#Season 1 to 4 were great though

[aingeal98]

Daisy is so interesting because she absolutely will never give shitty men an inch. She'll never say "I can fix them." or try to excuse their actions no matter who they are or how much she cares for them. Miles, Ward, Fitz. If they hurt her, then she knows her worth enough to call them out on it and call bullshit on all their attempted excuses.

But what's interesting is that she just. Doesn't know how to do this with Simmons. There is nothing Simmons can do to her that Daisy won't try to minimise and forgive. Something about growing up in the foster system and learning from a young age how awful men can be, but then getting your first long lasting female friend when you're working for a spy agency, and you're both so willing to die for each other and the love and trust is right there. Unlike with the men in her life it's not a bond Daisy knows how to cut off even when it's grown toxic. Literally Simmons could cut someone's head off and Daisy would stand in front of her teammates being like no it's OK I know her! I can fix this! She just needs help!

It's kind of heartbreaking but as a character quirk I find it so fascinating.

[autistic-beshelar]

remember when the dragon prince was like... good

[devildomwriter]

I want to ask... pleasee... when do you think obm charas fell for mc? And how they realize about that kind of feeling. And i actually curious about seraph other than michael and raphael (relationship with lucy) thankyouuuuuu ✌(‘ω’)✌

When Did They Fall in Love?

Mammon fell almost right away. He already was leaving a toothbrush in MC’s room by chapter 4 so I’d say a little before then probably in chapter 3

Leviathan was very flustered around MC after agreeing to a pact and becoming closer friends. I believe this is around the time he started really falling for MC and seeing them as more than a friend. This is in chapter 4

I believe Beelzebub fell for MC after they saved his life. They were already becoming friends but after that Beel was pretty devoted to MC. This happens in chapter 6

Asmodeus became enamored with MC after experiencing their power. This is when he started looking at MC as more than just a human and housemate. The more he learned about MC the more devoted he became. This starts in chapter 8

I believe Satan fell for MC around the time they formed a pact. He had great respect for them and was a bit flustered about the situation. This happens in chapter 12

I believe Lucifer’s interest begins in chapter 12 but dissolves upon MC’s betrayal. However when the dust settles his feelings have returned by chapter 17

Belphegor immediately took an interest in MC in chapter 16 upon learning their heritage. However I believed he felt romantic interest in chapter 17 onwards when MC helped him repair his bond with his brothers and he saw how kind they were.

Solomon is hard to say. He doesn’t get a lot of time in season one and in season two he is mostly trying to figure them out. However in season two he is willing to kill Lucifer and destabilize the Devildom over letting MC die. To I’d say within season 2

Simeon also became more attached to MC in season 2 and was confessing and blushing by season 3. But I predict it was towards the end of season 2

Diavolo fell for MC probably towards the end of season 1. But during the chaos of season 2 and not knowing if MC would live or die he held his tongue. He tried confessing later in season 2 but was interrupted.

Barbatos was pretty confused about everyone’s attachment to MC. In season 3 MC kisses him and he is surprised to feel a warmth from it. But he officially falls for MC at the end of season 4. Barbatos takes a while because he’s been all throughout time and is very strict in his duties, so love didn’t cross his mind until he felt it for MC.

Thirteen is pretty attached to MC in Nightbringer almost immediately. But she begins calling herself an MC Stan before the end of NB season 1 and ropes Mephistopheles into it.

Mephistopheles hasn’t shown much romantic interest in MC in Nightbringer yet but as teased by Thirteen he believes MC looks good but just never says what he means. I believe he develops interest in season 2 but I don’t believe he’s fallen just yet.

Raphael has almost no time in Nightbringer and hasn’t had a chance to bond with MC. In the OG game he did get pretty close to MC as they helped him accept the reality Lucifer and his brothers wouldn’t return to the Celestial Realm. He’s also the first of the new three to get closer to them in OG. But I don’t believe he’s fallen for them yet, though interest is there.

Michael hasn’t fallen for MC but we know he cares about them and has been protecting them though he claims it’s for the brothers’ sake. He feels MC is trustworthy enough to rant to about his issues so he must care at least a little.

Other Seraphs and Lucifer

I believe it was in a daily chat, but Simeon has texted Lucifer that the other angels have been asking about him, especially Uriel. So we know that some of them still care about him or are at the very least curious—Not just the seraphim but all of the angels.

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Could you write for Daemon targaryen like currently after all those nightmares in harnehal he finds a prisoner of harnehal as the only person who brings him peace him falling in love with her and trying to be better person he still fights for team black obviously rahaenya is definitely not happy with these arrangements especially seeing him all dedicated all in love some things he never have done for her but she have no option currently rather accepting his second wife though at the end when team black would be winning and fight at harnehal like aemond Vs Daemon she ask for reader's head happy ending at the end please or anything you wanna write I just wanna see Daemon happy in love at end please

Finally I have time for my hobbies again! Sorry I left you waiting for ages, this term the exam season was tougher than what I have been accustomed to… Anyways, I have started writing some stuff and I wanted to post the intro instead of writing a full-length chapter 1 since it would have taken a couple more days (:

As a side note, I honestly have no idea where this story will be headed because I have no clear course planned, I had some little ideas and I just started writing them. Also I will be introducing stuff which is not in the asoiaf universe.

I am continuing to read Silmarillion from where I left off and let’s say the ideas about Daemon’s love interest are… inspired from what I have been reading (; Enjoy!

Memento Mori

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: strong language, I am not a native English speaker, reader is (or will be) described with long hair

This is a very short introduction! Also the chapter is from Daemon’s pov. The title is inspired by Memento Mori by Lamb of God (the song has been a great inspiration for the story so far)

The dungeons of Harrenhal were cold, wet and lonely.

He had no idea when, how and why he had gone down there – one moment, he was in his chambers and the next, he was opening his eyes to the mossy stone walls of the dark dungeons with a torch in his hand. The line between dreams and reality was becoming thinner each day he spent in this cursed castle.

As Daemon walked past the empty cells, he tried to shake off this unsettling feeling lingering around him, dancing on his neck on its tippy toes, making him wonder whether he was indeed alone.

I doubt Simon Strong keeps prisoners down here, he thought while wiping the water from his forehead which was dripping from the broken ceiling. Maybe he has decided to lock up the witch?

Just when the Rogue Prince – correction, the King Consort – was about to turn back and leave the depressing, humid and somewhat eerie atmosphere of the dungeons behind, a soft humming reached his ears.

A soft, sweet humming of a song coming from one of the cells at the very end of the darkness.

“What kind of prisoner is Simon Strong hiding here?” Daemon asked, his voice created echoes as he waved the torch in front of him, trying to cast some light.

The humming stopped immediately, as if the sound itself was cut by a knife.

Daemon’s purple eyes widened upon seeing that the last cell was indeed not empty.

There was a young woman inside, looking at him with her eyes full of curiosity. Her hair had an unearthly shine under the dim moonlight. She tilted her head to the side. “You can see me?” She asked, it was the same soft voice from a moment ago, though the sweetness was no longer there to be felt.

Daemon raised an eyebrow at her direction. “Do people not see you?”

The young woman shook her head, her movements – no matter how simple they were – felt almost too harmonious. “Not normally, it is not intended that I am seen.” Stopping for a moment, she eyed Daemon from head to foot. “You are not really here, are you?”

The raised eyebrow quickly turned into a frown. “What do you mean? I am standing in front of you.”

She shook her head once again. As her soft whisper filled his eyes, Daemon started falling into the nothingness, again, for the unknown-th time ever since he had come to Harrenhal.

“Wake up.”

***

When he woke up, trying to catch his breath, Daemon found himself lying on his bed, as always. Anytime he had one of those weird dreams – he wasn’t even sure if he should call them dreams anymore – his consciousness would find its way back to his bed.

Unless he was daydreaming, which were considerably the worse.

“Who the fuck was that weird woman?” Daemon muttered to himself as he stood up, dressing up in his regular robes. The feeling in his stomach was telling him that he had to go down there, to the dungeons, to find that woman. If he were to wait until dawn, he feared she might be gone.

What was it that she said again? It is not intended she is seen?

Leaving his chambers with a torch in his right hand, Daemon shook his head to the thoughts flowing through his mind, causing his silver hair to move. “Weird woman,” he muttered to himself as he walked through the dark corridors of the castle with haste. “She somehow reminds me of the witch.”

The dungeons were as dark and wet as he remembered from the dream. A cold wind was wandering besides him, kissing the mossy walls and licking Daemon’s skin, sometimes whispering wicked words in his ears. Even the wind was odd here, in Harrenhal, but he had somewhat got used to it – hearing its eerie whispers whenever he walked alone during the hour of the wolf.

“Show yourself,” Daemon spoke with a strong voice which created echoes as he stood in front of that very cell from his dream. “Your king commands it!”

“Huh, king?” The same soft voice answered from the dark corner of her cell. The moonlight had left its shining spot, leaving the torch in Daemon’s hands as the only source of light in this entire corridor of the dungeons. “I answer to no king.”

A condescending scoff left Daemon’s lips as he came closer to the bars made of steel, separating him and the weird woman. “You do live in Westros, do you not?” Daemon asked, not really waiting for an answer. “As long as you breathe in this land, you do answer to the King.”

A chuckle came from the darkness. “I have been breathing in this land before your ancestors flew across the Narrow Sea, Daemon Targaryen.”

Taglist: @throughgoeshamilton @mirandastuckinthe80s @xicesam @mariamyousef702 @eddiemadmunson @dont-try-pesticide @sweetybuzz25 @hc-geralt-23 @schniiipsel @ttae-yong @syrma-sensei @asiludida164 @kaitieskidmore1 @irmavanity-blog @pax-2735 @trickrtreatart @shanzeyxsyed @random-human02 @scarwicht @xcallmetaniax @instabull @niiight-dreamerrrr @my-dark-prince @stargaryenx @abaker74 @babywolff @sonnensplitter @bi-narystars @softtina @sadmonke @avalyaaa

[leah-lover]

Two hearts one timeline. Alexia putellas x reader.Angst

Part 1. part 2

“ Why did it take you so long to go out with me?” asked alexia. She sat opposite wearing a dress, heer hair was down, her makeup was minimal but she was absolutely stunning.  Her words were true though. It took her asking you out 4 times for you to agree. 

“ Well I wanted you to be sure that you wanted me. I don't want to cause you any stress especially because this is  a crucial part of the season.” you respond. “ I am happy you agreed to come with me. And yes, I really really want you.” she cheekily responded. 

Both the conversation, food and wine were great. Once you finished she drove you to your house. 

“ This was definitely the best date I have ever had.”  you say to alexia once you get to your door. “ i will be happy if this date continues?” she suggests. 

“ I am not sleeping with you, capitana. We have a game tomorrow, you need sleep. I am willing to kiss you though.” you say before giving her the sweetest most gentle kiss. Her hands on your waist, your on her neck. You last for a while before pulling out. “ go home and rest, capi.” you say before pulling out of her hold and entering your apartment complex. 

The next morning was matchday. You had a strict routine to follow and you did it to the T. However, flashes of the night before kept flooding your mind from time to time. Alexia’s smile, laugh, and lips were all what you were thinking about on your way to the stadium. 

Upon getting there, you also do your usual routine getting ready for a game you were starting, Alexia still on your mind. When you saw her in her game fit you couldn't help but let your jaw drop. She was in fact wearing a very sexy look that you wanted to tear it off her right then and there. When she saw your reaction she couldn't help but smile. 

The game started out really well. You managed to score 2 goals in 10 minutes which earned you an embrace from your captain, and the team was dominating like usual. however , it would all turn at the 60 minutes when alexia falls on the ground. You weren't far away from her when it happened so you ran as soon as you saw her ignoring the play happening. You knelt as soon as you got there and heard her say “ Joder, joder, no joder mi rodilla, no otra vez.” you understood that she was cursing about her knee. 

You then get the hai out of her face and tell her to calm down. “ Dulce bebé, todo estará bien.” you comfort her. 

You didn't hear the whistle blow, still in your bubble with Alexia when Parti urged you up to leave space for the medical team. You were shaking with fear for Alexia but the play resumed. She was the only thing on your mind for the next 10 minutes you were on the field before Jona subbed you out. 

You made an excuse for needing ice from the locker room so that you can go in and see alexia. 

Once you got there, she was laying on the physio bed alone and her knee was bandaged up.  “ ohh my sweet baby” you say to her when you see the tears i n her eyes. You go to her cup her face and kiss her lips and her red cheeks gently. 

“ It's gonna be fine mi amor.” you add but she is still silent. “ Can I stay with you?” you ask. “ Look, Jona is pretty upset about me re-injuring my knee. I don't want him to blame you or anything so it is best to keep our relationship a secret for now.” she says breaking what was left of your heart. You get up and leave immediately not wanting her to see you cry. You try and collect yourself before heading out to the field again. 

You keep your head down, meet the fans and shake the hands of the players. 

When you get to the locker room you change quickly and head to your car without saying goodby to anybody which they would later find weird. 

You cry the whole way to your house “ she is ashamed of me.” you say quietly between sobs. When you get home you go directly to your bed and fall asleep wanting this day to end. 

You wake up at 4 am and check our phone to find a text from alexia “ estrella i am just trying to protect you.” 

“ thank you capi.” you respond and shut your phone again. You didn't realize how much you felt for Alexia until you saw her down on the field,  an image that would haunt you.  

The next morning you got a message from the group chat that said that alexia was injured and needed another surgery. So you text her wishing her good luck and that you were thinking of her but she was radio silent. 

The following days were grim for you. You felt bad waking up and even worse going to training. All you thought about was how Alexia was doing. You were getting regular updates through the group chat but wanted to hold and sooth her knowing how badly she felt. You wanted to kiss  her and be with her but you couldn't since patri was at her house and a few medical staff members too. 

You were bad at training, you didn't sleep well or eat well and your negative state was obvious to the entire team. 

“ chica what’s wrong?” asked aitana one day after training. As soon as she put her hand on your back you broke down and started crying. You didn't realize how touch starved you were and how much you needed to be comforted. 

“ You need to talk to me right now.”  ordered aitana after you came down. 

“ I caused alexia’s injury.” you declare looking at the ground. 

“ We started dating a few weeks ago and we went on a date the day before. I think I distracted her and caused her injury. I just want to be there for her and love her but we are a secret so I can't.” when you verbalized  your feelings you felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. 

“ re-injuries happen when you had an ACL it's not your fault estrella . if you want to go see the captain a can arrange that.” 

You look at her in shock before she says “ go get ready i go do some phone calls. “ 

When you park in front of her apartment, nerves settle in your stomach but you push through, go to her door and open it with the keys patri left under the mat. 

You enter as quietly as possible. When you set your gaze on her form you feel relieved. She was laying on the couch watching tv with her knee propped up on a pillow. 

When you see each other she smiles and you tear up. 

“ oh my god i missed you so much.” she says when you reach her. “ Amor, why are you crying?” she adds. 

“ I missed you.” you respond before meeting her soft lips. “ I was  so worried.” you say before she cuts you off. 

“ I know aitana told me. Amor, you didn't cause anything and I am sorry for pushing you away.” 

“ te amo” she added. “ I love you too” you respond before kissing her again. 

[ineffableteeth]

So I was rewatching Good omens and I realized something.

Season 2 brings up Memory. A lot

Specifically Crowleys memory

In every episode something is said about it and I find this really interesting

I’m only going to bring up what I think are major, I want to note there are more instances than this. This is gonna be messy and a little disorganized since I’m just throwing my words on this post as I think of them and read the episode transcripts but I had to write it out.

In Episode 1 we see pre-fall Crowley and are introduced to our amnesiac archangel. This will be important later

We don’t see much of Crowleys memory loss in this episode but the biggest example I could find was the way Beelzebub had said Extreme Sanctions after Crowley misunderstood

It was as if they were expecting him to remember

In Episode 2 we get the first blatant hint of Crowleys memory loss

When Gabriel said he couldn’t remember, Crowley doesn’t say “Well try anyway”

He says “Yes you can.”

Crowley knew Gabriel could remember, he knew he could make himself remember. As if he knew it from experience.

Also in this episode we get Crowleys “I’m a demon, I lied.” As well as several other instances where he lies in this episode.

I also feel like his “Lonliness” is important to point out, because I feel like that goes much much deeper than “[I’m on] my side”

In Episode 3 we get Crowley and Gabriel’s Conversation about “Gravity”

Crowley knows what gravity is on a base level. But he says “I don’t remember” when asked why gravity exists and proceeds to give a very nondescript explanation

Now for Episode 4. This episode is actually what triggered me to start looking for these instances.

Because of Furfur

Near the end of the episode when Furfur enters the dressing room he mentions that him and Crowley were directly next to eachother during the Great War, as well as the fact Crowley used to jump on his back “Like a little monkey in a waistcoat”

And Crowley didn’t remember

All he remembered was going to war

Why does Furfur — A demon — remember but Crowley doesn’t?

In Episode 5 we get one of the most crucial ‘memory’ scenes imo

The aftermath of Crowley threatening Gabriel

When Gabriel tells Crowley “It hurts to remember, my head isn’t built for that” Crowley replies with “I know, do it anyway”

Again it sounds like Crowley is speaking from experience

The most important quote to me though is when Crowley says “I know, looking at where the furniture isn’t.”

Because after the fact he proceeds to ask Gabriel if he wants a hot chocolate

This wasn’t a sympathetic action. It was Empathetic.

He feels for Gabriel, he knows what it’s like to not know

Finally in Episode 6 we get context.

This is where the whole amnesiac archangel comes into play.

Before I get into that though I want to bring up Crowleys meeting with Saraquael. Because something interesting stood out to me while reading her voicelines. After Crowley asks “Do we know eachother?” Saraquael says “When you were an Angel” and pauses before she says the following voiceline “We worked together on the horsehead nebula”

Those were two different sentences. I’m definitely looking too far into this but to me it sounded like she knew he wouldn’t remember so she gave unnecessary context. This as well as the fact she didn’t respond when Crowley essentially said he didn’t remember her.

Back to my original point though, during this episode we finally learn how (and why) Gabriel lost his memories. Angels can remove their own memories as well as have their memories removed by other angels.

But clearly Furfur still has his memories, as well as Shax, Dagon, and Beelzebub

And anytime Crowley mentions “remembering” something it’s post-fall

Adding on Neil’s post about “Crowley not being a reliable narrator on his fall” as well as showing Crowley pre-fall in episode one leads me to believe there’s some foreshadowing in there and something happened to Crowleys memory.

But What?

Why doesn’t he remember?

What did they do to him?

[folkloresthings]

TOLERATE IT / FA14.

in which the older sister of lando norris finds herself teetering dangerously towards the precipice of her brother’s, significantly older, colleague.

( fernando alonso x norris!reader )

track one: gold rush. track two: delicate. track three: labyrinth. track four: false god. track five: happiness. track six: the 1. track seven: daylight. track eight: lover.

✩⡱ warnings: age gap! reader is 25, fernando is 41. some cursing and sexual references.

INSTAGRAM.

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f1 We are so delighted to announce our new F1 x Red Cross Ambassador, Y/N Norris! Y/N went straight from Oxford University into the world of charity work. She has worked with the Red Cross for over 4 years and will now be working alongside Formula 1 in our ongoing support of the charity’s campaigns. Keep an eye out for our future fundraising events, auctions, and other exciting things!

view all 798,211 comments

landonorris go sister that’s my sister!!

danielricciardo does this mean more y/n in the paddock? because that will make race weekend so much more enjoyable

⤷ yourusername indeed it will honey badger 🫡 if you ever need a sub to drive for you, i’m in

user nepo baby job. she’s only working with f1 because her brother’s lando norris

⤷ user it’s f1 we’re talking about, they’re ALL nepo babies. at least y/n has been working with charities for years, it’s not completely random

fernandoalo_official great news!! see you on the paddock yourusername

comment liked by yourusername and 849 others

hungary was warmer than you had expected, that humid sort of heat that made you feel yucky no matter how many times you’d showered. but amongst the sea of sweaty drivers and mechanics, it could have felt much worse. lando had given you the grand tour of the paddock and track but duty called, and with your brother called off to some interview, you were left trackside.

there were no cars due to be on the track, so you were able to get as close as possibly. for years you’d gone to your brothers races, listened to his fanatic rants, and tried so hard to understand why he loved the sport so much. but now, standing and looking out at the quiet track, you started to understand the beauty.

“hello, again.” you jumped a little, the voice cutting through the peace. when you turned, you found fernando on the other side of the pit wall, looking at you through the gap in the fence. you chuckled, feeling caught, looking up at him.

“hi there,” you greeted, blinking innocently. but behind those eyes were little innocence, same as his own. you hadn’t slept with the driver, you weren’t that quick, but the night he’d spent in your apartment was long. wondering kisses, stolen touches, hesitance to leave. you both wanted more, but neither wanted to give in.

“you’re tagging along for the season, then?” he asks, eyes gleaming with possibility. you nod, humming quietly. as excited as you were for this job, another kind of excitement came knowing you’d be seeing fernando every weekend. “first time in hungary?”

“no, second. i travelled with some of my girlfriends during uni and we stopped in budapest for a few days — though i don’t remember most of it,” you admitted, cheeks turning red at the memory. he laughed, head thrown back with pure delight. it made your stomach twist endlessly.

“well, let me refresh your memory. i’ll take you to dinner tonight,” he offers, charming as ever. your brows raise, trying to differentiate his flirtations from his sincerity. “consider it a congratulations on the new job.”

you’re getting ready to refuse, knowing how lando would react and the complications it would bring, when fernando’s hand slipped through the pit wall railing, brushing over yours until it rests on top. you look down, noticing just how much bigger his hand is than yours. stronger, too, with more defined knuckles and much more worn down from years of driving.

“please say yes,” he whispers, even though there’s no one else around, and squeezes your hand softly. you sigh, meeting his deadly gaze once more.

“alright. but i want italian food.”

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yourusername how’d you turn it right around?

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user A MAN’S HAND

lilymhe literally the prettiest girl ever

carlossainz55 hermosa 😍

⤷ user is carlos the mystery man ??????

landonorris i let you out of my sight for five minutes JEEZ

landonorris now who is he so i can break his hands

TWITTER.

IMESSAGE.

writers note: lando stop cockblocking. also that b&w pic of flo is one of my favourites ever i can’t stop staring at it

[i-only-ever-asked-questions]

Map of Soho Good Omens Season 2 - Part 1 (Location and general map)

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Update: Map now identifies Lucky Snake and the coffee shop listed in Aziraphale's clipboard may indeed be Give Me Coffee I think we all have wondered how the GO Soho looks like and where it would be in real London. So using all the screenshots, BTS pictures and videos I could find I did my best to map out where things are. It is not to scale but everything I could see is there. I originally had all the pictures and explanations in this post but soon it became obvious it was going to be too long and impractical so I had to split it in different posts and I hope I got it right. The map has five reference points (circle with two diverging lines); imagine the circle is you, standing in the set, and the lines are your viewpoint if you were taking a picture from there. The left side of Whickber Street (#1 and #2) is in Part 2, the intersecting street (#3 and #4) is in Part 3 and the right half of Whickber Street (#5) is in Part 4.

As to where the bookshop would be in real London. We know that Whickber Street is supposed to be Berwick Street so let's start there. The intersecting street is not obvious from the show. In this post Neil said he imagines the bookshop to be where Gosh! Comics is (Peter Street) while Michael Ralph and Douglas McKinnon probably put it at The Week (on Broadwick Street). Because it is ambiguous and really you can do whatever you want, I just left it as "intersecting street". We know from the book that Crowley takes Wardour Street after the bookshop fire. Wardour is behind Berwick so in our map it would be where the Chinese Buffet Restaurant is, considering they run more or less parallel. On the other side, we have the Windmill Theatre located on Great Windmill Street. From Berwick St. and Peter St. it takes three minutes to walk to the theatre, it is that close! (yes, I know, Crowley was conducting business two blocks from the bookshop while not talking to Aziraphale for 80 years). I have never been in that part of London so I used Google Maps streetview and based only on that, I like the corner of Berwick St. and Broadwick St. better. It has the crooked intersection but the proximity of the theatre matches Peter St. better, so whatever works better for you!

There is one place missing from the set map though: Brown's World of Carpets! It is nowhere to be found, we simply don't know where it is My very personal headcanon is that it is nothing but a desk inside the furniture store. I find that idea of the guy most worried about storefront looks being the one without a storefront very amusing, but don't mind me, it is just my very silly hc XD Now, we know Aziraphale has a list for the shops he needs to visit. And we know he wrote it in alphabetical order which begs the question: Where is the Dirty Donkey?! Are they not invited? And what about the fabric shop? And Bilton Scaggs? Battye and Palm? The News Agency? Is "Mo Coffee? No Coffee?" supposed to be Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death? Or is there another coffee shop somewhere? @crow-bee23 suggested it could be "Me Coffee" which it is entirely possible, the full name is kind of long. So many questions to ask Mr. Brown.

Anyway, I put pictures and details on the shops in parts 2, 3 and 4. Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

[katzske]

Thoughts on Earthspark Season 2 (first half)

Spoiler Free:

I must admit I’m dissatisfied.

The animation and rendering definitely looks cheaper. Sometimes it feels like frames are missing, animations not polished, scenes not fully rendered. 2d and 3d poorly blends. It’s quite noticeable unfortunately. Characters also do the TFP Megatron stare now.

That being said, time was taken to revisit old models of characters and give them a new appearance. (4 i’ve noticed) It makes sense given a lot has changed during one year time skip.

The writing often feels either like exposition dumping or naruto filler episodes. I was never at the edge of my seat even during the climax. I ended up skipping through episodes due to the lack of relevant plot information.

Something ES managed to maintain were carefully composed shots that make great still images. While that’s nice for screenshots and redraws, I also feel like it’s the only unique aspect of ES’ animation style that remained. The rest, as previously mentioned, has lost quality.

Character Details I’ve noticed and want to talk about (spoilers ahead)

half of season 2 part 1 is filler. optimus trailer episode, great america with cosmos, a pachycephalosaurus-truck fighting mushrooms, hashtag taking ten years to dispose of hard drives…. each episode did have a few minutes of either cute or important moments. but the majority is a waste of time.

I was hoping that we would learn more about the decepticons. now that they’re free, what are they up to? how are their dynamics? how did season 1 finale change their perception on things? would they try to convince the terrans THEY are the good guys? nothing like that though.

There is no satisfying character development for starscream. ES Starscream was perfect to explore a more neutral version of him, who does not do bad things out of pleasure, but due to necessity; following his desire to be free. In the show he mentions he wanted to get rid of his oppressors (in his eyes autobots and humans), but a real “bruh” moment was when he told Hashtag the only reason he opened up to her last time was to tell her “take care of yourself first”. It completely disregards the fact he came to help in the season 1 finale after reflecting on Hashtags words. It also aggravates me that the writing could have been a very easy fix. “hey i’m not being selfish by destroying this town. im doing this for the decepticons, we have lived under the control of the autobots and then of humans. this needs to stop, we deserve freedom and i will do anything it takes.”

the show managed to establish some friction between starscream and shockwave but for deception standards it was very tame. overall i think it was written okay; he purposely let the Terrans escape with the fragments, and he bailed on Starscream once he went bonkers. I hope that he gets to be a Decepticon leader in the second half; i don’t think we have seen that in any TF TV show before. i also like that his antennae and eye color give away his emotions now.

i feel like the autobots are treated even worse than the decepticons this season ngl. they merely exist; and when they do have the spotlight it’s often for comedy.

why the fuck did shockwave not wait for hashtag to just dump the hard drives and leave. if someone walked up to me yelling “give me your trashbag” as i’m trying to dispose of it i’d be weirded out too lol.

i hope the chaos terrans don’t return. aftermath imo was, plot wise, redundant. spitfire at least was interesting and had an impact.

i wish there were more interesting fights like in season 1 instead of, oh no they’re hitting the trailer with sticks, oh no we are an abomination of dinosaur and vehicle for what feels like 15mins straight. i miss seeing soundwave slay.

[aurorabyler]

the significance of heroes by david bowie to stranger things + byler (finn wolfhard interview)

byler nation. i just found an interview clip of finn that i’ve literally been looking for since season 4 dropped. i remembered watching it but i couldn’t find the video afterwards and i also haven’t seen many people talking about it, so here it is:

transcript (finn wolfhard): “this is my life in songs. a song that reminds me of stranger things — heroes by david bowie. there’s a cover in the first season, but i remember when we were first shooting the first season shawn levy (one of our directors and executive producers) cut together a sizzle reel and put it to heroes, and that was kind of the first glimpse we got into the show. and it really just kind of blew me away and also made that song so important as well to me.”

if any of you are familiar with the way heroes is used in stranger things as well as some of the theories surrounding the specific lyrics that are selected and placed over scenes (especially related to byler) this is quite significant. it’s also significant that it was in fact shawn levy who put together the sizzle reel with heroes — he is known in the byler community to kind of be a byler champion, if you will.

he has directed some of the most significant byler scenes in the whole show — finding will’s fake body in the quarry in season one (WHICH HAS HEROES PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND), the rain fight in season 3, the byler scenes in dear billy (including the legendary “i didn’t say it — you didn’t have to” scene) among others.

furthermore, heroes is established as a theme/musical motif that is very explicitly related to byler in season one of the show, as the first time it plays mike literally breaks down at the sight of will’s fake body and bikes all the way home. the specific lyrics that play when he goes to hug karen in that same scene are (quite notoriously):

and the guns, shot above our heads

and we kissed, as though nothing could fall

and the shame, the shame was on the other side

it’s interesting that finn notes the song as being one that specifically reminds him of stranger things and that seems to (based on not only shawn but the fact that heroes has been used TWICE in the show over NEAR PARALLEL byler scenes) to have a very big role in the show.

anyways. what i'm saying is that leading up to season five, a lot of people are kind of expecting that the pattern of using heroes will be completed -- they used the cover in seasons 1 and 3, and it only really makes sense to kind of complete that in season 5 as the song has been used as a throughline for a very specific storyline for what will have been the almost ten years since season 1 came out.

lastly i just want to say that i am not implying finn speaking about a song that has personal meaning to him is somehow solely connected to byler. my main interest in this is the shawn levy bit and just the general significance of the song to the show, which has been spoken about in lots of theories ever since the show came out in 2016.

i'll link here some posts about byler theories related to heroes that might give you some more context to its significance:

[hotchfiles]

↪ DANIEL 12:1 ─ chapter two.

AN IN NOMINE PATRIS, ET FILII, ET SPIRITUS SANCTI INSTALLMENT

pairing: hotch x fem!consultant!reader. summary: murders committed using catholic symbology gets emily to convince hotch it's time to ask for an expert. luckily for you, you're the expert. content warnings: canon typical violence. religious themes. spoilers to season 4. mature themes. mentions of throwing up. word count: 1.2K

      At that time Michael, the great prince who protects your people, will arise. There will be a time of distress such as has not happened from the beginning of nations until then. But at that time your people—everyone whose name is found written in the book—will be delivered.

      He didn’t reply to your question, how could he? What type of person asks another if they believe in God after an hour of meeting each other? How could he answer a question he himself wasn’t sure if there was an answer to?

      Did he believe in God? What god? His mother’s, the one who allowed her to drink her feelings and spit it out in form of insults and violence towards her family? The one that allowed his father to die of cancer? The one that didn’t do anything to stop the sick men and women Hotch had to catch every week?

      He shakes his head, trying to get his thoughts back to the case presented now in the board of the DC precinct but his eyes land on you, the way your foot shakes, up and now, your legs crossed, your fingers tapping the table quickly and with a rhythm of their own, your bottom lip would bleed out if you kept chewing on them, but what he noticed most were your eyes, wide and focused on the board with all the pictures from the crimes, even the ones Emily hadn’t sent you.

      This was the reason bringing outside people was not a good idea. Not everyone is prepared to deal with death, horrific deaths at that, the way the BAU members were. You clearly weren’t. He might’ve asked you how you were once more, but as quick as he thought about it, you two weren’t alone anymore as the lead detective and Emily came into the room.

      “They were drugged but could feel everything.” The words ring inside your ears, loud and repetitive like a beating heart. Your heart. Your mouth waters in a way you know too well and you feel your palms clamming.

      You’re going to be sick.

      You give the room half a smile and a nod, quietly excusing yourself from the others while making the effort not to make a scene, but you’re barely able to see where you’re going as you try to reach the bathroom.

      Something tells you you’ve done a good job at being discreet, even if you weren’t able to conceal the awful sounds coming from your throat, the light breakfast you had suddenly not seeming very light. It’s probably the fact no one knows you, or maybe because everyone else is busy trying to solve a goddamn murder case.

      The thoughts in your head were quickly brushed over when you heard someone clear their throat, a light knock on the door of the stall you were kneeling at. Your body reacts fast, holding the door with your palms even though it was locked.

      “Sorry, occupied.” Your voice in rough from putting it through too much, but you stay polite regardless.

      “Are you alright?” There is genuine concern in his, it keeps any shame from creeping up on you.

      “Mr. Hotchner! I’m okay… I ate something bad, it’s alright.” The lie comes without a second thought, but it’s obvious he doesn’t buy it. You get up quickly, opening the door as an attempt to leave the situation behind along with the contents you just flushed down.

      “No one expects you to react to these like we do.” His eyes are piecing and you swallow dry, nodding in understanding and thankfulness, but unable to say much else. “I will leave you to it, we are going through the files again, if you need anything, you can text me.” Hotch hands you his card, realizing you don’t really have his number and stands to his word, leaving you alone.

      Truthfully, he’s not sure what made him follow you to the bathrooms, possibly the fact Emily didn’t seem to notice the way your lips had gotten devoid of color or maybe it was just in his nature to care for others, fascinating alike you or not.

      It doesn’t take you too long to go back to the conference room the team was set, only some minutes to wash your mouth and your face, a few deep breaths to control your heart rate.

      “So the motive isn’t religious?” You hear a police officer ask as soon as you get back.

      “It has religious elements but the message doesn’t seem religious.” You smile to yourself as Emily speaks, fascinated by her quickness to get into work mode, to get into the mind of who was doing all of that.

      “It‘s about punishment.” Hotch repeats your earlier insight, it makes you feel useful, and smart. You knew you were intelligent, brightly so, but having something you said be important in something so big as an investigation was… Different.

      “And how is that not religious?”

      “Punishment coming from a religious motive would probably include whipping and at the most extreme, burning. The use of the cross pose seems purposeful, it is a punishment, a shameful one, but also, there’s some… Status to it, because it was how Jesus was killed.” You can be heard by everyone, but your focus is again on the pictures, your finger quietly drawing invisible crosses along the table. “I guess it can be another way to allude to Catholicism, like Saint Michael, they are the religion with the biggest attachment to the image of Christ in the cross. But then again, it doesn’t have any other aspect of Christ’s crucifixion.”

      No one has the time to reply to your rambling, a loud ringtone interrupting the brainstorming, Hotch answers, promptly putting the call on speaker.

      “The widow was no help, she is shaken up and has no idea who would want to kill her husband.” Derek sounds defeated, “And Hotch, he wasn‘t religious.”

      “Mrs. Beckett said she tried to bring him to mass countless times during their marriage but he always vehemently refused to.” Spencer’s voice is higher in pitch but he sounds intrigued, deep in thought.

      “Alright, come back to the precinct, we are waiting for Rossi and JJ and beginning to create a geographical profile.”

      Your puzzled look doesn’t last long, as the team present begins pinning on a map the victim’s homes and where they were found.

      “No churches near the warehouses, but two near Monica Dawson’s place.” Emily comments first looking at the red pins.

      The phone rings again and you wonder if they don’t get headaches from that sound coming out of nowhere all day, but the sweetest and most cheerful voice you ever heard comes on speaker, Garcia, and you smile involuntarily.

      “Garcia, any leads?”

      “You know I do, my darling sweet boss—”

      “Don’t call me that.”

      “Fine, sweet sir, both warehouses are pretty much truly abandoned, but I sniffed around, and by that I mean I went far far back and found some documents I maybe shouldn’t be sniffing around—”

      “Garcia.” You hold in a laugh at the interaction and the supposedly threatening tone Hotch was using.

      “Both were used for military training, like… SEAL type of military.”

      There is a bit of an awkward silence before Hotch thanks and dismisses her, with the mission to find records of everyone who were apart of those trainings.

      “If we’re dealing with a Navy SEAL…” Emily’s voice is a whisper you’ve never heard before.

      “Things might get ugly. We need to be fast.” Hotch’s shows more confidence, but he is worried and as you realize seconds later when an officer barges in, he has every reason to.

      “There’s been another one.”

[dovveri]

the right reasons

bachelorette masterlist - part 1 ▸ part 2 ▸ part 3 ▸ part 4 ▸ part 5 ▸ part 7

synopsis: final stretch of the season. home visits.

warnings: implied sex

w/c: 3.4k

a/n: apologies for late update i have been laid on my literal deathbed with sickness and the brain juices have basically run out for this series so this is a short update to get them flowing again and hopefully i can wrap it up soon 🙏 ty for the support as always!

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

the next few days are hectic with house visits. because of the contract you had both signed, and the fact that the entire nation has been invested with sana's journey to find love, it was a given that sana wouldn't be able to just drop out of show. that didn't mean she didn't try, in fact you had to pull her back from calling all the lawyers in the district to break her contract, insisting that it was fine to see the show through and that you were going to be there for her no matter what. it took a few more assurances, and a couple rounds of sex, kisses, and promised cuddles before she reluctantly agreed to continue filming the upcoming home visits.

jiwon's family was first. you had both met her younger siblings and her several nieces and nephews that were very young. they were all very sweet and it was adorable watching jiwon entertain the young ones.

fortunately, the classic 'father figure that gives the intruder the i'll kill you if you hurt her speech' wasn't present because it seemed jiwon served as that person for her younger siblings. though her younger sister was a little skeptical at first, she easily warmed up when she saw how great sana was with her kids.

sana and jiwon wrapped up the night with a private talk, one which sana didn't share with you, but you were learning to trust her, even though it still looked like she was dating 4 people and soon to choose the love of her life, you had to trust that it was going to be you after it all ended.

jacky's family was next except since most of his family was back in australia, you actually just had a nice dinner at jacky's apartment with eunji who jacky had nominated as his family stand-in. you had apologised profusely to eunji for not being a better friend and not being there for her on the night she was eliminated but she laughed at you and rolled her eyes, saying it was completely fine. she was also friendly with sana who was a little anxious seeing her again so soon after practically rejecting her on national television, but eunji was extremely cool, and they got along even better as friends.

if you ignored the cameras set up everywhere and the producers running in and out, it was a pretty normal night between 4 friends. you had enjoyed dinner made by both jacky and eunji, drunk soju, sung bad karaoke on jacky's home-installed karaoke television set, and played nintendo switch games all night.

in typical bachelor fashion, jacky and sana also had their own private talk on the balcony towards the end of the night, although it was a little silly watching the producers and camera crew figure out how to film it because it was a small apartment, meant only for jacky to live in, so the balcony was basically right outside the living room where you and eunji had stayed, trying not to look outside and give them their privacy while they were having their mandated talk.

then, the crew had surprised everyone with a flight to japan for momo's home visit. momo had greeted all of you at the airport in a traditional kimono and one ready for sana as well. sana had teared up seeing her and being in her country of birth again. the next few hours were a whirlwind as momo and her sister hana took you all for a tour of their home city, stopping by all the essential places to eat, take pictures at, and had even brought you to momo's old dance studio where they had readied a performance just for sana. the producers were very happy with the amount of content they were getting as you explored the city.

you could tell sana absolutely loved this date. the amount of planning momo put into it showed how much she wanted to impress sana, and how much she understood her homesickness and her love for her birth country. it was hard to be jealous of momo getting most of sana's attention during the date when sana was on the verge of tears at every new sight, sound, and feeling. and momo was a sweetheart anyway, always being inclusive of everyone, making sure she was there if anyone needed translation or help with anything, you adored her as a friend, grateful that she was able to provide this experience for sana during the stressful filming season it's been.

you ended the day at momo's house. you met her parents and although you were a little intimidated by her dad's buff physique, he turned out to be a big teddy bear who supported his daughter more than anything. both her parents were glad to be able to converse with sana in their native language, and easily warmed up to her because of the fact that she was japanese and communication was made a lot easier. you spent a lot of the dinner just watching them, only catching hints of their conversation from your select knowledge about the japanese language, but momo noticed eventually and tried to translate as much as she could which you appreciated very much.

it was only a little awkward when momo and sana went for their end of the night chat and you had to sit with momo's family attempting to make small talk with your broken japanese. it turned out okay when momo's mom smiled sweetly and brought out dessert, turning on the television and flicking to an episode of the bachelorette with japanese subtitles. it turned out to be the episode that heechul had tried to rizz up momo and sana using his almost offensive japanese, and you were all able to laugh as you tried to explain using gestures and your best attempt at charades exactly what type of man heechul was behind the scenes.

although japan and korea weren't far, the crew had let you had some time off in japan and granted a day off after filming the dinner with momo's family so that sana could go home and see her family as well. so that night you had taken the bullet train from kyoto to osaka and sana had held your hand, leaning into you as she talked through her childhood stories softly. it felt like it was just the two of you against the rest of the world.

the next day sana was positively glowing. she practically skipped around you in circles while she took you around her home town. it was clear she was loved and missed in the neighbourhood. sweet old ladies and old friends were stopping her everywhere, asking how she was, if she was going to move back to japan soon, everyone wanted a piece of her.

you had dinner with sana's parents who you'd met already when they flew to korea for sana's graduation. although there was still the language barrier, it was easily overcome when sana's mom started showing you albums of sana's baby pictures and pictures of her throughout her childhood.

sana had squealed adorably, trying to cover up her baby pictures and chasing you around the house while you yelled out comments while rapidly flipping through the pictures before she could catch you.

you ended the night collapsed on sana's bed in her childhood room, cuddled into each other. you never really decorated your room when you were younger, too repressed and focused on your studies to ever find the time or worth in doing so. but seeing sana's walls plastered with old japanese anime posters, idols, her ceiling dotted with glow-in-the-dark stars, and pictures of her friends and family everywhere, you can't help but yearn for the childhood you could've had if you had tore away from the books for a little bit.

you're both laid supine on the bed, looking at the imitation night sky sana has in her room, little do you know sana's gaze is focused on you instead.

"y/n?"

"hmm?"

"thank you for being here."

"are you kidding? i wouldn't be anywhere else in the world right now. plus we just got a free trip to japan, life couldn't be any better. i should be thanking you."

sana giggles and fully turns her body, facing you and draping an arm over your stomach. you have your arm under her neck, supporting it while she nuzzles into you.

when she starts playing with the bottom of your shirt, sneaky fingers sliding up and under it, you squeeze out a warning, "sana... your parents are literally next door."

you can feel her smirk against your neck as she starts leaving light kisses along it, and you're helpless, lifting your head slightly to give her better access.

she hums against you, "you can be quiet can't you?"

you make a muffled sound of protest, "your childhood idols and plushies are watching us right now."

you can't see it but sana rolls her eyes, continuing her way up your neck, "i lived out my teen years in here. you think they haven't seen me get off?"

you squirm at the thought, the image of sana under her sheets, trying to keep quiet while she touched herself to whatever fantasies she had at the time.

"you're thinking about it aren't you? how i looked- coming home after school- do you have a school uniform kink y/n? that's slightly concerning y'know?" she leaves a hot trail of dangerous kisses up your throat with each phrase, intent on driving you absolutely crazy.

"n-no!"

"mm okay." then her lips are on yours and really, you should know better than to alert her parents of your sexual proclivities but when sana's licking into you like that you can't blame yourself for not being able to think straight.

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

the final date is of course, with jihyo back in korea.

you were nervous walking in through the front door, the sight of jihyo's parents and her sisters, all familiar faces from when sana and jihyo used to host parties and get-togethers for the various holidays of the year.

fortunately, jihyo's parents and rest of her family were sweet enough to welcome the both of you with open arms. as if the breakup never happened. you gripped sana's hand tightly knowing she was probably going through a hellstorm of emotions right now, being in an environment that reminded her of the brokenness jihyo left her with.

what you did not expect was jihyo's ex-boyfriend to also be at the dining table, all smiles and big buff arms.

sana's hand tightened around yours at the sight of him, her eyes quickly flashing to jihyo with a mixture of hurt and disbelief. jihyo avoids her gaze, sitting down next to her ex-boyfriend instead.

you hear sana take a deep breath, composing herself before the cameras and smiling, you can see straight through it though, keeping her hand in yours when you take your seats at the table, glaring daggers at both jihyo and her ex.

it's clear the tension around the table is present.

jihyo's mom clears her throat, attempting to strike up a conversation, "so sana... it's been a while since we've seen you. what have you been up to?"

sana smiles politely, "well this entire show has been a pretty big thing lately. although i will say i was very surprised to see jihyo there on opening night. not as surprised as i am to see your ex-boyfriend here though." sana directs towards jihyo, a little harshly, stabbing her food with her fork.

"sungbin. it's nice to meet you." sungbin offers a polite nod, but keeps mostly to himself.

"sungbin is my best friend. i thought if y/n could go on this whole experience with you then it wouldn't be a problem if i brought my best friend along." her tone is cutting, like she knows something you don't. "besides... my family's already met you and given you their approval. i thought the whole point of home visits was to get to know people close to me and see if they like you?"

sana shuffles a little in her seat, her grip on you tightens. "right."

the table falls silent again, only the sounds of cutlery scrapping against plates able to be heard.

it's more than awkward and you can see the producers talking worriedly with each other, coming up with any ways to make this more entertaining.

it's jihyo's dad that clears his throat this time, "so sana... do you think you've found your 'one' on this show? i know jihyo is a contestant on your show but know we still care about you and want the best for you, even if that's not our daughter." he smiles kindly, while his wife pecks him on the cheek for his sweet words.

"dad!" jihyo startles.

"what? just because you decided to break up with sana doesn't mean we wanted to let go of her."

"yeah sungbin isn't nearly as good as you at super mario bros even with all those muscles." jihyo's youngest sister chimes in with a laugh, lightening the mood easily as you slip into old conversations and reminiscing better times. you can see the producers visibly relaxing as conversation starts flowing, but jihyo is still tense, unable to look at anyone except sungbin in the eye.

eventually the night leads you into board games with the family while sana takes jihyo outside to talk. you give her a reassuring look before she heads outside, sungbin gives you a strange glance but you don't bother paying him any attention. regardless of his presence, he was still a stranger to you.

you're celebrating your third pass by the go slot in monopoly when the argument outside starts to get louder and louder, able to be heard from inside the house.

"why would you bring him here!?"

"what do you mean why? don't tell me you haven't been sneaking around with y/n this entire time! you haven't even given this show a chance have you?! you haven't given us a chance!"

"jihyo i told you last time that we are over! we have been over for over a year now!"

"i apologised for that okay! i just thought- i didn't think you'd be the type of person to go on this show for the wrong reasons sana."

"what- what wrong reasons?!"

"you're not here to find love! you've had it! even when we were dating i always thought it was kinda weird how close you and y/n were!"

"what- what are you talking about jihyo?!"

"you know damn well what i'm talking about."

"i don't."

"the fact that you've been in love with y/n since way before we were dating sana."

"wh- what?!"

"yeah. i figured if you're not taking this experience seriously than i give you a taste of your own medicine. that's why i invited sungbin tonight. everyone talks about people only coming on these reality shows for their 15 minutes of fame, i didn't peg you to be one of them sana."

"i am taking this seriously! how can you tell me anything about what i've been doing when you've had tunnel vision this entire time? you've only been focused on trying to get me back after i already told you that we're over!"

"if you are taking this seriously then tell me you don't have feelings for y/n. tell me you're going to end up with one of the final four, it doesn't have to be me, but don't you think you owe it to the others who have been trying so hard to impress you this entire time to give it your all?"

"i- that's not for you to decide jihyo."

"you can't say it can you?"

there's silence for a bit, the muffled sound of sniffling. you can't help but feel like you're intruding, and the fact that everything was being filmed and recorded right now made it even worse.

you quietly slip out of board games night and head towards the producers.

"you're going to cut that out right?"

"sorry?"

"their conversation. you'll cut it out?"

"excuse me, who do you think you are?"

"sana's best friend. who cares about her and her national reputation as korea's most eligible bachelorette."

the producer sighs exasperatedly, "we'll see what we do in the final edits. no promises." he rolls his eyes and pushes past you to go talk to the camera directors.

you hurridely go outside to see sana sitting on the balcony, her head in her hands, jihyo looking out across the balcony.

"sana?"

they both turn to you, jihyo rolls her eyes predictably, scoffing and moving past you back inside. you take the opportunity to step outside and close the door behind you.

"sana sweetheart..."

sana's eyes are watery, barely concealed emotions rampant across her face.

"cameras." she gestures weakly around the balcony where cameras and microphones are still set up.

"let's go home then."

she takes a breath, nodding slightly and taking your outstretched hand, you squeeze it reassuringly, leading her out of the house and offering your goodbyes to jihyo's family.

rather than take the driver back to the bachelorette pad, you insist on driving and giving the driver the rest of the night off. that way, you can at least ensure the both of you aren't under the watchful eye of producers looking to make a buck off sana's misfortune for entertainment.

it also helps that you can take a detour and head to a late night ice-cream parlour you and sana used to go to all the time as college students.

you grin when you see sana's expression immediately brighten when you pull up into familiar streets.

"where are we going y/n?"

"somewhere as sweet as you."

"ice-cream?"

"mhm."

she squeals happily, hugging you and you try your best to return it with a laugh while you keep your eyes on the road.

you park and walk into the ice-cream parlour hand in hand.

sana beams when she walks in, excited to taste test all the flavours despite always getting the same thing every time. you let her be childish again to forget all the things jihyo's said to her.

once she's tasted everything you order your usual white crumble pistachio and strawberry yoghurt for sana.

as always, she has to try some of yours and you must try some of hers because she's tried yours so it's only fair. except this time she leans in to kiss you, the flavours mixing on your tongues, a sweet kiss with no cameras or pressure, a moment just for the two of you.

after you're both finished with your cones, she leans into you, placing her head on your shoulder.

"about what jihyo said..."

"it's okay sana. you don't have to explain anything. i shouldn't have been eavesdropping anyway."

she snorts, "well i mean- it's going to be broadcast nationally anyway."

"maybe not. producers said they'll take it into consideration."

"mm. i haven't- i don't-"

you let her think, placing an arm around her shoulder comfortingly, letting her come up with the words in her own time.

"i love you. i told you that already. i don't know for how long- maybe jihyo's right and maybe i've always loved you. that doesn't mean that- it doesn't meant that i haven't put my all into this right?"

"of course not sweetie. i don't know if it was the same for you but i didn't even realise i had romantic feelings for you until during this. in the beginning, i was completely focused on finding the person that would be right for you. and i think you were too. it just so happened that halfway through, we started- well i realised that you were it for me." you turn to face her gently, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear and caressing her cheek.

she rubs her nose against yours softly with a smile, "you're it for me too. i'll figure out how to get through the rest of the season, but i think jihyo's right in that i have to start being honest with the rest of the contestants. none of them deserve to be led on like this."

"i'm sorry i kinda fucked up this whole show for you."

she pecks you chastely, "silly... we wouldn't be here together or have realised our feelings for each other if this didn't happen right? we just have to be selfish for a little more."

you sigh against her, bringing her into a proper kiss, lips trying to convey just how much you felt for her.

[pikahlua]

MHA Chapter 425 spoilers translations

This week’s initial tentative super rough/literal translations under the cut.

1 続きまして卒業証書 つづきましてそつぎょうしょうしょ tsudzukimashite sotsugyou shousho "Next, the graduation certificates."

2 授与 じゅよ juyo "Awards,"

3 カモンナッ KAMONNA "come on!"

tagline 1 バイブス、アゲてけっ‼︎ BAIBUSU, AGEteke!! The vibes, have a blast!!

4 おめでとう omedetou "Congratulations."

5 よく戦い抜いてくれたのさ よくたたかいぬいてくれたのさ yoku tatakai nuite kureta no sa "You fought well for us."

6 じゃがいもじゃがいも… jagaimo jagaimo... "Potato, potato..."

tagline 2 No.425　季節外れの　堀越耕平 ナンバー425　きせつかずれの　ほりこしこうへい NANBAA 425 kisetsu kazure no  Horikoshi Kouhei No. 425 Out of Season Kouhei Horikoshi

7-8 そつぎょうしたっ sotsugyou shita "I graduated!"

9 波動ねじれ先輩悲しいよォ!!! はどうねじれせんぱいかなしいよォ!!! Hadou Nejire-senpai kanashii yoO!!! "Nejire Hadou-sempai, we're so saaad!!!"

10 卒業式遅くなちまってすまねェな…‼︎ そつぎょうしきおそくなちまってすまねェな…‼︎ sotsugyoushiki osokunachimatte sumaneE na...!! Sorry for the late graduation ceremony...!!

11 桜は散っちまったがせめて門出は華々しく さくらはちっちまったがせめてかどでははなばなしく sakura wa chichimatta ga semete kadode wa hanabana shiku The cherry blossoms have scattered, but I'll at least make your departure* spectacular! (*Note: This word for "departure" also mean "starting a new life." It's often said of graduating seniors.)

1 いっけえええ‼︎ ikkeeee!! "Let's go!!"

2 イエエエアアア IEEEAAA "YEEEAAAHHH!"

3 卒業式のグルーヴじゃねえ‼︎ そつぎょうしきのグルーヴじゃねえ‼︎ sotsugyoushiki no GURUUVU ja nee!! This isn't a groove for a graduation ceremony!!

4 卒業生には既におなじみ そつぎょうせいにはすでにおなじみ sotsugyou-sei ni wa sude ni onajimi The graduates are already familiar with this.

5 新3年生（2年）は受け入れ始めている しん3ねんせい（2ねん）はうけいれはじめている shin 3nensei (2nen) wa ukeire hajimete iru The new 3rd-year students (second years) are beginning to accept it.

6 新2年生（1年）ドン引き しん2ねんせい（1ねん）ドンびき shin 2nensei (1nen) DONbiki The mood is ruined for the new 2nd year students (first years).

7 6月留め置かれていた先輩たちの 6がつとめおかれていたせんぱいたちの 6gatsu tomeokarete ita senpai-tachi no For the seniors who were kept until June,

8 卒業式が開かれた そつぎょうしきがひらかれた sotsugyoushiki ga hirakareta a graduation ceremony was held.

9 泣きイベントだろが…‼︎ なきイベントだろが…‼︎ naki IBENTO daro ga...!! "This is an event for crying, though...!!"

10 まるで祭りだな‼︎ まるでまつりだな‼︎ maru de matsuri da na!! "It's like a festival, huh!!"

11 怪我痛くない？ けがいたくない？ kega itakunai? "Don't your injuries hurt?"

12 痛むけど いたむけど itamu kedo "They hurt, but"

13 嬉しいと平気なの不思議っ！ うれしいとへいきなのふしぎっ！ ureshii to heiki na no fushigi! "it's strange, I'm all happy and fine!"

14 ミリオのおかげだ"棺"で倒れた俺たちをずっと看ていてくれたもの ミリオのおかげだ"ひつぎ"でたおれたおれたちをずっとみていてくれたもの MIRIO no okage da "hitsugi" de taoreta ore-tachi wo zutto mite ite kureta mono "It's thanks to Mirio. He was the one who kept looking after us when we collapsde in the 'coffin.'"

1 各国への必要物資の要望 かっこくへのひつようぶっしのようぼう kakkoku e no hitsuyou busshi no youbou Requests for necessary supplies to each country,

2 復旧計画費用の算出と捻出 ふっきゅうけいかくひようのさんしゅつとねんしゅつ fukkyuu keikaku hiyou no sanshutsu to nenshutsu calculating and raising recovery plan costs,

3 支援の配置と分配病床の確保に医療にーーー しえんのはいちとぶんぱいびょうしょうのかくほにいりょうにーーー shien no haichi to bunpai byoushou no kakuho ni iryou ni--- placement and distrbution of support, securing of hospital beds, medical care---

4 超人社会といえどこれ程 ちょうじんしゃかいといえどこれほど choujin shakai to iedo kore hodo although it may be called a superhuman society,

5 迅速な復旧の裏には じんそくなふっきゅうのうらには jinsoku na fukkyuu no ura ni wa the one behind the speedy recoevery was

6 世界的偉人根津校長による せかいてきいじんねづこうちょうによる sekai-teki ijin Nedzu-kouchou ni yoru the world-famous Principal Nedzu

small text 1 BPMもっとあげていこう BPM motto agete ikou Let's increase the BPM more.

small text 2 ハッ！カンタンに言うんだ ハッ！カンタンにいうんだ HA! KANTAN ni iunda Ha! You gotta say it simply.

7 各国への働きかけがあった かっこくへのはたらきかけがあった kakkoku e no hataraki kake ga atta and his efforts to reach out to each country.

8 校長は"個性"道徳教育に多大な貢献をし こうちょうは"こせい"どうとくきょういくにただいなこうけんをし kouchou wa "kosei" doutoku kyouiku ni tadai na kouken wo shi The principle made great contributions to quirk morality education

9 世界的偉人となられた せかいてきいじんとなられた sekai-teki ijin to narareta and became a world-famous figure.

10 校長はずっと こうちょうはずっと kouchou wa zutto The principal was always

11 戦いの"先"を見ていたんだ たたかいの"さき"をみていたんだ tatakai no "saki" wo mite itanda looking ahead to what came after the battle.

12 素敵な送辞だったぜ すてきなリリックだったぜ suteki na RIRIKKU (kanji: souji) datta ze "What lovely lyrics (read as: farewell address)."

13 レペゼン雄英不和真綿にプチャヘンヅァッ‼︎ 在校生代表ふわまわたにプチャヘンヅァッ‼︎ sotsugyousei daihyou (kanji REPEZEN yuuei) Fuwa Mawata ni PUCHAHENDZA!! "Put your hands up for current student representative (read as: UA representative) Mawata Fuwa!!"

14 それでは次だ答辞だ‼︎ それではつぎだアンサーだ‼︎ sore de wa tsugi da ANSAA da!! "After that is the answering speech (kanji: formal reply)!!"

15 レペゼン卒業生〜〜〜〜〜 卒業生代表〜〜〜〜〜 sotsugyousei daihyou (kanji: REPEZEN sotsugyousei) "From the alumni representative (read as: graduate students representative)~~~~~"

16 ラップバトルみたいでカッコいいノコ RAPPU BATORU mitai de KAKKOii NOKO "It's like a rap battle, so cool, shroom!"

17 私がおかしいのかな？ わたしがおかしいのかな？ watashi ga okashii no ka na? "Am I the weird one?"

18 ラップやろ RAPPU yaro Let's rap.

19 ルミリオンa.k.aーーー通形ミリオォ‼︎ ルミリオンエーケーエーーーーとおがたミリオォ‼︎ RUMIRION EE KEE EE---Toogata MIRIOO!! "Lemillion a.k.a.----Mirio Toogata!!"

1 本日はお忙しい中私たちの為にご臨席いただき誠にありがとうございます ほんじつはおいそがしいなかわたしたちのためにごりんせきいただきまことにありがとうございます honjitsu wa oisogashii naka watashi-tachi no tame ni gorinseki itadaki makoto ni arigatou gozaimasu "Thank you very much for taking time out of your busy schedules to attend for us today."

2 ギャクせんのかい!!! GYAKU sen no kai!!! "It's the opposite of what we expected!!!" (Note: "Sen no kai" is something said in a call and response when the caller expects the repsonders to do something but they don't do what they were expected to do. When that happens, the caller says this phrase as a joke.)

3 喪ったものは多く うしなったものはおおく ushinatta mono wa ooku "We lost many things,"

4 得たものは無い えたものはない eta mono wa nai "but we gained nothing."

5 ヒーローの戦いってのは ヒーローのたたかいってのは HIIROO no tatakai tte no wa "A hero's battle"

6 いつも大体マイナスをゼロに戻す為のものです いつもだいたいマイナスをゼロにもどすためのものです itsumo daitai MAINASU wo ZERO ni modosu tame no mono desu "is always for the sake of returning the negatives to zero on the whole."

7 普通科サポート科経営科 ふつうかサポートかけいえいか futsuu-ka SAPOOTO-ka keien-ka "The general studies course, the support course, the business course,"

8 それぞれがこの学舎で培った経験を駆使し それぞれがこのまなびやでつちかったけいけんをくしし sorezore ga kono manabiya de tsuchikatta keiken wo kushi shi "each of us made full use of the experience we had cultivated at this school,"

9 一丸となって戦いましたしかし いちがんとなってたたかいましたしかし ichigan to natte tatakaimashita shikashi "and we fought as one. However,"

10 未だゼロには戻っていません いまだゼロにはもどっていません ima da ZERO ni wa modotte imasen "we haven't returned to zero yet."

11 私達の三年間はこの先の為にあります わたしたちのさんねんかんはこのさきのためにあります watashi-tachi no sannenkan wa kono saki no tame ni arimasu "Our three years are for what comes after this."

12 ゴールは今日じゃない ゴールはきょうじゃない GOORU wa kyou ja nai "The goal is not today."

1 ユーモアなき世に明るい未来はない ユーモアなきよにあかるいみらいはない YUUMOA naki yo ni akarui mirai wa nai "There is no bright future in a world without humor."

2 たくさんの人が笑って過ごせるプラスの世界 たくさんのひとがわらってすごせるプラスのせかい takusan no hito ga waratte sugoseru PURASU no sekai "A world of positives, where many people can laugh and spend time together,"

3 そこが私たちのゴールテープです そこがわたしたちのゴールテープです soko ga watashi-tachi no GOORU TEEPU desu "that is our finish line."

4 通形…‼︎ とおがた…‼︎ Toogata...!! "Toogata...!!"

5 見ててくれよなナイトアイ！ みててくれよなナイトアイ！ mitete kure yo NAITOAI! Please be watching, Nighteye!

6 私達は今日スタートするのです！在校生の皆さん！ わたしたちはきょうスタートするのです！ざいこうせいのみなさん！ watashi-tachi wa kyou SUTAATO suru no desu! zaikousei no minasan! "Today is our start! All of you current students!"

7 じゃあね!!! jaa ne!!! "See ya!!!"

8 これが雄英卒業式の伝統だそうだそしてーー これがゆうえいそつぎょうしきのでんとうだそうだそしてーー kore ga yuuei sotsugyoushiki no dentou da sou da soshite-- Apparently this is the tradition of the UA graduation ceremony, and--

1 例年なら担任は持ち上がりじゃないんだが れいねんならたんにんはもちあがりじゃないんだが reinen nara tannin wa mochiagari ja nainda ga "In a normal year, I wouldn't be asked to be the homeroom teacher, but,"

2 まァ事情がもう一年よろしく まァじじょうがもういちねんよろしく maA jijou ga mou ichinen yoroshiku "well, I hope things stay the same for another year."

3 よかったああ yokattaaa "Thank goodness!"

4 相澤先生がうれしいよお あいざわせんせいがうれしいよお Aizawa-sensei ga ureshii yoo "I'm so happy it's Aizawa-sensei!"

5 泣いちゃった ないちゃった naichatta "Oh dear, she cried."

6 相澤先生でよかったああ あいざわせんせいでよかったああ Aizawa-sensei de yokattaaa "I'm glad it's Aizawa-sensei!"

7 これで一段落か これでいちだんらくか kore de ichidanraku ka "With this, are we at a stopping point?"

8 おまえ入院してなくていいの？ おまえにゅういんしてなくていいの？ omae nyuuin shitenakute ii no? "Don't you have to be hospitalized?"

9 安静にしてりゃいいってよ今日は全員そろってなきゃダメだろ あんせいにしてりゃいいってよきょうはぜんいんそろってなきゃダメだろ ansei ni shiterya ii tte yo kyou wa sen'in sorottenakya DAME daro "They said it's okay if I rest, we all gotta be together today."

10 まともなこと言いだしたぞ まともなこといいだしたぞ matomona koto ii dashita zo "Hey, you said something reasonable."

11 あぁ⁉︎ aa!? "Hah!?"

12 安静に…！ あんせいに…！ ansei ni...! "Rest...!"

1 オイ OI "Hey!"

2 ハイ HAI "Yessir."

3 …入れ …はいれ ...haire "...Come in."

4 改めてお別れを！ あらためてアデューを！ aratamete ADEYUU (kanji: owakare) wo! "Once again, adieu!"

5 僕は雄英を出る☆‼︎ ぼくはゆうえいをでる☆‼︎ boku wa yuuei wo deru ☆!! "I'm leaving UA ☆!!"

6 青山…‼︎ あおやま…‼︎ Aoyama...!! "Aoyama...!!"

7 やっぱ気持ちは変わんないの？ やっぱきもちはかわんないの？ yappa kimochi wa kawannai no? "Are you sure your feelings won't change?"

8 おまえのおかげでAFO達を分断できたのに‼︎ おまえのおかげでオール・フォー・ワンたちをぶんだんできたのに‼︎ omae no okage de OORU FOO WAN-tachi wo bundan dekita noni!! "But thanks to you, we were able to divide All For One and all of them!!"

9 先生も塚内さんも「残っていい」と仰ってくれたよけれど せんせいもつかうちさんも「のこっていい」とおっしゃってくれたよけれど sensei mo Tsukauchi-san mo 「nokotte ii」 to osshatte kureta yo keredo "Both Sensei and Tsukauchi-san told me it was okay for me to say, but"

10 僕自身がケジメをつけたいんだ ぼくじしんがケジメをつけたいんだ boku jishin ga KEJIME wo tsuketainda "I myself want to take responsibility."

11 "AFOの思惑"が絡んだ入学で "オール・フォー・ワンのおもわく"がからんだにゅうがくで "OORU FOO WAN no omowaku" ga karanda nyuugaku de "My admission was entagled with All For One's predictions,"

12 今日のような卒業式を僕は迎えられない きょうのようなそつぎょうしきをぼくはむかえられない kyou no you na sotsugyoushiki wo boku wa mukaerarenai "I cannot receive a graduation ceremony like the one today."

13 罪を償って つみをつぐなって tsumi wo tsugunatte "I'll atone for my sins,"

14 もう一度…ヒーローの道を目指す☆平気さ！ もういちど…ヒーローのみちをめざす☆へいきさ！ mou ichido...HIIROO no michi wo mezasu ☆ heiki sa! "and once again...I'll aim for the path of a hero ☆ I'll be fine!"

1 だって僕は君たちの手を取ったんだもの！ だってぼくはきみたちのてをとったんだもの！ datte boku wa kimi-tachi no te wo tottanda mono! "After all, I took all of your hands!"

2 うん！ un! "Yeah!"

3 またいつか…必ず… またいつか…かならず… mata itsuka...kanarazu... "Someday again...for sure..."

4 胸を張って皆と並び立つからね！ むねをはってみんなとならびたつからね！ mune wo hatte minna to narabitatsu kara ne! "I'll stand alongside everyone with my chest puffed with pride!"

5 青山…おめェ…！ あおやま…おめェ…！ Aoyama...omeE...! "Aoyama...you...!"

6 まじでだれより漢だよ まじでだれよりおとこだよ maji de dare yori otoko da yo "Seriously, you're more manly than anyone."

7 泣かないで皆！湿っぽくなるのは嫌さ‼︎ なかないでみんな！しめっぽくなるのはいやさ‼︎ nakanaide minna! shimeppoku naru no wa iya sa!! "Don't cry, everyone! It would be terrible for things to become damp!!"

8 眩しっ！ まぶしっ！ mabushi! "Dazzling!"

9 文化祭の時より更に精細なコントロールを…！ ぶんかさいのときよりさらにせいさいなコントロールを…！ bunkasai no toki yori sara ni seisai na KONTOROORU wo...! "Even more precise control than during the cultural festival...!"

10 だからここでーーサプライズ‼︎ dakara koko de--SAPURAIZU!! "And so here's a---surprise!!"

1 A組の新メンバーさ‼︎ エーぐみのしんメンバーさ‼︎ EE-gumi no shin MENBAA sa!! "The new member of Class A!"

2 心操ォオオ‼︎ しんそォオオ‼︎ ShinsoOOO!! "Shinsou!!"

3 わ wa "Wah!"

4 A組に来たかあ！ エーぐみにきたかあ！ EE-gumi ni kita kaa! "Did you come to Class A!"

5 編入だあA組なんだあ！ へんにゅうだあエーぐみなんだあ！ hennyuu daa EE-gumi nandaa! "You transferred! To Class A!"

6 すげえー‼︎仮免は正式発行されたの⁉︎ すげえー‼︎かりめんはせいしきはっこうされたの⁉︎ sugeee!! karimen wa seishiki hakkou sareta no!? "Awesome!! Did they officially issue your provisional license!?"

7 送別会とかの話題になってもよくない⁉︎ そうべつかいとかのわだいになってもよくない⁉︎ soubetsukai toka no wadai ni nattemo yokunai!? "Is it not good to bring up the subject of a farewell party!?"

8 たしかに tashika ni "Surely."

9 わ！青山くん わ！あおやまくん wa! Aoyama-kun "Wah! Aoyama-kun,"

10 ストップ！ストップ！ SUTOPPU! SUTOPPU! "stop! Stop!"

1 まだ"個性" まだ"こせい" mada "kosei" "My quirk is still"

2 バグってるみたいで！ BAGUtteru mitai de! "bugging out, it looks like!"

3 見えちゃう みえちゃう miechau "You can see me!"

4 わー素顔‼︎キュウティイイ わーすがお‼︎キュウティイイ waa sugao!! KYUUTIII "Wow, her real face!! A cutieee!"

5 ごめん☆ gomen ☆ "Sorry ☆"

6 やめて〜‼︎恥ずかしい やめて〜‼︎はずかしい yamete~!! hazukashii "Quit it~!! It's embarrassing!"

7 神はずっとそこに かみはずっとそこに kami wa zutto soko ni "A god was always right there."

8 おい oi "Hey."

9 連絡事項はまだあるんだが れんらくじこうはまだあるんだが renraku jikou wa mada arunda ga "There are still announcements."

10 ヒーロー科二・三年はこっから当分の間再建活動にあたります ヒーロー科に・さんねんはこっからとうぶんのあいださいけんかつどうにあたります HIIROO-ka ni・sannen wa kokkara toubun no aida saiken katsudou ni atarimasu "The second- and third-year students of the hero course for the time being will be involved in rebuilding activities."

11 私が代表で陣頭指揮ばとります わたしがだいひょうでじんとうしきばとります watashi ga daihyou de jintoushiki ba torimasu "I, as representative, will take the lead."

small text 新3年生ヒーロー科不和真綿 しん3ねんせいヒーローかふわまわた shin 3nensei HIIROO-ka Fuwa Mawata New third-year student of the hero course, Mawata Fuwa

12 今行われとる復旧活動に加え いまおこなわれとるふっきゅうかつどうにくわえ ima okonaware toru fukkyuu katsudou ni kuwae "In addition to the ongoing recoery efforts,"

13 治安悪化防止の為に全国ば回ります ちあんあっかぼうしのためにぜんこくばまわります chian akka boushi no tame ni zenkoku ba mawarimasu "we will be traveling around the country to prevent the deterioration of public order."

1 オールマイト引退後そして言うまでんなく蛇腔戦後のごつ オールマイトいんたいごそしていうまでんなくじゃくうせんごのごつ OORU MAITO intaigo soshite iu maden naku jakuu sengo no gotsu "After All Might's retirement and, needless to say, after the battle at Jakuu,"

2 教科書に載るごたる戦いの後に必ず きょうかしょにのるごたるたたかいのあとにかならず kyoukasho ni noru gotaru tatakai no ato ni kanarazu "after the battles that apppear in textbooks,"

3 教科書に載らん混乱があります きょうかしょにのらんこんらんがあります kyoukasho ni noran konran ga arimasu "there is always confusion that does not appear in the textbooks."

4 象徴の不在 しょうちょうのふざい shouchou no fuzai "The absence of a symbol."

5 AFOもそういう混乱の中生まれたウケだしな オール・フォー・ワンもそういうこんらんのなかうまれたウケだしな OORU FOO WAN mo sou iu konran no naka umareta UKE dashi na "AFO was also born out of such turmoil."

6 オッケー？イレ先 オッケー？イレせん OKKEE? IRE-sen "Okay? Era-sen?"

7 ああ aa "Yes."

8 イレ先 イレせん IRE-sen "Era-sen!"

9 私一応元イレ先クラス わたしいちおうもとイレせんクラス watashi ichiou moto IRE-sen KURASU "I used to be in Era-sen's class."

10 君らは除籍喰らってないっちゃう？ きみらはじょせきくらってないっちゃう？ kimira wa joseki kurattenaicchau? "You guys haven't undergone his expulsion?"

small text うらやましい urayamashii "I'm jealous."

11 甘えとう私らに一回"死"を味わわせるってねぇ怖かったー あまえとうわたしらにいっかい"し"をあじわわせるってねぇこわかったー amaetou watashira ni ikkai "shi" wo ajiwwaseru tte nee kowakattaa "We were so naive, he said he'd make us taste 'death' once, right? It was scary."

12 おい不和もういいよ行け おいふわもういいよいけ oi Fuwa mou ii yo ike "Hey Fuwa, enough, go."

13 やけどそのおかげで yakedo sono okage de "But thanks to that,"

14 何の為にヒーローんなるかわかった なんのためにヒーローんなるかわかった nan no tame ni HIIROO n naru ka wakatta "I understood for what reason to become a hero."

15 どうも doumo "Thanks."

1 いやー新入生かあ いやーしんにゅうせいかあ iyaa shinnyuusei kaa "Wow, new incoming students huh?'

2 俺らも明日から先輩かあ おれらもあしたからせんぱいかあ orera mo ashita kara senpai kaa "Are we also senpai after tomorrow?"

3 バタバタと進んでく バタバタとすすんでく BATABATA to susundeku "We'll progress to being busy."

4 忙しくなるな いそがしくなるな isogashiku naru na "We will become busy, huh."

5 けど休む暇はもらったし けどやすむいとまはもらったし kedo yasumu itoma wa moratta shi "But we got some free time to rest."

6 こすらんでいーからもう瀬呂くん！ こすらんでいーからもうせろくん！ kosurande ii kara mou Sero-kun! "You don't need to rub it in, Sero-kun, geez!"

7 良くないぞ よくないぞ yokunai zo "That's no good."

8 違うって！かっけえと思って！ ちがうって！かっけえとおもって！ chigau tte! kakkee to omotte! "No! I think it's cool!"

9 …麗日さん！ …うららかさん！ ...Uraraka-san! "...Uraraka-san!"

10 デクくんまで！ DEKU-kun made! "Even you, Deku-kun!"

11 てゆか怪我でそれ剃ったんだよね てゆかけがでそれそったんだよね te yuka kega de sore sottanda yo ne "You shaved that due to an injury, right?"

12 はよまた伸びるといいねえ はよまたのびるといいねえ wa yo mata nobiru to ii nee "I hope it grows again soon."

1 イメチェンといや常闇だよ イメチェンといやとこやみだよ IMECHEN to iya Tokoyami da yo "I don't want a change of image, that's Tokoyami."

2 違うが気に入ってる ちがうがきにいってる chigau ga ki ni itteru "It's different, but I'm taking a liking to it."

3 ハッ HA "Hah" (Note: This is the sound of panting.)

4 ハッ HA "Hah"

1 ハッ HA "Hah" (Note: This is the sound of panting.)

2 ハッ HA "Hah"

3 轟くんは送別会出れそう？ とどろきくんそうべつかいでれそう？ Todoroki-kun soubetsu-kai deresou? "Todoroki-kun, will you be able to attend the farewell party?"

4 あー今日じゃなけりゃいつでも ���ーきょうじゃなけりゃいつでも aa kyou ja nakerya itsudemo "Yeah, so long as it's not today, anytime [works]."

5 轟くん とどろきくん Todoroki-kun "Todoroki-kun."

6 大丈夫だよ だいじょうぶだよ daijoubu da yo "I'm okay."

1 っし sshi (Note: I'm not sure what this means or if it even means anything. It could just be a wordless sound like a sigh or a tongue click.)

tagline 轟家が向き合うのはーー… とどろきけがむきあうのはーー… Todoroki-ke ga mukiau no wa--... What the Todoroki family will face--...

[oonajaeadira]

Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 4: Winter

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: Mature.

Warnings: Mentions of sex but nothing explicit. Canon-typical violence, bodily harm, death,  (blood, broken bones, knife wounds, shooting, blunt force) and PTSD.

Summary: Revenge comes calling and you work though it as a family.

A/N: Series set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although it does use some characters/elements from the second game.

I’m so sorry it’s taken this long to get to winter. This one was difficult for me to face writing for reasons that may be made clear. But it was very rewarding. <3

The air is thin and cold this morning, takes your breath and makes a show of it as you quickstep it down to the stables. The sun is just starting to make the frost sparkle and no doubt Goldie will be using up the rest of the firewood at the Roost today.

Good thing you have a Joel who’s ready to chop more.

Although he’s also a Joel that’s forgotten his tea, the “stuff with the things in it” that Willa gave him for the stiffness in his knees. With this cold he’s going to want it today on patrol and the last thing you think you can stand is the tug in your heart when he comes home complaining of the cold and the ache and you sitting warm and cozy with his thermos on the counter when you had the legs to trot it on out to him.

It’s a relief to round the corner and find the patrol party still at the stable gate, Tommy helping one of the teens with their rifle strap, and Joel waiting on horseback, weaving his gloved fingers together, packing them down at the valleys to get his hands all the way in.

He’d laid one of those hands on your cheek this morning. Gentle. First thing you saw when you opened your eyes. Like most mornings now. His thumb rounding the rim of your cheek so he could lean in and take a good long drink of a kiss.

He likes it that way…soft, slow. Likes to pull you in as close as he can, twist his forehead into your temple when he hits his peak, jaw clenched in agonized pleasure, kisses along your jawline when you find yours, his eyes half-lidded and watching you in a hazy awe. He’s quiet but thorough, completely  present like he can’t believe he’s got this little slice of warmth, sighs a hushed curse in your ear and calls you sweetheart in the same breath, and then sleeps like a baby the whole night through.

He doesn’t like to talk about the past much, but listening’s your specialty and it comes out in bits and pieces, stuck between the little he does say. You come to understand that he very rarely got to be very close with anyone while Sarah was growing up. There were the years when everything was a nightmare. Then there was Tess and she brought him out of that, thank goodness. But it took time. And there was also denial and survival and means to their ends. There might indeed have been strong love there. But you have the feeling he’s not had this–or anything like it–for a long, long time.

So if he wants it soft and slow, then who are you to deny him?

Maybe it shouldn’t be so surprising that it was him who pulled you in a little closer.

“What if you didn’t move in with Tommy and Maria this winter?” He’d lingered the morning after Christmas, leaning one shoulder against the frame of your bedroom door, savoring the show of you getting dressed for the day.

“And waste the fuel? Why? So we can cuddle up now and then without your brother down the hall? You keep me plenty warm, Joel Miller, but I’m not going to heat this whole house just for me and your more-than-casual visits. Everyone’s got a responsibility here to conserve in the winter. This is how I do my part. And besides,” you purred as he stepped in to button up your flannel for you, freeing up your fingers so they could run through his curls, “I know where you live and your bed’s good as mine.”

“You seem to like it there well enough.”

“I do.” His beard was growing in all but a patch on his jaw that was now your right to kiss.

“Well I was thinkin’ we just make it ours for the winter.”

His hands had circled your hips and his words had stopped your heart, but there was little for to say with his lips pressed against yours.

So mornings often started as they did today, waking to find Joel beside you, roused because you can feel him watching you with that little half smile that reveals the crack in his weary heart where the light shines through. Who needs spring to come with sunshine like that to turn to? Now there are family breakfasts with Ellie and cozy days knitting in the company of Maria and Riley and then warm nights with Joel on one of those pillowtopped mattresses that were all the rage before the outbreak…the ones that are great when you have a stiff back, but even better because the springs don’t squeak…

“Aw dammit,” Joel says when he sees you nearing the stables with the thermos, “Knew I forgot something.”

“Two somethings,” you say pointing to his bare head and passing your hat up to him in the saddle. “Your ears are already bright red. Here. Take my hat.”

“This’s Ellie’s.”

“Huh. Guess I just grabbed one on my way out. Oops. Be a man. Wear a pompom.”

He pulls it down over his ears and smiles. “Matches my scarf.”

You’d had a small batch of deep red wool you’d managed to squeak a hat and scarf out of and gifting the hat to Ellie around Christmas, but the scarf went to Joel. He may not want anyone to think of him as sentimental, but it was worth your while to make it easy on him by giving him something that was also practical. Even if he had his jacket zipped up all the way, it was always there, tucked around his neck; he may leave his ears to the elements but he never went anywhere without that scarf.

The line of horses start making their way toward the Jackson gates and you squeeze Joel’s shin before stepping out of the way, letting him and his horse follow the group. He simply lets a gloved finger glance your cheek as he passes by.

All the way out here on this side of the apocalypse and humans still have a million variations on saying “I love having you around and I’d like to keep it that way.”

________

“Ellie’s more than welcome around here if you and Joel don’t want to leave her home alone.”

Maria’s lightly bouncing a wet-faced and blubbering Riley on her lap, trying to tempt him with a frozen carrot for his teething. He has tommy’s curls and they sproing with every boing.

“Nah, she wants to come out. We’ll be dividing the ewes and driving part of the flock into the old town for the rest  of the overwinter and she wants to see how it's done. Should see it, if she thinks she’ll be entering the rotation at any point. Speaking of,” you grunt, leaning down to gather your knitting basket and gather your things, “I promised I’d meet her after school. She’s gotten into collecting cassette tapes and the commissary says she’s hit her quota on goods this week. Gonna give up a couple credits so she can discover the wonders of Joan Jett and the Beastie Boys.”

“That’s throwing gas on the fire. She pick those out herself?”

“Nope. My points, my choice. And I say that girl needs to fight for her right to party and put another dime in the jukebox, baby.”

Maria rolls her eyes, chuckles, goes light on the sarcasm. “You’re the coolest auntie.”

“Don’t I know it,” you laugh, tying up your boots.

“Joel’s gonna just love that.”

Leaning in to bop a quick kiss to Riley’s head, you give Maria a crazed grin. “So much.”

Ten minutes later, Ellie has her doubts, holding up a cassette at the commissary. “But there’s a dinosaur on this one! How can it not be great?”

“Listen, missy. I’m not saying Dinosaur Jr. doesn’t have a place in music history, but I’m telling you that you’re likely to be disappointed. Trust me. Just this once.”

Ellie makes a face but you glance past it, distracted by what you see through the window behind her. Following your focus, she turns to look too. “Who’re they?”

All of the patrol horses coming back in have two people on them–a member of the party, and a stranger. And all the strangers can’t be more than teenagers.

“Dunno, but it looks like you’re about to get some new classmates. I’ll sign these out. You go ahead and make a good first impression.”

“You’re just sending me out there because you know if they’re infected, I can’t catch it.”

“If they were infected, they wouldn’t be on those horses or inside those gates. I’m sending you out there because you have a way of reading people. Go.”

Something in that puts a gasp in her throat and a sparkle in her eye and her ponytail whips behind her as she goes, striving to live up to the compliment.

But really, you just want half a minute to take a good look at the kids without Ellie asking questions. They’re all scrawny and filthy. Backpacks. Been traveling and living rough for a while now. Where’d they come from? What’s their story? Not an adult among them. How have they survived? You’d swear something feels off, but that’s the world now. Can’t be too careful. Everything seems off all the time. 

Question is, off by how much?

You find Joel in the group; he’s the only one riding with a kid in front of him rather than hanging on behind. And once he gets down off the horse and reaches up to help his passenger down, you can see why.

She’s pregnant.

Shit. She’s what, fifteen? Sixteen?

Shit.

“There’s a house up near mine has good plumbing turned on.” Tommy’s speaking over his shoulder to the small group and leading his horse to the stable door as you come out of the commissary. “We’ll get you all washed up and fed. There’s at least two beds there and some other furniture fit to sleep on if it makes you comfortable to stay together. Give me a minute to put Lady away here and we’ll walk on up together. Joel? A word?”

Handing off the pregnant girl’s backpack to her, Joel takes the reins of his horse and follows his brother inside, leaving the newcomers to look around them and take in the town.

All but one. A girl with hair that’s neither light brown or dark blonde, somewhere in between. Your mother would have called it dirty dishwater blonde and you always thought that was rude. But your mother also would have said the girl had a hatchet of a face with a strong jaw like that. And it’s that girl whose head whips around the second she heard Joel’s name, quickly scanning the patrol to ascertain who belonged to it, and stands watching the stable door in thought long after the Miller brothers were gone.

Was Joel her father’s name? Her brother’s? Is it hers or close to hers? Is she a Jo or Joelle?

“Abby. Hey,” a boy calls and she turns. “Mel should get a bed and we can share. Manny and Nora can share too…if you’re okay with taking a couch.”

“Fine,” Abby says. Her eyes and mouth all unmoving lines.

“Hey. Welcome to Jackson. I’m Ellie.” Your starling jams her hands in her pockets as all the new eyes turn her way. “It looks like you’ve been wandering. Where you coming from?”

The boy who spoke before blinks and opens his mouth to say something, hesitates. You’d take him for the leader up until the moment Abby speaks for him.

“West of here. QZ. Seattle.”

“Oh. Cool,” says Ellie with a bounce to her nod. Easy. Instantly welcoming. “I came out of Boston.”

Seattle QZ. The same one your dead husband and his sister came from. Not a good place. Warring factions and nothing but oppression and disease, last you heard. Good that they got out. They’re gonna need to be de-loused. 

But Seattle’s also much harder than most zones to break free of. You’ve been told the Western Liberation Front makes FEDRA look like a bucket of clowns.

“Seattle?” Now it’s your turn to pull focus from the group. “We’ve had refugees from there before. You really get out of there in one group like this? With no grown ups?”

Abby rips her eyes away from Ellie. “It’s a long story,” she says, shutting the questioning down.

There’s a moment that hangs between you and that stinks faintly of threat, but is mostly just the smell of feral kids. Tension breaks as the men emerge from the stable.

“We all ready?” Tommy says, making his way down the road and waving a hand for them to follow. “New home’s this way.”

Ellie starts to fall in with the group and you pull her back in close, speak low. “Go with them if you want, but keep your distance.”

“What? Why?”

“These are your first refugees. You’ll learn that they sometimes bring things with ‘em.”

Her face screws into a question mark. “What things?”

“Fleas. Lice. Viruses. Just give ‘em some space for a while.”

After the quickest flash of disgust, Ellie’s tried and true compassion kicks in and she gives an understanding nod as she turns to go, tape cassettes clattering in her jacket pocket.

You keep watching her even as you speak to the owner of the hand snaking around your waist. “Where’d you find them?”

“Up at the old crossing. They were under attack.”

“Jesus.”

“Nope. Infected.”

“Been a while since we’ve seen any of those stumble through here.”

“Infected? Or the kids.”

Turning to him in exasperation you look him over. “Both. And the same goes for you as for Ellie, Foxy. Let’s take you home and wash that scarf and hat. Run a fine-toothed comb through that hair just to make sure.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he says, stopping when he catches your zero-temperature glare. If it’s something else you love about Joel, he recognizes when something’s important to you and answers a lady with composure and respect. “Yes, ma’am.”

____

“You couldn’t have found her some Cash or Fleetwood Mac or something?”Joel grumbles into the fireplace as he places another log on the coal bed and moves the poker around like he’s doing something.

Ellie sits on a blanket near the fire, reading a comic book, headphones on, Joan Jett’s grinding guitar bleeding out into the otherwise quiet living room. With his face turned to the fire and Ellie facing away from you, she most likely can’t hear the conversation that’s happening around her if you keep your voices low.

“You’re just jealous that she asked me to pick something out instead of you,” you smile on the couch, picking up your feet and swinging them into his lap as he sits down beside you. “80’s rock is good for her spiky little soul.”

“80’s means trouble,” he counters, considering her as his hands absently squeeze and rub at your feet.

You go back to your book. Seemingly anyway. It’s easy to steal observing glances from where you are. The thoughtful concern he has for Ellie. You can see him looking over the wood in the hopper and calculating how many days of fuel he has before you all head out to the Roost. A twist of a lip tells you he’s realized he might be a day short and needs to chop more. His gaze drops to his lap as he lightly massages your feet–just running his hands along their contours, pressing a thumb in here and there to tenderize a muscle. The firelight loves him, plays at the edges of his curls, slides down his nose, kisses the purse of his lips.

You jump as he slides a tickling fingertip up the sole of one foot. “Hey!”

“What you get for staring.”

“I wasn’t staring at you, I was reading.”

“Must be pretty small print you don’t turn a page for five minutes.”

Taking off your readers and closing the book, you sit up and deposit them on the coffee table. From here it’s easy to scoot up to him and lean an elbow on the couch back. “What’s got you so thinky tonight, hmm? You look like you’ve got your worry pants on.” There’s a curl right behind his ear that’s so easy to twirl in your fingers and you indulge. You’ve found a little touch helps him open up.

“I can’t help thinking about those kids, thinkin’ they could just wander out in the world like that. If it weren’t for us hearing the runners….” He goes quiet a minute and you let him, his gaze haunting Ellie’s direction but living somewhere in the past. “They gotta be somebody’s kids. I can’t believe Seattle’s so bad they just let ‘em run wild…let ‘em run away from the best you got for ‘em.”

A faint guitar blares from Ellie’s headphones as she flips a page, purses her lips, absently nods along.

“Yeah, well teenagers rebel, Foxy. That’s what they do.”

“No,” he says, softly, resolutely, a tick of his jaw. “Not all of ‘em. Not if they’re loved. And fiercely. And I don’t know a love that isn’t fierce.”

It’s the look on his face that makes you believe him.

Love isn’t a word that Joel bandies about. It’s easy to see it work in him. The way he tells Ellie no when she wants to do something reckless but promises her something just as exciting, going to any length to make her smile. The way he holds Riley’s head in the crook of his arm, his other hand reflexively coming out in defense if anyone gets too near the baby’s soft spot. The way he shoves his brother with a laugh when Tommy picks on him or how he helps Maria to her feet when she’s been on the floor too long, even if she says she doesn’t need it.

The way he… with you he…

His hands work at your feet again. He understands the minute levels of his strength, knows how firm to go without bringing pain.

With you, it’s the way he rolls over and shows you his soft places, invites you in to be a part of it.

Not really what you’d call fierce. Does that mean he doesn’t–

“Is a cherry bomb like a little bomb or a big bomb?” Ellie asks, an earpad pulled away from her ear and spilling Cherie Currie’s stuttered chorus.

“It’s a little one. A firework. But it packs a big punch. It’ll take your fingers off. Hello, world, I’m your wild girl, I’m your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch cherry bomb,” you sing, pushing your foot against Joel’s thigh with every beat. 

“Alright, that’s it,” he says, wrapping a big hand around your ankle to secure it. “Ellie, run on up and get my guitar. Lemme teach you a better song.”

In the minute it takes for her to come back, Joel foregoes softness for force, tickling relentlessly, almost ending up with a foot in his face with how much you squirm.

___

Church isn’t really your thing, never was. You have your own way of listening to the beauty of the earth that doesn’t mean sacrificing a morning sleeping in to listen to lessons you’ve already learned and hold true.

But today you’ve come to the after-brunch curious to welcome the new residents and managed to show up a little early. So you’re standing in the back of the mess hall with Maria and Riley, waiting for the final hymn to end, for the preacher to call an end to the service and a beginning to the meal.

Maria leans in and murmurs in your ear as the final chorus comes. “Tommy and the crew are working on one of those bigger houses with the vaulted ceilings in the new district so the church can have its own building.”

“They’re not gonna like having to walk over there.”

She shrugs, adjusts Riley’s teething toy and bounces him up a notch. “Might cause some of them to move over there. Thin out the density. Easier on the power grid. We do have five new residents.” 

You watch as one of the new boys–Owen–helps the pregnant Mel to her feet. “Soon to be six.”

Once the kitchen starts serving, Owen and Mel find their way over to your table, eager to meet Riley and ask Maria all kinds of questions about childbirth and your friend finds herself in a mentoring role she didn’t ask for. She’s not opposed to being helpful, just lets her judgment slide through on the whole babies having babies thing which completely flies over the kids’ heads.

They’re good enough kids, but something tastes a little sour when Owen tries to include you in the conversation.

“What about you? You and…is his name Joel? You gonna have any kids?”

It’s a rude question. He’s earned your side eye and he knows it, but smiles through it, playing innocent.

“Already got one. One’s enough,” you laugh, sly, chewing through some boiled oats and letting him know you’re gonna let that one slide.

“Oh, yeah, right. Ellie, right?” he asks, with a flick of his eyes to a table behind you. Turning, you find Abby at a table with some other residents and when you turn back it’s with a dry expression that tells him he’s worn out his turns at beating the bush and should be out with it.

“We just were wondering if she’d show us around,” Mel explains. “She’s the only one of the children here who will talk to us.”

You snort. “Don’t let Ellie hear you call her a child. She’s short for her age, but she’s not much younger than you. She likes people, but that won’t win you any points.”

“And don’t worry about the other kids,” Maria takes over, shooting you a look. “They’ll come around. A lot of them were born here and they don’t see a ton of new people.”

“Are they not coming to the brunch today?” Owen asks.

“Who?”

“Ellie and Joel.”

Shaking your head, you swallow your latest bite. “Joel and Tommy are off getting some work done in the new sector and Ellie would bite my face off if I woke her up before high noon on a weekend. But she knows where you’re staying. I’ll send her around to you once she’s up and acting like a whole human.”

You’re about to change the subject and ask them a few questions of your own but Riley starts fussing and Mel asks to hold him and the whole baby talk starts up again.

When you look over your shoulder, Abby is gone from the table. Left her dish for someone else to clean up.

There’s a thought creeps in that maybe Ellie can teach them all some manners. And then you remember the mouth on your starling and smile.

____

“And Owen showed me some of his drawings and they’re so amazing. He’s like a fucking Picasso or something. He says he’ll give me lessons if I can get Mr. Scowlface here to take him out hunting. Says he misses hunting deer with his dad. And Abby wants to go too. I told her how you taught me to use a shotgun and she seemed really interested to learn. She might want to join the patrols some day. But I told them not this week since we’re going out to the Meadow and they all had questions about that. Abby especially–” 

Ellie has a remarkable talent for chewing and talking at the same time. She catches a piece of apple that escapes her mouth, slurping it off the back of her hand where it landed, then downs the rest of the milk and wipes her mouth with the cuff of her sweater, leaving you to negate your silent praise of her manners from earlier in the week and giving you a break in the chatter to speak.

“Well, you’re a little young to be recruiting your own Roostlings, but if Abby or any of the others want to come out sometime and see what the fuss is about, they’re welcome. I’d rather them wait until spring though, or at least until we get the whole of the flock back from the deep winter holding grounds. Chickadee’s taking up the caboose on that.”

As you push the carafe of chicory coffee toward Joel and clear the breakfast plates, Ellie snatches the last hunk of bread you left on yours, shaking her head. “Abby’s afraid of heights. Didn’t even have time to tell her about the Roost being up on stilts. What’s a caboose?”

Joel scoffs. “Last car on a train.” He takes a long, loud drag of his coffee, pouring on the annoyance to get a glare out of the girl and succeeds. “Well, if she don’t like heights, she’s not going to enjoy learning patrol duty either, not with the watchtowers and the mountain trails. And don’t go promising services you can’t guarantee. I’m not a scout leader.”

“What’s a scout leader?”

“Someone with a lot more patience than me. Get.”

Taking up her backpack, Ellie makes her way to the front vestibule to pull on her gear.

“Don’t forget your hat and scarf!” You call to her, but smile at Joel as you perch your butt against the table and tuck a little curl behind his ear. He’ll ask you to cut it soon. And you’ll put it off for as long as possible.Tickles, he'll say. I know, you'll say.

“Thanks, Gramma Betty!” she calls back and pulls the door shut behind her as Joel lays a warm hand on your outer thigh.

“What’er you getting up to today?” he asks.

You shrug. “I’m in carding mode. Got a whole bag of washed fleece needs combing. I’d ask you what you’re up to, but I assume you and Tommy are gonna be tearing down some poor old house.”

There’s a moment where he squints, thiinking. His thumb tracing the outer seam of your jeans. 

“I want you to come with me. Got something to show you.”

“Really. Well I like the sound of that. I could use a little walk in the bitter cold with a mystery at the end of it. Gonna have to go pull on a heavier sweater though. Might need to take this one off first. You wanna come watch?”

There’s a knock at the front. Tommy. The door opening.

Joel only grins fondly and pats your thigh, sending you off, before pushing the chair back from the table and separating himself from his coffee mug. “I’ll catch the later show. ‘Specially if it calls for audience participation.”

Five minutes later, bundled and booted, the three of you head out toward the new section, Joel with his scarf tucked in tight and hat pulled down low, and Tommy with a set forced upon him because you’re quickly becoming the winter clothing police around here.

It’s not a long walk. Jackson was never more than a few miles wide and this is just the first expansion of the wall. You’ve wandered over during the construction crew’s activities enough to know the way without being led, but what you’re expecting is for Joel to lead you away from the furthest street, away from the beautiful A-frame house so neatly repaired along with its pretty neighbors and up the street with Tommy to the next clutch of houses they’ve been working on. 

But instead, Joel tells his brother he’ll be along in a minute, and Tommy smiles knowingly as he continues on, leaving the two of you in the walkway up to the pretty A-frame that’s so much like the Roost’s bigger sister.

“You know what today is?” Joel asks, hands in pockets, squinting up at the peaked roof.

“Friday?”

“Probably,” he says, shifting focus to his boots. “I was thinking more holiday-wise.”

The air’s particularly crisp today, hitches in your lungs as you take each mental step and catch up with him.

February 14. Valentine’s.

As your mouth drops open, he jerks his chin at the house. “You like this one, right?”

“What…what are you….Joel?”

There’s a cringe that belies his confidence, maybe a tinge of regret. “I just figured we were gettin’ along so well, that maybe you’d… It was just an idea–”

He can’t even look you in the eye until you yank his hand awkwardly out of his pocket and wrap your gloved hand around his. He seems almost shocked to see your tears welling up–true, half from the cold–but he’s also relieved. Big breath in, big breath out. That must have been the hard part.

Words aren’t Joel’s way. This is how he tells you just how deep his feelings go. You know he’s had time to imagine with every window replaced, every floorboard leveled out, every load bearing wall reinforced,  just which family was going to get to live in this house and what kind of life they might make in it.

What kind of life you might make together here.

So you take his lead and say only what’s necessary, as steadily as you’re able. 

“Take me inside.”

His sheepish grin confirms that it was exactly what he’d hoped to hear.

The interior’s simple, but gorgeous. The dark wood gleams, and the whole back wall of the A frame is windowed. The triangle at the top replaced with a leaded stained glass in a sunrise of orange and rose that reflects the undertones in the timber inside and the pines out the window, the mosaic just high enough to catch the last rays that will come in over the mountains at the end of the day and turn the whole place into a dream. The open floorplan has the kitchen near the door, but over by the windows….

Joel gives the tour. The hand-laid stones in the fireplace. The built-in shelves for your books. This is the corner where your favorite chair can go, nearest the fire and where there’s good light for spinning. This rug was here, still good. He points out to the little shed in the back–a place for wool dying, he can hang pegs in there however you need them.

If he weren’t so occupied in explaining the wood he chose to finish the countertop, the way he followed the original dovetailing in the doorframe, the pattern he made with the reclaimed wood in the floorboards, he may have seen you admiring the most important part of the house…or, rather, the most important person in it.

There’s more. Two bedrooms, one off each side of the main part of the house, each with its own bathroom, the larger one with its own porch overlooking a little creek.

“The basement’s not quite done, but I figure I’ll just use that for my own. Felt you might not like the…vibe…”

Ah yes. The former owners. He took care of that too. 

He took care of everything.

“I love it, Joel.”

“Yeah?”

“If there was a stronger word, it would be yours, believe me.”

He only wraps his arms around you as you dive in to squeeze him.

“Good,” is all he says. Breathes in the scent of your hair. “That’s good.”

________

The ewes hate the leader ropes, but they follow, bleating now and then as you slowly guide them through the woods toward the Meadow’s north entrance. Joel’s got two behind his and Ellie’s horse, and you’ve got four behind yours, a small party, but the only ones that were ready to come on back out after the coldest weeks.

Goldie’s happy to lead them out to the rest of the flock while you and Joel go up and get situated, get warm, get ready for the week ahead. Ellie follows Goldie and Joel hangs his watch by the door. All’s quiet in the Roost.

Until Joel’s tongue clicks. “That beam is bowing,” he points up to one of the main rafter struts on the far side of the room. “Wood stove keeps this side warm and the snow melts off, but there’s no balcony on the other side. No way to rake the snow off the roof. Tommy should have known better.”

“Well it’s not like he’s had a lot of practice with big boy tree forts, I’m guessing,” you say, dumping a sack of potatoes near the cook pile and throwing the stack of fresh sheets onto the bed. “Does it need to come down?”

“Don’t think so. But come spring we’ll add on another balcony and do some reinforcement.”

As he runs his hand up the wall seam, you come up behind him, hugging him from the back with the sole purpose of distracting him, your way of letting him know he’s obsessing like an old man. It gives you the right angle to grab onto his open jacket and start pulling it off him. “Take this off and stay awhile.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Goldie takes her leave on your horse, guiding Joel and Ellie’s behind, glad to be going back to more warm water than she can heat on a stovetop, and Ellie helps to cart a few buckets of the colder variety up from the stream so you can all just stay in for the night.

Then it’s stew and cards, and Ellie kicking Joel’s ass at Scrabble, all of you bundled in wool sweaters and slippers handmade by you and Chickadee, the firelight glinting off the game tiles, highlighting the glee in the girl’s eyes, the resigned agony in Joel’s smile.

Almost a whole year now she’s been coming out here with you, and it’s wondrous how much she’s grown inside and out. You never felt lonely at the Roost, in fact, you had always very much enjoyed the solitude. Now you don’t think you could abide it. It’s only a home for a week at a time, but only when they come out here with you now.

It’s a nice night. Stars are out. Ellie’s still staring out at them as you and Joel fall asleep in the big bed.

_____

It’s the scent of woodsmoke that wakes you in the middle of the night, sitting you up straight in bed. Or so you think, except that the embers in the stove are low, so it can’t be that. 

No. It’s a voice outside.

“Burn in hell, Joel Miller!”

Is that…Ellie? What’s she doing outside? No. Not Ellie. No it’s–

“Abby?” Ellie says blearily from the bunk above you.

There’s someone in the room moving swiftly toward you from the windows, hulking, with a rifle–

Joel.

“Get up. Both of you. Get out. The place is on fire.” 

It doesn’t register.

“What? What fire? Joel? What’s happening–”

He shakes your shoulder, pulling you from the bed. “Get Ellie out. Now!”

There’s no other thought, just fumbling in the dark as Ellie jumps down beside you and dives for her jacket, shoving her feet into her boots without doing up the laces while you reach out one hand to catch hers for when it comes to you. The other gropes the near table for the walkie and thumbs the button.

“Meadowlark to patrol. Meadowlark to Goldfinch. We’re in trouble, there’s a fire and–”

The whole cabin sways. A gunshot from the balcony. Joel growling over his shoulder. “Get out! Now!”

“Joel–!”

“NOW!”

The ladder is still sliding down into place when you jump on it and ride it part of the way down, still waking up as Ellie’s boots come fast, almost kicking you in the face as she follows you down the rungs two at a time, moving through a plume of choking blackness only to come out below it to a roaring bonfire that’s eating through the Roost’s supports.

Oh god. The Roost…

is burning….

“JOELLLLLL!” you scream up as your stocking feet hit the ground hard, as you catch Ellie and pull her off the ladder and stumble backward, as something hits your head hard and causes you to let go, as separate sets of arms grab each of yours and drag you roughly backward, fast enough to keep your feet from catching up until you’re on your knees.

There’s a crackle in the air– “Patrol to Meadowlark. What’s the trouble?” 

The walkie lies somewhere in the pine needles just out of reach and you’re screaming at it for help but all that comes out of your mouth is a string of names and no’s and helps. You’re able to yank your non-dominant arm free, pitching forward, clawing for the radio, until a flash of hard silver–a meteorite, exquisitely dense and smooth, malignant, swift, direct–cracks down on your forearm with a sickening thud, shattering the bone.

The world slides out of focus through a screen of sudden pain.

At first, you assume you’ve been shot in the arm. But then a figure steps around to your line of sight. Abby. With a golf club? What? Why? Where did she get that? The commissary? Why the fuck would they stock golf clubs? What the fuck is going on? 

And you watch as Abby picks up the walkie. Tosses it into the fire.

The hands are back upon you now, forcing you back to your knees, and a third set joins them, wrapping around your forehead and chin, pulling you back against a belly and you struggle.

Where’s Ellie.

You’re able to twist your head to one side despite being held. She’s there on the ground, face down, groaning, with Owen’s knee in her back.

“Ellie? Honey?”

One pair of hands holding you twists you hard, meaning to pull you further away from her without compliance from the other hands or consent from your muscle structure and there’s a sickening pop as your shoulder leaves its socket and then your scream drowns out everything even the roar of the fire.

“She keeps it in her pocket,” Abby says. Rooting into Ellie’s pocket, Owen finds the knife and pulls it out–the one she cherishes, imbued with the legend of her mother, given to her on the same day as her name, her life, and her orphanhood.

The day Ellie told you the story, you’d taken steel wool to the knife and cleaned it. Oiled the hinge. Shined it up good and pretty.

It flips open easily in Owen’s paw. It twirls swiftly around, and points downward, his fingers closing over the hilt, thumb curling over the butt of the handle to give it more leverage when he’s ready to bring it down.

The night is horribly black and lit along the edges in orange fire.

There’s a loud crack. Owen’s thigh explodes in a splatter of blood and he falls backward off Ellie, screaming. The hands around your head let go and Mel runs to him.

Joel stalks out of the plume of black smoke, cocking the rifle, pointing only long enough at Owen to confirm he’s down and then swinging the barrel around to Abby.

A stand off. No sound or movement but the whoosh of flames and a few ground-muffled cries from Owen, a few sniffles and shushes from Mel.

“Who the fuck are you,” Joel growls out over the steel barrel, his cheek quivering in barely hinged anger.

Abby stands, solid, unyielding, straight as the blonde braid hanging down her back, club wound up tight, ready for the pitch, a face full of lines and soot and destruction.

“The last survivors of the Firefly massacre. You didn’t think to check the rest of the compound? Like the whole team was just one-offs? Like none of them had family, you sick fuck? You fucking orphaned us. Left us to fend for ourselves. Go ahead and shoot, old man. Marlene always said you weren’t so good at keeping kids alive, actually surprised you got as far as you did. So go ahead. Not like we’ve got nothing to lose. We just came to return some favors and finish the job.”

It’s only in the moments later, before the dawn, when you’re laying on your back looking up at the stars, one arm laying broken and useless in the snow beside you, the other cradling a weeping Ellie Williams as tight as you can, that you’ll be able to slow the film of your memory and play out the next thirty seconds frame by frame.

The series of snaps and cracks as the support under the Roost gave way and the whole structure tumbled out and away from the scene, pulling several pines down with it, the crashing and burning the only sound you remember now.

Ellie trying to shuffle along the ground toward you and away from the fire.

Owen pulling himself up enough to raise the knife and bring it down into the meat of Ellie’s calf.

Owen’s body flying backward as a bullet ripped through his skull.

A wrench of your neck and the warm splash of blood from above you as another shot rang out, one person holding you falling away and back, gone, but still pulling you down with their dead body.

The roar of an angry Abby and the clank of a club shaft on a rifle barrel.

Another gunshot.

The sound of metal hitting flesh.

Thirty seconds. And now you can see the stars. Orion. The Milky Way.

Somehow you’re lying yards from the little patch of burning trees with Ellie cradled in your good arm. Someone dragged you here.

There are voices and flashlights. The patrol. Bear and Tommy. Goldie and Willa and Chickadee.

And Maria. Laying on the ground beside you, exhausted from the effort of dragging two humans out of the burning thatch of trees.

“Joel. Where’s Joel.” It hurts to speak. Breath comes fast and shallow.

Then he’s there with the others, a bruise blooming purple beneath his eye, saying only what scant words he needs to move past them and get to you. To Ellie. 

His hands are gentle, but his eyes are cold.

Two still, black pools reflecting fire.

_______

Perhaps unsurprisingly, you dream of Troy, his mangled face open and bleeding, laying in the hole next to Ash, mutilated, stopped at the moment of transformation into something more sinister, your ex-husband and his sister lost to you because they were headstrong, foolish, too devoted to each other….

Ash’s eyes open, what’s left of them anyway. “Abby’s afraid of heights. Didn’t even have time to tell her about the Roost being up on stilts. What’s a caboose?”

They didn’t know the Roost was elevated. They followed us out here and didn’t have a good plan. Is that it?

They don’t answer. They get up and climb out of the hole, turn their backs on your and walk into the forest. You call after them, desperate to have them back after all this time, begging them not to leave you.

But you’re calling after them wrong. You can’t seem to say Troy. You can’t say Ash.

You’re only calling out for Joel and Ellie.

_____

The next thing you know, you’re sitting up in the snow, leaning against Goldie, the girl patting at your cheek as you’re coming around. “Come on, come on back, baby.”

The sun’s up, but not high enough to breach the mountains circling the meadow. Everything’s still lit by the slowly dying flames.

The one two punch of Willa setting the bone and popping your shoulder back in must have sent you off. Looking down, you see you must have thrown up as well. 

“Holy shit,” you groan, “I’m sorry. Oh my god, holy shit that hurts.”

“I know, I know,” says Goldie, smoothing your hair and kissing your forehead. 

“Here,” says Willa, handing you some dark root. You forget what it’s called, you just know you gotta chew. “Don’t swallow,” she reminds you. “You ride with Goldie. She’ll keep you upright once that sets in.”

“I gotta get up,” you mumble, struggling to stand and inhaling sharply at the twinge of pain the movement brings to your bandaged and immobilized arm. Goldie’s able to help get you up, but seems hesitant to let you go. “Ain’t nothing wrong with my feet, lemme go. Where’s Ellie?”

But you don’t need to ask, she’s just behind you, laying on her back in the snow, one arm flung over her eyes, breathing heavy to manage the pain, leg bandaged and tourniqueted.

Good. Next priority. “Where’s Joel?”

Goldie points to the fire. It’s starting to die down, enough to make out the bodies of three teenagers consigned to the flames. Past them, the group of the regular patrol. Joel shaking his head at them, speaking. Jacket zipped up to the top, no scarf, no hat; probably got left behind in the Roost. Rifle over one shoulder. A backpack over the other.

But not his backpack. Why would he have someone else’s backpack? Why would he have one at all…

He’s…. No.

Pushing off Goldie, you immediately find out that walking is hard. Even if the pain’s just in one arm, everything’s connected, everything hurts; it’s disorienting. Your knees are bruised and even your soft sleep pants feel like sandpaper on them. Feet cold and wet, no boots…

Joel sees you struggling to get to him and walks away from the group and the fire, meeting you partway, catching your good arm as your fist falls hard on his shoulder and yanks, fingers digging in hard to his coat, doing your best to hold on tight, to keep him here, to convince him not to go.

“Don’t you dare, Joel Miller. What do you think you’re fucking doing???”

He says nothing, only lets you collapse onto his chest, to sob. There’s not even an arm to comfort you, he gives you nothing but the bare necessity, a wall to keep you standing, and you know nothing you say will make a difference. In essence, he’s already gone.

“Please. Joel. Don’t. Please don’t go.”

“Trail’s fresh. Best to get on before it snows and covers the tracks. One of them’s the pregnant girl. One of them’s bleedin’. They can’t get that far.”

“You don’t have to. Just come home.”

“They’ll just come back. Maybe not soon, but someday.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. Stepping back, it hurts to look at him. The Joel you love has been asked to step aside, the care and fondness he’s come to show you locked up somewhere secure, somewhere where it won’t get in the way. 

I warned you, this Joel seems to say, void of emotion, jaw set, brow even and low, hand on the strap of his rifle. You took me in knowing exactly what I am.

He’s right.

“I need you here, Joel. Ellie needs you here. Don’t you dare go…unless you can come back.”

“I need you here too. ‘S why I’m going.”

Nothing. No kiss goodbye, no waiting for approval, he just turns and walks. 

Maybe this is the last of it, just one last loose thread, then he can finally leave off wandering, finally shake off the killer and just come home, just be your Joel.

Convincing yourself of this is the only choice you’ve got.

________

You find yourself out on Maria’s back porch that night. Unable to sleep from the ache of the mending bone and the swell of your assaulted shoulder, it seemed like the best remedy was to find the toughest jerky in the kitchen, to sit on the porch in the cold and chew through the pain, and to lean back in one of the porch chairs with a soothing snowpack between it and your back.

The moonlight plays illusions like the canteen filmstrips–a summer image of Tommy and Joel teaching Ellie the mechanics of tackle football. The twinkle of the fireflies lending veritas to the picture…which in reality is only the twinkle of a dusting of new snow.

Not enough snow to make tracking impossible, but enough to make it difficult.

The back door opens and a blanket lands over your lap.

“Was gonna ask you if you wanted company, but then I decided, it’s my house and you don’t get a choice.”

Maria plops her own blanket in a nearby chair before disappearing and returning with two steaming mugs of tea as offering for the table between you. She takes her time covering you just so before wrapping herself up and joining you on the porch. “Suppose I should have asked if you want that cold pack changed before I get too comfortable,” she says, not really offering, but leaving the suggestion there between you if you need it.

It’s not necessary to talk for a while. She knows exactly what you’re thinking. Sees what you see.

“Did I wake you?”

“No. Riley did,” she lies. You’d heard her shift when you got up from the bed–her bed, well, hers and Tommy’s. But hers and yours for now.

“Thanks for taking care of us.”

“You say that like you’re not my family.”

“Well then, thanks for staying behind as if you are.” 

It’s hard to see her out of the corner of your eye, backed by dark shadows. But the moon plays little crescents on her face, the curve of her nose, her cheek, her chin. Her voice comes out velvet from the dark.

“I know you’re pissed at Joel for going, but he’s doing the right thing.”

Now you make the effort to turn, rotating more from the waist than the neck to save the injury from twinging, but it does anyway, mirroring your spike in irritation. “Really? You think so? Is that why you sent Tommy with him? After all that time you spent bemoaning the things Joel made Tommy do all those years ago–”

“This is different. This is about the greater good.”

“You know that’s what the villain always says, right?”

She presses her lips together, hating that you’re right. “Okay, so maybe not the greatest good for the morality of the remainder of the human race, but. For the good of Jackson.”

“Two grown men hunting down two teenage girls is the greater good.”

“They won’t be teens forever. They’ve both got reasons to come back for their revenge. And now they know where Jackson is. They get taken in by the wrong people, and then the wrong people will know where Jackson is too and when they come back they won’t be alone. They’ll know exactly how many and what kind of folk to bring.” She holds your gaze for a few seconds, steady and wise but also warning, her warmth only thinly veiling the matronly protectress behind it, like a Durga on her throne. “You know why we have patrols. You know what happens to people that get too close. Two more drops in the bucket is all.”

“Three. One of those little girls is pregnant.”

She has no answer to this. Rather, your dig brings no new argument to the table. It’s just words, just a fact on the wind. It doesn’t sway the needle one way or the other.

It’s exactly what you’d been thinking about, staring up at her bedroom ceiling. Then out here on the porch. It’s like she knew you needed to hear the justification out loud.

“They would have killed him, lady. And Ellie. And you. I’m surprised you don’t want them hunted down like dogs.”

You turn your attention to the back yard, the smallest hump of leaves under the big tree there not quite scattered to the wind, sparkling with snow cover. You can almost still hear Ellie’s high laughter as it sounded the day she experienced her first leaf pile.

“Oh, I want them run down,” you say. “I’m all for that, let ‘em eat lead. I just didn’t want…” It’s not really necessary to continue. Maria knows exactly what you want. She always does. That’s why she sent Tommy with him. To keep him tethered to humanity.

To the way Joel watched Ellie jump and disappear into a poof of leaves. The sun in his smile. At peace. At home. Free from the old violence. Reborn.

I just didn’t want Joel to be the one to do it.

______

Maria’s dinner table feels empty. Funny, you think, it was always the two of you. For a while there was four, what with Troy and Ash, but most of the time just the two. Then Tommy. Then Joel and Ellie. Now Riley…well, that is, if he’s still up during family dinner.

You’ve slept through most of the light of day and was hoping to talk to Ellie at dinner, but Maria’s been taking all her meals to the guest room for her. Mostly so she doesn’t have to walk down the stairs on her healing leg, but also because Ellie’s not been talking since that night.

And you can guess why. It has less to do with the injury and assault or the fire, and more about the truths she learned during them. 

Not much to do. The arm has to stay stable, strapped to your body. At least they fucked up the non-dominant one so you can still hold a fork, still brush your teeth. But knitting? Spinning? Helping Maria clear the dishes? Fat chance.

Not much to do but chew root, smoke wild weed, and sleep it off.

Maria reappears with a plate needs washing. “There’s a break in the clouds. I got three whole words out of her. This might be your chance.”

“Oh. Joy.” It’s getting to be less of an effort to stand now that you’ve got rest and food in you. The stairs are daunting only because of the conversation that waits at the top.

A knock on her door only grants you silence.

“I’m coming in, Starling girl. Best not be naked.”

No answer. You take that as the opposite of opposition. Tolerance.

She’s sitting on the bed, propped up by pillows behind her back and under her knee, her bandages freshly changed, no more blood pooling or free bleeding. She plays with the cuffs of her sweater, tugging at a loop in the knit, a book abandoned by her side as if she’d put it down when you knocked. A good sign. She doesn’t want to hide.

You crawl in beside her, awkwardly, one-handedly, a big showy sigh of relief when you finally land. “You know, if I was your mom, I’d probably start off with ‘what’cha reading there, kiddo?’ just to get you to say something, but I’m not your mom and I’m not here to make you talk if you don’t wanna–”

“Well I don’t.”

“Good. I didn’t come up here to hear you yap anyway.” You detect the tiniest twitch of her cheek, not quite a smile, perhaps a sneer…to scare away a smile. “Don’t talk, just listen.”

“I don’t wanna do that either.”

“Tough titties. I’m cashing in exchange for all the time I had to listen to you go on about Sally Fucking Ride.”

Now she does smile. Barely. Gives you the teenager face you wanna slap sometimes. “Tough titties? Really?”

“They didn’t have tough titties in the orphanage? Seems off-brand.” The smile fades. “Tell me how you’re healing. I’m not asking, I’m demanding.”

A big breath in. But the air doesn’t come rushing back with a dramatic sigh, just melts out of her with a single tear she doesn’t move to brush away.

So you do. “That bad, huh.”

“It fucking sucks. It fucking sucks so bad.”

“Heh, tell me about it. I miss the good old days of ibuprofen. Shit. I miss morphine. You’re young though, you’ll be up and running in a week or two. Me? I’m gonna be aching for–”

“He fucking lied through his teeth.”

Ah. There it is.

Now the colony of tears follows the first scout, pouring out over the plains of her cheeks until she covers her face with those cuffs she’s been picking at, relieved at being able to let it all out in front of someone who might understand, but probably scared as hell to let herself be this messed up in front of someone who might not. A gamble.

And a win. You’ve still got one good arm and you put it to good use, pulling her into your side. “Yeah, you’re right. He totally did. He’s a fucking asshole. Why the hell would he do that.”

“It wasn't time that did it,” she hiccups from under her woolen cuffs.

“I don’t know what that means, Starling” you say, unable to stop yourself from kissing the crown of her head.

She wipes her nose and comes up for air. “I mean I know why. But he fucking lied about everything. Straight to my face.”

“Well, you’ve got every right to demand an explanation and an apology when he comes back. Straight to his face.”

“If he comes back.”

You let that sit a moment between you. It’s her way of saying that she knows you’re mad at him too, that she heard the conversation you had with him when he left. It’s her way of poking at your own fears and getting you on her side.

“Those girls aren’t armed and the Miller boys have a lot more experience with being hunters than those kids do being prey. He’ll be back.”

“I hate him.”

“I know. But also. You don’t.”

“I had a… a purpose. A fucking purpose.”

“Well….I know you did, but…probably not so much as you think.” She looks up at you but you can’t meet her eye, she’s right to mourn, and you can’t deny her that. “Remember what I told you about my sister and her treatments?”

“The research hospital.”

“Yeah. Cancer’s been killing people on this earth far longer than cordyceps and they’d had millions of patients to test on. Still couldn’t crack it. How many people are immune like you? Because if it ain’t millions, you just become one part sample in a petri dish and another part dead body that maybe give some vague clues and then you’re all parts in the bin, end of story. I mean, I’ll be honest. I don’t blame him. You’re quite a keeper.”

Now her sigh is dramatic. “And then he fucking lied about it.”

“So you would feel good about it. Accomplished in your goal. Also so you wouldn’t hate him for caring about you more than you do.”

“Why didn’t he just say–?”

“Do you know that man to be good with words?”

This quiets her. Both of you. For a few minutes. She goes back to picking at her sleeves.

The sun’s set completely now and her little bedside lamp can’t even drown out the stars so bright on the other side of the window. Clear night. Cold out there.

After a moment you take your arm back, jostle her with your shoulder. “Hey. I’m going out to the Meadow tomorrow, check in with Willa, look over the damage. If I bring you back a piece of the Roost, you wanna do some carving or whittling or something? We’ll build a platform like the old one and it’s probably just gonna be a tent up there for a while like it used to be, but hopefully this spring or summer we’ll get a structure up there and we’ll need a cornerstone or a plaque or something signifying its importance. Since you’re on your ass all day with nothing better to do, and you’re the star recruit, I’d love for you to do it.”

Her lips twist, half smiling at the request, but then in regret. “I lost my knife.”

“The one from your mom?” She nods. “Well if you’ll do some carding for me while I’m out there, I promise to look for it, ask around, maybe one of the patrol picked it up, okay?”

“Okay. Oh. By the way…How are you healing?”

“I’ve been worse. But mostly I’ve been better. Thanks for asking. ‘S kind of you. But don’t you worry about me.”

“Okay. Um…I’m…sorry about telling them about the meadow and all.”

“Why? You’re a Roostling. It’s your story to tell.” Sliding off the bed you head for the door. “Oh hey. I meant to ask–” you nod at the book by her side. “What’cha reading?”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh…just porn.”

“Cool. G’night.”

“‘Night. Hey Meadowlark?”

You poke your head back in before the door closes completely. “Hm?”

“Thanks. For all that. But mostly for not calling me kiddo.”

You smile. Nod. Give her a warm wink. “Sure. I gotchu, kiddo.”

It’s worth the eyeroll you catch as you close the door.

________

The most sickening part of coming in through the north passage isn’t seeing the burn scar on the pine grove in the middle of the Meadow, isn’t missing the outline of the Roost through the trees, but rather the feeling that your home has been breached, that for a moment it wasn’t safe and now you’ll always wonder if it will be.

Riding across the north plain, you close your eyes and breathe, let the horse plod on without your guidance, he knows the way. Once spring comes and the valley fills with flowers and the music of the lambs calling for their ewes takes over from this cold silence that comfort will be renewed. 

But for now, there is no comfort on the Meadow in winter, not without a pretty little fireplace and a warm spot to watch the snow build up on the mountains.

You know what’s coming, but it turns your heart inside out all the same when you open your eyes.

Where once there was a cabin in the treetops is now a void leading downward to a pile of blackened rubble and debris. Off to the side under some lower trees is the old canvas tent with the vent hole and a friendly little trail of smoke rising from it. Willa always knew her way around a fire and didn’t mind keeping a low one going on the inside. You never were that confident, even with a fire-treated tarp.

She’s been at work out here, pulling useful things out of the rubble. The woodstove. The pulley jacks. A few timbers that are mostly unburned. 

But there’s a pile of other things too, useless items that shouldn’t be mixed back in with the earth: a burned walkie. Twisted silverware and blackened plates. The iron tools from the rafters. Shattered tile. Your charred and mangled boots.

All that’s left in the major wreckage is wood. And glass. And bones.

Three blackened skulls, three sets of eye sockets and three jaws gaping up at the sky as if they were caught in the moment of realizing their plans were going terribly awry. 

Stupid fucking kids. ….Just kids.

If someone asked you how you knew which one was Owen’s, you wouldn’t be able to say. You just know. The memory of him sinking that knife into Ellie’s leg…of hurting her…intent to kill… His skull breaks like a cracker when you put your weight on it.

Willa doesn’t say anything when she comes up along side to stare down at the bones with you. It's not the first time you've stood with her at the edge of a burned down home.

"I hate that it’s gonna take me a while to sift though all this,” you say.

“We’ve decided to skip your turn for a while. At least until there’s a new platform.”

You nod, resigned. You don’t love it, but it’s best. Trauma lingers longest of all hurt. 

“How’s the flock?”

“They’re over it.”

“Figures. Fluffy shits. Any chance you found a pocket knife out here?” You ask her.

She nods, reaches into a jacket pocket and there it is, like it’s been waiting to come back to its keeper, made itself shiny and easily found. It’s passed between you like a sacred object, holy, a relic saved and cared for, a thing infused with deep love and meaning. There’s an instant relief as your fingers curl around it, your shoulders relaxing and releasing a little of the pain.

“Thank you.”

“There was this too.” From the same pocket Willa pulls a disk of silver and glass, turning it over and placing it in your hand with the knife.

The watchband is burned away. But it’s otherwise unharmed.

Willa may be a stoic, but she knows enough to recognize a release through tears and to hold you while you cry.

Later that afternoon when you knock on Ellie’s door, you’ll hand her the knife and a piece of the old Roost to carve to consecrate the new one. And then you’ll give her the watch and ask her to be your hands, to help you with one more thing.

________

Two days later, you’re standing in Joel’s living room, never having been here when it’s so quiet, dark, and cold. With you and Ellie staying with Maria, there’s been nobody here to light a fire, to make the place live. You wouldn’t be here if Maria hadn’t made a side comment about maybe you and Ellie’d been in the same clothes for a day too many. Not that you thought you’d be with her that long.

She was right. It was nice to change into something clean–a soft fleece and some sleep pants. While the sword of Damocles kept things in check at Maria’s house, it did feel just this side of an extended girl’s night sleepover, might as well dress for it. Ellie had asked for something soft and comfy so you decided to go for it, an assortment of sweats and sweaters in the duffel at your feet.

What you’re eyeing at the moment is an empty hook on the wall by the fireplace.

You put your hand in your jacket pocket and pull out the watch.

Ellie did a beautiful job with it, took directions like a champ. Sitting together on her bed, listening to Joan Jett and Pat Benetar, you’d instructed her how to design the plaid stripes into the strap, how to knot and plait in patterns.

“Macrame. MACrame. Mac. Ra. Mayyyyyy,” Ellie’d chanted. “It’s a fun word to say. What’s it mean?”

“Fringe. Knotting. It’s just the name of the technique. I dunno. Probably something prettier in French.”

The strap clasps had been lost in the fire, so you’d had Ellie work him a new strap out of dyed and tightly-spun wool, something a little longer so he could tie it on. Most likely he’d come back here first, so you want to put it somewhere he’d see it, that way he could have it again without a lot of fuss but knowing at the same time you were thinking of him. So you slip the end loop over the hook, gently let it slip through your fingers and rest against the wall.

If he comes back…

The front door opens. Boots on the wood. The thump of a backpack.

By the time you’ve turned, he’s coming in through the front hall.

When he sees you standing here, he stops.

You never imagined this moment. You should have. It might have prepared you for the yellowing bruise on his face, the majority of his left pant leg browned with dried blood, his knuckles raw and just beginning to heal over.

You struggle with finding the right question. Find ‘em? They dead? Finish the job? No survivors?

I’d ask you what the hell you did, but I know and I don’t wanna hear you say it.

Instead all you can muster is a nod at the blood on his jeans.

His eyes slide to the staircase, already looking to move on, and he only answers with a short and shallow nod of his own before doing just that.

You find yourself sitting on the couch, staring at your hands, the duffel, the watch, back at your hands. Listening as he moves around upstairs, dropping boots, his belt buckle clapping to the floor. The shower running for a long, long time.

Sun’s going down. Getting colder.

The squeaks from the staircase are slow, softer than usual. He’s taking his time coming down. Doesn’t want to force himself back into a space so safe and quiet after pushing through one so big and mean.

He barely shifts the couch as he sits on the far side. Clean shirt. Clean jeans. A pair of socks you knit him.

“Where’s Ellie?” He sounds like he hasn’t spoken to anyone in days. You’d wager he hasn’t.

“With Maria. We’ve been staying there. I was just getting us some clothes. Didn’t think you’d be gone this long.”

“Neither did I. They had a head start. Younger. Faster. But you’re safe now. You’re both safe now.” He’s quiet long enough for the house to give a settling creak as the wind picks up outside. “How’s that arm?”

“Joel, you can’t keep us safe from the world. The world is what it is.”

“The fuck I can’t,” he whispers back, defiant, stubborn, with enough venom that he seems to scare himself and he breathes in deep, keeps it, holding back.

All you want is your Joel back. Even in all this mess. All you want is for him to lay down his fear and love you the right way. 

So instead of arguing, you get up and stand before him, give him the time it takes to understand you’re going to straddle his lap whether he helps you or not. He reaches for you on your way down, guides and supports you, allows you to rake through his wet curls before leaning in to take possession of his lips, to will him–by kissing through to his very soul–to come back to you.

He can’t help but respond, his whole body coming to life, and in the cold, twilit living room, you become a tangle of silhouettes as his hand pushes up under your sweater–somehow still keeping an aura of care around your ruined and wrapped arm–to squeeze almost painfully at your curves, rough and wanting, panting between devouring kisses as he paws beyond the waistband of your sleep pants, sucking at your neck when you throw your head back as he reaches what he was searching for….what you hoped he’d find…

There’s a tousle of repositioning and a clatter of belt and zipper. You’re both raw and rough and needy, and you both take advantage of the emptiness of the house to fill it with the sounds of desperation, of effort, the song of casting off of all inhibition, a duet of total and grateful release. 

But through it all, it’s the way he holds onto you that tells you how much he wanted to get back to you, how close he intends to hold you and never let you go, a desperation that tells you exactly where his faults lay…

…that it was necessary–and always will be–to eliminate any chance of someone taking you from his world by force.

It’s not so much possession as a fierce and burning need to be possessed. A need to belong, concentrated down to its basest form.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he softly kisses your temple, spooning you in the afterglow that burns bright in the darkening room.

“For what? You didn’t hurt me.”

“Rushed it a little. Tend to act before thinkin’ sometimes.”

You’re not completely sure what he means by that. At first you think he’s talking about the rough sex, but you get his meaning. Stalking off after Abby and Mel so impulsively. For being impulsive in general.

For acting out of trauma.

Or love.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to for that, Joel.”

You can tell the moment he understands when his forehead gently meets your shoulder. “Shit.”

It’s probably the best time to break it to him, while he’s still a little softheaded and euphoric. “She’s ready to listen. But I won’t promise it’ll be easy. It might just be you and me here for a while.”

Once his breathing evens out, he shifts, still holding onto you, but just coming back down, settling back in.

“What’s that?” He mutters, just on this side of falling asleep, lazily pointing at the watch on the hook by the fireplace.

“Your Valentine’s Day present. From both of us. Sorry it’s late.”

________

Taking some shifts off from the Meadow rotation affords you time to start slowly moving things over to the new A-frame, Maria helping you to load up a skid now and then and unload it, walking beside you as you lead the horse that tows it.

After a week or two, Ellie’s up and walking–well, limping, but healing–and starting to talk to Joel at dinner again. She’s on the verge of actually gracing his bad jokes with a smile or even a laugh, but she’s making him work hard for it. Good for her.

You haven’t asked either of them how the talk went. Don’t know if you ever will. That’s between them, the less you interfere, the better.

But you know that things are on the mend when you find Ellie playing Joel’s guitar–learning some Johnny Cash song you know he loves.

And you have a feeling that spring is on the way when you drop off another load at the new house and find a new frame on the wall–a handmade, custom carpentry display shadowbox.

With a watch hanging inside.

_______

PREVIOUS: AUTUMN

NEXT: SPRING AGAIN (coming soon)

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 4

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 5438 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together. 

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

~~~

Dick stood on the pure white sands of Themyscira, though he did not recall how he got there. But he could not mistake the marble columns and houses higher up the mountain side, nor the crystal blue waters with the odd looking fish swimming. Without ever stepping on the great island before, Dick knew.

It felt like home.

Once Dick realised where he was, he realised another thing. He was alone. Where is everyone? he thought, deciding to walk along the beach in search of someone, anyone.

'Hello?' he called loudly, but the stone walls of the mountainside just echoed his voice back at him. And there were no stairs leading off the beach that he could find. He was truly alone.

Dick stopped when he realised it, accepted it. Devastation threatened to swallow him as the white sand did his feet. The ocean waves lapping the shore quieted for a moment, giving space for laughter and music to dance in their place.

Dick looked longingly up at the buildings on the mountainside. A childish want to join the party overtook him, and his mood soured even more, feeling left out of something huge.

'Nightwing.'

The call of his name cut through all other sounds, silencing the rest of the world so Dick could focus on the source of the call. He swivelled, hope pumping from his heart to the rest of his body, to find the most gorgeous of women standing before him. Only - her face was obscured so he could not make out her exact features.

'Nightwing.' Her voice was like smooth velvet, like soft thunder rumbling his name into the electric air.

'Y-Yes?' Dick wasn't sure how this woman knew his vigilante name. He wasn't in his Nightwing attire, just civvies.

The woman started walking towards him in answer. With each slow, deliberate step she took, her image changed before Dick's eyes. She started off muscular, then grew curves, then was small and petite, then grew to stand taller than Dick himself. One moment she was childish and youthful, the next a frail and wrinkled elderly lady.

Her hair changed colour and texture and style too, as did her skin - as if the light of the sun from different angles highlighted everything this woman was, and what she could be.

She remained faceless all the while, for not just one woman could be every woman all at once and have the same face, the same history.

But by the time she stood before him, she'd shrunk to just under his eyes, her hair morphed and her skin changed shades again until the woman started to look familiar.

Still faceless, the woman reached a hand up behind Dick's neck and brought him down so she could whisper in his ear. 'Wake up.'

'What?' He didn't understand. He was awake - wasn't he? But more importantly, why did the woman sound like Y/N?

'Nightwing.' Now that she was talking right into his ear, her voice was clear as day. 'Wake. Up.'

~~~

Dick's eyes flew open as he gasped, as if he'd been holding his breath for too long. He blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness flooding his vision. He quickly realised it was nightfall, and he was staring up at the night sky through a circular hole in the ceiling.

He sat up quickly and realised that was a mistake, as a throbbing pain pounded in his right temple. He hissed as he laid back down, gently brushing his fingers against the sizeable egg that had formed above the injury.

He was briefly distracted as someone removed his hand from his temple, and placed a cool cloth in his hand, then pressed it back on the source of his pain. Dick released a relieved sigh as the coolness eased the throbbing slightly.

'Thank you,' he half said, half whispered, tilting his head to the left to see his saviour.

The only light that filled the room were bowls of fire situated atop pillars all around the circular room. There was a slight breeze, making their flames dance and cast a myriad of shadows around the room. But from what Dick could make out, there were other beds like the one he was situated on - ones of stone, pillows and fabrics - and a table of instruments and tools beside each one.

He didn't recognise the place, which had him searching the face of the person at his bedside more earnestly, wanting answers. But he was not met with the gentle smile nor the soothing voice of an angel.

Instead, he made eye contact with a very stoic and silent Y/N, her bright (e/c) eyes cold and unfeeling. Not even the firelight could cast a flicker of warmth on the expression she looked down at Dick with.

'Y/N,' he groaned, trying to sit up.

'You shouldn't do that,' she said, and her voice was just as stoic and monotone. 'You were hit... quite hard.'

Dick ignored her and pulled himself into a seated position so his back pressed against the back wall. He was relieved to find he was still in his civvies from when he arrived on the island.

'You mean you hit me quite hard,' he countered, pressing the cloth once more to his temple with a slight hiss. 'Not the kind of welcome I was thinking of...'

'Well I certainly hope you didn't expect a big parade or fireworks in your name,' Y/N bit back, keeping her voice low and contained, something she never used to do before. 'Besides, Themyscira doesn't usually get visitors. let alone male ones.'

'In that case, I'm sorry to... disappoint?' Dick wasn't sure what to say. This was a far cry from how he imagined seeing Y/N again.

'A bit too late to be apologising now, isn't it?' Y/N asked, and Dick couldn't help but feel she was indicating to something else. But before he could answer, she continued, stoically, 'Don't worry about it now. Rest up. The Queen wants to speak with you as soon as you wake up. And believe me when I say she is not so easily charmed as other women.'

Dick's heart thumped faster with confusion and fear. This was all going so wrong. Where were the hugs, or even the slaps to the face and the screaming? Anything but this... coldness.

Just as Y/N was walking to the doors of the infirmary, Dick called out to her. 'Hey, wait.'

To his surprise, Y/N did stop, though she only gave him a slight turn of her head so she looked over her shoulder at him. He didn't care. He would take anything. 'It's good to see you.'

Y/N didn't respond straight away, but when she did, Dick questioned whether or not he should've listened to his friends' warnings.

'A sentiment that, I must say, is not shared,' she replied coldly, then proceeded to walk out of the room, giant wooden doors clanging shut after she left.

Dick suddenly became unaware of his throbbing temple as he stared at the doors where Y/N just was. Instead, he became increasingly aware of the twisted feeling growing in his stomach.

He wasn't sure what it was, but it kept him up until the early hours before sunrise, into which he had three hours of dreamless sleep before some women in white robes and pinned or braided back hair woke him up.

They greeted him with gentle smiles and soothing voices, checking he was all right before they prepped him for his chat with the Queen. Any other occasion he would've tried to charm the beautiful women who did not praise him, but treated him with an innocent kindness that he imagined they treated any and all with.

But he still felt as if he was going to throw up, and his mind was preoccupied by the startling image of Y/N's cold, unfeeling eyes staring back at him the previous night. She'd never looked at him that way before. Similar to M'gann, Dick wasn't even sure Y/N was capable of such indifference.

And yet, she'd looked at him just that way, and it stung more than any injury he could imagine.

He'd been allowed to wash and dry himself, and put his dirty civvies of jeans, boots, white t-shirt, and black bomber jacket back on. Then the women sat him in front of a mirror and combed his dark hair, tidying him up one final time before a guard of six strong women came to collect him from the infirmary.

The six women flanked him as they led Dick through the palace made of white marble. If it weren't for the rich colours in the rugs and the wall dressings, the place would be as cold as the sea water lapping the shoreline. Women of different sizes, skin colours, and ages milled about the palace, each of them greeting the guards warmly before looking curiously and even fearfully at Dick as they walked by.

Dick did not let their looks distract him from the real worry ahead of him, though.

Soon enough, the guards and Dick reached a giant set of doors with gold intricately painted over the door and on the archway around it. The front two guards stepped up to open the doors, and stepped aside to allow the rest of the party to enter a spacious room.

Actually, a room wasn't the accurate description for it. There was a ceiling and a floor, but the walls constituted of a few pillars holding the ceiling above the floor, allowing a stroking view of the rest of Themyscira to surround anyone in the room. From the city just below, to the mountainside further along, and then the sand and ocean at the bottom.

Every aspect of Themyscira could be witnessed from what Dick assumed was the throne room, for at the far side of the room was a simple but intimidating throne made of marble, intricately designed to have vines and fruit pop out along the arm rests, and swords and shields to support the back of the throne. Only two people occupied the room other than Dick and the six guards: Y/N - who stood beside the throne in the same leather uniform as the other guards, sword strapped to her hip - and a regal looking women with with ebony hair that billowed out behind and over her white cladded shoulders.

Grey streaks striped through her hair, and Dick could make out a few smile wrinkles on her forehead from where he stood. She wore a white cloth that wrapped around her body as she sat on the throne, pinched by a golden belt that matched the golden leaf crown holding back her hair from her face.

Though she sat down and looked smaller than Dick, she radiated a power that he even recognised to be respected. As the soon as the doors closed, the six guards kneeled to the floor and placed one arm over the chest as they bowed their heads.

'Our Queen,' the said in unison, and suddenly Dick felt very self-conscious as he looked around at the women then looked up at the Queen herself made eye contact with him.

Dick looked around at the women kneeling before their queen. Either he was hit harder in the head than he thought and he could somehow understand Greek suddenly, or they somehow knew English this whole time.

Either way, Dick rushed into a flimsy kneeling position. 'Y-Your Majesty,' he stuttered, hiding his cringe as he kneeled. The first time you meet a queen and you stutter? Good work Grayson, he internally berated.

The Queen offered a kind but hard smile. 'Please, rise, young man. Any friend of my granddaughter is a welcomed guest here on Themyscira.'

Dick's eyes widened, looking to Y/N for confirmation. 'Granddaughter? So... So that would make Y/N-'

'A princess of Themyscira,' Y/N answered monotone. 'But I can assure you, Nightwing, that I do not consider myself exempt from work because of the newfound title. I believe in strong connections, on working with others and creating a strong unit with which to fight alongside.'

Y/N looked directly at Dick, her eyes piercing his as if asking a silent question. What about you? Do you believe in the same?

Dick didn't know why he felt slightly ashamed, but he did, and feeling a great need to be rid of such a compressive feeling, he stood upright once more and addressed the Queen directly. 'I was informed by your Princess that you wanted to speak with me, Your Majesty.' Dick dialled up the charm - opened his arms in offer, and let a loose and charming smile curl his lips upward. 'I am yours to question.'

But the Queen only offered a half-smile in return, amusement never quite reaching her eyes like Dick was used to when charming other women.

'How... noble of you to think you are helping us out,' the Queen said, arms resting peacefully on the throne's armrests, but her eyes locked Dick to the ground with their intensity and fire. 'But let me make one thing clear. You are our guest because I deem it so. I'm sure you are well aware that our island isn't meant for man or mere mortals. You are not meant to be here, so it would be wise of you not to take our hospitality for absolute fondness or security.'

While always the usual jokester, Dick had always understood from a young age when someone was being serious with him. And especially when he wasn't the one in power in a situation such as this.

Dick nodded his head solemnly, and mustered up his most serious expression and voice to express his sincerity. 'Of course, Your Majesty. How can I help you?'

'Well, to begin with,' she said, pleased with his new compliant demeanour, 'you can start by telling us how you found Themyscira.'

'Through old sailing legends and odd encounters fisherman have had in this area,' Dick answered, briefly looking at Y/N as he continued. 'My friends and I collaborated and researched and came to the conclusion that this area - an area which has no volcanic or underwater mapping of any kind - would be my best bet at finding the island. That, and some reporting of odd-looking fish.'

Dick couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous he sounded. 'I'll admit that was a stretch, but one of my friends comes from the sea himself. I trust his judgement on all things sea-related.'

The Queen nodded her head thoughtfully, and Dick wondered if she was impressed by his deduction. 'But if others have been swayed for hundreds and thousands of years by our defences, how come you were not?'

Dick went to answer but quickly stopped himself. Blinked once. Twice. It was a good question.

'I-I don't know, Your Majesty,' he admitted. 'All I know is that, one moment I was talking with Alfred - a guardian of sorts, but he's pretty much family - and then I hit something invisible, twice actually, and my line to him was cut.

His gaze flickered between her and Y/N, who looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. 'We were discussing your Princess, actually. We were just hoping she'd be out here, that's all.'

'Is that why you've come, then?' the Queen asked. 'To speak to my granddaughter.'

'Well, not just speak, Your Majesty,' Dick said. 'I wanted to recruit her for a mission back home.' He spoke directly to Y/N then, eyes locking. 'We could really use your help. I could really use your help, Y/N.'

One of the guards beside him raised her spear to point at his neck. The tip of the blade was a hair's breadth away from his bobbing Adam's apple.

'How dare you talk to our Princess directly,' she growled. 'Show some respect.'

Y/N raised a hand up. 'Easy, Calliope,' Y/N said with a soft but commanding voice that resonated like a melody through the room. The guard - Calliope - looked long and hard at Dick until she eventually returned to her post beside him, quiet and still.

Dick allowed himself a steadying breath. How many times can I be almost killed in the shortest span of time? he asked himself, before looking back to Y/N.

'If talk is what you want, Nightwing,' Y/N said for the whole room to hear, 'then talk is all you shall get. But if you intend to take me back with you, then I am afraid your breath will be wasted on words I will not hear.'

'But, Y/N, you don't even know what I am going to say,' Dick objected, disbelieving that Y/N Prince - Wonderess, his best friend for nearly a decade, the one person he always thought would be there when he needed her - was looking down at him now with no warmth, no familiarity, no room for hope and belief.

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, perhaps berate him and shun him more, but the Queen interrupted. 'He has a point, dearest,' she said, and gracefully rose from her throne.

Immediately, a guard was there helping her down the few steps from the dais that held the throne. Now that she was standing, Dick saw how her robes drowned her, and imagined how frail she was underneath it all. She spoke and appeared strong, but obviously immortality had its limits. Even the strong had to age at one point.

'We shall leave you and our guest to discuss your... personal matters,' the Queen explained further, looking between Dick and Y/N with scrutinising eyes. But she was quickly hurried out of the throne room, leaving Dick and Y/N alone together for the first time in two years.

Dick hated the silence that seemed to suffocate them, but he couldn't find the words to breathe new air into the space. So he just looked at her. She was both entirely the same and entirely different at the same time. She'd gained more muscle in her arms and legs, her face had sharpened with maturity but not to the point she looked harsh. She looked fierce, and the leather skirt, sandals, and plated armour top alongside her sword certainly added to that effect.

Dick had always found her fierce, the most fierce out of their entire team when they first formed. It had sometimes just got lost when she laughed, when she smiled, when she didn't know modern world slang because her mother never knew either.

But she wasn't smiling now, nor laughing. Now, she stood before Dick, the picture-perfect warrior, as if she was born to be as such.

As if it were her destiny.

'So...' Dick started, hoping Y/N would set the ball rolling.

'So,' she echoed back, her tone unamused and bored.

'So...' Dick found himself repeating, then realised she was never going to continue, so he did. 'There is a huge problem with the illegal trade of meta-humans and meta-human testing globally-'

'I am aware, I was fighting it when I was still with the team,' Y/N interrupted, her words unfazed, unfeeling almost.

Dick internally winced at his mistake. 'Of course you were, sorry. So anyways, there is this royal family who-'

'I don't care to hear about your problem, Nightwing,' Y/N cut in again, this time with annoyance and anger threatening to sharpen her words. 'Nor do I care that you infiltrated our island, crashed on our beaches, and waltzed into my people's home with swagger and self righteousness.'

Now Dick was getting annoyed. 'Stop calling me Nightwing, Y/N. You know my name, and I'm not even in uniform right now-'

'You've waltzed into my home,' Y/N interrupted, and finally, a spark of ire igniting in her previously cold e/c eyes, 'and have demanded I help you, when you couldn't even spare me one word over the past two years.'

Suddenly sheepish, Dick didn't know how to respond. Y/N finally stepped down from the dais and walked over to him. She only stopped when she was two steps away from him, and he could see it then, how she was straining against something internally. It was in her tight jaw - clenching and unclenching - and it was in her stiff posture.

'We might've been friends when you left,' she said softly, heatedly, 'but I found a new purpose, a new family - one that will never abandon me when times get tough or when I need them.' Y/N looked Dick up and down, then took a half step towards him so he could feel her breath. 'If you expected me to sit around waiting for you to come back like some lost puppy, you never knew me at all.'

Dick swallowed thickly as he kept eye contact with her. 'We were more than just friends,' he said softly, causing her angry facade to drop for a moment in confusion. 'We were best friends, Y/N, and I am sorry. For everything that I didn't do these past two years.'

The anger returned, and Y/N just pushed past him, knocking his shoulder hard in the process as she strutted towards the doors to exit. 'Best friends or not, sorry doesn't make up for your ignorance, Nightwing. Nor does it endear me to want to help you anymore than when you did when you entered this room.'

'Please, Y/N,' Dick said, racing after her and clasping his fingers around her wrist. He winced at how she tensed at his touched, but continued. 'I know I messed up. Believe me, everyone made me more than aware of it before I came here. But however you felt about me, I knew I had to come see you. Try and get you to come home.'

Y/N flung around with furious eyes, her h/l, h/c hair flinging as she did. 'This is my home,' she said with absolute resolve and conviction. 'This is my home, and by sundown tomorrow, you will be on a boat headed back to Gotham City or wherever you call home these days, and out of my life. For good.'

Dick's heart cracked at the insinuation. Had he really done this to her? His precious Y/N - kindhearted, welcoming, fun-loving, protective Y/N. Was he the reason for such coldness, such animosity?

'But, Y/N, the team-'

'The team were the ones who encouraged me to leave,' she answered. 'They saw I was meant for something more than just silly little missions that got us nowhere. They saw how much I'd given to the team, and saw I needed to go find myself again. They saw, because they were there.'

Y/N ripped her wrist away from Dick's reach. 'I am not some girl you can charm into thinking she is special and wanted. I know I am, and I know my place is here, with people who actually care about me. So do me and everyone on the island a favour and stay in the infirmary until your departure where you can't lie and hurt anyone ever again.'

Before he could reach out again - he wasn't sure what he'd say if he got her to stop anyways - she was opening the doors and slamming them shut again, leaving Dick alone in the throne room, the crashing of waves and the rush of wind the only sounds to be heard.

Dick stood looking at the door for a little while longer, the image of Y/N's hurt and angry eyes imprinted in his brain. He'd been warned, boy had he been warned. By Kaldur, Connor, M'gann. But he never could've expected Y/N to be so... hostile.

Are you really doing this for Y/N's sake, or for yours?

Connor's question echoed in his head as turned his attention to the ocean that lay outside of the room. Maybe he was right, Dick thought. Maybe this was all a big mistake. The biggest indicator had been in her eyes. She'd never looked at him, let alone anyone, like that before. Like she'd rather be anywhere in the world than be in the same room as him.

You're my best friend...

He raised his little finger to the door, though he was sure she was long gone. 'Alway have been,' Dick whispered, and some inner hope of his was waiting for Y/N to come back and finish their vow.

But she never did, and so he dropped his hand entirely.

After some time, his party of guards from before came back in to collect him and take him back to the infirmary. Feeling deflated and having no other reason to be there, he silently complied.

~~~

Y/N slammed the doors to the throne room so loud she was sure the whole island heard them.

She let out a controlled but shaky breath as tears threatened to burst from her eyes. Thank Athena Y/N escaped when she did, or she wasn't sure how much more slander she could throw at Dick.

She'd decided as soon as she saw him at the training field that she wanted nothing to do with him. That the best way to handle him was to give him no room to charm, to speak, to be his usual self and get under her skin. So she'd knocked him unconscious, been curt and unfeeling with him, denied him passage to her mind again.

She'd convinced herself that Dick Grayson was nothing more than a lying, self-centred and self-righteous boy - and yet she found her hands yearning to embrace him, her eyes wanting to inspect him and note all his changes, and her heart yearning for the unconditional love she knew Dick to be capable of.

'Princess?'

Y/N jumped at the call of her title, but when she noticed it was only Calliope, she relaxed. 'Yes, Calliope, what is it?'

'Queen Hippolyta would like to see you in her personal chambers.'

Y/N nodded. 'Of course, thank you.'

She quickly made her way to her grandmother's personal chambers. The first half of the chambers doubled as a meeting place on more than one occasion for Y/N and her grandmother, usually preferring to discuss important matters in the comfort of lounge chairs as opposed to stiff and cold meeting rooms made of stone.

Y/N entered the Queen's chambers, walking into an open floor-plan lounge and foyer entrance, with lounges and chairs draped in fine and rich velvets and satins. Attached to the lounge was a big balcony overlooking the city of Themyscira.

She found her grandmother leaning against the balcony's edge, looking over the island, when she walked out to join her.

Y/N braced for her grandmother's first words. Would they be harsh? Would they be enraged? Disappointed even? But they didn't come initially, and Y/N welcomed the peace that came with the silence. She looked over the balcony to the city below, and the forestry and ocean below that.

This is my home, she reiterated to herself, unlike how she'd talked to Dick just moments before. Even then, her gaze slipped to the horizon line far off in the distance where it became almost indistinguishable where the sky and sea met.

If she were being honest with herself, she hadn't thought about her old life, her old friends since she stepped foot on Themyscira. Guilt tugged at her heart, but she reminded herself that it was them that encouraged her to leave, to find herself again.

Even so, with Dick's unexpected arrival, Y/N realised one thing. She missed them all dearly.

But not Dick Grayson. Absolutely not.

'Your friend,' Queen Hippolyta finally said, eyes never leaving the view in front of her, 'he is... charming, to say the least.'

Y/N scoffed and rolled her eyes. 'So he likes to think. And he's not my friend. Not anymore.'

It was silent again for a moment, and Y/N wondered for a moment if her grandmother had heard her at all. 'Either way,' her grandmother continued casually, 'he has certainly highlighted some weaknesses in our defences that we will need to remedy straight away.'

'I can get Cora and the rest of the Guard onto that right away,' Y/n said, grateful for the escape.

'Not just yet,' Queen Hippolyta said, bringing Y/N back to the balcony begrudgingly. 'Are you okay, dearest?'

Y/N scrunched her brows in confusion. 'I'm... fine? Why do you ask?'

Queen Hippolyta gave Y/N a knowing look that silently said Don't play dumb with me. 'Isn't he the boy who broke your heart?'

Embarrassment flooded Y/N's cheeks in a wave of red heat as Y/N shook her head furiously. 'He didn't break my heart. He made me realise I was better off without him.'

'Perhaps, but you are not better off without friends.'

The gentle touch of a hand on her arm brought Y/N's attention solely on her grandmother, who looked at her knowingly.

'I can see your love for this place, dearest,' the Queen said. 'From the moment you have arrived, you have thrown yourself into our way of life, into our community and given it your all.'

'Because this is where I come from, grandmother,' Y/N said. 'This is where I belong.'

'Right now it is, but it is not your home, Y/N.' When Y/N gave a confused expression, the Queen continued. 'The women all love you, so do the children, but they do not know you, you do not let them see you - the real you. Only the you that is Princess of Themyscira.'

Queen Hippolyta's hand travelled down to clasp one of Y/N's tightly, looking at her earnestly. 'Your real friends are the friends you left behind, the ones who have fought and lost and loved and laughed with you.' Her gaze flickered to the doorway briefly then returned to Y/N knowingly. 'And one of them came all the way across the world to find you, on the word of sailor stories and a lucky scientific guess.'

Y/N rolled her eyes again, and pulled her hand out of her grandmother's grasp. 'He is not my friend,' she repeated, turning her attention back to the sea, trying to focus on anything by Dick Grayson's stupid smiling face. 'He only came here to make himself feel better, not because he actually cares about me. Maybe once I needed his validation, but I know who I am now. And if he is what a friend is meant to be, then I think I am better off without them.'

'Y/N, dearest, just-'

'I would kindly ask that we never talk about Nightwing again, grandmother,' Y/N interrupted. 'Soon enough, he will be out of our lives - out of my life - forever...'

Queen Hippolyta remained silent for a moment, until she blew out a defeated sigh. 'If that is your wish,' she said, deflated.

'Yes, it is,' Y/N said with conviction, ignoring the painful tugging of her heart, ignoring the inner voice that wanted to scream otherwise. If Y/N was going to leave Dick Grayson behind, she needed to stop listening to her stupid heart and listen to reason. Like Athena, who was technically her ancestor in some respect.

Y/N turned back to the Queen and bowed a farewell. 'If you don't mind, I will go talk with Cora to discuss how to fix our defences right away.'

Queen Hippolyta gave a small nod, which Y/N took as dismissal enough, and so set a quick stride to the chamber doors. But just as she was about exit the balcony, her grandmother stopped her again.

'It's odd, don't you think,' she started, her tone coy, 'how, not even for a moment, he forgot his mission as he neared our island. Not once did he get deterred by our magic.'

Y/N turned around to face her grandmother, who gave a small knowing smile to her. 'He must have a strong will to resist such forces, or was motivated by something of equal power, don't you think?'

Y/N didn't say anything, her thoughts taking her back to the conversation they all had back in the throne room, when Dick was questioned about how he resisted the defences.

We were discussing your Princess, actually. We were just hoping she'd be out here...

Y/N rushed to exit the chambers, not even bothering to close the doors on her way out to fresh air.

What did Grandmother mean by that? she asked herself, and felt the tell tale signs of hope blooming in her. The increase heart rate, the tingles at the ends of her fingers, the small but warm ball sitting heavily in her chest. Surely she didn't mean...

Y/N shook her head; the tingles faded, the ball dissipated. I will not be tricked again, she told herself, proceeding to find her way to the training grounds, where she stayed until dusk fighting out her fears and squashing her childish hopes.

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

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[aziraphales-library]

I wish every fandom I’m in had something like this lol. Browsing your tags and recommendations is so much fun!

This might be a bit specific but I’m looking for the following: it’s between season 1 and 2, Crowley’s been kicked out of his flat by hell and living in his car; Aziraphale, somehow, finds out and makes him move into the bookshop.

Thanks so much for the help and all the great work you do, I hope you have a great day!

We have some fics along these line here. Now I have a few more where Aziraphale finds out Crowley is living in the bentley...

4 times Crowley lies about living in his car by dat_carovieh (G)

and one time he doesn't

And They Were Roommates (Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time) by WritingAspirations (M)

Aziraphale found out Crowley was living out of his car, and drags him to live with the angel at the bookshop. Revelations, apologies, and steps forward are made.

Home by RitzWrites (G)

There were very few things Crowley enjoyed about being a demon. The best one, in his opinion, was that he couldn’t get hungover. However, that didn’t stop him from getting drunk enough to black out. He was no stranger to getting blackout drunk, of course, but he was still shocked to wake up on a familiar couch instead of his Bently. or Aziraphale finds out Crowley has been living in his car and decides to do something about it.

let's sort the whole thing out by moonyinpisces (T)

“But you like sleeping,” Aziraphale replies, as if that means something. “All the more reason to move in with me. And I have–I have your favorite couch, for starters. And a bedroom, with a lovely, fluffy bed with only the thinnest layer of dust–” Crowley scoffs. “Yeah, angel. A bedroom, as in, singular. I told you, there's just not enough room–” “Precisely,” says Aziraphale, relieved to be understood. “Singular. It’s not as though we’ll be needing more than one.” … Pardon?

Pet Demon by McRibFarewellTour (NR)

Aziraphale finds out about Crowley's recent living arrangements and takes action, both in protection of Crowley and of their friendship. Unfortunately, Crowley's got a well of evidence that said friendship doesn't even really exist, so the task is harder than it seems.

nature is healing (or something like that, anyhow) by nightbloomingcereus (T)

Well. If Aziraphale could be stubborn, so could Crowley. He didn’t need Aziraphale, or his bookshop, dammit. He was going to take a nap, exactly like he’d said he would, and he wasn’t going to get up again until the world, and a certain frustrating angel, stopped being such a downer. It was the perfect plan. Or it would have been, had he still had his bloody bed in his bloody flat in bloody fucking Mayfair. Or, the one where Crowley takes his three-year-long pandemic nap in his plant-filled Bentley.

- Mod D