#difference was between adam and eve and it’s too late to ask questions now) obviously you look exactly like a man

[quietwingsinthesky]

the thing about millie is that this plays out one of three ways for them. either she never figures out she’s trans and that’s gonna be an unknown that sticks as a knife in her gut for her whole life until she dies because she never even realizes it’s an option. OR. he does realize it. and then either he never does anything to transition aside from go “I’m a guy now fuck off” or he does it instantly via whatever supernatural shit he’s got available to him with zero regard for the consequences.

but i know he doesn’t want to transition. he doesn’t, he won’t. there’s too much vulnerability in it. you don’t get a cocoon, you know, you don’t have something protecting you while you sort yourself out. and that’s so much more terrifying to him than any benefits of the slow and steady process of physically transitioning could get him. so he just wouldn’t do it, unless he could snap his fingers and have it happen in the blink of an eye.

[villainousshakespeare]

Putting It Back Together Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Adam/OFC

Rated M (will probably change to E) - Grief, angst, eventual smut, mention of characters dead before the start of the story, blood, slow burn

Summary: Since the death of his beloved Eve, Adam had been barely living, only alive due to a promise he made to her. Then one night he meets his new neighbor, a woman dealing with grief of her own. Will they help each other heal or drive each other crazy?

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Hunched over his desk, Adam scowled at the blank staff on the music composition page before him. In his mind he could hear the notes that he had composed two nights ago but when he tried to concentrate and write them down they refused to stay clear in his brain. Twice already he had crumpled up the dried out old paper and hurled it across the room. Now, after his pen scratched through another mistake, he swept the entire pile of paper off the desk.

Leaning back in his wingchair, he glared across the room. It was all the fault of that thing. There against the wall, clashing with his dark hued room, sat a garishly bright neon yellow tool bag. It was not just that it was an eye sore, though that was bad enough. Really, who in their right mind would purchase anything so hideous? It was the knowledge that it belonged to her. That horrid, sobbing girl who had cried all over him last night.

Adam suppressed a shiver as he remembered it. She had clung to him like a python, face buried in his chest has he flailed to find a way to calm her. He had been so startled by the way she melted into him he had not known what to do. He was no longer, he realized, used to experiencing any form of physical contact.

She was tiny. That had been his first, irrelevant observation. Her watery face had only come up to the middle of his chest. She was also surprisingly warm. Holding her felt so different, so very different than holding Eve had felt. His late wife had been nearly as tall as he was, and like him she lacked the blood pumping through her veins to warm her in the night air.

Blood. That was the next, unshakable realization. She was full of throbbing, pulsing blood. Adam could sense it coursing through her, adding a flush to her face and a beat to the chest pressed against his stomach. With her hair piled as it was on top of her head he could see clearly the blue tinted vein running down her long neck. Staring at it, he felt his animal side begin to stir within him.

It had been ten years since Adam had eaten from a living person. On that desperate night in Tangier it had been a matter of life or death, him or the young woman unfortunate enough to cross his path when he was literally starving. He had turned the girl, and Eve had done the same to her lover. They had given them immortality, curse or gift depending on your mindset. In the end, it hadn't mattered. Both of them had died along with Eve when tainted blood had been sold to them. Adam would have been dead too, had he not been out scouring a rare bookshop for a gift for his beloved.

Years later, the proximity of a carotid artery, just there for the taking, caused a physical sensations within him. Adam could feel his fangs fighting to descend. Alarmingly, he could also feel his cock hardening in his jeans. Live feeding was not the only thing he had gone without for years. The small woman in his arms, so helpless and so unaware of her peril, was all but begging to be devoured in all sorts of ways. He could imagine tearing away her clothes and sinking into her, first his cock then his fangs, as he satisfied his cravings upon her unsuspecting body. Had Adam been other than what he was, had he not had all of those centuries with Eve to civilize him, she would have been done for.

Instead, he had clumsily patted her on the back, eyes rolling in his head as he did so. He could not quite bring himself to mouth the platitudes he knew she would expect of him, but he did his best to bite back the sarcasm that was his defensive habit. She had lost someone herself, and while the pain of losing someone known only for one short lifetime could never compare to the loss he had suffered, it still touched a chord within him. He knew the deep, unending pain of love taken too soon.

When at last she had managed to breath regularly again, Adam had quickly walked her back to the hatch that led to her own home. She had uttered a ceaseless string of apologies that he neither wanted nor needed, and he had mumbled something inane in return, sounding for all the world like just another zombie. The relief he felt when he shut the hatch behind her had almost brought him to his knees. And yet...

She had been so very warm. So warm and so alive. Irritating and encroaching, yes, but her questions about his electric system had been intelligent, and her observations startlingly apt. He was used to zombies being disinterested, focused so inward on their own petty problems that they didn't see what was right in front of their faces.

Her face had been pretty, the thought ran through his head. A little older than he had expected at first, though they all seemed young to him. Big eyes, full lips, high, almost elfin cheekbones.

With a growl, Adam stood up and stalked over to the offensive yellow tool bag. He should have left it up on the roof. She would have realized it was missing eventually and gone back up for it. But the skies had looked threatening, and he didn't want her tools to rust. It was a matter of conservation, he assured himself. Not wanting to do something nice for a zombie. Certainly not that.

He obviously was not going to be able to concentrate with the hideous thing in his home. He would take it back over to her. The home she lived in had a double style doorway; if he was lucky the outer door would be open and he could leave it between them. No need to see her again. The last thing he needed was to be dragged into another encounter with her.

Pulling his leather jacket on without bothering with a shirt, Adam grabbed the tool bag and headed for his front door. Best to get this over with. Yanking open the door in his rush, he collided with something soft and with a shock watched the very person he had been hoping to avoid fall backwards off of his front stoop.

"Fuck!" she yelped, as she toppled down.

Adam blinked as she looked up at him from the ground where she sat inelegantly on her ass.

"Are you alright?" he asked as sense returned to him.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she smiled unconvincingly at him. "Luckily I don't have too far to fall."

"I was going out and didn't expect you to be there," he mumbled.

He heard the accusation in his voice, but didn't seem to be able to help it. What the hell had she been doing there?

"Of course not," she blushed. "Um... would you mind?"

She held out her hand and Adam gasped. Her palm was scratched from breaking her fall, and a small pattern of blood was beading up on the skin. Instinctively he took a step back at the same time his head moved forward with a will of its own. The woman looked at him with confusion, and he forced himself calm down. Why the fuck hadn't he put on gloves?

Working hard to control the trembling of his hands, he reached out and helped her to stand. Hyper aware of the siren call of her blood he pulled his hands back as fast as he possibly could, hoping she didn't notice the way they trembled. Fortunately for him she seemed too concentrated on her own discomfort.

"Did you want something?" he asked brusquely when she had gotten her balance back.

"Not really. Well, I mean, yes. To... to apologize. For last night. For crying all over you. Sorry."

"No need," he told her "Forget about it. I have."

"Oh. Well, okay then," she stood for a moment worrying at her lower lip, and he noticed again how full her mouth was. "Were you going somewhere?"

"Out," he said tersely, old habits dying hard. As he saw her flinch, he made his tone soften. "Actually, I was going to see you."

"Really?" he eyes lit up, and Adam felt a panic that he could not place.

"Yes. You left this on the roof last night. I thought you might want it back."

"Oh," she said again, face falling once more. "Thanks."

"Think nothing of it," he said, grimacing. Why was she just standing there? "Well, see you."

"Yeah," she blinked up at him.

"Alright then."

Honestly, wasn't she ever going to move? Giving up, Adam gave her the closest he could muster to a half smile and turned back inside, shutting the door behind him in her face.

Only when the wood was solid between them did he shakily raise his hand in front of his face. There, crimson in the dim light of his apartment, was a smear of her blood. Unable to control himself any longer, he brought his hand to his mouth and desperately sucked the sticky liquid off, moaning with the taste of it. So fresh, so pure, so sweet.

Falling back on the sofa conveniently behind him, he realized he was hard again. Licking to make sure he had gotten every last drop, he stroked himself with his other hand. If he was picturing a certain set of wide eyes and lush lips, it was only because their owner's blood was still hot in his mouth. There could not possibly be any other reason.

***

Well, that had been an unmitigated disaster.

Lilly held the bag of frozen peas to her ass and tried not to dwell on how thoroughly she had humiliated herself. If that was an example of her improving her image she obviously needed to never leave the house again. She was not fit to be around other people. Certainly not fit to be around someone so flawless as her neighbor.

Good lord, when he had walked out the door and into her, it was like being hit with a load of bricks. Lying there on her backside staring up at him, Lilly had been almost stuck dumb by the sight. She had thought he was beautiful from a distance, or in the dark light of the roof. Standing as he was in a halo of porch light he was almost god-like. It did not help that his black leather jacket was parted to reveal a very well muscled chest and abdomen. Lilly's eyes traveled the length of him from the bob of his adam's apple, over his defined pecs and six pack, and down to the thin trail of hair and the vee that drew her eyes past the edge of his low slung jeans.

Sweet bajeebas, but he was perfect. She was hardly the same species. What had she been thinking?

The playing began sometime later that night, around midnight. Lilly was hunched of a jigsaw puzzle she had found in a cupboard. Her Grandmother had loved to do them, and Lilly had caught the bug. She had lost count of the number of nights she had stayed up obsessively putting them together, unable to go to bed until she had found just one more piece, only to see the sun rise as she finished it.

The wail of a guitar came through the wall, sounding plaintive and introspective. Lilly had been drawn to all of the music she had heard from him so far. His melodies were complex, and he seemed to favor minor keys. Her Grandmother would have liked it as well. No doubt she had enjoyed hearing the strains come through the thin walls. Certainly she would have preferred it to the fighting and drunken antics of the students that had always assailed them before.

Lilly found herself humming along to his playing. She loved music, even if she was self-conscious of her voice. Having a Grandmother who had made a career of crooning songs in smoky clubs made her all too aware of her own deficiency.

There was something so comforting about music. It was almost mathematical in the way it worked. Patterns created and repeated, only to be subverted and return in a new and unexpected ways. If the composer was good, that was. Her neighbor was very good.

Of course he would be good. God forbid he be less than perfect at anything.

So when he kept reaching the end of a delicate passage, only to end on a note that didn't quite resolve the phrase. Lilly could hear the frustration in his fingers clearly through the layers of sheet rock that separated them. At first it amused her; so he was fallible after all. Good. She allowed herself to take a superior pleasure in his failure.

By the time it was approaching two in the morning, she was ready to scream. She was over halfway done with her puzzle - a scene of Paris at night, all lit up - but was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. Her gorgeous, grouchy neighbor must have played through the piece a hundred times, and every time it ended wrong. It was driving her insane. He was so close to finishing it. Every time he hit the not quite right note she felt her entire body twitch. She could only imagine how he was feeling.

It started one more time. Lilly held her breath, willing him to find what was right there, waiting to be put in place. The final phrase started, she scrunched her face, waiting to hear it fixed. The note he played was achingly close, but not quite what the song cried out for.

"Half a step lower!" she screamed out, unable to resist any longer.

The music stopped. Everything went silent on the other side of the wall. Now she had done it. Lilly could see him, glaring at the wall with that intense, closed off set of blue eyes. She was inordinately happy now that a solid hunk of material kept them apart. Any hope of a friendship developing between her and her haughty crush had surely been dashed now. And all because she could not control her stupid impulses.

After a stretch that seemed like forever, a length of time where Lilly died and was forced back into existence repeatedly, the music started up again. She made herself a small lump in the corner of her sofa, as if somehow she could hide even though it was impossible for him to see her. If she could have fit below the cushions she would have.

He reached to end and after the slightest of pauses he played the note she had suggested. It sounded perfect. The chord rang out, slowly fading, and she felt a small smile fighting to exist on her lips.

The music stopped abruptly again, and for the rest of the night only silence greeted her through the wall between them.

[thegoodomensdumpster]

ABOUT SHADWELL AND TRACY

OK so. This is probably going to be the meta nobody asked for + the meta that has already existed for 30 years ( I read a bunch of it before the show came out, but I never found one tackling what I’m going to talk about, so chances are it exists but I missed it and now it’ll be impossible to find ). I’ve been wondering, a lot, how exactly the relationship between Tracy and Shadwell was narratively useful. (Especially Shadwell, what is up with Shadwell, really??? Why did he have to be ... the way he is???) Don’t get me wrong : I know perfectly well how nearly everything / everyone in Good Omens mirrors something / someone else. The Four Horsepersons / The Them obviously, a perfect mirror of humanity’s problems (self made be it for Death ) and how to fix them ( with hope, courage, love, and proper education for newest generations who are dealing with passed mistakes… )

And then all the duos echo each other and act as informations about every character . Crowley / Aziraphale Newt / Anathema Tracy / Shadwell So I had the nagging suspicion that Tracy and Shadwell would, perhaps, make more sense to me if I started comparing them to each other and to their counterparts.

After all, that’s how me (and dozens other meta writers) have managed to understand Newt and Anathema.

Newt is reasonable and rationnal, and he is also free and questionning. Anathema has lived a life devoided of surprises, all according to the Great Plan prophecies of a long dead ancestor she can not directly talk to.

Newt and Anathema get together because of the prophecies, but STAY together because they chose to, and Newt is the one to bring that choice to Anathema. Do I need to say which of them echoes Crowley and which of them echoes Aziraphale ? What about Shadwell and Tracy then ?

Welp. Let’s dissect them, shall we ?

Madame Tracy is, arguably, the most formidable character of the lot. OK, I may be a bit bias, I adore the woman. But with good reasons !

Deep down, she’s got one of the – if not the – strongest moral compass of the whole characters cast. She has confidence in her morals and ethics enough to trust a supernatural entity who just invaded her body( after being rightfully offended and scolding him a little ) AND to then go against said entity, an angel of the Lord, when he’s about to do something reprehensible. 

Badass. But on the surface, what is she ? She’s a marginal, a prostitute, a con artist (something that I’m not entirely happy about as I find it morally reprehensible, but it is very likely she pretends to be a medium to be some sort of cheap psychiatrist to people who can’t afford it so… I’ll allow it. But anyway, it is also important that she’s not a parangon of pure unaltered virtue, so this makes sense). She is all the things Shadwell says she is, and in his mouth ( as well as in the eyes of society) they are insults. Worse : she exudes femininity, she is comfortable in her sexuality, she’s a businesswoman, she’s self-sufficent and financially independant (she’s even the one who gives money to Shadwell…). None of this is bad, but most of it is (or, hopefully, was) regarded as bad.

Ok, we got Tracy figured out. Let’s try to understand Shadwell now. Shadwell… Is also a marginal, in a way (he has been to prison, after all, if we include TV Omens canon). But he’s another kind of marginal.

He is not financially independant (again, see : asking money to Tracy, and also, scamming Crowley and Aziraphale for years, which is a way bigger and morally reprehensible con than whatever Tracy is doing with her fake medium act. But tbh, I’m so impressed he scammed not one, but two supernatural entities for funding the same useless organization, I can’t be mad at him. Not for that, I mean.) He isn’t nice, he isn’t polite, he … seems to be everything Tracy isn’t. And, as Tracy is a beacon of light and kindness, it makes sense Shadwell would be a rude blackhole of hatred. But, more than being a lightsucker, Shadwell’s opposition to Tracy makes sense if we shift the way we look at them. Tracy is what society deems morally reprehensible but she isn’t immoral, and more than that, she is very modern. Confident in herself. Taking her fate into her own hands. Turned towards the future.

Meanwhile, Shadwell is entirely turned towards the past, so much so that his traditionnalism is too much by present’s standards, and that is the bit that makes him the most marginal. He wears his sexism and his homophobia as badges of honor, and runs A WITCHFINDER ARMY. A very definitely outdated organization that has for goal : BURNING WITCHES. And gays, too, but mainly witches. This is an activity that was once considered ethical, necessary, ultimately good, but isn’t anymore. Heaven approved of the Witchfinders’ Army on these « morally good » premisses, and Hell approved of it on the cruelty and horror it was actually responsible for. Society has moved on. Shadwell hasn’t. At least in surface . Because, just like Madame Tracy’s activities as a prostitute and self-made woman can raise eyebrows but ultimately don’t define her as a moral person, Shadwell… hnnngh, this is more difficutl to say this about him, but when time comes for him to act on his rotten outdated thrown in our face moral principles, he is actually siding with Tracy. He protects her, he refuses to shoot Adam, he chooses to do what he finds to be morally good, and he and Tracy share the same morals. 

(Also the one time Shadwell thinks he has killed someone he is genuinely shocked, so he is far from being a cold blooded killer. Only when he wants to protect Tracy or prevent Armageddon - and after Aziraphale has shown he isn’t really dead - does he threateningly raise his finger again. ) ((But homophobia and sexism aren’t a good look on him. Or on anyone else, for that matter. It’s not charming. Tracy, why were you charmed ???? WHY ???? ))

And we can only suppose that Tracy, beacon of light that she is, able to see the best even in the scum of the Earth, already knew that Shadwell and her agreed about what was ultimately important. They’ve had, possibly, years of interactions before the plot of GO kicks in, and maybe Shadwell hasn’t been so consistently horrible all this time and showed her a better side ? I hope ??? But, anyway, the thing is : these characters, Tracy and Shadwell, are made to mirror some of the best and worst things coming out of humanity. Tracy being kinda the worst possible carreer and personnal choice for religious bigots, and Shadwell being so deep into bigotry that it made him terrible even by bigots’ standards. Shadwell’s speech would have made him a hero a few centuries ago, now he’s just a lunatic. Tracy would have been burnt at the stake for her life choices. Now she’s… well, not in danger, at the very least, and besides Shadwell, all the GO characters seem to respect her. ( Or fear her, as is the case for Newt. ) ((I’m joking, I think he likes her, but confident people intimidate him.)) So. We’ve got Tracy who has built herself her own moral compass and is confident in the choices she made despite the hostility and difficulties she may have encountered, and Shadwell who lives according to a bunch of bigotted outdated rules he doesn’t actually believe in all that much. HA. Why does that ring a bell, I wonder… For the sake of not letting any ounce of ambiguity floating in the air, I’m going to spell it out :

Shadwell and the Witchfinders’ rules echo Anathema and her prophecies, and Aziraphale and Heaven’s indoctrination. Meanwhile, Tracy echoes Newt and Crowley for their marginality and self-made moral code (ok it’s less obvious for Newt especially if you haven’t read the book but he is the kind to question stuff constantly, to the point he hesitates a lot and has troubles finding his place in the world, but his – tiny - character arc is that he becomes able to question correctly and make decisions and help others make decisions).

The interesting thing is, in a way, Shadwell embodies the worst surface aspect of being a bigot blindly obeying outdated rules, while Tracy is the best possible outcome of a marginal making a life for themself. Newt and Anathema place somewhere in the middle, Anathema being able to let go of the thing that was ruling her life, and Newt is in the process of learning who he is, getting comfortable with that person and finding a place for himself in the world.

As for Crowley and Aziraphale, their long lives has thrown them in morally grey areas for a looong time, but at the end of GO, once freed from Heaven and Hell -but especially Heaven as Aziraphale has the most work to do to also get rid off his endoctrination completely- they are free to join Tracy, Shadwell, Newt and Anathema into finally becoming the most blooming versions of themselves. It is not too late, no matter how dark or how far back they’re coming from.

But !!! I am not entirely done.

The sword. And the gun. Both weapon given - more or less – to humanity by Aziraphale. The flaming sword, given at the very beginning to Adam and Eve hoping they’d use it to protect themselves, and that ends up in the hands of War. The thundergun, not given but required by Aziraphale to be put to use, right as the Armageddon is about to put an end to humanity, and to be used, this time, to kill someone. And, as I mentionned, both Shadwell and Tracy refuse to shoot.

Aziraphale cannot make humanity obey him, now can he ? Because that’s what it is, ultimately. Humanity. And, as always, free will. Because Tracy and Shadwell represent certain extremes and a lot of grey areas of humanity’s morals and diversity of personnalities, they are -almost- perfect ambassadors of humanity as a whole. Good and Evil bear no meaning around them, they refuse to fit neatly into any category, especially when scrutinized through the lenses of different places and eras as ethics shift constantely. Shadwell shows that even garbage trash men can show empathy, Tracy is the most merciful and kind person, which doesn’t prevent her from being surprisingly strong and adamant when needed. Shadwell and Tracy are part of each other’s life, against all odds, and even if it might have been just because they were neighbours at first, they ultimately chose to remain together. All duos chose to stick to their counterpart in the end. All of them represent the many contradictions of humanity, and how love is the ultimate way to live along together. And they use their free will for love. And while I would not, ever, EVER want to interact with a Shadwell IRL, I now see why it was important to make him the way he is depicted. From a narrative point of view, it was important to make him seemingly irreedemable, only for the one character he harrasses the most to trust and love him, because Tracy knows he, actually, isn’t as bad as it may seem. Because people who might seem horrible are not necessarily the ones who are. Because even Shadwell can love and be loved. And because everybody can improve.

Now, I do not know why the sexism and the homophobia had to be the main choices to convey how much of a bigotted idiot Shadwell was (No, I mean, I think I know why: probably because killing witches and gays were the Witchfinders’ Army main goals, but still, it’s tough on modern audiences - whether this should be taken into account by authors is... quite a debate to have, and maybe the main reason it bothers me? idk idk, I’ve already thought too much at this point). Because despite the fact that some of his lines and his excellent actor made him nice to see on screen (or read in the book for that matter), I have a very hard time liking his character. But that might be the point. I don’t know. Only Tracy can love him. But at least now, it makes more sense to me.

[anavakarian]

Day 14: throat

Knocks on the door.

I gaze up at the clock on the wall, worried that I’m late. But I am not. Rebecca was meant to pick me up at 7.30 and it’s just 7.05...

“Well, this is strange,” I mutter to myself, leaving the eyeshadow brush on the mirror shelf trying to make the lesser possible mess out of my make up. Rebecca is as punctual as hell and, considering the tenor of the event we are invited to, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was actually a bit late. There is no chance she would be this early at my apartment...

However, the knocks are back, firm and insistent.

“Ok, ok… I’m coming. Just wait…” I answer, mildly annoyed because of the interruption, crossing the distance to the door while securing the towel around my body.

Perhaps my neighbour, Lisa, needs anything…?

However, the spyhole of my brand new security door gives away immediately who is on the other side of it: dark blond hair styled sideways - as he’s grown it since we met - broad shoulders and icy green eyes veiled by a deep frown wait at the other side of my door.

What on Earth is Adam doing here and where is Rebecca?

A rush of nervousness mixes together with mild concern. Then, I realize that opening is taking me too long and he is about to knock for the third time. A bit afraid of the consequences that the action might have on my door integrity, I open it immediately.

Commanding agent Adam du Mortain scowls at me - like always - stiff and taut in front of my front door, one hand held out and about to make contact with the empty space where the wood was before.

His green eyes meet mine and, just for a second, his gaze soften and I want to think that they are expressing the words that he is not able to. Something like ‘I’m quite pleased to see you again, Detective ,’ perhaps?

Obviously, the string that leaves his mouth differs with my silly expectations. “Why did it take you so long to open, Detective?” he enquires with a stern tone and an even more severe look in his eyes.

I can’t help but roll my eyes at him. On a normal day, I would retort something back, as ironic and bold as I was able to. But today I’m in a sort of a hurry and still concern about Rebecca’s whereabouts. “Where is she?” I ask, dryly and worried.

Adam seems to suddenly understand. “Agent Greene didn’t think she could make it on time and requested for me to take you to the event. We will meet her there.”

Well, that actually sounds quite a lot like my mother: she’s been neglecting our relationship for so many years that it is not a surprise anymore. “Ok. Fair enough, I suppose,” I exhale with a wry smile.

Not that I’m complaining about the good-looking change, but things have been a bit… strange between Adam and me after that brief but intense ‘holding hands’ moment at the Carnival that I still have not very clear what it meant. We practically haven’t seen each other since then, two weeks now, but for work-related stuff and more and more reports.

“Well, I think you are here a bit earlier than I was expecting... Can you want to come in?”

I open the door fully and it’s then when we grow suddenly aware of what the other one is wearing. Adam looks absolutely amazing - hot - with his tuxedo and I feel my heart stutter at the sight. His green eyes roam down to my shoulders, my bare arms and the towel wrapped around my body on a quick scan. And, as if he has been struck by lightning, his eyes open widely and his gaze darts back up to my face, suddenly realizing that I have just come out from the shower and, yes, I am not wearing anything under that towel.

I have to conceal a grin while walking back into my living room. It would be the perfect moment for a tease, but my hair is starting to drip on the floor and I should be getting ready for the party.

“Do you want a glass of wine?”.

Adam has nestled himself in his usual space in my house, beside the industrial style window and as far as he physically can from me. “I’m driving…”

His stoic expression makes me chuckle and I get into the kitchen in search of the Bourdeaux I bought especially for him. I pour some into a glass and go back to the living with the offering in my hand.

He eyes me with something similar to mistrust and extreme weariness as I walk closer and I find extremely funny the way he keeps his eyes locked in mine with intensity, wondering if that keeps him from sliding them down my nakedness under the towel.

“Here,” I offer. “Do me a favour. Unwind a little tonight, ok? I’ll drive the SUV.”

“Detective…” he complains with a strict undertone that I brush off, placing the glass in his hand.

“It’s not up for discussion, otherwise, we’ll be late,” I cut him off stubbornly before walking into my bedroom to get ready.

There are no further complains or, at least, I can’t hear them when I shut the door behind me.

Some curling iron, makeup and dressing up later, I’m ready. Out of a sudden, I realize how much this actually looks like a date. I don’t want to think that Rebecca has sent us up, but I wouldn’t be entirely surprised either… Although I would rather not to think about my own mother acting as matchmaker: that would be so out of place for her…

However, the gorgeous vampire I have a damned crush with is still waiting for me in my living room, looking quite smart. And there are so many things that I’m waiting for him to say… Things to figure out…

I take a deep breath in, trying to ignore the fact that I am nervous. Not much. Just a little bit. Enough to make me hyper-aware of how fast my heart is beating when I grab the door handle. A goofy smile grows in my lips with the silly thought of ‘having a date with Adam’. Like if this was a high school prom dance and not a fundraising event at the townhouse with all Unit Bravo members, my mother, Major Friedman and la creme de la creme of Wayhaven’s jet set.

Shaking my head to wipe off my silly teenager thoughts, I open the door bravely and step out of my room.

Adam springs up nearly immediately - he is sitting down on the sofa, to my surprise, instead of being perched still by the window. His glass of wine is empty on the coffee table and I don’t know what is more striking: the fact that he has actually listened to me or to realize for the second time how good he actually looks in that tuxedo.

He stares at me with a blank expression. His lips babble something that his mouth refuses to transform into words, although he clears his throat on an attempt to conceal it.

I arch a questioning brow at him, pursing my lips with a grin and pointing at my dress - red, long, strapless neckline... “Now is your turn to compliment,” I tease him, trying to ease the strange tension that is clearly building in my apartment.

And it seems to work because he chuckles and I get the prize of a fleeting sight of dimples on his cheeks.

“You look beautiful, Eve,” he declares, sincere, warm and soft as I’ve never seen him before.

His words make my knees buckle and a stupid grin grows on my lips. And I’m pretty sure I blush at his statement.

Why does the distance between us feel so unbearable? Is it wrong that I want to be closer to him? Is it wrong that I want to kiss him? To feel his skin under my touch and his lips on mine? Is it bad that I want him right now?

And by the way he is devouring me with his eyes, I can tell that he wants the same than me...

I bravely take one step closer towards him.

His gaze hardens. His body stiffens.

Great mistake… The thin spell that is keeping that moment suspended in time, dispels in a cloud of smoke.

Like if embarrassed of his own desires, scared of the level of intimacy our shared moment is reaching or terrified about the possible outcome that this instant could lead into, Adam steps back, running away from me.

Like he always does.

And it feels like an ice storm after the warm moment we have just shared.

“I think we should get going, Detective. Otherwise, we will be late,” he announces, veiled order and escape route well planned within his words.

I deep breathing, half-disappointed and half-amused at his damned emotional constipation, although I can’t avoid cursing him mentally.

C’mon! Who is he trying to fool at this point, apart from himself? It is obvious to everyone and it must be obvious for him, too! There’s something more between us than a simple colleagues relationship.

More than a simple friendship.

I deep-breath and remind myself that there’s no hurry and that I don’t mind waiting. Because I know that, if anything is to happen, it will be worth every minute of this give and take game we are playing.

So, I pull my best smile at him - sweet, flirty and bold at the same time - and I choose my next words carefully by their intended innuendo.

“Whenever you’re ready, Agent du Mortain.”

Link to AO3

[squirrel-moose-winchester]

Chapter 29

Title: Falling for the Holidays Ch. 29

Pairing: Dean x Reader AU

Word Count: 2215

Series Summary: With October ending and the holidays underway, that only meant one thing for Dean Winchester. It meant returning to his childhood home and spending time with his family. It meant listening to his parents, especially his mom, ramble on and on about when he was going to find himself a nice girl, bring her home for the holidays, and then eventually get married and have children.  However, Dean wasn’t ready for that sort of commitment, so in order to get his family off his back, he comes up with an elaborate scheme! But like the saying goes, “sometimes lies become truths.”

Warnings: SMUTTY goodness, Fluff, and a pinch of Crack :)

A/N: Here’s chapter 29! One more chapter and it’s finally all over! Thank you guys for being patient with me, and for sticking with me through my first series! You guys are amazing! Please enjoy the smutty goodness that I’ve written just for you!! xx

It’s only two days until New Years and Dean is doing much better. He’s still can’t do anything strenuous, but the Doctor says that he’s healing faster than suspected. On the phone, John gave credit to the Winchester genes. Whether he’s right or not, you can’t help but agree with him one hundred percent!

“Baby, c’mon. Quit teasing,” Dean groaned from the couch in your now shared apartment.

After the two of you returned to Dallas, Dean couldn’t really live alone, and it made no sense for you to keep going back and forth to your place and his, or for him to stay at your place where none of his things were, so one night, while snuggled up in his bed, he abruptly asked you to move in. Shocked at first, you eventually agreed. There was no way you could deny him and no way that you wanted to.

“But I’ve missed you. Work was so boring and all I could think about was being home with you,” you breathed into his neck, kissing, nipping, and licking. Dean grunted again, and as you peered downwards, elated to see the effects you were having on him. “Need a little help down there?” you asked, running your hand over his chest, down his torso, before stopping at the waistband of his sweatpants.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he huffed, breathing unevenly.

“Oh, I think it’s the opposite. Baby, I can make you feel alive. Only if you let me,” you cooed, pulling away and biting your bottom lip. Dean’s darkened eyes zeroed in on the soft, plump, flesh caught between your teeth.

“Fuck—”

“Want me to get you off with my mouth?” you asked hotly, “because I will. Just like last night and the night before.”

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” Dean growled, his reserve crumbling.

“Well Dean… I usually get what I want,” you grinned.

You were back to your old self, teasing, flirting, and doing things you knew that drove him crazy. He had witnessed you flirt with guys many times, easily wrapping them around your fingers, him being no exception. The only difference between them and Dean was that you weren’t doing it for the free drinks, and you were in love with him.

“Little minx.”

“Your little minx,” you winked before pressing a soft kiss on his lips. Dean didn’t hesitate to respond back, leaning into you with fervor. A moan managed to escape from you, and suddenly, you were on Dean’s lap, straddling him. “What do you think you’re doing?” You pulled away with a smug look on your face.

“Doctor said I couldn’t do any strenuous activities…”

“Yeah… and? What’s your point?” you teased, knowing exactly were he was going. You had used the same excuse the other night and the night before.

“If you did most of the work…” his eyes glinted with excitement.

A grin took over your lips. “Well, giddy up, Cowboy!”

You were about to slip off of his lap when his grip tightened around you. “No blow job… I want to feel you. I need to be inside you.”

“Dean… I don’t think that’s a good idea. I really don’t mind sucking you off. In fact, I love it,” you admitted for the hundredth time.

“I know, but I can’t take it anymore. I need you more than that.”

With your resolve ebbing into nonexistent, it didn’t take long until the two of you were bare, you bouncing on Dean’s dick, reveling in the feel of him filling you up so generously. You had missed the way he made you feel so impossibly full, his cock reaching heights no other man was capable of. The look on his face only drove you to work harder, loving the way his lips hung open as moans of pleasure spilled out continuously, and the way his eyes were shut tight, struggling to stay open so he could watch how your tight little pussy swallowed his endowed length.

“Fuck! Feels so good!” Dean grunted, hands sliding from your hips to your waist, urging you to move faster and hit harder, but all he got in return was you grabbing his wrists and pinning them to the couch on either side of his head.

“Nuh-uh. I’m in charge,” you smirked as his emerald orbs sparkled.

Leaning forwards, you wrapped your arms around his neck, whispering dirty nothings in his ear as you picked up the pace, practically twerking on his cock. Dean yelped in overly satisfaction and bliss.

“Fuck! That’s good shit!” He bellowed, voice vibrating through the entire apartment. A smirk graced you lips, thinking that there was no way the neighbors couldn’t hear how good you were fucking your boyfriend.

“Can you feel that baby? How wet you make me? Maybe I should ride you like this more often. Take charge and have you at my mercy. What do you think of that?” You whispered in his ear, your hot breath sending wave after wave of goosebumps to erupt across his skin.

“Oh, Sweetheart. As tempting as that sounds, this is just a one-time thing until I’m all healed up. Once I’m back to tip top shape, that’s where I intend to stay – on top. The only time you’ll be riding me again is under my instructions, you understand me?” He asked, the gravel in his voice making your pussy clench around his cock. “Fuck—” Dean moaned, head falling back against the sofa.

“Then I guess I better make the best of my time,” you breathed with desperation, grinding yourself down flush on his lap, rotating your hips in a circular motion. A loud moan tears from his throat and you can’t help but feel delighted at how much you could drive him crazy, and obviously vice versa.

You continued to gyrate against him, noticing the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He was close, and so were you. “Fuck!” He cursed again. “So fucking tight. You gonna come for me, baby?” Dean asks through struggled breaths.

“Mhmm,” was all you could say as you caught your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down hard enough for it to sting.

“Come with me, Sweetheart. I need you to come with me.”

Nodding, you started bouncing on him again, desperate and uneven. Dean managed to thrust his hips upwards making you scream as he hit that perfect spot. Pleased with the reaction he drew from you, he continued to thrust his hips upwards, driving you to the edge of pleasure.

“Dean!” You shrieked, trying to speak, but the sensation was too much. “No s-stren-uous work,” you finally managed to get out.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he grunts, hands tightening around your hips again, trying to keep you steady as he hammered upwards into you. It didn’t take long until you were both howling in euphoria, breaths short and frantic. Your body leaned into his as his arms completely wrapped themselves around your bare back.

“How are you feeling?” You finally questioned.

“Amazing–” he replies. “So fucking amazing.”

You let out a soft chuckle before planting a lingering kiss on his lips and lifting yourself from his lap and dislodging his softening cock from your sensitive pussy. You both moan in tandem before landing beside him.

“We need to get ready,” you reminded. “Your mom will give you an earful if we’re late.”

Dean groaned in response. “But I want to just stay here with you and have sex all day and night long.”

You giggle at his words and shook your head. “C’mon you cripple. Let’s get ready.”

“Cripple? Can a cripple make you come like I did just a minute ago? I don’t think so!”

Laughter slipped your lips again. “Well, I did most of the work!”

“Whatever,” he grumbles and you just laugh, making your way towards the bathroom.

By the time you and Dean left, you in the driver’s seat, you were making perfect timing. It was the day before New Years Eve, and Mary was adamant that the two of you return to Kansas to celebrate. They had offered to come to Dallas since Dean was still healing, but there wasn’t enough room at the apartment, and there was no use in wasting money at a hotel when they could just drive over to Kansas and all stay at the house. It made more sense and it was much more practical.

You were singing along to Bob Seger’s, Old Time Rock and Roll, when you heard soft snoring. Glancing beside you, Dean was knocked out, seat reclined back and mouth hanging open. You remembered seeing a photo he had taken of Sam a few years back on his phone.

During a brotherly summer road trip one summer, Sam had fallen asleep in the passenger side, and Dean, being the typical big brother that he was, shoved a spoon into Sam’s mouth and snapped a picture. With that in mind, you figured, why not give him a taste of his own medicine? Besides, you knew Sam would really appreciate it.

Giggling, you reached over for the used spoon from the ice cream the two of you had stopped to buy in the spur of the moment. With the spoon in hand, you reached over for you phone sitting in one of the cup holders between the driver and passenger seat. With steady hands and constant glimpses towards the road, you carefully placed the spoon in Dean’s mouth. Struggling to keep your laughter at bay, you managed to snap a decent picture before sending it to Sam.

To: Sammy *Image* You’re welcome!

Returning your phone back to it’s previous abode, you sang obnoxiously loud, “I like that old time rock and roll!”

Dean leaped from his seat, spitting the spoon out then wincing in pain. You burst into laughter, while trying to apologize and ask if he was okay, even though you already knew that he was. “Y/N!” He drawled, sounding a little disgruntled and annoyed.

“I’m sorry. I really am, but I couldn’t resist. Besides, I didn’t think you were going to react so enthusiastically,” you giggled. “I really am sorry.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” he grumbled.

“I know I am,” you smiled.

Finally entering the state of Kansas, your phone dinged. Without tearing your eyes away from the road, you took hold of your phone, peeking at the screen to see that Sam returned your text, after forty-five minutes. Scanning your fingerprint over the home button of your communication device, you read the text.

From: Sammy This is awesome! You’re awesome! *6 cry-laughing emojis*

Pleased with the response you received, you locked your phone back and dropped it into the cup holder. “Who was that?” Dean inquired, eyes still casted out the window, taking in the familiarity of the state he grew up in.

“Sam. He’s excited to see us.”

Dean scoffs, shifting to grab his phone from his back pocket. He scoffs again. “Bitch didn’t text me…” he humph – adorably – if you may add.

“Well, I actually texted him first.”

“Why?”

“Just giving them a heads up that we’re almost there,” you lie.

“When did you do that? I didn’t notice,” he finally looks at you curiously.

“I did it while you were zoning out the window, like a loon. I thought you were shot in the stomach, not the head,” you chuckle.

“Ha-ha. Already making jokes, huh? Laugh it up baby, because you’re gonna get it,” he warns, unable to keep a straight face.

Finally, the Winchester house came into view, and by the time you were parking the truck, Mary was already out the door, swinging your door open before you turned off the ignition. “Y/N!” She squealed, yanking you out of the truck and into her arms. “I’m so happy you guys are here!”

“Hey, mom. Injured son over here. You know, your flesh and blood. Nice to see you too,” Dean joked, trying to seem emotionally devastated.

“Oh, my sweet boy. You were always the jealous type. My mama’s boy,” she teased back, filling Dean’s cheeks with a tint of red.”

“Gee mom, not in front of my girl,” he rolls his eyes, but you all fall into giggles.

“Oh, please. Well, my little piggy made it just in time for dinner,” Mary cooed, pinching Dean’s cheeks in order to further humiliate him. You couldn’t help but giggle along with Mary as Dean groaned. “C’mon, John, Sam, and Jess is setting everything up as we speak. You can take your bags in later.”

With quick formalities, dinner had gone by fast. It was filled with easy conversation, laughter, jokes, and eventually, the picture you had taken of Dean sleeping on the way to Kansas had come up, thanks to Sam’s inability to keep secrets. Sam laughed to tears as Dean grumbled at you and him, declaring that the two of you delete the picture. It was great.

When bedtime finally came, Sam and John helped you bring the bags in, while Mary helped Dean up the stairs, even if he didn’t need it. As Sam set your bags into the bedroom, you thanked both Winchesters and bid them goodnight.

“Delete that picture,” Dean commanded from the bed.

“Never,” you replied, sending him a wink.

--

Liked it? Please reblog and share with your friends. I also would appreciate any feedback! xx

Say Something Nice Here!

[tradingjack]

Hey so uh I forgot that I hate drawing wings lol

Anyways, this is a headcanon I came up with sometime 2 weeks ago and I’m sure someone else already came up with as well and wrote about before I finished this involved-ass drawing and wrote about it myself but I’m sharing it anyway. Of course it involves Good Omens cause uhh that’s the current hyperfixation my dudes

Basically this is the Archangel, Raphael.

About the headcanon under the cut if you’re interested (prepare for a goddamned novel)

So yeah, this is a drawing of the Archangel Raphael. I’m sure those interested have heard the theory by now that Crowley could have been the Archangel Raphael before the Fall, based on the fact that Raphael is not in Good Omens canon (seemingly replaced by Sandalphon or whatever), Raphael’s symbol is a snake wrapped around a staff, and, for me personally, the fact that Crowley can just??? Stop time????? Like what kind of overpowered Bull Shit

(I’m sure there’s a bunch of other things that support this theory that I just don’t know, please look it up some people really go in depth and it’s awesome)

Also, a brief note on angel rankings. I looked it up, and it didn’t really help because there is a lot of conflicting information out there. In the end,  I just kept it at Wikipedia cause fuck it, it is a pretty reliable source in the end. We’re gonna be focusing on the first and third spheres, since the second sphere really doesn’t apply. Basically, the highest order of angels are seraphim, followed by the cherubim and then the thrones. Skip the second sphere, and the lowest three rankings are, in order of most to least rank, principalities (or rulers), archangels, and angels. Now, concerning the difference between archangels and Archangels: apparently the capital letter makes a big ol difference. Archangels with a capital letter are not, in fact, the second lowest ranking but may be interpreted to mean above all other angels, and are the highest ranked angels even among the seraphim. Therefore, the highest angels of the highest are referred to as Archangels with a capital A. (Idk if the Archangels are even really mentioned in the book, I haven’t read it yet, so idk if their titles are capitalized. I’m talking mostly in the context of the Amazon Prime show.)

Quick description of seraphim and therefore Archangels straight from Wikipedia: “fiery six-winged beings; with two wings that cover their faces, with another two that cover their feet, and the last two they use to fly.” (Oh shit I forgot the fire goddamnit I’m such a fuckin idiot oh well it’s too late I wrote this after I finished the drawing)

So, Crowley could be the fallen Archangel Raphael. However, as someone else brought up (and I’ve seen several posts stating this), the name “Aziraphale” is like a bastardization of the phrase “Also Raphael,” meaning Aziraphale could have been the Archangel Raphael but demoted and therefore forced to be renamed. It makes sense that Aziraphale could have been at least of a higher rank than a Principality because he was supposed to be guarding the Gates of Eden, which, in biblical canon, were guarded by higher ranking angels than Principalities (I think they were as high up as cherubim?? idk).

And then I heard, when Neil and Terry were writing the book, both Aziraphale and Crowley were originally just the demon, Crowley. I think it was Terry who made the decision to split that one character into 2 characters instead.

(Also if that isn’t the most soulmate-y shit I’ve ever heard)

But also like... What if that was how it was in canon?

What if........Crowley and Zira............................were both........the Archangel Raphael before the Fall?

Cause like, Raphael (or Israfel, in some religions) literally means “God heals.” Some of the things they’re the patrons are are of “young people,” “guardian angels,” “lovers,” “travelers,” basically everyone in the medical field, and “ordained marriage.” They’re like... everything optimistic and loving and hopeful about humanity. (Nothing about time but like, wtf?? That’s so powerful it’s gotta be the power of the seraphim, it’s at least equal enough to Lucifer’s power that it’s able to give them more time before Lucifer shows up to make a game plan, like it stops Lucifer???? That’s some power to give a lowly-ass demon, that an angel as powerful as a Principality isn’t able to do) It makes you think huh, maybe they care about humanity a lot more than most of the others would. So how would they have fallen?

Well, maybe they got angry at God for testing the humans so damn much. Like Crowley said, a tree right in the middle of the garden that’s super accessible? Literally the only thing the humans aren’t allowed to touch when humans, the most curious and spiteful things in the universe, are more likely to touch something when they’re told not to, when it’s obviously not allowed, and doesn’t appear to present any immediate danger? It’s not very fair.

Another interesting thing; in some canon, Raphael is even considered to be the closest to God, able to talk directly to Her, and possibly even the highest ranking angel of all, even above Michael. So God was likely very close to Raphael in return. (Of course, in the context of the show, it seems that all of the Archangels are very disconnected and are also all on equal footing, it not being entirely clear where Michael, Uriel, and Gabriel stand with each other in terms of ranking even though Michael is usually considered the highest ranked in most biblical canon. One explanation I came up with is that after God banished Raphael, that would be two of the seven archangels that She would have had to banish, her favored, so She could have withdrawn from everything in order to have some alone time, and just became more and more withdrawn as time went on until it was like She’d completely abandoned them.)

And if Raphael started questioning this wrathful god who just kicked out like, half of heaven, including Lucifer, one of her other favorites, I imagine she’d be pretty upset and not willing to hear about complaints right now. But she trusts this angel, so instead of straight kicking Raphael out, she gives them a choice instead. It’s not like they’re trying to straight rebel, anyways.

When Raphael chooses to leave, She doesn’t have a choice then but to cast at least that part of Raphael out, the part that cares too much, who doesn’t want to harm the humans. She says, “crawl under the feet of those you care so much about,” and splits their eyes and casts their staff down into hell cause like, you can’t just have a rogue ethereal being wandering about Earth with the humans, so the newly formed snake which represents all that Raphael chose to leave heaven for is Lucifer’s problem now. 

But in splitting Raphael like that, she’s left with this less powerful being who’s still attached to heaven, who still has the gold of an angel but it looks washed out on their head, and who looks up with sky blue eyes and who looks lost as anything. She doesn’t want Raphael gone, so She pretends this one is also Raphael, but She’s still kinda upset so She sends this “Also Raphael” to Earth to guard Eden. Because they’re weakened, She equips them with a limited edition Flaming Sword™ and sends them to guard the Gates of Eden.

Meanwhile, the Raphael that got sent to Hell gets processed (?) and realizes that they’re now a snake. They really don’t like the name “Crawley” in the future so I imagine that when they joined hell, they were given the name “Crawley” based on the fact that they’re now a snake, and none of the residents of Hell wanna go to Earth since the entire reason almost all the demons in hell got kicked out of Heaven is cause they didn’t wanna love humans. “Crawley,” however, got kicked out for caring about humans too much, so the lords in hell decide to send them. So “Crawley” ends up tempting the humans into eating the fruit, making sure it’s on their terms and happens somewhat safely, and watches the humans leave.

And then he meets “Also Raphael,” and, as someone else has pointed out, Crowley has never had to ask for their name. They just know 👀

Crowley, imo, has been the better of the two, consistently throughout the series. Crowley’s never killed, has always questioned why humans have to be tested and hurt and killed, including motherfucking Jesus Christ, hasn’t even lied to Aziraphale, tries to get out of doing their job consistently, jumps on the opportunity to perform miracles alongside their dastardly inconveniences, has been in love with Aziraphale ever since they found out that Zira helped protect the humans by giving the couple Zira’s own protection??? The “god-given Flaming Sword™?” HELLO THIS DEMON IS IN LOVE AND THAT IS ACTUALLY CANON?????? That, and like... while Aziraphale, who’s still a part of heaven’s whole bureaucracy deal, felt the need to contact god through a whole damn ritual, all Crowley did to try and contact God was just look up and talk. I think Crowley knows about the choice and about who they were before the Fall, but doesn’t associate themselves as Raphael anymore, therefore the “I didn’t chose to fall, (BUT) I just sorta sauntered vaguely downwards.”

(Going off of that, I don’t think Crowley knows that Aziraphale is literally their other half; I like to think that Crowley just thinks Aziraphale was the angel chosen by Her as their replacement in heaven, therefore “Also Raphael” meaning another Raphael and not literally part of them that they left in heaven. They don’t know why they knew that Aziraphale was named Aziraphale right off the bat, but it doesn’t really matter to them tbh; before they fell in love, they thought Aziraphale was just another angel, and then after they fell in love it still didn’t matter cause they were in love baby!)

Meanwhile, Aziraphale’s goodness is either out of fear of disobeying heaven or being nice to Crowley. Which, they’re not even that nice to Crowley when it matters tbh. Or humans, most of the time. Like they protected Adam and Eve but wasn’t gonna blink an eye about all those children being drowned until Crowley guilted them about it.

Although they used to be the same angel, I think that, over 6000 years and even then, in the Garden, Crowley and Aziraphale ended up becoming their own person. Aziraphale, even though God cast out the part that cared about humans a little too much and is basically Raphael’s attachment to heaven and God, ended up caring quite a bit on their own, giving the first couple that sword for protection and growing very attached to the things humans created, and abandoned their allegiance to heaven after losing their faith. Crowley, who is the care and defiance and power of the archangel Raphael, ended up a pretty lowly ranked demon and is pretty damn bitter, especially after the death of Jesus of Galilee, and when they do use their power, it’s usually to fuck with humans in some capacity (unless it’s to help himself or Aziraphale :P ).

TL;DR I think that both Crowley and Aziraphale are remnants of the Archangel Raphael after the Fall because Raphael questioned God concerning the testing of the humans and chose to leave heaven. God wasn’t happy and did some shit that ended up with Crowley and Aziraphale being as they are. But both are still their own person.

[imjustthemechanic]

Natalie Jones and the Golden Ship

Part 1/? - A Meeting at the Palace Part 2/? - Curry Talk Part 3/? - Princess Sitamun Part 4/? - Not At Rest Part 5/? - Dead Men Tell no Tales Part 6/? - Sitamun Rises Again Part 7/? - The Curse of Madame Desrosiers Part 8/? - Sabotage at Guedelon Part 9/? - A Miracle Part 10/? - Desrosiers’ Elixir Part 11/? - Athens in October Part 12/? - The Man in Black Part 13/? - Mr. Neustadt Part 14/? - The Other Side of the Story Part 15/? - A Favour Part 16/? - A Knock on the Window Part 17/? - Sir Stephen and Buckeye Part 18/? - Books of Alchemy Part 19/? - The Answers Part 20/? - A Gift Left Behind Part 21/? - Santorini Part 22/? - What the Doves Found Part 23/? - A Thief in the Night Part 24/? - Healing Part 25/? - Newton’s Code Part 26/? - Montenegro Part 27/? - The Lost Relic Part 28/? - The Homunculinus Part 29/? - The End is Near Part 30/? - The Face of Evil Part 31/? - The Morning After Part 32/? - Next Stop Part 33/? - A Sighting in Messina Part 34/? - Taormina Part 35/? - Burning Part 36/? - Recovery Part 37/? - Pilgrimage to Vesuvius Part 38/? - The Scent of Hell Part 39/? - She’ll be Coming Down the Mountain Part 40/? - Stowaways Part 41/? - Bon Voyage Part 42/? - Turnabout Part 43/? - The Apple

It’s quiet.  Too quiet.

For a moment there was silence.  It was Sir Stephen who broke it.

“If we are to agree,” he said, “then there must be one thing I insist upon.”

“And what’s that?” Newton asked cautiously.

“You must make no more of those.”  He nodded at the Steward homunculus.  “And you must give me the remains you have used as a template, so I may have them properly interred on English soil.  That man was my friend, Sir James Buckeye, and I am weary of seeing his face everywhere and having it not know me.”

Newton looked at the steward, then at Jim, then at Sir Stephen again.  Sir Stephen nodded gravely.  He was sitting up straight, his hands clasped on the table in front of him, and he looked like a rock in the face of a storm.

“Very well,” said Newton. “The remains aren’t here, though – they’re at my workshop in Athens.  I’ll give them to you when we’re finished in Barcelona.”

“I would like some token, to show that you mean it,” said Sir Stephen.

Newton beckoned the Steward homunculus to come closer.  It obeyed, whereupon Newton stood, and reached to pinch the man’s throat on either side of the windpipe.  The empty uniform dropped to the ground in a puff of gray dust.

Jim quickly lowered his head.  He hadn’t wanted to see that, but now he was too late not to.

“Is that token enough?” asked Newton.

“It will do,” Sir Stephen decided.

Natasha had never been on a cruise ship.  She’d travelled by boat, as both passenger and crew, but never in this sort of luxury, and she was out of practice at elegant dining.  The CAAP had eaten with royalty a couple of times, but even that wasn’t this formal – her Majesty the Queen preferred to eat good wholesome food with her family and would drink brandy until she was telling bawdy jokes and somebody had to send the children to bed early. Here there was a string quartet playing, waiters were constantly at their elbow to top up her wine glass, and the room was full of the murmur of quiet conversations and the clink of silver and crystal.

As he’d promised, Newton had pulled some strings to get them a room they didn’t have to share with the Contessa’s menagerie, and had even found them some evening wear, apparently at shops on board the ship.  Nat was wearing a pink cocktail dress with a matching purse, and Sharon was in a powder blue gown that could have been fresh off a Milan runway.  Sir Stephen’s tuxedo was a little too small for him, so he was moving very carefully as he ate, worried about tearing it.  Allen, not a formal diner by nature, barely dared move at all.  Jim’s long hair was pulled back in a man-bun and he’d shaved, and in a tux Nat had to admit he looked very good indeed.

“So the apple,” Sam said.

“The apple!” Newton laughed.  He was in a suit and tie, although his own long hair hung down, and for the first time he was not wearing a hat.  Nat was a little disappointed to find that he wasn’t bald on top.  “I never expected that to end up being the story I was famous for.  It came from an argument with one of my students.  I was trying to explain that the same force which causes things to fall on Earth also keeps things moving in the heavens, and he simply refused to understand.  The thought experiment with the cannon was doing nothing for him.  He said that when he shook a tree, the apples fell down, rather than going into orbit – so I picked up an apple and threw it, and asked him to imagine that it kept going so fast that by the time it reached where the ground ought to be, the ground had curved away from it, and he finally understood!

“Then I thought,” Newton went on, “what is the apple? What does it mean?”  He looked expectantly around the table.

“Knowledge?” offered Allen.

“Yes, exactly!” Newton nodded, a smile on his face. “The apple which opened the eyes of Adam and Eve to the truth!  You see, people think alchemists are a bunch of superstitious fools, finding correspondences in things and basing all their practices around them, but you can’t argue when it works!  Thereafter I used a falling apple as an example of something under the influence of gravity, and the rest of the story, that one had hit me on the head and inspired me, grew all on its own.”  He snorted. “I think people like to find outside explanation’s for a great man’s insights.  It makes them feel better that they don’t share his genius.”

Nat was still nervous. This was all too nice.  Maybe it was just that she’d never been at a formal dinner where something wasn’t going on behind the scenes, but the idea that they were all just friends now seemed absurd.  Was she too comfortable with secrets, that she couldn’t feel at ease with open-ness?

Despite her nervousness, though, she still looked perfectly at ease as she sipped her wine. “What are you going to do with your gold, once you get it?” she asked.  “Is there something you’re planning to spend it on, or are you just going to make a big heap and sit on it?”

“Oh, I’m not going to make gold, actually,” said Newton.  “The Philosopher’s Stone can make anything, as long as its structure is fairly simple.  I’m going to use it to create large perfect sapphires for interstellar lasers.”

Natasha had been about to ask him where the feather from the Holy Dove came in, but her train of thought abruptly derailed when he started talking in terms of actual science. “I’m sorry?” she asked, not sure she’d heard right.

“You’re… you’re trying to communicate with aliens?” asked Sam, equally astonished.

“Yes!” said Newton. “Alchemy is nothing but a search for the truth, for the templates of nature, as you so eloquently put it yourselves. Other beings in the cosmos must be doing the same thing, and their templates will be slightly different, because their DNA is different, their language is different, their whole way of codifying information must be different, and it’s the codification that gives information power.  Think what we could learn from each other?”

“Alien alchemists.” Sam shook his head.  “There’s a phrase I never thought I’d hear.”

Nat caught Sir Stephen’s eye.  He gave a slight nod, and she returned it.  He was worried, too.  She tried Allen next, and found he still hadn’t touched his vichyssoise.

“It’s soup, Dad,” she murmured.  “You’re supposed to eat it.”

“It’s cold,” he replied.

“It’s supposed to be,” said Nat.  “Blame the French.”

He picked up his spoon. “I think you’ve been living in Britain too long, Ginger Snap,” he said.

“Not really,” she replied.  “The French have a lot to answer for.  Mayonnaise, for example.”

Allen chuckled, then had to raise his voice as the string quartet bowed before taking a break, and applause filled the room.  “So are you going to marry Jim?” he asked.

He’d intended it to be a private question, but the applause ended a little too soon, and he spoke the words marry Jim into the silence left behind.  The other people at the table turned to look at him and Nat, and Jim himself muttered a curse as he banged his elbow on the edge of the table in his surrise.

“Sorry,” said Allen quickly.  “What I meant was… well, obviously it’s up to you.”  He was speaking quietly now, but it was too late – everybody was already listening, including some people at neighbouring tables.  “But I wanted to say, don’t do it just for the soul thing. If you’re going to marry him, be sure that you love him.”

“Dad,” Nat said. Didn’t he realize he was just forcing his foot further and further down his throat?

He seemed to, but he was determined to continue regardless.  “What I’m saying is, don’t rush.  Newton said he could live a long time, so don’t feel you have to hurry. Your mother and I knew each other for two years before we settled down.”

“Dad,” she repeated.

“We figured if we could put up with each other that long, fight, and forgive each other, then we were okay for lie.”

“Dad!” Nat insisted. “Just… please stop.”  She held up a hand between them, as if to physically block his words.

Allen turned red. “Sorry,” he said, and took a big mouthful of his cold soup.

Unfortunately, Sir Stephen decided to chime in.  “I have thought for the beginning that Buckeye would have liked you, Natalie,” he said.  “He would have approved the match.  Jim, I know you said you do not care what Buckeye would have thought, but I know he would have felt responsible for you, as for a younger brother or even a son.”

Jim was still rubbing his elbow.  “You know what?” he asked.  “Nat’s right. Just stop.”

The other people at the table – and at a couple of nearby tables – laughed.  The strangers around them might not understand the situation, but they could tell that somebody was having their relationship discussed in public by friends and family, and laughed to ease the tension.  Natasha laughed too, because her own anxiety was high. It didn’t help.

After dinner there was a comedian performing in the ship’s theatre, and more dancing in the piazza. The big-screen TVs in the Orion Pub were showing a soccer game.  The spa and casino were open for business.  There were a million options for people who wanted to enjoy themselves, but Nat wasn’t interested in any of them.  She went out onto the Lido Deck where the last light of sunset was still visible in the sky, and leaned on the railing at the back of the ship, watching the stars come out to the east.  The lights of Naples, or at least of the Italian coastline, were still just barely visible on the horizon.

Sir Stephen joined her. “This isn’t right,” he said.

“You noticed,” Nat observed.  The dry sarcasm covered up her relief – she’d been itching to have a conversation about it, but couldn’t do so in front of Newton and Desrosiers.  She was actually surprised they’d let her leave.

“Newton is luring us into a trap, and Madame Desrosiers as well,” Sir Stephen said.  “We are all trapped already, here on this ship with the land far away.  It is a gilded cage, but a cage nonetheless.”

“Yes, yes it is,” Natasha agreed.  “I’ve been thinking.  If Newton wants to destroy civilization using the philosopher’s stone, could he do it on a ship?  We’re out in the middle of nowhere with nobody to stop him.  He said himself that we’ll be at sea all day tomorrow. What if he makes the stone right here and uses the ocean somehow?  We’re on a fault line.  It’s not as convenient as a volcano, but it might still work.”

“I think it more likely he means to destroy the ship,” said Sir Stephen.  “Or to abandon it and return to Naples, leaving us all stranded and unable to stop him.”

“If he can get off, we can get off,” said Nat.  “He would have to do something to be sure we couldn’t follow him.”  The idea of sinking the ship seemed plausible enough. Newton wouldn’t care about all the people on board – they would just get a head start on his end of the world.

The sky to the east was quite dark now.  The lights of the Scorpio II, with its many rooms, clubs, and parties, meant that only the very brightest stars were visible, and it was also possible to see a glint of orange sunlight, illuminating the summit of Mount Vesuvius.

[singledarkshade]

Walking Towards The Inevitable

Part Three - Together

“Gideon,” Rip called, “Are you ready? We have to go soon.”

“A few moments,” she replied from the bathroom.

Rip sighed and fixed his tie. He really didn’t want to go to this ridiculous party, but it was one of the obligations he was under as Director. He’d done a few in the past year and would normally stand alone with the one glass of scotch he’d allow himself to have, speaking to the people he had to as briefly as he could.

This was going to be different with Gideon at his side to help him get through the evening. Finally the door opened and he turned finding whatever he had been going to say slip away while he stared at her. Gideon gave him a shy smile as she stood in a long figure-hugging black dress, her long hair curled and pulled back from her face with subtle make-up he assumed Eve or Cleo taught her to do.

“Wow,” Rip murmured, “You look stunning.”

Moving to him Gideon placed her hand on his chest, “You look extremely handsome yourself, Captain.”

He leaned in to kiss her frowning when she placed a finger on his lips, “What?”

“Eve told me not to let you ruin my make-up until after the party,” Gideon told him.

Rolling his eyes Rip placed a kiss on her cheek, “I sometimes regret letting you two meet.”

Gideon laughed, “I thought we were in a hurry.”

Shaking himself Rip picked up her coat and helped her put it on, “Thank you for coming with me tonight. It will be incredibly boring but it’s an obligation.”

“Then you can make it up to me later,” Gideon replied, sliding her arm through his as they started out the door.

 The party was something that Rip had advised her that he was required to attend to ensure the Bureau was given the funding it needed but also to ensure the right people supported them. Gideon knew Rip hated doing this kind of thing.

He had never been good with people.

Rip had always been able fake his way through the interactions required to get through a mission but having to do that outside the confines of an assignment wasn’t something Rip was very good at. Gideon knew it was a product of his upbringing, the way the Time Masters had wanted him, and their Captains, to be. His relationship with Miranda had been an anomaly their former masters had exploited to their own ends.

The moment they stepped into the ballroom Gideon felt Rip’s hand tighten on hers.

“Breathe, Captain,” she murmured softly, “I’m by your side.”

At her reassurance he let out a long slow breath before he pressed a soft kiss to her temple. She slid her arm through his and they started inside properly.

Gideon spotted Director Bennett talking with several people and forced down her impulse to walk over and punch him for everything he would do.

“What’s wrong?” Rip asked softly, feeling her stiffen slightly.

“Nothing,” she replied.

Rip followed her look and sighed, “Not someone I like working with but it’s necessary.”

“Then I will be as nice a I can be,” she noted.

“You don’t have to be too nice,” Rip chuckled, “If he could he would get rid of me from the Bureau.”

Gideon frowned, “Considering who you are, and your experience, he is obviously very arrogant or very stupid.”

“Bit of both,” Rip murmured sighing, “Let’s avoid him for now.”

She nodded and allowed him to move her in a different direction through the room. Standing in a corner was another face Gideon recognised.

“Agent Sharpe has the right idea,” Rip noted.

Gideon turned to him thoughtfully, “Which number Agent Sharpe is she?”

Rip looked at her stunned, “What?”

Giving an annoyed frown she reminded him, “Where am I from again, Captain?”

“I forgot,” he winced before replying softly, “She is the twelfth. All the previous Ava’s were perfect warriors, but not very good at working with others. They all got themselves killed. The Ava standing there was supposedly a defective model but she was the only one who could work within a team. She’s the agent we need. Someone I can trust.”

Gideon remained silent, knowing that the woman he was talking about with such fondness would betray him as well. She sometimes hated the knowledge she had.

“Director,” Ava greeted him when they moved closer.

“Having fun?” Rip asked her amused.

She rolled her eyes, “Completely.”

Gideon smiled slightly when Ava’s eyes fell on her, Miss Lance had always said Gideon’s human form was hot and it was clear Agent Sharpe thought so also.

“Agent Ava Sharpe, this is Gigi Carter,” Rip introduced them.

Ava gave her a smile but Gideon caught the other woman taking note of Rip’s arm resting around Gideon’s waist.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms Carter,” Ava said politely.

Gideon nodded but didn’t say anything, staring at the woman until Ava shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her gaze.

“We should probably make another circuit of the room,” Rip spoke up when neither woman said anything, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Agent Sharpe.”

Ava gave a nod before Rip moved Gideon away.

“What was that about?” he demanded.

Gideon gave him a blithe smile, “Just ensuring she knows where she stands with me. Nothing for you to worry about, Rip. I believe it is what is called a ‘Girl Thing’.”

Rip gave her a bemused look but didn’t say anything else as he led her back into the party.

                                  *********************************************

  Gideon took a drink of her tea as she leaned back from her computer. She hadn’t slept well the past few nights with Rip away. He’d decided to go on a mission with a few new agents. It was something he did every so often. She hadn’t been happy about it but knew it was something he needed to do occasionally to stave off the boredom from his position.

He was due back soon and she intended to stay so they could go home together.

It was now over a year since Gideon had opened her eyes in the snow in front of Rip’s apartment building. A year that brought her closer to the day she would lose him forever but a year filled with joy for the most part and she would never give that up for anything.

“Gigi,” Cleo appeared, “What are you doing here?”

“Working on the ion engine upgrades,” Gideon said confused.

Cleo frowned, “Oh my god, you don’t know.”

Fear filled her and she managed to keep her voice calm as she asked, “Know what?”

“Director Hunter was brought back from his mission,” Cleo said, “He was unconscious and hurt. I thought Director Bennett would have had someone contact you.”

Forcing herself to remain calm, Gideon shook her head, “I need to…”

“He’s in the infirmary,” Cleo told her, “Do you want me to come with you?”

Touched by her friend’s concern, Gideon shook her head, “Thank you but no.”

Cleo hugged her quickly before she started out towards the infirmary. Marching through the corridors anger burned within her that Bennett had deliberately not let her know that Rip was hurt. Considering who she was to Rip then the other man should have informed her. It was just another part of Bennett’s game in his attempts to remove Rip from his position within the Bureau.

“Director,” she snapped the moment she reached the door to the medical wing, seeing the man standing there.

“Ms Carter,” he replied, “What are you doing here?”

“Why was I not informed that Rip has been injured?” she demanded, ignoring his question.

Bennett frowned, “Why would you be informed? You’re not his wife. Sleeping with him does not mean there is any obligation to discuss anything with you. Director Hunter may bend the rules, I don’t.”

Anger flared within her, “You do not want to test me, Director Bennett especially when it comes to Rip. I want to see him. Now.”

Before Bennett could reply the door opened and Dr Adams walked out.

“Doctor,” Gideon spoke before Bennett could, “How is he?”

Adams was an older man who Gideon knew got along very well with Rip, so she wasn’t concerned that he was overseeing Rip’s care.

“He’ll be fine,” Adams assured her, “That man has a hard head to go with his stubbornness.”

Gideon smiled, “Very true. Can I see him?”

Adams nodded, “Of course. He’s awake and about to start annoying me to leave.”

Throwing a dark look at Bennett, Gideon followed the doctor through the door.

  Rip lay back in the bed waiting for Adams to come back and release him. Looking over when he heard footsteps he winced seeing Gideon walking over to him.

“Hi,” he smiled hoping to avoid the lecture he knew would come.

She took a seat at his side, her hand instantly moving to his face, “What happened?”

“Agent Jamieson didn’t see the soldier coming up behind him,” Rip explained, “I got him out of the way but we overbalanced. I must have hit my head because the next thing I know I woke up here.”

He smiled when she pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Dr Adams has said I can take you home,” she told him, “But you need to rest for a few days.”

“Gideon…” he stalled at her frown.

She stroked his hair, “Rip, you need to take time. It’s only a few days. Will you do that for me?”

Rip winced, it was a trick she’d learned quickly but one she only used thankfully in situations she was worried about him.

“Alright,” he sighed, “I’ll take the few days.”

  Rip woke and reached out to pull Gideon close surprised to find he was alone. His headache was gone and he was back at work tomorrow. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed spending the time with Gideon but he knew there was a lot of work waiting for him at the Bureau.

Sliding out of bed he went into the living room frowning to find Gideon sitting on the couch, a cushion clasped to her tightly, an annoyed frown on her face.

“Hey,” he breathed, letting her know he was there, “You’re up late. Is something bothering you?”

Gideon looked up at him and sighed, “It is just something Bennett said to me.”

“What did he say?” annoyance filled Rip.

“That he had no requirement to tell me anything regarding you,” she stated angrily, “That he was not obliged to tell me you were hurt.”

Rip frowned, “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“It won’t matter, Rip,” she sighed, “He will point out there is no legal connection between us.”

He winced wondering where she was going with this.

“I’m not your wife, Rip,” she told him, stopping him before he could reply, “And I am not looking for that title. Miranda was your wife. She always will be.”

Rip took a seat at her side, “I know.”

“I’m your Partner,” Gideon rested her head against him, “It is what I have always been.”

Wrapping his arm around her Rip pulled her close, “They can’t understand the connection between us. They don’t know how our relationship works.”

“They do not have the capability in this time to understand the complexity,” Gideon sighed softly.

Rip tightened his hold on her whispering, “I love you.”

Gideon turned and looked up at him in amazement. He hadn’t been able to say the words to her no matter how much he had wanted to. It had been a step he hadn’t been ready to take with her until that moment.

“Truly?” she asked softly.

Rip nodded, “Truly.”

A smile touched her lips and she breathed, “I love you too.”

Giving her a gentle kiss, Rip stood and pulled her to her feet, “Come on. Let’s go get some sleep.”

Part Four - Partners

[seriestrash]

New Years Wish

❄ Day Nine ❄

A/N: Fits within the TV series universe. It’s Chritmas of their third year in college and they’ve been dating since Ski Lodge. Awwww.

Summary: Distance has put a strain on Riley and Lucas’ relationship. After an argument on New Years Eve, Riley makes a wish she might later regret.

Word Count: 2933

❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄❄

It’s been almost six and half years since the nature trip that finally united Riley and Lucas. Now in their third year of college the couple are still together. As loved up as the couple may be it hasn’t always been easy. 

Riley has a tendency to push Lucas away when she’s feeling down and lately that’s a lot. Lucas has always held on tightly despite Riley’s efforts but recently he’s felt his grip slipping and it terrifies him.

Deep down Riley’s only acting this way with the pushing, because she’s missing Lucas. The logic sounds strange but Riley’s always been the one that struggles with confidence within the relationship. On a subconscious level Riley’s constantly pushing because she’s always waiting for them to snap.

Since Lucas attends college in Austin and Riley attends college in New York, distance has put a strain on their relationship. This holiday season, Lucas has made the trip to New York to be with Riley. At first it was lovely to reunite but as the days went on, deeper issues seemed to surface and the strain from the distance becomes evident to them both. 

It’s New Years Eve and true to form Riley and Lucas had a slight disagreement about their plans that night and it turned into a major argument. So major in fact Riley breaks up with Lucas. It all began when Lucas brought up Farkle’s party that night. Farkle was having a big party on the rooftop above his family penthouse apartment. Lucas was interested in going and catching up with their friends as he’s only around Zay in Austin but Riley was adamant that she wanted to say in. 

It’s not exactly secret that Riley can be insecure and at times she borders a depressive state. Today was one of those days. Riley was feeling down and didn’t want to do anything but lay in bed. Lucas of course has made the trip to New York and wants to make the most of the festive period with his loved ones that reside in the city. 

In the Matthews apparent - that was currently vacant other than the couple, as Cory, Topanga and Auggie were in Philly for NYE- Riley and Lucas had been going back and forth for a while. Riley kept telling Lucas to just go without her if it meant so much to him. 

“I want to ring in the new year with you, that’s what’s important to me.” Lucas kept saying. 

Finally in the heat of the moment Riley lets out a frustrated breath and says, “Maybe we should just break up!”

Lucas stops dead in his tracks and gives Riley a dubious stare. “You don’t mean that.” 

“Honestly it’s been a long time coming.” Riley says not even looking at Lucas. 

“We had different ideas about how to spend New Years Eve that’s nothing to end our relationship over.” An involuntary laugh escapes him. 

“It’s not just that.” Riley frowns. 

“Well what is it then?” Lucas challenges. “Give me one legitimate reason why we should break up.”

Riley just fumbles over her words as she’s unable to string a sentence together. 

“See.” Lucas rubs at his forehead for a second. “You’ve done this our entire relationship- Heck, you’ve done this before we were even dating. You always have one foot out the door.” 

“That’s not true.” Riley shakes her head but even she doesn’t believe it. 

“Yes it is.” Lucas is frustrated. “You’ve always had it in your head that we’re temporary it’s like you expect that we are going to fall apart.” 

Riley is silent. Lucas softens and says, “For someone who believes the best in the world you can’t find any belief in us.” 

“Distance.” Riley mumbles. 

“Distance?” Lucas repeats. 

“You’re far away and I miss you and that hurts.” Riley shrugs a shoulder. 

“You can’t break up with me because you miss me.”

“I can do whatever I like.” Riley says. “If missing you is damaging me then I can break up with you. It’s my choice, not yours.” 

“We have been together for six and a half years and I’ve loved you longer than that.” Lucas says. “I’ll go over to Farkle’s and give you space but I don’t accept that we’re broken up, not now…If this is what you really want we can talk over breakfast tomorrow.” 

“Lucas, you’re just delaying the inevitable.” Riley mumbles. 

“Why is it inevitable?” Lucas asks. “Tell me why two people who love each other and want to be together are inevitably going to break up? You can’t tell me it’s distance because we make it work. I’ve already told you I’ll move back to New York the second I graduate. So if you can give me a better reason than that I��ll leave right now and I’ll never bother you again.” 

Riley is quiet. 

“Happy New Years, Riles.” Lucas says in a sad way. “I’ll see you in the morning to talk.” With that he was gone. 

An emotionally distraught Riley flops down on the sofa and cries into her sofa cushion. The last thing Riley thinks before she wept herself to sleep was, “I wish Lucas and I never started dating.” 

Sometime later, Riley’s woken when a cold burst of wind whistles loudly as snow blows through an open window. 

Groggily, Riley rises from the sofa and wanders over to the bay window behind the family christmas tree, as she’s closing it she notices the time on the clock in the kitchen. 11:03pm. It’s not even the new year yet, Riley thinks to herself. Riley lets out a loud sigh and figures she might as well go to bed. Riley goes to turn the television off but as she turns towards the living room she practically jumps out of her skin in fright. 

Bizarrely, sitting on the sofa with hands neatly folded in her lap is her. Obviously not her but it was like Riley was looking in a mirror, a slightly more mature mirror. 

“You weren’t really thing thinking of going to bed were you?” Riley hears her own voice and it’s not coming out of her mouth. That was enough to make her let out a scream. 

“Hush would ya?” She stands up from the sofa and casually approaches Riley. 

“Am I dead?” Riley’s eyes are wide. 

“Gosh I really was dramatic.”  The clone giggles. “You’re not dead because I’m not dead. I’m you… Well you’re me… I’m the future you… You can call me R so it’s not confusing.”  

“The future me?” Riley is blinking as she doesn’t believe her eyes. How could she be looking at a version of herself that’s maybe ten years older than she currently is?

“Well I’m one version of your future.” She says. 

“I don’t understand.” Riley says. “I don’t understand any of this…Why are you- how are you here?” Riley shakes her head. “This is a dream. I’m not really talking to an older version of myself, that would be ridiculous.” 

The older Riley reaches forward and pinches the college aged Riley on the arm. 

“Ouch!” Riley squeaks. “What was that for?” 

“It felt like a pinch me moment.” R shrugs. 

“Why are you here?” Riley questions. 

“You made a wish. I’m here to show you what would happen if that wish was to come true.” 

“What wish?” Riley furrows her brows. 

“Come with me.” The R motions towards the door.

As bizarre as everything was to Riley the strangest thing was that she followed the thirty something year old version of herself out of the apartment and towards the roof. 

“Where are we going?” Riley struggles to keep up with her older self. 

“I’m granting your wish.” She says as she disappears around a corner. 

“What wish?” Riley asks for the second time. As Riley steps out onto the roof she bumps into R’s back. 

“Shh.” R says. “This is it.” 

Riley steps out from behind herself and notices another Riley, this time younger and she’s talking with Farkle. 

“Another me?” Riley shrieks. “But why?” 

“Shh.” R says again. “Just watch.” 

Riley turns to the adolescent version of herself and Farkle with a sigh of acceptance like crazy was her new norm. 

“I just need a little more time.” The younger Riley says. 

“No more time, we made a deal, Riley. We’re not starting off the New Year with lies between friends.” Farkle says. 

Riley knits her brows in confusion but realisation takes a hold of her. Riley had lived this exact moment before. She was in the eighth grade and Farkle was threatening to out her feelings for Lucas.

“Can they see us?” Riley whispers. 

“No.” R shakes her head.

“Why are you showing me this?” Riley questions.

“You’ll see in three… two… one!” R counts and right on queue it’s like Smackle walks right through them to get to the teenage Farkle and Riley. 

The girl genius claims her territory over Farkle but before they can walk off Riley stops him. 

“Farkle wait.” She calls. 

“You’re out of time, Riley.” Farkle turns to her says. “It’s time to tell Lucas how you feel.” 

“I want to be with Charlie at midnight.” Riley says. “I don’t know how Maya and Lucas makes me feel but I know I want to be with Charlie. He’s sweet and he likes me and I like him. Please don’t ruin that.” 

“That’s what you want?” Farkle studies her face. 

“That’s what I want.” Riley nods. “Please, please don’t make things weird if they don’t have to be.” 

“Okay.” Farkle nods after he believes Riley’s words to be true. 

“That didn’t happen.” Riley turns to R with a frown. “I told Charlie I couldn’t be with him at midnight and Farkle told Lucas I still loved him.”

“Yes but you wished you and Lucas never started dating.” R says with an eyebrow raise. “I’m the you that never started dating him and after midnight you’ll never have started dating him too. ” 

“What?” Riley asks quietly as she’s shocked. 

“Right here on this roof I stood with Charlie as we counted in the new year. Farkle never outed my feelings and I never participated in a love triangle. Lucas never gave me a purple jellybean on the nature trip and we never become official.” R continues, “Lucas never accidentally said told me he loves me for the first time after I cried during a kids movie and he never gave me his jacket after I sat in chocolate cake at my Aunt Morgan’s wedding and he took me to prom or held my hand during my grandpas funeral.”

“I get it.” Riley cuts in, unable to listen to her memories being erased. 

“You were the one who wished you and Lucas never dated.” R says. “This was a pivotal moment in setting you two back on the path of becoming official.” 

“Are you- we happy?” Riley questions sheepishly. “Without all those memories with Lucas?”

R holds up her hand to show off her sparkly wedding ring. “We get married.” 

“To Charlie?” Riley questions .

“No.” R shakes her head. “We don’t end up with Charlie but we end up with someone like him.” R says. “Someone sweet who cares for us and we care for him but as perfect as he’s still not Lucas.” 

“But we’re still friends with Lucas right?” Riley asks. 

R is quiet.

“All I’ve ever wanted is for Lucas and I to stay the best of friends.” Riley says. “You’re telling me that I never complicate things with a relationship and I still lose Lucas?” 

“What do you mean still lose him?” R furrows her brows. “Earlier tonight you wished away your relationship after Lucas fought you against breaking up. How have you lost him?”

Riley looks around the rooftop now filled with middle schoolers. Riley spies her young self sitting on the bench with Charlie and Lucas is standing with Maya. 

“Are you saying Lucas and I are meant to be together?” Riley turns to R again. “Is that what this is? Are you showing me that not being in a relationship with him is exactly why I actually lose him?” 

“I’m here to grant your wish.” R says simply. 

“How is it that I can lose him as a friend just because we didn’t date?” Riley questions. 

“You and Lucas were never destined to be friends.” R says. “But you do get a say in how things work out. If you don’t want to be with Lucas then the universe will listen.” 

“What happens to Lucas… Do he and Maya?” Riley questions.

R just shrugs and turns her attentions to the middle schoolers.

“7…6…5…” The teens around Riley start counting. 

“No!” Riley says. “That’s not fair.”

R just continues watches the younger Riley and Charlie. 

“4…3…2…” The teens continue. 

“1.” R turns to Riley with a smile. “Welcome to our future.” 

“No!” Riley prostests. She looks to her younger self who hugs Charlie. Fireworks light up the sky above them. 

Farkle looks over to Riley for a moment and then to Lucas and Maya. The college aged Riley holds her breath and waits for him to blurt out her truth but he doesn’t he just turns his attention back to Isadora with a smile and Lucas and Maya sheepishly ring in the new year  together.

“No, no, no, no!” Riley chants. “This is wrong. It’s all wrong.” 

“This is what you wished for.” R says. 

“I didn’t mean it.” Riley frowns. “Why would I wish away six and a half years with Lucas?” 

“I don’t know.” R says. “Those aren’t my memories, remember?” 

Riley turns back to her younger friends. “No. I still love Lucas.” Riley says. “I still love Lucas.” She gets louder but no one knows she’s there. 

"I still love Lucas!” Riley shouts and as she does she jolts awake. Riley is now sitting up on her living room sofa, a cold breeze is blowing through the open window. Riley is out of it for a moment, she’s confused as to why she’s no longer on the rooftop. She rubs her eyes realising it was a dream. A terrible horrible dream. Riley tries to shake her head clear. She looks over to the clock and notices it’s thirteen minutes till midnight. If she hurried she might be able to make it to Farkle’s apartment. Riley grabs her coat and quickly runs for the door as she opens it she makes into Lucas’ chest and the collision sends her staggering backwards for a moment. 

“Riley, I’m so sorry.” Lucas apologises as he tries to steady her. Instead of acknowledging the pain Riley just throws her arms around Lucas in an embrace. 

“Lucas, what are you doing here I was just about to go to Farkle’s?” Riley asks quickly. 

“I was at the party and I wished I was with you… I shouldn’t have left in the first place. I know how you get scared about us sometimes, It’s my job to hold us together and prove to you that you have nothing to be afraid of.” 

"I am afraid, I’ve always been afraid of ruining what we have. I’ve been afraid of losing you and being afraid of that isn’t enough to end the relationship.” Riley shakes her head. “I don’t want to marry someone who I care for and cares for me because they’re not you.” 

Lucas knits his brows at her last statement. 

“I still love you.” Riley says. “I could have wished that we never met on the subway but I didn’t because I still need you in my life but I never got a say in how you were supposed to be in my life because I believe the universe has a plan for us. You are the universes plan for me, Lucas.” 

“Riley, you’re not making any sense.” Lucas tries to hold her gaze but Riley was just blankly staring as she thought back to her dream. 

“I had a dream that you never found out how I really felt about you back in middle school.” Riley finally meets his gaze. “I don’t want you to ever not know how I feel about you.” 

“I know you love me, Riley.” Lucas is soft. “And I know you get scared. I’m okay, like I said I just have to try and make you feel safer.”

“No I’m not scared.” Riley shakes her head. “Well I was scared but I’m not anymore. We are two people that love each other and want to be together, how could that possibly not work out for us?” 

“I don’t know.” Lucas shrugs with a cute smile. “I for one am willing to do anything to assure it works out, even if I have to transfer to a school here in New York.” 

“You don’t have to.” Riley shakes her head again. “In eighteen months we’ll have graduated and then we can live together in New York or Texas or Australia for all I care. I just know that we’re stronger than distance and we’re going to be together.” 

“That was some dream, huh?” Lucas looks at Riley with love in his eyes. 

“You have no idea.” Riley laughs. 

Suddenly fireworks flash and Riley and Lucas turn their heads towards the window.

“We missed the countdown.” Riley frowns. “And you missed the party, I’m sorry.” 

“I already told you what’s important to me is that you’re standing with me at midnight.” Lucas smiles. “And here we are.”

“I love you.” Riley smiles. 

“I love you too, happy new years.”

End notes: this turned out different than I thought but im still okay with it… I hope you enjoy it too!!! heres the anons that inspired this piece!! 

tweaked them both but they still inspired me so thank you very much!!!