#booker is a shitshow but he's ~our~ shitshow

[sb-essebi]

aaah I'm so happy I could put my thoughts on 1489 Hob in order enough for others to understand why I like him!!!

okay, sorry if this isn't super coherent and I make typos, it's late and I've had a trying day and I'm beat but you make such interesting points about TOG I really want to try to reply-

I think Hob would feel especially sorry for Andy and Booker.

Booker is textbook 'immortality is a curse' trope. Also, he's very young compared to Hob so I feel like Hob would be protective of him and want to show him there's so much to life!!! I think he'd feel terrible that Book's kids were resentful of his immortality and he'd try to break him (and the others tbh) of the habit of only being friends amongst themselves (immortals) and show them that mortal friends can be very meaningful too! Like yes Hob is lonely and does need someone who knows the truth of him and his whole immortal life, but in canon he never shies away from relationships with mortals. We know he's had multiple romantic relationships, and I think we can for sure assume he had friends too, and colleagues and aquaintances: he's had very normal lives and jobs after all.

He and Andy have a lot in common. Mostly loneliness and guilt. Andy on a longer timescale, but Hob understands. I think he'd be baffled by her not wanting to be immortal anymore and being fine with the discovery she can die now, and he'd try to make his case for "there's so much to live for!" and "death is a mug's game!".

But also he'd understand her guilt over being unable to save Quynh, both because he's something of an expert on guilt (over doing terrible things, which? they would bond about both realistically killing a ton of people when they were young? Andy and Quynh were just fucking around on the steppes picking fights before Nicky and Joe), and because he's got that same guilt, like, in theory? I bet Hob feels guilty he just wrote off Dream not coming in 1989 as Dream being... being Dream. I bet he feels guilty he didn't remember that you can get hurt or captured. I bet he feels guilty he just waited, and didn't try to find out if something was off.

Actually, I think he'd be so fucking down to help save Quynh, he has generational wealth (which the TOG immortals do not, as far as we know?) he can buy a submarine! (I'm jumping between post and pre TOG movie headcanons here I just realized but. You get what I mean.)

And the loneliness. I bet Hob was really fucking lonely those 133 years. He knows what it is to be apart from the most important person in your life. And Andy IS lonely. I think it's crucial that we first see her alone, and THEN she goes to meet N&J. I think it's telling us something. N&J are a package deal and disgustingly in love (/pos!!!) and I KNOW she never ever let them see it but it hurts her sometimes that they still have what she lost.

He'd vibe with Joe and Nicky. They're much less angsty, Nicky had a catholic upbringing like Hob (at arguably quite different times for the church, one sliiiiiiglty pre total disgusting corruption and the other well after the shitshow but not at the height of it (1517)), and in general it seems like J&N do love life? They certainly love being able to be together forever, but also they enjoy things like food and games. I think they'd have filosophical discussions about things like destiny and such. Nicky believes in destiny as basically divine providence, but I dunno what Hob would think. He feels like the type who would say we make our own destiny, but I can also see him say that life just happens with highs and lows and you can only try your very best to make the best of it... but his meeting with Dream and getting immortality? How is that NOT destiny? So I can't really say what Hob would believe. And we don't get much insight into Joe's mind in the movie unfortunately :(

Nile is baby, obvs, and also a soldier. Hob immediately "indoctrinates" her on the way of enjoying things and loving life. He calls dibs. He's breaking the TOG immortality-is-a-curse circle. He's tutoring this one, ta very much.

Hob Gadling - the absolute maddest of immortal lads

One of the things I love most about Hob Gadling as a character (and as a result, do my best to capture in fic) is how unique his reactions are to immortality and to Dream, and how he so often does the opposite of what one would expect from the genre of "humans granted immortality" but also what the average person and most of the audience expects that they would do with immortality, lending well to the concept that Hob is, genuinely, unhinged and a truly supernatural creature in his own right, which is often lost when the character we see him most often juxtaposed against is Dream, who is even more odd and unhinged if in very different ways

(I've decided to be systematic about this and go through meeting by meeting so strap in, folks it got long, as usual!)

1389 - First of all, Hob simply bragging at all that he doesn't plan to die. OG hipster right there, loving life before it was cool. But also, ok, loving life after being born less than a decade after the Black Plague ended. And in the midst of a great many Black Plague aftershocks! The latter half of the 1300s was a truly abysmal time to be alive, with huge social upheaval, war, plagues, "two bloody Popes fightin'" and in the midst of all this is Hob motherfuckin' Gadling, cheerfully announcing that death is for suckers and he doesn't intend to ever do it.

The man is a soldier! You'd think he'd be more accepting and philosophical about his inevitable death given the time he lives in, the profession he has chosen, the fact that most young men his age were wiped out at age 9 by the second wave of the Black Death, and just, in general, doing all of this while having the misfortune to live in England at the time.

And then when Dream comes up to him, like a complete weirdo, and challenges him on this, Hob is actually pretty nice to him! He gives him a side eye but he also goes along with the question, tells him to ignore his friend's jibes, and cheerfully accepts the wager! I cannot express to you how many turns in the road there are between what a normal person would do and what Hob Gadling does in that moment.

1489 - This one bugs me because the most unexpected thing Hob does is seemingly regress in maturity despite now being 100+ years old.

Now, I'm a huge fan of the theory that he's conning Dream right now and putting on the innocent chucklehead routine to put Dream off from kidnapping him to Faerie Land in exchange for his immortality. HOWEVER, since that's just a headcanon, let's take Hob as he is on the page!

Hob has a job. A Freaking Job. He used to be a bandit and a soldier, things that kind of make sense to do as an immortal (like The Old Guard) when you can't die! You could theoretically make BANK there just by taking dangerous jobs. But Hob doesn't?? He gets a normal-ass job, though in that day's equivalent of getting a job at Microsoft or Apple before they became big, Caxton is like one of the first modern startups in essence, a new technology that made TONS of money once it was imported, and Hob was on the ground floor. Still. HE GOT A JOB as an IMMORTAL. He doesn't seem to have this immortality thing figured out yet? And he doesn't ask Dream hardly any questions about it either! You'd think he'd be frothing at the mouth to better understand wtf happened to him, but once Dream clarifies that he's not the Devil and Hob's soul isn't in danger, that's it! No further questions, your honor! WHAT??

Also, just when you WOULD expect him to beg for death (that IS the genre savvy thing to do, Dream's not wrong!) he DOESN'T. He's more in awe than ever, he seems to be experiencing a second childhood over the fact. He's just vibing and living life. That's so, so unusual in this genre.

Hob also hasn't done any of the savvy things an immortal might do after 100 years! He doesn't actually seem all that angsty about why is he immortal, beyond a bit of fear he might need to pay the piper (Dream) now for this gift. Most vampires in an Anne Rice novel would have gone through about 20 stages of grief after they dealt with the first 100 years of everyone they know and love dying but Hob seems to not only be unbothered but actively gearing up for the next century. It's so bizarre. IT'S SO BIZARRE and I love it because I LOVE characters who DON'T do what you'd expect!

1589 - Hob has a family. HOB HAS A FAMILY. Who in their right MIND would start a family, knowing you'd have to bury your spouse and your children? HOB MOTHERFUCKING GADLING that's who! It's incomprehensible! He does it anyway! It's why I headcanon that he planned to support and nurture his family throughout time, like it was all very deliberate to found a dynasty, but it need not be! Knowing him, he just saw a pretty girl and married her! He didn't even CONSIDER his own wife and children getting angry and jealous with him for having immortality he can't share with them? He didn't even CONSIDER the heartbreak?? WHAT?! Who knows! He just did!

Now, this Hob HAS begun to do SOME of the things one would expect of an immortal - like build up generational wealth, BUT he has a KNIGHTHOOD. What immortal in their right MIND would draw that sort of attention to themselves?? HOB, THAT'S WHO. What are you ON, man, that's INSANE! No wonder he got drowned as a witch the man had ZERO CAUTION AT ALL.

1689 - the man is destitute. HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN IF YOU'RE AN IMMORTAL? This is AS puzzling as anything else. Theoretically, Hob could just take a dangerous job with a high fatality rate for quick cash and rebuild his fortune pretty quickly, but he DOESN'T. What went wrong? The possibilities are tantalizing and painfully human that maybe he did do that and failed anyway, or hit even WORSE strings of truly abysmal bad luck.

But somehow, at 300 YEARS OLD it's not until 1789 that we hear Hob has begun socking money away for a rainy day! How does it TAKE YOU that long, sir?? How is that NOT something you figure out in your first century? I've seen a lot of fan writers ascribe a certain amount of immortal savvy to Hob but it's REALLY not there on the page! The guy is NOT genre savvy about immortality AT ALL he doesn't do ANY of the things one would expect, it's absolutely WILD that he falls this low after 300 years after completely failing to, theoretically, CONSIDER this possibility! And then, AND THEN, the guy STILL wants to live. I mean, this one hardly needs saying, that's nuts after what he went through, it's on the page that he's NUTS for this. But the guy is literally in the gutter dreaming of the stars, he is unstoppable I love him so fucking much what a force of nature.

1789 - OK, we've already mentioned that it took until 1789 for Hob to start saving money for a rainy day but let's talk about the fact HE'S NOT ACTUALLY CAREFUL ABOUT BEING CAPTURED?? Again, least genre savvy immortal EVER. You can't die so you'd THINK that being captured or imprisoned or god forbid, thrown down a mine shaft would be the SCARIEST possible fates when you don't have death as an escape, but the guy doesn't even blink at the thought of getting captured by an occultist like Johanna Constantine, dude's totally unbothered! DREAM has to tell him after 400 YEARS that maybe he should be worried about this? THE GUY GOT DROWNED AS A WITCH, picked himself up, dusted himself off, got into some crimes against humanity, and MOVED ON apparently without learning a single goddamn lesson he hasn't had since 1389 which is how to kick ass and look good doing it BUT HE'S NOT EVEN A PROFESSIONAL FIGHTER AS A CAREER, he's just a gentleman of means!

He just... lives a normal human life and seems to expect weird things like being kidnapped by occultists to not happen so long as he stays within those boundaries and you know what? IT SEEMS TO HAVE WORKED! Because to be fair, how many of us outside the bounds of fiction would ever expect the wild stuff like kidnapping to really happen? It's statistically quite vanishingly rare! And that's been all Hob has needed, presumably, to not need to stress since the damn witch trials about his immortality! So yeah, I read fic where Hob is like this very savvy immortal but by 400 YEARS he's BARELY learned to have a savings account under a different name and he STILL doesn't seem too bothered by the possibility of getting hurt or captured! Like, AT ALL?! Absolutely class act right here, top lad, unbelievable, no notes. HOW do you SURVIVE like this as an anomaly, Hob?

1889 - By now, it SEEMS like Hob has bought a clue. He's pretty understated, he's made some amends, SEEMS to have resolved to be less of a shithead, and he's got this immortality thing figured out. It only took him 500 FUCKING YEARS. But again, Hob ISN'T fabulously wealthy as far as we can tell. He's not a megalomaniac and he STILL seems to be vibin' as just a dude doing Just A Dude things like HAVING A JOB and if we borrow from Hob's Leviathan a bit, he's STILL just jumping between industries, just living life down at the normal human level. He hasn't detached from humanity, he lives in the day to day on a level that's just INCONCEIVABLE for a being that's 500 years old.

1989 - Ok, moving on a bit from Hob being an immortal, because getting excited about technology like his brick phone is absolutely so charming I want to squish his cheeks, but he's hardly the only immortal to get excited about that. What I want to talk about is how HOB FORGIVES DREAM for 1889. Because, look, Dream is a prick there. Hob could have been more diplomatic but Dream could have waited for the apology and he didn't.

I have seen SO MANY TAKES where Hob would be MAD after 1889 and RIGHTFULLY SO. But he's NOT. He's not! There are so many fics where he has lingering hurt over it but that's just NOT what the character does! He blames himself! Guy did pretty much nothing wrong except maybe choose his words poorly, but he's blaming HIMSELF for making Dream uncomfortable. Absolute legend. Saints have nothing on this man, that is saint-like behavior. I'd be furious. Hob just misses his friend and BLAMES HIMSELF that Dream isn't there. Not an a single, microscopic trace of anger in sight.

2022 - And then, AND THEN, when he has EVERY REASON to flip out when Dream shows up, finally, after 133 YEARS, after Hob has APPARENTLY stuck around the area just in case, WAITING for him, what does this fucking legend say? "You're late."

THAT'S IT! He's not mad, he totally has a right to be! He doesn't jump out of his chair in shock, that would be a totally expected reaction to! He glances up! He acts like Dream is 5 minutes late instead of over a century WHAT IS THAT?? WHAT IS THAT?! HOW?!! They just settle back with a pint after that like it's nothing. That's not what I would do. I don't think that's what almost any human would do after a shock like that. I still can't wrap my head around it.

So anyway, Hob Gadling, absolutely FASCINATING character from the perspective of just not doing a single fucking thing you'd expect an immortal Just A Dude to do. Goddamn legend right there. Worth remembering for those like me who are obsessed enough to write this guy in fic. He is just so... opposite of everything you'd expect and that is so fucking sexy of him wow

[dinnfameron]

Are you ready for the one thing literally no one asked for or wants? Good, get ready for some Booker discourse.

And also just my thoughts in general re: the source material.

Ok so i just finished reading the old guard: opening fire, & jesus FUCK did they leave out a whole hunk of Booker's backstory.

So in the movie i think he says something about dying while fighting under Napoleon which.... yes & no. Booker was a counterfeiter who was conscripted into Napoleon's army rather than being sent to prison. (He had served time in prison before this btw.) So Napoleon invades Russia & if you know anything abt that then you know it was not a fun time for anyone, maybe particularly the French. Because the Russians are fueled by pure bitter hatred & would rather destroy their own fucking country than surrender it to an invader. So that's what they did: they burned everything as they retreated. Which meant the French had nothing to eat.

Many many soldiers starved to death, & many others deserted, which is what Book did. Andy said he freely admits deserting... he was freezing & starving & didn't even voluntarily sign up for it in the first place.

So he gets caught and he gets hanged for desertion. Only surprise surprise, it doesnt take. Booker is smart enough to fake it, though, so the army will leave him alone.

Except they decide to make camp there for 3 fucking days. So poor Sebastian le Livre is hanging, not dead (or possibly dying over & over? Its unclear.) for 3 goddamn days waiting for the army to break camp. When they're gone, the crows come to eat the dead bodies, and Booker catches one & fucking eats it raw because, you know, starving.

So yeah, if you're wondering why Booker is such a shitshow of a human being, um. I'm gonna say that whole situation was a factor.

Andy also says he's the only one of them who understands technology. It's like his thing. Which if he's a counterfeiter & a book collector that actually makes sense? He appreciates info systems & knows how to break them down & fit them back together. (Not that he really does much with this knowledge because, y'know, shitshow.)

I'm also pretty sure he's the only one in the film who wears a watch? So that's a nice little nod to the character.

- Also Joe & Nicky's original death is amazing & epic & I neeeeeeeed it if there's a sequel because they basically just kill each other over & over & over for like an entire day? Or longer? And they're surrounded by hundreds of dead bodies because it was a whole ass battle & they're the last two standing? And they keep waking up in each other's arms except it's because they killed each other & then they just do it again? I loooooove them.

- Also this exchange just after Andy's "signal" in Paris:

Booker: Good?

Nile: No, but fuck it.

Booker: Yeah, you'll fit right in.

- Andy also teases Book for being French army like it doesnt really count lmaoo.

- Joe calls Nicky babe, i'm fucking sent.

- The van scene goes down exactly like it does in the movie except Joe's speech is even longer & gayer.

-Andy envies Nile for having a picture of what her family looks like.

-I also need Achilles to have his own movie.

-Nile was planning to study art history when she got out of the service. She used to watch antiques roadshow with her mom. :''(

-Joe & Nicky's full legal names (at least currently) are Joe Jones & Nick Smith lmao. This is even funnier when you realize Booker is the one in charge of the cover identities, like he's literally doing the bare fucking minimum at this point.

- Merrick is even more of a fuckboy in the comics. He stabs Nicky & Joe a whooole bunch of times.

- Andy is over 6700 years old. Meaning she's literally older than domesticated cats.

- Andy actually figred out that Booker was the judas in paris, but wouldn't admit it to herself. I like that bc it seemed obvs in the film so i wondered why Andy wouldn't have figured it out.

- I actually liked the whole 3rd act of the movie better than the book.

-Also Nile doesnt meet Joe & Nicky until the end of the comics so im v glad we got more interaction with them in the movie.

- The bit where they decide what to do with Booker takes place in Malta. So yay for Joe & Nicky on that one. <3

[jzixuans]

please sir, can I have some tog fic recs?

oh SO many hold on okay (these are all gonna be on ao3)

also under the cut to spare my poor followers

i’ll lay my roots in fertile ground by itsmylifekay (13154 words)

Andy did this on purpose, she’s sure of it. No matter how many excuses about skillsets and plans and 'you’ve been working on your Arabic, it’ll be good practice, Nile'… she knows now it was all a bunch of lies. There can be no other explanation for why she has been here, stuck with Joe in the middle of a hot, Italian summer while Andy has taken Nicky to the northern most part of France. It is a unique and unexpected kind of hell.

(A series of seven stories, snapshots of the first few years of Nile's time with the team. I'm trash for Nile & Nicky & Joe dynamics so there's a lot of that in here, but the others are all part of the craziness as well.)

fluffy slice of life post movie, really funny, really soft, i love how the author built their relationships

though you are alone and not quite beyond loneliness by dialux (26238 words)

“Joe didn’t lie back in that lab,” Booker tells him gently. “I am selfish. I am a liar. But beyond everything else, Nicky, I’m a coward.”

“Really,” says Nicky, looking unimpressed.

[Booker tries to save his family from Quynh. He's rather good at it, if not a little dramatic about the entire process. In the meantime, he learns a little more about himself, his family, and the definitions of bravery, forgiveness and love.]

a study in booker! real in depth, real great long read. (warning for antagonist quỳnh)

even if we win the battle by glitter_lisp (2591 words)

"Our Nile may have missed her calling,” Nicky says with a choked, hoarse laugh. “She should have been an actor. Or a surgeon.”

Then he slumps over in Joe's arms, unconscious, and Nile drops the scalpel, spins around, and throws up on the carpet.

whump but oh so good. focus on nile + nicky after a particularly harrowing mission with some good good nile + joe. (warnings for torture, mentions of throwing up (i mean it’s in the summary), blood, and some leftover trauma)

six summers down by sharkhette (3385 words)

Nile watched the first rays of the sun come filtering through the trees, softly dappling the path in yellow and grey. "Tell me something good?" she asked. "Everything's been such a shitshow since I met you—since even before that. And now, with Booker gone, and Andy…" She swallowed and turned to Nicky, who watched her with big, soft eyes. "Just tell me something I can look forward to in all this."

nile and nicky go for a run. the consequences of immortality catch up to her. some real good nile + nicky plus bonus immortal family at the end (warning for talk of quỳnh’s drowning)

atlas by bestillmyslashyheart (1336 words)

Nile is fine until she isn't. When the weight of her actions catches up to her, she needs someone to talk to.

some more nile + nicky from that time i deep dived the tag. for when you want to imagine nicky scooping you up in a big warm hug

i found love where it wasn’t supposed to be by imadetheline (1070 words)

Nile has a nightmare. Her family is there for her. And for one another.

late night immortal family dance party. makes you feel like everything is right in the world

at the crossings of two heart lines by mayqueen517 (4239 words)

"You understand - you cannot look back until you both stand beneath the sun."

"I do not need to see my love to know he is there. He is the breath in my lungs and the beat of my heart."

"Very well." ---

A Joe/Nicky twist on the Orpheus/Eurydice myth.

if you thought hadestown made you cry, this’ll wrench you more. happy ending though!! (warnings for death (obv), so much despair and hopelessness)

this lifetime and the next by kirasometimes (6662 words)

Shortly after marrying the love of his life, Nicky dies and his husband disappears.

or: Nicky is newly immortal and Joe has no idea.

a super interesting take. it’s still living in my head two weeks later and i Really need to reread it. (warnings for death, blood, stabbings, canon typical violence i guess. lab capture)

#nickyisnotamouse (and other stories from a happy universe) by lydenicokite (6806 words)

It may be a cliché to say this (“I didn’t want to become famous, it just happened!”), but Nicolò’s youtube career started as a joke. Actually, it started with Yusuf, like all the best things in Nicky’s life.

--

Nicky is a famous Youtuber, even if most of his fans are more interested in Joe, the elusive cameraman who never appears in front of the camera but flirts with Nicky in every video, than in the actual cooking and book reviewing. #RevealTheHusband and #WhereIsJoe are trending on twitter every time Nicky uploads a new video, but Nicky still believes it's important to keep his life with Joe private. It can't be that difficult, right?

hilarious modern youtuber!nicky au with lots of great interactions between the team and also nicky’s adorable (warning for drinking)

this time with knives by arkada (3588 words)

Joe gets into trouble on a mission.

Nicky gets him back.

badass nicky with knives saves his husband. nile + nicky + joe on a mission. not as angsty as it sounds. (warning for canon typical violence, death (joes dies a good handful), lots of described stabbing and slashing, blood)

even oaks must bend by winteryknights (2631 words)

The sidestreets are dead silent compared to the bustle of downtown, letting both ease and worry simmer in Joe’s bones as they pass only occasional pedestrians on their walk to the address Copley had given them. It’s a small apartment, part of a stonework building that’s likely just as old as Booker himself and a part of Joe wonders if he’d chosen it for the familiarity. A bigger part of him finds that it still hurts to care.

Or,

Andy doesn't have ninety years, but she does have a plan.

they go get booker early. things are sorted out. nicky and joe’s pain is acknowledged and booker is held accountable

ever have i never by nilmiel (525 words)

“Never have I ever had Joe profess his undying love for me to a bunch of people trying to kill us.” Joe had run out to pick up the takeout they’d ordered, and Nile had decided to teach the remaining group of fossils she now called family a new game for while they waited. And if it was a game she was guaranteed to win? Well. That wasn’t on purpose. — A small fic in which Joe loves his family, and the immortal fam love Joe.

i just really like joe waxing poetic about his family

the devil you know by falseconfidence (2254 words)

In which Nile drives the getaway car for the first time and quickly learns that there's a reason why everyone in this family drinks.

where nicky is your annoying dad in the passenger seat and andy slashes the tires of a dickbag and nile is Very Tired (warning for brief canon typical violence, unsafe car practices)

let our moment linger by indiebitch (1466 words)

there was something so lovely about Yusuf being draped across him like this. The rise and fall of his stomach as a reminder that his love, his heart was still breathing. The happy little sighs Joe would let out every once in a while. It just made Nicky so happy he could weep.

or Nicky loving to watch his husband sleep

soft sleepy husbands fluff

i found peace in your violence by incurableromancer (1387 words)

Nile knows that Joe could take apart and reassemble any make or model of gun you put in front of him while blindfolded and probably handcuffed. She knows that he can competently fly more planes and man more ships than Nile has or will see for many, many years to come. She’s heard stories about him defusing bombs and making it home in time for dinner, and yet. He’s still mildly afraid of microwaves, and doesn’t know how to type with his thumbs. Nile has seen him cry at The Notebook, and then cry again hours later while telling Nicky about it.

Or: found family, and moments of happiness, peace and healing between the chaos.

nile and joe hang out!!!

hope these are enough to tide you over!! (and lmk if i missed a link or anything)

[dearestdaffodils]

Season 1, Episode 1: PILOT

A/N: A lot of quotes and character dialogue is taken from the show! I am not trying to take credit for the amazing work the writers and actors and everyone involved in this show did! I also left out writing scenes that don’t involve the main group (IE: Ward and Sarah talking with Lana Grubbs) and a few other scenes simply because I wasn’t quite sure how to write them. 

Warnings (for the whole series): violence (as it is in the show), swearing, mentions of abuse, underage drinking and smoking, drug use

Word Count: 3579

“The Outer Banks, paradise on earth.” I tune out John B’s voice, ignoring his ‘welcome to the OBX’ speech for the camera. He was determined to make a documentary about our lives this summer, though I really didn’t know why. 

Welcome to the OBX, an island divided in two. You either have two houses or two jobs, that’s what John B always says. That blond boy sitting next to me, that’s JJ. My boyfriend. He’s as local as they come. Latest in a very long line of fishing, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt-lifers who make their living off the water. Don’t tell him I said this but he’s the best surfer I know. Mild kleptomaniac and probably a future tax cheat. 

The girl across from me is Kiara or Kie. When she’s not saving turtles or listening to Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo, she hangs with us. None of us really know why she’s a rich kid after all. Next to her is the brains of our little operation. Pope. Finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship and the smartest kid I know. 

The kid in the driver’s seat, the one who is paying more attention to his camera than the road, that’s John Booker Routledge, but everyone calls him John B. He’s kinda like my brother. He and his dad took me in when my family dumped me on their front porch when JB and I were about four. He drives me crazy and he knows it. 

And then there’s me. Y/N Y/L/N. Little Routledge as JB likes to call me even though I’m four months older than him. Big John disappeared nine months ago at sea, which means JB and I have been on our own since Uncle T split for Mississippi. Everyone insists that Big John is dead but John B refuses to sign the papers until he sees a body. 

Social workers have been on our asses nearly every day, trying to force us into foster care. John B and I have managed to avoid them so far. 

So this is how our story starts. Me losing nearly all of my second family and a social worker breathing down my neck. 

JB and I are probably the only two people in history to say this but thank god for hurricane Agatha. 

“Hurricane Agatha continues its steady march towards Kildare Island on the Outer Banks of North Carolina…” JB set the radio on the counter, turning up the volume as we listened for a miracle to keep DCS away. 

“Holy shit.” I look outside, taking in the dark sky and swirling wind. “JB, I think we found our miracle!” I shout over the storm siren, fishing my phone out of the couch cushions and dialing the number for DCS. “Yeah, I think we’re gonna have to reschedule.” I blurt into the phone, barely giving the woman time to answer. 

John B rips the phone out of my hand, hanging up and dragging me outside. “We gotta surf the storm surge!” 

“Are you insane?” I stumble after him, dodging tree branches. “Those aren’t surfable waves!” 

“Says who?” He laughs. “Come on!” He drags me along, pausing to grab our boards. 

I run after him, splashing into the water as the storm rages around us. I paddle after John B, surfing a few waves before the storm starts to pick up its pace. “JB! We gotta get inside!” I shout. John B stares out towards the open water, ignoring me. 

“JB!” I shout. “We have to go!” I turn to look at him, my gaze following his extended arm and index finger. My eyes land on a boat, getting tossed around in the storm. “John B, we don’t have time to worry about what those idiots are doing, let’s go!” 

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 

The morning after a hurricane always feels like something out of a movie. The silence fills the gaps of life, save for the sound of chickens and the occasional shouts from neighbors.

I peel my eyes open, hearing John B moving around in the kitchen. I swing my legs over the side of my bed (which is really just two mattresses stacked on top of each other) and slowly stand up. I shield my eyes from the sunlight pouring in from my windows, moving the towels that double as my curtains out of the way.

I grab my phone from the stack of books next to my bed, checking the time. “No service,” I mutter, opening my door and stepping onto the cold wood floor of the Chateau. 

“JJ, you been outside?” John B asks the blond boy, shaking his shoulder. 

“I have polio, bro. I can’t walk.” JJ mumbles, burying his face deeper into the pillow. 

I make my way to the front door, lightly swatting at JJ to get him up. “Oh man…” I whisper, looking outside. “That’s no good.” I survey the yard, taking in the damage. “What’re you thinking, JB?” 

“I’m thinkin’ that storm surge pushed all the crabs out on the marsh maze. It’s God tellin’ us to fish since DCS isn’t getting on a ferry anytime soon.” John B grins. 

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 

I stand on the bow of the HMS Pogue with JJ, looking at all the damage. “We’ll be cleaning this all summer.” I murmur, shaking my head. 

“That is my nightmare.” John B pipes up from behind the wheel, pulling up parallel to the dock just outside Heyward’s. “Well, look who we have here.” 

“I can’t.” Pope mimics static, pretending to talk into a radio on his shoulder. “My pop’s got me on lockdown.” 

“Your dad’s a pussy. Over.” JJ does the same, looking directly at Heyward. 

“Oh, I heard that, you little bastard.” Heyward glares at JJ.

“We need your son.” JJ flashes one of his signature smiles.

“Yeah, and island rules.” I bite my lip to stifle a laugh. “Day after hurricane’s a free day.” 

“Who made that up?” Heyward looks between me and Pope. 

“Pentagon, I believe.” I laugh. “We have security clearance. I have a card.” 

“You think I’m stupid?” Heyward frowns as Pope moves towards the edge of the dock. 

“I’ll do it tomorrow. I promise. Tomorrow.” Pope moves to jump into the boat as Heyward moves forward. 

“You think - no, no. Hell no. You doin’ it right now.” 

“Get in the boat, Pope,” I whisper. “Make a run for it.” 

Pope leaps into the boat, holding his hat on his head. “I promise I’ll do it tomorrow, dad!” 

“We’ll bring him back in one piece!” I call to Heyward, waving. 

The boys whoop and cheer, driving up to Kie’s dock. I smile wide, grabbing onto the dock as we wait for her. 

“Good morning!” Kie hurries down the dock, carrying her usual backpack and cooler, her hair neatly tied up on the top of her head. 

“Welcome aboard, fellow Pogue princess.” I laugh, saluting her. “Whatcha got? Juice boxes?”

“You know, just some yogurts and carrot sticks. I made sandwiches too, cut the crusts off how you like ‘em.” She teases, poking my nose. 

I help her onto the boat, grabbing a beer from the cooler as John B drives out into the marsh. He weaves through the channels, leaning back in the captain’s seat, looking as if he’s asleep at the wheel. I wouldn’t be concerned if he was though, he knows these waters better than he knows himself.  

“Can you go a little faster?” JJ asks, stepping up to the bow. “I got a party trick to show you.” He balances on the edge of the boat, tilting the beer bottle, letting the liquid flow freely from the bottle. 

“You’re getting beer in my hair!” Kie and I shout in unison, screaming and falling out of our seats as the boat hits something, stopping immediately. “Jesus, JB!” 

JJ groans, popping up from the water in front of the boat. “I think my heels touched the back of my head.” He chokes out. 

“What did you do?”  I push myself off the deck of the boat, resting a hand on John B’s shoulder. 

“Sandbar.” John B mumbles. “The channel changed.” 

“No shit, genius.” I shake my head. 

“Hey, I saved the beer, though!” JJ cheers. 

“Congrats, J.” I lean over the side, sticking my hand out to him. “Come on.” 

“Guys… I think there’s a boat down there.” Pope calls, looking over the other side of the boat. 

“Shut up, no way.” Kie scoffs. 

“I’m serious. There’s a boat down there.” Pope points. 

I join him on the side, looking down at the shape in the water. “Only one way to find out.” I shrug, quickly discarding my shirt and shorts before diving in. I swim down, peering around in the murky water. My eyes go wide and I swim up, grabbing onto the edge of the boat. “That’s a fucking Grady-White. A new one is like an easy 500 G’s.” 

“That’s the boat we saw when we surfed the surge.” John B looks at me. “Maybe it hit the jetty or something.” 

“Do we know whose boat that is?” Kie frowns. 

“No, but we’re about to find out.” I smile. 

“It’s way too deep.” JJ shakes his head. “You’re not going down there.” 

“Oh, for the weak and feeble, JJ.” John B chuckles. “Little Routledge can handle it.” He turns his attention to me, saluting me. “Diver down.” 

“Diver down.” I flip him off before diving back down, searching around the boat. I pop up after a moment, pushing my hair out of my face. 

“Any dead bodies?” Pope asks nervously. 

“Looting potential?” JJ asks at the same time. 

I shake my head, holding up a bright yellow tag with a key attached. “I found this motel key.” 

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 

I jump out of the boat as we reach the motel, tying the rope around a stump. “So, what’s the plan?” 

“You’ll see, bubba.” John B grabs my wrist and JJ’s arm, pulling us along. 

“Yeah, that doesn’t inspire confidence, dumbass.” I roll my eyes. “This place is a shitshow, doesn’t look like anywhere someone with a Grady-White stays.” 

“Motel or meth lab?” Kie mutters under her breath. 

“You be the judge,” Pope mutters back before giving me a pointed look. “Don’t let your boyfriend do anything stupid.” 

“I can’t make any promises.” I raise my hands in surrender as we walk off, going up the steps of the motel. 

John B leads us to the door, checking the number on the key as JJ knocks on the door. 

“Housekeeping!” JJ calls in a high pitched voice, waiting for an answer. 

“Should we try it?” John B asks, prompting nods from JJ and me.

We enter the room, closing the door behind us. I look around the room, handing John B a map from the bed. I move towards the bathroom, seeing John B messing with the safe out of the corner of my eye. I scan the walls of the dark and dirty room, shining my flashlight around

“You guys are gonna wanna see this.” He murmurs. 

JJ and I hurry over, looking in the safe. “Damn…” I whisper, looking at the stack of money, a gun laying on top of it.

JJ grins like a maniac, grabbing the gun from the safe. 

“JJ, put that down now!” I whisper-shout. 

“Just take a picture of me! Right here and then I’ll put it back!” 

“You want me to take a picture of you?” I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. “Make our own incriminating evidence?” I look up, hearing a tapping on the window. I hurry over, looking out to see Pope and Kie jumping up and down. 

“Cops!” Kie shouts quietly. 

“Shit, boys, time to go,” I whisper. “Cops.”

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 

“Thanks for warning us so quickly.” I laugh, playfully shoving at Kie’s shoulder as we push off from the motel. 

“We would have warned you sooner except Pope was on the math team.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Did you guys find anything?” Pope asks. 

“No, I don’t think so.” JJ sighs before pulling out the gun and a stack of cash. “ Oh, yeah, we did.” 

“Are you serious?” Pope shouts in a high pitched voice. “I’m gonna lose my merit scholarship.” 

“At least you have us, right?” JJ grins. 

“I’m living the nightmare,” Pope whispers to himself. 

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 

“It’s Scooter Grubbs. He was out during the storm. Check out this pic I got.”

“Dead body.”

“Insane.”

“Holy shit.” 

“What kind of boat did he have?”

“Somehow, that dirtbag copped a brand-new Grady-White. Everyone’s out looking for it.” 

The words seemed to hover around us as we drove back to the Chateau, following us as we collapsed into chairs on the porch. 

“Okay… so, um… we didn’t see anything.” John B takes off his hat, running a hand through his hair. “We don’t know anything.”

“We need to have total and complete amnesia.” Pope nods. 

“Actually, Pope is right for once.” JJ nods, slinging an arm around me as he slides into the seat next to me. “See, I agree with you sometimes. Deny, deny, deny.” 

“We can’t keep that money.” Kie paces up and down the porch. 

“Not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Kiara.” JJ sighs. 

I lightly push at his chest, giving him a look. “We have to pass it off to Lana Grubbs.”

“Otherwise, it's bad karma.” Kie nods in agreement. 

“I don’t agree.” John B murmurs from the corner. “This is Scooter Grubbs we’re talking about. Same dude that’s buying individual cigarettes at the Porthole. Shit, one time I saw this dude begging for change in the Save-A-Lot parking lot because he needed gas. We’re talking about a dirtbag marina rat who’s never had more than 40 bucks in his pocket, and all of a sudden, he’s got a Grady-White? Just sayin’,” 

“We have to see what’s in the cargo hold of that wreck,” I speak up. “For now, we lay low and act normal.” 

“Kegger?” JJ grins. 

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌

As JB always says; you can’t understand the Outer Banks without understanding the boneyard. It's kinda like a three-layer burrito. There’s us and our friends, the working class derelicts. Then, there are the Kooks, the rich second-homers. They’re mostly from poncey-ass boarding schools, just rich trustafarian posers. Our natural enemies. And then, there are the Tourons. Totally clueless. Here for a week on vacation with their families. Chum for the sharks. 

I smile, making my way across the sand with drinks for me and JJ, passing Pope along the way. 

“It's kinda weird when on TV, we see people die, and they kinda just sit there, but in actuality, they would be shitting and farting up a storm.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I walk past Pope and the fire. I make my way over to JJ’s usual spot; a fallen tree half-buried in the sand. I hand JJ his drink, sipping mine. “Poor Pope.” I snicker, glancing at the other boy over my cup. “He just can’t figure out how to talk to girls.” 

“Sarah! Sarah, be careful, okay?” 

I turn my attention towards the metal buoy stuck in the sand, recognizing Topper’s voice as he tries to coax Sarah down from the buoy. 

That’s Sarah Cameron. Kook princess. Kiara’s best friend in the ninth grade, worst enemy in the tenth grade. JB works on her dad’s boats and I was supposed to be helping her stepmom with gardening but have basically become a glorified babysitter for the princess. And that’s Topper. Her not so pleasant boyfriend. Just saying his name makes me want to vomit. He actually thinks Pogues were bred to mow lawns. 

I watch as Topper lifts Sarah down, starting to walk her up the beach and back towards his car. I barely see JJ move forward, extending a cup in her face. 

“Sarah, can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage?” JJ smirks, frowning when she declines. “Is it not fancy enough for you?” 

“I’ll take it.” Topper reaches for the cup, glaring as JJ pulls it away. 

“If you said pretty please, maybe.” JJ teases. 

Topper moves to grab the cup, knocking into JJ’s hand and spilling the drink all over Sarah. “Dirty Pogues!” Topper growls as Sarah pushes him back. 

John B moves in front of JJ as I pull him away. Topper lunges at John B, knocking him into the water. “ Don’t make me drown you like your old man, all right?” Topper shouts, holding John B down in the water. 

JJ rushes forward, pressing the gun to Topper’s head and clicking the safety off. 

“JJ!” I gasp.

“Yeah, you know what that is. Your move, broski.” JJ huffs as Topper raises his hands in surrender, standing up. 

“Check your psycho boyfriend, Y/N!” Sarah whines.

“Okay, everyone, listen up! Get the hell off our side of the island!” JJ fires the gun twice into the air, watching as the crowd scatters.

“So much for laying low!” Pope hisses at JJ, helping Kie pick John B from the water. 

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 

The next morning, JB was up before the roosters started crowing. The rest of the Pogues had returned to their respective homes. Kie had taken Pope home before returning to her house in Figure 8. JJ had left a small kiss on the crown of my head before disappearing into the trees.

I wander out of my room, wiping sleep from my eyes. “You look like you just swallowed a jellyfish.” I bump shoulders with John B. 

“Sheriff Peterkin just left…” He mumbles. “She’s asking questions. She said she can help us with DCS if we help her.”  

“Well… we’ll just give her the most information we can without us getting in trouble.” I sigh. 

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 

“The three of us! We’ve got nothing to lose!” JJ huffs, gesturing between me, John B, and himself. “You’re not calling this off, John B. I have a plan. We borrow some scuba gear from Cameron’s big boat and then we go down to the wreck.” 

We probably should’ve learned a long long time ago to never listen to JJ. He’s filled to the brim of bad ideas, like stealing from JB’s rich boss. 

Big John said the island was America on steroids. The haves and have-nots like anyplace, but magnified and multiplied. The way JB and I see it, the game’s rigged. Maybe it always has been. No parents, money, and no one looking out for us. We got no chance unless we make it on our own. 

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  

“You took empty tanks, JB.” I sigh. 

“This one’s a quarter full.” John B mumbles. 

“So enough for one of us… I just love it when a plan comes together.” I rub my head in annoyance. 

“Does anyone even know how to dive?” John B asks.

“I read about it,” Pope speaks up.

“Great, Pope read about it. So someone’s gonna die.” I roll my eyes.

“Look, you put the thing in your mouth and breathe. How hard could it be?” JJ asks.

“If you come up too fast, nitrogen gets into your blood, and you get the bends.” Pope leans back in the captain’s seat. 

“Bends like, bend over and…” JJ giggles, bending over the wheel.

“The bends kill you.” Pope sighs, making JJ’s eyes go wide.

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌  🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 

We all circle around John B as he kneels on the dock, holding the bag from the wreck. 

“Can we please just open the bag?” Pope huffs. 

“Damn, Pope. That’s a rare outburst of emotion.” I snicker.

“You guys are literally killing me with anticipation. Open the bag.”

John B opens the bag, pulling out a canister. He twists open the canister, letting a small circular compass fall out. 

“Oh, wow. Yup. That’s about right.” Pope sighs. “Good job, everybody. We found a compass. It's not worth anything.” 

“This was my father’s.” John B mumbles. 

[rileywrites]

Hi you say in your bio that prompts are open but I still want to ask and make sure. I have one for nile/booker, the first time both of them said "I love you" to the other. Thank you if you decide to write this! Also wanted to say your book of nile series is AMAZING! I am always excited getting the emails of a new fic!

Prompts are absolutely open! Thank you so much for your lovely comments as well. <3

(Read on Ao3)

Nile has been immortal for fifteen years.

Dying never gets less terrifying and disorienting.

"C'mon, Nile, wake up."

Somehow, the least violent deaths can have the worst consequences. Nile knew the drink was poisoned as soon as she tasted it, but it was too late. Death came too fast to stop it and too slow to be a relief.

"Nile, I need you to wake up. I need you to stay with me."

It's hard to muster the energy to open her eyes. Puking yourself to death and then back to life will do that to you.

"Oh thank fuck." Booker looks like he's seen a ghost. He holds her up so she can retch without aspirating. "That's it, get the last of it out."

"Fuck." It comes out raw, voice ruined from the poison and the stomach acid.

"I couldn't agree more." Booker squeezes the back of her neck. "Let's get out of here, before they realize your body is gone."

"Help me?" Nile can tell her body isn't done healing yet.

"I've got you." Booker hoists her up, his arm around her waist and her arm around his shoulders. They've done this a thousand times before, so even Nile's weak body can handle the muscle memory. "Good?"

"As I can be." Everything hurts. "Fuck poison."

"Fuck poison," Booker agrees.

Nile lets her head hang as Booker maneuvers her back to the car. Keeping her eyes open is too hard.

The next time she regains full consciousness, Booker is carrying her into the safehouse. It's tiny, a bolt-hole Joe and Nicky bought in the '40s.

"You need to shower," Booker says, propping her against the counter. "Need help?"

"Please."

Booker disarms her, putting her weapons aside to clean later. Nile lifts her arms so he can get her shirt off.

"Careful, I don't want you to get any more vomit on you," he warns, maneuvering it over her head and tossing it on the floor. "I will burn that later."

Together, they get Nile out of her clothes and into the shower. Booker sits on the closed toilet lid to ensure she doesn't pass out again.

By the time she's clean, Nile is back to her baseline level of exhaustion.

"I'm good, Book."

Booker hands a towel around the shower curtain.

"I'll handle our clothes, then I'll take my turn."

Nile dries off some and wraps the towel around herself. Getting out of the shower is a bit of a risk, but Booker steadies her.

"Thanks. I'm gonna get dressed."

"And drink some water."

"And drink some water," Nile parrots, her smile belying her mocking tone.

Nile ends up wearing one of Booker's umpteen denim shirts and a pair of athletic shorts that were probably Joe's at some point. She makes a mental note to pick up some more clothes for her go-bag before they leave. They don't keep much at the less-used safehouses.

Booker will worry if she goes to sleep too soon, so Nile settles in one of the two mismatched chairs at the table wedged into the corner of the living space.

Booker strips to his underwear to examine the damage. The worst of their sullied clothes go into the furnace, the rest into the pile for laundry.

"I'll be quick," he promises. "Drink your water, and don't fall asleep without me there. Deal?"

"Deal." Nile crosses her heart. "Go, get clean. You deserve a hot shower."

She updates the team on the shitshow and stows her satellite phone in her backpack. She'll worry about the implications of this fuckery tomorrow. For now, she just wants to go to bed.

Booker emerges from the bathroom in clean underwear and a tank top, no longer smelling vaguely of Nile's death throes. He looks soft and cozy, damp hair hanging in his eyes.

"C'mon, bed time. You're mostly asleep already."

Nile gets into bed while Booker checks all the locks again. He joins her, crawling under the mountain of quilts and settling on his side facing her.

Nile holds out her hand, and he takes it, thumb skimming her pulse point.

"I'm okay," she whispers. "We're okay."

The long, painful deaths are always the hardest to cope with on both sides of the encounter.

"I know." Booker forces a tiny smile. "Get some sleep."

Nile is not in a place to argue. She tugs the quilts up to her chin with her free hand, closes her eyes, and slips almost immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.

...

Nile wakes an unknown number of hours later alone, a note left on Booker's pillow.

Went to get some groceries. Eat something, please. Will be back by noon local. - B.

It's only eleven. She is hungry though, thanks to the total evacuation of dinner last night.

Nile finds a granola bar in the pantry that isn't stale yet. It'll do.

She's halfway through the (kind of shitty) granola bar when Booker gets back with the groceries.

"Look who's up. Catch." He pulls something out of the bag and tosses it at her. "I found the fancy juice you like."

Nile catches the bottle and grins.

"Fuck yeah. Shit like this is why I'm in love with you, Book."

She has the cap off and the bottle to her lips before the comment registers. Before she realizes how still Booker has become.

"Yeah?" He asks, carefully casual.

Nile takes stock. She doesn't want to answer this rashly.

Looking back at the past fifteen years through this lens, a clear picture starts to form.

"Yeah," Nile finally says. "Yeah, I love you."

Booker puts the last few things in the fridge.

"I got a pack of t-shirts," he says, taking the grocery bag into the bedroom.

Nile sits there with her half-eaten granola bar, processing what the hell just happened.

Did she just ruin their shared eternity?

Booker comes back in before she can spiral. His boots thud on the linoleum.

A man on a mission, Booker pulls her out of the chair into his arms and kisses her. Nile wraps her arms around his neck.

Nile feels a piece of her soul click into place that she didn't even realize she was missing.

When they finally part, moments or days or years later, Booker rests his forehead against hers.

"I love you, too. I'm in love with you."

The reassurance soothes a brand-new ache in Nile's chest. She plays with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Good. That's... that's good. Because I love you." Nile kisses him again. "So this is a thing we're doing?"

"I've been doing it far longer than you realize," Booker says in that pained, half-joking tone that means he's serious. "It's about time you joined me."

[flammeusarch2]

RED + WHAT HAPPENED IN LONDON.

in  all  the  story  red  has  gone  out  of  it  with  pretty  much  little  to  no  trauma  attached,  because  during  the  surprise  attack  she  wasn't  around,  on  the  way  to  copley's  office  she  was  on  getaway  car  duty  and  she  hasn't  even  fought  her  way  down  the  building.  sure  she  fought  some  of  merrick's  security  guards  on  her  way  to  the  pad  to  unlock  doors  for  the  gang  and  then  left  to  dispatch  the  car  plate  that  was  shown  on  the  cameras  outside  the  building,  but  in  context  she  hasn't  even  died  once  throughout  the  movie  events.  

still,  she's  angry.  nile  flings  herself  down  the  building  and  the  squad  leaves  as  the  police  arrives.  by  that  time  red  has  already  made  her  way  out  and  far  (  for  obvious  reasons,  it's  not  like  they  would  have  all  fit  in  one  car  )  but  she's  got  anger  boiling  inside  ---  first  because  she  can't  believe  that  one  time  she  decides  to  trust  the  guys  on  a  job  a  shitshow  happens,  second  because  she  would  have  never  expected  such  betrayal  by  a  person  she  considers  family.  once  they  got  in  their  london  safe  house  to  get  rid  of  bloody  clothes  and  stuff,  red  literally  drops  a  five  minutes  piece  on  booker  for  being  a  bastard.  her  words  are  not  kind,  she  shoots  to  kill  and  makes  sure  not  miss  (  oh  poor  soul  he  feels  lonely,  letting  a  psycho  stick  needles  into  his  brothers  will  sure  fix  it!  /  you  think  because  you're  sad  we're  all  expendable?  /  you  sold  your  family  for  what?  your  stupid  death  wish  isn't  necessarily  ours  too  /  saying  that  you  did  it  for  andy  doesn't  make  you  less  than  a  coward  /  there's  something  wrong  with  you  /  you  need  help  )  and  she  regrets  these  words  as  soon  as  they're  out  in  the  room  but  the  point  is  that  things  like  this  shouldn't  happen  ---  it's  literally  the  reason  why  they  keep  their  identities  secret,  because  being  lab  rats  is  not  something  they  want  to  try.

as  i  already  mentioned  red  arrives  at  the  pub  when  the  price  has  already  been  decised.  i  think  in  that  span  of  time  she  went ��for  a  walk  to  clear  her  mind,  or  to  cover  once  again  their  tracks  ---  thing  is  she  does  some  thinking  and  she  absolutely  can't  stand  it.  booker  is  a  brother  in  arm,  she's  felt  the  rope  around  her  neck  and  the  cold  creep  on  her  spine  when  he  died,  she's  met  him  in  paris  and  left  him  alone,  she's  come  back  to  see  how  things  were  going,  stayed  for  a  while    (  homegirl  lived  for  more  than  a  decade  in  paris  just  so  that  he  could  have  a  friend  with  "common  issues"  to  talk  with  in  case  he  wanted  to,  that's  the  biggest  commitment  and  effort  she's  ever  put  in  a  friendship  )    she's  gone  to  his  son's  funeral.  red  doesn't  give  him  special  treatment  for  being  younger,  just  treats  him  with  the  same  kindness  and  respect  she  reserves  to  her  family  ---  and  has  done  so  for  the  past  two  centuries  with  everybody  else...  just  to  feel  like  in  the  end  it  meant  nothing,  it  was  just  useless,  because  he  still  sold  the  group,  and  people  who  helped  him  through  immortality,  like  it  was  fine.  

when  she  gets  to  the  pub  he's  outside  and  she  can't  even  look  in  his  direction  for  a  second.  she  literally  speed  past  him  because  whatever  is  she  supposed  to  say?  she  doesn't  want  to  apologize  because  booker  got  andy  almost  killed,  joe  and  nicky  hurt,  and  she  feels  entitled  to  be  mad  for  almost  losing  half  of  her  family.  she  puts  on  a  cold  demeanor  because  she's  good  at  those,  they're  easier  than  conflict.  just  pretend  the  problem  is  not  there  to  see.  she  gets  in  and  plays  devil's  advocate,  because  old  habits  are  hard  to  die    (  let's  give  him  a  year  ultimatum  to  get  help,  if  he  gets  better  we  let  him  back,  if  not  he's  on  his  own  )  and  even  as  she  bargains  for  him  red  knows  that  it's  stupid  because  the  day  before  she  would  have  trusted  booker  with  her  life  and  today  she  would  sleep  with  an  eye  open  just  in  case.  last  thing  last,  because  red  is  a  sap  at  heart  she  drops  her  opinion:  staying  together  is  more  important  than  how  we  stay  together.  it's  childish,  and  she  has  half  a  mind  that  the  gang  would  throw  her  out  too.  hundred  years  is  settled,  feels  good  because  it  means  countless  second  chances  booker  can  take  to  atone  for  what  he  did,  and  red  hopes  he  does.  might  need  a  little  push  though,  and  in  the  meantime  everybody's  got  time  to  deal  with  what  happened  the  way  they  think  fits  most.

when  andy  announces  the  sentence  and  there's  the  last  goodbye,  red  doesn't  even  bother  to  show  her  face  from  the  stairs  ---  whatever,  see  him  when  i  see  him.  she  ends  up  regretting  that  too,  because  in  her  mind  whatever  he's  done  he's  still  family,  and  she's  actively  trying  to  put  more  guilt  on  him  (  which  is  bitch  move  on  her  behalf  and  that's  something  that  took  two  weeks  to  say  out  loud  at  therapy  )  knowing  that  it  won't  help.  as  soon  as  she  starts  therapy,  she  also  begins  writing  him  a  letter  every  day  ---  she  doesn't  send  them,  it's  just  to  waste  time.  nile  introduces  her  to  vines  and  she  catches  herself  texting  links  to  youtube  compilations  and  scrambling  "this  made  me  laugh,  hope  it  works  for  you  too"  in  french  and  as  soon  as  she  musters  the  courage  to  send  it  vines  are  their  conversation  topic.  

when  she  breaks  into  his  house  it's  more  because  a  month  has  passed  and  she's  decided  to  call  it  a  truce,  start  building  trust  again,  whatever  her  therapist  said.  she  doesn't  spare  comments  but  leaves  with  a  lighter  heart  and  a  few  pamphlets  on  his  table  with  references  to  therapists  (  the  sooner  you  do  something  to  get  yourself  out  of  this  hole  you've  dug  the  sooner  you'll  feel  better  /  it's  not  even  something  you  should  do  to  come  back,  it  has  to  be  for  you,  to  move  on  or  at  least  have  some  peace  of  mind  )  and  she  finds  out  it  makes  her  feel  better.  

i  think  the  way  she  deals  with  everything  is  very  telling  of  how  she  hangs  on  the  immortals  for  dear  life  to  get  by  and  she'd  go  great  length  to  keep  it  together  ---  in  the  end  she's  actually  travelling  distance  to  spend  time  with  her  "split  up  family"  and  i  think  this  also  suggests  that  red  is  healing  and  maturing  not  just  from  what  happened  in  london  but  generally  with  the  way  she  handles  her  life,  memories  and  grief  in  a  healthier  way.  

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

In trying to build a forecast model of the Democratic primaries, we literally had to think about the entire process from start (Iowa) to finish (the Virgin Islands on June 6). Actually, we had to do more than that. Since the nomination process is sequential — states vote one at a time rather than all at once — we had to determine, empirically, how much the results of one state can affect the rest.

The answer in the case of Iowa is that it matters a lot. Despite its demographic non-representativeness, and the quirks of the caucuses process, the amount of media coverage the state gets makes it far more valuable a prize than you’d assume from the fact that it only accounts for 41 of the Democrats’ 3,990 pledged delegates.

More specifically, we estimate — based on testing how much the results in various states have historically changed the candidates’ position in national polls — that Iowa was the second most-important date on the calendar this year, trailing only Super Tuesday. It was worth the equivalent of almost 800 delegates, about 20 times its actual number.

Which states will produce the biggest bounces?

Expected bounce magnitude according to FiveThirtyEight’s primary model

Relative bounce magnitude Date States Based on delegates Early state bonus Combined Feb. 3 Iowa +3 +20 +23 Feb. 11 New Hampshire +2 +10 +12 Feb. 22 Nevada +3 +5 +8 Feb. 29 South Carolina +3 +5 +8 Mar. 3 Colorado, Alabama, Utah, Oklahoma, Vermont, Texas, Tennessee, Maine, Virginia, North Carolina, California, American Samoa, Minnesota, Massachusetts, Arkansas +30 +30 Mar. 10 Mississippi, Michigan, North Dakota, Washington, Missouri, Idaho, Democrats Abroad +12 +12 Mar. 14 Northern Marianas +1 +1 Mar. 17 Ohio, Arizona, Florida, Illinois +16 +16 Mar. 24 Georgia +5 +5 Mar. 29 Puerto Rico +3 +3 Apr. 4 Alaska, Hawaii, Wyoming, Louisiana +5 +5 Apr. 7 Wisconsin +4 +4 Apr. 28 Rhode Island, New York, Delaware, Maryland, Connecticut, Pennsylvania +18 +18 May 2 Guam, Kansas +3 +3 May 5 Indiana +4 +4 May 12 Nebraska, West Virginia +3 +3 May 19 Kentucky, Oregon +5 +5 June 2 New Mexico, New Jersey, South Dakota, Montana, District of Columbia +8 +8 June 6 Virgin Islands +1 +1

Everything was a little weird in Iowa this year, however. And there were already some signs that the Iowa bounce — which essentially results from all the favorable media coverage that winning candidates get — might be smaller than normal. Iowa was bracketed by an extremely busy news calendar: President Trump’s impeachment trial both before and after the caucuses, the Super Bowl on Sunday, the State of the Union address on Tuesday. There was not the usual climactic uptick in media coverage around Iowa. From initial indications — to the extent any information at all is reliable at this point — Democratic turnout there wound up being fairly low.

But we weren’t prepared for what actually happened, which is that — as I’m writing this at 3:15 a.m. on Tuesday morning — the Iowa Democratic Party literally hasn’t released any results from its caucuses. I’m not going to predict what those numbers will eventually be, although early indications are that Bernie Sanders, Pete Buttigieg and perhaps Elizabeth Warren had good results. The point is that the lead story around the 2020 Iowa Democratic caucuses is now — and will forever be — the colossal shitshow around the failure to release results in a timely fashion.

Maybe there will eventually be a decent-sized Iowa bounce despite all of this. But there’s a good chance that the candidates who did well in Iowa get screwed, and the candidates who did poorly there get a mulligan. To repeat: There’s very little importance in a mathematical sense to who wins 41 delegates. Iowa is all about the media narrative it produces and all about momentum, and that momentum, whoever wins, is likely to have been blunted.

Who might this help? Let’s pretend for a moment we don’t have any hints about how the results might have turned out. In fact, let’s pretend that Iowa didn’t happen at all. I re-ran our forecast model as though the Iowa caucuses were canceled.1 Here’s how that changed each candidate’s chances of getting a delegate majority:

How Iowa’s presence affected Democrats’ odds

Chances of winning a majority of pledged delegates per FiveThirtyEight forecast model on Feb. 3 (pre-Iowa), compared with a version of the model that skips the Iowa caucuses

Candidate As of our final PRE-IOWA SIMULATIONS ON Monday night In A HYPOTHETICAL SIMULATION WHERE Iowa didn’t exist Biden 43% 50% Sanders 31 24 Warren 5 5 Buttigieg 4 <1 Other <1 <1 No one 17 20

The presence of Iowa was helpful to Bernie Sanders, whose chances of winning a national delegate majority would have been 24 percent without Iowa — as compared to the 31 percent chance that he had with Iowa, as of Monday afternoon. Iowa was hurtful to Joe Biden, however, whose chances of a delegate majority would have been 50 percent without it, rather than 43 percent with it.

And Iowa was extremely helpful to Buttigieg, whose chances of winning the delegate majority were fairly low even with Iowa — keep in mind that he had slipped to third in polls of Iowa and fifth in national polls — but would have been virtually nonexistent (less than one percent) without it.

By giving the winning candidates a boost, the presence of Iowa also reduced the chance of an unstructured race and a potential brokered convention. The chance of there being no delegate majority was 17 percent without Iowa, but would have been 20 percent with it.

Granted, none of those changes — say, 24 percent versus 31 percent — are necessarily that large. But that’s partly because, as of Monday afternoon, four or five candidates appeared to have a shot at winning Iowa. For the candidate who actually won Iowa, it would have been a much bigger deal. We estimate that Sanders’s chances of a majority would have shot up to from 31 percent to 58 percent with an Iowa win, Warren’s from 5 percent to 32 percent, and Buttigieg’s from 4 percent to 22 percent.

And in some ways that still discounts Iowa’s impact, because several of the campaigns — for better or worse — built their entire strategy around the state. Would Buttigieg have been a major player in the race without Iowa? Considering his lack of support among black voters, probably not. Would candidates such as Kamala Harris, Cory Booker and Julian Castro have dropped out so soon? That’s a harder call, since Harris, Booker and Castro weren’t polling particularly well anywhere. But the Democratic field might have remained a little more diverse.

So we’ve arrived at a point of some ambivalence. On the one hand, candidates such as Buttigieg, who seemingly did well there, are liable to be injured by the muddled storylines in Iowa following the results-reporting disaster on Monday night. On the other hand, it’s not clear why Iowa was afforded so much importance in the first place, and Buttigieg possibly owed his entire presence in the campaign to this quirk in the nomination process. Nonetheless, these were the rules of the game, as every candidate understood them. So if Iowa turns out not to matter very much because of the results-reporting snafu, they have every right to be upset.

To be even more blunt: the Iowa Democratic Party’s colossal screw-up in reporting results will potentially have direct effects on the outcome of the nomination process. The failure to report results will almost certainly help Biden, assuming that indications that he performed poorly in Iowa are correct, as they won’t get nearly as much media coverage. And they’ll hurt whichever candidate wins the state — mostly likely Sanders or Buttigieg. (Although if Sanders winds up finishing in second place or lower, he also might not mind a reduction in the importance of Iowa, especially with one of his best states, New Hampshire, coming up next.)

Furthermore, Iowa is typically a state that winnows the field. But with every candidate either having performed well there, potentially having an excuse for a disappointing finish there, or somewhere in between, it might not do that. Delaying the winnowing process would tangibly increase the chance of a contested convention.

It’s not a good situation for the Democratic Party. And it’s already too late for the damage to be entirely undone, even if Iowa eventually gets its act together.

[robinsgirlwonder]

21, 40, 45, 51 (I'd actually be interested in "rant" - if that exists for you in the world of fanfiction)

Oh man, fun ones! I got a little long-winded so I put it under a cut. :D

21. What was the first fanfic you ever wrote?

Uh, you will NEVER find it. It has been lost to the annals of time, but I remember slaving over a Tom and Kes fic for Star Trek: Voyager back when the episode Before and After came out. And it was basically my take on how that life would have gone for them. I wrote about all the way past Year of Hell and since this was on the day of floppy disks and notepad having a character limit, I LOST THE FIC. It died on a floppy. 

40. What do you struggle the most with in your writing?

I get REALLY stuck in my own head, and when I realize people are paying attention to what I’m writing, I start second-guessing myself. I normally level back out, but I have a hard time getting out of my own way. Like today, I was agonizing on how a chapter might be received so bad I didn’t start writing it until 6 PM. And then once I started, boom, half of it was done. 

On a more technical level, I struggle most with knowing when I’m getting too flowery sometimes. I try to back it off, it’s what you have betas for, but since I spent years writing for radio drama where there is NO description and virtually just dialogue, I tend to overcompensate. 

45. What is your all time favourite fanfic?

Oh my god, that’s SO TOUGH. I have SO MANY from over the years. I think my absolute favorite from over the years was a series that I can’t find now because I think the author may have disappeared or removed it, but it was a Doctor and Rose fic where after Bad Wolf Bay, the Doctor turns into the Tenth Doctor and thinks Rose is dead. And it’s all about how he kind of lingers on earth and he’s miserable and meanwhile, Rose is trying to go back to having a life and she meets 10 not realizing he’s the Doctor. And it was just so beautifully done, and the author went on to do a few more fics in that series and kind of drifted off because she had a life and I get that.

Other than that, I also have another favorite in a Booker/Elizabeth fic from Bioshock (Don’t judge me, I could write dissertations about how that game is a hot mess that squandered that chemistry) and I think it’s been semi-abandoned by the author, but she left it where I could be happy with it is Top of the World.

Bear in mind, I’m really bad at this because when I start reading fic, I voraciously consume and I am really bad about remembering names or favoriting. I leave reviews, but I always forget to fave unless it’s something in progress.

51. Rant or Gush about one thing you love or hate in the world of fanfiction! Go!

So, first of all, I love that you explicitly asked for a rant, which makes me think I must be too chill on here now or something. 

This isn’t necessarily specific to the world of fanfiction, it applies to fandom at large, but I especially hate it when I see it in Fanfiction: 

Nitpicking. It drives me nuts. I’m an old school fan and I come from the world of comic books where I have no say in the creative input of The Thing I Like. Nothing drives me more batty then I see people leave reviews like “Ugh, I really disagree with your characterization of X character because FANON VERSION OF CHARACTER does this differently.” 

If you do not like something about a fic, I come from the land of “Cool. I close the window and I move on.” I am not going to change that writer’s mind overnight. Even if they welcome constructive criticism, then I am CONSTRUCTIVE. I ASK why they made that choice for that character. I hate needless negativity. 

Look, the world sucks enough outside right now. WE don’t need to add to it by needlessly seeking out the shit we DON’T like just to piss on the people who like it. 

Like I said, that also applies to fandom. I am very much a “Oh, you don’t like my character? Cool. Let’s stay in our lanes and leave each other alone. IF you would like to have an open dialogue on why I like this character and this pairing, I’m more than happy to do it.” But, after the vicious shitshow that was OUAT fans utterly ripping apart the August part of the fandom (which was closer to how casual fans felt about season 1), I learned very quickly that I do not have the energy to argue. I’m an old lady on Tumblr. I make a salary and I have a job and I have rent to pay, I’m saving for a house, I gotta make sure my wife and I don’t fight over chores, just… ship who you want and that’s totally fine. PLEASE, let’s not fight. Save that energy for the assholes trying to take your or my rights away.

[weeklyhumorist]

Good Evening: I Am Thrilled To Be Performing Long Form Improvisational Comedy For This Audience Of Captivated Decision Makers

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Good Evening. Thank you for coming out tonight, and welcome to my one man show; my sketch team Robert Pissed and Pooped His Pants Until There Was Nothing Left; my improv group that usually has shows containing my mother laughing loudly in the idly packed front row; and my catastrophe of a Harold Team audition all wrapped in one catastrophic meltdown designed for you and you only, the bored entertainment industry decision makers.

I know you overly caffeinated group of Improv School Panel Boards Members, Casting Directors, Agents, Producers, Directors, and all around power wielding messiah’s are anxious to get back to staring mindlessly at your tightly wound fake Gucci watches, so I’m going to illicit a one word suggestion from you to get this shitshow on the road. What’s that? Did I hear you say SNL? The first word of suggestion I heard was SNL, so were going to go with that one.

SNL:  As I audition for you captivated decision makers tonight, I want you to be aware that I’ve shilled several thousand dollars towards improv and sketch classes. This has led me to this glorious moment of me standing on this historic stage squinting to see a man I believe to be Lorne Michaels blithely laughing at a text message he received from Adam Sandler about a sketch he cut from air in 1992.

Okay, so I didn’t get SNL, but I’m still thrilled to be showing off my long form improvisational comedy skills to you: The Casting Director for a new Disney Channel comedy. Now, I know the audition ad said they’re looking for a child to teen actor to play a 12 year old and I’m 26. I, however, believe that the magic of my ability to heighten my believability as a 12 year old and somewhat fiendishly “yes and” any outrageous lie on my resume lends credibility to my competence and undeniable talent that hiring me for this role will shoot everyone involved to the pinnacle of any success they may achieve in life.

Okay, while I didn’t get the Disney Channel Sitcom part and I happened to be thrown off set while being blacklisted by half the agents at CAA, I am still thrilled to be performing improvisational comedy for you: The shady, sort of Hollywood manager. Except you’re not really a manager at all, but more of an unnecessary middleman who may or may not get me a job in the industry,  but still somehow demand 10% of my salary from my day job as a Barista at Peete’s Coffee that he had no part in getting me.

Okay, while I didn’t get anywhere with that shady Hollywood Manager, I’m still thrilled to be performing improvisational comedy for this audience of captivated decision makers: You, my parents. Hell, I’ll show you everything I learned about improv from Second City, because I desperately need you to desire a reason to keep throwing rent money into my bank account every month. I know I’m not giving you grandkids any time soon, but if I give birth to something, maybe a turtle, will you still continue to support my dreams, please!

Okay, so while I did get somewhere with my parents cause they’re totally chill and the best mom and dad anyone could ever have, I am still thrilled to be performing improvisational comedy for this audience of captivated decision makers: The headwriter for this cool new Hulu sketch comedy show that I may have to sleep with, so they could possibly hire me and then wield an unruly amount of power over my employment based on whether or not I continue to fuck them in a broom closet on a continuous basis for the next five years.

Okay, so while I did actually get that job as a staff writer on the hit Seinfeld meets Game of Thrones-esque NBC sitcom, I still have to perform improvisational comedy for my captivated audience of decision makers: You, the network affiliate. A Network Affiliate who is chomping on the bit on whether to spend enough ad money to turn this show into the next Sex and the City or the next Emily’s Reasons Why Not.

Okay, while the sitcom did end up proving to be an Emily’s Reasons Why Not after being swiftly canceled, I am still thrilled to be performing improvisational comedy for this captivated audience of decision makers: You, the comedy club booker on the planet Mars. I am eager to perform for whatever extraterrestrial life there might be and any molecule of Cosmic Dust that doesn’t shout out misogynist one word suggestions to the largely female improv troupe I joined. Give us that one token of gratitude while we perform our monthly improv jam in space, please.

Good Evening: I Am Thrilled To Be Performing Long Form Improvisational Comedy For This Audience Of Captivated Decision Makers was originally published on Weekly Humorist