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atlabeth · 10 months

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come on back to me - nikolai lantsov

summary: five times you save nikolai and one time he saves you.

a/n: if you've seen my thoughts as i read through siege and storm and ruin and rising then you know that i am deeply in love with nikolai lantsov and since ive finally finished the trilogy i finally feel qualified to write about him lmao. i actually don’t think i’ve written a 5+1 which is crazy so here you go. i wrote this in like 2 days in a spurt of inspiration and im absolutely in love with it, so i hope you all are too!!

title from you’re the one by greta van fleet

wc: 7.3k

warning(s): fem!reader, canon typical violence, siege and storm & ruin and rising book spoilers (i have not watched the show), medical inaccuracies, nikolai's volcra era, hurt/comfort and a happy ending (as usual)

Os Alta

It all happened rather quickly.

One moment, you were in the infirmary mending a poor soldier’s broken arm. The next, screams were erupting everywhere.

You and the soldier locked eyes, and you did a final bit of healing on his arm before you nodded at each other and darted off.

The soldier grabbed his gun and went further into the palace, no doubt to find the royal family, and you adjusted the collar of your kefta before you ran out into the fray.

Nichevo’ya had surrounded everything, attacking anyone they could find, and their shadowy bodies were like a void’s blight on the land. You knew the sight would be forever burned into your mind.

You knew the Darkling was going to march on Os Alta, that he would have to do it directly to use his shadow soldiers, but this was so much earlier, so much worse than you’d expected. Enforcements were meant to come from Poliznaya. You guessed that was off the table.

You were fine at fighting—alright with a pistol and better with a dagger—but you were a Healer. You spent more time dealing with the aftermaths of battles, more skilled at setting broken bones and mending bullet wounds than inflicting them.

Times like these were the ones when you normally questioned your decision to not hone your abilities into a Heartrender, but now you would at least be a dead man either way. Nichevo’ya didn’t exactly have hearts to stop and organs to manipulate.

You had to get to the other Grisha. You had to make sure the Sun Summoner made it through this attack, even if it meant you wouldn’t.

You broke into a sprint, trying your best to ignore the crippled and broken bodies in the carnage. Your instincts tugged against you, but you knew there was nothing to be done. If you stopped to help a dead man, you would soon join them.

You nearly battered into a group of people from your speed and lack of attention, and you reeled to the side seconds before a head-on collision. When you looked up, drawing in ragged breaths in the one second of rest you’d gotten, your eyes widened.

You were face to face with the royal family. The King, the Queen, and Nikolai Lantsov. The absence was glaring.

“Grisha,” Nikolai breathed, and he grabbed onto your shoulders like a madman as his fingers ran over the embroidery. He might as well have been one, the way wildfire flickered in his eyes. “You’re a Healer? One of Alina’s?”

You nodded rapidly. “Are you—”

“I’m getting them to safety on the Kingfisher,” he cut off, “and she wants me to get that old woman as well.”

“Baghra—?”

“You’re a Healer?” the King interrupted harshly. Your heart stuttered—you’d never been directly addressed by the King, but you supposed circumstances like these called for different standards.

“Yes,” you nodded. “Are you hurt?”

“My wife,” he said, and your attention turned to the Queen. Genya’s absence had taken a toll on her, and the shards of glass sticking out of her side weren’t doing her pallid frame any favors.

“Madraya,” Nikolai whispered, his eyes wide, “I didn’t even notice.”

“Alexander—” her voice was ragged, her entire appearance pallid— “we’ve much bigger concerns.”

“Nonsense.” The King’s gaze bore into you. “We have time. Heal her.”

You screwed your eyes shut, your hands closing into fists for a moment before both opened and you nodded. “Keep an eye out, moi tsarevich,” you huffed, and you moved to the Queen’s side. Nikolai’s head perked up for a moment at your words, but it disappeared just as quickly as he adjusted his grip on his pistol.

“Of course,” he said wryly. “Not that I don’t trust your work, and not that I don’t trust my abilities, but it would be grand if you could do this quickly.”

“Working as fast as I can,” you muttered, ignoring the noises the Queen made as you pulled the shards of glass out with little care. Your mentors would be rolling in their graves if they could see you.

“Vasily is dead, by the way,” Nikolai said, attention focused on the nichevo’ya all around. Thankfully, you’d run into each other in a spot relatively hidden from view. Hopefully it extended to shadow creatures. “I know you were wondering.”

Your hands faltered for a moment, but it was hardly noticeable as you continued to work. He wasn’t wrong. “I’m so sorry.”

The Queen choked back a sob, and the King’s face betrayed the slightest bit of emotion.

“An awful way to go,” Nikolai muttered, more to himself than anything. “But fitting that he brought about his own end.”

His parents said nothing to your surprise, but you stood up from your knees and nodded at the King and Queen. “She’s healed enough. No internal bleeding, at least.”

“Healed enough?” the King repeated. “That is not—”

“It’s the best we can hope for,” Nikolai interrupted sharply. “We’ve already wasted too much time out here.”

He then nodded, grasping your hands with fierce desperation. “The crown thanks you, darling.” You’d never seen him like this—you’d never seen him fear anything. The Darkling and his creations were a good start. “I thank you, truly.”

“Just doing my duty,” you assured, and you pulled a small container out of the pocket of your kefta, leftover from your work in the infirmary before it all went to hell, and pressed it into his hand. “She should be alright, but I’ve been slightly rushed. Rub this salve on her wounds when you’re out of danger just to be sure.”

Nikolai nodded again, slipping it into his own pocket. “Keep our Sun Summoner safe,” he said. “Or else this’ll have all been for nothing.”

You nodded. “With my life.”

Nikolai’s eyes met yours, and something unsaid passed between you. Then his hands slipped off of yours, and he continued to herd his parents away from the chaos. You muttered a quick prayer to any Saints that would listen for their safety, and then you head off on your own way.

2. The Pelican

You thought either the bones in your hands or the wood was going to crack with how tight you were holding onto the side of the ship. Your heart was still hammering away in your chest—the adrenaline from the battle and Nikolai Lantsov’s sudden appearance and being shot at a thousand different times by a thousand different militiamen still had you quite shaken.

You knew the sort of chaos you were in for when you made the decision to travel with Alina Starkov rather than stay in the White Cathedral, but you think you hated being in the air like this even more than you hated being trapped underground with those zealots.

Someone called your name, and you turned to see Adrik a while away with wide eyes. You huffed a sigh as you reluctantly let go and hastened your pace to catch up with him. If he was sent to fetch you, then someone needed healing, and you couldn’t exactly hold off on the one thing you were good at.

Adrik led you over to a corner of the Pelican where a large portion of your group of Grisha were gathered. Tamar was kneeling next to whoever was injured, one hand splayed above their chest, and you took a deep breath as you forced calmness to wash over your mind.

“What are we dealing with?” you asked Tamar, but it was clear enough when he spoke up.

“I’m telling you, it’s fine,” he insisted. “Just a flesh wound.”

“He was shot,” Tamar said dryly, “and he refuses to accept its severity.”

“So we meet again,” you said placidly.

Nikolai seemed to perk up when he saw you, any prior frustration absent from his face as he grinned at you and said your name. “If you’re the Healer here, then I guess I’m not so fine.”

“Am I ever going to be around you when you’re doing important princely things,” you said as you crouched on the other side of him, Tamar continuing to keep his heart rate steady, “or only when you’re injured?”

“This is a very important princely thing,” Nikolai said. “I’m showing my soon to be subjects that I’m just like them.”

“You were shot and you thought you were fine?” You let out a loose sigh and shook your head—it wasn’t worth getting into it. “Keep it steady, Tamar.”

She nodded, and you reached out to begin unbuttoning his outer coat. He wouldn’t stop shifting around, and it made it infinitely harder.

“Will you sit still?” you snapped.

“I am,” Nikolai said.

“You are not,” you asserted, and you undid the final button on his coat after a struggle, “and you are making this much more difficult.”

“My apologies,” he said. “Usually women that are taking off my clothes aren’t this angry with me.”

You scowled, only making his smile grow.

“You do it yourself if you want to be like that,” you said, letting your hands fall back to your side. “I’m sure the rest of your soldiers will listen to a Healer.”

“Ah, but none of them bravely threw themselves into danger for you,” Nikolai remarked. “I’m sure that earns me a few points.”

“Points that you’ve immediately lost by being this difficult with me.” You crossed your arms. “And you did not throw yourself into danger for me—you were in the battle and you got shot.”

“We came to save you all, and you are a part of it,” Nikolai said. “I’d say I definitely threw myself into danger for you.”

“You’re impossible.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Will you not even allow a dying man some honor?”

“You are not dying,” you said, “but you will be if you continue talking. Now take off your clothes and stop being so difficult so I can fix this up before you do die.”

He tutted as he shed his jacket and worked on the rest of his clothing. Princes were apparently fond of multiple layers. “For a Healer, your bedside manner is remarkably poor.”

“Don’t worry,” Nadia piped in, “she’s always been like this.”

“I have very fond memories of you healing my broken ribs,” Alina said dryly.

“All of you are still alive,” you said tartly with a glance back at your fellow Grisha, “aren’t you?”

“I think you made me wish I wasn’t,” Harshaw mused.

You scowled again and Nikolai laughed. “That bodes very well for me, considering how much I seem to irritate you.”

“You’re going to be fine,” you grumbled. When you turned back to him, he’d gotten down to his undershirt and unbuttoned it. Blood had spread across the white fabric, but apart from being shot, the wound wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. It’d had the chance to fester for a bit, but with Tamar’s aid it hopefully wouldn’t be a problem.

You took a deep breath as you placed your hands on his chest—lucky as always, you could sense the bullet missed all his major organs—but Nikolai grimaced before you could even do anything.

“Are you alright?”

“Your hands are very cold,” he said and you just shook your head.

“How no one has wrung you by the neck is beyond me.”

“Many have tried.” He flashed that smile again. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t add your name to the list.”

You ignored him, taking another deep breath before you closed your eyes. You felt your power within you, the tug you’d grown accustomed to over the years, and you focused it into a single point.

You slowly worked on healing Nikolai, making sure you went from the inside out to stop any internal bleeding before you carefully wedged the bullet out with your knife. Surprisingly, he managed to keep his mouth shut for the most part. He watched you the entire time though, wholly unyielding, and it was unnerving.

Nikolai covered up his pain remarkably well, but you still caught the slightest grimace when you practically stuck a dagger inside him.

“Do you always try to injure your patients more when you’re healing them?” he asked innocently.

“You typically don’t make fun of the person fixing you up,” you said, and you held up the knife, “or the one holding the blade.”

“Surely you could’ve used David to get it out,” Zoya offered lazily. “Better than practically stabbing the King of Ravka.”

“I’m not the king,” Nikolai said. “Not yet, at least.”

“And I’m not stabbing him.” You held up the bullet with your other hand, then let it fall to the floor. “I just didn’t feel like digging around inside him.”

Nikolai picked up the bullet, and you frowned in question. He just shrugged. “To hold onto the fond memories of this battle and the kindest, prettiest Healer I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Someone snickered behind you, and you turned to see all of them just standing around—Zoya, Harshaw with Oncat perched on his shoulder, Adrik ignoring his sister to watch, even Alina and Mal were still there. At least Tamar had enough sense to stay quiet while she helped you.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you snapped. “It’s hard to focus with you all watching me.”

Alina blinked, seeming to come back to her senses. You almost didn’t blame her—she had so much on her shoulders, it made sense to just want to stand and stare for a minute.

“Right,” she nodded, and she gestured at Zoya and the Squaller siblings as she started walking across the ship, “Adrik, Nadia, I need you all over…”

Alina's words trailed off as she got farther away, and the small crowd dissipated to find duties to carry out without their Sun Summoner to indulge their whims.

“Thank you for your help, Tamar,” you mumbled. “I can take it from here.”

She nodded and went off to join the others—the controlled state Nikolai had been in dissolved as she let go of the hold she had on his heart, and the slight daze in his eye went away.

“Are you always this mean?” Nikolai asked. You turned back to find him with that same unshakable confidence, same lazy smile even in the face of it all. It was no wonder noble and commoner girls alike tripped over themselves when he returned to Ravka.

It was no wonder Alina fell for his charms despite the tracker by her side—he always knew the right thing to say to make you feel like everything would be okay, and in the midst of Ravka’s endless war, that was a valuable quality indeed.

“I save it for irritating princes,” you remarked. With a final flourish, his wound was sewed up, and Nikolai raised his eyebrows as he touched the newly healed skin.

There was another slight wince, but he still smiled up at you. “Excellent job.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you said.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to Grisha handiwork,” Nikolai said as he pulled himself up from the side of the ship. “Especially the healing kind.”

“It would do you good not to get used to it,” you said. “You may not be king yet, but Zoya is right. I’d appreciate it if you tried to stay out of my infirmary.”

“Do you not enjoy my company?” he asked.

“I don’t enjoy bringing Ravka’s only heir back from the brink after every battle,” you corrected. “You’ve got a lot more weight on your shoulders now, moi tsarevich.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly at your Ravkan. “Say that again.”

You frowned, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. Nikolai continued staring at you, so you sighed. “Moi tsarevich?”

He laughed, and that only soured your mood further. “What are you laughing about?”

“I recognized it back during the attack but I didn’t fully think about it,” he said. “It comes out the most with your R’s. You’re not Ravkan, are you?”

You paused at his sudden subject change. “You were focusing on my accent when everyone was dying around us?”

“Answer the question.”

Your frown deepened. “I am in most senses of the word.”

Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. “You’re Kerch.”

Your lips twitched. “Yes, but I don’t—”

“You still haven’t lost the accent somehow,” he continued. “At least, in how you speak certain Ravkan words. Is it Ketterdam?”

“Don’t you have better things to do than quiz your Healer on her childhood?”

“Perhaps,” Nikolai said, eyes twinkling, “but if you’re really my Healer, as you said yourself, I’m surely allowed to ask as many questions as my heart desires.”

“Your heart desires no more,” you said wryly. “I have other injured to attend to. Call if you find yourself actively dying.”

To his credit, he didn’t try to fight it. Just offered that same smile that weakened knees from the Kaelish to the Shu. “I’ll be sure to ring before I’m dead and buried.”

“Put your clothes back on before you do,” you said.

“Ah, but isn’t this your reward for putting up with the irritating prince?” Nikolai asked with a slight gesture at his chest. “I’d imagine you’d want to keep an eye on your handiwork.”

That sparked a rare smile of your own, and you bowed your head. “Moi tsarevich,” you said before you walked off.

You felt Nikolai’s eyes on you even as you approached an injured First Army soldier, and after the first few preliminary questions you couldn’t help but look back.

When you did, he was gone.

3. Monastery of Sankt Demyan

You sat on the Spinning Wheel, off to the corner so you wouldn’t be disturbing anyone, staring at your hands as you tried to ignore the thousands of things bumping around in your mind. You’d been on the run with the Sun Summoner and a smattering of other Grisha for longer than you would have liked, but you had to accept that this was what life would be like until the Darkling was either defeated or destroyed you all.

It was a damning sort of fate, knowing what awaited you unless the impossible was done. At least it would be quick if the nichevo’ya tore you apart.

You grimaced. That was one thought that would do you no good—if you’d made it this far, from Os Alta under the Darkling’s control to Os Alta under Lantsov control to the White Cathedral and now to Fjerda of all places, what was one more piece of the puzzle?

A very big piece of the puzzle, of course, and there was still the intrinsic distrust that some soldiers—and even Alina at moments, flickers of it you could see in her eyes against her will—had towards you. You, like the rest of the Grisha here that hailed from the Second Army, served the Darkling until you’d switched sides. You wanted nothing more than to see the Darkling to his grave, for Ravka to be restored and for all of this to be over.

But you had switched sides in the first place, and you knew enough from the looks of those soldiers—they still believed that if you could betray the Darkling, you could always still betray the Sun Summoner if given enough cause.

You didn’t try to dissuade their views through words; it wouldn’t do any good. You just hoped the long hours you spent holed up in the infirmary healing the injured would. You missed Maxim if only so you wouldn’t have to do it all alone.

“Vlachka for your thoughts?”

You looked up, surprised to see Nikolai Lantsov of all people. You hadn’t held a true conversation with him since you healed him after his bullet wound. He’d been busy with princely things like banishing his parents and saving Genya’s livelihood.

You were thankful for that, at least. She’d suffered too much at the hands of the Darkling and the King.

“You’d need a lot more than that,” you said.

He smiled. “I’ve got quite a bit. Have you seen this place?”

You chuckled and shrugged. “Just thinking. About our next move, about the Darkling, about what will be after this.”

“You certainly aren’t the only one,” Nikolai said. “Lately it seems to be all anyone can think about.”

“I’m sure you’d much rather have them thinking of you,” you said wryly.

“Oh, there’s plenty of that going on as well.” Nikolai smiled. “An even balance, I’d say.”

You chuckled again. “What brings you here, Nikolai?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to get to know my Healer.”

You huffed a sigh and looked away. “Why do you call me that?”

He was awfully good at feigning innocence. “Call you what?”

“My Healer,” you repeated. “Your Healer. I don’t understand it.”

“I like the sound of it,” he said. “I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”

You felt your cheeks heat and you felt his eyes on you. “It’s not that. It’s just—”

“Because I can,” he continued. “Would you prefer lapushka? Milaya? Perhaps babya.”

You scowled as you turned back to him, and you hit him lightly on the shoulder. “You should stick to the seas and the throne, moi tsarevich. Comedy is not your strong suit.”

“I like it when you call me that,” he mused. “I like your accent, your voice.” He sat down next to you, mildly unexpected, and you hoped you did better at hiding your surprise than it felt. “There’s something soothing about it.”

“I am from Ketterdam,” you said after a moment. “You guessed right. Born and raised. When my abilities started showing, my parents put me on a ship to Ravka with a map, some vlachki, and the clothes on my back. I made my way to the Little Palace, pleaded my case to the Darkling, and I haven’t seen them since.”

Nikolai was silent, and you fully turned to look at him. “You wanted to know more about me. That’s who I am. A girl from Ketterdam in over her head.”

“Give yourself some credit,” Nikolai said. “You’re a woman from Ketterdam in over your head.”

You huffed a laugh, and Nikolai’s expression softened a bit. “Why did they send you away? If that’s alright to ask, of course.”

You shrugged. “Being a young girl in the Barrel is bad enough. If anyone figured out I was Grisha, I would either be dead in the streets, indentured before I could blink, or worse.”

“They thought it would be safer in Ravka,” he guessed. “In the Second Army.”

You nodded. “They couldn’t have known any of this would happen,” you said dryly.

“Do you miss your parents?” he asked.

“Every day,” you said quietly. “We sent letters when we could, but it was never enough. And those stopped after Alina left the Little Palace, obviously.”

You didn’t need to recount the months of the Darkling’s madness as he searched for his Sun Summoner. Nikolai might have been Sturmhond at the time, but you didn’t doubt that he had contacts in the Little Palace. You didn’t exactly want to remember it either.

“How about this?” Nikolai adjusted his position so he could look right at you, those smart hazel eyes enough to get lost in. You forced yourself not to. “On the slim chance that we make it through these next few weeks, when the dust has settled and I’m officially King, I’ll charter a ship for you back to Ketterdam.”

Your head whirled back to look at him, eyes widening. There was no sign in his eyes of a false promise, only that soft smile, charming as ever. You had the sudden, misplaced urge to wind your fingers into those blonde curls and kiss him.

“You’d do that for me?”

He nodded. “Of course. Only the best for my Healer, right?”

That got a laugh out of you, but the heat rose to your cheeks all the same. “That would be incredible, Nikolai. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

He looked—gazed— at you for a touch longer than usual before he spoke again.

“There’s going to be a meteor shower later tonight,” Nikolai said. “One of my crew figured it out—he’s very fond of the sky, and he told me it would be… quite the sight.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Was he—

“I’d like to watch it with you,” Nikolai continued. “Of course, I have to put on a display with Alina, but after that,” he looked over at you, hazel eyes gleaming, “I’d like to spend the night with you.”

It took a moment for your brain to fully process his words. “Moi tsarevich, are… you asking me on a— a date?”

“Just Nikolai, please,” he said with a grin. “And yes, I am.”

It seemed so trivial in the scheme of things. You were leading an impossible battle against the Darkling, and as a traitor to his throne, you would end up dead or worse if he caught you. The near entirety of the Second Army was dead, friends you’d grown up and honed your power alongside with ripped apart by nichevo’ya. Your chances for victory relied on the firebird, and no one knew a damn thing about it.

It was trivial. It was frankly ridiculous, for the prince— the King of Ravka—to be asking you on a date, especially when it was imperative for him to present a certain image with Alina.

But for all the triviality and ridiculousness and idiocy, you found that you’d never wanted to accept something so badly.

So you did. You nodded, smiled, brighter than usual. Nikolai seemed to have that effect on you.

“I’d love to.”

“Wonderful.” Somehow, impossibly, his grin grew bigger. Nikolai took your hand and pressed a delicate kiss to it before he stood back up—you’d never been so thankful for his confidence, because you found yourself at a loss for words. “I’ll see you tonight, darling. Try not to get into too much trouble without me.”

You nodded again, and you knew you looked like a dazed idiot. The better half of a decade spent training as a Grisha and all it took was a kiss to your hand for your brain to stop working. You really had been at war for far too long.

Nikolai could tell every thought—or lack thereof—in your head by the overly pleased expression he wore as he walked away, and your entire face burned as you bit back your smile.

He knew exactly what he did to you.

4. The Bittern

Sergei sold you out.

That son of bitch had betrayed you all to the Darkling the first chance he got, and he’d been rewarded with a quicker death than any of you would get.

You’d been left fighting for your lives against the Darkling’s oprichniki, Grisha, and nichevo’ya alike, and as usual, you were hopelessly outnumbered. You knelt over Adrik as Zoya, Nadia, Harshaw, and David kept the crowd of enemies back, doing your damnedest to keep him from bleeding out from his nichevo’ya bite.

His arm hung at a bizarre angle, and you didn’t know how you would tell him and his sister you didn’t think you could save it. You were sure Genya’s whispered words were the only thing keeping him even slightly calm.

By the time the Bittern was in the air, precarious but afloat, you were about ready to collapse. It had all been too damn much, with the Darkling and Baghra and Nevsky, and now the poor schoolboy lying beneath you with an arm you couldn’t save.

“He’ll be okay,” you murmured to nobody but yourself, wiping beads of sweat from your forehead as you laid against the side of the ship. As okay as any boy who lost his arm to a shadow monster and went through what he just did.

Thank the Saints for Tolya keeping both Adrik’s and your heart steady during that ordeal, because you were sure your panic would have won over.

Everyone in your motley crew was injured in some way or another, and you were the only Healer. Soon you were back on your feet, pushing the horrors of the night out of your mind as you mended lacerations and fixed up bullet wounds.

Every so often, your eyes would drift over to Adrik. You’d healed him the best you could, but it wasn’t enough.

And then your mind went to Nikolai.

Nikolai.

In the chaos of the battle and the subsequent healing haze, you hadn’t even realized he wasn’t with your group. The Pelican had taken off before you all got to the Bittern, but Nikolai wouldn’t have left Alina on her own after all he’d done to ensure her safety.

You were almost too scared to ask, but you did anyway.

“Alina,” you asked, slightly surprised at the sound of your voice in the silence of the night, “where’s Nikolai?”

Her eyes were unfocused, arms crossed around her midsection for warmth despite the light that glowed beneath her skin. “The Darkling,” she murmured.

“Wh— what did he do to him?” you continued. “What in the Saints’ name happened to him, Alina?”

“He ruined him,” she whispered. “He turned him into a monster.” The look on Alina’s face broke you into even smaller pieces. “He turned him into a monster all because Nikolai dared to stand against him. He’s gone.”

Your grip tightened on the side of the ship as she explained what she had to watch, and your knees threatened to buckle.

Maybe it was stupid, but you hadn’t even realized you cared this much about the prince. The king, you had to keep reminding yourself. But the thought of him hurt—a hurt that you couldn’t heal—it tore your heart to shreds.

Only last night you were laying on a blanket next to him, staring up at the meteor shower through the glass dome. He’d never looked more beautiful than he did then, with the streaks of light illuminating his handsome features and those hazel eyes you’d grown to appreciate.

Few words had passed between the two of you, but once Nikolai had taken your hand in his, neither of you let go for the remainder of the night. That urge to kiss him came back in spades, but you never acted on it.

Saints, you wished you had.

“Do you think you can heal him?” Your voice sounded oddly foreign, but you didn’t even feel like you were in your body. Like you were watching it all happen from above, because this couldn’t have been happening. Not to Nikolai— to your Nikolai.

You were his Healer, and he was your Nikolai. That was how it was supposed to be.

“I don’t know,” Alina admitted, her tone strained. “My light might be able to help, but… but whenever I’ve used it against the nichevo’ya, against the volcra, I— it kills them.”

Her voice broke on the last few words, and you wanted to hug her. Alina didn’t love him, you knew that much, but anyone could tell she’d grown close to Nikolai over the months. She was hurting just as much as you.

You didn’t. You found that you couldn’t do much but stare into the night sky.

He was all alone. Forced into a monster, and now he was all alone.

It felt like ages before the Bittern finally landed, everyone’s teeth stained rust-orange and bones run deep with exhaustion. Everyone was still alive when you woke up the next morning, and after another check-up on Adrik, you went off into the woods under the guise of searching for kindling.

Really, you needed some time to yourself. After what had happened—Sergei’s betrayal, losing even more Grisha when you had little to start with, Baghra’s sacrifice, Adrik and his arm, and— and Nikolai—

It was too much. It was just too damn much.

You’d never gotten close like this to anyone before, never moved further than some useless flirtations and a few stolen kisses with various Grisha when you were bored back at the Little Palace, and when you finally did, with the damned future King of Ravka, this is what happened.

Guilt tore away at you as you plodded through the woods, and you let the tears you’d been holding back all night fall. You wished you’d been there for him. You wished you’d kissed him. You wished you were strong enough to take the Darkling down on your own for what he’d done.

The hairs stood up on the back of your neck, and you heard the rustling of branches. You whirled around to the source of the sound, taking a few steps to peer through the trees, and that was when you saw it.

Your eyes widened and your heart cracked all at once.

“Nikolai,” you whispered.

You’d have recognized him anywhere. Despite the shadowy veins splintering across his chest, the wings furled behind his back, claws and fangs in place of fingers and teeth—he was still your Nikolai. His blonde curls remained, his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, even his clever eyes—even if they were black instead of hazel.

The smear of blood around his mouth was a sharp contrast to it all. You wondered what—or who—had become his unlucky victim when he could no longer control his hunger.

Nikolai didn’t move as you stepped closer. His dark gaze was unreadable and you wanted to sob for what the Darkling had done to him.

“It’s me.” You continued to speak softly as you moved closer, saying your name in hopes of even a spark of recognition. “Your Healer.”

His eyes followed your movements, his gaze falling down to your hands. He pointed at them with a clawed talon.

You held them up. “My hands?”

You realized the blood around his mouth wasn’t the only bit of it on his body as your eyes trailed across his bare chest. There were cuts all across his arms and chest, most small but some deeper. He pointed at a thin scar near his abdomen, the only sign of the bullet wound you’d stitched up.

He wanted you to heal him. He knew who you were.

This time, a small sob escaped you, and your hand flew up almost on instinct to cover it. You brushed the tears brimming in your eyes as you moved closer to him, and you gently placed your hand on his arm. You felt his limb stiffen for a moment before they relaxed, and you couldn’t help your small smile. Your Nikolai was still there.

The thin cut vanished as you healed it, and you continued to do the same for the myriad of other injuries on his body. You felt his gaze on you the entire time, and some part of it was comforting. Nikolai was still there—his humanity was still there. This was the least you could do to make him feel the part.

Once you’d healed up the last of his wounds, you felt the glow of Grisha power inside of you. Nikolai grabbed onto your hand the moment you’d finished, and you looked up into his dark eyes as your fingers clasped around his talons.

“We’ll figure this out, Nikolai,” you whispered. “I promise.”

The corner of his lips curled up ever so slightly, the barest sign of the old smile you’d grown to love.

And then he let go of your hand, and he shot up into the air. It took only seconds for him to disappear, but your gaze remained stuck in place.

All you could think of was Nikolai’s dark eyes and the shattered shadows beneath his skin, the feel of his taloned hand in yours.

You would find a way to bring him back. You knew that much.

5. The Shadow Fold

“For Saint’s sake— catch him, Zoya!”

“You screeching at me isn’t helping,” she snarled, her hands held out above her as she summoned wind to break Nikolai’s fall.

It was almost laughable, how Alina ended it all with a bit of stabbing. First Mal, then the Darkling—now Soldat Sol and oprichniki alike were glowing like human lamps around the Fold. The nichevo’ya dissolved with the Darkling’s power, the same thing that created Nikolai’s monster—you screamed in general when you first saw him falling, and then you screamed at Zoya. It was a credit to her growth that she didn’t slap you first.

Thankfully, the updraft did its job, and he only landed in the sand at concerning speeds rather than very concerning.

You ran for him without thinking, not even feeling the jolt in your ankles as you lept from the skiff onto the sands. You no longer had to fear the Fold—the various Sun Soldiers that had gotten Alina’s powers had done away with the remainder in no time—and even if you did, you would brave a thousand volcra for Nikolai.

He looked so small, so vulnerable laying there in the sand, only clad in torn pants and a myriad of bruises. The last of the shadows receded when you finally reached him, and you didn’t try to stop the tears as they flowed freely down your cheeks.

“Nikolai,” you whispered, falling to your knees in the sand next to him, “Nikolai, can you hear me?”

You cradled his head in your hands, tears splattering in the sand around you, and then his eyes opened.

His beautiful hazel eyes opened and looked right at you, his lips tugging into a smirk as he said your name.

“Would you say this is an important princely thing?” His voice was husky, damaged from whatever dark thing that had taken a hold of him, but the usual lilt was there. “Or just another injury?”

You broke into full on sobs, unabashedly and unashamed as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a hug. You felt his arms around you as well, and he rubbed circles on your back.

“I had time to think,” Nikolai murmured, “and I think I’ll settle on lapushka.”

Darling.

You couldn’t help but laugh, and you moved away from him just so you could look at him, gaze at him, never forget his beautiful features.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I knew I would be,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I had you looking out for me.”

“Stop,” you said, your voice watery. “I can’t keep crying in front of you.”

“I think you’ve more than earned it, lapushka.”

You laughed again as you shook your head. “How do you feel? Can you still move all your limbs?”

Nikolai took his hand in yours, fingers intertwining with yours. His gaze didn’t move from you. “Limbs are fine.”

You let your smile shine unabashed as you squeezed his hand, thankful for the lack of talons. “Can you sit up?”

Nikolai visibly winced at the effort, but he managed with your help. “My chest hurts quite a bit.”

“You’ve definitely broken some ribs,” you murmured, “but it’s nothing I can’t fix up.”

“There’s nothing you can’t fix,” Nikolai said.

“Careful with all the praise. I might get used to it.”

“Good.”

You glanced over to see Tolya and Zoya moving across the sand towards you and you looked back at Nikolai.

“We’re going to get you back on the skiff, Nikolai,” you said. “I’ll get you healed up and then we’ll get you some clothes. Alright?”

“I told you,” Nikolai said, “this is your reward for putting up with the irritating prince.”

“That was for the prince,” you said, running a hand through his blonde curls to untangle them. “My reward for putting up with irritating kings is to make sure they’re clothed and healed.”

His smile shone brighter than anything Alina could conjure up.

The Darkling’s Skiff

You ended up below deck with Nikolai, Tolya, an unconscious Alina and Mal, and the Darkling’s body. It normally wouldn’t have been a cheery atmosphere, but you were just thankful to be alive after all you’d done. Thankful that Nikolai was alive and himself and that the Darkling was dead.

A First Army uniform was folded next to Nikolai’s makeshift cot where you sat next to him, and Tolya’s companionable silence was appreciated as he stayed by Alina and Mal to ensure they stayed alive.

“You broke a few ribs in your fall,” you murmured, your hands placed on his chest, “but overall, I’d say you made out pretty well.”

“Yes,” Nikolai said wryly, looking at his hands. Faint black lines ran across each of his fingers, where claws had torn through his skin. Though the other shadowy marks had faded, these appeared to be permanent. “Pretty well.”

“You know what I mean, Nikolai.” You moved your hand over his ribs and focused your power—by the slight grimace on his face, the itch that came along with Grisha healing, you knew they were mending back together. “You’re still alive. You’re you again. That means everything.”

“And your hands are still freakishly cold,” he mused. You smiled.

A moment passed before he spoke again.

“You know,” Nikolai said, and you felt his eyes on you again, “I remember everything. Everything that I did when I was that… that thing.”

Your throat bobbed, but you nodded, encouraging him on.

“I went to you,” he said, “and… you helped me. You weren’t afraid—you understood what I meant, and you healed me.”

“Of course I did,” you said softly. A smile tugged at your lips. “I am your Healer, after all.”

Nikolai placed his hand over one of yours, and your power wavered for a moment as your heart stuttered.

“One of your ribs is still broken, Nikolai,” you said. “I have to—”

“I love you,” he interrupted. Your eyes snapped to him, and you thought you misheard him.

“What?”

“I love you,” he repeated, as if it came as easily to him as breathing. “Forgive me for the lack of ballads and sonnets on how to express it—I plan to remedy that as soon as we’re back in Os Alta. But I love you, and it’s the one thing I’m sure of at this moment.”

You continued to stare at him, as if you’d suddenly forgotten how to speak. Nikolai was no Corporalnik, but you were sure he could hear how loudly your heart was beating.

“It’s alright if you don’t feel the same,” Nikolai said, “or if you’re not ready. I’m a very patient man.”

It was like your limbs had suddenly regained the ability to move, because something clicked in your mind. You took his face in your hands and you kissed him with a brazen fierceness you didn’t even know you had.

For a man with two bruised ribs and one broken one, he kissed you back with the same intensity, if not more. You poured all your fear, all your anxiety, all your worries about him into the kiss, reveling in the warmth of his lips and his hands and—

Tolya cleared his throat. “We’re nearly out of the Fold.”

You pulled away as quickly as it had started, Nikolai looking very pleased with himself as you fixed the collar of your kefta and looked over at him with eyes that were surely more pupil than iris.

“Thank you, Tolya,” you said, and you cleared your throat as well. Good of him to ignore the two of you. Embarrassing of you to nearly forget about your surroundings when you looked at Nikolai.

“Yes,” Nikolai said, mirth in his voice, “thank you, Tolya.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned back to him, your lips still burning from his kiss, and you settled your hands back on Nikolai’s chest.

“No more interruptions,” you said. “I’ve got to get you healed and dressed before we’re off the sand.”

His eyes twinkled. “Whatever you say, lapushka.”

You had no idea what was next. The Sun Summoner died on the Fold, the Darkling’s reign of terror was finally over, and Nikolai was to be King. You didn’t know where you would fit in, though you were sure he would find a place.

But you loved Nikolai, and by the Saints, Nikolai loved you.

And for now, that was more than enough.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov x y/n #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov angst #nikolai lantsov the love of my life #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fic #grishaverse x reader #sadie writes

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fangirl-dot-com · 3 months

Note

what does mitch look like? like does she have a face claim?! and vito?? (i couldn’t tell which one was which in imola)

ok so here we go! - thank you to whoever asked for this!!

this was a tag worthy post I believe :)

face claim - Amal Clooney

Meet Michelle "Mitch" Walker - Y/n L/n's race engineer

She has been at Red Bull since 2020, but was an actual engineer for the cars. She graduated with a Masters in Engineering and interned under Adrian Newey. She is currently in her late-30's and not married.

She was a bit skeptical when she was told by Christian that she'd be a rookie's race engineer, but when she saw you and your times on the sim, she was hooked.

She can be seen wearing her favorite big sunnies during race weekends and carries her gray notebook everywhere she goes. As a part of a ritual, she always drinks an iced Americano before a race.

For future references, she stays Y/n L/n's race engineer until said racer retires. She will have served under two different team principals by the end of her carrier (but I'm not saying who the second is hehe).

no face claim - Italian, short beard, and a whole lot of love for Y/n

Meet Vito Accardi - Y/n L/n's manager

Vito had been a part of an organization of people who lend out unofficial managers to younger racers who don't already have one. He was assigned to Y/n L/n in 2018 when she first joined F4. He, like most people, thought that she had raw talent and he wanted to stay with her.

Fast forward to 2019 and F3, Vito was officially Y/n L/n's manager, hired by her godfather Lorenzo. He has no plans to leave anytime soon.

He has a Public Relations Degree along with degree in Business. On the side, he runs his own line of go karts. He has mentioned that he was only able to start it due to the kindness of Y/n and Lorenzo.

For further references, Vito stays with Y/n until her retirement. After that, he ends up being asked to be godfather of her second child. Of course he agrees and tears are shed.

face claim - Brendan Taggart

Meet Lorenzo "Enzo" Alessandrino - Y/n L/n's Godfather

Lorenzo had been Y/F/N L/n's best friend growing up after meeting at boarding school, but distanced himself after he saw how awful he truly was. Only came back into his life after the birth of Y/n. Surprisingly, he was named godfather and he took that to heart.

Being a major business man and influential figure in karting and Formula racing, he couldn't possibly be near the girl all the time. But after finding out what you had been going through, he wishes that he would have fought for custody. Maybe then you could have grown up with other kids such as Logan Sargeant, Oscar Piastri, Mick Schumacher, and Arthur Leclerc. But, he couldn't dwell on the past.

Everyone thought he was pretty poor as he didn't like to flaunt his wealth everywhere, but they were wrong. Pretty much one of the wealthiest persons the time of his death.

Gave Y/n L/n a second chance at karting and formula racing as he fought for sponsors to agree on the younger girl (most said no due to age and gender, but he never gave up).

Late in 2019, he caught pneumonia, which turned into a fatal respiratory tract infection. He died in early 2020 after falling into a coma. The only person to ever show up was Y/n L/n

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

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hiraya-rawr · 2 years

Text

little star — diluc 。

synopsis!! everyone knows the creator doesn't favor diluc (everyone is wrong).

cw !! gn reader, reader is peak diluc simp 😐 somewhat self-aware characters, mild sagau themes (not too much), reader is recognized as the player, reader is a little shy at first. angst with reverse comfort!

note !! the plot feels a little everywhere but i tried to organize it as best as i can, i think i got carried away eheh honestly doesn't feel up to my standards but it was pretty enjoyable to write

word count !! 2.8k something

"No, it's definitely Outrider Amber, she was the first to ever be favored."

"Are you kidding me? Outrider Amber may be the first, but sir Kaeya was definitely loved. Have you seen the sword he was gifted with?" One growls.

"It's the Acting Grand Master Jean!" Someone slams the table with his beer mug, "Twice was she bestowed with fallen stars of gold."

"I'd say that wolf boy in the woods seem lucky."

"It has to be Bennett. I don't know why but that kid has two crowns! Two!"

"You're all missing out on Miss Lisa!"

"Stop, stop! You rowdy drunks! Every vision holder in Mond has been granted favor, this is just impossible to decide!"

There was a pause. "Well. . . not every." Someone mumbles under their breath.

"Not every? Who's the poor allogene that couldn't even get the Player's favo—" Shushing sounds break his sentence, the men glare at their companion, pointing to the redhead behind the bar.

It's useless, really.

Diluc has been listening in the entire time. He can't really help it when their voices were loud enough to reach where he stood. Still, he was merciful and pretended not to hear. He's not exactly bothered by what they're saying. It was the truth, after all.

For two years, vision holders all around Teyvat were being granted favor.

It often begins with a meteor shower gracing the sky.

A star gently falling into the hands of a vision holder, embracing them in warm light.

They call the ethereal sensation as something akin to "coming home".

The favored would then be given different things; quality weapons, enhanced abilities, beautiful crowns— Some allogenes were even gifted summer apparel (Mondstadt is proud that their Gunnhildr sisters were one of the very first). Even their equipped wings would change into ornamented works of art!

It's been two years, and it seems like every allogene he knows of has received the Player's grace.

He supposed he just wasn't favored. It isn't too difficult to believe that he isn't likable.

He convinces himself it's fine.

It's fine if his summoned weapon is a cheap claymore made of scrap metal. It's still efficient to have the extra blade while he manually carries around another claymore (commissioned from Wagner as the best money could buy). Or that his abilities can only be improved through hardwork, unlike the many who broke the limits of their power through your favor.

It's fine.

As the bar goers leave for the night, as Venti and Kaeya wave around their almost divine-looking five-star weapons to show the crowd, and as he's closing up the tavern and retreating to his upstair quarters for comfort, he convinces himself that the he'll be okay on his own.

•

The arrival of the Creator was festive and grand; The day the sky parted itself and glowed as the brightest of all stars fell with grace into Mondstadt's very own Windrise.

Teyvat rejoices in the ecstatic ideal of being loved.

A meeting of vision holders was quickly held in the Cathedral, discussing immediate plans as some of the most favored (Venti, Jean, Kaeya, Albedo to name a few) went ahead to fetch the Creator from the large tree.

While Diluc was often the center of any other meeting due to his authority and influence, this was something he chose to step back from. Standing by the windows, away from the meeting, he watched on as Eula and the rest conversed around the circular table.

He isn't even sure why he's invited. Perhaps they felt it was obligatory for vision holders, regardless of favorability? Then again, he could always offer a fraction of his mountain-loads of wealth to help with the festivities.

At least he's competent at being a wallet.

As the others pull out their crowns and stars, weapons and artifacts, eager to thank the one responsible for the gifts, an unknown emotion bubbles in his stomach. It's faint, but it's there.

He tries to look away.

"Everyone, everyone! They're entering the gates!" Fischl announces uncharacteristically to the room as her eye glows brightly, undoubtedly looking through Oz's eyes from the sky.

"We should wait by the statue to welcome them, right?" Barbara chirps in, hands clasped and wavy hair bouncing with every step.

Diluc watches as people steadily leave the room, following last as they walk down the steps to greet the approaching group. Some civilians gathered to see the scene, others didn't really understand what a Player or Creator was to a vision holder, while Diluc—

Diluc stood by the steps to see them crowd around you.

You, surrounded with words of gratitude and cheerful squeals. He sees the smile on your face and feels relief that you don't seem too overwhelmed.

He leaves the area without a second thought.

•

He doesn't exactly see you around the next few days. With Mondstadt celebrating a new festival, the taverns were always full and busy with customers (both local and foreign). You were probably busy too, spending time with the different allogenes and entertaining those who came from Liyue to meet you. He's heard of a funeral consultant with three crowns (are consultants that admirable of a job to you?) and an adeptus gifted with various five-star polearms (this was understandable for the adepti, unlike the consultant).

He doesn't expect to see you at all until you leave for the next nation, honestly.

That is, until the tavern settles into a more peaceful atmosphere and Jean rushes in with several other allogenes. It's unusual to see his childhood friend in the tavern; still, he greets her amicably and asks what brings her here.

"(Name) will be coming here soon with Kaeya and a few others. It's a little impromptu, but we were hoping for a place to settle in with drinks. Perhaps try some apple cider." She smiles, taking a seat by the bar.

(Name)? Jean was already on a first name basis with the Creator?

Diluc thinks perhaps Jean truly is the favorite, she does have a few golden stars in her home.

Somehow, it's not surprising at all to know that his apple cider was famous enough to drag you in. At least there's something about the Dawn Winery in your favor. He promptly gets his employees to work, clearing a few tables near the bar, rearranging the furniture to give space good enough for a group.

Your entrance into the bar was just as lively; with your favored allogenes chatting away with you, everyone falling into place at different parts of the tavern, ordering drinks and meals.

He's glad you enjoy apple cider.

•

You're trying to play it cool, really. Trying your best not to get overexcited and glomp everyone and everything.

You're taking things step by step as you converse with Jean, Lisa, and Albedo; as you share meals with Barbara and Sucrose; as you play with Klee and Diona; tour the city with Fischl and Bennett. There's plenty of time to meet everyone and your schedule has been filled to the brim with all the fun your having.

You'll see that glimpse of red hair again— one that was lingering by the Cathedral staircase. Diluc doesn't like crowds, so it's fine that he isn't approaching you. It's also fine that he hasn't visited at least once, unlike the several raging from Liyue to Sumeru who took the journey to meet you early.

Diluc is too busy a person to meet you; whether it's because of the winery or his darknight hero duties, you wouldn't dare take his time.

— but when are you supposed to give him all the gifts you've brought for him???

Your determination to build him up in one go, from Talent levels to Constellations to Artifacts and Weaponry, all came down to this moment — and the man was simply nowhere to be seen!

An unknowingly loud sigh escapes your lips, catching the attention of the Cavalry Captain next to you.

"Now, what's got our (Name) so down in the dumps?" Kaeya hums, glancing at your face as you stutter a response.

"Aah it's not that, it's just. . ."

Your brother is too busy, I just want to meet him!!

"I'm thirsty." You deflect, looking around for a stall. The streets of Mond were nothing like the minimized version you see in the game; with the city being ten times larger than what you remembered it to be.

"Oh! Oh! Klee suggests apple cider!" The little girl giggles, running around your legs in excitement, "Angel's Share is nearby and big brother Albedo alwaaays takes me there for apple cider!"

Angel's Share. Bartender. A great idea has appeared!

At the excited look on your face, Jean walks up ahead of you.

"Why don't I go and inform the tavern to prepare us a space first, it would save us the waiting time."

"That would be great, Jean!"

•

You hope you aren't being too obvious.

With the way your eyes would linger on him, casting side glances and hoping he would greet you to strike up a conversation, the way most allogenes do. You didn't want to abruptly disturb his work, nor do you want seem desperate, so you waited for his initiative.

Yet, Diluc lingers just a little outside your group's circle. Your food and drinks were refilled by Charles, you've talked with nearly everyone but the person you want to talk to.

"It's getting pretty late, we should head home for the night." Someone suggests.

What?

No!

"Hm? Do you still have something in mind?" Kaeya asks. You realized you said it out loud, catching the attention of nearby patrons.

With a frantic glance around the tavern, your eyes make contact with Diluc's. He pauses as well, wondering what caused your little outburst.

You are definitely not leaving, not when you don't know when you could catch Diluc in his free time again! You'd be leaving for Liyue by then!

Hands slamming the table to stand up and with a small burst of courage, you approach the bartender who turns away from Charles. He raises an eyebrow at your approach. It's odd the way you feel flustered and nervous, finally facing him.

Pausing just in front of him, he looks on curiously.

"Would you like a refill?" He asks.

"A-ah no, I mean, yes but that's not why I'm here. I. . ." You stutter, stumbling over your words as you try not to behave awkwardly. Should you start with a casual topic?

"You seem to be quite busy." You say.

Diluc blinks. He isn't sure what you're implying. Neither is Kaeya or Jean, who stopped to look at the exchange of words.

"I suppose. . . but as a winery, we do thrive in impromptu festivities." He replies curtly before realizing, was it rude that he never visited the Creator?

"Ah, is it my lack of visit? I apologize, I would have visited but it seems that you were quite satisfied with your favorites and-"

"No, no, no," You wave your hand, cutting him off, "I understand you're busy. You don't have to visit at all! How could I take your time— wait," You pause, recalling his words.

"Favorites?" You tilt your head, "What do you mean I seemed satisfied with my favorites? What do you mean by favorites?"

"Your favorites... allogenes who received your favor. Those you have granted gifts."

Your jaw laxes. Favorites? They decided you play favorites based on how much you've built them?

"You think. . ." You say carefully, not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings, "That I offer gifts to my favorites?"

Diluc nods slowly, unsure of your questioning.

Although it would be a lie to say you didn't have your personal favorites, it would still be inaccurate that it's based on gifts. After all, you built everyone who came home by chance. As an avid player, you did your best to farm and push everyone to their full potential.

Diluc, however, never came home no matter how much you wanted him to. It can't be possible that he doesn't know how much he is loved, right?

"Then what about you?" You blurt out, "How do you think I view you?"

He stares at you oddly. At this point, many around you had stopped to tune in. Everyone knew Master Diluc never received your favor, so why are you conversing with him?

Meanwhile, Diluc wonders if you want him to admit it. Must he say it in front of everyone how he never received gifts?

"I suppose. . . I'm not one of them. It's quite understandable. I don't intend to question your judgement—"

"What?" You exclaim, a look of shock crosses your face, "You think I don't like you?" Voice raised in disbelief, you feel the eyes of many turning to watch the scene.

Diluc mirrors your confusion.

"I can't believe you would– no, that isn't it at all!" You stutter over your words, a frantic need to prove him wrong goes through you, "You— you of all people!"

"Me?" He repeats.

"I've always wanted you!"

A silence settles over the tavern. Did you have to put it so bluntly? You freeze in shock at your own words. Diluc's expression of disbelief turns flustered, face turning as red as his hair.

Explain yourself.

"I- I mean, I've always wanted you to come home. Ever since the start, really! It's just that you never did-"

"Hmm... so it implies that it's out of your control, correct?" Kaeya piqued, looking on curiously. He's been listening in the entire time. You nod your head.

"Yes! It's a game of chance for me as well. It's not to say that favor is an accident, I truly wanted everyone to come home! It's just that—" You turn to Diluc, "You never did, no matter how much I wanted you to. How was I supposed to give you your gifts?"

Diluc snaps out of his shock, blinking at you, "Gifts?"

"Yes, gifts! I've been saving them up for you, ever since the start." You pause, shyly looking away, "When I said I wanted you since the beginning I meant it. I came here for you, after all."

He looks at you in disbelief, and probably half the tavern as well. You can't help the small chuckle from your lips. With an outstretched hand, something materializes between you. It glows a blinding golden light, before settling to reveal–

"Wolf's Gravestone. It's a weapon for you."

You didn't have to say it— anyone with eyes could see how it was practically made for Diluc. With large handles and a color scheme that matches his own, Wolf's gravestone doesn't look as divine or ethereal as the other weapons you've gifted, but it looked just as powerful, if not menacing.

With a gesture, Diluc grips the handle.

"Fits like a glove." Kaeya whistles, impressed. As does the rest of the tavern who stopped to stare.

Suddenly, flames burst forth from the weapon. It sears and glows red. Unlike the common claymore that can't handle the the prowess of Diluc's flames, Wolf's Gravestone embraces it. Like an extension of his own hand.

He breaks his gaze away from the weapon to look at you.

"Thank you. . ." He mutters softly, but it's genuine. You smile.

"That's not the last of it, you know."

"What?"

With another flick of your hand, artifacts and talent books materialize. They flow around him like a dance as more and more begin to appear, lighting up the tavern like the night sky.

"I told you I brought gifts!"

All the days spent farming for him and other pyro characters finally paid off. The glimmering artifacts reflected in his own red eyes as he stares, entranced.

Favor did not come to him in meteor showers like it did to the other allogenes; rather, it came to him in your form. Proof of him being loved. The spectacle continued— after the artifacts and talent levels were the constellation (the crowd ooh'ed and aah'ed at the sight), then came the five star apparel (a nostalgic sight to him, and it changed his flames to a darker red), and the ascension materials you passed off as trinkets.

By the end of it, he had a hand over his lower face, his red bangs hid just the ends of his eyes. "I just thought I wasn't that favorable. . ." He muttered and you leaned in to peek at his covered face, wondering why he was shying away.

But it was evident to the tavern— the pink dusted ears, the flushed cheeks, and the overwhelming emotion in his eyes. Diluc Ragnvindr was flustered, and it's a sight enough to make even the drunks place down their beers for a closer look.

You bit your lip, trying to prevent the widest of smiles, "Do you believe yourself loved now?" You ask and he gives the faintest of nods.

"Thank you," He says, "For favoring me."

m.list 2 || consider supporting me on ko-fi ! || sagau m.list

note !! THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE a very short brainrot that became a fic huhuhuhu

I don't often write creator sagau themes but here we are! this is like peak diluc simpery idk ive never been this down for a man. i wrote this immediately after getting his skin i just got so excited 😅 I wanted to spoil him so bad (but i gave all his mats to thoma before he came home :< )

taglist !! @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @roriver @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrade @starforecasts @stygianoir @yuminako @eccedentesiast-sapphic @nebulaera @nuttytani @klutzkat @shizunxie

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 months

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MLK at 95.

January 15, 2024

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

Martin Luther King, Jr. was born 95 years ago on January 15, 1929. As a Baptist minister, he advocated non-violence while promoting civil rights. He spoke for the poor, the oppressed, and the disenfranchised. While he was imprisoned in a Birmingham jail for protesting segregation, he responded to eight white ministers who had criticized him for participating in protests that they described as “unwise and untimely.”

Dr. King’s famous reply to the white ministers explained why he traveled to Birmingham from Atlanta to protest:

I cannot sit idly by in Atlanta and not be concerned about what happens in Birmingham. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. Never again can we afford to live with the narrow, provincial outside agitator" idea. Anyone who lives inside the United States can never be considered an outsider.

While Dr. King was keenly aware of the racism that served as the understructure of the Christian church in the old South, he would be shocked by the virulent, mean-spirited, anti-Christian message that animates many (not all) evangelical congregations in America today. They form the backbone of Donald Trump's support in Iowa and beyond. They have adopted Trump's message that treats the poor, oppressed, and disenfranchised as “outsiders” and “others” who do not belong in America.

Over the last several days, we have learned that members of the Texas National Guard physically blocked federal Border Patrol agents from responding to reports of immigrants in distress in the Rio Grande. The bodies of a mother and two children were later recovered from the river in the area where immigrants were reported to be in distress.

Texas, of course, denies that its cruel actions caused the drownings—a denial that should be viewed skeptically from a state whose governor—Greg Abbott—recently commented Texas troopers could not shoot immigrants crossing the border because the troopers would be charged with murder by the Biden administration. Texas governor criticized after comment about shooting migrants | The Texas Tribune.

Similar animus underlies the recent comments of Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves, who withdrew Mississippi from a federal program to provide food to school children during summer breaks. Governor Reeves said Mississippi withdrew from the program to fight “attempts to expand the welfare state.”

Blocking efforts to rescue a drowning mother and her children? Regretting the inability to shoot immigrants because it would be murder? Denying food to poor children out of spite? Who are these people? How do they look at themselves in the mirror?

Ninety-five years after Dr. King’s birth and fifty-five years after his death, it is difficult to believe that people who identify as upstanding members of the Christian church can support such actions.

Another section from Dr. King’s Letter from a Birmingham Jail is relevant to this moment in our nation’s history:

But the judgment of God is upon the church as never before. If the church of today does not recapture the sacrificial spirit of the early church, it will lose its authentic ring, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and be dismissed as an irrelevant social club with no meaning for the twentieth century. I meet young people every day whose disappointment with the church has risen to outright disgust.

Dr. King’s words were prophetic. See Pew Research (10/17/19) In U.S., Decline of Christianity Continues at Rapid Pace.

And, of course, as Dr. King recognized, “there are some notable exceptions” among church leaders who supported his work—just as there are exceptions today. Several readers have recommended Faithful America as an antidote to Christian nationalism. The organization’s helpful FAQ page explains why “Christian nationalism” is not Christian. See Resisting Christian Nationalism: FAQ + Resources | Faithful America.

On this day commemorating Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s birth, we can see how far we have come—and how much further we must go. He didn’t despair. Neither should we.

Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter

#MLK #David Horsey #political cartoons #Martin Luther King Jr #justice #equality #economic equality #Robert B. Hubbell #Robert b. Hubbell newsletter

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sugurizz · 1 year

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Smut/ NSFW +18 - minors DNI !

BDSM - dark content ahead !

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

Husband! Nanami is the elegant, classy and strictly organized type. And that does apply to your relationship as well.

As his wife and forever lover and partner, touching yourself is a resounding NO unless it's in his presence, and right before his very eyes to allow.

Husband! Nanami gets upset as soon as he comes back home to see you laying on your shared king-sized bed, playing with your kitty and fondling your breasts after a long day at work.

You begged Nanami to spare you this time. You said you couldn't help yourself and you just felt the urge to pleasure yourself a little while he was away.

You cried and held onto his biceps as your eyes teared up. You whined and begged again, seeing his veiny hands unclasp his belt and slide it away from his waist.

But there's no help when he's this frustrated..

Your thighs, tummy, ass, tits, and pussy are red and swollen. He whipped your naked body as a punishment for breaking one of the main rules of your houshold. The stinging and burning feels everywhere and you can't even ask him to stop. Your juices are shamelessly flowing everywhere and dripping down your thighs. His merciless slaps keep harshly landing on your soft skin, as if your husband knows exactly how to balance your delicious pain and your overwhelming pleasure with every whip he gives you.

Husband! Nanami is your one and only gentleman. But he feels so good when he punishes you. You love him when he's angry and cold. You love him when he's cruel and evil. And you love that hint of mischief in his eyes as you welcome his pain and gasp and moan with every touch of his belt.

You're almost drunk dazed, overdosing in the intensity of your sensations as you see him spread your legs wide, your pussy drenched and burning. and he slams his hard cock inside you as your poor pussy lips are still throbbing from his belt.

"You won't get to cum this time".. he leans next to your ear as he whispers " and you're going to watch me fuck my fist.. and not your tiny hungry hole"...

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iwouldvebeendrake01 · 1 month

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Crimson Peak (2015), costumes designed by Kate Hawley Poor Things (2023), costumes designed by Holly Waddington

"The house really dictated how to approach the costumes, from a sculptural point of view, to give them extra depth, to give them a painterly quality. I didn’t want to get myself caught up in detail that didn’t feel like it meant anything, like generic lace or decoration. So all the details we made and they all came from the symbolism of the characters or the house itself. The leaves on Lucille’s dress were constructed by hand, with a single piece of cording. And for Edith, the motifs of the flowers, she blooms. It was about trying to create an atmosphere. [...] [Edith's] like a chrysalis at that point. She’s very fragile, so the butterfly is dying and becoming this little husk. [...] When Guillermo said to me, “It’s about a house that breathes,” that’s why we chose the lightest fabric, just a little thing to try and help the storytelling with the idea of the house." "[As Edith falls in love with Thomas Sharpe,] the silhouette of the sleeves becomes fuller, and the flowers start growing on her dress. You have the world of the moon, and black, and Lucille being the moth, and Edith being the butterfly.” - Kate Hawley

"I wanted texture to be everywhere in the costumes… for everything to feel like it was living and breathing – from an animal or a sea creature from a shell. It all has a kind of organic quality to it. There are curvy, linear shapes, and no sharp lines. Bella’s costumes are very airy. Those sleeves are like huge lungs full of air, and she’s just been reanimated so that felt like a good thing to include. The huge sleeves also affect her body shape, which felt like a good idea, because she is more creature-like when she wears these.” - Holly Waddington

#poor things #crimson peak #holly waddington #kate hawley #fashion #fashionedit #edith cushing #lucille sharpe #bella baxter #my edits #mine

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himimosa · 7 months

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when they are sick

taking care of bsd men when they are sick...

fyodor, kunikida, dazai

Fyodor Dostoevsky

He is the person who walks around sick for almost half of a year, with a lot of sniffs and sneezes. Somehow he can manage to catch a cold even in summer. You say it is because he has an awful immune system

He already has anemia that makes his body weak. And if a bad cold is added too, he becomes almost pathetic...

If you ask him, he says he is used to being sick most of the time, but that is not true. He tried to take pills a few times for his anemia but they were useless (no, i am not self-projecting here, nope)

Most of the time, he can pull to do his work even if that means carrying tissues with him everywhere.

He hates the times when he got extra bad cold, it causes delays in his work. He is not someone who will accept to see a doctor even though his fever runs high. So if you're going to accompany him, you have to use more conventional ways...

You know hot soup, warm shower, herbal teas... He will act like you are being too "histrionic" and he is doing fine, but he will appreciate it secretly...

You put a mix of mint and linden leaves into the french press, added a tiny piece of ginger, and then poured hot water. After you waited for a while you poured out the liquid through a strainer. You had chosen your fav “I like mugs because they’re very comfortable in your hand” mug for it.

You entered the room where Fyodor was laying, he was trying to read a book but he was coughing constantly. You pulled the book from his hands: "Please drink this and rest a little. I am sure your book can wait for you." you scolded him lightly. He didn't argue with you, which was a sign that he was really feeling bad.

He took the mug, and looked at the writing on it "I don't understand why this is written on a mug" You chuckled "Because either you don't have a sense of humor or you have never heard Demi Lovato before dear.."

"Is it really an inadequacy of me that I don't get the references from the pop culture that was brought to people by no one but-"

"Darling darling..." you interrupted him "You can talk for hours about fatuity of popularism later, but I am begging you, drink this tea. now..."

He was annoyed by your interruption but he complied with your request. He sniffed before taking a sip. Then his face turned into a disgusted expression.

"Did you put ginger in this tea?.."

Kunikida Doppo

This poor man will go through the 5 stages of grief in order...

Denial: "I am not sick, I just got shivers for a second! This doesn't mean anything!" "No, I don't look awful or tired, I am fine!"

Anger: "This is because of that Dazai asshole! That nasty bastard sneezed right into my face and contaminated me with his viruses!"

Bargaining: "...Okay some inconveniences might happen but it's not that bad", "I will drink this tea and get better in an instant. No, I don't need a break, I will be fine"

Depression: "... What will happen to the agency if I use two days off?" "...my program... I will be left behind on it.."

Acceptance: "..President, may I use two days off to recover?"

He knew it is natural to get sick for people... But it wasn't written in his ideals book... He must add some notes about this too...

All he wants is quickly recover and get back to his responsibilities. So he will see a doctor, he will take his medicines, will drink all the herbal tea he needs to drink...You don't have to do much indeed, he is someone who takes care of himself well. But this doesn't mean he won't appreciate it if you do some thoughtful things for him...

"I'm home" you called to him when you entered the house with your keys. You dropped the bags that you got from the grocery store to the kitchen. You could organize them later, you went right ahead to the room where Kunikida was resting. He tried to get up to greet you but you acted quicker and hugged him while he was still sitting. He froze for only one second, then slowly wrapped his arms around you

"Y/N... You shouldn't be this close to me, you will get sick too..." He murmured but didn't push you away too. You shrugged your shoulders while still hugging him "Then I will use a day off with my sick boyfriend, that doesn't seem so bad to me" Kunikida chuckled lightly "If we both use a day off at the same time, I can't imagine what sort of chaos would the agency have..." Then he slowly pulled himself back to see you eye-to-eye and started to ask you questions... How is the agency going? Were budget calculations accurate? Have you taken new cases? What kind of ruckus did Dazai cause when he wasn't around to lecture him? How many calls did you get for his suicide attempts this time?

You told him about how you took care of everything on his behalf with everyone's help (well mostly with the help of Atsushi, Kyoka, Kenji, and Tanizaki siblings... basically with minors of Ada...) But even Dazai wasn't acting so "wild". He was whining about how the agency became too quiet and no-fun without Kunikida and all the joy he got from work vanished without Kunikida...

"Everyone can't wait to get you better love they are planning to visit you tomorrow night," you told with a smile. Kunikida coughed and covered his mouth, then mumbled: "I see..." You knew he did it to hide the light blush and embarrassed smile on his face, but you didn't tease him for it. After all, he was deserving it all...

Dazai Osamu

Here comes the drama king...

First, let's be honest here... He is treating his own body like shit... We saw him in his flat, this man doesn't even cook for himself. He literally feeds with sake and canned crabs only... Despite that, he doesn't get sick easily. He has the durability of a cockroach (i swear i love him, these insults are with affection)

He is the kind of person who doesn't get sick even there is a cold season and everyone around him got ill. He catches the sickness not more once than a year, but when he gets ill, it is always the most unexpected time.

Once, while he was still in the port mafia he got a very bad cold right before an important mission. When Mori saw his situation, he had to cancel the mission.

Because this man acts like he is on the deathbed when he is sick...

"So I made some research on the internet... With all these symptoms on me; either I have some kind of chronic illness, or brain tumor.. which leads us to the conclusion that I have only 2 weeks to live..." "Or, you have a cold, you shithead.." "Do not act like you are a doctor now Chuuya, or I will throw up to your precious hat..."

He didn't change much... The only difference is now he is being your boyfriend, you have to take care of this man like you are taking care of a child. He will act like he is much worse than he is to get all your affection and care... You will need a lot of patience, to be honest...

"Ew, there is no way I would drink that crap!" You thought for a millisecond to throw the bowl of soup to his face but you didn't have the heart for it. Even though he was acting like a spoiled brat, he was miserable right now. You knew he hadn't eaten anything since yesterday morning, you had to convince him to put something in his stomach no matter what...

"Why don't you want to drink this babe?" you asked with your sweetest tone. Dazai shrugged his shoulders "It smells bad, makes me want to puke..." You tried again "What if you push yourself? Just a little? I know it doesn't look appetizing but this soup is too good for cold, you will feel better after your drink I promise..."

Dazai looked at you with defeated eyes, he couldn't resist any longer "..fine then"

With excitement, you took one spoon from the bowl and carefully held it towards his mouth, you were cupping the other hand under the spoon to keep it from spilling. Dazai slowly opened his mouth, only to make a sour face "It is too hot!"

"Sorry baby, my bad" you apologized and started to cool it down by stirring it with the spoon. You took another spoon from the bowl, this time you blew a little air before giving it to Dazai. When he started to make some teasing comments on you would be a great nanny, you decided he was already getting better. You tried to get up after he finished his soup, but Dazai held you weakly by his wrist. "You won't leave me alone on my deathbed, right?" You rolled your eyes: "You're an idiot, you know that right?" He smirked lightly "But I am your idiot, and you still love me..." You couldn't control your smile this time. You gently removed the hair on his forehead and gave him a little peck "Yeap... Only mine to love..."

well, i couldn't still get over from this week's episode and couldnt't write anything new. this was on the drafts and not proof readed, but i will still share it. fyodor stans can use it as a denial of ep 11 :')

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jollyfunvoid · 3 months

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Bucci gang headcanons

Bruno Bucciarati

-Wes Andersson fan (his comfort movie is Grandhotel Budapest)

-fave era is roaring 20s (aesthetic & music wise)

-listens to electro swing, swing, jazz and blues

-has a very strong sweet tooth. His cravings are so extreme he is able to eat whole giant chocolate on one go and not gain a single kilogram. His favorite ice cream is stracciatella and his go to dessert is tiramisu. If you wanna bribe him, use sweets

-loves Golden Girls (Sofia is his favorite character)

-hardcore Eurovision fan, always prepares for the Eurovision weeks in advance, it's like a holiday for him

-brings small camera with him everywhere he goes, gets very emotional and sentimental when taking pictures, loves to keep all the memories

-shares an old record player with Abbacchio, they collects vinyl records together

-in charge of shared Netflix and Disney+ account

-has an ornamental lower back tattoo which matches the one he has on his chest. Has a lot of tattoos all over his body in general

-is very good at sailing and has a captain's licence. As a kid he used to be obsessed with pirates, he still lowkey fantasizes about life at sea

-surprisingly a very good dancer and hella skilled belly dancer. He is also very flexible

-Caterina Caselli number 1 fan

-drinks a lot of coffee, never starts a day without a cup of cappuccino

-obsessed with candles

-as a kid he used to build wooden ship models with his dad. Now as an adult he still does it sometimes, when he is not too busy

-bought himself a sewing machine because he is really into fashion and wanted to start making his own clothes. Isn't very good at it tho, his sewing skills are poor, so he always ends up zipping everything up with his stand and then acts like that's how the "sewn" piece is supposed to look like

-has a sweet melodic laugh

-extremely flirty, he is a snarky little shit who loves to tease others

-"Oh my god look at the sky! The colors are so beautifl!" *takes a picture* "And the clouds? Wow!" *takes another picture* "Guys, come look at the sunset!" *takes 20 more pictures*

-has a very low alcohol tolerance (3 glasses in and he is under the table)

-although he seems like a very well put together person, he is very messy and tends to misplace things, especially when he creates extra storage with zippers he can't find anything. He calls it "organized chaos"

-can easily sneak up on others, he just silently spawns out of nowhere. Is it his natural ability or is Sticky Fingers involved? No one knows

-is able to talk his way out of anything, uses his charm to his advantage a lot. Also the master of puppy eyes

-suffers from PTSD because of the attack on his father, that's why he always sleeps with a knife under his pillow. Everytime he hears noises in the middle on the night he gets paranoid that someone is hiding in or sneaking into his home with the intention of harming him and his love ones. When the panic attacks hit him really hard, he irrationally makes extra safety precautions, such as blocking doors with furniture or leaving the lights on. Also has trouble sleeping in unknown places because he feels vulnerable and exposed to potential dangers, he is always in a state of high alert.

-his favorite season is winter, he enjoys Christmas the most because he loves giving presents and being with his family. He definitely plays an old Ella Fitgerald vinyl records during Christmas time

Leone Abbacchio

-tea lover, his favorite is earl grey

-doesn't like sweets, however he enjoys dried fruit (especially figs)

-Narancia is his favorite kid

-movies enthusiast, has seen sooo many movies and is the biggest critic. He has a Letterboxd account where he writes reviews. Loves watching old horror movies the most because of the gothic aesthetic, but DC movies have a very special place in his heart

-hardcore Depeche Mode, Calabrese and London After Midnight fan

-goes jogging every morning

-after getting sober he tries to look after his diet more, thanks to Bruno

-knows a lot about occult stuff

-secretly watches RuPaul's drag race with Trish

-owns a motorcycle

-named his stand after Bruno's favorite music genre to honor everything Bruno has done for him

-takes very cold and brisk showers

-taught all the boys how to drive

-thanks to Mista he became a huge Gorillaz fan

-since Moody Blues doesn't have lips, she communicates with him via symbols on her digital forehead screen

-never puts down his headphones

-has a playlist for literally any occasion. Tends to gatekeep music, you have to be very special if he shows you his playlists. Has made a playlist for each member of the Bucci gang, the only one who knows is Bruno (Leone created him multiple playlists, they even have a shared one, which they play when they are alone)

-his skin is very prone to bruising

-Moody Blues also allows him to see fragments of the past when he touches various items, he is able to sense the overall vibe and emotions of their owner and the situation they were in while using the item.

-his clothes may be dark, but I know for a fact his socks and underwear are colorful af, wild patterns all over

-his favorite season is autumn, he loves rainy and foggy weather

-the biggest prankster of the group. Everyone thinks either Narancia or Mista are always responsible for the pranks, but it is actually Leone. No one ever suspects him, because he doesn't look like the type of guy who would enjoy such childish things. And thanks to his stoic appearance he always gets away with it.

-true crime podcast listener. Him and Fugo share this passion and often discuss their favorite podcast shows. Sometimes they watch detective movies together and bet on who will solve the mystery first

Pannacotta Fugo

-reads a lot of crime novels in his free time, always comes up with his own theories and tries to solve the case before the detective (got mistaken only once and couldn't get over it for a long time). His favorite author is Sebastian Fitzek

-loves watching cartoons and animated movies, because he didn't get to enjoy them as a child

-hates horror movies because of loud jumpscares, but doesn't mind gore

-drinking green tea helps him to calm down

-gets sunburnt easily

-either never gets ill, or is sick for several weeks straight

-developed not only respiratory, but also digestive problems because of Purpe Haze and feels nauseous a lot (also throws up very often)

-uses make up to cover his facial scars

-his skin is extremely dry

-has a very light sleep, he finds it extremely difficult to share room with others during missions (he is only able to fall asleep with either Bruno or Giorno because they are not noisy sleepers like the others)

-Sheila, Murolo and him have regular sleepovers and movie marathons. They also cook dinner together

-his favorite bands are System of a Down, Slipknot, Bad Omens and Motionless in White

-can't go on rides in amusement parks because he gets sick

-him and Abbacchio visit rage rooms regularly

-always carries a book with him

-chews a lot of bubblegum to release his anger

-everytime the gang travels abroad he is the one who has to translate everything since he knows many foreign languages. He speaks english, french, russian, spanish and norwegian fluently, his pronunciation is so spot on you could barely tell he is not a native speaker. Doesn't have an accent at all. Also knows basics of sign language and cyrillic alphabet. He uses these skills often in Italy too, when he gets approached by strangers on the streets he pretends he is a confused tourist who doesn't undertand italian

-gets overstimulated easily, he is especially sensitive to noises (suffers from misophonia)

-bites ice cream and ice

-"the book was better than the movie" type of person

-picky eater, very cautious with unfamiliar food

-takes extremely hot showers. Whenever he is in the bathroom it ends up looking like a sauna in there. Also the gang has an unwritten rule that if they share a room during a mission, Fugo can use the bathroom first because he hates feeling dirty and has to use the shower immediately, otherwise he will be grumpy and won't shut up about it

-has a nasty skin picking habit, which results in him picking patches of dry skin and scabbed-over cuts and scratches (many of his injuries never fully heal because of this)

-never leaves the house without a hand sanitizer

-fidgets with his hands a lot when he is anxious

-goes to bed first and also wakes up the first

Narancia Ghirga

-vegetarian

-convinced Abbacchio to watch Brooklyn 99 with him (although Leone didn't like it at first, they now binge watch it together). They also watched Breaking Bad and What We Do In The Shadows

-has heterochromia

-thinks Orange Capri Sun is the supreme flavor and refuses to drink any other flavor

-created a shared playlist for the squad, he blasts it everytime the gang travels somewhere (it mostly consist of EDM, trap, phonk and rap)

-always beats everyone in Just Dance game sessions

-wears mismatched socks

-somewhat good at drawing, has a very unique cartoon caricature-like style

-hardcore Marvel fan (loves Guardians of the Galaxy the most), argues with Abbacchio a lot because he likes DC

-Mista, Trish and him had a podcast at some point

-his favorite candy is Kinder Surprise

-makes paper airplanes when bored

-bites people he love

-cries when animal dies in a movie

-suffers from seasonal allergy

-sleeps with tiny Creeper and Enderman Minecraft plushies, he takes them everywhere and even made them an instagram account, where he shares random pictures of them. When someone from the gang goes on a separate mission, he gives one plushie to the group or the individual, so they wouldn't feel lonely. And they also take pictures of the plusie and send them to Narancia.

-speaking of Minecraft, he manages a server where the gang plays together. He even created custom skins for everyone which look like their stands. Since he is the only one without humanoid stand, his skin is Mr. Smith, the pilot or Aerosmith. He wears a jacket with a picture of his stand in the back

-he is afraid of doctors and doesn't like hospitals. Everytime he gets sick or injured, he gets very anxious about his health. He hates dentists the most.

-loves when Fugo reads to him because he has a very smooth audio-book-like voice when he is calm

-experimented with different hair dyes couple of times, Trish and Abbacchio helped him

-die hard South Park fan, quotes the show on daily basis

-steals everyone's clothes. Can't find a shirt? Narancia is wearing it. Your hoodie is missing? It's in Narancia's closet

-has sticky notes all over his room, because if he doesn't have something written down, he will most likely forget it

-surprisingly very strong, the only person from the gang he is not able to lift up is Leone

Giorno Giovanna

-his emotions effect his powers (different flowers grow around him or from his hair when he gets excited, angry or scared), however he manages to control and hide it well

-master builder in The Sims game; doesn't care about the gameplay as such, he just enjoys building the houses and spends hours decorating them. Fugo loves to join his gaming sessions, but he on the other hand doesn't care about the houses or decorations, his goal is to always kill as many sims as possible (he loves to play around with various gruesome mods, which Giorno secretly enjoys watching)

-walking cottage core moodboard aesthetic

-goes on a picnic at least 2 times a week. In general preferst to eat ouside, terrace or garden are his favorite places

-has a very complex skincare routine

-heist movies enthusiast

-Trish got him into astrology and tarot cards

-loves theatre and poetry, even tried to write some poems himself

-writes official Passione documents on typewriter

-installed beehives in the Passione mansion gardens and makes his own honey

-collects dried flowers

-is the best liar in the group

-a bug magnet, there is always some type of insect crawling on his clothes

-him and Fugo have library & bookshop dates, they also visit museums together and exchange random facts about nature. Nerds in love, what can I say

-caramel is his favorite ice cream and dessert toping

-has a small floral tattoo on his wrist

-autistic

-loves taking bubble baths

-takes part in any bet without hesitation, no matter how absurd it is

-very bad dancer, has no rythm, but he is the best singer from the group, his voice is angelic

-very rough driver; hits the breaks hard, pumps up the gas fast and does very sharp turns. Also drives hella fast

-learned how to differentiate the steps of other people (especially the fellow teammates, since they live together). This is an old habit from his childhood.

-he walks very quietly, others barely notice when he walks into a room or when he leaves

-hates the smell of cigarettes

-others think he has a very odd music taste, because he will be singing a song from a Disney movie and within a couple of minutes you can catch him vibing to Banshee. He is forbidden to play his music in the car because it consist of all kinds of genres it makes it almost uncomfortable to listen to. His fellow gang members say his playlists are inconsistent, but they just make sense to Giorno.

-speaking of music, he is a huge fan of Hozier, Die Antwoord, Ghostemane and Little Big

-very creative, his hobbies include all kinds of crafty ativities, such as sewing, embroidering, pottery making, felting, knitting, soap making, candle making…. you name it, if he can create something, he will. And he is very good at it

-extremely fascinated by venomous animals and poisonous plants. The deadlier the better. His obsession with killer plants led to him nicknaming Fugo "his aconito", because he associates the aconite flower with his stand (it disables nerves, lowers blood pressure, and can stop the heart, plus it's purple). His other favorite flowers associated with Fugo and Purple Haze are Nightshade, Love in a mist, Spider lily and Morning glory

-zones out a lot

-sleeps with dozens of pillows, when he sleeps he is literally burried under them

-when he gets overwhelmed he lights up an incense stick and it calms him down. He is very fond of nice smells.

Guido Mista

-enjoys shitty movies, especially buddy commedies and low budget rom coms. Abbacchio hates when Mista picks films for the movie nights. Bruno on the other hand loves it

-Adam Sandler number 1 fan

-signed up for an archery course, also tried to use crossbow at some point

-can fall asleep anywhere, snores very loud

-likes the weirdest food combinations (like ice cream and pickles and stuff), the type of person who eats fries with McFlurry

-kills bugs with Nerf guns, Giorno hates it

-plays airsoft and paintball in free time

-enjoys camping, rockclimbing and rafting. Outdoor activities are his thing

-hella superstitious, made up various rituals he repeats in order to avoid bad luck

-very religious, always says a prayer before every mission

-reggaeton is his favorite type of music

-idk why but him having diabetes makes so much sence, since Pistols have to eat regularly to keep his energy and sugar lvl. stable

-mayo is his go to dressing with everything (fries, hot dog, nachos...)

-him and Narancia have 1am fast food trips

-makes silly bets with others and always challenges them to do something stupid for money, Giorno is always the first one to participate

-the best hugger

-big brother energy, everytime the other teammates screw something up and are afraid to tell Bucciarati or Abbacchio, they go to Mista for advice. He is extremely responsible and can always keep his head clear in stressful situations

-claims to hate drama but is always down to listen to some fresh tea

-loves watching cooking competitions. He is always judging the contestants harder than Gordon Ramsay ever could, Abbacchio occasionally joins him because he finds it amusing

-whenever someone tells him "I love you" he replies "Ditto", referencing one of his favorite movies (Ghost, 1990)

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #vento aureo #golden wind #jjba part 5 #bruno bucciaratti #leone abbacchio #pannacotta fugo #narancia ghirga #giorno giovanna #guido mista #bucci gang #bucci gang headcanons #jjba headcanons #bruabba #fugio

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azulock · 3 months

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so I wanna requests the guys as dads, I remember at some point you said you wanted to do something like this and I really wanna see it

Time to rull up my sleeves, cause I did say I was gonna do one of those right? Back when I got annoyed that all I found was girl dad this girl dad that and I got tired of all the typical gendering going on in dad fics.

Ryusei Shidou

Girl dad in the most chaotic way possible. Tiaras coexist with bows and arrows as a princess fights off an invasion. Every doll and plushie has a tattoo made either with a sharpie or from a patch attached with hot glue. Every tea time is a mafia family meeting that always involves an assassination plot. And the barbies live very intense lives that inevitably delve into wrestling like storylines where each one has a gimmick, a long standing feud, and a clear thirst for blood.

Chaos may not be the best thing to keep an organized home, but it's good for mental development. And much like a kid, Shidou also thrives in creative chaos. He isn't the best at practical things, especially the ones involving routine and quiet time, but he has got his uses. Very good at wasting his daughter's energy until she drops straight into a deep sleep. His antics are also good at convincing her to eat pretty much anything. And of course, great at entertaining her so you can take a break.

Oliver Aiku

Boy dad but like he really doesn't care, he'd be giving the same extremely affectionate, and even a bit clingy, treatment to his kid no matter the gender - sugary sweet nicknames included. Probably heard people saying he coddles his son too much, treating him like a princess, but Oliver is good at playing deaf. Tho, that kid gonna have to fight for the right to have his feet touching the ground, cause dad wants to carry his offspring everywhere. Sure to raise a boy as clingy and openly affectionate as him.

Those reflexes honed for football are quite good at catching a kid before an ugly fall. And he's actually good at the general everyday stuff, surprisingly patient too. Takes a genuine interest in the things his son likes, so when the boy shows sudden interest in colorful nail polish, he'll show up to a match with badly painted soft purple nails. Likes sleeping on the floor with his boy, when asked why the floor and not the bed he brings up the old man excuse of "the floor is good for my back".

Reo Mikage

Girl dad and he was ready for a little princess, but what he got was more of a cave dwelling gremlin. He was expecting frilly dresses and tea time but he gets a little girl who likes bugs, playing in the mud and digging things from the ground. It hits him as a surprise but he adapts to that, and as much as he isn't very excited for the cleanup afterward, he is always eager to entertain his girl's odd interests. If buying dinosaur fossils weren't such a legal can of worms he'd buy one just to bury it for her to dig up.

If he wasn't convinced to go to therapy before, now is the moment to convince him. Just gotta say he should do it not to become like his dad and he's gonna be booking the appointment fast. Will be reading child pedagogy books and shit like that to make sure he can be a good and understanding dad. Really just trying to kill his family's trauma conga line at himself - wants his daughter to trust and count on him in the way he never could with his dad.

Michael Kaiser

Boy dad but to the gentlest, sweetest of souls, a little boy who seems to have absolutely nothing in common with his dad, aside from some physical traits. It at the same time shocks and scares him, because the world out there is not kind to sweet people. But while the boy is at home, Kaiser can keep him safe. It does frustrate him a little bit when he tries to get his son into football but the boy is more into art than sports, but he learns to move past that. Truth is, he wanted the boy to mirror his traits a bit more, so this is a humbling experience.

That poor rose tattoo of his does not see a day of peace after his son learned to color. Tho, Kaiser gets used to the shaky new roses drawn on his skin fair enough. And he actually considers getting a full tattoo of just lineart and not colors just to let the boy color in. He's not the most patient so he has a bit of a hard time getting used to the whole parenting thing, but he does try his best. Also, whenever he takes his son out somewhere he makes their clothes match in color scheme.

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#oliver aiku x reader #reo mikage x reader #michael kaiser x reader #shidou ryusei x reader #mikage reo x reader #ryusei shido x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader

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sehtoast · 3 months

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A Helping Hand (Homelander x Reader)

18+ | 550 words. light, lovey smut. sleepy homelander | Fic Directory

You start off with kisses to his neck. Soft ones, sweet little pecks of adoration.

He's sleepy today. A lot on his mind, so much to do. Your poor baby's plate is full, but he can relax here.

He can relax with you

You lean on your elbow and stare at him for a moment. The worry lines at his forehead are relaxed, his breaths are soft, eyes shut. He's beautiful.

You press a kiss to his cheek, thumb stroking the curve of the other. His hand rests against your forearm, and he takes shelter in you. Free and safe from all of the judgment, all of the pain and uncertainty.

You map the paths of his torso over and over again. Your fingertips dance through the expanse of hair on his chest, once an insecurity of his.

Only as something as smooth and pure, as flawless as carved marble did he ever think another could find beauty in his form– that the suit was the be-all-end-all of his physique.

But you find it everywhere.

In the dips of his hips, the little birthmark just above. You find it in the point of his nose, in the furrow of his brows, in the peaks of his hairline. You find it in the darkened roots of his hair. In the bite mark he so often chews into his lower lip.

These things make him special. They make him so very beautiful.

He mumbles something when you finally grasp him. He's half hard and wanting, so you make sure you give him a helping hand. Soft strokes, sweet nothings whispered in his ear. Promises of love.

Everything he can never get enough of.

He pants softly through parted lips. Your lips meet his temple and he all but totally melts. His eyes are shut as you kiss the expanse of his face all the way down to kiss him properly. He reciprocates almost as if he’s weak, like he can hardly muster the power to do anything more than lay there and bask in your love.

His breaths fan hot against you between kisses. Every stroke elicits a new, needy reaction. A new groan, a new furrow of his brow, a slight bucking of the hips. His hands fist the sheets to keep himself under control.

“You’re so cute,” you murmur against the corner of his mouth. “Feel good?”

He nods until you capture his lips again. You thumb at the tip and he whines into your mouth. Only you could ever get him like this. Only you could take apart a living god and have him keen and tremble below you.

A few more pumps and he’s falling over the edge, painting his abdomen with his release. His moans come from deep in his chest and he arches toward you as you swallow each one with more of those addictive kisses.

“Sweet boy,” you call him. “My hero.”

That really does it. You can see the smile creep onto his face and the way his cheeks warm into a flattering pink. His grin is like the sun, only far more beautiful.

You kiss him all over through the process of cleaning up. By the time you move to snuggle against him, he’s out like a light.

Your precious Johnny looks so peaceful.

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #homelander smut #the boys #antony starr

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justcallmesakira · 4 months

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Bsd men with a childish s/o:

Sypnosis: how they go on with their day with you :333

Genre: crack, low key fluff

Warnings: mention of roblox, McDonald's, LOADS of blasting stuff, torturing Mexican man, war flashbacks

Dazai-

• one word, power couple (more like powerblasting the agency every couple of hours)

• he absolutely loves your childish demeanor, like bro you saw how he acts? He gives undeveloped 22 year old man and so do you🙃

•anyways he actually enjoys your company, your cute little childish acts and stuff

• ex: blasting the electricity cables of Yokohama, drawing silly little Sanrio doodles everywhere, going ":3"after cutely making the enemy go insane etc.

•honestly he would definitely take you to the playground instead of a fancy restaurant 😘👍

•probably swings with you on the swings •"Couple found playing in a children's playground before getting hit in the anal by lighting"

•bro he would go with your childish and stopid tactics😰😰😰

• "omg let's make a paper boat and ride it down the river😍😍🤩😘😘🥰" "anything for you babygorilla😏😈😈😈😽😼"

•like seriously though the agency actually worries, not for dazai but for when he gaslights you with a lollipop into committing double-plugging each other off

•he still enjoys your childish antics, you would go with a cute Lil face doing dumb stuff and he will just watch you with soften eye

•anyways you two have matching energy but unless your in real danger he's not saving you... He's joining you😰😰😨

Chuuya-

•hahh....

•he's so done with you

•you would act so silly and chilly that's he's gonna get literally WAR flashbacks (dazai I am lookin at you and your little lighter🤨🤨

•when ever he took you to McDonald's you would ask the employee for extra sauce and he would ask "why would you want extra sau- AND WHY ARE WE IN MCDONALD'S ORDERING HAPPY Meals????!!!" *slurps down every sauce packet* "it's for the toy, chuuya"

•he totally not traumatized by your tactics <33

•poor chuuya he just wants to have a nice romantic bath with you and there you are with rubber ducks and balls everywhere

•"darling Ily but why the hell did you stick rubber ducks on your body with Elmer's glue? 😃" -chuuya probably

•even during hard missions your so unserious😭

•it's scares him how goofy your are during a shooting..... *flashback*

•he wants to put like a dog leash on you so I don't wander off Dora the explorer live action (NO YALL NOT IN THAT Way) •chuuya=🙅 you begging him to buy a children's kitchen set= 💁‍♀️🔪🍳.

•he genuinely likes your sweet little innocent side

•whenever he's tired of babysit-- I mean taking care of you he takes you to kouyou and goes 🕳️🎢 'bye'

•HELP AUTOMOTIVE BIBI FOGASA STARTED PLAYING-😰😰😰

•he still cares for you especially when you are tired and fell asleep he would carry you to the bedroom and sleep with your head on his shoulder and him giving you a soft smile :)

•just don't remind him of a certain someone.... 🤕

Fyodor-

•he doesn't know why he picked up a street dawg like you

•careful who U call street dog before I leave you on the streets😃

•you and gogol would do stupid stuff in his room, run around playing tag all over his office and there he is with his silly little discord mod on his computer (fyodor please get your rusty ass off from that computer)

•you actually like his goofy cartoon mouse logo and made merch out of his organization 😘😘😘

•"myshka, why are you wearing my organization's shirt and a-" "shhhh- I am promoting your company" "what"

•he's just like chuuya but calmer and is questioning how you can act so carefree while he's brutally torturing a Mexican man

•LEAVE THE MEXICAN MAN ALONE FYODOR-🇲🇽

•still he buys you those kitchen set toys so you won't scream "shimmy shimmy ya" during the Doa meetings😃😃😃

•it's actually kinda sweet bcs of the dynamic you share like-- cold x cheerful

•you begged him to play roblox with you

•"I have work to do" "you can blast people in this game" "..."

•"yadayadaya safusafusafu" -you

•he likes your cheery mess but keep it at an extent before he sends you to the adoption center

•ADOPTION CENTER KINK---

A/N: I am sorry this is bad but it's my first post so please be patient I will start a writing blog with rules and all ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

Divider crds: /@junkyukim on pinterest

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abbyfmc · 17 days

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Yandere Emperor! x Opera artist! reader Headcanons:

Warning: I will use the Chinese imperial harem system, plus it will be set in a kind of forbidden city (yes, I have seen Chinese palace dramas, XD). Topics to talk about: Mention of kidnapping, abuse, possible manipulation and murder. Although I use elements of ancient China or imperial Asia, I am not describing any emperor in particular; instead, I'm making up my own.

Enjoy it!

1. Yan Li was about 29 years old when he became emperor, and at that time he had an empress whom he loved very much, but she died in childbirth with the first prince due to her poor health, and from then on he became very sad and depressed.

2. You were a beautiful street opera artist who sang and danced at different events. You ran away from home after your noble parents planned to marry you to a man of not very good intentions.

3. You suffered a lot the first few years, but slowly you gained a group of artist friends, and among them is this girl from a humble class named Lili.

4. On the other hand, you had met a young blacksmith named Zhou, with whom you had a secret romance, which only Lili knew about. You and Lili had become confidants.

5. Due to your escape from home, you were also able to avoid the mandatory imperial selection for a long time. In this selection, girls from certain clans were taken to the palace to be selected to be consorts or concubines of the emperor or princes present.

6. You had lived happy and free, without problems until that fateful day…

7. Yan Li's mother, the Empress Dowager, saw how depressed her son was, so she convinced him to organize a trip to the southeast of the country to distract himself, and after a while, Yan Li agreed. After this, the townspeople and ministers organized all kinds of spectacles for Yan Li's arrival.

8. You and your group of artists were hired for those shows, and you were the main actress, not knowing that that would put you in hell.

9. When he arrived at the town where you were, everything started well until the show started and you started acting, dancing and singing. He was captivated by your beauty and your voice, a quality that his wife also had.

10. For him, it was like seeing his wife back. He watched you do similar dance moves, and he remembered his wife doing these same dances for him in the past.

11. He was very impressed with you, which made him come to the conclusion that he wanted to have you.

12. After the performance, you sensed that something was wrong, so you told Lili and your group, and then fled through the darkness of the night to a neighboring town.

13. Yan Li finally set out to find out about you and your whereabouts, and was not at all amused to find out that you were gone.

14. You began to flee with your group of friends from Yan Li's clutches, and you even met with your beloved Zhou and told him about your situation. Yan Li on the other hand, was already getting impatient for not finding you, so he gave the following order:

--Look everywhere for her, and if anyone is hiding, kill them and bring her to me!-- 15. The guards questioned each villager to find out about you, and thanks to that you were located and caught trying to escape with your friends at night.

16. Yan Li walked up to the scene, walking with a smile as his men captured you and your friends. You were very scared; Yan Li holds your face lightly by your chin, making you look at his face. Seeing the situation you put your friends in, you began to beg for their lives.

17. --I…I will surrender to you, but please let them live, your majesty-- You begged Yan Li. He was surprised that you didn't resist him, so he just ordered them to put you in his carriage. Lili tried to do or say something, but Yan Li told her to stay out of all this.

18. Yan Li had you put into his carriage and tied your wrists and ankles and then Yan Li got in, sitting next to you and that's how he ended up taking you to the palace.

19. He talked to you the whole way and although he seemed kind, it didn't take away your fear of what he might do to you. Basically when you arrived at the palace he locked you in a palace that he had prepared just for you.

20. After investigating your past, he discovered your bad relationship with your parents and what you did after running away from home. You seemed magnificent to him and in a way… bold and brave.

21. When he let your parents know that you would be his consort from now on, they agreed. You weren't expecting anything good from them, but this last one definitely hurt you, since they sold you to him just like that.

22. The wedding took place, and Yan Li conferred on you the imperial title of "Noble Lady", and immediately had your green label prepared. The green labels are labels that contained the names or imperial titles of an emperor's consorts, which turned the label of the concubine with whom he wished to sleep.

23. Yan Li spent his free time with you and explained to you personally what things were like in the palace, something he had not done with any other woman, in addition to emphasizing that he would take care of you and love you.

24. When your green tag was ready, Yan Li immediately turned it over and sent word that you would sleep with him that same night. He sent for you with eunuchs and everything. When you were locked in his room, you were wearing fine silk pajamas that Yan Li loved. It was a beautiful dream to see you like this; you wanted to run, but he held your hand tightly, reminding you of what he was capable of doing to your friends, innocent people, and possibly your loved one, so you ended up submitting to him.

25. He did this every time he wanted to get you pregnant, which is why you ended up having six children with him; four princes and two princesses, while your first son, the "third prince" was the eldest of all the princes. You had to rise through the ranks and use Yan Li's hands to protect yourself and your children from palace intrigues.

26. Thanks to Yan Li, you have gone through the following ranks: Noble Lady, Imperial Concubine, Consort, Noble Consort and so on until you reach the empress.

-End of part 1. Have a good night :3

#yandere #yandere oc #cw yandere #yandere love #yandere x you #yandere male #platonic yandere #tw yandere #male yandere #yandere x reader #obsessive yandere #yandere emperor x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere scenarios #yanderecore

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ineffable-endearments · 11 days

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Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell

Wow. There is...there is so much here.

First, a caution about the book itself: there is significant sexually violent narration, and lots of torture as well. This post is going to discuss these topics only in general terms - I don't think I need to go into detail to discuss what they mean for the story - but take care of yourself when you're deciding whether to read it. If you have any questions, always feel free to send an ask or message.

I am going to need to make multiple posts about this book. For this first one, I'll focus on summarizing the book and its main themes, especially the ones that I think relate to Good Omens. As always, I can't summarize it in a way that will give you a better understanding than simply reading the book, but summarizing it will help me put my own thoughts together and hopefully help you follow along as I try to articulate them.

Because it's impossible to miss, I think it is best to confront this issue at the outset: there is a lot of especially blatant misogyny on Winston's part in Nineteen Eighty-Four. This is not meant to be a good or sympathetic thing. It is a demonstration of how messed up he is, and how messed up everyone in that society is.

The Society

The plot of Nineteen Eighty-Four is tied up very much in the story's world. The characters are at the mercy of their society in this story, much more than in most. It will make sense to describe the world first. Indeed, a massive portion of the book is just information about Oceania itself.

In the world of Nineteen Eighty-Four, the entire planet is supposedly ruled by three perpetually warring authoritarian states: Oceania, Eurasia, and Eastasia, conglomerations of Earth's former independent nations. Through the novel, it is revealed that all three states have governments that are structured in largely the same way with approximately the same quality of life for their people, and the perpetual war is itself a way of controlling each population.

Technically, we don't know for sure that the war is really happening. In fact, we don't know that anything is true, because almost all the information the characters have comes from the Party, the government of Oceania, and the Party's operations revolve around reality control. The Party's "leader" is an enigmatic figure referred to only as Big Brother, who, of course, is watching.

Our protagonist, Winston, lives in Oceania. There are Inner Party members, who are the highest-ranking, with the highest responsibility and the highest quality of life. There are Outer Party members, who work for the Party, are heavily surveilled, and whose daily needs are all provided for with low-quality supplies; they have a highly regimented daily schedule. Inner and Outer Party members have telescreens, which broadcast Party propaganda but also have cameras to monitor all Party members. It is incredibly difficult to get away from telescreens, since there's at least one in every home and they're everywhere in public. Altogether, the telescreens form a panopticon that is hard to evade.

Then there are the proles, a shortened term for proletarians, who are the lower classes of Oceania and make up the majority of the population. The proles live in poor conditions and are constantly manipulated by State-generated propaganda. However, they have more freedom than Party members, in the sense that they are also largely ignored by the Party because they have no real power and are assumed to be incapable of engaging in revolutionary behavior. For this reason, proles get to have human relationships and enjoy pleasures, wherever they can find pleasures, in ways that Party members are not allowed. In reality, the Party's perpetual war is a way of grinding through resources in order to keep people, especially the proles, buried under work without improving their quality of life. This is because when people have free time, they can use it to learn and organize, and they might become a threat to the Party.

Winston is one of the Outer Party members. He works in the government department that rewrites history. See, every time a fact or anecdote in the media is inconvenient for the Party, the Party goes back and destroys all old copies of newspapers and books, all old video content, all paperwork, any scrap of evidence that anything was different. Newspapers are routinely reprinted with "updated" (falsified) information. For example, Oceania is always either at war with Eurasia and allied with Eastasia, or at war with Eastasia and allied with Eurasia, and as far as the Party is concerned, this has never changed. Every single time Oceania's alliance changes, the newspapers are updated so that the current alignment has always been true. Every time someone becomes a disgrace to the Party, their previous deeds are rewritten.

On the surface, this sounds difficult to implement, but over the story, one realizes the vast majority of the Party's operations revolve purely around the constant reshaping of history, control of people's memories, and control of people's emotions for the purpose of maintaining power eternally. Art produced by human beings is actively discouraged; instead, the Party mass-produces art, including novels, using machines, to control what kinds of ideas people are consuming.

The Party is essentially a machine that controls reality, or at least, what the people inside it consider to be reality. There are people who specialize in managing the thoughts of the public: the Thought Police. While they may technically not be able to literally see inside one's mind, they watch everyone carefully and are excellent at noticing everything: every facial expression, every eyebrow twitch, and every breath.

The Party rules through a series of four "ministries." These are the Ministry of Truth (like an educational ministry, responsible for producing propaganda), the Ministry of Peace (like a military, responsible for warfare), the Ministry of Love (like the correctional system, responsible for jailing and torturing dissidents), and the Ministry of Plenty (like the treasury, responsible for rationing).

When it suits the Party, anyone can be "vaporized." This means they are secretly murdered and all evidence of them - any existing record whatsoever, any news story, any list or database entry - is erased.

The Party has a new language they're developing as a method of thought control called Newspeak. The purpose of Newspeak is to make it impossible to articulate certain kinds of thoughts. The following is a character named Syme describing Newspeak:

"Don't you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? In the end we shall make thoughtcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it. ... In fact there will be no thought, as we understand it now. Orthodoxy means not thinking - not needing to think. Orthodoxy is unconsciousness."

It's worth noting that Syme is later vaporized, presumably just for being too insightful out loud about Newspeak. In Newspeak, people who have been vaporized, if they must ever be referred to at all, are called "unpersons." In this way, no one has ever been killed by the Party, because those people have never existed in the first place.

There's a key Newspeak word that appears over and over: doublethink. It's the ability to believe two contradictory things simultaneously, and unlike the way we usually experience cognitive dissonance, there is no urge or attempt to reconcile what is really true. With doublethink, the existence of two contradictory ideas at once is itself exploited to help Party members serve the Party.

The Party (and its equivalents in Eurasia and Eastasia) uses perpetual war to control the population by squandering the resources produced by human labor and keep people in a perpetual combination of patriotic fervor and fear. The war is infinite and can never be won; the whole purpose of the war is to be at war.

Socially, the Party has destroyed family life. Winston was married years ago. He and his wife are so estranged that he is no longer sure if she is alive. They did not have a good relationship. The Party does not want close emotional relationships between its members, so while they are strict about who is allowed to marry (not for love, strictly for procreation), they don't care if people continue to live together. However, the Party does not want people forming new relationships, so divorce and extramarital sex are also illegal. The Party has also turned children against their parents by encouraging children to report their parents' potential thoughtcrimes. All in all, family members are generally afraid of each other.

We see, over and over again, how the Party does its best to frame human beings as both inherently untrustworthy and as objects to be used. Pitting people from individual family members to entire classes, sexes, and races against each other is one of the Party's many techniques for controlling people, and it has seeped into Winston's everyday thought processes. Only actual experiences with other human beings even begin to break these ideas down.

Eventually, it becomes apparent that the Party's motivation is immortality through the denial of the individual. Human beings are denied their own personal thoughts, feelings, and bodies. Only their ability to be assimilated into the Party is permitted. Even thoughts and feelings about the greater good are unacceptable because these lead to regime changes and interfere with the raw totalitarian power of the Party. Every Party member in Oceania is meant to strive exclusively for the continued power of the Party. Dissidents are denied even the ability to be martyrs, because the Party does not kill people while they carry hatred for Big Brother; they simply change their thoughts until they are good Party members again, and then kill them later, when they are no longer dissidents and have no legacy of resistance to leave behind.

Winston's Plot

Winston has a secret desire to be free of the Party. He does get swept up in the Party's fervor when he's in the middle of it, but he also longs for the extremely basic pleasures and freedoms that have become taboo. For example, Winston secretly buys an old pen and journal to write in - a completely forbidden act that he has to conceal from the telescreen in his own apartment. He finds himself almost unconsciously writing things like "DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER" in that journal.

There is an Inner Party member named O'Brien who Winston admires greatly from a distance despite knowing only his appearance: "intelligent" with a "prizefighter's physique." Winston perceives that he and O'Brien "understand" each other somehow, and even believes O'Brien has spoken to him in a dream, saying they "shall meet where there is no darkness." Eventually, Winston imagines he is addressing his journal to the mysterious O'Brien, believing him to be an ally.

Winston has an acquaintance at work named Syme. Syme is very passionate about revising the Newspeak dictionary. However, he is a little too openly insightful about the true purpose of Newspeak for his own good. Even though Syme does not seem to have any intention of betraying the Party and in fact is extremely taken with Newspeak, Winston is convinced he will be vaporized, and sure enough, he is.

There is a woman Winston thinks he hates because she looks like the perfect Party member who would turn him in to the Thought Police. Actually, the narration outright states that he doesn't like women entirely, because he thinks they're too committed to the Party and enjoy betraying men. However, it turns out that this woman observes Winston by the shop where he bought his illegal notebook. By simply observing Winston in that shop, the Party would suspect he's committing thoughtcrimes, and Winston panics. However, the woman later bumps into Winston at work and passes him a note that says, "I love you." Winston then instantly decides he wants to be with her; the idea of not being with her never even occurs to him.

The woman's name is Julia. It turns out Julia is putting on an incredibly convincing act, but she hates the Party, too. Winston is technically married, so he can't legally marry Julia, and any kind of non-procreative sex is illegal anyway, so their relationship is entirely forbidden.

Winston and Julia meet up and have sex in secret. It's worth noting that during their first meeting, they enjoy listening to a thrush singing. During this first meeting, they go out to the countryside, where there are fewer telescreens and microphones; Winston comments that it's like the "Golden Country," his symbolic dream-place where people are free.

A man named Mr. Charrington owns the shop where Winston had bought his notebook, and he also owns a room for rent above the shop. It's an old-fashioned prole room without telescreens and with a great number of old-fashioned fixtures. Winston and Julia rent it to get away from Party life for a few hours every now and then. When they first start staying in the room, Julia observes a rat and throws her shoe at it. Winston is utterly terrified, showing that he has a serious phobia of rats; it is vaguely implied that he had a traumatic moment related to them as a child. Julia takes the rat in stride; they are everywhere. She promises to block up the hole so the rat does not return.

Julia and Winston spend time in their prole room knowing for sure that it will eventually lead to their capture, torture, and death, but they decide it will be worth it. Winston voices some interest in trying to work against the Party; Julia does not believe this is possible whatsoever, and is not interested in trying. She believes people are better off putting on a convincing act and getting away with as much as they can for as long as they can.

Meanwhile, during the workday, O'Brien speaks to Winston. He mentions Syme without using his name, which is incredibly unusual, since people who are vaporized are never ever acknowledged again; all their work is erased from history. But O'Brien mentions Syme's work on the Newspeak dictionary and gives Winston his home address so that Winston can borrow the dictionary. Party members also don't often give each other their addresses. Because of these unusual cues, Winston infers that O'Brien is inviting him over to conspire against the Party.

While Winston and Julia meet up and have sex, they also indulge in other pleasures of the world, like real coffee and chocolate, and proles singing outside their window, and art that hasn't been generated by the Party. Observing the proles and their richer emotional lives, Winston and Julia decide they are going to worry only about their feelings. The Party can coerce them to do anything, including to confess, but as long as the Party can't make them stop loving each other, they agree, they will never have betrayed each other. Julia says that for all the things the Party can do, they can't get inside their heads.

So seized are Winston and Julia by their conviction that they decide to go visit O'Brien together and confess to wanting to destroy the Party. O'Brien tells them they may join the Brotherhood, a mysterious group of dissidents working to bring down Big Brother, but they must be willing to sacrifice everything; they must be willing to not only suffer and die, but to murder civilians, to spread disease, to sow discord, to do anything the Brotherhood asks of them. They even, O'Brien says, must be willing to "separate and never see one another again." This is the only thing Julia and Winston are unwilling to agree to. O'Brien accepts them anyway and, many days later, gives Winston a book through a secret messenger.

This book contains the writings of Goldstein, the supposed leader of the Brotherhood, outlining the Party's core philosophy. Winston reads this to Julia, who is hinted to not be all that interested, but she does listen a little.

While they look out the window and contemplate that the proles are alive and the Party members are already dead, Winston and Julia are captured. It turns out Mr. Charrington was a member of the Thought Police and the room had surveillance in it. Winston and Julia are separated and dragged to the Ministry of Love.

While at the Ministry of Love, Winston spends a lot of time waiting, watching other prisoners pass through. Some of them are proles, and some of them are people he knows. The waiting room is enormous and brightly lit with telescreens on all walls. There are essentially no shadows.

Another familiar face appears at the Ministry of Love. It's O'Brien. Winston first thinks O'Brien has been captured, but it soon becomes apparent that O'Brien was masterminding this whole operation and is in charge of Winston's torture. They have, indeed, met "where there is no darkness" - because of all the telescreens and artificial lighting. O'Brien and other Party members even wrote Goldstein's book as yet another propaganda piece. O'Brien states the description of the Party in the book is true, although the book's implication that the Party can be defeated through a prole uprising is false because a prole uprising will never happen. (Note that Winston did not actually read the part of the book where "Goldstein" outlined how the Party should be defeated.)

Winston is tortured for an undetermined amount of time. He discovers that he is a prisoner of his body; his torturers can get him to say pretty much anything through punishment and reward. In fact, they can force him to feel certain ways, too. O'Brien and the Party aren't only trying to get Winston to give away information; they want him to really internalize sincere belief in the Party doctrine, like doublethink, symbolized by the concept that 2+2 equals 5.

Winston starts out promising to himself there are certain things he will never agree to or say out loud, but torture proves an effective method at getting him to say whatever O'Brien wants. Winston vows that he will recite the Party lines, but will not actually believe them. If he lies to get the torture to stop but still retains his ability to reason for himself, Winston believes, then he can beat the Party.

However, O'Brien and the torturers are slowly able to break that down, too, as they are good at reading Winston's emotions, and they torture him every time he recites their desired lines without the sincere belief they're looking for. Winston is highly resistant to the 2+2=5 idea, but as he is tortured over and over, he does come to believe that because the Party can define his reality through brute force, then 2+2=5 could very well be true. They can force it to be true. He has no choice but to believe it, because only believing it might possibly end his torture, and the torture must end.

In other words, Winston and Julia were wrong. The Party can, in fact, get inside your head.

When Winston starts to believe 2+2=5, O'Brien does indeed start to improve his treatment of Winston, providing him with food and comfort, allowing Winston to become much healthier over time. This bonds Winston to O'Brien and makes him feel attached. However, Winston has not forgotten Julia, and in an unguarded moment, he cries out for her. This prompts O'Brien to ask Winston his feelings, again, about Big Brother. Winston states that he hates Big Brother.

It is at this moment when O'Brien sends Winston to the notorious Room 101.

In Room 101, prisoners face their worst fears - which, of course, the Party knows, because they know everything about everyone. Winston, who we know has a phobia of rats, is shown a pair of cages with starving rats in them. He is told that the rats are, as everyone in this world knows, flesh-eaters, despite being rodents. Winston is restrained, his head held in place, and O'Brien informs him that the rats will be released to eat his face.

Winston realizes what O'Brien wants to hear: he realizes his torturers will probably not allow the rats to eat him if he is willing to inflict the torture on Julia instead. They want Winston's betrayal of Julia to be complete. They want him to stop caring for her, the one thing he and Julia had once agreed they would never, ever do. And Winston has reached his limit: he cannot tolerate the idea of being eaten alive specifically by rats. So Winston says, "Do it to Julia! Not me! Julia!"

And then he is finally let go.

We continue with Winston once again living on the outside. He has seen and spoken to Julia, who was also let go. But the bond between them is completely broken. Julia admits she also betrayed Winston when she was faced with Room 101.

"Sometimes," she said, "they threaten you with something---something you can't stand up to, can't even think about. And then you say, 'Don't do it to me, do it to somebody else, do it to so-and-so.' And perhaps you might pretend, afterwards, that it was only a trick and that you just said it to make them stop and didn't really mean it. But that isn't true. At the time when it happens you do mean it. You think there's no other way of saving yourself, and you're quite ready to save yourself that way. You want it to happen to the other person. You don't give a damn what they suffer. All you care about is yourself." "All you care about is yourself," he echoed. "And after that, you don't feel the same toward the other person any longer." "No," he said, "you don't feel the same."

In other words, by demonstrating to Winston and Julia that they ultimately cannot escape their own self-interest, O'Brien has caused them to reject each other.

At the tail end of the book, Winston is sitting in his usual spot at a place called the Chestnut Tree Café, pondering a happy moment from his childhood before pushing the memory away, believing it to be a false memory. When an enormous military victory is announced on the telescreen, Winston realizes that he finally, truly loves Big Brother.

Interpretation of the End

Although the events at the end of the book are pretty straightforwardly described, I found them slightly confusing on an emotional level. Winston and Julia aren't really angry at each other for their betrayals, it doesn't seem - in fact, they admit to each other that's what happened, and they agree on their mutual experience. But they don't love each other anymore, and Winston loves Big Brother instead.

So, here is my initial thought on what the characters went through:

For people to love each other, both need a sense of individuality. There needs to be a connection, but there also needs to be a specific You and a Somebody to love, to connect to.

Through torture, O'Brien has effectively torn away Winston's individual sense of self. I know that's a weird thing to suggest when the book repeats "all you care about is yourself" multiple times, but I think that by so completely obliterating Winston's ability to make anything resembling his own decision, O'Brien has essentially made "Big Brother" and "Winston ('yourself')" the same person. Big Brother's wishes are Winston's wishes. Winston has been assimilated into Big Brother. Winston and Julia's conversation at the end describes what it feels like to be liquidated as a person and assimilated into a collective.

Winston now knows that the one core impulse he can never escape is self-preservation, and the only one who can provide that, with infinite military might and an infinitely-deep torture repertoire, is Big Brother. Julia represents the ideal that caused Winston to estrange himself from the safety of embracing and trusting Big Brother. And because Big Brother is both eternal and almighty, giver of both life and death, he is the only one it is safe to trust.

By betraying Julia, Winston discovered that his own will inherently had limits; because he would always, eventually, revert to self-preservation, his will and therefore his identity became synonymous with the force that decided whether to preserve him. That's why the end of the novel involves Winston imagining that he has finally been shot in the head and killed; he has experienced the death of his sense of self. And this is exactly how "Goldstein's" book indicated the Party's operations work: eliminate individuals and assimilate them into a collective to achieve immortality.

Character and Faction Parallels Between Nineteen Eighty-Four and Good Omens

The Party and Heaven and Hell

They're both the one overarching power over everyone's existence. The inner workings of it are mysterious to the characters and even moreso to the audience. The main characters are agents working for these entities, and they are controlled through surveillance, punishment, and reward.

Although Heaven and Hell give the impression of being two large overarching powers, it seems apparent to me that the whole thing is really just one system that has intentionally split its workforce into factions. Ultimately I think we will see in the most explicit way possible that whoever is actively calling the shots in Heaven is also actively in charge of Hell.

Winston and Julia, Aziraphale and Crowley

Both pairs are agents who are in love with each other even though they're not supposed to be, who enjoy Earthly pleasures and experience the joys of humanity before getting arrested and dragged away by their authoritarian "employers."

It's tempting to try and figure out which character mirrors which - Aziraphale mirroring Winston, Crowley mirroring Julia? - but I think, sort of like with Nina and Maggie, the reflections work in every direction. The characters aren't literal stand-ins for each other, but they are exploring similar themes, including what happens to people when a society forbids intimacy.

O'Brien and the Metatron

"More even than of strength, he gave an impression of confidence and of an understanding tinged by irony." This line describes O'Brien from Nineteen Eighty-Four, but it sounds quite a lot like the Metatron's manner as he enters Aziraphale's bookshop. Confidence and an understanding tinged by irony indeed.

O'Brien seems to appeal to Winston's ideal in authority figures, appealing both intelligent and physically strong. The Metatron seems to have tailored himself to appeal to Aziraphale's ideal of an authority figure: someone who is calm and in control, but also has an exceptionally gentle manner (and this isn't really true of the Metatron, but he can make it look like it is).

There are more similarities. Winston thinks and hopes O'Brien will be a helpful figure, and O'Brien convinces Winston he's a helpful figure, but in the end, O'Brien is the mastermind behind Winston's capture and torture. Additionally, Winston assumes, during his torture, that the Party's drive for power is for the Greater Good. But O'Brien tells him this is stupid, and the Party's drive for power is just for the pure sake of having power, because that's the only thing that will guarantee the Party's immortality.

This reminds me a little bit of the Metatron telling Aziraphale the point of the war is to win it, not to avoid it. It also hits me as a potential motivation for Heaven - like, why do they do what they do instead of doing something else, since the universe seems perfectly capable of running itself? "Power" or "immortality" could be a reason, and it would also be a reason that would resonate with very human themes, since power and (symbolic) immortality are among the motivations that can drive real-life authoritarians.

The Proles and Humanity

The common people. The populations who are considered by the main characters' societies to be "beneath" them, but who the main characters become fascinated by, and whose lifestyles the main characters come to prefer.

Both Nineteen Eighty-Four and Good Omens contain in their narratives the notion that the prole or human way of life is where true meaning can be experienced. Winston and Julia go as far as to announce that proles are alive and Party members are dead. And at the end of Good Omens Season 1, Aziraphale outright tells Adam that being "human incarnate" is better than being Heaven or Hell incarnate.

This mirror is probably the one that brings up the richest speculation possibilities for me. I won't go in-depth here, but I see in both stories the main characters developing this love for the proles and humans while continuing to separate from them - even trying to turn around and exploit the very power structures that have oppressed them in an effort to fight against the oppression.

It's worth noting that in Nineteen Eighty-Four, Mr. Charrington, the man who Winston and Julia rented their secret love nest from, and whom they thought was a prole, was actually a member of the Thought Police who helped capture them, whereas in Good Omens, so far, the humans have just been humans, and while Adam Young started out as an incredibly powerful non-human, he later chose to be a human and used his power to reject authoritarianism.

The Themes

Authoritarianism and Power

Obviously, the whole overarching cautionary tale in Nineteen Eighty-Four is about authoritarianism and the insidious ways it affects populations. The Party's power is almost as absolute as it can possibly be. Big Brother really is almost always watching; there is almost always a telescreen somewhere nearby. Even when there isn't a telescreen, there are microphones. And unorthodox ideas and behavior are punished with annihilation - not just death, but the total annihilation of the self.

Doesn't this sound like a version of Heaven and Hell in Good Omens?

At first glance, it appears Oceania's Party is more aggressive about surveilling its Party members than Heaven and Hell are about surveilling Aziraphale and Crowley. One has to wonder if perhaps Heaven and Hell are just as aggressive with surveillance in the Upstairs and Downstairs themselves, but are less aggressive or maybe even less capable on Earth, just like the Party's surveillance is less in the countryside (although it is still a significant threat there).

But still, we see Michael pull out those photos of Crowley and Aziraphale through the ages, and we hear the Metatron refer to reviewing Aziraphale's "exploits," and we see Hell drag Crowley down in 1827, and we see both Crowley and Aziraphale anxiously glancing around throughout history with the assumption that someone might be listening, and we see how ready Heaven is to erase Gabriel's memories (his identity! his entire self!) from existence. We also watch Heaven and Hell try to make Aziraphale and Crowley disappear in a gout of hellfire and a tub of holy water after realizing that Aziraphale and Crowley do represent a threat to the current celestial order. Heaven and Hell's Nineteen Eighty-Four-esque insidious threat is clearly established in both seasons.

Vaporizing Dissidents

In fact, Heaven and Hell's arrest of Aziraphale and Crowley reminds me a bit of Winston and Julia's arrest, in the sense that the protagonists knew what was probably coming but not exactly when. And Heaven's attempted execution of Aziraphale in particular reminds me very much of the Party choosing to vaporize a dissident. They were going to try to disappear him. No angel or demon other than the ones who were involved would have known what happened to him. Hell's attempted execution of Crowley, meanwhile, reminds me of the Party's public executions of war prisoners.

Finally, the Party will attempt to erase people from existence by killing them and then erasing all records related to them, down to the very last detail. Meanwhile, the Archangel Michael threatens Aziraphale with being literally written out of existence in the Book of Life. There's lots of speculation about how possible this is. I wonder if maybe, it's a flawed process. Maybe erasing someone from the Book of Life can cut a hole shaped like them in the universe - but maybe it isn't that simple, and they don't actually get taken from anyone else's memories. Maybe, as people in Oceania haven't quite lost the ability to remember their dead, Heaven cannot actually erase the fact of anyone.

Social Disconnection

I see a lot of complaints online about the characters of Nineteen Eighty-Four being impossible to like. What tends to make characters likable? Their behaviors toward others, especially humor, compassion, individual quirks, and affection. Their moral strengths, like a sense of justice, might appeal to us, too. And what has the Party been systematically beating out of people for decades now? Anything that could possibly make fictional characters likable.

One of the Party's primary modes of social control is to keep people from having individual, intimate relationships outside of the Party. Each individual regards every other individual with distrust at all times, and only the Party is capable of providing safety. Winston mentions many instances in which he believes parents are afraid of their children, for example. There are also a number of people who he thinks would report him for thoughtcrimes.

This is getting into heavy speculation territory, but it hits me as a major motivation for the Fall in the first place. It's a great way to instantly divide Heaven itself in half, make everyone instantly suspicious of everyone else, and set up a whole bunch of rewards and punishments to hold over people's heads related to Falling.

One thing that's obvious, though, is the total lack of social connection in Heaven. Michael and Uriel are constantly treating each other with barely-suppressed contempt. Muriel wants approval so badly, but nobody has any patience for them. The "friendliest" any angels get are Gabriel and Sandalphon in Season 1, and that's still like, corporate-coworkers-style friendliness. Gabriel outright tells Beelzebub that no one has ever given him anything. Although it's...theoretically possible Gabriel is an outlier, I think his experience is probably representative of all the angels.

Bodily Experiences, Physicality, Gross Matter

There is a moment that made a big impression on me. Winston observes a prole woman outside singing a silly popular song at the top of her lungs as she works. This woman is not an attractive person by Winston's or Party standards; she is older, she is fat, she has a "lower-class" accent, her skin is weathered and reddened from working outside. But Winston, self-admitted misogynist who came of age on the Party's feminine ideal, thinks she is beautiful. He has a moment of realization that she's beautiful because the very things that theoretically would make her "unattractive" are evidence of a human life fully lived.

We also have Winston and Julia enjoying the world through their senses together in a way that they simply cannot in the grips of the Party. From listening to a thrush in the countryside to drinking real, delicious coffee, they experience pleasures that are denied to them and cause them to feel peaceful in a way that is denied to Outer Party members. As they experience life in a way that is much closer to the ways of the proles, they decide that only proles are alive; Party members are dead. It is at the moment when they speak this out loud that the Party chooses to capture them.

There's a darker side to the bodily experiences explored in Nineteen Eighty-Four, and that's experienced in the Ministry of Love. Here, Winston and Julia discover that their thoughts and feelings are indeed controlled by their bodies. There is only so much pain a human being can withstand before they will comply with their captors just to get the torture to stop. In fact, if the Party's psychological manipulation tactics haven't worked thus far to indoctrinate the population, then the body can be used to brute-force an attitude change.

The connection to Good Omens here is obvious. Aziraphale and Crowley are just like a couple of Outer Party members who haven't experienced real pleasure before, and then they discover wine and ox ribs and music and nice clothes and all those delightful human experiences that the other angels sneer at. It seems Heaven looks down on Earthly pleasure as a morally inferior, dirty pursuit, while Hell looks on Earthly pleasure as a kind of weakness, a pathetic softness. But Earth is where Aziraphale and Crowley have found meaning. Physical existence is where they've found themselves, where they've connected with each other, and where they've connected with the stuff of the universe itself.

Memory Manipulation and Thought Policing

In Nineteen Eighty-Four, there are massive governmental departments dedicated to revising all printed records, including reprinting newspapers as needed. Private writing is also not allowed. This means that even if a Party member has a memory, there is no physical evidence of it. Even if there were physical evidence, something a person had stuffed away in a safe place, there would be another, more "official" source to prove one's personal source wrong. Of course, anyone trying to make any kind of fuss about official sources being wrong would disappear, too, so no one will even try.

Winston mentions often in his narration that he has trouble remembering large portions of his life because of the way the Party has controlled the public narrative and obscured any fact that would once have been a point of reference for him. For example, Winston estimates that the date his journal starts would be April 4, 1984, but he actually isn't certain, not even about the year, because time isn't kept track of by those dates anymore. Historical facts, like events that led to the Party's ascent to power, have been rewritten so many times that Winston can no longer know what really happened. He can be sure there was chaos in the streets, followed by violence, and then proclamations from above about what was supposedly true, but one individual human being usually can't judge the big picture of what's going on in their entire society without a relatively objective source of information for major events.

Nineteen Eighty-Four also has literal thought police, Party members who study their fellow citizens for any sign of even the most remote disagreement with Party doctrine. If someone proves to be a problematic thinker, as Winston and Julia both did, they are dragged to the Ministry of Love to be violently re-educated. Using a series of punishments and rewards, prisoners are slowly broken down until they are unable to think for themselves at all.

Although it's unclear what Heaven is like in regards to spreading information, we've got the Metatron and the Archangels literally ready to erase Gabriel's memory. In Good Omens, since it's all dressed up in Heavenly attire and the characters have their unique attitudes, it comes across as less dystopian, more quirky and fantastical. But they are fundamentally threatening exactly what is done in Nineteen Eighty-Four. And based on Beelzebub's comment about how Gabriel's memory is "all your...you," the same identity issues would be at play. To erase Gabriel's memories would be to erase everything that makes Gabriel himself - an execution by another name.

Reality As A Construct (Or Not)

The Party's stance on reality is fairly simple: human beings perceive reality, so if human perception can be altered, reality can be changed and turned into whatever the Party wants it to be. This sounds wrong because it is wrong, but people who the Party has targeted for thought control don't get to think for themselves about it, because they can't withstand the torture.

This might be Heaven's approach to reality as well. Look at how questioning is discouraged, and how the angels choose to believe whatever is most convenient for Heaven, or whatever they believe should be true ("there are no back channels").

More importantly, though, we have characters in Good Omens who actually can change reality. In particular, this is what Adam Young does - and what he actively chooses not to do for the majority of the world, in the end. He only adjusts reality enough to be allowed to make his own decision: he's not the Antichrist anymore. Otherwise, he restores the world to its state from before he ascended to power (aside from a couple of tiny little eleven-year-old-boy-ish tweaks here and there; hey, you can't blame a kid for adding a few extras of his favorite books to the world).

Proles as the saviors of society

So this one is complicated because repeatedly through Nineteen Eighty-Four, we come across this feeling from WInston and Julia that the proles have some almost mystical connection to True Humanity which Party members have lost. However, there is also the repeated assumption that the proles are incapable of revolution on their own. And in a practical sense, this appears to be true. The intellectuals of their world look down on them for it, but the truth is that just as in real life, the proles are living in poverty and are far too desperate for their basic necessities to ever gain the class consciousness needed to overthrow the Party. This is, of course, by design.

Winston goes as far as to believe the proles might possibly rise up and overthrow the Party, but he never considers working with them. He goes straight into the jaws of the Inner Party instead! This seems to be for a couple of reasons, but primarily because Winston has formed this sort of attachment to O'Brien, his Inner Party member of choice.

In Good Omens, Season 1 and the book, humans do eventually save the world. Well, Adam - technically an Antichrist - saves the world by thinking like a human and accepting humanity as his true "side."

Free Will

"Free will" as a theme really ties into humanity as a theme in Good Omens, since Earth is neutral ground between Heaven and Hell and humans aren't born to a particular Side. In Nineteen Eighty-Four, of course, the Party's goal is to eliminate free will, while in Good Omens, Heaven and Hell are looking to eliminate humanity.

Individualism Versus Collectivism

Oh there it is! There's my pet theme!

I've always argued that in Good Omens, the core of the dualism explored between Aziraphale and Crowley is individualism and collectivism, with Crowley the dedicated individualist who nonetheless would like to belong somewhere, and Aziraphale the nervous collectivist who is secretly desperate to have an identity and belongings to himself. Good Omens has already touched on the notion that working together as a collective is necessary to keep the world turning, but it's also important to preserve individuality, so we have people to keep us company and meaning to live for. I think this will come up again.

Meanwhile, Nineteen Eighty-Four explores an authoritarian and destructive form of collectivism in which human beings are not allowed to have individual interests or experiences; everything flows toward the power of the Party. Individual identity is viewed as a weakness. With that said, Nineteen Eighty-Four does consider the potential power of collectives to overcome authoritarianism.

Mortality, Immortality, and Change

In Nineteen Eighty-Four, O'Brien eventually reveals that the goal of the Party is to become immortal through collectivism. While the fate of an individual human being is always to die, the Party believes a collective that is single-minded enough about maintaining power can live forever. In that way, people who submit to the Party's power can live forever, too. One has to wonder about the real point of all this, of course. The Party regards change as its downfall. For the Party to succeed, it must keep everyone moving toward the exact same goal of maintaining power forever.

In Good Omens, many of the characters are naturally immortal, as angels or demons. They don't have to change, and Heaven and Hell don't have to change. However, existing as immortals in Heaven or Hell, not experiencing any of the things mortals do in the physical world, all seems pretty obviously pointless. Aziraphale and Crowley, and then Gabriel and Beelzebub, and then Muriel, all start to find meaning on Earth among mortals. And I think this is all yet to be expanded upon, especially with the looming Second Coming.

Where Good Omens is concerned, the notion of change as a type of death and/or death as a type of change may be important (and ties into The Crow Road by Iain Banks as well).

By coming to Earth, the immortal characters are essentially doing the reverse of assimilating with the Party or Heaven and Hell: they're discovering themselves. With self-discovery comes the risk of change - changing from who they used to be in Heaven or Hell - and the reward of meaning.

The Party of Oceania wants to assimilate everyone into the same goal of maintaining the Party's power in order to make the Party immortal. While "maintaining power" is a "purpose" of sorts for the collective, on an individual level for any specific human being, it is nihilistic, since there is no place for the individual other than ensuring the success of the Party's destruction of the individual.

Freedom in the Natural World

In both stories, we've got the notion of nature as a place of freedom. The countryside where Winston and Julia first meet up lacks telescreens, and there are fewer microphones as well, allowing them to act naturally in a way that isn't usually permitted in the city. The room that Winston and Julia rent from Mr. Charrington is also so old-fashioned that it doesn't have a telescreen; they believe themselves to be momentarily safe in their own little world there. Unfortunately, Mr. Charrington is not really an ordinary prole, but a member of the Thought Police, which allows the Party to invade Winston's and Julia's space.

Of course, in Good Omens, Earth is the ultimate place of freedom. Heaven and Hell are both awful in their ways, hyper-controlled and devoid of real meaning. It's on Earth that Aziraphale and Crowley can begin to truly live. Of course, the safe little place they create together, the bookshop, is eventually invaded by Heaven and Hell.

I'd like to leave you with a pair of quotations.

"If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face---forever. ... And remember that it is forever. The face will always be there to be stamped upon. The heretic, the enemy of society, will always be there, so that he can be defeated and humiliated over again. Everything that you have undergone since you have been in our hands---all that will continue, and worse. The espionage, the betrayals, the arrests, the tortures, the executions, the disappearances will never cease." O'Brien Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell Part Three, Chapter III

"If you want to imagine the future, imagine a boy and his dog and his friends. And a summer that never ends. If you want to imagine the future, imagine a boot . . . no, imagine a sneaker, laces trailing, kicking a pebble; imagine a stick, to poke at interesting things, and throw for a dog that may or may not decide to retrieve it; imagine a tuneless whistle, pounding some luckless popular song into insensibility; imagine a figure, half angel, half devil, all human . . . Slouching hopefully towards Tadfield. . . . . . . forever. Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

#good omens #nineteen eighty four #good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #1984 #good omens book club #long post #torture mention #sa mention

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