#and on top of it they always - at least when I've gone - have some sort of pastor or preacher present who is encouraged to participate

[foxxsong]

.

[mitch-the-silly]

Totally love your works. I have an angst idea 😆 so fem!reader and Vox have been in a long term relationship, like during the time Alastor was gone. Now that he's back, he's become his obsession and starts to neglect reader and brushes any affection she's trying to give and receive off. When she finally tries to talk to him about how he's focusing all his energy on the radio demon, he basically goes off on her and says how it's the only thing that matters. She, feeling unimportant, leaves and it's not until he sees her things gone from their shared place that he realizes he fucked up.

Can lead to him groveling like a simp and end in fluff comfort and makeouts. Or can end there if you wanted to leave your readers in suspense if you want to do it in two parts 😈 muaha I'm evil.

RAHHHHHH!!!!

I took some time with this one because I had to cook it up with care. When I tell you Alastor and Vox's dynamic is what I BREATHE FOR-

Now add someone else to the mix on Vox's side- This is something I've been waiting to write for WEEKS-

RAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

I was going feral writing this- Anyway, enjoy your angst >:DDD

This is a two parter!!!

Vox x fem!reader

Angst!!!

"Can't Seem to Hold Me, Can't Seem to Let Him Go" Pt.1

Part 2

It was a privilege to receive affection from Vox. Not even that, but it seemed that if it wasn’t for you, his life was boring and mundane. Nothing truly got him all excited and manic anymore, and he was starting to hate his life a little bit. He was already at the top of the game, he and the rest of the Vees were the most powerful overlords. What else was there to do around here?

But, well, all was not bad, he had you. While the power he held had a kick to it, there was nothing like the drug of rivalry. But with Alastor gone, he had to settle for the next best thing, love. Oh, it ought to be an adventure. And that drug had such a kick, oh he was obsessed with it.

And that’s where you came into the picture, he met you at a nightclub. So pretty and talented, just the kind of people he loved to surround himself by, just what he wanted, just what he craved… And you kept him as entertained as he needed to be. To the point that he felt like perhaps he was sort of falling in love with you. Oh, how the bliss of forgetting his fights of the past with a pretty woman. He’d allowed his heart the validation it needed and he figured if someone loved him as deeply as you did, truly everyone loved him.

Of course, he still had to balance Velvette and Valentino, but that was the mundane part of his power-hungry scheme. The mixture, of your attention and doting intertwined with his total control of the population… oh he was living the life… truly. Or at least that was what he tried to tell himself. Ever since Alastor disappeared, he felt a hole in his heart. Something that couldn’t quite be quenched by all the power the world had to offer or the women this land had to throw at him.

It was the pure thrill of obsession that he missed, that he craved, but no one was a worthy opponent to him anymore. Alastor was gone. Alastor… his one and only obsession… what was he to do now? He could not fathom being this bored and empty all eternity. But what could he do about it? Nothing but sit and sulk, truly. But to himself, of course, he knew that telling you this would just leave you confused about your position in his eyes. And he truly did care about you, but… you were the only interesting thing in his life, and his one fatal flaw was always wanting for more.

You had your arm linked with Vox’s, ascending from his TV surveillance room onto the upper floors. You tapped his shoulder, catching his attention. “You’ve got a little somethin’.” You chuckled, pointing at the corner of his mouth. “Let me get it.” You giggled, gesturing for him to lean down. He obliged and you wiped the edge of his lips with your thumb.

“Forgot to get that spot. It’s hard to get all of them, you know? You should start cleaning up your own mess.~” He teased.

“It’s not my fault someone wanted to make out down there…” You huffed jokingly, linking arms with him again. You two stood still, smiling like cardboard cutouts as you waited for the elevator doors to open. The second they did, a crowd surrounded you two. Asking both of you all sorts of questions. It was always this way, an everyday routine since Vox was a celebrity, and by dating him, so were you. Every public area you were in was nothing but camera flashes and microphones. It was a bit much at times, but Vox enjoyed it so much, that you didn’t seem to mind too much. Once their questions were answered, and Vox shooed them away, you two went to your destination freely. And you continued to do this for days and days after that. You loved your routine, and found peace in the sort of monotony you two had.

But oh no, no good thing lasts forever. An unlucky morning, you found yourself in Vox’s surveillance room, sitting on his lap, enjoying each other’s company. It was a day like no other, truly.

“Look at that!” He shouted, pointing at one of his monitors, “What does it feel like to be with someone so rich and fucking powerful, baby? Just look at how easily they flock to me~” He chuckled, caressing your face.

“Oh~ You’re just the perfect mastermind~ I’m the luckiest sinner in hell~” You cooed, kissing the bottom corner of his screen, leaving behind a red lipstick kiss stain.

“Why don’t you kiss a bit higher?~ You missed my mouth entirely~?” He cooed back, fake pouting at you as to request you kiss his lips.

You obliged, leaning closer to him, but just before you planted your kiss, his face blared with an incoming call screen. His ringtone was so stupid, but it was charming nonetheless. You saw who was calling him: Velvette. She was either calling to annoy him (which you totally respected; annoying Vox was your favorite pastime after making out with him), or because she needed something important. So you sat back down in his lap as Vox answered the phone, passing the call from his face to a television.

“Hello there, Velvette! How are you this… hellish morning?~” Vox chuckled, picking up his coffee mug and taking a sip from it, after which he pecked your lips. He was a huge fan of flaunting you to his fellow Vees.

“Oh cut the shit Vox. I need you up here. Now.” Velvette demanded, side-eyeing you slightly, but then smiling when you looked at her.

Vox, continued to tenderly touch you, caressing your cheek, not even looking at Velvette anymore, just admiring your precious face. “Whatever could be the problem, dear?”

“Well, your little boy-toy, is wrecking my department while I’m trying to pull together a show! And-” She paused, to turn behind her, Valentino could be heard in the background as flying body parts flew behind Velvette. It was most definitely another Valentino tantrum. Vox had no choice but to turn to her now… “So get your ass here! Now. And don’t bring your girlfriend, it’s NOT going to make Valentino feel any better, you know how he’s always bitching about her.” Velvette yelled, after which she turned around to yell at Valentino, immediately hanging up afterward.

Vox sighed, the adoring smile he gave you morphing into an annoyed frown. “Stay here, doll. I have to stop another tantrum…” He picked you up and placed you on his chair. Then he walked away, muttering under his breath about how tedious having to check on Val was and how he hated his life.

A bit of pity overcame you, but you figured it was simply the burden power came with. You frowned at being left out of the situation, but you smiled at the realization that you didn’t have to sit there and wonder what came of this whole fiasco. Vox’s cameras! Oh, they were all over the place, and you knew how to work the surveillance room perfectly.

So you began to observe him, watching him talk to some paparazzi, announcing a new product or line, perhaps, then leaving towards Velvette’s department. And ‘in shambles’ was an understatement when it came to describing what you saw in there. Models running around, Velvette yelling at some designers, Valentino had definitely thrown the place off course, but you knew Velvette had it under control. She was always on top of things.

You observed how she spoke to Vox, shooing him up to Valentino’s tower… You hated that place. You would have started off there if it wasn’t for Vox seeing you first. And oh the stories you’ve heard about it… You didn’t talk to Valentino much, but the very few times you did he was very passive-aggressive. You didn’t like him much, but you understood that the porn industry was something Vox needed to have control over in order to have the power he desired. You weren’t too fond of… his history with Vox, and you didn’t even wanna know if they still had something going on. You preferred to stay in the shadows about it. If anything was still happening, you were sure it was because Vox needed him in check. And Valentino was a tricky one for sure, but you’d rather not think about the subject.

You observed Vox enter Valentino’s quarters, his room was full of that red smoke he always had around him. You knew it was a drug of sorts… it made you sick to your stomach to think that maybe Vox was under it too… But, again, not something you liked to think about. Vox approached him and the second Valentino saw him, he got up, smashed his cocktail glass on the floor in pure rage.

You weren’t one to criticize people’s maturity (it’s not like your Vox wasn’t quite the man-child at times), but you hated the way Valentino tended to pounce at first signs of anything. His short temperament sort of pissed you off. Or maybe it wasn’t his temperament that ticked you, it was probably the attention Vox gave it. You proceeded to listen to their conversation, Valentino complaining about another one of his employees… Typical of him. It didn’t surprise you it was Angel Dust who he was bitching about. He always bitched about his star employee.

And you could tell Vox was uninterested, observing him text on his phone as Val ranted. Funny enough he was texting you. You found it so cute how perfect his grammar was over text. He loved to portray himself as refined and superior in every aspect.

Val’s rambling again

What do you wanna get for dinner?

I was thinking, maybe… Chinese?

What do you think, Doll?

After which, a phrase Val said caught his attention and he indulged him with a response. Response which was met with more screams and whines from Valentino. And just as you were about to text Vox back with the answer to his question, you saw how Val took Vox’s phone and smashed it into the wall. You sighed in annoyance. You were about to switch off their conversation until you heard Valentino say where Angel Dust was…

He was living with Lucifer’s daughter? Angel Dust living with Princess Charlie? This only meant he could be in one place, that hotel you heard her announce. Valentino rambled about going there and killing everyone there, which Vox immediately shut down. It was his perpetual situation. He always had to put Valentino in his place, reminding him that his delusions were not to be acted upon.

He always talked to Valentino like he was a child. He did the same to you too, but it was more loving… You were sure. When he spoke to Valentino that way, it was more condescending. You liked to hear that even Vox thought this was stupid. Either that, or he was using his TV Show Host Voice to get through to him. You huffed at the sight of Vox lighting a cigarette for Val, listening to what they were talking about again. Since you’d zoned out while mentally criticizing Val.

“You know…~ Angel isn’t the only one spending time at this ratty hotel with the devil’s Princesa~...” Valentino cooed, turning back to Vox who was messing around with some of Vaelintino’s things.

“Oh? Who else is in there? Someone who… owes you money?” Vox replied, as uninterested as before, but still attempting to put up a facade for his fellow Vee.

Valentino laughed at his response, “Someone who owes us much more than money~...” He chuckled, shaking the ashes off his cig.

Vox lifted a brow, pretending to care. But he was about to care about what Valentino had to say, very soon.

“The Radio Demon is there…~” Valentino cooed.

Vox’s demeanor switched in a millisecond. The mere name sent shivers down his spine, his hypnotic eye bulging on his screen as he dug his claws into the nearest piece of furniture. He began to crackle with electricity, his voice was low and extremely reverbed. "W̵h̵a̷t̸ ̴d̴i̵d̸ ̷y̶o̷u̷ ̷j̵u̵s̶t̶ ̷s̴a̴y̷.̵.̷.̵?̶ ” He muttered, turning slowly to Valentino.

You could see something in him change. It was a bit scary in all honestly, you knew Vox to be one to put up masks, but this one… it was one you didn't even know he had up.

“Oh, you heard me~.” Valentino replied, grinning back at him.

“Alastor… came back and he is with Lucifer’s d̶a̸u̶g̸h̴t̴e̵r̶ … and that wasn’t the F̷I̷R̷S̴T̴ ̵ F̷̺̕Ủ̷̺C̵͕̕K̵̟̚Ị̵̉N̸̺̂G̸͖̍ ̵͔̽T̷͍͊H̸̫͘I̸͇̒N̴̪͘G̵͙̿ ̸̦͠Y̵̜̎Ọ̴̍U̶̫̎ ̸̪͘T̴͓̕O̸̙̎L̵̼̓D̴̛̥ ̶͊͜M̷̮̆Ē̷̫?̴̧̆!̶͎̕ ” Vox roared, grabbing Valentino by the collar.

The taller demon brushed this gesture off, walking away from him, “Hey~ Killing Alastor is your kink~!” Val chuckled, sitting on a countertop near some monitors.

Without wasting a second, Vox zapped towards the little surveillance Valentino had in his room. You could barely see what was on that screen, but it was enough for you to be able to tell that The Radio Demon was in that footage. You watched the way Vox observed him. It was obsessive, so attentive and careful. It… it made you a tiny bit jealous, in all honesty. For the past seven years, he’d only looked at you that way, or rather, he’d never looked at you that way and to that extent at all.

You observed Vox mutter about Alastor, (ignoring Valentino’s complaints about Angel Dust) he was buzzing and crackling like crazy. Was he livid? Excited? You just couldn’t tell. But you didn’t have much time to think, because, in the blink of an eye, Vox wrapped his conversation up with Val and zapped his way out of his tower.

After which, you heard the doors to the room you were in open up. You got up, seeing Vox approach you. You tried to speak to him, but he shoved you to the side. “Not now Y/n. Go upstairs.” He commanded.

Sitting in his chair, he pressed a button, connecting himself to the machine before him. He was getting ready to broadcast.

His behavior took you aback. You couldn’t believe he’d done this to you. But what else could you do? He’d ignored you.

So you went up the elevator, observing his display via television.

He was losing his fucking mind. Spiraling. You’d never seen Vox like this. And yet, one would think he’d be pissed by this new discovery… but he was… genuinely smiling… you’d never seen him this happy.

Shit got interesting when Alastor responded, however, beginning his radio broadcast. Of course, Vox broadcasted this on the channel too with the intention of beating Alastor on air. A mistake he was sure to pay for. You watched Alastor tear him to bits, hearing even that Vox had asked Alastor to be a Vee and him rejecting the offer as the reason for their rivalry.

And then it clicked… Vox saw Alastor as his main priority. And if what Alastor said was true… Vox’s approach to this refusal was “If I can’t have him, I must destroy him.” Of course, you weren’t allowed to ponder on this much, since Vox began to glitch.

He was losing his patience, spiraling more and more, threatening Alastor until he caused a blackout and ending his broadcast.

Over the darkness of the room you were in, in the distance, you could hear the ominously menacing voice of Alastor as he warned Vox that the time of his reign was over… you could imagine what this made Vox feel. He’d essentially lost the argument by losing his composure.

Alas, you were sure you could try to find him downstairs. He confided in you, you were sure about this. So after a huge blow to his ego such as this, you had to go to him and console him. So you made your way back to his surveillance/broadcast room. You opened the doors to see him crouched down over a screen. He swiped through the footage of everyone in the Bee district speaking. “Where is he? Where is he broadcasting from?” he cried out, switching from screen to screen, checking every camera on every sector on the Pentagram. “He put a fucking tower in that hotel?!” he raged.

“Vox…” You mumbled softly, approaching him.

“Not now.” He blurted bluntly. “Ughh… I need to meet with the other two… Alastor’s return brings in a new set of problems.” He chuckled. And while he tried to sound as annoyed as possible, you couldn’t help but see that light in his eyes. One you didn’t even know was missing. He was obviously enjoying himself, but why? Why was he this excited?

“Don’t overexert yourself, ok?” You suggested, trying to look out for him.

“Don’t overexert myself? Alastor is fucking back! I’m not sleeping until this fucker is taken down!” He spat back, walking off.

You let him be, it seemed to be important. But as days went by, he began to spend less time with you to the point in which he began to ignore you. He’d shove you to the side to spend his day obsessing over sabotaging Alastor. Days passed and he shut you out, completely cutting you off in order to spend more time feeding his obsession. You couldn’t stand this, you had to tell him to turn your way.

So you went to his broadcast/surveillance room, observing the way he peered over his screens. Spreading rumors and lies about Alastor in order to smear his image. He muttered as if he was spiraling, speaking things that sounded like gibberish when paired with the sound of his revered and staticized voice.

“Vox…” You spoke, trying to catch his attention.

“W̶̥͗H̸̠͒A̵̳̓T̵̩̏?̷̲̕!̵͎̓” Box yelled, turning to you in annoyance.

“I need to talk to you.” You spoke, a bit taken aback by his reaction to you speaking to him.

“I’m too busy for that. Another day, sweetheart.” He spoke, shrugging you off.

“No, another day will not do. I want to speak now.” You demanded.

“Now’s not the time to be a brat. I’m busy and that’s final.” Vox huffed, attempting to get you to leave.

“Why are you ignoring me?! Ever since Alastor came back, you haven’t even said more than three sentences to me! Am I not important to you?” You cried out, getting all up in his face. If he refused to acknowledge you, you were going to make it impossible for him to do so.

“Hey hey hey! I’m busy! Go bother someone else, this is important!” He protested, pushing you away from him.

“You’re not listening to me!! Am I not important!?” You screamed, shoving his arms away from you.

“Alastor is important to me right now! Does that answer your question?!” He yelled back, turning away from you to do as he had before.

You stood there in shock, he’d essentially told you that you weren’t important to him. What was truly important to him was Alastor and the sabotage of his power. So you walked off, running away from him.

Vox did not realize what he’d done. He was too obsessed and preoccupied with his own obsessions that he didn’t seem to notice that he’d driven you away…

[youkaigakkou-tl]

Yohaji Character Survey 2024

With the release of the anime and the end of cour 1, I figured I'd do the character survey again! You can see last time's results here, which was in Oct 2022

I'll tally the results in about 2 weeks, before cour 2 starts (Jan 7), but the form will still stay open after that

Since last time, over 2 years ago, this blog's gone from around 100 followers to 600+, and I've made a twitter (which now has more followers than this blog. u guys r still my fave tho <3) so I wanna see if I can get a bigger sample size

Some funny numbers under the cut if you like numbers too

The 2022 poll had 22 responses at the time I tallied the results, but I never closed it and it now has 32 responses

Of which, the most recent responses are from.... THIS MONTH????? WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE WHERE DID U COME FROM

Takahashi stan who answered this month i respect u so much. me too same tbh

I don't actually remember how many followers I had at that point, the only milestone I know is 300 because I made this post. I was going to make this same joke for twitter too when i hit 300 there but it jumped from like 300 to 600 in like 2 weeks and I missed my chance lol

But anyway I think it was around 100 because at the time I tallied the results I remember thinking "hey 1/5 of my followers responded! pretty nice ratio!"

Some kinda irrelevant stats: Because I set up google SEO for the wiki, I get to see search trends and stats for it and yohaji in general!

Impressions (purple) is "how many people see the wiki in their google search results", which roughly equals "how many people are searching yohaji-related keywords" because the wiki is almost always on the first page of results anyway

Clicks (blue) is "how many people clicked on the link to the wiki in google search", or rather "how many people clicked on the miraheze wiki over the fandom one, either because google put it above or ppl already knew its the active one"

(Don't actually know what's going on on the fandom wiki nowadays, I don't check on it regularly, and a few weeks ago fandom staff revoked my admin and removed all the links to the miraheze wiki when they haven't cared for most of the year, presumably because the anime is driving up viewcounts for the fandom wiki too)

So sort of unexpectedly, it's actually trending upwards week by week!

For the spike on Nov 26, I have to assume that's because of one of those tiktoks that blowed up

The most searched character (that brought them to the wiki, at least) after Haruaki is..... RANMARU?????

After that, it's Ebisu, Miki, Sano and Oota, in that order, all roughly tied in clicks. Massive spike for Ebisu last week and then this week of course

For a long while pre-anime, 2 of the top queries that showed the wiki were Seiryuu and Suzaku, probably because they snuck into searches for those names from other anime lmao

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Ten

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Later than usual, sorry! But I've been busy with a whole load of shit ngl, it's just been stress:) Let me know if anyone else wants to be added to the taglist though, I realise my updating is a bit sporadic? Maybe? Just a little? Lmao, anyway here's 10, hope you enjoy!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

Jacket potatoes were a fucking delicacy.

Any Brit back home would tell you that. You could top ‘em with all sorts; Chilli, Tuna, Cheese, Chicken, Stuffing, Coleslaw, Bacon, Gravy, Bolognese— some people even liked them plain. But my favourite, as well as the only real and true way to serve a jacket potato, was with an ungodly amount of butter and baked beans.

Being in the States, it was a rather hard dish to come by. But, seeing as Marshall always appeared to go above and beyond, beans (No, none of that shoddy American shit) could be found in the little basket he’d gone and gifted me the day before. A little wicker bowl full of goodies to soothe that little ache of homesickness. 

I smacked the can down onto the countertop and levelled Rosie with a long stare.

“You’re serious?” She asked me around a wary glance, extending her arm out cautiously to get a better look at the bright blue tin as though she thought the contents might just reach out to try and grab her back.

“Deadly.” I remarked, attempting to keep my smile hidden when I met her question with a raised brow, “You’ll love it.”

Rosie didn’t look too convinced about that fact and yet, she rolled up her sleeves and took a seat at the counter to watch me work, helping out with the few things that she could. 

She had waltzed in through the front door a while earlier, just a second after I’d made it up the stairs, and the grin she’d worn when she had spotted me had had my heart warming and the pair of us wandering into the kitchen, arm in arm and already talking at a mile an hour. 

I was sauteing some mushrooms in a pan after having peeled and diced them up, whilst she kept a keen eye on the warming potatoes. “So Dad’s finally found some inspiration then?” Rosie asked me after a while, peering into the oven.

I smiled when I peered over at her, seeing how the orange glow of it washed over the side of her face to softly illuminate her features. “Seems so, we got a lot done but he was on a roll by the end of it.” I told her in reply, shaking the pan again and blinking at the sizzle that sparked up, “What do you mean anyway? Finally.” I dragged out that last word in a small singsong which made her chuckle as she stood to her full height once more and turned.

“He’s been trying to write for a couple weeks now, I think. Or months.” She shrugged, stepping back to watch the mushrooms fry with a slight wrinkle of her nose, “Not sure, but he keeps complaining about it whenever he’s on the phone.”

With a small hum, my eyes flickered back over to her, then to the pan again, “He didn’t mention it.”

Rosie blew out a faint chuckle and leant back against the counter, knuckles wrapping around its edge, “Why would he? He hates jinxing himself.”

It was cute that she noticed things like that about him, something I’d begun to note in the short time I’d been staying with the two, but I didn’t know... A large part of me wished that Marshall would have said something about it before, or at least alluded to it. It made me feel a bit bad for bowing out so early now. 

Still, my mind was quickly recaptured by the task at hand and then the story that Z deemed to tell me about, apparently a teacher thought that one of her friends was a shoo in for these auditions that they had coming up soon. The familiarity of the scene made me think back to Lottie, to everything that was happening back home, and I wished, silently and not for the first time, that it could be possible for a person to exist in two places at once. 

The spuds took their time baking but soon enough they were ready and piping hot, fluffy on the inside and with a crisp exterior. Rosie gathered up the butter and cheese at my signal, face lighting up at the prospect of being able to drown her own in the latter, whilst I pinched the tops of the spuds with a clean tea towel and plated them up, spattering them with a small amount of herbs.

I was going to keep Marshall’s wrapped up in tinfoil, if only to save it from going all horrible before he had the chance to try such a delicacy, but thankfully he’d worked his way back up the stairs just in time. I wondered how he’d managed it.

“Hey, you’ve got table duty.” Rosie exclaimed as soon as she saw him bustling over the threshold, handing the cutlery she was already holding to him without a second thought, which caused Em to blink down at his hands whilst he struggled not to drop the sudden weight he'd just been shafted with.

“‘Scuse me?” Marshall prompted, brow furrowed as his gaze wandered about the rest of the kitchen. I wondered what he thought of the bubbling pot of red sauce sitting on the hob, as well as the absurd amount of butter both Rosie and I had already lumped onto our steaming plates.

“You can set the table, Dad.” Z explained as she jumped back to help me with the mushrooms, her voice edging the line of a whining lilt, “We cooked! So it’s only fair.”

Marshall stared at her for a second longer before he ultimately snorted, “Right.” He murmured, recapturing his hold on the silver he held and eyes finding mine, before he spun round on his heel and left the room once again with a small smirk. When he returned, his plate was almost ready and just about to be loaded up with– “The hell’s that?”

I withheld my snarky reply in favour of smirking when Rosie answered for me, her eyes widening in the face of her father’s obvious leery expression. “Beans, Dad. El told me it’s one of her favourite meals, she wanted to share it with us.”

It wasn’t hard to hear the undertone there, the kind that told him to keep quiet on how he felt about the bubbling bowl I was currently holding because Z obviously didn’t want me feeling disheartened in any way. It was adorable, as was the stern face she’d paired with it, the same face that her dad found hard to waver against. His shoulders slumped ever so.

“Right.” He repeated for the second time tonight, dragging the first syllable out a tad, “Looks good?” He tried. 

I had to laugh then, “That a question or statement, Mathers?”

His eyes flickered over to meet mine, but I motioned for Rosie to get a start on heaping the cheese we’d grated onto her plate, the girl’s responding grin was giant. 

“I–” Em appeared stumped for a split second before he eventually just pressed his lips together and decided to jump in on helping us. Although he did complain when he spotted the frying pan sat off to the side, “Mushrooms too?” But with Rosie’s short warning of Dad, Marshall only appeared to raise his hands in mock surrender and then moved over to grab the plates so that he could carry them off into the next room.

I shared a conspiratorial smile with the younger girl before we followed after him, the three of us settling into the same seats as we had occupied the day before. Marshall still looked wary, even with his beans being hidden beneath a thick layer of cheese that I figured he had reasoned to himself would mask whatever taste was under it, but Z, to my utter surprise, looked ready to dig in.

“Changed your tune there, lovely.” I mentioned with a sly smirk, my gaze lingering on her long enough to catch the sheepish reaction she bore before she just shrugged and dipped her head around a grin, fork already in hand.

“Smells good.” Was the excuse she used and so I softened my face into a smile too.

“Well you helped so of course it does,” I quipped easily, picking up my fork as well before nudging Em’s forearm, “Come on, you big baby. Just try it. If you hate it, I’ll order you whatever you want. On me.”

That had him rolling his eyes, but he picked up his knife and fork with a determined expression.

I bit back a round of chuckles I could feel bubbling in my throat and used my chin to getsure for the pair of them to get stuck in. Rosie was quick to tear into hers and I was silently thankful for the way the potato easily broke apart under her knife, its texture fluffy and golden.

“Oh wow, this is so good.” She blew out the second that she could, already moving onto her next bite whilst Marshall was still working his way up to trying his own. “When you first showed me those beans? I was so sure I was gonna puke.”

I snorted quietly at that image, perfectly content with the plate of home I’d gone and conjured up for us, whilst Em’s face wrinkled. “Well if you had hated it, you’d have only had your Dad to blame, he’s the one who bought them.”

“I jus’ looked up British shit, they were top five on every list.” Marshall defended before he finally took a bite, slow in the way he raised his fork to his mouth, his eyebrows raising a little as he let the taste settle in, “Shit.”

My eyes narrowed a tad around the smile that I was chewing on to keep hidden but I watched him cut further into the potato, beans and melted cheese puddling around the sides. “That a good shit or bad shit?”

“Three dollars.” Z acknowledged, voice muffled by the food she still had in her mouth.

I laughed at that and shook my head in fond amusement before I turned to Em for an answer. He took another bite, a big one, something I took to be a good sign, and just nodded. My brow quirked in hope. “So good?”

He hummed, one shoulder shrugging, “Ain’t gone die if I finish it.”

Snorting, I could only shake my head at him, hiding my smile behind my fist. “Idiot. You like it.”

Marshall rolled his eyes, though the gesture was obviously fond as he raised his fork to point at me, “Just grateful you didn’t burn down my damn house.”

Rosie’s giggles filled the room and with them we all settled in to enjoy. Marshall asked after his daughter’s day and the girl was all too happy to ramble and rant to him, face lighting up at the prospect of it. She mentioned her English lesson, the book they had started on and how her teacher had explained this one paragraph to her class, then she went into detail about the play that was set to happen just before the Christmas break. I chimed in here and there, putting in my two cents where it was worth, but in truth, I was perfectly content to simply listen and watch on. 

The clean up that followed was mainly made up of me and Z messing around and singing to the music Em had stuck on, never the type to linger in silence. The pair of us did manage to rope the man into joining us once he had loaded up the dishwasher though, something he thoroughly complained about but followed through on all the same. He was just a sucker for his kid's smile, I reckoned, went above and beyond for the girl and it was all too easy to see.

It was a lot later that we all fell into a comfortable silence around the tele, Rosie sat crossed legged on the sofa with her homework whilst I offered help whenever asked. Marshall had joined the two of us a little later, after his phone had rang and he’d stepped out to take the call, he’d padded into the room with only the explanation of ‘Royce’ before he’d fallen into the seat beside me. I’d hummed but was too distracted by Rosie’s newest question to prod him further on it.

By the time she had finished up, handwriting practically perfect, her books had fallen into a heap on the coffee table and she’d slowly but surely scootched her way further up the sofa. I kept my eyes on the tele when I’d outstretched an arm in quiet invitation but hadn’t missed the grin she’d given in turn before she’d settled into my side, head coming to rest on my thigh. I caught Marshall’s watchful stare from out of the corner of my eye but didn’t glance back over, smiling at the scene that played out on the screen whilst my hand smoothed over the girl’s hair. 

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed between us before Marshall’s quiet cough broke the peace we’d since created, but the sky was more of a hazy cast of dark blue now rather than the ruddy auburn that had lined it much earlier. I stifled a small yawn.

Rosie sniffed softly in my lap, twisting a tad to cast her Dad a quizzical glance. Throughout the duration of the film that Z had picked out for us to watch, the man had gotten close enough that he now only had to drop his shoulders to poke at her cheek.

“Bath and bed, kid.”

The scrunch that overwhelmed Rosie’s face at the order had me grinning and so I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before moving my hand to pat her shoulder. “Up and at ‘em, soldier. Heard what the old man said.”

“Do I have to?” Z huffed, just as a hand came up to rub at her eye. Marshall’s mouth ticked ever so slightly into an amused smirk, his fingers replacing mine in an effort to smooth the front of her hair. 

“School tomorrow.” He reminded her all too gently, dropping his hand lower to shuck the underside of her chin which only made the girl smile sleepily. “You know the deal.”

She sighed heavily in retort, but did eventually make the move to push herself up and out of my lap, legs stretching across the couch cushions before her feet found the floor. It was just as she went to stand that she turned to face me though, her expression a little meek but rapidly losing the residual somnolence it had just held. “Will you do my hair again for me tomorrow?”

I was caught by surprise at the question she’d asked. I wouldn’t lie, but I didn’t let the reaction show as I smiled warmly back at her, reaching out to tap a finger on the top side of her hand, “‘Course. Anything you want, lovely.”

Rosie’s little grin had her eyes squinting and forced the corners of her mouth to pinch upwards in a move that only deepened her dimples. She leaned over to give me a hug of thanks, whispering the word into my ear before she pulled away and rounded the sofa, kissing her Dad’s cheek on her way out.

“No messin’ about, Z. An early night, ‘kay?” Em reminded her, leaning against the back of the couch so that he could tilt his head far enough to see her, “I’ll be up soon.” He added, his words met by another charming grin whilst she shook her head in fond exasperation and slipped out of the room, leaving just the pair of us and the tv. 

It was a long while before Marshall disturbed the quiet once more, the film we’d been watching had finished some time ago and so now all that was playing on the screen was a couple repeats of South Park and the odd advertisement. “She’s different with you.” I heard him voice.

With a furrowed brow, I let my head turn to find him. He was perched in the same position he had been, but now with an arm stretched along the back of the sofa and a knee bent to fill the small gap that still separated us. “What d’you mean?”

When he replied, it was low and soft, a murmur if not for the sincerity behind it. “She don’t act like that ‘round nobody.” He told me, fingers jumping in a steady rhythm on the back of the cushion, his eyes peering between mine. “Me, sure. She’s a fuckin’ koala when she wants to be, but with other people… it’s something she second guesses.”

His words confused me. Or rather, threw me. “I don’t get it.”

He dropped his gaze, blowing out a small but mirthful huff through his nose, his thumb dragged along the edge of the sofa. “You known her what, three days? And she don’t think about gettin’ close to you. Sure she’ll be coy with it, sly even, but that’s ‘cause she don’t wanna overstep with you. Like that right there–” Em said, getsuring his chin out towards my lap, I followed the gesture, then blinked back up at him, remembering the way she’d approached me, “She don't do that with people.”

My face must have given away to the fact that I was still trying to process the weight of what he meant, because his smile was soft, warm even.

It made me think of Lottie, who was always so open with her affection, who gave it out without thought or focus, her smile always great, always there. Then of myself. I tended to avoid affection where it mattered, a reason as to why I’d never let many people too close to my heart, why I hadn’t had something fulfilling to divulge when Marshall and I had spoken about past exes, I supposed. It baffled me to see some of the same tendencies I’d shown growing up in Rosie, in a girl too sweet, too loving, too happy to be so aware of how to guard herself.

I looked to him again and let him have his fill, allowed him to see how his words, the sentiment behind them, had pierced through the armour I’d long since moulded around myself. 

One side of his mouth lifted and he used the hand resting on the back of the sofa to circle my wrist, leaning in a little closer, filling that previous gap. “Ro’s had her mom, her sister. They’ve been there. They love her, and she loves them. I know that. But with Kim, it ain’t always parentin’, it’s fun and games. It’s showin’ off, not showin’ up. It’s messin’ around until she finally grows–” 

He paused there, eyes flickering left and then right as his tongue swiped over his lower lip, almost as though he was resentful of the term he wished to use. 

He settled for, “Bored. Or maybe jus’ tired, you know? She’s there until it's her time to step up and do the job she’s ‘sposed to, til it's missed recitals and forgetting pick-up, that’s when she reacts. Pulls away.”

He sighed, gaze caught on his fingers, on the easy way they engulfed my wrist. His thumb brushed over the freckle that dotted the bone, and continued on through a slow exhale, “Ayla, she’s a lot older. She does her own thing, she’s got school, work, friends. Z obviously filters into all that, but there's always been a small divide. I like to think it’s just ‘cause of their ages– it’s how me and Nate worked growin’ up, you know? But there’s this whole idea that fuckin’ messes with my head, like maybe it's all down to me. Ayla’s my niece, but she’ll always be one of my own. I love that girl as much as I love Rosie. More than life itself. But I know I hurt her, havin’ her here, watchin’ me fail and fuck up whilst she was growin’ up. And jus’, maybe I can’t help but wonder if I ever let her know that enough, that I loved her, if it’s that that’s impacted her relationship with Z.”

I was quick in my attempt to soothe his doubts, the hand he didn’t hold jumping over to lay across the top of his own. “I’d call you an idiot, but I reckon you already know that.” I chuckled halfheartedly, though my smile was genuine when his eyes snapped up to meet my own, “You’re an amazing father, Em. I honestly believe that with my whole heart. And it doesn’t take much to see it either. I mean, I was here not even a day and was so quick to see the love you held for your daughter. I saw it in your reactions too when we called, when you spoke of them, however brief it was. I haven’t met Ayla but I don’t think I’d have to for me to see that your worries are just that, worries. I’m sure that girl loves you in the very same sense that I am sure that she knows you love her. That you see her as much more than just your niece.”

My thumb trailed over the back of his hand, skimming knuckles, taking in their slight discoloration, the faint white lines that could have only been age old scars. I dipped my head a tad so that my gaze could align with his shadowed blues, prompting him into lifting his eyes from off the floor.

“I’m also honoured that you think Rosie’s comfortable enough around me to mention the gravity behind it, that you’d trust me with her company, let alone her affection.” I said sweetly, gifting him another smile, it was close lipped but one that appled my cheeks. His stare caught onto it, fingers tightening around my wrist by a fraction in a squeeze that showed only his appreciation. So I squeezed back, fingers fastening over the top of his fist. “Z’s hard not to love, she’s all of your best parts and more. Sometimes…” 

I took a small breath, fretful over saying what I had intended to until Marshall met my flickering gaze once more, silently prompting me on. I swallowed thickly, feeling the force of it travel through my throat, but did follow through, “Sometimes it’s just hard raising kids, I guess not everyone’s made out for the harsher reality of it all. Of having to be a parent and not a friend. I mean, it was forced on me in a way, I’ve been raising my siblings since Danny the day came along, since before I knew what being a mum meant. What one was.” The weight of that admission had me reeling for a split second, at the truth it held. But I pursed my lips before allowing my eyes to find Marshall’s once more, “Kim, I’m sure she tries, I’m sure it’s more than my mum ever did, ever could do, but it’s okay for you to fear that it’s not enough for Z, too.”

Marshall worked his jaw, blinking for a second before he eventually spoke, voice rasping with the emotion he felt. “Kid deserves the world.”

I found myself grinning at that, the teary kind which glossed over your eyes but was strong enough that you couldn’t prevent the fluid motion of it. It was without thought that my arms came up to wind their way around his neck and I relaxed further in the gesture when I eventually felt his face come to rest against my shoulder.

“She does.” I murmured, hand cupping the back of his neck, fingers resting over the fine hair which lined his nape. “She does.” I heard myself repeat again as my eyes slipped closed. 

When we parted, I watched as Em knuckled the corner of his eye, grunting faintly to clear his throat and rid the room of any tension that then clouded us. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch, but did look away towards the tele when he started to shift once more, giving him a sense of security that he hadn’t been caught out, that I wouldn’t dig too deeply into his reaction. 

“Thanks.” He murmured after a stunted moment and it was only then that I glanced back over to him. I smiled in turn.

“Nothing to thank me for.”

When we parted ways for the night, I chose to head on up to bed, mind so full of thoughts that I found it hard to latch onto a singular one, whilst Marshall stopped at the bottom of the staircase to gift me a quiet goodnight, eyes caught on the reflection of moonlight that crept its way across my cheek, the sight mirrored on his own face.

I didn’t know it then but I would eventually, he’d never felt so inspired.

So as I’d slipped beneath my duvet, my mind stuck on the words we’d shared, Marshall was back down in the studio, writing away once more. But this time, it was for a completely different reason.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

God loves a trier though, right? | Inner Demons

⟫ Alphabet Challenge, G - God loves a trier though, right?

Pairings: leah williamson x teen reader, arsenal wfc x teen reader

Hi, sorry for the wait on this. This is a bit scrappy, not been proofread at all and I'm currently battling a headache while writing this so apologies if it doesn't make much sense, like at all!

I'm overwhelmed by the amount of support on this. It's definitely become one of my favourite things to write!

As always, my asks are open for anyone to drop me any ideas’ on this fic or anything else that people would like to see be written, however, I am only comfortable writing anything platonic though :)

Reader returns from the hospital, which leads to a heart-to-heart with some usual classic teenage sarcasm.

TW: heavy angst and mentions of SH, MH, suicide and death.

"Home sweet home" Leah pulls the car into the driveway and turns off the ignition, turning to look at you.

You fake a smile in the blonde's direction as you tug at the sleeves of your hoodie to fight the urge. "Glad to be home" You speak quietly.

You knew going home wasn't going to be as easy as you thought it would be, the reminder was right there in front of you.

A reminder of what you did, what could have been your end.

Until Leah had walked in and saved you.

You didn't really want to die, the voices on the internet were just too much to deal with.

The hate from the fans. The pressure from the media.

At times, everything can be overwhelming. But, being home makes it easier to regain control of being able to hurt yourself.

If you're being honest, that really does scare you.

The vague memory from that night still haunts you as you walk through the flat, sending a chill up your spine.

"Bubs?" Leah calls out to you, as she watches you freeze as you pass the bathroom.

"Uh, I'm... I'm a bit tired. Think I'm gonna have a nap" You tell her, slowly moving in the direction of your bedroom.

"Alright, I'll go and cook us some dinner. I doubt you've eaten much in the last few days if hospital food is anything to go by huh?" Leah jokes as she presses a light kiss to the top of your head. "Have a good nap, I'll wake you up when it's ready, yeah?" She adds.

Slumping into your own space, you glance around your bedrom and you're glad to see it's exactly how you left it.

You had missed your private space when you was in the hospital and you're just glad enough that the blonde hadn't gone to the extreme measures of removing your bedroom door at least.

"So the girls wanted to come around tonight but I thought it was best to hold off for now" Leah slides the dinner plate in front of you, you can't help but smile when you see it's smiley faces and nuggets.

One of the only things that Leah can actually cook.

You actually missed the small things like that while you were on an extended stay in the hospital.

"Sure" You agree as you reach for the ketchup bottle and squeeze a decent amount on your plate. "I'll be able to see them tomorrow at training, won't I?" You ask.

"Bubs" You can tell Leah is cautious to speak.

"I can train, can't I?" You look directly at the blonde as you await her answer.

Although you have a feeling that you're going to be sitting on the sidelines for a while.

"I have to train, Le! I can't put it off. I've gotta be ready to be selected for the matchday squad!" You insist as you stab your fork into a chicken nugget.

You watch as Leah frowns and hesitates to speak and that confirms your thoughts about it.

"We have a meeting tomorrow with Jonas, Kim, and some of the other staff at the club to discuss things--" Leah begins to explain, starting to eat her own dinner.

"I'm being sidelined?!" You interject in disbelief.

Leah shakes her head as she swallows her food before she speaks. "I didn't say that, Y/N" She states.

You can't help but scoff. "But you sort of did. I can't be sat on the bench-- I can't do it!" You try to insist. "I... I need some kind of purpose. I need a reason to get up in the morning!" You fight back the tears that threaten to spill.

You have to play. You have to be able to do that. You can't have that taken away from you.

"Bubs, let's just see what is said tomorrow. Okay?" Leah frowns and tries to take hold of your hand as you snatch it back.

"I have to be on the pitch, Leah. I can't be sidelined. I... I just can't do it" You state as you push your chair back and bolt up from the table.

"Where are you going?" Leah asks, confused.

"I need to get out. I'm going for a walk, or is that not allowed now?" You sneer as you move to walk over to the coat rack and grab one of your jackets.

"I'll come with you" Leah stands up from the table.

You huff and roll your eyes. "I don't need to be monitored. I want to be alone" You all but plead with her.

"I... I can't let you do that. You know I can't" Leah shakes her head in disagreement. "So we either go for a walk together, or we don't go at all" She states sternly.

"Guess we're both going then, wonderful" You mumble sarcastically and shove a pair of trainers on.

"It's cold out here this evening" Leah mumbles as she tries to pull her jacket more around to try and get warm, you decide to take a walk alongside the canal not too far away from the flat as you always thought clearer when you were near water.

"You didn't have to come with me" You mutter as you keep your hands shoved in your pockets.

You'd never been too much of a fan of the cold, but you just needed an escape as you felt like the walls were caving in around you being inside the flat.

"You know that I did" Leah replies quietly, exhaling a sigh.

"Oh yeah, of course, that's cos' I'm on suicide watch, right?" You can't help but joke with the blonde.

Leah tenses up at the mention of the subject that's joked about so casually as the two of you walk alongside the canal.

The blonde can't help but try and reach for your bicep to try and pull you away from being too near to the edge of the water.

"You can relax a bit Le, I'm not gonna try and off myself again" You continue to crack jokes about death like you're talking about the weather. "Although jumping into the water seems like a great idea" You add.

The blonde clicks her tongue. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that sometimes" She states in disagreement as she hesitantly looks at the water, trying to pull you back from the edge.

"It's the easier coping method" You quietly admit as you shrug your shoulders as you linger dangerously close to the edge of the water. "How deep do you think it is?" You ask, looking in the direction of the blonde.

"Come away from the water" Leah tries to pull you away from the edge again.

"Why? Afraid I'll actually jump in" You fire back as you can't help but laugh slightly. "You know I can swim, right?" You ask her.

"I know you can swim, but..." Leah looks nervous as she eyes your every move.

"But you think I'd rather try and purposely drown instead?" You wonder, already knowing her answer.

Leah shakes her head and exhales a sigh. "Y/N" She states in a knowing tone of voice that you knew all too well.

"The pressure is too much sometimes, the media... They can be ruthless" You admit quietly, looking back out to the water in front of you.

"I know" Leah replies just as quiet, waiting for you to speak again.

You tug at the sleeves of your hoodie and bite your bottom lip. "It's all too much sometimes. Sometimes I think the world is against me" You tell her, honestly.

"Bubs..." Leah starts to speak.

"Why were you and Katie fighting when I was in the hospital?" You change the subject, refusing to let your vulnerability show.

Leah exhales another sigh. "It's complicated" She says.

"Bullshit" You can't help but scoff and roll your eyes.

"Language" The blonde scolds.

"Well, why aren't you?" You repeat the question, wanting to know the answer.

"Well, adults have disagreements sometimes" Leah states, looking out to the water.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "C'mon Le, I'm a not naive kid-- Why're you not getting along?" You feel like you're constantly repeating yourself right now.

Leah exhales a sigh and hesitates to speak. "She just thinks that my decision was wrong, to allow the doctors to detain you in the hospital" She explains.

"I know that. You guys were literally fighting about it right in front of me" You remind her with the usual teenage cocky attitude you have.

"She thinks you should've been at home instead, with all of us watching out for you" The blonde defender continues to explain. "But Y/N... I don't know how I can keep you safe when you're at home. You joke about death so casually, I'm so scared that I am going to have to leave you alone, that when I come home, I'll find you lying dead on the floor in a pool of your own blood. At... At least this way when you were in the hospital, I knew you were safe and you couldn't hurt yourself" She confesses the truth.

The truth that leaves an eerie silence.

"I knew you were safe and you couldn't hurt yourself" Her words were like a continuous loop in your head.

Her confession hits you suddenly, leaving you feeling numb.

[ineffable-endearments]

I was rethinking the bookshop meta I wrote a while ago and realized I was not thinking big enough.

The bookshop has always been Aziraphale's version of Crowley's plants (his trauma reenactment), but also, absolutely everything Aziraphale does in Season 2 is a re-creation of Heaven's role. Crowley's behavior also encompasses everything, not just his plants.

I've seen it suggested that centering Aziraphale and Crowley's trauma histories is reducing their characters to behaving like just reactive victims instead of survivors with agency. Or worse, it's "excusing bad behavior." I don't agree with either of these, because I feel that part of Good Omens is about how large, powerful systems affect individuals, and so the context of every character's decisions matters a lot to the overall themes of the story. Everyone starts out working within a system they believe to reflect reality and then has to learn how to break free of it. You cannot really illustrate that without having the characters start out being genuinely trapped with different ways of coping with their reality.

This is an attempt at a pretty big-picture meta. Although it isn't a plot prediction, it's how I think some of the series' themes are going to progress. It starts out perhaps a little grim, but in the long run, it's how Aziraphale's character growth and relationship with Crowley can simultaneously be massive for them as individuals, a crucial part of the overarching narrative message of the series, and symbolic of a change in all of Heaven and Hell, all while allowing the themes to continue to prioritize human free will.

In short, it's about Aziraphale's problems, but it's also meant to be an Aziraphale love post.

All of the below exists in tandem with Good Omens as a comedy of errors. Just because there are heavy ideas does not mean they will not also be funny. Look back on how much of Season 2 seemed silly until we started to pick it apart! One of the amazing things about Good Omens is how it manages to do both silly and serious at once! (I feel like that's maybe a little Terry Pratchett DNA showing through. "Laughter can get through the keyhole while seriousness is still hammering on the door," as Terry himself said.)

Aziraphale has really embraced his connection to Crowley in Season 2, and he has also become considerably more assertive toward Heaven and Hell. These are both major growth points compared to the beginning of Season 1.

However, again, we have the concept of growing pains...Aziraphale is starting to re-create Heaven's role in his relationship with Crowley and humanity. It's really obvious with the Gabriel argument and the I Was Wrong Dance, but I think we see it all over the place: he seems to feel any serious dissent is a betrayal. He also seems to assume there's a dominance hierarchy and he, of course, is on top. Now that he's decided to take control of his own future, then surely that does mean he's the one in control, right?

With all that said, he still seems to have trouble being direct about the feelings that make him most vulnerable. He manipulates people and engineers situations in which he can try to get his emotional needs met rather than saying things outright (case in point: the Ball).

Like I pointed out in the bookshop meta: subconsciously, he's playing the role of God, modified with what God would be if She were everything he wants Her to be. He's generous, almost infinitely sweet, always does what's best for people...or, at least, what he believes is best for people. During the Ball, Aziraphale influences the people around him to be comfortable and happy even when they're not supposed to be, and he limits their ability to talk about things he thinks are too rude or improper for happy, formal occasions.

Doesn't this pattern sort of make sense for an angel who's just discovering free will? Like, at the end of Season 1, he made an enormous choice to stand against Heaven and realized he could survive it. Now he's gone a bit overboard with exerting his own will. Unfortunately, while he's learned to question upper management, he's still operating on a fundamental framework of the universe where there have to be two sides and there has to be a hierarchy. Also, since Aziraphale is on the Good side, he of course has to gear his desires into what's Good rather than just what he wants, so he sometimes thinks he's doing things for others when really he's doing things for himself. (For example, matchmaking Maggie and Nina started out as something he wanted to use to lie to Heaven, but by the time he was commenting "Maggie and Nina are counting on me," he seemed sincere, like he had genuinely convinced himself this was for them and not for himself.)

Aziraphale knows Heaven interferes in human affairs, ostensibly on God's behalf. He thinks She should be intervening in ways that are beneficial. What I believe the narrative wants him to learn is that God and Heaven shouldn't be manipulating people at all, not even for Good, and in fact there is no real meaningful hierarchy.

Anyway, a top-down, totally unquestioned hierarchy is the primary social relationship Aziraphale has known, and it's certainly been the dominant one for most of his existence: you're either the boss or the underling, and if someone seriously questions you, they don't have faith in you - they don't respect you.

No, his relationship with Crowley has not always been like that, but they've been creating their relationship from whole cloth, so how would he know it shouldn't become that way, now that it's "real" and out in the open?

No, human relationships aren't like that, but Aziraphale clearly does not see himself or Crowley as human. As the relationship approached something that seemed like it must be "legitimate," Aziraphale would naturally look for a framework to fit it to. And again, the only one he has is the shape of "intimacy," or what passes for it, in Heaven. What has "trust" always meant in all his "legitimate" relationships? It has always meant unquestioning obedience, of course. What have the warm fuzzies felt like in Heaven? Well, praise from the angels above him is nice, so that must be it, right?

Aziraphale even describes being in love as "what humans do," separating out that relationship style. Someday, I think he'll realize he favors the shape of love on Earth, something that's more inherently equal, more give-and-take. Look at how he idealizes it from afar at the Ball. But I think that, like Crowley before Nina pointed it out, Aziraphale maybe hasn't 100% grokked that it can and in fact should work that way for him and Crowley, too. Just like people can desperately want to dance without knowing how to dance, or can desperately want to speak a language without knowing the language, Aziraphale does not instinctively know how to have the kind of relationship where he can be truly vulnerable and handle Crowley's vulnerability as well.

Aziraphale is downright obsessed with French, known as the "language of love." He's trying to learn it the Earthly way. He's not very good at it, but he wants to be.

This pattern is still present during the Final Fifteen even if we assume Aziraphale is asking Crowley to become an angel again out of fear (and I find it very hard to believe that fear doesn't factor in at all). He's still building his interactions off of that Heaven-like framework: he asks Crowley to trust him blindly, he tries to assume a leadership role with a plan Crowley never agreed to and couldn't follow anyway, and he tries very hard not to leave room for an ounce of doubt. He also suggests making Crowley his second-in-command and obviously does not register that this could possibly be offensive. Again, I think this is because for Aziraphale, there has always been a hierarchy in Heaven, it's started to transfer to his relationship with Crowley, and breaking out of that assumption about relationships is going to take more processing than a single argument can do.

As I mentioned in another post, I don't believe Aziraphale had a real choice about whether he accepted the Supreme Archangel position. I think he could sense that he was not getting out of it and chose to look on the bright side, to see it as an opportunity. And instead of looking realistically at how that would feel to Crowley, he tried to sweep Crowley up to Heaven with him using toxic positivity, appeals to morality, and appeals to their relationship itself. Again, mimicking what Heaven has done to him.

To me, "they're not talking" is a big clue that Aziraphale's approach with Crowley is going to be the mistake the narrative really wants him to face. "Not talking" has, thus far, been presented as the central conflict of Season 3! After losing the structure and feedback Heaven gave him, Aziraphale started creating Heaven-like patterns in his relationship with Crowley, and breaking out of those patterns is what he needs to do. Discovering first-hand that Heaven's entire modus operandi is bad no matter who's in charge is how he can do it.

Look, either you're sympathetic to Aziraphale's control issues or you're not. Personally, I am. He's trying so, so hard to be good. I think trying to figure yourself out (which Aziraphale is clearly doing) is hard enough, and when you start balancing what you want for yourself, what you think are your responsibilities, and what other people are actively asking of you, you're bound to fall into the patterns that have been enforced for your whole life or for millions of years, whichever came first.

It is very easy to assume that people should Just Be Better, but it's not actually that simple to be a thinking, feeling person. My anxiety tends to move in a very inward direction and Aziraphale's moves outward. But I'd imagine the desperation and exhaustion are the same.

Unlike Nina, Aziraphale became a rebound mess. I don't think it occurred to either him or to Crowley that there could be any soul-searching, anything but carrying on with the new normal after their stalemate with Heaven and Hell.

Now, instead of getting rejected by Heaven and surviving it, Aziraphale needs to be the one to reject Heaven. It needs to be a choice. And that choice is going to come from realizing that Heaven isn't just poorly managed but also represents a bad framework for all relationships.

How could this happen? Good question. We're obviously not supposed to know yet, although I think picking at existing themes within the narrative could possibly give us hints.

It's possible Aziraphale's character development trajectory will be akin to Adam Young's in Season 1. Please see this stellar post by eidetictelekinetic for more thoughts about it, but basically, in Season 1, Adam saw that the world was not what he wanted it to be and decided his vision was better; as he ascended to power, he took complete control over all his friends and then soon realized that's not what he wants because there's no point in trying to have relationships with people who can't choose you. It's that realization that leads Adam to conclude he doesn't want to take over the world and to reject the role he's expected to play as the Antichrist. Maybe Aziraphale's trip to Heaven is an attempt at a control move during which he'll realize he's defeating his own point.

Aziraphale clearly wants to be chosen. From the very beginning, he's wanted to be special and cared for - just like Crowley has.

Incidentally, I think Aziraphale and Crowley are going to represent pieces of the bigger picture here, and this - first imitating and then rejecting Heaven's relationship style - can both symbolize Heaven's transformation and directly start it (probably in an amusing, somewhat indirect way, like when he handed off the flaming sword to Adam).

If I'm right - which I may very well not be - I think this would all be so, SO cool. Like, "An angel who is subconsciously trying to be a better God" is a concept with so much potential for both tender kindness and incredible darkness. Add to that the comedy-of-errors aspect of "...but even deeper down, he'd much rather just be super gay on Earth" and you have, in my opinion, a perfect character.

I think this could work for Crowley as well. It's obvious that in the Good Omens universe, at least so far, Hell is all about detesting humans and punishing them; Satan seems to genuinely hate humans (unlike in some of NG's other works). Our perspective on this could change, but it potentially puts Crowley in a complementary position to Aziraphale, as a demon who is trying to be "better" than Satan. But this isn't about being "morally better." It's about things having a point. Crowley's exploits usually have a point: they test people. And you can pass his tests! He sincerely likes making trouble, but Crowley doesn't live to punish.

But, once again, the above paragraph would describe a transient phase for this infinitely charming character. Because, again, I think the point will be that in the end, Crowley's deeper-down desire, moreso than testing Creation, is watching it grow with a glass of wine in hand.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I started doing sex work while still living with my mom?

Warning for sexual mentions(nothing heavily explicit though)

I (18F) can't get a typical job like working in customer service or physical labor because of a mix of reasons. I'm both physically and mentally disabled, for one. I have chronic pain & chronic fatigue so extensive physical labor or any job that requires being up for a long time is out of the question for me, as it would cause me a lot of pain and put me at risk for collapsing or falling asleep due to exhaustion. I also have heavy social anxiety and sensory issues, and despite being in therapy since I was around 11, this hasn't gone away. I still have problems with stuttering when talking to people I don't know, and feel on the verge of panic the entire time. I also can't handle loud noises well- I carry around a pair of headphones constantly but that does mess with my hearing so I couldn't really use those in a customer service focused environment. I'm a full time student as well, and will be for several more years, as I'm going straight into college out of high school. On top of all that, I can't drive yet, as the process was delayed due to concerns that my health issues would make me a hazard on the road, so I won't have my full license until late this year.

I've tried looking for other job types before, but nothing I've been able to find works. I've tried doing art, but it's not easy to get people to actually commission you- I've only gotten 1 so far and I've had commissions open for almost half a year. I've tried content creation but have yet to build a platform big enough to make money from it. I've looked for online focused jobs such as creating captions or proof-reading others work but realized very quickly I'm not equipped/qualified for that job due to my problems with processing audio correctly, and my problems reading and writing correctly first try- I often have to re-read things many times over and re-type things at least once to get it at all correct, as words and letters get mixed up in my brain sometimes or I just accidentally skip over entire words or even sentences. And even then I sometimes still get it wrong. So I'm a pretty slow worker with things like reading, and something that requires listening to something and then writing what was said took so long it wouldn't meet the time requirements a lot of places are looking for in workers for that (that I've seen).

So the only idea I have left for making money so I at least have something to help pay for college and to go towards me being able to move out someday is some sort of sex work. I'm not planning on doing anything super risky, like meeting up with real people or anything that would show my face. So I wouldn't be worried about this bothering my mom since she's not really sex negative or strictly against sex workers or anything if it wasn't for one thing. I'm not sure if this will work either. I have a lot of acne problems all over, and problems with picking at my skin that leave scratch marks in a lot of places. And I'm not sure anyone would be willing to pay to look at that. It's not something that bothers me on an individual level, it's just a part of me, but that doesn't really change what other people do or don't find attractive. So it just kind of feels disrespectful to be selling that kind of thing in my mothers house if it's not even going to be significant enough for it to matter financially. And, of course, there's always the risk my mom could see it, and I worry it would upset her to see her daughter selling that kind of thing. But I don't see other options left for how I could make enough money to not end up drowning in student loans down the line, or end up living with my mom for many years into adulthood- which wouldn't be fair to her since she's not financially well off either. I don't plan for it to be a permanent job, just something to help me through my college years till I can start working in the field for what I'm getting a degree in or until my issues get well enough I can work a more typical job.

WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[lucy90712]

Something about reader giving birth ? Like Pablo in the delivery room

"Hey amor I'm home are you doing ok?" Pablo asked as soon as he entered the front door 

"I'm still very pregnant so make of that what you will" I said 

"No signs of labour then?" He asked 

"Literally nothing I don't think she wants to come out" I said 

"She will come when she's ready but at least I'm back now so I will be here when you do go into labour" he said 

"But you still have training" I said 

"I know but I've been giving my phone to one of the trainers so if you need me just call and they'll give it to me and I can come straight home ok I will be here I promise" he said 

"Good because if you aren't I'm going to kill you" I half joked 

He sorted out all of his things from the teams away game before he came back and sat with me on the sofa which is where I've spent most of my days for the last few weeks because I can't do much else. The last month of my pregnancy has been tough everything hurts and I can't walk to the kitchen without being out of breath so I'm ready to be done with pregnancy but this baby doesn't want to come out. My due date was four days ago so when Pablo went away for their champions league game I was worried I'd have the baby with him gone but she's determined to stay in there forever it seems. 

After watching me struggle to get up and seeing how out of breath I was by the time I got back from the bathroom Pablo suggested we try a few things to help induce labour. He looked up a list of things to try most of which didn't sound like fun but honestly I'll try anything to help get this baby out of me. We decided to combine two of the things together and walk to the store down the street to buy spicy foods and I'm going to curb walk the whole way there and back. It took way too long to get to the store but once we got there we bought the ingredients to make something really spicy for dinner and we got chillies for me to just eat. Then we started the long walk home to rest as I'm exhausted now. 

Pablo made dinner after I'd had a nap and he made sure to cut up plenty of chilli to put on the top of mine. If I didn't tell him to do it then I'd definitely think he was trying to kill me as it was so spicy but hopefully it will do the trick if not this was not worth it. I did have some ice cream after which helped with the spice but my mouth was still on fire. For the rest of the evening we just relaxed on the sofa until we were both tired and needed to get to sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Pablo's alarm rang at just gone 6am like it always does but I was already awake which has been a trend the last few weeks although today I've been awake pretty much all night with cramps in my lower back and stomach but that's all it was just come cramping. I thought about telling Pablo but I didn't want him to miss training for no reason so I just let him get up and help me out of bed like he does every morning. He got ready for training and made breakfast for both of us which he's got better at now that he doesn't let me do anything other than what is completely necessary. Just like every morning he kissed me goodbye and said goodbye to the baby with a hand on my bump and a promise to be home soon. 

Once Pablo left I didn't do anything I didn't even move as the cramps hurt when I move but eventually I had to get up as the need to pee was too strong. On my way back from the bathroom  there was a sudden rush of liquid running down my thighs which I knew straight away was my waters breaking but I tried to tell myself that it wasn't as now that it's happening I'm not sure that I'm ready to give birth. The the first contraction hit and I had to grab onto the nearest wall as they were more painful than I was anticipating but still I decided not to call Pablo as it's not like I'm going to have the baby anytime soon and I can't drag him away from training when nothing is going to happen for hours. 

I tried my best to just breathe through the contractions but they were more painful than I had expected. The midwives told me that as my labour progressed it would get more painful and if that's true I'm not sure that I can do it as I'm already in a lot of pain. The only saving grace is that the contractions are still quite far apart so I have time to recover in between. Each time a contraction hits I pick up my phone to call Pablo but I haven't done it yet. Every time I stopped myself thinking that I didn't need Pablo with me until it was more intense but the more I thought about it the more I realised that I'm scared and in pain and I need him by my side so who cares if he misses training if he can't miss training for this then when can he. I that's when I made my mind up and picked up my phone to finally call him.

"Hola" the man in the other side of the phone said 

"Can you hand the phone to Pablo please?" I asked 

"Hey amor are you ok?" Pablo asked after a minute or so 

"My waters broke and the contractions hurt so please come home" I said 

"I'll be there as soon as I can just hold on love" he said before hanging up 

He made it home in record time mainly because he didn't change out of his training kit. I appreciated his urgency to get home but he was all sweaty so I made him shower quickly before he could be by my side. When he came back he sat right by my side and grabbed my hand which instantly made me feel better as I'm not alone anymore. He made sure I had everything I needed he got me some water and some snacks to keep my energy levels up but most importantly he let me squeeze his hand every time I had a contraction. Having him there was nice but it didn't detract from the pain, Pablo even asked if I wanted to go to the hospital to get some help with the pain but I told him they wouldn't admit me with my contractions still being so far apart so I'll have to suck it up. 

Pablo did some quick research on what can help with the pain so he got me walking around as much as I could and he found an exercise ball that he had in his home gym for me to bounce on. He tried to massage my back and shoulders to help relieve some of the tension in hopes that would help with the pain but none of it did. My pain tolerance is pretty high but the longer this goes on the more even the slightest pain seems to hurt which definitely isn't a good sign for when the real pain hits. 

"We're going to the hospital I don't care if they don't want to admit you you're in pain and I'm not just going to sit here and watch you be in this much pain" Pablo said 

"Ok but first we have to check the car seat is in properly I don't want the nurses to think we’re bad parents when we leave and the car seat isn't right" I said 

"Of course I'll check it now and put your hospital bag in the car then I'll be right back to help you to the car" he said 

"You're the best" I said 

True to his word he was back quickly to help me walk to the car where I made him promise to drive more carefully than he usually does as I'm not going over the bumps in the road at full speed while mid contraction. He did his best to drive quickly to get us to the hospital in good time but also drive carefully which isn't his strong suit but he did his best. He's already been practicing driving in a safer way so that when we have the baby in the car he isn't trying to speed down every road and he's been doing better. Pablo has done a lot of things to prepare for the baby he's been reading parenting books and he's been to baby classes with me to help us prepare for the birth and having a newborn. We even went to a class that taught us how to do cpr on the baby in case of an emergency which was Pablo's suggestion. Watching him try so hard to learn and be better for the baby just reaffirms to me that he's going to be the best dad. 

We arrived at the hospital and to my surprise they admitted me straight away as it's my first baby so they want to be able to monitor me. We got given a room then so many people came in and out to introduce themselves and to set me up to different monitors one for the baby's heart rate and one to measure my contractions plus a few others that I don't know what they do. They also checked to see how dilated I was and I was only 3cm which really made it feel like there's a long way to go. 

Time seemed to go by so slowly every hour the nurses came to check on me but my labour wasn't really progressing it took 4 hours for me to get to just 5cm. They have offered me the epidural but so far I've refused as I know that I can't walk around once I've had that and it's not guaranteed to last as long as my labour does and I can't go from no pain to a lot of pain I think that will make it worse. Pablo has been really great at encouraging me he keeps telling me that I'm doing a great job and that once this is all over we'll have our baby girl and that's been helping me not have a breakdown. He hasn't left my side apart from to go and get the food he ordered for us which only took him a minute and he's been doing everything for me like if I need some water he's got my water bottle in his hand if I need a distraction he's got a show pulled up on my laptop. 

Eventually it got dark outside and we were still in the hospital not really any closer to this baby arriving. I'm so incredibly tired but I know I'm not going to be able to sleep with the pain so really its a vicious cycle as each contraction tires me out more but they are stopping me from getting some rest. I'm physically tired but I'm also mentally exhausted I didn't realise it would take so much out of me but I'm just so drained that this is starting to feel like I'm climbing a mountain I'm never going to be able to reach the top of.

"You need some sleep love" Pablo said 

"I know but the pain is keeping me up" I said 

"Is there anything I can do to help?" He asked 

"Not really but I'll be ok just make sure you get some sleep when she is here I need you to have had some sleep because I'm going to be exhausted" I said

"Promise you'll wake me if you need anything" he said 

"I promise" I replied 

Pablo can sleep through anything so once he was asleep I was able to get up and walk around or watch something to entertain myself as the hours ticked by. The nurses kept coming in to check on me too and luckily I was actually progressing so it's less likely that I'll need any medication to speed things up or a c section which is great as I really didn't want a c section. At the shift change early in the morning my midwife came in and she stayed to talk with me for a bit which was a nice distraction from the pain and Pablo's snoring. Once she left I waited until the sun came up before I woke Pablo up who was very startled but ready to go which made me laugh until he realised that I wasn't actually ready to push and just wanted some company and he settled down again. 

A few more hours went by but after a full 24 hours of labour I was ready to push. Knowing that should've been a relief but I'm so exhausted that I don't think I've got any energy left in me to be able to push. While all the bourses and doctor got ready all I did was break down in tears at the thought of the pain and the exhaustion I'm about to go through. 

"Whats wrong amor?" Pablo asked 

"I can't do it" I said 

"Don't say that you can do it I know it's been a long night but you've got this I'll be by your side the whole time and just remember once you do this she'll be here and we can hold her and love her" he encouraged me 

"But I'm so tired I don't think I have it in me" I said 

"You can do it once this is all over you can sleep for as long as you want we don't have to have anyone come if you just want to sleep but you can do it the adrenaline will kick in and you'll be able to do it" he said 

He gave me a quick kiss before the nurses all came back in and it was time. They gave me instructions to follow so I did exactly what they said and pushed when I felt a contraction. My god did it hurt though it was so hard to think about anything other than the pain but I powered through. The only thing that distracted me from the pain was yelling at Pablo about how this is all his fault and that he did this to me which isn't true we agreed to have a baby it was a joint decision but it made me feel better so I kept yelling at him. Pablo kept whispering encouraging words into my ear as I yelled at him knowing I didn't really mean it because I don't. 

Soon enough the nurses told me I just needed to push one more time and they weren't lying after one more push the sound of our baby crying filled the room which made me cry from a mixture of joy and exhaustion and maybe some other emotions but I can only deal with that for right now. Pablo cut the cord before the nurses handed me the baby and I got to look at her beautiful little face for the first time which only made me cry harder. That's when I looked up at Pablo only to see him crying too as he reached down to touch our little girls face and stroke her cheek. 

"I can't believe she's ours" I said 

"I know she's so beautiful just like her mama" Pablo said 

"I'm glad I did just carry her for 9 months and push her out my body I'd be a little offended if she didn't look at least a little bit like me" I said 

"You did so great I'm so proud of you I can't thank you enough for giving me the best gift in the world" he said 

"I'm just glad it's over now" I said 

"And I'm going to be treat you like a queen for the rest of eternity but especially now" he said 

"Thank you but right now I just want to sleep" I said 

He took the baby from my arms and gave her to the nurses to do all the necessary checks then he stayed by my side to stroke my hair until I started to fall asleep which is when he promised that he'd look after the baby and that he'd wake me if he needed me which is what I needed to hear to finally drift off to sleep. 

[littlegreenteacup]

After All | Chapter Two

Summary: Waking up with a stranger in your arms is odd to say the least. When that strange feels like home? It's hard to let go.

Word Count: 2,422

Next Chapter

Warnings: Discussions of symptoms of PPD, Fleur leaving, Anxious thoughts, recovery from a werewolf attack, mentions of nightmares, probably mentions of PTSD - depending on how you look at it, a failed marriage, Bill being a single father, mention of Molly and Ginny not liking Fleur, and the sorry state of mental health care of any sort in the wizarding world, references to sex (possibly?). Please don't hesitate to let me know if I've forgotten something.

A/N: Not much dialogue in this one, just a few comments made in the background and a lot of Bill's thought process and some background.

“How much did they drink last night?” a man’s hushed voice whispered, concern evident in his tone.

“Fuck if I know, mate!” another, exasperated and distinctly Irish, voice responded, louder than (Y/N) would have liked, given the pounding in her skull.

“They were at your bar, Alex!” the first voice - almost certainly Charlie, though (Y/N) refused to open her eyes to confirm her suspicions - remarks, vague amusement now present as well. She heard what sounded like someone’s hands hitting their thighs in irritation, followed by a scoff closer to where the door to her room would be.

“Well, it doesn’t matter either way, Charlie,” definitely Charlie and Alex, she thought, burrowing her head further against the source of warmth she was laying half on top of. “We can come back later,” there was a pause, almost as if Alex was inspecting the situation more closely, “and we can bring them somethin’ to eat too,” another pause, this one shorter and interrupted by an aggravated sigh, “lord knows (Y/N) won’t have bothered ta pick up any groceries.”

There was a soft chuckle from Charlie, probably halfway across the living room by now, and something she didn’t quite catch was said before the soft click of her bedroom door, and the more distant one of her front door were heard in the distance. The man, probably - hopefully - the one she had met at the bar the night before, pulled her closer, wrapping her more fully in a warmth she was far too comfortable in to even try escaping from. Maybe she should have been more concerned about there being a stranger in her bed with her, but she felt safe, and warm and, oddly enough, like she belonged here wrapped in these arms - like two puzzle pieces designed to fit together - so she let herself be lulled back to sleep by the rhythmic rise and fall of the man’s breathing, and the wonderful rich warm scent of an oddly familiar cologne - cloves and leather, old parchment and the warm honied-milkness that she always associated with magic.

—

Bill had instinctively pulled the form of the woman next to him into his chest, pressing his nose into the top of her hair. It took him a minute, maybe a minute too long, to remember that there should not be a woman in his bed. Certainly not one so willing to curl into him as she - ‘(Y/N)’, Bill remembered, hazy memories of her introducing herself to him at the bar and the warmth he had felt around her floating quickly into his brain, and leaving just as quickly - had, the moment he had pulled her in; Fleur - long gone and moving on to a new relationship, a new life - had not been the sort to do so. But (Y/N) - even thinking her name made his heart pick up - was warm in his arms. Bill inhaled deeply, nose still pressed to her hair, and smiled sadly - sad at the realization that this would not be something he would likely experience again. She smelled of old books, and milky tea with honey. There was something else too, something that reminded him of the pears he and Charlie would put on their porridge in the mornings as children. Bill was sure that if he’d had a vile of Amortentia at that moment, it would smell just like this.

He was alerted to (Y/N) beginning to wake when she rolled over in her sleep, and burrowed her head under his chin, her nose pressed against his chest, and her eyes guarded against the warm late-morning sunlight streaming in through the sheer curtains of her bedroom - it had to be her bedroom, Bill thought absently, it was lacking the cold uniformity of a hotel room and it was nowhere he recognised as a room that could have belonged to him. For a moment, the unfamiliarity of his surroundings reminded him of the strangeness of this situation. Even when he and Fleur had been at their best - and they had had something, even if it hadn’t worked out - even when they had decided to have a child together - mistakenly thinking that a child might help to iron out the wrinkles in their relationship that were starting to make themselves known - Fleur had been to used to pushing everything and everyone away. She had kept everyone at arm's length - literally and figuratively - to keep herself from getting hurt. He couldn’t blame her for it either. Bill had certainly kept his own distance, becoming cold and harsh for a time after a fragile peace was found. It was no one's fault, really - or if it was it was both of theirs - but it had put a strain on their already crumbling marriage when things became difficult.

The attack by Greyback - one which had nearly ended his life and had left him scarred emotionally as well as physically - had sealed their fate, just not for the reasons his mother and Ginny had thought. Fleur hadn’t cared about his scars, or that he might have some lycanthropic tendencies - even joking that she would have to ask her mother for a good recipe for steak à l'Americaine - and for that, and for giving him Victoire, a part of him would always love her. No, what Fleur had cared about - what she had focused on and obsessed over until it made her sick with worry and unwilling to tell anyone about her feelings lest they judge her for it - was the very real possibility that the man she loved could be taken from her at the drop of a hat. It had been a reality check for her, one that she choked back and refused to acknowledge until it was too late.

For a while after the attack, things had seemed to be alright. Fleur had visited Bill at St. Mungos while he was recovering, she had helped him with his physical therapy, and sat with him when his nightmares woke him in the night, leaving him shaking and soaked with sweat. And then things got better - or seemed to anyway. The war ended, their families were safe without the constant threat of death and torture at every turn. But their joy and relief came and went all too soon, and as it did they were left broken. Strangers unsure of what to say to one another, made stranger still by the odd hours caring for a newborn required. Their conversations had become short, lacking any real depth when their most frequent topic of conversation was no longer one that they could fall back on. Actual communication was exchanged for clipped sentences stated with an unfeeling coolness regarding the care of their daughter. A daughter whom Fleur had been unable to force herself to care for the way she felt she should have - for which she berated herself constantly, not allowing Bill, or Molly or even her own mother to console her for the guilt she felt at not caring that she didn’t care. For perhaps the first time in her life, there was a person not immediately charmed by her. This little girl, who had her blond hair and Bill’s blue eyes, and who was so wholly dependent on her for everything, who demand her mother’s attention for nearly everything and never seemed pleased with anything, or so Fleur insisted, finding it easier to blame her detachment on Victoire then to acknowledge that something was wrong.

Bill, in a desperate attempt to make things easier for his wife, asked his mother what might be the problem - ‘surely,’ he thought ‘after seven children she might have some idea.’. The best Molly could offer was the suggestion that they see a doctor from St. Mungo’s psychiatric ward. Fleur had been furious at the suggestion, she had flown into a rage, screaming that she was perfectly sane, that to suggest such  a thing was cruel and unnecessary. Bill had thought it might be a pride thing - that Fleur didn’t want anyone to know the difficulties she was having - it wasn’t. Molly, though lacking the correct vocabulary to describe why she thought Fleur should seek out medical help, had had a point. Months after they had separated, after Fleur had gone back to France to stay with her mother - to get her thoughts straight, she had said, as Bill watched from the doorway of their bedroom helpless to do anything but hold Victoire in his arms and hope that she might sleep through her mother leaving, as Fleur had packed a suitcase, closing it firmly. Brushing past him and wrapping her cloak around herself, she placed her hat neatly atop her perfectly done hair and tossed a handful of floo powder into their living room fireplace, she had given her mother’s address, and blown a kiss in Victoire’s direction, offering Bill a sad smile as she stepped into the green flames and disappeared. It was the most warmth she had shown either of them in so long. Bill had fallen asleep in the glider in Victoire’s room that night, unable to let her go for even a moment, tears drying and leaving tracks down his face as he tried to keep this hiccuping sobs from waking his daughter - Bill had heard a muggleborn colleague in  the next carrel over while researching something he can’t remember explaining to someone else how the wizarding world was sorely lacking in treatment options for struggling new mothers. She had described her wife’s symptoms and, feeling slightly guilty for listening in, Bill was shocked to hear how closely, how nearly exactly, they matched with Fleur’s. It had been the first and only time Bill had ever heard of such a thing, and he had gone home that night and cried, blaming himself for not being able to do more to help - for not knowing that there was more he could do to help.

It was (Y/N)’s soft yawn that drew Bill’s attention from his spiraling thoughts - thoughts that had a tendency to spiral further and further into what if territory when he wasn’t careful - and back into the present moment.

When he’d finally blinked away the last remnants of sleep, Bill was once again met with sight of the unfamiliar room he’d caught a glimpse of earlier. The sunlight seeping in gave the room a golden glow, and the pretty blue floral duvet and white linens surrounding him and (Y/N) smelled of sunshine and clean laundry. Bill shifted slightly away from her, carefully tucking the duvet around her to keep out the chill of the early spring morning. He would need to find a way to owl his mum, make sure Victoire was okay and see if she could watch her for a few more hours.

When (Y/N) had yawned again, it had drawn Bill’s attention to her side of the bed, and that was when he saw it.

On the nightstand, a pair of glasses laying atop it, was a large piece of cream parchment - only a simple gold foiled border around the edge of it belying its importance. Reaching for the paper, careful not to disturb (Y/N), who was still mostly asleep as he leaned over her form to grasp it, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he should remember this. Lightly, Bill traced a finger over the words on the page - over the dried ink of both his and (Y/N) signatures, of the names of officials his still tired brain vaguely remembered but couldn’t quite place. His gaze followed his finger as he traced upwards, and then he felt his heart give a lurch.

In solid black letters at the top of the page were three simple words: Certificate of Marriage. He went back to the bottom, tracing over the names of the officials from before. Now he could place those names. They were the names of officials who worked at the ministry, in a department that primarily worked processing and granting approval for the requests for marriage licenses and, not infrequently, performing what might be able to be called a courthouse wedding - Percy would often complain that the people in that office spent too much time doing nothing, and that the work they did do could easily be absorbed into another department. He was wrong, of course, that particular department handled not just marriages but divorce proceedings as well, something that was an unnecessarily involved ordeal for all involved parties in wizarding england. Everyone, namely due to several pieces of interesting gossip Hermione had unwittingly offered, had their suspicions that it had less to do with the department itself and more to do with Percy’s  dislike of several of the people who worked within that spurred such comments.

Bill spared a glance at (Y/N). As he did, she shifted, her arm now resting over where he had been laying moments before, and as he turned, the sun glinted off the gold of a delicate ring on her left hand. Bill glanced down, realizing that not only was he wearing a similar one, but that he had already fallen back into the easy, familiar habit of twisting it around and around his finger with his thumb without even noticing. He sighed, running a hand through his hair - it was long enough now that Molly would soon begin pestering him to cut it again. Bill slowly rose, standing, completely naked, in the middle of the room. Hastily, he gathered what he could see of the clothes he had been wearing the night before - hoping that that was everything. Whoever (Y/N) was, she was, as far as he could tell, his wife. Bill sighed, walking into the bathroom, and, as quietly as he could, shut the door behind him. This was something they were going to have to talk about - whatever decision was made it would impact not only the two of them, but Victoire as well, and the last thing he wanted was to cause her any harm because the decision that was made was made hastily and without all the facts. For the time being, or at least until his wife woke up, he wanted a shower. Maybe the running water would do him some good, help him clear his head a bit before he was able to get his hands on a hangover remedy.

One thing that had been made clear from the marriage certificate - (Y/N) was a witch - and that simplified things at least a little.

[hmshermitcraft]

Grumbo! with the theme kinda!

Grian and mumbo have always been a close pair, even when mumbo was always really clingy to grian and always asked where he would disappear to during emergencies or where grian would be in the middle of the night when mumbo just sometimes comes over because he just doesn't want to be alone and to ramble about the new project he's working on even when grian never understands any of the redetone stuff he does. Grian tries his best to stay with mumbo anytime he gets, grian absolutely adores mumbo in the way mumbo adores him, they've had friends joke they're like kittens who are told they need to be sold together in pairs because of how clingy they are to eachother.

So when grian is home one night after a patrol as cuteguy, he doesn't expect to find mumbo on his couch waiting for him to come home. Mumbo looks at his entire getup, the black and pink wings sprouting out of his back, black and pink outfit that fit just right around grian bodies, mumbo only able to stare at him before finally mumbo speaks getting over the shock "GRIAN???? YOU- YOU'RE-", grian covers his mouth before mumbo can speak another word and hissing out in a quite voice "quiet- I don't need the neighbors hearing you scream my identity at the top of your lungs!, now if I take my hand off will you be quiet-", mumbo nods before staring at cutegu- no *grian*, "you're- you're cuteguy-" he doesn't even believe it at first but them he starts putting things together, realizing this is why he's always constantly gone, has some sort of bruise on him at all times and just is more shifty when talking about himself, then mumbo has the realization and mumbling outlpud before he can stop himself "oh my stars I've had a crush on the same person this entire time" his face going bright red at the admittance

Grians face goes from a slightly worried and nervous expression to a huge grin

"Oh my stars mumbo jumbolio has a crush on me" grian feels absolutely giddy and without missing a beat "don't worry I love you to" mumbo stutters at that, but allows himself to be slightly composed to just say "you aren't getting out of this talk about you being cuteguy no matter how inlove i am with you"

It can wait until the morning, at least. Grian couldn't run from Mumbo if his life depended on it, he's smitten with the man.

Mumbo helps him take the bulky, annoying parts of the outfit off, then leaves Grian in peace to get ready for bed. It's not the first time Mumbo's slept over. Hopefully it won't be the last.

Grian makes sure to pull Mumbo into the double bed with him before the man can second guess it. Most importantly:

"Did you really have a crush on me twice?" Grian teases.

Mumbo buries his face in his hands. "Going to sleep now!"

[moodymisty]

Mayhaps some Angron/fem reader with 7+12+54 from your kink list if you’re up for it? He seems like the kinda guy that would bite and definitely wouldn’t be gentle about anything in the slightest

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Authors’s Note: Suedo-continuation of this fic. Time to ride that massive Nucerian dick all the way to the pearly gates. Or at minimum to the infirmary. I've been beating my head on this for ages and it has dust on it, but enjoy.

Summary: Angron returns to Terra from a crusade, and finds himself wanting.

Relationships: Angron/Fem!Reader (reader from my StolenHistoritor!series)

Warnings: NSFW, Rough sex, Biting, That World Eaters dick hit different and by different I mean it rearranges your insides like a blender

Word Count: 1227

Lady of the World Eaters.

You don't like the title; But no one knows what else to call you. Simply put it was the only title that appealed to your current stature, even if it doesn't perfectly fit.

You aren't his beloved, you don't know if he can even utter such a word, but you know there is something here that he deems special. Perhaps there just isn't a word for it, in High or Low Gothic.

Angron’s Macgragge-born Historitor just doesn’t ring quite as well, either. Is a bit of a mouthful as well.

Angron's wing of the massive Imperial palace is its own world in an of itself. You could only assume that the other Primarchs have similar living quarters that are appropriately grandiose, though it's only speculation; You haven't seen them and probably will never will.

But you had just gotten out of a bath when Angron returned. The loose piece of clothing you put on simply to prevent from getting cold hit your mid thighs, shapeless and thin. It wicked up the water against your skin slowly, until you felt mostly dry.

The loud thud of boots on the stone floor had gave him away, but for a moment you had assumed it was simply the sound of patrolling Custodes; Until it continued closer and closer, and then stopped.

Angron entered, lacking the brushed and scratched bronze armor you're so used to him wearing. Instead he wore a more comfortable- at least you assume so- pair of trousers that tucked into thick, furred boots. He lacked any sort of top, as despite Terra being quite frigid currently, he had little care about it. If he's anything like his Astartes, his blood runs so hot it would take a chill beyond what Terra can produce to make him shiver.

You stood there frozen, half dressed and standing damp in the middle of a dim room. He looked down with an unreadable expression from his overwhelming height. It felt like minutes, but it was more than likely only a few moments.

But you'd never felt so small as you had then; Unable to know what he was thinking. It was always hard to, but even then it seemed like he was impossible to know where he was in his own head.

As while you've kissed him, and he's returned it, it's never gone much farther. You had assumed the Nails had taken it away; His ability to feel something as intrinsically human as desire.

But apparently, he still can.

“A-Angr-“

Your voice comes out in short gasps has he fucks you, fists clenched. It feels like he’s in your stomach, and he can only just bury himself to the hilt. You’d fear what would happen if he pushed it even farther. If he lost just a bit of restraint.

Perhaps it’s another part of the Nails’ torture. That the one person he's found that actually loves him he can’t even touch to the fullest, that they aren’t made for him and could crack under the slightest misuse.

He hasn’t said a word, other than sharp breaths and grunts, his hand on your hips bruising as he pulls you to him. You had been on your knees, but it was not long before your fell to your stomach and laid nearly flat on the massive ocean of a bed.

Your neck aches, you know he's broken skin and blood probably trickled down your neck, only now having relief that he can no longer reach it. The angle would be too severe, he stands too tall to be able to press his face into your neck while he fucks you.

It had felt good at the time, now it complains and aches, and you'll have marks serving as an easy reminder to you'll need to cover up.

Your hands grip the bed with your nails threatening to tear the fabric, intricate and expensive; Far beyond anything Angron is used to. You know he's refused most of Terra's more frivolous things. Perhaps that's yet another reason why his fellow primarchs have been so surprised by your existence, perhaps.

Your face feels hot, skin boiling as your stomach ties itself in knots, tight like it’s going to snap. You haven't looked towards him in awhile, you can see his shadow and feel his bare skin against your own, but for some reason you can't gather the will to look over your shoulder. Perhaps it's the embarrassment, as he brushes against nerves to deep inside of you that you gasp and squirm underneath him. His grip keeps you held firm however, as even though escape is the last thing on your mind, you'd never be able to do so anyways.

He is still be going to leave your battered and bruised for days, however. Even with his grip on your hip being so soft for his own strength. But his gentleness in context has left you trying to swallow moans instead of screams.

You attempt to keep most of the swears you utter under your breath as you cum, fingers tight around your one mouth as he simply continues to fuck you.

It’s so close to pain, but you’re used to teetering that knife’s edge with him. That how it feels at almost every moment you're around him. You barely notice it, anymore.

You can feel the moment he finishes inside you from the way he slows, and you hear his fist clench around the metal of the bedframe tight enough to crunch it. More restraint. He's always trying to keep the Nails held back.

You can also tell just how much; When he pulls out you can immediately feel it leak from you, slick against your thighs.

He pulls away, and you can still hear his sharp exhales through his nose. You don't know if it's because he's actually winded like yourself, with a racing heart and flushed skin, or that the Nails are biting at his mind again.

You roll, giving a soft groan in pain as you look up from underneath him.

You feel so small.

One of his hands reaches towards you and grips your jaw tilting it; You barely manage to hold in a wince as he observes your battered neck.

He’s silent. Angron is surprisingly so whenever you’re around. You always wonder what he’s thinking. He notices the bruising and droplets of blood on your neck, at minimum. That even the most gentle abused caused it. You hear him let out an exhale.

“You should go to the apothecary.” He’s blunt. You lay more comfortably in the bed underneath him, but you still feel pinned under his eyes. If he was someone else you'd think he was wanting you to leave, but from the way he's looking at you and keeping you caged, that seems to be the last thing he wants.

“It doesn’t hurt,” You say, and he hums. “I’ll wait till tomorrow.” The blood has stopped, anyhow. It'll be more painful to leave him and spend an hour there than it would be to just lay here. The entire time you've still felt his hand on your hip, skin warm. It drifts down slightly more towards your thigh.

He shifts and moves to once more press his mouth against your neck, but gives you little more than an accepted noise of understanding.

[always-andromeda]

get to know your moots

Thank you for the tag @guiltyasdave!! This turned out a little long but it was sort of introspective to fill out!!

what's the origin of your blog title?

During my Paul Dano days I started out as spicedchaiandromeda. I loved getting spiced chai lattes at every coffee shop I went to, what can I say lol. But about two years ago when I became a more multi fandom blog I changed to always-andromeda to kind of signify that no matter what stuff I’m into, I am always Andromeda!!

OTP(s) + shipname

I’ve enjoyed a few ships over the years but I think my absolute favorite will always be Anderperry from Dead Poets Society.

favorite color

Yellow!! 💛

favorite game

I love The Last of Us, truly. But rn, Red Dead Redemption 2 and Baldur’s Gate 3 are sliiiightly edging above it. They’re both just so good. 😭

song stuck in your head

Was It Something I Said by MyKey feat. Cavetown

weirdest habit/trait?

I have a few vocal stims, but those aside, I think it’s my occasional zoomies? Idk how else to explain it but sometimes I’ll get these little bursts of energy and I just have to take some laps around the house or make some strange sound.

hobbies

Reading, writing, drawing, painting, cross-stitching, embroidery, baking, cooking…a lot of old lady activities, lmao.

if you could have any job you wish what would it be?

I’m currently studying for my studio arts degree with the hope that I can take on some sort of a graphic design position. But in an ideal world, I’d love to teach. I’ve admired almost all of my art professors and have been told that I’d make a good teacher myself.

something you're good at

Off the top of my head, I’d say conflict management. I’ve hit a point in my journey with therapy and whatnot where I feel that I can handle disagreements and de-escalate situations if they ever arise.

something you're bad at

Time management, lol. But that’s just an extra ADHD perk.

something you love

Maaan, I just had some last night so...spicy tuna over fried rice. That shit is delicious.

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff

Things that I could and have include One Direction lore, The Last of Us, and Astarion and Wyll from Baldur’s Gate 3.

something you hate

On the serious side: transphobia. On the unserious side: ants.

something you collect

The only things I well and truly collect are Palm Pals. If I see them in a gift shop while traveling, I'll get one. The last time I spent a day with my best friend he got me Doodle (the crayon box)!!

something you forget

Lately it's been what I was really like as a teenager? As I've grown and gone to therapy and figured out better ways to cope with things, sometimes I really forget how codependent and people pleasing I could be back then. Your girl had zero consideration for her own wellbeing!!

what's your love language?

Jana cited a tiktok about how eldest daughters are taught to take care of everyone around them so they don't really know their love language. And ngl struck me hard!! Literally just like. Acknowledge I exist!! 🥲

favorite movie/show

It shifts a lot but rn it's Yellowjackets again.

favorite food

I think my all time favorites are almost any kind of sushi and quesabirria tacos.

favorite animal

Growing up by the coast, I'm developed a very palpable love for sea lions lol.

what were you like as a child?

My mother says I was extremely strong willed, lol. But I know at my core that I was a very anxious kid. I was fairly intelligent and was downright terrible at making good friends.

favorite subject at school

I've always been an English and art class girlie!!

least favorite subject

Probably economics? But that's mostly because my teacher was not my favorite.

what's your best character trait

My generosity; I've always been extremely giving to people regardless of how close I am to them.

what's your worst character trait

Probably my anger, funnily enough. I can get it under control way better now. But occasionally it can get the better of me and I hate it when it does.

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be

I kiiiind of wish I had gotten up earlier? I accidentally slept in for like an hour. I also wish I wasn't dealing with ants rn. The pest control guy came over today and the problem should be better within the week but still, it sucks so bad. 😭

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet

Maybe it's because I started rewatching Twin Peaks with my brother and the fact that I'm still sad about him passing, but my heart says David Lynch.

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!)

Honestly, anything Roman Roy from @strang3lov3. I cannot explain it but she made me feral for that man in a ways I didn't even know was possible. I also really want to start reading more of her writing for Joel because I love her style in general!!

no pressure tags (if you've already done it, feel free to ignore me lmaooo sorry!!): @saradika @sixhours @elflutter @inept-the-magnificent @noisynaia

[peach-and-bugs]

“I didn’t miss you. But now you're here and… god, fuck me,” with teen nat preferably angst/smut please. thank you!

❤️I'm Out of Time - Natalie Scatorccio (2000) x fem!Reader❤️ (18+, age in bio/pinned or you will be blocked)

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: You hadn't seen Natalie for years. Not since she'd come back after the crash, and you where alright with that. You'd taken time for yourself and you'd moved on. You were working on your degree and finding yourself. You weren't anticipating any interruptions…

Warnings: Post-crash, 2000 (Natalie and reader are both 22), angst, swearing, Travis, toxic dynamics & smut (18+, age in bio/pinned or you will be blocked) - fingering, praise kink, oral fixation + some spit, top!Natalie, dumbification, minor primal but only if you really squint

Word Count: 3,618

A/N: Hello loves! I'm knocking out two requests with this one, as the quotes felt like they worked together well, so I hope yall don't mind! To make up for it I've made it a much longer than some other one-shots. I also felt like this could be read as sort of a sequel to my other Natalie fic, Blame Game, as both of these have pretty similar theming going on. As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!

Natalie Scatorccio Tag List:

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf @minimickzy @damagnificentcookie

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-❤️-

You’re day had gone on relatively average compared to most days. You’d gone grocery shopping after class and work for the week as you desperately needed to restock your fridge. Normally, it was your roommate’s week to do the shopping, but she was out for the weekend visiting family back in Jersey, so today, you bit the bullet and got it done. You were currently fumbling with your bags as you talked to your mom on your cellphone, all while trying to get out of your taxi. Your mother always tended to call at the worst times. 

“No, Mom, I’m fine! I’m just trying to get inside, is all,” you huffed when she asked why you were breathing so hard. “Yes, money’s fine. I’ve just gotta balance work and school, is all” She cut you off again, and you had to stifle your sigh of irritation. You fumbled to pull your keys out of your bag as you approached your doorstep. 

Only when you looked up, did you notice the figure sitting in front of your apartment’s door. Your apartment mainly was single girls or girls who didn’t live with their boyfriends, so you assumed it was some strange suiter till the figure noticed you and stood. They brushed the hair from their face, and your blood ran cold, freezing you where you stood. 

“Ok, Mom? Can I call you back?” Your mother was already pestering you for a reason why before you could finish asking her. “I’m just trying to get inside all with full hands. I’ll call you back. I love you,” You had to talk over her to hang up, followed by a struggle to get your phone out from under your ear and shoulder and into your bag. 

Only after that did you acknowledge Natalie, who had simply stood watching you the whole time. You gave her a pointed look before letting out a stuffed breath and approaching her. When she opened her mouth to speak, you shook your head without stopping or skipping a beat as you went to unlock your door. 

“No,” was all you said, fumbling with your keys once more. 

“I didn’t even say anything,” she started with an exasperated scoff in her tone, following after you. 

“No, but I knew you would,” 

“Oh, you knew I would say what?” she hadn’t even seen you for five minutes and was already getting defensive—typical Scatorccio behavior. You groaned and just unlocked the door to your apartment complex and walked in with Natalie in tow because there was no getting rid of her now. 

“If you’re going to insist on following me, at least take something,” you aggressively shoved a paper bag in her arms, freeing up one of your hands to get a firm grip on your keys. She took the bag with a grimace but didn't further complain as she climbed the stairs with you. Of course, the elevator was still broken after a week, but you might as well get a little cardio in. You dramatically let Natalie into your apartment behind you, taking the bag from her after dropping your keys into the bowl by the door. You gave her no time to try the conversation again as you disappeared into your kitchen. You weren't going to let her derail your task. You wouldn't let her be a disruption. 

Eventually, she found you after wandering into the apartment. You only gave her a glance of acknowledgment as you unpacked your groceries. She’d cut her hair, but she hadn't bothered bleaching it again like she always said she would. It now rested just above her shoulders. Her shabby bans could use a trim. The ends were falling in front of her eyes and had to be obstructing her vision. She’d also gotten her lip pierced since the last time she’d darkened your doorstep. 

She kept her hands firmly shoved in the pockets of her leather jacket as she watched you. She was acting as though she hadn’t anticipated getting this far. You took a bundle of groceries to the fridge, and upon passing her, you scrunched your nose as you inhaled a familiar sour staleness. 

“I thought you stopped smoking,” you commented offhandedly, neglecting to hide any condescending tone. Natalie, not expecting the sudden comment or conversation for that matter, gave you a confused look, her eyes following as you maneuvered around the pocket-sized kitchen. 

“I'm sorry?” was all she could ask. You declined, looking back up at her as you turned your back to stick cans in you’re cupboards. 

“You smell like cigarettes again,” she scratched at the back of her neck, looking away. 

“Yeah, I picked it up again,” she acted as though she was about to be scolded by her mother. You turned around and gave her a hard look, trying to figure out what might be going on in her head. But Natalie was always tricky. She didn't let on what she was thinking. You could never figure her out. When you looked your way again, all you could do was groan and cover your eyes, practically boiling with frustration. And to think, just ten minutes ago, you thought to yourself that you’d been having a good, average day. 

“Natalie, what do you want?” you forced yourself to ask, hands gripping the countertop of your kitchen island as you watched her. “Why are you here?”

“Do I need to want something to come and see you?” You were shaking your head before she could finish her thought.

“Yes! Yes, you do, Natalie, because you don’t just drop in,” You maneuvered out of the kitchen and into your living room with Natalie on your heels. “You always want something, even when you refuse to admit it,” You opened a window and stuck your head out, taking in a long breath of somewhat fresh city air. The sun was already starting to set as streetlights turned on one by one. Squeezing your eyes shut, you forced yourself to stick your head back into your apartment and face your “company.” 

“I’m assuming it's money again,” you gave her a cold stare, crossing your arms and leaning against the windowsill. Natalie gawked at you, her jaw slightly hung wordlessly open till she scoffed, running a hand through her hair in exasperation. “What, am I wrong? Or maybe you thought you could crash on my couch,” you egged her on. This, of course, pissed her off, which you thought ‘good. If I have to be pissed, then so should she,’. 

“Wow, so college did make you a stuck-up bitch,” she said under her breath, immediately regretting her bitter tongue based on the deer-in-headlights look she gave you after, but even with the apology pressed to her lips, you didn't have it. 

“Fuck you, Scatorccio. You can leave right now for all I care,” you got up as you spoke, hands clenched into fists as you pointed at her chest. You raised a hand to shove her and get her out of your house, but she acted faster, grabbing you by the wrist. Her grip was tight, but not painful, but still enraging. That is till you looked into her eyes for just a little too long, and you gave up, your anger melting into pity and frustration instead as your brow knit and you frowned with a trembling lip. 

“What more do you want from me, Natalie,” you asked weakly, holding from screaming despite the urge you had. But Natalie couldn’t immediately give you an answer. That or she didn’t want to answer. Instead, she just held your wrist, her eyes searching your face for something you couldn’t pinpoint as she frowned. That is till she couldn’t take it, her eyes waving from you, and she shook her head, lips parting as she found her wording.

“I guess I missed you,” you couldn’t help growing angry again. You tugged your wrist from her, which didn’t take much effort, and gave her a point, hurt, look again. 

“You ‘guess?’ What, Travis not doing it for you anymore, so you thought you’d just come back to me as backup, once again?” It was now Natalie’s turn to get angry. 

“This has nothing to do with him-”

“Oh, it always does, Natalie,” you argued back, throwing your hands in the air in exasperation as you began to pace the room. “It’s always gonna be about Travis because you only want me when you can’t have him,” 

“That’s not true!” she yelled back with gritting teeth.

“When was the last time you came to see me when you weren't on a break?” you pressed, feeling the sting of tears begins to sting your eyes. 

“When was the last time you thought about me when you were with him, huh? I’ll tell you because you don’t think of me when you’re with him. You only think about me when you’re all alone, and I’m your last resort because you push everyone else away,” You finally let yourself yell, choking on tears. You knew you didn’t mean what you were saying, not wholeheartedly anyway. You just wanted her to go. You wanted to hurt her so she’d leave and never come back because you couldn’t keep doing this. 

You couldn’t keep feeling like second best or being around for a quick fuck when she was feeling lonely. You’d moved on! You were living your life for you and finding your way in the world. But then Natalie has the nerve to walk back in when she feels like it and when it is convenient for her. What about when it was convenient for you? 

What about way back when, when you’d waited for her, your best friend, to see you standing there, wanting her that whole time, only to pick a douchebag boy over you. Natalie said nothing as you began to cry. You felt like you were caving in on yourself, morphing back into that sad, lonely teenager who longed to be noticed as someone more than a friend. 

“I didn’t miss you,” you finally managed to talk again through choked sniffles. You sounded pitiful; you knew it. But what else was there to do now but to keep being honest? “I was finally feeling good! But now you're here and- god, fuck me,” you ran your hands through your hair, shaking your head as you pulled your eyes away from her, biting your lip. You took your fist, wrapping it around the thumb on your other hand, allowing your hands to shake as you started to pace once more. 

God, you wanted her to leave, but still, the thought of being alone after all this felt unbearable. And despite the anger you were feeling, you still wanted her. You wanted her to hold you, caress you, make you forget all the bad things you'd been feeling. You just wanted it all to go away. You hadn't even noticed that you shut your eyes again till you felt Natalie’s hands caress your face, thumbing at the tears that fell as she wrapped her hand around your clenched fingers. You couldn’t help looking up at her, your cheek eagerly seeking to lean into the warmth of her palm. She looked down at you with sad, wet brown eyes that you couldn’t help being captivated by.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” she murmured rather stiffly, swallowing thickly as she nodded. “You’re right about all of it. And I’m sorry,” you took in a long sniff and shook your head. 

“No, no, you're not. You're just saying that” You began to argue, but she urged you to listen. 

“I am sorry, and I’ve missed you. Fuck, I’ve missed you so much,” she urged, squeezing your hand. “I just don’t wanna drag you into all my bullshit, you know? Because you don’t deserve that,” she explained weakly. 

“I could have taken it,” You urged her, but she shook her head. 

“I wouldn’t let you,” You sniffled again, relenting in a silent nod. You let that silence hang in the air till you couldn't bare it.

“Make it up to me?” Natalie knew the implication behind your request. You used that phrase with one another some times before, but now she wasn’t so sure. 

“I don't know if that’s the best idea,” She murmured, taking her rare turn to be the rationally thinking one. But you shook your head as a final tear rolled down your cheek. 

“Please,” you begged, squeezing her hand. “Just this time. If I regret it, it’s for me to deal with in the morning,” you knew you sounded miserably helpless, and you'd be embarrassed by your neediness when your mind cleared again, but for now, you leaned into it, excepting the mess you where when it came to Natalie. It was a bitter cycle; you knew it, but you could deal with the ramifications in the morning. After looking into your eyes for too long, she relented, taking your lips in with hers as your hands found refuge dug deep in her hair. 

-❤-

She pressed you hard into the bed, aggressively tugging at your shirt to come off over your head as she straddled your hips, letting out hot and heavy breaths against your ear as she struggled to swallow the moan that threatened to push past her lips. You started to tug at her ripped shirt as well, only for Natalie to stop you and take it off in one swift motion. You are about to reach out for her till she gets off your lap, scooping under you to move you up the bed. 

She kneeled on the bed above you and between your legs, messing with the buckle of her belt, smiling down at you with a wicked grin as her eyes lingered on your exposed, rising chest, then down to the band of your pants. Wordlessly you understand to take your pants off and sit up to do so as Natalie does the same. With the last major layer removed, your both left clad in your underwear. That is till you took your bra off, leaving your chest bare in front of her.

Natalie lunged forward, straddling your hips once more as she caught your lips in a heavy, messy kiss. Teeth scrape at your lip, and you meet the cold metal of her lip ring. Her breath was hot as it fanned over the skin of your face till she moved on to your neck. She sat above you, holding herself up with a knee and embows as she started marking up your neck. Her knee shifted into place between your legs, forcing into your core, and you let out a heavy moan from your throat. You could feel her smiling against the spot she now soothed on your neck, knowing what she’d done. 

“That's a c-cheep shot,” you managed to stutter out as she moved on to scrap her teeth over your collarbone. She’d done that long ago on accident but recalled the reaction you'd had then too. Your hips began to gently rock against her knee, already craving any friction available for the growing ache down below. Of course, Natalie only found this to be further amusing. But she eventually relented, her hands pressing your hips down and still, as she moved down your body, kissing your stomach as she pulled her knee away and practically pealed away your underwear. 

She dared to look up at you through her lashes with that blown, lusting look in her eye that had you turning your head away, fust clenching the pillow under your head as you bit your lip to stifle the moan in your throat. Of course, this wasn’t acceptable as she always liked seeing your eyes, so her hand snaked into your underwear, the pads of her pointer and middle finger finding your clit with ease; she moved up your body again, taking your chin between your fingers. You knew your face was flushed and hot, your chest heaving up and down with labored breath, your brows creasing as you strained to suppress the sounds pulling at your throat. But all the same, Natalie smiled down at you, her eyes full of unfamiliar warmth and affection that you craved. 

“Don’t be quiet for me,” she purred, tilting her head as she held your chin. She squeezed your cheeks just enough to part your lips, which released a breathy moan, and she grinned, nodding along as her fingers began to circle your clit in rhythm with the roll of your hips. You were already feeling the oncoming brain fog as she continued her circlings, and without giving it any thought, your hands reached out, caressing her cheeks as she smiled down at you proudly. 

Looking into her eyes, your mouth hung open as you let out every moan that surfaced as she circled your clit, going round and round till you felt like you were dizzy, but it wasn’t going to be enough. You were greedy. You needed more from her, more of her. 

“Natalie, please,” you managed, your expression straining with every swipe. She shooshed you, cooing so gently as she nodded.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m getting there. You’re being so patient,” she finally moved on from your clit to test the waters of your entrance, which you knew was embarrassingly soaked by now. But Natalie didn't mind. She seemed to enjoy the way her fingers glided in with ease and how you let out another shuddering moan against her ear. After some adjustment, she began to pump and curl her fingers in a timely rhythm with the rocking of your hips. 

She fawned at the way your eyes rolled back as her palm met your already sensitive clit, cooing muffled praise amongst the sound of your moans. 

“That’s right. Keep up those pretty faces for me,” she purred just before she began messily kissing your jaw. After all these years, it still amazed you how she had you memorized. Fucking you was like riding a bike. Natalie never seemed to forget what she was doing. You tightened around her fingers, thighs squeezing around her hand to make sure you weren't going anywhere as you climbed your high. 

Natalie groaned against your throat as the feeling but kept going. She’d moved so she was laying beside you, her head buried into your neck, biting at your shoulder as she grew increasingly aroused just by listening to the sounds from your throat and your cunt. Realizing how close she was to you among your building haze, you managed to think it wasn’t enough. So in a moment of desperation, thanks to your impending orgasm, you rolled over just enough to force your mouth against hers as a hand grappled at her still-clothed breast, slipping your fingers under the red lace to find hard, sensitive nipples waiting for you. 

You strummed over her nipple with your thumb, and Natalie let out an unfamiliar, strangulated sound that ended in an animalistic whimper. The feeling caused her to pump harder into you and ultimately was the final push to send you over the edge with a similar howling cry as you curled in on yourself, your forehead falling to Natalie’s shoulder as you grappled at her bare arms. You could hear her hiss at the sting of your nails clawing at her skin as you started to come down. 

Her hand slowed gradually as she continued to pump in and out, steadying you off of your high. She pulled away from you ever so slightly, nudging your thighs apart with her free hand to take her fingers back from you. She made a big show of licking her fingers clean till you gained enough self back to reach out, taking her wrist in hand and cleaning her fingers yourself. You watched her, doe-eyed and still hazy, as you let her fingers pass your lips, tongue running around her digits as you moaned at your taste. She appeared jealous watching the action but seemed to enjoy it nonetheless. 

“Well, look at you,” she murmured under her breath with a turned smile. She sat up on her side, propping herself up with her elbow. You let her fingers go with a pop as they passed your lips, and she grinned as she wiped your spit off on her underwear. You smiled contently without saying a word as you reached up, brushing Natalie’s bangs from her forehead where they stuck with sweat. Your hand ran down her jaw, guiding her back to your lips for another long kiss. As the kiss went on, your hands began to wander, but she stopped you before you could make your way into her pants. She held your wrist and shook her head, kissing your palm. 

“Not now. Just get some sleep,” she murmured, unclasping her bra from behind to throw it over the edge of the bed as she got up. She ducked away into your bathroom. You lie naked in the dark, listening to the sound of the tap turning on and running for some time before it turned off as she retired with wet cloth in hand. She helped you under the covers as she got in with you and slipped the warm rag between your legs, casually helping your clean up. The rag was also tossed to the floor with the rest of your clothes as Natalie crawled into bed with you. She didn’t often stay the night, but in your growing groggy state, you smiled, feeling her wrap around you, holding you tight. Maybe she wouldn’t stay, but for now, she was here and you were going to be content with that.

[delusioncorner]

Gasp, Imposter!

Nightwing x Reader (T)

[Y/n] is a newer Bludhaven-based vigilante who has been steadily gaining the trust of a certain blue and black bird-themed masked hero. after he goes MIA for a week, he returns looking....slightly different.

-

I sit atop a building, listening to my completely-normal-totally-not-altered radio for any reported crime. It's weird resorting back to this odd secretive and secluded way of patroling but ever since Nightwing up and disappeared last Monday, I have no choice. He was slowly becoming my patrolling partner as much as he swore up and down that he "didn't want me around" and how I was "such a nuisance seriously go bother someone else" but he's a real softy under that dumb spandex exterior. He even gave me a special in-ear a couple of weeks ago just so he could talk to me, even if we were only several blocks away, checking in to make sure I was fairing well and even calling me if he needed help. He's gone though. Where? I don't know but god, hopefully he's okay.

A crackling through the radio snaps me out of my Nightwing-centered trance. I turn it up a little so I can hear the voices better.

...I have reports of a 211 on Red Line South. Backup requested immediately.

The dispatcher sounds a little worried. Maybe a bit too worried for a supposed robbery in progress. Jumping to my feet, I decided that the edge in her voice is enough of a reason for me to go check that out. I shake the nerves off for what feels like the 80th time that week and remind myself that this is not my first rodeo and it will not be the last. I do some stretching, sharing away any nerves. Welcoming that familiar light buzz that fills me every time I know I'm gonna kick some ass and help someone in this shitty town. I take a final deep breath. And I jump. Grappling from building to building. Flying and dipping through the air. As I soar through the sky I can't help but let out a cry of excitement and anticipation. I love this part of my night.

It's when I'm about halfway to Red Line that I see him. Nightwing, just a few buildings over running and jumping in the same direction as me. Does he see me? Does he know I've been worried sick about him for days? Unable to sleep because I had no idea what had happened to him? I go to yell his name but he plummets into an alley before my mouth gets a chance to form the "n". Landing on a fire escape, I wonder if I should go find him and tell him how sick I've been. How I've missed his stupid voice.

"Put the weapon away now!" A loud booming voice shouts, shaking me to my core. He sounds rough and gritty and one would think he was the criminal in question with a dangerous voice like that. Looking down I see Nightwing with his escrima sticks wielded and realize that I was once again a victim to my own thought and while I was pining over him he managed to sprint 2 blocks over to where I am now. I make a move to jump down but that's when I notice something really interesting. He's grown at least like 4 inches? Right? I mean he is looming over that robber- who, upon further examination, did in fact shoot that cop that was on the scene- but the robber couldn't be any taller than me....

I stay at my place on the fire escape and watch as this Nightwing skillfully disarms the menace while causing minimal damage to the man whose name is Doug because of course, returns the bag to the woman who was cowering around the corner, and checks on and stays with the cop lying on the side of the alley until his backup finally shows up 45 minutes later. The whole time I'm watching this I'm taking mental notes. His mannerisms are much stiffer and strict, he's not making his signature quips, and he definitely didn't do some sort of dumb flip while he was fighting that man which he almost always seems to do. When the backup arrives I make my escape to the top of the building. I had nothing to do with that altercation- even though I siked myself up and prepared for the fight of a lifetime with Doug the burglar- so there's really no reason for me to deal with any sort of cops tonight. I sit on the roof thinking about all the differences I spotted while observing Nightwing tonight and I decide that there's 100% something going on with him. Maybe he's ill? No, that can't be it he would've just stayed home, no? Well then maybe he's decided to turn a newer, more serious leaf? Noooo I don't think that's it either he really loves sassily fighting crime. Maybe he's brainwashed? But then why would he still be actively saving people? Wouldn't the brainwashers want him to go underground or something? I really don't think they'd-

"Who are you and why were you watching me?" The man parading as Nightwing snarls. God damn you, brain. I turn around to look for him. I don't see him at first But I know he's up here somewhere. That's when I saw him. A figure in the shadow. Hes big. Bigger than Nightwing that's for sure. Even though he's standing several feet away you can tell that this man is built like a brick house.

"Who are you and why are you pretending to be Nightwing?"

He's silent. Then he says, "I asked you first."

"Yeah okay, that's really mature. I'm Vulpine. You're impersonating my friend and I want to know why. Now you," I tilt my head up to show him I'm not fucking around.

"I'm a friend of Nightwing's. He's going to be out of town for a while but he wanted me to come here and make sure the city is doing fine." The man says this in a curt tone that makes it clear that he isn't going to answer any more questions I ask.

Tsk.

"And you had to dress like him?" Even though I can't see his face I just know he's staring at me.

"I had to make sure I didn't raise any eyebrows." He is very rapidly getting tired of me already. It makes me giddy.

"Hate to break it to you, dude, but little 5-foot-8-biult-like-a-dancer Nightwing is now.... what are you like 6 feet tall? He's somehow grown 4 whole inches in the past week and he's magically built like a freight train? Yeah fucking right. It would've been better if you just showed up in whatever you wear normally. Something akin to a bat, mayhaps?"

"You can't just say 'mayhaps'-"

"I can."

"No. You can't. Listen, I don't know what you know but it's clearly too much. I will be having a discussion with Nightwing about this as soon as possible. If I find out you were lying for even a second, I will find you." He steps out of the shadow he is under to deliver that last line. He's dramatic. I like him.

"Yeah, alright. When you talk to him tell him I miss him. Okay?" I give "Nightwing" a lopsided smile and decide that maybe tonight is not a patrol night. I salute the man and turn, jumping from the roof and grappling away. As I swing toward my house I can only hope that Batman- because that was clearly Batman- relays my message to the real Nightwing.

-

My first fic on here omg! This was loosely based on the newest edition of the Nightwing comic where Bruce dresses up as Nightwing and watches over Bludhaven for him. I thought It would be funny to write because clearly Bruce is built very differently from Dick and I just think it would be SOOOO obvious to others that it wasn't their typical Nightwing. It's not technically a Nightwing/ Reader fic buuuutttttttt it's like implied maybe. Like if you squint there's a small bit of chemistry and a lot of pining. Maybe I'll make another part.

[soviet-supersoldier]

Character Examination: Omega Red

Part 2: X-men (1991) #4

It's been a while since I've taken the time to do a deep dive on Arkady, but at long last, I've decided to tackle the most important Omega Red story: his first full appearance. Without this issue/arc, we wouldn't have our favorite supersoldier, and right out of the gate, we're hit with this cover:

Not too much to comment here about other than the cover is a pretty solid introduction. We're teased with his image, the full reveal to come on the inside of the pages. But one can already tell he has a unique design, the Omega symbol emblazoned on his glove, the tentacle you can see extended from his wrist, those are all visuals that make him already stand out from other foes the X-men had faced in the past. No one had a design quite like Arkady’s, and it's a hard one to top. Omega Red has a very iconic appearance.

Moving on to the interior, here he is right on the first page of the comic:

So, breaking down what we see here and what we already learned from where Arkady had come from in X-men (1991) #2, Matsu'o had to have taken Arkady’s frozen body to a remote location to have him revived. Given all the technology we see around him in the facility, as well as the medical jargon tossed around by the doctors they have bundled up in personal protection equipment, it's clear that Matsu'o is sparing no expense on getting Arkady back up and running. They did their research beforehand.

At this point, it's clear that Arkady was unthawed for the procedure to bring him back. One question to ask, though, about how all this works is why didn't Omega Red wake up the moment he was unthawed? Why was this magic ceremony needed? My best guess? He's so low on energy that he's essentially gone comatose, needing an outside force to inject life in, rather than him draining it out passively like one would expect. More on that in a moment. The Hand use their magic here to transfer the energy, and I find it interesting that it's not just a 1-for-1 exchange. 20 people have to die here to bring Arkady back. He must have had an incredibly low battery and required a lot of juice to jumpstart him.

It's up for debate whether or not it was the magic itself, Arkady’s powers, or an unholy mixture of both that caused the 20 men who sacrificed their life force to revive Arkady to disintegrate like they did. Arkady’s powers themselves have always seemed to be rather inconsistent in they way they affected his victims, with some people just collapsing, while others turned into shriveled corpses. I suppose this is all up to artist interpretation rather than a 100% accurate representation of what happens when Omega Red uses his powers. If there was more consistency in the display of his powers, this would be an easier moment to comment on.

Taking a moment to pick through what the doctors are saying here, the first thing I'm going to note is that they're speaking English. In fact, everyone in this scene ends up speaking English. There's a small part of me that was initially bothered by that, at least, coming from Arkady, since his native language is Russian, and one would think that would be the language he would first use after being revived. But then, I thought about it some more and realized that despite how he's likely feeling right now (probably like crap), Arkady has an incredible amount of situational awareness. He's able to pick up immediately from the moment he's revived that these doctors are speaking English and is able to quickly adjust accordingly to show no outward signs of disorientation the moment he actually starts talking.

There's always been these sorts of little details with how Arkady behaves that snowballs into a consistent character trait the more appearances of his you read: he doesn't like showing any form of vulnerability. If he's uncomfortable, he's not going to say so directly unless he has the power in the moment to forcefully get what he wants. Otherwise, he'll say nothing, adjusting his behavior to make it appear that he's unaffected and unbothered by the changes around him. It's a defense mechanism, one that really adds to his terrifying persona for anyone who isn't willing to look deeper than surface-level with him. People see the lack of reaction to something that would visibly affect most people and are intimidated by it, which is Omega Red’s intention. It's a rather effective way to cover for any weakness, and I think it's a rather unique character trait, the way he consistently presents himself to others. He's a very private individual and protective of his core individuality, memories and past, telling no one about his life or tastes unless the situation forces it or he's made incredibly comfortable with revealing a personal detail. There's an image Arkady is willing to present to the world, one that is darker than who he really is, and if that's the way people see him? He's not going to contest it. Better to keep people unaware of your vulnerabilities and insecurities rather than broadcast them for people to exploit you further with. It's not difficult to figure out that his life experiences hammered home that lesson rather quickly.

Once he's brought back, Arkady’s first action is to kill the doctors. Here, it is shown that personal protective equipment does nothing to negate his powers, but later comics will, on occasion, become inconsistent on this as well. From Arkady’s perspective, this action always read to me as more of an instinctual response, almost akin to taking a deep, shuddering breath of air after nearly being drowned. So here, he's killing these men to assure himself that he's even alive. This is only reinforced when you see him on the next page in all his naked glory:

The first words out of Arkady’s mouth are: "I... live?" Firstly, note the use of English. Arkady picks up on his surroundings fast. Secondly, note the questioning tone. He seems surprised to have been brought back. This is where the usage of the ceremony comes full circle. Because, when you really think about it, just how did Arkady end up naked in a freezer? He couldn't have been shoved in against his will, otherwise, where's his clothes? Why didn't he come out pissed? Instead, his first words were an expression of surprise, immediately followed up by a question of who had brought him back. He clearly knows someone else was responsible for his return. So what happened before this?

Given the way we see top Soviet brass try to manipulate Arkady into doing their dirty work in later issues, it's not too far of a stretch to imagine that they somehow convinced Arkady that it would be better for him to go into stasis than to keep him online. From their point of view, it was likely a decision done out of fear -- fear of losing control over him -- but there was probably some nugget of truth in their argument. At this point, Arkady’s powers and condition are really in flux, and Arkady was like very aware of his deteriorating condition even before being approached with this solution. With no easy cure, Arkady likely was easily convinced that going into stasis was his only chance for surviving long-term. But it didn't come without risk. Once again, note Arkady’s first question. He's surprised to be alive. There was probably a high chance that stasis wouldn't work, and he would end up dying anyway. No doubt he was told of the risk, but was convinced that locking himself away was for the best. Off with the clothes and into the freezer.

The next thing I want to point out on this page is Arkady’s appearance. Now, I'm well aware of the jokes made about Arkady’s manhood on this panel, but I'm also well aware of the lengths comics will go to cover up a man's nudity, so once again, something that's more of an art style/choice for censorship than anything I ever put any stock into. What I wanted to focus on is the visible cybernetics we can see all over Arkady’s skin here. From the head down, he's got patches of these little squares on his body. Besides the cybernetics we see on his face and head, we don't ever really see the full body cybernetics ever again. What was their purpose? How much of him was mechanical on the inside? We never are told, and his skin goes to the pure white color we always see afterward, the body markings disappearing completely, never to be seen again.

After Arkady asks his question, we see Matsu'o, hiding himself behind a protective glass. Now, one thing that always confused me about Matsu'o, especially when I was younger and reading these comics for the first time, was how much Matsu'o looked like Logan. I mean, same hair color, same hair style. They look like twins, and I used to confuse them a lot. I'm honestly surprised that Arkady didn't immediately jump him and demand the C-Synthesizer, I think those two look so much alike. So Matsu'o has some real guts showing up with that face and expecting Arkady to have a normal reaction, photograph of Logan or no. He also seems to really be relying on Arkady having good eyesight here, as you can see how small and far away Matsu'o is from Arkady’s perspective when he pulls out that photo that's the size of his hand (and that he's half-covering with his fingers).

He's really riding on quite the chance that Arkady has a great memory (and eyesight) to no only be able to tell that Matsu'o is not Logan, but also be able to call out Logan by name despite only ever being shown to have met him once before this, and maybe having heard Sabretooth shout out Logan’s name at that time (if he was lucky). Once again, Arkady’s amazing observational skills are on display. He picks up names fast, and that is another consistent character trait of his over the years: he picks up names quickly and never forgets who they belong to.

We hop to the X-men for a good chunk of the comic, and we next see Arkady when he's crashing Gambit and Rogue's first date:

You really have to wonder what those three would end up saying to each other if they met again at this point. I doubt Arkady cared that this date would end up being important to the foundation of their future relationship, and I doubt that Gambit and Rogue, even to this day, are happy with their first date being ruined in that way, but I'm sure that it would be an interesting conversation regardless (if they ever met again). Gambit and Rogue are now married. I'm sure an argument can be made on Arkady being instrumental to such young love getting the chance to form, even though such a realization would likely sicken him.

After he's disposed of the two lovebirds, Arkady goes after the rest of the team next:

Arkady drops Beast and Jubilee rather quickly, but Logan remains standing. Is his healing factor negating the effect and keeping him up longer than the others? Based on the way Logan is talking here, focusing more on Arkady’s scent than any taxation on his healing factor, that doesn't seem likely. Arkady likely used whatever limited control he has over his powers to attack just Beast and Jubilee, leaving Logan alone for more personal payback. It has been shown that he can do that, though it's not a trick we see him use often, especially these days.

After declaring that Omega Red should be dead, Arkady responds:

I find it interesting that Logan uses Arkady’s name here rather than his moniker of Omega Red. One would assume Logan got the name from an intelligence file Team X was given before their C-Synthesizer raid, so does that mean that Arkady wasn't known as Omega Red at that time? Possibly. Honestly it's actually more surprising that Logan even remembered Arkady’s name in the first place, since his mind at the time of this comic was worse than swiss cheese (this comes into play a lot in the future). However, smells have been scientifically proven to be some of the strongest memory connections a person can have, so Arkady’s scent was probably enough of a trigger to jog Logan’s memory. He must have made one hell of an impression on Logan’s scent memory.

So that concludes Arkady’s first full appearance in Marvel comics. There's three more issues left in this arc and they're likely to be even longer than this breakdown here, as there's a lot more to go through in those issues that ties Arkady into Team X. This arc does a lot to establish Omega Red into Marvel comics and where exactly he fits in relation to Wolverine and his foes. It's a rather interesting dynamic they all end up having.

[siena-sevenwits]

Goodness of yesterday:*

We had all been asked to attend the birthday party, which was themed around French Canadian history and the Order of Good Cheer, in clothing evocative of New France. I was going for a peasant habitant look, or at least a fantasy version of one with my limited costume choices. (Alas! I own a million costumes that are all made for a bunch of skinny high schoolers, and I am not that.) I cobbled together my red split front overdress, my gathered white chemise, and a thick petticoat beneath. About my waist I arranged a couple of coureur des bois sashes and a buckskin purse (which a real peasant woman probably would not have worn in the way I did, but at least they screamed "French Canadian.") Topped it off with a sort of cap made out of a toque and some lace, which I tucked my hair up into (probably the least convincing part of the ensemble, but I'm told it worked okay.)

I went into a shop to buy a present. My own car wasn't up to the road conditions, so I had borrowed my mom's van. It is the most massive thing you ever did see. I am entirely comfortable driving it but parking it in close quarters always has me in a flurry of second guesses. Anyway, the parking lot at the shop had been cleared of snow in the most insane way. A mountain of chunky snow the size of a small building blocked the end of several parking rows, so there was now way to drive the perimeter, and most importantly, no room to turn around in a honkin' big van. I slipped into the very last available parking space, only just managing to fit, right next to the mountain of snow. And I was terrifying I would not be able to back out. Yeah, I could back out the way I'd got in, but not turn around. (Add to this that of course the parking lot lines are all covered with snow, which leads to people just guessing and parking in a shambles way. Well, I've been in situations with that huge van which I did not want to relive. So I found myself praying to Jesus that when I came out of the shop, the car parked immediately across from me would be gone and no one would have taken its place, so I could just drive through the empty space and escape. And when I came out, He'd done it for me. I was so happy. Nothing miraculous by any means, but I felt loved.

And so I escaped.

The shop in question was Indigo. They had a single copy of 84 Charing Cross Road, which would be right up my friend's alley! They've never had it in stock before. Very gratifying.

Then on to the amazing birthday party. It was an absolute blast. The house was resplendent with Christmas. We had hearty French Canadian fare (including one of the best tourtieres I have ever tasted - beautifully flaky crust!) and ciders and homemade teas.

We sang lots of traditional songs in French (I was one of the only people there who did not speak French, but I kept up all right with the sheet music in front of me. It helped that I knew I couple of the tunes.) Sometimes the music was accompanied on harp or piano.

Everyone was also asked to bring a folk song to sing for the company. I asked them if they felt like hearing about kings or crime. One lone voice called, "Kings!" The rest of the room chorused, "Crime!" So I sang them "The Lincolnshire Poacher."

I was asked to call a ceilidh. There was not much room for longwise dancing in the living room, but they managed to dance The Bridge of Athlone like pros!

I did some praying in the car on the way home and became aware in a new way of some areas in my life that are messed up and that I really need to get serious about working on. It was not comfortable, but it didn't disturb my peace and get me down with shame, which often to me is a sign that it might be worth taking seriously as from God, rather than just a streak of discouragement or anxiety. And it's a grace, and a very Advent one, to have a chance to see these things more clearly.

I fell asleep reading about Amarantha and her "kidnapping."