#like having divided loyalties is just the worst

[meepmeep19]

Out of all the Hunting Dogs members, Tachihara rly seems to be the closest to Jouno (after Teruko ofc) But why is that the case?

I mean just LOOK at how proud Tachihara looks in this panel after receiving that praise from Jouno! It’s sooo cute I-😭 But why is Tachihara so close to Jouno of all people?

Well I HC that when Tachihara first joins the HD, his criminal background makes him understandably very distrustful/fearful of everyone else. It feels less like the HD are his coworkers and more like they’re just cops keeping an eye on him, just waiting for when he’ll inevitably slip up so they can finally lock his ass away. He just can’t get that criminal-cop mindset out of his head yet.

Jouno was the only person that could understand and relate to Tachihara considering he was also a formal criminal (tho I don’t think he was ever scared of the HD, he still felt that same distrust in his first couple years as well)

And so to make Tachihara feel more comfortable/calm (cuz he’s actually starting to care for the boy getting sick of constantly hearing Tachihara’s too fast heart beat) Jouno decides to casually bring up all the stupidly profitable crimes Tachihara could’ve committed with his ability, going into suspiciously criminal amounts of detail. Most of the heists that he brings up r stuff that he himself was planning to do in the mafia before he got arrested. Jouno talks about this to help remove the whole ‘HD-dangerous-cop’ association that Tachihara has made.

At first Tachihara is very suspicious and hesitant to answer, assuming this must be some sort twisted way to set him up. But then he realizes Jouno just genuinely enjoys talking about crimes as if they aren’t surrounded by Japan’s elite police force. And yet no one ever actually does anything to Jouno, even tho everything he says is so illegal, that he should’ve already gone to prison 20 times over just for even uttering half that stuff lol.

These conversations rly help Tachihara to stop seeing the HD as just ‘cops’ and he immediately begins to open up. Soon he and Jouno r having like hour long conversations, literally just discussing various heists in great detail.

They make Tetchou slightly uncomfortable with their blase view of big time crime so every time they start talking about this stuff, Tetchou just silently walks out of the room lol (Jouno 100% teases him for that, constantly inviting him to join their conversations, to which Tetchou always politely declines lol)

Ofc, to remind Tachihara that at the end of the day, they ARE still just only coworkers (not friends), Jouno likes to end their conversations laughing, saying ‘Of course, if you were to actually try any of this, I would not hesitate to gouge your eyes out and feed them to the dogs’ which always keeps Tachihara from being too casual.

Despite that tho, Tachihara can’t help but still see Jouno as older brother figure. A terrifying brother figure, but a brother figure nonetheless. In some ways, he actually somewhat prefers his relationship with Jouno than that with his actual brother. Don’t get me wrong: he still loves his brother but… unlike with his brother, no one pressures him to be like Jouno; if anything, they actually discourage Tachihara from becoming too much like him lol.

The HD never make him feel like he HAS to live up to anyone. Instead they actually want him to become his own person so he can add something unique to the team. They never make him feel like he’s not enough. And that just means so much to someone like Tachihara, who spent his whole life feeling so inadequate compared to perfection of the dead.

So yeah, that’s how Jouno and the Hunting Dogs became Tachihara’s found family

[whiskeyswifty]

.

[morning-star-joy]

lose your faith in me

Pairing: Low Honor!Arthur x One-Sided F!Reader to High Honor!Arthur x F!Reader

Summary: Arthur only changes for the better when everything happens for the worst.

Warnings: Angst. Canon ending. One-sided love that subtly becomes requited in the end. Lots of regret and grief. Low Honor to High Honor progression (or Canon-Typical!Arthur as @joelsversion bec calls him). Sad ending. Low Honor!Arthur is mean but he's still got some of those Medium to High Honor qualities when I write him. References to Reader being kidnapped when Arthur meets/saves her (like the stranger encounter in the game). Canon-typical violence.

Wordcount: 3.6k

A/N: I was possessed with ideas for this in the middle of the night, and for once I wrote them down in my notes app! Super sad fic because I was sad over the pixel cowboy.

dividers by @saradika

masterlist || kofi || updates blog

Arthur could be a kind man if he wanted to be. It just so happened that most of the time, he didn’t want to be.

You’d heard tales of a more compassionate man who lived in the rough-and-tumble outlaw’s skin once upon a time. A time hardened body that held a heart beating with too much love for others. Care that the world threw back in his face. Sensibility that it kicked from him when he was down.

So each time he got back up, more of that sensitive skin fell away. It grew back tougher, littered with scars that told of the cruelty of the passage of time. Life had not been kind to Arthur Morgan, and so he was not kind in return.

He was decent enough to the folks around camp, giving nods and short greetings as he moved from one job to the next. It was that work he did for the gang that spoke to the once generous nature that life hadn’t completely stamped out of him. Work that nearly wore him down to the bone, and he still did it without complaint, even when he was bloody, beaten, broken down.

Or maybe even that was without tenderness of the spirit. Maybe it was a mere habit with which he worked for the gang. A stubborn, undying loyalty that remained even when the love was gone.

Maybe it was just out of trifling obligation when he shot down the monster of a man who had you hogtied on the back of their horse.

Maybe it was out of innate violence that he took one glance at you, battered and bloody with tears streaking down a layer of grime on your cheeks, and then delivered a few more gunshots to your kidnapper’s head until it was an indistinguishable mess of gore, throwing in some well-placed kicks to a long dead body for good measure.

Still, Arthur let you follow him. For miles you trailed after him on the horse that had just before been carrying you to your doom. You kept glancing around you, wondering when you would come out of the wilderness to wherever he was going, until he finally shouted back to you.

“What you followin’ me for, girl?”

You had paused then. Embarrassment gave way to heat in your face, and you held the reins tighter, staring at the back of that worn hat you would grow secretly fond of, eyes tracing the old twine wrapped around the brim. Wondering what story it told, how many more stories were held behind cold blue eyes. How many people he saved, how many more he’d killed.

“Ain’t got nowhere else to go, Mister,” you had replied quietly, and his shoulders, broad and carrying weights both quantifiable and otherwise, stiffened under the battered brown jacket he wore.

“Best find someplace, then.”

He spurred his horse forward again, faster this time. Intending to lose you, maybe.

And when you followed right on his path again, he brought his steed to an abrupt spot, whirling it around to fix you with a glare.

“You deaf, woman?” he snapped, and you winced, though you didn’t cower away from the angry man who had been your savior. “Told you to get lost.”

“I have nowhere to go.” You urged your horse to trot closer now, trying to gain eye contact to better implore him of your predicament. “No one’s waitin’ for me.”

He just shifted the brim of his hat down, covering the top half of his face, and you were stuck staring defeatedly at the edge of a strong nose and lips pressed into a firm, bitter line at your desperation.

What a burden you had been to him from the start.

“Please,” you had whispered, and he turned his head away completely, giving you only the image of a well-armed, dangerous man that wreaked havoc across the states, leaving blood and death and despair in every place he left.

Arthur didn’t say anything else then, not even when you followed him all the way to the first camp you had witnessed of the Van der Linde gang.

Many camps were to follow, as your group of degenerates and ne'er-do-wells could never seem to catch a goddamn break. At least they let you settle into the ranks relatively without fuss. 

But how could they not? When you kept your head down, kept your voice quiet, did your work without complaint.

Even as weeks turned into months, then into years of being there, you were a ghost among them. Nobody really knew where you came from, what you thought and felt. Your cards were kept close to your chest, for all matters except one.

At least if anybody noticed the way your eyes lingered on Arthur Morgan, they didn’t say anything. 

If anybody saw the way you hovered around the gang’s enforcer, like a pitiful lost puppy since the moment he had saved you from a fate worse than death, they didn’t judge you for it. Not to your face.

Time passed, one camp gave way to the next in your group’s ever-searching path to freedom, and you loved Arthur Morgan all the same.

Blackwater was good until it was bad. Colter was worse, cold winds biting into your limbs and keeping you half-numb even halfway out of the mountains and to Horseshoe Overlook.

You liked that camp the best. It had the most life to it, the most times you had seen Arthur smile in the whole time you’d known him, even small, fleeting smirks as they were.

That night when Sean returned may have been the best of your small, inconsequential life. Drinks were flowing, laughter was booming, and there was music every which way, a different song being sung or played around each corner.

And through it all, Arthur was nowhere to be seen.

He was one of the men who saved the boisterous Irishman, and the only one missing from the party. Throughout the night, you kept glancing around for a glimpse of his face, all to no avail.

Eventually, you took up a post near where the horses grazed, waiting with a drink in hand to catch him rolling back into camp.

When even that led to no sight of him, you ambled through the outskirts of the trees, farther from the glow of warm campfires and jovial festivities, searching and searching until…

There.

The moonlight shone off the speckled horse that Arthur had gotten in Valentine weeks before, hidden amongst the trees unless you were as close as you had gotten in your relentless search for the object of your affections. 

When you saw him a bit further on, leaning against a tree and gazing out over the cliffside with a cigarette perched between his lips, your heart leapt in your chest besides yourself.

He didn’t say anything when you emerged from the darkness and settled against a tree next to him. Likely he had heard you crashing through the forest in your half-drunken state, silently declaring you not a threat and, hopefully, not enough of a nuisance either.

Silence fell between you for a few moments. You never seemed to know what to say around him, and he never seemed to want to say anything around you.

Eventually, you settled on the wrong thing. “You did good today, Arthur.”

You could nearly feel the discontent grow at your praise, and you shifted under the weight of it in the air.

“Good?” he repeated the word like you had insulted him, although you had intended the opposite. Perhaps that was why he hated it so—because he hated himself so, couldn’t acknowledge a good deed he did if it hit him on the nose. “I beat a sick man for some money I didn’t even end up gettin’ before I did any good today, girl.”

“Arthur—”

“Our first trip into Valentine, ‘member that?” he interrupts you as if you hadn’t spoken, and you frown into the darkness, watching as he removes the cigarette from his mouth to tap some ash off the end.

“I remember you fightin’ those men off o’ Tilly and Karen—”

“I chased that man who recognized me out of town, right to a cliffside.” Arthur steps forward, the spurs on his worn boots clinking with the slow, deliberate movement. He flicks the burnt down cigarette from his fingers out over the cliff you were both standing next to now. “Just like this one.”

He gestures to it, glancing back at you with the cold words he spoke. The moonlight casts him into shadow, creating a faceless entity out of him, one that you know should terrify you. 

“He was dangling off of it, beggin’ for his life,” Arthur continued in that low, dangerous tone he reserved for intimidating folks, now using it to try and convince you of how wrong you’d always been about him. Even then, there’s a strange contradiction to the rumble of his voice—lack of empathy for what he’s done, and the knowledge of how awful that was in and of itself. “And I let ‘im fall. Figured it was better him than me.”

“Jesus…” you whispered, eyes fixed to the edge of the cliff next to where he stood. You wondered if he just watched the man’s grip loosen, or if those muddy boots had stomped on the tips of the man’s fingers, and you wince at the terrible imagery your mind concocted. 

Arthur had done worse, you know he had. All those times he’d shown up with blood on his clothes, you knew well they weren’t from his own injuries. And still, you’d gladly washed the stains from his shirts during your chores. Relieved it wasn’t his own. 

“Jesus ain’t helpin’ me, not with what I’ve done,” the man muttered with a frigid chill that sent shivers through you with how ominous his words were, how foreboding and imminent it felt. “Not with what we’ve all done.”

It’s quiet again as Arthur stands at the cliffside. You watch him glance over the edge, and yet you’re the one who finds yourself slipping, “We could still get out of here.”

He freezes. You know he knows what you mean, and yet he still asks, “Who’s ‘we’?”

“You and me,” you whisper breathlessly, the alcohol you’d consumed dulling the fear of the rejection you knew was inevitable as everything you kept bottled up comes spilling out. “Save up some money, get a small patch of land somewhere out where they won’t come lookin’. We can raise sheep or—”

“Sheep,” he scoffs. The man won’t even look back at you, won’t even give you the decency of eye contact as he breaks your heart. “Small land still ain’t cheap. And there aren’t many places they ain’t lookin’ nowadays, neither.”

“We can do it, Arthur.” You step closer, your eagerness on plain display in the moonlight, and he finally looks back at you. His face reveals nothing, expression blank as you finally lay all your cards on the table, his own forever in his lonely hands. “You and me.”

“You’re just as bad a dreamer as Dutch.” The words are harsh, bitter even, and it’s not the first time you start to wonder why you love Arthur Morgan. “Hell, you may even be worse.”

You think that’s the end of it then. You hope it is, but he stops next to you as he’s walking away, looks you right in the eye as he spares you no mercy in harshly chastising you, “Get your head outta the clouds, girl. Ain’t nothin’ good, ain’t no honest ending out there waitin’ for the likes of you and me.”

It breaks your heart. 

More than that, it makes you want to prove him wrong.

You never do quite prove him wrong.

Arthur Morgan is dying.

It both shocks and horrifies you, how long it takes the others to notice.

He carried on doing what he always did for the gang, hiding his own decay the best he could. His movements were slower than before, and you’d watch from a distance all the times he’d pause to take as deep a breath as his traitorous lungs could manage when no one was looking.

For a while, you dared to hope it was just a lingering sickness from his time stranded on Guarma. You thought he would shake it off eventually, bounce back healthier and stronger than ever before.

But he lost even more weight instead of putting it back on. His face grew gaunt, pale. Sharp blue eyes became streaked with red, clouded with a weariness that contrasted the strength you’d always come to associate with the man.

Still, things carried on with as much normality as the gang could afford, even with the camp clearing out more and more each day. 

Ghosts lived amongst you now, dead as well as living. Skeletons were buried under every crack and crevice you traversed each day, trying to pretend it would all be okay, like it always had been in the past.

At night, you heard Arthur coughing. 

It was always muffled, like he was smothering the sickness into his pillow, so as to not wake the others. But it became as steady a noise as the faint sounds of wildlife underneath the stars, tearing your soul apart further and further each time.

When you heard a weak gasp following a coughing fit one night, you rose from your bedroll, unable to stay in quiet denial of what was happening any longer. You pattered over to a dying campfire as if possessed, stoking it to life enough to concoct a health tincture to hopefully ease some of the pain he was trying to hide with every fiber of stubborn strength he still had left.

You slipped through the tent flap to see him curled up on his side, coughing and wheezing into his fist next to the dying light in the lantern beside his cot. The sight threatened to ruin you completely, leave you nothing but a husk of your former self in the grief of your sustaining love, but you held it together through sheer will alone as you approached him.

When he saw you, you saw fear. It flashed through his eyes, the blue of them just as pretty as the day you met him, even with the sickness that addled them.

Arthur opened his mouth as blood trickled from the corner of it, no doubt to insist you shouldn't trouble yourself with fretting over him, but you gently hushed him. 

You wiped the blood from his lips with your handkerchief, coaxed him to drink the tincture, taking sips through the coughing fit until it subsided. When it did, the words he finally gained that familiar strength to speak with shocked you.

“You always done right by me,” Arthur wheezed quietly, avoiding your eyes when they snapped to his face at the sentiment you never thought he’d acknowledge. “Don’t know what I did to deserve that.”

It struck you silent then, left you with an emptiness you didn’t know the first thing about filling up again. Knowing that he recognized all the love for him you’d kept locked up inside, until it was bursting from the seams. Knowing that he recognized how cruel he’d been to you, time and time again. 

And how you had loved him just the same.

“You saved me,” you whispered as you tenderly wiped the handkerchief along his blood speckled chin. Your fingers followed the path to skim across those scars where hair could never grow, where it barely grew now.

“Any decent man woulda—”

“Not many decent men, though,” you interrupted him, his eyes finally meeting yours as you spoke, “are there?”

You both fell quiet then, the truth of his nature hanging in the air between you. 

The sicker Arthur had gotten, the more he had changed. Faced with a slow union to his eventual mortality, his own body betraying him as his family fell apart, he had tried to right the wrongs he had done.

You had seen the shift; how it had happened slowly, then all at once. Giving away the money he had fought and killed for to help widows, orphans, or those in misfortune—some of whom he had put there with his own two hands. 

You think that Arthur saw those ghosts that still lingered better than the most of you. You think he loved them more than anybody else. That he fought to avenge them, or maybe give them peace, the best he could still manage to do.

Or maybe he was already one of them.

And still, for him, it wasn’t enough.

“I ain’t one of those, either,” Arthur murmured, denying the gravitational shift in his very own nature, his voice strained with effort from not coughing after you had tried so desperately to heal him. 

Tears blur your vision, choking your throat at his resignation to the cruel strings of fate, the belief that he was nothing more now than rot and regret.

“You’re close enough,” you whispered, meaning every damn word of admiration that you’ve held in your heart for him since the very first day. 

Because he wasn’t good, but he was good enough for you.

When he’s quiet again, his eyes still avoiding yours, you figure it’s time to go. 

You move to get up, and without a sound, his hand catches yours.

Arthur doesn’t let go.

You stay.

As long as you can, you stay.

“Where you goin’?”

Weeks later, more people are dead, or gone, or close to one or the other. You’re packing all of your measly earthly belongings onto one of the extra horses in the dead of night when Arthur approaches you.

“I dunno,” you reply honestly, heart in your throat as you avoid his gaze. You can’t look at him anymore, can’t see him working himself to death for a man who would gladly watch him fall into his own grave, who wouldn’t have the decency to stay long enough to watch him buried. “Somewhere else.”

“What're you plannin' on doin’ when you get there?”

“I don’t know, Arthur.” You finally look at him, afraid to see betrayal in his eyes at your leaving them, leaving him, when all you had ever wanted to do was stay.

But you only see understanding, relief, and genuine concern for if you actually have a plan in getting out. 

“Suppose I’ll become some kind of maid, or a working girl, or—”

“Don’t,” he whispers hoarsely, gaze hardening, and you throw your hands up in the air before grabbing onto your saddlehorn, foot in the stirrup as you hoist yourself up into the seat.

“What choice do I have, Arthur?” You’re defeated when you say it, as is he. As are all of you, doomed to who knew what awful fate was waiting at the end of this road the crazier that Dutch got, and the more that that snake Micah kept whispering into his ear.

What you had never expected was for Arthur to reach down into his satchel and pull out a stack of money. He hardly spends any real time thumbing through it all before handing the whole thing over to you. 

When you don’t take it, he grabs your wrist, and you lose your breath when his thumb tenderly strokes the inside. It’s as if he’s caressing your pulse, gently tracing the steady thrum of life still in your veins, as he turns your hand over and places the cash into your palm.

“You wanted sheep, right?” He’s so gentle with the question he murmurs to you in the still night. So kind to the memory you were sure he’d gladly forgotten.

It’s the final straw that breaks you.

You’re crying now, tears you had held in for so long streaming down your face, because this is the last time you’ll see him. You know it, he knows it, and there’s no goddamn thing left that you can do.

Still, you whisper that old, forgotten dream he had once chastised you for, “I wanted it with you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Arthur rasps, a cough caught in his lungs that he fights back. His eyes are so tired, and yet they still hold your gaze so readily. There’s regret there, so much of it, and you wonder if he’s ever thought of that old pipe dream of yours, if it ever once was one of his. “I know. Get outta here, now.”

When you don’t move an inch, his voice takes on an urgency, harsh and desperate in its rasp, “Go, girl, ‘fore it’s too late.” And then he adds more words, quieter, but just as pleading, if not more gentle in their earnestness, “Couldn’t stand it if they got to you too.”

“Come find me?” The question slips from the tightness in your throat, from the depths of your heart, fruitless as your wanting is, as it has ever been. “There’ll be a place for you with me.”

The way Arthur looks at you then—the grief, the yearning—you dare to dream sometimes, years later, that maybe some small part of him loved you after all. 

Or at least the idea of you, of what could’ve been, towards the end.

“If there’s air left in my lungs by the time this is all done,” he wheezes with the words, a dreadfully poetic thing, “I'll go to you.”

He’s the one who spurs your horse off then with a gentle smack to its hide then, and you’re the one who looks back.

You weren’t a fool, much as he once believed you were.

You knew that Arthur Morgan would never have enough breaths left to crawl to you, in the end.

You could only hope he got that sunset.

[notyourgoodjew]

hi, may I ask what BDS means?

Hi! Of course you may :D

BDS stands for Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions. It's a movement that promotes boycotting Israeli goods, universities, cultural institutions etc., divesting from companies that provide military supplies to Israel and calling for sanctions in hopes of pressuring the country to meet their demands. Which are to withdraw from the West Bank and remove the barrier, equality for the Arab-Palestinian citizens, right of return for Palestinian refugees etc.

Obligatory warning! I do NOT support the far right Israeli government and its policies (fuck Bibi and his cronies)! I do not see any joy in deaths (both Palestinian and Israeli), I want this war to end as soon as possible, I want peace in the region for everyone!

While their support from Palestinians is high, their tactics had little to no positive effect... in fact it has been quite the opposite, considering the movement has been active for almost two decades...

They have failed to pressure Israel economically, their effect on the economy being negligible, although they have been successful in convincing quite a few unions, and organizations to endorse their cause and pull support of Israel, but due to their boycott of Soda Stream, the company closed their factory in the West Bank, costing a lot of Palestinians their jobs...

So far they've only really been a useful tool for the Israeli right. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Some people see the movement as being very wishy washy I would say. Their definitions are broad to the point that everything Israeli can potentially fall under a boycott. Like hummus, which they allege "provides support for the Israeli military" (I assure you, hummus export is not a significant part of the Israeli economy).

And while they claim to be pro peace and advocating for a two state solution, they unconditionally support anything Palestinians do and rarely if ever condemn terrorism on their part. Which just endorses more violence instead of a dialogue towards peace. Also due to their focus on Israel they single it out as a uniquely oppressive regime (while ignoring other, often worse, atrocities around the world), which while I agree that Israel has done a lot of awful things, it is far from the worst human rights abuses and certainly not unique in its cruelty. Of course it is right to condemn Israel for its wrongdoings, but the movement has been very ineffective so far in the "let's put economic pressure" sense, only demonizing Israel and everything related to it.

They refuse to engage with anything Israeli, including art (and causing several artists to cancel their shows in Israel) and more importantly a part of the movement (specifically the Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel, or PACBI) has condemned an Israeli-Palestinial grassroots peace organization(!!!) Standing Together (which I highly encourage you check out) which has been doing actual work towards conversation between Israelis and Palestinians with the goal of a Palestinian state and peace, which has condemned the occupation of the territories, which has been protesting despite the police refusing to allow them to (facing arrests and police brutality because of that) and so much more. BDS sees this as "normalization", a "distraction", and "whitewashing" (somehow?), which just reveals that a lot of people in the movement just want Israel gone, not caring about what would happen to its population.

From what I see and where I stand (barely, I'm a cane user, badum tss), BDS is ineffective in achieving its actual goals, however it has successfully divided college campuses and politics both in the US and Europe, inviting even more antisemitism, they are extreme and very narrow minded, accusing American Jews of dual loyalty. Their support of the Boston map being the prime example (which they later distanced themselves from, kinda).

But of course, look into this yourself to make your own opinions. I'm far from an expert and if I've been factually incorrect, please let me know.

[commsroom]

Sometimes I think about that post about how, in another life, Eiffel would have made a good SI5 agent due to his out of the box thinking and quick reaction time when things go wrong (see: all of Mayday). Can’t remember if it was you who made that post or not, but if it wasn’t you, do you have any thoughts on it?

haha oh, no!! that definitely wasn't me; i have the opposite opinion!! i think that's a misunderstanding of what qualities are most important for an si-5 agent. they're paramilitary spies and union busters. out-of-the-box thinking is only useful to them if it can be trusted in service of their goals, and eiffel is not reliable, driven, or morally flexible enough for that. i've spoken to people who think that his loyalties could've been won at a worse place in his life, but i firmly disagree. eiffel at his worst is self-focused and entirely indulgent. he made the mistakes he made out of selfishness and short-sighted personal desire. he isn't ambitious, he can't hold a job, he has issues with authority. he has very firm morals and can't compartmentalize; he hurt people and the guilt of that, his inability to reconcile those actions with what he believes in, weighs him down. he doesn't need direction or purpose the way someone like jacobi does, and he's perfectly okay with closing the door on something because it's scary.

eiffel is honestly fine just being a nobody, so that's not something exploitable - getting eiffel to do anything, even some things he wants to do, is like pulling teeth, nevermind trying to convince him it's necessary to harm innocent people in service of a nebulous corporate goal. he has a lot of flaws, don't get me wrong, but they're the wrong kind of flaws for this, even at his worst. i really don't believe he'd ever be sought out for something like that when there are people who are quick-thinking survivalists who are also ambitious, and willing to hurt people in service of that ambition, out there.

and eiffel is pretty good at his job, but he's just an average person with a particular skill-set, who could do that job well enough and still be marked as disposable for other purposes. he's not si-5 level good; everything else aside, they are some of the best of the best in their respective fields. i honestly think that's an important thing to remember about the si-5, too - they fundamentally consider the hephaestus crew as targets, not as coworkers; minkowski's crew is made up of people with a moderate skill level, not geniuses - even hera was selected from a list of people who otherwise didn't make the cut. hilbert being relegated there for his final mission is a mark of cutter losing faith in him. they are not operating on the same level.

(i would believe, to some extent, that kepler was curious about eiffel after what he accomplished in mayday. i think he was trying to test eiffel's loyalties and see if he could be swayed - among many other motives - but i think he gave up on that pretty quickly once he realized what dealing with eiffel is like, and i don't think he ever intended to "recruit" eiffel in any official sense; a lot of the si-5's early actions are, again. union busting. they're trying to divide the crew. and speaking of that: being a good si-5 agent also requires a lot of lying to people's faces, which... um... well.)

[sednonamoris]

good, honest thieves

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: A fight with Micah leads to a lecture from Dutch. Loyalty is exactly what you've been raised on, but to what? To whom? The answer seems to be John every time.

Warnings: Knife violence, canon-typical violence, fish guts, strong language, Micah Bell's whole existence, sexist language/insults, Dutch being our fav little manipulator, blink-and-you'll-miss-it mild angst

Word count: 1,465

A/N: I've been waiting to write this altercation since I first started ghost story, so I hope you all enjoy it for this nice, short chapter 💕

Series masterlist • AO3

— 

You miss out on a hell of a firefight. A lot of law dead. A lot of townsfolk dead. A run-in with Mr. Leviticus Cornwall himself.

You’re surprised that he deigned to show his face in the mud and the muck of Valentine, but if there’s one thing rich folk are good for it’s greed. From the sound of it, he’s none too pleased to have been robbed. 

From the sound of it, it’s a lucky thing John and Arthur and Dutch and Strauss ain’t dead after all that. 

The gang was quick to make a hasty retreat.

Now you’re camped outside a little town called Rhodes, farther south than you’ve settled in years. Arthur teases that you and Javier must be happy to be in warmer climes, but personally? You hate it. New Austin is dry heat and desert for miles. The air there bites, sharp and clean. Here it’s thick as molasses and wet with humidity. Sweat and condensation cling to everything. The very ground beneath you is mucky and muddy and lush with overgrowth, like the vegetation can’t stand it here, either. It claws and climbs its way out and onto everything. You’ve never seen undergrowth like this, swallowing trees and homesteads whole without discrimination. 

Out of everyone, you figured Dutch would hate it most - you can’t count how many times he’s told stories about the Southern scum that put his daddy in the ground. But he seems in his element out here. The town is divided into factions he and Hosea have wasted no time playing against one another, and rumors of confederate gold have lit his eyes with that same gleam you saw before Blackwater. You know you won’t leave until he has it - he’s even got Bill and Arthur playing deputy while working leads. 

Today they’re off with the sheriff chasing ‘shine in the hills, so camp is mostly quiet. Or it would be, if Micah wasn’t hanging around.

“Ghost,” he calls out, uncomfortably familiar. He approaches Pearson’s chuckwagon with open arms that are greeted only with a flat stare when you look up from the fish you’re gutting. You promised Pearson you’d take care of them while he does the shopping.

“Micah.” His name grits past the teeth you’re doing your utmost not to bare in warning; already he’s closer than you’d like. 

“Haven’t seen much of you since I got back from Strawberry,” he says.

“I keep busy.”

“Not too busy for Marston.” He rocks back on his heels and raises his brows like he’s caught you out. Something about the way he says John’s name makes your hackles raise.

“Me an’ him are friends,” you chop off a trout head aggressively while making even more aggressive eye contact. “You and me, on the other hand, ain’t.” 

“Aw, don’t be like that,” he wheedles. “I’m a real friendly fella. We oughta go drinking sometime and I’ll show you.”

It takes everything in you not to cringe at the thought. It’s one thing to work a job with him, when you have to, but spending quality time with Micah? It sounds like just about the worst thing you can think of. He has this slimy quality about him, and the way he talks about some of the others is enough to solidify your poor opinion.

Dutch can make nice with him all he likes. You won’t. 

“We all heard what happened when you went drinking in Strawberry,” is what you say aloud. “Rhodes might not survive.”

He laughs through the fact that the joke was meant to be at his expense and leans closer. “You’re funny, Ghost. Real funny. I can see why John likes you so much. It’s too bad he’s so… Well, you know.”

“He’s so what?” If looks could kill, Micah would be stone dead. 

“Useless,” he shrugs. “I mean, first he gets hisself half eaten, then he’s fleeced rustlin’ sheep— almost got his brains blown out in Valentine. Not to mention he let Morgan steal a two dollar whore right out from between his—”

 All of the sudden you can’t hear past the ringing in your ears or see past the blood red of your vision. He’s snickering, leaning closer still, leering, and faster even than you can register you’ve grabbed him by the hair and smashed his face against the fish guts and the wooden table before you.

He cries out, somewhere between alarmed and disgusted and enraged. 

Your filleting knife rests against his pulse point.

“Say it again,” you snarl.

Stark, killing hate reflects back on your knife blade with the whites of his eyes. “Goddamn you!” 

“Not so funny now, huh?” He struggles in your grip. “Say it again.” 

He opens his mouth and bares his teeth, likely to spit more profanities, when approaching footsteps stop you both in your tracks. You glare up at the intrusion to find Ms. Grimshaw. Her face is even more severe than usual. 

“What exactly is going on in my camp?” she demands, hands on her hips. 

“Micah was just apologizing,” you say. Your smile is a feral show of teeth. 

He squirms in your grip, claws at your hands. “Get this goddamn lunatic off me!” 

She purses her lips, unimpressed. “Ghost, unhand Mr. Bell.”

You let him go reluctantly, pressing the knife to his skin just a little harder before shoving him back. He staggers away and you wipe your hands down your pants and grimace. 

Micah’s hands fly to his throat, like he’s checking it’s all still intact. His cheek shines slimy red with fish blood. 

“You’re crazy!” he accuses. 

“Ghost is plenty of things,” Ms. Grimshaw says before you can cut in, “but crazy ain’t one of ‘em. I suggest you learn from this particular mistake, Mr. Bell. Now go on, the both of you. Get! Before you make another mess for me to clean up.”

You murmur a chastised yes, ma’am under your breath.

Micah stalks away, glaring over his shoulder without another word. 

All that’s left is the thunk, thunk, thunk, of your knife against the wooden table. You let yourself imagine each unfortunate fish is Micah, instead. 

— 

Dutch finds you later. You’re sat on a log overlooking the lake, glaring out across the water like it’s somehow responsible for everything that’s happened up until now. He sits beside you and lights a cigar. 

“Ms. Grimshaw tells me someone tried to kill Micah today.”

His tone is neutral, but a quick glance out of the corner of your eye reveals a tightness in his posture that’s never a good sign. He lets out a puff of smoke and watches it fade into the horizon with squinted eyes.

“She tell you he had it coming?”

“Now, Ghost—” he starts to chastise, but you cut him off.

“I never pretended to see what you do in him.” His eyes widen and flash with wounded pride, but your face is set in defiance. “Maybe we’re all nasty killers and degenerates, but he’s worse. I ain’t gonna stand by while he runs his mouth about any one of us.”

His face is all severity and rough-cut gemstone. “Any one of us, or just John?” 

Outrage flares your nostrils and twists your mouth into something ugly. “That ain’t fair! And it certainly ain’t the point.”

“Isn’t it?” His hand on your shoulder, so often a comfort through the years, rests heavy and threatening. Your pulse jumps. Your mouth feels dry. “We don’t have the luxury of doubt - not between any of us. Haven’t I taught you loyalty? Don’t I deserve your trust?”

That’s all it takes for you to deflate. “You have it. You’ve always done right by us, but—”

“There is no but,” he says. “Faith, Ghost! Faith.”

“Faith, then. Fine. Faith.”

The words taste bitter on your tongue, but his eyes soften all at once into that familiar, sparkling brown. “I knew I could depend on you.”

“Sure. Always.”

He leaves with one last squeeze of your shoulder and orders to look into the Braithwaite family - something to do with prize horses. After all, who better than the infamous Ghost Rider? The Van der Linde Ghost? 

—

You stay on that log for a long time. Thinking. Smoking. Stewing in the not-quite-anger left in Dutch’s wake. 

—

That night around the fire you and John gravitate to one another like always. He brings you a plate of fish and sits beside you; a little too close for friends, a little too friendly to be anything but.

Somehow it aches more than usual.

He chatters on about his day, but all you can hear is the sneer of Micah’s voice, and all you can feel is the burn of Dutch’s knowing stare. The sweat on your brow has little to do with Lemoyne’s oppressive heat anymore.

[hualianisms]

saw someone saying that the difference between HC & FX's loyalty is that HC dares to say no to XL and that "stop following" never worked on HC, and i have a lot of thoughts about this.

i think there's 2 major things that make XL's relationship with HC vs with FX completely different, especially if comparing XL & HC 800 years later, vs XL & FX in book 4.

the inherent difference in social status btwn XL & FX

the circumstances surrounding how FX & XL's friendship deteriorated in book 4, vs hualian meeting 800 years later when XL is in a way better mental state

bc of these 2 factors, i personally feel like hualian's relationship vs FX & XL in book 4 are in many ways not fairly comparable.

firstly, the inherent differences in social status btwn XL & FX:

while it's true that XL & FX were close friends and XL never treated FX as just a bodyguard or servant, it's undeniable that 800 years ago, XL & FX's relationship had inherent big differences in social status. the thing is that in a historical chinese context, differences in social status make a huge difference, bc confucian societal hierarchies and roles are rigid. in fact to me as a native chinese speaker, mxtx was already pretty lax in her portrayal of the status differences btwn XL vs FX or MQ. a crown prince vs his personal retainer have huge inherent differences in status that create lines that cannot be crossed by the retainer. bc of this, in other c-novels or c-dramas, it's rare to see a crown prince and his personal retainer being best friends on an equal footing, much less a romance between them (the romance would be forbidden and face societal backlash).

bc of the inherent differences in social status, it's much harder for FX to outright defy XL when XL gives a direct order, for example if XL dismisses FX as a servant - and it's very obvious in the revised version of the novel that in the scene where XL tells FX to leave, he's also dismissing FX as a servant as he also says "i don't need you anymore". that's something that's hard for FX to just ignore. it's like if your boss fires you, you can't just say "no."

while i would argue that FX himself dares to talk back to XL (in book 2 he often scolds XL and in book 4 after xianle's fall, FX even dared to do something like give XL a punch in the scene when XL came back from getting stabbed) - it's hard for FX to insist on staying if XL just dismissed him and told him to leave. some might see it as FX being afraid to speak out, but to me it's not about fear, but about respect. FX has deep respect for XL. he scolds MQ every time MQ shows disrespect to XL and even went on a long angry outburst to MQ in book 2 about how MQ should respect XL as XL is His Highness. it's evident even 800 years later how much FX respects XL.

in contrast, HC with XL 800 years later does not have this inherent status divide of master & servant. 800 years later, hualian meet as complete equals. if they had gotten closer when HC was still a commoner child and XL was still a crown prince, the difference in social status would have been an issue too.

2. the circumstances surrounding hualian's relationship 800 years later, and XL & FX's relationship in book 4 are extremely different

when hualian meet 800 years later, they get to know each other as not just equals, but as individuals who are 800+ years old. they have had literal centuries to mature and grow as people. and, XL is in a way better mental state 800 years later. in contrast, XL & FX in their book 4 falling out were dealing with extremely tough times, barely struggling to get by each day, traumatized by the fall of xianle and losing almost everything of their old lives (with XL especially in the worst psychological state he's ever been, extremely traumatized by the events with BWX and clearly depressed). people really don't make the best decisions when they are in bad psychological states - that's when they tend to make bad choices.

HC may have seen XL at XL's lowest, but they were not friends at that point. they didn't have to live with each other, they only were around each other for an extremely short time in book 4. they didn't have a mutual, reciprocal bond. ofc i'm sure if HC was in FX's position, he would have never left. but for FX's specific position, he was living with XL, was XL's good friend and personal attendant, was actually day-to-day witnessing and being on the receiving end of XL's heavily deteriorating psychological state. XL was screaming at FX and having intense mental breakdowns due to trauma. it's important to remember that XL in book 4, especially after being stabbed 100 times, was completely different from his normal self. he was not himself at all. any friend would be alarmed to see their friend completely different all of a sudden, and questioned it.

however, FX did not know or understand what XL was going through, and when he tried to ask, XL didn't tell FX about any of it, and instead shut him out and pushed him away. FX probably wanted to help, but didn't even have a way to understand what was happening. he was helpless. and even XL's own mother didn't know how to help either. she, too, was pushed away when she tried to talk to XL.

we also have to remember that we, as the reader, know that XL only pushed FX away due to an intense fear of abandonment, but FX did not have the knowledge that the reader has. FX did not know that at all. from FX's pov, XL didn't want him around anymore. from FX's pov, even as a friend, how could he force XL to change his mind if XL didn't want FX around anymore?

bc even completely ignoring social status differences, even in terms of friendship, when friends have a messy falling out like that, where one basically tries to cut ties with the other (with an implied leave and stop staying/living with me - it's practically being kicked out), and if the other friend truly believes that they are no longer wanted around (which is what i think FX interpreted), it could in some ways be ignoring your friend's own wishes or even your friend's personal boundaries, to say "no" and insist on still following even after being told to leave. i find their fight and falling out in book 4 pretty realistic for how friend breakups happen in real life.

so to me, the circumstances were very different. when HC says no to XL, it's 800 years later, when XL is in a much healthier mental state, they don't have an inherent status difference, and XL isn't trying to drive HC away completely. XL is only doing something harmful to himself, which HC can push back against on the grounds of prioritizing XL's own well-being. it's not when XL is trying to cut ties with HC due to abandonment fears. (not saying that HC would leave in any circumstance, but that the situation FX was in would be complicated to experience in reality and not as simple as just saying no. and that FX's choice was more complicated than just blind obedience.)

in fact, FX & XL's friend breakup, although incredibly painful for both of them as well as the reader, paved the way for them to reconcile 800 years later when XL is no longer the crown prince & FX is no longer his personal retainer/bodyguard. they no longer have such a big difference in social status between them. they are both also 800 years older - i.e. had lots of time to mature and grow as people, and in a much better psychological state. they are in a much better place this time around to form a much healthier friendship with each other on a more equal ground.

[cookies-and-mirrors]

Prison of Stone and Flesh

Chapter One

This is a collaborative fic between @cookiesupplier and @faceless-mirror.

Divider by @samspenandsword

Pairings: Chris x transfem!Vinny, Justin x Transmasc!Ricky, Chris x Justin x Ryan, Chris x Transmasc!Ricky, Ryan x ONBC, Ryan x transfem!Vinny, ryan x transmasc!ricky, Justin x transfem!Vinny

Christopher, Justin, and Ryan are members of the Gargoyle Order, soldiers fighting in the angels war against the demonic supernatural evils of the world to protect human kind. Through the years they lost comrades and now just the three of them remain in their little town. They have long since been abandoned by the angel that had been sworn to keep them safe and protect them during the day while they were trapped in stone.

Now, Ricky and Vinny are moving into their church to renovate and live in the space due to Ricky always found it as home as a child, stirring up old and new feelings, along with the past, posing the challenge of navigating this new chapter in their lives.

Can they navigate this path successfully and break free of the prisons that is their lives of both stone and flesh, or will they all be trapped forever in a world that could prove to be a constant misery?

Taglist: @embracethereaper42 @21-century-tae @dragon-chica @shilohrosechicken @phxntxsmicgoricxl

@missduffsblog @witchyweeb34 @spicywhenspeaking @lacktoesandtoddlerants @blackveilomens

@bngurngheart @dominuslunae @collapsedglasshouses @embracethereaper42 @emmmm127

@sunsshinesunny

(please comment/reblog/message to be added to taglist)

Outside of the church was mostly silent other than the soft noises of people talking and construction. It was a mild day at least. The roof had been fixed up and supports had been reinforced. People had been in and out of the church for weeks but now… This was a different sound. People moving in. Part of the church had been turned into an apartment-like space. Three bedrooms… and a kitchen and living room. It was nice at least and the Rectory had even had some work, plumbing replaced, fresh paint, and heating and cooling throughout the entire building.

Now, a black-haired man drifted into the building with a warm smile, blue eyes twinkling and shining as he carried a cardboard box labeled ‘kitchen’. He was followed by a curly red and brown-haired person wearing jeans and a t-shirt that hugged their masculine frame beautifully. “Ricky wait up- Holy shit it’s pretty in here- wait am I allowed to cuss? This was a church-”

“You can cuss. The gargoyles have heard me cuss enough when i was younger-” he said, stopping to wait for his companion, before looking up towards the rafters not seeing the gargoyles right away. Though when he spotted them near the altar- covered with some light graffiti he scowled rushing to them and set down the box, moving to get some soap and water and a brush. “Fuck- Vinny- Can you help me? Shit-shit-” he mumbled softly scrubbing away the graffiti, cupping Loyalty’s face gently, “Hey- Hey i came home. I’m here- Let’s get you cleaned up, Loyalty… Trust you’re next.” he insisted.

Vinny’s green eyes widened in shock seeing Ricky’s concern and they rushed over, quickly moving to help by starting on the worst- Responsibility. “So… these are your friends you told me about?” they asked looking at Ricky curiously.

The raven-haired man nodded, happy to see Loyalty’s face free of paint and staining. “Yeah. Loyalty, Trust, and Responsibility. That’s Responsibility you’re working on.” He explained, smiling softly up at Loyalty petting his cheek. “Guys this is Vinny, she’s my friend I made in Washington.” His voice was deeper, and his smile was just as sweet as when he was younger. He moved to scrub Trust of paint, his hand falling from Loyaltys cheek gently as he did.

Christopher had been irate when the construction had finally started. Finally, considering the builders and architects had been coming and going through their home for weeks prior to any work to their space being actually done, and to make matters worse… it didn’t actually scare off the teenagers. Some time back, it had become a popular dare for the local hooligans to see who could get in here, climb up to the rafters, and tag one of the gargoyles in the most inappropriate way.

The ones that had managed to crawl underneath them and managed to tag their groins certainly had reached the top of the list. The problem was, being able to wash away the graffiti from their stone forms was extremely difficult. They couldn’t move when they were stone, what were they to do, transform in the river and way for the water to rush by long enough to wash the dried paintaway? It didn’t work, and it didn’t disappear when they shifted back and forth.

Now, seeing these two moving into their home after desecrating the church by, by completely changing it. Their home, while holy ground to them, following the edicts of the angels, admittedly hadn’t been a place of worship for a long time. These humans coming in and tearing it apart, changing everything, it had Christopher seething from the moment they first stepped in here with their equipment, that was even before they started moving in today.

Then there was the two that came up to platforms where they were perched in their stone prisons, still, trapped and unable to move in the light of day. The voices, the voices had already drifted up here long before they did, hearing the other call him Ricky, and Justin seeing him once they’d climbed up here from that apartment space.. He knew it was him. It was Ricky. He’d come home.

Stone eyes watched Ricky as his soft touch scrubbed at the markings on the stone skin of his face. He looked, his smile just as it always was, there was no missing that. Though, he sounded different.. A good different. He sounded happy.

Vinny. Christopher blinking at this female that was cleaning him, her touch scrubbing at some of the multitude of markings that covered him. He did bear the brunt of the markings, his pride of place more prominent than Loyalty and Trust, he was the commander of the unit, and his placement showed it. In turn became the prime target for shenanigans. Did he question her muscular frame with her jeans and shirt, no, stone eyes merely regarded her curiously, still, refusing to be pleased at their presence.. Ricky, how could you do this to their home?

Ryan was in absolute disagreement with Christopher to his frustration to the updating to their home. With how long it had been since anyone of true honest religious intent had stepped foot on these grounds, it was about time someone put the holy ground to good use once more. To them, it would always be holy ground, because their work, was always going to be in the name of the angels. As long as they resided here, and still functioned in fighting their war on their behalf, they did their duty.. As long as they breathed, they fought.

Trust they would always fight, and Ryan, he trusted, and he hoped others would trust him just as much. He was glad to have Ricky home.

Ricky was scrubbing Trust free of the paint now soothingly humming to them. “I'm going to take some pictures of the gargoyles and find a better place for them. I was thinking the Rectory so that they wont be as accessible-” Ricky babbled sweetly with a grin as he worked finally getting the last of the paint off of Trust.

“I think the rectory would be perfect. Is that why you put in the window so we can check on them sometimes?” Vinny asked kneeling as she scrubbed the rest of Responsibility without much thought as movers moved some of their stuff up into their apartment across from the rectory.

The Rectory. It was where they retreated enough as it was, it was how they got cleaned up when some of their battles got, messy. If they couldn’t find other means. Of course, it was easier to use since the place had been abandoned and was no longer used to house the local parish priest. Ryan found it curious that Ricky would put them in there, however he was, it would be a place that could be closed off from the rest of the church opposed to here, and unbeknownst to him, had perfect balcony for them to fly from when they head out on patrol. They could come and go as they needed to continue their work, and it would be far less having to hide from the mortals down below in the church open space.

“Precisely. I figured it’d be nice for them to have a space just for them.” Ricky explained gently. “I'll arrange for the construction workers to help move them up to the rectory.”

Christopher wasn’t listening to Ricky, he was trying to focus on anything else but what was happening around him. Nope, not listen, he was thinking of battle strategy, and the report on the rogue vampire pack that had been trolling the east side of town last night that Justin had brought back to him that they needed to follow up on. Yes, that was what he was attempting to focus on, anything but the way Vinny’s scrubbing brush was moving over his skin underneath his belly. No, his body couldn’t physically react in his stone form, but he could feel every single stroke of that rough brush against the thick porous skin.

Ricky stepped back and noticed what Vinny was doing, sliding down to scrub Trust's crotch first, his eyes wide when he noticed there were actually… dick and balls. “Oh shit… well. Let's get you cleaned up. Loyalty, I'll help you shortly. Trust doesn't have as much paint down here i dont think.”

Trust wasn't too big but thick at least making ricky blush. He was grateful he had never noticed until now.

Vinny giggled and smiled softly, “it was a nice surprise.” She commented with a smirk as Ricky scrubbed away.

A nice surprise. A nice surprise, that was what the female said of scrubbing Christopher’s groin. Oh boy. It was blessing that is was mid afternoon and the sun was still out, forcing them to be rigid as stone, and not in the way that would make what the pair was doing to them even more embarrassing. It was a blessing, because hearing the way this Vinny just giggled like that and said it was a nice surprise, would have had him falling over with laughter, there would be no hiding, even trying to keep his stone form.. Thousands of years of keeping the secret wasted over two mortals scrubbing his commanders cock of graffitti. Oh, the angels. This was priceless.

Justin was no better, he was no better, until he remembered something, Ricky said he would be going next.

Shit.

He moved back to Loyalty finally and blushed seeing exactly what Loyalty had been packing compared to Trust. Oh. Oh. He swallowed cheeks burning as his mouth watered, “oh fuck I would take you in a heart beat if you were erect.” He mumbled.

His face burned as he realized what he had just said when Vinny snorted. “Size king.” She said softly, as she scrubbed a bit harder at Responsibilties’ length noting some stubborn paint.

“As if you arent a size queen.” He retorted his focus on cleaning though he allowed himself to let his fingers glide over his cock teasingly for a moment under the guise of feeling for paint.

No, no, absolutely not. Justin did not hear that. He did not hear that. He was not imagining that. This was Ricky. Ricky. Hear that. Ricky, whom used to sleep curled up in a pew down below, crying over his father being an ignoramus- oh that was, Ricky needed to stop that, now, immediately, Justin had to fight now to groan. Any sound he made was swallowed on the wind through the rafters of the Church, thank the Heavens, please, please, Ricky, just finish quickly and be done. Justin eyes were focused on the far beams across the rafters, mentally going over his different weapons that he had tucked away in his arsenal. His daggers, his blades, his dual warrior swords, those were his specialty.

Christopher was doing no better, he had started itemizing the reports one by one for the past week as he had run out of the vampire issue from the night before. Most of the reports were verbal of course, magically recorded rather than waste the likes of trees as per humans did. Vinny, Vinny seemed to be taking a prolonged time with her scrubbing. Ryan was done and moved on to Justin already, and Vinny was still at work, and as, as… he couldn’t lie about how… pleasing it felt… What was he going to do?

Finally, Vinny pulled back smiling at her work and smirked. “Okay. I’m gonna finish taking boxes upstairs- she said kissing Ricky's cheek before slipping off. There was a long silence before Ricky was satisfied and sighed in relief. “All better now… I’m gonna have you guys moved now…” he murmured drying his hands.

Oh, he could try to calm down now, Christopher was thankful that the siren had taken her hands off of him. Watching as she pressed that tiny kiss to Ricky’s cheek. Oh. Oh wasn’t that interesting. Ricky had said they were friends, but from watching humans over the centuries, most friends were less close in such a manner than that, such nonchalant kisses tended to be reserved for more intimate relations. Could it be that Ricky had found himself a partner?

Well, in that case, Christopher wished them well.

Of course, he would be infinitely happier for them, if the pair hadn’t decided to completely decided to upend and destroy his home. It was a Church, not whatever they were turning it into!

Ricky talked to the construction crew and they set to work to move the gargoyles into the Rectory, careful with the new drywall in the smaller apartment. He sighed softly, smiling to himself as he helped move things into the apartment with Vinny, setting things up. It felt amazing to be home and peaceful for once. He was arranging to have it still remain looking most like a church, but he and Vinny had decided the outcome of the building. It would be their home, along with being a coffee shop during the day and a bar at night. He had found a beautiful old bar that would be perfect for both and fit into the decor perfectly.

It would be a few more weeks until it was fully ready to open but Vinny had been delighted at the thought of opening the business. Seeing that joy alone was priceless to him… Beautiful and endearing… how could he resist?

He tied his long hair back up into a bun as he worked and helped with some of the smaller details in the apartment. It was beautiful and perfect in his mind. This was and would be his only home. It had been for so long already. And with his grandparents now… gone… he felt even more sure of himself that this was where he was meant to be.

- - - - -

Finally, Ricky had finished up enough and set some coasters out in the Rectory, a pumpkin latte, black coffee, and a sweet caramel coffee with whipped cream placed in each one. The coasters were homemade one for each of the gargoyles. He smiled and looked at them exhausted, “Thank you for being here. I’m going to be here for you too.” he admitted softly, “Vinny and I are locking the church up now and I’m going to make dinner before bed. You’re safe now. No one will do that again to you. I promise.”

He left, flipping off the lights leaving the gargoyles alone with the beverages as the sun began to fully dip below the horizon. “Oh. And every day I finish my work I’m going to leave some drinks for you all to enjoy. The coasters will be moved to the bar.

Then there was the soft click of the door shutting and the sound of his footsteps clicking down the stairs.

[richincolor]

New Releases

This week's an exciting one for new YA books! Quite a few of these books coming out tomorrow are at the very top of my must-read pile, like Transmogrify! and Venom & Vow. What's on your TBR?

Transmogrify!: 14 Fantastical Tales of Trans Magic edited by g. haron davis Transness is as varied and colorful as magic can be. In Transmogrify!, you’ll embark on fourteen different adventures alongside unforgettable characters who embody many different genders and expressions and experiences—because magic is for everyone, and that is cause for celebration.

Featuring stories from: AR Capetta and Cory McCarthy g. haron davis Mason Deaver Jonathan Lenore Kastin Emery Lee Saundra Mitchell Cam Montgomery Ash Nouveau Sonora Reyes Renee Reynolds Dove Salvatierra Ayida Shonibar Francesca Tacchi Nik Traxler

Fake Dates and Mooncakes by Sher Lee Dylan Tang wants to win a Mid-Autumn Festival mooncake-making competition for teen chefs—in memory of his mom, and to bring much-needed publicity to his aunt’s struggling Chinese takeout in Brooklyn.

Enter Theo Somers: charming, wealthy, with a smile that makes Dylan’s stomach do backflips. AKA a distraction. Their worlds are sun-and-moon apart, but Theo keeps showing up. He even convinces Dylan to be his fake date at a family wedding in the Hamptons.

In Theo’s glittering world of pomp, privilege, and crazy rich drama, their romance is supposed to be just pretend . . . but Dylan finds himself falling for Theo. For real. Then Theo’s relatives reveal their true colors—but with the mooncake contest looming, Dylan can’t risk being sidetracked by rich-people problems. Can Dylan save his family’s business and follow his heart—or will he fail to do both?

Hurt You by Marie Myung-Ok Lee

Moving beyond the quasi-fraternal bond of the unforgettable George and Lenny from Of Mice and Men, Hurt You explores the actual sibling bond of Georgia and Leonardo da Vinci Daewoo Kim, who has an unnamed neurological disability that resembles autism. The themes of race, disability, and class spin themselves out in a suburban high school where the Kim family has moved in order to access better services for Leonardo. Suddenly unmoored from the familiar, including the support of her Aunt Clara, Georgia struggles to find her place in an Asian-majority school where whites still dominate culturally, and she finds herself feeling not Korean “enough.” Her one pole star is her commitment to her brother, a loyalty that finds itself at odds with her immigrant parents’ dreams for her, and an ableist, racist society that may bring violence to Leonardo despite her efforts to keep him safe.

Hurt You is a deep exploration of family, society, and the bond between siblings and reflects the reality that people with intellectual disabilities are far more likely to be the victim of a violent crime, not the perpetrator.

Last Canto for the Dead (Outlaw Saints #2) by Daniel José Older

Two gods-turned-teenagers wage simultaneous battles in the Caribbean and Brooklyn in this sequel to Ballad & Dagger.

Healer. Destroyer. Creator. Mateo Matisse and Chela Hidalgo are not just two teenagers in love–they’re powerful gods in human form. Powerful enough to have saved their Brooklyn diaspora community from the wrath of an ancient enemy and to have raised their once-sunken native island of San Madrigal from the sea. But soon they discover that their problems are far from over. On the shores of San Madrigal, two creature armies are battling for survival. And on the streets of Brooklyn, a once tight-knit community is divided, with two sides at each other’s throats. But worst of all, a heartbreaking prophecy rips these two young lovers apart, sending Mateo back to the city, where cops are now patrolling the streets, and keeping Chela tethered to the island, where chaos and death lurk around every corner.

Healer. Destroyer. Creator. As gods, their powers know no limits. But as teenagers–separated, desperate, grieving–what will become of them? And what will become of their people? Join their battle and witness their love in this thrilling conclusion to the epic saga that began with BALLAD & DAGGER.

Venom & Vow by Anna-Marie McLemore and Elliott McLemore Keep your enemy closer. Cade McKenna is a transgender prince who’s doubling for his brother. Valencia Palafox is a young dama attending the future queen of Eliana. Gael Palma is the infamous boy assassin Cade has vowed to protect. Patrick McKenna is the reluctant heir to a kingdom, and the prince Gael has vowed to destroy.

Cade doesn’t know that Gael and Valencia are the same person. Valencia doesn’t know that every time she thinks she’s fighting Patrick, she’s fighting Cade. And when Cade and Valencia blame each other for a devastating enchantment that takes both their families, neither of them realizes that they have far more dangerous enemies.

Rubi Ramos’s Recipe for Success by Jessica Parra Graduation is only a few months away, and so far Rubi Ramos’s recipe for success is on track.

*Step 1: Get into the prestigious Alma University. *Step 2: Become incredibly successful lawyer. But when Alma waitlists Rubi’s application, her plan is in jeopardy. Her parents–especially her mom, AKA the boss–have wanted this for her for years. In order to get off the waitlist without her parents knowing, she needs math tutoring from surfer-hottie math genius Ryan, lead the debate team to a championship–and remember the final step of the recipe.

*Step 3: Never break the ban on baking. Rubi has always been obsessed with baking, daydreaming up new concoctions and taking shifts at her parents’ celebrated bakery. But her mother dismisses baking as a distraction–her parents didn’t leave Cuba so she could bake just like them.

But some recipes are begging to be tampered with… When the First Annual Bake Off comes to town, Rubi’s passion for baking goes from subtle simmer to full boil. She’s not sure if she has what it takes to become OC’s best amateur baker, and there’s only one way to find out–even though it means rejecting the ban on baking, and by extension, her parents. But life is what you bake it, and now Rubi must differentiate between the responsibility of unfulfilled dreams she holds, and finding the path she’s meant for.

As Long As We’re Together by Brianna Peppins A heartstring-tugging, uplifting, modern spin on Party of Five — a love letter to family, hope, and finding strength in unexpected places.

Even though she has six siblings, sixteen-year-old Novah still knows what it’s like to feel lonely. Her friends never remember to invite her anywhere because they assume Novah will be too busy overseeing dinner, baths, and homework — tasks that fall to her when her parents are at work. She wouldn’t mind it so much if her “perfect” older sister, Ariana, wasn’t always excused from helping out. She’s the star of the volleyball team, and their parents don’t want anything to jeopardize the scholarships she’ll need to become the first member of their family to attend college.

Needless to say, Novah feels like she’s been given a raw deal, especially when she’s forced to cancel a maybe-date with her crush, Hailee. Then one terrible night, their parents don’t make it back home. A car accident takes their lives and leaves seven heartbroken kids on their own. The Wilkinson siblings have no grandparents, no aunts or uncles. Since Ariana has just turned eighteen, she manages to convince the judge to give her temporary custody. If she can keep her family running smoothly, they’ll get to stay in their home. If not, they’ll be placed into foster care.

Novah will do whatever it takes to keep her family together but finds herself in a constant power struggle when Ariana refuses to take her advice, even once it becomes clear that they are all in way over their heads. Will Novah find her voice and summon the strength to do the impossible? Or will she be forced to say the hardest goodbyes of all?

[laventadorn]

Hi. Me again. In canon Umbridge finds out about Dumbledore's Army/Defense Club due to Umbridge giving Marietta Edgecombe (I think that was her name), Cho's friend, truth serum. But, I was speculating the nuance of actual betrayal, and forcing the younger generation to re-asses their house biases. Like, maybe b/c of the presence of a Slytherine, people just assume the worst of them. Harriet defends them. Only, for it to be a fellow Gryffindor, or Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw who sells them out to Umbridge. Whether you go there or not in your fanfic, I was just curious about what you think of the nuance of the positive/negative extremes of ALL the houses. I think it was confirmed Umbridge was in fact in Hufflepuff, which shows the fine line between loyalty and fanaticism. Pettigrew was Gryffindor; the fine line between bravery and ego. Ravenclaw can probably be so practical that they sometimes don't think about people's feelings. And through Snape (especially the way you write him ; chef's kiss) we see the nuance of Slytherine. And since you're keeping Cedric, I hope we get more POVs (however brief they may be) of the other house characters. I LOVE that you're expanding Harriet's circle of friends, slowly but surely. Hermione and Ron will always be her closest friends. But, I loved how we saw Cho, and even Fleur in 4th yr, Asteria - I hope we see more Millicent - so, I look forward to more of that goodness. I think that's one of the reasons why I keep coming back to your fics for re-reads. You've added nuance that I felt was lacking in canon. Anyway, thank you for writing such a beautiful story.

hello again! someone once said "JKR divided the human race into four groups and then ignored two of them," which i think is pretty accurate... and the older i get, the sillier the whole house system seems. my brain is not operating at its peak today, so some of this might be garbled nonsense or just repeating the obvious, but:

to me, the houses don't have any inherent value as a means of determining character. i think it would be more accurate to say that people are sorted based on how they want to appear to others or how they think of themselves. this isn't a bad thing per se -- i think it's neutral and natural. it might not even be conscious, especially when they're young.

we can read harry's experience this way, for example. dumbledore says "it's our choices that determine who we are" and cites the example of harry turning down slytherin and choosing gryffindor, but i would argue this is not because slytherin is inherently evil or gryffindor inherently good; harry made his choice based on how the houses were described to him. the sorting hat frames it differently than hagrid did (slytherin is the "way to greatness" vs. the bad people house). harry doesn't want to be bad*, so he just says "not the bad people house" until the sorting hat gives up. it's more like the house system reinforces beliefs or biases because you get 4 separate groups who establish what behavior is "the best," and then what could have been a minor inclination (or even a major one) gets reinforced into something bigger. hufflepuff seems to have the least issue with this, as helga is described in one of the songs as "tak[ing] all the rest," i.e. the kids that didn't sort into the other three houses with their prized qualities of courage, intelligence, and ambition. a person doesn't have to be smart to get into ravenclaw, they just have to prize intelligence (or want to be perceived as wise or intelligent). in her mind, umbridge could believe that she is very loyal to traditional wizard values, but in reality, she's just a sadist who loves control (fanaticism). peter probably wanted to be seen as brave because he was scared of everything all the time -- but then he wasn't actually brave, and this could've reinforced his inferiority, especially adding in james and sirius' bullying behavior and his own clearly mixed admiration and resentment.

idk, i'd like harriet to just realize the house system is so deeply flawed and largely based on pure perception as to be inherently meaningless. maybe she doesn't make a big platform out of it, but she's already pretty much decided this on a subconscious level from her interactions with asteria and snape. so if someone were to ask her, she'd say, "i dunno, it doesn't really seem to matter. just do what you think is right."

and: thank you! c:

ETA:

*it could be argued that harry doesn't want to go to the bad people house because the dursleys have always labeled him as a nasty, rotten boy etc. and he doesn't want to wind up in that position in the wizarding world. (plus, what child wants to be seen that way?) then he meets malfoy, who makes him feel small, and this reinforces his No Slytherin point of view. these are very child-appropriate concerns, so i'm not saying this is narrow-minded of the text; it feels quite honest, really. of course, this is just about Not Slytherin; the Hat puts harry in gryffindor based on what it senses in his personality. so maybe i'm undermining my own point :)

[reiketsui]

For canon muses: what's the worst take, headcanon or even canon moment you saw regarding your muse? ( yea based on your post about the rancid tag )

i'm sorry gio for this hornet nest you have poked ily I'M GONNA SOUND EXTREMELY AGGRESSIVE IN THIS BUT DW I'M FINE I'M OKAY I'M JUST PASSIONATE ABOUT THIS CHARACTER IN A WAY THAT ALTERS MY MENTAL STATE

it's the WHOLE fucking umbrella of giovanni simping. and really the SIMPING, and reducing his entire personality to that and only that. maybe it's just difficult to get right or something? it is a delicate balance. like whatever if someone makes a joke about it it's funny and i love the jokes i get here about it in moderation because i know my friends and mutuals UNDERSTAND it's not all there is. and ic reactions are a different thing entirely bc the dynamic/their reputation to outsiders may present the bond between them like that.

i see it more as archer's personal lack of self-worth and his need to be flawless and perfect and his flawed sense of self-destructive loyalty, and who else he could project that onto than his boss who literally saved his life and elevated him from a dirt poor street rat into one of the most brutal, skilled and sought after criminals in the kanto-johto area. archer doesn't follow his order blindly, he may even challenge his order if he thinks there's a better/more efficient way, because there's a deep sense of trust and understanding between them.

i'm just gonna go ahead and blame pokéspe for this simp culture because what the fuck look how they massacred my boy in it. overall pokéspe used the execs to finish the d/p storyline which i'm endlessly mad and bitter about but won't get into bc it's not part of this but y'know.

and like yeah. i know. this is a pretty insignificant character in a large scale so many people just don't take it as dead serious as i do in my deranged mind space. for most people it's just funnies. i understand. good for them. but i'm still gonna be salty about it.

fanons have a funny way of reducing a character's entire personality to one line of dialogue or one personality trait and giving them nothing else. in comparison to proton (who i fucking adore and you know it it ain't about that and proton's popular fanon takes have a TON of issues too that i could yell about for hours, but this is just for an example) archer often gets the 'prissy stick in the mud uwu pathetic simp wet dog boy' treatment while proton gets the 'cool sexy badass murder man' one. there's a funny divide between the english and japanese fanons in this because japanese fanons often get it better. if i sound like a gatekeeper with this character it's because i am (i'm joking i do like different takes on him but not the 'simp and NOTHING else' stuff it makes me explode).

[travalistocata]

💛💚💖💔💕 + b5

aaaa thank you!!

from these (x)

what is a popular ship you just can’t get behind, and why?

marcus/neroon is something i just can’t get into and i honestly don’t know why! it has so many things that i would like - the minor character, the possibility of tragedy, the toxic yaoi fight to the almost-death, all of that. but they just don’t grip me. i’m not some neroon hater either, at worst i love to hate him because he’s kind of obnoxious but i love obnoxious bitches. who knows.

what does everyone else get wrong about your favorite character?

i like to joke that lyta is a kitten in a wet cardboard box all alone but when she is able to be, she is capable, independent and able to fend for herself. she’s introduced to us in divided loyalties by immediately brandishing a weapon and making demands. people act as if she’s unable to do anything for herself when the biggest part of her character is that she has been purposefully held back and isolated from others. being abused is not a character flaw, actually, and being abused with no way of escaping that abuse is also not a character flaw! also it’s so, so, so much more annoying when this attitude towards her is applied to her “aren’t you tired of being nice-“ arc in season 5. she can explode things with her mind quite literally. she’s shown using her crazy ass telepathy to kill SHADOWS in the road home! and then people act as if she’d be at g’kar’s mercy as if g’kar is also not a senior citizen who has sworn off violence of any kind.

what is your biggest unpopular opinion about the series?

(strained through gritted teeth, pretending i have not seen the fifth season) the pacing isn’t that bad. some plotlines are rushed, yes (fly high byron my beautiful controversial angel) but seasons one through four were just fine pacing wise. the climax for the shadow war was somewhat underwhelming but also i don’t think babylon 5 really is, genuinely, a kind of piece of media that needs an epic space battle. especially when all of the conflict and epic space battles you are shown, you’re shown the actual tragedy behind senseless death. “talking it out” is almost lame, but it also to me quietly told me a lot about the first ones in general as well.

if you had to remove one major character from the series, who would you choose?

i’m so sorry but if lennier had just gotten the na’toth treatment and disappeared somewhere in like season 2 or 3 and showed up as a ranger in season 5 i don’t think i would have noticed much. i still love lennier but lennier’s plotlines are such nothingburger little things and are usually wrapped up in things that involve delenn, during which i’m paying more attention to what delenn is doing in those situations.

what is an unpopular ship that you like?

AS PER MY RANT ABOUT LYTA nothing quite really beats being incredibly moved by g’kar and lyta’s final scenes in the show, going to see if anyone else ships them or if i just have goggles on because they’re two of my most favorites and just seeing…That. i also like lyta/byron. like i get why people may dislike either of those ships but also i feel like a lot of people make up or exaggerate the things that could possibly be problematic about the both of them. if i read another post comparing g’kar and lyta’s established dynamic with forced prostitution i’m going to snap. like please yall my girl has gone through so much shit can she not get laid on top of it all???? also to answer the “what does the fandom get wrong about your favorite” question again the idea that g’kar is willingly doing all of THAT and intentionally perpetuating an imbalanced dynamic after he has grown up in and been victimized by systemic and intrapersonal abuse his entire life is………hmmmmmm.

[corrieguards]

Gotta ask… what would Dogma be like with a crush? What do you think he would do for a first date? Do you think he’d be willing to bend the rules for his crush/significant other?

send me a random anon ask 🖤

Ohhh Dogma!! Great question anon🤍 I have a huge soft spot for this boi and i hate how misunderstood he is.

Got slightly carried away with this one but honestly, no regrets.

I'm going to start off by saying that I think Dogma is a very very complex character, so I'm going to divide it into pre and post Umbara.

I hate to say it, but i think Pre-Umbara Dogma would just shove the feelings down and try his best to completely ignore them. He's just wound too tight for me to see him acting any differently.

Obviously it wouldn't work, because we all know that the more you ignore a crush, the worst it gets. It would drive him crazy bc why can't he get you out of his fucking head??

Gets mad and frustrated at himself because he doesn't understand why he's thinking about you like this. He knows he shouldn't, so why can't he stop??

I think Dogma is a very stubborn individual and wouldn't let himself cave to the feelings, regardless of how real and intense they are.

In a desperate attempt to get a control of the situation, he would treat you as cold and distant as possible, border-line mean to you. Just because it's the only way he can keep a clear head and stop thinking about you. So he tries to keep you at arms length at all times.

---

Post-Umbara Dogma is a whole 'nother story altogether.

Umbara put a lot of things in perspective for him, mainly that blind loyalty will bring him nothing except suffering, and that holding himself back from the things he wants is only hurting himself and others.

So, while he's sitting in that Umbaran cell, he resolves that he's going to stop holding back and just go for it, regulations be damned.

Maybe it's an act of defiance, or a way to get back to the things that have made him suffer. But either way, once Dogma decides something, you best bet he's going to go through with it his stubborness shinning through again

Now, if you want to make it angsty, then you can lean towards the headcanon that he doesn't come back from Umbara, and just gets decommissioned. Hence, never getting the chance to actually ever confess to you.

However, if you're like me and need to give him a happy ending, then you can choose to belive that he does come back. And as soon as he gets back he finds you and just straight up confesses all his feelings for you. Awkwardly and a little clumsy, but still undoubtedly very sincerely and genuine.

If you accept to try a relationship with him, he'll treat you like and absolute princess to make up for lost time + apologies profusely for the way he's treated you before.

His ideal place for a first date is definitely going to be somewhere secluded and private, just the two of you so he can really let loose and show you his true self.

Dogma is bby boy and he just needs a lot of patience and love 🩵 he could do with a hug too

[rainyobservationperson]

Part 4 I believe, of the lucid-dream-allucination-but-it's-actually-time-travel- AU(?)

Gaius manages to stay calm to wash Merlin up and to check on him to make sure there's nothing wrong with him (physically), and put him to rest in his room. And the breaks down, he honestly thought that this one might be the one. The one time where Merlin goes to defend the kingdom and her king, and does not comeback.

Lately keeping the secret that made sure he was not to be killed immediately was sitting heavier and heavier on Merlin's chest, ever since Arthur's crowning, and he had told Gaius so. He had asked for Gaius's opinion on the matter and had promptly closed up when Gaius said that he hadn't changed his mind.

Obviously the matter of the death of the former king and Merlin involvement in the issue were the main problem now but he didn't think that helped Merlin's mood.

Gaius felt wrong but he honestly didn't know what to do. He remember the worst of the Purge, he remember watching his friends die one after the other and that couldn't happen to Merlin.

When he had informed Merlin that the livestock attacks report that they were receiving were likely from magical creature Merlin just stood up and walked to the door, saying goodbye to Gaius lightly. Like a routine, like he had just assumed that this was gonna be his life, moving in the shadows, protecting his friends from danger by putting himself in danger, and protecting himself from his friends, and everybody really, without help, alone.

By the third day Gaius was cold with worry, he feared that the beast bested Merlin and nobody, not even himself knew where to find him. So he told Lancelot.

It was unusual to involve Lancelot in anything since his knighting ceremony, even if Lancelot really wanted to help, Merlin didn't want to divide his friends loyalties.

He had been distancing himself, from everybody, and nobody actually noticed until he disappeared forcing his friends to remember the last time that he actually spent time with them.

Lancelot changed his patrol routes subtly, and then not so subtly went looking for him in his free time. He couldn't really tell everybody until he was sure that Merlin wasn't caught red-handed, the last thing he needed it's to be found and rescued from a dire situation just to be executed. He didn't have to wait much tho, because Gwaine wasn't as patient.

He loudly demanded Arthur for a explanation on Merlins absence, and when Arthur answered with Merlin's alcohol problem, well... Gwaine laughed a lot... Lancelot tried to buffer, to delay, to stop, but in the end he too was worried for his friend, so he asked too.

And once Arthur was convinced, well nothing could stop him. In the end Lancelot had to search for Merlin while throwing everyone else off the right path.

And Gaius had no better idea than make Merlin look like a mess, in Arthur's eye. Lancelot suspected the overcompensation was not working like Gaius wanted.

Gaius spent all that day besides Merlin. He could do it's thank him for coming home.

Once Arthur received word that Merlin was in Camelot he had to give notice to the knights to stop the search, word to the council that was already on his back for calling the search in the first place.

Then he was nervous which was weird. Gwen told him the news excited, and then Lancelot came to report them. So it was confirmed. He been busy, and everybody else seem to have lost hope, so he was unprepared.

He ought to stop everything and barge into Gaius's workshop, demanding explanation. But that made him feel anxious. He knew, because of Lancelot's report that Merlin was not fine, nobody knew exactly what it was or why, not yet anyway. And Arthur felt... guilty.

Even when Gwaine insisted that something was wrong, even when he knew that Gaius's stories didn't really match, even when Lancelot raised up his worries, he stubbornly denied help.

And everyday that passed since then weighted heavy in his conscience, what if he was ill, or hurt, or lost, or dead, and he denied help.

So he delayed the visit as much as he could.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello

I hope whoever answers this is having a wonderful day <3

I was wondering if you had any fics where Gabriel is just,,, a nice person? I read one and loved it a lot so yeah thank u 🤍

Hi! We have a couple of posts on our #gabriel is NOT a dick tag and you might also be interested in the fics on our #gabriel redemption tag, so do check those out. Here are some more fics for you...

We’re All in the Mood for a Melody by Melibe (T)

Gabriel was so in tune with the music that Beelzebub could hardly believe how out of tune he was with everything else. He’d been playing at The Devil’s Hole for almost a year, in perfect ignorance of the fact that it was a gay bar.

Love? What's That? by NebulaEyes (E)

Aziraphale assumed that the being on the wall talking to him was a demon, and who could blame him! Problem was...he wasn't, but said being felt something in his chest about the angel, and allowed him to make that assumption and pretended to be a demon for the conversation. It wasn't until later that he realized his error. God then tasks him to be her eyes and ears in Hell with the choice of a protector. He chose Gabriel, and learns what Love is later down the line, but how exactly does he do that and why did he choose Gabriel? Read and Find out?

The Guardian of your Heart by j520j (M)

After attempting to execute Principality Aziraphale, Archangel Gabriel is sentenced to the worst possible penalty: being Aziraphale’s guardian angel.

Gabriel doesn't like that at all.

Crowley even less.

Black and White Sunshine by Azira_Amane (E)

"The cotton capital. The Second Summer of Love, the Haçienda. Irwell, Medlock, Irk and Mersey. Elizabeth Gaskell wrote her novels in a lovely little house. Oh. There’s so much to know…" Aziraphale East is, by his own account, a bit of an odd duck - and he's okay with that. He's always been happy in his own skin, in having been a confirmed bachelor his whole life. Everything changes on a work trip from London to Manchester, where he meets the vivacious and stunningly attractive Anthony Crowley. Like the splitting of the atom, Aziraphale is divided - and begins to wonder if it's not too late for love after all. Age, as they say, is but a number.

Bless the Fallen by mordelle (E)

After Crowley's presumed destruction, Aziraphale is recruited by Beelzebub and the rebels to Fall so that he may reap his vengeance on Lucifer and end his own misery in the process. But before he can get into Satan's inner circle to do the deed, he must pass a test that may very well change where his loyalties lie.

- Mod D

[story-weavr]

Lucia Luthor was the second child born to Lionel and Lillian Luthor.

Lucia was a child who was often bored. Her interest lay solely in intriguing math problems, science theories, learning Mandarin, and anything that made her mind “move”.

She enjoyed gaining knowledge and found people tiresome at best, and annoying at worst.

Her father is just there, & her mother is a gentle encouraging presence.

Lionel was frustrated with her lack of interest & half-afraid she had developmental disabilities.

In school, Lucia was often pestered by her peers. Her apathy enraged many but bullying tactics didn’t work on her. Most of them eventually left her alone.

One day, there was a great deal of noise in a library that distracted Lucia from her studies. Irritated, she looked over to a group of people huddled around something. Curious, the Luthor approached the group. The teens were placing bets.

When Lucia asked one student what was going on, they explained they were gambling on who the new English professor was sleeping with: a student, faculty member, or parent. House wins if it’s none of those options.

After it was explained to her, Lucia decided to try & made the obvious bet. A few weeks later, when one student caught the English professor making out with one of the janitors, Lucia won the entire pot.

Finding it to be a slightly amusing diversion (as well as a way to tell her mother that yes she is interacting with people her age), Lucia started becoming involved with gambling.

One of the other students took her to an underground elite gambling den. Lucia was as happy as a child in an amusement park.

She was delighted by calculating the stakes, observing other players, feinting, and achieving victory through her tactics and mental calculations.

Unfortunately, her father found out how her account suddenly increased.

An enormous row occurred between the two. Lionel was furious and didn’t want a child who might gamble away the family fortune. Lucia was defensive. She never took a blind bet, and she always won unless she chose not to.

Afterward, Lillian gently asked her daughter why she liked gambling so much. Hearing her daughter’s explanation of the mathematics and observations, Lillian gave her some textbooks on stocks and business negotiations.

Lucia was hooked.

Combining her love of mathematics, tactics, & computers, Lucia quickly became an investment expert.

Lionel was both pleased and relieved.

Lucinda, however, had a fatal flaw: being personable.

All the logic and observation in the world, yet her lack of relationships prevented her from effectively negotiating.

One day, she met Carl Walters, a veteran and skilled computer engineer. On the side, however, Carl Walters was a hacker code-named Gravedigger. He was able to dig out his target’s darkest secrets for his clients.

The amount of blackmail he had made him extremely dangerous.

Lionel and Lucia laid a trap for him. The two were able to get him to work exclusively for LuthorCorp.

Lucia and Carl would work closely together. Impressed not only by the man’s skills but also his interpersonal skills, Lucia proposed a relationship with the possibility of marriage. Carl, amused, accepted.

Lionel was furious, but Lillian managed to persuade him about the advantages of a son-in-law who didn’t have divided loyalties & was rather useful to the family.

The pair soon became in charge of their own division of LuthorCorp.

This would continue even when LuthorCorp became LexCorp.

In the meantime, Lucia and Carl Luthor had a very satisfactory marriage. When not doing legal/ illegal business, competing in games as simple as chess or seeing who can hack another corporation’s firewall first became a much-loved couple’s activity.