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batsycline69 · 9 hours

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Head Above Ground, Feet in the Grave

Summary: You get a tattoo from Jason and realize your first impression may not have been spot on

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Words: 5,576

Warnings: needles, profanity, canon-typical violence, reader has tattoos but is otherwise not described, jason doesn’t know how to flirt.

“So. Whatcha reading?” he asks over the buzz of his needle gun. Your confused look is enough get him talking again. “Saw you with a book out front.”

As soon as he stepped out into the front thirty-five minutes after your appointment was supposed to begin, as peeved as you were, you couldn’t deny he was attractive. One of his broad shoulders leaned into the wall, his thick, tattooed arms crossed over his chest. Dark curls with a patch of white at the front.

“Oh, it’s Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier,” you reply, a little surprised the guy built like a brick shithouse was asking about your reading. Then again, he’s probably just trying to make conversation.

Jason just nods.

Maybe he isn’t trying to make conversation.

The bad news is, up close, he’s even more handsome. Now you can see the little scar that angles through his eyebrow and another that curves up along his cheek. His eyes are intense as he works, his absurdly large hand has a firm grip on your forearm, guiding you as he works. He smells like cigarettes, but only just, and what you can assume is the lingering smell of the timeworn leather jacket sprawled across the chair in the corner. And all of this is bad news because this guy is obviously bad news. How can he not be, right?

It’s just this feeling, one that you couldn’t shake as soon as he sauntered towards you, the smell of cigarette smoke lingering on his worn black t-shirt. Like he’s too cool for you. Even as he’s permanently etching a skeletal bird into your arm, there’s this air about him you can’t quite place.

Before he led you back to his station, you were so certain there was going to be some sort of bikini-clad model plastered to the wall. But yet, the space is surprisingly empty. There’s a little corkboard leaning against a small table with old designs thumb-tacked to the board and not much else.

“How long have you been working here?” you ask.

Despite asking, you already kind of know the answer.

You’ve been following the shop’s Instagram for a while now. You remember the post introducing Jason, the carousel of photos demonstrating his work. Not that you’d tell him right now, but you had fallen in love with his style as soon as you saw it. The sure, thick lines. The moody shading. Bones and knives and bugs. He had no Instagram of his own for his work that you could find; only the posts in the shop with the caption ‘by Jay.’

“Couple months,” Jason replies. “I was traveling around for a while before. This is the first steady place I’ve worked.”

“Oh, wow, that’s cool. Where were you before?” you ask. It’s small talk, and you hate it, but the lack of conversation is uncomfortable in a way that usually isn’t the case. Silence doesn’t bother you. His silence does.

You wonder if his home lacks as much personality as his station. You imagine his apartment is the kind with the mattress sitting on the floor, TV on top of a folding table, and a refrigerator full of cheap beer. Something that doesn’t feel completely moved into.

He gives a small shrug of his broad shoulders. “All around,” he replies.

Even small talk seems to be off the table.

You give a curt nod of your head. A couple minutes pass, and you can’t take it anymore. “Sorry, you mind if I grab my book real fast?”

Jason nods in return, pulling the gun away. “Go for it.”

God, you feel him watching you as you slip off the table, heading towards your bag on the little couch in the corner. Why is he watching? Why is this so awkward? Is it you? Is this guy just that standoffish? You pull out your worn bookand get back into position on the table.

“You good?” he asks, his intense eyes still trained on you.

“Yeah, all good,” you say, holding the book open with one hand as the buzzing starts back up again.

This is pathetic.

Jason has spent the last few years spending his time around the worst of the worst. He’s been with assassins, arms dealers, and soldiers so bad, even the U.S. Military didn’t want them, and yet, he’s fumbling just because someone cute is reading classic literature.

Fuck.

He’s supposed to be better than this. Ever since he got back into Gotham two months ago, he’s been making deals with the worst of the worst—as far as drug dealers go—without breaking a sweat, and yet holding a conversation with you turns him into Mr. Darcy. He’s blowing it, and he cares that he’s blowing it.

At least everyone thinks he’s dead. If this had gotten out to anyone, he’d die again.

It’s been five years since he was resurrected. A couple of weeks have passed since he flew back into Gotham with another one of Talia’s connections, this time intending to stay for good. He found a little tattoo shop near Crime Alley. Close enough to keep tabs on everything, but not so close that he’d be crossing paths with Batman regularly. The last thing he needs is to run into Bruce while trying to come up on top of Gotham’s underworld. Not until everything was ready.

That’s his world. Swept off the street and recruited for a war that wasn’t even his, not really. That’s just what he was sold: security to a kid fending for himself.

Bruce may have believed he had something to show Jason about Gotham, but this city raised him more than anything. Without a stable place to call home, the city’s streets were the substitute. What more did Bruce have to teach him when Jason had already huddled for warmth in these alleys? Ran from cops, knew all the hiding spots. What did Bruce have to offer when Jason already saught comfort in a place where comfort died? In a place where hope was trying to grow on salted earth. A place so haunted, it’s more ghost than city.

Jason was made for Gotham.

After he died, Gotham fell to ruins in the greatest earthquake she’s ever seen. An anomaly. The world wanted to watch Gotham burn, abandon the city and everyone remaining inside it. Leave her buried in the fate the world deemed appropriate for a city so infected that everyone around suffered.

He knows what it means to come back again, maybe when staying gone was what should have been done.

While he learned how to kill, he learned how to tattoo. Bruce always went on about the importance of keeping their identities safe; he chose his playboy routine, and Jason chose this.

It started before Bruce even took him in. One of the older kids he used to sell stolen car parts to gave him a stick ‘n poke in the back of his dad’s auto shop. It’d only been a few weeks after his mom died. Bruce saw it within a few days of living at the manor. He didn’t comment, but Jason saw the scowl when Bruce saw the shitty skull on his ankle. He didn’t approve, and that made his chosen path all the sweeter.

In London, the guys he was staying with tattooed each other to pass the time. That’s how it all really started. He watched their hands as they worked, watched the way the ink shot into the skin. He gave his first tattoo in the seedy back room of some haunt for scumbags. He had yet to feel at home within his body again, like it was just on loan. Like his reanimation was contingent on something that could be taken away at any time.

But he kept living. And he picked up tattooing fairly quickly. He gave plenty of shitty tattoos to men whose lives ran off of fucking over innocent people. Some of them wouldn’t even live to regret his uneven lines. A good number of them, Jason watched die.

None of that, however, negates the fact that he still can’t have a conversation with you.

Every so often, he spares a glance at you as you read. You’re holding the book with one hand, awkwardly turning the page with your pinky in a way that he knows won’t last long. He’s trying to rack his brain for something, anything, to talk to you about once you need a break from your position.

When his moment finally comes, he clears his throat.

“You ever read any Virginia Woolf?” he asks.

He’s going to spoil his whole ‘asshole tattoo artist’ persona because he’s not supposed to be reading tragic modernist writers, but he can’t bring himself to fall into his usual routine. He wants to hide behind the metaphorical mask he wears when he’s not wearing his literal mask, but he just fucking can’t with you.

He doesn’t know you. You’re just someone who booked with him a few months ago. You’re a civilian, and he is supposed to be getting ready for his Gotham takeover. Now isn’t the time. He’s got work to do.

Unsurprisingly, you seem caught off guard by his question when you look up from your book. You try to regain your composure. You seem like someone who wants to be polite like that. Jason’s eyes land on your finger as it slips into your book to hold your place.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I’ve read a couple of hers.”

Jason gives a single nod of his head. He breathes as if steadying his aim to shoot. “I’m reading Mrs. Dalloway right now,” he says.

If you were someone he had to threaten, it would be going better than this. He could get you to tell him all of your secrets in under a minute no problem. But he doesn’t actually have to know how to do any of this to know that’s the wrong way to go about it. Besides, how could he forgive himself if he brought you into Red Hood’s world? You don’t belong there.

“Are you much of a reader then?” you ask.

Jason recognizes it for what it is. You’re holding out a hand, practically guiding him into a conversation just like you’ve tried so many times. You notice he’s trying too.

His lip quirks up a bit at the corner. “Yeah, I am. But don’t tell anyone. If they figure out I’m not an idiot, they may ask me to help out more.”

You graciously laugh at his joke.

He likes your laugh. It’s soft, like your skin. He’s tried to not think about it, but he has noticed. He knows you’re going to take good care of the bird carcass he’s tattooing.

When you reached out and told him what you wanted, he knew he couldn’t possibly turn the idea down. He did always have a fucked up sense of humor.

You’ll never know what makes this funny. He can’t do that to you. Maybe you can know Jason the tattoo artist, but you can’t know Red Hood.

Jason looks at you with a softness you miss when you glance away for a minute. “I’ve got a Metamorphosis tattoo over here,” he says, briefly raising the arm holding yours down.

You turn your head, trying to get a look of his Kafka tattoo, and Jason feels a little bit of warmth growing in his chest, even if he desperately wishes he didn’t. He’s getting way ahead of himself like a kid. It’s going to hurt that much more when you realize all the reasons you shouldn’t get involved with him. He shouldn’t be drawing attention to himself. He shouldn’t be getting distracted. This job isn’t for him to make connections with avid readers; he’s here to know what’s happening and when.

For all he knows, you could be a spy, aware of the moves he’s trying to make. Could work for the Penguin. But he’s aware that’s a Bruce level paranoid thought, and he’s not proud to admit that. His ties to Bruce are supposed to be severed forever.

Two hours pass far less painfully than you were expecting. Not in the literal sense, because your arm has started to get sore, but in the sense that you and Jason are finally actually talking, more or less. You take a break, trying to get the blood flow back into your arm from being at an angle for so long.

Your stomach started rumbling half an hour ago, and now you’re scrolling through your phone, chatting with Jason on what you should order. He says by the time food would get here, he’d likely be finished up.

Jason’s already told you he doesn’t do a lot of delivery. He says it’s because things are always fresher at the restaurant.

After the last couple of hours spent talking literature, you know your first impression of him was wrong—there’s a joke about books and their covers somewhere in there—but be that as it may, you still haven’t quite figured him as the sort of guy that’s going to be overly snobby about food.

He says he cooks, and you believe him, more because you like to indulge in the thought of him knowing his way around a kitchen. You also just want to believe it for the sake of justifying the crush you feel creeping in every time he shifts your arm.

You’re not going to hold your breath hoping he opens up to you, but you can tell he’s someone with a story. Someone with history. And that’s something you can respect, because you’ve got your own past you’d rather not shell out just because your tattoo artist is hot. That doesn’t stop your mind from wandering though, trying to fill in the blanks.

Maybe he did some sort of stint in the military. That’s your first guess, at least. You didn’t get any more information on the tattoos he’d done ‘all over,’ and he doesn’t talk about it anymore, so you can’t really figure out anything more than that. You also consider the fact that it’s Gotham, and shit just happens. It’s not your right to meddle in whatever tragedy this city has doled out for him.

“One of the apprentices orders delivery here a lot,” Jason says, and you roll your eyes.

“That’s not helpful, nor does it answer my question,” you say. “Even if you don’t get things delivered, you still have to know what’s good around here, right? You’re not bringing a little brown bag lunch to work every day.”

“And what if I do?” Jason asks. His voice is low, almost like he’s daring you. The features on his handsome face are serious, but there’s a glimmer in his eyes that hints he’s teasing you. And damn those eyes. You’re thankful he’s been spending the majority of your appointment staring down at your arm, because you’re not sure you’d survive two hours of looking at him, seeing where the thin ring of blue around his iris before it bleeds into vivid green.

You laugh. “Then I’d admire your dedication.”

You think he’s mostly being difficult because you offered to buy him food, a perfectly normal thing to do. But explaining to him that you’ve offered to everyone you’ve gotten a tattoo from doesn’t seem to change his mind. He’s stubborn, that much you can tell.

As you continue to scroll your phone, silence settles between the two of you. The silence doesn’t feel so oppressive this time, not weighted by awkwardness and uncertainty. Now it feels like a surrender. Neither of you bring up the beginning of the appointment. Not how he was late, not the tension that seemed to linger between the two of you, not how convinced you were that he actually hated the fact that you were sitting in his session.

“The fries at Wally’s are the best in Gotham.”

His voice comes from behind you, and you jump, turning over your shoulder quickly. He’s peering over your shoulder, eyes fixed on the screen of your phone. You hadn’t even heard him get up from his stool. Last you’d looked his way, he was sitting across from you.

You spit out a curse. “When did you get back there?” you ask, clutching your chest with overdramatic flair.

“What, you didn’t see me get up?” he asks.

You scoff. “No, I didn’t see you get up. What are you, some kind of fucking ghost?”

And Jason laughs.

At the best of the times, you consider yourself a relatively dignified individual. Maybe it’s a bit of flattery, but regardless, that’s what you’d like to believe. And yet, there’s something so incredibly rare about the sound of Jason’s laughter, something that makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. It’s like hearing something long forgotten. Like catching the song of a bird long thought extinct. This isn’t the playful scoff of laughter like when you’d said maybe Northanger Abbey was your favorite Jane Austen book, and he’d said you seemed more like an Elizabeth Bennett than a Catherine Morland; this seems like something secret. Something reserved.

Even if the sound makes your stomach flip, your foul language hardly seems funny enough to warrant such a laugh. Your silly off-handed joke doesn’t seem worthy of the burst of laughter that bubbles up from his wide chest.

“I think the hunger’s getting to you,” Jason replies finally when the laughter settles. He nudges his head back towards your phone to get back on topic. “Wally’s is good.”

You have to yank yourself from your thoughts and will yourself to nod. “Yeah, okay,” you say, feeling like such a loser for the way a single laugh could knock you off your track so quickly. You go back to scrolling through the menu to give yourself something other than gawk at him. “So fries. What else is good?” you ask, not daring to raise your eyes.

Jason crosses back over to his stool and sits. Your face gets hot as you feel self-consciousness creep up thinking maybe you’d been obvious, worried you’ll scare him off. But before you know it, he’s naming off his favorite things. And yeah, maybe you bought more than you alone could eat, and maybe you got the burger he spent a few minutes gushing about. If he doesn’t want it now, he can save it for later.

But nearly an hour later, you have a whole spread of junk food in Jason’s station and a finished bird skeleton plastic wrapped on your arm. Jason rolls his eyes at your generosity, and you threaten to eat everything you bought all by yourself, but he eats the burger and steals the fries you jokingly told him to keep his hands off of.

“So can I ask why you were so late?” you ask.

You’re toeing your boundaries. Maybe you’re intentionally trying to press your luck. Part of you knows you maybe shouldn’t ask. But you do it anyway.

Jason looks up from his burger, wiping a small smear of ketchup off his lip. “You’re gonna think I’m an asshole.” He smirks when he sees you quirk your eyebrow. He was thirty-five minutes late; of course you already think he’s an asshole. At least he’s a good sport about it. “I was out smoking.”

“Mm,” you say with a mockingly serious nod of your head. “Leaning up against a wall, cigarette in one hand, Mrs. Dalloway in the other. I guess you must be so cool I have to immediately forgive you,” you say sarcastically.

“Shut up.”

You smirk and go back to eating your food, unaware of Jason’s subtle gaze your way now that your attention has been diverted.

Jason’s used to a somewhat infrequent eating schedule, otherwise known as he rolls out of bed half an hour before he’s supposed to be at the shop, which doesn’t give him much time to eat. And by the time he’s done with his shift, he’s usually starved. He tries to eat an hour before kicking anyone’s ass so he doesn’t cramp up, so that involves him cramming whatever leftovers he has in the fridge into his mouth the second he gets back to his apartment. Then, he goes back out to work.

He’s become somewhat of a late night chef, putting together whatever he can make as quickly and easily as possible. The sort of skills he’d picked up when he was all on his own, trying to keep himself fed from whatever was available, doing whatever he could to make the best of a bad situation. Shoplifting butter and pasta, crushing up old Corn Flakes in a bag with a hammer to put on top. It was something his mom had done. Something he didn’t want to give up.

For the past two hours, he’s been hoping you’ll say something stupid, like how cool you think Batman is.Instead, he finds you kind in a way he doesn’t really see that often. You tolerate his shit to a certain point, and you push back when he goes too far.

People are scared of Jason, hood on or not. And they should be. They see his scars, his tattoos, his sheer size, and they cross the street. They turn their eyes as he buys bread at the grocery store. They can see him for what he is. But for some reason, you don’t. At least not now.

He’s mapping out his plan of how to take over the city, and you’re giving him shit for being late to an appointment for a job he only has for information. The fact that he met you is just a blip in the greater scheme of things, and yet that’s going to be what he walks away from today thinking about.

A guy came into the shop earlier. A local dealer. Jason played cool, pretended he didn’t have an idea who the guy was. This lowlife didn’t need to know Jason already knew where he picked up his supplies. He’d asked if the guy had any plans for the day, as if Jason didn’t already know about a shipment coming in late tonight. Jason’s plans for the evening had been clear. All he had to do was get through one more appointment.

Except that appointment had been yours.

The shop is closed now. A few stations away, one of Jason’s coworkers is still working. In the lull as you both eat, the faint buzzing of the needle and music playing from the speakers up front. Even if Jason wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s comfortable with you, there’s something of a surrender in the time you spend together.

You don’t know the things he’s going to do once you leave, and you wouldn’t assume them of him. What are you seeing in him because it’s sure as shit not something he’s ever seen himself.

At some point, Jason knows he’s going to fuck it all up. You’ll probably get ready to leave, and he’ll say something as you walk out the door that will make you question all of this. Make you second guess this good opinion of him you’ve managed to come up with. It’ll be for your own good.

His eyes drift over to your arm, your bicep still wrapped up in plastic. He can still feel the warmth of your skin lingering on his palm.

For so long, he’d been used to the dull cold of the apartment he squatted in, frigid air seeping in through neglected walls. As hard as he tries not to, he remembers arriving at Wayne Manor for the first time. He’d forgotten home could be so warm.

The warmth of your arm felt like that.

Since coming back in Gotham, he’d given plenty of tattoos, touched plenty of arms. Body heat is body heat, except when it’s yours.

“Where do you go from here?” Jason asks, looking up from his burger.

You shrug your shoulders. “Home, probably. Gonna get that good post-tattoo sleep.”

It’s cold out. You’re bundled up in your coat, aware of the tenderness of your arm where the fabric brushes up against the flesh.

You’re walking towards your train stop. The sounds of sirens echo somewhere in the distance. Purple light filters out through the blinds of one of the apartments you pass, loud bass temporarily overpowering the distant wail of emergency vehicles for a moment as you walk by, until it fizzles back out into quiet. As the music fades, you hear the sound of a couple arguing from an apartment somewhere up above you.

Across from the stairs up to the station is a bar, patrons hanging around outside smoking cigarettes and laughing. You can feel a huddle of men watching you as you move, but you don’t glance their way, just make your way up the stairs.

Yellow-tinged lights line the station, a lamp every fifteen feet or so. From what you can see in the beams of light weakly dispersing from the streetlamps, you’re alone. You find a spot under a nice shelter, though nice is relative considering the lingering smell of piss and obscene graffiti on the walls, but it’s not out in the open where anyone stumbling onto the stop will find you.

The light above you flickers sporadically. You wish there was somewhere else you could wait.

Jason hadn’t seemed thrilled that you were going out to wait for the train all on your own, but you assured him, somewhat indignant, you could handle yourself.

“You sat really well,” he’d said, and you couldn’t help but entertain the idea of inviting him along on the train with you, but you were not going to stoop to that level.

The sounds of approaching footsteps reminds you to keep your focus. You can kick your feet about Jason once you get back to your apartment.

Three guys stumble up the stairs. And just your fucking luck, you’re pretty sure they’re the guys from outside the bar. They’re laughing, and their voices carry from the opposite side of the tracks. You hope they’re going northbound, that they’ll have no reason to cross the tracks. You keep your eyes fixed away from them, down the tracks, now feeling even more impatient for the arrival your train, hoping somehow it will turn you invisible.

But their boisterous conversation suddenly turns much quieter.

Your shoulders tense, and as subtly as you can, you try to slip your hand into your bag for your pepper spray. Blindly, you feel around, trying to move as little as possible so as to not draw any more attention to yourself, because you have no doubts you’re the reason their conversation has become so hushed. If this doesn’t end horribly, you’ll have to try to remember to clear out all of the junk you have stashed away.

One of the men laughs, and then their conversation stops all together.

Your fingers curl around the tube of spray in your purse.

Without looking, you know they’re moving towards you now. Their shuffled, stumbling footsteps are growing louder. They’re drunk and not looking for their night to be over just yet. Unfortunately, you just happened to be in their way while they were looking for the next phase of the evening.

“Hey!” one yells.

You don’t acknowledge him. Maybe they’ll be drunk enough to think you genuinely can’t hear them and give up. It’s wishful thinking, but what does that matter?

Now you’re regretting pretending you were so tough for Jason because these guys sure as shit wouldn’t even give you a second glance if you were standing next to him.

They’ve crossed the tracks now, and there’s still no sign of train headlights. Your grip on the pepper spray tightens, not wanting it to slip now that your heart is starting to race.

“Hey! You!”

You don’t look.

One of them grabs your arm and tugs you out from the shelter. You wince at the contact against the fresh tattoo. “We’re talking to you,” he laughs.

You’re about to use your pepper spray when it clatters to the ground.

All three men look down at it.

“What’s this?” the second man says, bending down and picking it up.

But before any of them can say anything else, a figure just outside of the ring of light the four of you are standing under. You can’t make out any details about him besides the sheer size of him.

“Let go of her and walk away while you still can,” he growls. The sound of his voice isn’t quite right. It sounds distorted. Your skin prickles with nerves from the sound of it.

The man who picked up your pepper spray turns it towards the figure, threatening to spray.

The figure just chuckles. It sounds cold, metallic. The sound of a gun cocking follows as the figure steps just into the light. The pepper spray wouldn’t do the man any good.

A man wearing a red helmet walks into sight, gun trained on the man holding my arm, but his grip drops instantaneously as he knocks through his other two friends to run, but the other two follow behind almost immediately.

And that leaves you and the guy in the helmet alone.

Gotham has its fill of guys in mask, and sure, there seems to be a new one popping up all the time, but you don’t know this one.

You look up at him, eyes wide with fright. The second the men are gone, he puts the gun back in one of the holsters on his thick thighs, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has them. You don’t know who this guy is, who he works with, whether he’s any better than that group of men or just more armed.

“You alright?” he asks when you don’t say anything. He has a voice modifier, you realize now, though you piece that together slowly.

After a beat, you nod your head. Your hand curls over your throbbing arm. You don’t like that you can’t see where he’s looking. Just two unblinking white voids where his eyes must be. “Yeah,” you breathe. Your eyes fall on your pepper spray. The man holding it must have dropped it when he ran.

When it’s clear you’re not moving to pick it up, the man bends down and grabs it. He holds out a gloved hand, offering it back to you.

Your trembling hand raises and you take it from him, offering a barely audible thanks as you slip it back into your bag.

He nods.

There’s still no sign of a train, and he’s not moving.

“I can give you a ride someplace. If you want.”

Don’t take rides from strangers. You’d heard it just as much as anyone, and the man standing before you is the definition of a stranger. You can’t even see his face; you have no idea who he is beneath that helmet. The one thing you do know is he has a gun, and he’s built like a fridge.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he adds, but his modulated reassurances don’t ease your concern. He senses your hesitation and takes a step back. “Do you want me to leave?”

A few more seconds pass as you consider the question. What if those guys come back? What if some other group comes along? But is giving your home address to the guy with a gun a better idea? And would him standing beside you as you wait for your train make you feel any safer? Could you so willingly accept he wasn’t going to just wait for the moment your guard is down to do something, just the way this city works?

Finally, you shake your head. Neither decision seems like the right one to make. But he did help you. Now you just have to hope to god he’s not going to take advantage of your vulnerability.

You want to ask if he’s one of Batman’s friends, but you don’t find the words.

Instead, you two fall into a silence. For you, it’s tense. You wonder if he feels the same, or if this is just a regular night for him. He stands near you but keeps his distance, like he’s aware how intimidating he could be.

The train is so late. There must be some hold up. One of Gotham’s usuals causing a delay in public transit. Go fucking figure.

“Are you new?” you ask finally. If the train never comes, you might end up taking him up on his offer for a ride, so you may as well try and figure something out about him. Any sort of indication of if you can trust him or not.

There’s another distorted chuckle, though somehow, this one seems less malicious than earlier when threatened with your pepper spray. “You could say that.”

You have no idea how to respond to that, so you don’t.

Silence settles between you again. You can see the lights of the train in the distance. You’re hoping that nothing happens on the train. All you want is to crash into your bed.

The man in the red helmet stands beside you, not pushing any further to make conversation. He waits with you. As it screeches to a halt in front of you, you turn to thank him, but you notice he’s already gone.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #x reader

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uyuforu · 2 days

Note

Is lunar return as important as solar return? What's the difference? Are the interpretations the same?

Thanks 🤎

Astro Observations: Lunar Return Chart I

Hii! That's a very good question! So Lunar Return Chart is pretty similar to Solar Return Chart, except that it is focused on the moon. While the Sun takes a year to come back, the Moon takes a month, so your Lunar Return Chart change every month. It will tell you how your month will go, what will most likely happen. I have never been through a lot of Lunar RC but I will try yo make an observation post now! I hope you will like it :)

How to make a LRC?

✮⋆˙ Go on Astro.com

✮⋆˙ Free Horoscopes > Horoscope Drawings & Data > Extended Chart Selection

✮⋆˙ Chart Type: Scroll to "Lunar Return Chart"

✮⋆˙ Start Date: I suggest to start with 1st of the month and you'll see the date written when your LRC starts on your chart.

╰┈➤ For ex: For April, mine starts on April 12th 2024 and the next date if May 5th 2024 for my May LRC. So be careful about the dates!

✮⋆˙ Don't forget to add additional objects if you want to, and you are done!

All pictures are from Pinterest.

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Observations I

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Synastry I

જ⁀➴ Solar Return Synastry II

Book a private reading: menus ; Q&A ; rules ; instagram

Buy me a Kofi •ᴗ•

ִ ࣪𖤐 Best tool to know about LRC.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Sun 1H will make you have focused on confidence this month. You could also be more bold and you could be more courageous. You could want to take actions on whenever house/ sign is complimentary to that placement. You could also move more and be more physical in general.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Sun 3H will make you have a month focused on expressing yourself. You could also commit to know more about yourself, discover yourself, and it could be a time of getting to know us better.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Sagittarius Rising/ 21° will makes you appear as pretty open minded this month! You could appear as curious, smart, immature too, but you could also appear as someone who knows a lot of things and who want to learn more.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Gemini Rising/ 27° is quite similar as Sagittarius Rising/ 21° but you could appear as gossipy or veryyyy talkative lol. People could think you speak non stop.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Moon will always be at the same sign as your Natal Moon and same degree also, so you should look mostly on which house it falls every month.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Moon 5H will make you feel quite creative this month. If you want children, you could want to be pregnant. You could also find yourself spending more time with children this month! You could be very sensitive to art in general but also you could be good at acting/ pretending your emotions. You could want to spend more time with friends, loved ones. You could be more flirty this month too. More romantic.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Mercury 3H means you will def speak this month about you, your thoughts, your feelings, you will share! It's a good time to go to therapy, to talk to a friend about you and what is deep inside of you. You will probably need to lash out. You could also spend a lot of time just talking, small talking, but actually speak with people will probably be a need this month. You could also be very into drama and gossips lol.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Venus 3H could mean you could do or have a love confession! You could speak a lot about your feelings this month, speak a lot about love and how you love people around you. But you could be overanalyzing or overthinking your feelings and your relationships with your loved ones this month too.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Chiron 3H could mean you will have hard time with communication this month, you could argue more with your friends, or people in general. This could be because of miscommunication or just misunderstanding people. You could also speak in a more mean way this month, and be more vulgar too.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Mars 12H could mean you are quite sensible this month and you could not have much motivation. You could be very lazy and it could also be a sign of depression.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Mars 2H could also be you being lazy but you could also be very money focused. You could not be quite that motivated.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Jupiter 5H means you will be lucky for sure this month and you'll probably be very creative too.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Jupiter conjunct Uranus 5H could mean a sudden idea on the creative side, or a sudden luck that you didn't expect.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Mars conjunct Saturn means you'll struggle to be motivated this month.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Saturn 2H could be that you'll very focused on your money and income situation, this can be stressful because you'll feel like you need to take responsibility for that.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Uranus 5H could be a sign of sudden ideas, sudden popularity, sudden love and flirt, romance could happen unexpectedly, but also fun moments.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Pluto 1H could be there is a big change about your physically. Perhaps you'll decide to lose weight or do more sport this month.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Sun 10H means you can focus a lot on your career, your reputation, how people see you but also you progress in your life. You could become just very hard working and you could be more busy during this month.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Moon 11H could be that you'll probably spend a lot of time online, you could also find some comfort online, talking to some online friends perhaps or just texting/ calling friends. It could also watch a show you love, or playing video games. Technologies and internet can bring you comfort. But being with friends, talking to friends or spending time with people with whom you feel good.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Mercury 9H could be that you can be focused about learning a new language, or learning things about a certain culture. You could also just be very focused on your studies, whatever you do. Even if you work, you could be very focused about learning new techniques or tools. You could also be more into spirituality than before.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Leo/ 5°/ 17°/ 29° Rising will make you seen as very popular, someone people look at a lot, you could be seen as the main character. You could be very fashionable and you could dress up very well this month. Could be a sign to be a it-girl.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Libra/ 7°/ 19° Rising will make you be perceived as very beautiful, fashionable, good looking, you could be seen as someone who dress up well, do well your make up, take care of your appearance.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Sun conjunct Venus in 10H could mean you could become very popular and well liked by other people this month. You could have a lovely reputation. You could also get a good popularity at work.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Venus 10H will make you love your job! You could also love your reputation lol. This could be a sign of you feeling more well liked and you could really like the popularity you get.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Venus conjunct Uranus 10H means you can get an unexpected popularity at work, or recognition. You could not expect it, or this can be pretty sudden and unplanned. This could also happen online.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Sun conjunct Uranus 10H could represent sudden fame! It can also represent sudden rise up in your work, career, you could get a sudden recognition for something you do. A good popularity and rise up in your reputation.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Mars 9H could mean you'll have more motivation in studying this month. You could want to learn more and you'll have a lot of drive to do so. You could also be very motivated to expand your knowledge in general.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Mercury conjunct Mars 9H means you'll study a lot during this month. You could want to achieve a certain goal. You could also be talking a lot about your spiritual goals if you have some.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Jupiter 10H means you can get lucky in your job and career. You'll also be very luck in general because of your good reputation! This also means you'll probably get good opportunities at work.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Venus conjunct Jupiter 10H represents big opportunities that you probably always wanted to happen in your work. Opportunities that will make you love your job more.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Sun conjunct Jupiter 10H means your month will be very focused on your work and the opportunities you'll have. You'll be very focused on your career this month because you'll feel more lucky about it.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Jupiter conjunct Uranus 10H means unexpected opportunities and good fortune in the work field! Happy!

ִ ࣪𖤐 Uranus 10H means expect the unexpected in your career field! You could have some things happening suddenly in your work.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Saturn 8H could be a sign of feeling very overwhelmed, and depressed this month. You could have the feeling to go insane sometimes. Be aware of this, this is a sign to be careful with your thoughts. Your mental health will not be that great, so don't be afraid to ask for help.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Neptune 9H means some life lessons will probably confuse you and you can get hard times to learn those. But this could also mean you will probably be more spiritual this month!

ִ ࣪𖤐 Vertex 5H means something important could happen in your love life, fun life or creative life.

ִ ࣪𖤐 When your LRC Rising is the same as your SRC then this month will be very important in your life!

ִ ࣪𖤐 Pluto 6H means there could be a change in your health and how you eat, how you live your life. You could also try to work on your health, and mental health too.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Part of Fortune 1H could be a sign of a glow up. It could also be a sign of you being naturally lucky this month.

ִ ࣪𖤐 North Node 9H could mean you will learn some important life lessons this month.

Thank you for reading!

back to index ; ask ; request ; rules ; instagram

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lady-phasma · 2 days

Note

I for the life of me don’t believe HBO would spoil Aemond ”sex scene” on the trailer like that because 1) wouldn’t you want that to be a bigger shocker if it actually does happen in the show, and 2) that’s just whole 180 from the Aemond they showed on season 1 (granted they didn’t get to show much but anyway) I just get sad (not really sexy) vibes from that little scene in the trailer so I would lean towards it being Alicent or maybe possibly Helaena

I love this ask, anon. Thank you. I am not convinced it's sexual in nature. In a previous ask here, the asker said that they were excited he got laid. In my answer I said "if" it were sexy time. Since I answered that I have been discussing these 1.5 seconds of the trailer with people, at length. That has given the omg he's naked some time to wear off.

I agree with you to a degree on your first point - I think that this isn't as much a spoiler like "look Aemond had sex," as it is a preview of his wrecked psyche. He will likely be intimate with at least one, if not more, women if the series follows the book.

So, let's do what I do... let's look at the evidence. He's with someone who is clothed. He's being comforted. There is nothing sexually explicit. I have called this "naked Aemond" jokingly because I think it's a nice bit of fan service, but I don't see anything explicit. He may not even be naked. We see him without his eye patch, no shirt, bare legs. We are just assuming that he doesn't have on some kind of underwear, towel, etc. His expression is pained or sad but there isn't much more information in these few frames.

So we are all currently obsessed with who is with him because that could help give us context. But I think you are onto something with your second point, anon. I have so much headcanon about this man because he has been a tabula rasa for us for almost 2 years!

Scenes like this will help fill in those blanks, whether or not we like the answers. I think that it would be a completely different Aemond than I imagine if this were purely sexual. I am not saying I exclude the possibility that he had sex directly before or after this image. It is possible to have this kind of moment in that context. I just don't read this as sexual. In my previous ask I said "I definitely would love for him to have some sexy time but the hurt/comfort is sending me."

I stand by that. I want our boy to have someone he can be sexual with (and not just because I want to see him like that on screen). I just don't think this is that time. Regardless, I am thrilled that he is actually being comforted. You have no idea! (You probably do.) I think Aemond seeking comfort is much more in line with the 11.5 minutes we got of adult Aemond in season one. But, as you said, that's not much.

I'm not going to get on a soapbox and start talking about my traumatized man here, but I don't want to sexualize this image too much because we don't know the context.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond one eye #hotd season 2 #hotd spoilers #hotd s2 #asked and answered #love my anons

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milaisreading · 3 days

Note

Maybe Ness rambling about his interests, but gets quite thing y/n would think he's weird or annoying.

Y/n notices it and tell him that she loves seeing this side of him. Just overall someone loving ness as ness. My baby needs it 🤧🤧

🌱🩷: Hope u are fine with this!! Thanks for the request 🩷

Warning: Reader is crossdressing so I am using a mix of she/her and he/him. Requests are open

⚽️Blue lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

'Kaiser... He isn't paying any attention to me... Ever since Isagi spoke back to him he has been more distant with me. He just tells me what to do. But, it's not like I can say anything back. I have nobody but him. He is my only friend-'

"Ness. Ness. Ness!"

The magenta-eyed boy shook himself out of his thoughts as he heard (Y/n)'s voice and felt her shake his shoulders.

"What?" Ness looked back at her, blinking in confusion as the girl raised an eyebrow.

"Are you ok? You look lost." He flinched at her words and glanced at Kaiser, who was annoying Isagi and Kurona.

"I am fine. Did you need anything?" Ness asked while looking back at her.

"Can I sit here and eat? Gesner and Grim want to sit here as well."

(Y/n) said as she pointed at the two boys behind her.

"Uhm... Sure." The boy nodded his head slowly as the three sat down and started eating.

"Are we practicing today?" Gesner wondered as he looked at (Y/n), who slowly nodded her head.

"Sure. You guys wanted to practice passes, anyway."

"Wait... You two are working with him? Are you betraying Kaiser?" Ness asked the two Germans with an irritated tone, earning a sigh from Grim.

"No, we are not. On the field we are on Kaiser's side, but off the field we hang out."

"Calm down, Ness. Nobody is going against the king, or whatever." Gesner laughed and continued eating. Ness growled a little in irritation, but stopped as (Y/n) put a plate on his tray.

"What is that?" Ness raised an eyebrow, recognizing that it was one of the chocolate puddings he liked at the facility.

"You told me you liked that pudding, you can have it. I am not much of a fan of it." (Y/n) shrugged, taking a bite from her rice and chicken. Ness' eyes widened for a moment and gulped as he looked down at the food.

"You... How did you know?"

"What do you mean how do I know?" (Y/n) raised an eyebrow and gulped down her food.

"You told me that. You said you liked it so much since that was what you mom made you when you were sick."

"You... You listened?" Ness asked in shock as (Y/n) slowly nodded her head.

"I might not look like it, but I do pay attention." She said, a little offended and started eating again.

The magenta-eyed boy could feel his heartbeat pick up for a moment as he stared at (Y/n), who was busy talking with Grim about something he couldn't catch.

'He cared enough to remember this... He cared enough to give me his dessert... Something Kaiser never did.' Ness glanced at the blonde and shook his head. No! He can't betray Kaiser like that! He shouldn't have someone else in mind! He slowly ate a spoon full of the pudding as a blush appeared on his face. For some reason, today's pudding tasted a lot sweeter.

'They probably changed the ingredients.'

Later...

"Haaa... Hair washing is so nice~" (Y/n) hummed to herself as she walked to her bed while drying he rhair with a towel. Ness looked away from one of his books he was reading and glanced at her instead.

"Why do you wash your hair always first and then shower?"

"Hm? I don't know. I always washed my hair first and then showered." She shrugged he shoulders and glanced at the book Ness was reading before she walked inside.

"What's that?" The girl stopped with the hair drying and looked in curiosity at the book. It was dark purple with a few golden stars on it. Ness at first thought she was joking, but the genuineness in her voice and eyes quickly told him something else. Taking in a deep breath, the boy contemplated for a moment.

'Should I tell him? Whatever, he will laugh at me either way...'

"It's a book I had ever since I was little. It's a story about witches and wizards."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened a little, surprised he was into those things.

"You like magic?"

Unconsciously, Ness smiled and nodded his head as he started going off on his explanation.

"Yeah! Ever since I was little I liked magic, magical creatures! The fantasy world is so interesting and the best way to escape everything! I have had this book since I was 7, actually! It talks about a boy who embarks on a journey to find- Oh..."

(Y/n) blinked as she saw Ness quickly shut up and look back at his book, face red in embarrassment.

"Embarks on a journey to find what exactly?"

"You were listening? Do you really want to know?"

Ness' head shot up to look at (Y/n) in surprise. This... this was the first time someone cared?

"Yeah? What is it about?"

'Weird. He has been acting off ever since this morning.' (Y/n) thought as Ness gave her a huge smile and started rambling about the story. The girl tried to keep up with what he was saying, nodding every once in a while and asking questions as signs that she was listening.

'Well, if it makes him happy.' She smiled a little, enjoying the rare moments of peace she had with the German.

This continued on for the next few days, Ness would talk about random interests he had with (Y/n) sharing some of her own. The boy would try to keep up with what she was telling him as he didn't want to come off as rude for not remembering anything. Noa, just like the rest of the team were surprised how much the usually bickering duo talked. It looked more like two friends talking than two guys who didn't like each other. And, while (Y/n) for the most part stayed oblivious, or enjoyed the peace, Ness did notice the shift. He noticed it when he would miss her presence during his practices with Kaiser, when she would leave him to eat with one of her Blue lock friends. He just felt alone. He didn't like it. But, Ness knew that things were meant to be like this. She served Isagi as his midfielder, and Ness was Kaiser's. There was nothing the German could do. Or, was there?

Ness felt weird ever since the match against PXG started. He didn't like the feeling of being stuck at Kaiser's side. He didn't like the closeness Charles and Shidou showed towards (Y/n). And most importantly, he didn't like her loyalty towards Isagi!

'I hate this! Why can't he score for himself?!' Ness gritted his teeth as he stole the ball from Shidou and looked ahead to where Kaiser was. This was the blonde's chance to make up for the failed goal from earlier!

'But...' Ness stopped and so did (Y/n) who as she looked at Ness in confusion.

'Why did he stop? Kaiser is right there.' She looked at the confused blonde, then back at Ness.

"Here! Do with it what you want! I don't care!'

The girl's eyes widened as Ness kicked the ball towards her. Hiori and Isagi were stunned as well as they looked at Ness, the boy hiding a blush and ignoring Kaiser's yells as (Y/n) kicked the ball towards Hiori who would assist this time.

"Ness?" The girl questioned as the boy ignored her as well.

'This isn't good for my heart at all!!' Ness yelled on the inside as he put his hand over his racing heart.

'I hate it so much that I love you!'

#bllk #blue lock anime #blue lock manga #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock scenarios #crossdressing #blue lock requests #alexis ness #bllk ness #blue lock ness #alexis ness x reader #alexis ness x you

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burnednotburied · 15 hours

Text

Chapter 5: The Aquarium

AO3 Link | Chapter 4 Link

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas; sorry (but not that sorry) to any Owen fans, but he’s kinda a huge asshole in this

Note: I added chapter titles and finally figured out exactly where I’m going with this story lol. Hooray for having a plan!!

(Sorry it took more than two weeks to get this chapter out! End-of-semester craziness, ya know? I hope this chapter being like twice as long as usual makes up for it!)

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Abby realized too late that she probably should’ve warned you about the life-sized whales on the ceiling.

By the look on your face, she could tell you’ve never seen anything like it.

Which made sense. She hadn’t either before she and Owen found this place three years ago.

She paused to watch you for just a second, taking in your amazed expression as you marveled at the enormous hanging sea creatures above you.

Abby could easily remember what her first time here was like. How incredible and other-worldly this place felt. She imagined it must be even more overwhelming for you, this fractured piece of a world you were not a part of and knew little about. A world where humans built a place where they could go to look at fish for no reason other than that it was entertaining. A world where people did things just for fun.

Of course, Abby had also never been a part of that world, but at least she knew about it. She’d caught glimpses of it, carefully and intentionally gathering bits and pieces. She watched films and documentaries. She read novels and history books, newspapers and magazines if she could find them.

Knowledge was power. And, to Abby, having power was important. Having power meant being able to keep the people she cared about safe.

And if you had enough power, no one could ever take it away from you.

So she dedicated herself to becoming powerful, both of mind and of body. It’s all she had known and cared about since she lost her dad.

It’s why she lost Owen.

She still wasn’t sure if that had been a good thing or a bad thing, but she knew she felt guilty about it.

Three years ago, Owen had quickly claimed the aquarium as his own. He cleaned it up, made it feel as homey as possible, and spent as much time here as he could get away with. Abby didn’t tell anyone, not even the rest of the Salt Lake crew. It was right around the time they were breaking up. She felt like she owed him her discretion at the very least. Not that it really made up for anything.

Yesterday morning, when Nora told Abby that Owen was missing, she assumed he’d come here.

God, she hoped she was right.

Abby shifted the injured Yara in her arms, her muscles burning from carrying the girl for so long.

It was early in the morning now. The sun had just begun to rise as the four of you had been making your way into the aquarium.

“Owen!” she shouted, leading the way down one of the hallways off the main entrance. Abby thought he would most likely be out on the boat, either sleeping or continuing in his never-ending attempts to get the thing in working order.

“Owen!” she called out again. “Owen! Are you here?”

She paused for a moment, listening. Nothing.

“Owen—”

“I’m here.” She heard his voice just before he rounded the corner, stopping short when he saw the whole group of you. “Are those Scars?” he asked, genuinely surprised and definitely confused as hell.

Abby ignored the question. “I need whatever medical supplies you have.”

Before Owen could respond, Alice came barreling around the corner, barking aggressively at the perceived enemies.

The next few seconds were chaotic to say the least.

You screamed and jumped back. Lev reacted quickly, his bow drawn and an arrow notched.

“Alice, no!” Abby yelled out.

Owen grabbed for the German Shepherd, holding her back as she continued to lunge forward, trying to attack.

“Put the bow down! It’s okay!” Abby shouted.

Owen gripped the dog’s harness tightly. “Put that down!”

“Alice, shut up! Lev, put the bow down!”

“Alice, stop—Abby, what the fuck?!”

“Lev, listen to them! Put it down!” you insisted, putting a hand on his shoulder as you tried to push him behind you.

All of this happened simultaneously, muffled by the sound of deafening, echoing barking.

“Alice!” a new voice, one that Abby knew belonged to Mel, shouted. To her, the dog listened, sitting down obediently with one final bark.

Mel stood next to Owen and Alice, staring.

There was a moment of silence.

Abby turned to the young boy. “Lev, lower the bow. It’s okay.”

Reluctantly, he listened.

“Abby, who are these people?” Mel asked.

“They saved my life,” she said, hoping that would be enough of an answer for now. “Can you take a look at her?” Abby looked down at Yara, who seemed to be barely conscious in her arms.

Mel dropped a hand on Alice’s head, instructing her to stay, as she slowly stepped closer, eyeing you and Lev cautiously.

“This is Yara,” Abby said before nodding over to the kid at her right, “That’s Lev. And that’s—” She stopped short. She wasn’t about to introduce you to them as Prophet.

Behind her, you spoke, offering up your name. Abby and Lev’s eyes both swung to you, widening for two entirely different reasons.

Abby’s because she was hearing your name for the first time. It was your name. It was like she discovered a brand new piece to this puzzle she had been frantically trying to assemble since the moment she saw you.

She wasn’t sure why Lev looked shocked, but it seemed like a big deal, for you to use your name in place of the title that had been forced upon you by the other Scars.

Abby quietly repeated the name, committing it to memory.

Mel gave a small nod, unaware of the mini revelation that was happening right in front of her, instead focusing on Yara with a concerned look on her face.

“What did this?” she asked, looking down at the girl’s mangled arm.

“A hammer,” you said, stepping forward until you were standing right next to Abby.

“It wasn’t me,” Abby quickly added. Guilty, despite her innocence. She was ashamed that she needed to make that clarification. Worried about what you would think about it.

Mel hesitated, regarding each of the Scars one by one again before sighing. “Alright. Let’s lay her down.”

----------------------------------------------------------------

The pregnant woman—clearly someone Abby knew but wasn’t exactly friendly with—decided that Yara had compartment syndrome, which apparently meant they would have to cut her arm off.

While everyone else argued about the best way to accomplish that task, you stood off to the side, feeling sick. If you had been able to stop Emily’s men last night, this wouldn’t be happening.

It shouldn’t be happening.

Yara was going to lose her arm or die because you failed her.

You were trying not to spiral. Trying to be helpful now. (Too little, too late.) Trying to pay attention to the Wolves’ conversation.

They didn’t have the supplies they needed to perform the amputation safely. Yara didn’t have time to wait the couple days it would take Abby to travel all the way to the hospital and back.

“What if we could get you there in two hours?” Lev asked, hands grasping the metal table where Yara laid in the center of the room. “The Wolf hospital, right? On the west side?”

The man—Owen—stood, interested. “How?”

“The bridges,” you said, realizing what Lev was getting at. All eyes turned to you. “Our people built them. High up.”

Lev nodded. “It’s how we get around the flooding. And… you people.”

After a quiet moment, Abby stepped forward. “Can she handle two hours?”

The woman considered this, her hand comfortingly placed on Yara’s shoulder. “Probably, yeah.”

Abby nodded. “Then make a list of what you need.”

Owen stepped closer, joining the circle the rest of you had formed around Yara. “Wait. Are you serious? Abby, these bridges are used by Scars.”

The fact that he was arguing against the plan frustrated you. Yara didn’t have time for this.

“They only send in small groups at a time,” Lev said.

“You heard that? Small groups.” Abby said, watching as the other woman jotted down the supplies on a loose piece of paper and handed it over.

“This isn’t a joke.” Owen looked only at Abby, trying to catch her eyes. She seemed to be actively avoiding making contact.

Instead, she turned to you and said your name, followed by, “Let’s go.”

You looked up at her, at a loss for words. It was sad that something as simple as hearing your name could have this effect on you, but it had been eight years since you’d heard it… And this was already the second time Abby had said it.

You wanted to turn and walk right out the door with her, happy to follow her anywhere, but reality set it.

“I can’t,” you said. “I don’t know where the hospital is. And I don’t know our bridges well enough to guide you. It will have to be Lev.” It looked like Abby might argue with you, or at least tell you to come with them.

You wanted to. The idea of letting Lev go back out into danger without you made you sick with worry. But, foolish as it may seem, you trusted Abby to look out for him. And you didn’t understand these other Wolves and the strange dynamic at play here. You certainly didn’t trust them to be alone with Yara.

“Someone needs to stay with her,” you said, holding Abby’s gaze.

She nodded, grabbing her backpack off the floor. “Alright. Lev.”

He looked to you, taking your hand in his. The group splitting up must’ve felt wrong to him, too.

Almost on instinct, you did what you had been trained to do. You offered a bit of comfort.

“May She guide you,” you said quietly, giving him a small, encouraging smile as you squeezed his one hand between both of yours.

The words were familiar to you both, a common Seraphite mantra. He reciprocated your tight grasp and finished the line, “May She protect you.”

When you released his hand, he placed it on Yara’s shoulder, as if to tell her goodbye as well. She was unresponsive.

You felt a hand fall on your own shoulder and looked up to find that it was Abby. She nodded her head to the opposite end of the room, impatiently taking your wrist in her hand and leading you over there when you didn’t immediately catch her meaning.

She didn’t let go.

Abby stood close, speaking quietly so that no one else could hear. “We’ll be back as soon as possible. Yara’s going to be fine, okay. And I’ll keep Lev safe.”

You couldn’t help the slight upward curve of your lips. “I know,” you said. “I trust you.”

She blinked, caught off guard, but continued. “I wouldn’t mention the whole you-being-the-Prophet thing to Owen and Mel if I were you.”

“I’m not a prophet,” you deadpanned.

She let out an exasperated breath. “Okay, sure. Well I wouldn’t tell them that the Scars think—”

“Seraphites,” you interjected.

“—Seraphites—Just… you get the point. Don’t mention it, okay?”

“What if they ask questions?”

“Dodge them. Be vague.”

“You don’t trust your friends?” you asked, more serious now.

“No,” Abby said. “Not with you.”

You couldn’t begin to guess what she meant by that.

“I trust them… for the most part.” She glanced at them over your shoulder before meeting your eyes again. “I just don’t know how they would react to that information. It’s not exactly a small thing. I don’t know what they would do with it.”

You looked at her for while longer, then nodded your head. “Okay. I won’t say anything.”

“Abby?” the man’s voice came from behind you.

She let go of your wrist immediately, as if she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

You turned around to find the woman—Mel—and Owen both looking at you like they were witnessing something truly insane, instead of just two people having a conversation.

Lev stood on his own by the door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, eager to get moving.

From behind you, you felt Abby’s hand wrap around your wrist again, squeezing lightly and then letting go.

“We’ll be back,” she said, this time at a normal volume. She joined Lev by the door, opening it and leading the way out.

“Abby!” Owen said again, moving to follow them out.

Mel groaned, frustrated. “God! Owen, just let them go.” When he ignored her, she went after him, the door slamming loudly behind her.

You stayed behind with Yara.

She was blinking slowly, barely awake, her shallow breaths too few and far between for your liking. You felt helpless, knowing there wasn’t much you could do other than sit and wait.

You pulled up a chair.

Just outside the door, the two Wolves were arguing. Although, you only caught bits and pieces of it.

Something about Abby and Scars and a cloak… Something about someone who looked like she just stepped out of The Lord of the Rings. You didn’t know what that meant, but it was clear they were talking about you.

Again, you unfastened the cloak and freed yourself of your top layer. Whether that was due to embarrassment or a sudden recognition of the uncomfortable warmth of the room, you couldn’t tell.

“Did you see how she was looking at her?” “Owen, why do you care? Why does it matter to you?” you heard through the door.

The dynamic here was becoming more and more confusing.

You’d assumed that Owen was the father of Mel’s child, just because they seemed to live here together. But that didn’t explain Mel’s rather apparent unfavorable opinion of Abby. And it definitely didn’t explain Owen’s preoccupation with Abby.

Their conversation continued for several minutes, volume rising and falling periodically. There wasn’t much you understood and even less of it seemed important or interesting to you.

Eventually, the door swung open again, making you jump in your seat. Mel reentered the room, offering you a strained smile as she checked on Yara. You quietly watched her work.

“There’s not much we can do for her until Abby and your friend get back,” she said to you, eyes still focused on Yara. “If you want, I can get you set up with a place to sleep while we wait.”

“No,” you said, too quickly to be polite. “…Thank you. I’ll stay with Yara.”

Mel pulled her lips into a tight line and nodded, leaving the room again. She came back a few minutes later with water and a shiny red apple, offering them up for you to take.

“Sorry. I know it’s not much. Owen isn’t well-stocked on food right now,” she said after you’d accepted the snack.

You smiled. “Thank you. You’re very kind to be helping us at all.”

Mel didn’t really answer, instead gesturing to the door as she walked toward it. “Well, we’ll… be around. If you need anything. And I’ll come in and check on her periodically.”

You nodded, quietly thanking her again. The discarded cloak that you’d left on a table by the door caught your eye. “Oh. Wait.”

She turned to face you again, eyebrows raised in question.

“What is The Lord of the Rings?” you asked.

----------------------------------------------------------------

An excursion that was supposed to take two hours ended up taking nearly all day.

But hey, Abby had done the best she could.

She faced her deeply-rooted fear of heights on that sorry excuse for a bridge. She fought off Infected and Scars. She was, let’s say, detained by her fellow WLF soldiers at the hospital. And then she had to fight and kill what must’ve been the biggest, gnarliest, freakiest blob of cordyceps infection to ever exist.

She barely got out of there alive, but she managed to leave with the medical supplies in hand. Plus tons of new material for her future nightmares.

Mel had started operating as soon as they got back to the aquarium, with Owen assisting her.

You and Lev sat just outside the door the entire time.

The surgery had gone well. Yara was doing okay, all things considered.

After, Owen handed Abby a pile of sleeping bags and blankets and walked off without saying a word.

Abby handed them off to you and carefully lifted Yara again, this time to move her to a more comfortable spot to rest. She led the way to the next room, you and Lev trailing behind.

There was a long couch in the new room. You motioned for Lev to lay down on one end while Abby set Yara down on the other.

She stepped back and watched, amused, as you fussed over the two of them for a few minutes, using most of the blankets on your young friends.

When you were sure they were both as comfortable as possible, you left them to rest and walked back over to Abby. In your arms, you held the two sleeping bags that you hadn’t used on the kids.

You offered one of them to her.

She shook her head, motioning to the space on the floor in front of the couch where there was an old, worn-out rug.

“Lay mine out for me? I have to go do something before I go to sleep.”

“You’re leaving?” you asked, looking concerned.

“I just need to talk to Owen. I’ll be right back.”

You studied her face, like you were trying to figure out whether or not she was being truthful.

Abby doubled down, pointing again. “Go. Get some sleep. I’ll be back.”

You sighed but went where she had pointed and began laying out the two sleeping bags.

One for you. One for her. Right next to each other on the floor.

You had been doing a good job of hiding it, but Abby could tell you were exhausted. She couldn’t blame you. Hell, she was exhausted. And the sooner she touched base with Owen, the sooner she could come back.

She turned and went out to track him down.

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You didn’t know what was wrong with you.

You had been awake for almost forty-eight hours, but you couldn’t fall asleep. Your mind was racing. Filled with worry for Yara, concern about her condition, guilt for having been unable to prevent the injury from happening in the first place. Thoughts of your own people hunting your friends with the intent to kill them. Fear that, despite your desire to keep them safe, your lack of knowledge and experience in the world outside of Haven would make that impossible.

You thought about the woman you killed yesterday. How she’d so tenderly and earnestly called you her Prophet just moments before you snuck up behind her and ended her life.

You wondered if you too were now an apostate. If the Seraphites had found the bodies of Emily and her men and assumed you were dead, or if they somehow knew that you betrayed them all the very moment you were given the chance.

You wondered if your mother knew what you had done. If she would be punished for your sins.

You thought about Abby, hoping that your faith in her was not misplaced. Hoping that your attraction to her hadn’t clouded your judgment.

This was crazy. All of it. It was too much.

You had tossed everything and everyone you’ve ever known aside, thrown the first twenty years of your life to the wind like it meant nothing at all, and run off into the forest with a Wolf without a second thought. And now that you, Yara, and Lev were finally (seemingly) not in immediate danger, you had time to think things through. Contemplate what you’d done and try to figure out where it left you.

By your own hand, your life had been irreparably changed forever. It was done. There was no undoing it. No going back.

You would stay with Lev and Yara. You would stay with Abby if that’s what she wanted.

But where would you go? It wasn’t safe for any of you to stay here.

That wasn’t a question you could answer. You didn’t know of anywhere else. You wouldn’t know how to find a place that was safe.

All of these thoughts bombarded your mind at once, taking turns at the forefront. Contradicting emotions swirled, adding to the chaos.

There was a sadness, a sense of loss for the people you had always belonged to.

Guilt and shame. Two feelings that were not at all foreign to you, but you had never felt as strongly as you did now.

A lightness. A happiness. Almost a thrill. A hopeful nervousness for the freedom you had claimed for yourself, the agency you had uncovered, and the possibility of what was to come.

Sadness, again, for the mother you would miss, and the realization that you had already been missing her for a very long time.

Frustration—simmering anger—for your childhood that was stolen and the shame that did not originate within yourself. The unrelenting voices that lived in your head, weighing in on every thought and critiquing every action. But those voices were not your own. You would take your dagger and cut their presence from your mind, carefully carving them out of your head and disposing of them yourself if you could.

And, amongst everything else taking up space inside of you, demanding your attention, it felt stupid and frivolous and wasteful, but you couldn’t keep Abby from your thoughts. She kept appearing, in the middle of it all. This was something that you truly did not have time for and should not be putting energy toward.

But you had never felt intrinsically drawn to someone in the way you were drawn to her…

Behind you, you could hear slow, heavy breaths coming from either end of the couch. You were glad that Lev and Yara were getting some rest. You’d do your best to make sure they got their fill of it this time.

You got up quietly, trying not to disturb them but feeling like you needed to move. You shook out your arms, rolled your neck around, wiggled your fingers, stretched your legs.

Honestly, you wanted run. Or hit something. Or scream. Loudly and for a long time. Until you ran out of air and your voice was ragged.

But you didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, you went to look for Abby.

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“Seriously? You’re telling me Isaac’s top Scar killer just… turned over a new leaf? Decided to befriend and help three Scars?” Mel was staring into Abby’s soul, her words dripping in disbelief.

Abby had found her and Owen upstairs, in the same room that had once housed the boat man’s skeleton and the couple’s Christmas stockings (not at the same time, of course).

Owen was angry. Exactly what she had done to earn his anger, she couldn’t say. He held a jar of his homemade moonshine. A jar that was somewhere between three-quarters and one half full. Abby assumed it had been filled to the top just a few minutes ago.

He had apparently decided to be a silent, brooding drunk tonight, so Mel had been the one to interrogate her.

Abby tried to explain everything, albeit keeping things pretty vague. She didn’t want to give them too much information about you specifically, and she didn’t want them to get the wrong idea about you, so she made sure to omit the part where you nearly gutted her. And the part where you were the new Scar Prophet that Isaac was after.

Mel wasn’t buying the part where Abby simply had a change of heart.

She shot Owen a cautious look before she said, “Abby, do you—I thought you might—Is it possible that you’re…” Mel stopped, gathering her thoughts, trying to find the best way to word it. “It’s not… like… a problem that she’s a woman. It’s just… it is kind of a big deal that she’s a Scar—”

“Abby isn’t into a fucking Scar,” Owen interjected, his knuckles white around the mouth of the jar. “And she’s not fucking gay.”

Then he started chugging the jar’s contents, forcing down swallow after painful swallow.

The women were both silent for a second, surprised by the anger in his words.

Abby didn’t know what to say. She knew she was into you—and she’d be lying if she said that wasn’t at least part of the reason why she was helping you and your friends—but she had never considered if that made her gay.

She honestly didn’t really care to label herself as anything either way. It felt stupid—in the honest-to-god post-apocalyptic hellscape that they lived in, where they had been engaged in a never-ending war since they were kids—to care about that kind of thing.

Why should it matter—when her family was dead, her friends were constantly in danger, and there were enemies closing in from every angle—if she was romantically or sexually interested in men or women or both? Wasn’t that almost guaranteed to be the least important detail at any given moment? And why should she waste any of her time or energy trying to define herself in that way?

This was all really new to her. She hadn’t really let herself be interested in anyone since Owen, and she honestly wasn’t sure if she had ever been into him for the right reasons. Again, she remembered how uncomfortable it made her feel to kiss him, to be touched by him…

She couldn’t imagine that it would feel like that if you touched her. And just the fact that she hoped one day she’d find out was probably telling enough.

So maybe, in the Old World, people would’ve called Abby a lesbian. Maybe she would’ve identified with that title if things were different, if her life was lower stakes, and if she’d had more time to explore herself and her interests.

What-ifs didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was here now. You were with her—and she needed to figure out a plan of how to proceed from here—so she could make sure to keep it that way. She could figure out the rest later.

Mel was the first to speak, annoyed, but addressing him calmly, like she was talking to a rabid animal. “Owen—”

He didn’t even let her get a word in.

“No. This is bullshit! Abby—” He looked past Mel to meet Abby’s gaze, insistent. “I’m going to Santa Barbara to find the Fireflies. If you’re smart, you’ll ditch the Scars and come with me.”

Mel slammed her hands on the table, causing both Abby and Owen to jump. “What the hell do you mean, you’re going to Santa Barbara?! We are going to Santa Barbara!” They weren’t used to seeing violent outbursts from Mel. She was the queen of passive aggression, but she rarely lost her cool. “What is wrong with you, Owen? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? This is all so seriously fucked up.” She turned away from them, clenching her fists at her sides, looking like she might cry. Or hit something. Or both.

But for the first time in years, Abby wasn’t on the receiving end of her disdain.

Guess all she had to do for her old friend to stop seeing her as a threat was get entangled with the Scar Prophet. No big deal.

Owen, in a moment of clarity, seemed to realize how huge of an asshole he was being to the mother of his child. He set down his jar, stood, and walked over to Mel, putting his hands on her hips and pulling her into him, her back pressed against his front. He was swaying on his feet, his cheeks flushed, hands clumsy. If he hadn’t been drunk before, he definitely was now. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. We are going to Santa Barbara. Of course it’s we. Hell, the Scars can come too for all I care. We’ll make it a party.”

Abby rolled her eyes at his quick switch-up and turned to go. Clearly this conversation wasn’t going anywhere productive tonight, with Owen drunk, Mel upset, and all of them exhausted beyond belief.

There was a creak by the door, and all three of them turned to look, Owen’s reaction far more delayed than Abby and Mel’s.

You stood there in your long white dress, hesitant to come in. Shy, having clearly interrupted a tense conversation.

Abby wondered how long you’d been standing there unnoticed. Her instinct was to meet you in the doorway and take you back to bed, away from Owen’s rude drunkenness and Mel’s inquisitive eyes.

“Hey! Scar! How the hell are ya? Come join us! We were just talking about sunny California. Ever been?” Owen pulled away from Mel and plopped back down on the couch, finding his jar again.

“Umm…” You looked to Abby for guidance, but she was just as unsettled as you. “No. I haven’t… Sorry, I was just looking for Abby.”

“Yeah, I bet you were,” he mumbled under his breath. Abby wasn’t sure if you caught that, but she wasn’t interested in having you hear any more of this.

“Let’s just go,” she said to you, moving toward where you still stood in the doorway.

“No! Come! Sit! Let’s talk,” Owen insisted, slapping the spot next to him on the couch.

You gave Abby another hesitant look before walking past her to join Owen. Mel sighed and lowered herself into a nearby chair. When it became clear to her that retreating with you wasn’t an option right now, Abby walked back over. She stood right across from the couch so she could see you, leaned against the wall behind her with her arms crossed over her chest.

You sat next to Owen, although not so close, putting as much distance between you as possible.

“Atta girl,” he chuckled. Abby wanted to punch him.

All of this was out of character for Owen, but she knew that he was always kind of unpredictable when he got drunk. With everything that had happened and emotions running so high, everyone really should just be going to sleep.

With that in mind, Abby would continue to stand nearby until you were ready to leave. She wouldn’t let things get out of hand.

“So… Scar—”

“Seraphite,” Abby corrected him. He scoffed and took another swig.

You smiled softly at her, looking grateful.

“Scar,” he said again. “Can I perhaps interest you in some hooch? Made it myself.” He offered up the jar for you to take, tilting it towards you with unsteady hands.

“No,” Abby immediately answered on your behalf. “She does not want any of your hooch.”

“Well give the girl a chance to answer,” he slurred. “What? Your little girlfriend can’t speak for herself? She can’t make her own decisions?”

You glanced back and forth between him and her, reaching for the open jar of clear liquid, properly baited by his taunting words.

Abby tried to remember that Owen was her friend—her best friend—and that he wasn’t usually like this.

“What is… hooch?” you asked, staring down into the glass jar suspiciously.

“It’s moonshine,” Abby said. When that didn’t clear things up for you, she added, “Alcohol.”

“Like wine?” you asked, tentatively sniffing it.

Owen laughed. Abby nodded, “Kind of, but it’s much stronger. Seriously, you won’t like it.”

There was a flash of something that looked like defiance in your eyes, offense taken at the idea that you wouldn’t be able to handle something that others could.

You put the jar to your lips and tilted it back enough to take in a generous mouthful.

Abby watched as your eyes went wide and you struggled to swallow it. Honestly, she was impressed that you didn’t immediately spit it out. You managed to choke it down before breaking out in a harsh coughing fit.

Owen laughed, accepting the jar as you shoved it back into his hands. Your eyes watered as you tapped on your sternum, taking a second to regain the ability to speak.

“You made that?” you wheezed in disbelief.

“Yep!”

“On purpose?”

Abby laughed at that, leaning back against the wall again once she was convinced that you weren’t dying.

“Hey, that’s prime hooch! You should be thanking me right now.” Owen took his own swig of it, lounging back against the couch with his arm resting along the back.

“Thank you?” You squinted your eyes but tried to be polite.

“I was kidding, princess. You don’t have to thank me.”

Abby, again, resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

“So,” Owen began, “tell me. How is it that you’re a Scar… but you’re not scarred?” He chuckled to himself, as if he had made a joke.

Your eyes shot to meet Abby’s, clearly unprepared to answer that question.

“Not every Seraphite has facial scars,” you said, keeping things vague.

“Every Scar I’ve ever seen does.”

“You’ve seen me, haven’t you?” you shot back.

Abby let out a surprised laugh. Owen clenched his jaw.

“Every Scar has face scars. It’s like your defining thing. It’s why we call you Scars.” He was adamant, unyielding. And the playful mask was starting to slip back into anger. Abby could tell this wasn’t going to end well.

“Well I guess you don’t know as much about Seraphites as you thought you did.” You were frustrated now, pressing yourself further into the far end of the couch to put more distance between the two of you.

Owen opened his mouth with a rebuttal, but Abby jumped in. “Lay off, Owen.”

He threw his hands up in surrender, leaning back against the brown cushions. “Fine, fine. Whatever. Forgive me for having questions. Fuck me, I guess. I’ve just never seen a hot Scar befo—”

Before he could finish the sentence, Mel was on her feet. “Alright. That’s it. You’re done.” She had been sitting silently up until then, ready to intervene if things got out of hand, just as Abby had been. Apparently, Owen calling you hot was where she drew the line.

Abby was glad Mel was saying something. Because if things had gone much further, she really might’ve hit him.

“Get up,” Mel instructed firmly, standing over him. “You’re going to bed.” He let her take the jar out of his hands and, with much effort, pushed himself up off the couch and started walking toward the door. Mel was right behind him, hands hovering on either of his sides in case he lost his balance. He was grumbling under his breath the whole way, like a toddler whose bedtime was being enforced.

Abby watched them go.

Once they were out of sight, she looked down at you, only to find that you were already looking at her.

“Sorry,” she spat out. “About him. He’s not usually like that.”

You nodded, but you didn’t seem sure that you believed her.

“So you guys are… friends?”

Abby cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. We’ve known each other for years. Joined the WLF together. Me, Owen, Mel, and a few others.”

You considered this for a second before responding. “Where were you before?”

“Salt Lake City,” she said, looking down at her feet. “Utah.” Abby didn’t know if that would mean anything to you.

“Mel doesn’t seem to like you very much,” you said, observant, not trying to offend. Abby smiled, despite the meaning behind your words. You added, “And Owen doesn’t seem to like me.” You stated it like it was a fact, like it was neither good nor bad, just true.

“He’ll get over it. He’s just drunk.” Abby didn’t know if that was true, but she wanted to comfort you in that moment, not that you actually seemed to care all that much about Owen’s opinion of you.

“Can I ask you a question?” You were looking up at her, eyes wide and vulnerable.

Anything, Abby thought. Out loud, she said, “Sure.”

She pushed away from the wall and came to sit next to you on the couch, filling the spot where Owen had been.

“Why do you people keep calling me princess?” you asked. Abby laughed quietly under her breath, turning her body to face you.

“I don’t know. There’s something about you that’s very princess-like I guess.”

You made a face at her. She smiled wider.

“It’s not a bad thing. You just come across as soft. Delicate. I don’t know… Graceful.”

“I am not delicate,” you said, defensive.

“I know.”

“I’ve killed.”

“I saw.” Abby was being serious, although she did find the conversation amusing. “You’re very skilled with a knife.”

You nodded, satisfied with her response, and fully turned to face Abby. “And what does hot mean? Why did he call me hot?”

“Oh—” Abby stuttered, “Uh—He meant… He was saying that you’re very pretty.”

“Oh.” You considered this, eyes wandering away. “Earlier he said I look like The Lord of the Rings.”

Abby smiled again. There was something about you that felt like it might’ve been taken straight from the high fantasy genre.

“Do you know what that is?” she asked.

“Yes. Sort of. I asked Mel. She said it was a film about a magical land. With fairies and stuff.”

“They were books first.”

“Have you read them?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you read a lot of books?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I try to read as much as I can. Whatever’s available.”

You nodded, thinking, letting the conversation die down.

After a moment, “Abby?”

“Hmm?” she hummed. She liked the way you said her name. Just the sound of it made her heart beat a little bit faster.

“Owen also called me your girlfriend.” You were studying her face, trying to read her reaction.

“Yeah. He did.” Abby said, looking into your inquisitive eyes.

“Does that just mean friend? Or is it something else?”

“He was just trying to piss me off.”

“So it does mean something else?” Your eyes were on her lips now, and you were ever so slightly leaned forward. Almost subconsciously.

“It doesn’t matter,” Abby said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

She was pushing you away, and she didn’t know why. She could’ve answered that question so differently. Maybe she should’ve.

Abby wanted you. And she was almost certain that you felt the same way. At the very least, there was a curiosity. A hesitant attraction.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was wrong. That anything with you would be something she wasn’t good enough for.

Something she didn’t deserve.

Something she would ruin if given the chance.

So tonight, she didn’t give herself that chance.

Was that noble or cowardly? She wasn’t sure.

You pulled away, turning to face forward as you let out a long breath, puffing out your cheeks.

“I’m tired,” you said, standing. “And I should check on Yara and Lev.”

“Yeah.” Abby nodded. “Okay.”

She remained in place, ready to mentally beat herself up some more and stew in her thoughts alone for a while.

You cleared your throat lightly, swaying on your feet. “Umm… I’m not sure that I can find my way back to the room. Can you… please—?”

“Oh.” Abby hopped to her feet. “Okay, yeah. I’ll… I guess I’ll go with you.”

She avoided eye contact, leading the way into the dark hallway.

#the wolf and the prophet #my writing #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic

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reyreadersblog · 2 days

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My unpopular TIG opinions.

Since y'all are expressing opinions out here..who am i to leave out? Now have in mind that these are MY opinions, some of these are unpopular some of these are NOT, some of these are even underrated facts but let's just ignore that..

(Please don't hate me)

1. I DON'T CARE ABOUT EVE, and i don't want her to be with Grayson..bcs APPERANTLY and very unfortunatly there are people out there who ship Gray and Eve..crazy..i know, i really don't care about her, i already made a whole post about why i don't like her at all, she's a manipulator, she's a liar, she's a backstabber. She traumatised poor Gray and threatened Ave. I respect your opinion if you like her and i truly understand where some of you are coming from, but i just can't manage to like her, don't hate her i just dislike her. Even if she gets a redemption arc..i can't seem to understand how i'll like her character after what she has done, but if i will..."forgotten but never forgiven"

2.underrated characters, there are so many of them in this books, for example Zara Hawthorne. I love her honestly, i could never hate, i understand she may have done some wrong things...but i love her nontherless♡♡ and same goes for Alisa Ortega.

(Honorable mention) also come on, give my man Oren some appreciation he deserves, you think following teenager around is easy? Even if it's his job and he gets paid, it's still tiring..😔

3. Uhh..i am scared to say this...i prefer Nash and Alisa to Nash and Libby...WAIT, WAIT, WAIT...DON'T KILL ME YET..LET ME EXPLAIN FIRST🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻, i saw @hawthornesbiggestfan 's post, and that encouriged me to say this, read that post bcs that explains exacly how i feel. I love Nash and Libby, they're super cute, i can't wait for their wedding and think they are going to have a very happy family...but..i'm still at the restaurant😔, EVEN THO we never got to know Nash and Alisa's story, smtg about those two had me invested in them from the beggining, like imagne Alisa growing up and Nash slowly developing a tiny crush on them..young love..passion..childhood lovers...love confession..ughh, also the fact that Gray, Xan and Jamie already saw her as their family, like an older sister. Such a shame we never got to see their story. Again, i'm not saying i dislike Nash and Libby tho if it had been love triangle between Nash, Libby and Aliso...i would choose Nash and Alisa...

3.Avery is freaking underrated, yk what's sad? SHE IS THE MAIN CHARACTER, and she doesn't get enough hype (i've made a post about this too) meanwhile people are swooning over Hawthorne brothers, and yes i am one of them but i love Avery to death, i even saw someone comparing Avery and the brothers saying "oh she's so boring..Hawthorns are way better than her..blah..blah..blah" technically they were saying fuck poor people, i know for a fact NONE of the brother would last an hour from where she came from (iykyk), she's a girlboss, and a main character for a reason.

4. As much as i love Averyjameson, i have to say their story is pretty much over, We'll probably get some cute moments from them in tgg or in games untold, but they ARE NOT a main couple anymore.

5.TGG IS A NEW SERIES, please understand that it's new book series with new characters (at least most of them) stop attacking JLB, it's her books, it's her choice.

6.Lyra Kane's haters don't make sense to me, especially those one who mock, and laugh at her lovers saying "you don't even know her, i'm gonna laugh at y'all when she turns out to be Eve 2.0" uhm...sir..miss..shut it. I respect your opinion if you're a Lyra netural bcs it's true we don't know many things about her and i totally understand if you can't love her yet, but don't hate, we know we're delusional most of the times, but that's what headcanons is for, for fun, alight, let people have fun.

7. Will all due respect i have...Averygrayson shippers are...dumb..yikes..sorry, but it's the truth, i'm tired of talking about this, it's been 4 books, Avery is happy with Jamie, they're perfect for each other, their relationship status is great and Gray is most definetly getting a new love interest..but of you still ship and have faith in them..do so..who am i to stop you? Just don't be disappointed when it won't be ture.

8.i may be judging too early but Savannah and Gigi being in the game..doesn't sit right, tbh honest it'a NEPOTISM at it's finest, i love both of them so much..but..nah. again, idk for sure..it may be some trick, it's JLB after all.

9.there are too many repetitive charcter traits..Jameson and Rohan, Grayson and Savannah, Gigi and Xander, Eve and Emily, every single dad, exept for Isaiah.

10.Speaking of Isaiah, he is extremly underrated, i mean he is the best dad in the series and somehow people talk about Sheffield Grayson more than him.

Sheesh...don't kill me in the comments please, i'm too young to die🙏🏻😔

(I'll probably do a part 2...

#the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #grayson hawthorne #the hawthorne brothers #the brothers hawthorne #the grandest game #avery grambs #the final gambit #libby grambs #nash hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #lyra kane #max liu

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mintaikcorpse · 10 hours

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This was noticed by @timkontheunsure but I need to talk about it because it does NOT sit right with me

Look at how much he grew from the first pic to the second pic. The robe still fits in the first pic and his head goes to the light switch, but in the second pic, he's a lot taller and the robe no longer fits.

He wasn't even fully grown when Octi was a kid.

Stolas is 36, and, assuming him and Stella are the same age, means they were both forced to have Octavia at NINETEEN.

And like, yeah, teenagers get pregnant, and nineteen is a legal adult, but this wasn't by choice, and they still had a kid so young. Like, my sister is about to be 19, and I genuinely can not see her having a kid. Same with the girls at my school. 18-19 is so young to have a kid! Most people have kids between the ages of 24-27. If Octavia was 5 in the first pic, that means that Stolas and Stella were raising a kid by the time people were just starting to have kids!

Not to mention the whole arranged marriage thing! In their queer adolescence post, timkon mentions how Stolas (and Stella's but they were talking about Stolas) only purpose was to read the stars and have a kids, so he's going to be given a book and paired up immediately when he's 18. Didn't even have time to explore himself or life outside of "Stars, marriage, and baby." It's even implied on Blitzø's insta that he was suicidal during this time, and that the only reason he didn't off himself was because of Via.

And like- there's worse. It always gets worse.

Stella makes a comment saying that Stolas is terrible in bed, and this could just be that he just isn't attracted to women, but some people have also theorized that Stella had 🍇 Stolas. I'm more on the first option, but honestly, I can see where they're coming from. While I don't think it was 🍇 in the traditional sense, it definetly seems like a traumatic experience for the both of them. They both know that they're only purpose was to have a kid, so they most likely felt pressured to do it, and since Stolas is a lot more akward and reserved than Stella and it doesn't clash well with her basically verbally assaulting him all the time, it probably ended up being a traumatic experience for him.

And can you imagine that? Being stuck with Stella for about a year (he probably got married at 18) and having to deal with her being a bitch throughout the entire time you're with her, and only staying alive because of your kid? Like, she was awful before he cheated on her. 17 years of this crap. That's gotta do something to your psyche.

#stolas #stolas goetia #helluva boss stolas #stolas helluva boss #stella #stella goetia #helluva boss stella #stella helluva boss #helluva boss notes #helluva boss

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sugaroto · 2 days

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Ok so Buddy can somehow be in all the books Chase enters

Which, according to silver should not be possible

But he somehow is always there

Also like about the last chapter, I mean we're not sure what role he got, but I kind of feel like he got the sister's? That's the obvious answer?

And I feel like he's been there a while, so probably since the beginning of the book

Like look at him he looks like he lives in the jungle

He threw a spear at Chase

And still wears useless belts

So he's been there while chase hasn't

Also I remember chase telling him about "the Shortcut" he found with the bookmarks and Buddy being like YOU CANT DO THAT

And like, if he's there since the beginning, how did he not notice chase just appearing randomly near the end?

Also wait, this is random, but wasn't his first appearance with him chilling on a tree? What's the villainess doing on a tree 😭 he's just a cat

Anyway

I remember seeing somewhere that theory that Buddy is Violet, and perhaps trans, hence being a guy in the stories while they key as far as we know is a girl

Which um could explain why he is everywhere I guess? If he is the villainess

Hm also his color palette, his main outfit is purple

And kinda outdated I guess?

We've also never seen him leave or enter the book, he's just there

The only thing that makes me believe he's not a key is that he referred to the keys as "it" while Chase uses the correct pronouns of the keys, he views them as people whereas Buddy called them "it" cause he views them as objects

And yet, he's on a talking stage with Violet since she gives him outfits

And freaking awesome outfits at that

(Unless, as someone else said they have a bad relationship and he goes out of his way to make his own outfits just to prove chase wrong)

...

Honestly I don't think I'm going somewhere with this post I'm just pointing out stuff

And Punko said on her live yesterday that she can't spoil his name cause it'd be much better when we find out on our own

So like

His name means something?

Or like I guess she has a good scene planned or something like that and doesn't want to spoil it which makes sense

If he's trans violet I'm guessing his boy name is Victor 🤓☝️ I couldn't sleep some days ago and thought about a whole plot with Victor and he and chase had a somehow tragic ending

I can't wait to find out more about him

How is he in every book

What is his purpose

Why

What is his name

Hm wait okok

New theory what if he's trapped

He somehow is trapped into book world

And maybe cause a kid disappeared ex libris kinda broke up

But he doesn't know and just tries to leave, or do whatever it was he was supposed to be doing

So he just shows up into whatever book the hero/ine characters chose

Like c'mon chase found the key at a random library and Buddy is like you stole the key!! C'mon dude I don't think ex libris had that one

And like he then found 2 other keys on yard sale c'mon

Shouldn't these guys know what's up

How do you lose keys you don't let out

Something has happened

Oh god can't wait for more lore

#i should sleep i have a flight tomorrow wtf am i doing #Cinderella boy webtoon #buddy cinderella boy #Cinderella boy buddy #stargoth #punko #webtoon #Cinderella boy

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cbrownjc · 2 days

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Sorry if you answered this already somewhere, but I'm on one hand liking the idea of rockstar Lestat already having happened, on the other I'm having a hard time believing Daniel wouldn't know about some huge rockstar named Lestat? Especially if he was leaning into the whole vampire thing? He has had time to Google, and clearly does do some writing/researching when the interview itself isn't occurring. Just curious how you square that with the theory that rockstar Lestat has already happened.

Hello!

So I have talked about Lestat's rock career having already happened in the 1980s, including Daniel possibly Googling about it, here, here, and here. 🙂

However, to go a little more into one point you asked about: Lestat actually wasn't a huge rock star. He was relatively big for a minute, yes; but for all intents and purposes, he was very much the equivalent of a One Hit Wonder. His band had one big concert (that ended badly) at the Cow Palace, and that was it. After that, Lestat dropped off the face of the earth from the human world (except for the books he published under the Anne Rice pseudonym) and the other members of his band went back to playing under their original name, Satan's Night Out.

Lestat's rock career was not the equivalent of a group like Van Halen, Bon Jovi, Guns 'N Roses, or any of the other really big metal bands from the 1980s. And well, can you name every one-hit wonder band from the 1980s? I may have been a little kid at the time, but I can't. (And I can't do it for the 90s either.)

So yeah, I disagree that Daniel wouldn't know about a huge rock star like Lestat -- because Lestat wasn't a huge rock star. Not for any big significant length of time to, like, actually become a huge household name or something like that. For example, I could say the name Axel Rose, and Daniel would probably know exactly who that is (as I'm sure many other people do). However, I then could turn around and say the name Steve Plunkett, and -- unless he's a huge music fan or something -- he'd more than likely look at me blankly. (And if anyone else is thinking, "Who?" Exactly.) That's what saying Lestat's name was probably like to him IMO.

Now, that all said . . . Daniel seemed very . . . curious when he heard Lestat's singing voice when it was played for him in EP06 during Season 1. I think that might be a hint of something. And that Daniel might have started doing a little googling after that, which I went into in one of the other posts I linked above. 🙂

#Lestat de Lioncourt #Rockstar Lestat #Interview with the Vampire #amc Interview with the Vampire #amc iwtv #iwtv #iwtv Season 2 #ask #ask and answer

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dsudis · 24 hours

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Talk Shop Tuesday: If you could immediately pluck one story/concept/idea from your brain and have it fully formed in front of you, exactly as you would want, what would that idea be? Can you describe it to us, along with any potential factors that are slowing you down/blocking you from creating it in the first place? Thanks! <3 -@fieldsofview

Oh, boy, that is a question!

My first thought is that I'd like to have When Two Become One (or, oh dear, Little and Broken, but Still Good) completed, just to not have the dangling WIP to worry about.

But really, honestly, if I was sitting here with the one-use-only magical wishing stone that would take a story from my brain and give me a ready-to-release perfect version of it? I would ask it to finish the historical-with-magic m/m romance that I started writing a bit over five years ago and had plotted five followups to.

It's such a great story! It has magical soulbonds that are made, not found! It has a whole system of gay marriage fitted into a historical setting in a way that I personally find satisfying and logical! It has the obstacle to marriage between our heroes being that they are too exactly well-matched for each other (and therefore it's painfully difficult to determine which of them ought to become a non-person and lose his independent inheritance and social status by becoming the dependent spouse of the other, because it's 1834 and somebody has to not be a whole legal person anymore after they get married, that's the rules).

It has COMPLEMENTARY MAGICAL ABILITIES REVEALING ROMANTIC COMPATIBILITY. It has YEARNING. It has a DUEL (well, almost) and a huge historic disaster that our heroes get swept up in, leading to SWOONING FROM MAGICAL EXHAUSTION. It has the baby sister who the hero wants to protect SOLVING PROBLEMS HERSELF, with the help of her trans girlfriend. (It has magical gender affirmation for trans people, because what kind of magical setting would it be if it didn't??) It has a HORRIBLE COUSIN WHO WILL INHERIT THE ESTATE who turns out in a subsequent book to be not really horrible at all so much as, you know, autistic and traumatized and dashed awkward in sensitive situations, and in need of just the right adorable twink to understand him and love him.

It unfortunately has a terminal lack of writing momentum due to me picking away at it through all the years when my writing had not come home from the wars, and so I just feel sort of exhausted every time I think about figuring out what the fuck happens in chapter five and how to put that into words and sentences and paragraphs, so I've stuck it in the drawer and moved on to things that I feel a bit less daunted by, although just this second I feel daunted by every activity more complicated than playing Cake Sort on my phone and watching a lot of Air Crash Investigations, because life is a lot right now.

But if I just had this novel straight from the wishing stone, I could read it, and I'm sure I would love the whole thing again and be ready to write the next five books, and also I could publish the dear thing and tell people it's a bit like a KJ Charles (with less murder) or Jordan L Hawk (with less eldritch horror), and it would probably sell pretty decently and I could be firmly on the way with my five year plan to be able to do more writing and less day-jobbing. And that would be awfully nice.

#asked and answered #talk shop tuesday #answered on wednesday because it is that kind of time right now

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lorkonsghost · 5 hours

Text

another post okay giant Jason relationship with the bat family.

Dick Grayson/nightwing

Talks about as decent brother when around other,

Dick

when they talk about jason like he's a baby a big angry baby who can do no wrong and everyone thinks he's crazy since Jason is easily the scariest thing they ever met

Bruce

it's similar to Canon but Bruce is more active in trying help get along with him and the family since Bruce thinks fighting as he has is enough.

Cass use Jason as a jumping off spot when they fight together it pisses Jason off but Cass doesn't care also Cass as shortest BatFam after Damien is not a fan of fighting Jason since if she gets grabbed its game over so when she fought Jason she was playing defensive in this au

Tim if titans tower happens is terrified of Jason for how easily he was beat tossed around like a rag doll in this au and but when gets over his fear their probably the closest siblings.

Tim if titans tower doesn't happen he is Jason number one defender simply because a few dead or fight Jason again is easy decision in his book like he remembers when in this au when Jason was fighting multiple bat at a time every week like it was nothing and he would rather not.

Steph has the most fun teaming with Jason since that means the brick house can take on most fodder no problem so the only real problem are big bads and they have craziest prank wars

Duke is weird since dc wants nothing with him at all. Though I think he has the most potential character growth in dc comics along side Cass and Jason of course if dc gave a shit about any of them dukes powers are so intriguing and dc does nothing with him sorry mini tangent but him Jason would be bound over being protectors of the daylight and crime ally respectfully

Babs is a weird character in general when it comes to Jason but I feel like though in this au she had the hardest time accepting Jason was red hood because while Bruce was in thick of it so he had to face it more directly and dick was just glad he could finally make with up Jason. Babs was watching from sidelines and the difference between kid Jason and adult Jason can give you whiplash but that sweet little boy is now bigger than a brick house a kills people so yeah although she helps Jason the most when she comes to accept that their the same Jason

Damian respect for Jason is a lot since he easily one scariest fighters on earth all though you could argue certain people are better and more skilled fighters but Jason used his powerful build with all skills he's learned over the years let's Damian a certain respect for him

Honorable mentions

Talia al-ghul / Ra's al ghul

Are terrified of Jason if he finds out how much of the truth they manipulated so he could attack Bruce because if Batman needs back up then so they

Short king dick au

That's his baby brother godamit he doesn't care what others think

Justice league

What do you mean a human is justice league level threat Bruce what do you mean he has access to almost all of your contingencies what do you mean you can't track him Bruce what do you mean he rules most Gothams crime bruce answer us bruce

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sonkitty · 19 hours

Text

Crowley S2 Hair Post #34

(For reference: The Sideburns Scheme)

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 3, I Know Where I'm Going, Keys

...

Sideburns Check

The sideburns are still short. The previous scene mostly provided a view of the left sideburn. This scene mostly provides a view of the right sideburn.

This scene is the second and last of the two in this private room with Aziraphale. As my theory goes, the sideburns are shorter here because of Crowley's and Aziraphale's relationship being very similar to human partners.

...

Brighter Red Streak Check

Most of the camera work shows Crowley's right side for the hair. As such, there are not many cuts to look for the more saturated red streak of hair.

But the streak is playing games with us this round, for anyone looking for it.

The streak makes itself known when Crowley talks about the miracle measurement based on how many people could have been brought back from the dead. Then it is one evident streak where the top front hair is splitting. The streak is with the batch of hair to Crowley's left near his part.

The conversation moves on. Then when Crowley talks about getting Nina to do the love thing with Maggie, the streak is actually two streaks. One is where it is but not as saturated in its red. The other streak is with the batch of hair tilting to the right, still generally above Crowley's left eye. It's also not as saturated in red as the earlier version.

When Crowley reluctantly reaches into what is probably a pocket to get the keys, the stronger saturation for where the streaks should be are gone though the hair is at least a little lighter in color. The hair generally stays that way for the rest of the scene.

...

I have mentioned a theory that doesn't quite fit that the streak is an after-effect of a Big Miracle from the first draft or an earlier draft of the story that put the Book of Life into the matchbox. This scene making the streak definitely at its strongest visibility when talking about the miracle looks like the story is indeed hinting that the streak is at least related to the miracle to hide Gabriel where I speculated the characters tricked themselves into setting the alarms off in Heaven.

Another theory I have is that the streak is a result of the lightning in episode 1 even though it was visible for so much of the chronologically given story before the lightning ever shot out.

It's the same issue with the Big Miracle idea. Maybe things can change retroactively, at least in some scenes, or it's the blend of the two or more theoretical drafts of the story.

...

Hairstyle Changes

In the cuts that do not involve the camera seeing Crowley from the door to the room, Crowley's hair is stronger in saturation, especially to Crowley's right. The lighting in general favors his right. The top hair sweeps in more with a curl upward. Above Crowley's left area of his left eye and near his part for his hair, this top hair splits with only some in the front tilting more strongly to Crowley's right. That way, some darker hair behind it is still visible. The hair that stays closer to the left is the hair that briefly gets that brighter red streak.

Additionally, on the right side of Crowley's head, at least two tendrils take shape that curl downward, then upward.

The hair is darker and lacking in saturation for the cuts where the camera sees Crowley from the door to the room.

...

Earthly Objects

(For reference: Earthly Objects | Earthly Objects Study - Crowley's Sunglasses)

If you've read Part 2 of my Earthly Objects posts, a lot of the below is going to be very familiar with the main edit being that I am paying attention to the pockets Crowley makes with his left arm and when the Tied Hands are visible. Skip ahead if you like.

A fascinating example I've found of rule-following by Crowley and Aziraphale is when Muriel intrudes on them. I can’t fully explain the mechanics of the rules because like I said, I really do think Crowley is an expert at this game. Whatever is happening here is advanced stuff. I'm going to walk you through what he does to get this scene where it needs to go. He does it with style.

Before Muriel intrudes, Aziraphale had already made sure to have a cup of tea visibly touching his hands to start the scene in the room. Crowley poses to indicate he is touching a blurred stack of books in the room, even if Aziraphale's body obscures confirmation of that touch while Aziraphale closes the door. Crowley's left arm is shown as him placing a hand on his hip.

That pose creates a pocket with the left arm and torso. Crowley's legs make a pocket between themselves and the bottom of the screen. Both tie strands are visible, including to their tassels. Once that door is closed, the tie claps and tassels of the tie will not be visible until Crowley is about to hand over the keys. His Tied Hands might even retie when he's doing that. Next is the cut where Muriel's back is shown, looking in on the room; the Tied Hands are visible then too.

During Crowley's and Aziraphale's conversation, Crowley's right arm keeps telling us he's still touching that stack and not moving away from it. Blurs, I believe at this point, allow a pass, and so this one seems to be allowing some kind of pass and then hold so long as Crowley keeps at it.

The story lets him without confirming that is the touch on camera. We are never going to see that confirmation. He displays his left arm and even says, "One fabulous kiss, and we're good," as if that's a clue he is allowed that one time to show that one arm until a certain thing is going to happen. The number could be a dialogue point in whatever is happening here. That left arm returns to implying its previous touch as well.

Crowley has an earthly object prepared for the scene. He fully intends to give over those keys despite his grumbling. It might be very important that the car keys earn a specific point because they move the story along.

Ready for the pass, he has those keys in his left hand, skin contact and all, perhaps a little blurry on a camera from behind him, but still, he's got them.

Muriel opens the door, crosses past the threshold of this private conversation, and says, "All done?" No earthly objects. No hello. No knocking. We have an outright intrusion here! At least there was a question, but it might not have been enough due to what Crowley does.

Crowley pulls the keys back toward himself immediately. From the view behind Muriel, his pose is returned to match what it was when Aziraphale closed the door at the start of the scene even though Muriel's blocking the blurred stack of books. The left arm pocket is not clearly shown from behind Muriel, but preceding cuts made sure it was known to be there.

Aziraphale's frustrated because of the rules. Crowley is going to do several things to handle this situation.

First, Crowley smiles and answers Muriel, then asks Muriel about being interested in humans being in love. That’s a question. Then he even stops Muriel from saying names. He's saying the names himself, so his implied hold with both arms might be allowing him to keep dragging out a lot of the dialogue until he gets what he wants. Assuredly, Aziraphale seeming to get quite turned on by this talk is about the love, but he's also watching the master of this game at work.

Eventually, Muriel brings out a notepad and pen. That's two earthly objects. Between both Muriel and Crowley, that interaction meets the requirements, regardless of the initiating question from the whole intrusion. Aziraphale has kept quiet the whole time though he at least smiles. Crowley's left arm readies itself for what comes next. His right arm is still implying the touch behind him.

Muriel's eyes move their attention from Crowley to the notepad. Spanning only a few frames after this shift, Crowley's blurred hand shows the keys for the touch and tosses the keys toward Aziraphale. Without checking frame by frame, it looks instant based on the notepad, not the eye movement from Muriel. He knew exactly what he was doing. There is a slight possibility that secretly trusted friend Muriel was actually giving him a cue, but I lean more toward that not happening myself. However, I do have an overall bias toward Crowley.

Aziraphale manages the catch, thankfully. You can tell he was nervous and is grateful. He winks. That gives one point to him for the keys in his hand and another point for the wink as a self-touch since he’s a supernatural being holding an earthly object. The pair need one last point.

Muriel's attention remains on their notepad for the entire toss.

Crowley's right arm maintains its implied touch throughout the entire scene, even after the toss is done. He does one last thing to close it all out. He gives a sour grimace to allow his cheeks an active touch on his new sunglasses. At least, I think that's how the sequence is intended to be.

So, my current guess is that the scene is three different interactions. The first is between Aziraphale and Crowley. They already had their points but the story doesn’t want just points (or, as noted, the implied touch may have allowed some kind of hold). Those keys needed a relevant pass between these two players. Muriel’s intrusion reset things, so that another interaction of three points between Crowley and Aziraphale was necessary.

Crowley takes over to be the one character to interact with Muriel, get them their own points without involving the keys in this intentionally isolated interaction. His precise timing is impressive. Then there’s the third sequence covered above (keys, wink, grimace). To help keep these interactions separate, Muriel should not see the pass.

Now that I suspect Crowley and Muriel are actually friends, the intrusion itself might have accomplished something I will never truly understand.

...

Muriel is pocketed between the shoulder-angel and shoulder-demon when looking into the room. They make little pockets with their arms for that part too.

Muriel uses an actual jacket pocket to get their notepad.

...

Story Commentary

The story did not show a night pass between Episode 2 and Episode 3. For me, I would guess it's a new day because Crowley's stopped wearing his turtleneck even though he can manifest it or stop manifesting it whenever he wants. Otherwise, if one bothers with the clocks and the sunlight, that also hints that the day has changed. Another eventual hint is Nina's clothing has changed.

Even though this room is the most private setting we know of for Crowley and Aziraphale, Aziraphale makes a point of using the name "Jim" instead of "Gabriel," whereas he was perfectly fine with saying "Gabriel" out in the street in episode 2.

Aziraphale saying he told Gabriel that bookshops are always closed on a Wednesday then implies this given day is Wednesday. That action helps ensure, intentionally or not, that Muriel and Gabriel continue having no visible interaction during the story.

Crowley has his third of three scenes mentioning "train," meeting a Rule of Three even though the word is said 4 times total. The word "train" and these complaints will not be said again.

This scene has Crowley emphasize, "We humans of Earth..." as part of the context that allows the short sideburns and the face touch to the sunglasses.

It's also a general clue that the sideburns are short based on "human" context, such as the nature of his relationship with Aziraphale and that Muriel entered the bookshop with the literal word itself.

When Crowley says, "waiting for a few days," his left eye is more visible than usual from the given angle with the new sunglasses. He's either giving Muriel a clue that they have to wait for the two of them to meet up again later or is using the power of suggestion—not quite as strong as compelling—for Muriel to wait on researching human love.

Even though we'll see that Muriel questions Nina after this scene, they will actually relay what Crowley told them ("waiting a few days because humans are weird, and that's how it works") instead of how their actual interaction with Nina went.

I really like this scene.

...

Muriel

This scene with the keys is the front bookend to the Muriel scene with Nina. Aziraphale's scene with the car is the back bookend to this scene with Muriel.

...

That's it for this post. Sometimes I edit my posts, FYI.

...

Main post:

The Sideburns Scheme

#crowley #good omens 2 #good omens #good omens s2 #david tennant #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #good omens analysis #good omens crowley #crowley good omens #crowley s2 hair project #crowley sideburns #good omens clues #good omens theory #good omens theories

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