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deantfwinchester · 20 days

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Hands

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, Joel x Teacher!Reader as usual (let's just assume these No-Outbreak Joels are all the same couple tbh), established relationship

Summary: Friday nights are reserved for sweatpants and relaxation, of course. But when Joel's work week leaves his hands a bit worse for wear, the night may need to include a break for a little extra attention.

Warnings: extreme fluff once again. expect it at this point. i'm a one-trick pony, i fear.

A/N: finally got around to putting one of my many bulleted notes-app idea fics into paragraph form again! Will we get another one before the year's out? It's anyone's guess! -_-

——————

Friday nights are your favorites. No dinner to cook or rattling rolodex of tasks to come in the next twelve hours give you both a little room to breathe — to gently unwind from yourselves and into one another. It’s typically quiet, and when it isn’t, the volume is born of laughter from games or stories the three of you share.

Joel comes home from an exceptionally long week. You know he’s been on site every day—the whole team has—working longer and longer hours to wrap up the latest project before the client’s deadline. You’re pleased to hear his keys rattle in the door not long after five o’clock, and relieved because the air’s rapidly cooling earlier each night. Daylight Savings time is coming to an end, and today he barely beat the sunset getting home.

You know the hour means little, however, and are less than astonished at the weary grin he bears on catching sight of you and Sarah on the couch when he walks in the room. She’s already got her purse on her shoulder, eager to head out when her friends arrive, and she’s excitedly recounting the events of the trailer for the movie they’ll be catching tonight. He stands idly in the doorway for a moment, just listening to the two of you chat. You make brief eye contact and smile back, assuring you know he’s there. Neither of you wants to interrupt her avid storytelling.

“Well don’t you sound excited?” he says when she pauses to catch her breath. You both turn to greet him, and he moves more quickly toward you as you attempt to rise, gesturing to you to remain seated. He’ll come to you both.

He plants a kiss on top of Sarah’s head before leaning down to kiss you as he does each night. You place a hand on his chest and pause when he pulls back to get a good look at his face. You see the fatigue in his droopy-eyed smile, but can’t say anything to him. You already know it’s mirrored in your own expression.

The doorbell rings before either of you can speak again, and Sarah jumps up to head out the door. You wish her a good night, and he follows her to the door, checking for a familiar parent in the driver’s seat and seeing her off. You see him hand her some cash to go with his reminder to make good decisions, and he hugs her. You can’t help but giggle when she takes it with a wide smile.

He turns to you laughing when he sees she’s in the car, and shuts the door.

“What?” he asks, brow furrowed in confusion, but amused at the sound of your laughter.

“Smart girl. I gave her a 20 before you got home,” you grin back at him. He stills in understanding and rolls his eyes.

“You couldn’t tell me that two minutes ago?” he asks you in mock exasperation.

“But it’s so much funnier this way!” you add, giggling again. You both know he’s wrapped completely around her finger, though she so innocently does not. It’s one of the first things you noticed about him. One of the first reasons you fell in love.

He shakes his head fondly, and places a hand on his stomach, which begins to grumble softly at him. You raise your eyebrows and meet his gaze. “Any thoughts on dinner?” he asks, and you grin back at him in amusement.

“Handled. Pizza’s already on the way,” you respond and he feigns relief.

“You’re brilliant.” he says, walking up and grabbing your hand on the back of the couch. You run your thumb in little circles on the back of his hand and give it a light squeeze.

“Duh. Now go get changed! It’s do-nothing time starting now,” you respond, patting the top of his hand in encouragement.

“You read my mind,” he says, leaning down for another quick peck before heading off into the bedroom to change out of his work clothes. Naturally, you’ve been in sweats for over an hour now, shedding your own outfit immediately, peeling the school day from your skin. The unspoken uniform for these Friday nights is extremely specific.

The pizza arrives before Joel can even return from the bedroom in a feat of incredible timing. You’re gathering plates and filling glasses with ice when he emerges ready for the night. He moves forward to help you grab the dinner, but you shoo him away to the couch.

“Nope, I got this. You sit,” you say, lightly shoving his chest away. You leave no room for argument. He grumbles a bit and raises his hands, backing away to the living room. You follow behind him with the pizza and plates, and return once more for the drinks before settling next to him on the couch. He sits on one end, and you sit in the middle, leaving little room between you.

You lean forward, putting pizza on one plate you pass to Joel before grabbing your own, then settle back against the cushion, both sinking in so comfortably a nearly audible sigh fills the room. The comfort in this relief is palpable, and the decompressing can begin. You grab the remote and put on the series you’ve been binging together recently, more for background noise than anything else.

A few slices and sitcom episodes deep, you’ve set your plates down on the coffee table. With your bellies comfortably full, you’ve somehow slumped deeper, though Joel into the couch and you into his side. His arm is draped over the back of the couch behind you, and you’re nearly laying on him, head propped against his shoulder.

You hold his free hand in both of yours and absently play with his fingers for a second when you notice the aggressive wear this week has lent his hands. They’re a raw, angry red at the knuckles; his nails are cracked in some places and peeling in others. Moving your fingers gently down toward his wrist, you focus more directly on the state of his, catching sight of a few hangnails and stretched cuticles that can’t be comfortable. He looks down as you begin to worry them beneath the soft pads of your own fingers, and you meet his gaze, brows furrowed as you look between his face and hands.

“Keep doing that, please,” he says with a sigh before closing his eyes, “I wait all day to feel your hands on mine. They’re so soft.” He lifts your hand to his lips before pressing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles. He loves the delicate, reverent way you play with his hands, like they’re small, fragile things in need of tender attention. You take his hand once again into both of yours and gently rub it between them, looking back up at him, concerned.

“How do yours feel? They look like they’re hurting you,” you gnaw a bit at your bottom lip in thought, and he tries to assuage your worry.

“I’m alright, darlin’. Nothing worse than I’m used to,” he says. He knows from your deepening frown that you’re less than satisfied with this response.

You couldn’t care less if he’s used to it, he shouldn’t be. You know the protective callouses forged there don’t mean those hands are unfeeling in the slightest.

“Wait there. I’ll be right back,” you say, rising from his side and hastening to the bedroom. It’s his turn to frown now, both in confusion and at the sudden draft that’s appeared at his side.

You return not a minute later with a small tote around your wrist, and hands filled with half the manicure items you own. You sit down next to him and unpack, laying clippers, files, cuticle oil, and two different hand creams — a lotion he’s seen you use regularly, and a jar that must be a new addition — on the coffee table in front of you, along with the selected polishes and remover you had in the tote bag. You’ve been meaning to do your nails, anyway.

Joel looks incredulously at you, unsure where this is going. Not that he’s a stranger to nail polish — he raised a little girl on his own long enough to have worn the rainbow on his fingers, but tonight?

“Sorry, no color for you today, honey. Certainly not before these are healed,” you say. He’d chip half your handiwork away by Monday afternoon anyway the way he’s been working lately. Facing him, you cross your legs on the couch and smile, holding your hand out expectantly for his. He raises his eyebrows at you, but places his palm gently in your own.

You grab the clippers and get to work on the hangnails first. Any peeling skin or cuticle right there at the nail you clip as gently as possible, making note of the reddened and slightly swollen areas at the base of his nail from which they protrude. Those will need careful attention at the end. He doesn’t squirm or react in any way, but you know they’re more sensitive than he’s letting on.

Next, you clip back any breakages and unevenness in the nails themselves. You’d never find Joel Miller with dirty hands — he gets them clean as soon as he gets home, but all the scrubbing it takes to keep them that way takes its toll. A little trim at their length might help reduce the need for so much each day upon his return.

After clipping, you grab his first hand again and rest it gently in the palm of your left while your right files steadily to even any rough edges left behind and prevent further injury. It won’t take much, but you’re sure to get them smooth so they won’t catch on anything or bother him later on.

The cuticle oil is next. He looks at it questioningly, clearly a bit skeptical, only having seen it a few times when you or Sarah used it. He’s never ventured so far himself. While you brush it gently onto each of his nails, you explain its purpose.

“This’ll just help your nails get a little stronger. It’ll get them hydrated a bit, keep ‘em from peeling so much when your hands get dry. It’s kinda crazy how much better this stuff is for your nails than even water is. Water’ll make the peeling worse, actually. Weird, huh?”

He just nods along, listening to you, content to learn something new as always. Finger by finger, you massage the oil into his nail and nail bed. After the first round you go back through to massage again, both to make sure no oily feeling is left behind, and to prolong the rapidly concluding process. He could use the attention, anyway.

Finally, you pick up the jar he identified as a new addition: a canister of a hand repair cream labeled for “Healing of dry or cracked skin.”

“Never seen that one before,” he says, reading the label, “What d’ya need this for? Your hands are never dry! I think they’ve been soft every time I’ve held 'em since the day I met ya,” he smiles at you, and you bashfully brush off the compliment.

“I don’t need it. I use the other one,” you say with finality, opening the jar and pulling the first of his hands into yours. You don’t grab a large dollop of the stuff. You don’t want him to feel a disconcerting weight, grease, or stickiness from this unfamiliar formula, so you get a little and begin. You add a bit more each time you reach a new spot on his knuckles, palms, wrists.

You take your time, gently massaging into those roughened, tender hands far more than a simple healing salve. He understands why you have the jar now, looking at you knowingly, and you smile back. No words need be exchanged.

Once you’ve finished the last finger and the last stroke on his hands, you squeeze the one in your own, then pat it gently with your other, “There. Gotta feel better now, yeah?”

Joel stares at you like he just watched you reach up and place the moon in the sky, if for no reason other than to light his path.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Thank you sweetheart,” he says, squeezing your hand back and smiling reverently at you. You blush beneath his gaze and look away, unsure what to do with the admiration rolling off of him in waves. You lean back against the couch, file in hand as you start going at your own nails.

“Good. Don’t let 'em go that long again, either. Where they start hurtin’ ya? Maybe we oughta make this a weekly thing. Manicure night? Been needing someone to do my right hand,” you grin, wiggling the corresponding fingers at him. He smiles back at you, then reaches over and pulls you toward his side, back to your original position laying against him, head resting once again on his shoulder.

“Sounds like a plan,” he says fondly into your hair, planting a kiss to your head in the process. You get comfortable once more, foregoing any plans to do your own nails tonight. You both know those “manicure nights” will be for him — and you’ve got Sarah to do your right hand already, when you do hers.

You grab the same free hand once again and admire your work, then lace your fingers between his own, and rest your twined hands on his leg. You’re satisfied knowing the hand behind you on the couch is comfortable now, healing from the week’s toils and melting into the comforting haze of the early autumn evening.

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whyanne4 · 9 months

Text

Daylight

Part: 4/?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Category: Social Media au

Summary: Follow the love story of a global pop icon and a monegasque F1 driver

Face claim: Taylor Swift (Singing) + others

Tag-list: @mindflay3r @karmabyfernando

Masterlist

2019

It's no secret that the former power-couple's relationship ended with bad blood as cheating allegations regarding Neymar leaked in January of 2018. The pair announced their split on social media two weeks later. However, it seems as if the Brazilian is not ready to give up on his ex yet. He has posted multiple instagram posts using lyrics from her recent album Lover which the singer wrote about current boyfriend, F1 driver Charles Leclerc. We have yet to get a statement about this from Leclerc or L/N.

A post uploaded by Neymar last Thursday captioned: "I'll save all my dirtiest jokes for you, meu amor😘"

When asked about these posts the PSG star responded

"I will always love her and she is an amazing woman. I've made mistakes in the past but I will do everything in my power to right my wrongs"

The world is understandably shocked by this statement seeing how the pop-star is in a one year long relationship with Ferrari F1 driver Charles Leclerc and even wrote an entire album stating her love for him. The couple is one of the most popular celebrity couples today and the fans love their romantic interactions on social media and in the F1 paddock.

What do you think? Is this Neymar simply being jealous of the love Leclerc is getting both from Y/N and the fans or is he serious? Follow E!News for more updates.

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, gigihadid and 2 304 583 others

charles_leclerc: She's mine. You may have had her once. But I got her all the time.

view comments:

leleleclerc: Show him Charles!!!

pieregasly: My man🐶

liked by charles_leclerc

- pierragazzolina: Pierre??!!

- titiwolff: what is with that emoji??😭

janelle_leclerzz: okay I get it Neymar. If I fumbled the bag that hard I would regret it too

y/nhouse: damn, Charles is really out here living my dream life😫

slaybastianvettel: the second pic🥵

arthur_leclerc: good work brother👍

liked by charles_leclerc

yourusername: always yours❤️

liked by charles_leclerc

yourusername

liked by: badgalriri, bellahadid and 8 493 392 others

yourusername: Baby, I just wanna be yours I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours

view comments:

elitey/n: damn our girl really said Neymar who?

girlieprix: Charles and y/n are really squashing any speculations as they should!😤

y/ngirle4life: IS THAT AN ENGAGEMENT RING IN THE LAST PIC???

- safetycar92: OMG IT'S HUGE!!!

- juniorlecclerc: In her material girl era💅

- y/nfanzzaccount: It's on her right hand guys. Chill down

charles_leclerc: You're so beautiful mon amour😍

liked by yourusername

- l/ny/nleclerc: and I can't even get a response back from my guy🥹

yourusername:

liked by charles_leclerc, harrystyles and 13 348 549 others

yourusername: All Too Well 10 minute version out July 1.

view comments:

formula_y/n: She really said: Let me just remind all of you what this man has done.💅

holly_leclerccc: she's an icon she's a legend and she is the moment!

eras_y/n: watch your back Neymar, watch your back😈

y/nwhereareyou: 10 MINUTES????

charles_leclerc: you❤️

liked by yourusername

pierregasly: you're working overtime huh??

- yourusername: always am😇

trulyleclerc: Y/N said: When they go low, I go LOWER

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #formula 1 social media au #f1 social media au #f1 fic #f1 imagine

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vidavalor · 5 months

Text

The Devil in Disguise: Some theory-ish ideas on the night of the ball, The Metatron, and Crowley

The Metatron & Saraqael messed with Crowley's mind while he was in Heaven. He comes back unaware that he's missing at least 10 hours that the show spends a lot of time establishing and, more concerningly... he is suddenly incapable of seeing Heaven as an existential threat to Aziraphale.

TW for talk of assault, PTSD.

Good Omens begins talking about time in reference to the night of the ball earlier in the season with Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets in The Dirty Donkey scene. The writers set it up for us, all here's Mr. Brown-- he's going to set up this Whickber Street meeting for 6:30pm on Thursday evening after the shops close. You'll think the reason this is so specific is just a Mr. Brown's personality thing but then, as we get closer to it, at the top of 2.05, we're going to have about 30,000 scenes that do nothing but tell you, over and over and over again, what time this meeting ball starts. The entire purpose of this is for you to realize how much time passes through the night until the final act of 2.06... which we will then establish is happening in the 7am hour of Friday morning, some twelve hours after the meeting/ball began.

We go see Mr. Arnold and he helps us establish that today is Thursday and the meeting is tonight. Then, we visit Mrs. Cheng and she asks what time the meeting starts again, so Aziraphale will say "6:30" and confirm for us that he hasn't changed Mr. Brown's scheduled time. Then, Mutt originally can't go because he's taking his spouse to *dinner* for their anniversary-- this meeting is so early! reminds the scene. Then, Justine can come but she can only stay for a little while because the restaurant "picks up after 7pm." Then, Mrs. Sandwich arrives at the meeting and says basically the same thing as Justine did in the earlier scene-- that she can't stay long because her business is about to pick up. Then, Maggie is closing up her shop when Crowley is dispatched to get her. We now have every single major shopkeeper/trader in a separate scene, each of which reiterates how early this starts-- at 6:30pm on Thursday evening. When Nina gets to the ball, she adds an additional element: she's not fully under Aziraphale's spell so she comments on how everyone is speaking like they "just stepped out of 'Pride & Prejudice'," which is to say that everyone is speaking outside of time.

Nina is telling us that there's something wrong with relation to time but we know what that wrong thing is-- Aziraphale's Jane Austen ball spell. If you add it into the repeated references to time itself, though, you see it's another thing conveying a general feeling of something being way, way, way off about time on the night of the ball that the writers would like us to notice.

Why are we so obsessed with time on this night? What is the purpose of all of this?

To help you see that we are missing almost the entire night and that Crowley was in Heaven the entire time... and that there are some things that are really, really wrong with him when he comes back.

When we get into 2.06 and to the next morning, time is referenced again to help us see this. Crowley returns and it's surprisingly daylight, when it had been only a few hours past 6:30pm at best when he left for Heaven, right? In the morning, he takes Maggie & Nina outside to save them from Saraqael and both women comment on the time. We're talking about time again, as it's that important. Maggie says she's exhausted from being awake all night. Nina, crucially, says that her shop should have opened "a half an hour ago." Nina sells coffee so her shop likely opens at 6:30 or 7am, so it's 7 or 7:30am on Friday morning when the final act of 2.06 is happening.

That means that it's *at least* ten hours after Crowley went to Heaven but while he knows what time it is the next morning, he does not appear to know he's missing time. While Aziraphale is with The Metatron, Crowley will even look at his watch-- another reference to time passing-- and still not have this realization. The morning sun streams through the windows of the unclosed blinds, in a reverse parallel to 2.01, when Aziraphale closed the blinds after bringing Crowley into the bookshop, making it more comfortable for Crowley, who here seems to be aware that it's morning but unaffected by the bright sun; the show using the set and costumes to help illustrate this for us.

Because Crowley arrived with the angels and the group scene in the bookshop happened right after it, he and Aziraphale have not had a moment alone to speak yet. They actually won't get one before S2 is out because the bookshop is burned. In S1, it literally burned. In S2, it's burned, in the spy sense of the word-- everyone can get into it now so it's no longer a safe place to talk, which Crowley also seems to fail to fully recognize, which is partly because he fails to see Heaven as a danger to anyone but humanity, which we'll get to in a second. Aziraphale didn't say what he wanted to when Crowley first returned in the morning because he saw the angels, so he stops at "you came back", but he really has spent the entire prior night not knowing where Crowley was.

When The Metatron likely came on the Heavenly Zoom after Aziraphale stopped discorporating demons with it-- hinted at in Aziraphale and The Metatron's first interaction in the morning-- Aziraphale told The Metatron to go pound sand, which The Metatron figured he would. Not a lot of people want to spend more time with the leader of an organization that tried to kill them. We know Crowley isn't mentioned at this time because using Crowley as a tactic is new in the morning when Aziraphale talks with The Metatron at Marguerite's but Aziraphale told The Metatron he wouldn't go up to Heaven when they first spoke during the time we're missing. That much we already know.

So, Aziraphale then spent the night in a semi-panic because he might have started a war and he told The Metatron where he could stick it, which is kind of like trying to tell Putin you're quitting your job in the Russian Defense Ministry and could easily wind up with your ass tossed out a window but, most frightening to Aziraphale... Crowley hadn't come back.

Hours go by and no Crowley.

It's 1827 all over again. One minute, he's flirting with Crowley and the next minute, Crowley's gone from him in an instant. Crowley wouldn't do this willingly. They've talked about it. Crowley will tell him where he is now, all the time. He's working on not taking off when his PTSD is triggered. Aziraphale went to the spot he was taken in Edinburgh for the first time just the other day and called him from it to hear his voice and work on getting past it. Does Crowley still have to leave to some extent every damn day because he's not just living in the bookshop? Yes. Is even that a lot for Aziraphale at this point? Yes. Does Crowley know all of this? Yes. He makes it a point to tell Aziraphale that he'll get the humans out and then come back and that he won't leave Aziraphale on his own. Aziraphale believes him because he knows Crowley has no wish to hurt him and that is true. So, when Crowley doesn't come back all night, Aziraphale is panicked that something's happened to him.

He is correct that something has but neither of them ever get a moment to sort it out before S2 ends.

Look at the way Aziraphale reaches for Crowley when Crowley saves Maggie & Nina from Saraqael. He can't stop him because he doesn't want the shop lesbians turned into pillars of salt but he reaches for Crowley, like he just wants him to stay put for a moment, because this is exactly what happened ten hours or so ago now all over again-- Crowley left the bookshop to get the humans to safety and he didn't come back right away and Aziraphale was panic-stricken. He since hasn't even had a moment alone with him or the opportunity to ask him if he's alright.

This angel needs all these people out of his bookshop so he can find out what the fuck happened to Crowley all night. He still thinks, at this point, that if they can sort out these issues about the war and Gabriel, that this can happen and then everyone will go and he can be alone with Crowley. He can check on him and tell him what happened with The Metatron while he was gone and they can make a plan together, as opposed to the plan Aziraphale's had to make on his own. The Metatron has not yet appeared to change this, so Aziraphale is fine with Crowley sharing what he's found out about Gabriel and sorting everything out, in the hopes that then everyone will then leave them be for awhile.

When Crowley first arrived back in the bookshop and acted as if nothing was wrong, Aziraphale saw the angels behind him and he and Crowley aren't used to being open with one another in front of Heaven. They don't trust them. Gabriel, they've gotten used to but also Gabriel's proven himself kind of lovable, and he's one of them now. Michael, Uriel and Saraqael are not. So, Aziraphale didn't get into any of it with Crowley in that moment. He didn't say where were you? are you alright?, didn't hug him, etc.. The timing of all of this is by design on the part of The Metatron. If Crowley & Aziraphale don't have any time alone, they don't have any time to plan. If they don't have any time to make a plan, they're less trouble and easier to divide. That's why Crowley is sent back with the angels in tow.

Crowley's purpose in The Metatron's plan to get Aziraphale (and to destroy both of them, in the long run) is to unintentionally help The Metatron get Aziraphale to trust him. The way The Metatron does this is two-fold. The first bit is to have Crowley in Heaven and then send him back, (seemingly) fine, making Aziraphale think that if Crowley survived a trip to Heaven that they won't harm him in the future. The second bit is to send Crowley back with the information needed to solve the Gabriel mystery at the same time as Beez has been sent up to check on the results of the attack on the bookshop, which facilitates the revelation to Aziraphale of Ineffable Bureaucracy. The Metatron lets Gabe and Beez run off for exactly as long as it takes to get Aziraphale into the elevator-- all to make it look like Heaven has changed and provide Aziraphale with what he thinks is proof that he and Crowley would be allowed to be together in Heaven.

Note how Crowley says that what happened to Gabriel is that the angels want him back "so they can fire him" which, honestly, really already happened. Crowley watched the video we did but he doesn't remember it the way we do. He doesn't remember that The Metatron and Saraqael were trying to take Gabriel's memories and that Michael was complicit in it. These are all *extremely important* things that could have been shared with Aziraphale and the others but that Crowley seems to have forgotten that he saw.

Also note how The Metatron chooses not to appear in the bookshop until after Gabriel and the demons have left. By the time The Metatron appears, there's only Crowley (who is influenced by him) and angels who will do what he tells them to, and Aziraphale. Also note, though, that Gabriel gets his memories back... but doesn't seem to recall who now?

Super funny how Gabriel doesn't remember the angel that is important enough to have been at the big meetings-- and so, that he should have seen every few days for millennia lol-- and *that same angel* is the one who both has the canonical ability to take memories and is the one who recognized/is in league with The Metatron. Almost as if Gabriel got his memories back via Beez's fly and Saraqael instantly zapped his memory of them and of what happened to him so that he wouldn't be like hey, it's you guys... who totally obeyed The Metatron when he made me into a fallen angel and tried to take my memories from me. Aziraphale, don't trust these motherfuckers. They'll totally try to kill you and Crowley.

Almost as if Saraqael *is only there in the first place* to control Gabriel and Crowley's memories to facilitate what happens in the bookshop and keep it under control in the way that they and The Metatron want it to go. The Metatron, in all likelihood, is the one who cast all the demons to Hell, and Crowley is the only demon of the main group of them here who actually has memory issues so imagine what would have happened if The Metatron had rolled in when everyone was still there in the group scene. Gabriel would have been furious about what The Metatron did to him and said so... and Beez and the other demons would recognize The Metatron as the one who made them fall. Crowley would believe Beez, even if he couldn't remember it. Gabriel would go into Protector!Mode-- forget what The Metatron did to him, he's incensed over what he did to his love Beez and his new friend Crowley and, Gabriel supposes, those other demon guys over there, too lol. The demons start going from calling for Beez and Gabe's heads to joining up with them against The Metatron. Aziraphale would try to kill The Metatron if he knew all of that, forget getting into that elevator with him lol, so Ineffable Bureaucracy are allowed to escape-- for a little while, they're in a ton of danger after S2-- because that also helps The Metatron try to get Aziraphale to trust him, rather than starts a revolution. The Metatron only shows up after Dagon, Furfur and Shax leave, too, which further the suspicions that he's harmed them in the past and they wouldn't be too happy to see him.

So let's go back to what's wrong with Crowley...

Crowley, pre-trip to Heaven:

believes Beez about The Book of Life; growls at Gabriel that Aziraphale is "risking his entire existence" to help him and threatens him if anything happens to Aziraphale; not only remembers Heaven trying to kill them but brings it up to Gabriel in what is also a reminder of that to the audience; objected originally to Aziraphale taking care of Gabriel because of him trying to kill them and then has an anxiety attack over Gabriel in his house for basically most of the season; follows Aziraphale around Whickber Street after Shax starts sniffing around the bookshop; turns himself in to Muriel to work with Heaven as an informant without a second thought to protect Aziraphale, the bookshop, Maggie, Nina and Gabriel.

Crowley in Heaven:

promptly forgets the moment he gets off the elevator that his plan is that he is there to get the angels to protect the bookshop embassy, by appealing to their need to not be shown up by the demons; walks right by Michael & Uriel-- the archangels whose help he came up here to seek-- and continues to Muriel's office; becomes obsessed with finding out what happened to Gabriel; is spotted by Michael-- the smartest of the angels and the most suspicious, who is nominally in charge but for The Metatron-- and nothing comes of it, hinting that Michael might have been intercepted by The Metatron/Saraqael and roped into part of the plan (which also goes along with Michael and Uriel being sent with Crowley, Muriel and Saraqael back to the bookshop later on); is allowed into the files with permission from Saraqael, who is the only angel who recognizes The Metatron the next morning in the bookshop & is standing in for Sandalphon in some parts of the plot, according to Gaiman (Sandalphon & The Metatron are tight in Bible lore); Saraqael is the angel who was tasked with taking Gabriel's memories and they're the one Crowley is with most of his time in Heaven... the other angel being Muriel, whose own memories are suggested in a few scene to have been taken at some point; Crowley's memories issues are brought up again when he fails to recognize Saraqael; Crowley looks weirdly dazed while watching the Gabriel video; Saraqael is in league with The Metatron but both of them come off as the villains they are in the video they *want* Crowley to watch... but Crowley doesn't seem to remember that bit of what he saw afterwards; Crowley doesn't react to Saraqael trying to attack Gabriel after he finishes watching the video and, as we'll see, he doesn't seem to retain the same impression of the video that we do; Crowley tells Saraqael to come with him and Muriel back to the bookshop, despite having just watched a video in which they tried to take Gabriel's memories... meaning, that he fails to recognize Saraqael as a threat to himself, Gabriel and Aziraphale, and almost seems to tell Saraqael to come with him because Saraqael has influenced him to do so.

Crowley, post-trip to Heaven:

sits in a chair, listless, staring into space while Michael yells at Aziraphale that they will erase him from existence via The Book of Life (doesn't matter if this is real or if Michael can do it or not-- Crowley believed it was real pre-trip to Heaven and he'd protect Aziraphale from a piece of dust so why is he just sitting there); fails to tell Aziraphale that Gabriel is a fallen angel and that The Metatron ordered his identity stolen; fails to tell Aziraphale that Saraqael was trying to take Gabriel's memories on order of The Metatron before Gabriel outsmarted them while running to escape them and that Michael was complicit in all of it; recognizes that Heaven/Hell is toxic and a threat to *humanity*-- "when Heaven ends life on Earth, it'll just be as dead as if Hell ended it" and saving Maggie & Nina from Saraqael-- but fails to see that they are a threat to *Aziraphale*; goes a bit blank and stares at nothing, half-in/half-out of what is happening around him, when the conversation is about lost memories or The Book of Life; is staring into space at nothing on the floor when discussion is happening about lost memories-- Gabriel's-- until Aziraphale touches his arm... then, he looks up, still a little expressionless, and reacts to Ineffable Bureaucracy by offering them Alpha Centauri and talking about it in a way that makes it sound like an island he always meant to visit and not the option he always throws out to Aziraphale in a Defcon 1-level panic... Alpha Centauri isn't a trip to the Caymans to Crowley, it's this lol:

We can chitty chitty bang bang The Bentley to the stars, angel, I'm freaking out and out of ideas please send help!...meaning that, in the 2.06 group scene in the bookshop, he isn't telling Gabe and Beez to run, he's just offering them an idea of a place to go to if they're leaving... meaning, he fails to think they're in any danger and this is the same being who just watched a video last night in which The Metatron tried to attack Gabriel; and that's not even the worst of it... this is...

Go on. Day can't get any weirder... Crowley fails to see that Aziraphale does not want to go anywhere alone with The Metatron and is looking at him to come with them... instead, Crowley reacts like Aziraphale is asking if he'd mind if he goes and has a weird, unplanned coffee with his exhausting, bigoted dad and then he'll come back and spend the day with him; Crowley tells Aziraphale to go with The Metatron and just sits there in the damn chair while they walk out the door... this is *Crowley*, you guys. The same being that just spent a week trying to see if he could get Xanax to work for demons because of all the Heaven circling his bookshop safe space... the same being who got the heebie-jeebies over Shax and a bunch of junior demons at 6:30pm the night before... but now he's all no problem, honey, hope it goes well, I'll be here lounging in your chair, waiting for you to come back when *The Metatron* shows up and wants Aziraphale to go somewhere with him alone... This is also, of course, the moment that The Metatron gets the big villain music in the score-- right as he looks at Crowley, whom he's been monitoring like a hawk since he showed up; fails to recognize danger to Aziraphale so much that he just *stays in the bookshop* the whole time Aziraphale is with The Metatron-- doesn't follow them, even, or anything... he has no plans but for boozy breakfast (which is another indicator of him knowing that it's morning but not realizing he's missing time) and he completely believes that Aziraphale is in no danger at all and will return any moment, even as he gets anxious about how long it's taking; fails to mention the most obvious argument in the world for why Aziraphale shouldn't go to Heaven-- that they tried to murder them-- and so can never be trusted; fails again during the proposal to tell Aziraphale not to trust The Metatron because of what he just did to Gabriel on Monday and today is Friday morning and it's doubtful he just redeemed himself in a week lol... why did they have us see Crowley see the video but then *not* have him tell Aziraphale about it and ask that if that's what they were trying to do to Gabriel-- who had the political benefit of not being killed or sent directly to Hell because it would look like an institutional problem-- what does Aziraphale think that The Metatron would do to him, when he doesn't have any of the protections of Gabriel's old position?... this is *information that could save Aziraphale's life* and Crowley saw it with us but he doesn't seem to remember that he did because if he *did* remember that he did, he surely would tell Aziraphale because he loves Aziraphale and doesn't want anything to happen to him. He absolutely would have tried this argument if he remembered any of this from the video... but he also doesn't remember that Gabriel was already "fired" or that The Metatron and Saraqael and Michael are all a threat to Aziraphale... because he's been made to not remember that; finally, he never brings up something he believes in that he fears-- The Book of Life-- during the "no nightingales" conversation, even though it just came up when the angels were in the bookshop... but Crowley honestly might not even remember that it did, based on how out of it he was during that moment between Michael and Aziraphale.

Because Crowley can't recognize that he's missing time and that Heaven is an existential threat to Aziraphale and because Aziraphale feels like they can't talk alone without it being at least somewhat coded because the bookshop has been burned, they are each missing a huge part of what the other is trying to say and this results in the "no nightingales" disaster. Aziraphale knows he's in danger with The Metatron but Crowley's been programmed during the night to not recognize The Metatron, The Book of Life or Heaven in general as threats to Aziraphale. As a result, he can't understand that Aziraphale is trying to signal to him that he's made a plan and he needs Crowley to use their way of understanding each other and to follow his lead on it. Crowley, if he hadn't been harmed the night before, would have been able to see this and help Aziraphale. Aziraphale, for his part, fails to see that something's happened to Crowley and that's not terribly new for them, sadly, because so much has already happened to Crowley and Aziraphale is so sensitive to it that he doesn't think that Crowley's responses are the result of new trauma, just his already pre-existing trauma.

Even the prior night, Aziraphale downplayed Crowley's anxiety during the ball as just being his usual brand of anxiety amped up by the fact that they were trying something riskier and more public... until the brick got thrown through the window. He knows that Crowley has PTSD. One of the sweetest scenes in the series actually begins because of Aziraphale seeing Crowley slipping into a bit of PTSD fugue and pulling him out of it. Not uncoincidentally? It's from the other season finale. It's from the nightingales finale, as opposed to the no nightingales finale. It's this:

That scene actually begins with Crowley staring down at nothing in front of him, lost in thought, until Aziraphale gently brings him out of it and into the present moment. Because Crowley does this when they've been through an ordeal that's triggered things for him, Aziraphale is used to seeing it, so he doesn't recognize it in 2.06 as anything other than one of Crowley's default trauma responses. Because Crowley has only been influenced by The Metatron/Saraqael on specific things relating to threats to time and Aziraphale, he's otherwise alright and responding normally to other things, which fools Aziraphale into thinking that nothing happened to him... which is part of The Metatron's plan. He wants Aziraphale to think that Crowley is fine so that when they fail to communicate, he'll be so angry with/heartbroken over Crowley that he'll walk away from him and more easily get into the elevator.

Last time we saw a character on GO periodically sit in a chair this non-responsive, it was actually Gabriel occasionally fugue-ing out during his memory loss Jim era just an episode or so previously and Crowley's memory issues are paralleled with Gabriel's all season. Gabriel would space out when being overtaken by an outside force, which is what is kind of like what is happening with Crowley. Not possession like with Gabriel or God but his mind has been messed around with. Ironically, Crowley is the only one Aziraphale doesn't try to influence during the ball. While Aziraphale's actions during the ball are a whole other meta when it comes to just how fucked up all of that was, really... he left Crowley out of it. Part of it is that he doesn't have to love spell Crowley lol and that influencing him at all would have defeated the point of the ball in Aziraphale's mind but he also doesn't because he'd never do anything without Crowley's consent. He wouldn't anyway but he's extra-mindful of it because he knows Crowley has been through situations where his control over himself was taken from him and how that's affected him. Then, Crowley leaves the ball to help the humans and go to Heaven for help for Aziraphale and wound up kidnapped up there for 10 or so hours and suffering that same kind of non-consensual attack again.

Only other time Crowley is as periodically quiet and still, staring down at nothing and looking that forlorn, as he is in moments of 2.06? 1862. I'm not suggesting the exact same thing happened to him after 1827 when he was in Hell but I am suggesting the trauma response is the same and it's all over the bookshop scenes in 2.06 after he comes back from Heaven. He's literally standing like as tense and straight with his eyes lowered and speaking quietly as he did in 1862 in parts of 2.06, like before Aziraphale touches his arm when Gabriel and Beezlebub hold hands.

Crowley's had relevant memories taken by Saraqael and The Metatron to control him, so he spaces out when the conversation conflicts with what he's been influenced not to recognize as dangerous-- The Book of Life, the topic of lost memories/missing memories (he zones completely out of talk of Gabriel's lost memories once he gives everyone the means to figure it out)... most importantly, any moment that The Metatron and Saraqael and Michael and Heaven in general are threatening towards Aziraphale. He lets Michael threaten Aziraphale with non-existence. He lets Saraqael into the bookshop after knowing what they did to Gabriel because they've skewed what he thinks he saw on the video. He lets Aziraphale go with The Metatron without recognizing any danger to him at all.

This is intentional on the part of our villains here. They want to drive a wedge between them to get Aziraphale into the elevator. They've just influenced Crowley to not see them as a threat to Aziraphale but not much more than that so that he's otherwise normal-seeming in behavior. He remembers what happened at the ball enough that he snaps Mr. Brown back and asks what Aziraphale did to Shax. This is why The Metatron is watching Crowley like a hawk. He looks at him suspiciously when he retains enough control and empathy for humans-- sending Mr. Brown, Maggie and Nina to safety-- but he hears the women talk about time and realizes that Crowley doesn't respond, so the influence is working. He tests Crowley when he arrives to see if the influence is working in the what about you, demon? Do you know who I am? moment.

This is the reason why none of the other angels but for Saraqael recognize The Metatron, even if he doesn't look *that* different with a body. Saraqael messed with all of their minds to make it so that they don't for a few moments, specifically to give The Metatron an opportunity to test Crowley and be sure it's all still working.

(The saving Mr. Brown thing is especially heart-breaking because what do we learn about Mr. Brown's experience last night from what he says to Mutt? He can't remember where he was or what happened to him. It's a parallel to Crowley and another hint at it from the writers but is less horrifying because Mr. Brown's lack of memory might not be his choice but taking it from him was done out of empathy. PTSD-laden Crowley did that for him while under this influence. He made the call that Mr. Carpet didn't need to go through the trauma of remembering being attacked by the demons and snapped him into line for coffee-- symbolic freedom-- at Nina's, like it was another normal day for him. Meanwhile, Crowley can't remember what happened to himself last night for totally different reasons and doesn't even fully realize it yet.)

In S1, Aziraphale opens up the portal to Heaven and gets accidentally discorporated-- loses his body-- and the bookshop burns down. In S2, Aziraphale opens up the portal to Heaven, the bookshop is burnt as a safe house, and Crowley's mind is what is harmed by Heaven.

Because Crowley seems to be otherwise fine, Aziraphale doesn't think anything is more wrong than the usual amount of wrong and because The Metatron is breathing down their necks the whole time, Aziraphale never just says what happened to you last night? which would have changed everything because either it would have broken the hold they have over Crowley enough for him to remember that they have one or Aziraphale would have been standing there, horrified, as Crowley seemed confused by the idea that he was gone all night. Aziraphale doesn't ask because he knows something is wrong but everything is wrong at that moment and they can't get away from The Metatron enough to speak freely. Aziraphale is trying to convey a kind of plan (which seems to be 1941 and playing them for suckers) and begging Crowley to realize that he's terrified and trapped and needs him to help him but Crowley is incapable of fully recognizing that because he doesn't see Heaven as a threat to Aziraphale anymore, thanks to The Metatron. He just sees Heaven as a threat to their relationship and so starts to try to get Aziraphale to stay with him.

The worst part of this is that while it becomes a total fucking disaster in the bookshop, the very end of it is different. There's Crowley, staying by The Bentley, not leaving. It's not even that he wants Aziraphale to come to him instead of The Metatron so much as it's just him knowing he left the bookshop and he been working on not leaving. He wants Aziraphale to see he left the argument but not him. He doesn't know how this all works if Aziraphale goes to Heaven and he's still thinking of it in terms of 'if Aziraphale takes this job he's been offered by The Metatron' and not 'Aziraphale is about to be harmed by The Metatron' because of the influence... but he's not leaving. He promised Aziraphale he wouldn't leave him on his own, so he's sending a message that he won't. He just thinks that they're still going to have a relationship to work on because he thinks Aziraphale is about to become the Supreme Archangel of Heaven when, in reality, Aziraphale just walked into an elevator of death here. (He'll be fine in the long run. They'll bring him back. But I'm pretty sure nothing good is happening to Aziraphale in the short term.)

They eluded being forced into killing themselves in S1 by working together; they are separated and made to help one another's death in S2. Crowley influenced to watching helplessly as Aziraphale is taken from him is also, by design, an attempt at killing Crowley. They know he wouldn't want to live without Aziraphale. They're not as strong, not as much of a threat, apart as they are together.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale has no idea what just happened but it's a mess and it's one he's not sure he'll ever get to resolve because he just overheard The Metatron talking about The Second Coming and now he suspects he might not be safe but he also doesn't have a choice but to get into the elevator and he's doing it alone. He gets The Bentley to play Crowley "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" as an I love you and a response to Crowley saying "no nightingales" in the bookshop. It's a refusal to say they're done. There actually isn't an ineffable divorce. There's them each fucking it all up and then trying to apologize from across Whickber Street with The Metatron lurking around and they manage to but...

...what do you think happens when something happens to make Crowley realize what happened to him the night he spent in Heaven and what's wrong with him? He's going to feel like he killed Aziraphale. He's going to feel like he shot The Bullet Catch gun and didn't miss. Don't think The Metatron doesn't know it. Because what is Round Two? It's Crowley's "all of us versus all of them" from the end of S1. Why is Hell so understaffed in S2? Because most of the demons are getting into place for The Second Coming. It's Heaven and Hell (who still hate each other but are aligned) versus humanity. S2 has a focus on times Heaven and Hell have worked in tandem-- like with Job-- and then has them all in the bookshop at the end. It has Crowley bonding with Gabriel and Beez being kind to Aziraphale. It blends Heaven & Hell into the singular, corrupt system that it always has been and takes Crowley & Aziraphale's "our side" and starts adding to it. Beez and Gabriel are on their side now. Muriel and others will follow. But as they're doing all of this and as they're centering The Second Coming and The Metatron, you know whose presence was briefly mentioned but was otherwise suspiciously absent from S2?

Lucifer.

God made an appearance and not even just in flashback. It's God speaking through Gabriel earlier in the season, telling Crowley and Aziraphale to remember Job.

Where's Satan, though?

We've only noticed The Metatron, not that he and Satan are now, for awhile at least, on the same side, and Satan was not happy about S1. I don't think we should ignore the only references to Satan in S2--the quick lines they gave Shax and Dagon in the bookshop scene, wherein Shax said that they should give Gabriel and Beez to their master, Satan, and Dagon said that Satan wouldn't want them, except maybe "as hors d'oeurves." Ignoring for a moment how absolutely fucking horrifying a line that is on a show that codes sex as food this much, consider that Dagon just literally said that Lucifer/Satan would consider Gabe and Beez secondary-- just appetizers-- to a main course. Who is the main course?

Who else but Crowley & Aziraphale?

Do you really think that even if they held back on the Benedict Cumberbatch this round that Lucifer/Satan took the whole season off and had nothing to do with the end game of S2? The Lucifer/Satan who lost his antichrist kid in S1 and his armageddon in S1 because of Crowley and Aziraphale? The Lucifer who is very disturbingly obsessed with Crowley? The Lucifer who is now teamed up with Heaven for The Second Coming and so who might have actually been Upstairs himself when Crowley was the night of the ball-- or, at least, suggested what Saraqael and The Metatron did to Crowley? Because it's actually where we first saw this kind of thing in the plot, remember? Here are your instructions...

#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #good omens meta #good omens theory #aziracrow #good omens speculation #good omens analysis #good omens s2

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sssailorvanya · 4 months

Text

for once in my life, let me get what i want. [battinson]

please ignore my shit tenses | wc: 780(?)

You’ve never been one to ask for more beyond what you’re given. Your feet are always impossibly cold and your smile is missing from your face these days. Winter’s hard enough as it is. You didn’t know how to feel about the mysterious man dressed up as a bat, running around at night to fight crime.

You’ve heard what this mysterious vigilante does to the rogue criminals he catches. You’ve even witnessed his brutality a few times, thankfully never aimed at you. He saved you once. You were walking home, with your cold feet and blank expression, and a group of men had jumped out of a nearby alley. You had thought, ‘oh fuck, here we go again,’ and prepared to hand over your meagre possessions. You had not anticipated the fearsome vigilante materialising out of nowhere, throttling the living daylights out of all the men until they cowered in fear. You had watched, dumbfounded, as he picked up your small, bright pink purse and handed it to you.

You almost wanted him to keep it, if only for the comical juxtaposition.

So, no, you don’t know how to feel about him. Gratitude is a motivating factor but, nowadays, you barely feel anything at all. You certainly don’t feel anything when he takes your cold hand the second time you meet (another mugging foiled) and awkwardly massages it.

“For the circulation,” He growls softly.

You hum and let him massage your hand.

The citizens of Gotham call him “the Batman”, or simply “the Bat”. Sometimes they’ll call him “Vengeance” with a capital V, but nobody answers when you ask why.

You’re not native to Gotham, but you’re not from a city which was its polar opposite either. The gloomy weather and gothic architecture is a welcome reminder of the home you unwillingly left behind.

The third time you meet him, you feel braver than before. “You ever heard of the PJ Masks?” You ask softly, watching as he delivers a harsh blow to an unconscious thug (muggings are very common in Gotham, especially when they can sense that you’re not from here). He glances back at you, his lips pursed and his eyes smeared with dark eyeliner. You wish you could take off the cowl and see his full expression.

“I haven’t,” He says softly. His voice is jarring to listen to. You can tell he’s a man of few words so whenever he speaks, you are enthralled. You don’t know why. What sort of lunatic would be fascinated by a bat vigilante?

Lunatics like you.

“It’s a good show. Reminds me of you,” You say. Your lips don’t curl up in a smile but it’s a near thing. Your feet feel warmer today.

He’s a man who talks little, but he humours you anyway. “Must be good then.” You think you imagine the minute twitch of his lips as he turns away, his fearsome cape dripping with droplets of rain and blood. You watch him go.

Your hands are still cold.

The fourth time you encounter him makes you feel as if he’s started to keep tabs on you specifically. There’s no reason for the fearsome Bat to be lurking outside the 7/11 closest to your little apartment at 2am, but he is there. There’s no thievery to put an end to and no criminals for him to terrify. There is just you and the bright lights of the 7/11 and the jalapeños-and-cheese baked concoction in your hands. Your eyes are glimmering in the artificial light as you break off a piece.

You offer it to him, a small smile playing on your lips. He takes it from you slowly, as if he’s afraid he’ll hurt you. Your feet are cosy and warm tonight. He doesn’t smile back but he does stand next to you all night. Gotham is quiet tonight. It’s a blessing in disguise for you both.

The last time you meet him, you are hurting all over. There is blood sliding down your face and your vision is blurred, but you know it’s him when someone takes your hand. He rubs your hand soothingly.

“For the… circulation… right?” You croak out. It’s hard to talk with chapped lips and broken teeth.

He doesn’t respond. His grip on your hand tightens.

Some upcoming villain in Gotham decided to launch a nefarious attack in the city centre. You were caught in the crossfire, as were many other civilians. But it’s you whom he chooses to comfort, and it’s you whom he clings onto as you fade away.

Your hand goes limp in his grasp. It’s cold.

But there’s a smile on your face and your feet are warm.

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why4anne · 6 months

Text

Daylight

Part: 4/?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Category: Social Media au

Summary: Follow the love story of a global pop icon and a monegasque F1 driver

Face claim: Taylor Swift (Singing) + others

Masterlist

2019

A post uploaded by Neymar last Thursday captioned: "I'll save all my dirtiest jokes for you, meu amor😘"

When asked about these posts the PSG star responded

"I will always love her and she is an amazing woman. I've made mistakes in the past but I will do everything in my power to right my wrongs"

What do you think? Is this Neymar simply being jealous of the love Leclerc is getting both from Y/N and the fans or is he serious? Follow E!News for more updates.

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, gigihadid and 2 304 583 others

charles_leclerc: She's mine. You may have had her once. But I got her all the time.

view comments:

leleleclerc: Show him Charles!!!

pieregasly: My man🐶

liked by charles_leclerc

- pierragazzolina: Pierre??!!

- titiwolff: what is with that emoji??😭

janelle_leclerzz: okay I get it Neymar. If I fumbled the bag that hard I would regret it too

y/nhouse: damn, Charles is really out here living my dream life😫

slaybastianvettel: the second pic🥵

arthur_leclerc: good work brother👍

liked by charles_leclerc

yourusername: always yours❤️

liked by charles_leclerc

yourusername

liked by: badgalriri, bellahadid and 8 493 392 others

yourusername: Baby, I just wanna be yours I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours

view comments:

elitey/n: damn our girl really said Neymar who?

girlieprix: Charles and y/n are really squashing any speculations as they should!😤

y/ngirle4life: IS THAT AN ENGAGEMENT RING IN THE LAST PIC???

- safetycar92: OMG IT'S HUGE!!!

- juniorlecclerc: In her material girl era💅

- y/nfanzzaccount: It's on her right hand guys. Chill down

charles_leclerc: You're so beautiful mon amour😍

liked by yourusername

- l/ny/nleclerc: and I can't even get a response back from my guy🥹

yourusername:

liked by charles_leclerc, harrystyles and 13 348 549 others

yourusername: All Too Well 10 minute version out July 1.

view comments:

formula_y/n: She really said: Let me just remind all of you what this man has done.💅

holly_leclerccc: she's an icon she's a legend and she is the moment!

eras_y/n: watch your back Neymar, watch your back😈

y/nwhereareyou: 10 MINUTES????

charles_leclerc: you❤️

liked by yourusername

pierregasly: you're working overtime huh??

- yourusername: always am😇

trulyleclerc: Y/N said: When they go low, I go LOWER

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roo-bastmoon · 6 months

Text

Puppykitties, I'm not feeling super great these days so I might not be around much, and I definitely don't have the energy to get into discourse right now, but I just gently wanted to remind you that in addition to buying and streaming GOLDEN for Jungkook, Jimin could use your help.

Specifically, please set an alarm and vote HERE every hour you can spare. He worked so hard for 10 months; it would be cool if we could give him this.

Second, liking, sharing, and making TikToks apparently really helps lead new folks to check out FACE and increase streams, particularly for Set Me Free Pt 2 and Like Crazy. As Jimin doesn't have an account, it's up to us.

(I have *no idea* how TikTok videos actually work but I made a few quick-and-dirty edits over on roo.bastmoon on that app using snippets of his songs and some photos saved in my phone. It would be so awesome if you could take two minutes out of your day to snag the audio and do the same!)

I hope everyone has a great rest of the weekend. If you're in the US and observe daylight savings, don't forget to turn your clocks back an hour! And also, do something with someone today that makes you light up with a big grin!

Sending you all so much love and positivity!!

Yours, Roo

#jimin #jungkook #jikook

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areyoudreaminof · 4 months

Text

ACOTAR GIFT EXCHANGE

Beyond: a Helion x LoA fic for @spell-cleavers

For the @acotargiftexchange I was thrilled to write this fic for @spell-cleavers who just so happens to be one of my very favorite people. Getting to know her over the course of this year has been such a joy, so I wanted to writer her something special. And by special, I mean I wrote my first ever smut scene. Can you believe?? Special thanks to @iambutmortal and @rosanna-writer for the beta help, and @separatist-apologist for allowing me to have a fun little cameo.

The Lady of Autumn has agreed to come live at the Autumn Court, though seems hesitant. Can Helion convince her that she belongs at his side?

And here's a little playlist!

She shines me up like gold on my arm I wanna take it slow but it's so hard I love to see her face in daylight It's more than just our bodies at night

Do you think I'm being foolish if I don't rush in?

Beyond-Leon Bridges

MORNING:

Helion Spell-Cleaver was feeling a bit unhinged. It wasn’t a surprise, since he had been looking forward to this for centuries. But still, he was teetering on the edge of his sanity.

It couldn’t have been a more perfect day, though. The sun rose over the Day Court, cloudless skies stretching from the far valleys and hills in the east to the rocky coast and the city of Naxopolis. Groves of orange and fig trees surrounded the sandstone palace, brushing up against its white pillars and walls. The smells of citrus and trees were deepened by the warmth from the sun and a cool breeze from the turquoise sea. From the balcony, Helion watched the early morning sunlight reflect off the waves like small golden flecks. The room was peacefully quiet and open. Helion was certain when he had chosen the large and spacious suite, she would love it.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

She had never seen the sea, she had told him once, many, many years ago, when they had only met under cover of darkness in the far corners of the Autumn lands. He chose the large wing of rooms as soon as she had agreed to move to the Day Court. Helion wanted a fresh start for them both.

They had each other again. They had their son, Lucien, who had agreed to stay too. Though, Helion would admit only to himself that he wasn’t letting his son and his mate out of his sight again. Never again would Thérèse be stuck in Autumn, never again would she be under anyone’s control. The members of his court were thrilled when he had found Lucien, and they were equally as thrilled when Helion announced his mate would finally come home.

But as he heard the soft cries of morning gulls, and the city coming to life below him, Helion’s doubts slithered back into his mind.

Will she even like it here? Will she ask Eris to take her back? She left once.

Yes, but that was to save us, and to save our son. Helion reminded himself as he took steadying breaths to calm his speeding heart. And I am not that monster. I will never force her. I am at her service.

A soft knock at the door brought him back to the morning. Costis, his butler, entered with a soft robe of linen in his arms. The satyr’s hooves clicked sharply on the tile, as he draped the ivory fabric chiton across a chair.

“Good Morning, my Lord. We’ve received word from Velaris, and the Lady Thérèse will be arriving with your son and his mate promptly at eleven o’clock.” Costis announced, crossing the room to bow. “Her personal items will be sent here.

Helion nodded once, quickly attempting to clear his mind. “Is everything else in order?”

“Yes, your Grace. The food is being prepared as well as the smaller dining balcony in the northwest wing. Nothing much is happening in the city, and The Magus has predicted fine weather for today. Perfect to show Lady Thérèse her new home,” the satyr said as he removed the sleeping robe from Helion’s shoulders. “I can send up for breakfast, unless you prefer to wait.”

“I’ll wait, thank you,” Helion said. He hardly had an appetite anyway.

Costis began to dress Helion, expertly wrapping the toga around him. The soft mix of linen and cotton promised a warmer day, the fabric hitting just above his knees. Enough to tempt, but not enough to scandalize. As Costis fetched his sandals, Helion removed the silk wrap from his head, satisfied that his hair still looked perfect. He had removed the ornaments from his locs for the occasion, instead opting for a small golden thread woven throughout his hair, tying it back with a leather strap. Helion placed a golden sun band on each bicep, cuffs on his wrists, and the small bronze ring Thérèse had given him five centuries ago. Striding to the mirror, Helion took in his reflection. He wore no crown, his toga was simple, and he was unadorned. He looked like the same male that went to the Equinox ball all those centuries ago.

The sharp clang of steel and bronze bells from the Magus’s tower rang, indicating it was half past ten. Helion straightened and took a deep breath. He had been planning this day for weeks, no, centuries. He was ready. “Costis, remind me of the possible itinerary I had drawn up.”

READ THE REST ON AO3

#acotargiftexchange #helion x loa #jenn i love you #eris is a redheaded step-child #my first smut ever??

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rottenblur · 8 months

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My modern Romeo |J.MILLER| part two.

Summary: The one year anniversary of meeting joel is your favourite memory, almost getting caught, him confessing his love. Your first kiss with him, only if a year of desire could be cured with just one kiss..

Warnings: fluff, you and joel playing truth or dare like cmon fluffiest shit ever, alcohol you and joel, kissing, making out, grinding on joel???? Semi smut. Joel says a naughty thing y’all. Almost getting caught

It’s one whole year since you met the grumpy old man that lights up your Friday without fail, looking at your watch it reads 2:20am. On your last trade you and joel both decided to meet before four, as every time it ends up dawn before either of you want to go back.

It’s starting to get risky, not that Joel wasn’t trusted to be out till daylight. It’s the fact suspicions of what he was doing out that long, started to rise.

You on the other hand, you weren’t aloud to be out at night, upon request of your parents. Anyone on watch was told to snitch on you, if they saw you out past 8pm.

A whole adult and you were still being treated like you couldn’t fend for yourself.

You take off your grey shorts, slip on your tight black jeans and take a peek in the mirror.

You catch your gaze falling on how your ass looks. God the fuck is wrong with me. Never once have you caught him looking at you in that way, yet you still want him to.

Taking off your loose hoodie to reveal a tight tank top, the heat giving you an excuse to show more skin, you pull on a tight crew neck sweater. Maybe a little too small for you, the bottom of your tank top showing when you lift your arms.

You always dressed up for joel, wanting him to think you were put together. Even though he always showed up in the same worn out blue jeans, he probably had a closet full of them.

You thought about what he might be doing, is he reading one of the many books you had given him, talking with family? Did he have family, you’ll have to remind yourself to ask.

Was he getting ready thinking about what you would think? Probably not, he had confidence. Alot more than you could ever dream of having.

Three am hits, you put on your holster, slipping your gun into it and taking one last glance into the mirror. Okay, you look fine, he probably doesn’t care anyways.

Walking to the meeting spot, a field surrounded by large rocks about a twenty five commute for the both of you. Your heart is in your throat, it always was when you walked to see Joel.

He had an affect on you. Scared of him not showing up, or him actually showing up just share some news that, its getting to risky, he has to stop seeing you.

Your feet hit the familiar grass, it’s worn down into a path from the common commute. You can see a figure sitting in the grass, wearing that same god damn tan jacket. You never got tired of seeing it, seeing him.

A smile that refuses to give rises to your face. “A bit too warm for a jacket don’t you think? Do you have another jacket, poor thing gets too much use.”

He turns his head and a smirk comes to his face, you sit down next to him. “Ya trying to get me outta my clothes? Actually I do you smartass, I just like it.”

Yes. Yes you were trying to get him out of his clothes, even in this god damn felid. You could never say that though.

“So, i know you said we weren’t trading today, but you said something about a walkman last time. I couldn’t forget that, as im incredibly jealous, i got you something.” You pick a cassette out of your pocket and hold it out to him.

He smiles and takes it out of your hand, reading the worn lettering. “Radio head? I actually brought something too..”

You look at him. “What is it?”

He opens his bag and pulls out a bottle of whiskey.

Oh fuck. This, drunk you, is definitely gonna ruin this friendship.

“You ever try this kind before? It’s okay, found it on a supply run. Wanted to save it for a special occasion.” He holds up the bottle for you to see.

He remembered. He remembered!

He opens the bottle takes a swig effortlessly downing it. “To the anniversary of you almost shooting me” He laughs at his own joke, then passes you the bottle.

“Oh fuck you.” You shove him, then take a gulp, coughing as it burns down your throat. He tries to hold a laugh in.

“First time?”

You clear your throat and try to play it cool. “Just been a while”

He shakes his head and takes the bottle back. “No point in lyin’ darlin’. Gonna be a long night, you’re not leaving without getting shitfaced.”

Thirty minutes has passed of you and him passing the bottle back in forth, you’re clearly way more gone than he is, you’re already saying your every last thought.

“You know, i never really got a proper teenage experience like in books.” Taking a sip out of half gone bottle.

“Well I can’t exactly say i know the teenage girl experience, but books are kinda over dramatic.” He looks at you with glossy eyes, maybe he was drunker than you thought.

“Like truth or dare. Never played it before, not alot of kids in the group.” You huff and pass him the bottle.

He laughs, pinching his nose bridge. “I’ll play with ya sweetie.” Tliting his head.

Was he flirting? Was joel fucking miller flirting with me.

“Truth or dare?”

He smiles at the stupid childish game he was playing. “Truth”

You let out a “hmm” then come up with a question. “Do you have family?”

He lets out a groan, takes a sip then passes you the bottle. “I do. A brother, back at jackson, tommy he’s younger.”

A brother, you wondered what their relationship was before the apocalypse. If they got along growing up, if they got along to this day.

You take a swig, slowly growing to the strong burn, a blush spreading to your cheeks.

You two go back and forth for another twenty minutes, the liquor disappearing till the last shot is left, all yours he says.

Its his turn to ask you a question. You’re not sure if you could give him a straight answer, nor talk without giggling. Everything was slowed, the gust of wind didn’t bother you anymore, your body was on fire. You understood why people drank now.

“Truth or dare hun.” The petnames were littered in every sentence now, if you didn’t think he was drunk earlier, he was now. You take the last swig, throwing it across the felid, it shattering on impact.

“Dare.” Little did you know that one word would change everything between you to.

“Kiss me. I dare you to kiss me.”

Fuck. You were in no state to say no, your feelings were overwhelming, the confidence you had was overwhelming.

You were wrong, wrong all this time. Maybe he was checking you out when you weren’t looking. Thinking he was staring at eyes, but he was admiring your plush lips all along.

You swear the blush from the alcohol, mixing with your blush from the words, had turned dark crimson, his desire burned your body.

You lean forward, he looks surprised you’re actually doing it, unknown to him you’ve had a intense crush from the first time you saw him. A year of pining and teasing was finally rewarded.

The space between your face and his disappears, he leans towards you pushing your lips together. He places his hand on your jaw, the other in the crook of your neck. He kisses with hunger, like he wanted to consume you. You kiss him back, he deepens the kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth, exploring.

It was too late to tell him this was your second kiss, your first real makeout sesh.

You grip his hair and straddle yourself on him, this pulls a groan out of him.

He moves his hands down to your hips, pulling them down onto his. You’re so close to him, you can’t breathe. His jeans rubbing into yours, your chest pressed tight against his, his hands engulfing your hips.

He pulls away for air, panting practically, you can see the blush covering his cheeks. “Is- is this okay- do you want-“ You cut him off pulling him back in for more.

Your hips unknowingly start to grind on him, the more pressure you put on him the more he moans in your mouth. The kisses getting more sloppy, more teeth and spit.

You can feel him hardening underneath you, his jeans uncomfortably tight. Your panties soaked, your jeans creating the perfect amount of friction, all you wanted to was undress him, see all of him, have all of him.

Its getting hot, the harsh weather due to the lack of sun meant nothing. Between the alcohol and the fire that was burning in your core it was unbearable, you rip your sweater off. He pulls away, looking you up and down, his eyes holding a tight gaze on your chest.

You both are out of breath, he moves a hand up to grope your chest, squeezing and holding. Your hips pick up a faster pace, a rougher pace.

The sounds of his groans, your whimpers fill the air. No other sounds are heard in the dead of the night, other than your wet lips fighting for more and the sound of your jeans brushing on his.

He mutters something into your mouth, you pull away.

“What?” You’re out of breath and flustered.

He looks at you, those god damn glossy brown eyes could make you cum alone.

“Fuck, i dont know what to do with you. I can’t stop thinking about you darlin’.”

You whimper. “Neither can i”

He kisses you one last time and pulls you off his lap, adjusting himself and sighing. You spot a stain of precum soaking a spot in his jeans, god that make you tremble.

“I- uh we gotta stop. I won’t be able to control myself other wise.”

Fuck. That make your knees weaker than the alcohol did, you drank a shit ton of alcohol, yet he had a bigger affect on you.

“Fuck, i hate it has to be this way, i want you. All of you.” You say, letting out the biggest sigh you could muster.

He practically growls at that.

“I can’t believe i waited so long to do that.” He shakes his head.

“Are you serious? You’ve liked me that long? I’ve been thinking you didn’t even think i was pretty.” You almost shove him.

“Darlin’, what if you didn’t feel that way ‘bout me? I’d feel like a shitty person, especially since you know, you’re young..” He sounds sad, but jesus he’s fucking hot, how could he ever think you weren’t head over heals for him.

“..For the record, i think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Wish i could get you out of my head, thinking the dirtiest things ‘bout you when i get home from seeing ya.”

Fuck. It was unbearable how he was making you feel, you push your thighs together.

“I-“ You get cut off by the sound of hooves pittering on the ground, matched with a deep voice yelling echoes off the mountain’s rocks.

Your heart jumps to your throat, you check your watch, fuck. It’s five, its been three hours since he had left.

His face drops, he signals you to go hide in a cluster of bushes a couple feet away. You run over trying to be quiet, before you become one with the bushes, he holds up three fingers. Got it three am, next Friday.

“This” wasn’t over, he was willing to risk everything for you.

You try to peek through the bush to see whats going on. Joel pulls out his gun, the man approaches on his horse, dismounting it and pushing joel.

“God damn it joel, the fuck are you doing, you were supposed to be home for patrol.” The man looks around. “What are you even doing here?”

You squint your eyes trying to get a better look at him, the sun aiding you. He looked like joel, longer hair, shorter and younger. Tommy. His brother, it must be.

“Chill tommy, i went for a walk, heard a clicker. I’m fine though, thanks for askin’.

It was almost attractive how easy he could lie, especially when it was to protect you.

They walk off, all you could here is mumbles. Till those mumbles turned to the sound of horse hooves hitting the ground, the sound slowly disappearing.

That was the first time you almost got caught, yet it is your favourite memory.

You replayed the night over and over walking back. Sneaking back in praying you wouldn’t get caught. Even if you did, you would die happy, joel likes you, he kissed you.

Part one here

Part three here

My masterlist

AN: PART TWOO!!! Even though this series isn’t getting much attention i very much like it!! Answering a question no one asked study break part three is coming soon don’t get your panties in a bunch unless joel put em in your mouth, then go right ahead ;)this is kinda a slow burn cause like they aren’t supposed to see eachother

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whatevertheweather · 2 months

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It's Sunday again! And daylight savings, which has tripped me up and then also kicked me, but whatever. I'm excited to read everyone's posts later, though I haven't yet because I've actually been writing (!!!) and moreover, writing the right thing (!!!!).

So here are some samplings from the final chapter of Musical Chairs, which probably will not be ready by my arbitrarily chosen date of March 15th, but hopefully will be ready by...April.

First, Baz.

And the contrast between the couples he was envying sent him right back into a bitter spiral, because clearly his standards were anything at all, please lord someone love me. Whatever part of his brain had been responsible for pressing RSVP on this event, Baz would be isolating it and burning it at the stake. “We’re still winning, then,” Baz observed, because he was fucking losing.

And Simon.

Simon was, quite suddenly, about to fucking lose it. He wanted things from him. Like attention and companionship and full frontal contact. Who the fuck was this guy. Where had he been. Simon was, actually, awash in a furious sense of injustice over it, because Agatha had known Baz existed in this world. Every second she'd spent acting like Simon’s best mate, and she hadn’t told him, hadn’t warned him this man was just out there, walking around, not being appreciated.

Thanks and hellos and the like under the cut <3

Thanks for the tags today: @youarenevertooold @cutestkilla @artsyunderstudy @forabeatofadrum @run-for-chamo-miles

And hello and thanks for tags other days: @fatalfangirl @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @whogaveyoupermission @nightimedreamersworld @facewithoutheart @alexalexinii @mooncello @rimeswithpurple @bookish-bogwitch @martsonmars @aristocratic-otter @thewholelemon

#the level of accomplishment I feel about writing today is not proportionate to the number of words I've managed #but it's fine #as long as I don't think about how many words are left #we'll get there #six sentence sunday #my writing

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couldtransitionsaveher · 1 month

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DWIGHT FAIRFIELD from DEAD BY DAYLIGHT

JUSTIFICATION:

"Nerdy nerd nerd who fucks everything up!" - Anonymous

Reminder: Submissions are always open! Submit here!

Did you make your daily click today?

#could transition have saved her #dwight fairfield #dbd #dead by daylight #transgender #trans hc #anonymous submission

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respectthepetty · 6 months

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Tagged in by @elizabethsebestianhedgehog @telomeke @wen-kexing-apologist @pandasmagorica (I'm missing someone. I know it.)

Current time: When do we roll back time? Today? Tomorrow? My current time is time is abstract, and I don't understand Daylight Savings.

Current activity: I just got back in from a Día de Muertos celebration the local funeral home was holding at a cemetery. Very quirky. Very small town. I loved it! Now, I *should* be grading, but instead I'm booking the hotel for a wedding I'm attending on Friday. I'm dragging my feet since I don't believe in marriage, but I'll show up in the name of friendship.

Currently thinking about: Why I'm into Dan x Shadow.

Current favorite song: I went to the When We Were Young Music Festival again this year a few weeks ago, so I'm fully in my emo feels, which means I'm listening to the most toxic songs like Bring Me the Horizon's "Die4u" with lyrics like "'Cause the truth of it, you could slit my wrists, and I'd write your name in a heart with the hemorrhage"

youtube

It's very Eddie coded. It has the lyric "I keep holding my breath for a miracle" which really just rubs salt in the Kiseki (aka Japanese for miracle) wound right now waiting for confirmation that Chen Yi is alive and well in this finale.

Currently reading: It should be students' essays, but I attended a lecture yesterday from Dr. Jody Shipka over Edible Rhetorics where she talked about recipes as a valid form of composition and technical writing as well as the narratives involved in them, so now I'm reading her book Toward a Composition Made Whole, which calls for people to move composition off of the page, and as an emo with plenty of Converse that have lyrics written on them, this hits me in all the right spots.

Currently watching: What am I not watching would be an easier question because I'm watching all the shows, all the time, but I'm about to rewatch ALL of Kiseki: Dear to Me before the finale because I'm obsessed with it. I'm also stuck on episode four of Shadow because the theme of "praying away the trauma" is really hitting my Catholic heart hard.

Current favorite character: EDDIE! All roads lead to my Multicolored Menace. He stole my heart in the very first scene when he said not to look back then tried to run away from Chen Yi, and my love for him has only expanded each episode as he continues to be the most colorful character on the outside in bright cardigans yet the darkest on the inside, just like me! If only he wore black nail polish with his chokers, then it really would be me.

Current WIP: I'm presenting on Polynesian rhetoric in a few weeks, and I'm connecting it to rap music since both are based on oral traditions and incorporate mastery wordplay even in everyday situations, but I'm trying to find "academically appropriate" examples since apparently "Pussy get popped, piñata" is too much for some people. *rolls eyes* Who knew?

Tagging no one because it always reminds me of MySpace Top 8, and I don't want my heart or favorites exposed like that.

#tag game #thanks for tagging me everyone!#Youtube

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those-late-night-feels · 1 year

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Letters

Part 1

Summary: Writing everything down should help you process your feelings. Somehow it always turns into letters to him.

Warnings: Grief, angst, eventual smut.

Jan. 29

I sat at the edge of the shore today and thought of you when the mist blew up and kissed my skin. It reminded me of all those times you gave me chills, causing my skin to prickle and an uncontrollable shiver to run through. The wind caused havoc to my hair while staring out into the vastness of the ocean, remembering how lucky I was to have you in my life, even if our time together was brief.

You would like it here–the mercurial sea, the grassy hillsides, the endless seaside caverns to get lost in.

I've dreamt about you plenty, even when ignoring those thoughts in the daylight. I know you'd tell me to move on, to find happiness, to live my life to the fullest, and oh I am trying, but your imprint on me runs deep and even if I get through my day without a thought of you, the night remembers.

Wherever you are, Valhalla or somewhere else, I hope you found peace. I know that you did what you felt you had to do (gods, you were stubborn), but I miss you madly. I'd give anything

You set the pen down and stared out the kitchen window, a tear hitting the page and causing black ink to smear. This was supposed to be therapeutic, writing thoughts and feelings down, but somehow it always turned into letters to him. Were you pathetic? Maybe. After all, he hadn't been your partner, he'd barely been a lover, but you'd given him everything and he'd hold onto that forever.

His intrusion into your life hadn't been expected, not when he came to earth the first time unannounced with a vengeance, or the second time when he slowly became an ally to an apprehensive team. He reluctantly joined the team in a few battles at Thor's insistence, and if that was all it had been, you would have slipped by him without a second glance. But your years of combat experience weren't for nothing and when your katana blew past his cheek to slice a common foe in two, he turned his eyes for a split second to the goddess wielding the sword.

You hadn't given his glance a second thought, assuming he'd only been stunned by a female "Midgardian" being able to handle her own in battle. Twisting to the right, you continued on like the warrior you were, slaughtering anyone who stood in your way.

In the back of the Quinjet after the bloody battle, you stood at a mirror applying a butterfly bandage to the gash on your cheek with a grimace. Your eyes averted from the wound to a pair of green eyes reflected in the mirror behind you. His stare was unbreaking and you abruptly turned to the front of the jet. You didn't like being alone with this calculated, twisted god.

The Quinjet landed late that night (or was it considered now early morning?) and you yawned while shouldering the sword, craving a hot shower and the comfort of your bed. But arguing with the Captain was pointless–he was by the book: after any mission there was to be a debriefing, followed by a physical assessment.

The debriefing was easy, the normal run through of the last two days, followed by a series of questions from a desk agent.

"Alright doc," you sighed after the interview. "Let's get this over with."

You slipped off the leather ensemble for the doc to get a better assessment and sat on the edge of the cold bed. Dr. Pham pulled the curtain around the bed and proceeded with the medical evaluation–blood pressure, concussion protocol, checking for any fractures or needed stitches.

"Looks like you got hit pretty good here," she said, referencing the wound on your cheek.

"You should see the other guy."

She smirked, grabbing some antibiotic cream. "I don't doubt it."

A few beds over you heard an annoyed Loki berating the other medical staff on duty. "I don't care what training you have, you aren't poking and prodding me like cattle."

You smiled at Dr. Pham. "Sounds like you need to save your staff."

She rolled her eyes and got to her feet. "Everything looks good. Call me if you need anything."

Dr. Pham's steps echoed down the hall as you pulled your suit back on, the argument continuing while you drew back the curtain and proceeded toward the door. Loki emerged with a huff, striding in your direction. "I am a god, Ms. Pham. This protocol may be well and good for you mortals but I'll have none of it."

You shrugged your shoulders at the medical staff and followed him out the door.

"Unbelievable," he mumbled under his breath. "Don't they know who I am?"

"Who are you?" He turned as if he'd just noticed another person in his vicinity. Looking down, he gave a quizzical look, his mouth open in confusion. "From what I could hear, those people were doing their job and trying to help you, and you treated them like they were trash. So, who do you think you are?"

He looked to the door behind you and shook his head with a sigh. "Mortals," he mumbled under his breath and turned, proceeding out of the building.

Feb. 1

Remember that day I came back from the mission in Istanbul? It was supposed to be an easy in-and-out intel grab with Sam while Clint sat in his perch to play lookout. We hadn't expected more than the normal security around the perimeter, but the information we were fed was faulty and we barely escaped with our lives.

Clint called for backup and Tony blasted over, always the hero. They easily found Sam, unconscious in the hallway, but I was more difficult to find, lying in a pool of my own blood in a holding cell.

I don't remember much from the next few days, but I do remember you. We weren't friends by any means, but we had become friendly since that day in the hall outside the med bay. You wouldn't admit that you saw me as anything more than an annoying mortal, and I would have denied it wholeheartedly if someone had mentioned our bond, but silently something was there.

In the operating room, they'd given me a blood transfusion and set a fractured wrist. Three ribs were broken and a bruised lung. Highly sedated, I heard you there, pissing off the medical staff with your continuous questions and assumption of their inadequacy.

When I finally awoke from the sedated haze, the room was dark, the only sound a pulsing beep from the heart monitor. You weren't there–not in the room, not in the tower, not even in the country. I didn't learn until much much later that you and Thor had gone to Istanbul and destroyed everyone and everything in that compound.

You should have told me back then how you felt, what you thought, what you wanted (did you even know back then?). I know you were only trying to protect me, but we could have had so much more time together if you had.

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