#also screw optimal timing I’m posting this now

[littlemissmarianna]

I’ve been nodding and smiling for weeks…but if I don’t confess this, I’m going to scream.

I’m not excited about S5.

I’m looking forward to seeing Tarlos. I’m looking forward to their husbands era and having new scenes to obsess over. I’m even looking forward to the drama and angst as Carlos figures out his priorities.

But everything else? Nope.

I’m especially dreading – DREADING – the Jonah storyline. And don’t even get me started on Grace’s absence and Wyatt being shoved in our face and down our throats. I didn’t like his storyline from the beginning (unknown love child…really??), but now I find myself being particularly resentful and bitter whenever I see him. I’m even consuming less social media because every time I see a spoiler or another BTS pic or potential storyline, I’m filled with more dread.

Also, will people still read fanfic when the series wraps? I have so many story ideas, but part of me wonders what’s the point in writing them if no one is around to read them anymore? Yes, I write for myself…but it’s not as fun or rewarding if it’s not shared and experienced as a community.

Speaking of…I’ve seen a lot of conversation about enjoying this season on purpose and going out with a bang to show Fox (and Disney) how massively they screwed up. And I get that. I even agree with it. But I don’t FEEL it. I feel sad and disappointed and frustrated and disillusioned and angry…and then I feel guilty because I’m not joining in the forced positivity and collective optimism.

If you feel the same, your feelings are valid. All feelings are valid. We all process things differently. There’s no right or wrong in this.

Anyway…I’m not sure if anyone will see this post, but to paraphrase Carlos: I just needed to say it.

[definitelynotaminion]

Hey I’d love to commission you for a 6$ (5$ + 1$ for mental health cleaning bonus option) fic. DC universe, Tim and Jason (no slash, platonic) focus where they’re sitting on a rooftop joking around until Tim makes a flippant joke about his life Jason almost killing him at titans tower and Jason taking a breath and telling Tim that he’s important and he’s glad he’s alive.

Also posted here, on ao3, under the title "Optimally Sentimental"! This was such a delight to work on, thank you for commissioning me and for being flexible!

-

It’s been months since Tim flinched around him.

Jason hasn’t been consciously keeping track, because literally counting physical ticks and bits of Robinly body language is a fast track to Bruce levels of paranoid insanity, but-- yeah. It’s been a good few months since Tim flinched around him, or tensed up when he entered a room, or subconsciously moved to place his back to a wall when Jason walked into a conversation.

It’s also been a few weeks since Jason stopped going out of his way to walk louder, announce his presence by shouting at one brother or another, or otherwise be as obvious as he could. He doesn’t want Tim to be scared around him, yeah, but while Tim was, he was going to be as least of a dick about it as possible.

But it’s been a while, and Jason is proud to report they’ve both let their guard down. This past little bit has been the best it ever has been between them.

They’re even taking missions together. Of their own free will, not because Bruce told them to. And enjoying it.

Tim’s got that faint little flush to his cheeks that he gets when he’s been smiling too much, and he’s squinting his eyes the way he does when he laughs for real (and not the fake little Timothy Jackson heir laugh he perfected at so many galas), and he’s been snipping and sniping prissy little one shots Jason’s way without apologizing.

Peak Tim, in his natural element; a baby bird unafraid of getting shot down.

So when he does tense up, midway between a snark off on which soda brand is better-- “Zesti is the premier shit drink of choice, Jason, even Dick agrees,” which, whatever, if you’re basing an argument over Dick’s questionable tastes, you’ve already lost, and Soder Cola is the most American drink ever made, even Jason can admit that and he’s technically a terrorist-- Jason feels his entire chest go cold.

He thought they were past this.

“I can go.” He says, through suddenly numb lips. It’s cold but not that could, a cool sixty which is practically paradise for Gotham this time of year. It’s not even pissing down rain, though the sky is a gray brick of overcast.

The words float out between them, catching on the mist. The rooftop is damp from an earlier shower.

Tim’s not even looking at him. He’s fiddling around with his scope, hissing under his breath. Jason tries to figure out what he did-- a sweeping arm movement, a too sharp movement? He really hasn’t been watching himself around Tim like he should have been.

You don’t just forget that kind of trauma. God knows Jason hadn’t, when someone had beat the shit out of him in the dark, and he hadn’t even been shot or, fuck, had his throat slit by someone who was supposed to be a friend.

Jason starts to stand.

“What?” Tim looks up, a picture of confusion. “No, what are you being stupid about? The screw fell out of my new lens.” He curses under his breath, glove groping around the rubble of the rooftop. “I cannot believe I didn’t put it back together tightly enough last night.”

Jason’s mouth moves on instinct, the Robinly urge to rib his brother carrying through even when his thoughts are so tangled and confused.

“Did you rebuild that thing again?” He asks. “Damn, give it a few days to see how it functions, would you?”

“If I notice a problem, I’m not going to just wait and fill out a changelog of bugs, Jay.” Tim says absently, waving a hand without looking. His entire back is to Jason now. Jason, slowly and by degrees, relaxes. “Besides, it was an easy enough adjustment.”

Jay, not Jason. Rare enough that one of his brothers indulges in his preferred nickname. Jason himself hardly ever points out that he prefers it, so it’s not like he can blame them.

(Also in fairness, he’d once shot Bruce in the kneecap for pulling out ‘Jaylad’ in the middle of his Pit-induced madness.)

Jason gradually lowers himself back into his sitting position against the roof’s lip. They’re as comfortable as they can be on this kind of stakeout, the orange haze of poisoned daylight on the horizon indistinguishable from sunset. Soon, the ‘working day’ will be through, and they’ll be able to see what the Sionis family is actually doing. They’re supposed to be quiet and cowed with Black Mask back in Arkham, but you wouldn’t know it from the shipping activity on their side of the docks.

“Yeah, I can tell.” Jason scoffs. “You have a back-up kit?”

They all tended to carry replacement parts for their more fiddly gear. Tim, being the most Oracleish of their cohort-- and also the most tech-savvy-- had an entire soldering kit on him or Jason would eat his boot.

“Yes, of course.” Tim says, waspish. “But I don’t need it. I can find this screw.”

“This specific tiny screw.” Jason parrots, amused.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Yeah, okay.

Jason feels the tension fall completely out of his shoulders. Babyest bird is not feeling unsafe, right now; Tim doesn’t get this bitchy around people unless he trusts them.

Random civilians and corporate fuckwits, they get soft-spoken, laughing Timothy Drake. Anyone Tim’s not quite comfortable with-- people he has to impress, like the Justice League-- get the world’s most perfect and efficient Robin. Seriously, it’s terrifying. He wears his competency like a sword and doesn’t bother with a shield.

So, a snarky Tim-- a Tim who lashes out, without regard for if he’ll be hit back-- is a trusting Tim. A comfortable Tim.

“I’m just sayin.” Jason lets a grin surface on his face, in his voice. He wiggles his fingers. Then, actually being helpful: “Hey, maybe try a light?”

“Ugh. Good idea.” Tim flicks on a pen light with careless efficiency, apparently from part of his glove. What the hell.

The light catches on the moist pebbles and occasional shallow puddle, but it does its job; the glint from the tiny screw is enough to find it, and Tim swoops it up with a triumphant sound.

“Ridiculous.” Jason snorts.

Tim pulls a face.

“I don’t want to hear it from you, Mr. My Peripheral Vision Doesn’t Matter as Much As My Aesthetics. At least I can see.”

“The hood had an HUD!” Jason protests, knee-jerk. “I don’t even wear it that much anymore.”

He gestures to his own domino, as bright a red as the bat on his chest.

“Mm, yeah, you definitely didn’t keep wearing it to be petty for, oh, six months.” A snarky little grin, edging into smirk territory.

Jason looks forward to a year from now, where he can not only move openly around Tim, but also smack him playfully. They aren’t there yet-- not like how he can slug Dick in the shoulder as hard as he wants-- but Jason can see it on the horizon.

Instead, he snorts.

“Oh, I know you’re not calling me petty.” He points out, amused.

Tim’s face stops briefly on suspicion before going directly to offended.

“I’m not petty!” He denies. “I’ve never done anything petty in my entire life, ever.”

“That’s a lie,” Jason laughs. “I saw you put decaf coffee into Dick’s stash.”

“That’s for his health.” Tim claims, boldly. “I’m doing him a favor.”

“Yeah, and the fact that you ferried the actual caffeinated coffee you stole into your stash has nothing to do with it.”

“I’m not going to waste it, Jason!” Tim puts a hand to his chest in mock-offense. “If I replace it wholescale, he’d notice, so I switch out a cup at a time.”

“Right.” Jason grins. “And the little fucker who’s stolen all the “R” shaped keys off every keyboard I’ve bought for my safehouses?”

Tim flushed bright red.

“You can’t prove that was me.” He says, immediately, which in their line of work is basically a confession. Also; he knows better than to challenge another detective like that!

Jason starts counting on his fingers.

“Well, it wasn’t me. That’s one Robin out.” And he ignores the pang that claiming that name will always bring him.

“Damian could have done it. He’s a bitch like that.”

Jason tips his head back and laughed.

“You’re more of a bitch. You’ve made bitchiness into an art form.” And he threw Damian under the bus without hesitation, goddamn.

“Dick was a Robin. Just saying.” Tim points out. Yeah, like saying water is fucking wet. Dick wasn’t a Robin, he was the Robin. He was Robin, full stop.

Jason just stares.

“Dick is the only one of us who never stole Robin.” He points out. “And in fact stealing the suit seems to be a right of passage, at this point.”

It doesn’t occur to him that he’s wandering into the biggest trigger between them-- what had been Jason’s biggest trigger, as the furious Red Hood-- until he’s already said it. Fortunately, Tim goes in another direction-- passing the buck down the line, as it were.

“Damian didn’t steal shit.” He huffs, still sour. “Dick gave him that suit right from under me. At least I had to break in and take it.”

He looks up then, apparently sensing the same thing Jason had.

“Oh, uh. I’d say sorry about that, by the way, but you... weren’t using it at the time.” Tim’s face twisted. “Oh, god. No, not that. I’m going to stick with the actual answer that Bruce was going off the fucking deep end at the time and Dick wouldn’t do it.”

Jason just stares.

Tim groans and covers his face with his hands. Jason starts laughing.

“Shut up.” Tim says, but it sounds more like a complaint. Jason laughs harder.

“I can’t hear you, I’m putting the screw back in.” Tim very loudly-- with exaggerating arm gestures-- begins fixing his scope, pointed out the warehouse across from them.

“That doesn’t occupy your ears, Baby Bird.”

“I can’t hear you!” Tim repeats, louder. “I can’t multitask, everyone knows that. Hang on, I’m almost done.”

By the time he sits back, triumphant with his success now that Jason is no longer laughing at his expense, the foot traffic has mostly died down. He points the newly-repaired lens to the beginning of the street.

“I think we’ve got enough for facial recognition.” Tim murmurs, mind back on the business, watching their marks walk up the long, long road in front of the warehouse.

Smile, assholes, you’re on camera.

“Never a good thing when they have this many new contacts.” Jason agrees, eyes tracking the unfamiliar faces who have no business in this part of town.

He brings his own piece up-- yes, designed after the Hood’s perfectly respectable HUD, alright-- to track even more information. Vitals, infrared, even what kind of heat they’re packing.

“Here, look at this.” He offers the binoculars to Tim, who reaches out automatically. Just before they settle in his palm, Jason thinks better of it. He dangles them a foot above Tim’s reach-- not hard, since Tim is almost all the way on the ground looking through his scope, and pretty short anyway.

“Jason.” He complains, not looking away from his lens.

“Since, you know, I’m not using them.”

Tim blanches. Then flushes, hard. He brings a gauntlet up to cover his face again. Low, muffled, his voice sounds out:

“I’m never going to live this down. You should have killed me at Titan Tower.”

It’s like cold water over Jason’s entire body. The arm holding the binoculars falls limp at his side.

“Fuck that.” Jason snarls, and he shouldn’t-- he can’t-- be this angry around Tim, but the smaller Robin doesn’t flinch or even rear back. He just blinks in surprise. Fuck.

“Jason.” Tim says, humor falling all the way away, but Jason-- can’t. He takes a deep breath and turns away.

“Don’t say that kind of shit.” He finally manages, wrestling with the full body horror and memory of Tim’s bones breaking, the glee he felt. Sick, vicious glee.

“Jason. I know that.” Stilted, but not afraid. This, too, is an honest Tim-- the Tim that doesn’t have the right words to say, but doesn’t pause to find perfect ones, afraid of messing up. A trusting Tim.

Jason takes another deep breath and lets him finish.

“I know you weren’t in your right mind. I don’t... hold it against you. Anymore.” Tim manages. And, fuck, is babyest bird seriously trying to fucking apologize? To Jason?

“Are you really trying to apologize for me almost beating you to death?” He asks, flatly. “Just checking. Because that’s insane, Tim.”

Tim bites his lip. Ah, not good. Almost a flinch, but a social one.

“I’m apologizing for bringing it up.” His hands absently hits record on the scope, giving more attention to Jason. “I know you’re... Damn, Jay, I know it fucks with you, alright? Having to remember it.”

“You have to remember it!” Jason says, throwing up both hands-- which, fuck. But Tim doesn’t react, doesn’t so much as lean away from the wild limbs.

“I’ve had worse.” Tim points out, almost-- fuck, distracted, almost as an aside, as a faint beep comes from the scope and he looks down at it. “Honestly...it was a long time ago, Jay. We’re good.”

“We’re good.” Jason repeats in disbelief, remembering the sharp crack of bone. His voice is hoarse.

The worst part is, he wants it to be true. He wants them to be good, wants that easy camaraderie years into the future. Wants to have so many good times between them that they can barely remember the bad.

Then he twinges onto the other half of that sentiment, and wants to shake Tim.

“Wait, you’ve had worse? From me?”

He knew that to be true, of course. Even in the depths of his rage, finding out the little Robin whose throat he casually slit hadn’t been wearing a gorget--because he was allergic to the material and Bruce hadn’t yet synthesized a replacement-- had almost made him physically ill. He’d still been deluding himself, at the time, that he was perfectly in control. That he had chosen every act of violence, that he was being purposeful.

That fuck-up had been one of his first wake up calls that he really, really wasn’t. Even if it was a ‘reasonable’ assumption, he still should have fucking checked. Detectives do their homework, and so what if Dick had worn a gorget, for most of his time out, and so had Jason.

He knew the Robin suit was deceptively well-armored; it only looked like you were defenseless. Shit, even the bare legs were a taunt and a trap; Bruce damn well taught them to defend hits there, and any that got through were still safer than cuts or shots to the torso or head.

So he’d nearly killed Tim with what should have been, if not a love tap, then a mere threat to Bruce and not a serious attempt on Tim’s life. He’d excused the purposeful attempts, of course. At the time, it was only the accidents that bothered Jason-- the perceived lack of control.

He’d shot Tim. He’d snuck into a place where he was supposed to be safe, his home away from home-- and yes, Jason had been bitter at the time that Bruce never allowed him a team, fearful it would turn his second Robin’s head as it did the first’s-- and beat the shit out of him.

And yet something about the way Tim said that he’d had worse...

“From me, right? The other times?” Jason demands. “What do you mean, you’ve had worse?”

Tim makes a caught little sound in his throat, visibly unhappy. His eyes cut to the side.

“Do we have to do this?” He asks plaintively. “It’s not important.”

Not important.

For the first time since conquering the Pit madness, Jason’s vision hazes over a different color. Fear grips him by the throat, almost choking out the anger, but only for a second, because it’s not green that takes him.

He sees red.

Teeth grit, fists clenched so hard he fears he’ll drawl blood, Jason has to fucking count to calm himself down enough to speak. He will not shout at Tim. He will not swing at Tim.

He wants to throttle him, though. Urrgh.

“Jason?” Tim asks, quietly. Concerned. Not afraid. Not scared. Not timid. Leaning towards him, even. As though convinced he’s in no danger at all.

For the first time, Jason wonders if all their so-called progress is just Tim’s distinct lack of self preservation.

Maybe his little brother is too stupid to be afraid.

No, that’s not fair. Tim’s a genius.

He’s just also an idiot.

Jason, in a fit of masochism, had read the kid’s medical file. He’d needed to know every bit of damage he’d done that he could never undo. Since then, he’s familiarized the files of all birds and bird-related bats. Having a working knowledge of what everyone’s got going on-- like, say, allergies to gorget material or their blood types-- is mission goddamn essential in Gotham.

He’s never seen anything about the kid being hurt worse. Which means, of course, not only did the kid not think it was worth mentioning, he went out of his way to hide it. Jason thinks of Tim’s clipped little reports, the bare bones essentials accounting of his own fights with Ra’s Al Ghul, and comes to a conclusion he doesn’t think he likes.

“You--” Jason clears his throat, modulates his tone. He wants to grab Tim by the shoulders, but he can’t. He won’t. Instead he looks across the rooftop and to hell with whatever mission they’ve got going on.

“You listen to me, because I’m only going to say this once.” He manages to keep the growl out, but his voice is deep. Serious. It’s also a boldfaced goddamn lie; he’ll say this as many times as he needs to.

Tim leans in, eyes shocked wide and young beneath his domino. But not scared; still not scared. Good. Jason exhales slowly, maintains that eye contact.

“It was so, so fucked up-- all the things I did to you. I regret them. I’m sorry. But not because I was out of control, and mad with rage. That’s not the part that bothers me.”

Well, not the majority of it.

“Then... what?” Tim’s voice was small. Quiet. But curious and unafraid.

“You, Baby Bird. I could have killed you. I did, in fact, hurt you. That’s the horrible part. You could have died.”

“But, I’m just...” Tim snaps his mouth shut tightly, looking away. He looks haunted, like he’d said exactly what he didn’t mean to. And yep, that’s it for Jason, because fuck all of this.

He’s up and moving before he can even think not to walk like the juggernaut he is, but maybe it is soon enough, close enough to that future, because Tim just watches him with big blinking eyes, waiting to see what he’ll do.

He trusts Jason not to hurt him.

Fuck, but that’s good, so Jason doesn’t hesitate as he yanks his brother into a fierce hug. Better than wringing his scrawny neck, anyway, though it’s not off the table.

Jason wants to shake him.

“You’re not ‘just’ anything. You’re...” Fuck, fuck, fuck. Jason forces his voice out around a tight throat. “You’re my brother and I love you. Shit. Your life matters. You matter. I’m so fucking glad you’re alive.”

Tim starts shaking in his arms, but Jason just holds him tighter. It occurs to him that perhaps, somehow, with the shitty way he’s grown up-- shittier, in its own way, than Jason’s own miserable adolescence-- that maybe nobody’s told him this before.

That some of this cavalier disregard for his own importance in their lives-- right from the beginning, when he, an untrained little kid, put on the suit and risked his life because Bruce needed him-- came from having never been told.

Well, Jason would tell him. Jason would tell him a thousand fucking times, if he had to.

He’d show him, too.

It was lucky they were recording the stakeout, because Jason couldn’t be fucked to care about anything for the rest of the night. Oh, they stayed up on that rooftop-- they didn’t leave until dawn, in fact-- but they talked about things more important than the mobsters at the docks.

And two months later, when Jason Todd had been publicly, ‘miraculously returned from his own staged death that was actually a kidnapping’, when he found a copy of his death certificate marked RESCINDED, left out on the kitchen table,Jason knew exactly who to blame for what he saw.

He threw his head back and laughed.

JASON PETE TODD was spelled loudly and in bold on the documents, but it wasn’t a typo. Oh, no.

Tim had stolen the R from his middle name.

-

This fic has been converted for free using AOYeet!

[stevensavage]

A Lack Of Features Is A Feature

There’s a lot of features in technology and games. This setting, this button, these new photorealistic graphics, etc. Seems like we’re drowning in features, or at least what people tell us are features.

Now some features are obviously B.S. Not sure we need an AI bidet. Some “user enhancement” is data tracking. With a great deal of effort I’m not going to talk about such “fake features.” I’m going to talk about features not being features, and their lack would be its own benefit.

Features that would be a feature if we didn’t have the feature, if you get my drift. Which now that I look at that sentence, you may not, but I like it so reread it until it makes sense.

We’ve all dealt with apps and technology that have so many features they’re now not useful. No one uses all of them, they’re confusing, and it makes getting what we want done harder. But also each unusable feature is also time put into code, put into support, and something that can break code and screw you up.

The onslaught of features is less useful, less stable, less reliable. It makes me wonder if software would be better off more modular for people who don’t need “the self-publishing graphic features that blow up your document once a day.”

Less features or modular features as a feature.

Let’s talk super-optimized realistic graphics. Great for say, rendering movie effects. But is it needed for Call of Shootbros: Apex Duty? Does everything have to look realistic? How much more time does this add to development, debugging, and support? Yes I’m sure it drives sales and brings in planned obsolescence, but maybe things could be easier.

Resilience and stability of a system, of development, etc. would be a feature we’re missing. Seems often when fancy new games come out on PC I hear about all sorts of graphics and stability issues.

What about applications that let us stay always connected? I’m not going to diss social media, but even when we ignore the ad-driven crap and the like, the speed is a double-edged sword. The feature is useful, but one we have to use with caution.

Some features are useful, but with discretion.

All of the above features do things and have their place. It’s just they may be overwhelming, pushed, or just things we didn’t think about. At this rate not having them, or having them restrained or gated kind of feels like a feature.

Hell, maybe we need to rethink the idea of “feature” in software and tech. Or maybe I just used the word way too much in this post.

Steven Savage

www.StevenSavage.com

www.InformoTron.com

[defensefilms]

I Cringe At Everything Kyrie Irving Says

Yo,bro. I can’t with this man anymore.

And when bro goes and brings up Africa, like fam, why do ya’ll only mention Africa when it’s time to fake virtue signal for the conspiracy nonsense? 

I speak for all Africans when I say, we are tired of being used by conspiracy theorists for bullshit arguments being bandied by intellectually lazy people who watch too much Zeitgeist or Hidden Colors, or whatever other bullshit source you’re borrowing talking points from.

We have worked hard to give ourselves real educations in fields that are actually deserving of study, and we would like the virtue signalling to STOP!!!!!!!!!!

I also don’t think people are mad enough about the fact that this man did an entire post game press conference, and didn’t talk basketball at all. I know the media ask the questions, but the Nets are a losing team, so what’s the bet that Kyrie wants to dwell on that topic?

Here’s the thing. 

Essentially, what Kyrie Irving and Kanye West are talking about with regards to Israel is the same thing that got Jeremy Corbyn (a prominent UK politician), screwed over by his own political party, I wrote a blog about that if you want to read it. (click here)

My problem is that Kanye and Kyrie being the ones to say this, makes them seem something other than genuinely interested in what’s happening in that part of the world and that they only want to engage this topic because it is the political hot button topic of the moment, and if something else was as controversial they’d probably speak about that.

It’s not about what’s morally right to these guys. It’s about Search Engine Optimization, Algorithms, Monetization, and ensuring you’re associated with the content that guys like Alex Jones, Ben Shapiro, Dave Rubin, and yes ofcourse, Candace Owens, have created, because they’ve proven that you can monetize controversial speech, and advertisers will pay for it.

That’s why all these associations are so important to Kanye, and it appears they’re going to become important to Kyrie Irving too. 

I’m not enamoured with this trick. 

When I was in high school, if you tried to engage political discourse through the lense of a conspiracy theorist, you were laughed at, now the whole world is so dumbed down that conspiracy theories from the 60′s and 70′s have become normal political discourse.

The problem is that you live in the era of information and you can find better ways to inform your opinion than the lazy shit these guys are coming with.

You don’t have to lean on the globalist conspiracy because you can get better quality information than that, information that’s more specific. 

We don’t have to go looking for a multi-national corporation seeking to takeover the world because those have existed since colonialism. Frankly, if you know your history, that idea is already old.

We already know governments are capable of spying, and or silencing dissent among their people because the KGB already pulled that off in the 60′s.

You don’t need to believe that all the world’s powers are in cahoots because we already know that austerity exists, and so does cronyism, so does nepotism, and all the other hallmarks of unfairness/injustice.

Conversations like these are undermined by guys like Kanye and Kyrie, because if you think that guys that are involved in the selling of their own branded shoes make good revolutionaries or thought leaders, they don’t, they’re great for marketing though, even if they’re not really helping themselves.

It’s all fun and games until Kyries realizes he’s unwittingly teaming up with the right wing and the inevitable 180 when he realizes that republicans don’t buy Kyrie 7′s.

[inky-bun]

I have deduced that bright colors are cool actually

Anyway, Mae jamming out with the color palette that’s severely underrated

[crackedoutwalnut]

woah can you maybe please write a prequel with wanda x r getting together, and maybe carol and nat meeting r for the first time? (in reference to that amazing last post of yours!!)

A/N: Okay soooo this took a little bit longer than expected lol,,, I tried incorporating Wanda and R meeting but it was nearly 7,000 words before I even got to Carol and Nat meeting R. (Also the writing was horrible) so I scrapped that and started over with just Carol and Nat meeting R.

Warnings: gun wounds and blood.

Word Count: 3k

Read the first one here.

--

"Do we have to tell them? I don't see why we can't just live our entire lives without Natasha and Carol knowing."

Wanda looked over at you with a raised brow, "Y/n, you are overreacting. Natasha and Carol can be a bit protective," you shot her an incredulous look.

"A bit?"

"-But, it isn't like they will kill you. Now stop pacing; you are wearing a track into the carpet." You halted your nervous loop and rubbed a hand over our face. Wanda's roommates and self-proclaimed mother figures were on their way back home from a mission. They had been gone for a few weeks, and the job had gone off without a hitch. In an uncharacteristic display of optimism, your girlfriend suggested that this would be the best time to tell them about your relationship. They were bound to be in a great mood from the mission's success so, the chances of them killing you were slimmer. Hopefully.

Outside of missions and monthly SHIELD meetings, you had little to no interaction with the two superheroes. The only one-on-one conversations you have had with Natasha or Carol have crashed and burned with you stammering and avoiding eye contact until awkwardly parting ways.

Wanda, having read your anxious thoughts, cradled your face in her hands and smiled. "Sweetie, I'm sure they will love you. Now, we have a decent amount of time before they get back..." she trailed off and moved her hands so that they looped around your neck. Your girlfriend tilted her head so that her lips were barely grazing your jawline. "We should use that time productively." Shuddering, you scrambled to straddle her lap with your thighs. Wanda chuckled at your eagerness and captured your lips with her own.

You arched your back and leaned further against her as she traced her hands up and down your back. You let out a small gasp as she settled them against your ass. Then, squeezing playfully, she grinned into the kiss and slipped her tongue past your parted lips. You pulled away and let out a breathy, "Cheater."

Wanda nipped lightly at your lower lip before poking out her lip in a fake pout. "Oh, I know. I'm awful."

You scowled and clenched your thighs and fists, using your leverage to switch your positions; you pinned her against the couch cushions. "And mean," you pecked a kiss against her jaw, "and terrible," a harsh bite to her collarbone, "and a bully." Wanda arched her back into your body as you continued to pepper her neck with slow kisses. You wrapped your arms around her back and moved her legs so that they were locked around your waist. Sitting up, you hastily pinned her against the window sill.

Wanda gasped and clutched at the back of your shirt, "Oh, you are going to be in so much trouble after this."

You lapped and sucked at the pale column of her neck for a moment before parting to peer up at her with a smug grin. "Says who?"

Wanda reached up to trail her thumb over the bottom of your lip before leaning in closer to your ear, "Keep kissing me like that, and I might consider not turning that perky little ass black and blue." You smothered your breathy moan in the crook of her neck. Quickly, you grasped at the hem of her shirt and tugged it over her head. Wanda followed suit by returning the favor.

You opened your mouth to say something else when both of you froze. The front door had slammed open. Before either of you could react, there was a sound of tramping boots, and suddenly, you were sent flying across the room by a strong hand. Gasping, you slid across the carpet and landed against the opposite wall. Your vision cleared to reveal Black Widow and Captain Marvel standing over you in a fighting position.

Wanda quickly ran over to the two of them and wedged herself between you and your surprise assailants. "Wait! She's not an attacker, I promise!"

Carol loosened lightly. However, she did not drop her fists, "We saw you struggling through the window and assumed there had been an attack."

You could not see your girlfriend's face from your vantage point on the floor; however, you assumed it was glowing red. The witch sheepishly crossed her arms over her bare stomach. She was wearing nothing but black pajama shorts and a matching bra. In any other situation, that would be enough to have you opening your legs then and there. However, after tonight you had no inclination to have sex ever again. "Natasha, Carol, this is my girlfriend, Y/n," she gestured to you as you scrambled to your feet.

Despite being dressed in a sports bra and sweatpants, you felt naked as two pairs of eyes settled on you. "Hi," you squeaked, offering a small wave.

Carol's eyes lit up in recognition, "You're that nervous little hacker Fury hired awhile back."

You felt your cheeks heat as you looked down at the carpet, "That's me."

Natasha's look of shock slowly morphed into a grin that one could only describe as sadistic. "So, if no one was under attack, that means..."

Wanda buried her face in her hands, "Please do not finish that sentence."

The assassin held her hands up in surrender, the smirk never leaving her face. "I didn't say anything. Now let's sit down- with all of our clothes on- and talk about this." You kept your gaze glued to the floor as you snatched your shirt and pulled it back on. You sat down next to Wanda, careful not to let any of your body touch hers. Glancing up, you saw Carol and Natasha peering down at you like a hawk would a field mouse.

"How did you two meet?" Natasha asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Wanda scratched the back of her neck, "We met in our programming class and then again at an on-campus coffee shop."

"And how did you hide this from a former Kree soldier and an assassin?" Carol asked.

"I would usually invite her over when you and Nat were away on missions," the witch explained.

"So this isn't the first time you have attempted to stain our new sofa?" Natasha asked. You suspected the question was rhetorical.

"Wanda, could you go upstairs for a minute? We would like to have a little chat with miss Y/n alone," the assassin requested, a too-sweet smile on her face.

You looked over at Wanda, silently pleading for her not to leave. Despite being telepathic, Wanda ignored your internal screeching and nodded, "I'll be in my room." As you watched her go, you started praying to whatever deity was up in the sky to keep you safe.

Natasha and Carol sat down on either side of you, shark-like grins on their faces. "So, Y/n, what are your plans for dating Wanda?" Carol asked, peering down her nose at you.

"Uh, what do you mean?" You shrunk further into the crack in the cushions. The back of your neck had started becoming slick and hot with nervous sweat as you looked anywhere but at the two women.

"I'm sure you are aware of Wanda's past and how much she has lost. The last thing we would want is for you to... reopen old wounds," Natasha said. Her voice was like sharpened steel as she stared you down.

Your eyes widened in shock as you looked over at her, "I would never hurt her, miss. Wanda is the first real relationship I have ever had, and I have no intentions of screwing that up."

Carol sighed and rested a hand on your shoulder. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden contact. "You seem like a nice kid, Y/n. But, if you ever have sex in our living room again, knowing we'll be coming home soon. It will be the last thing you ever do."

You nodded and looked down at your lap. "Yes, ma'am."

--

From that day on, your interactions with Natasha and Carol were even more painful than before. Because, now the two had taken to "hazing" you, as Wanda described it. They would walk up behind you as silent as a panther ready to attack before barking an order at you. Every time this happened, you would nearly fall out of your seat, completely messing up whatever work you were doing on your computer. Usually, it would be something as simple as getting them a coffee- a task that was typically reserved for the interns. However, you scampered off without complaint and grabbed them what they needed from the breakroom.

"They will settle down, Y/n," Wanda assured. She was sitting on your desk, completely disrupting the research you were currently doing on one of your monitors. Her chunky combat boots were propped up on the armrest of your desk chair as she used her magic on a pen resting across from her.

"Natasha and Carol hate me, Wan," you groaned.

Wanda snickered and flicked the hovering pen at you with a streak of red magic. You huffed and pushed it away. "They don't hate you. If they really did not like you dating me, you would have been fired from SHIELD already. Nat and Carol can be protective, that's all. I think they are actually quite fond of you."

You scoffed, "That might be pushing it."

"I'm serious. Whenever you come up in conversation, they will always refer to you as my 'little hacker' or 'that cute nerd.'" Wanda hopped off your desk and planted a sweet kiss onto your cheek.

"They will grow to accept you, I promise."

--

That acceptance came on a rather stressful mission. It was your first time out in the field, and you were armed with nothing but a handgun and a taser. Your job was to hack into the terrorist organization's database and steal information about the location of their bombs and alien tech. In addition, Natasha, Carol, and Wanda were sent with you to rescue valuable hostages the terrorists were keeping in the basement of their HQ.

Natasha was sent with you for protection, much to Wanda's displeasure. The idea of leaving you alone in a den of wolves made the witch want to wrap you up in a blanket and run out of there. However, Carol needed Wanda's abilities to get to the hostages. So, that is how you found yourself shimmying through a ventilation shaft behind Black Widow. It was unbearably hot in the vents as you tried to maneuver through in sweat-slicked clothes. Your hair was clinging to your face in wet strands as you backed up to allow Natasha to kick open the slatted hatch below you.

She hopped down and looked around the security room before motioning for you to leap down. With far less grace, you jumped down to the tiled floor with a muffled grunt. Then, sliding into a desk chair that sat in front of over twenty different monitors, you set to work. Your fingers flew over the keys as you glared a the screens in front of you.

"How are we doing, Y/n?" Natasha called over her shoulder. Her gun readied in her hands.

"They have really advanced firewalls," you grunted. "But, I think I can figure a way around them."

"I hear footsteps," the assassin called. "Hurry up back there."

Your hands were cramped painfully as you reached into your pocket to grab a flash drive. Shoving it into the USB port, you fired off the last few commands. As a loading screen popped up, the metal door to the security room boomed open. You leaped out of your chair, hand reaching for your gun immediately. Six armed soldiers charged towards you, and the Black Widow with firearms and other weapons raised.

Natasha pivoted on her feet and kicked one of the men's guns from his hands. The rifle skittered across the tile and landed near the desk. Without looking back, Natasha shouted, "Get the flash drive, and go."

You glanced at the half-complete loading screen that was flashing a 5-minute timer. "What about you?" Natasha didn't reply, instead opting to turn her focus back to the man she was currently wrestling to the floor. Two other soldiers surrounded her while the three remaining ran towards you.

Scrambling to remember any combat you had learned in SHIELD training, you slammed your taser against one of their temples. The man convulsed and fell away from you with a cry of agony. Your hands shook violently as you tripped over the desk chair to recover the now complete flash drive. Another scar-faced man grasped at the back of your neck and pulled you towards him. You grunted and squirmed in his grip as the other one raised a gun to your head.

A loud bang sounded, and the gunman was toppling to the ground, blood leaking from his neck. The man holding you fell to the floor with the sound of another gunshot. You stumbled forward, away from the bodies. Grabbing the flash drive, you turned to face Natasha. Your relief was cut short when you saw a man, seemingly playing dead on the ground as he aimed his gun towards the assassin's head.

Crying out, you lunged into action faster than you could think. Your strides cleared the room in two healthy bounds as you tackled the soldier. You managed to get in two good kicks and a headbutt before another sickening bang echoed through the room. It took you a minute to register that the blow did not come from Natasha. You stumbled back and slowly peered down at your stomach. A stain of crimson was now leaking from a hole in your shirt.

Your vision grew bleary, and your ears were stuffed with cotton. Was that red stain new? You thought dimly as your feet fell from under you. You heard another shot, now much fuzzier and far off. Then, before your body could hit the floor, you felt two strong arms scoop you up. No, you decided, that stain had not always been there. It was blood; you were bleeding.

"Oh," you muttered, looking down at your leaking abdomen. "Thass not good," you slurred, peering up at the person carrying you.

Your brain vaguely registered them as Natasha. She looked down at you with an expression you had never quite seen before. "You have to stay awake for me. Can you do that?" Her request was quiet and strangely shaky.

You furrowed your brows; Natasha was never shaky about anything. You didn't like it. "Iss alrigh' Nat, you aren' hurt. What 'swrong?" If the assassin wasn't injured, then why was she crying? The Black Widow never cried.

"I know I'm not hurt, kid. That isn't the problem," she assured you with a humorless chuckle.

You winced as her running jostled your wound, "I think 'm hurt, Widow. Hurt real bad." Tears gathered in your eyes at the agony radiating from the hole in your abdomen.

"You're going to be alright, sweetie. I promise." Natasha held you closer to her chest.

"I'm glad I got to you, though," you continued. "Cause you and Carol already don' like me so, you definitely wouldn' be happy if I failed you."

You felt Natasha's hand go to cradle the back of your head. A gentle kiss was placed on the crown of your head. "We don't hate you, I promise. You're a really sweet kid. I'm really proud that Wanda found you."

Despite the black dots consuming your vision, you felt your chest explode with joy. "'N Carol too?"

Natasha chuckled, "Yeah, and Carol too." Then, as the last of your vision faded, you felt a smile rest on your face.

--

The first thing you registered when you awoke was the sound of beeping. It was annoying as all hell and caused the pain in your skull to worsen. You were warm, almost to the point of discomfort, and your abdomen was radiating a numb tingling. Almost as if it wasn't there at all.

Cracking your eyes open, you took in the dim room around you. It was a bedroom made up of plain oak furniture and eggshell walls. A guest room, maybe? Beside you was an IV that was hooked up to your forearm and a heartrate monitor. On the bedside table was a vase of expensive-looking flowers and an orange pill bottle.

You peeled back the three blankets that had been stacked on top of you to see a thick layer of gauze wrapped around your stomach. You were dressed in a sports bra and Captain America shield boxer shorts. Where was everyone? Who was everyone? Gritting your teeth, you slid out of bed. Nauseating pangs threatened to buckle you as you gripped at the IV stand next to you. You limped towards the door, the metal stand used as a makeshift cane. You scrambled to open the door with clammy hands. Once you stepped into the hallway, you realized where you were—Wanda's house.

"Wan? Are you here?" You called, your voice hoarse. Down the hall, to your right, you heard two doors fly open. Natasha, Carol, and Wanda came rushing out, eyes wild with concern.

"Babe, what the hell are you doing out of bed," your girlfriend asked, hands hovering around you as if you were a house of cards. You attempted to bat her hands away before stumbling slightly at the effort.

Carol rushed to your side and wrapped an arm around your waist. "Shit, kid, take it easy. Don't want to reopen that bullethole, do we?"

"What happened? Did we get the flash drive," you looked between the three of them.

Wanda shook her head and started leading you back to the guest bed. "Of course, that's the first thing you are worried about after nearly dying." She gently settled you back into bed and pulled the covers back over your body. "But, yes, the flash drive and the hostages are safe in Fury's possession, thanks to you."

You scoffed, "I'm just the techy. I didn't really do anything," you shrugged. "Besides, you three were the muscle."

Natasha scoffed and stepped forward, "You saved my life, Y/n."

Picking at a loose thread on the blanket, you shook your head, "I wouldn't go that far. I'm sure you could have handled it."

The assassin shook her head, "I didn't realize that he was still alive until you were on top of him."

Carol smiled and ruffled your hair, "You did good, kid. Thanks for saving my wife." Your answering grin was nearly blinding.

[our-time-is-now]

August 17, 2019: Obediently checking in from Genoa

(previous play)

You can find more information about the authors, translators, content warning and additional information about the plays in the pinned post on our blog.

Saturday, 8:34 pm:

WhatsApp, ok.cool.:

Abdi: Alrighty, done!

Carlos: With what, Brudi?

Abdi: With planning your weddings!

Jonas: lol - seriously?

David: I’m curious!

Carlos: Oh yes, me too! Show us!

Abdi: I made a table:

Carlos: Hey, why are you Davenzi’s witness? I want to be the witness!

Abdi: You can be the flower girl :-)

Carlos: Hmmm, okay, I’ll take it!

Jonas: You nitwits

Alex: Sam won’t be my witness

Abdi: Sure???

Alex: Pretty. I haven’t seen him in 6 months

Abdi: Damn.

Alex: You can’t change it anymore

Carlos: Haha, exactly, Abdi gets points. With each wedding a point for everything he guessed right

Matteo: Evening everyone! Obediently checking in from Genoa.

Matteo: Dude, Abdi, you seriously made a table?? Haha, awesome.

David: I just looked at the table… so as far as Matteo and I are concerned it already looks quite good…

Abdi: YESSSS!!!

David: Although… I’ll see about the witness when the time comes…

Abdi: NOOOO!!! I’m a really good witness!

Jonas: But you’re already the witness at Carlos’ wedding…

Carlos: Exactly! And I’m not anyone’s witness!

Jonas: Hey and why is Hanna the one proposing!?

Alex: How is Genoa, Davenzi?

Abdi: Because you won’t manage and she doesn’t want to wait any longer!

David: Pretty urban. We haven’t seen that much yet because we arrived here so late. We lazed the day away at the beach. But we want to go look at some stuff tomorrow morning and if there’s nothing good left to see then we’ll already continue toward Milan tomorrow or something…

Matteo: I think it’ll be the other way round. Jonas will propose but in turn it will be Kiki in Kirlos’ case

Carlos: Haha, nooo, especially not now, I want Abdi to get points.

Alex: Oh, Milan is great but also very loud and cramped. But you’ll manage.

Jonas: And maybe none of us will get married, and what are you going to do then, Abdi?

Abdi: Then I’ll force you!

Matteo: We just want to check Milan out at least once, if it annoys us then we’ll leave again.

David: It would be really unlikely if none of us would get married, wouldn’t it?

Jonas: I’ll put it this way: Statistically speaking, young relationships won’t last forever. What definitely doesn’t mean that I think that Hanna and I or one of you guys will break up…

David: Yes, we’ll just decide spontaneously when it comes to Milan. I want to at least see the cathedral in Milan at least once. Unfortunately, the chances of seeing the Last Supper are really alarmingly slim. It’s supposed to be almost impossible to spontaneously get tickets for the museum…

Carlos: Man, Jonas is totally ruining the mood! We’ll all get married, Brudi! Show some optimism.

Matteo: Jonas, the eternal realist.

Jonas: Sorry, but statistically speaking, only 15 % of all young relationships last, out of the 4 of us that wouldn’t even be one. And statistically speaking, you have 3-4 relationships in your life. You can count for yourselves.

Alex: I never thought that I’d say this, but: Shut up, Jonas.

Carlos: Ha!

Matteo: Never believe any statistics that you didn’t falsify yourself!

Abdi: Besides it’s about love, Brudi, not figures!

Carlos: Exactly! And if in 2026 we’re all married, then BAM! Then we’ll all hold a big middle finger out to statistics!

Jonas: I’m not saying that it will be the case but that this is what the statistics are saying.

Alex: Hey, but sorry, Jonas! Screw the statistics! I really am a realist and, I think quite a down-to-earth person, but if I’m supposed to look at statistics with every relationship or friendship, then why should I even start them?! “Oh, damn, you would be my first relationship! Statistically speaking you won’t stay together with your first relationship, anyways, so why should we even try?!” or “Hmm… I already had 5 relationships but we’re still under 18 - according to statistics we won’t stay together, anyways, so why bother now!?” Fact is that you hope and want every relationship to last - otherwise you wouldn’t even start them. And I think that it’s rather counterproductive in that case to have some statistics in the back of your mind.

Carlos: Wow…

Alex: By the way, long-distance-relationship won’t last, either, according to statistics - I’ll just quickly go and break up with Mia!

Abdi: Woah, Alex… I didn’t even know that you could go off like that…

Carlos: Why isn’t David texting anymore? David, it’s your cue for love, come on!

Matteo: David just fell off the chair from excitement. No kidding, he applauded so hard that he just fell over. :-) *sends a photo of David sitting on the ground laughing*

Matteo: But yes, I never thought that I’d write this: But Alex is totally right. I completely agree. Screw the statistics, Jonas, come on.

Jonas: Whoa, whoa, okay, yes.

Abdi: For love!

Carlos: FOR LOVE!

Matteo: Per l’amore!

David: Si si… per l’amore! And I was actually crying at first! I was so shocked about Jonas’ somber behavior and really disillusioned for a moment. But I agree with Alex. I was only too lazy to type.

Jonas: Guys, I understood… I won’t bother you any further with reality. Love is more important. I understand…

Carlos: I’m not so sure about that, Brudi…

Abdi: About what now?

Carlos: Well that he really understands it or if he’s only saying that to be left alone…

Abdi: I don’t know, either. Alex can gauge people really well, he should tell us if Jonas only wants to be left alone.

Carlos: Where’s Alex when you need him?!

David: He’s breaking up with Mia right now…

Jonas: haha.

Matteo: <3

Alex: Alright, done. And yes, Jonas wants to be left alone. Which I get. But he’s still wrong.

Abdi: I like that

Carlos: You like what

Abdi: That Alex has thawed.

Matteo: Haha. Oh, boys, I really do miss you, you know?

Carlos: We miss you guys, too, Brudi! <3

Abdi: Yeah man! <3

David: We’ll be back in a week tops! I’m also already looking forward to seeing you guys again… but we’ll have to leave you again for now and go search for something to eat before Matteo starves…

Jonas: Hey, have a good time! And don’t let yourselves get disillusioned by me, okay?

David: We’ll try ;-) See you soon!

WhatsApp, David’s mother:

Heike: Hello my dear, I haven’t heard anything from you in so long and I’m thinking about you very often. I wanted to ask you if you, or the both of you, are doing good, if that’s okay. Since we texted so much at the beginning of your journey, I’m now worried if everything is okay. I don’t want to annoy or bother you again but it would be nice if you could reach out again. Tomorrow, Jörg and I will fly to Croatia for a week. Laura said that WhatsApp will still work from there, so you can text me anytime. I hope you’re enjoying your holiday. Your Mama

David: Hello Mama. I’m sorry that I haven’t reached out in so long. You don’t bother or annoy me and you can feel free to ask. We said that we’d try and I guess part of that is that I check in every now and then. We’re seeing so much - and then I simply forgot about it. But we’re really doing pretty good - so you don’t have to worry. We went to Florence for a few days (because Matteo’s last name is Florenzi and we really had to take a photo of him in front of the city sign) and then we camped at the beach for a night. Two hours ago we arrived in Genoa, but we haven’t seen too much of the city yet. We’ll do that tomorrow. After that we were planning on going to Milan. I hope you have a lot of fun in Croatia. You can send a few photos, if you want.

Heike: Now I’m really relieved to hear that I don’t annoy you and that you’re doing good. I probably worried for no reason. But it’s still so new that we’re trying again and I don’t want to make any mistakes. I don’t want to lose you again. I hope you know that! You really get around in Italy. I’m happy to read that you guys are seeing so much. And you spent the night at the beach?! Is that even legal nowadays? Milan is supposed to be very nice! I also want to go there one day. But now we’ll go to Croatia first… I’ll send you photos when we’re there and I’d be happy if you’d also send a few photos of you guys again so that I can see with my own eyes that you’re doing good ;-)

David: You don’t have to be afraid of making mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes and I’ll surely make some mistakes as well. I was just as serious about it as you when I agreed that we’ll try again. And I promise you that I’ll try to not withdraw again if there’s something that I don’t like. Maybe in that case we could just try to just talk to each other normally so that nothing will escalate again.

Heike: When did you become so mature, grown-up and wise, my boy? I would really like that! And I’m happy to read that you are just as serious about it than I am and that you worried just as much. We can do this! I’m there for you if you need me.

David: I’ve always been mature, grown-up and wise ;-) No, of course not… but I think I’m just calmer on the inside since I came to Berlin… and since Matteo’s there.

David: *sends the photo of Matteo’s grandmother and the two of them, some photos from Florence and some photos of their day at the beach* The first photo is from Ravenna. The two of us with Matteo’s grandmother. The others are from Florence and our day at the beach. We haven’t taken any photos in Genoa yet. We don’t know either if camping on the beach is legal in Italy. But we stumbled upon a stretch of beach where no one else was there. It was a little secluded by a forest and rocks. And it was so nice there that we simply risked it.

Heike: Matteo’s grandmother looks very warm! I’m sure she must have been happy that you visited her! The photo of the two of you with the city sign is really funny. Whose idea was it to make the i? And Florence also looks great! Very nice photos! And the beach really is a dream! I think even I would have ignored some laws and spent the night there. It’s nice to see that you’re so happy!

David: Matteo’s grandmother really was very warm. A pity that it’s not possible to visit her often. I think Matteo really misses her. I made the i for Matteo. If you do something then do it properly ;-)

Heike: I should have figured that it was you… ;-) I have to go finish packing now. Maybe we can talk on the phone when we’re all back in Germany again? Then it’s also not long until your move and your surgery. Does the offer still stand that I can visit you after the surgery?

David: Yes, the offer still stands. But maybe we really better talk on the phone again. Have a nice holiday and we’ll talk soon.

Heike: A nice holiday for the two of you, as well, and talk to you soon! I’m thinking of you!

WhatsApp, Florenzi-Schreibner-Family:

Laura: David, I vacuumed your room… what exactly is all that stuff under your bed?

Matteo: Ah, hahaha

David: Umm… I need all of that… those are old sketches and stuff like that… please don’t throw it out!

Larua: Don’t worry, I won’t throw anything out… but you could somehow sort all of that or whatever… or put it in a folder… or into boxes… that’s all just loosely flying around. This way it surely won’t survive the move.

David: Yes, I’ll look through it when we’re back. Is everything good with you apart from that?

Laura: By the way, I didn’t vacuum under the bed now. How do you usually do that? But yes, otherwise everything’s good with me. Work is a little annoying right now, but it’s okay. Luckily it’s the weekend! And what about you guys? Everything okay? Where are you?

Matteo: Genoaaaaaa, you would also like it here, very quaint.

David: I just don’t vacuum under the bed…

Laura: Okay, let’s better talk about Genoa than the dust under your bed, otherwise I’ll sound like Mama… speaking of, how is it going between the two of you?

David: I thought you wanted to talk about Genoa… but between Mama and me it's… okay? No idea… we sometimes text. And don’t let work annoy you! Enjoy the weekend!

Matteo: We haven’t seen much of Genoa yet. We’ll send photos tomorrow.

Laura: Thank you. And I think that’s good, David. That’s why she doesn’t ask me about you as much anymore :)

David: In case she should do it again, then just point her in my direction. But I think there won’t really be too many reasons for complaints in the near future… She’s really trying…

Laura: I’m really happy to hear that! Maybe you can do this, after all! I have to go now. I’m meeting  friends for dinner. Have fun and keep in touch!

Matteo: We will. Have fun!

David: Have fun with your dinner! We’ll go search for sustenance in a minute, as well! See you!

WhatsApp, Team Heidesee:

Hanna: Hey girls… pssst! I heard that once again Davenzi loves the guys a lot more than us and that they only check in with them!

Mia: Well I think that’s a no go!!!

Kiki: Totally mean!

Carlos: It’s just a fact, girls! Just accept it!

Jonas: Hey, Hanna, you snitch!

David: lol… oh man, sorry, girls. It just worked out like that over the last few days! But we didn’t forget about you and we don’t like the guys more, either… well not a lot more…

Kiki: But you like them a little more, right?

David: A teeny tiny bit…

Hanna: I can live with a teeny tiny bit! But it would still be nice to hear from you more often. How are you doing? Where are you? When will you be back?

Matteo: Dude, Jonas, you’re really digging a hole for us here… Hanna, you do know that in a different universe I’d be unluckily in love with you! ;-)

Hanna: Hmmmm, alright :-)

Matteo: And we’re doing really good, and like Jonas has surely told you, we’re in Genoa. After that we want to go to Milan and then we’ll see… so we’ll definitely be on the road again for a little while longer…

Amira: Oh, that sounds great! I’d also love to travel around like that.

Kiki: Oh, Milan! How great! Will you also go shopping there?

Matteo: Haha, no.

Kiki: Why not!? They also have really nice stuff for men!

David: @ Kiki: No, it’s okay… there are other things to see in Milan apart from clothes stores and we don’t want to stay thaaat long that we’d have time for both! @ Amira: I can only recommend a road trip!

Sam: Hey, Amira, let’s do a roadtrip!

Amira: If Mama lets me go… we’ll see. But the idea is definitely nice!

David: And how are you guys doing? Any news?

Hanna: No, not really… Oh, yes, Florian from our year… I think he also had advanced PE, David… well anyways, he emigrated, I heard. He sold all his stuff, booked a train ticket to New Zealand and left. That’s really sick.

Sam: Florian Armbrust? Really? He was always so nerdy!

Kiki: But that somehow fits him. His hair is longer, he’s surely into nature and stuff.

Matteo: I don’t know him.

Kiki: Oh and Sara is moving to Hamburg

Matteo: What?

Kiki: Well, that’s what I heard from… Jule I think? She heard it from Leonie… so I don’t know if that’s true…

Hanna: But still gossiping about it

Kiki: You also gossiped about Florian

Hanna: That wasn’t gossip, that was a fact.

David: Yes, Florian was also in advanced PE… and he really was a New Zealand fan! He actually wanted to go there for only one year after Abi and then study English in Berlin afterwards. Sick that he’ll stay there now!

Amira: Well but if he already was a fan and wanted to go there for a year then it fits! Hey, Sam! Let’s do a roadtrip to New Zealand!

Sam: I’m in!

David: Hamburg is also supposed to be nice. The last time Matteo and I saw Sara and Leonie was 3 months or so ago… back then they still said Berlin…

Kiki: Well like I said: If one of you is really interested then they can just ask Sara or Leonie themselves if the rumor is true.

Sam: Whoa, you really met up with them, wasn’t that weird?

Matteo: Weird? No, why would it? :-)

Hanna: Haha, I like you, Matteo

Matteo: I know that. I’m just such a loveable guy

Sam: Haha, okay, then not weird. Good for you and stuff

Matteo: All I know is that Sara wanted to go to a theater, maybe it worked out for her in Hamburg. Or Kiki misunderstood something. Doesn’t really matter.

Hanna: Yep, I agree

Carlos: Hey here it’s like: Full of gossip… And over there it’s: Really deep conversations and love…

Sam: Dude, Carlos, then go over to your great group if you like it so much there!

Kiki: Besides, we can also have really deep conversations about love in here if we want to…

David: Umm, but without us. We want to go out for dinner in a minute…

Hanna: :-(

David: Next time then?!

Kiki: Yes please!

Matteo: But on principle we’re also pro love and such ;)

Amira: Loon

Carlos: FOR LOVE

Matteo: Haha, yep, have fun you guys! We’ll be in touch soon! *sends gif of two old men who are waving*

(next play)

[everygame]

Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia (Nintendo 3DS)

Developed/Published by: Intelligent Systems / Nintendo Released: 20/04/2017 Completed: 07/04/2022 Completion: Finished it (but not the post-game dungeon.) Trophies / Achievements: n/a

Well, colour me surprised, but I… loved this?

While it was admittedly, uh, eight years ago, I bounced off my last attempt at enjoying a Fire Emblem game, Shadow Dragon for Nintendo DS, and to this point it’s like… the only time I ever received hate mail over a write-up (for being totally wrong or whatever). I’m still pretty sure Shadow Dragon isn’t a particularly great remake (although I’ll admit that I wish I’d been able to cop the Switch re-release of the original version–Wario64 did his best, but I was never quite in time) but I’m exceedingly pleased that taking a yen for this after seeing Cory talk about this briefly on My Life in Gaming paid off. Especially considering that the 3DS is now in its twilight year and sooner than later getting a copy of this for a reasonable price will be as annoying as getting a copy of Shadow Dragon & The Blade of Light for Switch full stop.

I think what works in Fire Emblem Echoes favour is that it’s a remake of what is generally considered the red-headed step child of the series already. Whereas my experience of Fire Emblem previously has been to bemoan that it’s not a “pure” tactics game like its brother Advance Wars, here the game is much more of an RPG with frequent short battles in dungeons to grind, making the fuzzier “your tactics don’t need to be as rock solid as long as you are stronger than the enemies” style finally click.

It’s also, probably, that the game looks great. It’s nice to revisit the 3DS after a decently long break and remember just how well developers could use the hardware. There’s an odd dot-pitch to the screen as a result of the 3D, and while i know it doesn’t work for a lot of people, nostalgia has given it the feel of a visual style the same way PS1’s warpy textures are now celebrated. Sure, like any tactics game you’re going to fast-forward through the attacks, but there’s an intentionality to everything here that speaks to it as one of the last big games for the system.

The story is also… uh, well told? It’s unfortunately a big ol’ bag of cliché, but thanks to a translation from 8-4 that I’m pretty sure did most of the heavy lifting, I was never actively annoyed at it. I mean, I’m totally over ~destiny~ plots, and it’s a bit unfortunate that this one spends so much time in the early going yelling “it doesn’t matter how you were born! What matters is what you do!” only to basically undo all of that by the end, but the story at least doesn’t get bogged down with filler.

Actually, the structure probably helps. The game is split so that you play as two armies progressing at the same time, lead by the game’s dual protagonists Alm and Celica (impressive that her parents named her after one of Toyota’s best, and sadly defunct, car brands.) This helps with an issue I remember from Fire Emblem games (and probably what screwed me in Shadow Dragon): that you end up with so many units, and you’re trying to keep all the ones you like levelled up, and then you end up with everyone underlevelled. Here, you’re pretty evenly splitting your army, so you end up with 20 units that are all at a good level by the end of the game. 

Well, sort of. You still need to decide to more-or-less concentrate on 10 units a side from a pool of 30-odd total, and while I did piss a lot of experience up the wall on some sub-optimal units, there are enough grinding opportunities it was alright. In fact, I’ll use this opportunity to mention something about Echoes, and I believe the Fire Emblem series as a whole, that to me shouldn’t work but weirdly does. The games have a levelling-up system with high variability, meaning that a unit in your game can grow totally different from someone else’s, and if you just have bad luck, a supposedly top-tier unit can get a bunch of crappy level-ups and just be shite (it’s not common, but it could happen.) So you actually slightly benefit from leveling up more characters than you really need to see which way the wind is blowing, and you can also just ignore a character that is generally considered to be good if you don’t like their character and you’re having good luck with another one. Maybe I just liked a lot of the characters (they don’t all get much to do, but the in-battle conversations fill out their characters well enough) but watching their growth was actually exciting enough that I did do some grinding to choose between them and didn’t mind at all. 

This is even, honestly, a game where I could believe that going for the perma-death option might even… work? The game includes at least nine opportunities to resurrect dead units, and it might add a bit of spice to the game on normal considering I probably only lost about that many units in the game anyway. 

(That said, I’m the kind of person who will just restart a battle to avoid death, so I didn’t go for this. I wish I wasn’t, but I am. If you’re not this person, might be worth it.)

Anyway, even with a bit too much pissing about, Fire Emblem Echoes only just about managed to outstay its welcome, which felt a bit more related to the deflating ending of the game. No spoilers, but a lot of characters do things that don’t actually make a ton of sense, and the game annoyingly sidelines Celica and her party for the entire last dungeon. Considering a lot of my favourite characters were on her side (I put so much effort into crafting a Ladyblade Sonya!!!) this was a big time bummer (and I know they get their own end-dungeon, but it’s like… hours earlier???) 

I suppose there’s a post-game dungeon, but apparently it’s stupidly hard and feels unnecessary enough I wasn’t in the mood for it. Still. This is really good and you should probably pick it up if you like tactics RPGs that are heavy on the RPG before it’s stupidly overpriced, if it isn’t already by the time I post this.

Will I ever play it again? I won’t; by the time I’ll ever take a mood to play through the post-game dungeon I’m sure I’ll be like “how do I play this again?” and not bother. I’ve got a copy of Fire Emblem: Three Houses, though, so I’ve got that to look forward to/be disappointed by, idk.

Final Thought: I didn’t notice how aggressive Nintendo was with DLC on the 3DS (even though it’s a system where your “ownership” is awkwardly more attached to your specific 3DS rather than your account) until recently. There is a ton of DLC for this that (to be honest) you can definitely skip unless you really want to grind far beyond what you would ever need to in the main game that in total would cost you as much as buying the game as a second time. Wild!

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[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 5 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: Jackson Lee Davis/AMC

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: With a storm approaching, you offer to house Negan for the duration and maybe in the process deal with all the nagging thoughts that have come up during all the sessions so far.

Word Count: 2232

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Keeping Your Head Up” by Birdy

Note: This one is more like an intro to the next one, but I thought I’d post it cause I’m posting these in between some angsty stories!

---------

The constant arguing was finally getting on your nerves. 

Sitting in the meeting hall, you listened to the council and other key members of Alexandria argue about the same thing as always: Negan. This week’s issue was that there was a storm coming in that would most likely bring lots of rain, at least that’s what Eugene was thinking. Whether he was right or not, there was still the question of where they were putting their prisoner so he didn’t drown in his cell. 

There were those such as Aaron and Rosita who couldn’t care less about what happened to the man, but then there were people like Gabriel who were still mildly concerned. They had locked him up, kept him fed, and Gabriel didn’t think it was fair to keep him in such a vulnerable position during the potential downpour.

Nobody wanted to leave him alone in an empty house and Aaron had even suggested tying him up in the watch post, but Michonne had shot that down immediately. 

You sat in the back row of the hall, waiting for them to stop hollering at each other. The last conversation you had had with Negan hadn’t ended well. You were tired, he was curious, and you were not in the mood for his...negan-ness at all. The realization that you and the former leader were similar had rocked you a bit. You weren’t sure what to do with the information. 

There was a part of you that wanted to just walk out the front gate and not look back. Running away had once been a pattern for you before the world had ended, but you had fought to break that streak once you joined up with this group of survivors. However, spending a few days in the woods alone seemed not too bad right now. Daryl did seem to have the right idea at times, you thought. 

The hum of arguing continued and you fought against everything you had not to yell at them. If Alexandria didn't have strong walls, you were sure the Dead would have been called from miles away with this volume.

"I'll do it," you said, more to the wall than anyone. The yelling continued so you stood up and projected your voice louder, "I'll do it!"

Everyone in the room turned to look at you, Michonne pausing mid-sentence. "What?" Aaron asked.

"I said, I'll do it. Negan can stay with me at my place for the duration of the storm." Nobody knew what to say as you offered your home to be Negan’s temporary cell.

"(Y/N)," Gabriel began, unsure how to continue.

"I have an extra room," you explained, "my fireplace works, I live alone, and I'm already his therapist, might as well be his warden too."

"It's not your job to...house him," Rosita said.

"No, it's not," you agreed. "It's probably Michonne's considering she's head of security, but she has two little ones. Now, I doubt Judith and RJ would care if Negan stayed in their living room, but this way I keep him from all of you and y'all can stop bickering like a PTA meeting." 

"And if he tries to leave?" Aaron asked, but you rolled your eyes.

"He won't," you assured him, "though, if he managed to sneak past me, all the other houses, and get over the walls in the storm, then hell, he would deserve the escape." 

"Let's try not to let that happen," Michonne said and you nodded. "Are you going to need extra supplies?" She asked simply. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at how easy it was to take on the responsibility. You knew it was just a matter of time before someone spoke up and you also knew that person was going to be you.

"I think we'll be okay. I'll wait until the sun goes down and then drag Alcatraz on over.” 

You didn’t wait for a response before grabbing your jacket and exiting the hall. All around Alexandria, people were prepping for the storm. There wasn’t much they could do considering there was only a few hour warning. These were the days when you missed The Weather Channel the most. Since the world had ended, it was the small things that you missed about the old world rather than the big ones. 

Waving to Gracie who was sitting on the steps of her house, you continued on your way to your small home near the South wall. It wasn’t much and it was smaller than the rest of the homes, but you preferred it. Rick had once called it your “crows nest” which was appropriate considering your time as a sniper. 

Rosita’s house was locked up tight as you passed it and jogged up your front steps. There wasn’t much more to do as you tended to keep your house secure most of the time.

You spent the next couple of hours taping down the windows, grabbing firewood from the communal supply, and taking inventory of your food stock. The whole thing was becoming...odd. It was as if you were a kid again, making sure the house was clean for company so your parents didn’t feel embarrassed.

The thought alone made you chuckle as you finished off your chores by grabbing extra blankets from the hall closet. Glancing outside, the sun began to dip and droplets of rain were already spattering against the windows. With a sigh, you grabbed your coat and began the walk over to the cell. 

There were very few people out on the streets and you had a feeling Gabriel and Michonne had spread the news that public enemy number one would be lead out on his leash tonight. Walking by the Grimes’ house, Judith looked at you through the window. You sent her a wink and she grinned back, giving you a thumbs up. 

You often wondered where her constant optimism came from because it definitely didn’t come from being raised by Rick or by her biological father. Shane was never one to see the glass as half full for as long as you knew him. However, now that you were thinking about it, Lori did have that little spark deep down...very deep down. Perhaps Judith Grimes was one of a kind after all.

Pulling the keys from your belt, you shuffled down the steps and unlocked the large door. Stepping inside the cold room, you were surprised to be met with silence. You stepped closer to the bars and then you understood why. 

Negan was fast asleep. 

You took a moment to watch the sleeping man. There was something so innocent about the way a person slept. It was like a reset button for a night and right now he didn’t look like the monster Alexandria and others feared, he was just a man trying to get some rest in a screwed-up world. Rest that you felt bad about interrupting. 

Pulling the right key, you inserted it into the cell door and pushed it open. Negan remained asleep as you crept forward. Leaning down, you gently shook his shoulder, trying to wake him. Negan’s eyes flew open and his hand tightly gripped the arm that was resting on him. “Ow,” you grunted at the pressure, trying to pull your hand back. 

“What’s going on?” He muttered, blinking in the darkness. 

“I’ll tell you if you let me go,” you hissed. Negan finally focused on you, his brows furrowed. 

“(Y/N)?” he asked.

“Negan, hand,” you reminded him.

“Oh, right,” he said, releasing you from his grip. You stepped back, rubbing at the skin that was sure to be bruised later. He slowly sat up and glanced at the open cell door before looking back at you. “What? Has the Queen of Alexandria finally agreed to a public execution?” he asked bitterly.

With a roll of your eyes, you reached over and grabbed the thick jacket Gabriel had gotten for him a few weeks ago. You threw it at him. 

“There’s a massive storm rolling through and Eugene thinks it’ll flood some areas. You’re staying with me until it passes. No more than two days,” you explained, crossing your arms. Negan was silent as his fingers played with the thick material of his jacket. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“Why what?” you asked, exasperated.

“Why would anyone care if I succumbed to the elements?” he asked with narrowed eyes. 

“You don’t want to come? That’s fine. I don’t mind being alone,” you said with a challenge in your eyes. Negan quickly stood, shaking his head. 

“No, no, a warm house sounds very nice,” he quickly said. “I’m a great house guest.”

“Right,” you said, still feeling the awkwardness that remained between the two of you from your last conversation. Negan shrugged on the jacket and then you walked to him, producing a pair of cuffs. 

“Seriously?” he asked, staring at the chains with disdain.

“Either this or learn to swim,” you said, dangling the cuffs. Negan huffed but offered you his wrists anyway. You quickly fastened them and then took hold of his arm. “Come on, it’s already started to rain.

Negan followed you out of the cell, hesitating on the threshold for a moment. You squeezed his arm briefly and he kept walking. The two of you pushed out into the damp air and you let go of him for a second to close up the room tightly, trying to reduce the amount of water damage that was sure to come.

Turning back to Negan, his attention wasn’t on you, but on the overcast sky. His head was tilted back as he breathed in the night air. A look of content was on his face and you almost thought he was smiling slightly. It was then that you realized this was the first time he had been outside in...you didn’t know how long.

Taking his arm again, you pulled him away from his thoughts and tugged him after you. Negan kept pace with you as you began the walk home. The streets were completely empty now, but it didn’t stop Negan from looking around with those curious eyes of his. 

You didn’t know what compelled you to do it, but you easily slowed your pace, letting the walk take twice as long as usual. Looking up at Negan who was completely focused on Alexandria, you let yourself feel a bit sorry for the man. Obviously, Michonne had her reasons for keeping him locked up. You knew them and so did Negan, but you thought that perhaps he should be let out a bit more often. 

Michonne had asked you to start visiting him because she thought all the isolation was bad for him, but she also didn’t realize that it wasn’t just being alone that wasn’t good for him. He needed to be out and even if it was starting to pour, you were going to let him have this moment. 

Sliding your arm off of his, you let him wander ahead of you a bit, keeping him close, but not so much him being a dog being lead on a leash. He took the paths with grass on them and ran his hands down light posts and across fences. It was like watching someone rediscover the world and it made you oddly happy. 

“This way, genius,” you called when he began walking down another street. He quickly walked to your side with a grin on his face. “What?”

“I just never imagined you’d be taking me home so soon,” he joked and you rolled your eyes. 

“Well, I didn’t think you would enjoy spending the night in the stables,” you explained, kicking at a loose stone on the road. 

“And Michonne and Gabe probably told you that I needed a babysitter.”

“That too,” you agreed. You finished the walk in silence. There were moments when you had to steer Negan in the right direction, but overall, you let him walk on his own without a guard. Arriving at your house, you pulled him up the steps, ignoring Rosita who was glaring at him through her window. Negan didn’t seem to notice or if he did, he didn’t say anything.

“Home sweet home, huh?” Negan said as he stepped into your house. The fire was already burning as your pulled of your jacket and lay it across a chair near the flames. Negan was looking around at the warm room when you walked to him and grabbed his wrists, the key to the cuffs in your hand. “Really?” he asked, surprised. 

“Did you expect me to keep them on?” you asked, removing the cuffs.

“Kind of, yeah,” he admitted. 

“Well, this is not the cell, it’s my house. My house, my rules, and I say that nobody needs to wear handcuffs. So, here you go. Two days of whatever you want. The kitchen is stocked, there’s decently hot water, and the spare bedroom is the final door on the left. However, you touch my weapons and I will put the cuffs back on, deal?” Negan stared at you for a second before nodding. 

“Yeah, no problem,” he said and you gave him an awkward thumbs up before leaving him be in your living room. Walking into your kitchen, you wished for whiskey, another small thing you missed from the old world.

“This is going to be a long two days.” 

TAGS:  @thanossexual​ @yes-sir-hotchner​ @boom-bunny​ @delusionalteenagewhispers​ @sophia-gwendolyn​ @ritajammer21

[gallavictorious]

I really wish they could have acknowledged that Ian messed up in signing the lease against Mickey's wishes. That bedroom scene would have meant so much more if Ian had apologized for making Mickey move there before he was ready to. I don't doubt that at least a part of Mickey's unhappiness was because he just wasn't ready to completely change his life like that. He wasn't emotionally ready to deal with feeling like a misfit and that contributed to his humiliation and discomfort. Maybe if he'd had time to process and come to terms with living there, if he had actually been part of the decision, he would have had an easier time accepting things that were unfamiliar and he wouldn't have had to take out his anger on things like patio furniture and the moon. All those things felt more frustrating than they perhaps would have otherwise because he didn't choose them. If Ian had just apologized or acknowledged that mistake in any way I would have felt much better about the episode. In the end, it's not like they even compromised on anything except that Mickey gets to pee in the pool 🙄 How is that supposed to help things, exactly?

Hiya nonnie! As mentioned before I have a lot of complex emotions about how the whole West Side story played out in this latest episode, but I'm moving towards an interpretation of events that makes sense and is emotionally satisfying to me. This is going to be a little half-baked and tentative and I might change my mind later on, but this is where I am right now:

See, I agree that the end result of this felt a bit... meh, on first watch. Mickey is clearly miserable at that place and the only reason he's there at all is because Ian didn't really give him much of a choice. Agreeing to stay somewhere you hate just to make your partner happy is not... optimal, if there are other options available, and I just don't love that the outcome was that okay, fine, he'll suck it up and have a go at it even though he really doesn't want to. But having watched it again, and gone on a long forrest walk with some friends to clear my head, and having though about it some more, I don't think that's what we're actually getting: I don't think this is Mickey still having all of his reservations intact but going with it anyway just because he loves Ian; I think this is Mickey having some of those reservations removed, and thus feeling actually okay with giving it a proper shot.

Like this: I believe that Mickey is quite genuinely is uninterested by what the West Side has to offer. It isn't just fear of change or fear of not fitting in that makes moving there objectionable to him, I think that he generally doesn't see the appeal of that lifestyle at all. Still, Mickey is pretty adaptable and did like the heated pool and what matters most to him is being together with Ian, so had all of his objections been related to practical concerns I think he would have... squared up and gone with it. Maybe grumbling a bit at first and still not loving it, but you know. Making do and being okay.

But I don't think that's the whole of it. Before the episode aired, I rashly speculated about Mickey worrying that Ian doesn't think him good enough (rather than Mickey himself worrying about not being good enough; I maintain that Mickey is pretty comfortable with who he is) and he's resisting moving to the West Side partly because he knows he won't fit in and worries that Ian will truly realize that Mickey can't never really be part of whatever picture-perfect dream of the middleclass Ian's got going. When I first watched the episode I, somewhat unhappily, thought that this theory had been shot down: “there's too much pressure,” Mickey tells us, and, “it makes me uncomfortable”. It initially seemed to me that the show was pushing a narrative of Mickey being concerned about a general societal pressure to conform with West Side expectations and him being unhappy with his own inability to do so. If that had been the case, him eventually agreeing to stay at the condo would be... unfortunate, to say the very least. But it would also be strange as fuck because why would Mickey do that – he did go along with it at first (and I have a bunch of thoughts on his uncharacteristic resignation there, but that's another meta), but now he's fed up and taking a stance so why would he suddenly change his tune after Ian's actually given him a way out? He wouldn't – not unless something had changed for him.

And it has, because Mickey isn't talking about pressure in general, is he; he is talking about (perceived) pressure from Ian. He thinks Ian wants him to change and that is making him very unhappy with the whole situation because Mickey doesn't want to change, not in that way, and the idea that his husband doesn't think him good enough as he is pretty damned hurtful (which compounds and amplifies his other and practical issues with their new home). What happens in this conversation – what changes – is that Ian finally gets this and deliberatedly moves to correct the misunderstanding. Because it is a misunderstanding: Mickey's happiness – Mickey – is far more important to Ian than nice condos and growing tomatoes, and Ian didn't sign the lease just because he's prepared to do anything to attain this lifestyle and doesn't give a shit about Mickey's opinions; he did it because he truly thought it would be good for both of them. (He was still wrong to do it and there's no getting around that, but while good intentions doesn't make it okay, I think we also need to acknowledge that his intentions were good.) Realizing that he miscalculated, he backs down, and in doing so he lets Mickey know where Ian's true priorities lie: with Mickey and with their marriage. Then he goes on to assure Mickey that even if they do stay on the West Side, he doesn't expect Mickey to change (except for not doing blatantly idiotic things like stealing from people at the apartment complex, and you know, that's reasonable) and, as noted in this post, makes a point of calling Mickey a barbarian in a way that makes it very clear that to Ian this is a feature and not a bug.

In the end, Mickey agrees to stay on the West Side, and on the surface that might seem like nothing has changed, nothing is better, Mickey has resigned himself to a life he absolutely doesn't want – but as argued above, I don't think that's true. Mickey might still not love it there but his biggest concern about moving there is no longer a factor, and thus he feels comfortable making a choice that confirms that Ian and their marriage is his top priority too – more important than him getting to be king of the South Side. This time, Mickey gets to be part of the decision (and I absolutely agree with you that this is key to making him feel okay with the move) and he chooses to give this a shot, and sure, that's probably more because he wants to make Ian happy than because he's starting to see the true appeal of the West Side, but it is a choice freely made and not one I think he feels badly about.

With all this in mind, I don't think Ian not voicing an actual apology is a problem. To me, the most important thing is that the narrative acknowledges this and that unfortunate situation was remedied and that Ian himself realizes that he made a mistake – and I think he absolutely did that. The way he acts in the beginning of the episode suggests to me that he is aware of Mickey being unhappy, and trying to make things better (by highlighting what's good about the apartment and telling Mickey that he's happy that they're there: ie that he's happy Mickey went with it). After Mickey blows up at the pool, Ian seeks him out and very pointedly does not give him shit about chucking chairs but try to have an actual conversation instead, and in the end – when he realizes what the issue is – he relents.

Perhaps it would have been nice to have Ian acknowledge that he screwed up, the way Mickey does when telling Ian that he “shouldn't have asked him to stay” in 10x03, but I think it's quite in character for Ian not to do that; he doesn't like to admit to being wrong, and he does take steps to undo the harm he's done. These two very rarely use words to say sorry to each other anyway – that only happens once in season 5 and once in season 7 – and this is an aspect of their relationship that I actually really enjoy! I cannot begin to tell you how much I love the way they reconcile on the couch in HoS: that just works for me on every level. So, as long as we don't get Mickey agreeing to something that makes him miserable, I don't have an issue with Ian not verbally saying sorry or admitting he screwed up. Actions always mattered more than words to Mickey anyway, so I doubt he's having a problem with it either.

In conclusion: I absolutely get where you're coming from, nonnie, because I felt similar dissatisfaction right after watching the episode. (Not about the lack of apology, because, yeah, they don't do that, but with the resolution to the whole thing.) Now, though, I'm actually quite happy with it; while I personally am still not in love with them moving to the West Side, it makes sense to me this way, and it's in character and the resolution emotionally satisfying. You might not agree with any of this, of course, but this is where I am now. Thank you so much for the ask, which afforded me an opportunity to work through my own tangled emotions on this matter. <3

[lorei-writes]

Hello, friends! 

It seems that each time I say something obvious I needed to hear, there is at least one person who wanted to be told this too. So let me get personal again, and you know. Talk about some mildly human stuff, nevertheless - fandom related.

Summary: Lorei saying “ I’m just trying to say fandom is not a chore. It is casual thing I do for fun. It doesn’t need to be perfectly mapped out and planned out, it doesn’t need to have its efficiency maximized, there is no need for any optimal growth or development. It is okay to engage with canon, transform it, put it out, that it is okay to come back to it whenever, that there are no obligations tying anybody down to anything. That’s it. At least in my eyes. “ and going in a bit of detail on what went through her head in the past few weeks.

You know... I really screwed up a couple weeks ago ^^” It also aligned with some real-life events that weren’t exactly pleasant, and oh well, there I was, completely numb to anything. But, fandom.

So, a few week ago I was considering leaving the fandom behind ^^” As you can see, though, I’m still here and to be honest, I don’t plan on going anywhere in the near future. I guess... I guess I kinda wanted to talk about the things which almost led to it? Although admittedly, I’m struggling with words right now.

So. I’m a very anxious person, to the point where sometimes it is hard to decide where anxiety starts and my actual desires and thoughts end. Although I presume it’s natural it’s a rather seamless transition, considering that it’s also a thought inside of my head - nevertheless, my point is, I sometimes slip. Sometimes I let ideas in my mind escalate too much, to the point when they’re harmful to me... But then, it is on me not to do that. It’s not about guilt or who caused what (as well, I did), only about few thoughts I had and what I decided to do about it. But it’s vague, so let’s get down to more concrete things. It’s a bit of a call out for myself too. Also, this is strictly about myself. Everybody can feel differently and it doesn’t make their outlook on it any less valid.

I want to grow this blog.

This is - in my opinion - a perfectly reasonable thing to desire. I suppose most of us want to be seen, for their work to be appreciated and such - and honestly, it’s always a blast to read comments under your own work and see that hey, somebody else really did enjoy it!

But my anxieties took it too far. They exchanged “want” to “must”, and although at the beginning it made little difference, with time it gradually became draining. It got the the point where I would queue up something I wrote, forget about it, move to writing something else, and then feel hardly anything, no matter what reactions it got. The act of writing itself remained pleasurable, sure, it wasn’t completely soulless work... But then there was this air of detachment from everyone. I felt that although I technically was on this blog, it was also as if I kinda disappeared. I felt mechanical - and I do not like anything about this.

I want to be up to date with the game.

Similarly to the above, “want” got exchanged to “must”, thus adding pressure somewhere where it doesn’t belong. 

I don’t enjoy some characters, and even despite that I wrote them initially. I stopped doing that and then thought hey, I must be good now... But then, I acted as if I had to be curious about everything, even if I was not. We live under a constant stream of content and... To feel that you must do something you enjoy slowly begins to turn it into a chore, at least for me.

I want to share this thing I like with others so much!

This ended up being twisted in a bit of a different way, straight to “I want to make others happy” and then to “I must make others happy”.

I was subjected to emotional abuse as a child. I am guilty of people pleasing. I am aware of it and thought I was doing well - because, all the things you requested, all the things I offered, I really, really do want to write them. I enjoy those ideas, and I hope it will not discourage you from dropping by to share them. It’s one of the best things, really. I made it a point to teach myself to refuse requests I do not like, as hard as it was - and I practise it. 

The only thing is. I forgot to make time for myself in it. For the stupid self-indulgent things that just sorta bounce around inside of my skull. 

Anxieties are vile. At one point, I legitimately wondered whether an idea is worth being written out, simply because “what if nobody else enjoys it”, or “what if somebody disagrees” - or “no, I should wait with event XYZ up until a milestone, it can’t be done any different way”. Stupid! Completely irrational! 

So. Where am I going with this all... Ah, yes. 

I’m not leaving, but I don’t want this to stay this way either. Honestly, you probably won’t see any dramatic changes. It’s more so in my attitude, anyways. 

I’m just trying to say fandom is not a chore. It is casual thing I do for fun. It doesn’t need to be perfectly mapped out and planned out, it doesn’t need to have its efficiency maximized, there is no need for any optimal growth or development. It is okay to engage with canon, transform it, put it out, that it is okay to come back to it whenever, that there are no obligations tying anybody down to anything. That’s it. At least in my eyes. 

I will be still accepting requests. Honestly, as I’ve said - it’s more so in my attitude. I plan to quit doing milestone events... In exchange for casual events, when the inspiration strikes. Who cares how many of you are here? If you are here, you are here, each day is good enough. I plan to stop looking at my followers count. At reblogs-to-likes ratio (although I was yet to feel wronged in any way by it). At whether I posted something and whether the reblog wave I want to do will bury it down on my page. Because honestly, what is there to care about? I plan to, perhaps... Write a couple things I was thinking about. 

Sorry for getting too in my head about, well, all the wrong things, honestly. Although perhaps - sorry to myself. I took a step back. I’m enjoying those things again.

So, perhaps, let’s chat again when an opportunity arises? I honestly hate detaching myself from the things I do, at least this way.

Keep warm, 

Lorei

[possiamo-andare]

Midsummer pt.4: JJ Maybank

JJ x Reader

(gif by @rudypankows )

MASTERLIST

word count: 5.4k

a/n: hello friends! I know this took forever but I didnt want to post anything in light of what is going on in the world right now concerning the Black Lives Matter movement. Even now, as I write this, it feels wrong. I think it's because I want to make sure that no one goes back to normal because George Floyd is not the only victim of police brutality. Please use your voice. Stand up for what's right. Sign petitions. Go to rallies. Donate money if you have the means. I have saved some money over the past weeks to donate and it would help me greatly if you could comment below and tell me a good charity I can donate to that supports black lives. Obviously, I will be donating to the Black Lives Matter movement but any other charities that you feel that are just as important, please comment below. No justice, no peace!

~

When you were a child, there was a time where you read old Nancy Drew books. They provided you with an escape from reality; a means for you to daydream. Your parents were so consumed with their jobs and getting you the proper schooling, you rarely had time to be a child. The Nancy Drew series provided that way out. Although you enjoyed all the books equally, there was one book from the series that you particularly read over and over again. It was called Nancy Drew and the Legend of the Lost Gold. It was a short novel and, as one would guess, it's about Nancy and her friends discovering lost gold during their vacation on a coastline.

You loved this book for many reasons. One of the reasons was because the idea of finding long lost gold, was just about the most exciting thing for an eight year old child. Secondly, it made you realize how desperate people were to become rich. You had lived comfortably your entire life and to read in a book that people would do anything for a chance at stolen gold, was a real shock to you.

Now, as John B. drove back to the chateau, you realized that you're not shocked anymore. Someone was willing to shoot you and your friends just to get some of the gold. If they knew where the rest had been, you didn't want to think about all the other things they were willing to do. This was a scary thought and you knew now that not only did you need to protect that gold, you needed to protect your new and old friends who were chasing after the gold. Your mind instantly went to JJ, who sat beside you in John B.'s wagon. He was so hell bent on getting revenge but you had calmly talked him out of it. The last thing you wanted was a bullseye on JJ's head because he stole money from a drug dealer.

Finally, John B. parked near the chateau. You had never been here but John B. said you all needed a place to lay low until they could come up with a better plan. They obviously couldn't go back to the only cash for gold shop in OBX and they couldn't go to the police, because how would you explain where you got the gold? You agreed with John B. You all needed to take a moment to breathe and sort everything out. You believed in the people around you, and you believed you all would figure something out eventually.

"So, what're we gonna do?" Kiara said, plopping herself down in a chair. Pope sat across from her as John B. and Sarah sat beside each other.

"I have no idea." Pope sighed, rubbing his temples. You didn't point it out but you could see his hands were still shaking.

You sat down on the last remaining seat and looked to JJ who was standing beside you, arms crossed over his chest. You motioned to the rows of chairs behind him. "Wanna sit?"

JJ vigorously shook his head, still fuming. You didn't want to argue with him, especially after everything you had been through, so you let it go for now.

"Well, if we can't sell it, maybe we can put it in a security box in the bank?" Pope suggested, looking to John B.

John B. nodded. "We could. My main focus is on how we're gonna get the rest of the gold."

You all sighed. JJ had told you that there was much more; $400 million worth of gold down the well still. John B. had only taken a handful. This means that they had to somehow get pounds and pounds of gold up from a well and into John B.'s wagon to take it to a bank. As if that wasn't suspicious already. This all seemed impossible. You realized that maybe finding the gold was the easy part, everything after was the hard part.

"That's gonna cost money though." JJ started, his jaw set. You could tell he was still pissed about everything that had happened today and you didn't blame him. "We need supplies, like rope and wire and tools and a place where we can load the gold onto."

You nodded along to what JJ was saying. "I can look in my garage again but I doubt I have half of the things we all are looking for."

You looked to Sarah, who had been quiet this entire time. When you made eye contact, she finally cleared her voice to speak. "We could look for some supplies and buy the rest we need. Pope, I'm sure your dad has some stuff. Kiara too. And Y/N, your dad must have something in his garage. The rest we can buy with the money we have."

Everyone nodded along, silently thanking Sarah for her optimism. No one spoke for a moment, but then John B. reached for Sarah's hand and grabbed it. "We can do this."

You smiled as you watched Sarah squeeze John B.'s hand. You could tell how in love they were. It made you want to cry. You were so happy for her. You smiled up at JJ, who finally was starting to relax a little. He smiled back at you, his elbow leaning against your chair.

"So, we'll grab the supplies we can get, meet at my place tomorrow morning and go back to the well." JJ planned, a smile on his face.

It didn't last long. Before JJ had any real time to be happy, John B. interrupted that. "I can't tomorrow morning. Ward is taking me out on his boat."

Everyone looked to John B., frowns on everyone's face. JJ, now angry again, was the first one to speak up. "Seriously dude?"

"Yeah," Pope agreed with JJ. "It's $400 million in gold. Can't you bail?"

John B. shook his head. "No. Ward took me in when child services wanted to take me away from OBX. I owe him." John B. looked to Sarah, smiling lightly at her. She smiled back, a glow you had never seen before in her eyes.

No one seemed to want to argue anymore, understanding where John B. was coming from. Everyone but JJ, who was now mad again.

"Seriously? This is my only way out and you can't make up an excuse?" JJ placed back and forth, his face going red. "If you won't get the money, then I will."

You knew exactly what he meant. He was going to go back to the drug dealers house and steal the money. Somehow JJ knew that he kept over $25,000 in cash in his house and he was determined to find it. Even though you had talked him out of it once, you weren't sure if you could do it again.

"JJ, no." You pleaded, getting out of your seat and following him. He was practically out the door when you stopped him. You grabbed onto his shoulder and forced him to turn to you.

At first he couldn't look into your eyes. "Y/N..."

"Please don't do this. You're gonna get hurt." You pleaded, grabbing onto his hands.

JJ pulled away from you, an ashamed look on his face. "You don't understand. Without this gold, I'm screwed. It's my only way out of this hell hole. I need that gold."

You nodded, understanding his reasoning but still holding onto the fact that it was incredibly dangerous. "Please, we can find another way."

For a moment, it almost seemed as if JJ was going to listen to you but the moment was over before you could take it in. Then, JJ became furious again and stormed off, leaving you with an enormous weight on your chest. You were scared for him. JJ was not being level headed, which meant he was going to make rash decisions. Rash decisions rarely ever were successful and JJ's plan, whatever it was, was not going to be successful either.

As you made your way back to the table everyone was sitting at, Sarah stood up to comfort you. You accepted her hug willingly. You wanted to cry out of frustration but you knew you couldn't now. You needed to focus. Maybe if you all came up with a good plan, JJ wouldn't have to do anything stupid.

Everyone stayed silent as Sarah comforted you. You knew they were all weary of what they should say. JJ was putting himself in a terrible situation and if he didn't stop, he would not end up in a good place. You knew this but you also knew it was JJ's decision at the end of the day.

Finally, Kiara spoke. "Do you think he's gonna go back to his dad?" She's not looking at anyone but you can still hear the sadness in her voice.

The entirety of OBX knew JJ's dad as a gambling drunk who was in no position to raise a son. You were honestly surprised with how good JJ turned out considering he had a terrible father. There was also a rumour floating around OBX that JJ's father hit him. You didn't want to believe it but you'd be lying if you said that when you saw JJ's bruises on his face, your first thought wasn't that it was from his father. You never pressured JJ into talking about it because you didn't want him to shut you out or feel uncomfortable but you hoped one day, he would tell you if there was something going on at home.

Pope answered Kiara. "I don't think JJ ever wants to go home. Not when his dad is drunk at least."

Your stomach dropped. Pope confirmed your suspicions. This meant that the bruises on his face that you saw during the Midsummer party were in fact from his father and not from a fight he instigated. You felt bad for thinking it had been his fault. You had let the rumours about how terrible JJ was ruin your perception of him. You promised yourself that from now on, that would never happen.

"So, what do we do now?" You asked, sitting back down.

Everyone looked at you but didn't speak. Finally, John B. did. "We're gonna get that gold."

You all made a plan. Kiara was going to go to her dad's restaurant and see if there were any tools there, while Pope went to his dad's shop and looked for rope and supplies. Sarah and you would buy the rest of the supplies, like helmets and flashlights and everyone would meet at John B.'s house. Kiara would be parked in his backyard. You all would meet tomorrow night instead of the morning because John B. promised to go on Ward's boat.Once the gold was extracted, then you all would figure out a way to keep it safe from greedy people in OBX.

Once everything was planned, you all went your separate ways. It took awhile for you all to separate from each other but you eventually did. The tension lingered in the air; telling you all that this might be the last peaceful time any of you had for a while. You didn’t want to believe this but that gut feeling never left you. Even as you walked back to your neighbourhood, with Sarah and John B. following you, you couldn’t shake this gut feeling that something terrible was going to happen.

“You ok Y/N?” John B. asked, watching as you silently walked beside him and Sarah. John B. and Sarah were having their own conversation and you didn’t seem to be contributing. This was very unusual because, even though John B. only knew you for a moment, he recognized that you were a very chatty girl.

You looked up at John B., forcing a smile. “Yeah,” you sighed deeply, trying to come up with an answer. “Just worried about JJ.” This technically wasn’t a lie. JJ had left you hours ago and in those hours, your mind was leaping to conclusions. You hoped for the best and thought maybe he turned around last minute and decided to not steal anything. But you knew JJ better than you knew yourself and you knew what he was capable of.

John B. and Sarah both nodded but only John B. spoke again. “Me too. When JJ gets into these mindsets though, it’s hard to convince him otherwise. He’s stubborn like that.”

Sarah scoffed, a playful look on her face. “Sounds like someone I know.” You know she’s talking about you and you can’t help but smile. You knew you were exactly the same.

You didn’t bother to reply to Sarah, knowing she was right. Instead, you stayed silent as John B. continued to go into detail about how excited he was to spend some quality alone time with Ward. You only smiled and nodded along with what he was saying, your mind elsewhere. More specifically, your mind was focused on JJ. You wondered where he was and with who. If he was safe, or if the drug dealer had caught up to him. You wished he was less stubborn, if he only listened to you. It was too late now. The only thing you could do was wait and hope he was alright.

Once you got to the fork in the road, you finally spoke up. “I take a right here.”

John B. and Sarah nodded, finally letting go of each other to hug you goodbye. First was Sarah. She hugged you way too tightly and you couldn’t help but giggle. She let you go instantly and apologized. Then, John B. hugged you briefly and thanked you numerous times. Of course, you told it was no problem but you were lying to yourself if you didn’t think, even for a second, that maybe you regretted getting into all this trouble. It had only been a day but you already had a gun pointed at you by a drug dealer. You didn’t voice any of your regret to John B. or Sarah. You didn’t want to make them feel bad. This is why you needed JJ. You could tell him this type of stuff without him judging you. Because he knew. He understood you. He saw you.

Your house had a long ass driveway. Sometimes, if you walked slow enough, it would take you five or so minutes to get to the front door. You never made it the full way though. Halfway to the front door, you remembered you had lost your key and were now locked out of your house. Tonight was date night for your parents and you knew they weren’t home at this time and probably wouldn't be home for a while. Instead, you made your way to your backyard, where your dad kept a spare key underneath a pot. Finding the pot wasn’t as easy as you thought. There were almost ten pots in your backyard since your dad took up gardening so you had to individually check under each pot before you found the pot where the key was being held. Finally, you unlocked the door with a sigh. You were gonna have your key sewn into your skin so you’d never forget it ever again.

Before you could internally complain any more, you were caught off guard by a hand wrapping around your mouth. You had only made it one foot in the door before someone came up behind you, putting a hand over your mouth and pushed you all the way inside. You tried to scream for help but it was no use, this person was clasping their hand over your mouth too roughly. Once they had closed the door behind you, you took the opportunity to get the upper hand and you kicked them in the shin with your heel as hard as you could. You then grabbed their hand covering your mouth and twisted it. The stranger let out a yelp and they fell to their knees. Finally, you turned around to see the perpetrator.

“Jesus woman!” JJ yelled, trying to release his hand from your grasp. It was no use. You had it twisted so the more he struggled, the more it hurt.

Once you recognized JJ, you instantly gripped harder, only causing him to yell out again in pain. “What the fuck JJ.”

JJ scoffed through the pain searing through his wrist. “You broke my wrist!”

This time you scoffed, letting go of his wrist finally. JJ got up quickly, a pout on his face. “I didn’t break it you idiot. Don’t sneak up on me like that next time.”

JJ rolled his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were a fucking ninja.”

You turned around this time, walking away from JJ. You had to remind yourself that you were upset with him. He was so charming sometimes that you forgot.

“Y/N!” JJ hissed, grabbing onto your elbow before you could get far away from him.

You instantly broke free from his grip. “What’s your -”

BANG! BANG!

A loud bang on your door stopped you in the middle of your sentence. You looked to the door, then back at JJ. You raised your eyebrows in confusion but before he could answer you, the voice on the other side already did.

“Y/N!” It was Rafe. Your eyes widened and this time, you looked to JJ in shock. Had he known Rafe was coming and tried to push you inside?

“I was at the Wreck today and heard him talking about coming over to your house tonight. He knew your parents weren’t home tonight. I wanted to make sure you were alright.” JJ whispered to you, explaining what you already suspected.

BANG! BANG!

“Y/N! Are you inside?”

Before you could answer, Rafe banged on your front door again. You and JJ were in the back of your house anyways so you weren’t scared he would hear you.

“We need to hide for a little but I’m still upset with you.” You frowned at JJ, finally tiptoeing away from him.

You could feel JJ at your heels, following quickly behind you. “Why?” He was still whispering and you knew you would have to as well because now you were way closer to the front door.

You stopped and turned around, glancing at the backpack JJ had on. “Is that his money?”

JJ frowned, instantly knowing what you were talking about. He nodded solemnly. “I’m giving it to my dad tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s why.”

BANG! BANG!

“Y/N!” Rafe banged on your door again, this time calling out for you desperately.

JJ rolled his eyes, looking to the front door where Rafe was on the other side. “Does this guy ever give up?”

You scoffed. “How ironic.”

You tried to turn away from JJ again but he grabbed a hold of your shoulder, preventing you from doing so. “Hey,” JJ said softly, looking in your eyes. You tried to not make eye contact but you couldn’t help it. You felt yourself turn into putty as he grabbed onto your hands. “I told you, as a Kook, there’s some stuff you don’t understand. I need this money.”

You shook your head. “You’re right. I don’t understand.” Your anger boiled over again and this time you ripped away from JJ’s grasp. You could tell he was hurt by your actions but before he could say anything, you both heard a terrifying sound come from the door.

A key was unlocking the door. Rafe had a key to your house.

You acted before JJ could, grabbing onto him and pulling him farther and farther away from the front door. You tried to think of a place to hide in the small amount of time the both of you had but you couldn’t think fast enough. JJ saw you start to have difficulty and tugged on your hand, signalling to you he knew where to hide.

You looked to him, hearing the front door open. He pointed forward and you followed his finger to where he was pointing. When you saw what he was pointing at, you almost wanted to roll your eyes. No way. JJ could see your grumpy expression but before you had time to argue, he pulled you forward and opened the door to the closet in your hallway.

This was the closet where your parents kept all their cleaning supplies so the second you entered and JJ closed the door behind you, you were hit with the smell of disinfectant. Thankfully, the door had a lock on the inside and you locked it quietly.

“Y/N?” Rafe calls out for you, still adamant that you were home.

Both you and JJ stay completely silent, listening to Rafe’s footsteps. He doesn’t pass the closet but instead makes his way upstairs, hoping he’s lucky enough to find you in bed. When he’s finally upstairs, JJ speaks first.

“Why does he have your key?” He’s infuriated now, thinking you gave him your key and still haven’t asked for it back. Maybe you still had feelings for Rafe and were waiting it out until JJ screwed up to go back to Rafe. JJ’s insecurities were swallowing him whole.

“I don’t know…” You whisper, not looking at the angry blonde. You remember your lost key. You hadn’t seen it for weeks, just after your fight with Rafe. Had he stolen it from you? You didn’t want to believe it but you wouldn’t put it past Rafe. He was always possessive. But this was too far and now you were scared. How many times had he entered your house without your knowledge since your breakup. Would he watch you sleep? You felt your body go cold.

JJ could see the petrified look on your face and his face instantly softened. Although he wanted to tackle Rafe and hurt him for scaring you so badly, he knew that would not help the situation. You both had to just wait it out until he left. So, as you waited, JJ wrapped his arms around your body in an attempt to comfort you. You gladly leaned onto him and let his warmth envelop you. As much as you were angry with him, he was the only person that could calm you down.

“How many times have we hid in closets since we met?”

You laugh lightly at his attempt to joke at a time like this. “This is the third time.”

“Every couple has their cheesy thing. This is ours.” JJ continued to joke, running his hands through your hair.

You pulled away from his chest only slightly, just to get a better look at his face. “We’re not a couple.”

JJ smirks, leaning millimetres away from your lips and looking down at them. His hot breath fans your face. “Yes we are.”

You lean forward, trying to close the gap between you two. JJ pulls only a little farther away, not letting you kiss him. You let out a disgruntled sigh. “Say we are.” JJ pleads quietly.

You only nod, too proud to agree with him.

“I wanna hear you say it.”

You gulp, his whispers sending shivers down your spine. “We are.”

Finally, JJ closes the gap between the two of you allowing you two to kiss. The kiss is passionate and it makes your stomach flip with excitement. Everything else melts away for those moments your lips are on his. He’s all you ever need. You need him like you need oxygen. You want to mad at him but you can’t. Not anymore. You’re addicted. You wonder if this is what love feels like, but you already know the answer. You love him.

Before you can even come to terms with this new revelation, you hear the sound of a door slam. You both jump back, anxious that you’ve been caught. You hear the ignition of a motorcycle start and drive away, signalling to you and JJ that Rafe is gone. You both wait another minute to make sure and once you are, JJ unlocks and opens the closet door. He lets you exit first and he follows after you. You look out your window to make sure Rafe is gone and once you see that his motorcycle is actually gone, you feel a weight lift off your chest. You turn back to JJ, who is looking in his backpack.

“Let me see.” You demand, walking back to the blonde.

JJ swings the backpack over one of his shoulders, smiling at you. “See what?”

His jokes were not amusing right now. “Seriously JJ.”

“I’m never serious, hun. That’s part of my charm.” He quickly replies, placing a chaste kiss on your lips before walking ahead of you and opening your front door. “You shouldn’t sleep here tonight. Just in case that creep comes back.”

Although you agree with JJ, you could hear the smugness under his tone and you knew what he was implying. “I’m not having sex with you.”

JJ rolls his eyes, grabbing onto his chest as if to say you have hurt him. “I’m a gentleman.”

You rolled your eyes, approaching JJ at the door. “Not even close.”

“You’re the one who brought up sex Y/N.” JJ smirked, closing the door behind you. You walked hand in hand down your driveway, only stopping once so that JJ could tie his shoe.

“I only brought it up because I knew what you were insinuating.” You defended, resting your head on his shoulder as the both of you continued to walk down the road, towards JJ’s house. It was on the other side of OBX so you both had a long way to go.

“Well, since we’re insinuating, I’d say you want to have sex with me. Why bring that up if you didn’t think of it too.” You know he’s only half joking but he was right.

You scoffed, hiding the blush on your cheeks. “No I don’t. Let’s talk about something else.” You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

You both stay silent for a moment and JJ only speaks up when you round the corner, finally leaving your neighbourhood. “Have you never…”

You gulped. “Only once.” You thought of Rafe and frowned. It was your first and last time with him. There was so much pressure, both by Rafe and yourself, and you promised to never to do it again. Not until you were 100% sure.

“Well,” JJ said, kissing your forehead. “No pressure here.”

You smiled up at him, your chin leaning on his shoulder. You loved him so much it hurt.

~

JJ’s bedroom was nothing like yours but you liked it way more than your own bedroom. Although it wasn’t painted any colour and was messy, it had this cozy feeling to it; something no room in your house had. It was smaller and darker than yours but you felt the warmth of his room envelop you as you entered. The rest of his house was occupied by his father’s spirit, which was anger and emptiness but this part of the house was JJ’s and it felt like his too. His bed had dirty clothes thrown all over it and it looked like he hadn’t made his bed in weeks. He had one wooden cabinet with clothes spilling out and then, on top of the cabinet, one singular picture.

“Sorry for the mess.” JJ mumbled as he grabbed a handful of dirty clothes and threw them into a pile in the corner of his room. As he quickly made his room more presentable, you ventured over to his cabinet, wanting to see what the picture was of.

The picture was of JJ, Pope, John B, and Kiara but way younger. They were maybe twelve or thirteen and all their arms wrapped around each other smiling. This photo was a selfie of the young kids and JJ was the one holding the phone. While his friends were smiling sweetly, JJ was the only one pulling a cheeky grin with his tongue sticking out of his mouth. You smiled lightly, wishing you could’ve met JJ when you were younger. When he was more innocent. You believed that you would’ve been attracted to JJ’s rambunctious personality even if he was younger.

“I was twelve in that photo.” JJ says from behind you.

You turn around to him and smirk. “You look like a little delinquent.”

JJ chuckles. “I was.”

You pass JJ once again and move to the other side of his room, where his bed lay a little less messy. “I like your room.”

JJ followed right behind you, laughing. “Don’t lie.”

You whipped your head around, smiling. “I’m not. I really do.”

JJ raised his brows. “Your room is much nicer.”

“Your room is cozier.” You rebuttal, softly sitting down on the edge of JJ’s bed.

JJ follows after you, sitting down beside you. “You’re welcome here any time my dad’s not here.” He grabs your legs and lets them drape across his own. You scoot closer to his body and wrap your arms around his neck. He smiles down at you, wrapping his arms around your back.

“Your dad’s not here right now?” You question, leaning forward.

JJ shakes his head, leaning close to you. “No way. He’s out gambling. Will be there until tomorrow morning.”

“Good.” You smirked, finally closing the gap between the two of you and kissing him.

JJ kisses you back instantly. He’s kissing more passionately than ever and you kiss him just as passionate back. You feel the word love is stuck in your throat, just begging to come out. You want to tell him but you’re so nervous. You figured he felt the same but to be so vulnerable...

“Y/N...” JJ whispers, breaking your kiss.

“Yeah?” You ask, breathing heavily against his face. You were so wrapped up the kiss your eyes were still closed.

“I love you so much.”

Those words hit you like a ton of bricks and your eyes instantly fly open, revealing JJ’s beautiful face. You can see the look in his eyes and you know what it means. You always thought you would say it first because you knew how much JJ hated being vulnerable. You never thought - believed - that JJ would ever want to be that openly vulnerable with you. Especially if he was taking a chance.

“I love you.” You say back, kissing him quickly on the lips.

JJ smiles, his hands moving from your back to your jaw. He applies pressure and you instantly know he wants to kiss you again. You indulge him and let him kiss you again but only for a second before you pull away. In the utter happiness of the moment, you don’t think twice before letting go of JJ and grabbing the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your head. You discard it quickly and toss it to the floor before looking back at JJ.

He smirks slyly. “I knew it.”

You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck again, pulling him close. “Shut up.”

JJ laughs loudly, the blush on your face deepening. “Are you sure? Or are you just trying to boast you can take off your shirt faster than me.” In those moments, when JJ was laughing so vibrantly, you wished you had a camera. To keep the memory forever.

“Yes, I’m sure. And how the hell do you take your shirt off?” You watch him with a smile on your face as you watch your boyfriend awkwardly slip one arm out of his shirt and do it with his second arm before slowly pulling it off.

You’re laughing hysterically now. When he finally has his shirt off you want to stop laughing but the tired face he has on is so funny, you can’t help it. “What the hell was that?”

JJ pouts. “I’m sorry, that’s just how I do it. Don’t make fun of me.”

You nod and stop laughing. You only smile at him as you lean forward again to kiss him again. He closes the gap and kisses you back. His hands are all over your body and you kiss him but your hands stay in his hair. Before he can deepen the kiss in any way, you start to laugh again.

JJ pulls away, a smile on his face. “What?”

“You look like a prisoner trying to take off their straightjacket.” You giggle, still thinking of how he awkwardly took off his shirt.

JJ playfully rolls his eyes. “We’re literally about to have sex and you’re laughing at me.”

You shrug, cupping his face. “I love you.”

JJ’s face softens. “I love you more.”

And in that moment, you both felt as if the happiness would never end.

But, it would.

~

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[flying-nightwing]

Act I: The Gala

Oh hey! I’m still alive! I decided to do a mini serie finally, it’s a four part fic that will be done in separate posts because I have enough words to do it that way. Also because I’m slow and I don’t want you to wait until I finish all four parts. So this is the introduction, enjoy!

PS: As mentionned before, I don’t feel like I’m an expert on Tim so I might write him ooc sometimes. This is kinda experimental so I can try to adjust myself.

Masterlist in bio / pinned

Part 2 out now!

Pairing: Tim Drake x Gender neutral reader

Word count: 2228

Warnings: regular amount of violence, language

Summary: You are doing an amazing job at being one of the most succesful hitman in Gotham, going through clean and unnoticed everytime you were deployed on a job. Well, that is until you meet Tim and get a little too intrigued.

“Oh shit--” 

You stumbled backward a little bit when a shoulder collided with yours, looking aside just in time to see champagne flowing out of a glass flute in the hands of the man who bumped into you. You took one step aside, watching the liquid float right past you and drop on the floor instead of on your suit. Your eyes trailed up the man’s arm and shoulder to finally set on his face. 

“Sorry!” He flinched, inspecting your outfit to be sure none of his champagne ruined it. “I didn’t see you there, are you--”

“It’s fine” You finally spoke up, giving him a hint of a smile. “Have a good evening, sir”

He returned the smile for a brief moment, then furrowed his eyebrows. But you were already gone by the time he opened his mouth again, leaving him half baffled behind you. You didn’t have the time for pleasantries, as you were on a mission. You walked through the crowd, your pace even and relaxed as not to bring suspicion on yourself. Dressing up to fit in with Gotham’s elite was only half of the job, the other was acting like you belonged. Luckily for you, you had experience in that too.

You checked your watch. You had ten minutes until the Mayor’s discourse. Then, you visually sweeped the room, leaning on the bar and flagging the waiter. Soon enough, he was by your side and taking your order.

“Whiskey sour” You said, and he nodded, leaving again to make the drink. Your glance returned to the room, spotting your guys slowly but surely getting in position. One by one, they placed themselves around the exit doors, their suits matching those of the doormen. You had also a few waiters, who walked up the room towards the stage with their platters. Everything was going on smoothly. You glanced down at the glass being put down and thanked the waiter, grabbing your drink and leaving the bar.

You left the bar and headed for the employees door, swirling the liquid in the glass but never drinking it. You threw it in a plant as you were walking by, your actions quick and almost unnoticeable. You circled around one more time before facing the crowd, making sure no one was looking in your direction, before you disappeared behind the door. You avoided the busy staff and crossed the room, heading for the staircase on the other side. You climbed on the second floor and found the bathroom, going in and locking the door behind you. You undid the screws of the ventilation grill and pulled out a duffel bag, in which was hidden your change of clothes. You quickly took off your suit and changed into the tactical gear, buckling on your utility belt and clipping on your bulletproof vest as well as your thigh holsters. You verified the magazines on your guns, slipping them into the holsters and making sure your grenades were not stuck anywhere. Finally, you took the last piece in the bag.

You started back at the gas mask in your hands, until you strapped it to your face and adjusted the straps. Then, you were off.

You reached the balcony as a woman finished announcing the Mayor with a bright smile, clapping and stepping away from the podium. The mayor took her place, waving to the people and mouthing thanks to the crowd. He tapped on the microphone, then cleared his throat. 

“Thank you, people of Gotham” He began as you tied your grappling line to the marble rail. “This half year has been a challenging one for this council, with the new reform proposition--”

A loud pop went off, followed by the dispersion of a thick smoke over the room. The people began screaming as the guards flanked the mayor before they couldn’t see him anymore. You jumped from the balcony, sliding down your grappling line until you landed in the circle like a cat. The soft thud was barely audible under the noises of panic, but your presence was felt almost instantly. Your hand reached for your gun as the guards turned around, but they didn’t have the time to do anything before you shot them down one by one. You then grabbed the mayor by the neck as he was trying to escape, pressing the still hot barrel of your gun to his temple. 

“Good evening, Mr. Mayor” You greeted, watching as four masked gentlemen in white suits and semi automatics flanked you. You nodded at them to cover you and turned around, launching the escape part of the plan. “I’ll need you to come with me now”

You dragged the sweating mayor along, unbothered by the gunshots behind you. The entire plan rested on your ability to be fast before the numerous vigilantes of Gotham had the time to show up. The police were already there, but they weren’t competent enough on their own to stop you. You navigated the building easily through the smoke, your trajectory clear and memorized from the blueprints you had closely studied. Soon enough, you reached the garages, where the rest of your team waited in a van. The four men around you formed a defensive parameter, covering each side until you reached the van’s door. You threw the mayor in the van and jumped behind, covering your guys at your turn until they jumped in too. 

The tires made smoke as the driver speeded away from the garage, making sharp turns as he followed the path out on the garage. 

“Wait, what was that?”

“What?”

“I can’t see it anymore--” 

“On your right!”

The passenger side window exploded and a small beeping device latched on the dash. Your team seemed confused by it, but you reacted on an impulse. You leaned in between the two front seats and pulled the bat shaped device out, throwing it outside just in time for it to explode in a blinding flash. You gave an exasperated look to your crew, pulling yourself away from the front area.

“Let me handle this” 

You snatched a semi automatic from someone and reached for the roof window, sliding it open with a tug. You pulled the step from the floor and stood up on it, passing your arms and head through the hole. You looked around for the vigilantes, seeing almost nothing in the darkness, until you noticed a blur of red. You raised your gun to shoot, but you realized last second it had been a distraction. You raised your left arm just in time to deflect a fast coming shuriken, which sliced your sleeve and your skin underneath. You hissed, but you kept eye on the target and shot the red one. You knew you didn’t quite hit the mark, but it was enough to slow him down. Then, you turned to the darked figure you could now see from closer.

The Batman.

He was on his motorcycle, tailing you. You dropped back into the van and went for the back doors, kicking them open. You shot immediately in front of you, forcing him to dodge your fire. Your bullet ricocheted on the bike, but it was enough to blind him momentarily. You threw the gun aside when it was out of bullets, instead grabbing the two grenades in your utility belt. You unpinned them and waited three seconds before letting them roll onto the ground. He saw you coming however, and braked on time to avoid the blow. You looked back into the windshield, you were almost out of the underground parking. You noticed the red vigilante coming out of the smoke, still hot on your trail.

You smirked under your mask before closing the doors again. “It’s time for the warhead”

The man to your left pulled an underseat compartment, picking the heavy weapon with two hands and passing it to you. You grabbed the handle and supported it as you returned to your roof window, and peeked your head through once again. This time, you didn’t have a semi automatic. You had a rocket launcher. 

You ignored the vigilante behind as you instead interested yourself for the police line that gradually came into view. You took your aim, and didn’t waste time to fire. The recoil sent your back onto the frame of the window, but your bulletproof vest absorbed most of the shock. The police, however, had no chance, bulletproof vest or not. The explosion carved a burning hole in the line, which was more than enough for the van to slip through. You dropped back down inside and closed the window behind you, knowing the plan had succeeded. 

You sat back on the side benches, observing the terrified mayor that was seated and bound on the other side of the van. One more triumph under your belt.

---

“Right under our nose” 

Bruce looked up at Tim, who hadn’t spoken the entire ride back. Well, until now. They had met back at the batcave after the gala’s fiasco and had only exchanged sighs as they tried to trace back what had gone wrong. Bruce’s cowl was sitting on the desk beside him, but he was still in full gear in his computer seat. Tim was pacing around, his mask in his hands and his cape already handing on its support, his mind focused on finding out how they could have let the mayor slip away like that.

“We were there,” He continued. “The response time was optimal, and yet...”

“Whoever they were, they knew what they were doing” Bruce spoke, his voice levelled and stern. “They accounted for our presence around, they timed their exit to the last second, and they showed discipline. They weren’t amateurs”

“I noticed they were fast” Tim nodded. “Usually, people like them like to make a show out of it, they make sure they are seen doing the kidnapping. They didn’t do that. They smoked the room in an effective way, even with masks they were blind too. They didn’t even shoot the crowd, and the gas wasn’t lethal”

“What does that tell us?”

“They had no personal stakes in the kidnapping,” Tim replied. “They were hired guns, high profile, probably under the paycheck of someone notorious if it involved the mayor. I’m thinking a political endgame here, someone who has interest to blackmail the city but not to cause a mess”

“Excellent thinking” Bruce said, standing up. "The safest guess is to go with crime families, but this will need to be looked into. We’ll have to go back to city hall to try and find out clues to help us determine who the mercenaries were exactly, and we can go on from there”

It was easy to come to the conclusion a crime family would be behind this. The tensions in between the turfs and their leaders were higher than usual, with levels of violence Bruce hadn’t seen in a while. He just hoped this wouldn’t end up in a gang war, as he was already dealing with a lot of other problems already. 

“Should we go tonight?”

Bruce took a moment to answer, looking at the wall in front of him. “I’ll ask Gordon what he could do for us”

--- 

After two switches of vans, you finally pulled up in a fancy driveway, barely lit up by torches along the road. You took a path to circle the house, coming to a stop in front of a smaller, separated building further down the estate. You glanced at the mayor’s now covered head before standing up and pushing the back doors open. You jumped out first, then let the crew escort the hostage inside. 

“Well done, (Y/N)” Slow clapping made you turn to your side, seeing none other than Carmine Falcone walking toward you. “Your talents never cease to amaze me”

You pulled off your mask and nodded politely at his praise. “Thank you sir” 

“You didn’t run into any major problem, did you?” He asked as he invited you to walk with him to the main building. It was a secondary house right out of Blüdhaven he kept strictly for business matters, and his one home you operated from.

“The Bat and his red pupil showed up” You mentioned. “But it was nothing a machine gun and a couple of grenades couldn’t handle”

He laughed, giving you a firm tap on the back. “Glad to hear you say it”

You walked inside the house right behind him, nodding at the guards around the sliding doors. He stopped in the living room, plopping down a brown leather chair and pouring himself a scotch. He then lit up a cigar and snapped his fingers. Soon after, a man in a dark blue suit brought a briefcase forward, which was then handed to you. 

“The other half of the pay, plus a bonus for your loyalty”

“Thank you” You said as you picked the briefcase. You had been working for Falcone long enough for you not to feel the need to count the money, you knew it was all there as promised.

“I have a next assignment for you, if you are up for it” He spoke up again as he blew some smoke. You raised an interested eyebrow, and he grinned. “Three days from now, this pay plus 7k for a clean job”

“I’m in”

[gammija]

hihi!! i just wanted to give you a heads up that putting your transcripts in small font is kinda of against the idea! the point of a transcript is to make the image accessible to both screenreaders and people who struggle to read text/comprehend images/etc etc. as a person with one of said disabilities, by putting your text in small font, youve basically eliminated a large portion of the audience that youre suposed to be helping. i really appreciate that you transcribed it! but just a heads up for next time that, for the life of me, i cant read the small text, and therefore cant read the dialoug. (side note: i dont think youve done it, but just incase; dont put your ids under the cut either! it makes it harder for people with screenreaders to access)

Hello, thank you for the kind message! I’ll start posting the image ID in normal text from now on. Now, I’m going to go on a bit of a ramble here, but I want to make it clear upfront that what I’m gonna say next isn’t at all meant to be an attack on you, or any other people who need image ID. it’s just something I’ve been argueing with myself about. and maybe more input from strangers online can help me put those arguments to rest? cause that always works, right 😉

Because I had read before that the optimal way of doing image ID (on tumblr at least) is just that, the full text, in the main post. The thing that made me not do that initially, is that, my goal with posting fanart on tumblr is, honestly, to get notes and attention. and for most of the way, providing image ID with my art aligns perfectly with that goal - the more people who can see/experience my posts, the more people can share it!  But it starts to clash a bit when it comes to attaching a block of text to any image I post. Because while I put most of my effort into the drawing itself, I do also try to make the text below it punchy, or funny, in other words, complementary to the art. Since in my experience, there’s a correlation between image posts without a block of text underneath, and image posts with a lot of notes. Across the board, whether the text is actually image ID, or whether the image is a drawing or just a picture. Counterpoint: Maybe I’m just following the wrong people, seeing the wrong posts! And shouldn’t making my art accessible be the top priority, screw any asshole who wouldn’t reblog a post just because there’s image ID added? Counter-counterpoint: I would say screw those assholes, except whether to reblog a post or not is usually a split-second decision based on subconscious vibes. Any person who would be morally opposed to reblogging image ID can fuck right off, but that’s not what I’m worried about. And I mean, accessability is important. but it is just fanart. I’m doing this for fun, as stress relief, not to make anyone else happy.

BUT. I’ve not actually posted any comics (so, real image ID text block generators) without either a readmore or small text for the image ID. So I don’t actually know if it matters to the notecount at all, it’s just a gut feeling - and that’s not enough to not do it. so, as i said, from now on, ill just put it in the main post, and then in half a year or so, i’ll see that i was worried over nothing

[roseskiesandbutterflies]

Le Démon Déchu - Chapter 2: Réponses Et Plus De Questions

Summary: The summary is kind of long so please check a previous part or my masterlist if you want to read it.

Warning(s): threat, swearing

Word Count: 6.8k+

Inspiration: Do You Know What Eternity Is? by Elderly_Worm on AO3, Great Omens (The Big One) by falsepremise on AO3, Pray For Us, Icarus series by Atalan on AO3, Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm on AO3, wasteland, baby by john1513 on AO3, Not of Us by ShesAKillerQueen98 on AO3, How to Win a Lifetime Achievement Award for Services to Television (and how not to) by GaryOldman on AO3, Doctor Who (don’t ask) and, of course, Good Omens itself

A/N: Okay I took a bit of a hiatus from writing literally anything for about five months so sorry about that but I’m back now!! That’s the main thing. Also, I’ve left high school now which is very exciting! That does mean I’ll have so much more time to write and I’m definitely going to try and use this summer to establish some kind of routine for writing so that when I start college, I won’t get too overwhelmed with both my studies and with updating my fics. That’s the plan anyway so don’t hold me to that lmao. With any luck, now I’ve actually said that it’ll have to happen. (I wrote that part of this note back in May when it was the start of the summer. It is currently September and I’m just about to finally publish this chapter and I assure you, I am cringing at my own optimism.) Sorry this took so long to post. This chapter has been in the works since May (yes, I know I’m terrible) but I actually got a lot more writing done in that time that what you just see in this chapter. All will be revealed soon. I just promise that I have been productive. Once you’ve read this chapter, you have my blessing to translate the title of this fic. Hopefully it will make sense.

I just wanted to point out something about the playlist I linked in the previous chapter. I am well aware that there are some rather problematic people in it, namely Sia. I want you all to know that I don’t support her in any way (I don’t like her at all I think she’s a complete ableist twat). Her songs are only on there because of how well they fit with the story (a lot of this will become clearer as the story goes on).

I also wanted to point out that I know that if angels do exist, then their true forms probably wouldn’t look anything like humans. I’m well aware of that, I’m not an idiot, I don’t know if any of you remember when people started googling ‘angel true form’ and some people got scared lmao. The point is, we’ve all seen the pictures. But for the purpose of this story, and honestly just to make it easier for me to describe what the characters are doing, we’re going to have to pretend that they did look like humans. Can I claim creative license with this one? Maybe it got lost in translation because there is probably no way someone could describe how an angel truly looks in any human language? I don’t know, just roll with it.I know that this chapter had so much exposition and explanation in it but I can promise you two things. One, there is still much to be revealed. Two, I promise this isn’t just bad writing on my part. Just trust that I needed to put this all in this early on.

And how is everyone doing after the season 2 announcement? I mean, at the time of writing this specific part of my notes, it only got announced about an hour ago lmao. I’m very fucking excited, oh my god. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since I found out I can’t lie. Catch me trying to finish this before it comes out in case things occur which means I have to change things in this story. I can’t be arsed for that. Oh well. Hopefully it’ll read like those Sherlock fics that people wrote in between series 2 and series 3 if that doesn’t happen.

Taglist: @briarrose26​

Ask or comment to be on my taglist! Let me know if it’s for a specific fandom(s) or series. Full list is in my bio.

Hermit (upright) + Five of Wands (upright)

Conflict. Reflection. Resurfacing memories.

************

Let’s admit, without apology, what we do to each other.

We know who our enemies are. We know.

– Richard Siken (Detail of the Fire)

************

“Fuck.”

The angel and demon exchanged glances of what could only be described as thinly veiled panic, while the woman in front of them just looked annoyed at the most.

“They couldn’t wait five minutes, could they?” she muttered, pinching at the bridge of her nose in frustration before standing up again, “Look, just stay down here, I’m gonna go sort this out. With any luck they won’t have actually realised you’re here too.”

“Wait, how do you know they’re here for you?” Crowley asked, suddenly curious as to what business Eloise might have with Heaven.

“Just a gut feeling,” she said before making her way to the spiral staircase behind them, muttering to herself, “If they were here for you, I feel like they would have at least used the front door.”

The other two waited until she’d run upstairs before exchanging a quick glance, an unspoken word, and following her up.

Meanwhile, Eloise was hovering outside a room at the end of the corridor which she could only assume was the bedroom. She was strangely hesitant, not out of fear of them, simply out of fear of the unknown. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in that room for millennia, and something told her that this wasn’t going to be a friendly chat. She took a deep breath, even though she technically didn’t need it, letting a wave of faux confidence wash over her, and stepped inside. Don’t crumble now. You’ve come too far to crumble now.

“Ah, Mariel, long time no see,” Gabriel smiled coldly, brushing the dust off his white suit. Flanked by two other angels, he stood in the wreckage of the bedroom without even acknowledging the damage they must have caused when they crashed in. Beside him were Beelzebub and Hastur, who both looked as though they had been dragged kicking and screaming to come here. Beelzebub in particular kept shooting metaphorical daggers at Gabriel, who remained perfectly oblivious. The entire ceiling had caved in from the impact of their crash, the setting sun painting the doorway where Eloise stood in a pale gold and casting a dark shadow over the others.

She’d grimaced at the use of her old name; it was too unfamiliar, too ancient. Mariel was the name of a long-dead version of herself. Once upon a time, she’d embraced it, but that was once upon a time. Once upon a time long gone.

“Almost like I’ve been avoiding you on purpose,” she muttered, leaning against the doorway as she stared intrusively at each person in the room, observing, assessing. She silently revelled in the blatant discomfort in each of their faces.

“No need to be so rude,” Gabriel said, doing anything to avoid her eyes, his previous confident façade now shattered.

Eloise stared at him in disbelief, “What exactly were you expecting? A fucking welcome party? I haven’t seen any of you in over six thousand years and you just crash through the roof of my house, unannounced and uninvited, so yeah, forgive me for being a little irritated.” She couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty. She’d barely been in Aziraphale’s bookshop for fifteen minutes and she was already pretending she owned it.

She watched smugly as he squirmed under her gaze, desperately looking to the others to say something in response. A moment or two passed before Beelzebub’s head suddenly snapped up in confusion, “Are you alone?”

Shit. She’d hoped that they wouldn’t have noticed the presence of the two who were definitely not downstairs like she’d asked. She swallowed, trying not to let any kind of emotion show on her face, trying not to give the game up that quickly, “Yeah, I live on my own.” She watched the whole group of them squint in concentration, trying to sense any other beings in the house. She sighed, changing the subject before they could comment on it any further, “Look, what do you want? I don’t have all day so if you could make it quick then that would be much appreciated.”

Gabriel looked back at her, his suave exterior unfortunately making a return, “Hey, we just wanted to check up on you, see how you’re doing-”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” she snapped. She pushed herself off from the doorway, stalking towards the others, “You have had six thousand years to ‘check up on me’, don’t pretend you’ve only started to care now.”

She was met with only silence as Gabriel and Beelzebub glanced at each other awkwardly, looking very much like chastised children. Suddenly the latter groaned and cried, “You can’t just leave Hell!”

“Oh, here we go,” Eloise muttered, rolling her eyes, bored already.

“You can’t! You Fell from Heaven, so you go to Hell, there isn’t a third option!”

“Well, apparently there is,” she shrugged.

“No there isn’t!” they argued, face screwed up like a petulant child.

“Then what do you call this then?” she asked, unfolding her wings for the second time that day. She studied their reactions closely, scrutinising coal-black eyes piercing through their very souls. She was searching for any hint of shock, of recognition, of anything that could clue her in as to what was going on in their heads at that moment. All she could find, however, was pure, unadulterated confusion. Which was annoying when her wings were supposed to be an answer to their unasked questions.

Gabriel stumbled over his words, “Good Lord, how did you even-”

Eloise cut him off curtly, no longer having the patience to listen to his incoherent mumbles. She instead turned to Beelzebub who at least had the decency to look a little more composed, “That would be what you could sense then. I’ve got both Heaven and Hell in me, that’s a lot of energy to pick up on.” She stared right through them, daring them to say anything else.

“Must be,” they replied slowly, though they didn’t look at all convinced.

Gabriel held up a hand, his eyes darting about as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing, “No hold on, how did you even manage that?”

“I left Hell,” Eloise said simply, “Why should I have black wings? I’m not some demon who ran away from everything. I left. Permanently. I looked Hell in the eye and walked away. You know what? Fuck it, I looked Satan in the eyes and walked away.”

“You what?” he stuttered.

“Yeah, you heard me. You have a problem with me leaving Hell then go on! Take that up with the bloody devil,” she said, staring them down, daring them to retaliate. She smirked when she was met with pure, uncomfortable silence, “Except you won’t, will you? Because you don’t actually give two fucks about me. Just like I said, if you did then you would have chased me up a long time ago. Quite frankly, I think you must have been glad to have me out of your hair,” she sighed, half sad, half amused when they couldn’t even meet her eye. She paused for a moment, wondering how far she could push this, before asking, “You know what I think is really going on here? I think the pair of you are feeling a bit bruised after the absolute shitshow that was Armageddon last year, which, by the way, fucking hilarious. I think your egos are feeling a little sore after a literal child stopped you from ending the world, so you’re thinking ‘hmm, what would be an easy win so that we don’t feel like total shit? Oh yeah, what about that demon who ran away all that time ago? That should be easy to sort out.’. Well, love to disappoint, but you’re not getting me that easily, especially when not a single one of us actually wants me back, and Sandalphon, take one more step further I swear I will dropkick you back to Heaven,” she snapped, glaring at the angel who had been menacingly inching closer while she had been talking. He reluctantly stepped back alongside Gabriel, looking a little more than miffed that his plan hadn’t worked out. “You really want me back? Get your bosses to talk to me because I don’t actually see why it’s any of your business. No middle men. Just God, Satan and me. I’ll see what they have to say about all this. Questions?” she asked, tone snapping from one extreme to another, almost as if she had just been possessed.

Gabriel stared at her, mouth gaping like a fish, “You can’t just boss us around like that.”

“What? Like how you bossed us around all those years?” she replied without missing a beat, real rage, real danger seeping into her voice now, “I think we’re done here.”

“But-”

“I said, I think we’re done here,” she said, leaving no room for arguments. She gestured to the sorry excuse for a room around them, “Now, if you wouldn’t mind cleaning this up.”

“Why can’t you do it? You can miracle things too,” Gabriel said, desperate for any kind of leverage over Eloise.

“You’re right, I could, but I didn’t make this mess, and I personally believe that you should face the consequences of your actions, Gabriel,” she said pointedly, watching as he visibly gulped. In a matter of seconds, the room was restored to its original state and Eloise was left alone in the room, no indicators that she was ever with any other people remaining.

She sighed and all but collapsed into a chair that may or may not have existed a few moments ago, confident façade shattered completely. She breathed heavily in exhaustion, as if she’d just run a marathon; she supposed she had just run a mental one. Her emotions were bugging her to no end. It was strange. She wasn’t scared, per se. There was very little that Gabriel or Beelzebub could do to her that would frighten her anymore. She tried her best to compose herself, writing off the tsunami inside her mind as just plain old adrenaline, before calling out, “You can come in now. I know you guys are outside, it’s okay, you can come in.”

Crowley and Aziraphale walked into the room, one looking considerably more sheepish than the other. Aziraphale perched awkwardly on the freshly reconstructed bed, “We’re sorry–”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, we’re not.”

Eloise and Crowley exchanged a glance, amused looks on both of their faces while Aziraphale simply looked distressed. Eloise turned back to him and smiled sympathetically, “I told you, it’s fine. I would have done the same,” she admitted, looking away before collecting herself once again, “So, I’m guessing you have a lot of questions–”

“That’s the understatement of the century,” Crowley muttered as he took a seat beside Aziraphale, although it was a very loose definition of ‘taking a seat’.

Aziraphale glared at him while Eloise just sighed and reluctantly said, “I think it might be better if I just show you.”

Crowley cocked his head in confusion, “Show us what?”

She brought her chair closer to the edge of the bed and put out her hands, “Take my hands. Brace yourselves.”

Mariel was standing before a crowd of angels, dozens upon dozens of disgusted faces staring right at her. She couldn’t quite remember getting there. She had been in the pitch-dark holding cell and the next thing she knew, she was here. Blinding white light surrounded them, harshly illuminating her vulnerabilities before all of Heaven. She tried her best to keep her chin up even though she absolutely hated the fact that they could see the bruises from when she had been arrested that were now blooming on her face. She frowned as she noticed the lack of measures preventing her from escaping. All that was keeping her there was Gabriel’s presence at her side, cold violet eyes pointedly ignoring her. He really was an arrogant bastard for assuming that she wouldn’t even try to make a run for it. Just because he was right this one time, it didn’t mean that he shouldn’t have come prepared. Mariel sighed and looked up at the angels staring down at her. Michael was sat higher than everyone in the centre of the crowd, face void of all emotion as she said, “The Principality Mariel. You’re on trial today for betraying the will of the Almighty, rebelling against all that is good and light in the universe...”

Mariel blocked the rest of her pretentious speech out as she droned on about all the awful things she’d supposedly done to deserve this. It was all lies anyway. She knew the real reason she was here. There were a few things that stood out to her despite it all, things that nearly made her laugh. She’d known that they’d needed to conjure up some reasons for condemning her, but this was just ridiculous. Gabriel really had gone to extraordinary yet desperate lengths to slander her in her final moments in this Someone-forsaken place. She was surprised that the angels gathered to watch her downfall believed a word of this. She tried her best not to resent them, though. It wasn’t like they had anything better to believe in. Especially considering the amused smirk that had crept its way onto her face.

She returns to reality just in time to hear Michael ask, “What do you have to say to defend yourself?”

“I’ve done nothing I need to defend,” she said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“Don’t make this worse for yourself than it already is,” Gabriel muttered dangerously from where he stood beside her.

Mariel turned to look at him in disbelief. “How the fuck could this get any worse, Gabriel?” she hissed, fury flaring up in her eyes.

He just looked back at her condescendingly, “Do you really need me to answer that?”

She pointedly refused to reply, turning back to face Michael, determined to ignore him.

The next part goes past in a blur for Mariel. Michael speaks again, though she doesn’t listen. Then suddenly there are shouts of anger, screams of rage, coming from the gathered crowd. They spit with venom as they hurl insults at her. She doesn’t hear a word. It’s as though her head is under water, completely submerged in the stone cold anger that seeps through her body, and suddenly Mariel is drowning in the realisation that this is really happening, oh God this is really happening.

Why? Why is this happening to me? You listening, God? Look me in the eye and tell me why this is happening.

She doesn’t get an answer, and though she wasn’t expecting one, it still hurts. Because she knows that she’ll never get an answer from Her again now.

Eventually she feels a tug on her arm from where Gabriel has been standing, dragging her away from the crowd and out her of current state of mind. She could feel her senses coming back to her as she stumbled backwards, but everything was crashing down on her too quickly, too harshly. She did her best to shove the rising panic as deep down insider her as she could. There was no way she would let anyone here see her in that state. She couldn’t let them think they’d won.

She didn’t even realise she had reached the edge of the ground she was standing on, the edge of Heaven itself, Gabriel no longer grabbing her arm. She nearly found herself peering over the edge, but stopped herself before she could lean too far. It may have helped her in the past but now was not the time to give in to her curiosity. And she didn’t trust Gabriel to not push her the moment he had the chance. She turned her head to glare fiercely at him, piercing holes in his very soul. She could slowly feel her anxiety being replaced by cool rage as she found herself saying, “Any institution that tries to silence anyone who opposes them is inherently corrupt.” She stared knowingly at his discomfort as he forced himself to face her. He knew what she meant by that. He knew.

He took a second to compose himself before practically scoffing in her face, “Don’t preach at me.”

Mariel cocked her head as she studied him. She watched as his eyes subconsciously flicked back to the crowd, to the other Archangels. He blatantly wanted nothing more than to re-join his fellow angels, the only beings who understood why he was doing what he was doing, or were at least supposed to understand anyway. Somehow she doubted they were all as cold-hearted and self-absorbed as the angel in front of her. She considered him for a moment before saying simply, “Your quest for power will kill you in the end.”

He furrowed his brows in somewhat amused confusion, “Is that a threat?”

“No. It’s the truth,” she blinked at him before leaning in and murmuring in his ear, “It will be your downfall.”

“The only one who’s going to Fall around here is you,” he said dangerously. Mariel leaned back and watched the lethal glimmer in his eye wither and die under the intensity of her gaze.

She just smiled. “We’ll see.” She let herself look at him for a moment longer before blinking away the tears and cautiously taking a small step backwards. She could feel where the ground ended beneath her feet and was sure not to step any further. She took one last look of the place she once called home, embracing how it felt for the last time though she knew she wouldn’t miss it.

She closed her eyes for a moment and fell back.

Mariel was Falling. That bit she knew, but much more than that? Everything was happening too fast for her to notice. And yet, it was as if she was existing in slow-motion. She worried for a moment that this was, in fact, her fate; doomed to remain in a perpetual state of limbo, of Falling, for all eternity. The only thing telling her otherwise was the view of Heaven above her, which she realised only too late was slowly shrinking into nothing. Mariel found herself reaching her own arms out, grasping for Heaven. They were opposite ends of a magnet being roughly pulled away from each other by an invisible force.

You hear that God? Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? And don’t you dare tell me it’s all part of your plan because right now, the only thing I want is to be back where I should be and I can’t even have that.

She pulled herself out of her mind and back into reality; she’d have plenty of time in Hell to yell at a God who’d never listen, let alone answer. She only just started to register her surroundings, the fact that she was actually Falling, who knows how far and for how long, tumbling through the air at an unimaginable speed, plummeting towards a place that could be anything from seconds to hours away. The deafening wind that screamed in her ears, drowning out the screams which may have been coming from her mouth or her mind, who was she to say? Air whipped around her body, icier and more painful than any words that could ever be uttered by the angels above her. It wasn’t until she could no longer see any hint of Heaven on the horizon that she started to feel the tears finally fall, trickling down her face and floating slightly due to the force of the Fall.

Then suddenly it came. She felt it in the very tips of her wings first, a strange tingling sensation, as though hundreds and then thousands of pins were skirting the edges of her corporeal being. It spread over the rest of her wings, and then her body, at a faster pace than she could keep track of until her whole being felt as though it was burning. The pain grew, and it grew, and it grew, and she didn’t think she could physically take any more pain when she looked up in horror at her own freshly blackened wings. Her beautiful, holy wings which had once been the softest, purest white, were now stained with evil and ash. For the first time since she started Falling, however long ago that might have been, she let out a choked sob that racked through her whole body and through the ever-changing air around her. Nobody heard her cries. Nobody heard her screams as the searing pain in her chest grew stronger. She couldn’t even begin to work out whether it was physical or emotional but it was there and it burned a hole, a gaping wound, through her soul, leaving a scar fated to never heal and to forever haunt her-

Eloise was crying. She’d tried so hard to prevent the steady streams that were now running down her cheeks, but that was a memory that she’d never wanted to relive. She looked upwards for a moment, trying to regain control of her emotions and her breathing, before peeling her hands away from the two sat in front of her. She roughly wiped the tears from her face, and suddenly the only thing telling you she had been crying were the bloodshot eyes that Crowley tried to ignore as he said bluntly, “I’m still confused.”

“Crowley, give her a minute,” Aziraphale chastised him, furrowing his brows at the demon before he turned back to Eloise with kind eyes and a kinder heart, “Are you alright, my dear?”

She nodded without much hesitation, “I’m fine, it’s okay.” She certainly wasn’t fine, nor was it okay, but the last thing she wanted was to have to deal with her feelings in front of two people she was trying her best not to scare off. She looked back at Crowley, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

He looked at her in understanding, for if anyone knew her thought process in that moment, it was him. “Right, so you Fell and became a demon. Then what?”

“Well, you know what Hell’s like,” she started, looking pointedly at Crowley. She waited for him to nod before continuing, “Not my scene at all. I just point-blank refused to do anything they asked of me. Naturally they didn’t like that much. Eventually I was called in to see Satan about it. I remember thinking, ‘well, that’s that then. Terrible knowing you all.’, because I didn’t think I was going to survive that. Turns out he was just annoyed that I was being a bloody nuisance to everyone else, but he was too amused to really do anything about it, so he basically just told me to piss off. Leave Hell, don’t come back, and I won’t tell anyone where you’ve gone or that you’re even alive. Not exactly a deal I could refuse, so I left, came to Earth, been here ever since. I think everyone just assumed he’d killed me,” she shrugged as if she hadn’t just destroyed the whole idea of eternal damnation with just a few sentences. She smiled to herself as they gaped at her for a moment, though she doubted they realised they were doing it.

Crowley somehow managed to gather his senses quick enough to hold up a hand and say, “Wait, but when you were talking to Gabriel and Beelzebub and that lot, you said they had six thousand years to check up on you. Why would you say that if they thought you were dead?” He narrowed his eyes at her. He wasn’t altogether quite sure why he seemed to be so keen on finding any gaps in her story, but he needed to be able to trust that she was telling the truth. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Yes, and they didn’t exactly seem surprised to see you alive.”

Eloise grinned. You two are gonna be fun, I can tell. “You’re both very observant, I have to give you credit for that.” She paused in thought for a second before starting carefully, “You see, the trouble with me is that I’m not really one for keeping a low profile. I’m too noisy, so to speak, and I don’t even realise it most of the time. This demon I hadn’t exactly been the nicest to back in Hell saw me in Babylon, gosh, it must have been eighteen thirty something BC? Anyways, he ratted me out to Beelzebub who must have told Gabriel all about it. I had about a decade of this bloody demon trying to discorporate me just to see if it would force me to go back to Hell, then one day he just stopped, and I never saw him again. Beelzebub probably told him to piss off.”

They were both quiet again for a little while. Eloise didn’t even think to say anything. It might be a rare occasion, but she did know when to keep her mouth shut when it mattered. She could see the cogs turning in their heads as if it was projected in the air above them. Eventually Crowley murmured, “I didn’t even know you could do that, you know, leave.”

She shook her head with a strange kind of sympathy that came from recognising an experience you had far too long ago, “Neither did I. It stills shocks me sometimes if I think about it too much.”

A few seconds passed before Crowley cleared his throat abruptly and said, “They called you Mariel. I thought you said your name was Eloise.”

She hesitated before answering. She knew exactly what he was doing, she’d been doing it for the whole of their conversation thus far, but just because she tended to bury her emotions, it didn’t mean that she liked it when others did it. She decided to ignore the hypocrisy of that thought, how ironic, she thought to herself, and instead explained, “It is. Mariel was my angel name. You know how it is,” she looked pointedly at Crowley again, hoping that Aziraphale would be able to put the pieces together. She didn’t actually know how much he knew about what it was like to Fall and become a demon.

“Oh, so is Eloise your demon name?” Aziraphale asked politely.

“No,” she said curtly, instantly feeling guilty when she saw the hurt that flashed over Aziraphale’s face. She grimaced and explained in a gentler tone, “I chose it for myself when I came to Earth. Hell tried to change my name after I Fell but I just refused.” She studied him for a second, watching his eyes dart about, before saying, “You want to ask something, I can tell. What is it?”

He looked a little startled at being caught out, momentarily glancing at Crowley for support, probably subconsciously, Eloise noted with a smile. “I, well, I couldn’t help but notice that you mentioned Armageddon. Back when you were speaking with, um, well, you know. H-how did you know about that?”

“I might have been there.” The words rushed out of her mouth in a much less casual manner than what she’d been aiming for, coming out in a sort of jumbled heap that took Crowley and Aziraphale a moment to decipher.

Crowley, the poor sod, could only think to lean forward and ask a simple, “You what?”

She jumped to defend herself, wanting to avoid the onslaught of questions if she could, “Not actually at the airbase, but I was in the area. I was living in Tadfield at the time.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, although the hint of a smirk on his face told her it was more in amusement than suspicion, “How did you know it was at the airbase?”

Eloise couldn’t help but chuckle to herself because of course, they’d notice her choice of words, “I knew Adam and his mates. I ran an ice cream shop, would you believe it. He came and told me all about it the day after,” she smiled fondly before suddenly coming alive with excitement, “That’s actually how I found out about you two. That’s why I’m here. Because I thought I was the only one trying to stop the world ending, but apparently I wasn’t. I had to see for myself.”

A moment passed before Aziraphale asked quietly, “You were trying to stop it?”

Eloise, not noticing the newly subdued atmosphere, launched herself into a painfully over-enthusiastic explanation, “Yeah, it was quite clever really, if I do say so myself. I made sure Adam was swapped with the American baby in the hopes that he would have a human enough upbringing to perhaps change things. Seems to have worked,” she shrugged, before finally taking in the two shocked faces that were staring back at her. Her brows furrowed and her face fell as she asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You switched the babies?” Crowley asked blankly, although it came out as more of a statement than a question.

Her face screwed up as she tried to work out how best to explain herself. “Well, I say switched, it was more of a ‘made sure the demon dropping the antichrist off went to the wrong delivery room’ kind of thing. Feel sorry for the poor sod who had to deal with that but needs must.”

Crowley blinked at her and said bluntly, “I was the poor sod who had to deal with that.”

Eloise looked at him for a moment as about five different jigsaw pieces finally clicked in her head, before she threw her head back in realisation, “Oh shit, so you were. I knew your name sounded familiar.”

“You bastard, we spent six years raising the wrong child because of you!” he exclaimed, wagging his finger at her and jumping off of the bed at one point before Aziraphale tugged him back down. Eloise didn’t know whether to laugh or run for her life, for the menace in his words was betrayed by the disbelieving laugh in his voice.

“I’m sorry, you did what now?” she asked, only just processing what he’d just said, and she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips at his dramatic antics. She knew not to push it when Aziraphale just lifted a finger and pursed his lips with the look of someone who’d rather never bring up said event again.

“Oh bloody heaven, I can’t believe this,” Crowley shook his head, chuckling to himself. Although part of him resented it, he couldn’t help but look at Eloise differently now as they laughed like little kids together. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed so much more like them now, so much more human. Or maybe it was the fact that she had been trying to stop the apocalypse and all the implications that came with the fact. Suddenly he just wanted to know more about her, but he quickly silenced that thought. One thing at a time.

She raised her shoulders with a confused look on her face, giggling as she said, “Sorry? Well, I didn’t know, did I?”

They locked eyes for a moment before bursting into laughter again at the sheer absurdity of it all, leaving Aziraphale slightly bewildered and more than slightly exasperated at the pair. It took them a few moments to finally calm down but once they did, Crowley sobered his tone of voice as he asked, “Right, back to what happened before we came in. Anything we need to keep an eye out for?”

Though he didn’t say it, Eloise could see the unasked question in his eyes. Are we safe? She smiled softly, “Nah, you two’ll be fine. Basically I told them if they want to talk to me, then they need to get their bosses involved, and somehow I highly doubt God and Satan are gonna pop down for a friendly chat any time soon. Even then, you two should be fine. I don’t think any of that lot clocked on that you were here.”

Crowley nodded in understanding, and it didn’t escape Eloise’s attention how the remaining dregs of tension visibly dissipated from both of their bodies. Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other for a moment, the relief palpable from the pair of them. Eloise averted her eyes, giving them the privacy that they didn’t necessarily need but probably did want. She allowed herself a moment to ponder their relationship. They were very in tune with each other, very in sync, that much was obvious. Are they in love? The question sounded ridiculous the moment she thought it. Of course they are, look at them. She’d seen that look time and time again over the millennia. Although when she thought about the way they looked at each other further, that lead to another question. Do they know? The hint of yearning in their eyes was subtle but it was there. No, absolutely not. They’re too comfortable with each other. They’re a unit, that much she could tell. A unit that might not want to be disturbed.

Oh dear.

She looked back up at them hesitantly, unsure of what to say for the first time that evening. Eventually she said, “I’d better go. I think I’ve outstayed my welcome.”

Crowley frowned. Hadn’t she said she’d been travelling for a while? “You got somewhere to stay?”

Eloise paused. She’d definitely not been expecting that response. “Not yet. There is a flat I was going to rent but the people haven’t moved out yet because of the lockdown and it seems rude to miracle them away. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

“Stay here,” Crowley said almost instantly, then pulled a face of confusion at how quickly he replied, “I mean, only if you want to.”

Eloise blinked at that. Surely, they wouldn’t want her there? What reason could they possibly have to want her there? “Wait, are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Crowley just shrugged, “It’s not a problem. What are your options anyway? No hotels are open, and you can’t stay with anyone.”

“Only if you’re sure,” she murmured, still wary for a reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She glanced at Aziraphale for confirmation; it was his bookshop after all.

He nodded firmly, “Of course. I’ve been told the sofa is remarkably comfy,” he added with a twinkle in his eye, to which she grinned broadly.

A short while and a few miracles later, the sofa downstairs had become a makeshift bed that was significantly larger and softer than it had remembered it being. Eloise was currently settled on it; all it had taken was ten minutes for her to completely crash out. Aziraphale and Crowley had left her in peace with a chuckle, heading up to the bedroom they shared (that wasn’t out of choice, mind you. Simply because there was only one bedroom in the bookshop. No other reason.) One slightly confused item of furniture aside, all seemed to be well in the bookshop.

Upstairs in the bedroom, an angel and a demon were sitting in the same bed. Neither of them had thought to turn off the lights, so they were sat in thick silence in the bedroom. Aziraphale didn’t usually come up to bed, not as used to sleeping as Crowley was, instead opting to read the night away downstairs. However this seemed impolite considering their new guest, so he’d come up with Crowley. And while Crowley was mulling this over he finally stumbled upon why he felt so uneasy.

Aziraphale hadn’t brought a book up with him.

As bizarre a concern as that may seem, Crowley could always trust Aziraphale to bring a book up to bed with him on the rare occasion he came up at night. That was one of the things he lo- liked about him. Liked. He looked at Aziraphale curiously, noting the slight frown on his face as he stared into space. How deep in his head must he have been to forget a book? “You alright, angel?” he asked as softly as he could so as to not startle him.

He looked at Crowley with wide eyes that darted away almost instantly as he started to play with his hands in his lap, “Yes, my dear, I’m fine. I just realised something, is all.”

Crowley cocked his head in interest, “Oh really? What was it?”

He was silent for a little while before saying in a voice no louder than a whisper, “I think I was there when she Fell.”

Crowley felt his eyebrows raise in shock, looking away for a second to try and compose himself. “Right. Well, that’s a thing.”

“Quite.”

He furrowed his brows as he tried to make sense of what this meant now, “And was she telling the truth? Did all that actually happen?”

“Yes. I remember it perfectly well. Clear as day,” he managed to choke out with a forced smile before going back to his routine fidgeting.

Crowley laid a gentle hand on top of Aziraphale’s, stopping what he was doing and getting him to actually look him in the eye for longer than a second. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I am quite well. Don’t fret,” he said, and despite Crowley’s concern, he couldn’t pretend that the smile on Aziraphale’s face wasn’t genuine, however small it may have been.

He reluctantly let it go, changing the subject quickly, “You alright with her staying here? I know it just sort of happened.”

The smile on his face only grew, much to Crowley’s surprise, “It’s alright. After all, wasn’t it you who said we’re on our own side now? I think she’s the first person we’ve met who might understand what that means.”

Crowley tried not to think too much about the fact that Aziraphale had actually listened to him when he’d said that, let alone remembered it, instead opting for a casual, “Yeah, I suppose so. Right, I’m gonna get some sleep. I, um, yeah,” he stammered out awkwardly, cursing his brain for not thinking of literally any other decent response.

Aziraphale simply smiled fondly at him, “Indeed. Goodnight, my dear.”

*************

Hello my love,

At the time of writing this, I do not know what the future holds. For me it’s an uncertain, unstoppable force, and it’s not one I think I can fend off for much longer. I’ve tried, please believe that I’ve tried. I’ve tried for your sake to prevent the inevitable. But it’s coming. I can feel it. It won’t be long now, I don’t think.

If you’re reading this, it means I was right, and I have Fallen. I know you’re probably confused and scared and that there is a biting anger bubbling inside you. I wish I could tell you why this is happening. I wish I could tell you that this is all a huge misunderstanding that will be resolved soon.

I wish I could tell you I love you one more time.

But I can’t. There are many things I can’t do now, and it’ll do me no good to dwell on this any longer than I have to. To survive we must focus on what we can do, and that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.

If I know myself as well as I think I do, there are many things I would have liked to have said to you upon our final farewell, but didn’t because I wanted to make sure you were alright. Don’t feel guilty about this, my love. Think of it as my last debt to you being repaid.

I have a plan. Well, it’s more of an idea, and it might not work. And it’s because of this that I shan’t tell you exactly what it is. It seems cruel to allow you to hope for something that might never come into fruition. But please put your faith in me, and in our love, for we will prevail. One way or another.

I hope that you didn’t wait to read this letter because you were scared of its contents, though I’m sure this isn’t the case. You were always brave. It was always something I loved about you. Your quiet, beautiful, roaring courage in the face of such turmoil and anguish. You always had the courage to be kind and to love with all your being, even when everything was against you. No one would have blamed you if you had turned cold and bitter, and yet you chose not to. I admire you for it every day. My idea, should it work, will require us both to be incredibly brave. But more on that another day. It’s that bravery and that strength that you will need to rely on now. That, and the thought of me. Though I may not physically be with you, but I hope that my love’s own soul is enough.

I won’t sign off this letter, because this is not where our story ends. There is much left to be written. And I need you to remember that each day we are parted. Until the next time, my love.

[eubautista]

⟨ CIERRA RAMIREZ. CIS FEMALE. SHE/HER. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, ELENA BAUTISTA is actually a descendent of I R I S. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-ONE year old EARLY CHILDHOOD DEVELOPMENT MAJOR from MIAMI, USA has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite OPTIMISTIC & NAIVE.

hey y’all! i’m rae ( she/her, 18, est ) and i’m excited to be here! check under the cut for more information about elena & like this/dm me if you’d like to plot. i highkey wasn’t expecting elena’s account to be posted until tuesday so i’ll be popping in & out tonight ♡

brief history

grew up in miami, fl. had a large extended family but only had her father in the home.

as a child, she was known for having a huge imagination. her dreams and daydreams were extremely vivid, and she often had a hard time separating them from reality. this caused the people around her to think she was super imaginative or even a liar at times.

elena got claimed at the age of twelve, a couple weeks after her illusions started being able to be seen by others. those were a strange couple of weeks, as she had no idea why or how people were starting to vaguely notice some of her daydreams as well. she was in the living room with her father, trying to show him some of her illusions, when iris appeared in the midst. elena was mesmerized and could hardly contain her excitement ( and confusion ) during this meeting.

after that, she attended camps every summer. she loved the fact that she could develop her powers without feeling like a freak or worrying for anyone’s safety, but she always missed home too much to try staying year-round.

her father tried to raise her as “normally” as possible, so she had a fairly basic teenaged experience despite everything. however, as her abilities became stronger, she realized it’d be safest for her and those around her if she continued her education at eonia.

personality

head in the clouds seems to be a phrase that perfectly describes elena, as her constant immersion in self-made illusions often contributes to a dream-like state. absent-minded and off-beat, she can seem a little clueless, which is one reason many mortals back home were shocked when they found out she had gotten into eonia university. another notable trait of elena’s is her optimism and faith in others, which often leads to naivety and allows her to be easily manipulated and taken advantage of. she is also pretty sociable and playful, often rambling about the things that excite her and offering her unwarranted opinions to whoever is nearby. despite her flaws, she is very sweet and has a genuine love and concern for others, often ready to look out for her loved ones.

abilities

virtuakinesis was the first power that elena started to develop. it started off as incredibly vivid dreams/daydreams until it reached the point where others could see them as well. growing up as an only child, she spent countless hours just playing around this power. this is her strongest power, and she is currently learning mist control. soon came photokinesis and rainbow manipulation, which started presenting themselves around the same time. while these powers aren’t as strong as her virtuakinesis and require much more concentration, she is still fairly decent at them. finally, she has slightly enhanced speed, but this is often overshadowed by her natural clumsiness. while many of these skills were naturally developed through her genuinely enjoying her powers, it wasn’t until middle school that she started attending demigod summer camps to further develop her skills.

wanted connections ( based on the grease soundtrack lol )

summer nights (g-rated): childhood camp crush/best friend. they met at camp one summer and immediately bonded. all good things must end, especially when it comes to middle school relationships, so they amicably parted ways at the end of the summer and lost touch.

hopelessly devoted to you / tears on my pillow: ex relationship. elena still isn't over this relationship. although they break her heart time and time again, she is still willing to do anything for them.

look at me, i'm sandra dee: frenemies. this person is the rizzo to elena's sandy, the jade to elena's tory. elena and this person are practically opposites. although elena may try to settle their differences and befriend this person from time to time, she usually ends up annoying them instead.

it's raining on prom night: this person found elena during a sad moment, and now elena always vents to and confides in this person, whether they want her to or not.

alone at a drive in: elena broke up with them or maybe hooked up with them at a party, but unlike them, she isn't interested in anything further.

those magic changes: they're just friends, but elena started seeing them in a new light after a special moment, which they seem to be oblivious to.

hound dog: to most people, elena is a sweet, semi-innocent girl, but not to this person. elena royally screwed this person over by hooking up with their significant other, so now their relationship is pretty rocky.

we go together: this is elena's person, her best friend. they could've met before eonia or became fast friends during freshman year, but now they're practically joined at the hip.

other connection ideas: camp friends, mentor/mentee, squad (PLS), and ofc i’d love to plot dynamics w all her half-siblingss