#but I do like trying to come up with stuff that could be relevant to the Plot tm

[vidavalor]

The Devil Takes The Hindmost

The Big Damn Post I've promised for ages on all the stuff suggesting that what we're watching in S2 is Aziraphale's mental health crisis leading to his fall...

...with a focus on a religious concept that intersects with secular ideas about mental health-- The Devil Takes The Hindmost-- that was unintentionally mentioned by Mrs. Sandwich and might be what's going on in The Final 15.

Plus, a look at the possible purpose of The Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association in the story and a dive into the symbolic role in Aziraphale's story played by Muriel... the most adorable Angel of Death anyone's ever seen.

@ao3cassandraic @komorezuki @kayleefansposts @masnadies -- This is basically what I was starting to talk about the other night, if you're interested. @ochre-sunflower -- the meta I mentioned.

TWs: suicide; depression; PTSD; negative self-thoughts... It's optimistic by the end but it's a look at some darker stuff in the story so please take care.

In GO S2, we have a lot of stressors building and overlapping for Aziraphale, with each episode adding new ones, all boiling hotter and hotter until we reach the The Meeting Ball. There, everything stops for the arrival of Shax at the door.

When she turns up, all the other plots cease to be relevant in the moment because the whole story's stakes upon her arrival now come down to a single, pivotal question:

Are these demons going to get into the bookshop?

On the surface, in our plot, Shax, Eric and the smallest number of completely ineffectual demons that a redemptive Furfur could get away with sending without looking like a traitor 😉 are interrupting Aziraphale having turned his first pass at hosting the monthly meeting of The Whickber Street Shopkeepers & Traders Association into a party.

Why is he doing that? For a dizzying number of reasons. So he can try to protect Gabriel by getting Maggie and Nina together and try to be part of his community by using the party to get Maggie and Nina together which is also so he can protect Gabriel... but, let's be real, it's really all so he can dance with Crowley...

Our heads are spinning as much as Aziraphale's is by this point and it's exhausting just to try to recap everything he's dealing with by The Meeting Ball... which is why it probably isn't surprising that all of that story just stops when the brick goes through the window and Shax is at the door. Because, symbolically...

...this is an anxiety attack.

Shax and the demons are Aziraphale's inner demons and they're trying to force their way past the threshold to take control of the bookshop the way that darkness can consume a person...

...as they're trying to take control of the bookshop that is what, symbolically?

Aziraphale, yes.

Aziraphale and Crowley. (And, as we looked at recently, also Maggie, on account of her family's history with it.)

Why this bookshop attack that is a metaphorical anxiety attack at this point in the story?

Because a lot of what Aziraphale wants out of life was happening before the demons that represent his inner demons showed up at the party.

For the first time ever, Aziraphale was no longer compartmentalizing his worlds and hiding parts of his life from people. He had Maggie and Gabriel under the same roof-- his human and angel families together. He had neighbors over and felt brave enough to call himself one of them by hosting the meeting. He was impacting the society around him in a big way by unifying Whickber Street's black market with its "legitimate" front by inviting Mrs. Sandwich to join the group. He was helping Maggie and Nina fall in love.

Most importantly, there was what the whole thing was really for: having all that happen with Crowley there, too, and everyone knowing they are together. Being able to dance with him and be a couple openly like everyone else. This Jane Austen cotillion coming out ball for ladies Maggie and Nina is really a coming out party of sorts for Crowley and Aziraphale. This is like the Christmas party of Aziraphale's dreams here. The one he's never, ever been able to have.

It's a wonderful thing when people who are in a great deal of emotional pain decide they've just had enough and want to break free of their misery and allow themselves to work towards being happier.

It's just a very delicate period because it can go either way, in a hurry. One minute a person can be thinking they're on top of the world and starting to live the life they've been dreaming of but the next minute find themselves freefalling emotionally. This is especially true of people who feel they have to present as cheerful and optimistic for everyone else and who hide their pain behind a smile.

They are some of the most at risk of their lives becoming like the Salinger short story about trauma and suicide referenced in S2-- "A Perfect Day for Bananafish"-- in which a man suffering from PTSD is believed to be fine by himself and those around him, has a nice day at the sea and chats with a symbolic daughter-like character and then, unceremoniously, goes to his hotel room and shoots himself dead.

As Maggie shows us during The Meeting Ball when she parallels Aziraphale's struggle, people get tired of being afraid and want to live-- want Nina, who is coffee, which is freedom-- but they can overdo it, if they're not careful, and wind up taking steps backwards.

Sometimes, the thrill of feeling like they might be on the edge of something good can cause someone to go too far, too fast, and, without the right support, they can find themselves going faster than a rollercoaster-- and right off a cliff as a result.

These people might look at their inner demons and think they're fine, now, actually, and that the darkness doesn't frighten them at all and they're all over their negative stuff-- all good now. No problems here.

Problem is that, sometimes, in the process, they might realize they're lying to themselves when they suddenly tell those inner demons that they can come in and say all that pathetic shit to their face... before they're really ready for that. Maggie, paralleling Aziraphale here, shows that with Shax during the bookshop attack. Not the best way to deal with inner demons, that.

And one person's inner demons can be an unintentional trigger for others, which is one of the things that started off Aziraphale's mental health crisis boiling up into a breakdown earlier in the season.

Aziraphale was already having a terrible week and then he projected his own issues all over his adopted goddaughter when she was having a moment and wound up accidentally saying something about himself that she took to mean about her and that came out sounding incredibly hurtful in a way that Aziraphale didn't mean for it to be. He then sought to make it up to her by finding a way to make her romantic dreams come true but was, all the while, silently berating himself for not having handled it flawlessly in the first place.

And when that got mixed in with trying to *checks Aziraphale's S2 list*... Jesus...

...recover from PTSD, manage all the anxiety and depression that comes along with it, deal with the fallout of his relationships with his abusive family, save his losing it brother from a religious cult/fascist regime trying to kill him and figure out why he's lost his memory, assuage his guilt over the memory-wiped angel that he feels he failed to save that showed up at the door, figure out wtf to do with the bookshop/embassy he's never wanted to run but that has become the M-25 that he's built and is now stuck in and that just reminds him that he hasn't any family to pass it onto, and, most importantly?

Tell his partner that he would like to live openly with him in the a little cottage by the sea in the South Downs...

I mean, by the time Mr. Vacuum showed up and suggested that Aziraphale add to the list that this week also be the first time he's ever hosted the monthly meeting of the business organization of the street he's basically founded but doesn't let himself really feel like he belongs to?

Sure, Mr. Carpet. Sure. Bring it on. Why not, at this point?

But Mr. Vacuum's idea actually caused Aziraphale to think he had the perfect solution-- continue to do what he was doing all week and combine this shit together! Protect Gabriel by tying him to Maggie and Nina and solve Maggie and Nina through the Whickber Street meeting and, well, if he's going to make it romantic for Maggie and Nina, well...

...maybe this is how Aziraphale can solve his biggest problem-- finding more of a way to just be forever near that one, particular person who makes everything okay.

So, by the time we get to The Meeting Ball? Aziraphale is pretty much losing his damn mind.

The heebie jeebies that Crowley gets in the street? It's not the low-rent demons. He knows what they feel like. He can't identify it but the thing that is really, really wrong is Aziraphale himself, in a dark reverse of Aziraphale feeling Crowley's love in S1.

Thousands of years of feeling a lack of enough control over his life have basically led Aziraphale to snap. Parts of it are very funny. Gabriel dressed up as Liberace circling with temptation trays of vol-au-vents is as hilarious as it is loony. Miracling the room so that everyone speaks like it's the 19th century causes a lot of humorous scenes, especially with Mrs. Sandwich... but is also a horror show. Justine loses her ability to speak English well and others have trouble understanding one another. It's like a zanier, more comedic version of Aziraphale's parallel antichrist, Adam, taking over The Them and deciding how, when, and if at all, they could speak.

It's a person in Aziraphale, who is normally very kind to others but not really to themselves, whose pain and anger have built within them to a breaking point and caused them to take that out on others and become, for a moment, almost the exact kind of person from whom he tries to protect others.

During this part of the season, Mrs. Cheng and Mrs. Sandwich have some dialogue that I think might be the whole rest of the season's plot in a nutshell. It happens here:

Mrs. Sandwich being unaware that "seamstress" is a 19th century-era euphemism for a sex worker means that she doesn't realize that she actually is, on one level, telling Mrs. Cheng what she does for a living. Her frustration is coming from the fact that Mrs. Cheng also doesn't know this euphemism and so thinks Mrs. Sandwich is a literal seamstress-- someone who sews and mends clothes-- and not a figurative/euphemistic one. While that and the rest of this scene is worth a whole deep dive in and of itself, it's not the bit I want to focus on here. That bit is what Mrs. Sandwich says as she gets increasingly upset.

Keep in mind as we look at this that the person who is the literal seamstress in this scene is not Mrs. Sandwich. It's the person whose magic is inhibiting her speech-- so, who is speaking, in a roundabout way, through her-- and who is the one changing everyone's outfits as they come through the door.

The seamstress really of note here is Aziraphale.

In the midst of her frustration, Mrs. Sandwich is trying to curse in 2023 terms but they are coming out in 19th century-era equivalents and this means that she says the following things when cursing:

She insists that she's not a godforsaken (abandoned by God; left to Satan) seamstress, that she's not a benighted (taken by darkness) seamstress, and, finally... while probably trying to say "what the hell"... winds up saying the whole season's plot in response to Mrs. Cheng asking her the also rather meta question of "what, in short" the problem is in that moment.

What, in short, is the plot?, asks Mrs. Cheng, on a meta level.

What the fuck is going on in this story?

To which Mrs. Sandwich replies:

"The Devil take it."

The curse "The Devil take it"-- meaning you give so little about something or someone that Satan can have it-- comes from a religious teaching (that works very well from a secular perspective, too) known as "The Devil Takes the Hindmost". It's this teaching that I think is extremely important to S2 and is arguably around what the story is structured.

This teaching argues that people who are excessively self-sacrificing are putting themselves at risk of being taken by darkness/Satan because of the cumulative effects of the anger, anxiety and depression that comes of denying that they are people with wants and needs of their own for too long.

It's about the people who go beyond kindness. It's about those who don't see themselves as part of the pack of people and think that the world isn't for them. They believe that their needs and wants don't matter as much as the need to prove to themselves that they aren't a horrible person-- which they do, in their minds, by denying themselves a full life of their own.

Sound familiar? It should. It's Aziraphale to a T.

Why are these people in "The Hindmost" for Satan to take when they're not terrible people?

Because they fall to the back of the pack of humanity.

Because they are left open to the darkness because they do not allow themselves to have what they work so hard to help others make for themselves.

The pain of that eventually renders them as bad off emotionally as those they counsel, or worse. The more they deny themselves, the more that pain builds and it can push them down dark paths.

They're in "The Hindmost" not because anyone left them behind, exactly, but because they've shut out the people around them.

They aren't letting people in.

It's about here that we can bring up that Good Omens is built around doors and all of S2 is basically about getting in the bookshop that is Aziraphale. It's here that we can mention Shax-- the darkness-- repeating demands to Aziraphale, to Crowley, to Beez to be let in. It's here we can mention The Final 15 and the world's most depressing kiss-- the literal embodiment of "let me in" as a theme-- and the horribleness that followed.

So, if S2 is The Devil Takes the Hindmost and he's headed Aziraphale's way the whole season with a large oat milk latte with a hefty jigger or dash or whatever of almond syrup and the job (the Job...) offer from Hell to tempt him, then we're watching (for now) the last days of the angel Aziraphale because a fall is a form of death.

It doesn't mean it's the end entirely because, as Gabriel discovered, everything goes down but flies? They go up.

Flies are the product of letting someone in and not shutting out the love and care you need. That can only be done through accepting, at least for a little while, that you are allowed to be a person and deserve to be cared for the way you care for others. If a person does that, they can fall but they'll have what they need to get back up and to help them stave off future falls.

Letting people in and talking to people about how you feel-- figuratively: feeding your fellow ducks your frozen peas and listening to theirs--- is how we all defeat the darkness together and make it so that Satan never shows up at any of our doors.

Yes, it is, Crowley. Would have been helpful if you had mentioned any of your own Hell-and-Book-of-Life frozen peas at all to anyone but the audience all S2 but this meta isn't really directly about you so you get a pass for now 😂 Back to your partner...

So, this The Devil Takes The Hindmost stuff? Almost immediately after Mrs. Sandwich says it, the story begins to have the characters literally act it out.

Shax is The Devil in that she's a devout diabolical minister of Satan so she's representing Satan at the door.

First up? Gabriel.

Gabriel mirrors Aziraphale's excessive self-sacrificing. It doesn't matter to him that he just met most of the people in the bookshop an hour or something ago. If that angry mob outside wants him for who fucking knows what reason as this poor bastard can't remember anything 😂 then Gabriel is happy to throw himself on his sword for them.

In reality, no one in the shop should have let Gabriel go out there alone. The whole point of "The Devil Takes The Hindmost" is that if everyone looks after each other the best that they can?

There won't *be* any hindmost.

There will just a pack of people who are all keeping each other safe from the darkness.

Jim is ultimately fine to tussle with Shax, though, because that is the part of the teaching that he exemplifies.

Gabriel has been protected. He's not completely fine-- who ever is, really?-- and he's still not really over this current bout of depression but he's safe from Satan and the darkness.

He's safe because he has Beez, Aziraphale, Crowley, and his new friends on Whickber Street.

Gabriel has a pack and is allowing himself to be part of it. As such?

The Devil can't touch him. Shax can't recognize him and sends him back inside. Gabriel is not in The Hindmost because he's been hidden, safely, by his group.

Gabriel goes back to the middle of the pack where he spends the rest of the attack, helping Aziraphale fight off his metaphorical inner demons by way of aiding Maggie and Nina to save the bookshop.

It's the next to the door, though, who is not so lucky, and gets to be the first example of The Hindmost.

From the way, way back of the pack that has formed of the humans, Gabriel, Crowley and Aziraphale in the middle of the bookshop pushes forward our beloved Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets.

The President of The Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association-- the Gabriel of the humans-- feels it's his job to sort out this mess... only he has even less clue as to what's going on than Gabriel did... and he's much, much more vulnerable.

Mr. Brown tells Shax that he doesn't know why she is "interfering" with the people in the shop, unknowingly using the word used in religious circles to talk about The Devil coming after people. Mr. Brown is a guy at real risk here. Going into the circle and getting discorporated if you're not prepared? Facing The Devil at the door without preparation is the same, terrible thing. Mr. Carpet has no idea wtf he's up against here and his motivations for going to the door are the heart of The Devil Takes The Hindmost.

What does our lionhearted Mr. Brown do for a living? What is he, symbolically?

He sells carpets, right? What are carpets?

Well, they're rugs, for one thing. They're found in every business and home in existence. They are necessary for living and also an example of having comfort in your life. (They're also walked on and taken for granted, like our Mr. Brown is quite a bit.) You pick out carpets on your own or with the people with whom you are making a life-- and they tend to symbolize that life.

We see, in 2.06, the shot highlighting the lotus flower carpet that Crowley and Aziraphale have in the bookshop, that they use to cover up the Heavenly circle in the floor-- the one they put Gabriel on to do the protection miracle. It symbolizes the life Crowley and Aziraphale have made together to which they've now let Gabriel in.

What else are carpets? In Good Omens' use of language, they're also cars and pets. Rugs, cars and pets... three of the most common things owned by people living a life on Earth, with the word own itself in Mr. Brown's name.

Brown's *World* of *Carpets*... this dude is, symbolically, everyone.

He's life itself.

That's why it's Mr. Brown who gets taken by the demons and, later, saved by Crowley and left in the care of Mutt, who is human magic-- the character who symbolizes the wonder and mystery and joys of being alive.

Mr. Brown-- an extremely common name for a man whose pain is extremely common. He's lonely. He's overlooked. He's the president of this group of apostrophe and Christmas lights-obsessed, irritating and wonderful, typical, human people because he's unflappable and no one else wants to do it. No one else will do all the boring work and hear all the complaints the way he will and he's made that his role and he hates it. In that way, he's the Beez of Whickber Street-- as desperate for appreciation as Aziraphale. He's Burbage and Shakespeare, wanting an audience that isn't sleeping, drunk, or flirting their way through Hamlet. He's Crowley and Aziraphale:

Mmm, good job... Oh, do you really think so?

Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets is a professional carpet salesman. He spends his days selling everyone what they need to make lives of their own but his own life is far lonelier and smaller than he would like it to be. He doesn't have a partner or true friends, just the people of the group into which he's struggled to really fit, despite running it. He's nerdy and awkward. His over-the-top, affected manner of speaking belies the fact that he feels like he's jiggery pokery, through and through. If I took Mr. Brown's name and profession out of this paragraph, I could be describing Aziraphale just as easily, but for the fact that Aziraphale does have Crowley, if not in the open way he wishes for. Because of that, Mr. Brown being taken by The Devil is also foreshadowing the end of S2 for Aziraphale.

Like most, Mr. Vacuum has got some surprising resolve-- some unexpected moxie-- but, fundamentally, this man has spent S2 showing that he is one more papercut away from a nervous breakdown.

So, when he tries to prove his worth to the group by putting himself at risk, it's excessively self-sacrificing. While there are some titters of alarm and warnings to him not to leave the pack, the one who objects the most is Crowley. Mr. Brown, though, doesn't let Crowley in. He doesn't recognize him because it's partially to look good in front of Aziraphale that Mr. Brown has jumped to the front of the pack. It's his loneliness, his lack of his own life, his need to be part of the group and appreciated. His need to be the hero.

Only, Mr. Vacuum is what happens when you aren't prepared for the darkness and you haven't let anyone in to help you. Shax, realizing that Crowley has been lying to her about the threshold by the way that all the humans have been backed into the living room, tests the theory and Mr. Vacuum gets taken by The Devil.

The Devil Takes The Hindmost.

Mr. Brown went from the literal hindmost of the pack inside of the bookshop up to the front to self-sacrifice excessively, got taken by Satan, and then, in a darkly amusing turn, got tossed back through to the hindmost of the pack of demons outside. He's also near the back of the line for coffee the next morning at Nina's.

If The Devil can come for Mr. Carpet, we see, he can come for anybody. Now this lingering and malignant sense of unease we've been feeling throughout The Meeting Ball tips here into real horror.

Crowley is up next to evacuate the rest of the humans in the shop. He's going to walk them all in a pack past The Devil. They go out in mini-groups within a larger pack. He tells them that they need to all stick together and mind each other, not the demons.

If they do that, they live. If they don't, they won't.

It becomes that simple because it is that simple.

Crowley doesn't just tell The Whickbers how to do this, though-- he leads them out. Because he's one of them, too... but really also because this is all a metaphor for Aziraphale's mental health breakdown getting going and what happens when you are having an anxiety attack or a depression episode?

What goes out the door?

The things that keep you alive, right? The good stuff in life. That is defined differently for everyone but a lot of it overlaps for many of us. Many of those things are what The Whickber Street group characters stand for in the story. Aziraphale owns the land for most of Whickber Street so, in addition to being characters in their own right, all of the members of The Whickber Street group represent Aziraphale.

They're all the things he loves the most-- his reasons for living, and what helps keep the darkness away for him. This is really why, symbolically, neither they nor Crowley (symbolically, love) can be present in the shop when Aziraphale is melting down at his worst.

Crowley leads the pack out with Mrs. Sandwich up front. He is allowing himself to be part of the pack here. He might be supernatural and the group human but it doesn't matter. They're all people and there's more to it than miracles. Crowley can't face the darkness on his own-- and neither can Mrs. Sandwich. Neither of them should have to. So, they don't. They choose to be each other's friends and let each other in and they're both better for it and so is the rest of the pack. This is an example of how to deal with darkness in a positive way.

Crowley trusts Mrs. Sandwich in general but for this task, in particular, because who knows best how to deal with the darkness?

Survivors of prior run-ins with darkness, that's who. His fellow "fallen woman", Mrs. Sandwich, has got her hat pin and his back and Crowley has hers.

So, out the door of the bookshop that is Aziraphale goes love, friendship, sex, romance, healthy communication, human magic, community, food, music, and so much more... because not taking care with our mental health issues rob us of what we love.

Left in the shop? Maggie and Gabriel-- Aziraphale's past and his family... and Nina-- the possibility of freedom (her American-themed coffee shop) and what's left of Aziraphale's hope for the future. Nina's decision to stay symbolizes Aziraphale hanging onto some hope.

After Crowley and The Whickbers leave and Maggie accidentally lets in Shax, the demons have gotten in and are advancing. Without those who are no longer in the shop and with Crowley missing, Aziraphale's anxiety ratchets up and the demons-- his inner demons-- gain ground. The goal becomes keeping them from getting into the residence floor upstairs-- to the place to which Aziraphale has let hardly anyone in. The parts of himself that are not public-facing or for acquaintances but only for those he allowed himself to get close to. Maggie and Nina can be on the landing up there. Gabriel can stay in the guest room. They're family. Only Crowley is allowed free reign in the whole of the bookshop.

For the first time, we have an angel not named Aziraphale teaming up with humans to fight for a place on Earth. The start of the 'all of us versus all of them' that Crowley foreshadowed as still to come at the end of S1? It isn't some big battle for the planet. It is a battle for the life of a single person in Aziraphale because every person matters.

It's The Commander of The Heavenly Host rooting around the upstairs rooms of the bookshop collecting all the fire extinguishers bought to help Crowley deal with his trauma that he can find to supply his troops-- the human Maggie and Nina-- on the front lines.

It's Aziraphale's loved ones coming together to fight to save the bookshop that is, symbolically, Aziraphale himself.

Ultimately, though? Crowley, Gabriel, Maggie and Nina can help hold off the demons that are symbolically Aziraphale's inner demons but it's ultimately going to come down to Aziraphale and Aziraphale alone whether or not these demons are going to overrun the bookshop.

We reach the point where Aziraphale has to choose-- is he going to let the demons take him over or is he going to send them back? He decides, in this moment, to blow up his halo.

We learn that Aziraphale's halo isn't divinity floating atop his head-- it's a tight, hard band around his mind. It's mental health issues, in physical form. He is in visible pain and breathing shallowly as he struggles to take it off. If you took away the halo from the picture, it's visually very much like someone having an anxiety attack. He uses it to discorporate the demons-- to send his inner demons packing.

Well, almost all of them...

Shax, the one that voices his darkest inner thoughts, remains. She's unconscious for awhile, lying dormant on Crowley's couch.

Aziraphale tells Maggie and Nina that he thinks blowing up his halo might have "just started a war" and, symbolically, it did.

Because when you blow up your halo, it can work for awhile but if you still aren't able to address the underlying, fundamental issues at the root of why you have a halo in the first place, those dark thoughts will come back.

Those demons are coming back and, sure enough, Aziraphale's bookshop is full of plenty of voices by early the next morning. While he won The Battle of The Bookshop, he loses The Battle of The Bananafish the next morning.

While Aziraphale stopped the attack on the shop-- his anxiety attack-- with the halo, we learn the next morning that then something else happened the prior night that we didn't see that is affecting the rest of 2.06. We hear about it from Aziraphale after Satan shows up in this bit here:

What's this, now? Aziraphale doesn't want to chinwag with The Metatron because they already chatted the night before and our angel doesn't think there's anything left to be said. Our angel says he's made his position quite clear.

So, The Metatron got on the circle thing zoom after Aziraphale discorporated demons with it and blew up his halo and, by that point, Aziraphale had had enough.

Aziraphale told The Metatron, in so many words, to go fuck himself.

This is really what Aziraphale is trying to say when he tells Crowley that he "did the thing with The Halo." Yes, he literally blew up his halo to discorporate the demons and stop the bookshop attack but the halo is his the weight of all of his cumulative trauma from Heaven... which makes it also, symbolically, The Metatron. Aziraphale blew up his ties to Heaven by telling off The Metatron. He told off the floating head hanging over his head as part of blowing up the halo crushing his mind.

So, Aziraphale then spent the whole night assuming correctly that, if you yell at Head Office, he's going to tell Satan that you're fair game.

Aziraphale doesn't want to fall. He doesn't want to be a demon-- not because he thinks of them as lesser beings because he doesn't think of them that way. Because being a demon is a terrible existence and Aziraphale would rather not have his soul be owned for all eternity by his partner's assailant who is also, literally, The Devil. He's a hard pass on that and had a plan to have Crowley help him avoid it.

Satan and other events made sure that he and Crowley couldn't communicate what they were thinking and feeling to one another openly from the time that Crowley left the bookshop with The Whickbers through the end of S2. If they had been able to and if Crowley had any idea what was truly going on, things would have been very different. The story is Aziraphale's fall, though, so it has to be bad for now to improve in S3.

Because it's Satan at the door with the coffee, he uses Crowley to identify him as The Metatron to everyone else and, so, has convinced Crowley that he *is* The Metatron and that Satan is nowhere in sight. Crowley doesn't see Aziraphale's fall coming, as can be the case with many people-- even those who know of the mental health challenges of those close to them.

Crowley thinks that the biggest threat to Aziraphale in The Final 15 is The Book of Life-- and, I suppose, in a symbolic way, it is.

The Book of Life-- in the way that Crowley thinks it exists-- is not real. It's his and Beez's anxieties from when they were angels manifested as a ghost story to tell more impressionable angels. Yet, as a concept? It kind of is sort of exactly what Aziraphale goes through in S2. He feels erased into non-existence by Heaven already and he's fighting for his life.

Right, so, a hundred years ago lol, I mentioned that Muriel is key to this idea. Let's look at how their presence is highlighting Aziraphale's issues and ushering him closer to death/falling.

While two angels with memory issues show up at Aziraphale's door in S2, Gabriel is a tale of hope while Muriel is a cautionary tale.

If your memories are "all your you"-- your sense of self, formed through your history-- then, while Gabriel was preserved in The Fly, the example of what can happen without one?

The horror show of a total and complete, catastrophic loss of a sense of self? So... death?

That's Muriel.

There is an angel named Muriel in some Western Christian traditions who becomes a figure called The Abaddon, which is The Angel of Death. The Abaddon factors into different takes on Revelations and apocryphal Biblical stuff. There are several different ideas on who The Abaddon is, though my understanding is that their role as The Angel of Death who brings souls to their final judgement is pretty universal throughout.

In some traditions, The Abaddon is seen as the antichrist. In others, it's Satan. In S1, Good Omens played around with some characters seeing the role of The Abaddon in these ways during Armageddon: Round One through how the Satanic nuns referred to the antichrist baby and Satan as "The Angel of The Bottomless Pit", which is the descriptive phrase given to The Abaddon in multiple different religious writings.

In other religious traditions, though, The Abaddon is thought to be an angel of Heaven or a trio of angels of Heaven. It's these ideas that I think Good Omens is playing with in S2 with, I feel, the heavier emphasis on the true Abaddon being the one most frequently referred to that way-- Muriel. Also supporting the idea of Muriel as Death is that there is also that a character in Salinger's "A Perfect Day for Bananafish" with that name. Muriel is the one set to inherit the main character's wealth and property after he kills himself at the end of the story.

So, how is our lovebug Muriel The Angel of Death?!

For that, we have to look at what a fall is.

Consider that The Metatron can tell Satan that an angel is fair game but, in order for that angel to actually fall to Hell, they have to fail to resist Satan's temptation. What the show is subtly saying is that every angel who is a demon is not just an angel who got caught out saying or doing something that threatened The Metatron's power but, also, an angel who was also already falling into despair and, so, couldn't resist Satan when he came to claim their soul.

The literal fall that happens-- the "freestyle dive into a pit of boiling sulphur", as Crowley called it-- is a symbolic thing that happens after an angel has been unable to resist Satan and, so, is now considered by Heaven and Hell to be a demon.

If you consider that the way the literal fall has been described-- going off a cliff; the parallels to Gabriel nearly jumping out a window-- all of these are images of ways that people sometimes kill themselves. Heaven and Hell come at angels and demons from a place of abuse that pushes them towards suicide. Even in S1, it wasn't straight out murder that Crowley and Aziraphale faced-- they were both forced into what, to Heaven and Hell, would have seen as committing forms of suicide. Crowley getting into a bath of holy water; Aziraphale stepping into hellfire.

So, we're saying that the physical fall happens after an angel has already fallen, and that, in order to fall to Hell, an angel has to have already first fallen into despair.

If the show wants Aziraphale to fall in the Heaven/Hell sense of it, he has to have a mental health breakdown and I'm reminded that the opening credits of this show are Crowley and Aziraphale walking the Earth with all of their history layering up behind them and following along with them and then they go up and up and up on a track in S2 and stop just prior to?

Falling off the edge. The literal fall is what we've stopped just short of but, all along so far, we've been watching the fall in progress build.

The reason why we've never been "shown a fall" on Good Omens is actually because the whole story to date is Aziraphale's fall. It doesn't even really start with S2-- it started long, long ago. It also, though, really kicked into gear just prior to the start of S2, as is noted a bit in this moment here:

Nina asks if everything being weird started the prior week when the power went out and Aziraphale replies:

Trauma is like that. It can be things that happened in your metaphorical 2500 BC that are coming back to bite you in your 2023 AD. It's cumulative. It builds and pushes. You can go and go and go and then, one day, your power just goes out. Your energy to fight is just gone and a storm is brewing. A series of events can push someone who is in an already vulnerable mental health state towards a full on fall into despair and that is what I think S2 is fundamentally about.

S2 is a suicide narrative. Our Clarence Aziraphale is going a bit George Bailey. Even as, on the one hand, he's taking big steps forward to claim more of the life he wants, it's the underlying trauma that he hasn't yet been able to fully deal with that is making him also, at the same time, begin to quietly wonder if those around him would be better off if he were not in their lives.

This is why the most dangerous character in S2 is not Satan or The Metatron.

It is, quietly, Muriel.

How so?

Because when people begin to have more frequent suicidal thoughts, their reasons for living that usually keep them going begin to change to being more of a list of obstacles that are preventing them from death. As a person falls into depression to a point that they begin to feel like maybe everyone around them would be better off if they weren't there, they begin in their minds to try to "solve" the problems that are keeping them from dying. They try-- not always super-consciously-- to set things up in such a way so as to convince themselves that their ties to the Earth will be neatly resolved with minimal bother for anyone else and, more importantly, that all their loved ones will be set up to be fine without them.

People in despair can-- and will-- come up with what are, objectively, absolutely bonkers rationales because, ultimately, they want coffee but they are in such despair that they thinking about ordering death.

Muriel's arrival means that Aziraphale then basically has a solution to every obstacle in his mind in such a way that he clears a path straight to taking his life. They help solve two of his "obstacles": Crowley and the problem of the bookshop.

Muriel is dangerous because they show up at the door with the same curious, upbeat, enthusiastic personality and sense of wonder at the magic of the world that Crowley both loves in Aziraphale and needs in his life.

Muriel is also who can take the bookshop. They're an angel who needs an escape and who loves books and Earth. They're perfect for it. Aziraphale is also horrified to realize that Muriel doesn't recognize him and what the implications of that are and he feels guilty about not having saved them somehow. They begin to represent his self-determined failures and giving them the shop would be, in his mind, making some of that right.

To Aziraphale, Muriel is the cheer and hope that Crowley needs in his life and they've taken to each other like ducks to water, which is then also coming after Aziraphale has subtly been pairing up his partner with the also-immortal-and-traumatized archangel with whom Crowley has much in common and whom we are told in S2 that Aziraphale knows that Crowley finds attractive.

Shax pops up throughout to help show some of Aziraphale's dark thoughts about himself.

What are you, Aziraphale? Crowley's emotional support angel? The one who went native? Do you need more big, human meals, Aziraphale?

The comments in Edinburgh that are not really about the car. It's really more like Aziraphale calling himself "an old piece of junk" and thinking Crowley deserves the chance to get an upgrade to someone better. Gabriel's good-looking and has been through much of the same as Crowley. Muriel is upbeat and makes Crowley smile. Crowley having friends who are supernatural is a great thing but, under the surface, it's also leading Aziraphale to create an inner narrative where he's telling himself that he's replaceable in parts by Gabriel and Muriel and that he wouldn't be leaving Crowley alone if he were to take his own life.

Aziraphale is telling himself that maybe the best way to love Crowley is to make it so that Crowley doesn't have to deal with him.

What did Crowley say about his stars once? The first time they met?

Six thousand years-- that's nothing.

Engine won't even have properly warmed up by then.

Crowley's borderline-immortal. He'll live forever. Six thousand years is a blink of the eye to them. He'll get over me, Aziraphale is telling himself, and find someone worth spending eternity with.

Aziraphale didn't see a path towards death until Muriel's arrival because he didn't fully have a solution to the bookshop and Crowley. That's what makes that adorable moppet of an angel the deadliest character in S2.

The reason why Muriel leapfrogs over every other character and makes it down to the last, pivotal minutes of Crowley and Aziraphale's story in The Final 15-- in a part of the story where even Gabriel is gone-- is because Muriel is death.

It's because this is all about whether or not Aziraphale is going to take the freedom of coffee from Mr. Six Shots of Espresso and live or whether he's going to take the false freedom of the lies he's telling himself from Satan and die.

Is he going to try to take his own life or is he going to find a way through this time, as he has before?

"It's just you and me, Aziraphale." What a statement that is.

It's both true and a complete lie.

Crowley and Muriel are both still in the room when Satan says that so, objectively, it's not really just him and Aziraphale... except that he is controlling Muriel and Crowley in different ways. In that way, it really is only Satan and Aziraphale left by this point. It's down, by that point, to just whether or not Aziraphale is going to live and since Satan is here for him, it's not looking great.

Satan is the embodiment of Aziraphale's life or death choice here and that choice, in many ways, is the only two other beings left in the shop at that point.

It's Crowley or Muriel. It's life or death.

Satan also as Aziraphale's darkest thoughts, really... as Aziraphale's internal dialogue playing out.

What about my bookshop? he asks himself.

Really: What about my life?

Muriel, replies Satan... replies the darkness... replies Aziraphale to himself.

You could entrust it to Muriel.

They need an escape. You'd be doing them a great favor. You'd be sacrificing yourself for them and redeeming yourself for failing to save them. It'd make what you're thinking of doing noble, actually. It'd make it okay. It'd make you a good person.

Aziraphale struggles, right? He almost doesn't do this. He almost says he thinks he's making a mistake because he knows he is. It's just that his every conflict has come up all at once and overwhelmed him.

Even still, the darkness has him pretty solidly-- but not completely-- until this moment right here:

Aziraphale is no fool and he's questioned the idea that this is The Metatron; he's actually trying to tell Crowley that he thinks it's Satan for much of That Scene in the bookshop and to get Crowley to see it and help him, in case it is. Aziraphale hopes he's wrong, though, because he wants it to be The Metatron because he thinks that is the way to fix things but it's not and he knows it, deep down. He doubles down because he's embarrassed, because he feels foolish and afraid and like he has nothing to offer Crowley without the power he thinks he lacks.

Satan's temptation, though, ultimately works because of the final of the death by a thousand cuts here in the whole "Second Coming" moment.

After Satan gets Aziraphale to leave the shop with him to head to Heaven, he, as The Metatron, flatters Aziraphale a bit. He says the things that Aziraphale has always wanted someone in Heaven to say to him. He tells Aziraphale he's needed and that they specifically need and appreciate who he is-- an angel who knows how things are done on Earth. It's validating who Aziraphale is and who is he proud of being in the way that Aziraphale has always wished would happen.

Aziraphale is hurting so much that he starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong about all of this. He was pretty sure before but, maybe, just maybe, he was wrong and he wants to be wrong because then it means maybe that he'd know who he is. Maybe it would mean he would no longer have to be an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can because Heaven would be finally starting to see the light.

Maybe this isn't Satan. Maybe it really is The Metatron. Maybe all of this is real. Maybe he can go to Heaven and take this job and really have the power to protect Crowley and they won't have to be afraid anymore.

Then, Satan drops the bomb. He fires the killshot.

He lets Aziraphale hear him say "we call it 'The Second Coming'" while pretending he didn't mean for Aziraphale to hear it.

This is the moment that Aziraphale knows it was all a lie.

He knows for sure who that is now. He has gone from being 98% sure to a full 100%. He knows that it's not The Metatron but Satan holding open the elevator.

Satan had to tell him, as it's the only thing Satan has to do in some form at the end-- because it has to be Aziraphale's choice. Satan sure as fuck doesn't have to be fair about it-- and he definitely wasn't-- but it's at this moment that Aziraphale knows with absolute certainty that there isn't a job offer.

How could there be if The Second Coming is on the table? They'll never put Aziraphale in charge of Heaven with Armageddon as the agenda. He's the angel who stopped it the last time. It means that Aziraphale knows for sure that, if he gets into the elevator, he's effectively killing himself, because this is all to entrap and kill him, not to promote him.

Satan sets it up so that the final things Aziraphale is thinking about when he makes the choice are that there is no chance that Heaven will ever improve and that they're going to do Armageddon again and just keep doing it until it happens and it's all hopeless and Aziraphale will never have the power to protect Crowley and they're going to just keep living this nightmare forever and he's been doing this for thousands of years and he can't take it anymore.

People who are suicidal are stuck in cycles of their lives they feel they can't get out of and that's exactly what Aziraphale is reminded of in the moment before he gets into the elevator.

He doesn't want death-- he wants coffee.

He wants Crowley, standing appropriately in front of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, with the coffee art and the blues and greens of Earth all around him. The canopy plants in the backseat. This is what Aziraphale wants but he just doesn't know how to get there anymore and the darkness wins out. The villains always win a battle at this part of the story or else there's no plot left going forward and there is a forward because it's Aziraphale. There are ways back from this but that's for S3.

Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, as we know, is substituting the word coffee for the word liberty in the original quote and that's exactly what happens in Aziraphale's decision to get into the elevator. The truth is revealed-- there is no job, which makes him feel like there is no way to ever be free while living. He's exhausted by fighting the same battles, over and over, with no way to escape in sight, and takes what he thinks is the freedom of not suffering anymore.

He chooses the false freedom of death over the true freedom of living-- Satan's coffee over Mr. Six Shots of Espresso in a Big Cup-- because Aziraphale loves that espresso more than anything but he struggles to love himself. He thinks, in that moment of despair, that the best way to love Crowley is to set him free by leaving life.

It's the Job minisode foreshadowing all of it and going back to the start of his story for the end.

It's nothing important, Aziraphale, don't worry...

Just your kids, your house, your businesses, your money, your neighbors, your street, your car, your books, your friends, your community, your Earth and the love of your life.

Just all the love and magic of the world.

Just all your you. Just your life...

When the first shot of the season was the skies sweeping down towards the front of the shop door... and the final shot of the shop in S2 is The Angel of Death-- Muriel-- entering it alone, claiming it and closing the door? When the light goes off in the bookshop window?

When Aziraphale-- after running around with a paralleling clipboard for half an episode-- leaves a note on the dash for his wife, like International Express Delivery Dude did in S1? When his "I love you, Maud" is the car playing Crowley "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square"? That's when we can see why Death appeared to Aziraphale at the end of S1 and has been headed his way since.

Satan's temptation, yes, but executed with the help of The Angel of Death, who helped push Aziraphale into the lift with The Devil and not towards Crowley and The Bentley, where Aziraphale's love has always been willing to give him a lift, anywhere he wants to go.

In a show where people are symbolically what they profess that it is that they do-- midwifery/cobblering, conjuring, "seamstressing" and so on... all of those things are positive. They're about helping others and loving the world. With that in mind?

Go back and look at Muriel's arrival at the bookshop again...

What is adorable is, also, a fucking horror movie of a declaration:

Muriel is a human police officer.

Friends... that's Death.

Muriel is the only one with a horrible self-declared profession. They're not helping birth ideas and babies and art and mending everyone's pain. They're not a working, professional magician helping to develop the street. They're not a healing seamstress. They don't sell old films and records and books. They don't feed anyone at their restaurant or sell musical instruments to nourish their lives. They aren't the best guy on the block-- Mr. Brown and his World of Carpets, giving people what they need to outfit a life of their own. They're the not a member of The Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association-- like their paralleling Jim becomes as he begins to regain the will to live.

Crowley is worried about caring for Gabriel being too much for Aziraphale but it's really Muriel that is a walking trigger for him.

Gabriel is a character people think is a villain who is really a lovebug; Muriel is a character people think is a lovebug but who is, symbolically, the worst possible thing to ever show up on your doorstep.

Gabriel is saying books are keen and hot chocolate is amazing and live, live, live, live, Aziraphale...

He's the part of Aziraphale's mind that is trying to save himself while Muriel is the part that is luring him towards death.

Muriel is saying the best part of a cupperty is to look at it, Aziraphale.

It's not for you. You're an angel. You aren't supposed to want to live your own life. You aren't supposed to have wants and needs at all. Even if you go into that back room to be with Crowley alone and try to shut me out, I will break down the door and come after both of you before too long is up.

Muriel is cosplaying Earth's most invasive and violent profession and they're so sweet about it that it tends to bury the eeriness of their arrival. In Muriel, Aziraphale is confronted with his paralyzing perfectionism, his negative self-worth, his rampant imposter syndrome, and his excessive self-sacrificing-- all at once.

All his negative feelings are here at the door in the form of this fun house mirror version of himself-- a cheery and also clinically depressed angel, who is actually cosplaying humanity the way Aziraphale always feels like he is, even if he knows at the core that he's every bit as human as the billions on Earth.

The world is for the professional conjurers, for the humans, for everyone but Aziraphale, in his mind. He is supposed to be above needing any of it. He is supposed to never be angry, anxious, tired, depressed, hungry. He isn't supposed to need the home and books and music and food and sex and magic that he lives for. This angel isn't supposed to be a member of The Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association but he founded the street, let alone the group, and he'll die trying to host a meeting because nothing makes him feel more himself than when he lets himself be a part of the world.

Muriel's presence worsens his depression spiral, which we've seen is what happens when the negative thoughts get to be too much.

In S2, he goes a sherry-and-stomach-settling-drop diet. He doesn't eat the eccles cakes. He doesn't slow down and enjoy much of anything. Part of the joy of the ox rib scene is that Aziraphale isn't really enjoying himself that much in the present in S2 and it's the only thing like it in S2. Aziraphale, in S2, has put himself and his demon on half-rations and talks about his frozen peas to his fellow duck less. He goes back and forth between trying to self-care (Shostakovich and going to the Gabriel statue and brief moments of flirting with Crowley) and self-neglect (the entire rest of the season lol). Mix in too many additional stressors like what S2 had and it goes from the anxious period of fasting in 1967 to the cause for big time alarm that is S2.

Intellectually, Aziraphale knows that mindful human living is prescriptive. He saves Gabriel by starting to teach him what he knows about it. There's always been a little voice whispering at Aziraphale, though, that it might be right for others but that doesn't mean he's supposed to feel or need those things. He should be above it because that, apparently, would make him the good person that he doesn't often believe he is. His feelings aren't even about being an angel in the Heaven sense so much as in the human anxious perfectionist sense, in that he's excessively self-sacrificing because he doesn't fundamentally believe he's a good person.

There's nothing wrong with being as kind and generous to people as you can. It's when you're doing that while also not acknowledging that you are a person with wants and needs at the same time that you can self-sacrifice yourself right off a cliff as a way of trying to convince yourself that you're not a bad person.

You can deny yourself the life you want out of the excuse that it's your purpose only to care for everyone else but it's not really virtuous. It's a form of self-harm.

What hurts so much about S2 is 1941 because the minisode then gives us Crowley and Aziraphale slaying demons left and right. It gives us what a good day looks like in a whole season that is, otherwise, a series of bad days mixed with things that are also not within their control that then lead to the worst, possible ending.

We see, really, how good they are at caring for one another. The kiss scene is made infinitely more painful by us having seen in the 1941 minisode another conversation in the same spot in bookshop when Aziraphale was struggling with these same issues that went so very differently.

Crowley is very good at gently reminding Aziraphale that, not only is he wonderful, but that he's a person, too, and that everyone feels like they are jiggery-pokery sometimes. Everyone struggles with the voices of others and themselves trying to judge them and how that impacts a sense of self. That fighting through that to be able to live and love is, unfortunately, a pretty common experience of being a person.

This is not new for Aziraphale. It's so very old, stirred up hardcore in S2, now that it's been four years since Heaven contacted him. Aziraphale doesn't know that it's because Gabriel is trying to protect him. He thinks he's so inconsequential that Heaven couldn't even be assed to send someone to formally fire him and take the bookshop embassy that, despite being something of an albatross around Aziraphale's neck, he's also really proud of having built.

Aziraphale wants Heaven to fuck off but he also feels embarrassed by the fact that Heaven could fuck off so easily and that he feels like he doesn't have a friend there to speak of after thousands of years. He is ashamed of it needing to be Crowley who gets them a contact for info in Shax because he sees it as more dangerous for Crowley to need to be in contract with the demons and as a failure to protect him-- the thing that's at the core of Satan's temptation at the end of the season. (Also why Crowley is trying not to tell him about Shax taking his job and his conversation with Beez, which is a huge mistake but it's coming from a good place.)

Surely, Aziraphale thinks, if he hasn't fallen and he's still an angel... if he still is one, he's not really sure, as what is a non-working angel?... then, if he were good, there'd be some angel up there who would still be talking to him. He knows Heaven isn't good, exactly, but not all of the angels are terrible. As anyone who has ever had to go no contact with an abusive family knows, the illogical doubts that creep up can make a person think that maybe they're the wrong ones. At your worst, you can wonder: if the whole family thinks you're wrong, are you really right? Aziraphale knows he is right but it gets complicated.

Add to that the stress of worrying that something will happen to Crowley every time he goes out the door (part of Aziraphale's own trauma for millennia, made worse by 1827), and Crowley's PTSD exacerbated by the fire in S1, and Aziraphale's negative self-thoughts are being triggered even worse than usual. He's blaming himself for them not being safe, when that's not fully within his control... which, in Aziraphale's mind, is the whole problem and an example of how he is failing Crowley.

This is all long before Gabriel shows up at the door and the season gets started with a series of events that then worsen Aziraphale's state of mind. By the time Muriel shows up at the door, these negative kinds of thoughts out in full force in Aziraphale and Muriel represents them.

Muriel might be cute as a button and, as a character in their own right, being used left and right by Heaven, but it doesn't change the fact that Muriel is, symbolically, a mashup of the human and supernatural cops trying to kill them that Crowley and Aziraphale have been outrunning their whole lives.

The Angel of Death is a cop because of course they are, right? What other group of people has been existing to entrap, imprison, torture and kill people for eons?

From the book: If you want to imagine the future, imagine a boy and his dog and his friends. And a summer that never ends.

S1 was summer. It was the nightingales.

S2 is the lingering doom of preparations for Christmas lights. It's the days getting shorter and colder. The nightingales have flown to warmer climates. Because this is Good Omens so the season of Aziraphale's fall is set in the season of... well, the fall.

The good news is that, both literally and metaphorically?

Summer is always just around the corner.

[osarquivosmagnus]

hey question to the people that watch vods from people other than forever and/or cellbit, but knows what goes on with them, does any other egg have the kind of lore that richas has been bringing up? Like the art thing etc bc they have been trying to figure out if richas is only playing or if it's truly Lore being revealed and forever even has talked about thinking the eggs were maybe the 24 original people in the island (which idk if I agree, but it could make sense!) and I just want to know if other eggs have revealed anything explicitly or implicitly

(Oh I dont mind "spoilers" and also I've just started the presidential arc, so idk if they have already figured something out in the meantime... they wanted to takes richas to a psychologist but roier hasn't been loggin in and he was the plan lmao)

[ssoupcup]

i need to do this when s3 ends as well. it feels like a pokemon evolution. when will she unlock her final form

[medicinemane]

One issue I have is there's a whole lot of things where it's like "I'm actually nearly on your side, I'm very sympathetic to this, I just need one or two issues addressed and then I'd be with you on this... you just have to kinda... walk me through how this thing that feels like a kinda big problem isn't a problem"

And pretty much always it's just kinda like "oh, well it's not a problem, so don't worry about it"

...mhh... yeah... but I need some actual proof. I want to trust you, but I need something that actually deals with it, not to just basically be told to have faith... I have no faith, I'm a faithless person

And it's such a shame cause... instead of being able to work along side people I tend to hover off to the side trying to support it in my own small ineffective ways cause... I just have serious issues no one's ever bothered to address

Just sucks, you know?

[pygmi-cygni]

writing tip - research

research is one of the pillars of writing. a poorly researched fic, essay, short story, novel, etc is immediately apparent because of several things:

lack of depth

stagnant plot or development

confusing or inconsistent setting

it doesn't matter what genre you write, if it's original or fiction, whatever. you need to research. depending on the relevance of your writing, the depth of research may vary, but it needs to happen. you do not know everything.

Fantasy

I see a lot of writers and authors use fantasy as an excuse to avoid research. Shut the fuck up. Every good fantasy is based on a real ocurrence or social dilemma. That's why we like it so much.

'but pygmi, fantasy is made up! it isn't real!'

SHUT UP. Even if you don't realize it, your story will have elements that readers are intimately familiar with. If you flub something, it will be noticed.

Besides, just because you make stuff up doesn't mean you can be inconsistent. You'll just have to fill in the cracks with made up stuff, which will even out to being about the same amount of effort. Pick your poison, either way you're gonna feel it.

Research is not everybody's favorite. I like it, personally, I think it's like going on little side quests for knowledge. But I understand if you wanna skip all the business and get to writing your baby. No shame.

Let me give you some pointers to make sure the time you spend researching is relevant and well spend.

Lists! God I love lists. after you have outlined your story and your characters and everything, make a list of all the things you need to have a deeper understanding of. This means determining priorities. - How important is The Thing? Will it majorly affect plot or character development? Is it a focal point of the setting? If the answer is yes to any of those questions, it's important. research.

Big picture, little picture. How important is The Thing (again)?. How much detail do you need to know? Especially when it comes to royalty or a hierarchal system, I see research being misguided. There are so many nuances to royal interactions that I could give a rat's ass. Big picture, general outline. I don't need to know everything, just basic courtesy, terms of address, appropriate convo. done. but if your MC is a coroner? might wanna put more detail into that; you'll be talking about the job a lot. determine how much the element will affect your story and go from there.

Don't fudge it for the plot. You'll have a preconceived notion of a certain job description, and then research it and think 'oh that's actually boring.' Don't muddle up the rules just to fit the aesthetic. It's sloppy, and your readers will notice.

To practice researching, pick your topic and after learning a bit about it, try teaching a powerpoint to your parents or friends. if you feel comfortable enough with that knowledge to do it successfully, I'd say you have a good enough understanding.

Setting

researching location is a big one that often gets overlooked. You don't always need to memorize maps, but get a general idea of the city/country layout so when you say "they drove 20 minutes from A to B" it makes sense, rather than having a reader think "Uh, A to B is closer to four hours, wtf?"

if you are making up your city, make a list of important streets and locations in relation to each other. This will help you keep it straight and organized in your head.

Get a feel for flora and fauna. Palm trees don't grow in Alaska. Don't write an Alaskan city with palm trees.

Weather? what's it like? Let me tell you, Portland doesn't get higher than 102F. rainy, cloudy, all that stuff.

Atmospheric details really add a lot, especially if your audience is from that location. It adds another layer of relatability. Also, use weather/plants/animals to your advantage! symbolism, possible curse, all that stuff.

Eras

Oh my god stop fucking this up. Baroque, Elizabethan, Edwardian, Middle Ages ARE DIFFERENT FROM EACH OTHER. STOP SLAPPING FANCY CLOTHES ON PEOPLE AND CALLING IT THE OLDEN DAYS.

get an idea of when electricity was widespread in homes. when was the refrigerator invented? did they use the word 'hella' in 1950? this kinda stuff is important for not breaking the illusion of a time difference. If you are writing a period piece and someone is chatting with a neighbor like it's 2015, we'll have some questions.

Unless it's doctor who. you guys can do literally whatever.

Plot and Character Development

If plot and characters are poorly researched, you are limiting the opportunities for growth. In researching your MC's occupation, you may discover a cool side effect that connects to a plot device. Stagnant, stale characters can be spruced up with a more developed backstory.

All in all, research is really important for your story. regardless of how professional it is, tumblr or the new york times. Do your research. As a writer, you are representing the community in your own way. Do us proud.

xox love you

[pipwritesoccasionally]

midnight emotions (two little lines pt. 2)

in which your stepson has a bad dream and you feel guilty.

this one has less to do with your pregnancy but it is still relevant!

toji x reader (same stuff from last time applies, technically AFAB because of pregnancy but it's also a world with sorcery so I am not here to stop AMAB people. kept it pretty gender neutral, but let me know if it doesn't seem like it.)

wc: 850

pt. 1 pt.3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

the darkness floods your eyes as you blink awake for the second time that night. body aching, you roll over, feet fluffing the carpet of you and toji’s bedroom. your arms reach up, exposing your growing stomach to the cold air. 

as you stand, the bed creaks, and you hear your husband groan. 

“doll?” his voice is low from sleep, and you place your hand on his arm. 

“i’m good. i just have to pee.” 

“again? you went two hours ago,” you’d never think that toji could be so whiny, but it sure was a very cute surprise. 

“babe, a whole human is growing next to my bladder. i’m going to be peeing all the time for the next few months,” you chuckle, and you hear him roll over on the bed. 

“fine. see you soon.” 

with that, you begin your walk to the bathroom, able to navigate the dark hallways perfectly after following this routine for weeks. after doing your business, you walk back down the hall, but this time you find that it’s much easier. 

in fact, there’s a light on in one of the bedrooms, which you quickly discern to be megumi’s. you knock, hearing a little “come in” on the other side. 

“megumi? what are you doing up?” you whisper, seeing him sitting up in bed. he furiously rubs his hands with his face, and the sight brings tears to your eyes. 

“i…had a bad dream.” he says, his little voice full of sadness. you move to kneel next to his bed, hoping to reassure him. 

“what happened? you can talk to me about it, if you want. or i can get your dad if you’d prefer.” he shakes his head, but still seems to hesitate. 

“dad’s not going to…leave us, will he?” worry strikes through you. 

“never. what would make you think that?”

“i don’t know, i guess i just wish we could see him more. he’s always pretty busy and only comes home for dinner.” another tear falls down his little face, and you can feel one mirror on your own. curse your hormones. 

“he’s busy, yes, but it’s because he’s trying to provide for you as best as he can. he just wants you to be happy,” megumi nods, but you can see that there’s still something on his mind. 

“it’s just that…when the baby comes, will he still have time for us?” your heart brakes at his statement, guilt shattering you. 

“of course he will. i promise you that he will always have time for you. he can be gruff, but he loves you.” 

“pinky promise?” he holds his little pinky out, and you immediately hook your much larger one around it. 

“pinky promise. now go back to bed. if you’re tired in the morning, let me know and i’ll call you out of school.” he nods, and you walk to the door, turning his light off. 

“sleep tight kiddo.” the door closes with a soft click!, and you immediately head back to your shared bedroom. your face feels wet, and you realize belatedly that you’d been crying. 

the bed is comforting, but you feel your breaths come out shakily. 

“doll? what’s wrong?” you jump, not realizing your husband’s still awake, and scoot in closer. 

“megumi’s worried that you won’t have time for him once the baby comes, and i feel so guilty. i didn’t even think about how this would affect them.” you’re hiccuping now, and his large hand comes to rest on your back. 

“you didn’t do anything wrong, i should be here more for them.” he whispers, and you shake your head. 

“no, you’re just doing what you can to help us.” he sighs, and you place your head on his chest. 

“yeah, but maybe it’s not enough. i’ll try to cut back on how many jobs i take weekly so i can be here more. we make more than enough money between the two of us anyways.” 

you hum, remembering exactly why you fell in love with him all those years ago. he isn’t exactly the most open person, but he does love his kids in his own way. 

“you need to stop being so cute. this isn’t good for my blood pressure,” he snorts, squeezing you lightly. 

“cute, huh? never thought someone would call me cute,” you laugh at him, wrapping your arms around his body. 

“why wouldn’t they? you just ooze cuteness, from your thick biceps and rippling abs-” 

“i’m starting to think you might be in love with me.” you can just hear the grin in his voice, and you move to roll away before one of his strong arms stops you. 

“ah-ah,” he tuts, “need my doll next to me so i can protect her.” 

“you sure you’re not the one in love with me?” his chest is firm as you run your fingers across it. 

“you wish,” he presses a kiss against your temple, and your body heats up. you huff, feigning annoyance, and his hand comes to cup your face. 

“fine. i might be in love with you. just a little bit."

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 4 - "Do you even know what this means?"

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: G

Warnings: -

Tim stared at his family with pure exhaustion before letting out a sigh while covering his face with his hands because of the worried looks they were sending him after his long rant.

It had all started with a stupid school project. It was just supposed to be a stupidly simple school project. Did he think of the whole thing as the greatest nonsense project his school has ever come up with? Yes. Did he still do it? Yes. He needed the extra credits, because of some stupid meetings he had missed other projects which was the entire reason he took part in this one.

Maybe he should have tried buying his grade out of it like all the other snobbish rich kids but then he would feel guilty and the moment Alfred found out, he would have to life with the disappointed™ look. Something he really didn't want to deal with. So instead he took part in this stupid ancestry project his school had organized.

But when he had allowed the school to send in his DNA he certainly did not expect the result he got back. Because when he opened the email, he noted that it was addressed to someone named Danny Fenton not Tim Drake, he didn't even read the rest really. That should have been his first warning.

His second warning was when he had hacked into the that DNA testing facility to actually get his results back and then found a note on his data file about a near 100% DNA match to one Danny Fenton which caused them to assumed that Tim was Danny and just had sent in his DNA a second time after, he peaked through his finger onto the screen, 5 years. That should have been his second warning.

But no, Tim had actively ignored all the warnings and decided to dig into who this Danny Fenton was. Because there were so many possibilities of how they could match but only so little to explain the time difference between them sending in the DNA samples. For dear good Tim hoped to all things that there wasn't someone else to have attempted to clone him before Ra, no worse even, he hoped HE wasn't the clone in this situation.

Really he didn't want to add existential crisis to all the problems and cases he already had to deal with.

So what does one do best when they learn there was someone with nearly the same DNA you have? He looked that someone up. So that was what Tim did next. He had spent nights looking up anything he could find, summarizing all the information he found, branching off when he found other concerning stuff and then stewed in some frustration of the incompetence of some people when discovering other facts.

In the end Tim compiled all the data he had found into a 30 slides long power point. That he had presented to his family and was awaiting their reaction. Bruce had grunted earlier and the demon brat had huffed out something in between slight 25 and 26 earlier. Jason had muttered something right at the beginning and Dick had stayed quiet the entire time, so did Cass. Steph hadn't said a thing either and Duke looked just puzzled.

"Do you even know what that means?" Demon brat finally broke the silence, causing Tim's eye to twitch before aggressively pointing to his last slide still on the presenter.

"Yes, I do know what this means. I have listed all possibilities right here if you haven't noticed. And i explained possibility three, four and six on slide-"

"Replacement. I don't think that's what the brat means." Jason cut in and Tim glared at him.

"Timmy, when was the last time you slept?" Dick carefully asked and Tim directed his glare at him.

"I believe Master Timothy hasn't slept for about 72 hours now." Alfred added in with that disapproving stare of him and time looked away stubbornly. How was the amount of sleep he got relevant right now? There was a possibility of him being a clone or someone having cloned maybe even years before he started to follow B around as a kid with a camera.

Bruce let out a sigh and Steph appeared to try to hide a chuckle leaning on Cass shoulder. "He must be lacking sleep if he doesn't see the most obvious possibility considering the time line he presented on slide 18."

"Oh so, I am not the only one thinking he is missing another obvious possibility?" Duke asked and once more Tims eye twitched. Getting fed up with his family, Tim huffed and crossed his arms, glaring at them all.

"And what is it that I am obviously missing?"

"The screenshot of the mail you put in slide 3 stated that it's not a 100% match but 89%. In addition it stated in the last line a suspected possibility of a familiar relation. I am disappointed, Drake. That you would miss something this obvious."

"What?" Tim whirled around going to the slide to reread the mail.

"Considering that I am pretty sure, we don't have any sort of cloning case here Tim." Dick started his voice now slightly laced with Humor and Tim narrowed his eyes at his older brother over his shoulder. "You just discovered that you had a twin, that we probably still go to rescue."

Tim's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He did not know what to say and before he could even catch up with what his brothers had said Alfred was already behind him pushing him towards the elevator.

"It is time for you to get some sleep Master Timothy. I am sure Master Bruce and the others will be perfectly able to handle the rest of the situation with the information you compiled. You can join them after you have rested."

[beenbaanbuun]

after sex w/ yunho

wrote this while i should’ve been getting ready for work lmaoooo

——————————————————————————

yunho groaned from where he lay beside you. “up you get, little one,” he said, voice hoarse from where he’d been barking instructions at you for the past hour or so. you pout at him, really not wanting to leave his warm embrace and face the cold word that awaited outside your bed, “don’t give me that look.”

“what look?” you furrow your brows at him.

“that one right there,” he grumbles, “the one where you look like a homocidal chihuahua - all pouty lips and angry eyebrows and not a thought between them.”

he smirks as he you slap his chest. the sound reverberates around the room and it stings a little, but yunho can take a lot more than that. he’s pretty sure his back is bleeding in more than a few places from where you’d been clawing at it. maybe you were more like a chihuahua than he originally thought.

“i think,” you argue, “i think so much!”

he hums.

“you think too much,” his eyes land on your flaming eyes and he struggles to hold back a laugh. even when you’re trying to seem intimidating, he can’t help but find you adorable. you’re like a cute puppy that has a penchant for ankle biting - your expression of frustration only made you that much more sweet, “and nothing you think about is ever relevant. face it, pipsqueak, you’re a chronic overthinker; now get up, will you?”

he has you dead to rights there, shutting you up before you can even slip another word through your lips. instead you scrunch your face up and cross your arms in one last act of defiance. you don’t want to get up, and even though you know he’ll make you, you can at least make it difficult for him.

a small shove against your shoulder is immediately followed by another one, and if yunho’s tactic is annoying you into getting up, you’re afraid he might be successful. the first two pushes are nothing you can’t live with, but then he pushes you a third time, and then a forth, and then you let out an annoyed groan. clearly yunho wasn’t going to stop any time soon.

“why do i have to get up anyway?” you say as you roll a couple of inches away from him. of course, he just follows and continues his prior annoyance on you, “i’m comfy here in your arms, and you promised we could be ‘gross and shower in the morning’.”

“we can be gross and shower tomorrow,” he replies, “but you know well and good that we pee after sex in this household, missy. being gross and sweaty for a night is completely different to getting a UTI, don’t you think?”

you mutter some expletives under your breath, because fuck him for being right. always so smart, and always so smug about it too. you give him a single petty shove back before rolling to the edge of the bed and standing up. your limbs feel heavy, and you almost wish you could rewind a few seconds and beg yunho to carry you instead. he’d probably have done it, too, but it’s too late now. with you already standing next to the bed, achy limbs and all, he’d probably just shoo you away if you asked.

you go to walk away, managing to take a single step before he grabs you by the wrist. you turn to him, noticing the sly smile he wears, and cock a brow.

“what?” you ask.

“you know what.”

“yunho, they’re covering in my cum,” you groan, “that’s so gross.”

he scoffs.

“you’re covered in your cum too, but i don’t think you’re gross.”

again, you groan. you know exactly what he’s asking for, and you know he’s not going to give up until he gets it. with a sigh and a slow, disgruntled hand, you pick your abandoned panties off of the floor and throw them at him. they hit his chest with a slap, and he can’t help but giggle to himself as he lifts them to his face and takes a sniff.

“thanks, hot stuff,” his voice is muffled by the material, “now hurry up and pee so you can come back and cuddle.”

you sigh.

“fine, but you better not have a boner when i get back!”

[megalony]

Little Flirt

It's been a while, but this is a new Nick Amaro imagine, requested by the lovely @ilikestuffs-stuff. I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay

Masterlist

Summary: Nick is about to head home when he realises he's left some stuff at the precinct. So he takes his daughter with him to retrieve them, and the team meet his little girl.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alright beautiful," Nick murmured softly as he kissed the top of Sophie's head, brushing his thumb across her rosy cheek when she leaned into him.

He bounced her on his hip, grinning to himself when she cosied up further into his chest like it was the middle of winter and she was trying to keep warm. Her hand was clutching his overcoat and her face was nuzzled down against his shoulder.

When he moved his hand from her cheek to rub up and down her back, she let out a content hum and started tapping her hand against his chest, still clinging to edge of his coat.

It wasn't often that Nick finished early enough to pick Sophie up from daycare, but today had been a half day since he had done the last three days in a row and worked late into the night on each shift. Leaving earlier meant he could pick Sophie up on his way home rather than (Y/n) having to come out and collect her and it meant Nick got a bit of time with his girl, one on one.

He reached the car and sat Sophie in his right arm so he could open the door and lean in to buckle her in. He clipped her in and pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek which caused her to squeal.

She was only eighteen months old, but she was as cheeky as a ten year old and she knew just how to get Nick round her little finger. She was the apple of his eye.

"Are you ready?" He grinned when she smiled and nodded, not knowing what he was asking, only understanding his smile that radiated down at her.

Once she was in, Nick headed round and climbed in the driver's seat. He had livened up when he went in to get Sophie, but now he was starting to feel drained again. He knew once he got home he would be having something to eat and then he would spark out for a nap with Sophie. Neither of them would be doing much for the rest of the afternoon.

He turned on the ignition and glanced to the right when he got his phone from his pocket and tossed it on the passenger seat.

Where were his case files?

A deep frown set in his brow and he leaned across, moving his badge, the few takeout coffee cups and the pacifier and toys he had cluttering the seat. He stretched across to reach into the passenger footwell which seemed to tickle Sophie who giggled like he had just fallen over.

He needed those files. He had to up early in the morning to go down to court and be a witness. He had to have those files so he knew all of the relevant information and he needed the release papers for a suspect. After court Nick was meant to pick up a suspect from the cells. All those documents had to go with him so he could prepare tonight and then take them tomorrow to get the suspect, he couldn't get them released without the paperwork.

"Fuck." He tossed the empty cups and sat back in his seat, closing his eyes as he threw his head back.

Did he even pick them up from his desk? He had been in a rush to leave. The moment Liv said he could go home early, Nick packed up, grabbed his keys and shot out the squad room. He sent (Y/n) a quick message saying he would grab Sophie and would be home soon and came down here.

He didn't remember grabbing those files from his desk drawer.

Turning in his seat, Nick looked into the back where Sophie had her hand stuffed into her mouth, drooling happily as she wriggled from side to side along with the music on the radio.

"We're gonna make a detour to daddy's office, how's that sound?"

When she grinned, Nick reached out to shake her foot playfully before he spun round and put the car into gear. He didn't want to go back. He just wanted to go home, but the station was only ten minutes away and he could be in and out in two minutes. All he had to do was grab the files from his drawer and be right back out again.

He could hear Sophie giggling in the back and it made a smile light up his face. He leaned his elbow on the door and dragged his hand through his hair, brushing the forming curls back and causing them to stand on end in waves. He could feel a headache forming behind his eyes. He needed a drink and something to eat. He needed to sit down with his girls rather than work twenty hours a day on this case.

By the time he got back to the station and parked out front, Nick didn't feel like he had any energy within him to get out, let alone drive back home after he'd grabbed what he needed.

But he pushed himself out the car and ran his hands up and down his face before he opened the back door. No way was he leaving his toddler in the car, even if it would only take him a minute to grab what he needed. Someone snatching his daughter wasn't a risk he would ever take.

"Come're beautiful." He cooed, unstrapping her and cuddling her to his chest once again.

She was at the stage where she could walk now, not amazingly well, Sophie tended to keep her legs straight and kick her feet out a lot. But she could still walk, and if Nick had the time and the energy he would have put her down and let her walk for a bit. But that would take time and he didn't want to risk anyone knocking into her.

People were always rushing around, places to be and interviews they were late for. It wouldn't take much for someone to bump into her and send her flying or step back and stand on her without realising.

He loved the way Sophie looped her arm around the back of his neck and started to kick her legs that were settled around the side of his torso. When he felt her hand begin to bash on his chest as he walked into the reception, he reached up and took hold of her hand.

He swayed their hands back and forth as he headed straight down the hall towards the stairs at the back. He couldn't be bothered to wait for the lift.

"Where are we going? Daddy's work, yeah?" He murmured against the side of her head as they headed up the stairs and he bounced her in his arm just so she would giggle and wriggle against his chest.

The squadroom didn't look as empty as it did when he left. A few people were milling about, waiting for someone to take their statements and to have official interviews. There were more officers in here than usual and the phones were ringing and everyone was moving about trying to answer them.

For a dreaded moment, Nick thought walking back in here might make Liv change her mind and ask him to stay on until late. But when Sophie tapped his chest to get his attention, a wave of ease overcame him. He couldn't. He couldn't be asked to stay when he had his daughter here in his arms. She was his ticket back home.

"What, baby?" He whispered, leaning his head to one side as he tilted back to look at her properly.

His cheeks creased as a wide smile took over his features when his girl patted her hand on his cheek and leaned close. Nick obliged, leaning forward so he could kiss her. She was being sweet. Usually when she wanted a kiss, Sophie would just grab his face roughly in her hands and drag him close so she could get what she wanted.

Once he'd kissed her, twice, Nick smothered his lips against her temple and walked into the room.

He weaved around two officers stood talking to who he presumed would be a new case victim and his hand moved to rub up and down Sophie's back soothingly. He wasn't too sure if the noise in the station and the tense atmosphere might make her uneasy, but she seemed very content and eager to look around.

Once he was stood in front of his desk, Nick leaned forward and pointed towards the photo frame next to the phone.

"Who's that?"

A quiet "Mama," passed Sophie's lips as she grinned, showing off her little teeth and her tongue that poked out and made her look positively devilish.

It was one of Nick's favourite photos from his birthday two years ago, showing him with a dark pair of sunglasses, a beer raised in his hand and his arm around (Y/n). She had the brightest smile he had ever seen and Nick's chin perched on top of her head because (Y/n) always said they were 'like two pieces of a puzzle that slotted together just right.'

Keeping Sophie tilted into his chest, Nick leaned back and bent his knees so he could open his top desk drawer. He rummaged around and nodded to himself when he saw the files he thought he had picked up earlier. Those were what he needed; they could go home now.

Just as he shut the drawer, Nick leaned up straight and his eyes widened when a loud squeal passed Sophie's lips. She started to wriggle and her hand patted against her mouth, making a loud popping sound as she continued to squeal and laugh.

Nick cast his wide eyes around the station, trying to find what had caught his daughter's attention. And a soft sigh passed his lips that curved into a tepid grin when he looked and noticed Amanda heading right in their direction.

She had seen the girl in his arms and was making grabbing hands with wide eyes and an open mouth in shock.

Nick had never brought Sophie down to the station before. He never actually told the rest of the team that he had a little girl waiting at home for him. It never came up. Not everyone divulged personal information until they got to know everyone, and Nick was no different.

He didn't want to talk about Sophie. He never knew who might be listening and with the kind of people they brought in for questioning and had in custody around here, talking about his daughter didn't feel safe. It was easier not to.

She was his little girl and he liked having her as his secret, his and his alone, waiting at home for him.

He let a smile pull at his lips and he leaned Sophie back against his chest when he watched Amanda hurry over towards them.

"Who is this cutie?" Amanda's eyes danced between Nick and the little girl in his arms who she had never seen before. She held her hand out to which Sophie instantly took hold of and began swaying it back and forth in front of her like it was a toy to mess with.

"This is Sophie." He moved her a little bit higher on his hip and braced his other hip against the counter when Sophie started to move.

She began to wriggle around in his arms, swaying from side to side but she kept her left arm looped around Nick's neck like an insurance policy. Making sure he wasn't about to let her go or hand her over to someone she didn't know.

"I didn't know you had nieces."

Amanda smiled and leaned her right hand on the desk while she let Sophie sway her other hand in the air. She smoothed her thumb over the back of her hand and grinned across at her. She had no idea Nick had any kids in his family. She knew he had a little sister and that he was close to all the women in his family, but she didn't know much other than that.

"Uh, I don't. This is my baby girl." It was as if Sophie understood every word he said because she flashed her pearly whites and let go of Amanda's hand to grip the collar of his shirt instead. "Careful," He murmured, leaning his head forward towards her so she didn't strangle him with the force she yanked on his collar.

"Oh, wow." The surprise was evident in her eyes but her smile never wavered as she folded her arms over her chest and perched on the edge of his desk.

This was a new development.

Nick pressed a kiss to Sophie's cheek when she began tugging on his collar, subsequently undoing the first few buttons in the process. When she wriggled again, Nick sighed through a smile and leaned down, letting her stand on her own two feet.

There weren't many people nearby so she wasn't in danger of bumping into anyone or getting in the way. He would follow right behind her like a shadow if she tried to wander off and he would scoop her up if needed.

He could see she was excited at the prospect of being able to toddle around, her wide eyes were roaming around as if she was searching for trouble to scout out.

"How old is she?"

"Eighteen months." Nick folded his arms over the back of his chair but when he clocked his eyes on the files he had placed on his desk, he moved one hand to his pocket. He fished around for his keys and placed them on top of the file of documents, that way he wouldn't forget them for a second time.

His eyes followed Sophie as she started to bend her knees like she was doing a little dance. And when she twisted her head to look up at her dad like she was searching for approval, Nick grinned down at her and poked his tongue between his teeth.

A loud babble left her lips and she turned around, stomping her feet down on the spot before she looked in the other direction near the coffee station.

Nick looked behind him to see what had caught his daughter's attention and he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck when he realised she was looking over at Carisi.

Well, he knew bringing Sophie into the squad meant them all finding out about her, and it was too late now anyway. Amanda had already seen her and would no doubt fill in the rest of the team if he left now. He may as well let his girl wander round and see the team for a bit before they headed back home.

And it was endearing to see the way Carisi rose a brow and planted his hands on his hips when he saw the little girl staring intently at him.

She grinned, tangling her hands in front of her as she slowly trotted towards him, kicking her feet rather than properly bending her knees as she walked. Nick was rather surprised that she was so eager to go up to him, she was usually a little nervous and apprehensive around people she didn't know.

But with a wide grin that showed off her teeth and her tongue poking out, Sophie headed over to Carisi who squatted down to be level with her. He clasped his hands together between his thighs and smiled sweetly at her when she got close.

"Hi there sweetheart, where'd you come from?" When she tapped on his arm, Carisi held his hands out to see what she wanted. He let her take his hand but he was more than surprised when she shuffled forward to stand up close to him so their noses were almost touching.

A little babble left her lips and her eyes creased when she grinned which caused her nose to crinkle. She patted her hand down on his and said something else that Carisi couldn't make head nor tails of.

His eyes widened when her arms suddenly looped around his neck. She tugged and pulled until he realised she wanted to be picked up.

"Ahh…" His eyes scanned around, trying to see whose child she was so he wasn't overstepping any boundaries.

She could be the kid of a victim who had come in to make a statement. Carisi doubted she would be a suspect's child or in a suspect's custody or else the protective services would already be here to take her somewhere safe. And uniformed police wouldn't come here with their children, so he figured she was either a victim's child or one of their own detective's kid.

He narrowed his eyes when he caught Nick and Amanda both watching him and when Nick nodded, Carisi gingerly lifted the little girl up and stood back to his feet.

He walked over towards them, looking between them and the little girl who seemed to have taken a liking to him.

"What's your name?" He murmured softly, raising a brow when all he got in return was a quiet but rather chirpy 'fee'.

"Sophie." Nick corrected, emphasising the first syllable which his girl hadn't managed to master yet. He found it rather endearing the way she could only say the last syllable of her name, but they were working on pronouncing as she was finally starting to get some vocabulary.

"Don't tell me she's yours." Carisi bounced her in his arms, admiring the way she started to giggle and how it caused her to look rather devilish when she squinted her eyes and flashed her front teeth.

"My baby," He confirmed, holding his hands out to take her back into his arms. He kissed her cheek and rubbed his hand up and down her back, but he rose a brow when she kept looking over towards Carisi.

Her hands gathered against her chest like she was praying and when Carisi leaned down a little to look at her, she burst into a fit of giggles. She buried her cheek into her dad's neck, half hiding her face as she cuddled into him, clearly flustered at the attention. She had found a new friend.

"You're a little flirt, you know that?" Nick commented with a huff of indignation as he looked at his little girl.

Of course she didn't know what he was saying, but she knew enough to tilt her head up and kiss his cheek like she was buttering him up. Sophie already knew all she had to do was kiss Nick or cuddle up to him and she would have him wrapped around her finger.

"She's adorable, why didn't you tell us you had a little girl?"

"Just never came up." Nick murmured back while he smothered his lips against the top of his girl's head.

He bounced her in his arms and swayed from left to right as she cuddled into him again. He could tell that she was getting tired, she would be due a nap soon and Nick was already running on his last energy reserves. They both needed to head home for the afternoon and recover.

"Who let you two back in the building?"

Liv's voice rung out through the air and pointed across to her so Sophie would look and see who was heading their way towards the middle of the squad room.

"Hi Sophie, hi." A bright smile lit up Liv's face and she reached her hand out to brush Sophie's cheek. "How are you?" Her other hand tucked into her pocket and she leaned her head to one side as Sophie nodded. The happy expression on her face told Liv that she was okay and had been since the last time she had seen her.

"You knew, about her?"

"Of course I knew."

Nick could hardly keep this kind of information from Liv when she was his partner at work. She had seen him take a few worried calls from (Y/n), regarding their daughter. She had also seen Sophie on a few occasions. And now Liv was their Captain, she had to know who Nick's emergency contacts were and any dependants he had back home that relied on him.

She needed to know about his family in case anything happened to him on the job and she had to alert his emergency contact. Or if something happened at home and Nick would need to leave work to be with his family.

"Do you want a chocolate, sweetie?" Reaching behind her, Amanda scoured her desk until she found the bar of chocolate she hadn't opened yet. She was more than willing to share with the newest member of their team.

Nick turned to look at Amanda, a tender smile on his face but he shook his head.

He looked down at his girl, dragging his hand softly up and down her back while he murmured "What do we say?" against her temple and shook his head again.

All eyes fell onto Sophie when she lifted one hand and gently shook her index finger along with twisting her head from left to right. A quiet round of "No, no no," left her lips which caused a few soft laughs to befall the group as they watched her.

"She's allergic to milk, aren't you baby?"

They had to be cautious what they gave Sophie, she was allergic to most types of milk, even the baby formula. They had to buy a special product that didn't flare her skin up in blotches or make her throat swell or cause her to be sick. It meant no cheese, no regular drinking milk, no chocolate and they had to check all the treats and food they gave Sophie to try since she was able to eat little bits of normal food now.

When she got older they would have to buy her special varieties of chocolate that was made without milk and find biscuits and lots of snacks that she would be able to have.

"Oh, sorry. I'll find you some milk-free treats next time, honey." Amanda tossed the bar back on her desk before Sophie set her sights on it and got upset if she couldn't have it. She would get some little treats in for whenever Nick decided to bring her by the station next.

"Alright, we're gonna go home now, we only came back in for these." With his keys hooked onto his thumb, he grabbed the file he needed and eased Sophie back down to her feet so she could walk for a little bit and tire herself out. He held his hand out in front of her and traced his thumb over the back of her hand as she leaned into his leg.

"Bring her back to see us soon, won't you?" Amanda patted his shoulder and waved at Sophie who grinned, but it was clear she was starting to get tired.

"You saying bye?"

He motioned the file out towards the team, grinning softly when Sophie started to wave and babbled something akin to bye-bye.

Carisi leaned against his desk and crossed one leg over the other and when he waved, he muttered a soft "Bye cutie." And he couldn't help but laugh when she grinned and cuddled closer to Nick. She bounced up and down, bending her knees again and leaning back and forth until Nick started to walk, encouraging her to walk with him.

She kept looking back over her shoulder, grinning and babbling as she looked back at the team until she was finally in the corridor, out of sight. It was safe to say she had made some new friends back there.

***

A tender look crossed (Y/n)'s face when she padded into the living room. Reaching over, she softly turned the volume down on the tv that was playing an old Disney movie in the background, but her eyes were solely focused on the sight on the sofa.

Nick was in his slacks, a pair of grey joggers and a matching hoodie that looked a size too big for him. He had his feet hanging over the arm of the sofa, one arm bent behind his head which would surely make his hands and fingers go numb. And there on his chest, was Sophie.

The toddler was curled up on his chest, her head tucked into the crook of his neck with Nick's chin perched on top of her head. He had his left arm curved around her frame that looked small and petite with her knees tucked into her tummy and her frame as small as possible on his chest.

Moving over to them, (Y/n) gently squished down on the edge of the sofa, bumping into his hip as she did. She pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa and draped it across the pair of them before she slowly leaned forward and pecked his temple.

Her lips curved into a grin when Nick tilted his head back with a quiet grumble and he smiled. His eyes stayed closed, but he expertly tilted his head until he could brush his nose against hers and capture her in a kiss.

"You two look comfy." (Y/n) murmured against his lips as she moved her hand to hold his shoulder, steadying herself above him so she didn't fall down onto him and crush him or their girl.

She could see how tired he looked when he finally opened his eyes that were glazed and hazy as he looked up at her.

Nick unhooked his arm from behind his head and grazed his tingling fingertips across her cheek and down her skin so he could cup the back of her neck.

"Hm," He glanced his eyes down to Sophie who was dead to the world, breathing softly into his hoodie and creating a damp patch where she was starting to drool around her pacifier. "There's room for one more." Nick murmured.

He kept one arm looped around Sophie, making sure she didn't move or become disturbed while he inched to the left. He pressed his hip up against the back of the sofa and twisted a little so there was more room beside him for (Y/n).

He and their girl were too comfy to move at the moment. He wasn't sure what time it was, but Nick knew he would have to take Sophie upstairs and settle her to bed soon. But not yet. He had gotten showered, had tea and changed Sophie into her pyjamas before they sat down to watch a movie. He didn't intend to fall asleep but he couldn't help it. Once Sophie dozed off, Nick wasn't far behind.

He trailed his hand down (Y/n)'s neck and along her side until he tugged her back so she would take the hint and lie with them.

(Y/n) smiled and shuffled around, trying to lay on her left side without toppling backwards and falling off the sofa. She hooked her right leg over Nick's leg, pressing her knee into his, practically straddling his thigh. Her right arm looped over Sophie's back and she smiled when Nick draped the blanket over her too.

She nuzzled her head into his shoulder, smiling to herself as she cosied up into the hood of his hoodie that was scrunched up around his neck. It smelled of comfort and his aftershave and Nick was as warm as a hot water bottle.

She loved the way he started to drag his fingertips up and down her side, along her hip and over her thigh like he was drawing patterns into her skin and writing secret messages to her.

"This is nice." She whispered into his hoodie, closing her eyes that suddenly felt overwhelmed and tired. The three of them might just ending up sleeping down here if none of them had the energy to move soon.

Nick pressed a soft kiss to the top of (Y/n)'s head, keeping his lips there for a while as he breathed in the scent of her raspberry shampoo. His eyes fell closed and he could already feel himself on the verge of falling back asleep.

This was what he liked the most. After being stuck in the squad room for hours on end going through paperwork and case files and finding links and information and names. After seeing things he wished he hadn't witnessed and supporting victims who were broken, sometimes beyond repair, this is what kept him going.

This is what kept Nick going through those moments that stretched into days. He blundered on so he could have moments like this, with one of his girls in each arms. Laid out, no worries, no problems, no victims flashing before his eyes, no screams rattling around in his head. No danger, no paperwork, no stress.

Just him and his girls.

[peopleareaproblem]

"It's the only name I can say."

So last ep, Kalina dropped this line after saying "Ragh Barkrock" again. She's really trying to get the Bad Kids to deduce who she could be referring to via Ragh. We've found out about the Spy's Tongue Curse since she last dropped Ragh's name, so it's clear that she's implying that she cannot say the names she wants to say and is dropping Ragh's name as a clue. I've been seeing a lot of theories about this line that are convinced it's implying Lydia Barkrock. I disagree: I think she is referring to Arianwen, Jace and Porter. Here's why.

First of all, and most obviously: Kalina says Lydia's full name in Sophomore Year episode 6.

Kalina: But you do have some time to talk it over because I'm gonna head out and kill Lydia Barkrock. So take care.

I don't think Brennan or the D20 Lorekeeper would have missed this. Kalina doesn't have a Spy's Tongue Curse with Lydia.

Secondly, the gang already investigated Lydia and got relevant clues from her, and Brennan did not encourage suspicion towards Lydia in any way. This repeat of the clue really feels like a "you guys didn't get it yet" type thing. Last time they assumed Lydia and that wasn't it. Try again.

Thirdly, Ragh's only real interaction with Kalina is about a single time he saw something he shouldn't have: Jace, Porter and Arianwen talking to someone invisible (Kalina) on Prom Night. I believe that if the Bad Kids just asked Ragh what Kalina could possibly have meant by "Ragh Barkrock" and "It's the only name I can say," he would absolutely bring up this fact. But they haven't!

That's why I am convinced that Arianwen, and to a lesser extent Jace and Porter, are who Kalina was referring to.

Below the cut are some bits of the trancript from Episode 4 of Sophomore Year, where Ragh reveals this to the Bad Kids.

Ragh is describing the aftermath of the fight with Kalvaxus:

Ragh: I ran into the school. And I went and I saw there was this conversation, and I was going, 'cause a lot of the teachers had been trapped in the crystals and had come out again. And I saw Jace, the sorcery teacher-- Adaine: Mm-hmm. Ragh: Talking to this woman that I didn't recognize. She was an elven woman, she was wearing sort of like black, dark robes, it looked like, they were very light. She was blonde, she had glasses. Adaine: She look like this? [points at her face] Ragh: She look like you? Adaine: Mm-hmm. Ragh: I mean, yeah. Yeah, she looked like, yeah, she looked like you. But older. She didn't look like-- Adaine: Right. Ragh: Um, you know, I mean, elves never look that old, but she looked like, you know, not a high schooler. Um. Jace and them were talking, and they were talking to somebody else who I couldn't see. I just assumed somebody was like, invisible. Um. Later, um, Jace and Porter came and talked to me--

Ragh goes on to describe Porter healing him, despite Ragh not feeling "that injured, honestly", and after that he can see Kalina despite not being able to see her moments before:

Ragh: And after that, I was like walking home, and I saw this cat woman, this tabaxi. And she came up, and told me all this stuff about my mom, and she said if I ever talked to anyone about it, she would kill my mom.

This indicates that Porter infected Ragh with the curse, on purpose. Probably to allow Kalina to threaten and manipulate him so he wouldn't tell anyone what he saw. She really doesn't want him telling anyone that he saw Arianwen there.

Ragh: She told me if I ever mentioned to anyone what I had seen about that elven woman-- Adaine: Mm-hmm. Ragh: That she would kill my mom.

They have a short conversation about wether Jace is suspect, but dismiss it. Adaine shows Ragh a photo of her mother and he confirms that it is the woman he saw.

[syzthefrizz]

Tips for writing dream sequences (from someone who has really vivid, weird dreams on a frequent basis)

My biggest pet peeve with fictional dream sequences is that they make too much sense!! They're too relevant! There's not enough random crazy stuff! That's not always unrealistic per se, but you are missing out on some of the fun ways you can reveal information about your character's mindset, fears, struggles, and future.

Most of my dreams have a goal or objective driving the plot, and it's usually urgent. Ex. "escape the huge storm on the horizon", "find a place to sleep for the night in an unfamiliar town", "find a bathroom". This is especially true of stress dreams.

Everything going on in the dream makes perfect sense to you during the dream. It doesn't feel like reality per se, but you think it is. You're living in a house full of vampires that could eat you at any moment? Seems legit.

Emotions and situations from the dreamer's life can/will find their way into dreams, with varying levels of subtlety. The dream could be about the stressful event itself, or it could be some sort of exaggerated metaphor. Ex. I was worried about whether I was a competent CS major while I was still trying to find a summer job/internship, and I was worried about what my professors must think of me. Such a good student on paper, still without summer plans. I dreamed that I ran into my professors all having lunch together at a restaurant (during a dream with a completely different storyline), and I was wearing my pajamas. They judged me.

Certain things are very hard to do in dreams. This could vary from person to person. For me, it's always driving (the brakes never work right), flying (I can't stay off the ground for very long), and running (it's like trying to run through waist-deep water).

People with PTSD may dream about the traumatic event happening differently than it actually happened. (Take this one with a grain of salt - I don't suffer from PTSD, I just research it sometimes so my blorbos can suffer accurately).

You can have a string of loosely connected or disconnected dream sequences back to back, each with an entirely different plot, setting, etc.

People can have reoccurring themes or plotlines in their dreams, which are often connected to their lives/psyche somehow. I frequently dream about running away from tornadoes and being in situations where there's some catastrophe coming but I'm the only one who understands that there's a problem and nobody will listen to me.

It's common for me to have a dream setting that I KNOW is someplace I'm familiar with, but it doesn't actually look like that place at all. Ex. "I dreamed that we were at my house, but it didn't look like my house..."

Dreams can end in cliffhangers. Sometimes I wake up right before I'm about to eat something delicious.

Sometimes people have dreams about doing things that they would never, ever do in real life, and they wake up feeling disgusted. This is Not a manifestation of their secret desires (*glares at Freud*).

Images are the most memorable parts of dreams. I forget the specific plot points, but I can still picture dozens of liminal spaces my brain has created, even years after I dreamed about it.

Dreams will fade from memory very quickly unless the dream had a strong impression on you, you write details about it down or you tell someone about it before you forget.

If you realize you're dreaming during your dream, sometimes you can control the dream going forward. This is called lucid dreaming. I've done it accidentally a couple times, and it's really hard to "hold on" to the dream and control it. I usually wake up soon after starting. With practice, you can get better at it.

Sometimes a normal/good dream can turn into a nightmare, and vice versa. Most of my dreams aren't really good or bad, they're something in between.

Your subconscious brain is CRAZY intuitive. We can argue over the existence of prophetic dreams (I've heard so many crazy stories), but at the end of the day, your subconscious brain knows things that you don't consciously know. If your character is in love with someone, their subconscious brain will know even if the character doesn't. Relationship problems? Deepest darkest fears and insecurities? Your brain knows. A dream predicted the downfall of my first relationship eight months before it happened, down to the reason why we failed. You can absolutely foreshadow this way. A character might subconsciously know what the consequences of their or other people's actions will be, understand things about the situation they're in, know things about the people they're interacting with, and more, despite their conscious realizations.

There are plenty of ways to make a dream sequence relevant to your story, but don't forget to add in some fun, random details. Character A is secretly in love with Character B? Have Character A dream about Character B confessing feelings to them while in a Vine Nostalgia themed restaurant over a plate of mac-n-cheese. The details are the fun part, and you can get as weird as you want. I once ran into my aunt in a dream, and she was wearing a backpack with a bunch of (fake?) hands sticking out of it, making a fan that rose above her back behind her head like some sort of peacock feather costume piece. I was so freaked out that I woke up. I dare you to get weirder than that.

Not everyone's brain works the same way. I have vivid, random, detailed, memorable dreams on a frequent basis. When I describe them to people they often ask "what were you on?". My roommate only remembers her dreams when they're nightmares. I have some friends who say they don't dream. Other friends have really boring, mundane dreams about their normal lives. Some people have weird dreams but only once in a blue moon. It's a good idea to decide off the bat what kinds of dreams your character has, and how often they remember them.

That's it for now, but I might make a part two if I think of more things to add. Feel free to reblog with your own personal dream expertise!

[weird-is-life]

helloo! okay this might be a long request so buckle up. idea for spencer based off of my day; let it be know that i relate to spence, even if I have a "low" iq, what i mean is, I ramble. and watching people shut down spencer when he's about to rant always made me sad (obviously). but i realized it's because that happens to me. I'm a very geeky person so i get passionate and i understand why people would shut me down (still hurts tho). but today one of my friends asked a question it was about simpler animals and what the difference was. me loving animals and knowing the answer, well I spoke up but immediately got talked over about something not relevant. my real idea is, what if spencer had someone that rambled with him and appreciated his rants. like i think it'd be cute and they don't have to rant about the same thing, just both like in the corner talking absurdly fast together. and the team probably rolling their eyes. maybe??? (sorry if it was to personal) hope you have a great dayyy!!

Hiii lovely, ty for the request💕!! Hope this is okay, warnings: fluff, like one pet name (0.6k)

Sometimes Hotch kind of regrets hiring you (not really, you're a great  addition to the team and everybody loves you), but when he sees you and Spencer together, the thought crosses his mind.

What he really does regret, is putting your desk and Spencer's desk next to each other. Big, big, big mistake.

You and Spencer are hunched over something at your desk, talking very quickly, as you two often do. Hotch finds your conversations, against his better judgement, cute. But not when he's trying to start a meeting and you two can't seem to notice.

He and the team see this on a regular basis, it's nothing new, that you and Spencer talk and talk about something, anything, completely in your own world.

Your conversations are still the same just like the first time, you and Spencer met. Maybe they got even worse. You two can ramble on and on for hours like it's nothing.

And you love it. You love talking to Spencer. The topic of your conversation is never a problem, you can talk about anything and nothing at the same time.

Just the fact, that you can talk to each other without being talked over, interrupted or hushed down is everything to you and to him.

Spencer feels the same. He loves talking to you. Your sweet, sweet voice makes it even better. He loves even just listening to you talk, it's maybe his favourite thing in the world.

Especially, when you two talk about the most silly, random stuff, while lying in the bed late at night. Chuckling and rambling without a care in the world. Maybe he loves it so much, because the team doesn't know about it. It's like something sacred between just you and him.

That's definitely his happy place, just you two having a quiet conversations with sleepy voices.

"Spence, have you read this book before?" you ask, pointing at the book lying on your desk.

"Oh," Spencer's face lights up with recognition," I have. It's really good, right?"

"I don't know, I haven't started it yet. I want to, but I can't bring myself to read it after a day full of work," you say to Spencer.

"I-I could read it to you?" he hesitantly offers.

"Spence, it's almost 800 pages long...." you chuckle at his offer.

"I don't mind," he quickly responds.

You think about it, but not for too long. You don't really need convincing, not when it comes to Spencer.

"Well, okay then. But only if you really want to," you give him a smile.

"I want to," he reassures you," and i do have some suggestions...."

"Like what?"

"Like books, that are similar to this. If you like this one, I could lend them to you-" Spencer's fast rambling gets interrupted, but not by you, never by you.

"Yo, lovebirds, we'd be very happy to let you talk about whatever nonsense you're talking about, but we all want to have this meeting over with. So if you'd be so kind to join us, that'd be nice," Derek basically yells at you from the conference room's doorway, making everybody in the room look at you and Spencer.

Your cheeks go a bit pink at Derek's words, you haven't realised that they were waiting on you and Spencer.

"Relax Derek, we're coming," Spencer says back loudly, " come on sweetheart, let's go there before they get mad at us," Spencer tells you, rolling his eyes over Derek's words.

"We'll talk about the book more later, yeah?" Spencer promises.

"Later?"

"I could come over tonight?" Spencer unsurely proposes.

"That'd be great, I'd love that," you'd never pass an opportunity to spend time with Spencer and getting to listen to him talk.

Somebody would maybe find reading to each other boring, but you and Spencer would never. It's like your love language.

[chxrrydrxp]

𝒻ℴ𝓇𝒷𝒾𝒹𝒹ℯ𝓃 𝒻𝓇𝓊𝒾𝓉

(Jason x Dicks Ex! Reader)

blurb coming soon yall

word count: 1.3k

chapter 1

chapter 2

( reader is pissing me off like I know I made her but I'm really bouta rock her shit)

Jason shut the door behind him with a click. You sat back down on your couch, once again bringing your knees to your chest. “I'm fine Jason. You didn't have to come all the way here.”

He took a seat beside you, leaning comfortably on the soft cushions. You stared into your hands. A few minutes passed, and the silence between you began to make you fidgety. From the corner of your eye, you could see him mindlessly fumbling with your keys.

The silence burned a little longer until you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. “How long will it go on like this?” You questioned. Jason removed a keychain that had your initial and began prodding at it. “For as long as you let it,” he said with his eyes still on the letter.

You glanced over at him, trying to find something wrong with what he said. But you couldn't. He was right. He was so right and you hated it. “But I love him.” You felt him flinch for a second, but it must've been a shiver from the cold.

He finally turned to look at you, then slowly lifted a hand to wipe away a stray tear. He leaned further into the cushion and looked up at the ceiling. “Is love enough?” You sniffled and stood up from the couch. “I need some air, you wanna go for a walk?”

...

If there was one thing all Gothamites could agree on, it was that Gotham always looked better at night. At nights when you can't see the polluted air, and it's harder to see the trash flooding the sidewalks, or the occasional dead body that often gets mistaken for a hobo. Gotham had a beauty that few understood. Its beauty didn't come from the visible gap in the social hierarchy that kept the nightlife…relevant to say the least. Its beauty shines from the cracks. The little imperfections on the sidewalk allowed pretty flowers to bloom from within. The hidden alleys and caves are covered in spores and overgrown vines. Somehow you ended up stumbling past stubborn weeds in some wet alley that smelled of… never mind you didn't even wanna think about it. “Jason, what the hell is this?” You wiped your hands on your jacket.

“You'll see, just keep up. Oh, and watch your step or you might lose a leg. Potholes.” You blinked at him in disbelief. “What the fuck Jason? I said I wanted to go on a walk, not lose my leg.” He ignored you. “Found em.”

You made your way over to him, leaning over his shoulder. “What? mushrooms?” You glanced down at the far end of the stone alleyway. “All of this just to look at some mushrooms?”

“Not just any Mushrooms, they're luminous.” You turned his head over to look at you with your eyebrows furrowed. His oblivious expression instantly evaporated any frustration this trip brought you. “I can't with you…” You let out a soft laugh. “If this was your attempt to distract me from my recurring misery, it worked.” Jason grinned and kneeled to the family of mushrooms huddled in the moist corner. “Don't touch em’ they've got a sting that hurts like a bitch.” He pulled out a plastic bag and put on a leather glove. “What are you doing??” He broke the mushroom off from the stem. “Got a friend that's into this kinda stuff.”

“What..the..-" Your phone buzzed in your pocket. The name set in the contact made your heart drop. Jason must've sensed your hesitation, because he added, “Go ahead.” You answered the phone, backing up behind a wall for privacy. “Dick?” No answer. You heard shuffling in the background, along with laughter. A woman's laughter. You repeated his name to no avail. You realized you recognized the female voice to be Dick's coworker.

The one who just happens to be the topic of your argument with him. You hung up the phone and stared at the other side of the mossy stone walls. You heard shuffling, and Jason came to stand in front of you, bag in hand. “You good?” “He's with her right now.

Guess he accidentally butt-dialed me. Huh. Maybe he did it on purpose. Perhaps to knock some obvious sense into my head.” Jason signed, running his fingers through his hair. “Wanna go find out?” Your heart sank. “W-what?” You questioned as if this wasn't exactly what you were thinking. the second he asked, you'd already decided what your answer was. You needed this.

You know you did. Maybe if you witnessed the cheating first-hand it'd give you the answer you begged from him. "What if they're just working, I can't just assume-.” Jason now stood closer, gripping your arm sleeve. “What the hell is wrong with you?” “I don't know what you're-” He gripped your arm tighter, but not enough to hurt you.

“Don't gimme that. What, you're gonna just ignore this one as well? We could go there right now. You'll finally be able to see it with your own eyes, and you're not gonna go?”

He didn't notice the tears that began quickly streaming down your cheeks. You fought to keep your voice steady. “I know. I know damn it. I just…can't.” He stared into your eyes for a hard minute, then dropped your hand. “Fuck it. Don't go then.

But I'm not gonna sit here and watch you do this to yourself.”

You looked down at your feet, speechless. Jason sighed. “Come on, I'm taking you home.”

Silence. The entire walk back home was filled with silence, all the way up until you both reached your front door. Jason dug his hands in his pockets, avoiding your eyes as you searched for any sympathy. “Jason.” He looked up, maintaining his silence. Maybe for a second he'd hoped you'd invite him in. Instead, “Please don't say anything to Dick. Just leave it alone, alright? Please.” He hated the desperation in your quivering voice. It sounded like you were on the brink of shattering into nothing. He simply nodded, and turned away. “Be safe,” was all he said before walking away. You shut your door, dropping your things to the floor and sitting at the dining room table. You hesitantly opened your phone, and to your surprise, saw a text from Dick.

Dick: hey, you awake? i wanna talk.

Your heart hammered in your chest. You opened the message and saw that he was typing.

Dick: can you come over?

So that's exactly what you did. You picked up your things, and walked out the door, not noticing Jason in the distance, leaning against the rusted bars that fenced your apartment.

tag list: @12134z03 @xxsweetnlowxx @broadwayotakufairy @harleycao @johnnysilverhandeeznuts @calicocat45

[juuuulez]

Hiii, I hope I'm doing this right! I never made a request before.

I saw your Steve post, so what about Steve with a bit of a shy girl or like a blackcat girl. They are like pining for each other and she just shows it by baking him stuff.

If you don't like it no worries! I love your works <3 I hope you have a great day!!

SO CUTE!!! this has been rotting in my drafts but i think about it all the time…

like steve is a total idiot so he’s pulling out all the regular moves: he’s brought flowers to your doorstep four friday’s in a row, and each time all he gets is an awkward little thank you.

because he’s not gonna fuck this up, right? steve doesn’t want to be a total jackass like he has in the past, so he’s attempting to be a gentleman in order to woo you.

but it just doesn’t seem to be working. not that you seem uninterested, per se, just… not really picking up his hints. not biting the bait.

it’s cute how your face goes all red, and steve would love to tease you about it, for not the fact that you promptly retreat after every interaction.

and maybe he’s starting to give up a little :( to realise that you might not be that into him, that maybe he’s coming across as creepy and should save all this energy.

he’ll be complaining about it to dustin while in family video, munching absentmindedly on some cookies that are hiding under the counter. and dustin’s like, where the fuck did you get those?

“(y/n) made them.” steve would say, blunt and honest, not quite seeing the deeper meaning. “she drops them off when she returns a tape.”

“dude, are you serious?” dustin would be completely mind blown at this relevant of how fucking dense steve actually is.

“what? she bakes a lot, probably just has extra,” he’ll dismiss with a shrug. “it’s happened, like, five times now.”

after some long deliberation, a plan is constructed. yet, after all this time, steve is a little reluctant to believe dustin in thinking you’ve been dropping hints. but he’ll take it, anyway, because it’s the only hope he’s got.

two days later, steve is at your doorstep again. you open it with pursed lips, a nervous expression, ready to accept whatever little stupid gesture he has and completely embarrass yourself at the inability to say anything nice.

that’s why you’ve tried to show your appreciation, with cookies and cupcakes and brownies and blondies and shortbread. not that steve seems to be getting it.

but this time, instead of some colourful bouquet of roses (or whatever he could find in the neighbours front yard), steve puts his hands out to reveal:

a bag of flour.

“um,” he stammers, trying to accept the sheer stupidity of the gesture. “for your baking. you must.. go through a lot of it.”

the blush is all the same, a vision he’s accustomed to now, but the sparkle in your eye is different. this little grin overtakes your face, unable to keep it inside, shuffling awkwardly on the porch to pull the door open a little wider.

as usual, you step out to take the gift, feeling its weight in your hands.

steve half expects you to run away again, like usual, but this time the words bubble up your throat before your anxiety can squash them.

“do you want to come in?” you finally offer. “i can make you something fresh.”

[nikibogwater]

Everybody sit down and strap in, 'cause I have a doozy of a tale to share.

I've had anxiety for literally as long as I can remember. I've had periods of my life where it was so intense it became legitimately life-threatening (don't worry I promise this is going somewhere funny). And this was really bizarre because I have zero childhood trauma. Like, my family life is so idyllic it's almost comical. Therapists would do abuse screenings on me and look utterly baffled when I told them everything was fine at home. They'd interrogate my parents just to make sure I wasn't lying. I have one friend who I'm fairly sure believed I was just severely gaslighting myself when I said my family was great, school wasn't too stressful, and I've never lived in a dangerous neighborhood or experienced poverty.

Anyways, despite no one being able to figure out where my disorder was coming from, my doctors were able to help me manage the symptoms so that I would like, not die, and actually be able to finish high school. Which was awesome. Now fast forward to late 2021. My big sister (who has also had intense anxiety her whole life which no one could figure out why) is finishing up her doctorate and getting her physical therapist's license. Somehow, during all her studying and schooling, she finds out about this thing called Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, which explains literally everything that was going on with us. EDS is a connective tissue disorder that kinda fudges up your body in a whole bunch of little ways, including dysautonomia (episodes of very fast heart-rate that kick your body into fight-or-flight mode), and hypermobility (unusual flexibility). It's a spectrum disorder, so the severity of symptoms vary from person to person, but we definitely checked almost every box on the diagnostic list. My sister went to see a specialist, and yep, she was diagnosed EDS positive. She immediately calls my mom and goes "I know what's wrong with Niki" (thanks, sis, that's real encouraging lol). Initially we're like "okay Katie, that's nice" because honestly this kind of sounds like jumping at shadows, but I go in to see the specialist anyways just to make sure.

One consultation and diagnosis later, and suddenly my entire life makes perfect sense.

Now we get to the funny part. See, the diagnosis stuff happened in early 2022. So by the time late 2023 comes around and we're looking for a new dog (I promise this is relevant), we've been riding that chronic illness diagnosis for a while. Once again, my sister, ever the proactive one, decides she's going to help us get a new dog. She scours the adoption website, sends us photos of the cutest dogs available, and helps us make a decision. This is how we got Beverly, who has been an unstoppable force of chaos in our lives ever since we signed the papers (but she's also really cute so she can get away with it). Now on top of being a very excitable and anxious pupper, Beverly's got a weird little gimp in her hindquarters, which makes her sit all splayed-out and funny-looking, and while it doesn't seem to be causing her pain, we take her to a vet to get it checked out. Vet finds absolutely nothing. X-rays are taken and examined. Still nothing. At this point, they go "well, we could try a CT scan of her brain, which would run about $5,000, and maybe we could find something--" but my parents are already packing this dog into the car like "well that is a HARD nope." So we decide, look, Beverly seems happy and healthy, and those gimpy legs don't seem to bother her, so we'll just leave it be until it becomes clearer what's wrong with her because we do NOT have a cool $5,000 to throw around here.

Readers more astute than my family and I will likely have already figured out where this is going.

This morning, my mom is looking at Beverly sitting in her funny sprawled-out way, and something in her brain goes "wait...weird physical symptoms with no tracible cause that vets can see..." She does a bit of googling. Can dogs have EDS/Hypermobility? Yes. Yes they can. And the listed symptoms describe Beverly to a T.

So not only is my sister the one to finally figure out what's wrong with me, she also unknowingly got us a dog who has the exact same chronic condition as us. Meanwhile my poor dad, who is the only Normal Person in our house, is coming to terms with the fact that he is apparently just fated to always love chronically ill people and animals, and there's absolutely nothing he can do about it.

[cieloclercs]

what would you say (if i told you i love you)? — charles leclerc

PART: 3? (read part 2 here)

summary. in which childhood best friends blur the lines between what they’ve always known, and something more

warnings. swearing, online hate, we’re getting to the angst now 🫣 arguments, charles is an idiot, arthur and joris being sick of his shit (but what else is new)

pairings. charles leclerc x arsty!reader

face claim. tara michelle

author’s note. again, i have no idea how much modern art sells for at auctions so don’t come at me if this seems unrealistic 🙏☹️ i also feel the need to clarify that y/n has 2 instagram accounts, one personal and one for art stuff ☺️

liked by joris_trouche and 51,196 others

y/nsart auction update! 🎨

tide - sold for €12,460 erode - sold for €9,500 wave - sold for €20,890 glint - sold for €6,300

this is nothing short of a dream come true for me. the support i’ve seen both on social media and at the auction (once again, thank you to everyone who stopped by!) has been beyond anything i ever could have hoped for 🩵

if you’d told me when i was a little girl that one day people would pay for art i’ve created, i wouldn’t have believed you. i’m so so grateful to have been given this opportunity to do something that i love and to share it with the world 💗 i can’t wait to see what the future holds!

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username congratulations y/n! 💕💕

*y/nsart liked this comment

leclerc_pascale C'est tout à fait mérité. N'arrêtez jamais de peindre, ma fille, vous avez un don! / completely deserved. never stop painting, my girl, you have a gift!

y/nsart merci beaucoup 🥹 je promets de ne pas le faire x / i promise i won’t

arthur_leclerc congratulations petite sœur! / little sister

y/nsart merci arth ☺️

y/nsart also, ‘petite’? i’m literally older than you?

arthur_leclerc but you’re smaller 🙃

charles_leclerc toujours fière de toi, ma chérie ❤️ / forever proud of you, sweetheart

y/nsart 😐

charles_leclerc you’re still mad at me? ☹️

y/nsart if you wanted one of my paintings you could have just asked rather than wasting over €20,000. i would have let you have it for free

charles_leclerc i didn’t waste anything, y/n

username uh oh mom and dad are fighting 😳

username ironic how her highest selling painting was literally bought by her best friend 😭

username i guarantee you it would NOT have sold for that much if charles hadn’t been bidding

username i don’t want to be the one to say it but lately it kind of feels like y/n’s been using her friendship with charles as a way to promote her art…

username as much as i love y/n icl i think you might be right 🥲

username 🤢🤢🤢

username stop using charles’ fame to try and make yourself relevant! you’ll never be good enough for him babes 🥰

username the switch up on these comments from ‘fans’ is actually so embarrassing

username i know! it’s like as soon as y/n starts becoming successful everyone suddenly decides it’s not because of her own hard work but because of charles 🙄

username lmao how has she managed to make tens of thousands for that shit she calls art? i’m sensing a clout chaser 😂

username this REEKS of jealousy

username these comments make me sick. y/n has proved time and time again how talented and hard working she is. just because charles doesn’t know you exist doesn’t mean you get to hate on another girl who he ACTUALLY cares about. grow up.

*charles_leclerc and y/nsart liked this comment

username i feel so bad for y/n. no offence to charles but if he’d let the auction play out normally without bidding (although he does have a right to do so if he wants!) then she wouldn’t be getting all this hate right now 😔

comments on this post have been limited.

liked by pierregasly and 1,567,836 others

charles_leclerc back to work 🇳🇱

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username no y/n like? ☹️

username is y/n with you?

username guys check kym illman’s instagram! he said charles turned up to the paddock alone…

username i mean, y/n could be arriving later right?

username if y/n isn’t there it’ll be the first race she’s missed since singapore last year 😳

username y/n has a life besides charles! just because she’s not at one race doesn’t mean they’ve fallen out or anything ☺️

username but think about it…neither charles nor y/n have posted anything to do with each other since the auction a week ago normally they can barely go a day without posting each other 🥴

username can everyone just stop talking about y/n 🙄 all she ever did was distract him anyway

username forza charles! ❤️

username he’s not even smiling :((

username because he knows ferrari are shit, it’s probably nothing to do with y/n

username i didn’t even mention her? 😭

joris_trouche i think you’re missing someone mate

username JORIS??

username HE KNOWS SOMETHING!!

username JORIS PLEASE TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW

username i hate to be the bearer of bad news but y/n just posted. she’s not at the grand prix 🥲

yourusername

viewed by charles_leclerc and 9,637 others

replies:

arthur_leclerc oh shit arthur_leclerc what did he do joris_trouche just say the word and i’ll smack him for you 😁 ↳ yourusername please don’t do that 😭 yourfriend you don’t need him, mon amour ❤️ ↳ yourusername ☺️

you:

did i do something wrong?

we haven’t spoken in a week

charlie 🤍:

no, y/n

you:

you won’t answer my calls

charlie 🤍:

i’ve been thinking about what you said

i don’t want you to have to deal with hate because of me

you:

so you think ignoring me is the answer?

charlie 🤍:

i’m not ignoring you, y/n, i’m trying to protect you

you:

what the fuck?

charles, i don’t care what people say about you

charlie 🤍:

but i do

isn’t it for the best? if we aren’t seen together for a while, you won’t get any of the hate

you:

you really don’t get it do you

if you think i want you to cut me off to ‘protect me’ then maybe you don’t know me as well as i thought you did

charlie 🤍:

don’t say that

i just want everyone to see you the way i do

you:

and i already told you, i don’t care what they think of me

i only care what you think

charlie 🤍:

why?

you:

i’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet

charlie 🤍:

figured what out? [ seen at 4:11PM ]

y/n?

you:

i think it’s best if we don’t see each other for a while

bye charles

charlie 🤍:

what?! [ seen at 4:13PM ]

y/n come back [ delivered at 4:14PM ]

just tell me what you mean [ delivered at 4:20PM ]

please y/n [ delivered at 4:47PM ]

liked by yourfriend and 1,637,937 others

scuderiaferrari A DNF in Zandvoort for Charles. Now time to refocus ready for Monza 🔜

view all comments…

username what the actual fuck was going on with him today?

username i don’t know. i’ve never seen him so distracted 😕

username honestly a rookie mistake. if he’s going to be pulling shit like this then he doesn’t deserve his seat 🤷

username it’s just one mistake?? calm down 😭

username why do i feel like this has something to do with y/n…

username oh my god will you all shut up about y/n 🙄 they’re not even dating !!

username and? they’ve been best friends since they were 5 years old. if my childhood friendship broke down i’d be pretty fucking upset about it too

username we don’t actually know that they’ve fallen out tho…neither of them have said anything

username but isn’t it obvious? y/n not at the race, charles being distracted and sulky around the paddock? they’ve definitely argued about something

username charles i can’t keep defending you when you do this 💔💔💔

username how this guy has managed to keep his seat with all these mistakes i have no idea 😒

username hopefully y/n will be in monza to bring him some good luck🤞

➜ part 4