#I come back to this same problem all the time now

[eu-nicola]

enemies

summary: the love-hate relationship between Rafe and you

warnings: small mention of violence

word counter: 4151

author's note: english is not my first language

The first time you met Rafe Cameron, you were barely six years old. You clearly remember how his stepmother, Rose, welcomed you into her home with a perfect smile, while your mother insisted that you play with him and Sarah so that you wouldn’t be alone. 

The Cameron house was as intimidating as its miniature owner. Rafe was nine years old and had an attitude that made him seem much older. He looked down at you from the top of the stairs as if you were an intruder, someone who didn’t deserve to be in his space. 

“She’s the Davies’ daughter?” he asked in that mocking tone that would become his trademark. 

“Yes, and I want you to be nice to her.” Rose ruffled his hair before turning to you, but Rafe’s gaze was already fixed on your shoes, which were muddy from playing outside before coming in. 

“I hope she doesn’t touch anything, Rose.” His voice was dry, as if he was already tired of you before he really met you. 

From that day on, your relationship with him was marked by constant clashes. Every visit to the Cameron house felt like a cold war disguised as childish games. He always found ways to make you feel out of place, like the time he took your doll from your hands while you were playing with Sarah and threw it across the garden.

“If you don’t know how to play well, don’t play.” That phrase of his stuck in your mind.

In adolescence, the gap between you grew wider. While Rafe became the most popular boy among the Kooks, you began to spend more time with the Pogues. Your visits to the Cameron house became less frequent, and when they coincided, things always ended badly.

“Look at you, you’re a Pogue now.” His tone was always hurtful, accompanied by that arrogant smile that got on your nerves.

“And you’re still the same idiot as always.” Your response was almost automatic, as if after so many years the discussions between you were a rehearsed routine.

But the real problem wasn't just his words. It was the way he always found a moment to annoy you. During a beach party hosted by Kooks, for example, Rafe made sure your drink ended up spilled all over your new dress.

But it wasn't all enmity, when the search for gold began, your world became more complicated. You spent your days with the Pogues, planning, looking for clues, and trying to avoid Rafe, who seemed willing to do anything to get the treasure. The tension between you, which was already high, skyrocketed. It wasn't just childish enmity now; it was real danger.

Rafe had no limits. His eyes were always filled with that spark of arrogance, but behind it was something darker, something that made him unpredictable. Despite that, you never imagined you'd find yourself in the position you found yourself in one afternoon in the dense woods surrounding the Outer Banks.

You were following a trail of marks on the trees along with JJ and Kiara when you heard a noise. You broke away from the group, promising them you’d be back quickly. What you found was Rafe, kneeling beside a steep slope, holding his leg in a wince of pain. The ground beneath him was wet, almost muddy, and it looked like he might slide down any second. 

You stopped dead in your tracks. Part of you wanted to turn on your heel and pretend you hadn’t seen him. After all, Rafe wouldn’t have done the same for you, would he? But another part, that part you always tried to stifle, knew you couldn’t just leave him there. 

“What are you doing here?” Rafe snapped at you as you cautiously approached. His voice was heavy with distrust, but there was also a hint of relief he tried to hide. 

“I should be asking you the same thing. What happened?” You couldn’t keep the tone of your voice from being harsh. After all, he had done a lot of things that warranted your hatred. 

“I slipped. My leg… I can’t move it.” His face was pale, and his hands shook slightly as he tried to brush away the mud that covered his pants.

There was a long silence. You could have left him there. You could have turned and gone back to the Pogues. But something inside you wouldn’t let you.

“This doesn’t mean I owe you anything,” you said as you crouched down beside him.

Rafe looked at you in disbelief. “Are you helping me?”

“Shut up and don’t make it harder, Cameron.”

You offered him your arm and helped him up, leaning his weight on you as you slowly moved forward. It was an awkward process; his size made each step harder. But there was something odd about the silence you shared, a momentary truce amidst all the hostility.

When you finally dropped him off somewhere safe, away from danger, Rafe looked at you with a mix of wounded pride and something you couldn’t quite place.

“I’m not going to thank you,” he said at last, breaking the silence.

“I didn’t expect you to,” you replied, wiping the sweat from your brow. You turned to leave, but his voice stopped you.

“Wait.” His tone was softer than you’d heard before, almost vulnerable. You turned slowly to look at him.

“What?” you asked, tired.

“Did you see anything?” His question was direct, his gaze piercing.

You understood immediately. Rafe wasn’t just hurt; he was there for something related to gold. Maybe he’d found a lead, something he didn’t want the Pogues to know about. You could have told him the truth, that you’d noticed a map in his pocket when you helped him, but you chose to lie.

“No, I didn’t see anything.” Your voice was firm, although inside you felt a small knot of guilt.

Rafe seemed to relax a little, although he still looked at you with distrust.

Later, when the Pogues found a clue that fit too well with the area where you had seen Rafe, he understood what you had done. Someone, perhaps Sarah, told him that you were near the area when you separated from the group. It didn’t take much for him to put the pieces together.

The next time you saw him, his expression was completely different. There was no vulnerability or truce anymore, only fury.

“I knew I couldn’t trust you,” he snapped at you, coming dangerously close.

“What are you talking about?” You tried to remain calm, although you knew exactly what he meant.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out? You lied to me. You took what was mine!” His voice was filled with rage, and though you knew it was unfair, there was something in his eyes that made you feel a pang of remorse.

“I don’t owe you anything, Rafe.” Your response was cold, though inside you felt more affected than you wanted to admit.

Rafe was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on you. Finally, he took a step back, but not before making his feelings clear.

“Don’t ever cross my path again, Pogue.”

That was the beginning of a new phase in your feud, more bitter and personal than ever.

Your relationship with Rafe Cameron had reached a point where hatred seemed to be the only thing that united you. After your “betrayal” during the search for gold, any vestige of truce between you vanished. Although you would never admit it, there was something inexplicable that brought you back to square one: an enmity filled with tension, resentment, and something deeper that neither of you understood.

One of the worst fights you had occurred during a rainy night in the Outer Banks. The Pogues had been following Rafe, convinced that they had found another important lead to the gold. The chase led them to an old abandoned port, where you finally confronted them face to face.

“Always after me, aren’t you?” Rafe looked at you from the shadow of a warehouse, his soaked hair sticking to his forehead. The sound of the rain beat hard against the metal roof, but nothing could drown out the intensity of his voice.

“You have no right to that gold, Cameron.” Your words came out loaded with defiance as you clenched your fists. You knew you were probably playing with fire by facing him, but something in you couldn’t stop.

“And you are?” he replied, taking a step towards you. His eyes, dark under the rain, were filled with rage. “What makes you think you’re better than me, Pogue?.”

“For starters, I don’t try to kill people for him.” Your words made him laugh, a dry, bitter laugh that made you feel a chill.

“You think so?” Rafe leaned a little towards you, his voice lowering to an almost whispering tone. “You know perfectly well that you would do anything to protect your own, too. We’re not that different, even if it pains you to admit it.”

The argument soon turned physical. He tried to take the map from you, and you fought back with all your might. It was as if you were both so consumed by rage that nothing else mattered. You fell to the ground, feeling the cold wetness of the cement against your back, as Rafe tried to hold you down.

“Let me go, you moron!” you screamed, kicking him in the stomach.

“Give me the damn map!” he roared, clinging to your wrist.

For a moment, you thought it would all end there, that one of you wouldn’t walk away from this fight. But something changed. Rafe looked you straight in the eyes, and for a moment, his grip softened. He looked confused, as if he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t keep hurting you.

Finally, he let go of you and stood up, breathing heavily.

“I can’t do this.” His voice was barely a whisper, and it took you a few seconds to process what he had said.

“What…?” you were speechless, still lying on the ground.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, taking a few steps away from you.

“Go away. Take the damn map and go away.”

But not everything always ended in a truce. There was another time when it was you who had to decide between helping him or letting him face the consequences of his own actions. It was during a smuggling operation that Rafe had organized to finance his obsession with gold. You found him cornered in an alley, with a group of men who clearly did not have friendly intentions.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped at you when you appeared at the end of the alley. He was bleeding from a cut on his eyebrow, but he still maintained that defiant attitude.

“I saw your truck nearby.” You approached cautiously, analyzing the situation.

The men paid you no attention at first, but soon realized you could be a problem. One of them advanced towards you with a menacing smile.

“Another friend of yours, Cameron?” he said mockingly.

“Get out of here, Pogue. I don’t need your help.” Rafe’s voice was firm, but there was something in his gaze that made you stay.

Despite everything that had happened between you two, you couldn’t just leave him there. You picked up a rock from the ground and threw it hard at one of the men. It was enough to distract them and give Rafe a chance to fight back.

You helped him escape, though as soon as you turned the corner, Rafe turned to you, furious.

“Why do you keep butting into my business?” he shouted, grabbing you by the shoulders.

“Because I’m not like you, Rafe. I can't let someone die, even if they're an idiot like you.” Your answer made him let out an exasperated sigh, but he didn't say anything else.

In the end, it was always the same. They hurt each other, they hated each other, they betrayed each other... but they also always found a way to forgive each other. You didn't know why you did it. Maybe it was because you saw something in Rafe that others didn't see, or maybe it was because deep down you knew you weren't as different from him as you wanted to believe.

The only thing you knew for sure was that, no matter how hard you tried to hate him, something always made you go back to him. And the worst of all was that Rafe seemed to feel the same way.

Rafe Cameron drove you crazy in every possible way and that made you uncomfortable and annoyed, despite always finding gold on your path, you also found it on your path when you were calm, reminding yourself that you couldn't get rid of it even if you wanted to.

There were nights when the air was so thick that it was hard to breathe. The humidity was sticking your clothes to your skin, but it wasn't just the weather that made you feel this way; it was him.

Rafe Cameron always managed to find you, even when you didn't want to be found. His mere presence seemed to charge the atmosphere with an almost palpable tension, something that only existed between the two of you. Like that time on the dock, under the dim light of a broken streetlight. You were alone, waiting for JJ and Pope, when you heard their footsteps, firm, sure, approaching.

Your body tensed before you turned around. There he was, standing, with that arrogant posture that you detested so much. His messy hair and clenched jaw gave you every reason to hate him more than you already did. But as you looked at him, feeling his gaze sweep over every detail of you, there was something different, something that made you stop.

There was anger in his gaze, yes, but there was also something deeper, something dark that you recognized because you felt it too. Your hands clenched into fists, not because you wanted to hit him—though that was of course a tempting option—but because you wanted to stop the impulse that made you think about getting any closer than necessary.

It was a constant tug-of-war. One moment you wanted to push him into the water, make sure he disappeared from your life forever. But then, a part of you wanted to do the complete opposite, you wanted to get closer, erase the distance between you, and find out if that tension could transform into something more.

Rafe leaned against one of the dock posts, looking at you with a mix of defiance and curiosity. Everything about him seemed designed to provoke you. His gaze fixed, his shoulders relaxed but ready to move at the slightest hint of threat. It was so unbearably irritating, and yet, there was something you couldn’t ignore.

The wind blew hard, and you felt a chill run down your spine, but it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver. It was that unmistakable feeling of being on the edge of something dangerous, something you couldn’t control.

You wanted to kill him. For all the times he had made you feel less than, for every hurtful word, for every betrayal and fight. But at the same time, you wanted to get close enough to know if that spark you felt between you could catch fire.

But you didn't. You couldn't.

Instead, you took a deep breath, ignoring how your heart was pounding. You turned your back on him, your steps firm on the wood of the dock as you walked away. You knew that if you stayed one more second, the line between hate and desire could blur forever. And you weren't ready to face what that meant.

You felt him stand still, watching you as you left. You didn't need to look back to know that that feeling would continue to haunt you, just as much as he did.

And you were right, a few days later that line blurred.

There was a storm that night, one of those that seemed to split the sky in two with each flash of lightning. The rain was pounding on the roof of the old abandoned cabin where you had taken shelter, trying to escape the chaos that the Pogues and Rafe had caused in the last gold hunt. Your hands were shaking with rage, not so much from the cold, but from the frustration of knowing that Rafe had, once again, gotten you into this situation.

You were alone, at least that's what you thought, until you heard the door slam open. You turned quickly, looking for something to defend yourself with, but seeing that unmistakable figure enter soaked to the bone, your heart stopped.

Rafe.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you thought, although you didn't bother to say it out loud.

He slammed the door behind him hard, shaking off the water like a rabid dog. His dark hair, and his chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, as if he had run a marathon. His gaze met yours almost immediately, filled with that mix of fury and something more that always seemed to burn between you.

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t look away either. There was something about him that night, something different. It wasn’t just the usual anger you two shared, or even the constant tension that seemed to surround you like a force field. It was something rawer, more real.

The silence between you was almost deafening, broken only by the roar of the storm outside. You felt the air in the cabin grow thicker, charged with electricity, as if lightning was about to strike right there.

“What? Are you just going to stand there staring at me like an idiot?” You had crossed your arms, trying to hide the trembling that ran through your body.

He didn’t answer, but he took a step towards you, slow, deliberate. You could feel the intensity of his gaze fixed on you, as if he could see past the facade you always tried to maintain. Your heart began to beat faster, and you hated that he had that effect on you.

“Rafe, don’t start,” you warned yourself mentally, even though you weren’t sure what it was you wanted to avoid.

But he kept coming closer. You could see every detail of his face now: the raindrops sliding down his jaw, the way his lips were pressed together as if he were holding something back. His presence filled the small space between you, and suddenly, the hatred you’d always felt for him didn’t seem enough to explain what was happening.

You didn’t know who made the first move. Maybe it was you, maybe it was him, but in an instant, the distance disappeared. His hand slid behind your neck, pulling you closer to him with a force that made you gasp. His mouth crashed into yours with an intensity that left you breathless, as if all that pent-up rage had finally found an outlet.

Your hands clutched at his wet shirt, trying to push him away and pull him in at the same time. The kiss wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t tender. It was an explosion of everything you had bottled up for years: the hatred, the frustration, the attraction that neither of you wanted to admit.

You felt his body press against yours, trapping you between him and the wall of the cabin. His breath was hot against your skin, mixing with the cold of the storm that continued to rage outside. His every move seemed to call out something you didn’t know you’d been holding back, and for a moment, you let yourself go.

But it was only a moment.

Suddenly, you pulled away, your hands on his chest as you tried to catch your breath.

“This… can’t happen.” Your voice was barely a whisper, shaky but firm.

He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at you said it all. There was something in his eyes you hadn’t seen before, something vulnerable that completely disarmed you.

The storm outside continued to rage, but inside the cabin, all was calm. Rafe didn’t try to come closer again, and you didn’t dare look him in the eye as you turned away, your heart pounding so hard you felt like it might explode.

After that night in the cabin, something changed, though you both tried to act like it hadn’t. That first time was an accident, you kept telling yourself, something driven by rage and storm. But what happened next made it clear that there was something more, something that went far beyond hatred or tension.

It wasn’t long before you met again. It was in one of the alleys behind The Wreck, where you had hidden yourself after a fight with Sarah and the others. Rafe appeared as if the universe was conspiring against you. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you with that mix of arrogance and determination that seemed to be part of his essence.

“You’re not here to worry about me, Cameron. What do you want?” you had snapped harshly, crossing your arms as if that physical barrier could protect you.

He didn’t answer right away, but the glint in his eyes made it clear that he knew exactly what he wanted. What followed was just as impulsive as the first time: his lips finding yours with a burning urgency, your hands clinging to his shirt as if the world could fall apart at that moment and you wouldn’t care.

Logic disappeared when you were with him. All you had left were pure emotions: desire, rage, need. In those moments, you didn't think about the past or what was coming next. You didn't think about the fights, the betrayals, or the reasons why you were supposed to hate him. There was only his hands on your skin, the sound of his breathing, and the way he managed to make you forget everything else.

But the next day, there was always something that reminded you why you hated him. Like that time you saw him bullying Pope at the dock, his overbearing attitude making it clear that the Rafe of last night and the Rafe of today were two sides of the same coin.

"You're an asshole," you had yelled at him later, when you faced him away from the others.

He shrugged, as if he didn't care, but his gaze searched yours, almost defiant.

"Don't expect me to change for you," he seemed to say without words.

You walked away furiously, promising yourself that this would be the last time. You couldn’t keep falling for that game, not when he was still the same cruel boy you’d known all your life.

But then, something always drew you back. Like when he found you after you were almost caught in one of John B’s crazy antics. He helped you escape, even covering for you when the Kooks passed by. It was an unexpected gesture, one that left you bewildered as you shared a moment of calm on an old boat hidden in the swamp.

“Thanks, I guess,” you’d told him, though your words were filled with skepticism.

He smirked, the kind of smile that always got on your nerves.

“Don’t think about it too much.”

But you thought about it. Every gesture of his, every glance, every clandestine kiss was etched into your memory, fueling a cycle you couldn’t break.

Of course, you had your part in that dynamic, too. There were times when your own actions infuriated him, like the time you stole information from him about the gold hunt and shared it with the Pogues. His reaction was explosive: he found you on the dock, his gaze filled with betrayal and fury.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?” he said, his voice deeper than usual.

For a moment you thought he would leave you there, that this would be the end. But no. Even though you had betrayed him, even though you had defied him in every way possible, he always came back. Just like you came back to him.

[beanarie]

of course part 2

in which the 118 gets an eyeful of tommy and has the same reaction we've all been having. "oh, look at you. you're a mess." part 1 is here.

(tw: heart problems, hospitalization)

~

Tommy blinks back to life.

"Hey there." Howie's eyes widen as he raises his hands. "Now, Tommy. Be cool, okay? Find your zen." He frowns, letting his hands drop as an alarm sounds. "So much for that."

A strike team invades the room, armed with questions, instruments, and drugs. He waits them out, not asking until he and Howie are alone again. "Evan?"

"Is three floors down getting surgery on his shoulder. He's okay."

"Good." He can't tell if it's still hard to catch his breath, or if he's just stuck in the memory. "Good." He frowns at all the leads and monitors. This feels excessive.

"Your heart was basically in a Houdini trap, buddy. You're lucky you're still here."

"Luck shouldn't take all the credit." Tommy closes his eyes. "Was it you?"

"No, this time you have the 133 to thank for your continued existence."

Tommy hums gratefully. "No coming back from a double debt. Would've had to... steal a kid for you or something."

"In case it comes up in the future, Tommy, I'm doing just fine on the offspring front, okay? No new kids needed."

There's a shade of self satisfaction in Howie's laughter that seems out-sized for a father of one, but Tommy passes out before he can ask.

Hen is in the chair the next time he wakes. "It's quieter up here," she says, and he snorts. The cardiac unit sounds like a Fourth of July picnic at a smoke detector factory.

"Your Evan is being a bear," she concedes. "They just drained a hematoma in his hip and he's pissed they won't let him out of bed for a while. Eddie's busy sitting on him."

Not mine, Tommy doesn't say. Never was.

"I missed Eddie," he says, wistfully. He doesn't have it in him to lie right now, and that is a truth he doesn't think he'll lose anything for sharing.

Hen gives him a long, appraising look. "You fascinate me," she says. She's well aware of how terrifying she can be, but it's still embarrassing when the fucking alarm goes off again.

Right before Seal Team Six ascends, Hen reaches over and squeezes his hand.

[thethingsnerd]

This one. I like this one. Fic under the cut

“Your input is not necessary.”

It’s not the first time Bruce had said that to Dick tonight. It would be less frustrating if B was making better calls- he’s not really listening to anyone else tonight, not just Dick, and his decision making is suffering for it.

Everyone's tempers are suffering for it, too.

It starts with Oracle, who hates when Batman falls back into bad habits like this as much as Dick does, and has twice as less patience for it. She's curtly professional from the word "go" and when Dick offers to bring her a pint of cherry garcia later, Barbara tells him to shove it up his ass instead. Dick doesn't take it personally.

Next is Cass, who's always extra stressed when Barbara's upset. Even so, it blindsides Dick. They'd ended up at the same shootout, they'd efficiently gotten the surrounding civilians to safety, they'd worked together beautifully. They de-escalate the gun fight next, and Dick knocks a gun out of a gangster's hand before he can shoot Blackbat in the back. He doesn't think twice about it until Cass starts castigating him on the roof.

"I didn't need help."

"He was behind you. That's the whole point of a patrol partner, Blackbat, so someone can cover your six."

"No."

"No?"

"You were out of rhythm."

"I was not-"

"You're throwing me off."

She's running before Dick can say anything else. He could catch up with her, if he really tried, but he's still not sure what that was about. Maybe Dick is as out-of-sync as Cass insisted, or maybe Cass is feeling off-kilter herself. Either way, he doesn't go after her.

The rest of the night shift is uneventful, aside from the snipe over comms. Back at the Cave is a different story. Steph and Tim are arguing when Dick rolls in, and Dick gets all of three steps toward the computer before they round on him instead.

"Dick! Tell Tim that-"

"No, Dick, inform Stephanie-"

"Oooh full name, I'm so chastened, Timothy-"

"You should be embarrassed-"

"Okay!" Dick interjects. "What is the problem?"

Steph glances between Dick and Tim, glances at her feet, then sighs aggressively. "Nothing," she grits out. "Absolutely nothing, so for once in your life leave it alone, you busybody."

Dick watches as she stomps away. Just a bad night, he has to remind himself that it's just a bad night. Tim shakes his head when Dick glances at him, so Dick heads straight to the showers.

Clean, warm, and dressed down in comfy sweats, Dick feels much better than has all day. He'd passed Damian on the stairs, but something was clearly eating at the kid- he'd taken one look at Dick and turned sharply in the other direction. Hiding. Dick's been there, and valiantly tries not to take it personally.

He decides to make himself some chamomile (he'll never take sleeping pills again after don't think about it) and takes a moment to check in with himself. His therapist would be proud. Alfred would be proud of how nicely his chamomile turns out; Dick almost always understeeps herbal tea but tonight he's gotten it just right.

Dick sips his tea. He takes inventory of his injuries; minimal bruising, achy lower back, tender left wrist. Pretty good. Then takes stock of the rest of him; tired but not yet sleepy, agitated but not too badly. All in all, considering all the tension, tonight definitely could have been worse.

Famous last words.

Tim walks into the kitchen just as Dick gets to the dregs of his chamomile. Dick nods at him in greeting, and Tim does not take it well.

"Oh, now you acknowledge me?"

Dick does not sigh. He doesn't but it is such a near thing. "Did I not acknowledge you some other time tonight?"

"I asked you to back me up downstairs and you totally ignored me!"

"I did no such thing. You were in the middle of an argument I didn't catch the start of, so I asked what the problem was. How is that ignoring you?"

"I asked you for backup and you didn't come through," Tim hisses.

"Backup in the field and backup in a lovers' quarrel are not the same-"

"It wasn't a- a lovers' quarrel, asshat!"

"Well, how am I supposed to know when you don't say what's really going on?"

"You shouldn't need to know! I asked for backup-the only thing you're good for is backup and you couldn't even do that right!"

......yeah, alright, there's no getting around it. Dick is going to have to take that personally.

Dick deliberately turns away from Tim. He rinses out his teacup so the porcelain won't stain. Then, he takes a long, centering breath, and decides to do something he hasn't done in a long time.

"That how you really feel, Tim?" One more out.

"Yes."

Dick decides to cut his losses.

"Okay then."

"Okay?" Tim asks. Clearly still angry but now confused as well. It's a bad look for him. "This is not an 'okay' kind of situation."

"Not from your angle," Dick says. It's the only reply Tim gets before Dick makes his way upstairs.

Last time he left Gotham at dawn, Dick had nothing but a backpack and stolen emergency cash. This time, Dick is a grown man and a lot less desperate, not to mention a lot less injured, so he digs out his civilian suitcase and actually plans out what he wants to take.

He packs jackets, pajamas, shaving razors, plenty of socks- the kinds of things that are only expensive when purchased by the Wayne Estate, and that he won't buy for himself. All shoes go in a beach bag he has stashed in his closet, except for his loafers which go in the bottom of the dress bag with his most tolerable black tie suit. That had annoyed him last time, he remembers- Alfred had always been so militantly insistent on perfect tailoring that the baggy fit of Dick's off-the-rack replacement had been an unbearable insult to injury.

Other personal affects get tucked in the suitcase with care, bits and bobs, odds and ends, and he zips up everything just as the clock hits 4:00. Even the most workaholic bats should be in bed by now, or at least upstairs, so he should be good for a pop down.

Dick has a Nightwing stash on the edge of the city, and he'll get most of his kit from there, but his costume and his current favorite pair of escrima sticks are going with him now, neatly folded into a briefcase. Dick also nabs a keyring on his way out of Bruce's office.

The car keys used to stay in the garage with their respective vehicles, but one too many joyrides had prompted Bruce to hoard all the keys in a desk drawer instead. The first time Dick had seen them under the monogrammed stationary Bruce never uses, he'd laughed out loud.

It pains Dick to leave his bike behind, but even though Dick doesn't have a lot of luggage, it's still too much for a motorcycle. He'd considered which car to take carefully; no flashy sports car, obviously, but also not one that Bruce is particularly fond of. He needs a car for practical reasons, not spite, so Dick settles on the least ostentatious Audi and tries to think of anything else he might want in the next five-to-ten years.

Dick takes the box of chamomile tea bags.

__________

Donna opens her apartment door on the fourth knock. The look on her face is superficially friendly that Dick's proud of her- of course, she smiles for real when she registers just who it is at her door. Dick finds himself smiling back before he decides to.

"Hey, Donna. Mind if I crash here for a minute?"

Donna raises a curious eyebrow, and Dick bites his lips to keep from grinning. Donna ushers him inside without a word, locks her door, and all but pushes Dick into a bar stool. Donna sits herself up on her counter in front of him and demands eye contact.

"When you say a minute, do you mean a New York minute?"

Dick slides his eyes away and toward her couch. "I mean a lot of minutes. I'm cutting Gotham off."

"AAAA!" Donna picks him up and spins him in the air for several more turns than he thinks this really warrants. Then Donna sets them on the floor just to twirl Dick around even more, and he giggles. Part amusement, mostly relief; Donna wouldn't be so excited if he'd come at a bad time.

"Was the scream of delight necessary?" He asks, still laughing.

"Entirely," she says, mock serious. "This is a delightful day."

Donna sobers a bit at her own words. She eyes him more thoroughly, "It is a delightful day, yes?"

He knows that Donna knows he wouldn't decide to cut contact for no reason, that's not the real question. The answer to her question, which is 'are you reeling from what it was', is thankfully 'no'. Not today.

"Yeah," Dick says honestly. "Peachy, even."

Donna smiles at him.

She deposits him back at her kitchen counter, declares she's going to make real breakfast- apparently she's been breaking her fast with fruit jerky all week- and starts grilling Dick the same time she starts frying up sfakianopita.

"So which straw broke the camel's back?"

"My brother implied I'm mildly useless and I took offense."

"Only 'mildly' useless convinced you to get out of hell? I'm not complaining, but that doesn't sound like you."

Dick bites down the instinctive urge to deflect, to push her away. Donna wouldn't care even if Tim insulting him had been his only grievance. Donna is happy to have him here.

"Nah, it was more of a... death of a thousand cuts kind of thing. Yesterday was a bad night, and I thought about it some- which, you know how that usually goes- I thought about it, and I'm tired of not taking any of it personally. Even if they don't mean it, I don't want to put up with it. Then Tim comes in with an unmistakably personal attack and...."

"And you made the best decision."

Dick's mouth twitches up. "They wouldn't call it that."

"They have terrible decision making skills."

Donna starts stacking the sfakianopita on two plates.

"That's not true, they just don't always pay attention."

"Who does these days?" Donna gripes.

"You," Dick says.

Donna turns toward him, one hand on her hip, one hand pointing her spatula at Dick's face. "You don't make it easy, Dick."

Dick shrugs emphatically. "What can I say? I was born difficult."

"Not difficult," Donna shakes her head. "Just challenging."

"And you like a challenge?" Dick grins.

Donna bops him on the shoulder with the spatula. "Get it right, Dick. I love a challenge."

Well, doesn't that make Dick feel warm and cozy? Donna smirks at him like she's won something (she has and they both know it) and turns to root through her fridge for cheese. Dick gets out of his seat to find the honey while she does.

__________

Dick crashes on Donna's couch for exactly nine days before she tells him they're getting a new place together. Dick tells Donna that he always intended on getting his own space- a misstep, since Donna argues that's exactly why they should get a new apartment. A two bedroom, where Dick can have more privacy.

"I don't want to impose, Donna."

"Have you ever considered what I want?"

Dick sighs. "What do you want, Don?"

"I want company. It's been a lonely year, D. I enjoy when my friends impose."

There's not much he can say to argue that. Isolating himself never leads Dick anywhere good, anyway.

Between apartment hunting and catching up, Donna and Dick fight supervillains. New York City never lacks for things to do- smugglers to send packing, wannabe world conqueror to thwart, assholes to kick in the face. Dick had honestly forgotten how fun it is to patrol during the day.

He adds some some gold back into his costume. Dick's surprised by how much he likes it- it was his idea, yet when he catches glimpses of blue and gold and black all blurring together in high rise windows, beside Donna's sea of stars, Dick feels more like himself than he has in long, long time.

He starts picking up a lot of dropped habits. He makes dinner; real dinner, like Madam Vasilyev used to make on the train's little stove, and like he would sometimes make for the Titans for family team dinners. It's so much easier to make things when it isn't for him alone. Donna is happy to let him, having no great love of cooking herself, and always supportive of non-cape hobbies.

She's full of surprises, though. Dick had tried to teach all of his friends at least one or two meals they could make from scratch themselves, just in case. He hadn't thought about whether any of it had been retained, though, not now, so many years removed. Not until Donna one day bestows upon him a pot of chicken paprikash and he almost cries.

It's delicious. Just like his parents used to make, whenever they could find a grocer who sold paprika. Just like he taught Donna to make it in the Tower an entire lifetime ago.

"Did I get it right?"

"Did you make it with love?"

"Of course."

"Then you got it perfectly right."

Other than dinner, he starts gardening. Nothing serious, but the new apartment has a couple of windows, so Dick plants a window box full of herbs.

He plants cilantro first. The seeds were on sale at the hardware store, so the whole box was just cilantro, for a while. Donna buys live basil from a grocer she likes, so one of the cilantros gets pawned off to a neighbor, and their pasta sauces taste awesome.

It's not the most exciting hobby, but it gets him out of bed on Bad Days.

Those days, it's hard to do anything at all. It hits him, when the clouds are just the wrong color, that he and Bruce are on the outs again. He hates being on the outs with Bruce, hates that it means another bond between them has snapped. Makes him catastrophize about whether or not this is finally the fence that can't be mended.

At least it's not nearly as bad as it was Before. Dick hadn't understood, back then, what Bruce's problem was. Now that he's older he knows Bruce had never had to let someone walk away before- even with Talia, B had been the one to walk away first- and took Dick's bid for independence badly as a result.

He'd swung by Gotham exactly once for Jason, and stole the kid away to Tower at every opportunity. He'd made sure Jase was present in Dick's space the way Dick was no longer welcome in Bruce's.

He'd gone back to Gotham exactly one other time, after Bruce held Jason's funeral without so much a ping on Dick's pager. All that accomplished was losing Dick his house key. Until Tim barged in.

Donna and Dick were winding down for the night, enjoying a nice bottle of wine and a shared bowl of plantain chips, when Dick makes another decision.

"Donna."

"Dick." She tosses a chip in the air so she can catch it in her mouth.

"I've had an epiphany." He swirls the wine in his glass playfully. Donna leans forward in her chair.

"Do tell."

"Every time I don't want to talk to Bruce, he finds a new stray child to bring home. And I always go, because what I am supposed to do? Not keep an eye on them? But Bruce has a billion orphans-"

Donna snorts. "A billion?"

"Okay, fine, half a dozen orphan children roosting in his house full of ghosts, and it's probably inevitable that there will be another and you know what, sister?" He drains the rest of his wine glass while she stares at him.

Donna seems to consider him, or maybe she zones out, but after a moment she similarly liberates her glass of its wine.

"Lay it on me, Robin."

"I'm not going back this time. Not until someone actually apologizes, not if there's a new bat, not if there's another secret baby, not for any of that bullshit. Tim's as old as I was when Tim first came around, so he can deal with it. Or Cass. Or Babs. Or Bruce can keep his act together for longer than two weeks at a time I don't care. I won't be lured back for family drama. Not this time."

Dick stops to breathe. A mistake, really, as it's the perfect opportunity for stinging anxiety to start buzzing under every inch of his skin. He's an idiot. What a stupid thing to say, what a stupid idea to even have-

Donna is in front of Dick. When did she get out of her chair?

"Richard John Grayson."

"Donna Hinckley Stacy Troy."

I've come to a decision, too. Tell me if it's a good one."

Then she pulls him into a hug. Dick swallows heavily and lets himself be held, for a while.

"Good decision?" Donna asks.

"I think so," he says. He wraps his arms around Donna, reciprocating- God, how long has it been since he's had a reciprocal relationship? Donna squeezes and he throws the thought out of his mind. The awful pull against his insides has subsided, so now he's just warm and loose.

"Donna, do you like my decision?"

"I really really do."

__________

When they were still in Donna's old apartment, various Gothamites tried to contact him. A lot of voicemails are angry and accusing. He listens to them once just in case and deletes them right after. He gets texts from Tim that he knows are meant as olive branches, but they're all offers of joint patrols, or going over case files together, or similar Mission oriented activities.

It's hard to turn him down, especially since he knows Tim won't understand. It's easier to ignore Bruce's messages, sparse as they are, demanding explanations.

Cass had broken into Donna's apartment. Donna had been out with a friend she met in her photography club, doing yoga maybe? Dick had been making egg fried rice for lunch when a wild Bat appeared.

Dick had smiled politely, which seemed to confuse her. Dick had offered to share his lunch, which seemed to make her feel better.

They’d eaten in silence for a while, Cass occasionally staring hard at him while Dick waited for her to make the first move; exactly how Dick would treat a hungry kid he didn’t know. You never know what will spook a stranger, after all.

Bowls empty, Dick had gone to pick hers up to wash when she caught his wrist.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to wash up after our lunch.”

Cass squints at him, exaggerating her expression to make sure he gets her memo.

“You know what I mean. Don’t pretend.”

“I’m not pretending to do the dishes,” he answers calmly, blandly.

“Stop pretending you don’t know me!”

“What would you prefer I do?”

“Go home.”

“No.”

That doesn’t seem to be what she’d expected him to say. She’d expected pushback, for certain, but flat refusal, nothing else? An unwelcome miscalculation.

“Why not?”

“At the moment, I won’t feel at home in Gotham. As far as I’m concerned I’m at home right now.”

“Liar,” she’d hissed. Dick was watching, tho, and saw the confusion in her stance. Her eyes told her he wasn’t lying at all. Deliberately on Dick’s part, not entirely truthful, yet not entirely manufactured- the apartment may not be special to him, but Donna always will be.

“I have no reason to go to Gotham right now.”

“Your team is there.”

“I’m not on Team Bat at the moment.”

“You can’t quit-“

“Cassandra. My roommate will be home soon. I suggest you leave now, if you have nothing to say on your own behalf.”

It’s a low blow to call her a messenger, to write her off as nothing but a mouthpiece for Bruce or Tim or maybe even Damian. Dick wouldn’t feel bad about it if they weren’t close, so he won’t feel bad about it now; she’s the one who didn’t want partner, Dick’s just respecting her wishes.

Cass stares and keeps staring so long he’s worried she’ll refuse to leave, but then they both heard footsteps in the hall, and by the time Dick turns back toward her she’d already gone.

The next morning, Dick had a new message from Bruce. It was an email, that time, instead of a text, which more than anything actually written lets Dick know Bruce has caught on to what’s happened. What is still happening. The email begins ‘Mr. Grayson-Wayne’ and Dick doesn’t read a single word further.

__________

Wally visits the new apartment shortly after they move in. Apparently, Nightwing being in town again has caught the interest of an opinion columnist or two, and Wally had wanted to see him with his own eyes.

“You’re hanging out with people again!”

“I never stopped,” Dick protests. “We see each other once a month, Wally.”

“Scheduled visits- ugh, it’s like you were in prison, and I only got to see you during your time in the yard.” All of this is dramatically declared as Wally flops on their couch, taking up space and definitely bothering the neighbors.

It should annoy Dick. It should at least hurt his ego. Instead, it makes him bloom into a smile, and throw himself onto the couch next to his friend.

“Donna and I have been having a great time without you,” he teases. “We could have an even better time with you, if you’re up for it.”

“Dickie, I thought you’d never ask.”

The Flash joins Dick and Donna for a fight every now and then, patrolling as often as work and Central City will allow. It’s good- it’s really, really good.

“Why did we disband?”

“Because we grew up?”

“Terrible decision.”

“Adulthood is overrated.”

“I don’t know, I certainly wouldn’t want to be a teenager again, would you?”

“Nah.” “NO!”

Wally looks away from the conversation he started, and his eyes find the window box. “Hey Ds, is that a garden?”

“It’s mine,” Dick says. “Right now it’s just cilantro and basil. I’m open to suggestions.”

Wally gives him a once over, looks again at the plants, then changes the subject. The next time Wally comes over he’s holding a pot of chives.

A couple of months later, there’s a siren hiding out in the Harbor. It kicks Dick’s ass and Donna almost drowns. It occurs to them that they are idiots, and that they should’ve called Garth. Garth, thankfully, both answers his communicator and has time for them, so they get to watch Tempest absolutely destroy the siren.

Afterward, they go for pizza. They ask Garth if he would want to come around more often maybe, just because?

Garth smiles brighter than the moon.

The first time they stop a supervillain downtown together, it’s all the papers will talk about the next day. Someone got an excellent picture of all four of them in action. Flash is about to pounce, so he’s still enough to see. He’s tagged in with Donna, distracting the giant rat monster from the air so Flash can trip it into the river. On the bank, left of center in the photo, Tempest and Nightwing and are on standby. Garth will drench the awful thing, all fifteen stories of it, once it’s close enough to the water, and Nightwing will fry the thing with all the electricity his sticks have got.

They work together smoothly, and they cheer when they win, and the papers all ask, ‘Titans Back Together?’

After a while of mulling it over, they unanimously decide to answer ‘yes’.

Listen I love the ‘dicks being ostracized from his family and self destructs’ trope in fics however

I would like an inverse just once (I could write it but I want this fic to be good so I can enjoy it and I am not the greatest writer) where everyone blows up at him and flat out lays into him and he just goes… okay… if that’s how you feel?

Takes himself off of the patrol routes and rosters. He’s off the emergency calls and his ‘call for city wide emergency’ has been down graded to ‘call for world wide emergency’ he’s no longer on comms with oracle

He stops offering assistance to the other kids teams, doesn’t send info for investigation and doesn’t go within 100feet of Gotham.

Takes himself off the den-mother, baby sitter, trainer for all the younger teams lost that involve any and all bats

In the beginning he vacates his apartment and temporarily moves in with Donna in New York and things are good because of course they are. They’re Dick and Donna a world doesn’t exist where they aren’t okay.

And then his presence in New York leads to a lot of the og core five titans interacting and they realize that they miss each other like hell and start to work together more and more. Until news sites are like ‘teen titans grown up??’ ‘Original titans spotted doing hurricane aid in Florida!’

Because Dick loves his family but he knows when to bow out. And he chose the family he made in the new teen titans.

And then one day one of the bats track him down in nyc and breaks into what is now Dick and Donna’s apartment and are ready to argue that they need him back and need him there for a huge Gotham wide event.

And Dick says ‘sure okay let me get my stuff and we leave in half and hour’ as soon as the first sentence is out

No convincing or begging or asking for money (cough Jason cough)

Dick is patched into their comms and he’s working efficiently except he’s not… acting like himself.

He’s collaborating with whoever they tell him too, no problem, he’s discussing ideal plans and co-ops and teams and how to best get it under control.

But he’s talking to them the way he talks when he’s offering aid to teams he’s not a part of.

Like the hero version of an acquaintance and no one can call him out on it because he’s doing good work. Work that’s on par with his work before this whole fiasco. He explicitly isn’t letting their personal issues affect his work.

He’s speaking but not talking

And Bruce remembers this… he’s probably the only one who does because last time he was the only one included. The last time Dick acted like this is when he first visited Jason and him after he had been fired.

Whenever Bruce was in the room and Dick was forced to speak with him, the conversation never strayed past business casual especially around Jason.

Batman and Nightwing got into screaming matches

Bruce and Dick were strangers

And now they’re back to this, 7 kids later, a million ends of the world stopped, they’ve bled together, cried together and clung to each other in pure relief after they managed to clutch victory.

And Nightwing was treating Batman Inc like a new team stepping onto the scene.

Once they’ve secured everything and managed to keep Bruce from self destructing and making it worse. Dick just leaves and tells oracle that he’ll send over his debrief in 3-5 business days and it was nice working with them.

And then he’s gone

No cave, no manor, no Alfred, no med-bay because Dick doesn’t stay places he’s not welcome.

And after they all talk about that and how weird it was and Bruce reveals Dick did this before when he was Nightwing after Bruce fired, where Dick Grayson didn’t know Bruce Wayne.

And one of the kids asks when he broke and stopped the act and Bruce just says ‘the day he found out Jason died’

And the Batkids kinda freak bc what do you mean?? What is he only going to come back when someone dies? Thats not? There has to be another way?? And Bruce is like yeah no idea sorry (bc he’s helpful like that)

So then Steph the next day resolves to go visit him, Tim isn’t the only professional stalker. And she finds Dick and Donna’s apartment and well it’s daylight and she’s in civvies she’s if she climbs in through the window she might get reported to the NYPD and she doesn’t wanna get arrested or shot to door it is!

And so she goes and knocks and Dick opens the door and just lights up

Something something this is such a nice surprise something something it’s so good to see you.

Dick had taught Donna how to make some of his mother recipes when they were kids. So now whenever they’re together for a long time they cook together.

So Dick who is usually living in a cluttered apartment with no clean dishes and an exclusively grab and go food is now trying to force feed her some of his cooking.

Because he picked up the habit again since he’s the better cook between him and Donna.

And it’s delicious and he wants to catch up and hear everything that’s going on in her life, is she working with new people, dating anyone? How is her relationship with her mother etc etc.

It’s a nice day and she stays late and never confronts him on anything until she sees how long ago the sun set and she needs to get moving.

He hands her paper with his number and makes her promise not to give it to the others or she will lose access to it, he offers to help her on a conditional basis as nightwing but only her, she can call him about the rest if it’s an end of the world or they’re near death and need immediate aid.

And that’s like the fic because the key to winning nightwings assistance is like breathing (optional) but if you’re Dicks family you have to care or else. He’ll love you and help you, when you need it but he won’t tie his life up with yours, he’ll spend his time with people who value his opinion and the person behind the mask.

Anyway cue all the Batkids trying to do what Steph did and fail because they’re neurotic shits who think bonding involves doing casework together or a steak out.

(The next person to crack it is Damian, completely unintentionally he has a fight with Bruce and can’t ask him how the fuck he’s supposed to solve this equation in the new stupid way they’re teaching him no he can’t use the old method they’re supposed to show their work so he pulls up to Dick and Donna’s in a ratty ass hoodie like plz wtf do you mean you work top down explain Grayson- and dicks like awww no problem kid)

[jjssweetlover]

first time with jj? he's just such a sweet boy and so kind 😕

maybe the reader is insecure/feels like he'll look at her differently (similar to sarah's problem in season one) but he's just so sweet and gentle and attentive.

still my girl

pairings: jj maybank x fem!reader

info/warnings: smut, fingering, pinv, oral (fem receiving), reader is a virgin, jj is experienced, established relationship, unprotected sex, sex on jjs new boat?? slightly sensitive!reader.

asks: open! 𝜗𝜚

a/n: thank you for this anon!! this is the sweetest idea, hopefully i wrote it to your liking!

going on a boat ride at night is what you needed. it was so peaceful and pure. and after everything you guys went through you needed it. things started slow, out on the water and looking up at the stars while laying on a towel.

but now jj was on top of you leaving the sweetest kisses to your skin. and it felt good, it felt amazing. but you knew what this led to, you knew it led to questions and answers that left you embarrassed. jj didn’t really know you were a virgin, just that you and him have never done it.

he was okay with you wanting to wait and respected your time. but honestly, how could the man be so oblivious to the truth? if your awkward kisses weren’t already a give away then what would be? you didn’t wanna say it to him straight up; it was embarrassing.

you knew he was experienced, everyone did. you didn’t want to scare him off, you didn’t want him to question why, you didn’t want to be that vulnerable. his mouth trailing down your neck snapped you out of your thoughts. he was sucking and biting on just the right area.

light whimpers fell from your lips which caused jj to groan in return. his hand began to trail down your stomach, sliding up your tank top and stopping on your stomach. he pulled away and looked at you and you knew why, yet you were frozen. the moment felt so right, you felt so ready. so why couldn’t you do it? why couldn’t you say anything?

he gazed down upon you with a look on his face you’ve never seen before. his face spoke of love but his eyes were full of lust. but it wasn’t a bad kind, it was the kind that made you feel beautiful. when you looked at him everything changed. you knew you needed to tell him.

“jayj.. i needa tell you somethin’..” your words came out before you could even fully process it. he hummed and nodded, tucking your hair behind your ear. “what’s up?” he whispered, you loved when he talked so soft with you. your mouth opened but stayed silent, your gaze looked away from him and focused on the side of the boat. “i’m a virgin.” the words sounded so cowardly coming from your mouth. you felt so embarrassed you didn’t want to look him in the eye.

his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes widened for a moment before he leaned down and left a kiss to your cheek. “look at me, please?” and with his tone so pleading you couldn’t say no. you fixed your gaze on him and let out a sigh, scanning his face for any look of disgust or judgement. but all you found was the same loving look from moments before.

his forearms rested on either side of your head and he brushed his thumb back and forth on your forehead. “that’s okay— it’s okay if you aren’t ready.” and he sounded so so genuine. you were ready though, you knew you were. but you just couldn’t get yourself to say it.

“i’m just scared” your voice cracked as the words came out, and suddenly your face felt damp. what an embarrassing moment to be crying. his arm moved to bring his hand to your face and his thumb wiped away your tears. he gave you a look and without his words you knew he was asking why. you whispered your words out, looking at his lips instead of his eyes. “i’m scared that you’ll see all of me, and that you won’t like it.” he immediately shook his head. “i could never feel that way about you. nothing you do could change how i feel.” his words were true, you could tell. jj may lie to the law a lot, but he never lies to you.

there was silence for a moment before he spoke again. “when you’re ready i’ll be there, i’m okay with waiting for you.” he was the sweetest boy you’ve ever laid your eyes on. you shook your head and leaned in for a kiss. you pulled away and nodded. “i want to.” at first he was confused by your words, but when it hit him he furrowed his brows and smiled. “are you sure?” his voice had excitement in it, you could tell. you nodded your head and gave him an audible “yes.”

immediately his mouth was back on your neck, kissing down to your collar bone. his hand went back under your shirt were it was 5 minutes earlier. you hummed and kissed the top of his head. you pushed him away from you and sat up halfway. he looked at you worried, thinking he might’ve done something wrong. but when your hands went to the bottom of your tank top and slid it off, he couldn’t stop the smile that formed on his lips.

he leaned down and his lips made contact with the top of your breasts that spilled over your bra. “you’re so beautiful..” he mumbled into your soft skin. you let out a sigh at the feeling. he pulled away and looked down at you, his hands going down to your shorts. you nodded and right away felt his fingers lightly unbuttoning your shorts and sliding them down. you were left in just your bra and underwear, and being on the water meant it was colder. he moved to hover over you fully, his body heat warming you.

he went back to kissing your chest while his right hand trailed down and into your underwear. he ran a finger through your folds and let out a needy groan. he stopped his middle finger on your clit and began a light rubbing motion. you gasped and clutched onto his shoulders. his fingers were cold and calloused, but he was so good at what he was doing. he let out a low laugh, the vibrations being felt on the skin of your breast. “you’re being so good..” he pulled away to mumble. you moved your hips slightly and he pulled away to look at you.

he moved back and pulled his hand out, your face quickly turning to a frown but not for long. he pulled down your underwear slowly and placed his hands under your knees, lifting them up so that your legs were bent. “open your legs for me. please, sweet girl?” his voice sounded so pleading and kind. no matter how embarrassed you were you did it, your knees separated and your feet shuffled over. you looked up at the stars as your back laid flat, too scared to look jj in his eyes.

“you’re so beautiful.” he gawked in awe, moving to rest between your legs and hover over you again. he gave your hip a squeeze as he moved his hand back down to your area. he ran his middle finger down through your folds and to your entrance, circling it before pushing his finger in. you bit your lip and furrowed your brows. it felt so much different when it was somebody else doing this to you. his finger curled up and moved at a steady pace, only pulling out slightly before pushing back in. it felt perfect. this was your first time and yet it’s like he already knows your body. you felt the pressure of his ring finger being added and shifted your hips, pushing down against up with a quiet moan. he kissed your jaw and smiled.

“it’s okay to make noise baby.” his tone was so condescending but his intentions weren’t. you huffed and leaned in to his him, your hands holding his cheeks as you sucked at his upper lip. his fingers moved at a faster pace now, pulling further out and pushing in harder than before while his thumb rubbed your clit. you felt your stomach tightening and knew you were getting closer. it was a feeling you’ve felt before, but your own fingers could never do as good as jjs were right now. he could feel the rise and fall of your stomach against him picking up pace and your kisses become more sloppy as you sighed into his mouth.

he pulled his fingers out and pulled back from you, slowly moving his whole body down. you let out a frustrated groan and looked at him confused. “what? why’d you-” and before you could finish your sentence his tongue was on your clit. you gasped and looked down at him, pulling his hair as your legs involuntarily closed around his head. “you— you don’t have to do that” you spoke winded. he hummed against you in response, not stopping the moments of his tongue as he brought his pointer and ring finger back to your entrance and pushed them in. the combination was quick to bring that knot in your stomach back as your legs shook and tightened around his head. your back lifted off the ground and you let out a high pitched moan, you didn’t even know you could do that.

you could feel his stupid smile against your skin. his fingers pumped at a rapid pace while his lips sucked at your clit. you were in shock. your breathing sped up and your grip on his hair became tighter. you let out soft, loud moans as you hit your high. your body twitched slightly and your hips ground against his face.

as you came down from your orgasm your back flattened against the floor again, your legs fell slightly more open and your chest rose and fell faster with deep breaths. jj sat up fully and smiled at you, licking his lips and wiping his mouth. he crawled back over you and leaned in to kiss you. you could taste yourself on him and it was weird, but it wasn’t bad. “you taste so good” he mumbled into your lips. his hand went to tug down his shorts and boxers halfway, pumping himself a few times before he pulled away and looked at you.

“are you sure you wanna do this? i mean it when i say we can sto-” you didn’t let him finish his sentence and cut him off with a deep kiss. you pulled away with a nod. he smiled down at you and nodded back, guiding himself to your entrance before he slowly pushed in. it was a painful stretch, but easier since he had used his fingers before hand.

when he was halfway in he stopped, sitting and letting you get used to the feeling. you had a look on your face that was a mix of pain and confusion. it was an unknown feeling. you tapped his shoulder and gave him a sign to keep moving. he pushed himself in the rest of the way slowly and as you felt the stretch grow you couldn’t fight against the urge to shut your eyes and wince. he scanned your face and kissed your cheek.

“hey you’re okay, it’s okay. it’s gonna hurt a bit, it’ll feel so good after baby.” his words were so comforting, and somehow attractive. “you’re being so good, my gorgeous girl.” he whispered the words in your ear. you opened your eyes and took a deep breath, wiggling your hips a bit as a way to tell him he could move. he nodded and pulled out before pushing back in at a slow, but hard pace. it was like all the pain had faded away and suddenly this was the best thing you’ve ever felt. each time he pulled out and pushed back in he hit every spot inside of you so perfectly. it was like he was made for you. each stroke of him brushing against your cervix. you wrapped your legs around him and leaned your head back.

“faster” you asked him in a whisper. you didn’t even expect yourself to do that. and as his pace picked up and his hips began to slam into you harder you let out a strangled moan. one that had been waiting to come out. you could hear him laugh while he leaned down to kiss your neck. his hips bucked into you at such a perfect pace. his hand came down to rub your clit and you gasped. the added sensation with the pressure of him pushing into you almost felt like too much.

“thank you jay… thank you, thank yo-” and you didn’t even know exactly why you were thanking him but you were cut off by a loud whimper. he nipped at your skin and groaned with each stroke that he made. it was like he was engraving himself into all of you.

you felt that sensation in your stomach all over again, somehow more powerful this time. you clawed at jjs back and your legs tightened around him, pulling him in closer. your eyes shut and you let out loud, strangled moans as you came. the sight and sounds were enough to push jj off the edge, he pulled out and gave himself a few pumps before he came on your stomach. you both sat in eachothers company for a minute, catching your breath as the sound of the waves crashing took over.

“you were so good, so beautiful.” jj spoke in winded whispers. “i love you” he said it proudly with a smile, leaning down and kissing you as he grabbed his shirt and used it to wipe off your stomach before moving down to wipe your lower area. he started to gather your clothes and helped you stand up, sliding your shirt on over your head and helping you button your shorts as he hugged you from behind. he left light kisses to your shoulder as he fixed your hair. he helped you sit back down after and sat across from you.

“just so you know, i don’t see you any different. you’re still my girl.”his words came out with a laugh, but that’s just how jj talks. he made you feel so comfortable during all of it and even if you felt different about yourself for now you trusted that his opinion on you didn’t change in any way. you trusted that he really does love you.

[hoover1st]

A Likely Pair

Summary: Astarion has been desperately attempting to earn your affection. At the tiefling party, he uses your drunken inhibitions to his advantage. Not knowing you have your own share of trauma, his evening is derailed, likely for the better… Gender Neutral!Reader/Astarion Tags: Implied SA, Angst and Fluff, No Pronouns, Sexual implications but nothing happens, reader has sexual trauma, follows events of Act 1 Astarion Romance. Word Count: 2k AO3 | Masterlist

*A/N: This is extremely self-indulgent. Inspired by a beautiful fic from @tavs-tressym. I didn’t want to make this an OC, because I want my writing to be as accessible as possible, but it’s glaringly obvious that this is written from my own experiences… Again, TW for SA*

Your world has been turned upside down since the day that damned illithid parasite wormed its way into you, but more so since meeting the colorful band of companions who’ve chosen to join you.

Some will still deny it, but you’re magnetic. You don’t complain or nag, rather just handle situations without missing a beat, and your relentless optimism isn’t as suffocating as one might think.

You hate the term leader. You’re not above any of your companions, you just happen to do the talking and the problem-solving. 

The independence that was so valuable throughout your life is hard to unlearn, relying on your companions is still something you’re grappling with. But above all else, the quality that comes to mind when thinking of you is that damned charm. 

You were always teetering on the edge of plausible deniability. Your companions have started to expect it from you, most believing it’s just your personality. You’re attractive, decently kind, and effortlessly funny. 

Mix those qualities, and you get someone whose banter and compliments confound most. You can’t help it, it’s just who you are. It doesn’t help that you genuinely find each of your companions endearing.

There are these moments when you’re spending time with one of them, and they attempt to reciprocate. That’s where the delicate dance begins. Once it clicks in your head that they’re flirting or making implications, you’re gone. Leaving them in their bemusement.

There’s one companion who’s especially engaging. The banter is never dull, because he too has learned this dance. It’s not hard to admit Astarion is indisputably gorgeous. Your personalities are two sides of the same coin. The mischief is like a song, the harmonies balanced.

It’s plain to see that Astarion is pursuing you with the most vigor. You act coy, but you secretly enjoy it, even if it frustrates him to no end. He should have been able to seduce you by now. Knowing that if he could be the one to have you, he’d be protected.

Every time he thinks he’s got you, and his words are more than innuendo, you’ve cleverly removed yourself from the equation. You’re not sure why you do it. Astarion is attractive, and the flutter in your stomach can’t always be blamed on shitty cooking.

There’s something in you that stops anyone from getting too close, at least in that way. You don’t know why? You’ve healed, right? It’s been years since it happened. The touch of others doesn’t make your skin crawl like it used to.

Mother always said it’s natural to touch and kiss others. So why is it that every time they get close, you pull away?

Tonight, the people you so 'selflessly' saved in the Emerald Grove have insisted on throwing a party. Your flirtatious nature is only amplified by the increasing amount of alcohol in your system. You might have even met your match with the Arch-Druid Halsin, but no one is trying as hard as Astarion, and with your inhibitions lowered, you’re starting to consider his proposal.

Swiftly shooting down every other offer is second nature, but for whatever reason, you leave Astarion’s up in the air.

The party stretches on, and you’re not ready to turn in yet, a force compels you back to the rogue’s tent. A drink in hand, you drunkenly saunter back to Astarion, your body leading you like a moth to flames.

Astarion sees you cross back over to him, his gaze unabashed as his eyes rake over your form. This was it, he was finally going to seduce you. As a drunken grin stretches across your face, he feigns a pout, his voice a purr,

“I’m glad you’re back darling. I started to consider you’d found company elsewhere”

You grin and shake your head teasingly, “Most of the ‘company’ has turned in. If there’s someone I know to stay up late, it’s you Astarion dearest”

The wolfish grin you know all too well returns to his face, and he leans in closer, “Well darling if staying up is what you desire, my offer still stands~”

Normally this would be when you’d conveniently snake your way out of the conversation, but the alcohol, and the way he looks in this dim lighting, have you considering it.

Of course, Astarion notices this immediately, and his grin only widens. He knew alcohol would be the key to finally having you. Without letting you respond, he’s moving closer, his voice lowering,

“I’m gonna take that as a yes. Finish that drink of yours and meet me in the clearing near the stream, I’ll be waiting darling.“

With that, he’s gone, slipping away to not give you the chance to say no. Your mind is reeling, did you just agree to do this? Now you feel obligated to go, what if he’s there waiting all night for you? 

Finishing your drink, you go back to your tent to check yourself, suddenly feeling a bit nervous.

As you walk out to the clearing, you look good. A drunken saunter looks sexy on everyone, right? But it’s not your looks you’re concerned with. 

You can do this. It’s no big deal, right? Maybe he doesn’t even actually want sex? But even so, it’s fine. Sex is normal. People do it all the time. Why can’t you?

As you walk into the clearing, he’s posed against a tree, and saunters from his spot. It’s almost comical to you. There’s something so practiced about his movements, the way he’s already lost his shirt.

His body is gorgeous, he’s placed himself so the moonlight casts shadows on the lines of his body, illuminating his pale skin. You wouldn’t be surprised if he scouted and planned this days ago.

Even his voice is perfectly practiced as he purrs, “There you are. I’ve been waiting for you.”

You keep up your playfulness, despite your racing mind, “Poor thing, I was worried you’d be out here all night.”

Astarion cocks a brow and hums, “Oh? Don’t tell me you’ve been reconsidering? it’s so obvious you want this, you mustn’t deny it any longer darling.”

You narrow your eyes teasingly, “And what’s that Astarion? What is it you think I want?”

His predatory expression grows more intense, but inside, he’s growing impatient. Why are you so difficult? “Darling, I think it’s pleasure you want. To lose yourself in me”

You grin, finding comfort in the stalling, “Astarion dearest, I quite like myself. But what is it you want?”

Your question takes him off guard. You see his eyes flicker as if you’d struck some nerve. It takes him a beat to get back on track, and as quick as it was there, it’s gone. The suave charm back,

“What do any of us want, darling? A pleasurable distraction. To find solace in each other.”

His words combined with your intoxication have you nodding, but you’ve lost the playfulness. “If that’s what you want, I’m inclined to agree”

Astarion notices your shift, but he’s too focused on going through his motions, doing what he knows, what he can control. Astarion won’t admit it, but he likes you. Yet, at the end of the day, his focus is on his survival.

At your agreement, he’s moving in. Not wanting to squander the opportunity. Knowing if he doesn’t seize it now; you might pull away, like you always do.

Astarion breaks through your drunken haze, his touch light and experimental, feeling your body before he closes the distance between you. You start to like it. Your senses zoned in on his touch, enjoying the feeling of his caresses. He moves a hand up to cup your cheek and kisses you.

At first, the kiss was nice. It feels good to kiss him, maybe it just took having a handsome stranger like Astarion to cure you?

The kiss becomes more heated, and you start to melt into him. His hands wander, and he kisses you hungrily, but something feels off.

It starts to become all too much to handle. You’re attracted to Astarion, a lot, but when the kiss grows deeper, your face scrunches up into a whine. Astarion likes you, but this is a job to him, something he deems necessary for you to like him. He’s already on autopilot, his brain registering your whine as one of pleasure.

Your fists clench and you start to shy away from him. Something is wrong. This doesn’t feel right, your issues, mixing with your intuition tell you that neither of you is entirely present. You bring your hands up to his chest and apply pressure, after a moment you gently push him away from you.

Your face is scrunched up as your chest heaves, except it’s not from pleasure. Astarion’s eyes widen as he looks at you, taken completely off guard, nothing like this has ever happened to him.

After a moment of staring at you in confusion, he speaks up, his voice betraying his offense, “What’s wrong?!”

You’re curling into yourself, feeling embarrassed. You shake your head and avert your gaze from him, “I’m sorry, I just, I…” you trail off looking for the words, Astarion cuts you off with a huff, 

“What in the bloody hell is your problem?”

Astarion’s mind is racing, has he lost the one thing he was good at? His only valuable asset?

You don’t respond, you can’t stop it, you’re caving into yourself. You try to take deep breaths, your arms wrapped around yourself. Astarion has never seen you behave like this, you’re always the strong, confident one.

Astarion stares as you curl into yourself, watching you walk to the stream nearby, sitting on the bank.

Astarion doesn’t know what to do, he can't remember the last time he cared to comfort another. Why should he? Not like anyone would give a shit if he broke down. He doesn’t even know what to do but his feet are moving, and he gently sits down next to you on the bank, staring into the moving water.

After a long moment, you speak up, eyes never moving from the stream, “I’m sorry Astarion, I hope I didn’t disappoint you”

Whatever Astarion was expecting, it couldn’t have prepared him for the way your words tore through him, he gaped at you his voice unsure, “What do you mean?”

You tear your eyes from the stream, meeting his gaze. Your expression is pained, your voice quiet, “I know you’ve been wanting this Astarion, and I thought I could do it, but it all felt so wrong.”

Astarion’s expression is unusually unguarded. It's as if he’s so perplexed, that he can’t think to put on his usual charming smirk. He stares at you, brows furrowing. Before he can stop himself, his voice uncharacteristically insecure, he’s asking “Did I do something wrong?”

You’re immediately shaking your head, trying to reassure him, “No, no Astarion it’s not you. I just, struggle with things like this”

You both break eye contact, going back to stare into the stream. The silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable. After a while, you’ve calmed down and sobered up, you turn to Astarion with a soft smile, “You could put your shirt on if you’d like, you look a little chilly”

Astarion grins up at you, glad that your teasing is back. He rolls his eyes, “Darling, I’m a vampire, I don’t get ‘chilly’. Plus, it wouldn’t be fair to those beautiful eyes of yours to cover all of this” he gestures down to his bare abdomen.

You laugh and shake your head, “I never said I didn’t appreciate the view Astarion dearest, just trying to be considerate”

As the two of you sit on the bank of the stream, things have finally returned to some semblance of normal. It’s nice. Neither of you talks about your past, or what just happened, but there’s this feeling between the two of you, one of understanding. 

Tonight didn’t turn out the way either of you expected, but sometimes things happen this way for a reason. Maybe the two of you had more in common than you could ever imagine?

*Again, sorry that this was so self-indulgent, thank you for reading!!*

[riddles-n-games]

Hey guys, I've been seeing another rift going on in the fandom regarding TGG and TIG characters, so I've decided to make a statement that can hopefully make things more cohesive.

I understand that not everyone likes the new spin-off and honestly, I'm considering just stopping after GU. Personally, I don't have anything against the characters of TGG but my problem is that they sound too much like our old mains. However, that's not their fault. It's the author's. There's nothing wrong with JLB wanting to expand the TIG universe but it is problematic when you are repeating the same character arcs of the old characters that are also present and interacting with these new mains. The problem that we face is the fact while even in The Naturals there are similar characters, they are divided by different series. However, that is not going on here with TIG and TGG. TGG is a continuation of TIG and our TIG characters are still present. Heck, one of our old mains is a player and a love interest here to one of the new mains. And therein lies the issue. When you have a connected series, it's important to have distinguished characters with different voices, not carbon copies.

What I expected for TGG characters was that she would move from the character tropes we've seen already in the series and come up with new ones. I mean, come on, she's a psychology major, we bring that up so often but what's the point when she keeps going in circles and never brings up anything new? I pointed a lot of this out pre-read because I already correctly guessed where this was going within just a few pages of reveal. Don't get me wrong, if she wanted to, she could do it but it doesn't feel like she has new plans or plots. Be honest with yourselves and don't just praise because she's your favorite author. You can be a reader, a fan, and a respectful critic all at the same time. Don't lower your expectations just because they can't deliver every time.

The trouble is that when you go back to TFG, in the acknowledgments, she herself wrote she wasn't sure there was going to be a third book. And now look, suddenly two books were announced a month or two after she released the last book of the trilogy which introduced our mains and not the most fashionably. I do believe she had ideas but I don't think they were the best fleshed out. You have to realize that just reading TGG, how many of you recognized the obvious plots, the romantic subplots, the character arcs, and even the semi-hidden plots just getting to the halfway point? And how many of you said, hey, wait a minute, we've had this plotline before? You did, didn't you? I want to give Jennifer the benefit of the doubt but I truly think she is in over her head because I don't believe she quite thought that this is how long the series would go.

In fact, I think that she is making more trouble for herself in trying multi POV for this new series when really I think it should have just been Gray taking over. It would have allowed us to see how he's grown especially after the heartache and mental health issues he's had to go through to get here. It felt like the obvious next step, even the summary for TGG made it sound like that. However, the only thing that seems new to me is the hypersexual atmosphere which also makes no sense to me because teens may go through attraction but that doesn't mean they're horny all the time and anyone who's gone through puberty can attest to that. So I ask again, like one reviewer on Goodreads put, were the romantic moments in the room with us? 12 hours is not love or romance, it's lust, that's it. Couldn't summarize it clearer. If she wanted to make it better, it could have been that she made the book stretch over a series of weeks which is why I wonder what the heck will happen to any character development if this book series is done in like 3 days?

As I said, a lot of things feel very repetitive, the plot, word choice, thought processes, quotes and sayings, etc. We are in a loop. She's in a loop. I think that the best thing JLB could have done is leave TIG alone for a few years after TFG, make a new series or whatever works outside this series she wanted to, give herself time to truly see if she has new stories to tell for TIG by writing a spin-off and then come back to give us that content. Because it's really telling how forced things have been in the last two books, even here with GU and I really think this empire is toppling. As they say, quality over quantity and thoughtful than full of thoughts that are just a variation of one another. That's what makes me think more and more she should have left it at TFG.

Thank you for reading and I hope this gives a new perspective that can help you see some things more clearly.

[aniseandspearmint]

Oh, no PROBLEM, life happens, and I'm just glad you're doing better!

And it's never too late to pick fun things back up. I had to dig around for the notes i made for the next bit of this, and then re-read it over, because it HAS been a year! XD

SO, okay, a part 7!

YES, I am SO GLAD the way Frodo is NOT having a great or easy time came across! I’d hoped that would work! It can be hard, when your body changes and suddenly you’re not capable of the same stuff you were. I was trying to convey that kind of dysphoria.

Maedhros! Maedhros is HAVING A DAY. A good day! A MIRACULOUSLY GOOD DAY.

The kind of good day he can barely trust is REAL bc, lbr, he hasn’t really had a good day innnn. Um. Lets just say a long time. So this is the kind of day that has him covertly running mental checks just to make sure this is still reality. He keeps counting Maglor’s freckles and running his finger tips over his horse and her tack, and the tooling on his belt and faulds just to check that the things he’s seeing, and sensations he feels match up right.

He can at least throw himself into logistics a bit here, first in chivying all the escaped thralls our Intrepid (and exhausted) Heroes have been herding to safety in Himring.

Then he corrals Celegorm and Curufin. (This ended up mostly dialogue!)

Maedhros: *stares pointedly*

C&C: Err.

Maedhros: *calm and measured* I have heard what you’ve been up to in Nargothrond, brothers. Rest assured, I WILL be taking that out of your hides later. For now though *points at the crowd of people filling the hall behind them* Exactly WHAT happened to do THAT?

Curufin: Honestly we don’t KNOW, Nelyo!

Celegorm: When we caught up to them, Finrod, Beren, Luthien, Huan, Tyelpe and that Annatar ner were already gone off to Angband, leaving Finrod’s steward and Frodo to hold the camp.

Maedhros: *blinks* Frodo? Who? And what kind of a name is that? (Note: Frodo is WESTRON it’s gotta sound SO WEIRD to the elves tbh. He’s definitely gonna get slapped with a proper elven name at some point here. Elves gotta give people extra names after all especially in the first age)

C&C: *baffled kind of shrugs*

Curufin: *glowers* The boy is SOMEWHERE in the crowd. He’s remarkably cagey for a boy who can’t be more than 80, and I haven’t been able to corner Tyelpe about him yet, but he rather looks REMARKABLY like that Annatar. And Mother. And Grandfather. (Note: Frodo probably doesn’t look quite like a teenager really, but he’s so coltish in his new body, that’s coming across as youth to the elves that see him)

Maedhros blinks at that. Well. He never thought Tyelpe the sort, but, well, Curufin had been a bit smothering since they’d come to Beleriand. He’s thought Tyelpe was weathering it with more grace and patience than was usually found in their line, but maybe he’d just decided to go around his father? He wouldn’t be the first in the family for that. (Note: yesss Mae, make some logical conclusions with the info you have! Compare him to you and Finno a bit! You’re VERY wrong but it’s still a good guess!)

Celegorm: He’s got one of Tyelpe’s hairclips. One of the ones father made.

Maedhros: *eyebrows* Interesting. But, at this moment, irrelevant. We can sort that out later. What else can you tell me?

Celegorm: A few hours after we got there, the whole ground heaved like a shaken table cloth. Then some hours after that, Tyelpe and everyone came out of the night leading that lot *waves a hand a the hall* Tyelpe had the silmarils.

Curufin: There wasn’t really TIME to stop and ask questions. We regrouped and lit out for Himring. Luthien is TERRIFYING by the way. She provided the bulk of the power, her and that Annatar. We pitched in too but them, us, Finrod, and Tyelpe have been cycling songs of power for- *blinks* How long has it been since Angband shook, Nelyo?

Maedhros: thirteen days and nights.

Curufin: *sputters*

Celegorm: Huh. No wonder I want to sleep for a week. I haven’t done a march like that since I was with The Hunt. *waves* Anyway, we talked to a few of the thralls, and from what few who were in the throne room said, Luthien walked in all lovely and enchanting, and sang with three voices. It put Morgoth out like a fussy toddler. And then the wolves and the orcs, and even the balrogs, everything evil, dropped where they stood as well. The orcs were dead. No one checked the balrogs. Then Luthien’s man climbed the throne and took the crown and passed it down to Tyelpe. Then he and Annatar left and came back with BLASTING powder and lined the place while Morgoth slept.

Maedhros: *wheezing incredulous laugh*

Curufin: Annatar said the dragons were UNDER the throne room Nelyo. All the eggs, all the breeding stock.

Maedhros: *squints* *head tilt* wait. *slow blink* How would he KNOW that? I didn’t know that, and I know Angband as well as any former thrall.

C&C: *exchanged uneasy glances*

Curufin: We’re not sure. Finrod and Tyelpe trust him though. And, there’s Frodo. *vague hand wave* We heard some snatches of conversation, but nothing that makes much sense.

Maedhros: Right. Where’s Maglor? Nevermind, I saw him with Luthien, I’ll get them, and find Finrod. You round up Tyelpe and this Annatar fellow, and bring them up to my study. See if you can find the Frodo lad you mentioned.

Maedhros needs to corral all the important people ASAP and GET SOME ANSWERS.

He’s able to locate Maglor being charming at Luthien and Beren fairly quickly. Whereas Celegorm and Curufin look as if they’ve been on a hard march for days, Luthien, apart from the general grime of travel in the wilds, looks fresh as a daisy in may. Exactly how much power does she HAVE?? Never mind, one thing at a time. She and Beren graciously accept an invitation to a more private area. They’ve eaten and washed a bit, same as the throng of ex-thralls, but it’s VERY crowded. And They want to talk to Tyelpe, Finrod, Frodo, and Annatar too. They know more than Maedhros! But there wasn’t a LOT of time for other questions after establishing that there was some kind of time travel going on!

Tyelpe and Annatar aren’t hard to locate either. They knew this was coming. A quick wash up and food, and maybe a change of clothes, and it’s on to the Next Thing.

Note: oh. Huh. I didn’t think of it before, but I wonder what Annatar and Frodo are WEARING??? Some casual Valinorin clothes? I bet they were NOT dressed for getting dropped in the past! If it was just like, vibes based, maybe some clothes Annatar thinks of as ‘comfy’ rather than anything either of them might have been wearing before they were dropped into the past, since their bodies were created for this unlike Tyelpe or Finrod!

Annatar reluctantly taps on Frodo’s mind, and tells him Maedhros is collecting them.

Frodo, by this point, is not crying anymore, but is the kind of wrung out EXHAUSTED, that only days and days of rough travel and then a fierce crying jag will make you. Finrod almost offers to carry him, but Frodo just sets his mouth and gets up off the stone floor, doggedly putting one foot in front of the other and plodding along next to Finrod, who directs him around the crowd and into the keep proper.

Maedhros was somehow NOT expecting this Frodo child to look as much like family as Curufin and Celegorm insisted, but oh dear, if anything they understated it. He looks VERY much like the elf called Annatar. The hair, the skin, the eyes, but the other features. They were right, and Maedhros can see little echoes of his kin all over him.

He’s also swaying where he stands next to Finrod, with red eyes and tear tracks through the wilderness grime on his face. (Remember, Frodo skipped the wash up and clothes change area. Finrod too. I’m sure once they get through the first awkward conversation, someone will get them each a basin and some clean clothes!)

Maedhros makes eye contact with Finrod and jerks his chin at the soft couch set before the fireplace. Finrod takes the hint, and leads the young ner that is, in all likelihood Maedhros’s grand-nephew over and gently pushes him down on it.

Maedhros turns his attention to Tyelpe, and also Annatar. Tyelpe steps around Maedhros, and slings the crown off his torso and sets it down on Maedhros’s desk where it thuds down with a surprisingly light thump for a thing wrought of iron and misery.

Maedhros: So. Explain. Lady? This seems to have started with you?

Luthien shrugs gracefully, and sets herself down in Maedhros’s towering armchair before the fire and tells her part of the story. It is, thankfully, lacking the canon bits of C&C capturing her and being creepy assholes! Because Tyelpe stole Huan and met up with her before that could happen here!

When she’s finished with her part, with input from Beren, and Finrod, Maedhros turns and raises his eyebrows at his nephew.

Some very speaking looks are exchanged rapidly between Finrod and Tyelpe and Annatar and Frodo.

Finally Tyelpe just shrugs helplessly.

Tyelpe: Uncle, we have NO IDEA. One minute we’re in Fourth Age Tirion, the next I’m in Nargothrond and Finrod is in Sauron’s Tower, and Annatar and Frodo are there too. And Frodo is an elf.

Maedhros. Blinks. And replays that. Nope. Still makes absolutely NO sense.

Maglor: … I’m sorry, what?

Tyelpe: We’ve done this before. It all went SO much worse. Annatar wasn’t there before, though, or Frodo.

Finrod: Well. Annatar sort of was. Why are there two of you now, by the way? That’s. Kind of alarming.

Annatar: When I spoke to the One, and was changed, I was FUNDAMENTALLY changed. To hazard a guess, when this… Event happened, I was too different to integrate with my former self. He is maiar, I am elven. I came to my senses, he’s still following his shining plan.

Frodo: And me?

Annatar: We share something of our spirits on a deep level. And since hobbits have not woken yet, and will not for many many years yet, I imagine this was the only way for you to have a form here and now.

Frodo: *watery chuckle* Oh. Yes I suppose that makes sense.

Please imagine Maedhros and Maglor and C&C ping-ponging back and forth here, COMPLETELY CONFUSED by this conversation. But desperately trying to add up the bits they’re hearing into some kind of coherent narrative. Maedhros is squinting at Annatar with sudden DEEP suspicion.

Maglor: I’m sorry, can we back up a bit here? Fourth Age VALINOR????

Tyelpe: *sighs* *sits down next to Frodo* We all might as well sit down, this is going to take a while.

^__^

HEY.

I had the most interesting dream after falling asleep switching between the latest chapter of The Horrowing and a time travel fix it in another fandom. I thought you might enjoy a brief summary?

Post fic canon Annatar, Finrod, Celebrimbor, and Frodo getting the most hilarious do over of the First Age.

Finrod and Celebrimbor got dropped in their past bodies, bc same souls. Which has Finrod JUST captured by Sauron, before any of his 10 have been munched.

Celebrimbor is of course having a surreal not quite panic attack in Nargothrond.

Annatar, well. Annatar is CHANGED. He is quite literally too different from what he once was for them to qualify as the same soul anymore. Which is gratifying. If inconvenient bc there are now TWO of him, Annatar and full on Sauron. But they're similar enough that Annatar was dropped very close to Sauron.

Frodo is an elf. Dream logic was that hobbits do not exist yet, and his soul has touches of Annatar and Aman. He looks disconcertingly like a mix of Annatar and Celebrimbor, and they are NOT thinking about that right now. Hopefully ever.

Most of the dream centered around all of them doing their best to set aside freak outs, while getting Finrod and his merry band (plus Beren) OUT of Sauron's grasp.

There was a FANTASTIC moment where on the way out, Sauron comes face to face and soul to soul with Annatar and he's just like;

Sauron: *jaw dropped fully horrified face* WHAT are YOU?!?!?

Annatar: *shoving elves behind him, nose in the air* Wouldn't YOU like to know, weather boy. *uses Song to blast him through a wall while he's distracted*

The whole thing featured 10 other elves and Beren as a baffled peanut gallery.

Meanwhile Celebrimbor is weighing the pros and cons of just- drugging his uncles and shoving them in a back room somewhere where he can bolt the door. He thinks he can maybe get Huan to help if he explains?

It was SO much fun.

(hope you have a good day!)

Oh my god. This may be the best ask I've ever gotten, for so many reasons.

The fact that your subconscious was like "Yeah if Frodo's getting a new body it looks like Annatar For Some Reason"

The image of future!Annatar getting into a fight with Sauron in front of Finrod (probably happy about this development) and Beren and the other 10 (INCREDIBLY CONFUSED)

The fact that the dream was partially centered on everybody trying not to panic, which is in fact what the Harrowing is all about for a while

Absolutely incredible.

...I feel so bad for poor Celebrimbor dealing with Nargothrond all by himself while the others are off having adventures. I hope their next stop after the rescue is to swing by and pick him up. Also, I dearly want to know what Annatar has to say to Beren on the subject of his current Luthien-and-Thingol-and-Silmarils situation.

[fallenfrommars6277]

Okay, I've seen the cameo where George hints at Edwin's "first adult experience" with the Cat King and I wish to share my two cents about it.

First of all, disregarding which pair anyone ships, I believe we can safely say that Payneland will eventually be endgame: it is left as an option by Charles in Hell, it is hinted in the show and it is basically sustained by Jayden and George themselves.

I am, for one, a Payneland shipper. I admit that at first I wanted them to stay just friends because I am a sucker for great friendship stories, but rewatch after rewatch I started to see them as soulmates in a romantic kinda way.

Nevertheless, I think (and honestly have thought since the beginning, not just because they said that now) that it would be great to see how Catwin would evolve and in particular I think it's just right that Edwin has his first experiences with the Cat King, maybe not straight away sex, but in general intimate experiences.

Let me explain.

Yes, it would be nice to see Edwin and Charles getting together and awkwardly kissing and having together their first intimacies: it would be a first for both of them, because I believe that while Charles may have fooled around a bit, he didn't ever actually make love to anyone, let alone a boy. So it would be all romantic and gentle and blushing virgins and it absolutely would be great.

BUT.

Both Edwin and Charles are on a journey to self discovery, in general but especially in the love and sexuality area, but they are at different stages of it. While Edwin has been repressed for over a century, he has been now awakened (by Charles, by Monty and above all by the Cat King) to feelings and sensations and wants that he now needs and IS READY to fulfil.

On the other hand, Charles isn't there yet, he just now learns that his best mate is in love with him and he feels nothing but love and adoration towards him but he fundamentally doesn't know what actual love (as in being in love with someone and being the one someone is in love with) looks and feels like, also they're both guys and while he has been nothing but supportive of Edwin about him coming to terms with his homosexuality, considering the time and especially the household in which he lived in, I don't think he wouldn't have problems realizing and admitting to himself that he is bisexual (I know it's not canon, but come on) or at least that he fancies another boy. And even when this happens, I think that he would have a lot of holding back, being insecure about his "ability" to love and not wanting to hurt Edwin.

That said, I think that Edwin has always loved and will always love only Charles, but it is only fair for him now to start having his experiences and exploring his sexuality and, while Edwin and Charles have been a whole for over 30 years, doing everything together, I believe this is something he has to do by himself and the best person with whom to do this is the Cat King because they're both attracted to each other, because the CK is very experienced and I think this would be someway reassuring for Edwin (like he's doing this, he's experimenting with someone who knows very well what he's doing), because the CK would never be judgemental of his inexperience, and above all because the CK cares about him, but also knows that no matter how much he can care about him and be affectionate towards him and even love him, he will never actually have him because Edwin's heart belongs to Charles since that night in the attic.

I expect (yes, I'm talking like this is actually happening because maybe I'm delusional but I've not given up hope yet about a second season) that while Edwin does this and experiments and learns things about a part of himself that has always been hidden and repressed, Charles someway does the same, of course not realizing that he wants to have sexual experiences because he is, if not actually experienced, more acquainted with this "area", but that he has to explore his sexuality to understand how he can fit loving Edwin into it and then actually act upon this, but to do this he also needs to find a way to separate himself from his father, from his painful childhood, and control his anger and navigate and accept his own emotions, all the shades of them, to start appreciating himself and considering himself worth of loving and being loved.

In conclusion, as I said before, they both are going through a journey, but while Edwin's at the end of his and is ready for what comes next, Charles has just now started it, so it's just right that just this once they don't do this together, because they KNOW that even if they take metaphorically different roads, they eventually will find each other at the finish line.

[sitp-recs]

hiii liv!! any soft eighth year recs??

I read nice things and I’m just craving some soft drarry :)

thank you hope youre doing well

Hi anon! Ahh I adore Nice Things, such a healing fic and a perfect read for the holiday season ❤️ here are some soft 8th year fics for you:

Thermodynamic Equilibrium by @dorthyanndrarry (T, 5k)

Harry's far too hot. Draco's always cold. And somehow against all odds, together they create a perfect equilibrium.

What Country, Friends, Is This? by khalulu (M, 8k)

When Harry and Draco are paired up for a nebulous “capstone project” in 8th year, Draco suggests they use it as an opportunity to take a free Grand Tour of Europe.

warmest part of the winter by warmfoothills (T, 11k)

It’s not even a balcony, it’s just a window with a bit of a ledge, and Draco’s read Shakespeare anyway, he knows how this one ends.

Said and Unsaid (or, The Value of Knowing When to Stop Talking) by bryoneybrynn (T, 15k)

When the Interrogator asked if he had anything to say on his own behalf, Draco shook his head, his lips pressed tight in a thin line. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.

On Our Way by evils (E, 30k)

Draco is trying to spend the summer keeping his head down, but a repair project and a certain snowy owl have other plans for him.

All Things Go by @sorrybutblog (E, 33k)

Draco’s back at Hogwarts by court order. Harry’s back for no particular reason at all. Some things change, some stay the same.

Like Lightning at Your Fingertips by potterwatch (T, 43k)

The problem with living with another insomniac is, eventually, they find out you’re one, too.

The July Tree by @oknowkiss (E, 51k)

Neither rain, nor snow, nor sleet, nor hail… nor well-meaning friends, nor questionable communication skills, nor seven years of hating each other’s guts can keep Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy from falling in love.

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy (M, 66k)

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy.

Azoth by @lol-zeitgeistic (E, 88k)

Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts with Hermione for eighth year, he realises that something’s missing from his life, and it either has to do with Ron, his boggart, Snape, or Malfoy. Furthermore, what, exactly, does it mean when one’s life is defined by the desire to simultaneously impress and annoy a portrait? Harry has no idea; he’s too busy trying not to be in love with Malfoy to care.

Helix by Saras_Girl (E, 92k)

Seven months after the end of the war, Harry is feeling lost. Fortunately, he is about to be offered an unexpected and sparkling chance to find himself again.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

Written on the Heart by who_la_hoop (E, 113k)

Unnerved by the attention he’s attracting from everyone – the Slytherins are the least of it, to be fair – and struggling with a raft of changes to Hogwarts itself, Harry wishes he could be happy that one constant remains: Draco Malfoy really fucking hates him.

where all the veins meet by @saxamophone (E, 146k)

It's the summer of 1998. The battle is over, and Voldemort is dead, but Harry still has more questions than answers. Who is he without a piece of Voldemort's soul in his head? What is he supposed to do now?

Bonus: a smutty Christmas treat 🎅🏼

The Romantic Prawn Who Loved Christmas by bixgirl1 (E, 39k)

When Draco, forced into sharing a room with Potter for the year, finds out that Potter has a sleepwalking problem, he expects the odd conversations and the weird games of chess.

[cringecompanionapologist]

Moffat, Sexy Women, and More 80s Who Complaints:

Note: I am a woman and everything I'm saying is my opinion as an individual woman and not an attempt to represent women as a whole. We're like half the world's population. We're not gonna agree on everything.

I'm just gonna randomly say a bit about the Moffat era and women that's sort of a defense in an "this still feels better than other things" sort of way.

Look, I will not deny that the Moffat era (mostly 11's part) has some issues with women. Most of it, at least for me, has less to do with how the female characters are written and more to do with how the male characters address them (Let's Kill Hitler, I'm looking at you).

But, one thing that bothers other people that doesn't bother me as much is the sexualization. This is mostly compared to what came before it.

For me, because sexuality isn't an inherently negative thing, a character of any gender being sexualized isn't automatically a bad thing. It's more of a matter of subject vs. object.

To illustrate my point, let's bitch about 80s Who for a bit.

Now, when I say 80s Who, I'm mostly referring to the Saward Era (seasons 19-23/5th and 6th Doctors). Ace wasn't really sexualized in the same way the companions before her were.

If you dig through this blog, you'll find that this is sort of the third in a miniseries about various issues with 80s companions that mostly come down to something about gender. With Tegan, it's that she's an outspoken woman and treated negatively for it. With Turlough, it's that the EU tries to downplay the more gender-nonconforming aspects of his character, which admittedly mostly happened by accident.

This time, I'm talking about Peri. Peri was heavily sexualized but in a way that I don't particularly like. It ultimately comes down to how the era handles sexuality in general.

JNT was more of a marketing guy than a creative guy, but his ideas of marketing the show ended up contradicting one another. On one hand, he wanted to avoid controversy. Doctor Who had a bit of a history of controversy, though most of it was about how violent it was, something this era of the show clearly did not care about. Instead, the primary JNT/Saward obsession was with sex. It had to be clear that the Doctor did not fuck and never had. But, this sort of extended to the companions as well. 60s and 70s Who would occasionally give companions one-off love interests. This didn't happen a lot, but there was a history of it dating back to The Daleks, where Barbara makes out with one of the Thals for a bit. In 80s Who, the only time a companion got a love interest was right as she was leaving the show and that was a last minute change.

(Side Note: I'd once again like to comment that Doctor Who wrote women better in 1964 than in 1984 and that Barbara is a great character. The worst thing Moffat every did was have Twice Upon a Time trick people into thinking of this era as The Sexist One.)

You might be wondering, "so what? It's a kids show. Of course nobody's gonna be horny!". And yeah. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that. The problem is that the show isn't horny, but it is sexy.

What I mean: Horny is sexuality in-universe. It's the characters having sexual attraction and interests. Sexy is sexuality out-of-universe. It's characters being attractive to the audience.

Peri is the ultimate example of this. She's completely normal for this era of the show when it comes to sexuality. It's not really a thing and when it is it leads to almost immediate marriage. But, she's always dressed in revealing outfits. In Planet of Fire, she's on vacation in a warm region, so that makes sense, but she continues to dress that way everywhere she goes.

Peri is sexualized as fanservice for the audience and for villainous characters to leer at to make them more threatening. Her personality doesn't really match her choice of outfits. It's all for the benefit of the audience and a justification for creepy bad guy behavior.

I mentioned before the sexual subject vs. object. A subject does while an object is done to. A subject looks while an object is looked at. When a character's sexuality isn't an aspect of their character, existing primarily as something for the audience and other characters to leer at, she's a sexual object. And that sucks.

The reason Moffat's sexualization of characters like Amy and River doesn't bother me is that they do not have this problem. The women in this era are just as horny as the men. It's clear that these characters are the sort of people who'd choose to wear the outfits they wear. Yes, it's still fanservice written that way due to Moffat's horniness, but the female characters he writes have sexual agency. They're sexy because they're horny. They flirt with people they're attracted to. They're not just being leered at by the audience and other characters. They're looking as well as being looked at. They actively participate in the show's sexuality. They are sexual subjects.

Of course this doesn't work all the time. There's a lot of "men are horny idiots about women" jokes. When it comes to other aspects of female characters, there's a lot of talk of them being overly emotional and focused on romantic relationships. This did get better over time, being less of a thing with Clara and basically not a thing at all with Bill. I think Moffat was aware of the criticism he was getting and learned from his mistakes. But mistakes were certainly made.

But, though Moffat was obviously horny for his female characters, he them sexual agency. It might not be for everyone but it meant that the horniness of the era didn't bother me.

Besides, I'm horny for Moffat's female companions too. Is it morally different because I'm a woman being horny in a gay way?

[koji-haru]

I'll be with you

[For @inubaki! Happy birthday!! I hope your day was amazing! ❤️]

This fucking sucks. Adam groaned loudly as he slumped in his seat, face looking tiredly up at the red ceiling. Red. Before he didn’t care much for the colour, but now, with red painted everywhere he went as if he wore red tinted sunglasses all the time, he had come to hate the colour with a passion. Charlie went around the group, letting them choose which journal they wanted. The princess had talked everyone’s ear off with her lengthy speech about gratitude and taking things for granted, except Vaggie because of course she always supported any of Charlie’s exercises no matter good or bad of an idea it was. 

Unfortunately for Adam, he was the second last person in the group circle, with Alastor just after him. When Charlie finally got to him, he only had two options: one had ‘Live. Love. Laugh’ written on it in cursive with rainbows in the background, and the other was a plain beige journal with ‘My Life’ written on it. Adam quickly chose the beige journal, better the boring one instead of sparkly rainbows. In his peripheral vision, he noticed Alastor’s smile twitch a little when Charlie handed him the remaining journal. 

“Oh, thank you dear,” Alastor said as he slipped the journal into the shadows, most likely never to be seen again. 

“No problem at all!,” Charlie beamed.

Honestly, Adam wasn't sure how she managed to stay so bright and cheerful in such a miserable shithole of a place that was Hell, but props to her, he supposed, but that didn’t mean he was going down the same delusion. Adam looked down at the journal in his hand. Three things he was grateful for everyday, huh? 

It has been almost two months since Adam died in the failed Extermination, revived as a sinner, and was now a resident at the very same hotel he tried to destroy trying to redeem himself back to Heaven. Well, ‘trying’ would be an exaggeration, more like forced to stay at the Hotel by Sera and Lucifer. Sera just wanted him back as an angel in Heaven to stop the others from wondering where the first man disappeared to; really, she just wanted to keep the ‘mess’ he made under the rug. And Lucifer, well, he just wanted to keep his precious princess happy. If Adam could be redeemed back to Heaven, then maybe Charlie could even get Heaven’s support for her hotel since Sir Pentious’ redemption apparently only made them decide to at least leave the hotel and its residents alone. No news about the possibility of future exterminations yet though. 

In reality, Adam wasn’t even sure if he wanted to get redeemed. Don’t get him wrong, he hated being in Hell, the place was absolutely vile and disgusting in ways he never thought was even possible. But he was kind of glad to have some of the weight be lifted off his shoulders. He would have preferred to have all of the weight be lifted off him when he thought he finally, truly died at the battlefield, but it seemed that God had other plans for him. He already lived long lives in both Earth and Heaven, as a human and as an angel, but now he also had to live a life in Hell as a sinner. It was wearing him out. He just wanted to be relieved of any duties; he just wanted to finally be done with everything. Being in Hell, he was constantly reminded of his failure in the garden of Eden, how he also bit the apple despite knowing he shouldn’t just so he could selfishly remain with Eve. Sinners themselves were proof of the filth he knowingly allowed into the world, and as much as he hated killing his own descendants, the Exterminations were truly the only way he could clean up his mess. Or at least that was what he believed; when news of Sir Pentious being redeemed reached the hotel, Adam thought he was going to die a third time. This entire time he spilled the blood of his children, thinking that that was the only way for him to make up for his mistakes as well as, in a twisted way, saving them from an eternal life in Hell, it was all for naught. Redemption was possible. Some of those souls didn’t need to be erased…

Adam flipped the journal open. He had so many regrets in his eternally long life that all good things seem to simply fade into the background. Well, almost all the good things. He still wasn’t sure how it came to be, but somehow, he managed to earn Michael’s love that even led to a promise of eternal devotion. Yes, the archangel Michael, Lucifer’s very own brother. It was certainly an odd twist of fate, but his union with the archangel was something Adam would never ever regret no matter how many lives he would end up living. Michael was the only reason Adam was even sort of trying this redemption thing, otherwise he would simply tell Sera to fuck off and leave him to suffer in Hell. Despite the strong urge of giving up, Adam wanted to at least see Michael one more time. He knew he didn’t deserve it, especially with their stark differences in, well, everything important, but he couldn’t help it. He was just a human needing to be with the love of his life.

Yeah, he was grateful for Michael’s love even though he didn’t deserve it. He could write that in the journal. He would write that everyday.

Just as the group was about to get up from their seats and off to whatever they wanted to do for the day, a loud and purposeful knock on the hotel door sounded throughout the lobby. Charlie perked up from where she stood, somehow managing to look even happier as she excitedly made her way to the door. Everyone was currently present at the lobby for her activity, even her father, that knock could only mean one thing…

Charlie pulled the door open, beaming brightly as she greeted her new guest, “Welcome to the Happy Ho..tel…” 

The words quickly died in her throat as her jaw simply dropped at the sight before her. What was such a being doing in Hell, especially at her hotel?! In front of Charlie was the most divine angel she had ever seen, with such celestial presence exuding off of him as if the very Heavens had gone down to visit Hell.

The angel gave Charlie a small smile as he stepped closer towards the now open door. “Hello young lady, sorry but I’m looking for Adam, the first man. I heard he was staying here?”

“Oh, uh, y-yes,” stammered Charlie, still stunned at the presence before her, as she took a step to the side, letting the angel into the hotel. “Just this way.”

“Thank you,” the angel thanked with a quick nod of his head before entering the hotel with quick, determined strides. He stopped by the lobby, looking around briefly until his eyes landed on a group of people gathered in a circle, and then zoning in on a specific sinner, looking different and yet all too familiar. The large black horns, blackened gold wings, floppy brown ears, and the long fluffy brown tail, swinging back and forth in impatience, did nothing to obscure the fact who the supposed sinner was. 

Before Lucifer could even react to the sudden guest’s presence, the angel already made his way towards the group, angelic presence heavy and almost burning, stopping just beside Adam and looking extremely displeased.

“Adam.” 

“Wuh?” Adam turned and swore he nearly died a third time as shock ran through his heart at the sight of the person in front of him. There, he sat dumbly on the carpeted floor, looking up at the new guest, both happy and confused. “Michael? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same.” Michael stood over Adam, arms crossed and a rare scowl painted over his normally gentle face. “I didn’t think your annual ‘day trip’ with your exorcists included you dying, becoming a sinner, and staying in a redemptive hotel for almost two months.”

“Um…,” was all that Adam could say, still completely baffled at his husband’s presence here. At the hotel. In Hell. How did he find out in the first place anyway? Adam could do nothing but look down, unable to meet Michael’s eyes anymore as guilt resurfaced only to drag him back down. He had already accepted it long ago that the archangel was too good for him, but now, after having everything vile and revolting about him exposed, he felt he didn’t even deserve to be in his presence. 

“...I’m sorry…,” he said, quiet and apologetic, his torn heart visible for Michael to see.

“Aaawkward!!,” yelled Angel out from across them, followed by a pained yelp and a hiss when Vaggie smacked the back of his head to quickly shut him up. 

Michael closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the air settle in his lungs for a moment before releasing them back out. A much softer look replaced his stern gaze once he opened his eyes again as he leaned down and offered a hand to Adam. “We’ll get through this, okay? Together this time.”

His angel really did come for him. Starting from the garden, throughout his hardships on Earth, his afterlife in Heaven, and even when he had fallen to Hell, Michael remained Adam’s guardian angel, steadfast in his devotion and, for some reason Adam couldn’t fathom, desired to forever remain by his side. It was a bit much really, for someone like him, especially now that he was nothing but a lowly sinner. So instead, Adam kept his eyes glued to the red carpet he was sat on, opting to pick himself up instead as he always had and always should. Just as he was about to push himself off the floor, Michael crouched down instead, going down to his level, and cupped his face with the softest hand Adam had ever felt. Michael’s blue eyes looked straight into him, not piercing but gently knocking, asking with all the tenderness of the world. 

“Come on, let’s get you back up, okay?”

Adam felt his heart creak at those words, and yet he couldn’t help the relief that washed over him as a small smile crept on his lips. It seemed that his angel was adamant about staying by his side; Michael was just weird like that, he supposed, to be so attached to him. In the end, Adam ended up timidly accepting the hand offered to him, whether he deserved it or not. 

“Um, sooo…,” Lucifer coughed into his fist, looking awkwardly around the lobby. “...long time no see, huh? Michael…”

“Wait,” Charlie cut in as she finally stepped into the lobby after letting the scene earlier pass by first. “Michael, as in THE archangel Michael? Angel of justice and warrior of God Michael?”

Now that he was a bit calmer, Michael finally let the awkward and strange situation he forced himself into fully sink in. And, oh, how out of place was he. “That’s me,” he replied. 

“Ooh, a bigshot from Heaven. I wonder how big you really are~” Angel pondered aloud for everyone to hear, earning him another smack to the head from Vaggie. “Ow! I was just asking!”

“Or, I don’t know, he could just be my brother?” Lucifer rolled his eyes. 

The sparkle in Charlie’s eyes brightened up even more, rivalling even that of Heaven’s image in the sky. “Oh my gosh!!,” she squealed as she bounced on her heels. “I can’t believe this! Uhh, oh gosh we were not prepared for your visit, uhm.” 

Within a span of a few seconds Charlie went from eagerly shaking Michael’s hand to fussing and worrying about the state of the hotel.

“The hotel’s fine my dear. Spotless even!” Alastor said, the smile on his face as wide as ever, though the look in his eyes told otherwise. The presence of another angelic being from Heaven was certainly unwelcome to him. That, and he wasn’t going to accept any critiques on the hotel he had worked so hard to upkeep, especially not from some spoilt angel! “There’s no need to worry so much.”

For once Lucifer found himself agreeing with Alastor, even nodding slightly along with him. 

“I think so too, duckling,” tried to tell her, trying to ease her unnecessary worries away. Really, what was the fuss? Just because his brother was here. “Besides,” he turned his attention back to Michael, his gaze a little more serious. “He’s an unannounced guest.”

“Oh, I’m planning to stay in Hell, at the hotel, if you would have me,” Michael announced to a shocked still crowd. Even Adam, who was standing by his side, had his mouth agape, eyes wide in shock and face pale at what Michael had just casually revealed. 

“WHAT?!,” exclaimed everyone in the room except for Michael, who easily stood there so sure of his decision. 

“I wish to have Adam back in Heaven, and so I’m staying to ensure that,” he explained, turning his gaze back to Adam, a small smile on his face, though Adam could immediately tell that even though there was still love in it, the tenderness plastered on that smile hid a blazing holy flame. “We’ll have to carefully plan your progress, right Adam?,” he asked, smile brightening up even more, Adam could almost feel the blaze from where he stood. 

“R-right…,” Adam reluctantly agreed, afraid of the talk they would definitely be having later. Michael hadn’t been mad at him for years; the archangel held a lot of restraint when it came to most things, and it often took a lot for him to even become irritated. But for him to be upset and mad? That was when Adam knew he truly fucked up. Michael was going to untangle him, and he wasn’t sure if he could ever be ready for that; more than a millennia’s worth of tangled fibres of his being was not going to be easy to unravel and sort out, nor would the effort be worth it, if he had a choice in the matter. 

“You can’t just–,” Lucifer tried to interject but was soon cut off by Charlie’s excited squeal.

“Of course you can stay!”

“Charlie, sweetie–”

“Then you have my thanks,” Michael said with a small bow. “I’ll make sure to put in a good word about your hotel to Heaven.”

“Wait–”

Charlie gasped, exhilaration flowing in her veins. Support from someone like Michael might just be what she needed for her hotel to be taken more seriously by Heaven. Just the thought of her hotel being official in Heaven’s eyes and her dream finally becoming true sent an electric joy through every fibre of her being, leaking out into the world outside her in the form of bright happy sparkles. 

“That would mean so much to me..!,” she sniffled, tears now pricking her eyes like  sparkling jewels from sheer joy.

And just like that, it was decided that Michael could stay at the Hazbin Hotel.

[grogumaximus]

Jos, do you agree that this was one of the most difficult seasons for Max?

"It certainly was, because of the performance of the car. He was already saying at the beginning of the championship that there were problems, but in the team they laughed, because he was winning. However, when the others grew up, it became clear that Max was right."

What didn't work?

"The wrong directions were taken in the development of the car. The balance between the front and the rear has never been ideal and on top of that the car breaks down on the bumps."

How did Max react?

"He worked hard to get the most out of it, despite the frustration of not being able to compete against the McLarens, who have long been the best on the track. He went to the factory more often, for simulator tests, and tried to help the engineers."

How did you handle the pressure around the team after the Horner case?

"In these moments, he manages to isolate himself from everything. He has the maturity and experience to face any situation. At home he has always been relaxed. Perhaps the most tense moment was in Mexico, due to the negativity spread by the English press (after the double penalty for the fierce duel with Lando Norris, ed. ). But all this is an extra motivation for Max. Nothing worries or scares him".

He was also at the center of controversy for certain statements…

"He won't change. That's just how he is, he always says what he thinks."

Who was closest to him?

"Me, our manager Raymond (Vermeulen), his engineer Giampiero Lambiase and of course Helmut Marko."

What was the best moment of 2024?

"The win in Brazil in the wet, coming back from seventeenth place. He managed to come back very quickly, took the lead and won by 20 seconds, without making any mistakes. It reminded me of his race in 2016, also in Interlagos, with the outside pass on Rosberg in the “Senna Esses”. It was incredible then too."

Starting this year, Max is traveling to European races with his motorhome. How did this idea come about?

"It's something he likes, because this way he has his own traveling home, he always sleeps in the same bed and enjoys more privacy, surrounding himself only with people he trusts. And then he had a simulator placed in the motorhome so he can train whenever he wants. It's a hobby of his, sometimes he stays there until three in the morning, but then he rests at least seven hours. I leave him alone and go to the hotel."

What moments do you share?

"At the races we eat together and talk about everything that happens. I can tell him anything frankly. Our relationship was built like this from the beginning and I only want the best for him. The difference is that now I don't get angry, because Max is a man and can do what he wants with his life and his choices, while as a child he needed a few scoldings".

What do you remember about those years and the holidays with Michael Schumacher?

"We were with the family. Our sons, Max and Mick, were having fun together, even though they spoke different languages, and Michael was playing with them in the pool."

Why did Max say he no longer wants to train on karts like other F1 drivers?

"He raced a lot in karts, maybe too much, sometimes we even did mini races in three with his mother (the champion Sophie Kumpen; ed. ). He also explained to me that, if you drive them only a few days a year, you end up with bumps and pains all over your body. He prefers GT cars. But he continues to follow the boys".

The Verstappen.com Racing brand is linked to a team that uses the Ferrari 296 GT3. Whose choice is it?

"About Max, he likes Ferrari...".

In the meantime, Mercedes was looking for him.

"Normal, they want the fastest driver."

How long will he race in F1?

"We have a contract with Red Bull until 2028 and we will get there, then we will see. We will have to understand if Max will still be interested in F1. All his life he has been told what he had to do, even by me, and now it is happening with the team. The time will come when he will want to decide".

Has he already given you a preview?

"There is certainly much more to his life than F1, and Max is aware of that. He listens to his feelings a lot, he knows what he wants. But it's difficult to say what will happen. Maybe, in the future, he will stop for a year and then he will want to come back. Of course, it's not the records that motivate him. He doesn't need to win seven or eight world championships, he is already happy with what he has achieved."

What do you remember about Max's first victory?

"It was the first race with Red Bull, even today I get goosebumps when I watch the commentary in Dutch. At the beginning we only dreamed of getting to F.1, then that success came and years later the world title, everything came true very quickly".

Who will be Max's rival in 2025?

"Many say Hamilton is too old, but he is a driver who knows how to fight hard. Norris is fast, even if he still lacks experience. It will depend on who has the best car. Ferrari got lost this year, after a good start, but they reacted. Vasseur is doing a great job, he is a racing man who knows how to sniff out situations, I like him".

[yourstarstruckbeloved]

first glimpse of red

in which seishiro nagi veers dangerously close to the path of nihility.

content/warnings: 1.1k words, blue lock x hsr au??? cross fandom fic— this is not a shipfic!!! acheron is here purely as a guide, a LOT of discussion of nihilism and pointlessness and such, like two mentions of death, acheron might be ooc warning, if there’s anything i missed pls let me know

author’s note: i’ve been OBSESSED with the idea of nihility follower nagi— well, not an emanator since emanators of nihility technically can’t exist, so at least whatever acheron is. this is me trying to coherently put it all into words <3

seishiro nagi rubs his eyes and stretches, yawning as he does so. he boots up his PC once more, and shuts it back off when he realises that even playing another game would be too much effort. nagi is tired. sighing as he closes his eyes, seishiro nagi slumps on his chair. the time blurs into monochrome. 

reason.

what reason did nagi have to do anything at all? why does he wake up in the morning just to go back to sleep at night? he immediately discards the thoughts from his mind, concluding that it would be a hassle to think about them anymore. and unknowingly, he finds himself walking a step closer towards the edge of the looming blackhole in the horizon of existence. nagi isn’t someone who spends his time dwelling on matters like this— he’d much rather get to the root of a problem as quickly as possible and cut it right off, so it would never grow to be a bother again.

nagi doesn’t know what path he treads on. all he knows is he tends to choose those with easy exits and no catches. what does he even want? it just so happens that the easiest path nagi finds himself to be able to tread on is one of listless monochrome. a lot of people have asked him why he finds everything to be a hassle. he shrugs and says that he doesn’t know. it’s true that he doesn’t, but it’s not like he’s ever bothered to find the answer to the question. and it’s not like he’s asked himself why he doesn’t bother.

nagi doesn’t care. he’s been this way for as long as he could remember. 

he meets a purple haired woman in his journey through IX’s landscape. acheron is someone that accidentally stepped into the path of nihility and ventured a bit too far into IX’s shadow. for a fleeting moment, nagi wonders why she couldn’t just have steered course away from nihility, but realises he doesn’t care that much about the answer.

pointlessness.

it finally dawns on him, why he thinks of everything as a hassle. the answer had always been with him, he never had to go look. all of nagi’s actions stem from wanting to eradicate all burden and hassle from his life. he recounts this to acheron, and she comes to the realisation that she and nagi probably weren’t cut from the same cloth; they were two individuals on vastly different courses of life, that happened to intersect at this very moment. unlike acheron who happened to be thrown onto this path completely by accident, nagi seemed like he was destined to follow nihility since birth. he’d always found everything pointless, enough to feel disengaged from everyone and everything around him to some degree, at least. 

but then again, unlike acheron, nagi has an easier exit from this path than she does. she’s carved this one singular path for herself out of the hardest stone, in a resolve to reach the light beyond the black disc of nothingness, and to guide people who cross paths with her by making them pick a certain choice that she offers.

well… calling it a choice offered by her would be putting it in the crudest and vaguely inaccurate terms. she’s not the one steering their lives, even for this fleeting moment; she could never take credit for such a thing. she simply shows people possibilities, and lets them decide for themselves which one they’d like to walk towards.

nagi can articulate now that the basis of his attitude to most things in life is because of the pointlessness he associates with everything. so, what now?

but then this leads acheron to question if nagi truly was someone born for nihility, or if he was just another one of the poor souls that was led astray and accidentally ended up on IX’s monochrome path; because, well, no one’s point of existence could truly be to pursue nihility— anyways, it’s not like the answer to that question matters, she surmises.

there is nothing left for nagi to do in this reality except for think, and so he does. why did he keep pressing on until this moment despite the pointlessness of his existence? well, he wouldn’t say he particularly pressed on to live— had death come knocking on his door, he would’ve followed it out with a shrug of his shoulders. do you keep living despite the pointlessness of it all, or do you actively try to find meaning in your actions?

cut that out, the answer to that question is pointless— humans keep living on, regardless of their answers.

slowly, the pieces of the puzzle come together. some pieces are still missing, but he gets the wider picture. in a first, he asks acheron why humans strive to keep living despite the void of meaninglessness that the universe is based upon. she tells him that red is the colour of existence, and that it will be the first colour that will bloom, only for a fleeting moment in this monochrome universe. she asks him if he would roam in search of that first streak of crimson or if he would pick up a brush and paint it into existence. and when a choice is made, it shall reappear once more. in other words, will you search for meaning, or will you create meaning for yourself?

nagi wonders why her question wasn’t about following the halo of light at the end of nothingness— isn’t acheron a guide to those who walk this path? almost as if she hears his thoughts, she clarifies that it would be a pointless question for her to ask. his mouth opens to question her once more, but the word why? gets caught in his throat, as the realisation hits him like a speeding truck. every life is destined to end with the nihility, no matter what— it’s almost like a primal instinct, the way every being is naturally drawn to the light beyond the nothingness. perhaps, that is why a life that edges closer to death fervently approaches nihility, and further aspires to reach the end of it. so, will you strive to fill your life with meaning, or will you willingly thrust yourself into the meaningless pursuit of the primordial light, like acheron has?

he understands now. he picks up a paintbrush that lies fallen at his feet, streaks and blotches of red trailing with its bristles. he walks, but acheron doesn’t care to discern whether he’s walking towards the blackhole or not. she smiles wistfully, slashing her blade and tearing apart the spatio-temporal fabric of the horizon of existence. seishiro nagi wakes up in a cold sweat, finding himself in front of his PC once more, the words you died plastered in big red letters on his screen.

[yandere-paramour]

So Noelle, being to a degree emotionally reliant on knowing that darling is safe and that her apartment is a sanctuary. How is she handling having that mental construct violated? Like say for example there's a break in and the apartment is robbed, darling isn't hurt or anything just that perception of having a safe secure place violated in some way. c:

GREAT Question, I was excited to answer this one.

First, let's explore the logistics of this. By the nature of her wealth and status, Atalanta has a trusted and experienced security team to protect her at all times. Since she was hired, Noelle has had security around her too, both because Ata likes her and because she is a potential risk. If Noelle is kidnapped and tortured for information, Montclair secrets could come out and that's a huge problem. So there is at least 1 security guard following Noelle around/Guarding her apartment at all times. A potential intruder would have to break into the building, get in the elevator, somehow know the apartment number, get past the guard, and then get into the locks. Noelle is no fool, she has taken precautions to protect both herself and Darling.

If someone managed to do all that, Noelle would be downright hysterical. Like she would have a mental breakdown, and Darling isn't even hurt in this scenario. If Darling was hurt, she might go on a rampage. For now, she is able to tone it down to just a simple mental breakdown.

You have never seen Noelle like this, and you will never see it again. In fact, very very few people have seen Noelle like this (Odette, her mom, and a few stepfathers). Noelle is a very, very calm person. She doesn't raise her voice or show any extreme emotions. You could be psychotic and she would calm you down slowly and gently, wrap you in a blanket, and hold you close as you slept.

But this is more than she can handle. This is violating her sacred space. She has carved out one space in the entire fucking world and some jackass has fucking defiled it? She can't have one damn thing? What did she fucking do in her past life to deserve all this?

You're not fucking staying here tonight. Noelle sends you with a security guard to a hotel room Atalanta arranged; she'll catch up later tonight. She has to do something first. You can try to protest but she's not in the fucking mood and you are going to listen and go. She's actually a little scary, she always speaks kindly to you.

You wait anxiously in the hotel for Noelle to come back for about 2 hours. When she finally comes, she is back to her normal loving, doting self, stroking your hair and lamenting about how scared you must've been and how brave you were and how she is so thankful you are safe and sound. She brought your favorite stuffed animal and some clothes for the two of you. She seems the same, only a little sweaty. After she showers, she cuddles you to sleep, then gets up to get her laptop and try to rebuild your lives.

The next day, Noelle allows you (after a lot of begging and pleading on your end) to go get some more essentials. When you get back through the kicked-in door, you are shocked. The place looks much, much worse than it did when you saw it last. The expensive glass vases and trinkets Noelle decorates with are shattered on the ground, the paintings clawed, the TV seemingly kicked in. The place looks ransacked, and your mouth drops open. You know Noelle would never be negligent enough to not leave someone to watch the door, and nothing sentimental seems hurt. All of your possessions are safely intact and pristine. Only... only the expensive things are destroyed... only the things that can be replaced.

"What-" You don't even know what to say, "What happened here?"

"What do you mean, Darling?" Noelle cocks her head at you, confused, "The burglars did this; it was like this when you left."

"No-"

"You're mistaken, my love. This must be such a great shock to you. Let's get your things and we can go back to the hotel room and rest. I'll even order some of those cookies you like."

[heliswife]

🦇 STILL MONSTER FT. NISHIMURA RIKI

✴ wc: 0.9 k ✴

Riki had no idea how much longer he could go on like this. Not when you were with him. He needed to taste of your blood, so pure and delectable. He could smell it from where he was standing, and it clouded his brain.

The pale moonlight illuminated your skin so beautifully, he wanted, no, needed you now. But there was an obstacle blocking his path.

"Riki? Are you alright?"

The problem was also the solution: yourself. You hadn't known that he was a vampire. At least, not yet. Your oblivion only made his cravings much worse.

The two of you had only met recently, but the string of fate had bound the both of you together and leading you to where you were that fateful night, on the balcony of Riki's isolated house.

“Yeah, I'm alright, y/n,” Riki lied. He wasn't a monster. He wouldn't bite someone so innocent, would he? You looked at him with such sweet eyes, he wouldn't dare hurt you. Or, at least that's what he told himself.

Riki took a step closer to you. You were already cornered by the railing, so you couldn't move anywhere. “You look pretty today, y/n.” Your name sounded so good from his lips.

“Thanks, Riki.” The same went for his name. Your names were fated to be together. In all of the lives the two of you lived, you were together in each one. Including this one, even with the secret Riki had.

Riki exhaled sharply. The nape of your neck drove him insane. His arms made their way on either side of your body, pinning you against the railing. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

Still in shock from Riki's action, it takes you a while before you respond. “Yeah, I guess I believe in them. Do you think we're soulmates? It feels like I've known you for a long time, even if this is our… what, second meeting?”

“We might be. Can I tell you something?”

“You can tell me anything.” You were glad that someone you had only met recently in this life was trusting you this much. Not even your friends would tell you secrets at times. However, there was something different about him. You swore you remembered him before, just not in this body.

“I'm a vampire.”

Before you could even process what he said, let alone answer, he craned his neck down and bit you.

Your hands flew to the small of his back, digging your nails in the area covered with the cloth of his dress shirt as your jaw fell slack. You could feel his teeth sink in your flesh, drinking hungrily in your blood. It stung, but… in a good way?

“Riki…” A small whimper of his name was all you could muster. 

He pulled back, his dark eyes meeting yours. Riki was still a monster; no matter how many lives he'll go through, Nishimura Riki will always be a monster, an outcast.

He knew you were terrified, but that only made his heart beat faster. His blood stained lips went back to your neck, this time gently sucking on it.

“I knew you would taste good,” Riki muttered against your neck. He made his way to your lips, gently kissing them. You could taste the metallic blood, your own blood. You felt dizzy, your knees felt like jelly, and your mind raced with millions of different thoughts. All about Riki.

“You're the only one I'll ever love.” He said. His hands were now grasping your upper arms. Like an artist after finishing a painting, he admired the red marks on your skin. “Stay with me, forever.”

“Riki, I have a family. I have friends,” You protested. But then you came to a realization. “Oh shit, oh shit oh shit I-” You would've dropped to the floor if Riki hadn't been holding onto you. With your face buried in his chest, you started sobbing, tears falling down your cheeks and staining his white shirt. “I'm gonna be a vampire now, aren't I?”

“Yes, you are.” Riki's grip on you loosened enough for you to fall to the ground.

“How am I supposed to tell everyone I know? They'll hate me!” You cried.

Riki crouched down to your level and licked away one of the stray tears. “Come on, baby, you're with me now. That's all that matters, isn't it?” Riki was selfish. Both him and you knew it. But he just couldn't imagine another night without you. You were his savior. “I can only be myself when I'm with you, y/n. We were made for each other.”

He got up and offered his hand to you, which you took and hoisted yourself up with. “We were made for each other,” You repeat.

Riki hugged you tightly, almost restricting your airflow. “Let me taste you again, y/n, please…” You nod in his arms, allowing Riki to go back for seconds of your delicious nectar. 

It didn't sting as much as last time, but the piercing pain was still a shock to you.

With the beautiful colors of dawn appearing and the somber night ending, your hand was holding Riki's. This would most likely be your last life, and you were glad to spend it with the person you loved the most.

Same went for Riki, if this was his last life, he'd die a happy man. Even if he was a monster, he knew what love was. And it was you.

a/n : @twiishaa my love my light my life enjoy <3 I've had this idea rotting in my head for the past week and it hurts

[onyx-syn]

Ya know, the more and more I get into mouthwashing and falling more in love with the characters and story - having a deep connection to it- I think about how the crew would celebrate holidays, more in particular Christmas and new years. And with the holiday seasons coming up, I think I'll write something little about it.

So take this

How the Tulpar Crew celebrates Christmas/Winter Holidays!

Warnings: Jealousy, this is just really sweet and full of fluff!

🌹So taking as it isn't clear as into there destination and there exact main transportation station they deported from (unless I missed that part and they said earth-) so for this I'm going based off of Earth's time!

🌹Pony Express has different transportation stations on different planets, but their main one is on Earth, so much of the calendars found on Pony Express ships align their calendars with Earths time. However, only these calendars can be authorized to the captain or co-pilot

🌹As to why that is, no one really knows but it's a tiny detail in the Pony Express Employee handbook underneath Captains Protocols Section, which was to keep check on calendar

🌹Anya has access to the up to date calendar that aligned with Earth's time. Anya still wanted to have some form of a connection with the outside world, almost like being home sick in her own way

🌹She kept the calendar so she could figure out what days were which holidays. However the reason that she gave Curly on why she wanted authorization to the calendar, was so she could updated records on all the crewmates time of psych evals and medication, which was true but she also had another more personal reason

🌹Anya turns the radio channels in medical bay just right to a music station that plays 24 hours Christmas music

🌹Is Christmas music her favorite music? No. Does she enjoy listening to it? Of course. Hearing Christmas music while being so far away to enjoy it with family and friends makes her feel closer to home

🌹Daisuke is the same way, but more on listening to more 'modern' versions of the songs, remixes sort of speak. As the youngest he would be the most appealing to gen z, so most of his taste and interests would be brain rot and memes

🌹Regardless, as much as he seems like the enthusiastic outgoing intern who always has a smile plastered on his face, deep down he felt a part of him become increasingly lonely, mostly due to the fact this would be his first holiday without being with his family and friends while being up in space

🌹Some of Daisukes games on his gameboy actually update their game during the holiday seasons to bring the spirit of the holiday into the game

🌹It brings him comfort seeing the snowy aesthetic on his game as he played. Reminds him of when he would sit on the couch and play, the window beside him displaying snow falling down, coating the ground and trees in a pure white scenery

🌹Out of all the crew members, Anya and Daisuke are for sure the ones who decorate. You don't wanna ask how long it took for them to go through the deep trenches of the ship to find even ONE Christmas decoration. Let's just say Daisuke has never been more happy to find plastic fake snow. Swansea just shook his head at Daisuke but deep down he loved the enthusiasm and determination this kid had to actually go in the back to find all of this stuff with Anya

🌹Now, when it came down to the Christmas tree, that's where the problem of decorating came to. Solution? Use the statue of Pony Express’s mascot as the Christmas tree (I think you can imagine who’s idea this was)

Curly and Swansea stared at the statue of Pony Express mascot, now covered in an abundance of different Christmas lights and taped on Christmas ornaments, with a look of wonder and confusion.

Before either one of them could mutter out a word about the look of their ‘new’ statue, in comes Daisuke walking through the automatic door with a gleeful look on his face and a star shining in his eyes as he carried in more lights and ornaments.

His attention turned to Swansea and Curly, seeing their expressions. “See you guys found the tree!”

Swansea raised an eyebrow at him, “You mean the mascot?”

“No our tree, don’t disrespect Mr.Tree like that Swansea”, Daisuke exclaimed walking over and placing more ornaments on the mascot with an over amount of tape -like a concerning amount- that made Curly question for a second just how much tape they would have left after Christmas day.

🌹Speaking of Curly and Swansea, these two are the worst ones with homesickness during the holiday seasons, especially Swansea

🌹Years back when Pony Express had the budget for it, they used to have a televised transmitter, where the crewmate could set up a small static TV panel in the lounge area and get a live feed of a similar TV panel back at home, so they could connect and communicate with their friends and families

🌹Swansea has been around so long that when he first began the job, he remembered when they first introduced the invention and took them away. Whenever he was out on a delivery and Christmas came around, he was always eager to get the transmission up and running to watch his family open presents. His wife and he would buy their kids Christmas presents before he departed. He always kept up with his kids, in what they like and don't like, even if he didn't fully understand some of their interests, and on the side to buy his wife a gift as well

🌹Swansea is both the type to buy appliances for his wife to use around the house cause she mentioned one time that she wish she had this or that for the house, and the type to get his wife an expensive new jewelry set. He loves that woman to death and will do anything and buy anything to see that look of surprise on her face, it brought a small quirked smile on his face every time

🌹When they took the transmitter away due to budget cuts, Swansea was stern and protested about it, sadly his complaints were left unanswered

🌹Anya and Daisuke would help cheer up Swansea’s sour mood during this time to help decorating and sticking tape on eachother. Swansea couldn’t even turn his back from these two unless he wanted a rough slap of tape on his work shirt

Swansea, Anya, and Daisuke were working on decorating the dining area to make the place feel more lively and get into the Christmas spirit more. It brings back memories to Swansea when the transmission TV’s were still here, he would watch his wife and kids decorate the tree. It was honestly cute seeing his kids walk up to the TV to ask daddy where he would like some of the ornaments to go on the tree.

It still made him upset that Pony Express took that luxury away, but you can’t have everything in this world.

Swansea bent down to look for more garland in the cardboard box to put on the ends of the counter, finding none left in the box. There was another box situated across from the counter over near the mascot.

Swansea saw it as no big deal, walk over, open the box, get some more garland, bada bing bada boom. It was a simple task that he could’ve done with no problem, had it not been for when as soon as he turned his back towards Anya and Daisuke, he felt a long strip of black scotch tape being slapped onto his back.

Swansea quickly turned around and looked back at the two.

The two of them were humming to themselves as they continued to decorate the area. Swansea put his hands on his hips and spoke, “Okay which one of you did that”.

Daisuke shrugged his shoulders, “Don’t know whatcha talking about Swansea” Swansea rolled his eyes at his naivety and fake innocence. Swansea's hand went back around and pulled the tape off his shirt with a loud sheer tear. “Talking about this shit”, he said sternly.

In the corner of his eye he could see a sly smirk appear on Anya's face as she snickered, turning her head away so Swansea couldn’t see the look of mischief her face had.

Daisuke answered Swansea, “Oh that? Damn, must’ve flew over to you”, with Anya adding on, “Must’ve grown hands to slap your back life that Swansea”. Both Daisuke and Anya snickered to themselves as they messed with Swansea.

Swansea’s nose scrunched up as he rocked his head side to side mocking their laughter, “So you think you can mess with ol’Swansea aye?” He asked, almost challenging like. He walked over to the table where more black scotch tape was scattered across it. He grabbed one and pulled a long black stripe from it, looking at Daisuke and Anya with a hint of mischief in his eyes now.

“You two better start running before this tape is gonna be in your nightmares”.

🌹Lets just say that a lot of tape was used that day, but it definitely did help bring Swansea’s mood up, much to Anya’s and Daisuke liking

🌹As for Curly, it was hard on him for the simple fact that back on Earth, he was a social butterfly, liked by everyone, had many friends an family that he would celebrate Christmas with. Him and Jimmy would celebrate Christmas at their family’s house, inviting one another to each one and then go out that night to drink to end the day. It was a tradition to them at that point

🌹But being up in space, with Jimmy’s new found position as a co-pilot that Curly helped him get and Curly as Captain, it felt oddly lonely. Curly wouldn’t admit it to anyone, even his best friend and Anya. Curly also had many duties as Captain, which caught him to be occupied with work after work so he couldn’t spend time with the crew and helped decorate, which just added more to the feeling of loneliness

🌹Whenever he did get the chance to take a step back from having to do work, he would check up on everyone to see how they were hanging in, always lending a helping hand with decorating, joking around. Sadly, he too was a victim to tape slapping, he was confused at first but once he realized it was a free for all, no one was safe

🌹Jimmy, however, didn’t spend much time out socializing much with the crew to his liking, if anything he despised the Christmas spirit. Only time he would come out to help, was either for Cury’s sake or for simple human interaction

🌹It was a lot different here in the Tulpar then back on Earth. His jealousy for Curly grew more and more with each passing day, seeing how the crew idolized him even for the smallest thing, seeing how eager Curly was to help them. Jimmy was in control just like Curly, but not to Curlys level, and it pissed him off to no end. How could he be so happy? Jimmy always wondered, questioning Curly’s mental strength of control on this ship

🌹It’s not like Jimmy felt excluded, Daisuke would always try to joke and invite Jimmy along with Curly, but god did he despise everyone on this ship for some reason or another

🌹When Christmas day finally arrived, everyone was in the dining room and lounge area. Anya and Curly were in charge of making food and drinks, mostly Curly, as most of which had to be done through Captain authorization. Curly was able to find in the deep cupboards of the cabinets an old recipe book that contained holiday recipes both food and drink

🌹He made a quick thing of ham and mashed potatoes, not the most lavished or the most tasteful that the crew has tasted, but it was good nonetheless and added more to the Christmas mood. He also made some eggnog, surprisingly as they had the resources for such. It was Daisuke’s first time trying eggnog and his last time, he didn’t enjoy the taste as much as he thought but he kept telling himself it’s good

🌹The crew sat in the lounge area after eating, drinking eggnog and conversing, discussing old Christmas stories of theirs back at home and folktales that ol’ Swansea might remember

🌹“I’m not that old, i’m not a fucking dinosaur” Swansea kept telling Daisuke who kept asking about Christmas folktales like Swansea was some magical being

🌹Anya would tell stories of how her and her mother always went downtown for the Chritsmas parade after eating and opening presents. Anya loved taking photos of the wintery scene as people in jollyful clothes and jingle bells. She would talk about how that parade had real life reindeer and how the people in the parade would give the onlookers carrots to feed them. She giggled back on the memories of where the reindeers lips would tickle her hand as they took their carrots out of her grasp

🌹Curly reminiscence on the times with him and Jimmy celebrating Christmas at both of their parents house, mostly at Curlys. Curly has a huge family, so a lot of gift wrapping paper would be scattered all over the floor, making a huge pile. His family’s dog would jump in and out of the pile having zoomies, they always said that Christmas day was ‘Sammy’s’ favorite day. And after that, the family would play game after game. Curlys siblings themselves were very competitive during these, which led to arguments spurring out during games like go fish -yeah, that competitive

🌹Jimmy didn’t add much to it, only chuckling and adding on to Curlys tales of him and Jimmy back on Earth, adding onto his stories from his point of view or a forgotten detail. It was almost surreal seeing Jimmy have a genuine chuckle over something that he liked and enjoyed

🌹This is one of only a few times, where the crew felt like a crew, a moment where they would all chill and lay back and have a fun time with each other. However, all good things come to an end, don’t they