickets cost $54.

One rally was in English, while the other was in Yiddish, the dominant language spoken in many of New York’s Hasidic communities. The events, widely referrEd

to as “nekadesh rallies” using the Hebrew word meaning “make holy,” appealed to women’s maternal instincts — a winning line in a community where fertility is prized and women typically have many children and are responsible for their education.

“I miss the great times that we used to have before you got the cell phone that your boss gave you,” a young boy said during a speech at the Yiddish rally, according to a recording of the event. “I miss your sweet smile. Do you remember our conversations, when we used to laugh at our own stories, and not because we were listening to silly jokes on the little black box?”

At the English-language rally, half of the speakers were women, and at one point, the male rabbis who spoke left the arena so the women could sing together. The speakers presented the issue of social media as one where Orthodox women can choose more or less pious ways to engage with the internet. Among the speakers was Rina Tarshish, a rebbetzin and the director of a women’s seminary in Israel who is widely respected in the Hasidic world.

The rally was intense at times, with attendees being told at one point that technology is a manifestation of Satan’s efforts to spread rot in the world, according to a Twitter thread by someone who transcribed much of the event. But the Yiddish-language rally was more strident in tone and tackled women’s participation in civic life offline as well, according to people who were present. One rabbi who spoke even instructed women not to speak on the street, except in cases of emergency.

The event came 10 years after 40,000 Orthodox men were similarly exhorted to give up their smartphones at a major anti-internet asifa at Citi Field in New York City. Then, the message was about insulating the community from outside influences.

Ayala Fader, an anthropology professor at Fordham University who studies Hasidic communities, said what happened next helps explain the latest rallies.”

Men were refusing to give up their smartphones,” she said. “So leadership decided to focus on women and their responsibility for rearing kids and keeping the home and really protecting the next generation.”

see rest of aryicle

[tubbsmccracken]

In the span of just a few decades, an astonishing, epochal revolution in human relations has occurred. Since the widespread adoption of agriculture, patriarchy has been the norm in human societies. No longer. Patriarchy has been effectively demolished in advanced economies.

Women are no longer dependent on men for material resources. By tearing down barriers to education and the labor market, feminism has achieved a central goal of securing for women economic independence and power.

In 1970, when these changes began gaining steam, women were locked out of many educational and professional opportunities. On American campuses males dominated. In undergraduate enrollment they were 58 percent of students to females’ 42 percent. Men got more than 85 percent of PhDs. In law schools, about 90 percent of students were men.

Today, undergraduate enrollment has flipped—female enrollment is at 58 percent. Women are awarded 53 percent of PhDs, and they make up the majority of law students. Whole professions, like psychology and veterinary medicine, are becoming overwhelmingly female. Forty percent of American women now earn more than the average man, up from just 13 percent in 1979.

This rise of women has been accompanied by male decline. The statistics here are equally startling. There is the bad economic news: most American men earn less today (adjusted for inflation) than most men did in 1979. This is not because of the mass entry of women in the workplace, but because of the hollowing out of traditional male jobs—factory worker, steelworker, coal miner—as a result of free trade and automation.

But male troubles are not just economic. Almost one in four school boys are diagnosed as having a “developmental disability.” One in five fathers is not living with his children. Men are at three times greater risk than women from the epidemic of “deaths of despair,” from suicide, alcohol, and drugs.

There are now more young women than men with university degrees in every advanced economy. Male wage growth has been sluggish in these countries; and men’s employment rates have been dropping around the world.

Some hear all of this and come to the conclusion that the women's movement has been a mistake and the solution is to wind back the clock. I disagree. The movement to liberate women has unleashed the power and talent of half of the global population—to the benefit of us all. But like all revolutions, it has generated real challenges, too. You don’t upend a 12,000-year-old social order without experiencing cultural side effects. In this case, it is the dislocation of many of our boys and men.

It is past time we recognized and started to address these problems. Doing so does not signal a retreat from feminism—or a belief that all misogyny and sexism have been eradicated. It is a recognition of our collective responsibility to deal with the downsides of radical change, as well as celebrate the upsides. For the longest time—pretty much all of history—the cause of gender equality has been synonymous with the cause of girls and women. No longer. It is now necessary to consider gender inequalities in both directions.

Doing this is in women’s economic self-interest. A world of floundering men is unlikely to be a world of flourishing women. If men struggle to find work or decent wages, that puts more pressure on women as breadwinners. Except in the richest U.S. families (i.e., the top fifth), all of the growth in household income since 1979 has resulted from the increased working hours and earnings of women. Since women also continue to take most responsibility for childcare, they often also end up working what the sociologist Arlie Hochshild labeled a “second shift” of domestic labor on top of their job. The double shift is most acute, of course, for those who are raising children alone. All those disconnected fathers mean that one in four children under 18 are being raised by a single adult—82 percent of whom are mothers.

If feminism is a social movement motivated by justice and equality of opportunity, then feminists concerned about racial inequality must also care about men. Among those suffering most from the social trends I have described are those from less advantaged backgrounds, especially black men. Black women are seizing educational opportunities long denied to them. Black women aged 25 to 29 hold more graduate degrees, for example, than white men of the same age. Meanwhile, the gender gap in education between black women and black men is widest of all. Two black women for every black man get a college degree.  And black mothers are most likely to return to work fastest after having a child; given that they are more likely than black men to be the main earner, many simply have no choice.

If feminists paid more attention to the education of boys, they could help stop the trend to pathologize typically boy behavior. This means opposing the application of the label “toxic masculinity” for any behavior that the user disapproves of. It also means recognizing that there are some differences between males and females that are not just socially determined, but biologically based.

Schools are increasingly structured in ways that frustrate boys. We expect young children to sit still and be quiet—which is harder on boys. We cut back on physical activity and push academics to ever earlier grades, meaning that slower maturing boys start failing in school early. We have eliminated much of the hands-on learning opportunities, such as shop, that used to be standard.

Given the rate boys are diagnosed with various behavioral disorders, it’s fair to wonder if it’s the educational institutions, rather than the boys, that are not functioning properly. Feminism has succeeded without destroying the idea that there are inherent female traits. The same courtesy should be extended to males.

So, how could feminists support educational reform designed to help boys? There would be less discussion of patriarchy and more practical solutions. Education is an overwhelmingly female profession, and becoming more so. It would be great to see women champion an effort to get more male teachers in our classrooms. This would provide healthy role models for struggling boys, and disrupt stereotypes about who does what kind of jobs. Today, women account for a higher share of STEM jobs (27 percent, up from 13 percent in 1980) than men do in K-12 teaching positions (24 percent now, down from 33 percent in 1980). As Gloria Steinem said in 1995, “The way we get divided into our false notions of masculine and feminine is what we see as children.”

There are many initiatives to get girls and women into STEM—and girls are constantly told they can do anything they set their mind to. But boys also need encouragement, and more choices. We should create more vocational training, including technical high schools and apprenticeships. We should find ways to persuade boys and men to enter female-dominated professions such as psychology, social work, and nursing. The healing professions have so far proved mostly impervious to automation or being sent abroad.

Feminists should also be concerned that alienated men are the voters most likely to veer towards the populist right. Donald Trump secured the presidency of the United States in 2016 with a 24-point lead among men, the widest gender gap in the half-century history of exit polling. It’s not just the U.S. Male voters Brexited the United Kingdom out of the European Union. In Germany, especially in the east, men have swung sharply to the political right. In South Korea, young men are swinging hard right, and they helped propel to the presidency conservative Yoon Suk-yeol, who explicitly appealed to young men’s feeling they are being left behind. The failure of the left to tackle, or even to acknowledge, the real problems of boys and men has created a dangerous political vacuum.

Even if the populist moment passes, a profound cultural challenge will remain. The economic rise of women represents a seismic shift in gender relations. It has broken the chains of dependency that held women down—but also held the nuclear family together. The traditional institution of fatherhood, based on a provider and protector role, has been almost completely deconstructed. Millions of men are being benched as a result.

A new model of mature masculinity and fatherhood is desperately needed. Marriage provides structure, and legal protection, for the partners, but the reality is that large numbers of Americans are having children outside of marriage. We need decent fathers, no matter their marital status, to be deeply involved in their children’s lives. This means expanding the rights of unmarried fathers to spend time with their children. Paid parental leave for both mothers and fathers would also benefit the entire family.

The idea that helping boys and men runs counter to continued efforts to lift up girls and women is not just wrong, it is the opposite of the truth. Men and women can, and should, rise together.

Richard V. Reeves is a senior fellow at the Brookings Institution and author of ‘Of Boys and Men: Why the Modern Male Is Struggling, Why It Matters, and What to Do About It’.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

People complaining about 'queer baiting' when they ought to be more concerned about the amount of fetishisation that occurs when people ship two men lol

Hey Nonny,

I’m gonna assume you’re not trying to be a dick, and are coming from a good place, though you taking the time out to put this ask in a weird serif font is leaving me wondering if you’re trying to stand on a soapbox, but I’m going to ignore that for now, and I ask anyone replying to this post to please also grant that same respect. I only wish to educate, learn, and interact, after all. 

I get what you’re trying to say re: queerbaiting, I really do. And fetishization is a problem, I agree. 

Let’s tackle the queerbaiting first.

Let it be known to you that a large majority of the people calling “queerbaiting” are queer people and academics. I know the false stigma that “fandom is full of stupid little girls” still exists and is something that, quite frankly, this ask is implying and therefore helping to perpetuate. It’s not. Honestly, with this take you have here, you’re disregarding and invalidating the feelings of millions of other queer people who genuinely feel when something is queerbaiting because it’s something they have experienced over and over and OVER again and media just “LOL OOPS SORRY WON’T DO IT AGAIN”. 

Disney is a perfect example of this. How many “first LGBT characters” has Disney had now? At least one a year for the past decade.

Listen, the people who initially called it out years ago for Sherlock were older folks who have lived decades of media constantly teasing gay relationships and then not following through with it at the end... literally “baiting” queer people to watch their shows because more people = more money.

Anyway, Gattiss confirmed he used homoerotic subtext to bait people, so I don’t know what else to say on this matter. That link also has some additional articles and sources that came out regarding the queerbaiting aspect of Sherlock, and they’re all good reads, so I do recommend checking them out.

Some other interesting reads, if only so you can gain some empathy for the others who DO see it as queerbaiting:

Gender and Queer Fan Labour on Tumblr: The Case of BBC’s Sherlock (Webarchive link, so give it a few to load)

The Elephant in the Room: Authorship, Queerbaiting and Sherlock

Queerbaiting in Sherlock 

PODCAST: Queerbaiting in Sherlock

From Queer Reading to Queerbaiting - DiVA Portal

And as I’ve mentioned in past posts, I personally believe Sherlock IS queerrbaiting WITHOUT a confirmation in S5. They had the chance to stop it in S3, and instead they ramped it up. And yes, if you only watch Sherlock and omit S3 and TAB completely, I can see the queerbaiting argument null and void. But instead they made the episode that John was supposed to be getting married the gayest episode in the whole series, next to TAB. So I dunno, my friend.

Now, I shall discuss the very thin line of fetishization vs shipping.

I am not a professional AND I am a fairly recently-realized member of the LGBT community, so I don’t feel it’s my place to tell you what’s what. 

There’s a really interesting Tumblr post by LGBT+ Weekly about this very thing that I think offers a “both sides” approach: Shipping and queer fetishization. And this interesting and on-point post here: About Fandom, Slash, and Fetishizing Gay Men.

From here, I can only offer my opinion, not fact, and I am open to being educated. 

Yes, absolutely some people fetishize LGBT relationships. I’m NOT going to say there aren’t. But a majority of people ship ANY ship because it helps them understand themselves. It’s just that simple, and to tell someone that them shipping characters is bad / no good / fetishization can be harmful to them and make them fear “being gay”. Shipping characters is a way of disconnecting themselves from, well, themselves, and it’s a “safe place” to “come out” or discover themselves.

To me, you’re breaking down fetishization as “I like reading about two people fucking” and nothing beyond that, and not taking into account that many people like a pairing because of chemistry, or because someone sees themselves in a character and are exploring their own sexuality through it. If that’s the case, then I guess all M/F ships are are fetishizations? Why is it only M/M that people decry “fetishization”, when F/F is apparently not (clarification: it totally can also be)? So, is me liking Johnlock any different than my Zutara ship? Why? 

Plus, the reason so many people ship M/M ships is because there’s just SO MANY MALE CHARACTERS ON ANY GIVEN SHOW. 

I get what you’re trying to say, Nonny, I really do. And I know the definition of fetish. But AGAIN, these are characters, not real people, and you’re disregarding other aspects of shipping. Not everyone reads smut to get off. And even if they did, why is that so bad for some people? Personally, I read it because I enjoy reading stories about my favourite characters enjoying being together. I enjoy the dynamic, the possibilities, the chemistry and the love. That it’s never too late to find your person. That two broken souls can help heal each other.

Anyway, TL;DR of all this is: 

YOUR experience is NOT someone else’s experience. 

You didn’t see Sherlock as queerbaiting? Fine, but please understand there’s a reason so many other people DO and it’s not just fandom saying it. The general audience also has said it’s queerbaiting.

You see shipping as fetishization? Okay, and that’s fine. Your definition of fetishization means fictional people having sex, I guess. Maybe I’m just genuinely naïve, but... isn’t that kind of... TERF-y or homophobic? I mean... many people use same-sex shipping and assorted headcanons to help them understand themselves and their sexuality. And why is M/F shipping NOT fetishization, given the broad definition you’re implying by your ask? And I don’t want to get too deep into asexuality, but read up on aegosexuality. Are you then saying aces are fetishists too? Seems like aces can’t enjoy anything, I guess.

They’re fictional characters. Not real people.

Look, I’m stupid and naïve, I get that. And if I have the wrong take here, I’m genuinely interested in hearing your respectful thoughts, along with other people’s. Just, please respect and understand that everyone is not YOU. It’s rather selfish to think that your experiences are everyone else’s, if I’m being honest.

I’m not asking for you to “see my side of things”, just to have a bit of empathy, is all. It can go a long way in a world where just being who you are can get you killed. Fandom and shipping is an escape for a lot of people, because reality is a cruel son of a bitch.

All this said, Nonny, I just want you to be safe and healthy. If discussions of shipping and queerbaiting bother you, please black list the tags, get out of fandom, and please take care of yourself.

[the-ghost-king]

time for me to share a good™️ headcanon: will and nico love to steal each other’s clothes but their massive size difference makes it so obvious that they’re doing it. nico’s shirts are almost croptops on will and will’s sweaters are practically a dress on nico bc will is like 6’2 and nico’s like 5’5

Anon! Anon! Yes, you. You get it.

I don’t really know what you wanted as a response to this but I felt inspired for the first time in some 10 months so I gifted you a one shot below the “read more”. I’ll also upload it to Ao3 with a link in the notes...

Anyhow Anon, I hope you enjoy it! I got a little off topic but reflective fluff is always good!

If you would have asked Will what he wanted out of life as a kid you probably would have gotten an answer that was something like “a chance to actually go and live life as it was meant to be” or maybe “to be happy, pretty, and stupid”. 

He didn’t dare to hope for more, demigods didn’t live long lives, and being involved in a major battle at thirteen didn’t do wonders in regards to establishing confidence in your survival. As for the “pretty and stupid” part of his answer, it wasn’t that Will had ever hated being smart, he just hated the disconnect different intelligence levels caused in peer groups and society; being smart was hard, sure for school purposes it was nice, but that intelligence means you’re constantly thinking and so often so much of the world seems so dull and petty. Will had been lucky enough to be blessed with decent looks, moving through the world was made easy in at least that regard, but he wished he could live without thinking so much because so often he could only see so much awful in the world. 

Thirteen year old Will wouldn’t have dared hope for anything more, he wouldn’t have dared hope for anything else more than a decade or so of normal life beyond camp and a chance at an easy life for those few years. When fourteen year old Will got a depression diagnosis he wouldn’t say he was surprised, he would have been annoyed but he hadn’t really felt much of anything in years. (”Atypical depression” The doctor had said, “likely clinical”)  A few different types of anti-depressants and a few months of therapy things started feeling okay, better at least. Fifteen came and went, he tried to go off the pills and didn’t quite get there, but his dose got lowered which Will supposed was nice. 

In the months of early 16, Nico di Angelo stumbles into his life; exhausted and melting under the pressure of the universe, he makes friends with death. It isn’t much, but Will remembers him from when they were kids back before any major fights. He remembers hearing about Nico running off and he felt bad for not having made a continued effort to get to know him. He felt bad when he left after the Battle of Manhattan too, they’d prepped bodies for their departure together and Will had gotten hung up in the infirmary (he had been one of the last Apollo campers and he was the only one with medical training). In some ways, Will supposed he was making up for those lost years when he didn’t have time to befriend Nico as he would have liked, it made him feel like he was at least trying.

In the beginning things were undeniably rocky, Nico was constantly hooked to machines just so Will could guarantee he wouldn’t die overnight. Even on Nico’s first night in the infirmary he had struggles with sleep, the bed wasn’t comfortable enough and after trying a large variety of options Will had hauled Nico and all of his equipment out to the porch on the back of the infirmary and they slept there for those three days (which turned into two weeks), wrapped up in jackets and in a pile of blankets beneath camp’s fall skies.

Within a few months, they fell in love. 

Okay listen, people can call Will ridiculous all they want- but love at first sight is real and he experienced it. He didn’t know it but the day he met Nico and looked into the dark browns of his eyes, he thought something about how his eyes looked like ash from the fireplace at Mama’s house, or how they looked like the soil that his windowsill plants grew from. If you would have asked Will what he thought of Nico the very first time they’d met, he would have told you something about how his eyes were “big, dark, and round like a baby cow”. What Will really meant is that Nico reminded him of the family ranch house he grew up in, he meant he looked like home. 

At the time Will just hadn’t known that was what love felt like, but when he figured it out one day teaching Nico how to play Hold ‘em on the back porch of the infirmary with a light breeze and setting sun as they settles down for bed; he knew one thing, he didn’t want anything more than to make Nico happy and he hoped that he could be a part of that more than anything.

It took a little longer for Nico to come around, he had his own demons to battle. Internalized homophobia, even in small doses, is a real downer to say the least, let alone when you’re fighting demons you’ve manifested for some 15 years. The biggest struggle however, was probably in all honesty the fact that Nico was so goddamned oblivious. After spending years alone with limited human contact at best, and having spent so many years desperately wanting Percy to notice him, and being met with negative reactions, Nico didn’t know what love looked like anymore. How had he been supposed to know he was in love with Will?

There was a lot of subtle back and forth, would the other even be interested in a guy? It ended one day with an unplanned kiss followed by a declaration. Will called it the best mistake he ever made, neither of them really thought it was a mistake.

It was days like today that only proved that.

Will had woken up to Nico’s face on a pillow next to him. He’d fallen asleep with his hair pulled back in a ponytail, and some of his smaller hairs had fallen loose in the night and now framed his peaceful face. The first rays of golden sunlight fell through accidentally left open curtains, and Will reached out to brush a stray piece of dark hair and place it behind Nico’s ear. 

He woke up to a morning more beautiful than he would have ever hoped for at 13, and he would always be glad for that. He would always be grateful for how far he had come in not quite a decade. At just twenty-two he was 4 years into medical school, and three years married to Nico and he truly believed he was one of the happiest men in the world simply because he made Nico happy.

In time, Nico too would wake up. 

First with a huff, and then a grumbling noise of annoyance as he rubbed his face with his arm as though trying to block out light before half-asleep Nico seemed to accept his fate and wake up fully. 

“Good morning”

“How long have you been up?”

“Awhile”

Nico made a knowledgeable humming sound, perhaps he was just acknowledging Will’s response or perhaps he was saying ‘of course’. 

A few kisses, a short conversation, and a couple of “I love you”’s later, they got out of bed.

Nico's was wearing Will's high school hoodie that was a bit too short on Will anymore like it was a dress on him. The hoodie went down to Nico’s knees, he's got his own black shorts on because Will's just fall off unless he ties them really really tight. He's got black socks pulled up almost to his knees, there’s a little gap between the end of Nico’s shorts and the start of his socks. The hoodie goes down an inch or two past his short pockets, and he goes outside to grab the mail with a pair of unlaced combat boots on his feet. He's got his skull ring on his middle finger of his right hand, and his left hand holds a simple wedding band which glint in the light as he opens the front door. His hair is pulled up into a messy ponytail, some of it is up some of it is down, there's tons of flyaway hairs which frame his face since he hasn’t fixed it sense getting out of bed.

Call it a cliché, but Nico looks like Heaven personified without even trying. 

Sure, everyone looks nice in a suit or a dress, but how many people can roll out of bed without doing their hair wearing a decade old hoodie and look like they belong in a magazine spread?

Will is wearing one of Nico's looser shirts, on Nico it comes down past his hips and a little onto his thighs, on Will is he so much as lifts his arms a centimeter it reveals his hip bones. He doesn’t really mind, he kind of likes it to be entirely honest. Will can remember being just a few inches shorter than he is now and fitting fairly comfortably in Nico’s clothes at the time, they had never worried whose clothes they grabbed back then. Nico had finished his growth spirt and Will had thought he was done only two inches taller, it didn’t matter whose clothes were whose because everything fit well enough.

That wasn't quite the case now, Nico had stayed at his casual 5"5 while Will had shot up and extra six inches to 6"2 and ruined his own chances of sharing clothes. Such as right now he was sure he was wearing his own sweats, because he had specifically had to get a pair last night despite Nico's having been more accessible. Anytime he's actually managed to get a pair of Nico's pants comfortably on in the last few years, result in him wearing pants that are more like compression shorts or capris than pants.

Will was just happy he could wear some of Nico's larger shirts and hoodies still, the fact that Nico preferred to sleep in lots of clothes and typically baggy clothes meant Will had some options when it came to wearing his husbands stuff.

Will has also managed to steal a pair of Nico's socks, they're a taller pair on Nico (he buys winter wear so often because he's cold always) but on Will they gather a little awkwardly around his ankle. Will doesn't usually wear socks but they had gone to bed without the heat on and apparently the cold had set in over night and you could definitely feel it on their apartment floors.

The clothes would be a bit stretched out from him, it was something Will can remember being worried about after his second growth spurt, but Nico doesn't mind, He's assured Will of this time and time again, he says something about "aesthetic" and "alternative". Will doesn't really know, he's never cared much for fashion but he'll take Nico's word on it. 

The truth, although it's something Nico would only admit in their bed late at night when it was so dark you could barely see his face, and arguably a little drunk as well, was that he actually enjoyed the way the clothes fit better after Will wore them. He found some sort of comfort in the way the shoulders of his shirts would be just a little too wide on him, it was one of those small acts of love, it wasn't one Will entirely understood but both of them got their own sort of enjoyment out of Will stretching out Nico's sleeping clothes some so they went with it.

Will turns his attention from Nico walking out the door to the coffee pot on the countertop.

Will doesn't like coffee much, he likes the social aspect of getting a cup more. Nico had introduced him to it, he’d been drinking it for years by the time they’d left camp. It reminded him of home and he grew to like it for such reasons, and although Nico would consume just about anything with enough caffeine in it Will needed creamer to enjoy coffee to any amount. 

They were both honestly probably more tea people, but they never seemed to remember to buy any. Will will try to remember to write it down on the grocery list later, but Nico has walked back into the kitchen, climbed up on the counter next to Will and now he is looking at him; and Nico is always a distraction that's worthy of taking, Will will definitely forget to write down tea for their grocery list and the week will start over with more coffee in the house and no tea.

Nico’s fingers grip the countertop and he swings his legs a little bit back and forth from where he sits on the black granite, his white gold rings set against the counter in contrast. Will's worn out blue hoodie looks grey with age, the little printed letters are cracked and peeling on the back of it, his last name can still be read in white though. 

Will knows the cliché about your lover wearing your name is often unhealthy and overly possessive, but he likes seeing Nico with his name because it feels like a gift. It’s like he’s given Nico a part of himself and Nico accepted it with pride, and Will loves that, he loves him and Nico being little pieces of each other.

Nico is smiling at him, and leans just so, Will turns in acknowledgment of the gesture, and moves so he’s standing to the left of Nico. Nico crosses his legs at the ankle and leans towards Will laying his head against Will where his neck and shoulder meet. Will leans forward and buries his face into Nico’s hair, comfortable and a little sleepy still.

"Coffee?"

"Mhmm."

"Good."

Will isn't the best cook, for fucks sake he's not even someone who could be considered a good cook, but he can handle this. Nico taught him the basics when they were still living at camp, Will failed every time, he ended up going home for a short period for Christmas break and begging his mom "teach me how to make eggs" he left off the bit about impressing Nico but he knows she knew. When he came back Nico had just smiled at him, "you practiced huh?"

Will hadn't gotten better at making much else, some eggs, toast, coffee and he could boil water now too! He had burnt lots of stuff over the years, plastic containers in the microwave, a plastic ladle they had on the stove top, at least 100 failed attempts at grilled cheese. Will was honestly just happy he hadn’t blown up any microwaves since he was a kid... 

Nico had come home to many of Will's failed attempts at making him various things, sometimes the food was underdone other times it was bits of inedible char. Will did try, he really did, but the heat was always too high or he would end up distracted, or he would use sugar on accident instead of salt. Will did actually try, but his best attempts still often left something to be desired, so he often was the one doing dishes.

Most notably one time Nico had come home to him attempting to pan-frying some fish.

It had been supposed to be a surprise, it was Nico's birthday, and Will had had the day off of class even though Nico hadn't. He figured he would have surprised him; it had been back in their first apartment, not quite as nice as this one. A cheap tiled cream counter top that Nico had literally cringed at when seeing it the first time, the cabinets had somehow been cheaper than a set from IKEA and it had become an inside joke to them.

He had walked in the apartment to see smoke coming off the pan with a bit of flame still coming off it, and a large piece of charred fish stuck to the bottom of one of their frying pans.

"Hey dumbass, what did you do in here?" 

People thought they were an odd couple, Will could see that. The whole parallel people drew between light and dark and optimism and pessimism and such between them, none of those people were really correct though. Will and Nico were more similar than they were different. At the end of the day it didn’t really matter what people said, Will liked Nico, he loved him in all honesty- he'd never heard the word "dumbass" said with so much affection.

Nico was hard for most people to read, years along had left him struggling emotionally in some manner; he did his best to hide most of his emotions, cloak them so heavily that sometimes they were even unrecognizable to Nico himself. 

The most obvious example of this in regards to Nico was how "shut up" often meant "I love you", "idiot" was synonymous with "darling" in some ways. Don't get Will wrong, Nico could be very affectionate, but pet names came with hesitation for him in the early days; Should he use Venetian, Italian, or English? Masculine words that were romantic had been hard for him to say as well... But everyday he grew and got better, and Will was proud of him every time he called Will “dear” and didn’t hesitate before or after. 

Nico had started masking his emotions at some point during his time at Westover, whatever he had done there hadn’t been much more than how much the average person masked their feelings, but when he started training with Minos Nico had doubled down on keeping his emotions secretive. Minos hadn’t been kind or safe in any sense of the word, emotions were what he used to manipulate Nico all that time, it was no wonder Nico developed such a strong sense of apathy towards anything overtime. 

Nico could be affectionate, he could be the most loving person to ever exist. Nico’s emotions were sort of like secrets, if you stayed awake late enough into the night you would only come to know him then, such was the nature of him. He often whispered so quietly his wants and needs into the dark, there was some sense of fear tied to Nico’s vulnerability and he handed off his worries each night to the stars soft glow. Nico often refused to talk openly during the day, but at night apologies and truth always came, he had known what he had wanted earlier he had simply been to afraid of the rejection to acknowledge it, Will is glad that with the years the worst of such things is over; it is unlikely to be something Nico will ever fully grow out of, such is the nature of humanity, but progress is a virtue.

Such times not only resulted in Nico’s acknowledgement of his wants and faults, but also garnered the most affection from Nico. Nico couldn’t always communicate in an effective manner verbally, which was still a process they were working on, but he did his best. Nico’s act of love was like that of a small bird, he gave you small things that seemed insignificant until you realized he had only ever told you such things. Will fell in love with him for it, it wasn’t just about the way he would describe the wallpaper in his childhood bedroom, it was the fact that nobody knew anything else about Nico’s childhood bedroom. 

Will had never truly understood the concept of “touch starved” until he met Nico, he had known the definition sure, but he had never truly witnessed it. Nico never asked for touch, but it was the way he leaned into it, the way he sought it out; pressing up against Will’s hand like a cat stretching trying to get a little more contact somehow, trying to make the touch last just a bit longer so he could savor it properly. It was literally starving in some manner, starving for contact that wasn’t a goodbye or a hit, just for wordless contact. When he grew comfortable he gave affection fully, there was a joy in holding Nico’s hand, knowing that he felt safe enough not to worry about the effect a few extra seconds of prepping for a fight that holding hands would add.

Nico didn’t show affection in big ways, and that was more than okay with Will; they were laid back in comparison to most, he’d have sought the comfort of placing soap bubbles on each others head in the tub a hundred times over a night on the town. Nico’s affection was something quiet and almost secretive, unknown to anyone it wasn’t directed at; it was the way he would lead Will out of a room to kiss him, or the quiet way he whispered “I love you” into Will’s ear when in public.  

Will supposes in the early days “shut up” became “I love you” in order to avoid being seen as weak in some manner, in order to avoid acknowledging what he really wanted to say and having Will not respond in kind. Will didn't mind, they weren't an overly affectionate pairing- banter was common, almost everything they did was turned into some sort of game, the term "boys will be boys" definitely applied to their relationship of 3am pillow fights, late night discussions about what order the Christmas ornaments had to go up on the tree in, and whenever they wrote thesis papers for living room debates over the best Disney villain.

Will honestly preferred it that way, he preferred having the little moments reserved for solely them. He preferred the aversion to sappy clichés, the way a lover could say your name with exasperation and a smile that meant the whole world. He had seen what some other couples had, quick kisses in lines at cafes, holding hands across the table, and calling each other pet names they’d made up that were somehow ten times worse than the original- and Will didn’t want that. 

It wasn’t that what those couples had wasn’t love, it just wasn’t love in a way Will could understand, it wasn’t love Will felt from those sort of exchanges. He didn’t understand the idea of “butterflies in your stomach”, love wasn’t nerves, love was like coming home after a long day, love was the way someone could say your name like it was divine, love was the way someone would smirk at you when you were missing the point, love was not being afraid to cry in front of them,  it was knowing you could show up to them with any problem and instead of leaving you they would research the ins and outs of it in all their entirety. 

The coffee maker makes a sound, Nico lifts his head of off Will’s body and the deep browns of his eyes are like the freshly turned dirt of fields in planting season, and Will feels like there’s a garden growing in his chest that Nico feeds. Nico sits straight on the counter and pulls his legs up and sits cross legged on the counter as he pulls out his hairband, and runs his fingers through his hair before pulling it back up without all the flyaways. 

Will moves towards the coffee machine, pours it into two cups, and sets one on the counter beside Nico before making his way to the fridge to grab creamer. Nico’s watching him right now, but there’s no need for talking; there will be talking in a minute. Talking about Will’s schedule for the week, talk of whatever project Nico is working on right now, talk of what they should do for dinner the rest of the week, little sweet nothings, and eventually they’ll make their way to the couch to watch some tv and maybe later in the day they’ll play some sort of game or something as well.

So yeah, maybe "light" and "dark" were polar opposites and some people would have walked out on the word dumbass rather than immediately loving it, but Will liked it- everyday was a game of sorts, a new adventure, all with Nico who he loved. Coming home from work wasn’t necessarily about the place Will lived but knowing Nico would be there for him to see was the point  of going home, home was wherever Nico was and some small part of Will hoped eternity was real in some manner.

Will remembered when Michael had died thinking nothing could possibly get worse, and in some ways he was kind of right; he had ended up with some sort of demigod style fairy tale ending with the man he loved, and that was ten times better than anything fifteen year old Will would have hoped for.

[avelera]

One thing I’m pretty excited to share in the Amnesiac Nicky fic for my take on Joe and Nicky’s early years, is the idea that the first 50 or so years of immortality are less disconnected emotionally from normal human aging than I’ve seen portrayed in some other fics. (Not to imply that I’ve read every fic! I just haven’t seen this explored in the fics I’ve read.)

I’m obsessed with immortality as a trope in general so I’ve had a lot of thoughts around it before Old Guard. But one headcanon I have around the personalities we see with Andy, Joe, and Nicky more than we see with Booker is the idea that as the centuries progress, these people become more zen (or nihilistic) because they’ve just seen so much. 

But, that the first century or two are the hardest, because you’re just connected enough to the world around you to feel every single death. You might still have grandchildren, the house you grew up in might still be there, but the neighborhood around it might be unrecognizable. The sense of disconnect from your own identity is extreme.

I wanted to do a take on Nicky and Joe’s first century that played into this idea. For the purpose of the story, I wanted to do a take where they didn’t run away together immediately (in part, to raise the stakes on Nicky’s memory loss, if they just ran away together on the first day, his memory loss is tragic but he and Joe can start rebuilding immediately, but if it took longer than that, then that’s the length of time Joe is anticipating he will be alone, without Nicky’s love, at the very least) but rather after fifty years. 

And why fifty years? The number is a little arbitrary, but the intention is that it took 50 years for them to look around and realize that they were the only constants in each other’s life. That they actually don’t let go of their hatred enough to try being in a real relationship until “old age” has softened their worldview, much the same way that it might if their bodies had continued to age and suddenly at 80 years old being enemies on either side of this war doesn’t seem as important compared to the fact this is the only person alive anymore that you enjoy spending time with, because they’re the only other person who shares your life experiences. 

I wanted to color their experience as immortals too less from the “We need to go into hiding IMMEDIATELY” angle seen in the film, which makes sense as a result of the surveillance capabilities of the modern world and how photography can circulate an undeniable image that provides evidence of their immortality, and more from a historical angle of, “How would you live your life as a warrior if suddenly you couldn’t age or die?” 

So for the first ten years, their lives pretty much stay the same. They continue fighting their battles with their countrymen because those are where their connections in life are. (“Dying” and creating a new identity a few towns over so you can continue to fight in the same war isn’t as difficult when people’s appearances aren’t widely circulated or known.) Then, as they get into the second decade, they’re in their 50s. Sure, they’re not aging, but now they’ve got a full lifetime of military skill, on par with the most experienced generals, AND the health of a young man to give them energy to execute incredible feats of martial and strategic skill. Suddenly, they’re respected, unstoppable forces. They have a gift that will allow them to bring glory to their own sides! So they’re fighting harder than ever. Surely, this is what God intended when He gave them this ability, to be a righteous weapon for their cause!

But then they’re 60, and their peers are retired or dead. Then they’re 70. Then they’re 80. Suddenly the kingdoms don’t look the same anymore. The fighting forces are made up of the children and grandchildren of the men they once fought beside, all new faces. And it’s getting harder to remember why any of this matters, so long as the common people are happy and healthy. Mentally they’re getting tired, within the framework of the life they expected to have, and they haven’t made the leap yet to being braced for centuries of life, to re-routing their entire perception of how to live from decade to decade. 

And in that process, I want to show how Nicky and Joe went from enemies, to reluctant friends, to friends, to soulmates, as they grew to matter more and more to each other through their shared experiences, as those grew to outnumber their differences. And throughout, I really want to have that sense that they fell in love first as old men, and that continues to color their relationship.

[elexica]

Second Chance Christmas {{ December 26 }}  - Last Chapter -

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832405/chapters/69446895

"I can promise that I am not giving up on us.”

Full chapter under the read more!

Joey had awoken either alone or to the sounds of needy children almost every morning for the last three years.  At first, waking up without Seto there was a relief—he didn’t have to deal with him or any of the intensity that came with Seto Kaiba.

Eventually, he did miss him in that bleary moment.  It was frustrating that the first few minutes of his morning, every morning, were dedicated to a feeling of loss.

Even that had faded away. For a while now, waking up in his own bed didn’t inspire any thoughts of Seto.  Joey had returned to a state where his mornings were not tarnished by Kaiba’s absence.

But his taste of Christmas with the man—the kind one who had so graciously been a part of his family, not the cold one, who left into the snow without a second thought—was enough to leave Joey tormented.

Waking up alone had never seemed as empty than the morning of that day after Christmas.  He opened his phone screen, tapped the world clock app, and saw that it was already late in the evening in Domino.  Kaiba had no doubt already landed and returned to his life, as if nothing had happened.

The entire good experience melted right off of Kaiba.  Back to his old life, his old ways.  Unchanged, unaffected.

It felt like there was broken glass inside Joey's chest.  It was almost nauseating to feel so disconnected after everything that had happened.

But something had happened. Something had changed, Joey was sure of it.  And things could be different.  

He had gone to sleep so troubled with these conflicting thoughts, but sitting in his quiet bed, watching the snow sprinkle down, he had a new sense of clarity.

When he closed his eyes, he could see their future stretch in front of him, days and weeks and years sprawling across the room.

Joey would never get rid of all of those things that Kaiba had left behind.  He was a sentimental bastard, and at least he knew who he was.  Joey’s eyes hit the wedding photo lingering in his room.  If Joey couldn’t even toss out the extra turtlenecks after three years, Joey was not optimistic he’d ever fully clean out the house and wipe all the traces of Kaiba from the home.

And goddamn it, he knew Kaiba too.

That man wasn’t going to move on either.

So, Joey supposed, they might just keep doing this.  Every time they exchanged the kids, would Kaiba tag along for some ill-advised tryst?  Like an addiction, circling back for another self-destructive hit, knowing nothing could really change.

Or would he avoid Joey like the plague, and instead every few years fall into some act of God that would leave them to another excruciatingly loving experience.

How many times would his life be uprooted by falling back in love with that asshole?  How many longing touches would they scatter across decades?  

Playing enemies while secretly pining for each other?  Damn it, hadn’t they already gotten that out of their system?

Joey was so fucking sick of missing him.

Kaiba was too stubborn, and maybe too hurt, to make the move.  Joey hated the emotional responsibility that fell on his shoulders.

But, Joey wondered, had he actually laid it all on the line?  He never once asked Kaiba not to return to Japan.  He blocked the door, but he didn’t actually say it.  He showed up at the airport, but he didn’t actually say it.

His ex-husband had the emotional intelligence of a brick on a good day.  Joey wasn’t just as bad as Kaiba for not just saying it.  But Joey sat in bed, the cold covers pooling around him, and considered that he could be part of the problem.

And maybe, if he wanted them to be back together, he had to do it.  If he didn’t want to live this way forever—he was in a position to change it.  He wasn’t corporation stock, he wasn’t an asset, something without any control over what Kaiba did.

So Joey got up.  He made himself some coffee.  It was seven in the morning, but he was sitting at the kitchen counter, dated laptop jammed open, on the speakerphone with Serenity before the hour was over.

Everyone always admired Kaiba’s force of will.  A personality that could overcome every adversity, defy reality itself, control space and time.  Master the global marketplace, dominate the NASDAQ, and change the fabric of society.

But Joey’s force of will was something else too.  And he wasn’t going to wait for however many years it took for Kaiba to admit that he wanted to stay there, in their home, raising their children together.

If he had to, he’d drag the bastard straight from Japan.  His dumb husband was just waiting there, getting old and sad in some fancy condo.

And so he spent the entire plane ride to Domino city trying to figure out exactly what it was that he wanted to say to set his stupid, stupid man straight.

. . .

“Mokuba?” Joey hoped it was still the right phone number.  The Kaiba brothers were always updating things, changing software, making their communication methods that much trickier to obtain.  It was a real possibility that this phone number now only went to a stranger.

“Jounouchi!  What’s up?  How are you doing?  The kids are growing up so freakin’ cute!”

Joey was disarmed by how warm Mokuba always was.  And it laid bare just how little he’d really thought through the plan.  “Um, well, I’m in Domino.  I’m here to see…” Joey almost said Kaiba. But it was off-putting to refer to their shared last name.  It never bothered him as a teen, but as an adult it sometimes hit Joey that Mokuba probably didn’t love the traces of language that made it clear that he was the secondary Kaiba when it came to these affairs.  Still, Joey wasn’t sure he was allowed to call him Seto anymore.

“Ah, I see.  Nii-sama just got back yesterday.  Seto didn’t tell me any of the details, but…” Mokuba’s tone shifted.  “Everything okay?”

The question was stingingly sincere.

Joey sighed on the other end of the line.  “Yeah, you know your brother.  I mean.  Look.  I’m in Domino and I guess I just need to see him.  It’s dumb—”

“It’s not dumb,” Mokuba interrupted, sounding more adult than Joey had ever heard.  It was like he really was getting an edict from the esteemed Vice President of Kaiba Corporation.

“Yeah.  Can you get me a badge or whatever to visit his office.  We need to talk and…”

“I see.  He can’t be allowed to dodge it, huh?”

Joey laughed, despite himself.  It was a bit mournful, but it wasn’t totally devoid of life.  “Nope.”

“Yeah, I can hook you up.  I’ll get the pass sent to your phone.”

Joey nodded, even though his phone was conventional, and Mokuba couldn’t see him.  “Thanks.  And congrats on getting married.  From what I’ve heard, she sounds like a keeper.”

Joey could hear the glowing smile on the other end of the phone.  “Yeah, I think so too.”

. . .

The lobby of Kaiba Corp. HQ was mostly unchanged since the last time Joey had seen it, though it looked somewhat creepy in the dark.   It was lightly, tastefully, decorated for the season.  Twinkle lights on some of the pillars, echoing in the dark like suspended lightening bugs.

So close to his goal, Joey stalled.  He paced in the empty cavern of the lobby.  Maybe he shouldn’t bother.  Maybe this whole adventure was some twisted flight of fancy, brought on by watching one holiday film too many.  Did he look too closely at the snowflakes trapped in Kaiba’s eyelashes and see something that wasn’t really there?

In the middle of his troubled, nervous walking, Isono appeared.  Put together and just like Joey had seen him when last trading off the kids.  Sunglasses on—even though it was the dead of night in the deepest part of winter.  Stern and silent, Isono directed him to the elevator.

Isono never had much of a relationship with Joey.  The man had watched him at most major life events outside of his house for the fifteen years preceding the divorce.  Joey realized that his presence was somewhat more comfortable than all of the anonymous faces Joey had passed by in the once-familiar city.

The floor indicator increased quickly as the two men rocketed toward the top floor, where Kaiba could properly brood over the entirety of Domino.

In the stilted silence, they arrived at the top floor, and Isono put his arm out to stop the elevator doors.

“It is good you are here,” Isono said.  Something about his voice sounded reflective, and it gave Joey the confidence he wished he did not need.

The city glowed in the background, pulsing like magma.  Kaiba sat at his broad desk, illuminated by the blue light laptop in front of him and the ethereal glow of the city at his back.   Joey was pissed that when he walked in, Kaiba didn’t bat an eye.  It felt as if Kaiba had set the appointment.

Joey wondered to himself whether Mokuba had messaged him, or inadvertently triggered some alarm in procuring the pass.  Even so, Kaiba was where he was supposed to be, sitting in his dark office, typing away at whatever it was he did all day.

Since the grand entrance did not have the desired effect, Joey proceeded to stomp over to Kaiba’s desk, push down the screen of the laptop, and kiss him.

This succeeded in starling Kaiba, his blue eyes wide in surprise.  Almost too shocked to kiss back.  Almost.  Kaiba still reached a hand across, thumb skimming over Joey’s cheek.

“Y’know why I did that?” Joey asked, breaking the kiss.

Kaiba shook his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  “No, I—what are you doing here?”

Joey propped himself up on Kaiba’s desk, sweatpants-clad butt shifting a stack of papers.

“I kissed you because I wanted to.  And I’m here because I want to be.  And I didn’t buy a return ticket, Kaiba.  Because I want to fly back with you.”

Kaiba opened his mouth to speak, but Joey silenced him with a hand.

“I’m gonna make it really simple for you, cause apparently this is hard for you.” Joey announced.  “Here’s the situation: I broke up with you because you refused to be part of the family in the way that I needed.  You were acting like a bad partner, and I did not deserve that.  But…  You… you proved that you could be a good partner.  So here’s the deal.”

Joey walked forward, completely enveloped by Kaiba’s heated stare.  “I want you.  I want you to be at the house.  I want to raise our kids together.  I want to go to sleep in the same bed with you, I want to wake up in your arms, I want a lot of other things.”

Kaiba wisely kept his mouth shut, opting to watch Joey with soft, sad eyes.  Joey wasn’t going to let it get to him.

“And I think you want that too.  You were happy this week.  A lot.  And this is sappy but I’m gonna lay it out.”

Kaiba gestured with one hand that Joey should continue.  The darkness didn’t leave much for Joey to see, but the way that the glare of the city glinted off of his eyes… it looked a little like water was pooling.  Joey took that to mean that his evaluation was correct, enough—Kaiba did love to correct people.

“I don’t know how many special moments, or special people we get.  And I don’t know how many days I’ll get to look over and see you.  And what a mess you are and how strangely you hide that and… and you know what?!”

Kaiba opened his lips a little, but didn’t have anything to say.  So Joey dismounted from the desk and continued.

“I came here, cause I’m done wasting my time.  You talk so much about your precious time, how busy you are.  But my time is mine, and I’m sick of watching the kids grow up without you. I’m sick of not seeing the magic parts of you, and the genius and the… we fit together, damn it!  We’re both fucked up, we’ve got no idea how to do any of this.  But I want to figure it out with you.”

Joey realized he hadn’t been breathing as he let it out.  He took a breather, trying to collect his thoughts, wiping at his own face.

“So. Yeah.  I have a proposal for you.  Fly with me back to New York.  Let’s try again.  Like, really try.  You actually be part of this—like my partner.  We’re too old for the on-again off-again bullshit.  I don’t want to have to get over you.  And honestly, I’m worried you’ll never get over me.”  Joey shrugged, “You’re not really the moving on kinda guy.”

Finally, Kaiba stood up behind the desk.  His shadow was so imposing, a terrifying mixture of height and darkness.  “So what?  You want me to be on vacation forever?”

Joey hadn’t anticipated that much vitriol in his voice.  He had been pretty proud of his speech.

“No.  But... you are just as free as you want to be.”

Joey wanted to run, felt the fight or flight instinct lighting up in his gut.  But he was finally done retreating.  Joey walked towards the silhouette.

“I’m going to ask you—just once more—do you want to do this?  Not my way, and definitely not your way.  But some new way that we can find together.”

“I am not a man of compromises, Jounouchi.”  Kaiba turned away.

“When you want something, really want something, nothing can stop you.  That’s what I’m counting on.”  

“When have you known me to do anything by halves, Jounouchi?”

“The last year of our marriage.” The answer had been given almost instantaneously, but it hung in the air for a full minute.  “But you’re right, I don’t think that’s really who you are.  So, come back to New York.  And prove it to me.”

Joey took one more step forward.  He could feel Kaiba’s tense breath, they were so close.  “You can be emotionally constipated on your own time.  I’ll go first: I’m sorry for not being more honest and just telling you what was going on.  Now it’s your turn to apologize.”

“What do you want me to apologize for?”  Kaiba demanded.

“You’re the genius.  Whatever you think will be enough to convince me to let you come back to the house so that we can live our lives together.  The way we were meant to.”

“I don’t—”  Kaiba started.

“Do not call my bluff, Kaiba.  You really don’t feel sorry about any of this?”  Joey waved his arms, gesturing at everything.

“… I…” Kaiba looked out at the vast city below, glowing electric with holograms and New Year’s decorations.

“You don’t have to say it.  The best apology is shaping up.  And I know you get it.  I’ve seen you get it.  So please.  Just… was it that bad?  Just being my husband for a few days?”

“No.”  Kaiba refocused, look drilling into Joey.  “I regret allowing you to labor under the assumption that our relationship was not important to me.  That you were not the brightest light in my life.”

Finally, achingly slow and gentle, Kaiba tilted his head down and pressed a kiss to Joey’s forehead.

“I cannot promise that it will never happen again.  But I can promise that I am not giving up on us.”

Fin.

[0ystercatcher]

But what is the problem with women criticizing birth control as being patriarchal? I’ve always disagreed w/ you about this but I just saw you bring it up again and I’m not understanding your points

oh i have 0 issues with women criticizing birth control, theres many things abt it that are criticizable and i encourage women to speak out abt those. I just do not think that birth control having the flaws often brought up inherently makes it partriarchal or, the way ive seen it phrased, "patriarchy personified". i also dont think sying "birth control is poison" is a fair critique of its v real problems. to be clear, im talking abt hormonal birth control, w more focus on the pill bc thats what i know most about/have more experience with, but afaik some of this applies to non hormonal methods as well.

My point here is that any critique on birth control, the way it was created and the way it exists today, cannot be disconnected from the society we live in (capitalist, patriarchal, racist, etc.) as well as the effects BC has had in it. I know the history of it is horrible and fucked up and i wish it wasnt, but this is not something we can change at this point, so it seems useless to me to veto BC based on that. I also understand (and agree!) when women criticize the way BC is over-prescribed and treated as a "cure all" by doctors in some countries, thats just bad medicine, smth we are subjected to too often. Also, yes, the way BC - like many other things related to medicine related to the female body specifically - has been left aside and not "updated" or improved on in any particularily significant ways (can we get fucking rid of those insane side effects please??) is annoying and another symptom of a society that undermines our health issues. Like, even though weve developed other non hormonal methods of BC, they are bound to the same limtations medicine for women has had for decades, ie little research, little understanding of our endocrine systems, little funding, little care for womens health, etc. These are absolutely consequences of a patriarchal world in which we are not seen as equally human, but under that logic we'd have to start arguing that all of womens medicine developed until now is "patriarchy personified" and "poisonous" and while theres def some points to be made wrt those ideas, its honestly a useless critique of them and leads us nowhere. Like, what, do we restart womens medicine from scratch? Whats the next step after "birth control is patriarchal". I also dont think its fair to act like BC is patriarchal bc men can use it to control us, in terms of, treating it as an expectation women need to carry out with while in a relationship, or taking advantage of it to pressure women to have unprotected sex. That is not a problem inherent in BC, its men grasping at every chance they get to treat and use women like objects. So like, what next??

Even though women have been (up until fairly recently basically) left aside by modern medical, anatomical research, etc., and what little exists of those useful discoveries and medicine can be used as Tools for men to maintain power over us, are some of those advances made still....not useful? Because they were developed in a patriarchal society? Organ transplants were developed w some pretty questionable ethics and still have fairly high risks and can also be used as a source of profit, and yet despite that i think the conclusion isnt "organ transplants r unethical and will kill you", bc they have saved millions of lives. I know its not the closest comparison but my point is, despite everything surrounding it, its undeniable to say BC has had incredibly positive effects on women as a whole, despite neglected individual side effects and a poor understanding of why it affects some women badly and not others (which as i said is connected to systemic issues that arent unique to BC). BC can have shit side effects, a pretty vile history, and yet it can still be responsible for allowing women to join the workforce like never before giving us so much more independance in society, and be able to control when, how and how many (if any) children to have. That alone is something women have never been able to do at this scale, this accurately, ever before in history. Unwanted pregnancies and maternal mortality plummet after BC becomes accesible in p much every country (tbf i dont think its the sole factor but its definitely one of them lmao). You can argue it can be and has been used as a tool for the patriarchy (and lets not forget, capitalism), but thats always going to be the case with every form of birth control or family planning method ever, just because we still live in a sexist misogynistic society and as such just saying "BC bad bc patriarchy" is just...kind of useless criticism and stating smth obvious.

And really, what are the alternatives. Do we go off BC just to one up men who will still exploit us whether we do or we dont? Do we need to go back to tracking our natural cycles to avoid pregnancy just so men start taking responsibility and magically stop "accidentally" getting us pregnant bc they dont want a kid theyre not going to bear anyways? Didnt dworkin write a whole book abt how doing that kinda shit just does not work out for us?? Should we rely on men to always wear condoms and act like stealthing isnt a massive, horribly common problem? Like, lmao, im not abt to act like BC is "feminist" or whatever bc thats dumb and a useless thing to say, but the reality simply is that BC has allowed millions of women around the world a chance to decide and stay true to their life plans, its lifted the weight and a lot of the fear of a potentially unplanned, maybe even forced pregnancy on sexually active women. For many of us, it has put the power to keep ourselves from having babies in our hands instead of in mens. Doesnt that get us a few steps closer to yknow, the big feminist goal of body autonomy for all women?? I just dont think its fair to take a very reasonable and necessary convo of "BC needs to be improved along w our knowledge of womens health" and turn it into "BC is patriarchal bc men can take advantage of it". The latter is just not BC's fault, as usual its just men treating us like objects lmao.

[horansqueen]

Vote For My Next Story

I'll try to keep this short. YOU&ME has ended, and it was a big part of the last few years of my life (along with AM Conversations). It'll probably always be my favorite and best story but that doesnt mean i want to stop writing.

please, know that the oneshots ideas are independent from the story ideas, meaning that i can write a story AND oneshots at the same time so let me know if youre interested!

(click on the read more to read the 10 synopsis of the story ideas I’d like to write)

AM Conversations & YOU&ME ideas:

-oneshots ideas for what happened after the story, before the story, or even in-between chapters in the story. you can send me ANY idea that you would want to read between Liv and Niall or other characters.

-oneshots ideas for any "what if" you can think of (i.e. what if one of them didnt love the other, what if they hadnt seen each other at the bakery, what if Liv had dated Louis, etc)

NEW STORY IDEAS:

NOTES: 

all the ideas are AU. 

 #2 #8 and #9 will include a few of the 1D boys. 

despite the title, #4 is a Niall fic

titles may change

                                   VOTE HERE!!!!

you can also vote by messaging me.

in the form, theres a place for comments but you dont have to leave any

you also dont have to leave your name or anything

thank you if you vote, it means a lot to me!

ill keep this open for a while, until i get enough votes :)

1- UNPREDICTABLE

They haven't seen each other since high school and they hadn't missed each other at all. In fact, they never really could stand each other. Her, a bit of a rebel, listening to punk music, searching for trouble whenever she could... and him, the good boy, popular and loved by everyone, who could rarely be seen without his guitar. It's been a few years already but not many things had changed and they still didn't have anything in common... except one thing. Both of them aspired to become famous with their music. With a twist of fate, they end up in each other's lives again and if they can put aside their resentment for one another, maybe they could bring something incredibly precious to each other. But nothing has ever been uncertain.

This is the story of two opposite persons who share a burning passion that may slowly bring them closer... or make the hatred they already feel for each other even more intense.

2- D.N.A. (daddies now available)

The test was positive. I was pregnant. The problem was, I didn’t know who the father was. It could be my ex boyfriend Liam, his best friend Niall or my best friend Louis. Or maybe it could be that boy I randomly had sex with, Harry... I had no idea and I was not going to find out soon.¸

All I knew was I had to tell four boys that there was a possibility for them to be a daddy in less than a year. Can you just imagine their reaction?

Contrary to all expectations, they accepted their fates.. somehow. And no matter who his daddy was, “little human” was going to get a lot of attention from a lot of men. Exactly like me.

This is my pregnancy story. And it was just the beginning of a long journey.

3- MEANT TO BE

When they first met, Louis was all *MAIN GIRL* ever wanted. However, a decade later the high school sweethearts had change and she felt like most of the sparkles she once had were now gone. Then she met Niall and it clicked instantly and intensely and since then, they’ve been seeing each other in secret, lying to their whole entourage about the nature of their relationship. Feelings started to grow, things started to change, and maybe, just maybe, it’s meant to be. Or maybe not.

A tale of broken hearts, unforgettable love and many… way too many lies.

4- LIVING WITH LOUIS TOMLINSON

Call me Queen Catastrophe. I lost my job, my boyfriend, my best girl friend and my apartment on the same day. Just a little friday afternoon like all the others, right?

Thank god, my best friend Louis was there to save the day. Nothing unusual. I was supposed to crash at his apartment for one night and then walk on my pride and go back to my parents to admit how much of a failure I really am.

However, Louis had other plans : he wanted me to move in with him. That’s when my story really starts. Mutual feelings, drunken sex, grocery shopping, fights that end up with porcelain thrown around the kitchen (I’m an intense person, I know) but most of all, his best guy friend stealing his (our, now) couch at least 5 nights a week.

I despise Niall Horan with all my heart. Him and his stupid charm, his flirty smile and his hands that always ended up in places they shouldn’t. He was threatening to come between Louis and I. He was slowly taking more space in our apartment… and in my heart.

Fuck, I hate Niall Horan with a passion.

5- FOR YOUR LOVE

After months of trying to get pregnant, Niall and his long-time girlfriend found out she was sterile. The news obviously shook their relationship and sparked a few arguments but after a long discussion, they found only one solution : hire a surrogate mother. As days go by, Niall's relationship gets harder and harder to save, and his connection with the surrogate mother of his child becomes tighter. Soon, he gets caught in feelings he can't explain and definitely can't understand. But life is not as easy as just following your feelings.

A story of unsettling feelings, confusing relationships, a deep and strong connection but mostly, decisions impossible to make. Can this really end well?

6- DATING FOR DUMMIES

*MAIN GIRL* has tried blind dates, dating apps, and speed dating to find her soulmate with no good result. Niall has tried pretty much the same without much more success. With all the bizarre, creepy and incompatible persons they meet, they're so close to give up on love until they meet each other through a friend. After a bottle of wine and a long discussion, they start thinking that maybe they were the problem, and that they're too dumb for dating. That's when they decide to make a list of what they individually want and need on a first date and finally decide to try it together. Unfortunately, things rarely go as planned and they will both realize that feelings can't be controlled.

When all else fails, the solution will always be to follow your heart.

7- THE BREAK-UP PLAN

*MAIN GIRL* and Niall's relationship had started when they had barely entered their teenager years. Now, over 10 years later, they feel like something is missing. They didn't know anything else besides each other and it had to change. They still planned on spending forever together but their lack of experiences and mistakes seemed to be an obstacle between them.

They agreed on  break that was not really a break. for six whole months, they would be able to do whatever they wanted to do with whoever they wanted to. Going to parties, leaving for a whole weekend with friends without giving any news, dating and even screwing whoever they wanted, nothing was out of reach.

They only had one rule : honesty. Every friday night, they'd meet and spend the whole night together, talking, making out or just cuddling until they'd fall asleep, to make sure their love was preserved.

Unfortunately, things rarely go as planned and seeing the person you love the most in the world be happy without you is something almost impossible to accept.

A story about angry tears, painful jealousy, sweet sweet revenge and realizing who your real soulmate is. Watch out, it's gonna hurt.

8- HOT MESS

*MAIN GIRL* has always been a bit of a rebel who didn't really care about much. She just enjoyed life the way she wanted to and never really paid attention to anything else. If she wanted something, she did everything she could to get it, no matter who she'd hurt in the process. After a few years away from her hometown, family and friends, she finally comes back to realize that a lot of things have changed. Jumping in her twin brother Liam's life without being invited, she's about to make a mess of everything he had made so much effort to build by flirting with every single one of his friends without any shame. She's not looking for a relationship, she's just looking to have some fun and break a few hearts... but perhaps, she's about to make a mess of her own heart.

Sometimes, you play the game and some other very rare times, the game plays you.

9- 15 Complicated Rules

I have no idea how I got into this mess but somehow, I ended up with 4 different fuck buddies. I thought I was going crazy until I made a strict schedule of the days and time I would see them, and wrote down a few rules I had to respect myself. A useful guide to manege my 4 fuck friends. Monday for my ex boyfriend, tuesday for my co-worker, wednesday for my old best friend and thursday for a family friend. It could work, right?

I've never been much of an organised person but I honestly thought I could make this work. Everything went as planned for a few months until I broke one rule after the other. That's when I knew I was in deep shit. These are my 15 complicated rules to have fuck buddies. And this is the story of my downfall and the incredible mess I put myself into. After all, rule 15 was 'Never Fall In Love' and I guess that's something I couldn't control, even if I wanted to.

10- DISCONNECTED

When *MAIN GIRL* switches college to finally follow her dreams, she was ready to face anything and everything that would come her way. After all, she had been through so much already, right? The problem was, she didn't expect to be stuck in a room with someone who gets on her last nerves because of a paperwork mistake. Despite trying to find an other place to live or spend her time talking to the administration, she had to face the fact that this situation wouldn't change for a few months. Niall knew how to piss her off and he clearly abused that superpower, doing anything and everything he can to annoy the most pretentious and stuck-up person he had ever met. Perhaps fate is having a good laugh, because they seem to get stuck together way more often than not, but it's not until they let down their defense that they will see who the other really is... if that ever happens.

Apparently, some people are in your life to teach you something and make you grow. Perhaps, if you take the time to listen to them and open up to them, your karmic soulmate can turn into your twin flame... or not.

11- NEW ANGEL

When *MAIN GIRL 1* breaks up with Niall, he takes it harder than he thought he would, realizing in the process all the feelings he had for her. After a few weeks locked by himself in his room, his friends take him out on a crazy night and he decides he needs someone else, if only to get over the girl he loves. That’s when he meets *MAIN GIRL 2* and bring her back home.  However, on the next morning, he realizes he doesn't want her to leave, and that despite the feelings he has for *main girl 1*, he could definitely develop something with *main girl 2*. Everything is going amazingly well for a few weeks until what Niall never thought would happen actually happens : *main girl 1* calls him to tell him she regrets leaving him. Now confused and stressed, Niall is going to have to make a choice between the girl he thought he'd spend his life with, and a girl he just met that makes his heart race. And he's going to get help on his journey from someone he would never have thought of.

A story about making choices, creating connections, messy hearts and confusing emotions.

(i have many ideas for this one but i dont want to give everything away!)

[dutydreamed-a]

pick five tropes for your character!

01. BADASS BOOKWORM

These characters are quiet, smart, and seemingly physically unimposing, but with Hidden Depths of formidable physical and practical skills. They are Brains and Brawn, with brains dominant, if not quite Strong and Skilled.

Their physical abilities might result from applying their genius to solve physical challenges like they were math problems. Their attention to detail might also result in a Diagnosis from Dr. Badass. While some badass bookworms are surprisingly strong, others might be Weak, but Skilled, relying on flawless technique or supernatural abilities. Sometimes a bookworm can lack any special physical traits, but has access to an Impossibly Cool Weapon or enough firepower to make toe-to-toe combat, as they say, academic. A favorite weapon of the bookworm might even be what's always close at hand.

Elderly examples are often Old Masters who have spent decades contemplating philosophy and punching trees in half. Another common type is the Adventurer Archaeologist, who spends as much time studying in the University as that type does evading the poison-tipped arrows of angry natives. If the bookworms are a bit ditzy or talented but lack common-sense/etc, expect them to be Crouching Moron, Hidden Badass. If they prefer not to fight, doing so only when they must, then they have Minored in Ass-Kicking. They are very likely to wear Specs of Awesome. In a Five-Man Band specializing in Brains, a Badass Bookworm might as well be The Big Guy.

The trope is the converse of Genius Bruiser. A Badass Bookworm looks like your standard geek, but then displays a surprising amount of physical prowess, whereas a Genius Bruiser looks big, strong, and tough, then unexpectedly shows off an intellectual side. See Muggle with a Degree in Magic if their bookworm side is what's making them impressive.

02. SPIRITED YOUNG LADY

There is a certain kind of character commonly found in historical fiction set in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries (though she can appear earlier or later, too). Her literary ancestress can be found in some of the best-loved novels of the Regency and Victorian eras. She is the girl who bends the rules just a little. Oh, she can dance a country dance or pour tea with the best of them, but she may also be a good walker or horseback rider. She may be the most intelligent girl in the story, and she is almost certainly the wittiest and the most outspoken, sometimes earning her the title of spitfire. She may be talented in more practical ways, as well: if given the opportunity, she may turn out to be a wise investor, and she may harbor talent for music, writing, or art that goes beyond drawing room entertainment and might become a means of financial independence if necessary. In rare cases, she may even solve a murder. Though she occasionally runs into some trouble, especially if she fails to obey the powers that be, she usually comes through in the end. She will be the Veronica of a Betty and Veronica love triangle, and the hero is likely to find her more enticing than her more docile sisters.

The Spirited Young Lady has the same grace and style as the Proper Lady plus an added spark of attitude or rebellion that is missing from her more-prim-and-proper literary cousin. This is what makes her such a popular character today: she is the character modern audiences can most admire or relate to. In historical fiction, she is likely to be a proto-feminist. In nineteenth-century literature, she may not speak out for women's rights generally (a few examples do), but she will speak out for her rights pretty clearly. Her willingness to say what she wants is part of what makes her stand out.

03. UNDYING LOYALTY

A character characterized by their loyalty. Can be a trait of both heroes and villains. Most of them are supporting characters, intended as sympathetic. Indeed, if used on a villain, it can sometimes be used to flesh them out and give them redeeming qualities. Alternatively, it can be negatively portrayed as a threat to conscience.

When given to a main character or one in an authority position, expect it to manifest itself in protective instinct: as a Papa Wolf or The Caretaker or someone who is A Father to His Men. When given to a Sidekick, expect it to be an unselfish willingness to support the main character. It can also be given to friends who, despite their differences, are genuinely fond of the other, and bonus points if it works both ways.

Should the object of this loyalty die, expect generous helpings of Due to the Dead as the loyal one works to honor the fallen one's memory.

See also: My Country, Right or Wrong, My Master, Right or Wrong, Thicker Than Water, I Will Wait for You and I Am Spartacus. An Act of True Love will often be used to prove how loyal one character is to another, by having them perform a great sacrifice to show that they'll put someone else's needs before their own.

Similar to but not to be confused with Blind Obedience, where a character follows unquestioningly believing their liege to be infallible. A loyal character isn't necessarily defined as a perpetual Yes-Man, and may know when to defy or contradict the subject of their devotion, especially if it's as much for their well being as their own. At times this trope might actually come at the expense of those they follow, since they will generally not obey an order that comes at their expense or abandonment.

04. STRANGER IN A FAMILIAR LAND

A character returns home after a long absence and finds that they no longer fit in, either because their home has changed too much over time, because they themselves were changed by their experiences or both. In the second case, it can lead to a But Now I Must Go sentiment. In less extreme cases, the character may eventually settle down again with some effort.

Prominent real-life examples are usually based on soldiers returning home, most commonly from World War I or The Vietnam War, or prisoners who find after serving their sentences that they can't adapt to life "outside". This is also relatively common among anthropologists and related fieldworkers who come home after a long stint in another society only to realize how bizarre their own culture really is. Another common case is people who were raised in another culture who travel back to their family's homeland — despite sharing cultural ties due to their family's past, they experience Heritage Disconnect and find themselves alienated due to their foreign upbringing.

Present in Western literature as early as in Homer's The Odyssey, making it Older Than Feudalism.

Related to You Can't Go Home Again, Never Accepted in His Hometown, Going Native, and possibly So What Do We Do Now?. This experience may be part of causing the character in question to go From Camouflage to Criminal. Occasionally overlaps with Where It All Began. Contrast Home Sweet Home — although this trope may also make the character realize that his home is no longer the place where he used to live. He may find that his old bed is too soft and he now Prefers Rocks to Pillows.

05. I DID WHAT I HAD TO DO

Sometimes a decent person has to do something bad because it is the only way to prevent something worse from happening. 'I Did What I Had To Do' generally involves an after-the-fact justification for morally questionable actions. The culprit presents this statement when he's confronted with a "What Were You Thinking?" or "What the Hell, Hero?" reaction from someone (particularly The Heart) to whom he owes an explanation.

The questioned character will generally say, "I did what I had to do." And, more often than not, nothing else.

The consequences of such an action vary, of course, depending on the work's place in the Sliding Scale of Idealism vs. Cynicism. A character who sincerely regrets the 'necessary' action is likely to regard it as Dirty Business, suffer Past Experience Nightmares, or try to forget through chemical means. Someone who realizes they don't feel all that bad about the 'necessity' may be suffering from Start of Darkness. A character who was already rather amoral might say this only because they're upset that they had to get their hands dirty.

Generally associated with OOC Is Serious Business. Compare Well-Intentioned Extremist and It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time. When the character's motivation is her responsibility to those under her command, see The Chains of Commanding. If the consequences shown actually justify the action, then The Extremist Was Right. A character growing too comfortable with 'doing what I had to do' is guilty of a Reverse Slippery Slope Fallacy. Can be a Moral Event Horizon if it was particularly cruel or if they're particularly callous and nonchalant about it when confronted. If invoked large-scale by a Visionary Villain, it's Utopia Justifies the Means. Also, see Just Following Orders.

TAGGED BY: @standbetween

TAGGING: @edithmaslow @wclfdreamt @papilosomnia @inqisita @highaever and you, yes you reading this right now

[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

[the-yellowturtle]

ZKDD Day 30: Forever Family

Title: If One of Your Soulmates Told You to Go Jump in the River, Would You?

Rating: T (cussing, mentioned past character death, brief mention of infanticide)

Summary: Zuko always believed his destiny was tied to the Avatar, he just never thought it would be in this way. (Fruits Basket!AU)

Note: A/N can be found on AO3 (including a chart to figure out your atla zodiac lol) Also! I would appreciate feedback because I’m thinking of expanding on this idea more for the Zutara Big Bang :)

@zkdrabbledecember

A long time ago, the Avatar lived together in harmony with their twelve friends: the shirshu, the flying bison, the tiger seal, the jackalope, the dragon, the koi fish, the ostrich horse, the koala sheep, the winged lemur, the turtleduck, the polar bear dog, and the badgermole.

Unfortunately, those idyllic days did not last forever. Strife was brewing between the Spirit and Human Worlds, and only the Avatar was capable of restoring balance. There was no choice, but to leave the Spirit World and to live among the humans. The Avatar was heartbroken to be separated from their closest friends, but they knew they must do so, or great calamity would befall the world.

The Twelve understood why the Avatar must go, however, they could not bear to be parted from the one that had brought them all together.

“We will follow you. We will join you in bringing balance to the Spirit and Human Worlds,” the Twelve told the Avatar.

“Let us be together forever,” the Avatar responded with joy. “May we always find each other in every life.

From that day onward, the Avatar has always been accompanied by members of the Twelve. For there is nothing on this planet that is more powerful than the bond between the Twelve and the Avatar. They are destined to be together. Forever.

___

Everyone had always thought he was a fool for choosing to pursue the Avatar.

Zuko had been given two avenues to regain his honor, and he had opted to search for the mythical figure that had been missing for over a century. His crew detested his decision, and Uncle… Uncle was apathetic towards his efforts at best; most likely disappointed he could not relive his glory days through his nephew.

He knew others thought that he had given up, that he had never planned on returning to his place in the Fire Nation, that he was too weak and too much of a coward to hunt members of the Twelve. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

He would gladly struggle and fight for as long as possible because he knew his destiny. His destiny was to capture the Avatar, and the airbender’s reemergence had proven him correct. It was only a matter of time now.

The first few attempts had gone astray, but Zuko had a good feeling about collaborating with the pirates to capture the waterbender to use as bait. It didn’t matter that Uncle did not agree with his methods, and that Zuko had to set off by himself with only a small squadron. He would prove Uncle and everyone else wrong; he had to.

___

When you were one of the Twelve, touch was the most intimate of things. Any form of embrace would trigger the transformation, so most Zodiac members learnt to dance around it; learnt how to get out of the societal norms that would so often lead to falling into other’s arms.

But Katara thrived on it. She patted heads, held hands, bumped shoulders, and kissed foreheads. She loved to touch others; to get as close as possible. She knew it was dangerous, but she loved it. She wanted others to know that she cared for them.

Before Aang, she had only ever been hugged by her family. Some of her favorite memories were of when her mom would let her transform and spend the whole day cuddling together in the furs. (Only under duress would she admit that Sokka carrying her around like a polar dog pup were also some of her favorites).

For her whole life, an embrace had only ever been a signifier of the utmost trust and affection. Hugs and cuddles were sacred, not a thing to be feared.

However, that was before Aang and before leaving the Southern Water Tribe and before seeing the wanted posters of rumored members of the Twelve.

That was before Zuko had snuck up on her, said that spirits awful line, and sent her careening back into the arms of one of the pirates. That was before time stopped for a moment and her stomach dropped and she thought to herself: fuck .

___

Katara expected to see a few things when she opened her eyes:

The puff of smoke from her transformation? Check.

Her pile of clothes on the ground? Check.

Pirates and Fire Nation soldiers charging at her? Check.

What Katara was never expecting to see —not even after a thousand years — was a poof of smoke similar to her own clearing up, and a turtleduck emerging from a pile of red and gold armor.

Before her mind could even form the question of what in the Four Nations just happened, one of the soldiers shouted, “Prince Zuko is a traitor! Seize him and the tiger seal!”

“Oh no you don’t,” the Pirate Captain sneered, “We’ll be the ones gettin’ the reward for the turtleduck and tiger seal.”

And then all hell broke loose.

With all of her might, Katara bounced her way between the fighting pirates and soldiers, biting and tail whipping as she went. She needed to get to the river; outswimming them was the only plausible method of escape.

She was almost there, the water practically touching her flippers, when she heard a familiar raspy voice command, “Get back! I’m your Prince!” followed by hisses of pain.

Zuko.

Her enemy. The boy who relentlessly chased them around the world, trying to kidnap Aang and destroy any chance at peace. And the boy, who apparently was one of her soulmates. One of the people she had shared countless lifetimes with maintaining balance. The boy who was near the water, but was too busy breathing fire at the advancing troops to notice his surroundings.

She didn’t know why he spent so long pursuing them when he could have joined them, but she did know that he needed some help. And Katara never turned her back on people who needed her.

So she screamed, “Zuko! Go jump in the river!”

___

Zuko did not know what was happening.

He did not know why one of his men stumbling into him caused a tiny explosion. He did not know why he’s suddenly the size of a cat. He did not know why he appeared to have a beak and a shell now. He did not know why his men were calling him a traitor.

Zuko only knew one thing: the spirits hated him.

So he ran because the men chased him. He screamed because they further besmirched his honor with lies. He breathed fire because they attacked him.

He was disconnected from reality; the only thing that felt real was the pounding in his ears and the churning of his stomach.

“Zuko! Go jump in the river!”

It was the waterbender. The tiger seal. She called to him from the river bank, slapping her fins against the water for emphasis. “Jump in the river!”

So he jumped.

___

There was a saying in the Fire Nation navy: A decent sailor knows the changes of the tides; a great sailor knows the cycles of the Twelve .

As important as the knowledge contained in the official seafaring manual was, it did not bring glory to their homeland. Any average Lee could spew off the fuel consumption rate of a Fire Nation cruiser; only the greatest of men could present the Fire Lord with a member of the Twelve in chains. And even then, only the best of them would be permitted to carry out the execution themselves.

Captain Zhao had been granted this honor thirteen times. In fact, he was the most successful hunter of the Twelve in the history of the Fire Nation. Not even the Dragon of the West, with a measly count of three kills, could compare to him. There was a reason the old man was wasting away on a dilapidated rust bucket, and Zhao was being heralded as the Zodiac Killer.

Yes, Zhao was quite proud of his accomplishments, but he wanted more. He had brought thirteen members of the Twelve to their knees before the people of Caldera City, but four of those had been repeats. And where was the glory in that?

No one had ever managed a complete set, but Zhao would most definitely be the first. The jackalope, koi fish, and turtleduck were the only ones left.

The jackalope was still at large in the Earth Kingdom, but was most likely under the protection of Omashu’s Mad King. After dealing with the Northern Water Tribe, Omashu would be the next stronghold to fall to the Fire Nation.

The koi fish had always been the trickiest of the Twelve to catch. This was not due to the koi fish being particularly intelligent or skillful, but simply because it was a creature cursed with terrible luck. Most parents were terrified when their newborn transformed into a fish, and by the time they realized what was happening; their fish child had already suffocated. As a result, it was impossible to know for sure how many incarnations of the koi fish had been reborn since the start of the Hundred Year War.

The koi fish of the Zodiac would be an excellent addition to his collection, but Zhao had it on good authority that there’s an even better prize in the Northern Water Tribe. Besides, it’s been at least two decades since the North had presented the Fire Nation with one of the Twelve, perhaps Zhao would come across a pleasant surprise during his expedition.

And then there was the turtleduck. After confirmation that the previous turtleduck had been an Earth Kingdom warrior, Zhao had been scouring the Poles for rumors. He had assumed the next would be of Water descent, but oh how shortsighted he had been.

How could he have forgotten how often Earth liked to mix themselves with others? The warrior had not been an Earth incarnation, but one of Air.

The current cycle was Fire. And after reading the memo on his desk about reports of pirates seeing a scarred boy transform into a turtleduck, he knew exactly who to look for.

Zhao had always enjoyed the hunt, but this was shaping up to be his favorite. It’s not everyday you get to kill a prince, after all.

[hangmansradio]

are you gonna change Grant's pronouns?

Well nonny... Let me answer your question but also explain the reasoning behind my answer. So I apologise in advance if this ends up being quite long-winded.  In short, my answer is no. But please don’t think any less of me and let me try to explain. I’ve talked to so many people about this and been having a really hard time trying to decide what to do. My knee-jerk reaction when I heard everyone saying they were going to change pronouns was that I didn’t want to do that. And then I felt like an awful person for feeling that way, and basically spent a day believing I’m a hideous person and trying to beat my brain into thinking differently.  I’ve talked to people who identify as cis, as trans and as non-binary. I have dozens of friends who slip up and down the gender spectrum sometimes on the daily and it makes no odds to me how someone identifies. You can ask me to call you by any pronoun you desire, you could tell me you’ve decided to live your life as a pot-plant, its all good!  I read the interview with Grant where they talk about their gender and how they were exploring things like cross-dressing as young as ten. And the whole interview felt very relaxed, and not at all like a sort of... coming out tale, for lack of a better phrase. Grant didn’t seem to be dictating (to me at least) that they wanted people to alter the way they talk about them. They were just discussing gender and new words for gender in the context of how times have changed. How they themself didn’t have words like gender fluid or non-binary when they were young, and that this is why things like the t slur ended up in the Invisibles. But I digress. Grant is now sixty years old, which means they’ve had roughly fifty years living their life as non-binary, even if they didn’t exactly have the words for it. Which says to me that they’re probably extremely comfortable with it, relaxed, and have no qualms or issues that tend to surface in young people. So... Why was my instinct reaction to changing my work anything less than joyful acceptance? I’ve asked myself this question over and over. I have been told I’m being ignorant. Have been told that as a cis person I have no comprehension of why pronouns are important. I spent yesterday evening crying to myself, when I was already sick in bed, and made quite the sorry sight.  And the thing is, as a writer, I’ve spent the last two decades getting into other peoples mindsets in order to write a myriad of characters. And so far, people tell me I do this quite well. I have a degree in psychology. I am working towards a masters degree in psychology. I have done separate studies into counselling specifically. Understanding people is my thing. It’s what I do.  So why then, do I not want to change the pronouns? In answer, I had to stop and think entirely selfishly. I had to look into myself and away from the all those voices telling me I don’t understand or that I’m ignorant, and question what made me feel uncomfortable. And the answer is quite simple. I write fanfiction, yes. But the characters I create are MINE. I do not write about Grant Morrison the comic book writer. I write about a character all my own, and slap the face of Grant onto it. I don’t read MCR fanfiction, or any fanfiction about real life people because it makes me uncomfortable, and recently I’ve been warring with myself about leaving the MCR category when it comes to writing, because for me... the disconnect between real people and my characters is wholly, utterly complete.  If I could explain it simply - I view my characters (all of them) as OC’s. But for the sake of writing in the same category I have been for years, and thus keeping the readers I adore so much and the friends I have made - I use MCR or Grant or their wives as the actors and actresses to play the roles of my characters. My fanfiction is a movie in my head, and the people whose names and faces I borrow are my cast. So for me... to change my fiction every time something changes in the real world just does not compute in my head. If Gerard Way was to act in a film today, and announce tomorrow that he prefers she/her pronouns, the movie wouldn’t be re-filmed to accommodate. If Grant Morrison decided tomorrow that they would like to act in movies, I’m almost certain they wouldn’t insist on only being cast in non-binary roles. Equally, I have read fanfiction in the past that gender-swaps all members of MCR. I have read fanfiction that casts them as trans characters. I have read fiction where they are gay, straight, ace. I myself have written them as vampires, werewolves, mafia dons...  For years, Gerard and Frank especially have talked about how frerard fanfiction makes them uncomfortable. Yet that has always been my main forte. I do not write it to be disrespectful, and it is my sincerest wish they never read it or have it mentioned to them. It is just fiction... it’s transformative work, and the morals are dubious I agree, which is why I still am considering leaving the MCR fandom for good. So... If I have been writing about two straight men and making them gay for years and years... If I have been writing Mikey (who we all know is a sweetie pie) as an evil character multiple times... If I have taken their straight wives and wrote them as lesbians... Then surely, surely, it doesn’t make sense for me to go back to the work I have written in the past and change it now for the sake of something happening in real life? Something that Grant themselves have not come out and made a statement about, and probably never will, because to them, it’s not a big deal. Or so it feels to me. In short (and I apologise again for the length of this answer), fanfiction to me has always been FICTION. I cannot stress this enough. I do not, and will not, factor the real world into it because the whole point is that it is a world of my own creation. If I decided to write a fic tomorrow that had Grant as a female presenting octopus no one would bat an eye. And to not change their pronouns is not meant as a statement or a slight, far from it. It is simply that those stories were written before the change, and were not about a non-binary character. And as someone who often writes erotic stories, is it my place to try and write sex scenes involving a non-binary character when, as so many have kindly informed me, I am ignorant in this matter? Especially when, in my eyes at least, writing someone as non-binary is not as easy as simply changing the pronouns and letting the story remain the same in every other aspect. I hope this makes sense and doesn’t make me come across as someone who is being cruel or stubborn for no reason. Or as someone who just doesn’t understand. If there is one thing I have learnt from talking to so many people yesterday, it is that there is no right or wrong answer, and the only true way to avoid hurting one another is to listen to each other and accept that we all feel very strongly about this, and sometimes for different reasons.  Fanfiction shouldn’t be something that others can dictate. It was always about reading and writing what you enjoy, and if you dislike it, then hit the back button.  That being said - The Devil’s Furnace and Domino will have the pronouns changed, out of respect to Ry who has requested as much and who owns the soul of those stories as much as I do. 💜

[rumblejunky]

2010-2020

I was many people this decade.

I was a university student, with a 4.0 GPA. Lauded for my sensational writing and my artistic vision. I started making money off of my writing—-that was a dream come true. I was also a college dropout, holding my ex boyfriend’s hand on San Pedro and 6th street, downtown Los Ángeles, Skid Row. Buying $500 worth of heroin and crack on a near daily basis. Would you believe me if i said that was a dream come true too?

I was in love. Ironically with men who’s names all started with J. On paper, the variances in their character would make you think they were all vastly different. Looking back, they were all broken in some fashion. Some were broken in temporary ways, others have pain coursing through their veins. Well rounded men have never been attracted to me, at least, not unless they have a secret voyeur side that longed for something unconventional. Loving the crazy girl is a fun story to tell at the dinner table years after the fact. But it’s not the girl you marry. I learned that the hard way.

I traveled around the world, met a lot of people. Some I found deplorable and others who were my best friends, if only for one night, on lease. I was in Cancun during spring break and New Orleans during Mardi Gras. I was also clinically depressed, with unmedicsted PTSD. Convinced I would be assaulted at the grocery store. I was locked away from the world for months at a time. I only traveled from the bedroom to the bathroom. I came to resent the sun.

I was on a road-trip with the love of my life for 4 months. Everywhere from San Diego to Humboldt county. Finding our favorite songs along the way. I was then in rehab, unable to get ahold of him. Worried he’d gone to jail again or worse, found a new girl.

I moved back to my hometown of Portland, and learned it’s true that you can never go home again. I came to love Salt Lake City for all its authentic weirdness. The love child of cartel members and Mormons. I lived in Los Ángeles. But not the version you see on TV, something much better. I miss it still.

I made new friends, and managed to keep some from the previous decade. A few of them promised to never give up on me, and the best of them never did, even when their were seasons where they were disconnected. They still loved me from afar. I had moments where I gave them my all. I also had moments where I robbed them blind. Thank God many of them are better people than I, and filled with forgivness. Maybe it’s because I make them laugh.

I was a party girl. I was popping ecstasy pills and snorting cocaine at 15. I had a DUI at 18. I crashed my car off the side of the interstate. It was the first time i should have died. I was over it at 21 when everyone else I knew had just started going through their own party phase. I found heroin, pure hell disguised as love. All my life I wanted to be able to say that I didn’t care what people thought of me. Heroin made that possible. A sensory deprivation tank for the soul. I fell in love with a feeling that’s not even real. I experienced the greatest euphoria on the fucking planet, and I paid the price each time I was dope sick, ripped off, hit on by the dealer. Everything desperate people do for dope? I’ve done. It made me a better and worse person.

I was irredeemably awful, but sometimes I was kind and compassionate. I was loving, thoughtful Elizabeth, and I was hedonistic, selfish Lizzie. I was happy to make it through another year. And now, I’m happy to have made it through a decade. A decade I never anticipated to survive. Good things are coming. I hope for a decade full of far more of the wonderful, with just enough bad to keep it interesting.