#but my god they could have done so much more in those eight years

[jerreeeeeee]

Balance fic recs

some of my favorite balance fics. various ages, popularities, and lengths. i’ve been wanting to do a rec list for a while!

caramel by nevereverever

The first time Taako is left alone, it isn't pretty. But their lives are stuck in a loop and people come back and die again and again and he wonders if there will ever be a time when he doesn't have to fear being left alone.

2.7k, Taako & Lup Lup dies one cycle and then, years later, she dies again. But she always comes back. Hurt/comfort of the best kind.

Warmth by noxic

"It was a well-known fact among the residents of the Starblaster that Lup, Barry, and Taako slept in the same bed more often than not. It was one of those things that they just did without really talking about it."

2.1k, Barry & Lup & Taako The BLT fic of all time. Quality platonic adult sleepovers.

Taako the Matchmaker by @fantasysamsclub

In which Taako tries to set up his sister. Events take place during Stolen Century.

11.1k, Blupjeans & Taako Taako tries to set up blupjeans. Miscommunication ensues. Very sweet and funny.

red fishing line by @anistarrose

A routine performance of Sizzle it Up goes nightmarishly wrong, and at Lup’s bedside, Taako feels helpless. And when a red-robed guest appears before him, Taako doesn’t know how or what to feel at all.

3k, Barry & Lup & Taako Also the BLT fic of all time. Excellent subtle Taako characterization, and my favorite depiction of the familiarity-but-not of being voidfished. Warning for major character death.

Sunny-Side Up by @barry-j-blupjeans

And the world? The world loved Taako. For once in his gods-damned life, people loved him. They didn’t care about all the flaws, they didn’t care where he came from or who he was before. They loved his food and they loved him. No one would ever quite be at Taako’s level and that was something he thrived on. There would never be anyone who could measure up. Taako deserved this happiness. He worked for it. He wasted his fucking life away for it.

5.7k, Taako A wonderful character study, revolving around the role food plays in Taako's life. Fairly minor but impactful characters like Sazed and Taako's aunt are utilized in a very meaningful way. So well-written and warm. Warning for brief suicidal ideation.

On the Deck of the Starblaster by @papergardener

“What the… what are you all doing? We have work to do!” It’s a justified reaction, Lucretia thinks, to finding your entire crew literally lazing about on deck not an hour into this new cycle. “This one's on me,” Taako says. “It’s a new trend I like to call: taking a fucking break.” Cycle Nintey-Five. Everyone’s maybe not doing so good and could use a little warmth.

6.5k, Lucretia & Taako Near the end of the century, Lucretia is feeling rough. Taako pulls her out of her funk and initiates a much needed rest. Fantastic characterization, of Lucretia as a whole, and the loyal, warm side of Taako. Warning for mentions of a suicide attempt and suicidal ideation.

leaving, as an injustice by @anistarrose

When Mavis is eight, she starts finding her Dad asleep on the couch in the morning. Sometimes, he’s even all the way out on their tiny patio, with his head slumped onto a pillow atop the chess table, and bags beneath his eyes. In one of their following games, he tells her about tactical retreats.

4.7k, Mavis & Merle A study of Mavis and her relationship to Merle. Incredibly insightful into criminally underrated characters. Excellent Merle characterization.

Permission by vaguenotion

She’d been doing this on and off for the last hour, as if daring the men to catch up to them. Daring them to fight her. Every time seemed like a final stand. Here is where I will meet them, her shoulders said, hiked up around her ears. Here is where I’ll make them pay for what they’ve done. But then Taako would grab her hand, and she would turn and see the bruising on his throat, the blood drying on his brow, the tear in his shirt. And she would grip his hand in hers and together they would keep running.

12.6k, Taako & Lup My favorite depiction of the twins as children, both in character and realistic. Beautifully atmospheric, with so many small details that make the setting feel so real. Warning for assault and harm to children.

Come Hell or High Water by @nillial

“Taako,” Hurley asks, “where’s your magic umbrella?” Taako looks behind him. He had tossed the Umbrastaff in the path of a neighboring vehicle, which was beginning to catch up to them. He sees them now, far in the distance, and he sees his Umbrastaff, too, lying dangerously close to its wheels. As if on cue, he watches the tires crush it to pieces. “Whoops,” he says. - Lup is trapped. And then she isn’t. --- In which Taako breaks his umbrella during the Petals to the Metal race, unknowingly freeing Lup, who is almost immediately captured by Kravitz. After becoming a member of the Raven Queen's retinue with Kravitz as her trainer, she has two missions: 1) find her family, and 2) ruin Kravitz's afterlife. A story about enemies becoming friends and lost families finding their way back to one another.

197k (currently), Lup & Kravitz Incredible characterization. I love the way Lup is written. Hilarious shenanigans, sweet friendship-building, and terribly sad sometimes, because it dives deep into the reality of Lup existing in a world that's forgotten her.

Very cold water on a very hot day by @keplercryptids

Sometimes a family is a nerd who can't swim and the crunchy-haired watersport inventor who teaches him how. Surfer lingo required.

3.1k, Barry & Taako Deep dive into the beach year. Excellently in character, well-written dialogue, and a beautiful depiction of their growing friendship.

Children of Atlas by @papergardener

They’ve survived the apocalypse and now as far as they know, they’re the only ones left. Perhaps it was inevitable that they’d consider… repopulation. Lucretia writes up a weekly schedule to try and address that. Absolutely no one is happy with this.

76k (currently), IPRE crew The premise for this one is incredibly offputting, but I'm so glad I gave it a chance. The characterization and quality of writing is absolutely wonderful. I also love the attention to detail of the realistic difficulty of just surviving. Fantastically atmospheric, this fic dives deep into the uncertainty and fear of the first cycle, when the crew are all strangers, and the love that turns them into a family. Warning for extensive discussion of sexual assault.

Emissary Davenport by DragonWrites

A series of stories where Captain Davenport is secretly an emissary of Garl Glittergold, Gnomish god of pranks. And when you're a serious-minded captain on a mission to save all of reality, having a cheerful trickster god as your unexpected patron can get a little strange...

300k, Davenport A series of four works set in an AU where Davenport is an emissary to the leader of the gnomish pantheon. My absolute favorite depiction of Davenport, ever. The first three works are explorations of Davenport as a character and the relationships between people and gods in a DnD world. The last, Lost Gods, is the best fanfiction I've ever read. I can't express how good it is. The attention to detail among myriad plot threads, the building of themes, the characterization across just about every single character in Balance, all come together to create 223k words of a genuine masterpiece.

[shawtuzi]

Can you do something where plug!eren is fresh out of jail and is absolutely feral for his gf cause he hasn’t seen her in so long. Love u and ur writing :).

oh my god yes i most definitely can!!!! and thank u sm i love u more *kiss kiss*

this is 18+////cw include: black coded reader, unprotected sex, creampie, some mushy stuff at the end i couldn’t resist///wc: 1.5k+

let’s say eren did get busted and this is no beuno at all because everybody know most states be tripping over a simple weed charge. and unfortunately for this simple weed charge eren got sentenced three. fucking. years. to say it broke you was an understatement and what broke you even more is that eren didn’t expect you to wait on him. but you did of course because that is your man, your life, your cinnamon apple and he is worth waiting for.

eren stayed on his best behavior hoping to get out early for any reason they’d let him if he was the “model prisoner” and it paid off. eight months later a guard came up to eren and told him to get his affairs in order because he’d be leaving the next day. when eren told you the good news you couldn’t help but bust into tears. it was an extremely lonely eight months without him, yes your friends were around and kept you company but after spending months practically joined at the hip with eren it was very hard to adjust without him around :((

you showed up at the prison at exactly twelve sharp like eren instructed and five minutes later you finally saw him in all his glory. “eren!” you squealed running into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. “hi baby,” eren sighed dreamily nuzzling his face into your hair, the familiar smell of your coconut scented shampoo nearly bringing him to tears. “‘missed you so fuckin’ much jesus christ i’ll never leave you like that again i promise y/n,” he muttered squeezing your smaller form closer into his body. you couldn’t even speak afraid your voice will crack due to the happy tears streaming down your face. “missed you too eren it was so lonely without you,” you whimpered burying your face in his chest.

the two of you stayed like that for a good ten minutes, just embracing each other and whispering sweet nothings to calm the other down until you finally pulled away taking in eren’s figure. he’d gotten extremely fit, the white t-shirt he’d worn going in prison now nearly bursting at the seams from how swole his biceps had gotten. “you look good,” you trailed your finger down his arm making him give you his award winning smirk.

“yeah? how good?”

those three words were how you both ended up on the side of the rode, eren dragging you to the backseat so he could finally have his way with you after eight grueling months. “e-eren it’s only about twenty minutes till we’re…home,” your voice trailed off towards the end once you felt his lips on your neck. eren shook his head now yanking down your tank top to expose your breasts, “fuck no i waited eight months for this i’m not waiting a second longer, now lift up a sec so i can take these off” he rasped tugging at the waistband of your shorts. you immediately lifted your hips up bringing a loving smile to eren’s face, “still such a good listener huh? trained you real well didn’t i” he chuckled before pressing sloppy kisses all over your tits while also yanking your shorts off.

“yeah just for you eren all for you,” you whined tangling your fingers in his hair which was now slightly longer. “m’skipping the foreplay jus’ wanna fuck you right now,” he yanked down his sweats letting his dick spring free of its confinements. he was a lot bigger than you remembered. eren pressed a soft kiss to your cheek after seeing the slight fear in your eyes, “it’s okay i’ll be right here to take care of you when we’re done and if it really hurts too much just lemme know okay?” the softness in his tone had you feeling more relaxed already especially after hearing ‘i’ll be right here to take care of you.”

you were so lost in thought that he actually here in front of you you forgot to give him the ‘okay’ to continue. “y/n? you okay baby? do you want to stop?” eren was about to lift you off his lap but you quickly snapped back to reality (oh there goes gravity) shaking your head that you in fact didn’t want to stop. “no! no it’s okay i’m fine i’m just really happy to see you is all,” you smiled giving his lips one, two, three kisses before pulling your panties to the side, “now please fuck me….been waiting eight months for you rennie.” eren mumbled a quick “goddamn y/n” before rubbing his tip between your slicked folds before slowly pushing it in the both of you gasping in unison.

“s-shit okay i’m gonna go slow- fuck i don’t wanna cum too fast,” eren shuddered at the feeling of how warm you are, internally cursing at himself for already being at the brink of cumming. you brought your hands to his cheeks rubbing slow circles on them with your thumbs, “s’okay babe we have all the time in the world now, well kinda what we’re doing is pretty illegal and we should hur- oh shit!” you cried feeling all of eren’s dick enter you at once.

eren dug his fingers into your hips so hard you felt the bruises already forming but you didn’t care—what’s a couple bruises when you have the love of your life back in your arms? “goddamn y/n have you always been so tight?” eren grunted now moving you up and down at a steady pace, “and i don’t give a fuck about none of that that’s what we got tinted windows for,” you wanted to roll your eyes at his words knowing if it wasn’t so deserted where you were now you would’ve made him wait patiently. but it was so you could quite honestly care less about anything besides the man in front of you.

“eren,” you whimpered wrapping your arms around his neck. “i know baby i know i’m here just lemme make you feel good—that’s it there you go take this fucking dick,” he grunted taking one of your nipples into his mouth. eren began to grow impatient taking it upon himself to begin bucking his hips up, the tip of his dick now kissing your cervix in the most delicious way possible. your moans were like music to eren’s ears, each sharp gasp and little whimper you let out only fueling him to go harder and faster. “fuck fuck fuck i’m cumming s-shit,” eren growled slamming you down one last time before spurts of his warm cum began to fill your needy pussy.

you had never felt more comfortable and happy than you were now fucked out and stuffed with eren’s cum, “‘feels good…missed the way your cum feels in me ren” you sighed dreamily burying your face in his neck. “mhm ‘n i missed the way your pussy squeezes me so good, now i want us to cum together this time—think you can do that for me ma?” he ran his fingers gently up and down your back making shivers creep down your spine. you nodded quickly beginning to grind you hips slowly in his lap, the mixture of your wetness and his cum slowly trailing it’s way down his thighs and into the car seat.

“feel so damn good-shit i promise i’ll never leave you like that again y/n i swear. fuck i’ll stop dealing, get a job at the auto body shop connie told me about, get us a bigger ‘n better house and we can start a family yeah? give you a couple of my babies?” eren was completely fucked out babbling whatever came to his mind and he meant every single word. he didn’t care that he wouldn’t be making as much money all that mattered was you and you only. he didn’t care that he was only 23 talking about starting a family because he knew one day he would make you a mother to as many kids as you wanted.

a dopey smile made its way onto your face but you didn’t have time to savor the sweet moment your brain turning to mush when you felt eren’s thumb on your clit. “f-fuck eren yes that’s all i want with you please don’t stop!” eren didn’t plan on stopping either. he planted his feet more firmly before fucking into you with everything he had, “so fuckin’ wet” he muttered to himself, his head lolling back in pleasure. a few more harsh thrusts and soon you and eren were cumming at the same time, eren letting out the most pornographic moan you’ve ever heard. “shit—c’mere lemme hold you for a minute….missed being together like this,” eren wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you close.

you rested your head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart making it hard for you to keep your eyes open. “did you really mean what you said earlier, you know about getting a job at the shop and a new house and the other stuff?” your voice was strained and whisper like but eren caught every word. “and by other stuff you mean starting a family? yeah i did, i meant every damn word too,” eren chuckled pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “you cool with being the mother to my devil spawn?” he giggled giving your ass a playful slap.

“i’d be more than happy to eren <333”

[eregyrn-falls-art]

HAPPY 10th ANNIVERSARY TO GRAVITY FALLS!

(click to see larger)

Back in Oct. 2018, my project for inktober was at least one pic from every episode.  Because of the pace, there were restrictions; I did each on a post-it note, limited coloring, and chose things that would fit the square format and that I could get done in time (between working full-time and owl-banding most nights).  I always sort of wanted to redo a bunch of those; but really, what occasion would merit putting in THAT much time and effort for a project of that size?

Well, how about for the 10th anniversary of the premiere of Gravity Falls?

I’m not saying this was a *smart* project to tackle, but I thought it might be “easier” because I had first drafts of most of the pieces; I just wanted to redo them so they’d look better, with 4 more years of practice under my belt and a new move to digital art.  (Narrator: it was not really easier.)  Some I redid completely, or did new to create the full sets above.  Basically, once I’d hit on this idea, and decided to link it to the refrain of “How Far We’ve Come”, I was committed; there was no way I was going to *not* try to do it.

I know that “How Far We’ve Come” gets fanvidded for eight billion different shows.  But, the first time I heard the song was in one of the first Gravity Falls fanvids I ever watched (link  below), so it will always be a GF song for me.

Gravity Falls has meant a lot to me for the past 6 years that I’ve been active in the fandom.  I have no doubt it will always have a big place in my heart. I’m definitely not done with things I’d like to do for it.  I’m so glad to see people coming together to celebrate this big anniversary! 

ALSO: needless to say, HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Stan and Ford!

“How Far We’ve Come” by @findmeinthealps2 ​

IDs under the cut.

Image descriptions.  The post consists of six images, each with a one-word header.  Together they spell out, “LET’S SEE HOW FAR WE’VE COME”.  Each image has 8 square pictures under the header.  Each picture is a screenshot-redraw from an episode of the show, usually consisting of one or a couple of characters against a simple colored background.

The first image’s 8 redraws are: Dipper and Mabel from “Tourist Trapped”; Old Man McGucket from “The Legend of the Gobblewonker”; Mabel and Bats Biker from “Headhunters”; Lil Gideon from “The Hand that Rocks the Mabel”; Mabel from “The Inconveniencing”; Dipper from “Dipper vs. Manliness”; Dipper and Dipper clone 5 from “Double Dipper”; and Mabel and Quentin Trembley from “Irrational Treasure”.

The second image’s 8 redraws are: Mabel and Waddles from “The Time Traveler’s Pig”; Robbie and Dipper from “Fight Fighters”; Stan and Lil Gideon from “Little Dipper”; the Summerween Trickster from “Summerween”; Stan in his vampire costume from “Summerween”; Mabel and Dipper from “Boss Mabel”; Stan from “The Bottomless Pit”; and Mermando from “The Deep End”.

The third image’s 8 redraws are: Dipper and Mabel from “Carpet Diem”; Mabel surrounded by Sev’ral Timez from “Boyz Crazy”; Stan punching the pterodactyl from “The Land Before Swine”; Bill Cipher in giant red angry form from “Dreamscaperers”; Mabel and Dipper from “Gideon Rises”; Dipper, Mabel and Stan from “Scary-oke”; the Shapeshifter from “Into the Bunker”; and Mabel and Pacifica Northwest from “The Golf War”.

The fourth image’s 8 redraws are: Bipper from “Sock Opera”; Soos Ramirez and Melody from “Soos and the Real Girl”; Stan from “Little Gift Shop of Horrors”; Old Man McGucket from “The Society of the Blind Eye”; Mabel fighting Blendin Blandin from “Blendin’s Game”; Robbie Valentino and Tambry from “The Love God”; Pacifica Northwest and Dipper from “Northwest Mansion Mystery”; and Stan from “Not What He Seems”.

The fifth image’s 8 redraws are: Mabel from “Not What He Seems”; Ford’s arrival from “Not What He Seems”; Ford and Stan as teenagers from “A Tale of Two Stans”; Dipper and Ford as elf characters from “Dungeons, Dungeons & More Dungeons”; Stan from “The Stanchurian Candidate”; Mabel, Wendy, Candy, and Grenda after their fight with the unicorns from “The Last Mabelcorn”; Darlene the spider lady from “Roadside Attraction”; and Dipper and Ford with Bill Cipher’s shadow over them from “Dipper and Mabel vs. the Future”.

The sixth and final image’s 8 redraws are: Bill Cipher holding up the gold statue of Ford from “Weirdmageddon Pt. 1″; Wendy Corduroy from “Weirmageddon Pt. 1″; Dipper and Mabel from their class day photo in “Weirdmageddon Pt. 2″; Bill Cipher in giant red monster form trying to capture Dipper and Mabel from “Weirdmageddon Pt. 3″; Stan punching Bill Cipher in the mindscape from “Weirdmageddon Pt. 3″; the group gathered around Stan sitting in his chair while Mabel shows him her scrapbook, from “Weirdmageddon Pt. 3″; Dipper and Mabel waving goodbye from the bus window from “Weirdmageddon Pt. 3″; and Stan and Ford laughing together in the rain, after defeating the giant squid, on their boat the Stan o’ War II, from “Weirmageddon Pt. 3″.

[thisismeracing]

Part of your world | LH44

SOCIAL MEDIA AU

Pairing: lewis hamilton x actress!reader (she/her)

Warnings: curse words, Twitter environment, it’s not proofread, etc, etc. Minors DNI!

Summary: What happens when Lewis goes to the theater with his nephews and realizes he now has a new favorite Disney movie. The princess? Ynl Yln and she’s definitely fairytale-worthy outside the screens as well.

a/n: none of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps. everything else is made up by me and I do not give permission for it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛

my masterlist | taglist

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, disney, and others

yourusername I can't believe this press tour coming to an end :( A huge thank you to everyone involved. It was great working with you guys, from filming to singing and interviewing.

view all 1,563 comments

royaltyyln omg, I still don't know which dress was my favorite, but this white one is def between the top 3

lewishamilton woah! 😍

⤷ hammertime8 shooting his shot

disney 😍🧜🏾‍♀️💙

user01 I just watched the movie and Istg I cried the whole time, my whole childhood on screen. Yn did a great job

mermaidyn I have an eight years old sister and she's so excited to watch the movie, we cried during the trailer. I can't stress how much it means to us to have a black princess on screen, I am glad my sister is growing up with these examples, and I'm happy I'm still around to watch all these events unfold. Really proud 🤧❤️

user90 Everything on this live-action was on point! From the soundtrack to the cast, absolutely perfect

sainzspain I am so ready to see Yn and Lewis interacting 😌🤌🏾

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, lewishamilton, and others

yourusername camera roll reveal 🫶🏾

view all 1,982 comments

summertimeyn soft launching, I see

⤷ ynbrasil she thinks she's lick, everyone knows its lewis lol

russelular bro, every time she posts I am reminded of the fact that she is stunning, what should one do to look this pretty?

⤷ user3 for me, only being born again lmao 😭🤣

driverslicensef1 lewis lurking on the likes

fortyfourfone Pierre Gasly liked it 🧐

roscoesfans THAT'S ROSCOE AND THAT'S LEWIS, NO DENYING

mickshoes @.disney please, a movie where Yn is the princess and Lewis Hamilton the prince, y'all owning us a live-action from the princess and the frog btw, just saying 👀

flawlessyn Yn is my religion 😭💖💖

lewishamilton

liked by alex_albon, yourusername, and others

lewishamilton we’re all about winning…and making lovely memories along the way 💚

view all 2,374 comments

yourusername cute

⤷ lewishamilton 😌😝❤️

eliteleclerc I am so happy for them

rainytracks can you imagine being born as yn yln and dating lewis hamilton???????

ynwinter God, I've seen what you've done for others 🙏🏾

estebanocon Congrats, guys!

⤷ yourusername thank you, estie bestie! 🥰

lewyn They look so happy, when will it be my turn?

hitsdifferent not yn all cautious not to spill it was lewis, and lewis saying "fuck soft launch, here's my princess" lol

arielyln wish I could beeee part of this worldddd 😭

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie

💖 Don't forget to like, reblog and/or leave a comment letting me know if you liked it *mwah* your interaction means a lot not only because it motivates me, but because it spreads my work and gives me more visibility (especially when you reblog 🥰🤍)

[ronearoundblindly]

The Dignity of His Choice (abridged ending)

Speedy version of Reflections Part II & III (see previous or series) Steve Rogers x wife!Reader

Alright, this may not be conventional, but I'm crippled by guilt over this story. There are so many elements that hit brutally close to home based on a personal experience this past year (arguably this past decade but whatevs), and so I have sifted through 28 A4-sized pages, front-to back, and 17 smaller pages, front-to back (save one sheet), as well as a typed-up 7k, in hopes of grasping this magical redemption arc that exists in my mind and falls flat everywhere else. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of loving this story so much that nothing is good enough, and I'm sick of hoping to offer a conclusion that never f***ing comes. Welp, today you can know the conclusion--or the gist of it at least--because that is my Christmas gift to myself. I'm washing myself of the guilt. -> What follows is an extremely unedited and maybe slightly poetic summary of the finale. God, I hope you enjoy it, but really, I just want to feel like I *can* finish something. Sorry if that's dramatic; that's just...the situation of 2023.

Thank you in advance for your understanding, and I hope this serves up some sort of holiday cheer! (No real warnings because smut is reserved for the full-length version. This tale, as always, is 18+ due to very heavy themes.)

The thing is Steve doesn't regret his choice. How can he regret anything that ensured you were here, alive and happy, by his side? That's not an achievement he'll ever be ashamed of; there's no guarantee in the multiverse that he could have done better.

You spoke of being lucky. You felt guilt that of all the servicemen and women to lose their lives, yours came home in the end.

Steve doesn't see it that way. Yes, you and he are very, very lucky, but overall, Steve won.

In every war, there are battles. In battles, there are fights. In fights, there are shots taken, punches thrown. You don't need to land every punch to win a war. There are always losses.

Steve Rogers tends to win because he understands this.

He knows the value of strategy. He knows the value of hope. He especially knows the value of planning for the worst.

And so he's surprised--as he often is with you--that he hasn't lost more.

You accept the loss as well as the win. You endure more gracefully than he ever imagined possible during those long months alone and away.

His sacrifice may have played a factor in your safety, but in the end, it just came down to you. You fought for yourself. You battled for your beliefs. You warred for your convictions.

Steve can understand that. He admires it.

He plans to make this dreadful mess up to you, he hopes for the time to do so, but before he can strategize how, your bubble of isolation is burst by a knock at the door.

"Open up, Rogers. Please," Sam Wilson requests anxiously over F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s speaker.

He could simply mean you since you are a Rogers and neither of you have heard the okay that the world knows Steve's alive. Although, Steve still doesn't have a phone again, and you haven't exactly been checking yours during recent...activities... (Not to put too fine a point on it, but Bucky's little gifts aren't going to miraculously last eight days and nights.)

Steve stays in the corner of the kitchen, drying his hands from the dishes you two were washing together, while you answer the door.

It swings open in the direction that still hides Steve.

"Hey--" Steve hears the soft pause in Wilson's voice "--I think...I may be out of line here, but Stark ordered personnel to vacate the compound."

You cross your arms over your chest, nervous. "Do we need to leave? I--As in, you and I? Are we included in that?"

"No," Sam says flatly. "It's just...suspicious--look, can I come in?"

"Sam, wait!" You push to make a wall in the doorway, meaning Steve can no longer see you or what's happening while a silence, an extremely pregnant pause, stretches.

Afterward, there's a whisper.

"Is he here?"

Your reply is only a stutter of unfinished words, but that's enough. Sam's stepped past and halted a few feet inside before his scanning gaze lands on Steve.

Steve's not sure what he expects his friend to do. He's misjudging reactions left and right these days, so he can't presume that--

"Gym?" Sam ticks his arm, thumb pointing back out to the hall. "I'm going for a run."

He has to convince you and Steve that the whole place really has been cleared before Steve changes clothes.

The string-light and garland-lined corridors remind Steve that his apartment remains devoid of any festive touches. You two have been too distracted to realize it's the day before Christmas Eve, so the 'evacuation' will likely draw no attention from the average employee.

Stark is just adamant they have the holiday for family. That's all. The only people who live there are Avengers.

The smell of the rubber floor when they walk onto the track spikes nostalgia in the back of Steve's brain, and in his utter joy to be there again, he starts sprinting like old times.

His blood pumps and his lungs stretch, but it's too hard, too fast. His blood thunders in his ears and makes his head swim. His lungs burn fiercely and seize. He collapses, gasping through his weakest asthma attack yet, but it still happens.

Things are almost, almost the same. Things are still different.

Without taking the opportunity to gloat (too much), Sam uses his powers, skills he's had all along, to divine Steve's real fear:

Steve changed things, and he may have changed things so much that it's all ruined. He can't go back to being Cap because he showed his colors: he chose you over everything else. What if you can't go back to being his wife because of that same choice?

Sam helps Steve off the floor.

"You walked the same circle for a long time, buddy. Instead of getting off the track entirely, try one lane over. Baby steps."

Steve snorts. "Ya know, she said something similar."

"Yeah, well, some of us filled in the stoic charm while you were gone."

"Comes naturally to you, doesn't it?"

Wilson turns to walk backwards, flashing pearly whites. "The outfit is growing on me, and I think the press were just about to stop calling me Black Cap." He playfully punches Steve's shoulder. "We'll see how far this sets me back, huh?"

After realizing he has to take it easy, Steve enjoys a long, mostly quiet run beside his friend, never once passing him. Though Steve asks about returning tomorrow, Sam has to decline. Christmas Eve is for Sarah and her boys, and Sam's sister will raise hell if crossed.

Just before leaving the gym, Sam hugs Steve, the length and intensity of the embrace telling Steve all he needs to know. Sam--like everyone else who knows so far--is happier than he is hurt, and that stifles Steve in a torrent of humility.

He doesn't deserve the strength of this family built around him, but he is grateful.

Steve also doesn't expect to find Natasha and Bucky in his apartment when he returns. He was hoping to put up some decorations with you, bring a touch of joyous spirit to that place you've been emotionally entombed for months, but he outright frowns when seeing the box they brought.

Between you and Nat sits the bin of intel the Keepers gathered on you and left behind at a raided facility. You're pouring over the dirty details of horrible intrusion to your private life, both you and Steve's, and he can't help but watch your face closely.

You do look horrified. You look furious for minutes on end, file after file, until you finally ask, "who's had stuff like this on you guys?"

That's the thing. That's the part eating away at Steve's shame. It's why he can't be beyond a superficial level of sorry for what he's done.

"The Red Room," Nat replies softly.

Buck shrugs. "Hydra...among others."

Steve knows what that intel could have been a precursor to; they could manipulate more than just him. You could have been used, you could have been changed, and it would have been his fault. Extremes are most of his life, so Steve goes to extreme measures to keep his life separate from all of that.

Blurring those lines--bringing you closer to the fray of this scary and violent world feels irresponsible.

You continue to ask candid questions about what Nat and Bucky were doing this whole time. The response is grueling, a complex web of taking out targets without signaling an ulterior motive, every interaction carefully executed to seem natural, all the while knowing that Steve waited to come home and you waited for...well, the truth.

The way Natasha describes it makes Steve sick to his stomach.

He never wanted this, but he has to live with the consequences.

You thumb over a few stalking photographs in your hand and simply say, "that was quite a commitment."

Something triggers in Steve, and suddenly, his next move is crystal clear.

"I'll--I'll be right back," he blurts.

All three of you startle in confusion, sat around the coffee table like it's the most normal thing in the world to share so much. You've had top clearance for twenty-four hours. You're already a pro, and that makes Steve's idea that much more perfect.

He races through the building, glad he doesn't have to hide, and pounds on Tony's door.

As soon as Tony opens up though, Morgan rushes past his legs and lets out a blood-curdling cry that ends in a sobbing, "you're alive."

The little girl flings herself into Steve's arms, refusing to let go the entire time he asks Stark--all the Starks--for a favor.

You wake up the next morning to find a note from Steve and a dress of yours hung by the tree you put up after a long meal with Nat and Bucky.

Important errand, the note reads. Expect Tony to come by at 11. Wear this, please. I love you.

It's the dress you chose for your first date with Steve, the date that kinda never happened because the compound was invaded and you had to kill a guy. Odd memory to resurrect, but you do adore that dress.

You're not surprised when Tony arrives in one of his signature suits, nor when he makes a show of walking you through the halls on his arm. He has the uncanny ability to chat about nothing using the maximum number of words. He's delightful that way.

Your first real clue is Morgan, standing outside some double doors to one of the flex rooms, like the ones changed for training different abilities, like the ones used for therapy circles. In fact, it's the same room, the exact same double doors as years ago.

The girl looks fit to burst, clearly told to keep her cheers to a minimum as she clutches a wicker Easter basket in her hands, crouching as if ready to spring into action.

Pepper stands close by. Nat and Bucky whisper conspiratorially a ways down the hall.

Then you notice.

Tony has on a black suit with red pin-stripes, Pepper a blue dress with a white belt, Natasha a red dress with a white belt, and Bucky a navy suit with a black-shirt underneath.

"We did our best on short notice," Tony rambles off, guiding you to a stop in front of the party.

"This is for you," Morgan squeaks, ripping a colorful bundle of pipe cleaners out of the basket. There are buttons woven to the tops of each 'stem.'

Pepper quickly adds, "wild flowers were...a bit scarce, as you can imagine."

You brave a single question.

"What's going on?"

Everyone just beams at you, falling into a pattern of pairs behind Morgan before Tony winks and tells you to follow his lead.

The doors open, and there, at the end of the aisle, stands Steve--your Steve--in his old Captain America outfit minus the cowl. His hair is still long and darker, but his beard is properly trimmed.

All you can think is how you'll tease him about that.

You pinch at the leather sleeve in curiosity, and Steve leans over.

"This is the last thing I'll ever do in it," he says before kissing your cheek. "Promise."

"Says the guy who's stolen it twice," Tony mutters from his place on the other side of Bucky.

"He has a point," Nat chimes in.

The poor priest clears his throat and bellows, "dearly beloved..."

He keeps his promise.

At a press conference just before New Year's, Steve is announced as one of those rescued from "an enemy base" in an undisclosed location.

The crowd of reporters erupts in a chaos of inquisition, but all Steve will give them, standing there in a simple sweater and slacks, is his official resignation of the title Cap.

"What do we call you then?" someone shouts from the back.

"Just Steve. I am Steve Rogers, that's all." He looks to his left for the comfort of your face. "And this--" he grabs your hand "--is Mrs. Rogers, my soulmate."

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @claireelizabeth85 @patzammit @supraveng @1950schick @jamneuromain @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts

A/N: and yes, the full-version will be written eventually.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[boytumms]

Okay don't mind me, I've just been reading too much about various sorts of mythology stuff and... old myths genuinely have a lot more weird pregnancy things than you'd expect (I still find the fact that Odin's eight-legged horse in Norse mytholohy is the son of Loki - whom Loki was pregnant wirh anf gave birth to, mind - way too funny, although that's completely beside the point), so... this isn't inspired directly by a specific myth, but reading random mythology stuff is kinda what put this into my mind

Anyway, I've been thinking of a boy who somehow manages to royally piss off a fertility god. Perhaps he defiles their shrine, or steal some sacred item or mess with their priest - or maybe him just refuses to do something the god wants him to do. And because gods are so well-known for never being spiteful and always giving proportionate and reasonable punishments (extreme sarcasm), the god curses the boy to become pregnant, but unable to give birth unless some extremely specific conditions are met. Maybe he can only give birth at one specific location, or has to eat some specific hard-to-aquire thing to induce labor, or it's one of those seemingly impossible and contradictory "neither at sea nor on land, neither at day nor at night, neither alone nor with other people" kind of conditions (i pulled that specific one out of my ass but you can find similar kind of contradictory and stupidly specific shit in mythology sometimes, you get my point), or some combination of the above, or some other stupidly specific and unintuitive condition, idk.

And the boy doesn't know the condition, of course. The first nine months he simply waits for the pregnancy to run its course, but as the months stretch on past the ninth, past the tenth, with no sign of the pregnancy coming to an end, he realizes he's not getting off the hook that easily. By then, of course, he's so heavily pregnant that everything is difficult - he can't walk very far at once at all, he needs ridiculous amounts of fabric to have clothes that fit, the baby - or babies, rather; he can't tell but he thinks he must have two or three in there - are restless and kick and writhe so he hardly has a moment's peace from them...

So he becomes searching for some solution, some way to birth the babies. First whatever conventional ways there are to induce labor. None of them do anything. He prays and makes sacrifices to the god, groveling and apologizing and begging for relief. No response. Then, he begins to seek out wise people, priests and oracles and shamans, first close by, then traveling further and further away to find someone who could tell him what to do.

It takes years, years of incredibly difficult travel, of weird looks from others and humiliation and yet often having to rely on the aid of other people to get to wherever he's going this time, because really he's in no state to travel except he doesn't have a choice. After the initial nine months, the babies do seem to grow slower than before that, but they do still grow little by little, making the burden quite literally heavier to bear, and they are restless in his womb, as though they too would know it is well past their time to be born already.

But finally, after years of searching, years of torment, the boy finds out the condition, and figures out a way to fulfill it. Once that is done, though, there's still the incredibly long and painful process of labor and giving birth to the babies, now much larger than his body ever was designed to give birth to...

I loooove perpetual pregnancies like this!!! It could even be similar to the Greek story abt Leto, so he’s in labor as he tries to figure out how to break his curse. Imagine him having to suffer through contractions, feeling his baby’s head sooo painfully low in his hips as he tries to push but the curse prevents it from coming out all while he’s in search of a way to give birth.

After years and years of searching, his babies become massive. Even with the slowed growth, they’d be the size of 2-3 year olds by the time he finally manages to fill the conditions to progress his labor. Maybe as he’s finally giving birth to his first baby, the god that cursed him decides to come down, just to torment him one last time before his punishment is over. There’s nothing the boy can do to get way from the god, belly pinning him to the ground with the weight of his writhing babies, unable to escape the wrathful god. Each time his baby comes to a crown, the god pushes it back in, making his scream is sob in agony, begging to be let go as it makes his tummy twist and writhe. He tries to kick and push the god away, but he’s too weak after carrying such a burden with him for so many years, completely helpless in the hands of his tormentor.

It goes on for days, weeks even, the god switching between pushing his babies back into his belly, then and painfully squeezing the swell to watch him thrash. Once they’re sure he’s learned his lesson, they let the last baby slip out between his trembling legs, leaving him exhausted, alone, surrounded by half a dozen massive babies as he’s finally allowed to pass out

[chasingmidnights]

So Long, London

Title: So Long, London 

Summary: After eight years of being with Draco, it all comes crumbling down. 

Warnings: First, this is for 18+, minor DNI!!! I don’t think there is much to look out for in this story. Just maybe some angst and mild cursing, and Draco being a little heartbreaker. I do believe that’s all of the warnings and I apologize if I missed anything, but you are responsible for what you read and what you consume. I do not claim to be a professional writer, any and all mistakes are my own. Nothing is beta read. 

A/N: This one-shot was inspired by Taylor Swift’s song, So Long, London, from her new album. 

Wordcount: 703

The rain pattered against the window as you slowly packed up your belongings in your once beloved terraced house. The house that you truly believed that you would spend the rest of your life in and with the love of your life. You moved to sit on the edge of the bed and let out a heavy sigh. The house was eerily quiet, nothing but the old grandfather clock could be heard ticking away from its place in the sitting room. A housewarming gift from Draco’s mother when you first moved into the place. God you were going to miss that sometimes infuriating woman. She was a little wary of you at first, but then she noticed the good that you brought out of Draco and changed her mind instantly. You sat up when you heard the front door open and close, signaling that Draco was home. 

You tried not to get too excited about seeing him, he did just break your bloody heart after all. It was hard though, you couldn’t just shut those feelings off, you had been with the man for almost eight years. The creak of the stairs caused you to wince and your eyes welled up with tears; honestly, you were surprised that you had anything left. You were over this god awful pain and just wanted it to go away. If you knew it was going to end this way - who are you kidding, you would do it the exact same way, over and over again. These had been some of the best eight years of your life, you never would have pictured yourself living in London if you hadn’t met Draco. You easily could have pictured yourself saying, ‘I do’ one day and you thought you were heading in that direction. The image was so clear in your head: you in a beautiful white dress and Draco looking as handsome as ever in a well tailored suit. But then, it all came crumbling down when Draco suddenly changed the plans. You were too lost in thought that you didn’t hear Draco come into the room. 

“Still here, are ya?” Draco sneered, pulling you from your thoughts and your heart became heavy.

His voice used to sound so sweet, but now it’s laced with venom and hatred. 

“Sorry, I guess I lost track of time.” You answered quietly, your voice sounded hoarse from all of the crying you’ve done recently. 

When Draco barely acknowledged your answer, you could have easily screamed at him, but you refrained. It wouldn’t have done any good any way, it was over. You moved to start packing again as Draco changed into something more casual, the room filled with a thick, deafening silence. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’m going out with Goyle and Blaise, you can finish packing.” Draco said, before he walked out of the room. 

Just like that, you were alone again; a feeling you had grown accustomed to in the last year. Draco had grown cold and distant and you never understood why. But you did your best to wheel him back in and you did everything you could. You showered him with affection and did anything and everything he asked of you, but it was never enough. A few tears rolled down your cheek at all of the memories that you and Draco had made together. You quickly wiped away the tears and started packing again. As you packed though, you wondered where all of the love between you went, well more specifically his love. Where were the signs and how did you miss each one? 

As you finished packing the last box, your heart felt heavy and you were filled with a great sorrow, one you hope to never feel again. Draco had clearly moved on, leaving you in the dust in the process. It was time to move on as well, even though you wished things had turned out differently. Instead of a wedding and possibly a family, all you had to show for the last eight years was a broken heart. Leaving London would be the hardest thing you would ever have to do, but it would always have a special place in your heart. 

[thepringlesofblood]

bonus content for those who read the taz: the 11th hour graphic novel and haven’t listened to the podcast arc

disclaimer: so. I lost my book about 1/4 of the way into this post. so the rest of it is just from memory (I did finish reading it several times, I just no longer have it to refer to). I wanted to post this before the next one comes out though, so here we are. If I find my book, I will attempt to finish up the details for the rest of the book. I cover some basic big things from memory, but nowhere near as detailed as the stuff I wrote down when I had the book to refer to. but in the meantime...let’s go!

by god they’ve done it again. 11th hr is a Lot and definitely the most plot-heavy book so far, PLUS they had to include the first lunar interlude where the boys had individual scenes. the result is frankly beautiful. we’re really hitting critical mass now.

as a result a lot more stuff got compressed, cut, changed, or skipped. i’m going to try to at least point out each difference, though there’s no way I could summarize EVERYTHING that got cut in one post. I’m going to be linking relevant episodes (& transcripts thank u tazscripts) instead, for things that are Just Too Much to include.

as always, this post is intended to be Fun and Cool Bonus Content for people who haven’t listened to the podcast, not a manifesto of stuff they “should have” included or a list of flaws. they had 11+ hours of content to squish into one graphic novel, that happened over a period of months. of course stuff got cut. and it’s stuff that was recorded in 2016. that’s eight years ago. of course some things are going to change.

tl;dr - I liked the dang book. you can be sad something wasn’t in the novel while still understanding why it isn’t. here is a list of the stuff that was changed, skipped, compressed, or cut, presented as cool facts & extra info for gn fans who haven’t listened to the podcast.

spoilers ahoy for the 11th hour, but I’ll try to keep spoilers for the rest of the series to a minimum or at least mark them clearly. At the very end I’m going to put a section of series-spoiler theories and observations, very clearly marked

Before getting into the nitty-gritty, there are a few MAJOR changes from the podcast I want to get out of the way first. This list also includes “stuff I remember but don’t have the book to refer back to on”

Several characters and a whole section of the map were cut.

I think this is the first time that any named, plot-relevant characters have been completely cut. The closest we’ve come so far was the bugbears, but they at least had a cameo in the photo in Lucas’ quarters. Luca, Redmond, and Stonefruit Farms fully don’t exist in the GN series.

the boys meet Redmond in ep 46, pt 6 of the 11th hr arc, having met his brother Luca at the end of the previous episode.

long story short, Redmond was the leader of the purple-kerchiefed ruffians and the brains behind the bank robbery, which The Boys had to go through with so that Redmond would help his lowkey-estranged brother Luca raise the temple of Istus from its decrepit state, as they were both devout priests of Istus. The whole key being in the vault thing is GN-only.

Also, Luca is a skeleton bc he was in the temple when it got rapidly old-ified, but dw he’s fine he’s just a skeleton. he gets better.

Redmond’s motivation for robbing the bank is that as a priest of Istus, lady of fate, he follows his gut feelings and intuition, and he had a strong feeling that whatever was in the vault would be the key to taking down the bubble.

they basically took all of the plot-necessary elements from Luca & Redmond and gave them to Ren. In the podcast, Ren actually blasts some of the purple-kerchiefed ruffians out of her bar after they get too rowdy. She isn’t involved with the robbery in the slightest.

Merle’s Temporal Chalice scene

in the podcast, it’s his arm being chopped off. or more specifically, grabbing a crystal that exploded and made him have to get his arm chopped off. 

Him running out on his kids is played kind of for laughs at first in the podcast. Merle is a heel for a lot longer there, bc the funniest improv is usually not the most ethical improv. They do talk about his life and the fact that he has a family, but the offer made by the chalice is for him to have his arm back

frankly, I think they made the right move in the GN. We get very little of Hecuba in the podcast, and I really liked seeing more of that conflict.

Roswell, my beloved

so, in 2016 when they did the podcast, the McElroys were at, let’s say a different place in their journey of learning about the queer community. which is to say that in the podcast Roswell’s pronouns were wildly inconsistent, in part due to them being a clay construct, in part due to them not being introduced with any pronoun in particular [though Griffin clarifies that he intends for Roswell to use they/them a little later on in the arc], and in part bc the boys just weren’t really familiar with the singular they. they tended vacillate between they/them, it/its, and he/him. we all learn and grow. 

in the book, thankfully, Roswell is 100% they/them. fuck yeah. related. The Boys are significantly worse people to Roswell in the podcast. like, significantly. we’ll get into it as it comes up more, I just want to signpost it here. 

e.g. Taako giving Roswell control of themselves and their command word is a GN original, in the podcast The Boys kind of “junebug” them around for large swaths of the last few episodes. also, a significant number of earlier loops involve them basically negging Roswell into believing that Isaak hired outside help (The Boys) with security bc they weren’t cutting it anymore (rude). I much prefer the geologists gambit they go with in the GN.

Diamonds

Paloma’s prophecies cost money in the podcast, so a lot of The Boys’ shenanigans (and a significant number of loops) are in pursuit of getting cash. which, in Refuge, is diamonds. Some examples: 

Before figuring out that you can’t take objects with you, the boys do straight up take some diamonds from the bank post-robbery. 

Taako gets Ren and a patron of her bar, Ash, to sign up and pay for a seminar/magic lesson he’ll be giving tomorrow (one of my all-time fav scenes). This leads to a touching scene at the end when the bubble finally comes down where Taako gives Ren a little certificate that says “first graduate of Taako’s Amazing School of Magic.”

Magnus tries to armwrestle a guy for cash (Merle’s idea), and though he rolls a 27 Strength check, the Goliath barbarian he’s rolling against gets a 28.

Paloma offers 1 diamond for a small prophecy, 10 for a big one. in the GN they aren’t differentiated, and one small prophecy just doesn’t show up as it’s not needed.

the taz fandom wiki has a handy list of all the prophecies she gives in the podcast

ok! let’s go!

Prologue (the bit before ch 1)

this isn’t in the 11th hour podcast.

the information we get about The Visitor in the 11th hour (from The Boys asking various Refuge residents) is that

Jack and June brought them to Refuge

or, they brought Jack and June to Refuge. We hear both things at different times.

they’re depicted in the statue as having a Red Robe and being kinda broad-shouldered.

Roswell never met them. At first they refer to The Visitor with he/him pronouns, but then mention “I say ‘he’, I didn’t know them”

they tended to keep their face hidden (maybe?)

that’s pretty much it

we learn about this interaction much much much much much later in the podcast, not as a scene that is played out, but abstractly as an event that happened, after we find out who The Visitor is. 

that said, I LOVE this scene’s inclusion and expansion. it makes total sense to me.

Jack is never described as having a sketchbook or being an artist. this will come back later. 

the final scene of the arc in the podcast is instead June giving Magnus some previous designs for the statue of Jack, June, & a Red Robe/The Visitor in the middle of town, with a version where the hood of the robe is down and the face of the Red Robe/The Visitor is visible.

Ch. 1

this is where the podcast starts at episode 1 of the 11th hr. 

boyland’s funeral is very accurate. his comically large family of 400 sons (mentioned in CK podcast) is why the Voidfish lights up like that.

the only real differences I could find were:

in the podcast what is erased is basically boyland’s personnel file. like, a report or write-up of who he is and his work for the BoB. johann writing songs about boyland’s life is new.

the only pronouns ever used for the voidfish in the podcast are they/them, it/its, and occasionally he/him. past taz graphic novels have used they/them. on pg 13 of 11th hr, both Johann and Merle use she/her for the voidfish.

I do not like this, but I have a suspicion as to why, and I don’t like that either. see spoiler-y observations at the end for more.

they merged this scene with a scene from the skipped lunar interlude before CK, where The Boys take cpt. cpt. bane’s “file” to the voidfish to be eaten.

 I described this in my other posts, but the two things relevant here are Magnus putting his hand up on the glass and vibing w the voidfish, and this exhange b/w Johann and The Boys:

Johann: When I, um, can I ask you guys a question?

Magnus: Sure.

Taako: Of course, Johann.

Johann: Are you guys really okay with, with this part of the deal?

Magnus: That we get forgot?

Taako: Which part?

Johann: Yeah, are you cool with like, if you beef it down there, the world just forgets about you?

Magnus: Well, I’m not planning on ever dying.

in the podcast, bc Avi isn’t there, Angus operates the cannons (Avi showed him how before he left). he is extremely nervous about it and about killing them on accident. once they’re in the orb taako casts stoneskin on himself “just in case”, but everything works out totally fine, though avi mentions when The Boys land that the stoneskin should’ve thrown off the trajectory.

the gn keeps the spirit of taako trusting no one without the angus psychological damage by having him just cast a better version of the spell angus cast, and I am a fan.

the leveling up stats aren’t right in the book, as I’m sure every dnd 5e nerd has already tweeted about.

they’re all level 10, so magnus should be a level 8 fighter and a level 2 rogue bc 2+8=10, while the other two boys are still just a level 10 cleric and a level 10 wizard bc they didn’t multiclass.

fantasy costco-wise: aside from the stuff they have in the book (all things they do own in the podcast, though hole-thrower and the feather-weight cuirass were from the fantasy gachapon), merle picks up matthias the living grimoire, magnus gets the magnetic charge and the tarantula bracelet, and taako gets the arcane trickster’s glove (no wiki page rip it just gives you some arcane trickster powers) and mockingbird gum.

they beat up the baby worms more before letting them go, it’s a full battle

Ch. 2

in the podcast, when they go through the barrier, they find themselves in an empty white space where they see an old woman holding the cup. she says “It’s you!” with recognition upon seeing them, and then says “find me” before they wake up.

important: every time the boys die in the podcast, they go back to this space briefly before waking up.

sometimes the woman gives a cryptic message, sometimes not, and in their later loops, the woman collapses, breathing heavily.

we find out in the end that this woman is June - she has a whole extended de-aging sequence later that they probably cut so poor Carey didn’t have to do a bajillion character models for June at different ages just for a few panels of dramatic effect.

pg 36 - to head off any dnd 5e nitpickers, Magnus does not have proficiency in rustic hospitality, since that’s not a skill. Magnus does have a character feat called “Rustic Hospitality” that he chose at level 1.

claiming to have proficiency in things you can’t possibly have proficiency in is a longstanding goof both in taz and among people who play dnd 5e in general, because it’s funny.

in the book, they intercut each loop with a scene from lunar interlude 3, and it works really really well. we’ll get to those scenes as they come up.

Is this the first time someone uses he/him for The Red Robe in the gn series? (Roswell says ‘his’)

in the podcast Roswell mentions having never met the visitor, and comments “I say “he”, but I don’t know.”

in the GN, when The Boys tell the director about The Red Robe in CK they use they/them pronouns and so does the director, but after this, even @ the end of the book after Taako guesses that The Red Robe they’ve been talking to isn’t the same Red Robe from Refuge, he and the other boys continue to use he/him for The Red Robe.

“Mystic Analysis”

he just did an arcana check in the podcast, I don’t think Taako had Identify as a spell, which is what the DND equivalent would be. 

they also don’t figure out that Roswell has a command word until much later, during the Diary Of Sheriff Isaak scene.

Griffin basically says “[they’re] an earth elemental, with a bird on [them], and earth elementals don’t generally have birds on them, so maybe it was just nearby when the spell was cast and got caught up in it”

Cassidy

in the podcast, she’s in jail for blowing up the temple of Istus, which she didn’t do.

GN Ren mentions later on that the temple got “un-built” which references how in the podcast the temple suddenly aged a matter of centuries in seconds, so from the outside it looked kind of explode-y. and cassidy is known for blowing shit up, so she was blamed. she also theorizes that it might be racism due to her half-orc heritage.

in the GN, cassidy’s arrested for trespassing on the closed mines, which she absolutely has done. it makes more sense, and eliminates a major plot point they cut from the book

she is otherwise pretty much the same, I love her very much

Paloma pretty much stays in her cottage in the podcast rather than sneaking around.

the fantastic exchange of “you guys have been here 45 minutes, what the fuck did you bring with you?!” “you should see what we can do in an hour!” is 100% verbatim from the podcast.

in the podcast, Ren is dead the first bank fire (and in most subsequent bank fires). she also wasn’t one of the bandits, or involved with the bank robbery at all

in fact, in the loop where The Boys were doing the bank robbery, she unexpectedly came in, recognized Taako, and almost blew their cover.

With so little time left on the clock, Taako cast Banishment on her to keep her safe and out of the way, but she made her saving throw - so it didn’t work, but she knew Taako tried to cast some spell on her, and there was a somber moment of her falling backwards trying to get away from him, tears in her eyes.

look it’s a good lil character moment

I can’t emphasize enough how brutal the first description of the bank fire and subsequent world-ending is. Griffin pulled 0 punches.

Magnus rushes in and he describes the scene like “you see a guy, who looks like this. they’re dead. you see two guards. they’re dead. you see a woman holding a tray of diamonds. she’s dead. you see this person, also dead. you see a dwarven bank teller. she might be alive, but it’s hard to tell, and if she was she is on the brink of death”

I think the boys, brogden, and maybe one of the purple-kerchief ruffians (which is how they are described in the podcast) survived the first one, and everyone else died in that bank. it felt so brutal listening to it the first time because you (and the boys) didn’t know about the loop yet, so it was just. horrifying.

I love how they pulled in off in the GN!!! the clock hands are just *chef kiss*

just before Griffin describes the destruction of Refuge, Travis interjects, “Ditto, did you base this on Majora’s Mask?”

while Griffin does not respond in the moment, he later confirms that Travis is correct.

Griffin’s description of the fiery deaths of The Boys: “And you’re being crushed by the shattered earth as it compresses down into the ground. And you hear an anguished scream come from something massive and furious, and all three of you have died…And there’s something about the dying that feels familiar.”

“and then you wake up.” hardcut to end of episode music. v epic.

Ch. 3 (i s2g they’re not all going to be this detailed the major plot differences are mostly out of the way now)

as mentioned, the scenes between each loop in the gn happen in Lunar Interlude III (transcript) (episode) - each of The Boys got to choose a scene to have in between arcs and Justin chose to have Taako give Angus magic lessons.

they’re all more abstract in the eps (Taako establishes a recurring time and place to give Angus lessons, and we get scenes from earlier vs later lessons, various shenanigans, etc.) but the major points are actually pretty much the same, just condensed into one scene in the book.

also taako giving magic lessons in his quarters makes 100% sense, but in the podcast they did it in the cafeteria, and that’s where the LUP is burned into the wall. significant? potentially.

in the podcast angus had made some macarons for taako but forgot to flavor them (he nailed the texture though which is hard to do in a macaron) so he asked taako to prestidigitate them better and then scorching ray happened and blasted em to shreds.

LUP. dude. I thought it was an acronym when I first heard it, bc in the podcast, Griffin says “So your staff, you lost control of it and you blasted the letters “L-U-P” into the wall.” Seeing it in cursive, all gorgeous and capitalized like a proper noun? knocked me the fuck out.

another dnd 5e tiny detail: in the gn, the description for Angus’ first wand says “wonderful stocking stuffer for the young sorcerer in your life”

i could have a whole conspiracy board about this.

skip this if you’re not super into dnd 5e mechanics

the difference (in dnd 5e) b/w a wizard, a warlock, and a sorcerer is:

wizard: gets magic from study and practice - taako is a wizard bc he studied spellcraft and learned how to do it.

warlock: gets magic from making a deal with something/someone far more magical than themselves - garfield is a warlock, so his magic stems from a deal he made with something (the devil??)

sorcerer: has innate magic within them.

this could come from a myriad of places, but usually from heritage or bloodline - maybe your great-grandfather was a god or a dragon or a demon or a djinn or something, or maybe your mom touched a weird rock as a kid and got magic powers that she passed onto you when she had you.

in the podcast, angus is only ever referred to as a wizard. makes sense - regular boy + magic training from taako = wizard boy.

but if he’s a sorcerer, the magic really was in him all along. is taako teaching him to channel it? does he know?

this also fits with a weirdly popular headcanon the taz community had for a while about angus secretly being a silver dragon (in dnd, color = different abilities, diff personality, etc, and silver ones like to shapeshift and pretend to be humans sometimes).

“draconic bloodline” is one of the most common sorcerer backgrounds - it basically just means ‘a dragon got involved at some point in this family tree, so now you can cast ray of frost’.

hmmmmmmm

end conspiracy theory

It is at this point that I lost my damn book. so. I’m just gonna post this bc the next graphic novel is coming out soon and I want to post it before then. If i find my book I’ll finish it up. If you have post-chapter 3 differences you noticed that aren’t already covered, feel free to reply/reblog with them!

Spoiler-y Observations Below!

CAUTION: contains spoilers for the rest of taz balance!

*voidfish speculation: my suspicion is that they’re using ‘she’ for the voidfish to foreshadow that they have a baby, so that makes them a “mother”? i call bullshit, but i’ve heard it used before as a justification for misgendering an enby who gives birth. obvs the voidfish is not a human being, people can have multiple pronouns, it’s not a 1:1 comparison, but i for one (as an enby myself) really liked the voidfish using they/them and feel oddly betrayed at them suddenly changing the pronouns. fingers crossed that there’s a different reason.

"what am statue” is low-key foreshadowing since magnus says it

merle knowing what relativistic time dilation is

LUP was burnt into the wall in the cafeteria in the podcast - lucretia would’ve seen it for sure. so they put it in taako’s room this time...

aw no ‘sorry about the cookies little man’

In 5 or however many years when gn series ends, someone should do a poll of people who only read the graphic novels and see if any of them pronounce “Lup” weird since they’ve only ever seen it written down.

hero wreathed in flames 0.0 I hope Joaquin is still there in the finale but I like the duality here

BATTLEAXEPROFICIENCYEASTEREGG

SNEAK PEEK AT THE HUNGER SNEAK PEEK AT THE STARBLASTER AAAAAAAA

257 - ‘I know him better than you could ever imagine’ because he created you? Oof ouch ow my bones. also....the magnus that made the cup was a very different person from magnus now. it’s not what Julia would want - the cup never met julia, obvs, and does not know the ways she changed him for the better.

Bottom of 327 - sweet Angus boy are you drawing something on that orb?

Istus is like you’ve been serving me your whole lives without knowing it in the podcast - maybe a bit too much foreshadowing for the GN

[f1-giuki]

end of beginning by djo, lestappen, with slight angst but the main idea is happy??

i sent this song bcs it mentions homesickness and i would love to see your interpretation on ittt💖

MY DARLING B!!!!!!!!💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 I love you, and I'll tell you even if you know it. This WAS SIMPLY LOVELY TO WRITE! I did a little part two (that can be totally read separate!!) of the lestappen le Mans prompt @carronyaflowers submitted last year!!! homesickness felt so good with those characters and I loved writing it for you! I hope you like it❤️❤️

new beginning - prompt post

-

“Did you miss this?” Charles asks, sitting down on the ugly fake leather sofa in Max's motorhome, carrying his trophy with him.

It's not like Charles was uninvited to Max's motorhome, they shared more than a moment in their twenty-four hours of racing, from holding hands, sleeping on the other's shoulder in the garage, locking eyes on the podium while Carlos drank the champagne to mentally get rid of them, but seeing him in his house on wheels is so different from whatever he's used to.

Charles and Max have always been one next to the other, the predestined and the inevitable, thunder and lightning, red and blue, but they've never been that close. During their time in Formula One they were star-crossed rivals, sharing podiums, wins and championships, friendly work buddies on track. Sometimes, occasionally, Padel teammates. But never friends.

But now things have changed, and Max’s heart is beating loudly again.

They have spent so much time together, in Maranello, trying the car in the simulator, driving around the world. They see each other more often, especially since Max bought a flat in the hills of Modena. Paradoxically when they lived in the same block in Monaco they never managed to hang out, but in Modena everything is different. They are reborn at 35, with a messy divorce for Charles and a life of compromises for Max, together again.

“Yeah,” Max says, staring at where their thighs meet on the sofa.

“I missed it too…” Charles mumbles, with a small smile. “We should have done it before, you know?”

Max grins, bumping their shoulders. Charles laughs and rests his head on Max's shoulder. Max shivers a little. This is very new to him. He didn't know he could touch, or indulge openly.

“To be fair, we never did something like this, you know?” Max mumbles, wondering if he should touch Charles' hands with his or join their fingers.

“Yeah…” Charles agrees, ending Max's doubts and linking their fingers.

Max laughs under his breath surprised. His teenage self would explode. Himself of ten years prior would explode too. He's not too sure of the state of his molecules even right now.

“I know we have a season ahead of us and stuff, but… I waited twenty years to say this, so I think I don't have any patience left… I–Uhm, feel things for you, Max…” Charles mumbles not looking at him, but staring at their hands. “I never thought I'd tell you, and when you left F1 I thought I was safe enough, racing away, away from you… But one can't escape their heart. My problem with you Max is that you feel like home to me, more than even Ferrari. You gave me life Max, and I miss breathing and feeling alive, so you're the one for me, you know? I would love for you to feel the same, but I feel too much for you to keep you trapped, God knows I made this mistake too much in the past…” He continues.

The ugly clock on the wall strikes eight pm. Time has relatively lost its meaning after twenty-four hours of racing and a lifetime of denial.

“How was it? When I left,” Max asks, squeezing Charles' hand.

“I'd lie if I said I didn't like it. I won it all without you. But it wasn't like when I raced you, it wasn't like 2025 when I won by a point and nearly kissed you on the podium… I felt lonely, in a way, without you. The glory didn't taste exactly right without you…” Charles explains.

“I watched you until retirement in 2030…” Max admits. “You're right when you say we're the same. I think I love you, Charles. I fucked up my life enough, I can tell you and not be scared…”

Charles sighs, sympathetically. Being outed to the press after years of distance from the showbiz wasn't fun for Max. Charles knows how it feels to have dirty laundry aired for everyone to see.

“Then you came to Ferrari to do this thing…” Charles snickers.

“You were there… How couldn't I come home?” Max asks, looking Charles straight in the eyes.

“I missed you, fuck if I missed you, Max,” Charles whispers, resting his forehead against Max's.

“I'm right here now…” Max answers back, on Charles's lips, breathing the same air.

[joongwooclub]

in our world || j.wy

synopsis: yn is tired of everything, and one person can make her feel okay. 

nextdoorneighbor!wooyoung x student fem reader [third pov]

contains: childhood friends to strangers to friends to lover, mention of ed, depression, health issues, broken home, unrealistic expectations, just really sad, fluff, comfort for reader. 

[See authors note at the end for notice]

The semester was exhausting; exams after exams, labs after labs. Not to mention the stress for academic success for y/n’s parents. “College will be easier” “you’ll have more freedom!” “You won’t have to stress about classes, you choose them.” all the things people say about college, yet never warn what comes with it. Never choose a 9 am class unless you don’t want to sleep, stress will always be there, you have to have a certain gpa to get into certain majors. Not to mention that if your scholarship doesn’t cover everything, book prices will be the death of you, and student debt..don’t get started on those. Those will follow you until you finish whatever you’re majoring in or if you drop out. 

Y/n was part of the medical field major, choosing it as a way to be helpful around the world and be able to take care of her parents, but here she is, in her dorm room, crying over grades and how life is turning out. “Can’t you take a break?” y/n’s best friend friend, Ningning, asked, a pout on her lips. Y/n shook her head and lift up her head from her desk, “Sorry Ning…I have to finish this essay. It’s the final project for Dr. Han’s class.” “You’re always working!” Ningning cried out, but understood what y/n was going through, “just make sure to eat and drink water. Please?” she practically begged her best friend. Y/n nodded, not wanting to promise something she knew she won’t be able to keep. Ningning sighed and left the dormitory with her other friends. Y/n was determined to finish the essay, and since this was her last assignment of the semester, she sat up and cracked her aching back, starting on the eight page essay that was assigned.

Several hours later

Y/n finally finished her essay, although it wasn’t the best she could have done, but she was tired. Tired wasn’t the right word, it was more burn out, she didn’t have any more motivations to try harder in her classes. But now that she was finished, she could finally eat and pack. Students had three days to pack before the campus shuts down for the summer, so there was much to do. Pushing her chair out of the desk, feeling light headed and semi dizzy, she headed towards her shared kitchen with her roomates. The fridge didn’t have much, some apple juice and slices of cheese, leftover salads and some of Ningning’s leftover burgers from her party. Y/n sighed and took one of the leftover burgers and went to heat it up in the microwave, grabbing a glass to drink some water. The day flew by fast as she was busy writing, and by the time she sat down, Ningning walked through the door with a small smile. “Hey Y’n! Glad to see you out of the room, do you want some?” Ningning asked, bringing a bag of store bought snacks. Y/n stomach growled with hunger seeing it, but she refused. “No thanks Ning. I’m eating one of the leftover hamburgers from your party. I’m on that diet before seeing my family remember?” “Ah..right..sorry.” Ning whispered, sitting down next to her best friend. “Would you be alright by yourself?” Ning asked. “I’ll work through it, don’t worry.” Y/n smiled sadly, Ningning has been her best friend for years, so she knew how Y/n’s family was. The expectations they pushed their daughter on was unhealthy, but what can Ningning do when y/n was raised to be a certain way and not be able to speak her own mind? “Well..you know you can always call me and I’ll drive those god forsaken 5 hours back and forth for you.” She smiled at her best friend. Y/n chuckled at her best friend and hugged her, “thank you.” she simple whispered. Ning just hugged her back and gave her a squeeze. “Let’s get packed then.” 

Ningning helped Y/n pack her things and suddenly it was the morning of the next day to where they needed to separate ways to go back to their families or whatever vacation they had planned for summer. “Thanks for the help Ning~ get back home safe, and enjoy your trip to Thailand!” Y/n cheered happily, Ning gave her a smile and hugged y/n again, “thanks y/n! I’ll send you pictures, text me when you get home ok? And don’t forget to drink water and eat on the drive home!”Y/n nodded her head and giggled. Watching Ningning get into her car and drive off, Y/n did the same. The anxiety once again rising inside her as she was by herself again. 

The drive back home wasn’t horrible. It was more of the fact she had to face her family again and stay with them for the couple months that her parents forced her to stay due to activities they “needed” to do together. An hour (more or less)  was left until she reached her destination, her anxiety rising again, feeling the sweat form on her hands gripping the wheels. “Do I look okay?” “Will they talk about my weight again?” “Are they going to ask for my grades?” “Do I have to do things around the house again?” many thoughts and insecurities coming back, it made her afraid, she never really did like going back home, and yet she went back every year. Something was wrong with her. 

Looking away from the road as it was a long stretch of just highways, she looked at her gas meter. It was halfway, but better safe than sorry, she decided to go towards an exit for gas. Luckily where she use to live was a market that had gat on its property, kinda like a costco in some ways. Pulling into a free space, she turned off her car and got out, locking her doors and walking into the market. Browsing for small snacks that won’t make her feel bloat, she ran into a much rather taller build. “Oh I’m so sorry.” she replied, looking up at who she bumped into. “Y/n?” the stranger asked, y/n tilted her head, “yes? Who are you?” she questioned. “Oh my god! I haven’t seen you since I moved, it’s me Wooyoung!” He cheered, happily hugging Y/n. It took her a few seconds to realize why the name sounded so familiar, “Oh my god, Woo..” she said, shocked, but happy. “Are you visiting home?” he questioned, Y/n nodded, not wanting to say much, after all she finally saw one of her childhood friends again after a while. “Same here, just finished my semester at University. What are you majoring?” “Ah..I’m doing medical.” “Smart girl” Wooyoung giggled, making Y/n’s heart skip a beat, “I’m majoring in music, dancing to be specific, but you know my vocals are top notch as well.” This caused y/n to laugh quietly, she forgot how cheery Wooyoung was, it made her feel like a kid again. Oh how she wish she can go back to being a kid, with no worries, a better life.. “Y/n?” Wooyoung asked, waving his hand front of her face, “sorry?” she mumbled. “I was asking if I can visit you later, can I have your number again?” Wooyoung asked, his face turning into a worried look as he never seen his childhood friend space out so much. “Oh..oh yeah of course! Sorry.” Y/n said scrambling to give her number to Wooyoung. Y/n looked at the time and slightly gasped at how late it was getting, her parents were going to kill her. “Sorry Wooyoung, I gotta go. Text me later ok?” She said dropping the snacks she picked up and running to the cashier to ask for gas. Wooyoung didn’t get to say goodbye as she was already out of the store and pulling out of the market parking lot. He looked down at the snacks she had in her basket and frowned. He picked up the basket and took it to the cashier, buying the snacks she didn’t get. 

Y/n was scared, She was late. Her parents always yelled at her when she didn’t do anything correctly. She felt like she was 12 years old again, getting scolded for hurting herself on the pavement instead of being reassured. Y/n eyes getting hazy by the second, tears threatening to come out. When her GPS announced she reached the destination, she wanted to turn around and leave, but she knew she couldn’t. She parked her car and prepared herself for whatever her parents had to say, so as she walked up and shakily knocked on the door, it was quickly opened by her mother. “You’re late.” she simple said, deadpan eyes. “Y-Yes I know, I’m sorry. I was getting gas-” “I don’t want to hear it. Dinner already started, go ahead and put your things away and get whatever is left.” her mother said walking away. Y/n just huffed and carried her suitcase up the stairs, avoiding seeing anyone else until she had to go into the dining room. “Oh you’re here.” Y/n’s brother said, getting up from his seat and leaving the room. “You can clean up my plate, thanks.” Y/n wanted to roll her eyes, “still a brat.” and turned her attention to the table. “Your sister won’t be here, she’s busy.” Her mom said, getting up from her seat. Y/n’s dad grumbled, “there’s a few leftovers. Don’t eat too much, you’re fat as ii is.” he commented before leaving as well. 

Less than 5 minutes and she was already pushed around and degraded, she was so tired of it. Y/n just nodded and cleaned whatever mess they made, having no energy to argue with her own parents. Going to her parents saying she wasn’t hungry anymore (she lied), she told them she’ll be in her room. They gave no attention, just a okay and went back to watching their more important tv shows. As she went into her old room, she collapsed onto her bed, just tired and wished time moved faster. She didn’t want to be here. She sat up, seeing the night sky and stars, the moon was pretty. She decided to get up and open her window, carefully climbing out to walk to the rooftop. As she sat there, she watched the sky and listened to the night life, the moon shining so beautifully. She wondered what it would feel like to become the air, or the stars. To not be on the planet as a human, but as something else. 

A bag being placed next to her startled her, making her jump. She looked and saw Wooyoung holding a goofy grin on his face. “How did you get up here?” She questioned. “We’re neighbors, i know how to climb ladders.’he joked, Y/n gave him a small smile and looked at the bag he brought, “oh you left these.” He smiled, pulling out the snacks she dropped. Her smile faded, “ah you didn’t have to waste your money on me. I’m sorry. How much was it?” Y/n rambled on, “Y/n. It’s okay, I bought it for you, don’t worry.” Wooyoung said, kinda sad as to why his friend was acting like this. She use to love eating the snacks in the bags, he remembers her clearly “begging” him to get her some of the chips she likes. But now as he stares at her, she looked like she was afraid of the food. 

“Is everything okay y/n?” he whispered, sitting closer to her. Y/n bit her lip, on one hand, she wanted to tell someone what she was thinking, feeling, and let it all out, but on the other hand, she didn’t want to be a bother, use someone for her own use. But the look Wooyoung gave her, full of worry, it made her heart ping with hurt. Something about his aura made her feel safe and okay to express what she kept to herself for the past years of her youth. So, she decided to answer truthfully.

“No..” y/n mumbled, before Wooyoung could ask what was wrong, y/n continued what she wanted to say. “Wooyoung, I’m so tired of living. It’s so hard. I keep failing my parents, they make me feel like I’m such a burden all the time, I’m not successful like my sister or brother, university is just so hard. I barely have friends, I mainly have Ningning, but that’s it. Every time I think something positive about myself, I have nothing. I’m ugly, I’m fat. I’m not smart, I can’t even lose weight by dieting, I keep gaining and gaining, even if i eat and throw up, nothing helps, I can’t even make the people around me happy; I just make everyone worry and for what? I just want to be perfect, but I can’t and it’s killing me.” Y/n let out, not everything being mentioned, but enough to make herself feel better. “I’m just so tired of living and not being acknowledge. I mean I’m working so hard, but why can’t anyone else see it?” she cried softly, tears flowing onto her cheeks. She hasn’t vent to someone like this before, not even Ningning, because she didn’t want to be a bother to anyone, and here she is, dumping it onto Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung was silent, and all y/n can think about how bad she messed up everything. What she didn’t expect was Wooyoung to hug her tightly. He didn’t say anything, because he knew sometimes listening was better than saying anything. Y/n cried into his chest, his shirt being sightly damped but he didn’t care. He was worried for his friend, and he felt like he needed to protect her and tell her that she wasn’t ugly, nor fat. That she grew into a beautiful woman and he fell in love with again. “I know what I say won’t stick, but you’re amazing, smart, beautiful and perfect in your own ways. Don’t be someone else because other people demand you to be.” He whispers. The two of them stayed in the moon lit night together until the sun was coming up. 

The cycle repeated each day until it became part of their routine. The two stayed by each others side for the couple months that were there, and now they had one month left. One month left to be with each other, one month left with y/n’s toxic family. Y/n wanted the time to go by, but at the same time, not really. Wooyoung’s company has helped her in so many ways. When her family degraded her and forced her to basically starve, Wooyoung would text and come over in the middle of the night to give her small meals he made, knowing that big amounts still scared her, but she was slowly recovering. She started to find happiness in small things again, like walking around in the park, meeting other dogs and cats on the street and petting them. It was unbelievable to Ningning when she called Y/n to ask her what day and time she would be arriving back to the campus. “You’ve changed so much.” Ningning smiled through the facetime call, “Who do I need to thank for this?” Ning laughed, before y/n could answer, Wooyoung took her phone and smiled, “Me. You need to be thanking me.” he laughed. Ningning laughed and joked around. “Well thank you handsome sir, make sure she gets back to campus safely!” Y/n blushed at Ning’s comment and told her to hand up as a joke. The three talked until Ningning had to go, so it was the two of them again watching the sunset on the rooftop.

“I enjoyed your company. You made it bearable.” Y/n whispered, sad that the time to leave was coming closer. Wooyoung nudged her on the shoulder and smiled at her sadly, “Hey no worries, you’ll still have me by your side.” He grinned. Y/n nodded but she knew the truth, she would be alone again because once she goes back to the campus, she’ll be in a hole of just study , study, study, and work, work, work. Wooyoung pulled Y/n into a hug, his face snuggled into her neck. 

“Spending the last couple months had me thinking..” he whispered. He moved his face in front of Y/n so they had eye-to-eye contact. He used a finger to lift her chin and cupped her cheeks, “Had me thinking about us. About you. My sweet darling, my princess y/n. The last few months with you have been incredible, and I have seen the changes you’ve made on your own. You’re strong and I believe in you. You’re going to succeed in your classes, you’re going to make yourself proud. If your family doesn’t see how intelligent you are, and how much you have been trying, excuse my language, but fuck them. And I know recovering is hard, but keep going, for me, for Ningning, for yourself okay? Your body is perfect the way it is, you’re not fat, and you’re not skinny either, you're you, the perfect weight that you were created for. I love you for who you are, and I’m forever proud of you.” He spoke, his words hitting Y/n’s heart, his words comforting her because no one has spoke to her in some way. 

Y/n teared up and hugged Wooyoung tightly, “Thank you Wooyoung, I truly appreciate it. You mean so much to me, and I know we reconnected for only a few months, but you make me feel so safe. I love you so much.” “And I love you too my princess.” he softly smiled, giving y/n a small kiss on her lips. It was just the two of them in their own world, with the comfort of each other.

authors note - hey everyone, long time no see. it's admin stacy, i haven't written in a long time, and I have not been in a good place mentally, I won't go into details on what I've been going through, but I guess I wrote this for some comfort since I don't receive the words that y/n gets in this story. But I just want to say, thank you for reading, and if you're struggling, just know it's okay. everyone's pace is different, and you're trying your hardest. Me and every idol group you love are so proud of you. Please take care of yourself, I love you

[thehammondlegacy]

Previous - Next

Transcript under the cut

Hemlock Road - 11 am

Olivia: Are you sure this is the way?

David: Liv, we came here almost every day when we were younger. I think I know the way!

Olivia: Well, it looks different...

David: Maybe because it's been like eight years since the last time we've been here

Olivia: So you never came here with Lottie?

David: Are you kidding me? Lottie would have hated that place! She wasn't a fan of the outdoors

Olivia: Right... Look! There it is!

David: Yeap... There it is...

Olivia: Come on, Leuchtenberg! Let's climb that thing one more time...

.......

David: If you see any snakes just let me know please, not like last time!

Olivia: *laughs* You have to admit that was funny!

.......

Olivia: Alright, time to climb, my friend!

David: Do we really have to do this? I mean, this ladder is pretty old and-

Olivia: Oh my god! Are you scared?

David: Well, I haven't climb that thing since I was fifteen!

Olivia: We came here before you went off to college!

David: I don't think it's safe, that's all...

Olivia: Come on, Davy! We haven't done this in years! Besides, this thing was already old when we discovered it!

David: Alright, fine... Just don't let me fall, alright?

Olivia: I won't...

.......

Olivia: Jesus, I've forgotten how hard this was!

David: Oh, no! This is as easy as riding a bike!

Olivia: Sarcasm is not taking you out of this, Leuchtenberg!

.......

Olivia: See! It wasn't that hard!

David: Yeah, right! My heart is still pounding fast!

Olivia: Honestly, you are so dramatic these days!

David: Look at that...

Olivia: Yeah... Best view in town! You should bring Louise here sometime...

David: I don't see her climbing that ladder

Olivia: She may surprise you...

David: Alright, say it...

Olivia: Say what?

David: You think I'm out of my mind, don't you?

Olivia: Do you really want to know what I think?

David: You know I do...

Olivia: I think you've been through a lot, and- Well, you have forgotten who you are and what really matters

David: I do know what really matters, Liv... I just know I won't have those things... I though I would have it with you, then with Lottie and it never ended well. I'm not made for love, but I have a duty, and this is how I'm gonna make it happen

Olivia: You could still have all those things, Davy... You can still fall in love again

David: Yeah? With who?

Olivia: Many women will kill just to know you... It only takes one with a big heart to melt the ice inside your chest

David: I don't believe anyone could do that... I just can't feel anymore. Sometimes, I don't even know if I still have a beating heart

Olivia: You do! You just need to allow yourself to feel again. It's not easy... Believe me, I know...

David: You do?

Olivia: Do you really think getting over you was easy?

David: Right... That's the thing... Love is just too complicated and when you love too much, you just get hurt. I don't even wanna feel that pain again, Liv

Olivia: I understand... But love can also bring happiness, and a lot of positive emotions...

David: I can't feel those anymore...

Olivia: You will feel it again, Davy...

David: Oh, really?

Olivia: Yeap... And I'll be there to tell you 'I told you so!'

David: I don't think it'll happen, but it's good to know I'll have a friend...

[writercole]

Cross the Line

Summary: They both wonder if they crossed the line.

Words: 1932

Warnings: Smut 18+. Fem masturbation. Payback being a dick, discussion of friends with benefits relationship

A/N: They're so awkward but my god it's so cute.

Tag list is done. Please follow @coleslibrary and turn on notifications for story updates.

Hangman stood on the back deck of the bar staring after her while he finished his beer. He hadn’t expected her to accept his offer. He honestly didn’t even know why he suggested it. He chalked it up to lack of sleep - he hadn’t had time to rest since he’d got Admiral Simpson’s call. Plus there was the alcohol. 

He’d been friends with Valkyrie since they were freshmen in high school and been stuck together for a physics project. They stayed friends throughout high school, throughout the Naval Academy, through basic training and duty stations. 

She’d been there when he lost his grandfather. He stood by her when her parents kicked her out for joining the Navy. They had picked each other up when their hearts had gotten broken, cussed each other out when they were being too hard on themselves. They’d had each other’s back through everything. Val needed help, that it happened to be in an area they had yet to explore together didn’t matter. Jake meant it, he’d always have her back, whatever she needed. 

He tossed his empty beer bottle in the trash and headed back to the pool tables where the rest of his squad was still drinking and talking. 

“So, Hangman,” Payback called over the music playing in the bar, “you hit that yet?”

“What?” he replied, looking at the man confused.

“Valkyrie. You with her or something? ‘Cause if you’re not, I wanna take a crack at that.”

Hangman stifled a growl while Phoenix looked like she was about to throw a punch. 

“She’s off limits,” he spat as he grabbed a pool cue from Bob and sank the eight ball.

“I’m going to have to agree with him, Payback,” Phoenix chimed in. “We were in Basic together. She’d chew you up and spit you out so fast that your head would spin.”

"She wouldn't go for it anyway," he scoffed, handing the pool cue back to Bob, "she has standards."

“That must be why she hasn’t gotten with you yet,” Payback sassed.

“Nah, that’s because I respect her too much,” Hangman replied, “I’ve known her for years.”

“That’s code for you're chicken shit,” Fanboy retorted with a smirk.

“That’s code for she’s one of my best friends and I’ll be damned if one of you dickheads fucks with her,” he snapped, turning around and striding out of the bar. 

He got back to base and was still pissed, mostly at himself for letting those guys push his buttons that way. He stopped in front of Valkyrie’s door and raised his fist, preparing to knock.

He was sure that he crossed the line when he made the offer for a friends with benefits relationship. He was going to take it back, all of it. But his fist froze.

He didn’t want to take it back. He meant it when he said he’d be happy to show her. 

He lowered his fist and turned away from her door, heading for his own room to rest for the new training starting tomorrow.

Y/N tossed and turned, trying to sleep while Jake’s words echoed in her head. She could almost pretend that it was a drunken mistake. But they’d only had two beers each before they started talking and that wasn’t enough to get them buzzed, much less drunk. 

She huffed in annoyance and glanced at her watch, seeing that it was just after 1 AM. She had to be up in four hours for training and she hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Her mind was running wild with ideas of what Jake would be like in bed, if he was being honest when he said that he fucked better than he flew. Part of her was just thinking that he was overconfident in his abilities because he was hot. 

The thoughts became sensual, her imagining what it would feel like to have his mouth on her, how big he was, what he’d be like after. The more she tried to push the thoughts away the more they persisted. She felt herself getting wetter, arousal dampening her panties as she ached to be touched.

She slid her hand down her stomach, sliding under her thin sleep shorts and into her underwear. Wetness coated her fingertips as they slid through her folds, brushing against her entrance and causing her to moan quietly. Her eyes closed as she slipped two fingers into her tight cunt, her head tipping backwards as she stifled the whimpers attempting to escape her throat.

Her fingers moved expertly in her channel, curling against the spongy spot along her clenching walls. She came with a whispered cry, surprising herself when it was Jake’s name escaping her lips. She lay panting, coming down from the momentary high before going to the small sink to wash her hands. 

Sliding back into the uncomfortable bed, she rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck, still feeling the lingering tension in her muscles. Maybe Jake was right. Maybe it could be mutually beneficial. God, he was going to be so smug about being right.

Jake laid in bed and stared at the ceiling for hours after he got back to his room. He hoped that their conversation wouldn’t change anything between them. He didn’t know if he could take losing his best friend. He replayed everything in his head, over and over again, worrying that he’d stepped too far over the line that he was past the point of return or trying to figure out if she was fine with it.

It’s not like they hadn’t talked about sex before; they both talked about their first times and laughed at the guys who thought they were better than they were. He was honest about his hookups when she asked, which was more often than he anticipated. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about sleeping with her before. He knew she was attractive. It had been a fleeting thought here and there that he easily brushed off as just being horny in her proximity. It’s not like he ever thought about her in that way when they were apart. 

Jake sighed again and turned to his side, forcing his eyes closed as he tried to shut his brain off. Eventually, he drifted into a restless sleep, waking just as tired as he was when he went to bed. The only difference was the adrenaline that came with the first day of a new training.

The morning was hectic with the announcement of their trainer, Captain Mitchell aka Maverick, none other than the man that Hangman, Payback, and Coyote threw overboard at The Hard Deck the previous night. He threw out the instructions that Admirals Simpson and Bates had planned, instructing them to suit up for their first lesson.

The first group in the air made a ridiculous wager that the rest of the pilots greedily accepted, each of them overly confident that they’d be able to ‘shoot down’ Maverick before he got them. Even Jake failed repeatedly, though he was the only one to come close. 

Maverick dismissed them for lunch, letting them know that their flight time for the day was up and the rest of the afternoon would be classroom discussion. All of the recruits breathed a sigh of relief; no one wanted to be in the cockpit if and when lunch decided to make a reappearance.

Valkyrie hung back near the hangar, waiting for Jake to finish his set of pushups. She knew he wasn’t happy with the way the training went but she hoped that he’d be receptive to what she was going to say. The longer she stood and watched him, the more nervous she became. 

He stood up and dusted off his palms when Hondo blew the whistle, signaling that his punishment was finished. Valkyrie could see the anger and frustration radiating off of him as he stalked towards the building, his shoulders relaxing slightly when he saw her.

“Hey, Jake, can we talk?” she asked, her voice quiet and timid while her hands twisted in front of her.

Immediately his expression changed from one of annoyance to one of concern. “What’s wrong?” he blurted, his eyes scanning her body for any injuries.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she insisted, “I just…I need to talk to you about something. Alone”

“Okay,” he agreed, looking around and finding them alone, “over here. I’m not hungry anyway.”

He led her over to the rec room, locking the door behind them to make sure they had privacy. “Now, what’s going on?”

“Were you serious last night?” she started, sitting down heavily in the corner of the sofa, wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her chin atop it all.

“About what?” Jake questioned, moving to sit across from her, draping his arm over the back of the couch as he faced her.

“The friends with benefits thing.”

Jake swore he heard a record scratch as he processed her words. He knew he was fine with it still, he was just surprised that she was even bringing it back up. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat a little before answering.

“Um, yeah. Absolutely. You know that it’s just sex to me and the way today has gone so far, it would definitely be mutually beneficial,” he admitted with a shrug.

“So, you wanna do that? Just sex? With me?” 

“You know me, Y/N, when have I ever said anything I don’t mean?” he asked, quirking his brow. “Besides, we’re going to be stressed as hell the next few weeks and we won’t have much time to go out and find someone to scratch that itch. We already know each other and have seen each other mostly naked. And yeah, it’s mostly because it’s convenient but you know you’re attracted to me,” he explained with a wink, making her chuckle. 

“Okay, so, I guess…let’s do it,” she smiled, sitting up straight.

“You’re serious?” he pressed, “You…want to do this. Ms. I don’t do casual sex wants to be friends with benefits.”

“You make a compelling argument,” she squeaked, “I haven’t found a replacement for the intimacy that comes with sex, even casual sex, and doing it myself doesn’t…what did you say? Scratch that itch?” 

Jake kept his eyes on her, watching with his eyebrows raised. He didn’t say anything as he stared, his fingers tapping against the back of the couch the only sound in the room. He used that as an excuse to keep his mind from drifting to the images of her trying to scratch the itch herself.

“You’re sure?”

“Jake, I trust you,” she stated, “I’m safer with you than anyone else. And you’re right. If we were going to fall for each other, it would have happened by now. So what do you say? Friends with benefits?” she grinned hopefully,  extending her hand to him.

“You’re on,” he agreed, taking her hand and shaking it. 

“We need to discuss specifics,” she stated plainly, as if it were just a business transaction.

“Yeah, how about we get dinner and talk about it then? So we won’t have to rush,” he offered, “my treat.”

“Oh, how generous of you! How am I ever going to refrain from catching feelings?” she sassed with her hands clutching her chest and mock swooning.

“Shut up,” he chuckled, pushing her legs away from him. “How about we meet up in the common room half an hour after Mav dismisses us for the day? We can get cleaned up and figure the rest out from there.”

“Deal.”

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[gch1995]

I always find it hilarious how often casting directors of Wuthering Heights film adaptations portray Ellen “Nelly” Dean as this elderly housekeeper next to Catherine Earnshaw, Hindley Earnshaw, Heathcliff, Edgar Linton, and Isabella Linton because that’s not who she is in the book at all.

In actuality, she’s about the same age as Hindley Earnshaw, who was only around 27-28 years old when he died, due to alcoholism. She’s only roughly six years older than Heathcliff and eight years older than Catherine Earnshaw/Linton Sr. She was only 14 years old when Mr. Earnshaw brought Heathcliff to Wuthering Heights, and they met. She was only in between her early-mid 20s when Cathy Sr accepted Edgar Linton’s proposal, and Heathcliff ran away after overhearing about how “it would degrade [Catherine] to marry him.” She was only in her late-twenties when Cathy Sr and Hindley Earnshaw died.

By the time we get into the second generation coming of age, Nelly’s story to Mr. Lockwood about these fucked up people she’s known and worked for from these two families since she was a child, Edgar Linton’s death, Isabella Linton’s death, Heathcliff’s death, and Cathy Linton Jr’s and Hareton Earnshaw’s engagement/upcoming marriage, Nelly is between her early-mid 40s.

At the end of the novel, Nelly has still just barely approached the beginning of “middle age” by the time Heathcliff and all this family drama surrounding the Earnshaws and Lintons. It’s why it just cracks me up how she’s always portrayed as this much more cynical and mature elderly lady in nearly every film. I guess, her being everyone else’s caretaker/servant everyone else’s favorite confidant, and her practical makes her attitude and personality comes across as someone you’d expect to be much older than her actual years

Granted, they also have often cast actors and actresses who are between their late-twenties to mid-thirties to portray Heathcliff and Cathy Sr as teenagers to early twenties. Of course, it’s also not uncommon for many people between their late-twenties to thirties, and sometimes even early 40s, to still get physically mistaken for being between their late-teens to mid-twenties since those are still fairly young years in adulthood, too. Juliet Binoche looked to be her actual age of 28 years old when she played the much younger 14-18 year old Cathy Sr and Cathy Jr Earnshaw/Linton, though.

Ralph Fiennes is actually my favorite actor’s portrayal of Heathcliff. I think he captured the anger, the charisma, the instability, the moodiness, the mystery, the obsessiveness, and the vague underlying sense of sympathy in Heathcliff the best. Physically, Ralph Fiennes is a white Caucasian actor, but to the the costume/make up department’s credit, they did have him wear a black wig and tan his skin enough to make him come across as mixed Romani in descent for this movie. Yeah, Nelly says his skin is “blacker than the devil,” but we also know that England was a very racist country towards outsiders who were not of pure white Anglo Saxon British descent back then, so Heathcliff could have been a lighter shade of tan than she said or he could have been dark brown. We don’t get a clear answer.

I also do love this scene of him talking to Nelly about being tired of getting revenge at the end of the 1992 Wuthering Heights film adaptation. They both appear to be around the right ages from the book here, and I love Nelly’s exasperated “Oh, for God’s sake…Can you please, stop staring like that!” She is so over and done with Heathcliff’s crazy bullshit, and the actress portraying Nelly here portrays that so well!

[gregxb]

Gargoyles Doesn’t Need Marvel.

“Wouldn’t it be great to see Xanatos battle Tony Stark?” “How about Dr. Strange versus Oberon!” “I want to see Brooklyn join the Avengers!” “Magneto and Demona would make an awesome alliance!” “There’s no reason not to merge Gargoyles into the Marvel Universe!”

There’s a reason not to. There's a lot of reasons.

First of all, the two universes are pretty incompatible. Time travel works differently in both universe for one. In "Gargoyles" you cannot alter history, and that series is so much better for it. If it were a part of Marvel, it would be too easy for Goliath to, let's say, go back in time and prevent the massacre of his clan back in 994 Scotland.

I suppose you could retcon away those Marvel time travel stories like "Age of Apocalypse" and "Days of Future Past." While I would not mind that, it wouldn't be fair to the fans and creators of those stories.

Second, while I have no doubt the existence of gargoyles would be shocking to the people of the Marvel Universe, it wouldn't have the same impact it should. Not in a world where mutants, super-beings, Atlanteans, Inhumans, Eternals, Norse gods, and Fin Fang Foom are already known to exist with Galactus stopping by every other Tuesday.

Third, okay, Marvel's Odin is now a Child of Oberon, as are the Asgardians. Okay... how well do you think that's going to go over with the fans of Jack Kirby's Thor who have been reading it for nearly fifty years now? Hell, there are still some people who are uneasy about Odin being subject to Oberon in "Gargoyles." I'm not one of those people, but I understand where they're coming from.

Finally, and perhaps most important, the Marvel Universe is not really going anywhere. It is very cyclical. Things come, things go, status quos change and are restored. Spider-Man is married for twenty years, then he is single again. Magneto reforms, then is a villain again, then reforms, etc, etc.

For example, I respect a lot of what Joe Quesada has done for Marvel. However, the notion of him and his successors (I know he's gone now) having any kind of creative influence over "Gargoyles" scares me. "Goliath and Elisa were more interesting before they finally declared their love and got together. The core of it was always impossible love, so now we have to split them up." You know it would happen.

"The Gargoyles Universe" is going somewhere, as we're still seeing in the Dynamite comic, it was always evolving. Never going backwards, but moving forwards. It was an evolving tapestry, and change was constant. Marvel, on the other hand, lives and breathes on the illusion of change, while actual change is non-existent. Death is meaningless. Characters don't age, and the status quo may shake up on occasion, but it is always eventually restored.

The Marvel Universe was built by Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Steve Ditko, and maintained by many very talented and creative people acting as custodians of that work. But, for better or worse, it is a soup with hundreds of cooks. Many great chefs, and more than a few fast food fry cooks.

"Gargoyles" was co-created by Greg Weisman, and while he had a lot of help, he was the only co-creator, and the one who never stopped working on it. He was the first author of "Gargoyles" and more than likely he will be the last author of "Gargoyles." For the better. We saw "Gargoyles" without Greg Weisman, and it was nothing good.

Both universes have their place, but you couldn't merge them without one of them being significantly altered in the process. Now, I will admit my bias again and say that I wish the "Marvel Universe" was more like the "Gargoyles Universe" but, there's no real point. It's been around for nearly six decades (over eight if you want to talk about Timely Comics), and it's not going to change. As I've made clear, I think that's kind of the problem, but an understandable one given the nature of Marvel Comics. DC too, for that matter.

Now, I realize a lot of the above makes it look like I'm saying "Gargoyles" is great and Marvel is awful, but I don't feel that way at all. I just don't think such a thing would work without one of the universes suffering for it.

[dorminchu]

Insult to Injury: The Director’s Cut — Chapter 07 [Revised]

a/n: Commissioned illustrations by Daniel Purnama, @addictivities & @marianaillust. This chapter wouldn't go as hard without their awesome work! <3

VII: A MOMENTARY LAPSE OF REASON THAT BINDS A LIFE FOR LIFE

Safin exited the hotel alone. He was staying in a different facility, a few blocks away from all the noise. Yet, even as he put more distance between himself and Swann, he couldn’t bring himself to accept what he’d done as a mistake. If he kept her close, she’d put another bullet in him. Push her away, and she’d find someone less merciful. Perhaps that was his fault. He’d made himself too convenient to discard, and now Swann felt powerful.

As far as Safin was concerned, the culmination of the evening was a means of securing Madeleine’s trust. Deep down, she would concede there was no way out of this so-called honorable life beyond termination, or acceptance of one’s circumstances. Denial bred its own strain of unshakeable commitment. Just as his actions left a stain on her conscience, so too had she percolated his better sense. The woman he’d met in Guinea and the woman in Oslo weren’t disparate. One evolved from the other’s catalyst.

A broad sandy-haired man looked over from across the street, catching his eye, and nodded. Safin continued walking. His destination was on the opposite side of the street, a block past the crosswalk. The man was travelling parallel to him on the other side of the street. When Safin crossed over at the light, as he approached, he kept a hand stowed in his coat pocket. As Safin got close enough to make out the distinctive watch around the man's wrist, the man said, “Do you have the time?”

“James Bond, Universal Exports,” said Safin with a cursory glance. “Or do you still go by Arlington Beech?” The man wasn’t as amicable as he had been a moment before. No doubt he was used to leading the conversations on the back of charisma alone. “It’s been eight years. You should consider a different alias.”

“It’s never been an issue.” 007 studied him. “Zahov, isn’t it?”

Safin exhaled in a plume of steam. “Our business was settled.”

“We were never formally introduced,” 007 said. “I thought this would be prudent.”

Safin said, “If all you want is to talk, find a woman to listen to you.”

007’s lip curled. “I’m afraid tonight is strictly business. Though it’s been terribly dull. So, what’s a man of your profession doing in Norway?”

Safin considered his options. Bluffing could only get him so far. “Medical evaluation.”

“Oh, those are terrible,” 007 said, with a sympathetic half-smile. “Work has been keeping me on a shorter leash. I don’t drink half as much as I used to.” He side-eyed Safin, as though this was meant to break the ice. “It’s been a while since Montenegro. I haven’t thought about it in—damn, it’ll be eight years.” A flicker of remorse crossed his features. Whether it was genuine or practised remained to be seen. “Things seemed much easier, back then. I was willing to give up my future. Honest to God, I’d almost convinced myself I would be happier that way.” He sighed and shook his head. “Hope’s a dangerous thing.”

“Indubitably,” said Safin. “But you still work for the English.”

“For Queen and country. Beats a desk job, though I suppose it’s all the same to you.”

Safin continued walking past the hotel. 007 fell in-line beside him, speaking over the white noise of passing traffic and civilians,

“Word gets around. All of these terrorist attacks, these bombings, the chemical attacks in Africa—I think we’d agree that they’re not exactly coincidental. As would your friend from the clinic. Swann, isn’t it?” 007 lowered his tone. “You didn’t hear this from me, but it’s likely that whoever sponsored the donor gala is fronting for a larger cover-up. Swann might try to run like she did in France. Whether or not she succeeds, all the intel she’s got leaves with her.”

They’d stopped in front of the hotel. “What are you suggesting?”

“We might have a chance at stopping whoever’s been behind those chemical attacks. But that depends on Swann. Obviously, we’d be happy to bring her in and question her. She’ll be relocated, no harm, no foul.”

“Must be a slow day for MI6, if you are doing what is expected of you.” Safin masked the slight tremor in his free hand which he stowed in his pocket, drawn to a fist. Despite his alcoholic tendencies, James Bond was not enfeebled by dioxin poisoning. He had about twenty-to-fifty pounds on Safin and a reputation for killing enemy operatives during field-missions. Unlikely, that it would happen out here. The only loss for SPECTRE would be a spot on Sciarra’s security team and an empty seat at the Palazzo Cadenza. “Yet it seems the loss of your British Treasury agent and SAS have not tempered your insolence. I wonder what will?”

007 scoffed. “I’ve got four hundred and thirty seven days left ‘til retirement. I’m on my best behaviour.” Safin turned about-face towards the hotel doors, as 007 added, “One shouldn’t get discouraged, Zahov. Sexpionage isn’t for everyone.”

Safin stopped mid-stride and looked over to assess what he had heard. He hadn’t been at a loss for words like this since Raoul Silva. As 007’s eyes, arrestingly blue, fixed on his, he experienced that dull unease that came with being outmaneuvered.

“You continue to meddle,” Safin said quietly, “and it has cost you greatly. Perhaps it is time you learnt to cut your losses.”

“You see,” said 007 in a flat voice, “that’s your problem, Zahov. You’ve been talking as if you think it’ll never happen to you.”

Safin smiled, though it didn’t touch his eyes. “One is only as good as his last mistake.”

007 returned to an air of amicability without missing a beat. “I’m willing to learn from mine. Put aside our differences, if it’ll spare more bloodshed.”

Perhaps it was time to start tying up loose ends. 007’s cooperation would come as surely as Vesper Lynd’s. But 007 still had his uses, even if he wouldn’t live to understand the gravity of his contribution. SPECTRE’s battle of attrition with outside parties could not go on forever. A temporary truce was an acceptable alternative to another year of disrupted operations, ending in 007’s clean retirement from MI6. To dismiss the opportunity would be a terrible mistake, indeed.

“I’m listening.”

⁂

By the next morning, Madeleine was going into work, seeing the usual clientele. The world didn’t stop for anyone’s mid-life crisis. It would have been easy, before, to reassure herself that she was in no real danger. The occasional slight from a disgruntled patient was just that. No real harm would ever befall White’s daughter, because she was careful not to overstep her responsibilities. Her upbringing left little room for reflection, but it was the only way she could bear to live with herself.

Ever since coming to Oslo, she had allowed herself to be frozen over. Clients came and left with irregular familiarity. There was a comfort in the façade, of looking the other way, not asking questions. As long as she could separate her secrets from her own work, she’d be able to help others. Putting up a front, not just for her own sake but for the betterment of others. With enough time and patience, she could delude herself into acceptance. Of all the options afforded, this was the lesser evil. Reapplying gauze to the same old wound, as if enough smothering would stop the rot.

Her ordinary colleagues never could grasp the root of her distress, and her father had been distancing himself from his mistakes all her life. Her past relationships weren’t built for longevity. Sure, there was an occasional snag of self-doubt or remorse, but she’d always find a way to assuage it. The men that found her attractive weren’t going to look deeply into her problems. Men like Safin had an emotional range tied to the extent of their control. When he’d tracked her down, following her to the hotel, he made it a point to not coerce or impose. If she told him to leave, she had no doubt that he would. Most people in his position would be asking for a favour. An early clearance, a lesser sentence, as if she wouldn’t have to answer to Kęstutis regardless.

At the end of each day, she’d turn off the lights and close the blinds, and be faced with the same epiphany. Maybe it hadn’t mattered who and what Safin was, at the tango bar, the safehouse, or the hotel in Guinea. He’d given her the truth when her father’s associates refused. To dwell any deeper on her own shortcomings wouldn’t make Klebb’s assignment easier. It was too close to hypocrisy, for her tastes.

By the end of the week, she’d submitted Safin’s evaluation. He should be cleared for work. The next morning, Klebb was in the waiting area. “Dr. Swann,” she said. “I was hoping to speak with you.” Madeleine’s next client was an hour from now. She unlocked her office door, and Klebb invited herself in. The blinds were still drawn from last night. Klebb flicked the light on. “Your personal evaluation of Lyutsifer Safin, what is it?”

Madeleine paused, taking Klebb’s silence as a grant to speak. “He’s pragmatic. He spoke about his job as a purpose, and he has revealed very little about himself in all the time I’ve known him. Even outside of work.” She looked at Klebb. “He followed me, last week, but asked for no favours. He’s not made contact since.”

Klebb nodded. “We’ve provided women before, some of them younger than you. It never worked. He had other ambitions.” Her eyes raked over Madeleine, as one might appraise a prized race-horse. “It seems I have underestimated your competences.”

“Our methods differ.” Refusing to acknowledge Klebb’s statement for what it was, Madeleine walked over to her desk. She wasn’t the first Klebb had spoken to about handling an operative, and she likely wouldn’t be the last. Dealing with snide remarks from the patients was easier to stomach than the notion of her own complicity, but given the alternatives, it was a necessary discomfort. “I doubt he’s going to give you what you’re looking for so easily.”

A cruel twist played on Klebb’s mouth. “There’s no guilt to be had, Doctor. You’ve found an approach. Now it is a matter of assuming control.” She walked up to the desk and grasped Madeleine’s wrist in short, strong fingers, as if to shake her hand. “On behalf of the syndicate, I must acknowledge your achievement.” Madeleine drew away before she thought better of it. Klebb did not rebuke her. “Now that we know what you’re willing to do, the rest should be easy.”

As soon as the door closed, Madeleine took a shaky breath and exhaled too quickly to assuage her hammering heart. She’d assumed Safin would have a history of misconduct. Someone who got a rush out of vigilantism, righting wrongs, would want to play the hero. What better way to ingratiate oneself into her life than as a saviour? A confession he couldn’t excuse, getting in the way of his usual MO, forcing him to overcorrect to the point of vulnerability. He wouldn’t form the same attachment to a stranger, or an obvious foil.

A man in control would never have pursued her to the hotel directly. He would have convinced her that she might be unsafe otherwise. She’d been looking over her shoulder since she was a little girl. There were less dramatic explanations, of course. The client and therapist had a very intimate bond of trust. It wasn’t uncommon, during the process, for some patients to mistake their own feelings of gratitude as infatuation. Whether or not Safin had a history of this conduct, it was a possibility worth considering.

In the back of the filing cabinet were the documents Klebb had left her. Madeleine took out an old photocopy of a dossier from 1985. He would have been six going-on seven. Already she could see it in his eyes, he was no stranger to violence. Without studying him in-person, she could only project Klebb’s words onto the image. Or perhaps she was only noticing what she’d overlooked in the eyes of the adult.

To kill him, at this stage, would be a waste. He’d yet to disappoint her.

⁂

Ernst Stavro Blofeld was having a peaceful afternoon at his home in Morocco. The house itself had been built within the crater’s depths. He’d been coming back here each year, since QUANTUM was dissolved. Solomon, the white blue-eyed Turkish Angora, was his only companion aside from the workers on-site. Construction on the meteorite base was well underway. Once finished, there would be enough rooms to accommodate their latest scheme. A string of apparent terrorist attacks across Europe and Africa would no doubt convince the right world leaders that mass surveillance was an inevitable response to such uncontrollable danger. With the merging of MI5 and MI6, there would be less incentive to rely on field agents, in spite of the drawbacks that came with automation. No solution was perfect, of course. But in time, SPECTRE would be just as much a part of the CNS without the latter knowing the wiser.

Swann’s conduct at the clinic remained acceptable. No serious complaints from her patients or coworkers. Her actions outside of work were more interesting. She’d ignored the mole from the CIA after a few meetings. As an educated guess, she’d treat Safin accordingly—whether or not Safin would keep his distance remained to be seen. Pitting less-disciplined operatives against each other was one of Klebb’s favorite pastimes, a vice Blofeld tolerated for the sake of maintaining an iron grip over the syndicate. Seducing a former patient suggested a level of callousness and or compartmentalization beyond her own father’s ability.

This March, next year, would be James’s last in active service. It was a shame, but a man like James would never have fit in the syndicate anyway. Despite his talents for espionage and conditional empathy, he clung to duty for his country as if it was enough to absolve him. Blofeld could not adhere to such man-made limitations, not as the head of SPECTRE. He and James were destined to lead, while those of lesser stock would fall in line. James had a harder time accepting this fact.

The phone rang. Blofeld picked up.

“Her report was inconclusive.”

“So I’ve heard.” Solomon passed through the room, barely glancing at him. “The evaluation was more of a courtesy.”

“James Bond has infiltrated our operation. He’s made contact with Safin.”

Blofeld nodded. “That’s an interesting development.”

“With all due respect, sir, we have let this side-operation with Swann go on for too long. She is not delivering the results we had hoped for.”

Solomon bumped against his naked ankle. Blofeld reached down to scratch behind the cat’s ears. Dr Swann might not be the hardened operative that Safin was, but she was no fool. “Dr Swann has seen an opportunity you and I have overlooked. That is to be commended.” A strained silence on the other end of the line. Blofeld’s bony shoulders lifted. “It was your decision to bring Safin into her office. If anything changes, she’ll report to Kęstutis as we discussed. Your job is to ensure the good doctor is not killed while her father is alive to witness it. Let Safin dig his own grave.”

Klebb, on the other end, would no doubt be very unhappy about this affront, not only to her mission but to her headship. She was not going to accept defeat by an outsider, let alone this thankless little bitch with no respect for their syndicate. But she’d come around, she was not ruled so closely by emotion. It was why Blofeld had picked her as an advisor.

“Of course, sir.”

“Excellent,” Blofeld clicked off. He looked down at Solomon, who had sequestered himself around his foot. “I think we may have the candidate we’re looking for.”

Solomon mewed, indifferent to anything but attention.

⁂

With one thing and another, the night of the donor gala arrived. On the twenty-fourth floor of the Raddison Blu, Madeleine was getting ready. The double silk georgette gown wasn’t out of her price range, but it wasn’t too expensive to be worn once and discarded. Despite the offer extended on behalf of Klebb to cover costs, Madeleine insisted on buying everything herself. The last thing she needed was to be indebted to anyone from her father’s ilk.

Directly adjacent to her room was Safin’s. Last week, Kęstutis mentioned that he’d been indiscreetly reassigned to her, but nothing more. Safin hadn’t spoken to her since February. Hinx had been chauffeuring her to-and-from work, and to the Raddison Blu, without ever mentioning the change in itinerary. Still, it was in her best interest not to ask too many questions.

The door adjacent to her room opened and closed. “Dr. Swann.” The dark suit jacket and dress pants were closer to a deep purple than black. Under the warm lights, he looked less sickly. A tiny opaque cord attached to an earpiece wound down the side of his neck into his dress shirt. “This event will be crawling with other operatives. It’s best to be cautious.”

She struggled to redirect her thoughts. The lack of unease was becoming its own stressor. “I don’t have much in common with these people aside from sharing a tax bracket.”

“You don’t enjoy yourself?”

“It’s tolerable.” Putting up a front seemed like a pointless expenditure. “I cannot imagine it's as difficult as your own responsibilities.”

“I’m just following through.”

Something was off. His usual detachment wasn’t there. He didn’t have to look at her directly, but even as he scanned the room his attention kept coming back to her. Not stifling or predatory, just—direct. She said, “It seems you still have some reservations.” He turned to look at her, but didn’t elaborate. “All these other times I was followed around by strange men, they would come to the door. They would tail me on the street, but they never followed me to an address.”

“The man you met was a CIA source.” The look in his eyes was sharper. “Were you unaware?”

“I’m aware of what you are.”

His expression was easy to read. Acrimonious, but still in control. “It’s unwise to be so careless, even if you feel you can afford to be.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“A daughter of SPECTRE will always have enemies.”

“I try not to linger on possibilities. It never helps.”

Safin turned as if to leave. His tie was a little loose, uncharacteristic of his usual fastidiousness. Without thinking consciously, Madeleine closed the distance, straightened his tie. He went very still, but didn’t say a word. As she drew back, the expression on his face have been a trick of the light, but it wasn’t mistakable. She said, “Shall we?”

Out the door, down the carpeted hall. The well-dressed man waiting for the elevator caught her eye and smiled. A twinkle in his eyes, electric blue, said he’d be nothing but trouble for whoever caught his interest. “James Bond,” he said. “Retired professional gambler. I’m here on behalf of an old friend.”

“Dr Swann,” said Madeleine. “On behalf of my colleagues in non-profit.” It was difficult to act natural with Safin drilling a hole in the back of her skull with his eyes, but not impossible. 

Bond’s attention went to Safin, who merely said, “Security.”

Bond nodded, with the tiniest flicker of emotion in his eyes. The elevator doors opened. A glass entry-point led into the elevator itself. As Bond was saying, “Seems they’ve done some work on the elevators,” his eyes passed over her and Safin. It was not overt. Just a tilt of the head in their direction, but Madeleine was not going to implicate herself any further. “You were in Guinea, last year, wasn’t it?”

Madeleine turned. “Yes.”

“My colleague is an avid supporter of non-profit organisations. She should be downstairs already.”

“I’d be happy to speak with her,” Madeleine said.

Under his ear rested a similar opaque cord. Her stomach lurched with the elevator’s descent, still in the double-digits, as James Bond leant casually along the arm of the cabin. Safin hadn’t looked anywhere but the doors and Bond, briefly.

“Why does a retired gambler find himself at a charity gala?”

“Money,” Bond said simply. “I’ve got enough of it.”

A career chauvinist, perhaps. He wasn’t here to socialise. Madeleine looked at the doors. Past floor nineteen, eighteen. “I haven’t been to one of these events in some time.”

Bond was polite enough to be taken aback. “You seem like you’d fit right in.”

Madeleine forced a scoff. “I can’t remember the last time I actually sat down and talked to someone. If I had that much in common with the people here, I’d start drinking and talk about my real problems. I’d end up in the river by Tuesday.”

Bond smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “And you’ve got a good sense of humour.” Her pulse quickened. A laugh she smothered in her throat with a blithe smile. Down to the single-digits. Madeleine would rather be socializing within a crowd than trapped in this elevator for another minute. “Are you feeling all right?” Bond had the decency to sound concerned, but his eyes were scanning her.

“I’ve never felt better,” she said.

The doors opened. She moved past Bond, into the crowd.

In the ornate women’s bathroom, her hands clenched on the cool marble rim of the sink.

She’d never pictured an existence where she wasn’t constantly looking over her shoulder. This was no different than one of her father’s business parties, sticking to the sidelines. She wouldn’t have to endure the smell of tobacco. She’d make connections that had nothing to do with her father’s ilk, and perhaps say a few words about the horrible tragedy of last year, and no one would be the wiser. They’d call her brave and enduring.

In the mirror she found the woman reflected. The wave of calm she’d felt in Zurich. She wasn’t going to survive the night if she couldn’t pull herself together. She’d always been running on borrowed time. Within her shrinking social circle, all of her closest associates seemed to be criminals in one way or another.

If she was to survive the night, she’d just as well learn to improvise.

The door opened. Madeleine turned on the sink.

“Are you all right?” The dark-haired woman in the black dress might’ve been in her early twenties. She was tall and lithe, could be a dancer or a soldier’s build. Her nails were painted burgundy. Smell of cologne followed in her wake.

“Yes,” said Madeleine, grateful to talk to someone who expressed concern. “Thank you.”

“You’re Dr. Swann, is that right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“I understand you’ve met James,” the woman said. “He was just telling me about your charity work. Oh, where are my manners?” She laughed easily. “I’m Paloma.”

⁂

After the dinner, the raffle had been going on for half-an-hour and it seemed pointless to linger when little else was expected of her. Paloma, who seemed eager to socialise but was sympathetic to her plight, elected to go with her.

“I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well,” she said. In the reception hall, Madeleine stopped and said, “Your cologne. Did you change it sometime during the night?”

Paloma chuckled. “I’m not sure what you mean. I didn’t wear any this evening.”

Madeleine forced a polite laugh, feigning embarrassment. Her gaze wandered to Paloma’s hands. The nails weren’t manicured. “It’s been a long night. I must have mistaken you for someone else.”

When they got up to the rooms, there was a tab on the door reserved for housekeeping. “That’s strange. I’m the one that asked for housekeeping.” Paloma glanced at her. “Are you sure it’s your room?” Madeleine shook her head, unlocking the door with her card-key. Paloma said, “It’s all right. I’ll ask downstairs. Maybe there was a mix-up.”

As soon as Madeleine was alone, she unlocked the door with a cold weight behind her navel. In the tall mirror adjacent to the door, Madeleine could see a sliver of light through the cracked bathroom door. She’d turned it off when she left the room. The maid opened the door.

“Oh, excuse me. I wasn’t aware you were coming back.” Her hand shifted on the doorjamb, fingernails painted. She smiled and said, “I’ll just finish straightening out the towels.”

Madeleine nodded. “All right.”

The maid closed the door behind her. She didn’t have any towels with her, or a cart for that matter.

In a haze of calm, Madeleine walked over to the bedside table. She withdrew the Glock. Forced herself to breathe evenly, inching herself towards the wall beside the bathroom door. On the other side of the door, the maid was moving around.

Madeleine grit her jaw, taking aim. Inhaling, holding, exhaling. At this range, she’d hit the woman in the stomach.

All movement on the other side of the door stopped. The door opened.

Madeleine squeezed the trigger. Gunshot permeated the room. The maid staggered backwards. She twisted her body around and her foot caught over the rim of the bathtub. She collided into the wall opposite with a pained grunt, slumped to meet the tile, trailing blood in her wake, unable to brace herself. Madeleine levelled the gun.

“Are you alone?” The maid’s wide eyes snapped up to the gun, then to Madeleine. “If there are others, you must call them off. Or do you want to make this more difficult?”

She took a breath and raised a hand and touched her ear. Her voice carried no suggestion of pain. “Sir. No, I’ve got it under control.”

Madeleine did not lower the gun. She moved over to the cabinet. Opened the drawers, took out a bottle of painkillers, placed it on the edge of the sink. She eyed a bath-towel and tossed it to the woman. She switched into a less-aggressive register. “I have—” no intention of killing you? No, that offered a window for negotiation. She had to establish control. “—a few questions. If you cooperate, I will call someone down to see to your injuries.”

The woman’s eyes were fixed on her. Trickle of blood issued lazily from her mouth, the same colour as her lipstick. The predominant stain from where she’d been shot was seeping onto the white tiles, forming a puddle.

“You must tell me why you are here,” said Madeleine, “so I can phone for help.”

The woman’s lip curled on a laugh. Blood stained her teeth, seeping over her tongue. “Do you know what your friends do to people like me? They’re only ever going to find pieces.”

“If you don’t say anything, it’s likely you will die. You have nothing to lose.” The operative’s eyes flickered to the phone. She muttered something under her breath. “What was that?”

“Oberhauser is who you want.” Madeleine hesitated. “I’ve given you a name,” the operative snapped. “Now make the damn call.”

Madeleine nodded. She took the phone and dialed the number. Waiting, chest tight.

“Stockmann speaking.”

Madeleine froze. She’d heard this voice before. Beginning to weather with age, but unmistakable after all these years. Not since she was young enough to stay home with maman, back when her father was still visiting L’Americain with his family. That gnawing, icy sensation of attempting to outpace the inevitable tightened her chest. She opened her mouth but the words didn’t come as naturally as before. “I—” she cut off, struggling to compose herself, “—I need your help.”

“Dr. Swann,” the voice immediately thawed into sympathy, an expert salesman, “I wasn’t expecting to hear your voice. Is something the matter?”

“There’s—a woman in my bathroom. She’s injured.”

“I see. We’ll send someone up to take care of it.”

“She needs immediate medical attention.”

“Of course,” Blofeld said. “You’ll be escorted out as well. Just sit tight.”

The call ended. The operative had grabbed the towel, putting pressure on her stomach. It was inundated in blood. “How do you know this man?” The woman balked at her. Her eyes darted to the large mirror in front of the sink. Madeleine, despite her own terror, was running out of patience. “I made the call. Now answer—"

“—shut the fuck up,” the woman said through gritted teeth, “right now, or you’re going to get us both killed.”

The wound looked bad. Madeleine grabbed another towel and knelt down on the tile to assist.

“The hell are you—?”

“Don’t move,” Madeleine muttered. The woman did not relax. But she did comply. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

“You’re going to ruin your gown,” said the maid, in an incredulous tone. Madeleine ignored her. There was no great shock, no time for the epiphany. All that remained was cold lucidity.

“I’ve never killed a person before,” she said. “Though I almost did.”

The operative hesitated. “Recently?”

“No,” Madeleine said. “I was a little girl.”

Soon enough, the door opened and in walked Hinx. He grabbed the housekeeper off the floor as though she weighed nothing and shoved her into a laundry hamper. As he was about to wheel it out, the door to the adjoining room clicked open. Hinx, with his hands on the rim of the laundry hamper, turned to watch as Safin walked in.

“Sciarra is with the target,” Safin said. “I’ll handle this.”

Hinx nodded, and wheeled the operative out, leaving them alone. Safin glanced at the bathroom, then to Madeleine’s state of dress. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

He looked at her. “You left early.”

“I excused myself,” Madeleine said, careful to avoid any undercurrent of accusation. “There was a mix-up at the front desk. Evidently this woman wasn’t here to refill the soap bottles.”

“She’s alive,” Safin said.

“I’m not a killer.” Madeleine's lip curled into a scowl. “She gave me the name Oberhauser.”

Safin went very still. He seemed to process this, then went along tightly, “For what reason?”

“I told her to call off her friends.” Even without all the pieces, Madeleine was getting closer to what Klebb was after. She had not imagined it would be so simple. She just had to push him a little more. “Oberhauser called the phone and told me someone would take care of it.”

“You were under no authority to ask her for anything.” Lapsing into dangerous quiet, his posture simmering on the edge of violence.

As her heart thrashed against her ribs, she said, “You wouldn't take your eyes off of me all evening. Did you think I would not notice?” He did not answer. Her mouth curled, trembling. “Perhaps you suspected something was amiss.” Goading him into complicity, the same sense of inertia as running across the ice. “You knew that there was an operative hidden among the donors and you were happy to use me as bait. It didn’t matter whether I survived.” Safin held her gaze, the flash of a warning in his eyes. A vindictive sense of satisfaction counteracted by her own entrapment. “Or perhaps you’ve set me up? What, to erase your mistake? I bet it’s not even the first—”

He caught her by the throat, and in two strides she was backed up against the wall.

Grabbing for his wrist for what little it would do, Safin’s expression didn’t change. “The only negotiation,” he said, “is whether or not you are sent back to your father in a box.” The hand around her throat didn’t compress. He turned his mouth into her cheek, and hissed, “Hit me.”

It clicked.

Before Madeleine could act, he grabbing the front of the dress as though it were a shirt-collar, wrenching sharply upward.

The fabric tore. Madeleine decked him. Safin did not flinch. He corralled her by the shoulder, maneuvering them both into the bathroom. He shut the door and let go of her. Walked over to the shower, turned on the hot water.

“You’re in shock,” he said in a flat, deliberate voice. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

He’d torn the gown across her clavicle. She covered herself on reflex, but her mouth trembled anyway. Safin muttered something to himself that wasn't in English.

“Take a shower,” he said curtly, eyes flickering to the mirror behind her. “I’ll be back.”

Madeleine had nothing to lose. She stayed under the shower and let herself be warmed. Eyes on the flawless white tile. Same bottles on the ledge, devoid of blood. The bare skin on her throat tingled. There was no point on which to focus without wandering back to her own lack of agency. You could not lose that which you never had to begin with.

The maid, or operative, had looked at the mirror. There must be something in this room used to transmit audio or video. The only way she and Safin were getting out of this was to play along with what was expected. Klebb, it seemed, would anticipate a scandal.

Madeleine turned off the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. The mirror was fogged over and she could not distinguish a face. Madeleine hit the switch. Overhead fan whirred to life.

⁂

As Safin checked the adjoining room, he was already wasting time. Ostensibly, Blofeld had sent him to take over the operation. This agent posing as a maid was another distraction, no different than the CIA-boyfriend. 007, no doubt livening up the party on floor two, was the real threat, and here Safin was, trapped in another one of Klebb’s tests.

Swann was a good actor, but she had betrayed her own intentions under pressure. Frightened and seeking an escape, it was natural to pin the blame on him. Aside from her father’s presence, her contact with Blofeld was her only insurance. After all, her ignorance was the real reason she’d survived this long. Despite the slip-up, she’d been savvy enough to disarm the operative without killing her, and play along with the ruse. If she remained in the dark about Bond, she had a chance to survive another year unscathed.

This shouldn’t be difficult. Contact Kęstutis before the inevitable call down to Rome, courtesy of Blofeld. He’d explain that there was an attempt on Swann’s life, and it was dispelled without incident. Easy to the point of convenience, which sounded more like a test than a genuine attempt on Swann’s life. With that in mind, Safin circled back to her room. The bathroom door was closed, but the fan was on. A sliver of light crept under the door. He rapped twice, said, “It’s me.”

The door opened. She was covered only in the white towel. Fair hair clung to her face, saturated with water. A tangible shift in her demeanor, from alarm to conviction, a look in her eyes that was ruinous and bright.

She grabbed his lapels. Pressing her mouth over his. Safin didn’t reciprocate, or pull away. She raised a hand to touch his face, side of his neck, as if he were made of something more delicate than flesh and blood. She breathed, “It’s all right,” twisting in his guts more intimately than a knife.

If you leave, her eyes screamed, they will kill me.

If Safin stayed, if he gave even the slightest impression of empathy, he was a dead man. If he walked away, nothing would be suspected, but any intel she possessed would vanish with her. Putting himself in dangerous situations wasn’t his style, but there was a time for exceptions. So it wasn’t much of a debate, letting her pull him into the bathroom. They’d be listening. Not much point looking under the bath towels, the tiny overpriced bottles of shampoo, soap. A hidden microphone could pick up noise within a twenty foot radius. His attention caught, briefly, on the faux-plant on the counter, next to the sink.

Permitting her to lead, divesting him of the suit jacket, setting it aside on the black countertop. Unfastening his tie. He blocked her from the mirror with his body. Svelte. Beautiful in a cold, unyielding sense without implying fragility. She smelled like the hotel soap. Her hair still damp from the shower, one hand furled against his breast. The pulse in her throat fluttered under his palm. She wasn’t looking at him.

When he took her by the chin, he got no reaction beyond a slight intake of breath. Stray droplets of water rolled down her hair and scattered onto his shirt. Her eyes flickered from the mirror to his face in tacit understanding. Their lives depended on their ability to put on a charade. 

⁂

James Bond was running out of patience. The raffle wasn’t close to finished. He’d excused himself from the proceedings, to the dismay of the partygoers who were a little too tipsy to register the precise reason for his exit. All the better, as he moved out of the ball-room and into the reception hall. You could only drink so much mineral water without eying the alcohol. He’d learnt his lesson from Montenegro about accepting drinks at a QUANTUM function. Make no mistake about the sponsors, this was, in some way or another, the same crowd and the same intent. Dr. Swann’s role in their scheme wasn’t clear, but Bond was willing to get to the bottom of it.

Paloma was on the way back to the party. “Where’ve you been?” he asked.

“Dr. Swann wasn’t feeling well,” she said. “I went up with her to the twenty-fourth floor, but there was a mix-up with housekeeping. I thought I’d notify someone on-staff before I came back.”

“She must have left early,” Bond muttered, watching Paloma carefully.

“The CPO was around,” Paloma said. “He left a few minutes ago.”

Bond nodded. “To tell you the truth, I’m feeling a bit under-the-weather myself. Give them my regards, won’t you?”

Paloma nodded. “Of course.”

He stepped into the reception hall and touched his ear. “Leiter, I’m starting to think Swann never spoke to your charming protégé.”

“Her tracker is registering her location,” Q said. “She’s on the fifth floor.”

Bond frowned. Unless her Smart Blood tracker had been cut out, it seemed impossible. “Is it possible to change a Smart Blood tracker’s ID?”

“Shouldn’t be,” Leiter added. “I’ll have Q and our boys look into it.”

“I suppose the doctor’s having an interesting night,” Bond muttered.

“Evidently,” Q’s tone suggested he wasn’t in the mood for another one-liner, “but she’s not why you’re here, 007.”

Bond conceded. “Where’s Safin now?”

“He got called off,” Q muttered. “Something tripped an alarm system in one of the rooms on the twenty-fourth floor. Must’ve been installed in-advance.”

“I’d figure the gunshot would have tripped the alarm before your plant.”

“That device was administered to you, 007,” Q added curtly. “I’m curious to know how it ended up where it has.”

“It would seem there’s more than one mole,” Bond said. Everything about this mission had reeked of contrivance from the start. To his knowledge, Paloma hadn’t spoken a word to Swann in-person until tonight. Bond simply fed Madeleine the cover story. “We’re being misdirected.” Bond scowled. The younger field agents had a particularly bad habit of getting side-tracked, or caught unawares. All theoretics and no common sense. He made a beeline towards the elevators. “I’ll make this quick.”

Q said, “Keep the collateral to a minimum.”

“Since you asked nicely,” Bond said, as he punched the button and the elevator doors closed.

⁂

On the fifth floor, the door to the laundry room opened and Hinx wheeled in the hamper. Rosa Klebb was waiting patiently. She caught his eye and nodded. Hinx plunged an arm into the hamper, retrieving the operative by the forearm as if she were no heavier than a child’s doll. She was plunked down into a chair. She looked into the face of Klebb, who did not smile. “It’s good of you to join us.”

“Fuck you!” the operative spat. “That bitch pulled a gun on me!”

“007 is on the move,” Hinx said. “How do you want to handle this?”

Klebb nodded. “You know what to do.”

Hinx left them alone. Emboldened by his departure, the operative unleashed her beleaguerment on Klebb. “This operation is a shitshow.”

“I understand your frustration,” said Klebb patiently. “We are in the process of negotiating a deal with your contact. In the meantime you and I will discuss the details of your transference.” Klebb’s smile was warm, genuine. This was the favorite aspect of her work. “On what grounds do you feel you’ve been mistreated?” The operative fell quiet. “Come now,” Klebb said in a gentler voice, “you’ll find I am not as unfeeling as the man I must answer to. It is in your best interest to speak to me.”

“She’s working for Blofeld,” the operative said, as if not able to convince herself of the statement’s verity. “She asked me if I knew anything about the name.”

“Swann knows only what she is told.” Klebb had a small phone in her hand. “Once we have our verdict, you will be let go.”

⁂

On the twenty-fourth floor, Safin began fixing his pants. He didn’t say anything, or look at her. A repeat of the situation last month. If Klebb assumed this to be weakness, as she was wont to, he could simply play along as expected. Her fate was the same, regardless of whatever sentiment he chose to extend. Such matters were corrigible.

The door to the hotel room opened and shut. Fixing his tie, donning the suit jacket, Safin considered his options. Most likely, Hinx had come back to finish the job. It was also possible 007 had charmed his way into entry. An easy lie about his wife’s misplaced card, a careful smile, and the attendant would overlook his lack of a wedding band.

Swann considered him without verbalization. No different from the therapist in the office.

He turned as if to kiss her jaw, and muttered, “Wait here.” He pulled back.

Nothing had changed in the room itself.

Aside from the knife strapped to his ankle and his wits, he had little to work with. Safin hadn’t been informed that anyone else but Hinx would be here. There was no back-up.

The man on the other side of the door forced it open, grabbing Safin by the lapels and driving his knee into his chest.

007 noted the change of clothes set aside. With a glance back at Safin, he muttered, “Q, you’re never going to believe this.” With his attention on Madeleine, he wasn’t paying full attention to his back. “Doctor Swann.” Madeleine recoiled against the wall.

Safin reached down his leg for the ankle holster. Swann’s eyes darted to him. In the second it took 007 to catch up, Safin was on his feet. He aimed for his neck, but 007 turned around and it caught the meat of his shoulder. A chop to the side of the head and he was on the ground, vision flashing.

“Stay down,” 007 growled, “and don’t fucking move.” He looked over at Madeleine. “I’ll get you out of here.”

“What about him?”

“His friends can decide what to do with him.” 007 gesticulated with the Walther PPK. “Get dressed and we’ll go.”

[rooigseix]

Ok, about Vongola Primo cause I note myself I gonna be back at him.

Honestly, Primo's memory in manga (because I hate the anime filler, ok gonna back to that later) doesn't show us much of Giotto's personality. Sociable or shy? Extroverted or introverted? Talkative or silent? We don't know anything. What I got from eight memories was that he was loyal, had a strong sense of justice.

And reckless, noone could take this from my dead cold body that Giotto, Vongola Primo, was reckless as fuck, and this is why:

- In his 1st memory, he chased a total stranger for God-know distance just to give back a wallet.

Righteous, yes. But also reckless, considering that their town was "paradise of outlaws." Cozart could be a gang member and following him could be extremely dangerous.

Did Giotto consider that? No, he just saw someone "drop the wallet" and immediately chased after them, no thought whatsoever about that person's identity and whether it may bring trouble if chasing that person.

- So, we knew from Nono's words that Giotto found Vongola at about Tsuna's canon age, which is 14, right? Which is, kids. And I bet Cozart and G couldn't be much older than that, considering that a 4-year difference in age normally caused a generation gap in conversation.

But okay, just talk about Giotto, then. He was a kid in every sense and he found a vigilante group to fight back larger gangs that can kill someone for not discounting the merchandise and from that, of course not gonna hesitate to kill kids. Keep considering that those "larger gangs" had enough firearms to destroy a house to brick, and we see so much difference between the two forces.

If Giotto found Vongola in 14 is not reckless then I don't know what is.

- He was the don, the very symbol of existence of a famiglia, and the first reaction after the shock when hearing his friend being in the battlefield was to run to that battlefield to save him.

Ok, at this point we can all agree he was a loyal friend that would give you his all, but that's not the main point in this scene.

The main point is Giotto stayed at home, alone, with Daemon, who at that point he knew was a traitor and just planned a whole scheme to kill off his best friend. Stay at home, alone, because the guardians that time were at the battlefield rescued Cozart.

I don't know whether Giotto was confident in the possibility that Daemon wouldn't attack him directly or confident in his winning even if Daemon chose to attack, but you can't tell me he was reckless with his own life as a chip at that scene.

- And the oath with Cozart too, a gamble on life. With his own children and blood. Giotto solely trusted two families won't conflict and no one had to be in jail when he had no way to control how things would turn out in the future. He didn't even control how Daemon ghosting over Vongola, I don't know if he even think his Mist could exist until more than a centure later. (And if Giotto could control that, what a real lookover we need to do, see how Daemon directly killed all of Enma's family. If Giotto could control his Mist guardian and he let that Flood of Blood incident happen, did that change the whole impression we have on him from the beginning? No, I don't think Giotto even had any control over Daemon's ghosting)

Vindice warned. But he still made the oath while having absolutely no idea what the future may be. Second to ninth gen of Simon were Giotto and Cozart's losing chips and Tenth gen was a win. A close one, because Simon Decimo Gen almost went to jail, all of them. And considering that seven children were all what Simon had, if Enma and his guardians went to jail then this oath was completely done in the worst way possible.

- Now to the smaller hints. Like his conflict with Secondo before retiring to Japan. It was brilliant. It was smart. It was the biggest "fuck you" I even see. Giotto conflicted with the next boss and he had to retire? No, he retired AND CUT THE FAMILY IN TWO. Vongola-Cedef. "No, you are the boss but don't even dare to think for one second that you got the whole power I used to have. You are the boss but your choice on the next boss will and can be affected by my own people. Oh and the rings. Lady Sepira gave it to me. Now split them in two and give half to my people. If your people want to be heir, they need to get agreement from my people and had the other half of the rings."

The founding of CEDEF was badass as hell don't anyone dare to tell me otherwise.

Even smaller details. The forth memory shows that he was in a strategic meeting with his family. Talking about a war. A war that according to Adel, "attempt to conquer all the lands of Europe". (Chapter 297) Okay, we can't say for sure how much the "conquer Europe" thing was true or just a lost tale of history, but the forth memory shows that Giotto had a strategic meeting, this can't be argued. He fought in war, a pretty big one.

And anyone remember his smiling yet fiery words "Give that Mare boy a scare"? Childish, I tell you. Giotto had a personality of a blazing flame with sarcasm under his tender and (appear to be) youthful face. Every single manga panels of his appearance can shown how fiery can he be.

And oh, Giotto was an emotional little teen too, just look at the second memory.

Did anyone gonna talk about his holding flower, punching wall and shouting about justice while drenching in rain? I will and I gonna say he was emotional as hell. And the other moments when Giotto accidentally knocked the ink bottle over when knowing Cozart was in the battlefield, or when he shouting at Cozart's decision to "going into shadow". You can't look at all of them and tell me Giotto's emotion was not overdrive so many times when he was alive.

On HDW mode, he was a solemn, overpowering authority figure, with a soft sadness in his eyes that somehow contained something unreachable. I really like how in eight memory in Inheritance Ceremony Arc, not a single time Giotto was in HDW mode, and he appeared to be lively and much more human than the symbol Vongola made him to be - there is much more to him than a title and a single number attached to it.

But damn his "more" is so :))) I literally don't know what to say when I finished reading about his scarcely past screentimes. I like his whole new reckless with a bit childish characteristics but that not mean it would cause a whole turnover to me, damn.