#but what's the point in mentioning like a couple of times

[babyleostuff]

─ PINK RIBBONS

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, domesticity, you being jeonghan's whole world (mention of the military) 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: idol!jeonghan x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 792

natalia's note: idc if this is too dramatic, i don't want jeonghan to go

⦗💌 ⦘your favourite past time? playing with your boyfriend's hair, duh. sadly, it's the last time you get to do it for the next two years.

“here,” jeonghan drops a bunch of… somethings in your lap and sits down on the fluffy rug you bought last month, his back facing you. 

your boyfriend’s randomness is nothing new; even before you began dating, you quickly found out that yoon jeonghan was an unpredictable man. but no matter how much time has passed since you agreed to be his girlfriend, you are still taken aback each and every time he decides to do something out of the blue in his jeonghan fashion. 

you quickly grew to love his randomness, though. it’s like being surprised in the best ways possible.

“what,” you pick up a packet of colourful hair ties and hair pins, “what do you want me to do with those?”.  

jeonghan turns around and looks up to meet your eyes, his own holding nothing but fondness and warmth. “my hair,” he says and shakes his head of messy brown hair he died a couple of days ago. “we haven’t done this in a while, so i thought it’d be nice.” 

your stomach churned. how many times have you sat like this - you on the edge of the sofa and jeonghan in front of you, resting comfortably against a cushion you placed so as not to strain his back. a drama or a cooking show would be playing quietly in the background, neither of you watching it, too busy with basking in the domesticity. 

looking back, it was a no-brainer that you got addicted to your boyfriend’s hair so quickly. playing with it became a little habit of yours - before bed, in the morning, at a game night with the boys, during parties - whenever jeonghan was in your arm’s reach, you’d play with his hair, no matter if they were short or long (though you always mourned his long hair whenever he cut them). it always managed to calm you down and ground you when life got a bit too much. 

you’ve never experienced deja vu before, but if this was how it felt then you’d rather be hit with a sledge hammer. it’d hurt less. 

and now… despite that you could feel your heart breaking, you couldn’t tell him no. it’s probably the last time you’ll be able to do this before the enlistment anyway, so maybe… maybe it’ll be a nice way to celebrate his last days at home? 

“it’s hair. it’s just hair,” your mind seems to scream into the void as you grab a couple of the purple-ish hair bands and slide them on your wrist. but your heart is even louder and it feels like you’re being ripped apart. 

were you being dramatic? definitely. did you care? not at all. your whole life would change in the next day or so and despite preparing for this for such a long time now, it didn’t make it any less painful. with jeonghan leaving you’d be losing a part of yourself.

“hey,” he raises his hand and grabs your chin, “get that scowl off your face.”

“i know,” you sigh. “it’s just that-,”.

“i don’t want to hear any of that. we’re having fun tonight, honey,” jeonghan says and runs his thumb over your cheek. affection and pure love, which are always there whenever he looks at you (coups makes sure to point that out on every possible occasion), seemed to slow your racing heartbeat, because the longer you stared into his brown, gentle eyes the more your mind seemed to quiet down. oh, how you are going to miss that lovesick stare. “no more sad faces, yeah?” 

you swallow and nod, your heart heavy from all the emotions. the pink ribbons and blue pins look like the opposite of what you are feeling, but… you have to be strong. if not for yourself, then for jeonghan. 

“any specific requests?” you ask and comb your fingers gently through his silky hair.

“nope. whatever you do,” he says and turns his back to you, “it’ll look perfect.” you couldn't see jeonghan’s face, but you could hear the smile in his voice. 

placing a peck on your exposed leg, he makes himself comfortable against the cushions and lets out his grandpa-esque sigh. 

what the next days are going to bring - you aren’t sure. you don’t even want to think about it. but for now… for now, you are as content as you can be. enveloped by your love’s affection like a security blanket, his warm hands sliding up and down your calves, as if reminding you that he’s still there, it is enough for you. enough to swallow your tears and put a brave smile on your face for the man sitting in front of you. 

for now it is only you and him and all the pink ribbons.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot  @iamawkwardandshy  @icyminghao @heeseungthel0ml @goyangiiwonu @bath1lda @ruurooozz @ny0sang @luuxian @onerubii  @hurrican3-insert-nam3 @mekuiikore @luvseungcheol @thenotoriousegg @yuuyeonie @soffiyuhh @svtficsarchive @hyperdramas @huen1ngk41 @lesuneczka @oc3anfloor @gyuguys @fr-freak @bewoyewo

[meanbossart]

hi. i want to start by saying i love your artwork so much. it gives me so much inspiration and hope when i feel like i absolutely hate everything im making, because as long as i am trying, i will one day get to a place where my art makes me feel as (captivated??? in awe????? appreciative??? idk) as yours does. (GO OFF ANATOMY!!!!! i stare at any muscles you draw for 20 minutes un-blinking and begin foaming at the mouth so it burns into my brain). du drow is also very silly i like him very much. his eyes sort of look like fish eyes and they make me a little afraid but in a good way. i fear i am realizing something about myself as i type this.

ANYWAYS!!!! my original ask was going to be; do you have any drawings of astarion smiling?? like teef and all. the kind of smile you can’t suppress. the way you draw him scratches my brain in a spot nothing else has reached and this has been on my mind for days, so i thought it’d be worth asking. thank you for reading!!!! and keep up the absolutely incredible work!!!! i adore your content!!

Thank you so much for your sweet message! Honestly, I think that being unsatisfied with your own work is just the perpetual artist's curse, so don't overthink it! That's a feeling you likely won't ever be able to shake off, but hopefully you're able to turn it into something productive instead of destructive while recognizing the merit in your own art, even if it will never be perfect. There's not a single piece I've done that's ever turned out exactly as I hoped it would, and that's precisely what drives me to keep going.

Not to mention the fact that others will always be able to appreciate the things about your art that you miss while being self-critical - case in point. Point is, I'm flattered that my stuff has encouraged you to to improve.

I'm sure I've drawn Astarion grinning a couple of times, but here's another for your trouble!

[honeybeedewdrops]

Photo Gone Wrong | L.Norris

Summary: McLaren ask Y/N to take a picture of Lando and Oscar holding their first and third place trophy. What could go wrong?

Warnings: mention of a bloody nose

______________________________________________________________

The McLaren garage was the place to be after the Singapore Grand Prix. "Y/N" Someone called as you walk out of the garage. You stop and see one of the social media managers calling you over, Oscar and Lando close by her side.

"hey what's up" you say walking over to them. "Would you be able to take a picture of the boys holding their trophies for the McLaren socials." You nod and start to get your camera out. "Sure any particular way" You ask. "yeah were thinking like this one" the social media managers says getting out her phone and showing you a picture the boys had taken a few weeks ago.

"oh uh ok" you says not so sure about this picture many things could go wrong. "What? What's wrong you seem hesitant" the social media manager asks "I just what if one of them drop the trophy and break my camera or worse me" you state "come on Y/n don't you trust us" Lando says "You not so much. Oscar he's fine" Lando rolls his eyes. "Come on Y/n" Lando begs "i'll make sure he doesn't so anything" Oscar says "fine" you agree. You get down on the ground and point your camera up "Ok lean in" you say. Lando grips his trophy and nearly drops it causing you to squeal and turn away. Lando started laughing, "Lando" you complain "alright alright i'm serious" he says as the two lean in.

You snap a couple photos and before anyone could react Lando had dropped his trophy. He scrambled to catch it but even with his fast reflexes it was too late. The trophy came to a crash against your face the end hitting just perfectly in between your camera and cheek hitting your nose full on. You toss your camera aside not caring about it and sitting up grabbing your nose, crying out in pain. Blood started to gush out. "Oh my gosh Y/n I am so sorry I didn't mean it" Lando panicked. "I think, I think you broke my nose" you says as tears started to pool and fall. "We need a medic" Lando calls and Oscar takes off towards the medical center at least that's where you hopped he was going. "I am so sorry. what can I do?" Lando asks "Can you maybe get me a towel or something?" you ask holding your bloody nose that was really hurting. Lando looks around and spots a bag a few meters away he opens it and hands you a shirt. A crowd started to form and you started to get embarrassed. You tried not to put too much pressure as if you did it hurt.

A few minutes later Oscar came rushing over a few of the medical team right behind him. At that point your hands and the t-shirt you had were covered in blood. "Hey can you tell me your name" one Medic asks "Y/n" she says as the medic takes the cloth away. "ok that looks pretty bad" He says going into his bag and removing the t-shirt the medic poked around your nose making you flinch any time he'd touch a tender spot. "I'm sorry" he'd say.

Once the medic was finished he handed you some tissues to catch the blood. "Ok now we are going to get you onto the stretcher and get you down to the center" you nod as the three medics helped you up and then onto the stretcher. Lando walked up to you "Y/n i am so sorry" Lando apologies once again. "It's fine Lando I'll be fine" you said as they wheeled you away Lando following close behind.

They get to the medical center where you are put on some heavy medication to help with the pain as well as a blood thinner to help with stopping the bleeding. "Y/n we are going to take you to the hospital to get you checked out and make sure it's not a serious break from the looks of it you'll be fine will just have to wear a splint for about 2 weeks" "ooookkkk" you nod lazily the pain meds really doing some work.

The medic leaves to get the ambulance ready. "Sorry about your shirt" you said holding out the bloody McLaren shirt. "It's ok it's not even mine" he said pushing it back into your lap "oh good" you say and closes your eyes. "Y/n" Lando says "mmhm" "I am so sorry" you groaned tired of hearing him apologise "ugh stop apologising" "I can't help it. I feel really bad" you sighs "I'll be fine Lando" the medic comes back and start loading you into the van. Lando once again by your side. In the ambulance the bleeding had finally stopped and your nose was really swollen and starting to bruise.

Once at the hospital the doctor did confirm you had a broken nose but it wasn't severe enough that you needed surgery just needed to set it back and keep a splint on for 2 weeks.

Lando was very sweet the entire time, he waited the entire time. Even after you begged him to leave to celebrate his win with the team he didn't.

Luckily for you there was a 3 week break in between Singapore and Austin. When the Austin race did roll around you didn't have to wear a splint anymore and the swelling had gone so now it was just really bruised, but many still asked what had happened. 

[a-b-riddle]

Runaway Love (kidnapper Price x captive reader)

cw: established kidnapping, violence, intimidation, unplanned pregnancy, miscommunicated threat of forced abortion, eventual Stockholm syndrome, housewife kink. Reader just accepts her situation at this point. Dub-con, non-con.

You couldn't think of anything except the pain that radiated with each step toward your room. You were lucky your work and home were the same place. It was incomprehensible, downright unbelievable how some of the other maids worked their shift and then either walked home or walked to the bus stop.

Granted, most of them weren't pregnant and had shoes that actually fit, but you didn't like to complain. You were lucky to have the job, even if it was back breaking. You had a roof over your head and although the pay was minimal, you were able to buy essentials and save up and with a baby on the way every penny saved counted.

Most importantly, you were free. You were safe and so was the baby. It had been the only reason that after almost a year, you had finally been brave enough to escape. Knowing that it would be hard to rebuild a life from scratch. Knowing that the consequences meant a punishment so severe you could only hope for death.

You had tracked your period religiously. Even with the stress of being held captive by a psycho military Captain, your cycles were fairly normal. So when you were five days off, you knew. In a moment in which you wanted nothing more than to be happy to finally be starting the family you dreamed about having as a little girl, fear enveloped you.

John had never mentioned kids. Only a wife. Someone to be at home waiting for him. Keeping the house in order and his bed warm while he was away.

All I need is you and the boys, Birdie. What more could a man want?

You considered telling him. Hoping that he would be as happy as you wanted to be. Yet anytime you came close to telling him over the next two weeks, horrible thoughts raced through your mind. What if he was angry? What if he blamed you even though he practically took you whenever he pleased? How would he terminate the pregnancy or would he be content in letting you give birth without any medical intervention and simply get rid of the baby after?

Would he just get rid of you altogether?

It was like the universe was telling you to run when shortly after you decided that telling him wasn't the answer, that he told you he was going on a mission. Won't be back for a couple of weeks. Sent the boys to pick up anything you'll need. I know you'll be good for me.

You had been good. For that last six months, you had behaved. Didn't pull away from his touch or put up a fuss. You lived in the epitome of domestic bliss, so John had no reason to send you down to the basement. Not when you had so many opportunities to try to escape and you didn't.

Granted, he had threatened to break your legs during your first and last stunt. You had been in the basement for three weeks. Living in near darkness as he brought all of your meals. You had been upstairs for about twenty minutes and barely made it to the door before he tackled you. Pinning you to the ground, breath hot against the back of your neck as he hissed in your ear. Ungrateful little brat.

Your apologies fell on deaf ears as he hauled you back down where you would stay for six weeks.

For months you built the relationship on a lie. A lie John deluded himself into believing. Anytime he told you he loved you, you repeated the words back. Wanting to scrub your body raw anytime he touched you and hating yourself anytime he made you come.

But it had been worth it. You were four months along, and given your ill-fitted clothes, not really showing, but knowing that in another five months you would be holding the baby you always wanted. A baby that you had went through hell for. Seeing his or her face for the first time, being their mom would be worth it.

You kept all of the lights off. It was a request of the motel owners to reduce their bills. So even if it was early December and you knew you would be walking back to a freezing room, they didn't give a shit. In truth, they were doing you a favor only charging you $400 in rent with unlimited access to their laundry services. You suppose having the pity of others did have its perks.

You hadn't even bothered to turn on the lights before pulling your shoes off your feet and plopping down on the bed. The grit and grim still felt thick on your skin, but you couldn't find the energy to care. You would shower and get on a fresh set of clothes you had gotten from the shelter when you first made it into the city, but for now you needed a moment. Just a few minutes to decompress.

A few minutes turned into five and then ten. Before you knew it, you had been laying in the bed floating in and out of consciousness for almost twenty minutes. You knew you needed to get up. Wash away the grime of the day that had settled on your skin. Your clothes smelling faintly of bleach.

Fuck you were tired.

You were always tired.

You got up and made your way to the bathroom, barely keeping your eyes opened. Not confident enough you would actually be able to take a shower without wanting to lay down in the tub and let all the strain of the day go down the train.

It's funny how the human body can make us teeter on the edge of sleep. We imagine things that may or not be there. But when you heard it, when you heard that voice coming from the corner of you room, you knew you weren't imagining anything.

"Wonderin' when you'd wake up."

[inhuman-obey-me]

Celestials and Saltiness: Lessons 48/49

HAHAHAHA of course while we had irl stuff going on and couldn't go through the lessons for a couple weeks, was when the Big Stuff drops. But we have caught up, and hoo boy, there is plenty to discuss. So let's discuss! Strap in, it's a long one.

(MAJOR spoilers for NB lesson 48/49 below the cut)

The Situation

Let's start with what's actually happening. Hey, remember when the devs decided Simeon is a human now as punishment over the whole stealing the Ring of Light situation? SURPRISE, they've decided he's becoming a demon after all! You know, like all of us fucking expected of what happens to angels when they are punished and fall? Yeah, that.

As it turns out, despite the whole "I'm human now" gradual reveal across two whole fucking seasons, they've now decided this has been going on since basically all the way back to his human world cafe days in OG Season 3 to say he was starting to become a demon even back then, or at least so Solomon theorizes. So...basically the entire length of his "human" punishment thus far. Cool, cool, we're sure that's totally not a retcon due to the devs realizing they wrote themselves into a corner. Definitely had a plan all along, that's why they bought themselves 2 seasons of Nightbringer time travel shenanigans of time before getting into this. Totally.

Anyway, setting aside the salt (for now), we are told that this demonic aura has been starting to appear whenever he feels deep emotions, somewhat similar to how power manifests for the brothers. Solomon tells us that it's because Simeon has a unique ability to access his latent power - which is an interesting little tidbit to note, as it implies that they took away his angel powers but he has his own inherent powers which he was just never able to access until now. We have long held the headcanon that God artificially limits angels' power, so it's very interesting to us to see that it may be suggesting something similar here.

On a related minor worldbuilding note, this does confirm the detail that celestial power has a distinctly opposite feeling than demonic power, meaning that their magic and powers are not neutral. And we also get an in-game reminder that demons do not like angels, so in this situation, it would be expected that an average demon might think an angel deserves to fall and want to torture/kill them if given the chance.

By the way, all of this is going on during the Science Fair Chemistry competition specifically, which is...an interesting parallel to say the least. Chemistry is the science concerned with matter -- including its composition, structure, and how it changes down to the molecular level. We've always been of the opinion that Simeon just turning into a human was odd as it's been established that demons and angels have different physiology in comparison to humans (like how Demonus can get both demons and angels drunk, but doesn't affect humans). Simeon turning into a demon with the absence of his angel powers makes sense.

Celestial Realm Reactions

Now, the consequences.

First, let's look at the political implications. Diavolo, Barbatos, and Lucifer know that this does not bode well for relations between the Realms. After all, what will the Celestial Realm think, having one of their own turning into a demon after they sent them to the Devildom for the exchange program? Especially considering everything that happened with Lucifer and the Great Celestial War, it would be very easy to point a finger at Diavolo and the Devildom for being a corrupting influence.

Lucifer also mentions that Simeon is currently not allowed through the gates into the Celestial Realm without first obtaining forgiveness. However, that status as a human is an ongoing punishment (think of a kid being grounded by parents), not a one-and-done thing, opening up an implication that this transformation is not necessarily intended to be permanent. That's also totally not a retcon, we're sure! If he turns into a demon, that challenges the supposed punishment and calls into question which realm actually has a claim to him -- in a situation where both answers would have precarious implications for Diavolo's peace plan.

So, that's the Celestial Realm as a whole, on a political level. But let's take a look at the individual angels we know too, shall we?

First, there's the big question mark of Michael. We know that he's the one who called Simeon back to the Celestial Realm about the Ring of Light, and we also know that he is in fact the one Simeon stole it from. However, Lucifer assumes Michael is planning to bring Simeon back to the Celestial Realm when he gets the chance, so it seems like he was not actually the one to decide on this punishment and may actually be working to end it. And interestingly, this would not be the first time Michael has acted on his own to seemingly try to cancel out a punishment from God -- as a reminder, he also went off to the Devildom disguised himself as Raphael to try to invite the brothers back at the end of NB Season 1!

Considering Lucifer's insistence that Father would never forgive him, plus his Cocytus punishment at the end of NB Season 2, it does seem like Michael probably didn't have permission from God to go inviting them back. If he's also looking to reverse Simeon's punishment, that would show a surprising rebelliousness from the top angel of the Celestial Realm! So it will be interesting to see how Michael's role in this whole situation unfolds.

Then, we have our sweet baby angel Luke -- who ends up crying himself to the point of passing out when he finds out. He's grown a lot since he first arrived to the Devildom, no longer thinking that all demons are inherently evil monsters -- but he's still very proud to be an angel. He loves Simeon dearly, as the one who has acted as a parental figure of sorts for him this entire time. Luke is adamant about protecting and helping Simeon in any way he can, even if he's not sure what can really be done.

However, this sets up quite the conflict for the poor boy. He was too young to know Lucifer and the other brothers at the time of the Great Celestial War, so this is his first time reckoning with an angel he's known personally becoming a demon. And on top of that, this began with the Celestial Realm's decision to punish Simeon for taking the Ring of Light -- saving MC and Lucifer, and stabilizing MC's "ring" to essentially save all of the Three Realms.

In other words, Simeon is becoming a demon now for saving everyone. So it begs the question -- will Luke, who has unquestioningly believed in the Celestial Realm until now, start seeing his home in a different light after all of this?

Then there's the next-youngest angel, and the newest in the cast -- Raphael. We didn't see too much of him, but we get enough that it's clear he's not taking this news well either. It's assumed he was suddenly called to the Celestial Realm because of this development, though we don't know exactly what they say to him about it, and when he returns, he's in a daze. We see Mephistopheles being the one to actually first run into him and try to talk to him, but he is mainly met with a very out-of-it angel, and he then takes him out to have his family's special Demonus because it's clear Raphael is distressed. In another scene, we see Thirteen run into a now spaced-out Mephisto and he asks her a "hypothetical" -- what happens when an angel reaches their limit? Also, Solmare, are y'all setting up RaphaelxMephisto as a ship?

And then, of course, we have the angel of the hour -- or rather, ex-angel. And Simeon's reaction to this change is...not so bad, actually. It's one of understandable confusion but also a kind of near acceptance. We've always been convinced that the reason Simeon was demoted after the Celestial War was because he stayed neutral and refused to fight. And how Simeon discusses the past in Lesson 49 suggests similarly -- he has always had regrets over not joining Lucifer, because he couldn't. Now that it seems he is possibly turning into a demon, he can't help but wonder how things could have been different if he had.

He mentions how he feels less unsure about this than turning into a human, as he always did want to be closer to the brothers, and didn't like that he was different from them. In that sense, turning into a demon doesn't seem so bad to him -- though he also doesn't have control over these powers yet, so he needs to be careful. And, if you choose the "are you a bad boy at heart" option, he mentions that maybe his loyalty to the Celestial Realm is lacking -- pretty understandable, after all he's seen from them and all they've put him through...!

And Then There's the Shady Sorcerer...

Now, that's all complicated enough for that delicate, delicate balance between the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, but let's not forget there's one more realm in the "Three" Realms, with one very conspicuously powerful representative here in our cast.

And so, where is Solomon in all of this? Well, we know he placed a protection charm on Simeon to protect him when it was thought that he was a "defenseless" human, so that even if a lesser demon messed with him, they'd be in for a world of pain. He was also, it seems, the first one to notice Simeon starting to transform into a demon, but kept that information to himself until confronted about it. Lucifer opens up to us that he can't help but wonder if there's some kind of connection between the sorcerer's activities back in the human realm and Simeon's predicament, feeling some doubts even if it seems everyone relies on Solomon and trusts him. And after all, Lucifer would be a demon with a good reason to distrust Solomon, since the sorcerer has long been after a pact with him, even on top of all the many powerful pacts he already holds with others.

Lucifer brings up some of his concerns to Solomon by asking him why he's been going back and forth to the human world so much -- to which Solomon answers that's making some preparations for unlikely scenarios. He insists it's not important, but we wonder...

Back in OG Season 2, Solomon knew about MC's "ring" which was putting the Three Realms at risk, and he secretly swiped the Night Dagger from the Reaper's Cave as a potential solution. His top priority, as we've seen, has always been protecting humanity from the battling influences of the other two realms. We know that's also part of his mysterious deal with Nightbringer.

So what possible plans and preparations could Solomon be making, and for what unlikely scenarios? Another war? Another imbalance of power? We'll see what awaits with this whole new situation...

[yolli-es]

this is my first request can we please get a yandere jinx headcanons please

Yandere!Jinx × Reader ❤️‍🩹

Tags: NO spoilers for season 2, abuse, mentions of death

This is my first request too, and I am SO HAPPY!! I've wanted to write about this for a long time, but it was difficult for me. Believe me, I broke my head typing all this.

Jinx lacked tenderness and care in her life.

Vi showed her support and love in Jinx's childhood; Silco did the same thing later... it's still not enough.

When Jinx lost Silko and her sister, who had just come back into her life, she was on the verge of death. Not a day went by without her crying, hysterics, and self-harming. It was horrible, painful, and pathetic.

She also took on a mountain of responsibility for which she was never prepared.

And then you appeared. So serious, responsible, and ready for anything. You came to her office and did all the dirty work.

And also very understanding, kind, and patient.

Having witnessed her breakdown, you were absolutely calm. You did not run away, stayed close and pulled her back together.

Even after Jinx's numerous outbursts at you, even after the hard work and all that crap, you stayed. By her side, with her curse.

You reminded her of Vi with your kindness and Silko with your devotion. All the best in one person.

No, more expensive than them.

How could she not become attached to you?

You are the center of her life, the main object of her attention.

It was becoming physically painful for Jinx to be away from you for longer than 8 hours.

Whenever you worked, she always found a reason to be there, justifying it with help or a simple check on the quality of work.

She also began to keep her emotions in check, often biting her lips until they bled just to keep the voices from getting the better of her.

Jinx pays no less attention to her "work" because she noticed how your eyes sparkle while she creates a new gadget or uses it in action.

Now she does all this for you. Just for you.

Jinx just wanted to seem normal to you. Better than what you had already seen. She didn't want to scare you or make you hate her.

That's why she will never admit that she is following you.

Unfortunately, you're not always willing to share your personal life with the "boss," so she had to take matters into her own hands.

Going to the store? She's in the shadow of the stores. Sitting at the bar? She's taken the table behind you. Sleeping in your house? She's outside the window, and in a couple of hours, next to your bed.

Jinx counted all the moles on your face.

She only felt guilty once, when she was spying on you in the shower.

Jinx knew it was wrong, but she just couldn't say "no" to herself then. Mylo made cruel jokes about her afterward.

But it's your own fault for never locking the doors, isn't it?

Now she knows the exact number of moles, scars, and birthmarks on your entire body.

Your things started disappearing, and yes, it was her doing.

Jinx just wanted to have a piece of you in her home.

But then, when Jinx was so deeply in love with you, something irreparable happened—truly terrible for Jinx.

You find a partner.

You didn't even Fucking tell her. She saw it for herself when you were kissing so dirty at the bar.

Jinx was scared. The voices started screaming.

"You've been abandoned again, traded again."

This is the point of no return. Jinx can no longer hold the boundaries.

She didn't want, no, she couldn't lose you like Silko and Vi. She's not an idiot, and twice was enough.

As soon as you are alone, Jinx knocks you out and takes you to her.

It seemed like she had been preparing for this before, like "just in case."

The first month was terrible. You were struggling and didn't want to listen to Jinx at all.

Jinx didn't even tie you up, leaving you to roam around the room freely. This caused problems, and every time Jinx had to fight you. It was shitty, she got seriously beaten by you every time because she couldn't respond properly so as not to hurt you.

She was understanding and patient, just like you were with her before this.

But as soon as you started talking about freedom, Jinx would break down.

She was so angry, screaming and clutching her head. She even brought a knife with her once.

Jinx even swung at you but never hit you. No, that's too hard. You don't deserve it.

Every time after that, she pulled her hair as punishment.

She didn't really want to keep you here, a secret from everyone. Jinx was crazy, but not stupid, and was perfectly aware of what she was doing. But she also couldn't risk it anymore.

What if you run away? What if you find someone again?

Jinx was just afraid of losing you. The thought made her shake and feel sick.

You didn't understand why she was doing this to you. You really loved Jinx, and now you're getting this?

Once you realize that Jinx is just scared, everything becomes easier.

Still, you came to work here just for her. A stupid affair in a bar shouldn't have hurt your baby blue so much.

When she came to you and heard a declaration of love instead of the usual "get lost," it made her freeze. And then smile.

She didn't believe it.

And then you stopped fighting with her, being rude, and seemed to be okay with Jinx's extra touching.

The moment of realizing that it was not a joke was the happiest and, at the same time, the most frightening.

Now she had no room for error and she thought about all the possible future failures. And then you kissed her and Jinx immediately melted. She managed to focus on you and not on her mistakes.

She had never done this before.

Finally, your relationship has become official.

It took you another week before you could finally get out of there. Jinx still didn't trust you completely, even though she tried.

Jinx's house is your home; if you need something, then she needs something too; if you go somewhere, then she goes too.

Jinx was also very clingy. Before, she held herself back and didn't allow herself to touch you unless absolutely necessary. Now, she can do it as much as she wants. She doesn't care where you are, when, or why; there is no wrong time for a hug, a kiss, or a light slap.

Finally, Jinx can ask you the weirdest, stupidest, most personal, and most lustful questions. You are a couple, after all, and that means she has the right to know everything about you.

And it doesn’t matter that she already knows most of your stories.

Jinx adores you and would do anything. But now she didn't trust the people around her at all.

Suspicious meetings with someone better than Jinx will be seen as blatant betrayal in her eyes. And believe me, she won't let it go that easily.

At times like these, she regrets that she gave you back your freedom.

At first, Jinx will be angry. She will definitely start a showdown, possibly right there on the spot.

Often this went beyond the boundaries of ordinary conversation, and Jinx just shot their limbs.

It's their own fault. Everyone knows Jinx, what's their problem?

But when you explain yourself, Jinx finally lets you see her real emotion.

In fact, Jinx is not confident at all. All the important people have left her; she won't survive another time.

Therefore, you are no longer allowed to communicate with anyone other than her.

A relationship with Jinx will be suffocating, but she will never make you feel lonely, unloved or unfulfilled. She also takes care of all your basic needs.

Jinx is one of those yandere who will resort to any manipulation and tricks just so you don't leave her. Otherwise, she will break, and you will definitely know about it.

Your first sex will happen very quickly. What you expected from a touch-hungry girl?

Jinx has no experience at all, so she makes up for it with her energy. She kisses you, bites, pinches, and licks absolutely everything.

She will definitely leave hickeys on you. It's inevitable. 

When it comes to penetration, she suddenly becomes quiet and slow. She is just a little awkward and very scared. 

What if she hurts you? Or is it unpleasant? Or maybe you already feel disgusted by her? 

Kiss her, and it will give her confidence. Jinx will definitely squeeze her legs while you do it. 

When her hand finally reaches your pussy, it will trigger for her. 

It means so much more to her. 

Jinx's hand does a very good job of getting two fingers in at once and pressing on your clit. This is definitely too much for you, so Jinx will have to lean on top of you to keep you from pulling away from her. 

Kisses, kisses, kisses. There will never be enough. 

Jinx will also be very loud. She won't mind at all if everyone knows how good and pleasant it is for her to be with you. 

For the same reason, she will not kiss you on the lips; this will drown out your pleasant moans.

After the first time, Jinx is unstoppable. Now she's ready to fuck you anywhere and anytime. 

Often her initially innocent touches develop into hot sex.

Once you did it against a wall and Jinx held you. It surprised you, but she said that any of her guns would be heavier than you. 

Jinx is also not against experimenting in bed. 

Shibari is her favorite, and she gets better and better at it every time. 

But still, Jinx will never share you with someone. Don't even ask; the thought of it seriously pisses her off. 

Jinx loves to whisper in your ear, "You belong to me.". 

Do the same, and she will definitely get an orgasm.

Touch her as much as possible.

It might be a little rough; it's okay if you touch her. 

Playing with her hair not only calms Jinx down but also turns her on. 

No matter how wild and wayward Jinx is, she will always listen to you. She will definitely notice if you don't like something. 

Ask Jinx anything, and she will do it. 

Spank you? Jinx will make you count. Choke you? She'll be gentle with that. Threesome? NO.

Jinx adores and loves you and is very dependent on you. Sex is one of her ways to show you this. 

I honestly think that Yandere!Jinx is canon Jinx in relationship. I'm also not sure that I wrote everything I wanted to.. I had to miss sleep but I'm just so happy for your support. Thank you. 🥹

[wutheringcaterpillar]

"if i say i miss you, i know that you won't.”

Summary: Cillian looks back at all the mistakes he made in his marriage. Writing to a wife that never came home after he realized too late he was the reason she ran away. Will one last letter change everything?

Warnings: Resentment, mentions of divorce, marriage problems, yearning

Tapping his cracked finger tips against the cold wooden table, fit snuggly to the side of the wall of the kitchen just beside the window. Cillian warmed his hands, cusping them around the simmering cup of honey tea while he scanned the same script for the ninth time. The words and acts blurring together in a silhouette of scattered thoughts.

He tried to focus to the best of his ability but the autumn sun peered in through the sheer blinds, pulling his depressed, tired eyes away from the scripture. It was at that point in the season the leaves started to fall in their poetic state, scattering across the front lawn and dwindling over the cracked sidewalks.

"Hm.." He hummed to himself whimsically as he watched a young couple walking happily hand in hand together down the street, involuntarily caressing the golden band that fit snug to his finger for the past fifteen years.

It felt like just yesterday his wife was wrapped in his arms, stealing the warmth of his body, her hair flowing freely over his shoulder while their legs were intertwined between the cotton sheets. Her head tucked between his head and collarbone while her plush, delicate lips pressed against the veins of his neck.

She had the giggle that would make any sorrowful man smile gleefully, so infectious, so pure. He missed it immensely.

It had been nearly a year since he saw the woman that took his last name. Marriages were a funny thing, the divorce statistic rising increasingly fast with each passing day. He never dreamed that he would become a part of such a number, not ever.

Her scarves still lay on the hooks behind the door, her remnants of clothes and shoes still decorating the once shared flat, only reminding Cillian that he was living with a ghost of a person who was still living, just not with him anymore.

The media pressed on the topic repeatedly in nearly every interview he did, questioning what was really going in his marriage. Being the private, family man he was, he dismissed these questions immediately, only wanting to stick to questions regarding the projects he was currently working on.

They slowly began to fade away, much like his wife as time passed. Speculations ever so often here and there when he was spotted out walking Scout by himself, never having taken the wedding ring off.

Papers were never signed, but in a way the void in the house crept into his gut, often causing him to just sit in the car, staring at the fortress that was supposed to be his safe haven. The house no longer feeling like home as much as it was a reminder of how his lifestyle slowly pushed her away.

No one talked about how celebrities still had their battles and money was just but an object. Cillian would have thrown it all away for her if he knew it would end with his wife disappearing and never coming home, leaving him a simple letter of her decision to leave.

Gulping, he wiped at his dreary eyes as tears were bearing down against the waterline of his baby blue eyes, desperately seeking an escape from the bottled up emotions Cillian avoided for so needlessly long.

She was a writer, a damn great one in his eyes but their schedules never aligned and the first book signing she had he couldn't push back a date for an interview. He hadn't asked her how it went, merely promising he'd make it up, yet he never found the time to do so.

Their love life diminished at a rapid pace, the date nights not so frequent, while every conversation lead to arguments, inevitably leading to mental exhaustion and her needing space away, time to think.

Their careers didn't align, and neither were willing to put their lives on hold for one another. She had missed out on so many oppurtunities to publish anymore, even passing on a job to be a writer for the times. She hoped this would fix the problems in their relationship, not realizing until far too late how many phases of her aspirations she passed on because of him. She refused any longer to sit around and wait for Cillian to find the time for their marriage, for her. He honored and respected her for that but the days soon turned into weeks, leading to months, leading to Cillian living how he was now.

The picture frames stared back at him every day, making him feel like a fool for not making time for her, for never fighting harder for their marriage and disregarding her hopes and dreams. The flashbacks of all the intimate moments warmed his heart, the arguments and feuds eating at his bones like acid did to a surface.

Stumbling into his office, he opened the left hand drawer, pulling out a pen and paper, sitting down like he did every week before he began to write, hands trembling each time as he held the pen.

" My love,

I write this with letter to you with good graces in hopes of you coming home.

I understand I've poisoned our love, I was so careless with your kindness, your strength, and your selfless love.

To you I'm just a man, but to me you're all I am. I once said I could never imagine my life without you in it and that holds true to this day. I realize our marriage wasn't perfect, no marriage is. However, I refuse for us to be some statistic we always said we would beat.

I find myself losing who I am every day you are away. I'm still trying to convince myself you are coming home, though I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, if you resented me even after how long it's been. Still can hear the creaks of us dancing on the patio, can still see your subtle eyes gleaming in the orange of the sunlight.

I understand the pain and hurt I've done to not only us but to you. I don't know if you read these letters but I won't be a bother any longer..

I just need to say, I still wear this ring every day and our love will never come off of this finger. Not a day goes by where I don't think of you and not a day will go by where I am not madly still in love with you. I need you, I need us.

I just wish for a chance to prove to you, my love, that I can be, I will be a better husband to you than what I was in the past.

Regardless I wish all the best to you.

Kindest Regards,

Cillian"

Licking the slit of the envelope, Cillian debated on whether or not this would work, but he refused to give up hope that one day she would return.

Clasping the mailbox shut, he noticed the paps walking toward him and scuttled back inside.

The weeks passed agonizingly slow after he mailed the letter.

The fifth night of the third week Cillian was sat in the recliner, lamp glowing over the table at the same script making notes of what could be changed or what expressions and mannerisms he should expose in the scene when a glare of light flashed through the window.

He hadn't thought much of it and tried to ignore that skip of his heart and the empty hope that it could be his wife until the sound of a car door closing echoed outside the house.

Like a young boy in love, nervous for his first date he hurriedly ran to the window in a rush of anxious optimism, pulling the curtain open hastily. All hope diminishing from his body, heart breaking when he noticed it was just the new neighbor's car pulling into their driveway.

Something told him she was never coming home.

The following night his assistant was doing the final fit for his red carpet premiere for "Small Things Like These", brushing at Cillian's hair until she gave him the thumbs up that he was ready to go.

Before exiting the room she tugged at his arm gently, eyes beading with sincerity and utter care and concern when she asked,

"She still hasn't come home has she?" What was he supposed to do, lie? Clearly nothing has changed in his life, nor did he even mention you anymore. Still trying to navigate through life without you by his side. With a simple sigh, he scratched at his forehead, unable to find the words, nor want to have to admit aloud that he didn't know where his wife was or if she'd ever be coming back.

With a simple look of hopeless confusion, Cillian rested his eyes sighing and changing the subject respectfully, mentioning how she should grab one of his jackets since the weather was supposed to decline into a chilly wind later on in the night. Holding the door open for her to follow him out to the car, she dropped the subject, merely nodding at his comment and mumbling a sincere thank you.

He smiled for the cameras upon arriving, playing the role of a successful actor and not allowing the prying voices to get a reaction out of him when they made comments about her, his one love.

She never wrote back. He still held onto her belongings unable to bare with separating from them. Never daring to take the ring off of his finger even if she didn't wear hers anymore.

[fujii-draws]

‘And Never Let Go’

Summary: In which Dusknoir senses a seasonal shift and change in himself towards his youngest comrades. Having no clue how to deal with these newfound, Gripper instincts.

Or

Old, emotionally repressed ghost conceals his feelings of fatherly instinct from his kids until it blows up in his face.

[Word count: 5130]

————————

Dusknoir didn’t know what was wrong.

He couldn’t put a finger on it— but these past few days, the phantom felt a… change. In himself. Or rather, how he acted—

“Ribbons..! C’mon you’re going to make us waste precious daylight…!”

“I’m coming Aimilios! Jeez..!”

—Around them.

The large wraith watched as the fairy and fighting-type ran up to the crossing near the entrance of Wigglytuff’s guild. The other two had invited Dusknoir over to do some job requests. Not that they needed the help— rather, to spend time with the large ghost-type. Something the revenant had always secretly appreciated.

…He didn’t know what it was… but anytime he’d been around the Lucario and Sylveon…

“Alright..! Now that Ribbons is finally here, we can— W-Woah..!—“

“AH—!!” Ribbons and Aimilios yelped startledly as a pair of large hands scooped them from off the ground so suddenly. “At least give us a w-warning—!“ Aimilios yipped, surprised.

“A-ah.. My apologies…” He gently sets Aimilios back down on solid ground. Ribbons opts to climb onto his shoulder ruff. They both momentarily give the Gripper Pokémon puzzling looks— ones of which the wraith narrowly evades.

——

He felt… an urgency. To protect the two, to shield them from any harm. Which— was a regular occurrence thanks to the heaps of shenanigans and life-or-death situations the two always seemed to get wrapped in. But… it was… different. It wasn’t only when they’d get themselves injured anymore— rather—

Dusknoir found himself becoming overprotective over the two over the mildest of things. From a Pokémon looking at them the wrong way, to a minor cut or bruise.

Anything seemed to set the wraith off completely. And that’s without mentioning the numerous times he’s picked and floated them around to areas the two could’ve easily gone to themselves. Or how he’d been constantly hovering around them like a Corviknight— glaring at the Pokémon they’d been conversing with.

That wasn’t the only odd thing the cloaked specter had noticed. Sometimes… it felt as if he’d been in a sort of… trance. Dusknoir’s yellow markings, bell, and eye would glow faintly. Staring at the two small Pokémon for extended periods of time.

And when the two had been away for just a couple of hours— The same yellow glow would return, only much harsher. Giving the ghost a migraine that would force Dusknoir to clutch his head. Wondering where his little ones had been. If they were safe.

His stomach maw slightly unhinged during these breakdowns… something Dusknoir assumed he had complete control over. But what terrified the ghost most… was when his stomach jaw would open around Ribbons and Aimilios.

He was able to shut it relatively fast. Enough so that the two had no idea what had been going on… but Dusknoir found it harder and harder to keep hidden by the day. At one point, reaching his hands out towards the Lucario.

——

“Hm..? Oh! Dusknoir!” Aimilios beamed. “Did you need something?”

“N-no… no need… no need.” He cups the Lucario’s face. Eye lidding as his maw slowly opened.

“Oh! Well… o-okay..!” The aura pup confusedly looked towards Dusknoir’s hands… too focused on him to see his stomach mouth unhinging. Holding the ghost’s grippers with his own, blue-black paws. “…I’m always here if you need anything!” He softly assured the large specter.

Dusknoir snaps out of the trance, detaching his hands from the Lucario. “Right…”

——

This behavior… it was slowly becoming a danger. Dusknoir had no idea what he’d been doing during these moments, thanks to the fog in his mind. But Ribbons and Aimilios would remind him of his strange behavior… something he thought he could keep unawares and hidden from the two.

These last couple of days had been the worst for the ghost’s instincts. Doing everything he’d done beforehand— except ten times more intensely.

He’d pick up the two and hold them, presumably for hours. Chase and hunt down Outlaw Pokémon that’d give them so much as a scratch. Maiming them before returning to tend to the injured Sylveon and Lucario. Whom of which looked up at him in horror and fear as they watched the blood of whatever poor outlaw dripped from his knuckles…

…Dusknoir decided that enough is enough.

———

He quietly asked the two to speak with him in private in the Sharpedo Bluff, where he finally clues them in on some of the details of his… trances. Shedding light on why he’s been acting the way he had. The Sylveon and Lucario sit and kneel accordly as they listen to Dusknoir intently… and worriedly.

“S-so that’s why..?” Aimilios stuttered, bewildered by the information. “You’ve been…?—“

“Yes.” Dusknoir looks towards the ground, unable to maintain eye contact with the Lucario. “That is correct.”

“That would explain… a lot of things actually.” Ribbons piped up, rubbing a feeler under her chin quizzically. She looks back up at Dusknoir, tilting her head and offering a soft smile after seeing his tensed expression. “Thanks for being honest with us. We appreciate it.” She beams, complimenting Dusknoir on how far he’s come since his deceitful days.

“Of course, but— that isn’t all I came here to tell you.” Dusknoir squeezes his eye shut.

Aimilios scoots closer to Dusknoir, putting a tiny paw on his large hand. “So… then..?”

Dusknoir clenches his fists tighter at the Lucario’s touch, guilt swallowing the ghost-type as he braced himself to say his next words. “I need you two to stay as far away from me as possible.”

“WHAT?!”

Ribbons and Aimilios shout in unison. The sylveon gets closer to the ghost-type as Aimilios had— wrapping a feeler around his other clenched fist.

“What’s with the outburst…?” Dusknoir quizzically raised his hands in shock— “It will only be temporary. I’ll return once I’ve found some way to remedy this.”

There was surely a book on ghostly instinct the wraith could skim through. It was only to ensure their safeties— why couldn’t they see that? Why were they so upset?

…Ah. Perhaps he should’ve worded his earlier plans of departure better. Sableye never truly questioned or worried about wherever he went during his escapades in the future. It’d take from a single hour to days until he returned… He really had to get used to this world and it’s ‘communication.’

“Who knows how long that will take—!” Ribbons shouts. “You might’ve gotten weirder these past few weeks, but you haven’t done anything to hurt us, dummy!”

“R-Ribbons is right..!” Aimilios concurred, his voice quivering. “W-we know you wouldn’t hurt us..! You promised!”

Dusknoir’s eye shoots wide open— staring at the two small Pokémon holding onto each of his fists.

He slowly unravels them back into hands… before cupping the side of each of Ribbons and Aimilios’s faces.

“…Truly?” His yellow markings begin glowing.

“Dusknoir…!” Aimilios laughs “Haven’t we told you this already…?”

“About a million times.” Dusknoir tilts his head, smiling back towards the aura pup.

“Yeah!” Ribbons puffed out her cheeks. “You’re not just gonna spend that many years gaining our trust back, only to go Arcues-knows off later!” She puts her paw on the hand holding her face. “You’re stuck with us, whether you like it or not!”

“At least…” She slightly leans into his hand, ears drooping slightly. “I hope you are…”

“…It was only going to be a temporary retreat…” Dusknoir felt himself becoming overwhelmed by the Lucario and Sylveon’s words and their protests towards his departure. He stares at the intertwining and aura Pokemon fondly, wondering how he managed to get such wonderful Pokémon to call his little ones. Even after all his faults.

Even after what he’d done.

“…You still wouldn’t mind being around me…?” The large ghost-type growled gently, the lights on his markings glowing furthermore as his eye lidded.

“Even when I’m like this…?”

The two shake their heads in unison, both of their eyes glistening with firm determination as Aimilios smiled up towards the ghost… while Ribbon’s frowned— hating to see the specter self-deprecate and beat himself up so often…

“We’re not going anywhere.” Aimilios closed his eyes. “W-we can even help you scour books in the library!” The Lucario added, with the Sylveon nodding rapidly at her partner’s words.

“We’re family now— and we’re not leaving you!”Ribbons gleefully added. “Or letting you leave! You’re stuck with us for all eternity, remembeeer?”

Hmph… of course she’d be the one to remember that promise he made to them. To be their sworn protector after weeks of haunting and harming them.

“Alright.” Dusknoir fought the urge to suppress his own emotions, which threatened to blur his vision of the Lucario and Sylveon. He still needed to do this. To take every precaution necessary.

But… not without a heartfelt, temporary goodbye.

…He goes to close the gap between the two. Planning to pull them into an embrace— one Ribbons and Aimilios had been anticipating. Dusknoir’s eye lidded with a red glow, his maw opening once more, dragging the two closer as they closed their eyes— trusting the ghost-type. Who’d hummed softly towards his children.

…Children…? Th-that was certainly a new thought…

…Dusknoir slowly regains control as his eye widens back to normal—

Before seeing what he’d almost done.

Dusknoir’s cyclopean eye shrunk in horror— detaching far away from the Sylveon and Lucario immediately. Grabbing his wrist as he stared at his hand. Was he…?

Oh.

Oh gods—

It was worse than he feared. So much worse.

“D-dusknoir..?!” Ribbon’s whimpered out worriedly—

“Stay BACK!” The Gripper Pokémon roars out, lashing towards the sylveon.

He was a danger to them. He had to protect them.

“…This is for your own good.” Dusknoir brokenly uttered. Before Shadow Sneaking into the ground.

“Please. Forgive me.”

“DUSKNOIR—!” Aimilios ran towards the ghost-type, trying to hug him before he disappeared… but it’d been far too late. The Lucario only managing to grab hold of the black smoke the wraith disappeared into… before fully slipping into the cracks of the Sharpedo bluff’s floor. Aimilios and Ribbons can only stare at the ground the ghost-type escaped from.

“H-he’s gone…” Aimilios dejectedly spoke.

_______

…

A full month had passed since they'd seen the cloaked phantom. Ribbons and Aimilios scoured aimlessly towards areas they knew Dusknoir commonly went to. But every single time, they came up short. The only thing they’d been able to consistently find being disappointment.

“Wh-where is he…” the Lucario fretted endlessly. Ribbon’s sat on Aimilios’s shoulder as she peered at the map in the Aura Pokémon’s quivering hands.

“I don’t know…” the Sylveon responded, “But we’ll keep trying…” a cat-like yawn escapes her. “Preferably tomorrow.”

The troubled specter avoided those two like the plague. It seemed that everybody in Treasure town had seen the ghost-type at one point or another. It frustrated Ribbons in particular. But she’d been upset aswell… probably as much as Aimilios— who blamed himself for the whole ordeal.

…Which was probably why her initial answer hurt the Lucario, who purposely ignored his fairy-type partner's somewhat uncaring comment. She sighs wearily, leaning in to repeat herself in a more respectful way. One that didn’t upset her Aura Pokémon partner.

“That marks off Kecleon’s shop…” Ribbons yawned once more. “Aimilios… We should call it a night.”

“B-but..!” Aimilios cried out. “We’re so close..!”

“Sweetie… I know you want to find him…” Ribbon’s cups his face with her feelers. “But you’ll only destroy yourself in the process if you keep taking these all-nighters..”

“Don’t you care..?!” Aimilios shouts, his emotions getting the better of him.

Ribbons only kisses the top of his head, recognizing this and taking the role of the voice of reason between the two. “Of course I do... But now we need to rest.”

“So… then…” Aimilios looks around. “Where do we sleep for the night…?”

“Hm. Good point.” She looks at the map, pointing to it with one of her feelers. “Grovyle and Celebi’s house is just up ahead..! I don't think they’d mind us crashing for the night!”

“A-Alright.” Aimilios rolled up the map, neatly tucking it away into his treasure bag as the two made their way to the grass-type’s shared home… unaware that the Gripper Pokémon they’ve been trying to find had already been there… waiting for them.

—————

It was relatively easy to move their way around the Future trio’s home despite night falling. Moonlight did well to offer illumination for the Lucario and Sylveon. Aimilios sighs forlorningly— still upset with not continuing his search for the ghost-type. He just wishes that Dusknoir would come back to them already…

“He’s fine.” The fairy-type spoke out of nowhere— almost reading her partner’s mind. “He’s stronger than all four of us, he’s safe.”

“How do you know that?”

Ribbons smiles, “I just do.”

…Aimilios couldn’t help but smile at himself despite not wanting to. Gah… Ribbons always did have a way of cheering him up.

Carefully, the two continue their way through the abandoned-like home. The only sounds that can be heard being their own footsteps and breaths. Which were visible thanks to the frigid air surrounding the Future trio’s abode.

“Spooky, huh?” The Lucario jested nervously, but unnaturally hearing no instant, witty retort back from his partner. Only silence.

Aimilios turned towards the intertwining Pokémon, giving her a smile of reassurance now that she was the one to begin stressing. Which seemingly did the trick— receiving a small smile back—

*CLATTER*

The two Pokémon’s attention is promptly stolen by the sound of a pot hitting the floor. A bone rush and Moonblast are already equipped once the aura Pokémon senses the complicated emotions emanating from this Pokémon. With Ribbons following suit, trusting her partner’s judgment.

Aimilios took the lead as he and Ribbons slowly made their way to the kitchen. Bone and Orb attacks still at hand as a precautionary measure.

They’re met with a large, black silhouette. With…

Glowing… yellow rings…

The two proceeded closer, light filling both their eyes as they smiled in unison. Upon getting closer— they hear him. Calling out their names. Almost painfully.

“DUSKNOIR..!”

The two small Pokémon wasted no time unequipping their Bone Rush and Moonblast respectively. Instead— Rushing over immediately to the familiar ghost-type.

“Ribbons? Aimilios…?” The wraith’s entire body straightened as he heard the two familiar voices. Turning around to face the young fairy and fighting types.

He caught them in his arms. Purring thunderously as he held the two close. Sharing a hug with them for minutes as they stayed in comfortable silence, before Dusknoir promptly broke it— speaking for the first time since they last saw the seven foot phantom. “Oh… you two…”

“…” The sylveon perked up from her initial face-nuzzling. Staring at Dusknoir. Was his voice… ever that deep? Taking a closer look now as the wraith held them— she gazed at him. Beginning to notice his more monstrous-like form.

“Dusknoir…” Ribbons began cautiously. “What happened? Is everything okay…?”

Dusknoir’s half-lidded eye landed on her, tilting his head uncannily.

“Does it matter?”

Wrong answer. Ribbons instantly began to squirm out of Dusknoir’s hold— squeezing herself out as she wrapped an immediate feeler onto Aimilios’s arm. Discreetly begging him to do the same. Something was wrong— very, very wrong with the elder ghost.

…

“…”

Ribbons felt something wrong with the way the gargantuan wraith was clutching his head on the kitchen counter table. Groaning out in agonizing growls and pained hisses. Not only that— but growling possessively. Causing the sylveon to second-guess herself. Shirking away as Aimilios stayed close.

“A-Aimilios—!“ the fairy-type whisper-shouted.

The way the ghost’s expression shifted into manic ecstasy is what really made Ribbons begin to back up a little. Her quiet yet desperate whispers towards the Lucario growing louder and louder.

“…Ribbons..?” Dusknoir bellowed— his voice being a few octaves lower than his regular voice. His pupil shrinking as one of his little one’s strayed further away from him. “Where are you going—?“

“D-Dusknoir..! Ohh..!” The aura pup wasted no time hugging the large specter. Whom of which— scooped up the Lucario in a tight bear hug. Almost too tight.

Aimilios didn’t understand why the Sylveon wasn’t as ecstatic as he was anymore. Or why she was cowering with her ears pinned. Too focused on reuniting with the Gripper to see what she was seeing.

Dusknoir, thankfully, broke out of his worsening trance as the Sylveon separated from him. Focusing on just Aimilios.

“We’ve been looking for you all over..! Where were you?!” Aimilios pouted, still clearly upset from the Irish-like goodbye the ghost gave them.

“Forgive me… I never wished to make you so unhappy…” His arms snake around the small aura Pokemon more, growling protectively.

“…”

“Come now….” Dusknoir’s embrace tightens. “Don’t be upset with me…” The giant specter coaxed.

Aimilios huffed out after a few seconds past— unable to hold onto his anger towards the ghost. “Alright…” the Aura Pokémon softly responded, hiding his face in the crook of Dusknoir’s ruffs.

“Thank you…” The wraith’s ginormous hands grab hold of the Lucario��s tiny waist; picking up Aimilios and craning his head thoughtfully left and right. Almost as if he were… inspecting the pup?

“A-ah… Dusknoir?” Right… Dusknoir was still in one of his… ‘trances.’ Now Aimilios understood why Ribbons was being so wary. The Aura Pokémon should’ve been as well… but he missed the ghost too much to care about logic. Logic that was telling him to run right now.

Perhaps that’s why when the wraith unhinged his large maw— the Lucario froze. Completely.

“D-dusknoir…?” Aimilios looked at the wraith worriedly, he turns his head back at Ribbons—

All he sees is her backing away— the white pupils in her cyan eyes dilating, slitting like a cat.

Ha…haha…! The Lucario nervously laughed in the back of his mind. He thought he was already past this..! He- h-he shouldn’t be having a freeze response…! Not with Dusknoir— not anymore…! So why… w-why was he so…?

Aimilios stared into the abyss that was the ghost-type’s innards. Purple flesh churned softly as a large, purple tongue unraveled onto the ground— beckoning the aura pup inside.

He… he wasn’t going to do what Aimilios thinks he’s… no. No.

Dusknoir wouldn’t.

…the Lucario’s eyes slowly meet the large specters.

“…”

Oh.

Dusknoir’s glowing, blood red eye only trained on the small Pokémon’s body.

Oh.

Aimilios’s ruby pupils shrink.

He’s serious.

“D-dusknoir..! W-WAIT—!”

“AIMILIOS—!”

The Lucario’s eyes shut as the wraith connected his head with the small pup’s. Purring softly.

“You were always much more prone to fear, weren't you?” Dusknoir detaches his temple from the Aura Pokémon— before gently pulling him towards the confines of his belly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll guide you every step of the way.” Dusknoir bellowed out— unable to hear the Lucario’s frightened cries.

The aura pup’s body squished into the surface of the revenant’s pliant body. Aimilios couldn’t even cry for help—a small, terrified whine only escapes him as he eased further into the depths of the Gripper Pokémon’s stomach. Tucking the small fighting-type away.

———

“There we are…” the gargantuan wraith purred—

Aimilios was the first one he placed inside. Thankfully— he didn’t put up much of a fight against the large revenant. Which pleased Dusknoir. He was always a good pup. One he was proud to call his own. “Be not afraid…” the ghost rumbled out gently hunched over, placing protective hands over his stomach. Almost cradling his larger belly… and the small Pokémon within... “Rest now. I have you.”

“Dusknoir please—!” Purple flesh only surrounded the Lucario— who squeezed his eyes shut in fear.

“Shh…” Dusknoir‘s glowing eye illuminated further, hushing the Lucario. “You need not worry about losing me anymore.” Dusknoir smiled. “…Not while I have you.”

“…” Aimilios curled up into himself— unable to speak without feeling the lump in his throat threatening him to start silently whimpering. He feels the imprint of a large hand pressing on him. Making the Lucario huddle even more as the large ghost doted over him.

…

His glowing eye trained on the Sylveon, who was only still there because of the paralysis she felt from watching her partner be devoured. Right before her very eyes.He gently floats over to the whimpering fairy-type— kneeling in front of her.

Ribbons immediately begins hissing, backing away from the terrifying ghost-type. This— t-this wasn’t their dad. Dusknoir wouldn’t— he’d never—

“Stay AWAY!” The irate eeveelution hissed— feeling her fight-response take over her as Aimilios did his freeze. Re-readying the Moonblast in her mouth. Dusknoir only seemed to look at her. Somewhat disappointed. He floats closer— testing the Sylveon’s resolve. His eye still lidded.

“I’M WARNING YOU…! I’LL DO IT—!”

Another advance towards her. Completely disregarding her threats.

Ribbons closed her eyes as the pink orb of energy blasted towards Dusknoir way.

…

Only for a large hand to catch it. Gently dissolving it as he crushed it in the palm of his hand.

He called her bluff.

He didn’t even flinch.

Dusknoir’s rings glowed brighter as he sighed, smiling down at the intertwining Pokémon. “Oh, Ribbons.” Of course she wouldn’t harm him. Aimilios barely tried to escape, so why would she?

Ribbons backed further and further away from the wraith— until backing herself into a wall. A dead end. Her cyan, beady eye’s looked up at the gargantuan ghost in what would be fear. Fear she hadn’t felt in years. She closes her eyes shut, expecting the worst—

Only for large, firm hands to cup her body.

“Ribbons, dear. Your partner is safe…” Large hands reach the petrified Sylveon, scooping her up. He gently placed her against his stomach— making her listen to the Aura Pokémon inside. “See..?”

Ribbons could barely squeak out of her raspy throat. Feeling Aimilios from within the barrier that was the ghost’s girth.

“Just let me take care of you…both of you.” Dusknoir bellowed, parting his teeth once more. The Sylveon and Lucario share a look of fear—before the gargantuan revenant squished the two inside his belly. Closing his yellow jaws slowly as whatever moonlight hit the inside of his stomach was snuffed. Swallowing both Pokémon into darkness.

Ribbons squeezed her eyes shut as he delicately placed her inside—sealing her away with the Lucario.

Without any time to shout— the Aura and Intertwining Pokémon had been pulled into the dark abyss that was the Gripper Pokémon’s belly. Dusknoir ignored their quiet, frightened mewls. For him to stop— drowning them out with his loud, rumbling purrs instead. Completely driven by the instinctual haze taking over his rational mind.

Being away from them for so long… it only made his instincts flare. Day by day. He clutched his stomach tighter. His yellow outlines grew brighter. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. But he didn’t care anymore. They were here now.

And they were all he needed.

“Oh… you two must be so exhausted…” Dusknoir growled in penitence. Still feeling guilt upon leaving the two small Pokémon on such short notice… they spent all that time just trying to track him. What sweet, caring children they were…

“Let me handle the rest.” Dusknoir cooed. Purring trilled growls as he examined his slightly larger belly— pressing large fingertips on the soft roof of his belly. Earning him startled whimpers from the inside.

———

“Shhh…. Shhhhhhh….”

“A-Aimilios…” The sylveon whined out, hugging her partner in fear.

“I-I know Ribbons… I know.” The Lucario had squeezed his eyes shut, alongside his smaller, fairy-type partner.

They’d been trapped inside the large ghost-type’s belly. He’d devoured them without a second thought— the last thing that could be seen was his glazed, half-lidded expression. As if he’d been running on auto-pilot. Mind controlled.

Dusknoir had floated onto the ground after finally securing the two in his stomach, an overwhelming sense of paternal instinct coursing through him. He’d hunched over, curling both of his arms around his stomach as he breathed heavily. It’d been a dark night, so that also might’ve been why he looked more terrifying to the two small Pokémon inside. The only features that could be visible were his yellow outlines… and glowing, crimson eye.

“I have you…” He growled protectively. Hugging his stomach as his possessive, ghost-side took over. Never having a reason to act on said instincts, until they arrived into his life. Until he was free serving an undead Time god.

The two Pokémon inside had been constricted further into each other as a result from the outside bear hug. Whimpering out in unison. The dark, closed space barely had enough room for the Lucario alone. So when Dusknoir had devoured the fighting-type alongside his equally helpless partner— frightened noises escaped both of their mouths.

“It’s g-going to be okay…! He… he probably had a reason…” Aimilios whispered.

“A reason for what— eating us ALIVE?!” Ribbons rebutted. Whispering back angrily in tears. “Aimilios if we don’t find a way out, he’ll..!”

…The Sylveon hesitated to finish her sentence out of fear and denial. They… really were done for if Dusknoir had chosen to do away with them right then and there… Their explorer badges had clattered to the ground when he shoved them inside his maw. So calling Grovyle or Celebi for help was already hopeless. Everyone else in the township had already fallen dead asleep, their cries for help going unheard by any ears… and the large ghost-type keeping them.

“H-he’ll…” The fairy-type buried her face into her partner’s chest. Gods— why was he doing this…?! He wouldn’t make some elaborate plan to regain their trust to harm them years down the line. Not again— Not when there were other, more opportune moments when they were alone. Still unevolved.

So why.

Why were they still so scared?

…

…The fear of being hunted in the future by him. It never truly left them, did it? Ribbons looks up at her partner. One look into his equally fearful, ruby eyes told her everything she needed to know.

“……” the Lucario couldn't formulate a response fast enough to ease Ribbon’s worries. Only holding her.

…The dumbest, most naive part of both of them still trusted Dusknoir. Trusted the Gripper Pokémon enough to let him devour them. Not fighting back in the slightest, even when they had every reason to. Even when he reminded them many a time to put him in the ground if they ever felt unsafe around him.

“H-he wouldn’t… He promised us..! The Lucario hugged her tightly. “He… he wouldn’t do that to us again…”

Aimilios was confident in that, and he knew Ribbon’s was too despite her fears. He wouldn’t have spent all this time trying to regain their trust… only to hurt them all over again.

There had to be a reason…

——

…

The Lucario and Sylveon had been at Duskull bank, putting in their extra earnings so as to not lose anything. But for some reason, the tiny ghost seemed… apprehensive. Constantly looking at the large Dusknoir accompanying the two. Once he’d been distracted talking to another treasure town citizen— he whispered something to the two Pokémon.

“H-hey..” Duskull began. “I should probably give you two a heads up…”

“A…heads up?” The Lucario tilted his head in confusion. “About what exactly..?”

“…Him.” He gestures to Dusknoir. “You kids may not know this but… it’s around this time of year ghost type’s tend to get… protective over their family… especially children.

That certainly got a reaction from the two. The Lucario becoming flustered at the thought of Dusknoir seeing them as his own… Ribbons went silent herself. Not even smiling anymore as an equally flushed expression was present on the fairy-type’s face.

But… It also made sense. The past few days Dusknoir had been acting…strange. He’d been extra protective of the Lucario and Sylveon. He’d growl and glare at Pokémon that dared to look at them wrong. Not to mention the constant hovering and picking them up. His eye glowed during these moments aswell…and it only seemed to become more frequent.

“S-so where are you going with th-this exactly?” The Lucario stuttered, trying to move on from that piece of information.

“It’s just, dusknoir’s’ have a way with ‘protecting’ their kids… it’s—“

Just at that moment, the large ghost-type had returned. Staring at Duskull.

“Forgive me for asking Duskull, but we’re quite ready to leave now.” Dusknoir smiled. Although he seemed to be glaring daggers at the much smaller pre-evolution. He didn’t seem to hear the initial conversation, thankfully.

“R-Right…” The much smaller ghost-type shirks away in fear, not finishing his sentence.

Dusknoir picks up the two, floating them to their next destination as they were left to wonder what exactly the ghost-banker was about to tell them…?

_____

“…O-oh my gods…” The Lucario put a paw on his mouth in disbelief.

“Wh-what??” Ribbons whisper-shouted. “What is it..?!”

“H-He’s protecting us….” Aimilios spoke, his eyes widening as his mind returned to the present.

“W-what…?” The sylveon looked up at her partner’s ruby eyes. “From what?!”

“Remember what Duskull said?”

“Yes? But what does this have to do with-“

“No, Ribbons. Think harder.”

And she does, closing her eyes to correctly recall the conversation that took place that day.

“He said that dusknoirs’ as a species had a way of protecting their…k-kids.” She hesitates near the end, still flustered by that fact.

“R-right…” The equally embarrassed Lucario responded. Briefly breaking eye contact with the sylveon.

“So h-he’s doing all of this…?” Ribbons looked up at the roof of the ghost’s stomach. Purple flesh churned from above, as well as below as it closed in further around the two small Pokémon.

“Because he thinks we’re his..?”

She feels herself getting a little choked up near the end. Not realizing just how much Dusknoir had truly loved the two up until this very moment.

“Mhm…” the misty-eyed Lucario replied, hugging Ribbons even tighter. “H-he does…”

The revelation was staggering… This once, world renowned ghost-type. Famous in nearly all of the Grass-continents, the ‘Great Dusknoir’ himself…

…Saw them as his little ones. The same unknown, naive kids that once approached him that fateful day. He’d been treating them as if they were his very own children.

It nearly made the Lucario and Sylveon cry.

…

They listened to Dusknoir’s movements as he floated down onto a hay bed. He looked down at his slightly larger belly lovingly. Knowing the two had been safe and secure. Low, satisfied growls erupt from within the ghost’s echo chamber. Rubbing his stomach soothingly for the two little ones residing inside it.

“Rest now, my children…” Dusknoir bellowed out in a protective rumble.

His half lidded eyes slowly close as he lays on his side. Preparing the other two for bed… he purrs as to lull the two into a slumber. Knowing that they’ll soon follow his example.

____

“So we’re not getting out until morning, are we?” Ribbons jokes, although a hint of a choked sob had been present in her voice.

“Mhm… for now, let’s get some sleep…”

“Okay…” Ribbon’s sighs, smiling softly at her partner. “Goodnight…”

“Goodnight…” He kisses the top of his partner’s head. Before both of them look at the roof of the ghost-type’s stomach… the same one that had claimed them as his own… Tears prick the corner of the two’s eyes. Knowing now how Dusknoir truly felt towards them. Hearing him call them his ‘children’…

They close their damped eyes, making mental notes in their heads to hug Dusknoir once he’d let them free.

[vidavalor]

The Devil Takes The Hindmost

The Big Damn Post I've promised for ages on all the stuff suggesting that what we're watching in S2 is Aziraphale's mental health crisis leading to his fall...

...with a focus on a religious concept that intersects with secular ideas about mental health-- The Devil Takes The Hindmost-- that was unintentionally mentioned by Mrs. Sandwich and might be what's going on in The Final 15.

Plus, a look at the possible purpose of The Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association in the story and a dive into the symbolic role in Aziraphale's story played by Muriel... the most adorable Angel of Death anyone's ever seen.

@ao3cassandraic @komorezuki @kayleefansposts @masnadies -- This is basically what I was starting to talk about the other night, if you're interested. @ochre-sunflower -- the meta I mentioned.

TWs: suicide; depression; PTSD; negative self-thoughts... It's optimistic by the end but it's a look at some darker stuff in the story so please take care.

In GO S2, we have a lot of stressors building and overlapping for Aziraphale, with each episode adding new ones, all boiling hotter and hotter until we reach the The Meeting Ball. There, everything stops for the arrival of Shax at the door.

When she turns up, all the other plots cease to be relevant in the moment because the whole story's stakes upon her arrival now come down to a single, pivotal question:

Are these demons going to get into the bookshop?

On the surface, in our plot, Shax, Eric and the smallest number of completely ineffectual demons that a redemptive Furfur could get away with sending without looking like a traitor 😉 are interrupting Aziraphale having turned his first pass at hosting the monthly meeting of The Whickber Street Shopkeepers & Traders Association into a party.

Why is he doing that? For a dizzying number of reasons. So he can try to protect Gabriel by getting Maggie and Nina together and try to be part of his community by using the party to get Maggie and Nina together which is also so he can protect Gabriel... but, let's be real, it's really all so he can dance with Crowley...

Our heads are spinning as much as Aziraphale's is by this point and it's exhausting just to try to recap everything he's dealing with by The Meeting Ball... which is why it probably isn't surprising that all of that story just stops when the brick goes through the window and Shax is at the door. Because, symbolically...

...this is an anxiety attack.

Shax and the demons are Aziraphale's inner demons and they're trying to force their way past the threshold to take control of the bookshop the way that darkness can consume a person...

...as they're trying to take control of the bookshop that is what, symbolically?

Aziraphale, yes.

Aziraphale and Crowley. (And, as we looked at recently, also Maggie, on account of her family's history with it.)

Why this bookshop attack that is a metaphorical anxiety attack at this point in the story?

Because a lot of what Aziraphale wants out of life was happening before the demons that represent his inner demons showed up at the party.

For the first time ever, Aziraphale was no longer compartmentalizing his worlds and hiding parts of his life from people. He had Maggie and Gabriel under the same roof-- his human and angel families together. He had neighbors over and felt brave enough to call himself one of them by hosting the meeting. He was impacting the society around him in a big way by unifying Whickber Street's black market with its "legitimate" front by inviting Mrs. Sandwich to join the group. He was helping Maggie and Nina fall in love.

Most importantly, there was what the whole thing was really for: having all that happen with Crowley there, too, and everyone knowing they are together. Being able to dance with him and be a couple openly like everyone else. This Jane Austen cotillion coming out ball for ladies Maggie and Nina is really a coming out party of sorts for Crowley and Aziraphale. This is like the Christmas party of Aziraphale's dreams here. The one he's never, ever been able to have.

It's a wonderful thing when people who are in a great deal of emotional pain decide they've just had enough and want to break free of their misery and allow themselves to work towards being happier.

It's just a very delicate period because it can go either way, in a hurry. One minute a person can be thinking they're on top of the world and starting to live the life they've been dreaming of but the next minute find themselves freefalling emotionally. This is especially true of people who feel they have to present as cheerful and optimistic for everyone else and who hide their pain behind a smile.

They are some of the most at risk of their lives becoming like the Salinger short story about trauma and suicide referenced in S2-- "A Perfect Day for Bananafish"-- in which a man suffering from PTSD is believed to be fine by himself and those around him, has a nice day at the sea and chats with a symbolic daughter-like character and then, unceremoniously, goes to his hotel room and shoots himself dead.

As Maggie shows us during The Meeting Ball when she parallels Aziraphale's struggle, people get tired of being afraid and want to live-- want Nina, who is coffee, which is freedom-- but they can overdo it, if they're not careful, and wind up taking steps backwards.

Sometimes, the thrill of feeling like they might be on the edge of something good can cause someone to go too far, too fast, and, without the right support, they can find themselves going faster than a rollercoaster-- and right off a cliff as a result.

These people might look at their inner demons and think they're fine, now, actually, and that the darkness doesn't frighten them at all and they're all over their negative stuff-- all good now. No problems here.

Problem is that, sometimes, in the process, they might realize they're lying to themselves when they suddenly tell those inner demons that they can come in and say all that pathetic shit to their face... before they're really ready for that. Maggie, paralleling Aziraphale here, shows that with Shax during the bookshop attack. Not the best way to deal with inner demons, that.

And one person's inner demons can be an unintentional trigger for others, which is one of the things that started off Aziraphale's mental health crisis boiling up into a breakdown earlier in the season.

Aziraphale was already having a terrible week and then he projected his own issues all over his adopted goddaughter when she was having a moment and wound up accidentally saying something about himself that she took to mean about her and that came out sounding incredibly hurtful in a way that Aziraphale didn't mean for it to be. He then sought to make it up to her by finding a way to make her romantic dreams come true but was, all the while, silently berating himself for not having handled it flawlessly in the first place.

And when that got mixed in with trying to *checks Aziraphale's S2 list*... Jesus...

...recover from PTSD, manage all the anxiety and depression that comes along with it, deal with the fallout of his relationships with his abusive family, save his losing it brother from a religious cult/fascist regime trying to kill him and figure out why he's lost his memory, assuage his guilt over the memory-wiped angel that he feels he failed to save that showed up at the door, figure out wtf to do with the bookshop/embassy he's never wanted to run but that has become the M-25 that he's built and is now stuck in and that just reminds him that he hasn't any family to pass it onto, and, most importantly?

Tell his partner that he would like to live openly with him in the a little cottage by the sea in the South Downs...

I mean, by the time Mr. Vacuum showed up and suggested that Aziraphale add to the list that this week also be the first time he's ever hosted the monthly meeting of the business organization of the street he's basically founded but doesn't let himself really feel like he belongs to?

Sure, Mr. Carpet. Sure. Bring it on. Why not, at this point?

But Mr. Vacuum's idea actually caused Aziraphale to think he had the perfect solution-- continue to do what he was doing all week and combine this shit together! Protect Gabriel by tying him to Maggie and Nina and solve Maggie and Nina through the Whickber Street meeting and, well, if he's going to make it romantic for Maggie and Nina, well...

...maybe this is how Aziraphale can solve his biggest problem-- finding more of a way to just be forever near that one, particular person who makes everything okay.

So, by the time we get to The Meeting Ball? Aziraphale is pretty much losing his damn mind.

The heebie jeebies that Crowley gets in the street? It's not the low-rent demons. He knows what they feel like. He can't identify it but the thing that is really, really wrong is Aziraphale himself, in a dark reverse of Aziraphale feeling Crowley's love in S1.

Thousands of years of feeling a lack of enough control over his life have basically led Aziraphale to snap. Parts of it are very funny. Gabriel dressed up as Liberace circling with temptation trays of vol-au-vents is as hilarious as it is loony. Miracling the room so that everyone speaks like it's the 19th century causes a lot of humorous scenes, especially with Mrs. Sandwich... but is also a horror show. Justine loses her ability to speak English well and others have trouble understanding one another. It's like a zanier, more comedic version of Aziraphale's parallel antichrist, Adam, taking over The Them and deciding how, when, and if at all, they could speak.

It's a person in Aziraphale, who is normally very kind to others but not really to themselves, whose pain and anger have built within them to a breaking point and caused them to take that out on others and become, for a moment, almost the exact kind of person from whom he tries to protect others.

During this part of the season, Mrs. Cheng and Mrs. Sandwich have some dialogue that I think might be the whole rest of the season's plot in a nutshell. It happens here:

Mrs. Sandwich being unaware that "seamstress" is a 19th century-era euphemism for a sex worker means that she doesn't realize that she actually is, on one level, telling Mrs. Cheng what she does for a living. Her frustration is coming from the fact that Mrs. Cheng also doesn't know this euphemism and so thinks Mrs. Sandwich is a literal seamstress-- someone who sews and mends clothes-- and not a figurative/euphemistic one. While that and the rest of this scene is worth a whole deep dive in and of itself, it's not the bit I want to focus on here. That bit is what Mrs. Sandwich says as she gets increasingly upset.

Keep in mind as we look at this that the person who is the literal seamstress in this scene is not Mrs. Sandwich. It's the person whose magic is inhibiting her speech-- so, who is speaking, in a roundabout way, through her-- and who is the one changing everyone's outfits as they come through the door.

The seamstress really of note here is Aziraphale.

In the midst of her frustration, Mrs. Sandwich is trying to curse in 2023 terms but they are coming out in 19th century-era equivalents and this means that she says the following things when cursing:

She insists that she's not a godforsaken (abandoned by God; left to Satan) seamstress, that she's not a benighted (taken by darkness) seamstress, and, finally... while probably trying to say "what the hell"... winds up saying the whole season's plot in response to Mrs. Cheng asking her the also rather meta question of "what, in short" the problem is in that moment.

What, in short, is the plot?, asks Mrs. Cheng, on a meta level.

What the fuck is going on in this story?

To which Mrs. Sandwich replies:

"The Devil take it."

The curse "The Devil take it"-- meaning you give so little about something or someone that Satan can have it-- comes from a religious teaching (that works very well from a secular perspective, too) known as "The Devil Takes the Hindmost". It's this teaching that I think is extremely important to S2 and is arguably around what the story is structured.

This teaching argues that people who are excessively self-sacrificing are putting themselves at risk of being taken by darkness/Satan because of the cumulative effects of the anger, anxiety and depression that comes of denying that they are people with wants and needs of their own for too long.

It's about the people who go beyond kindness. It's about those who don't see themselves as part of the pack of people and think that the world isn't for them. They believe that their needs and wants don't matter as much as the need to prove to themselves that they aren't a horrible person-- which they do, in their minds, by denying themselves a full life of their own.

Sound familiar? It should. It's Aziraphale to a T.

Why are these people in "The Hindmost" for Satan to take when they're not terrible people?

Because they fall to the back of the pack of humanity.

Because they are left open to the darkness because they do not allow themselves to have what they work so hard to help others make for themselves.

The pain of that eventually renders them as bad off emotionally as those they counsel, or worse. The more they deny themselves, the more that pain builds and it can push them down dark paths.

They're in "The Hindmost" not because anyone left them behind, exactly, but because they've shut out the people around them.

They aren't letting people in.

It's about here that we can bring up that Good Omens is built around doors and all of S2 is basically about getting in the bookshop that is Aziraphale. It's here that we can mention Shax-- the darkness-- repeating demands to Aziraphale, to Crowley, to Beez to be let in. It's here we can mention The Final 15 and the world's most depressing kiss-- the literal embodiment of "let me in" as a theme-- and the horribleness that followed.

So, if S2 is The Devil Takes the Hindmost and he's headed Aziraphale's way the whole season with a large oat milk latte with a hefty jigger or dash or whatever of almond syrup and the job (the Job...) offer from Hell to tempt him, then we're watching (for now) the last days of the angel Aziraphale because a fall is a form of death.

It doesn't mean it's the end entirely because, as Gabriel discovered, everything goes down but flies? They go up.

Flies are the product of letting someone in and not shutting out the love and care you need. That can only be done through accepting, at least for a little while, that you are allowed to be a person and deserve to be cared for the way you care for others. If a person does that, they can fall but they'll have what they need to get back up and to help them stave off future falls.

Letting people in and talking to people about how you feel-- figuratively: feeding your fellow ducks your frozen peas and listening to theirs--- is how we all defeat the darkness together and make it so that Satan never shows up at any of our doors.

Yes, it is, Crowley. Would have been helpful if you had mentioned any of your own Hell-and-Book-of-Life frozen peas at all to anyone but the audience all S2 but this meta isn't really directly about you so you get a pass for now 😂 Back to your partner...

So, this The Devil Takes The Hindmost stuff? Almost immediately after Mrs. Sandwich says it, the story begins to have the characters literally act it out.

Shax is The Devil in that she's a devout diabolical minister of Satan so she's representing Satan at the door.

First up? Gabriel.

Gabriel mirrors Aziraphale's excessive self-sacrificing. It doesn't matter to him that he just met most of the people in the bookshop an hour or something ago. If that angry mob outside wants him for who fucking knows what reason as this poor bastard can't remember anything 😂 then Gabriel is happy to throw himself on his sword for them.

In reality, no one in the shop should have let Gabriel go out there alone. The whole point of "The Devil Takes The Hindmost" is that if everyone looks after each other the best that they can?

There won't *be* any hindmost.

There will just a pack of people who are all keeping each other safe from the darkness.

Jim is ultimately fine to tussle with Shax, though, because that is the part of the teaching that he exemplifies.

Gabriel has been protected. He's not completely fine-- who ever is, really?-- and he's still not really over this current bout of depression but he's safe from Satan and the darkness.

He's safe because he has Beez, Aziraphale, Crowley, and his new friends on Whickber Street.

Gabriel has a pack and is allowing himself to be part of it. As such?

The Devil can't touch him. Shax can't recognize him and sends him back inside. Gabriel is not in The Hindmost because he's been hidden, safely, by his group.

Gabriel goes back to the middle of the pack where he spends the rest of the attack, helping Aziraphale fight off his metaphorical inner demons by way of aiding Maggie and Nina to save the bookshop.

It's the next to the door, though, who is not so lucky, and gets to be the first example of The Hindmost.

From the way, way back of the pack that has formed of the humans, Gabriel, Crowley and Aziraphale in the middle of the bookshop pushes forward our beloved Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets.

The President of The Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association-- the Gabriel of the humans-- feels it's his job to sort out this mess... only he has even less clue as to what's going on than Gabriel did... and he's much, much more vulnerable.

Mr. Brown tells Shax that he doesn't know why she is "interfering" with the people in the shop, unknowingly using the word used in religious circles to talk about The Devil coming after people. Mr. Brown is a guy at real risk here. Going into the circle and getting discorporated if you're not prepared? Facing The Devil at the door without preparation is the same, terrible thing. Mr. Carpet has no idea wtf he's up against here and his motivations for going to the door are the heart of The Devil Takes The Hindmost.

What does our lionhearted Mr. Brown do for a living? What is he, symbolically?

He sells carpets, right? What are carpets?

Well, they're rugs, for one thing. They're found in every business and home in existence. They are necessary for living and also an example of having comfort in your life. (They're also walked on and taken for granted, like our Mr. Brown is quite a bit.) You pick out carpets on your own or with the people with whom you are making a life-- and they tend to symbolize that life.

We see, in 2.06, the shot highlighting the lotus flower carpet that Crowley and Aziraphale have in the bookshop, that they use to cover up the Heavenly circle in the floor-- the one they put Gabriel on to do the protection miracle. It symbolizes the life Crowley and Aziraphale have made together to which they've now let Gabriel in.

What else are carpets? In Good Omens' use of language, they're also cars and pets. Rugs, cars and pets... three of the most common things owned by people living a life on Earth, with the word own itself in Mr. Brown's name.

Brown's *World* of *Carpets*... this dude is, symbolically, everyone.

He's life itself.

That's why it's Mr. Brown who gets taken by the demons and, later, saved by Crowley and left in the care of Mutt, who is human magic-- the character who symbolizes the wonder and mystery and joys of being alive.

Mr. Brown-- an extremely common name for a man whose pain is extremely common. He's lonely. He's overlooked. He's the president of this group of apostrophe and Christmas lights-obsessed, irritating and wonderful, typical, human people because he's unflappable and no one else wants to do it. No one else will do all the boring work and hear all the complaints the way he will and he's made that his role and he hates it. In that way, he's the Beez of Whickber Street-- as desperate for appreciation as Aziraphale. He's Burbage and Shakespeare, wanting an audience that isn't sleeping, drunk, or flirting their way through Hamlet. He's Crowley and Aziraphale:

Mmm, good job... Oh, do you really think so?

Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets is a professional carpet salesman. He spends his days selling everyone what they need to make lives of their own but his own life is far lonelier and smaller than he would like it to be. He doesn't have a partner or true friends, just the people of the group into which he's struggled to really fit, despite running it. He's nerdy and awkward. His over-the-top, affected manner of speaking belies the fact that he feels like he's jiggery pokery, through and through. If I took Mr. Brown's name and profession out of this paragraph, I could be describing Aziraphale just as easily, but for the fact that Aziraphale does have Crowley, if not in the open way he wishes for. Because of that, Mr. Brown being taken by The Devil is also foreshadowing the end of S2 for Aziraphale.

Like most, Mr. Vacuum has got some surprising resolve-- some unexpected moxie-- but, fundamentally, this man has spent S2 showing that he is one more papercut away from a nervous breakdown.

So, when he tries to prove his worth to the group by putting himself at risk, it's excessively self-sacrificing. While there are some titters of alarm and warnings to him not to leave the pack, the one who objects the most is Crowley. Mr. Brown, though, doesn't let Crowley in. He doesn't recognize him because it's partially to look good in front of Aziraphale that Mr. Brown has jumped to the front of the pack. It's his loneliness, his lack of his own life, his need to be part of the group and appreciated. His need to be the hero.

Only, Mr. Vacuum is what happens when you aren't prepared for the darkness and you haven't let anyone in to help you. Shax, realizing that Crowley has been lying to her about the threshold by the way that all the humans have been backed into the living room, tests the theory and Mr. Vacuum gets taken by The Devil.

The Devil Takes The Hindmost.

Mr. Brown went from the literal hindmost of the pack inside of the bookshop up to the front to self-sacrifice excessively, got taken by Satan, and then, in a darkly amusing turn, got tossed back through to the hindmost of the pack of demons outside. He's also near the back of the line for coffee the next morning at Nina's.

If The Devil can come for Mr. Carpet, we see, he can come for anybody. Now this lingering and malignant sense of unease we've been feeling throughout The Meeting Ball tips here into real horror.

Crowley is up next to evacuate the rest of the humans in the shop. He's going to walk them all in a pack past The Devil. They go out in mini-groups within a larger pack. He tells them that they need to all stick together and mind each other, not the demons.

If they do that, they live. If they don't, they won't.

It becomes that simple because it is that simple.

Crowley doesn't just tell The Whickbers how to do this, though-- he leads them out. Because he's one of them, too... but really also because this is all a metaphor for Aziraphale's mental health breakdown getting going and what happens when you are having an anxiety attack or a depression episode?

What goes out the door?

The things that keep you alive, right? The good stuff in life. That is defined differently for everyone but a lot of it overlaps for many of us. Many of those things are what The Whickber Street group characters stand for in the story. Aziraphale owns the land for most of Whickber Street so, in addition to being characters in their own right, all of the members of The Whickber Street group represent Aziraphale.

They're all the things he loves the most-- his reasons for living, and what helps keep the darkness away for him. This is really why, symbolically, neither they nor Crowley (symbolically, love) can be present in the shop when Aziraphale is melting down at his worst.

Crowley leads the pack out with Mrs. Sandwich up front. He is allowing himself to be part of the pack here. He might be supernatural and the group human but it doesn't matter. They're all people and there's more to it than miracles. Crowley can't face the darkness on his own-- and neither can Mrs. Sandwich. Neither of them should have to. So, they don't. They choose to be each other's friends and let each other in and they're both better for it and so is the rest of the pack. This is an example of how to deal with darkness in a positive way.

Crowley trusts Mrs. Sandwich in general but for this task, in particular, because who knows best how to deal with the darkness?

Survivors of prior run-ins with darkness, that's who. His fellow "fallen woman", Mrs. Sandwich, has got her hat pin and his back and Crowley has hers.

So, out the door of the bookshop that is Aziraphale goes love, friendship, sex, romance, healthy communication, human magic, community, food, music, and so much more... because not taking care with our mental health issues rob us of what we love.

Left in the shop? Maggie and Gabriel-- Aziraphale's past and his family... and Nina-- the possibility of freedom (her American-themed coffee shop) and what's left of Aziraphale's hope for the future. Nina's decision to stay symbolizes Aziraphale hanging onto some hope.

After Crowley and The Whickbers leave and Maggie accidentally lets in Shax, the demons have gotten in and are advancing. Without those who are no longer in the shop and with Crowley missing, Aziraphale's anxiety ratchets up and the demons-- his inner demons-- gain ground. The goal becomes keeping them from getting into the residence floor upstairs-- to the place to which Aziraphale has let hardly anyone in. The parts of himself that are not public-facing or for acquaintances but only for those he allowed himself to get close to. Maggie and Nina can be on the landing up there. Gabriel can stay in the guest room. They're family. Only Crowley is allowed free reign in the whole of the bookshop.

For the first time, we have an angel not named Aziraphale teaming up with humans to fight for a place on Earth. The start of the 'all of us versus all of them' that Crowley foreshadowed as still to come at the end of S1? It isn't some big battle for the planet. It is a battle for the life of a single person in Aziraphale because every person matters.

It's The Commander of The Heavenly Host rooting around the upstairs rooms of the bookshop collecting all the fire extinguishers bought to help Crowley deal with his trauma that he can find to supply his troops-- the human Maggie and Nina-- on the front lines.

It's Aziraphale's loved ones coming together to fight to save the bookshop that is, symbolically, Aziraphale himself.

Ultimately, though? Crowley, Gabriel, Maggie and Nina can help hold off the demons that are symbolically Aziraphale's inner demons but it's ultimately going to come down to Aziraphale and Aziraphale alone whether or not these demons are going to overrun the bookshop.

We reach the point where Aziraphale has to choose-- is he going to let the demons take him over or is he going to send them back? He decides, in this moment, to blow up his halo.

We learn that Aziraphale's halo isn't divinity floating atop his head-- it's a tight, hard band around his mind. It's mental health issues, in physical form. He is in visible pain and breathing shallowly as he struggles to take it off. If you took away the halo from the picture, it's visually very much like someone having an anxiety attack. He uses it to discorporate the demons-- to send his inner demons packing.

Well, almost all of them...

Shax, the one that voices his darkest inner thoughts, remains. She's unconscious for awhile, lying dormant on Crowley's couch.

Aziraphale tells Maggie and Nina that he thinks blowing up his halo might have "just started a war" and, symbolically, it did.

Because when you blow up your halo, it can work for awhile but if you still aren't able to address the underlying, fundamental issues at the root of why you have a halo in the first place, those dark thoughts will come back.

Those demons are coming back and, sure enough, Aziraphale's bookshop is full of plenty of voices by early the next morning. While he won The Battle of The Bookshop, he loses The Battle of The Bananafish the next morning.

While Aziraphale stopped the attack on the shop-- his anxiety attack-- with the halo, we learn the next morning that then something else happened the prior night that we didn't see that is affecting the rest of 2.06. We hear about it from Aziraphale after Satan shows up in this bit here:

What's this, now? Aziraphale doesn't want to chinwag with The Metatron because they already chatted the night before and our angel doesn't think there's anything left to be said. Our angel says he's made his position quite clear.

So, The Metatron got on the circle thing zoom after Aziraphale discorporated demons with it and blew up his halo and, by that point, Aziraphale had had enough.

Aziraphale told The Metatron, in so many words, to go fuck himself.

This is really what Aziraphale is trying to say when he tells Crowley that he "did the thing with The Halo." Yes, he literally blew up his halo to discorporate the demons and stop the bookshop attack but the halo is his the weight of all of his cumulative trauma from Heaven... which makes it also, symbolically, The Metatron. Aziraphale blew up his ties to Heaven by telling off The Metatron. He told off the floating head hanging over his head as part of blowing up the halo crushing his mind.

So, Aziraphale then spent the whole night assuming correctly that, if you yell at Head Office, he's going to tell Satan that you're fair game.

Aziraphale doesn't want to fall. He doesn't want to be a demon-- not because he thinks of them as lesser beings because he doesn't think of them that way. Because being a demon is a terrible existence and Aziraphale would rather not have his soul be owned for all eternity by his partner's assailant who is also, literally, The Devil. He's a hard pass on that and had a plan to have Crowley help him avoid it.

Satan and other events made sure that he and Crowley couldn't communicate what they were thinking and feeling to one another openly from the time that Crowley left the bookshop with The Whickbers through the end of S2. If they had been able to and if Crowley had any idea what was truly going on, things would have been very different. The story is Aziraphale's fall, though, so it has to be bad for now to improve in S3.

Because it's Satan at the door with the coffee, he uses Crowley to identify him as The Metatron to everyone else and, so, has convinced Crowley that he *is* The Metatron and that Satan is nowhere in sight. Crowley doesn't see Aziraphale's fall coming, as can be the case with many people-- even those who know of the mental health challenges of those close to them.

Crowley thinks that the biggest threat to Aziraphale in The Final 15 is The Book of Life-- and, I suppose, in a symbolic way, it is.

The Book of Life-- in the way that Crowley thinks it exists-- is not real. It's his and Beez's anxieties from when they were angels manifested as a ghost story to tell more impressionable angels. Yet, as a concept? It kind of is sort of exactly what Aziraphale goes through in S2. He feels erased into non-existence by Heaven already and he's fighting for his life.

Right, so, a hundred years ago lol, I mentioned that Muriel is key to this idea. Let's look at how their presence is highlighting Aziraphale's issues and ushering him closer to death/falling.

While two angels with memory issues show up at Aziraphale's door in S2, Gabriel is a tale of hope while Muriel is a cautionary tale.

If your memories are "all your you"-- your sense of self, formed through your history-- then, while Gabriel was preserved in The Fly, the example of what can happen without one?

The horror show of a total and complete, catastrophic loss of a sense of self? So... death?

That's Muriel.

There is an angel named Muriel in some Western Christian traditions who becomes a figure called The Abaddon, which is The Angel of Death. The Abaddon factors into different takes on Revelations and apocryphal Biblical stuff. There are several different ideas on who The Abaddon is, though my understanding is that their role as The Angel of Death who brings souls to their final judgement is pretty universal throughout.

In some traditions, The Abaddon is seen as the antichrist. In others, it's Satan. In S1, Good Omens played around with some characters seeing the role of The Abaddon in these ways during Armageddon: Round One through how the Satanic nuns referred to the antichrist baby and Satan as "The Angel of The Bottomless Pit", which is the descriptive phrase given to The Abaddon in multiple different religious writings.

In other religious traditions, though, The Abaddon is thought to be an angel of Heaven or a trio of angels of Heaven. It's these ideas that I think Good Omens is playing with in S2 with, I feel, the heavier emphasis on the true Abaddon being the one most frequently referred to that way-- Muriel. Also supporting the idea of Muriel as Death is that there is also that a character in Salinger's "A Perfect Day for Bananafish" with that name. Muriel is the one set to inherit the main character's wealth and property after he kills himself at the end of the story.

So, how is our lovebug Muriel The Angel of Death?!

For that, we have to look at what a fall is.

Consider that The Metatron can tell Satan that an angel is fair game but, in order for that angel to actually fall to Hell, they have to fail to resist Satan's temptation. What the show is subtly saying is that every angel who is a demon is not just an angel who got caught out saying or doing something that threatened The Metatron's power but, also, an angel who was also already falling into despair and, so, couldn't resist Satan when he came to claim their soul.

The literal fall that happens-- the "freestyle dive into a pit of boiling sulphur", as Crowley called it-- is a symbolic thing that happens after an angel has been unable to resist Satan and, so, is now considered by Heaven and Hell to be a demon.

If you consider that the way the literal fall has been described-- going off a cliff; the parallels to Gabriel nearly jumping out a window-- all of these are images of ways that people sometimes kill themselves. Heaven and Hell come at angels and demons from a place of abuse that pushes them towards suicide. Even in S1, it wasn't straight out murder that Crowley and Aziraphale faced-- they were both forced into what, to Heaven and Hell, would have seen as committing forms of suicide. Crowley getting into a bath of holy water; Aziraphale stepping into hellfire.

So, we're saying that the physical fall happens after an angel has already fallen, and that, in order to fall to Hell, an angel has to have already first fallen into despair.

If the show wants Aziraphale to fall in the Heaven/Hell sense of it, he has to have a mental health breakdown and I'm reminded that the opening credits of this show are Crowley and Aziraphale walking the Earth with all of their history layering up behind them and following along with them and then they go up and up and up on a track in S2 and stop just prior to?

Falling off the edge. The literal fall is what we've stopped just short of but, all along so far, we've been watching the fall in progress build.

The reason why we've never been "shown a fall" on Good Omens is actually because the whole story to date is Aziraphale's fall. It doesn't even really start with S2-- it started long, long ago. It also, though, really kicked into gear just prior to the start of S2, as is noted a bit in this moment here:

Nina asks if everything being weird started the prior week when the power went out and Aziraphale replies:

Trauma is like that. It can be things that happened in your metaphorical 2500 BC that are coming back to bite you in your 2023 AD. It's cumulative. It builds and pushes. You can go and go and go and then, one day, your power just goes out. Your energy to fight is just gone and a storm is brewing. A series of events can push someone who is in an already vulnerable mental health state towards a full on fall into despair and that is what I think S2 is fundamentally about.

S2 is a suicide narrative. Our Clarence Aziraphale is going a bit George Bailey. Even as, on the one hand, he's taking big steps forward to claim more of the life he wants, it's the underlying trauma that he hasn't yet been able to fully deal with that is making him also, at the same time, begin to quietly wonder if those around him would be better off if he were not in their lives.

This is why the most dangerous character in S2 is not Satan or The Metatron.

It is, quietly, Muriel.

How so?

Because when people begin to have more frequent suicidal thoughts, their reasons for living that usually keep them going begin to change to being more of a list of obstacles that are preventing them from death. As a person falls into depression to a point that they begin to feel like maybe everyone around them would be better off if they weren't there, they begin in their minds to try to "solve" the problems that are keeping them from dying. They try-- not always super-consciously-- to set things up in such a way so as to convince themselves that their ties to the Earth will be neatly resolved with minimal bother for anyone else and, more importantly, that all their loved ones will be set up to be fine without them.

People in despair can-- and will-- come up with what are, objectively, absolutely bonkers rationales because, ultimately, they want coffee but they are in such despair that they thinking about ordering death.

Muriel's arrival means that Aziraphale then basically has a solution to every obstacle in his mind in such a way that he clears a path straight to taking his life. They help solve two of his "obstacles": Crowley and the problem of the bookshop.

Muriel is dangerous because they show up at the door with the same curious, upbeat, enthusiastic personality and sense of wonder at the magic of the world that Crowley both loves in Aziraphale and needs in his life.

Muriel is also who can take the bookshop. They're an angel who needs an escape and who loves books and Earth. They're perfect for it. Aziraphale is also horrified to realize that Muriel doesn't recognize him and what the implications of that are and he feels guilty about not having saved them somehow. They begin to represent his self-determined failures and giving them the shop would be, in his mind, making some of that right.

To Aziraphale, Muriel is the cheer and hope that Crowley needs in his life and they've taken to each other like ducks to water, which is then also coming after Aziraphale has subtly been pairing up his partner with the also-immortal-and-traumatized archangel with whom Crowley has much in common and whom we are told in S2 that Aziraphale knows that Crowley finds attractive.

Shax pops up throughout to help show some of Aziraphale's dark thoughts about himself.

What are you, Aziraphale? Crowley's emotional support angel? The one who went native? Do you need more big, human meals, Aziraphale?

The comments in Edinburgh that are not really about the car. It's really more like Aziraphale calling himself "an old piece of junk" and thinking Crowley deserves the chance to get an upgrade to someone better. Gabriel's good-looking and has been through much of the same as Crowley. Muriel is upbeat and makes Crowley smile. Crowley having friends who are supernatural is a great thing but, under the surface, it's also leading Aziraphale to create an inner narrative where he's telling himself that he's replaceable in parts by Gabriel and Muriel and that he wouldn't be leaving Crowley alone if he were to take his own life.

Aziraphale is telling himself that maybe the best way to love Crowley is to make it so that Crowley doesn't have to deal with him.

What did Crowley say about his stars once? The first time they met?

Six thousand years-- that's nothing.

Engine won't even have properly warmed up by then.

Crowley's borderline-immortal. He'll live forever. Six thousand years is a blink of the eye to them. He'll get over me, Aziraphale is telling himself, and find someone worth spending eternity with.

Aziraphale didn't see a path towards death until Muriel's arrival because he didn't fully have a solution to the bookshop and Crowley. That's what makes that adorable moppet of an angel the deadliest character in S2.

The reason why Muriel leapfrogs over every other character and makes it down to the last, pivotal minutes of Crowley and Aziraphale's story in The Final 15-- in a part of the story where even Gabriel is gone-- is because Muriel is death.

It's because this is all about whether or not Aziraphale is going to take the freedom of coffee from Mr. Six Shots of Espresso and live or whether he's going to take the false freedom of the lies he's telling himself from Satan and die.

Is he going to try to take his own life or is he going to find a way through this time, as he has before?

"It's just you and me, Aziraphale." What a statement that is.

It's both true and a complete lie.

Crowley and Muriel are both still in the room when Satan says that so, objectively, it's not really just him and Aziraphale... except that he is controlling Muriel and Crowley in different ways. In that way, it really is only Satan and Aziraphale left by this point. It's down, by that point, to just whether or not Aziraphale is going to live and since Satan is here for him, it's not looking great.

Satan is the embodiment of Aziraphale's life or death choice here and that choice, in many ways, is the only two other beings left in the shop at that point.

It's Crowley or Muriel. It's life or death.

Satan also as Aziraphale's darkest thoughts, really... as Aziraphale's internal dialogue playing out.

What about my bookshop? he asks himself.

Really: What about my life?

Muriel, replies Satan... replies the darkness... replies Aziraphale to himself.

You could entrust it to Muriel.

They need an escape. You'd be doing them a great favor. You'd be sacrificing yourself for them and redeeming yourself for failing to save them. It'd make what you're thinking of doing noble, actually. It'd make it okay. It'd make you a good person.

Aziraphale struggles, right? He almost doesn't do this. He almost says he thinks he's making a mistake because he knows he is. It's just that his every conflict has come up all at once and overwhelmed him.

Even still, the darkness has him pretty solidly-- but not completely-- until this moment right here:

Aziraphale is no fool and he's questioned the idea that this is The Metatron; he's actually trying to tell Crowley that he thinks it's Satan for much of That Scene in the bookshop and to get Crowley to see it and help him, in case it is. Aziraphale hopes he's wrong, though, because he wants it to be The Metatron because he thinks that is the way to fix things but it's not and he knows it, deep down. He doubles down because he's embarrassed, because he feels foolish and afraid and like he has nothing to offer Crowley without the power he thinks he lacks.

Satan's temptation, though, ultimately works because of the final of the death by a thousand cuts here in the whole "Second Coming" moment.

After Satan gets Aziraphale to leave the shop with him to head to Heaven, he, as The Metatron, flatters Aziraphale a bit. He says the things that Aziraphale has always wanted someone in Heaven to say to him. He tells Aziraphale he's needed and that they specifically need and appreciate who he is-- an angel who knows how things are done on Earth. It's validating who Aziraphale is and who is he proud of being in the way that Aziraphale has always wished would happen.

Aziraphale is hurting so much that he starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong about all of this. He was pretty sure before but, maybe, just maybe, he was wrong and he wants to be wrong because then it means maybe that he'd know who he is. Maybe it would mean he would no longer have to be an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can because Heaven would be finally starting to see the light.

Maybe this isn't Satan. Maybe it really is The Metatron. Maybe all of this is real. Maybe he can go to Heaven and take this job and really have the power to protect Crowley and they won't have to be afraid anymore.

Then, Satan drops the bomb. He fires the killshot.

He lets Aziraphale hear him say "we call it 'The Second Coming'" while pretending he didn't mean for Aziraphale to hear it.

This is the moment that Aziraphale knows it was all a lie.

He knows for sure who that is now. He has gone from being 98% sure to a full 100%. He knows that it's not The Metatron but Satan holding open the elevator.

Satan had to tell him, as it's the only thing Satan has to do in some form at the end-- because it has to be Aziraphale's choice. Satan sure as fuck doesn't have to be fair about it-- and he definitely wasn't-- but it's at this moment that Aziraphale knows with absolute certainty that there isn't a job offer.

How could there be if The Second Coming is on the table? They'll never put Aziraphale in charge of Heaven with Armageddon as the agenda. He's the angel who stopped it the last time. It means that Aziraphale knows for sure that, if he gets into the elevator, he's effectively killing himself, because this is all to entrap and kill him, not to promote him.

Satan sets it up so that the final things Aziraphale is thinking about when he makes the choice are that there is no chance that Heaven will ever improve and that they're going to do Armageddon again and just keep doing it until it happens and it's all hopeless and Aziraphale will never have the power to protect Crowley and they're going to just keep living this nightmare forever and he's been doing this for thousands of years and he can't take it anymore.

People who are suicidal are stuck in cycles of their lives they feel they can't get out of and that's exactly what Aziraphale is reminded of in the moment before he gets into the elevator.

He doesn't want death-- he wants coffee.

He wants Crowley, standing appropriately in front of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, with the coffee art and the blues and greens of Earth all around him. The canopy plants in the backseat. This is what Aziraphale wants but he just doesn't know how to get there anymore and the darkness wins out. The villains always win a battle at this part of the story or else there's no plot left going forward and there is a forward because it's Aziraphale. There are ways back from this but that's for S3.

Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, as we know, is substituting the word coffee for the word liberty in the original quote and that's exactly what happens in Aziraphale's decision to get into the elevator. The truth is revealed-- there is no job, which makes him feel like there is no way to ever be free while living. He's exhausted by fighting the same battles, over and over, with no way to escape in sight, and takes what he thinks is the freedom of not suffering anymore.

He chooses the false freedom of death over the true freedom of living-- Satan's coffee over Mr. Six Shots of Espresso in a Big Cup-- because Aziraphale loves that espresso more than anything but he struggles to love himself. He thinks, in that moment of despair, that the best way to love Crowley is to set him free by leaving life.

It's the Job minisode foreshadowing all of it and going back to the start of his story for the end.

It's nothing important, Aziraphale, don't worry...

Just your kids, your house, your businesses, your money, your neighbors, your street, your car, your books, your friends, your community, your Earth and the love of your life.

Just all the love and magic of the world.

Just all your you. Just your life...

When the first shot of the season was the skies sweeping down towards the front of the shop door... and the final shot of the shop in S2 is The Angel of Death-- Muriel-- entering it alone, claiming it and closing the door? When the light goes off in the bookshop window?

When Aziraphale-- after running around with a paralleling clipboard for half an episode-- leaves a note on the dash for his wife, like International Express Delivery Dude did in S1? When his "I love you, Maud" is the car playing Crowley "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square"? That's when we can see why Death appeared to Aziraphale at the end of S1 and has been headed his way since.

Satan's temptation, yes, but executed with the help of The Angel of Death, who helped push Aziraphale into the lift with The Devil and not towards Crowley and The Bentley, where Aziraphale's love has always been willing to give him a lift, anywhere he wants to go.

In a show where people are symbolically what they profess that it is that they do-- midwifery/cobblering, conjuring, "seamstressing" and so on... all of those things are positive. They're about helping others and loving the world. With that in mind?

Go back and look at Muriel's arrival at the bookshop again...

What is adorable is, also, a fucking horror movie of a declaration:

Muriel is a human police officer.

Friends... that's Death.

Muriel is the only one with a horrible self-declared profession. They're not helping birth ideas and babies and art and mending everyone's pain. They're not a working, professional magician helping to develop the street. They're not a healing seamstress. They don't sell old films and records and books. They don't feed anyone at their restaurant or sell musical instruments to nourish their lives. They aren't the best guy on the block-- Mr. Brown and his World of Carpets, giving people what they need to outfit a life of their own. They're the not a member of The Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association-- like their paralleling Jim becomes as he begins to regain the will to live.

Crowley is worried about caring for Gabriel being too much for Aziraphale but it's really Muriel that is a walking trigger for him.

Gabriel is a character people think is a villain who is really a lovebug; Muriel is a character people think is a lovebug but who is, symbolically, the worst possible thing to ever show up on your doorstep.

Gabriel is saying books are keen and hot chocolate is amazing and live, live, live, live, Aziraphale...

He's the part of Aziraphale's mind that is trying to save himself while Muriel is the part that is luring him towards death.

Muriel is saying the best part of a cupperty is to look at it, Aziraphale.

It's not for you. You're an angel. You aren't supposed to want to live your own life. You aren't supposed to have wants and needs at all. Even if you go into that back room to be with Crowley alone and try to shut me out, I will break down the door and come after both of you before too long is up.

Muriel is cosplaying Earth's most invasive and violent profession and they're so sweet about it that it tends to bury the eeriness of their arrival. In Muriel, Aziraphale is confronted with his paralyzing perfectionism, his negative self-worth, his rampant imposter syndrome, and his excessive self-sacrificing-- all at once.

All his negative feelings are here at the door in the form of this fun house mirror version of himself-- a cheery and also clinically depressed angel, who is actually cosplaying humanity the way Aziraphale always feels like he is, even if he knows at the core that he's every bit as human as the billions on Earth.

The world is for the professional conjurers, for the humans, for everyone but Aziraphale, in his mind. He is supposed to be above needing any of it. He is supposed to never be angry, anxious, tired, depressed, hungry. He isn't supposed to need the home and books and music and food and sex and magic that he lives for. This angel isn't supposed to be a member of The Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association but he founded the street, let alone the group, and he'll die trying to host a meeting because nothing makes him feel more himself than when he lets himself be a part of the world.

Muriel's presence worsens his depression spiral, which we've seen is what happens when the negative thoughts get to be too much.

In S2, he goes a sherry-and-stomach-settling-drop diet. He doesn't eat the eccles cakes. He doesn't slow down and enjoy much of anything. Part of the joy of the ox rib scene is that Aziraphale isn't really enjoying himself that much in the present in S2 and it's the only thing like it in S2. Aziraphale, in S2, has put himself and his demon on half-rations and talks about his frozen peas to his fellow duck less. He goes back and forth between trying to self-care (Shostakovich and going to the Gabriel statue and brief moments of flirting with Crowley) and self-neglect (the entire rest of the season lol). Mix in too many additional stressors like what S2 had and it goes from the anxious period of fasting in 1967 to the cause for big time alarm that is S2.

Intellectually, Aziraphale knows that mindful human living is prescriptive. He saves Gabriel by starting to teach him what he knows about it. There's always been a little voice whispering at Aziraphale, though, that it might be right for others but that doesn't mean he's supposed to feel or need those things. He should be above it because that, apparently, would make him the good person that he doesn't often believe he is. His feelings aren't even about being an angel in the Heaven sense so much as in the human anxious perfectionist sense, in that he's excessively self-sacrificing because he doesn't fundamentally believe he's a good person.

There's nothing wrong with being as kind and generous to people as you can. It's when you're doing that while also not acknowledging that you are a person with wants and needs at the same time that you can self-sacrifice yourself right off a cliff as a way of trying to convince yourself that you're not a bad person.

You can deny yourself the life you want out of the excuse that it's your purpose only to care for everyone else but it's not really virtuous. It's a form of self-harm.

What hurts so much about S2 is 1941 because the minisode then gives us Crowley and Aziraphale slaying demons left and right. It gives us what a good day looks like in a whole season that is, otherwise, a series of bad days mixed with things that are also not within their control that then lead to the worst, possible ending.

We see, really, how good they are at caring for one another. The kiss scene is made infinitely more painful by us having seen in the 1941 minisode another conversation in the same spot in bookshop when Aziraphale was struggling with these same issues that went so very differently.

Crowley is very good at gently reminding Aziraphale that, not only is he wonderful, but that he's a person, too, and that everyone feels like they are jiggery-pokery sometimes. Everyone struggles with the voices of others and themselves trying to judge them and how that impacts a sense of self. That fighting through that to be able to live and love is, unfortunately, a pretty common experience of being a person.

This is not new for Aziraphale. It's so very old, stirred up hardcore in S2, now that it's been four years since Heaven contacted him. Aziraphale doesn't know that it's because Gabriel is trying to protect him. He thinks he's so inconsequential that Heaven couldn't even be assed to send someone to formally fire him and take the bookshop embassy that, despite being something of an albatross around Aziraphale's neck, he's also really proud of having built.

Aziraphale wants Heaven to fuck off but he also feels embarrassed by the fact that Heaven could fuck off so easily and that he feels like he doesn't have a friend there to speak of after thousands of years. He is ashamed of it needing to be Crowley who gets them a contact for info in Shax because he sees it as more dangerous for Crowley to need to be in contract with the demons and as a failure to protect him-- the thing that's at the core of Satan's temptation at the end of the season. (Also why Crowley is trying not to tell him about Shax taking his job and his conversation with Beez, which is a huge mistake but it's coming from a good place.)

Surely, Aziraphale thinks, if he hasn't fallen and he's still an angel... if he still is one, he's not really sure, as what is a non-working angel?... then, if he were good, there'd be some angel up there who would still be talking to him. He knows Heaven isn't good, exactly, but not all of the angels are terrible. As anyone who has ever had to go no contact with an abusive family knows, the illogical doubts that creep up can make a person think that maybe they're the wrong ones. At your worst, you can wonder: if the whole family thinks you're wrong, are you really right? Aziraphale knows he is right but it gets complicated.

Add to that the stress of worrying that something will happen to Crowley every time he goes out the door (part of Aziraphale's own trauma for millennia, made worse by 1827), and Crowley's PTSD exacerbated by the fire in S1, and Aziraphale's negative self-thoughts are being triggered even worse than usual. He's blaming himself for them not being safe, when that's not fully within his control... which, in Aziraphale's mind, is the whole problem and an example of how he is failing Crowley.

This is all long before Gabriel shows up at the door and the season gets started with a series of events that then worsen Aziraphale's state of mind. By the time Muriel shows up at the door, these negative kinds of thoughts out in full force in Aziraphale and Muriel represents them.

Muriel might be cute as a button and, as a character in their own right, being used left and right by Heaven, but it doesn't change the fact that Muriel is, symbolically, a mashup of the human and supernatural cops trying to kill them that Crowley and Aziraphale have been outrunning their whole lives.

The Angel of Death is a cop because of course they are, right? What other group of people has been existing to entrap, imprison, torture and kill people for eons?

From the book: If you want to imagine the future, imagine a boy and his dog and his friends. And a summer that never ends.

S1 was summer. It was the nightingales.

S2 is the lingering doom of preparations for Christmas lights. It's the days getting shorter and colder. The nightingales have flown to warmer climates. Because this is Good Omens so the season of Aziraphale's fall is set in the season of... well, the fall.

The good news is that, both literally and metaphorically?

Summer is always just around the corner.

[peakyswritings]

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART XI

Summary: the situation complicates further as Tommy’s stay in Sicily nears its end. It’s time for conversations, and things that have been buried for too long are brought to the light.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, references to past attempted assault, harassment, violence, angst, English is not my first language. This chapter is 18+, smut (I’m still not used to writing it but here we go). This is set between season 1 and 2.

Like in some previous chapters, some conversations are supposed to be in Italian but for obvious reasons I kept them in English.

A/N: sorry this is really long. I hope it makes up for the wait!

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dividers credits

Tommy’s proposal to Agnese had brought quite the hustle in the Ferrante’s property. A stream of relatives and friends had been coming to congratulate the new couple in the past few days, and people continuously came and went to make the arrangements for the wedding - or simply pry in the family business. And with the engagement party being held that night, it was impossible for Nina to step out of the house without bumping into some caterer or seamstress or, if she was particularly unlucky, some cantankerous old aunt who would stray away from her as if she were the Devil incarnated.

Her mood, which was already dark to begin with, had considerably worsened, forcing her to withdraw into isolation to avoid all possible conflict. She was easily irritated, she couldn’t stand her mother’s complaints, her father’s deceitfulness, her brothers’ haughtiness, and she couldn’t help herself from talking back or snapping when something bothered her. She could tell they were fed up with her insolence, that she was treading on thin ice, but she drew a twisted satisfaction from getting on their nerves. It was the only way she had to get back at them for the hell they were putting her through. Her role in the family, the impossibility of being something more than she was expected to be, the threat of a forced marriage with Stefano that was becoming less of a prospect and more of a certainty with each day that passed. And now that. Having to watch as the marriage between Tommy and Agnese took form, pretending with her cousin she was genuinely happy for her.

It was tearing her apart from the inside. At this point, Nina couldn’t wait for them to get married, so that Tommy would leave her house, her country, and set her free from the deep ache she felt every time he was near. It would be difficult, at first, but in time she’d forget about him, about the way he made her heart race, about how safe she felt in his arms.

“I’m going over to aunt Rita,” her mother hastily walked into the kitchen, holding a sewing box in her hands. “I’m helping her embroider the bedsheets for the trousseau.”

“Mhm.” Nina merely raised her eyes from the book she was pretending to read. Hearing about bedsheets and trousseaus was the last thing she needed in that moment, especially if it had to become yet another excuse to reproach her for not having the intention to get married anytime soon.

All of a sudden the book was soon snatched from her hands. When she raised her gaze, her mother was looking at her with a stern look on her face.

“Your friend has been invited to the party,” she said bitterly, as though the matter was somehow her daughter’s fault.

Nina’s heart fell to the pit of her stomach. It didn’t take a genius to understand who said friend was.

“The whole Spinietta family has been invited,” Maria went on, slamming the book on the table.

She swallowed harshly, the implications of that gesture rapidly sinking in. “Are you serious?”

“I warned you,” her mother pointed a finger at her. “If you had listened to me, maybe it would’ve been Angelo, not him.”

Nina rolled her eyes. Again with her friend’s son. What did she want, to put a death sentence on the poor man? She grabbed the cup of tea that had grown cold in front of her, and got up to pour its content in the sink.

“Did I tell you he’s a teacher?” Maria started again. “I bet he acts all intellectual just like you.”

“If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll intellectualise away from me. Unless he wants to get on the Spiniettas’ bad side, that is. Or dad’s.” She started to aggressively scrub the cup, taking out her anger on the fragile item. “And who says he’d be interested in me anyway?”

Her mother looked at her as if a second nose had grown on her face. Despite her unusual behaviour, Nina carried herself well, looked nice, had an education that most girls could only dream of. Her Italian was outstandingly clean, almost devoid of dialectal influences, and clear. Her brain worked incessantly, she had complex thoughts, and it was often difficult to keep up with her. Not to mention how she managed to give even men twice her age a hard time with the sole power of her words.

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Maybe he’d find me ugly,” Nina shrugged, “or stupid.”

“You’re my daughter, you can’t be ugly or stupid.”

Nina let out a sigh, drying her hands on a towel. There was no point in arguing. In those situations, it was better to let her mum vent until she got tired of talking with a stone wall and gave up.

Maria dropped the sewing box on the table with a thud. Once she had her daughter’s attention back in her, she started speaking again, a grave expression on her face. “I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in. If your father says yes to Stefano, then he won’t be able to say no anymore,” she said lowly. “You need to act before he says yes.”

“He can’t force me.”

If her father really decided to go through with it, she’d drop the bomb on him that she wasn’t a virgin anymore. Maybe she could do it in front of Stefano, for the pleasure of watching his smug grin disappear from his face. Would she be irremediably deemed as a whore? Yes. Would she bring shame upon her whole family? Absolutely. It would still be better than being Spinietta’s wife.

“You can’t change my mind on this, mum,” she concluded in a tone that didn’t leave any room for discussion.

Her didn’t mother didn’t reply, but the disapproval was clear on her face.

“You know what?” Maria picked up the box from the table again and put it under her arm with a nervous gesture. “I don’t care. Do what you want,” she said sharply, leaving the kitchen.

As soon as she heard the front door closing, Nina exhaled deeply. That was another issue she’d have to deal with, apparently. She wasn’t sure her mother would give up so easily, and she was scared she’d try to act behind her back like her father was.

Her father. Her blood boiled in her veins as her mind went back to the reason why the argument she had just gotten out of had started in the first place. It was time to talk to him, to make it clear that she would never accept to marry that bastard, that she didn’t need time to decide cause she had already made up her mind. The sooner they had that conversation, the sooner all that would end. Hopefully.

Animated by a fiery resolution, Nina strode through the house with large, quick steps. She didn’t pay attention to her brothers, who were heading to the kitchen to have breakfast, nor to Tommy, who was waiting in the large hallway for her father to let him in, and was now looking at her with a puzzled look on his face.

She stormed in her father office, slamming the door behind her. He raised his head from the papers he was signing, looking at her questioningly, but not without a hint of reproach for bursting into his private room without even knocking.

“What does this mean?” Her voice came out more high-pitched than she intended. She stopped in front of the dark wooden desk, forcing him to pay attention to her.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Her father leaned back in his chair, rolling his cigar between his fingers, keeping his oblivious facade. A new wave of rage ran through Nina, but she was careful to contain it. “You invited the Spinietta family to the engagement party,” she explained through gritted teeth.

Unimpressed by her accusations, he stubbed out his cigar, then folded is hands on his lap. “The Spiniettas are close friends of ours,” he said calmly.

“Right,” she let out a humourless laugh. “You became pretty close over the last month.”

“Business is growing.”

“Ah,” she nodded, raising her eyebrows. “Business.”

Her father clenched his jaw, and from the way his shoulders had stiffened she could tell he knew exactly where the conversation was going. And that he didn’t like her mocking tone.

“Is there a problem, Nina?”

“You tell me. Is there something going on that could be a problem for me?”

She wanted to hear it from him. She wanted him to admit it out loud. She was tired of being treated like she was crazy, like she was imagining things. She wanted honesty.

Vincenzo pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as if hit by a sudden headache. “I need to talk to Mr Shelby, can we-”

“You’re talking to me,” Nina said firmly, raising her voice.

Her father straightened his back, leaning with his elbows on the wooden surface in front of him. He fixed his gaze on her, his features hardening with austerity. “Mind how you speak to me, I’m your father,” he warned her.

“So I should stay quiet while you make decisions about my life,” she spat out. The way he was trying to impose his authority on her just because he had no arguments to defend himself made her stomach churn.

“I’m not making decisions.”

“You are,” she slammed a hand on the the desk. “Do you really think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

Her father reached his hand out, keeping his voice still low. “Calm down.”

“I will not calm down!”

Ferrante took a deep breath, raising from his chair to properly speak to his daughter. If there was one thing he didn’t tolerate, it was disrespect, but getting angry wouldn’t work, not now, at least. It would only make Nina more stubborn. If he wanted her to listen to him, he needed to get his point across nicely.

“What do you want to do with your life?” he asked her, apparently changing the subject.

Nina furrowed her brows, taken aback by his question. She could sense he was trying to direct the conversation somewhere, and she was quick to pull herself together.

“I want to study,” she said steadily.

“You’ve finished school,” he countered.

“There’s university.”

“Women don’t go to university.”

Nina squinted her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Then I want to work.”

“Poor women need to work. Do you want to ruin your hands in a factory?”

A glimpse of irony flashed across his face. Once again, his purpose seemed to be to make her feel stupid, or naive, like she had no idea how the world worked. The thing was, he was right, to some extent. Nina had little experience, she didn’t know everything. But there were things she knew, things she didn’t like, and she wasn’t going to accept them just because that was how life was.

Vincenzo walked around his desk to approach her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, his expression softening. “I’m only worried about you,” he said. “About what your life will be like if you go on like this.”

“It’s my life, dad,” she whispered, feeling the tears well up in her eyes against her will. “Maybe you’re right, and I’m ruining myself with my own hands. But the choice is mine to make.”

Despite everything, she thought she could make him understand. There had to be a way to get through him, to make him see, she didn’t want to ruin the bond they had always had. Because she would make her own decisions either way, and she wished for him to support her. She needed him to support her.

“You’re my daughter. I can’t stand back and watch you do that to yourself,” he shook her slightly. “Let go of these fantasies, Nina. Real life is something else.”

Of course. How stupid of her to imagine that he could even try to understand. She shrugged his hands off, forcing back her tears. “You’re wrong.”

Her father nodded to himself, taking a step back. “We’ll see,” he simply said. “As for Stefano, I told you already. The choice is up to you, I’m not forcing you to do anything,” he reassured her, but his condescending tone had the opposite effect.

“You’re not forcing me to do anything, but that son of a bitch is always around.”

“Language.”

Nina scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. He didn’t see the point. He didn’t want to see the point. He only cared about business, about power. Why was she wasting her time?

She made her way towards the door, but she stopped in her tracks when her hand grabbed the handle. After a moment of hesitation, she spoke again, but she didn’t around to look at him.

“You’re making a mistake.”

Tommy watched as Nina strode out of Ferrante’s study with a face like thunder. He had heard the screams, but he hadn’t been able to make out what the fuss was about, the long sequence of Italian sentences unfamiliar to him.

Those kinds of arguments had happened frequently, over the last three days. Nina had become unmanageable - not that she had ever been the manageable type. But she had gotten worse. If someone so much as glanced at her the wrong way or said one word too many, she’d turn it into an excuse to fight. She was sensitive, and snappish, and she seemed to have lost the ability to put on her mask of coolness and indifference. As a way to heal his wounded ego, which still burned from the things she had said to him, he told himself it was a good thing she had rejected him. If she had the gall to talk back to her father like that, there was no doubt she’d act even worse with her husband, and he had enough headaches already. And for sure, he would’ve never wanted to be at the receiving hand of her temper.

Nina stopped in front of him, recollecting herself, and Tommy couldn’t not notice she radiated the same frigidity as when they had met for the first time. “My father wants to see you, Mr Shelby,” she said coldly.

Ah, now she called him Mr Shelby. As if she hadn’t been whimpering his name in his ear a few nights before.

“I think we’re way past the formalities, sweetheart.”

His remark was enough to make her falter. She blinked up at him, shocked by his bluntness.

“Way past,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

“Will you lower your voice?” she hissed, taking a look around to make sure no one was near.

Tommy held back a smirk at her flustered state. Her usual frown had deepened, and a tinge of red had crept up her cheeks. Had the situation between them been different, he would’ve gladly went on. He had to remind himself he wasn’t in the position to tease her anymore. Nina had said it very clearly, she didn’t care about him. What had happened between them had been a mistake, she regretted it. She regretted him.

Then why were her eyes telling a different story?

Nina huffed, tucking a rebel strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s waiting for you,” she murmured.

Her arm brushed against his as she walked past him, sending a spark of electricity through his whole body. Leaving him wondering when he had gotten to the point where the slightest contact threatened to make his self-control crumble.

Nina examined her figure in the mirror, a niggling uneasiness taking over her. She wasn’t used to doll herself up like that. She had put on a beautiful dress for the occasion, done her makeup, managed to tame her long hair, and she had half-hoped she would be happy with the result once she was done. However, in her silk dress, in her makeup, with her hair away from her face, Nina felt like a fraud. Ridiculous, even.

She had always been the ugly duckling of the brood. When her cousins had started to bloom into beautiful women, she was still all elbows and knees, drawing the petty comments of her aunts, poorly hidden behind harmless jokes. She remembered all too well the embarrassment she felt every time they pointed out her flat chest, joking about how if she cut her hair she could be mistaken for a boy. She was ashamed to admit that even though she wasn’t that gawky kid anymore, those words had stuck with her. She tried to convince herself she didn’t care about being pretty, that her mind was her primary concern, but the truth was, sometimes she wanted to feel pretty.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself and just pretend, she told herself, straightening her back. It was a little exercise she had trained herself to do over the years. Head high, impassive face, don’t let them get to you, act like you know exactly what you want, walk like you know exactly where you’re going. It worked, most of the times. Maybe if she pretended long enough one day she’d be able to convince herself as well.

Once ready, she crossed the upstairs floor of the house, reaching the separate corridor in which her parents’ bedroom was located. Her mother was standing in front of a full-length mirror, fixing some pins in her hair. Nina leaned against the doorframe, and allowed herself to stay in her company for a while.

Out of the comfortable clothes she used to wear, out of the kitchen, out of the restraints of her role as a wife and a mother doomed to annihilate herself, she looked years younger. The dress she was wearing was modest, elegant, and the dark blue shade perfectly complimented her complexion. The shadow of a rare genuine smile grew on her face as she put on her pearl earrings, mixed with an emotion Nina couldn’t quite recognise. She could almost swear there were tears in her eyes. Nina realised she didn’t even remember the last time she had seen her mother taking care of her appearance like that, and that finally having the chance to do it must be a source of melancholy as well as joy. Was that what a life dedicated to the care of a whole family had done to her? Had she forgotten herself to that degree?

“What are you looking at?” Maria asked gruffly, glancing at her daughter through the mirror.

How sweet. Nina pursed her lips to hide a sly grin, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Nothing.”

Her mother frowned, smoothing down her dress, then she turned around to face her. She looked at the ground for a moment, then back at Nina, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “How do I look?”

A pang of sorrow spread in Nina’s chest at the thought that her mother might feel anything else but beautiful. “Stunning, mum,” she said truthfully.

“Is this too much?”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s perfect.”

The older woman turned to the mirror again, her features softening. “Go downstairs, tell your father I’m almost ready.”

Reluctantly, Nina mustered up the courage to get out of her hiding, mechanical step after mechanical step, like a man facing the gallows. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to feel her relatives’ judgmental stares on her. She didn’t want to see Stefano. She didn’t want to watch Tommy and Agnese be officially presented as a couple. Husband and wife. It made her feel sick. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Tommy standing on top of the staircase, checking the time on his pocket watch, handsome in his formal attire.

His head shot up upon hearing the sound of her footsteps, and for a while it felt like the whole world had stopped turning just for him to have that moment. That moment to look at her, to take in the sight of her in her long, light blue dress that enhanced her tanned skin; with her ebony hair pinned up, exposing her delicate neck and cleavage, instead of hiding her as usual.

“You…” Tommy’s breath hitched in his throat, his mouth dry. You’re beautiful.

He didn’t dare say it.

“Hi,” Nina murmured, fidgeting with her own fingers. She had no idea of what to do or say. Standing there and staring at him like an idiot was clearly not an option, so she decided to approach the stairs. But one look at the long series of steps was enough for her to understand that there was no way she could descend it in her heels without making a fool of herself. Had she been alone, she would’ve gripped the railing like her life depended on it and ungracefully stomped her way down.

As if he had read her mind, Tommy offered her his arm without uttering a single word. He limited himself to peering at her, his gaze indecipherable, intense. Nina accepted his help, trying not to think about how natural it felt to have her hand in the crook of his elbow as they climbed down the stairs. Her legs were shaking, probably not because of the shoes, and she just hoped she wouldn’t trip over her feet and ruinously fall on her face. When she walked down the last step, she realised she had been holding her breath the whole time.

“Thank you,” she whispered, letting go of his arm.

Tommy nodded, taking a step back.

He needed a drink - or possibly two or three - to give him the strength to get through the night. Now more than ever he felt like he was putting handcuffs around his wrists rather than a ring on his finger. He had been telling himself that everything was going reasonably well, that following the plan which had been made over a month before was the best thing to do. He was going to marry the woman they had chosen for him, a beautiful woman, who would make him look good. Agnese was sweet, and gentle. She would take care of the house, of him, give him children. He would have a good life with her. She would bring him peace, turn his house into a safe place away from the wickedness of his business.

Nina would’ve brought him the storm. With her, a life of confrontation, of compromise, maybe even conflict would’ve awaited him. He would’ve had to answer to her, to accept her sharp edges and the sides of her that weren’t easy to deal with.

No, he was lying to himself. Confrontation, compromise, conflict had been his daily bread since he was a kid. His restless nature had never cared for peace. His skin was thick enough not to get cut on her edges. And pain had never scared him anyway. But that didn’t matter. The wedding would be in two weeks, then he would leave that place behind. Leave Nina behind. He’d forget about her like he had forgotten about Grace. He had done it once, he could do it again. Even if he’d prefer to rip his heart out of his chest.

For the engagement party, Agnese’s family had chosen to celebrate in the garden that surrounded the two houses. Everything had been planned with the outmost care: there were tables, flowers, candles, waiters balancing trays of champagne, musicians playing mesmerising tunes. A whole team of chefs had been hired for the delicious dinner. Nina had been pleased to find out that she wouldn’t have to share the table with Stefano, this time, who had sat with his family and other guests far away from her. Nevertheless, she had barely touched her food. Her stomach was still twisted from the events of the day. Now she was standing aside, watching as some couples gathered to dance. Including Tommy and Agnese.

They were both beautiful. Exceptionally so. Agnese was radiant in her ivory dress, she glowed with the happiness of a girl who was about to see all her dreams come true. Tommy held her in his arms with great gentleness as they swayed to the rhythm, and despite the vicious bites of jealousy, Nina was unable to look away. He’d fall in love with Agnese, of that she was sure. Her cousin was stunning, and sweet, and caring, all things Nina was not. Tommy would fall in love with Agnese and realise how blind he had been for ever setting his eyes on someone like her.

A tall figure came to stand by her side, and she was engulfed by the smell of a strong cologne mixed with cigar smoke. The man exuded an aura of power, dominance, along with a calm that was nothing more than a cover for something far more dangerous, unpredictable. Vito Spinietta. Her body tensed, and she instinctively crossed her arms over her chest. Sending him a sideways glance, she was met with his calculating gaze. He was inspecting her, assessing her, searching for any weak point as though he could read into her.

“Good evening,” he said, not taking his eyes off her.

“Good evening.”

A heavy silence followed. Nina wasn’t a fool, she was aware that if Stefano’s brother had taken the trouble to go speak to her it wasn’t to make small talk. The heir to the Spinietta empire was too practical a man to waste his time on pleasantries, and certainly wasn’t there for the pleasure of her company.

“I know there’s no point beating around the bush with you,” he said, confirming her suspicions. “So I’ll be direct. I’m here on behalf of my brother.”

Nina tilted her head in amusement. Had it really become a family matter? Had a no on her part caused such commotion?

“Stefano’s a good guy,” he announced solemnly. “It’s just that sometimes he acts the wrong way.”

Nina had to hold back a dismissive laugh at his statement. A good guy. It was almost as pathetic as the excuse he had made up for his behaviour.

“What am I supposed to do with this information?”

“He cares about you.”

“So you’ve taken it upon yourself to play Cupid,” she said bitterly, with a little edge of sarcasm, earning herself a stern look. “It doesn’t suit you,” she shook her head, mocking him behind an expression that was meant to feign innocent honesty.

Vito raised his chin, reacting with silence to her insolent replies. “It would be good to unite the families, considering the circumstances,” he said instead. “And a rejection could be seen as…” he paused, searching her face. “An offence.”

His words had Nina knitting her eyebrows in a frown. He had pronounced them in an ambiguous, vague way, but she hadn’t missed the gloomy undertone. “Is this a threat?”

“What do you take me for?” he asked, clearly just pretending to be offended. “I’d never threaten a woman.”

He was playing the card of the man of honour. As if he and his brother hadn’t done even worse to the girls of the town. She had to say something now. Too long had she let Stefano scare her, she wouldn’t make the same mistake with Vito. The Spiniettas weren’t the only ones who got power, she came from a tough family as well, and she would no longer forget who she was.

“Listen,” she started, turning to properly look at him. “I’m not scared of you, or your brother, or your threats.”

Vito clenched his jaw, his mouth twisting into a grimace.

Nina took a step towards him, further decreasing the already short distance between them. “You two think you can do as you please because I am a woman?” she narrowed her eyes. “Think again. Cause one word from me and you’ll see your whole organisation fall around your ears.”

“Is this a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

Nina wanted to see his mask slip. She wanted him to reveal himself, like Stefano had revealed himself not so long ago, when he had put his hands on her in her own house. She wanted him to give her a reason to draw her knife on him, there, in front of everyone. But Vito wasn’t Stefano. It would take a lot more to make him lose his composure.

Vito took a step back, observing her. He could see why his brother was so adamant on having her. Stefano had always loved a good challenge. He didn’t want someone obedient by nature, someone who would listen to his every command. He wanted someone difficult, someone he could take his time to bend. Or break. It would’ve taken way more than a few slaps to break that one.

Their conversation came to an end when Stefano walked up to Nina, holding out his hand to her. “Wanna dance?”

Nina took a look around. Her situation hadn’t gone unnoticed: most of the guests had been peering at her and Vito, trying to figure out what was going on, and now that Stefano had entered the picture, they were sending them subtle glances, waiting to see if Nina would’ve accepted his invitation. Her first instinct was to say no, but leaving him there in front of everyone would cause quite the stir, and surely take the attention away from the new couple. That was Agnese’s night, and she didn’t have the right to ruin it for her. Not after what she had already done. So she placed her hand in his, and unwillingly let him lead her to the dance floor.

His hand was light on her waist as he lead the dance, yet that contact felt heavy, violent. It made her skin crawl. She focused on the ground behind his shoulders, trying to ignore the weight of people’s stares on them. She was afraid to raise her head and find out Tommy was watching too.

It didn’t take her long to detach herself from her surroundings. She didn’t hear the music, she didn’t see the couples dancing around them, she was only uncomfortably aware of Stefano’s proximity, of the heat of his body, of the burning marks his hands seemed to leave into her flesh. He had the predatory eyes of a raptor as he scrutinised the uncovered parts of her body, taking on the appearance of a beast waiting for the right moment to bite.

“I love you, Nina,” he whispered in her ear, his tone pleading. “I want to make you happy. I want to give you everything.”

Nina could read it on his face. He did think he loved her, he was truly convinced that his sick obsession was love. It’s wasn’t merely a matter of wounded ego, he was sincerely hurt in his own, twisted way. And that was something that could potentially make him even more dangerous. A shiver ran down her spine, but she forced herself not to shy away, and she let him speak without interrupting him.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes with you, and I want to fix them. Let me make it right.” His arm tightened around her as he brought her even closer. “I can be good to you.” There was desperation now in his voice. Nina tried to put some distance between them, but he didn’t let her. “I can be good to you, and you can be good to me. I’ll teach you how to be good to me.” His fingers curled around her hand in a painful grip. “Think about what we could be together. Say yes.”

Nina squeezed her eyes, overwhelmed by his insistent touch, his urgent words; disgusted by the image of them living in the same house that had forced itself into her mind; repulsed by his eagerness to mould her.

The music ended, bringing them back to reality. Nina was relieved to be able to pull away from Stefano, whose grip had finally loosened. He was out of his mind if he thought she could ever forget what he had done to her. A wave of rage ran through her, but she was careful not to let it show. Straightening her back, she looked him dead in the eyes, and just one word left her mouth.

“No.”

Stefano’s face fell, disappointment and anger battling in his irises, and his fist clenched by his side. However, Nina didn’t stay there to wait for a reaction. She turned on her heels and walked away from him, from the dance floor, from the crowd of nosy guests. Her inner turmoil grew with every step, and her state of panic was such that she didn’t even realise she had entered her house. With an irritated huff, she hastily fumbled with her impractical shoes and left them at the entrance, then sought refuge in her bedroom.

She took some deep breaths, rubbing her face. It felt like the more she tried to fix things, the more she made them worse, and there was no way out of that endless cycle. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to act? Who was she supposed to beg to drag her out of that situation? Because it was becoming clearer and clearer that she wouldn’t be able to make it by herself. When had things taken that turn? Had there been a mistake, a single, fateful mistake she had made that had caused all of that? Or was it someone else’s fault? Or was it no one’s fault?

Too many questions, not enough answers. Racking her brains to find a pattern, to put order to the events was useless. They were too tangled, too intricate. It hadn’t started when she had made love with Tommy, nor when he had kissed her, nor when he had appeared in her life. It hadn’t even started when she had pointed a knife at Stefano’s throat, nor when she had let him get close to her all those years ago at school. Had it started, perhaps, when she had insisted on studying? Was it her punishment for wanting more than she could have? More questions, still no answers. The worst thing was, she couldn’t see a way out.

There was a soft knocking on the open door, and when Nina turned around Tommy was there. He looked exhausted, as if the evening had drained him of all his energy. It was unusual to see him like that, he wasn’t the kind of man who let his distress show. For the first time, she realised how much the whole marriage situation had taken a toll on him.

If the reasonable part of her wanted him to leave, the other - the one she seemingly had no control over - needed him close to her. It was absurd how reassuring his presence felt. Maybe that was what had drawn her to him in the first place. When everything around her was swirling, when there was nothing certain or reliable, Tommy was stable, solid. Something to hold on to.

Nina forced those thoughts away. She was losing her mind. Tommy was the least stable thing in her life. He wasn’t there to stay, he would leave in two weeks time and she would never see him again, except for a few occasions, like Christmas or maybe weddings. Indulging in that kind of fantasy would only make things harder.

“Is this your plan?” Tommy suddenly asked, a hint of accusation leaking out of his neutral tone. “Say yes to Spinietta?”

Nina felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over her, and her musings disappeared to give way to pure surprise. “What?” she asked in disbelief, widening her eyes.

“You heard me.”

“That’s ridiculous, I’d never do that.”

“Is that why you were dancing with him?” he raised his eyebrows, pointing at the door with his finger, as if Stefano were outside the room.

Nina shook her head, still not believing they were actually having that conversation. “You shouldn’t mix whiskey with champagne,” she said dryly, her voice coming out harsher than she had intended. But Tommy didn’t seem fazed by it.

“You looked rather intimate,” he noted with a touch of contempt, too upset to realise how preposterous his assumptions sounded.

Nina’s mouth fell agape. She hadn’t missed the inflection in his voice. Was he… jealous? She squinted her eyes, taking a step towards him. “What’s this?” she inquired.

Her question seemed to catch him off guard. He wavered, and an emotion difficult to define flashed across his features. It was more than simply pain. It was like all the resentment Tommy had harboured since that fateful afternoon was flowing out, inexorable, making him unable to think with a clear mind. Biting back was the only way he had to protect the feelings he had foolishly let show. Guilt ate at her stomach at the sight, and she had to remind herself she had done what she had done for him, before anyone else.

As if finally coming back to himself, Tommy clenched his jaw, and took on his usual, impassive expression. “I can’t believe you,” he murmured. “After everything he’s done to you.”

Nina nervously fidgeted with her fingers, not knowing how to make him see that he couldn’t be more wrong. Did he think so little of her? “I’m not..” she trailed off, torn between her sense of guilt and her pride. The latter took the upper hand. She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “You have no right to lecture me.”

“True,” he nodded. “I have no right. Cause what happened between us was a mistake and you don’t care about me.”

That was the point. That had always been the point. Tommy thought she had cruelly played him, maybe even used him, just to discard him when she didn’t want him anymore. She exhaled deeply, not meeting his eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s not like that,” he let out a humourless chuckle. “You said it, you’re taking it back now?”

“Stop it.”

“Eh?” Tommy’s voice raised, overlapping hers. “Are you taking it back?”

“I said stop.”

“You said-”

“I lied!” she snapped.

A tense silence fell in the room. Tommy blinked, and all the bitterness faded from his features. “Wha… what?” he stuttered, a confused frown forming on his face.

Nina didn’t regret her admission. She was so tired of pretending, of lying, of hurting him, and saying it out loud lifted a weight off her shoulders.

“I lied,” she repeated, more softly. “I never meant to hurt you. I…” her voice cracked. “I did it to protect you. To protect both of us.” There was no going back now. Her walls had been breached, and the words she had fought hard to keep to herself were leaving her lips before she had the chance to measure them. “Do you have any idea how much we’re risking? I’m risking? We talked about it, I told you how these things work.”

Tentatively, Tommy broke the distance between them, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up. “Is this what you’re scared of?” he asked incredulous, searching her face frantically, his frown deepening. “I’d never let anything bad happen to you. I’d never let anyone lay a fucking finger on you. You hear me?”

Nina believed him. He would stand between her and harm’s way without a second thought. But that was the problem. She took his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over it before pulling it away from her face. “And what about you?”

“What?”

“Do you really think you could’ve changed your mind? That they would let you, at that point? You made your decision when you started courting Agnese.”

“Maybe they would’ve understood-”

“No. Her father would’ve wanted your head for humiliating his daughter. The deal would’ve been off and you would’ve been six feet underground in a matter of hours.”

And I’d never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you because of me, she wanted to add.

Tommy didn’t reply, but the pain in his eyes spoke for him. He knew she was right.

Nina gently stroked his cheek. “We never had a chance,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m not worth starting a war over.”

Tommy squeezed his eyelids, shaking his head as if to chase that unbearable thought away. Then, impetuously, he kicked the door shut and crushed his lips against hers. The force of the kiss knocked Nina’s breath out of her lungs, but she was quick to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies together.

Tommy backed her towards the dresser behind her, then he hoisted her up in his strong arms and sat her on it. A groan left his lips when Nina hooked a leg around him, bringing him even closer. His hands roamed down to her hips, gripping, squeezing, his tongue exploring her sweet mouth. He relished her warmth, her scent, her soft hands caressing his face, trying to imprint every little feeling into his memory. He wanted her, in the most raw, primal way. Because it was the only way he had to have her. Or at least, to delude himself he did. She was like water in his hands, she slipped through his fingers again and again, never letting him hold her, never letting him keep her. But with his fingers digging in her skin, she almost seemed real.

Pulling away to catch his breath, Tommy dropped his forehead into her neck, grabbing her waist. “You’re killing me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You’re fucking killing me.”

Tears began to stream down Nina’s cheeks. She felt like the worst person alive. She was causing so much pain, to him, to herself. She gently stroked the back of his head, sniffling. “You should go,” she compelled herself to say, although in that moment she wanted nothing more than for him to stay. “They’ll notice your absence.”

“They’re all drunk, they won’t,” he contradicted her.

“Agnese will.”

“She’s with her sisters.”

“But-”

Tommy’s head shot up to look at her, silencing her with his icy glare. “Fuck them,” he husked, wiping away her tears.

Fuck them.

Their mouths collided again. Blood rushed through Nina’s veins as Tommy kissed her hungrily. She could feel him everywhere, she was completely enveloped by him, by his smell of soap, whiskey and cigarettes, by the feeling of his rough hands, and yet she wanted more. She wanted to crumble and be brought into a new existence, to melt in his arms and become one heart, one body, one soul.

They only parted so she could help Tommy get free of his jacket. He was back on her right away, leaving a trail of kisses from her neck down to her chest, his teeth grazing the soft skin from time to time, making goosebumps ripple down her skin. He impatiently lifted her dress, fingers brushing against her smooth legs. More free to move, Nina allowed him more space, and her insides clenched with desire when she felt the bulge in his trousers against her.

Tommy’s hand ghosted over her clothed sex, making her squirm in anticipation. “Tommy,” she moaned, urging him to touch her where she needed the most. Pushing her underwear to the side, he slid two digits into her wet entrance, coaxing a sinful, beautiful sound out of her lips. Nina held onto his shoulders as he started to move his fingers, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Look at me,” Tommy commanded, cupping her chin with his free hand. Her eyelids fluttered open, showing him her glossy eyes filled with pleasure, causing his cock to painfully twitch.

He pumped his fingers in and out of her, working her open, eliciting small gasps from her that threatened to make him lose his mind. His thumb went to stroke her clit, the unexpected motion making her yelp.

Fuck, she was so beautiful.

“Tommy, please…” she whispered, clutching the soft material of his shirt. “I need you.”

She didn’t need to say it twice. Wasting no time, Tommy slid his fingers out of her to get rid of her knickers, discarding them somewhere on the floor, then fumbled with his trousers, finally freeing himself from all restraints. He grabbed Nina’s thighs, pulling her closer to the edge of the dresser so he could position himself between her folds, then he entered her with one swift thrust, burying himself inside of her. Nina hid her face in his shoulder, one hand coming to cup the nape of his neck, the other clutching the fabric of his shirt. Tommy began to rock his hips, firmly yet slowly, giving her the time to adjust to the feeling of him stretching her walls.

Nina clung onto him as if he could shield her from the unknown, as if he were a shelter, a place where she could forget, even for a moment, the uncertain future that awaited her. A future she tried to escape from, but the more she ran, the more she found it on her heels, ready to catch her, to drag her into the darkness that had been threatening her for years.

Tommy’s pace quickened, becoming more desperate, almost brutal, arms wrapped around her waist, bringing every inch of their bodies together. Nina was surprised to find that was exactly what she needed in that moment. It kept her anchored to him and only him.

“You feel so good,” Tommy growled, digging his fingers in her flesh, and her cheeks burned at his words.

He set a merciless rhythm, pounding into her with sharp thrusts. Nina barely recognised the sounds that were coming out of her, but she was too lost in her pleasure to be worried about them. Breath hitched in her throat when he reached a particular spot that made her see stars, and he hit it again and again, drawing shaky whimpers out of her. With each minute that passed she felt closer and closer to her release, and Tommy must’ve been aware of that too. She let out a strangled noise when he brought a finger to her swollen clit, the fire in her abdomen too much to bear.

“C’mon, love,” he rasped. “Cum for me.”

He drew small circles on her sensitive bud, pushing her over the edge. Her walls fluttered around his cock, shockwaves gripping her body as she came undone. Tommy kept on thrusting into her, hips ruthlessly snapping as he chased his climax, until with a last, powerful thrust, he emptied himself inside of her, grunting in her ear.

For a while, neither of them moved. They stayed in each other’s embrace, panting, savouring that ephemeral semblance of peace. Nina nuzzled her cheek against his, the comforting scent of his aftershave filling her nostrils. Neither of them seemed to intend to let go first.

God, she didn’t want to let him go. Before she could control them, tears filled Nina’s eyes again, and she tried her best to prevent them from falling. Why did it have to be so hard? Why did she have to fall for the one man she could never have? Why did her happiness have to cause so much damage? The most irrational part of it was that despite all of that, being in his arms felt like the rightest thing in the world. They perfectly moulded together like they had been created just fit into each other’s arms, to fill each other’s voids. Nothing she had ever felt could compare to it.

Eventually, they moved apart. They fixed their clothes in silence, pulling themselves together as best they could. Not that Nina cared at all. There was no way she was going back to the party. No one would notice anyway.

“Go,” she whispered, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen on his forehead. “They must be looking for you.”

Tommy gently cradled the back of her head, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll come to you later,” he promised.

Nina nodded, forcing herself to smile. But tears started flowing as soon as she watched him walk out the door.

Heart, Body and Sould tag list

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @outlanderuniverse @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

@look-at-the-soul @gathania93 @wonderlanddreamer @thelastemzy @meadows5

@emotionalcadaver

General tag list:

@iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella

@caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24

@kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @areyenotfondofmelobster

@red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby tag list:

@50svibes @bellabarnes1378

[hugejk]

2 years.

due to high demand part 2 !!!! feedback is also very much appreciated <3

cw: addiction mentioned, rehab

||_________________||

After getting settled into your temporary home, you fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. Being woken up to the bright orange sun. You get up. You still didn’t know what to do with yourself. I guess the comments were right. You really do need some professional help.

you just didn’t know where to start, rehab? therapy? checking yourself into a psych ward? You sit at the small work desk at the hotel, clicking the pen and scooting the small writing pad they provided. You assume the best place to start was the addiction problems. You go on your phone and look for places. You find the highest rated one, and call it.

“hi.uhm. i was just uhm… wondering if i can check in? like check myself into rehab.”

the man on the other line told you the process of checking yourself in. You had to go in person and stay there until they think you were better than you had started. This process might take a while. But you’re willing to do it.

You gather your things, planning what you were going to tell the lady downstairs,

“my flight got rescheduled for today.”

“my friend is back at their house i don’t need the room anymore.”

“my parents have a room for me at their place.”

heading out the room and towards the elevator. Spamming the down button to hurry and get to the place. You didn’t care to wear the disguise you had packed. Nobody would see you for a couple more months anyways. At least that’s what you thought.

as the doors opened up, you look up from your shoes and see two young men. One of them wearing a dark beard and the other…well he looks like a kid. Clean shaven face, big brown eyes, short brunette hair.

“that’s exactly what i- wait aren’t you y/n?”

the one with the dark beard said as he pointed at you.

fuck.

“…do you want a picture?…”

you couldn’t even deny it, people recognized you so much now that you can’t say no to pictures, or else people would think your a rude arrogant celeb. And them boom there goes the grammy nomination, the awards, the money. everything you had worked so hard for.

you were so stuck in your head that you didn’t realize he was as talking to the younger one.

“this is the singer i was telling you about just the other day! you know…the one you said was-“

he was cut off by the brunette slapping his arm, giving him the “don’t you dare” look.

“look, i don’t have the time for this, do you want something? i have to be somewhere.”

you didn’t mean to be rude, but you just wanted to be fixed already. You didn’t have time to stop and talk with these guys. You notice the small badge on their nike sweaters.

“oh sorry——you know our football club is sponsored by spotify? you could totally be this years sponsor.”

the beard said to you, side eyeing the brunette and wiggling his eyebrows. Something was up. You just didn’t care enough to ask.

“uhm.yeah. sure whatever.”

you weren’t even planning on making new music anytime soon. you brush it off and push the down button for the other elevator. You didn’t want to be anywhere near a person right now.

now that you were alone in the elevator, you started to wonder and replay how the beard and the brunette were acting. As you got downstairs to the lobby, your worst fear. A packed lobby with screaming people and more guys all wearing the same nike hoodie, that logo.

you make a pit stop at the bathrooms to put on your glasses and mask, there was no way you couldn’t get away from this one. You blend back into the crowd, asking the nearest person,

“what’s this all about?”

“do you live under a rock? this is the best football club of all time right in front of us! FC barcelona!”

that’s when it finally hit you, the logo seemed so familiar. You remember watching a few el classicos with your dad when you were little. How could you forget?

But you had more important things to do that day. You thanked the person who reminded you of the club and went on with your day. Walking with your head down and airpods in, you arrived to your new home for a few months.

you open the door and walk up to the front desk,

“uhm..hi. id like to check myself in..”

you say with your head down, feeing ashamed that you were asking for help. You could’ve done this on your own but here you are.

“okay! before we check you in we’re gonna have to have you fill these papers out, and i hope you know what your doing right now is brave and your in good hands.”

crazy. It’s like the lady behind the desk could read your unsure mind. Her words repeat and bounce around in your head. Taking the papers and taking a seat in the lobby. It was small, and empty.

You have no idea what’s to come but surely it’ll be the best for you.

||_____________________||

tags: @pabl0andm3 @spidybaby @htpssgavi @alexis1taylorr

[onlycosmere]

Cosmere/Magic the Gathering

'What IP do you most want to see in Magic the Gathering?' Thunderwoodd: Stormlight Archive!

thyfoolish1: Brandon said they reached out to him and he was excited and ready to go but they haven't gotten back to him. I think this was Dragonsteel last year. So there is hope.

Egi_: Even after the shitshow with the free book he gave them on the condition it wouldn't be commercialized and then WotC commercialized it?

Brandon Sanderson: I knew what I was getting into working with a big corporation. Like the proverbial frog giving a ride to a scorpion, I don't see justification for complaint regarding the eventual sting. I love the game, and the designers, so that's really my metric. As a note, everyone I worked with on the narrative team was wonderful.

I don't want a passing secret lair of five cards; I am interested in a full-blown set, so with that constraint, I wouldn't foresee a Stormlight or Mistborn crossover until one of several things happens:

1) They burn through the bigger properties that match MTG's vibe like LOTR did. Fantasy, or science fantasy, properties that feel legit as a big expansions. As mentioned in this thread alone, there is a pretty deep mine there. Dune, Witcher, Elder Scrolls, Arcane/LoL, Westeros (if they're feeling spicy.) A hobbit set is all but inevitable as well.

Considering they'd be unwise to put these sorts of things out too quickly, and should really give them time to breathe, we're looking at ten years easily before they're out of larger fish to fry. Stormlight is big for a book series, but without any shows/films/games, I'd suspect it doesn't have the casual word-of-mouth reach their marketing team looks for to justify the extra expense of licensing fees.

2) Said bigger properties decide they aren't interested, leaving things popular but without media representation. If they ever decided to experiment with a book-only series, I suspect I'd be very high on the list to approach.

3) Cosmere gets one of said media properties, something I'm actively trying to accomplish--but it is slow going, as I'm in the fortunate position of being able to be very picky about partners, and prefer to take my time.

I've made it clear to them that if a large-scale set were in the, ahem, cards, I'd be willing to make frequent trips to Seattle to be part of the design team on said set.

awakenedjunkofigure: If any author deserves the pick of the litter for production companies, it's absolutely you. Can't wait to see what your books would look like on-screen!!

Brandon Sanderson: Well, the answer to what they'd look like on screen is "Expensive," which a part of the problem...

schloopers: Any large consideration in your mind for spoilers versus fully representing a world or story?

Stormlight you’d of course want all 10 Orders, so spoilers are far as those are concerned are a given.

But maybe a legendary creature “Iron Eyes” instead of any spoiler specific proper names?

I ask because I have so far gotten one friend in the playgroup to start reading, and a couple full sets would for sure help in garnering interest, but I would worry for the story beats getting too greatly revealed out of context.

I don’t know, maybe it’s just unavoidable. I’ve had several Dr. Who episodes “spoiled” for me through that set.

Brandon Sanderson:  This is something I haven't given a lot of thought toward, but I perhaps should be mulling it over. You make a good point.

Thunderwoodd: Woah! Can’t believe you responded. Huge fan! And I loved your commander cube! Saw it on Game Knights right after I finished Rhythm of War.

Curious, do you think the Radiant orders could correspond to guilds or color wedges?

Brandon Sanderson: Yes, I've done thought experiments on that, and think guilds could actively work for them without too much trouble. Problem is, would we want a Stormlight set or just a Knights Radiant set, because ten guilds for ten orders is already a high demand. It might be better to make a wedge set, but the problem there is that the Radiants are actively all colors, so it would be hard to cut out any save black. (Willshaper individuality and artistic expression could be green red instead of red black, for example.) So maybe five four-color wedges? I think the lore could support this, and be something that MTG has had trouble conveying without the expansive worldbuilding an entire book series could provide.

Radiants and sapient spren (all but black, to indicate the inherent selfless Radiant cause)

Human Nations (all but green, to indicate triumph over nature, which is an antagonist on Roshar.)

Singers (All but blue, to indicate the lack of ability to plan for the future, dearth of scholars, and onset of madness in the fused.)

Non-sapient Spren and wildlife (All but white, to indicate lack of overriding societal structures.)

Secret Societies (All but red, indicting the deliberate and conscious planning of these groups.)

Four color signpost uncommons would be WILD, even with hybrid mana. So I can see the design team balking. This (four color guild set) is almost certainly something they've explored and specifically decided not to do.

mediocreattbest: It’s crazy coming onto this post to say “any cosmere set!” And then see you actually replying. Out of curiosity, would you prefer just a stormlight set or a cosmere-wide set? I’d love to see characters through their stories (like we had with the LotR set)

Brandon Sanderson: I'd prefer Stormlight or Mistborn alone, as the planets themselves are so much a part of the stories.

[rekino2114]

Fem. Gojo showing you her domain

You were lying on your bed mindlessly watching videos until you heard a tap on your window. You went in front of it, readying your cursed technique in case it was an enemy. After what happened with toji you were not going to take any more chances. You were very relieved to see it was just your girlfriend. You opened the window and let her come in

"Oh, satori, what are you doing here?"

"What? Can't a girl visit her boyfriend once in a while?"

"I meant why were you outside my window?"

"Your dorm is on the second floor, and I just got back from a training session. No way I'm gonna do all those stairs"

"It's like two flights, and you thought floating was easier?"

"Hey I got my technique I'm gonna use it"

"Whatever, anyway so why did you wanna visit?"

"Oh yeah, I got something super cool to show you"

She smiled brightly and pointed at herself in a dramatic manner

"Guess who just perfected her domain expansion?"

"....For real?"

"For real real, it took training and a lot of mochis to power up but I finally did it"

"That's so cool, tori. domain expansions are the peak of jujutsu, I'm so proud of you"

"Well, of course I'd be able to do it sooner or later, I am the strongest after all but thanks for the praise"

"Don't mention it"

"Soooo are you ready to see it or what?"

"Won't it hurt me?"

"Nah, it's a non lethal domain.......kinda"

"....that's not really reassuring"

"Come on, don't you trust me? It's beautiful to look at, it's gonna be a nice date place"

"*sighs* fine but if I die my ghost will haunt you forever"

"Don't worry, I'll never let anything happen to you"

You were slightly taken aback by her serious tone, but she quickly went back to her silly self as she smiled again, put her hands together, and disappeared, you sighed and waited for a few seconds before she reappeared with an embarrassed expression on her face

"S-sorry, I forgot you can't-"

"It's fine let's just go"

You went outside (using the door this time), and in the courtyard, gojo stood near you and held your hand

"You gotta keep holding my hand. If you don't, then you might be in a coma for a couple of months k?"

".....what?"

"Don't worry, it'll be fine. You can hug me if you're really worried, I certainly wouldn't complain~"

"*sighs* just get on with it"

She smiled again and took off her shades, revealing the blue eyes you loved to stare at, put them in her pockets, and did her domain hand sign with her free hand.

"Domain expansion: infinite void"

Suddenly, black filled your vision as you got transported into her domain, an endless plane of black with white spots, satori's grip on you tightened as she looked back at you

"Soooo what do you think? Pretty nice to look at isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's beautiful, but I guess it was guaranteed that a beautiful girl like you would have a beautiful domain"

"Eh, such a charmer. You're gonna make me blush if you continue"

You sat down, and she did the same. Her hand made its way up your body until it reached your shoulder. She pulled you into a side hug and layed her head on your shoulder

"You know I love you right?"

"Yeah you tell me that every day"

"No, I mean like love, love you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me"

"*giggle* really? The great satori gojo loves me this much? I'm honored"

"You should be, but seriously, after geto left, you're the only person I have left. Sure, I have shoko, but to be honest, I don't think she cares that much about me. Even if she did, she can't really understand me.....sometimes I feel so...lonely"

You silently side hugged her back as you saw her blue eyes become slightly lucid while looking around

"I guess it's fitting that my domain is a big empty void cause that's where I feel like I'm in sometimes........"

"Except when I'm with you of course"

You turned to see her smiling brightly and staring at you lovingly

"You're what keeps me going. You're someone that i know will never leave me. i love you so much"

"I love you too"

You two kissed passionately and looked at each other with pure love

"Alright, I think that was enough. If I keep my domain going for longer, I might get tired, I'll undo it now"

She did as she said and put her shades back on

"How about we go out to eat? It's almost dinnertime and there's a really good spot around here"

"Sure if we bring megumi and tsumiki too"

"Uh?..........dammit I forgot about them....do you think they'll be mad at me?"

"*sighs* you're such a mess of a mom, we can buy them some toys on the way home, maybe they'll forgive you then"

"Great idea, you're a life saver babe"

"It's nothing. Let's just go"

She dragged around as you brought the toys and food for your adopted children.

No matter what happened, you would stick by gojo's side, and she would, of course, do the same

[katanablue]

OPEN you say?

Iiiiif inspiration strikes maybe a desperate and whiny bay!Leo during mating season? 😩 he deserves to be a little whiny and cranky sometimes. And like... you just keep getting interrupted

Ifnotthatsokayyoucanignorethis. loveyourstuffkaybye

RIP IM SORRY THIS IS LIKE 80 YEARS LATE

Warnings: fem reader, sex obvi, anal, mentions of ass eating, Leo is mean for half a second

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰💙꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

Three times.

Three times you and Leo have been interrupted from getting busy with each other, from letting him release all these pent up frustrations and desires, letting him mark you up and claim you as his because once again that time has come.

Mating season.

By now you’ve learned to recognize the symptoms, a few years of being together have you in tune with his isms. He’s more fidgety, focusing harder to keep with his mediation and he always lingers closer to you with a protective hand on some part of your body.

So naturally, as the good partner you are, you let him indulge.

Obviously he cautioned you that things would be… rough. That the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt you and ignore you if you were asking him to stop.

But after a very long detailed talk coupled with some research, you felt ready.

You started slow with him; handjobs escalated to blowjobs, oral performed on you went up to 69-ing with you on top until eventually you worked your way to having sex.

And some selfish part of you loved when it was Leo’s mating season because it always left you feeling like a fucked out pile of goo.

It was hard at first finding the time and space to help him out but you figured it out with time; whether it was in his room late at night or at your apartment.

But this time, the universe seemed to be against you both.

Twice you got disturbed by his brothers, claiming they needed to go for patrol to check out some suspicious activity and last time it was Splinter who wanted Leo to join him for meditation.

But even that couldn’t cool the leader in blue’s blood.

Leo was getting desperate at this point and you were too, but in your case you could easily take care of your problems yourself. Leo, however? Needed you. His hand didn’t do it justice. He climaxed but it never felt good, not like how it would feel if it was by your doing. He needed your pleasure to help him achieve that maximum euphoria.

Leo was ready to kick everyone out the Lair at this point but luckily he didn’t need to; his brothers were out doing their own things and Splinter was relaxing at home which meant Leo could slip away to yours.

Which is how you ending up like this; Leo rutting against your ass, cock so slick and slippery as it rubbed in between your cheeks with him panting and whining directly in your ear.

“Gonna make it feel so good. So good, my love.”

Mating season was the only time he did this, claiming that your pussy (while amazing) wasn’t enough. He had prepped you with two of his thick fingers, his fat tongue licking and slurping your hole because while he was clouded with lust, he wasn’t so far gone that he’d forget to help you.

You both were practically dripping by the time he shoves his leaking cock into your ass, arousal pooling beneath you on the sheets and creating sticky strings between your folds. Leo nips your throat and trails up to your ear and cheek, his breath hot and showering you in goosebumpss

“Gonna fill this pretty ass with my cum. That’s what you want right? To be filled?”

You can only mewl from the utter filth that flows from his lips, clutching pathetically at the pillow near your head when he pushes his cock in.

This is the only time he’s gentle, when it’s giving you a moment to adjust, and when it’s over it’s a whole different aura.

He practically molds to your back, his plastron rough and slightly uncomfortable against your sweaty skin but you don’t care. He fucks you hard and deep, whimpering and grunting because he’s finally getting what he’s been chasing after since the start of the season.

Of course it couldn’t be completely perfect.

A phone starts going off, the ringtone obnoxious and loud as it echoes through your room. And Leo growls, legitimately growls out of frustration and anger at another disturbance.

“L-Leo—“

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare.”

He puts a hand in between your shoulder blades and holds you down while continuing to piston himself into you, watching the way his fat cock disappears into you, how your ass bounces with every hit.

“Could be import—ant!” You cry but deep down you know it’s no use. Once he’s sunk himself into your warmth, there’s no stopping him until he’s done.

“There is nothing more important than me fucking you until you’re broken. Do you understand me?” The way his voice gets so raspy and gravelly has your pussy clenching around nothing and for a moment you wish he had something pounding you there too. You weakly nod your head, saliva falling off your tongue.

“Y-yes sir.”

He cums shortly after, moaning harshly with stuttered movements when he fills your ass up. He pulls out with a wet pop, parting your cheeks and watching the way he seeps out from your hole.

“Gonna fuck your pussy now. Is that okay? It’s okay right?”

Before you can even croak out your ‘yes’, he’s already halfway in, once again giving you that small window to adjust before he picks up the pace.

The phone rings again and Leo whines out of annoyance, shifting his hands to grab onto your arms to haul you up into a better position. It makes your mouth drop open, tits shaking with every slap and your legs quiver violently.

“Mm you’re so perfect for me, my perfect hole.”

He holds you tight against his plastron, one hand snaking to your throat while the other goes to start rubbing your clit. Your thighs nearly clamp shut but he keeps them open, fucking you impossibly faster.

The phone rings and rings and rings, until eventually it stops. For a few seconds it’s just Leo fucking you with reckless abandonment, whispering pathetically in your ear about how good you feel and how he can’t wait to fuck you again.

And again.

And again.

Yeah, mating season Leo might be your one of your favorite Leo’s.

[l0stfoster]

You already know who it is, back on my bullshit 👉👉 not here for paul this time (SHOCKING)

So , darry. Darrel Curtis. My boy my baby. I just have like ,, general things i want to know more about so bare with me bc hes my fav alongside paul ofc and i can ramble

1. When did his tail get permanently fucked up and how did he mess it up so badly?

2. Ik his powers get unstable when he gets like ,, real upset so besides the night he slapped Pony, are there any instances where he just got outta control ?

3. Is he afraid that his relationship with Paul isnt real bc of his mind manipulation bc baby knowing me if i had that power id be scared to mfing death

4. Goddammit im mentioning paul again sorry but ik darry calls paul pretty boy (heart hands i love that) but does paul call darry any pet name that just makes him SWOOOON

5. Has he ever gotten jumped post-book ?? I imagine that before him and paul fell out he had told him a bunch of things including weaknesses that socs used to their advantage ESP after paul “betrayed” them, and what better way to hurt paul holden then to hurt the person he loves more than life itself

Okay thats all for now b4 i go literally insane but i may be back bc i have questions abt other couples 😼😼😼

You’re so fucking real for the Darry enjoyment too I also adore him he’s such a guy. Both in canon and in the au, I need to kiss him on the forehead. DARRY YAP TIME (Crow will be so joyous)

Timewing got really excited about this one so a lot of the answers are his, I just added on afterward with my thoughts, so the first bullet point will be hers, and the second one is mine!!

When did his tail get permanently fucked up and how did he mess it up so badly?

- I assume he tried to crush it or break it violently enough that it needed to be amputated. One way of the latter reason probably would've been falling off the roof of the house back first. One way of the former reason is heading out to a field and trying to slam a hay bale on it. - I personally like to think he'd gone far enough to get his hands on a spare tire from their father's truck and,, crunch! It was the only way he could think of doing enough damage while getting away with it since the car had issues enough to need active little fixes and tweaks, including tire changes. He was around 17 or 18 during all of this, by the way. Unlike his ears, this isn't one his family knows was purposeful.

His powers get unstable when he gets like ,, real upset so besides the night he slapped Pony, are there any instances where he just got outta control?

- There are so many instances but it happens more so when he's stressed. There were a few situations where during tests during school he accidentally ended up making an entire class of 20+ students so anxious a few were sent home and a couple jocks had panic attacks. Another instance was (using the musical for this) when he and Soda were brought in to be asked abt Pony's whereabouts and he got so pissed off with the questioning that he also heightened the officer's anger and nearly got himself arrested. Also the rumble. I think that speaks for itself. - A couple other instances I can think of are after their parents died, when Dally got shot, and uh. The entirety of the duration that Pony was gone, though that was mostly him heightening his own distraught compared to anyone else. He probably does it every now and then at work too during rough work days, which makes for some interesting occurences.

Is he afraid that his relationship with Paul isn't real bc of his mind manipulation bc baby knowing me if I had that power I'd be scared to mfing death.

- Absolutely. He stresses abt it every second of every minute of every hour of every day. - A little fact that Darry doesn't know, though, is that after Paul's powers are presented he has a level of resistance to certain types of curse-related powers! He's not immune, per se, but Darry's manipulation, Soda's song, and Johnny's death sense are all a little lowered; this is because he's in the direct bloodline of the witch who cursed Tulsa. In the way that Johnny can't see Paul's death date (but can get flashes of it), Soda's siren song is easier for Paul to break himself out of and he can tolerate Darry's manipulation for a little longer before caving into it. Parry fans can rest easy knowing that Paul's love for Darry is 100% genuine. Unfortunately, Darry does not know that </3

Goddammit Im mentioning Paul again sorry but ik Darry calls Paul pretty boy (heart hands I love that) but does Paul call Darry any pet name that just makes him SWOOOON

- It's mostly the Latin nicknames that get him. He may not know what the hell Paul is saying but he's in love with it anyway. But he's also especially fond of being called the ever so typical "sugar" - Yeah it's just a bunch of Latin and then the usually sappy ones. Darling, Doll, etc. Paul hits him with “Optimum accidit mihi” ("The best thing to happen to me") once and Darry would actually fold if he knew it.

Has he ever gotten jumped post-book ?? I imagine that before he and Paul fell out he had told him a bunch of things including weaknesses that socs used to their advantage ESP after Paul “betrayed” them, and what better way to hurt Paul Holden than to hurt the person he loves more than life itself

- I imagine maybe once but there was also when he went hunting for Two's stolen feathers and was... scary. He's a scary dude, no one wants to mess with a fae that has that much muscle and is probably not afraid to bite you. - I also agree that,, yyyyeah, Darry is arguably one of the greasers to get jumped the least, including post-book. He works a lot too, so it's not like there are many open instances for him to walk around. Darry definitely told Paul any weaknesses that did exist, but I like to imagine Paul kept those real tight to his chest- He absolutely used them himself during their time hating each other, but could never get himself to tell the other socs; it was a level of trust he couldn't bring himself to break, especially since Darry had seen and heard his own share of things from Paul that he never spilled. The Socs also didn't know that Darry was what Paul valued the most; sure, Paul was very clearly into him, buuuut they make their own assumptions regarding his sexuality and how things go relating to it-

-I could definitely imagine a scenario where they attempt to sabotage Darry and Paul's relationship out of spite if they knew how dedicated Paul is.

[fiddlefordisms]

Canon Details and Analysis of Fiddleford McGucket Part 2

See the first part here

Let's flash-forward to what we know about Fiddleford after college. At some point, he got married to Emma May Dixon, and they had a son together (Tate McGucket), they live in Palo Alto, and Fiddleford seems to be self-employed: McGucket's Computermajigs. Now, don't get me wrong I enjoy Fiddauthor quite a lot (and I'll give some in-depth analysis and theorizing and thinking of possibilities about that particular relationship in that context at the very end), but I want to focus on Fiddleford's character and what we do know about his wife and child.

We know from Journal 3 that Fiddleford keeps a picture of his wife and son on his desk because he says it helps keep him "grounded." It's very important to note that this picture includes his wife - if they really wanted to imply that Fiddleford's relationship with his wife was on the rocks, they could've easily made it just a picture of his son. We know that Fiddleford must have had strong feelings for his wife because in the Gobblewonker episode of Gravity Falls, Old Man McGucket claims that when his wife left him, he built a pterodactyl-tron (building giant death robots is something he does when he's upset or wants attention). If he was wanting to leave that relationship, he would not have been upset about her leaving him.

In another page of Journal 3 when Fiddleford quits the portal project, Ford writes about how he should "go back to his doting family." This tells us that while Fiddleford and Emma May did have a fight over him not getting her a Christmas present, Ford still somehow had the impression that his family was "doting." I think it's important to point out that Fiddleford has been erasing his memories since the Gremloblin incident - and the fight scene with his wife happens very shortly before the big portal test. We know the memory-erasing gun has side effects. So, anytime Fiddleford "forgets" something should be looked at as highly suspect and indicative that his memory-erasing gun is affecting him.

We know that Fiddleford must have been a good father before he left to work on the portal for Ford via context clues. In the show, despite Tate's original home being in Palo Alto, Tate chose to pack up his things and live in Gravity Falls where his mentally-addled father now lives. He chose to do that and seeing what became of his father, even though he's the town's biggest embarrassment with a reputation for being a crazy old man - chose to stay. In Shmeb U Unlocked, we're informed that Tate is extremely intelligent and capable of predicting lottery numbers.

He could literally go anywhere he wanted if he wanted. And yet, he stays in Gravity Falls where his father lives. He must have really loved his father despite it being so hard with his father's mental state and the fact that he has every right to be angry that his father left. We know that Fiddleford must have really loved his son because of that picture on his desk, because much later even with all of his memory problems, he still remembers his son, and he's desperate to spend time with him, and in the end, they're able to repair their relationship and spend quality time together.

Now, let's talk about a couple of details that I think a lot of people overlook. During the stargazing scene in Journal 3, Fiddleford mentions offhand that he'd like a place where "the screen door ain't broken." I think this is a VERY interesting detail because it makes it sound like Fiddleford's business hadn't quite taken off yet and that he might have been struggling financially because he can't afford to get his door repaired.

This opens a doorway into a theory of mine that Fiddleford is being paid for his time as Ford's assistant. Now, we're not told this outright in Journal 3, but I think we can gather this from a little thing I like to call context clues. After all, Ford probably thought the exact nature of payment deals for his assistant didn't need to be included in his research and personal journal. There's nothing interesting about it. Additionally from a narrative standpoint, it might have come across as looking like Ford had to bribe Fiddleford to help him, and that's not the vibe they wanted for Fiddleford. They wanted to emphasize that these two are at the very least good friends and that Fiddleford is the type of person who will set aside his own personal projects and self-sacrifice to help a friend at a moment's notice.

We know from the show and Journal 3 that Ford was given grants to study the anomalies of Gravity Falls. Presumably, this money would not only cover the costs of field research equipment and a research base (the shack) but also money for a research assistant if needed.

Fiddleford's wife would have to be the most permissive, most doormat wife in THE HISTORY OF EVER to allow her husband to go up to Oregon to work on a project leaving her to not only take care of her son by herself but also have to pay all the bills and rent/mortgage by herself. We know this is not the case because she (rightly) did NOT let it slide that her husband forgot to get her a Christmas present.

Fiddleford would not have had much time to work on his own business while working on Ford's portal. At this point in his life, he has his mental faculties intact, he's proven time and again to be considerate and sweet (Alex Hirsch even refers to him as a sweet soul). He's big on making thoughtful gifts, he wants to help others (in Journal 3, he is seen fixing up the ferris wheel at the carnival where he meets Ivan, although it was definitely wrong - he had good intentions in wanting to help people with their bad memories, even in the show - Old Man McGucket shows up in the sap-hole with the dinosaurs having fixed a broken lantern - Fiddleford is exactly the type of person who would see a broken-down car on the side of the road and pull over and get out his toolbox and help that person out), and he loves his family very much. He would NOT let them go unsupported and floundering for themselves while in his right mind.

So, this leads me to believe that to help convince his wife to let him help his old college buddy with his project, he'd be getting paid for his help. Ford likely would've found this reasonable and might have suggested it himself if Fiddleford expressed wanting to help but not being able to leave his family without any support. It probably wasn't a lot, but it might have been a bit better than what he was currently drumming up via his own business. This could also be why Ford is so adamant about referring to Fiddleford as his assistant in the journals rather than his friend.

Do I think his wife might have still had some reservations about her husband going to Oregon and could be a fertile field for argument later? Yes. Absolutely. But I think the fact that she let him go in the first place and the fact that Fiddleford is self-employed rather than more conventionally employed generally shows that she was a supportive wife and trusted her husband.

I absolutely DO NOT think, as some have posited, that Fiddleford abandoned his wife and son (especially his son whom he dearly loves) to have a "Brokeback Mountain" situation with Stanford. That is a terrible misreading of Fiddleford's character AND the situation. Again, Fiddleford is the type of person who HELPS people, and how much more so for someone who is likely his best friend? Not only that, but his FIRST EVER friend. A friend who Fiddleford probably knows has been alone in Oregon for years and who also has a hard time making friends, a friend who probably doesn't call him enough because he's "busy" with his research (Ford even says in the journal that he "has no choice but to call Fiddleford"), a friend who is probably stubborn about asking for help who is asking HIM (the guy who helps) for help?

Fiddleford might even already be worried about him.

And this is a "project" - a project has a beginning and an end. Fiddleford was NOT expecting to stay in Gravity Falls. He was going to go there, help Ford, and then go back to his family whom he loves. I'm not saying complicated feelings couldn't have arisen (again, I am a Fiddauthor shipper), but I am saying that Fiddleford didn't go to Oregon because he was running away from marital problems with his wife (on an additional note - people are free to write what they want - But what is WITH bisexual erasure and villifying / ignoring female characters? I mean, just because she wasn't in the show or talked about much doesn't mean we should do female characters a disservice) and intending on cheating on her.

Because again - A) He loves his family (family photo on his desk which doesn't exactly scream "Make sweet love to me Ford") B) His anxiety issues C) His empathy - he doesn't have the narcissistic traits cheaters generally have D) He's likely Catholic and all the religious hang-ups with that - (also adultery being a sin is mentioned waaaaaay more than homosexuality) E) The hostile time period for queer folks.

Also, Stanford "I find romance baffling" (Journal 3 - stargazing scene) is probably one of the biggest indicators that no cheating went on (but I'll throw you "cheating Fiddleford" headcanoners a bone much later on in which I think a possible "cheating" scenario could have realistically occurred - and I'll tell you my reasons for why I personally don't believe that happened either, but I'll begrudgingly accept a "possibility" and let you guys go nuts with the idea.)

More to come in later parts.