Yes That One

Aka Drarryking and Teawraith. This is my writing blog. I have others, if you'd like to see them just ask :)

[hangingslothcentral]

another rec list for those of you seeking more audio drama for your ears!! this one is made up of audio dramas that made me want to make audio dramas, and which i reference in the show I make.

The White Vault still holds the title for the only show to ever make me yelp in terror. I fell asleep in the middle of an episode and woke up at the worst possible moment. This show has spectacular writing and performance and is definitely one for those people who find the vast expanse of nothingness at the poles of our planet equally fascinating and terrifying. This show has some queer rep but it's very quiet; everyone is too busy shitting their pants to talk much about their personal lives most of the time. There are five seasons, each with something unique to offer, and it reached it's spectacular conclusion earlier this year. It's available across platforms.

Limetown begins as a sort of fake true-crime documentary about the titular Limetown. If you like your horror with a side of conspiracy, this is the show for you. It's short at just two seasons, and fun fact: I accidentally listened to season two before I listened to season one and had a very wild time. I have since listened to it beginning to end and yes it did make more sense in order. I cannot recall whether it had any queer rep. It also had a facebook visual adaptation, but I have never watched it so I cannot comment on its quality. This show has been around for some time, but it's still a gem, and you can find it wherever you listen to podcasts.

Welcome to Night Vale, a true titan of the audio fiction space, Night Vale has had an influence on so many newer shows that you can feel its echoes everywhere. Queer at heart, and offering a soft, mundane sort of horror, for me what makes Night Vale special is the way that it highlights one of the most terrifying traits of the human race; our capacity to get used to pretty much anything and accept it as ordinary. After ten years, the show is still going, and has over two hundred episodes. You can listen beginning to where the story has reached so far, or take a more eclectic approach and dip in and out as you please. Both listening methods have something to offer. I've listened to Night Vale on and off since about six months after it originally started airing, and it's available in all the places you might expect to find it.

The Magnus Archives, another giant of the audio fiction space, much beloved by many listeners and inspiration for countless fanworks still despite the fact the show has now finished. The show begins as an anthology of horror stories told as reports of sinister happenings to the Magnus Institute, but quickly it becomes much more. The show is a shining example of what can be done with the framing device of a character sitting down and recording himself in semi-private. By the end of its run, the show accumulates a fair amount of queer representation, and all five seasons of the show are available across platforms, ending at the spectacular MAG 200.

I Am In Eskew. I love a story about a world just out of sight. This show has an abundance of subtle weird horror done right, shot through with more straight-forward horrors. It moves slowly, the horrors at hand growing and changing as you listen. There's a quiet calm to the delivery throughout this show which really emphasises the strangeness of the story. The folks who made this show went on to create the Silt Verses, which is another absolutely spectacular ride. It's a fun, unsettling time, and a complete story you can find wherever you listen to podcasts.

The ways these shows influenced the way I made @spiritboxradio are massive. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I loved about each of them and learning what I could about how each of them is put together. There are references to them all scattered through the show, but most frequently I end up making references to the Magnus Archives, mostly because I had severe TMA brainrot at the time of the show's conception in August 2020. It cannot be helped. If you end up tuning into the show, I shall answer you in advance: yes the Tim thing is deliberate, and so are the other the ones. Have fun reference spotting!!

[thatgaywizard]

That feeling when you’re butch but they pressure you into wearing a dress anyway...

[thatgaywizard]

I really wanna look at what tumblr has on Gideon the Ninth but I’m only halfway through the book and I don’t wanna spoil it

[darklordslove]

tfw your ex-husband still wears your wedding ring bloodpact around his neck after all these years

Merlin, such drama in the Triwizard Tournament this year

I’ll finish this someday but I just had to show u guys

[thatgaywizard]

I am still interested in gay wizards for the record

[thatgaywizard]

If anyone had some doubt

[thatgaywizard]

I am still interested in gay wizards for the record

[thatgaywizard]

The irony of the fact that after I made that drunk post about how much I’m not interested in men I got a spam/porn bot message ? From a (fake?) cis dude telling me how great I look in my picture (there’s none on here) and that they want to talk to me or something. Like lol? What algorithm ya’ll using?

[thatgaywizard]

You know what’s strange, as I’ve grown older I’ve become less interested in men. I don’t mean in life, I mean as subject matter, but yes also in life- to which I really mean no offense towards anyone identifying as male, but as a vagina wielding individual who identifies as female I feel I am justified showing no interest in the “opposite sex” at this time in my life. I used to only want to read or write or watch stories about men. I only wanted to see romance between men. But now that I’ve cast aside my odd socially induced prejudice against women I have little interest in revisiting men. I have reached the point where women are more interesting, not the cardboard petty cut outs created by men to fit the role of sexual object. I am interested in women as complex characters. I am interested in women who are sexually attracted to women in all sorts of ways, stereotypical roles of any gender being played out between women, the battles or women and the women warriors, and the thoughts and struggles of women. I was interested in men once but only because I did not realize. Women were not what they had been made out to be.

[morbidology]

The Oliver Family went missing in 1898. Their home, which is located in Chester, Pennsylvania, was left abandoned as the family never returned and were never heard of or seen again. Locals say you can sometimes see ghostly figures of the family in the windows of the derelict mansion.

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

[thatgaywizard]

@people who get mad when characters in stories don't make more sensible decisions and say they should have done it different: Do you know how boring a story where everyone has good common sense and makes sound decisions is?

[drarryking]

My live journal has been retrieved. I had to figure out my passwords and everything again. It’s empty now but if you’re on there feel free to add me because I’m sure I’ll start posting stuff soon and things will get weird ( in a good way). I have to figure out how to work that site -BUT THE MOBILE APP IS SO NiCE LOOKING :•

[thatgaywizard]

Fricken frack it's midnight and I'm so tired but I already had a half a cup of coffee and I am DETERMINED to write this shit.

[thatgaywizard]

It was plain for me to see, the dark magic had taken its toll on him. He had lost some of his luster. His eyes looked sunken and the hollows, the hollows under them were dark and cavernous. His hair was duller than I ever remembered it but he was striking and still I thought him beautiful, desperately, perhaps more so because I wanted to take him to me, implore him to stop this before it destroyed him completely as I knew it would, slowly maybe, but he had not been the first and would surely not be the last. That wand loved him though I think and it was not impossible that he was the master it had desired all along. It was a jealous hateful thing. In the end I believe it resented me for taking it from him.

Albus Dumbledore’s recollections of Gellert Grindelwald and the Elder Wand

[lordgellertgrindelwald]

1906, a Hotel in Paris

It is the turn of the century when the boys meet. The wealth of art and music of the time is at their fingertips, readily available for the young wizards to expose themselves to. Gellert fancies opera greatly and drags Albus to all the muggle opera houses in Europe, later walking around their flat intentionally singing opera in a really silly way to bug Albus who pretends it is incredibly taxing. Secretly he’s impressed by how good Gellert’s voice is and suspects Gellert is aware of his endless talents as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Albus calls out from the other room as Gellert breaks into song for not the first or second or even third time that day. “Gellert! If you’re going to persist I hope you indulged our neighbours in a silencing charm. I’m not very fond of the idea of them coming up to complain again.” 
They spent most of yesterday at the Palais Garnier, the most opulent opera house in France, and all sorts of things have been setting Gellert off. The slightest provocation to his memory of the performances they’ve been seeing send him into vocal displays of operatic imitation. The episodes are usually short lived but very dramatic and accompanied by a lot of arm gesticulation.

Gellert flings open the balcony windows, singing even louder because Albus protested. He lives to do everything Albus tells him not to. Albus wishes he could be bothered by it but he’s laughing as the other man breaks off into rather robust melodic mumbling to fill in the gaps where he’s forgotten the lyrics. Albus is sitting on a elegant chaise in the front room with a book under his long fingers. He’s watching Gellert travel about the room in his loose cotton shirt, with the billowing sleeves, and his very well-fitted cream colored trousers when their neighbours downstairs start yelling in French for them to be quiet.

“Gellert…Gellert!” Albus tries to interrupt him but Gellert goes on completely unquelled. Albus sits up. Gellert shakes his head ‘no’ his golden hair flouncing about, and holds up a finger for Albus to wait as he belts out another particularly embellished string of Italian. The man speaks Italian well enough normally so it’s not unjustifiable for him to sing in it. Albus throws a wide Silencio at the floor without taking his attention from the performance in front of him. He has to deal with Gellert, but he’d rather do that than see those awful neighbors again. Not that it’s likely. The first time was on their way in. The room they are staying in has since then been spelled to go unnoticed by muggles- that includes their neighbours, the staff, the owner of the hotel, and whoever else might pass by. It’s not ethical and certainly a misuse of magic but there’s nothing that will convince Gellert to do otherwise. 
“It’s beneath us to pay for what we can have for free,” Gellert says during their earlier conversation. “What is the point of having magic if you don’t use it?” Albus half agrees with Gellert’s notions even if it niggles his conscience, and Gellert’s warm insistent lips convince the other half of him to just go along with it.

Barely a beat after Albus casts his spell Gellert whips out his wand and with a flourish like an orchestra conductor he sweeps Albus’s silencing spell right away. Albus sits up straight, disbelief suspended merely because he’s accustom to Gellert’s antics. This confounded man… He tries to recast the spell but nothing happens. He feels his magic bounce right off the spot he’d thrown the spell at a moment ago. He tries again and the same thing happens once more. His magic just slides away. It won’t stick. He’s admittedly more than a tad flabbergasted. It must be Gellert’s magic. He attempts to cast the spell in another direction and feels a weak version of it take hold, but only at a back corner of the room this time and he’s pretty sure it’s because Gellert’s magic just wasn’t concerned with the edges like that. He resolutely will not ask Gellert how he did it. He refuses to give him the satisfaction when he’s being obstinate.

Gellert is walking over to him but he stops halfway to hit a particularly high crescendo. His little show is over as he finishes the song in a loud roiling tenor. It’s hard for Albus to take his eyes off the showy, handsome, man but he’s curious enough about that strange magic to still be stealing contemplative glances at the floor.

Gellert casts another spell, this time to mute the sound of the neighbors banging on the ceiling. “Philistines. They know nothing of real art,” he says to himself and then comes to stretch out alongside Albus, pushing him back down and letting his legs intertwine with his. His face is mere inches from Albus and his tone is bright and excited as he speaks next, peppering his sentences with his native German. The mixture of languages never matters because Albus’s German is only slightly less proficient than Gellert’s. “Albus! Meine Liebe! Let’s go out. Let’s tanzen gehen.” “…You have entirely too much energy,” Albus speculates. He’s not sure where that ceaseless energy comes from but Gellert is all but scratching at the doors some days like a cat who can’t decide whether he wants to go out or come in. It seems sometimes that the only thing that keeps Gellert from getting restless is the study of arcane magic, but when he delves into that it’s hard for even Albus to get his attention. Gellert is grinning at him and ignoring the previous accusation. “Dancing?” Albus says, lackluster. “Really, why dancing?” “Because I feel like it and I want to whirl you around in my arms!” He springs off the couch and forces Albus to follow him up because he’s still clutching him. Albus staggers up protestingly and Gellert wraps his arm around Albus’s waist, spinning them fast for a single twirl. Albus clings to him for dear life and stares with wide eyes at Gellert as they come to a jolting stand still.
 Gellert is still smiling, enjoying the other wizard’s ruffled composure, as usual.
 Albus rights himself. He doesn’t really care that Gellert likes to toy with him, it’s another oddly feline quality of Gellert’s- who’s body is firm and warm against his and who’s loose shirt is open entirely too far… “Can we really afford to go out again? All these upper crust hobnobs don’t come at a small price.” Gellert groans and let’s his head fall back in melodramatic annoyance. “You’re being practical again, aren’t you?”
 “Of course not, if you have a solution I would be eager to hear it, and exactly how do you plan to dance with me? We are still both men.” “No one else need know that…”
“Oh my,” Albus says indulging in alarmed but amused suspicion. “I don’t intend to pay for anything, ever,” Gellert states gravely. “I don’t intend to wear a dress.” A laugh erupts from Gellert. Albus’s face is stoic. He knows exactly what his lover intends. He will use magic to fool muggles without a second thought at every turn. Sneaking into places- or more like brazenly waltzing in- is no great feat for someone as ruthlessly entitled as he is.
“Oh my love, you would look stunning in an evening gown. You have the perfect figure for it.” He brushes Albus’s long hair back over his shoulder. Albus eyes the exposed portion of Gellert’s neck, his collarbones, the top of his chest, all which his loose shirt is so sensuously offering up to be admired. He runs his fingers over the skin there and feels Gellert’s interest shift. “I’d look better without one, don’t you think so?” And he knows Gellert understands he means without anything at all. “Why don’t you show me how you did that spell? It was very interesting…” Gellert’s voice is low now, all that exuberant timber gone. “How interesting?” He’s leaning in to kiss Albus’s neck. “Very. You should show me again, how you did that, right there,” he nods vaguely towards the floor where they’d been throwing their spells. “Right there?” Gellert says against his neck still, his fingers are tangling in his long rich auburn hair, and he’s already pushing Albus closer to that spot with his whole body against him. The next time one of them utters those words they’re already lying on the expensive rug and they are no longer talking about the floor. Albus thinks he might have managed to escape the dancing and the cavorting about town for just one more night.

[lordgellertgrindelwald]

Gellert was leaning hunched against a cold stone wall, somewhere in the background, shrouded from the trampling in the streets and the howls of terror that had begun to subside. This quelling of chaos was mostly for the larger part due to the arrival of Albus Dumbledore. His powerful presence in…

[lordgellertgrindelwald]

{Circa 1925} A Colourless Battle

[A peice from my Grindeldore fic from Albus Dumbldore’s POV]

It was a breaking point that could not be repaired in the same way that all our other fractures had been. There were a terrible many cracks and splinters in our coupling but this had been a rend that neither one of us could close, nor do I think that either one of us wanted very much to try at that point. Our differences had become undeniably stark in comparison and we could no longer dim the proverbial lights so as not to see them, we were like the darkness in a room at night and the moon in the window. I am not so sure that Gellert was not the brightness. Too often light is paired with goodness, but we forget how glaringly uncontrollable a blaze can be without the shadows to temper it. It was at the palace that I found him. I still felt a shudder of unpleasant raptness as I beheld him once again in person, tall, stately, and severe, dressed in dark military gray, so staunch against the opulence of the architecture which he loved so dearly. His hands were clasped behind his back and he did not look happy, in fact it appeared that he had not been happy for quite some time, if I still knew the man at all enough to judge. He did look as though he had anticipated my arrival in any case and when his eyes found me there was nothing in them that seemed surprised to see me there but a grim resignation. I did not immediately come across him when I aparated there but it took very little time to figure out where he was. His compatriots did not see me, they could not, my disillusionment was beyond their powers and I watched as he sent them away with one hand and then he stood silent for some time. There was a raised portion of the room where stairs led upwards and doors lead into other parlors to the left and right sides. I had entered in at the lower end of the hall and he was at the top of that shallow but long flight of stairs, a rich carpet lay over them. We were not near one another but every word was clear when he turned to me slightly and spoke. He did not look my way. “I don’t suppose there is any point in asking you to leave,” he asked quietly. “I would not be here if my intention was anything other than to remain,” I told him plainly. He turned then to fully face me. His hands were still clasped behind him and it struck me how cold his gaze was. I think it was in that moment he truly believed I had no intention of ever standing beside him in his ambition and he looked right through me as though I was not truly there. At the time I was rigidly self justified in my cause and it did not touch me very deeply how I had adored him so much and it had all come to this. I can only thank what Gryffindor spirit lives in me that I had such a sense of self righteous duty to perform that it was beyond my own personal feelings towards Gellert in that moment. Gellert went about things very clinically, first attempting to stun and disarm me. We went through the motions of the spells almost as if we were giving a demonstration on basic dueling before it became more inventive. Even the simplest most common spell can be massively effective when wielded properly and with conviction, not all wizards realize this. Many magic wielders prefer more glamorous or dangerous spells and it is little more than vanity to think that such things will give you an upper hand if you do not first have the self discipline- and dare I say, talent- to build up your basic foundation for magic. It proved to be one of my least favourite duels with Gellert, I look back on it with no joy. Many of our conflicts- however violent or discordant our initial reasons had been for the turmoil in the first place- were exciting and passionate; they brought us closer, this one felt lifeless. The duel was cold just as Gellert’s eyes were when he looked through me and we were detached from it. We did it because we had to, not because we wanted to or hated to, but because I knew what was right and he knew I was an obstacle that had to be removed from his path. The hall was silent and large, too large for such a clean duel. The hiss and crack like static from the spells snaping off one another did not disturb one item in the room, not a single painting or a drapery was out of place by the end of it. He made his way down the stairs progressively coming towards me, gradually, and well balanced. He did not take the hand that held no wand from behind his back the entire time. Most of my spells were non-lethal, I could not even then aim to truly wound him. I cannot say if the same was true for him, all I can say is that he did not kill me, or at least he did not try very hard. Nonetheless we reached a lull where we had come rather close to one another in the middle of the vast room and paused. We were not getting anywhere with this sparing. “Your tricks wont work, Albus,” he said in monotone voice. “I know you’re just trying to distract me.” “There’s nothing wrong with my tricks, Gellert,” I goaded him, but it was empty hearted. “I’ve already sent my men to intercede on whatever magic you worked before you got here.” He was being efficient, cut and dry, and clearly he had no interest in bandying words with me or wasting time. We use to duel for hours, but today he wanted to be done here and move on whether successfully or not. “Then this is all rather needless,” I suggested. “If they were successful then I suppose you’ve already won.” “And if they were not then it matters neither one way or the other,” he said in such a very plain way. I hated it when he became that way when we were younger; colourless, passionless, driven without energy! He was immovable like that and it used to freighten me, not he himself, but the thought that I could not provoke any sort of emotion from him. It was like losing him. It did not scare me now because I had already lost him. He had lost this battle, I knew that already. I had made sure that he could not touch the royal palace or it’s inhabitants. They were gone and so were his allies. I was fortunate in my craftiness, for facing Gellert’s might head on seemed perhaps appealing but it was not wise without an alternative plan. He seemed to listen then, to feel for something, and then he almost sighed. Finally he let his right arm fall from where it had been kept strictly behind him. He knew that his efforts here were futile for now but he wasn’t entirely finished. “I suppose I should still attempt to rid myself of your future meddling,” he commented with very little contemplation in his voice. “I suppose that would be the logical thing to do, yes,” I agreed because why shouldn’t I have? This whole affair was mechanical in nature and matter of fact seemed appropriate. He leveled off a volley of spells and I blocked them each in turn but one, one I was clumsy about. His spell ricocheted off a mirror, two mirrors, bounced back and caught me on the arm. I do not think I got the full brunt of it and to this day I still do not know what it was, but it ran up my arm from my fingers to my shoulder like electricity. I still feel it sometimes. Every few months a twinge in my bones, pins and needles up and down my arm from my wrist to my elbow or a little higher. It reminds me of him, but it is not as if I need another reminder. His mouth would whisper over the skin at the inside of my elbow later on down the road when I mentioned it to him but he would never tell me what it was. That day I shook the small hit off and kept dueling for the scant few spells we chose to throw before it seemed to become all too pointless. Gellert stopped abruptly, he stood up straight, and then he was gone. There were no words, no parting farewells nor threats, no promises of future encounters or secretly nurtured regrets. It was a sterile battle and I left there feeling strangely untriumphant that day even though for all appearances I had won. Once the internal heat of valor that fueled my actions had burned away I was left more charred and hollow on the inside than ever before.