#dunno if this whole thing will make the cut after editing but heres a sneak peek anyway 💕

[butterbabyflapjack]

Having fun writing tortured messmer 💕

(slight spoilers for chaos hearts)

The world had been so simple, once.

No longer.

Not for many, many years, which have stretched so long their length is far past measure.

You.

You did this.

Or was it his mother?

His mother, fair and light as the wings of a golden bird. Yet a dove with a sinister song this whole land has come only to see the weight of, and can they be blamed?

Such blasphemy, the question. And yet he asks it now. A question he thought not ask till only recently. Never once questioned the worth, the merit, the righteousness of his mother nor her cause throughout this entire crusade, not even as he felt so many lives snuffed out at the merest flicker of his flame. Thousands of lives: gone, in a mortal’s heartbeat, pressed flat beneath his fingers as they tiptoed ‘cross this land with the ease of marble pieces ‘cross some game. They mattered not–they deserved it. Deserved worse. Would have seen his mother, his flesh and blood, bared and beaten and whatever remained of her bloodied, ribboned flesh stuffed inside a cage where she would lose all sense of sanity. Would see her meet such a fate now, or worse, for what she’s done.

They deserved this.

This fiery, unforgiving retribution set out by his mother, enacted by his hand.

So why did his heart grow tight and cold, crystalline in its splinters, at the sight of a horned women clutching her grasping babe; the both of them charred and frozen black in the wasteland which was always left behind his reaching flame?

Tis why he was sent here. To rid this place of the blasphemous, the barbarous, the undeserving.

Was that all he was, then?

Death?

Death to the innocent?

Death to screaming mothers and the tears of clutching babes?

Yet they weren’t innocent.

Far from being so.

These thoughts are foolish. This heartache even moreso.

When did he succumb to such mindlessness?

You did this.

You. And that silken thread of softness hiding underneath the bitter whole of you, like a bloom beneath a blade.

[koba-baboba]

moony

a/n: hey look a new series because i got overhwhelmed by in the dark. this will be a self indulgent story so its ok if you dont like it. im trying a new writing style so let me know if its any good. this isnt really edited so read at your own risk. shout out to anyone who can figure out which part of this chapter i inserted after it was done.

chapter 1/? word count: 1628

warnings: none i think. a weeny bit of blood.

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towering trees and bright flowers are all i can see for miles, it was the most beautiful thing ever. mother held my hand, swinging it as we walked along the dimly lit dirt path. "happy birthday my love! how does it feel to be 6 hm?" mothers words are soft and full of love as she looks down at me fondly. "not much differnt, i think im taller maybe?" i screw my face up trying to think if i felt taller or not, i *felt* taller. mother laughed heartly as she looked around us. "youre almost past my hip now! youve definitely gotten taller." mother cooed still looking happily at me. i smiled, i *am* almost past her hip now! i swung her hand even more as we contiuned on our walk. "dad doesnt like to go on these walks does he?" i questioned, looking up at mother. "he doesnt like to get his fancy shoes dirty, Alexander has always been that way" she reasured me softly. the bush in front of us rustled, mother excitedly pulled me down to crouch so we didnt scare the critter moving towards us. i wiggled excitedly, hoping it would be a bunny. "stay still. maybe its a deer" mother whispers into my ear. the rustling get louder before a dirty tired looking man stumbles out. mother pulled me up harshly and hid me behind her. i tried to peek out at the man but she shoved me behind her again. i suddenly remebered what day it was, the full moon. i clutched to mothers shirt as she put a hand on my shoulder.

"can i help you sir? you look ill" mothers voice is shakey but firm. "now that you ask... i do need help"

im on my back on the floor, its uncomfortable and bumpy. my hands are wet and warm, it feels gross and sticky.i raise my hands to my face, theyre red? i turn my head to see if mother knows whats happening and... the man is on top of her, his teeth digging into her neck. shes screaming, crying, "m-mom?"

"mom?" i whisper but im not in that forest anymore, im on my bed in my room. i look around my room, at the posters and drawings on my wall that i made myself, at my trunk and bag near my door. it takes me a second to register the knocking at my door. "andi we need to go" a sandy haired man says softly as he pushes through my door. its just remus, im safe. i push myself up to sit on the edge of my bed and run my hand through my messy curls. "are you alright sweetheart?" remus- dad, asks me softly. "nightmare" i mumbled sleepily. he sighs and sits down next to me. he rubs circles against my back. "its always worse after the full moon, give yourself some patient love" dad said softly, he knew i wouldnt actually give myself time to bounce back. it was frustrating to admit i needed time to heal, i didnt like admitting i was differnt. dad sighed and kissed my forehead gently "get dressed, you can eat at the weasleys, molly will have plenty of food for you"

i pull my t-shirt and worn jeans on and try desperatley to make my hair less of a mess. i dragged my trunk downstairs towards dad who was waiting patiently at the door. "ready? molly will have some ointments for you when you get there."

"i double checked this time" i chuckle, more than once ive forgotten something important, my school supplies werent exactly cheap so that wasnt exaclty ideal. dad chuckled and looped his arm through mine and, with a loud pop, we landed at the burrow. my second home! i live here as often as i do at dads house. it was the most brilliant house ive ever been too.

the door flew open and two lanky twins came flying towards me. fred and george collided with me, hugging me tightly. i giggled squeezing them tightly. Remus put his hand on my shoulder “I’ll see you at the train station, be safe” and with a pop he was gone.

“He never comes inside” a sweet voice came from the doorway. A plump woman was looking fondly at the three teens. She opened her arms wide, beckoning me forward. i smiled and wrapped my arms around molly. “Hello dear” she cooed into my hair. Molly pulled back and looked me over, cupping my face and turned it side to side, examining the new cuts and bruises i donned. She hummed

“Ginny! Ron! Come here!” Molly shouted as she pulled me inside, the twins following.

“She’s going to coddle you” Fred whispered into my ear with a little chuckle. i rolled my eyes as i followed molly into the kitchen where Ron and Ginny had just rushed in.

“Andi!” Ginny bounded towards me wrapping her arms around me and hugged me like it had been years since the last time she had seen me. Ginny had always looked up to me like an older sister ever since she could speak. i hoisted Ginny up and into my arms spinning her around. god i loved the weasleys, every one of them, including percy.

“I’m a little offended you didn’t do that for us” George huffed feigning hurt.

“Yeah come on andi, I thought we were your favourite” Fred added, mimicking his twin.

“Now when did I say that boys” i teased as i plopped Ginny back on the floor. The twins rolled their eyes before throwing their arms over my shoulders. the twins did this to me so often, we were always joined at the hip in some way.

“I dunno I just have a sneaking suspicion that you like us” the boys said in unison. i snickered and gave Ron a happy “hello”

“Now now boys don’t be too rough on her” molly scolded shooing the twins off of me. i sighed, Molly always had a tendency to treat me like i was fragile. “Oh come on mum it’s not like we’re throwing her around” Fred whined. “We could if you wanted” George whispered. The trio had learned early on that the best way to annoy the younger groups was to mock flirt with each other. After awhile it became an inside joke that the three found hilarious. Much to everyone’s dismay.

“Come on andi let me clean you up” Molly’s words are sweet but insistent. i know better than to argue with molly over this stuff. Molly is a excellent healer and it would be stupid to deny her help. i looked over at the twins who are grinning ear to ear, they did warn me i suppose. i rolled my eyes once more before following molly to the living room. i sit down on the sofa the twins and i often crowd. It was far too small for three lanky teens. Molly began rustling in a little bag near a bookshelf. She was humming a song and shaking to a tune only she could hear. Ah ha! Molly exclaimed as she pulled out a little jar full of white paste.

“This will help it heal a little faster, it won’t keep it from scarring unfortunately” molly starts excitedly before mumbling off the last part. i knew this, magic was wonderful but it couldn’t prevent scarring in most situations. i had more scars than i cared to count. Molly cupped my face as she smeared the paste over my wounds, i winced slightly. no matter if it had numbing ingriedents or not, this part always hurt

“I know it hurts, just breathe” molly humed. “Do you have anymore?” Molly questions looking me over. “You know the answer to that question” i chuckled dryly as i stood pulling my shirt up with me. Revealing a bandage stretching across my stomach.

Molly sighed, she hated seeing her kids hurt, not that Andi was her kid but it certainly felt like it. Molly peeled the bandage off slowly trying desperately to keep it from hurting too much.

i shuddered biting back tears as i felt the bandage pull healed skin with it.

The twins were watching from the doorway as molly tended to Andi. They knew what Andi looked like after full moons but they never got used to the gashes and bruises she dawned afterwards. Fred turned away, he felt sick to his stomach, he loved Andi, he wished he could take this from her. She didn’t deserve it.

Molly patched andi's stomach up once more and pulled her shirt down over it.

“Put this on your face twice a day and I’ll help you with your back until you go to school then then ask one of your friends to help” molly instructed waving her finger at me to enunciate her words.

“Yes ma’am” i mock soluted, i knew how much that annoyed her. i turned towards the door way and gave George a lopsided grin and peeked past him at Fred who was leaning against a counter.

“Want to show me what your letters talked about?” i said my tone dripping with mischief. The twins faces lit up as they grabbed my hands and dragged me up the stairs, giggling like kids the whole way to their room.

“What are you three planning??” Molly shouted up the stairs. She knew those three were troublemakers at heart. They had been since they met when they were 7. Remus needed help with Andi after a rough full moon and the rest is history. The three of them managed to turn rons teddy bear into a spider once.

[rebelcourtesan]

Thicker than Water Sneak Peek Ch. 13

Has not been edited nor put through Grammarly.  

“Something’s wrong,” Marty muttered, talons tapping the back of his phone as he awaited a response.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Shard told him with a lit cigarette between his teeth.  

“She hasn’t texted back . . .”

“In give fuckin’ minutes.  She’s probably on the john or busy with somethin’.  Give her time.”

“I need to go in there.”

“How?  They aren’t going to let a chump like you in there,” Shard retorted, tapping ashes out the window.  “Just be cool.”

“She’s in there with the Von Eldritchs.”

“Right and she’s with Angel Dust, the celebrated porn star.  They’re probably just brushing elbows and tryin’ to chat ‘em up.  Nothin’ to worry about.”

The car was parked in an alley, just a street down where they could see the front of the Midnight Song glowing like a beacon in the night.  He should be in there with Liz.  She didn’t know all the dangers Hell could pose for her and if she’s mingling with the Von Eldritchs . . .

“I can go invisible and . . .”

“You’re not going to do shit,” Shard replied with a dangerous edge in his voice.  “A place like that has wards to keep out any magic or unwanted guests that go through the front door.  And if ya do make it in there, what then?  You gonna offend the Von Edritchs, one of the top noble families in Hell because they talked to your daughter?  Give her away her disguise and paint a big fuckin’ target on her back?”

Marty wanted to argue, hell, he wanted to deck Shard for saying things that made too much sense.  Taking a deep swig from his flask, he checked his phone for a response and his worry deepened when none came.

***

She returned to consciousness in phases.  First she could feel the cold floor beneath her, then hear a voice calling her name, then smell a sweet candied musk.

“Hey, hey, Liz, baby, ya gotta snap outta it,” the voice was telling her.  

Who was that?  She recognized the voice, but not the name attached to it.  Whoever it was, spoke as if they knew her.  And why did her feet ache?

“Hey, wake up!”  

A slap across her face made her eyes water, but she was able to focus on the source of the voice.  A pink face with large heterochromia eyes hovered above hers and she was able to pluck a name from memory.  “Angel Dust?”

“Yeah, doll, yeah, that’s me.  Are ya alright?”

“I will be . . .I just need a few minutes.”  Her head was pounding and she was very tired.  “How long . . .how long did it last?”

“Too fuckin’ long.  Jesus, maybe a minute?”

“That’s good . . .”

“What the fuck happened, Liz?  You blacked out and began twitching.”

Sighing, she tried to sit up and her head swam.  Nope, wasn’t quite ready for that yet.  “I have epilepsy.”

“Shit . . .” Angel Dust breathed.  “Does Marty . . .”

“No, he doesn’t know and you don’t tell him,” Liz shook her head and regretted it as nausea almost made her gag.  God, she hadn’t taken her anti-seizure medication since the night the imps attacked her.  That was two days ago so the medicine must have left her system by now, especially since its been in overdrive with all the stress of everything that's happened since she’s been in Hell.  “I’ll tell him . . .but not right now.”

“What if you . . .ya know . . . black out again?”

“I shouldn’t black out again for a few more days,” Liz promised.  “At least, I don’t think I will.  Jesus, my head hurts.”

“I got some vicodin,” Angel Dust offered, snapping open his purse.  “It’s great for hangovers.”  

“You have vicodin?  In Hell?”  

“Oh yeah, you get all the drugs down here, doll.”

Hope rose in her heart.  “What about gabapentin?  Or phenytoin?”

“Never heard of those, but I ain’t  never looked for ‘em neither,” Angel Dust shrugged.  “If they’re prescription drugs or narcotics, then someone is selling it somewhere in Hell.”

She felt a heavy weight lift off her shoulders at the possibility of controlling her seizures down here.  It was a good feeling that her nausea ebbed away and she was able to sit up, but with some help from Angel Dust.  After a drink of water from the sink to swallow the vicodin.  She kicked off the stilettos as her legs were still wobbling and her sense of balance completely back yet.  

While she recovered, Angel Dust began smoking a cigarette that gave off an oddly crimson line of smoke from the lit tip.  It didn’t have that noxious smell of burning nicotine, but a sweet musk that send a pearl of desire through her lower belly.  It must be a positive sign that the throes of the seizure was leaving her.  

She checked her phone and saw over a dozen messages from Marty.  “Shit, Dad, just calm down.”

“What?”  Angel Dust asked, lowering his cigarette which continued to fill the air with its fragrance.  

“My Dad is worrying about why I haven’t replied to each and everyone of his texts,” she muttered as she sent a reply assuring him that everything was alright.  I’m fine.  Angel and I went to the restroom.  

Marty’s response was so quick, she believed he had been staring at the phone awaiting her reply.  Did you get away from the Von Eldritchs?

She texted: For right now.

Marty texted:  Stay away from them!

“Angel, can you tell me who those guys were?”  She was tired of being warned without being given clear information of why.  “I take it from how you handled them that they’re important somebodies that you don’t want to cross.”

“Got it in one, doll,” Angel Dust said, dropping the cigarette into the toilet.  “The Von Eldritch Family is nobility and close to the royal family.  So much so that prick Seviathan used to date the princess.”

“Really?  That’s the one that said something about Hell being purer earlier.”  She opened her purse and checked her makeup.  It was a bit smeared around the mouth, but easily remedied.

“Oh, don’t listen t’ that bullshit,” Angel Dust said, rolling his eyes and fluffy out his hair and chest puff in the mirror next to her.  “If it wasn’t for us Sinners, then Hell would be nothing more than fire and brimstone.  Where do ya think the nightclubs, television, porn, and smartphones they enjoy so much come from?  Oh, please, whenever the hellborn nobles got somethin’ to bitch about, it’s always about the Sinners and how we’re muckin’ up the purity of Hell.”

“So what do we do?  They’re looking for Rathel too.”  

“Dunno.  If it was anyone else, I’d say get to work on Dorkon.  That’s one who has loose lips,” Angel Dust said, checking his makeup.  “He may be a little shit, but he’s the Von Eldritch’s little shit.  They don’t exactly like others t’ make fun of their clowns, ya know what I mean?”  

“Damn,” Liz sighed.  “So we can either cut our losses and sneak out of here or take a risk and use them to find Rathel.”

“It’s your call, doll,” Angel Dust shrugged all four shoulders.  

***

“Would you relax?  You did all that panickin’ and they were just on the john like I said,” Shard groaned. 

“Shut up, Shard,” Marty snapped, thumbing a text message to Liz.  “I’m calling this whole thing off.”

“What the fuck, man!?  They got a lead on Rathel!”  Shard grabbed the phone from Marty’s grasp.  

“I don’t want her anywhere near the Von Eldritch.  I want her out of there now.”

“Jesus Christ, she said it herself they’re fine.  What are you going to tell Tony Shark?  Telling him that Rathel is connected to the Val Eldritch will not be enough and you know it.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

Marty didn’t know how to explain the sudden weight in his stomach that told him something was wrong, that something had happened to her inside.  He hated this feeling of helplessness or this restraint that kept him from running inside and taking her out of there, even if it was over his shoulder.

With his attention on the Midnight Song’s gibbous glow, he failed to notice the street darkening as shadows crawled along the walls and pavement.  A cane tapped the asphalt while tap-shoes clicked along while a low musical hum carried an old tune as the figure continued along the street, a pinstripe coat swayed with each step, catching a silent wind.  

Oblivious to the sudden change in atmosphere and the figure strolling past the car, Shard was yelling at Marty.  “Are you out of your fuckin’ mind, Marty!?  Tony is going to bite your goddamn head off if you don’t pay your dues.”

“And I will!  But not at Liz’s expense!”

“She’s the reason why you’re in this mess!”  Shard hissed, baring his teeth in barely contained fury.  

“Give me back the phone, Shard,” Marty growled, tail lashing his legs and floorboard.  

“No,” Shard’s eyes were narrowed into yellow slits.  

Marty’s eyes began to narrow, then suddenly went wide.  “Shard . . .”

“What?”  

“What’s going on over there?”  Marty was pointing at something up the street behind Shard.  

“You've been watchin’ too many cartoons,” Shard retorted sardonically.  “If you think I’m just gonna turn around so you can punch me in the back of the head and get your phone back.”

“Goddammit, Shard, look at the club!  Look at the moon!”

It wasn’t much as the ferocity in Marty’s voice, but the fear in them that made Shard turn around.  The Midnight Song’s neon sign of the moon was blood red and people the people lined outside were fleeing for their lives in all directions.

A couple were charging down the street towards them.  Shard rolled down the window and stuck his head out.  “Hey!  What’s going on?  Why ya runnin’?”

A female demon with yellow fur stopped, but her boyfriend, a demonic horse, almost dragged her along in his haste to get away.  She managed to shout before being towed along, “The Radio Demon just went into the Midnight Song!”

“Oh shit,” Shard breathed.  “Marty . . .”

But Marty wasn’t there.  He was already sprinting up the street towards the Midnight Song, going invisible as he went.

[ahiddenpath]

I read the Kizuna novel

Okay, so I went ahead and read the dang thing (spoilers, obviously)- I didn’t realize it was a light novel, you can knock it out in under an hour.  I was having a little waffle fest over here, so now I can speak more plainly.  Big thanks to everyone who nudged me to rip off the band-aid XD

Big ‘ol spoily spoilers beneath the cut as I react.

Okay, seriously, one more time: spoilers!

So.  So.  SO.

Bluntly, this was exactly what I hoped Toei wouldn’t do, and had a sneaking suspicion they would.  From a subjective standpoint, I don’t like this ending for the Adventure series (everyone is fated to lose their partners as they become adults).  More objectively, it raises a lot of interesting questions (What is adulthood?  Is adulthood flipping a switch, a single event, or is it a process?  Does one truly have to sever from childhood things to become an adult?  What is potential?  When does potential end?).  Although, while the Kizuna novel raises these questions, I don’t think it does much with them, other than to assert that facing reality and being willing to grow (or, rather, having the courage to push yourself to grow) is preferable to deluding yourself and avoiding difficult truths.

My emotions are basically thus:

Mixed with a bit of:

But it’s not my story, it’s Toei’s.  I’m not going to say much more about my raw FEELS.  And again, thanks to everyone who pushed me to just read the book.  Processing was much easier when I knew for sure what goes down.

I’m also not going to touch on how most of the characters are in the background, because...  It’s one movie, I get it, they did what they had to.

There were some adorable little moments in the novel.  Shoutout for Miyako 100% of the time, shoutout to Iori for destroying property “with a blank face,” shout out for “Ken-chan” and ramen and describing Daisuke as “suspicious-looking.”  I had to read that several times; DID THEY JUST CALL HIM SUSPICIOUS, so much shade from a narration!  Is that you, Takeru?!  It’s totally Takeru.

I think my favorite part was Koushiro telling Tentomon the story about the candles, utilizing a narrative to discuss an emotional topic with him.  No, for real, that’s communication progress right there.  And Tentomon was described as “cleaning the office like a fussy house-husband,” which equates to Happy Hidden.

Also, I think when Agumon and Gabumon are talking alone is probably the most emotional part to me?  I love hearing the digimon talk about their team without the humans around.  They’re so... so sweet.  I love them.  (This is actually my favorite bit, the Koushiro thing was more my favorite non-super-important part).

Of course, Taichi and Yamato’s resolve is the most admirable part.  I also loved proactive Yamato, but I died at how he suspected the wrong person the whole time!  That’s so...  You guys...

But this just isn’t how I wanted the adventure to end, especially since they’re calling this “the last evolution.”  I’m not sure, though...  Gennai mentioned something about “infinite possibilities,” and there were definitely “we’ll meet again” vibes at the end.  (Also, uh, I guess Gennai... is... okay?  After the events of Tri?  Cool, cool).

To me, what makes Yamato and Taichi “adult” here is their resolve in the face of enormous personal loss, not their life choices.  And I kind of think...  That’s a big part of my disconnect from this narrative?  I just don’t think that someone’s personal “possibilities” equates to their age or career choices.  I also hate the concept that “potential” seems to be... tied to “career”?  Your livelihood is important!  But it’s not where your “value” or “potential” or “possibilities” lie.   

The Kizuna novel is vague about “potential.”  On the one hand, as someone who does a ton of narrative writing for fun...  You sometimes have to be vague when you write an installment that’s “in between” existing content.  If Kizuna is too specific about what it means to “lose possibilities” such that you “become an adult,” then there will inevitably be spots where fans can say, “Wait, but what about here?  And there?” in the pre-existing material.  On the other hand...  That’s a core concept to this book, and I’m left not... really... knowing... what it means?

Possibilities...  I’m 31.  I could choose to have a kid.  I could move to another country, start a new career, go back to school, learn a new language, join a new religion.  There are certain things no one can do- change the past, become younger again, bring back the dead.  But, um...  Your potential doesn’t end until your life does.  True, some choices “lock you in,” mostly having children.  But, um...  If Mimi decides to stop being a business owner and, I dunno, have her own cooking show...  She can do that.  (She does do that.  That’s what I’m saying).

Basically, I think the concept is bigger than a single movie could hope to handle (at least, a single movie packed with characters and battles and evolutions).  I think the ideas are interesting, but I’m just not sold on the delivery.  But hey, fanfic writers could really flex with these ideas!

This is really long, so to sign off on it for now...  Well, even though I was counting on this being the Final Evolution to prepare us for a reboot in Psi/2020, now I am kind of hoping for/lowkey expecting a Final Evolution 2 to restore us to Epilogue status somehow.  Who knows, though.

If you wanna see my pre-Kizuna novel reading thoughts/hopes, check it out here. 

EDIT:  I keep saying “movie” when I actually read the novel.  That’s because the novel length is constrained to something that fits within the air time of the movie.

[moveslikebuckywrites]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Anathema Device, Sergeant Shadwell (Good Omens), Newton Pulsifer Additional Tags: Established Relationship, witchfinder army, still not finding any witches Summary:

“So, the situation is, the angel, my angel, has somehow misplaced his halo,” the demon takes in the confused looks on the faces of present company, “He’s quite clever but he can be a bit of a ditz at times. He’s asked me to find it for him, somewhere we’ve been in the last week. We’re going to split up and canvas the neighborhood and find his halo. Simple enough, yeah?”

Crowley stops pacing and stares straight at them as Newt raises a very shaky hand. Crowley ignores it.

“I said,” he glares, “Simple. Enough. Yeah?”

---

It’s another prompt fill for the Ineffable Outliers discord channel!  This one was a real treat to write!  Click through to AO3 or read the whole thing under the cut!

Edit:  Helps if I remember to put the cut in the post; this is why you don’t post fic when you’re at work kids!

---

The year after the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t had been very good to Crowley.

Hell was no longer breathing down his neck, he was free to do as he pleased.  So was his angel.

Yes, his angel.  It had taken all of five minutes after leaving the Ritz the day after the world almost ended for things to start rolling, and once they started, they just didn’t stop.

Walking to the bookshop that day, Aziraphale had reached for his hand.  That alone had been near enough to discorporate him on the spot. Aziraphale had lingered with him outside the bookshop, rocking back and forth on his heels while Crowley tried to get his face to stop being such a bright shade of tomato-red.  Aziraphale had finally huffed and said I think, dear boy, this is the part where you’re supposed to kiss me.

Crowley had finally found his footing and lurched forward to kiss him and they stumbled backwards into the bookshop together.

They didn’t come back out for a week.  (A lot to catch up on, one might say).

Things might have been too fast back in the sixties, but now they were going at a breakneck pace.  Crowley was almost afraid it was too fast for him.

Once Aziraphale was free to love as much and in every way that he wanted to, it was almost overwhelming.  Every day a new pet name, every night the softest kisses to the demon’s temple or wrist or palm or lips (most of the time, all of these).  There were long walks in St. James Park, holding hands like it was something they'd done forever.  Lingering kisses whenever they could get away with it.  Long evenings in the bookshop led to long nights sleeping in the flat upstairs, and after six months Crowley had realized he only visited his flat once a week at most to water scream at the plants.  The whole flat seemed a bit superfluous after that.

Within a few days of that realization, the plants had all been relocated to the bookshop.  Some were in the shop itself; most were in the upstairs flat (unused for the better part of two centuries, but now in use almost all of the time) collecting sunlight from the skylights in the bedroom or the bay windows in the kitchen.

The Mona Lisa sketch was in the living room, as was the lectern from the church.  The wrestling statue was nowhere to be found, but Crowley knew exactly where it was. He’d sneak it into the décor at some point.

He had tangible mornings now.  Mornings waking up next to Aziraphale, or mornings where he’d wander blearily into the kitchen only to be handed a cup of coffee made exactly the way he loved it.  There were dinners and dates and oh so much life to live. One would think, having been around for 6000 years, that one would’ve seen it all.  

It turns out there’s much more to see when you get to see it with someone you love.

Paris was different.  Venice was different. Hell, the entirety of London was different.  Crowley no longer had to hide the affection he had for his angel, and all of that time spent pining when they’d visited places before could now be spent holding his angel’s hand and stealing kisses at opportune moments.

Go- Sat- Somebody, Crowley was happy. He couldn’t think of anything that could possibly be better than what he had right here with his angel.  

He’d do anything for Aziraphale (which, in itself, wasn’t a change at all), so when his angel came to him with a problem, all he could do was try to solve it.

---

“Alright, you lot,” Crowley addressed the group assembled in the main area of the bookshop in much the same way he would address an unruly rhododendron, “We have a very important job to do, and as I want it done quickly, I decided to call you in.  You are still on my payroll after all.”

The assembled group consisted of the entirety of the Witchfinder Army.  

One Sergeant Shadwell, who was not currently voicing his disgust in working with a demon, but it was painted clearly on his face, nonetheless.

And one Newton Pulsifer, currently promoted to the rank of Lance Corporal.  This was almost fully against his will and had only happened because he and Anathema had run into Shadwell and Madame Tracy in Tesco’s a few months previous. The conversation meandered to the promotion when Newt tried to distract Shadwell from asking about Anathema’s nipples.

Neither of them particularly wanted to be there, but neither of them particularly had anything better to do.

Plus, the demon was right, they were on the payroll.

Crowley paced back and forth in front of them, not unlike a general getting ready to deploy his troops and no less intimidating.

“So, the situation is, the angel, my angel, has somehow misplaced his halo,” the demon takes in the confused looks on the faces of present company, “He’s quite clever but he can be a bit of a ditz at times. He’s asked me to find it for him, somewhere we’ve been in the last week.  We’re going to split up and canvas the neighborhood and find his halo. Simple enough, yeah?”

Crowley stops pacing and stares straight at them as Newt raises a very shaky hand.  Crowley ignores it.

“I said ,” he glares, “Simple.  Enough.  Yeah?”

“Well, um,” Newt manages to stammer, hand still shakily raised in the air in much the same way the shy third grader from the back of the class might, “It’s just, Mr. Crowley, sir, um.  Wouldn’t someone have noticed a glowing disk? Or maybe not, maybe that’s silly, but um, the better question is, um, what exactly are we looking for?”

“Nae, laddie,” Shadwell said with a huff, “The question is why we’re doin’ this in the first place.  We’re the Witchfinder Army, not some kinda detectives.” He looked to Newt, still with his hand in the air, and yanked his arm back down by his sleeve.

“Can’t really call yourself an army though, can you?” Crowley asked, lifting an eyebrow higher than should be humanly possible, taking on an air of condescension, “I mean, Major Milkbottle?  Really? ”

“Cannae say too much about it, laddie,” he said with a smug grin, “The southern pansy thought the Major was a fine fellow.”

“Unlike Aziraphale, Sergeant ,” Crowley pulled his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose, showing off his snake pupils, “I’m not so easily fooled.” He stared Shadwell down for a few seconds for good measure.  He didn’t like that there were humans that knew the truth, he liked it even less when those humans had been playing their own game for quite some time.

“Anyway, Lance Corporal Pulsifer,” Crowley continued, “to answer your question, it’s a signet ring.  Gold, looks like angel wings.  Dunno where the featherbrain might’ve taken it off at, but he definitely lost it and that makes him worry.  When he’s worried, he gets tetchy, and when he gets tetchy, I don’t get sleep.”

The demon paused to stare down his army, if one could even call it that.  But surely even these two could handle something simple.

“So I suggest you each take one of these lists, and start looking and asking questionssss,” he handed them each a sheet of paper, “Like the good little detectivessss you are.”

Newt and Shadwell crowded out of the door, each heading a separate way to start on their lists.  Crowley had a list of his own, and he was determined that the halo would be found by this evening.

He had a date with his angel, after all, and he wouldn’t be late.

---

“Angel, why are you so fidgety?”

Crowley had watched Aziraphale flutter and pace around his bookshop for the better part of the day, and now that they were in bed, supposedly relaxing the angel couldn’t seem to sit still.

“It’s nothing, dear,” he had that look on his face. The one that said he popped over the channel for crepes.  The one where he was hiding something.  

“Well, probably nothing.  More than likely nothing. Of course it’s nothing.” The angel was now wringing his hands together.

“Aziraphale, I haven’t seen you this wound up in months, it’s obviously not nothing,” Crowley had taken the angels hands in his, “What’s bothering you, Angel?”

Aziraphale sighed, “It’s just, I seem to have lost my ring.”

“Don’t see why you’d get so worked up about a ring, but we can find you another one, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Oh no, Crowley,” Aziraphale stuttered, “You don’t understand!  It’s not just a ring, it’s the manifestation of my halo!”

Crowley stared at him, stunned.  “So you’re telling me, somewhere along in the last day or so, you lost your entire bloody halo?”

Aziraphale looked at him sheepishly, “Yes, it would seem so.  Oh, I do worry about it. I know I’m not on Heaven’s side anymore, but an angel without a halo that’s just silly, and I did rather like it.”

There it is, the puppy dog eyes.  The most powerful weapon in Aziraphale’s considerable arsenal of weapons he could deploy to get Crowley to do absolutely anything he wanted.  Oh sure, the angel had a lot of new weapons for that. Sweet fond smiles and softly spoken pet names had been quickly becoming a favorite, as had kisses of all kinds.  But it was always that sad yet hopeful pout that the demon was powerless to resist any time it was aimed in his direction.

Just enough of a bastard, indeed.

“Angel, would you like me to look for it tomorrow?”

Aziraphale brightened instantly, eyes sparkling, “Oh, would you, dearest?  I have to meet with that rare book dealer about an original copy of William Blake and I’d hate to miss it.”

“Of course, Angel, I’ll find your halo.”

“Oh, thank you, darling,” Aziraphale said and kissed Crowley so quickly that the demon didn’t even have time to be annoyed at the task in front of him.

---

There were two mugs on the little coffee table, one of cocoa and one of a nice earl grey tea.

“Does he suspect anything yet?” asked the first voice, dark and feminine with more than a little mischief of its own.  One might even say witchy.

“Oh, you know how he is,” this voice was posh and southern, “Once he gets started on something, he’ll be at it until the end.  He doesn’t suspect anything.” Both the tea and cocoa had been, miraculously, the perfect temperature for going on an hour now.

A cup of something warm and friendly company were always a good thing, after all.  Especially when you were plotting.

“Yes, well, from what I’ve heard the search has been entertaining so far.”

“Ah, yes,” said the posh accent, “Your man on the inside, as it were.  I do hope mine isn’t being too cruel to them.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” said the witchy voice, “Now, you mentioned wanting my help picking out your outfit?”

“Ah, yes of course my dear, I don’t want to be late after all.”

---

This was an impossible task.

Crowley was starting to lose the faith he’d always had in humanity.  Who didn’t turn things into lost and founds anymore? He was sure whoever had found the ring had taken it to a pawnbroker by now.

Though it would be kind of funny to know how much a place like that would think a ring made of pure holy matter was worth.  Could be quite a laugh.

Newt had checked Kew Gardens and St. James Park, among other places, with no luck whatsoever.

Shadwell had, likewise, been to the British Museum and the opera house and anywhere else Crowley had been able to think of.  Likewise, he’d come up with nothing.

Crowley had been left with the extensive list of restaurants he and the angel had visited in the past week.  (“Seriously, Angel, it’s been missing a week?” “Well I didn’t want to worry you, dear.”)

This list included, but was not limited to, three different Italian bistros, the little sushi place down the street from the bookshop, two tapas bars, a hole-in-the-wall Greek restaurant, and the Ritz.  Always the Ritz.

That had been his best bet, and he’d come up short.  Now he had less than thirty minutes until his date with Aziraphale and nothing to show for it.

He’d been so distracted about it he hadn’t even been able to properly yell at Newt and Shadwell, he’d just sent them on their way. Shadwell had still been grumbling, Newt was just happy to leave.

Now Crowley was back in the bookshop, in the backroom draped across his favorite chair with his head in his hands.  Headaches were so terribly human, yet he was pretty sure that’s what was happening now.

Nothing for it, he’d turned up empty handed.  They could check the pawnbrokers tomorrow and go from there.

Even though Aziraphale had wholeheartedly detached from his former employer, he was still an angel at the end of the day.  His halo would be the last thing he had of Heaven, and, even if Heaven wasn’t as good a place as it had ever been1, Crowley was sure the angel would be very sad without this one little reminder.

“Might as well face the music, then,” the demon said to no one in particular, because no one was in the bookshop with him.

Aziraphale had told him to meet at St. James at six o’clock on the dot.  No time to sit and brood.

---

He found Aziraphale with a full picnic spread out under one of the apple trees.

“Crowley, my dear! There you are,” Aziraphale’s entire face lit up as soon as he saw the demon, Crowley didn’t think he’d ever get tired of that.  Something was different though.

Aziraphale was actually wearing modern clothes.  

Not super modern, nor even vaguely modern by most standards.  He was wearing sensible khakis and a tartan sweater vest over a light blue button-up.  He’d forgone the bow tie, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

If it had been a year ago, Crowley might have thought it obscene .

“Y’look nice, Angel,” Crowley said as he caught up, giving the angel a quick kiss, “Finally decided to catch up with the times?”

“Oh, oh thank you,” Aziraphale said with a bit of a wiggle, “Just for today, thought I’d give it a go.  It’s a special occasion after all.” Crowley noticed the angel’s ears turning a very lovely shade of pink.

If he weren’t a demon, he might say it was cute.

“What’s all this then?  Evening picnic in the park is a bit different for us, yea?” Not that he minded, Aziraphale was constantly surprising him.

“Well,” the angel started, the pink creeping in on his face now, “I promised you a picnic, back in 1967, I figured I should make good on it eventually.”

Crowley felt the blush rising in his own cheeks as Aziraphale smiled at him fondly.  He’d never forgotten that night, his world had been reeling and it had been the first time he’d truly let himself hope that Aziraphale might truly love him back.

“After all,” the angel continued, starting to wring his hands together like he always did when he was anxious, “We’ve been to the Ritz so often, but never on a picnic, silly thing that.”

“You’re more nervous than usual,” Crowley said, raising an eyebrow, “’S just a picnic, Angel.”

“Yes, of course, just a picnic,” Aziraphale said quickly, taking a seat on the tartan blanket, “Any luck today finding my halo?”

Crowley felt a lump form in his throat as he leaned against the apple tree next to where Aziraphale was sitting, “Ah, about that, Angel. We looked everywhere and checked in at all the places we’d been.”  He couldn’t even look at Azirphale, he didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face. Didn’t think he could handle it.  

“Tore the bookshop apart even – don’t even start, everything is in its proper place, perfectly disorganized just the way you left it – if anyone found it, they likely took it to the pawnbroker’s so we’ll have to start there tomorrow.  I’m sorry, Angel, I really tried to find it.”

It was at this point Crowley heard what sounded like snickering.  He chanced a look at the angel who was very, very clearly trying to hold in a bout of laughter.

“What’s so funny, Angel?”

Aziraphale stopped his giggling almost immediately and swallowed hard, “Well, dearest, truth be told I’m more than a bit nervous.”

“Nervous?  What the heaven have you got to be nervous about?”

“Well, my love, if you must know,” the angel took a deep breath, “I never actually lost my halo.”

Crowley stared at Aziraphale open mouthed, his glasses sliding almost imperceptibly down the bridge of his nose.

“You what.”

“I never actually lost it.  I just had to do something with it, and I didn’t want you to ask where it was and-”

“So, you sent me on a wild goose chase?!  I called the Witchfinders!  I had to spend an entire day with those two lunatics!” Crowley was now stalking back and forth, gesticulating wildly.  So much so he didn’t notice Aziraphale moving from sitting on the blanket to being on one knee.

“Crowley-“

“And then I had to go to all of those restaurants,” he did not see the angel pull out a ring box from his pocket, as he was too busy stomping about, “Do you know how many bloody bistros there are near Soho?  Don’t even know if they were the right ones!”

“Dearest-“

“Not to mention I had to go to that Greek place,” nor did Crowley notice a very peculiar witch hiding in the bushes about 10 yards away with a video camera, “You know the one!  You know Yaya won’t let me leave without eating and I can’t disappoint her.2

“Crowley for Heaven’s sake will you just turn around and look at me?”

Crowley turned to the angel and his entire being stopped. He couldn’t form any more words, nor could he move at all.

Aziraphale was on one knee with a ring box in his hand; and, despite the fact that they were immortal celestial beings who definitely didn’t need to go in for that sort of thing, the very human implications were 100% clear.

“Dearest, I wanted it to be a surprise, but I worried you might suspect something was amiss if you noticed it missing, and it took a lot to disintegrate and reintegrate it in such a way.  So, I sent you on a bit of a red herring to buy time to get everything absolutely perfect.”

“Ngk,” was all Crowley could manage to say.  A bush about 10 yards away laughed.

“Crowley, my dear, I know it took me a long time to finally catch up to you, and the fact that it took the near end of the world was absolutely preposterous of me.  This past year has been, without a doubt, the happiest of my entire existence. If I had ever gotten my wits about me, I’d have known that on our own side, together, was right where we were supposed to be the entire time.”

Aziraphale opened the box, and inside were two gold rings. One of them was a golden Ouroboros with a tiny red stone for the eye.  The other looked very similar to Aziraphale’s signet ring, two angel wings, but much thinner and more modern. Crowley was still working on getting his brain moving again.  Aziraphale was here, for all intents and purposes proposing to him.  With his bloody halo.

Just enough of a bastard, indeed.

If he’d been in disbelief at the state of his life for the past year, that was nothing compared to the state of disbelief he was in now.

“This is the last piece of me that was still a part of Heaven.  I’m not on their side anymore, I’m on yours, forever if you’ll let me be.” Aziraphale paused, clearly waiting for some kind of answer, while all Crowley could do was open his mouth and then close it again.  

“While I know that it’s not in any traditional sense, and as celestial beings there’s no real need for it,” Aziraphale started to stammer, which meant he was backtracking, and that just wouldn’t do, “I still wanted to have some kind of symbol of all of this.  But if you don’t want to, that’s fine as well, I just-”

Having finally gotten his brain back online Crowley had answered in the only way he could think of, and had lunged full force into the angel, crashing their lips together desperately, knocking them both to the ground.

The bush 10 yards away heaved a sigh, stopped filming, and the occupant got up and walked away3

After what could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours (time is relative, even more so to an immortal celestial being), they finally broke apart.

“Does that answer your question, Angel?”

“Quite,” Aziraphale said, beaming at him.

Crowley was sure that the dopey grin on his face was most unbecoming of a demon, but as they sat on the tartan blanket drinking champagne, he couldn’t bring himself to care.  

He glanced down at his hand, gold angel wings glinting in the fading light of the sunset, and sighed contentedly.

As he laced his fingers with Aziraphale’s and kissed the snake ring on his angel’s finger, he knew in that moment there was nowhere in any universe either one of them would rather be.

After all, they were on their own side now, and they always would be.

---

1 - As far as Crowley was concerned, Heaven had never been worth the capital letter that always got bestowed upon it.  One group of pricks that you could only trade for a different, smellier group of pricks. In the end, it didn’t matter, they were all a bunch of bastards.

2 - The little hole-in-the-wall Greek restaurant was owned and operated by a small Greek family, who’d been running the restaurant for generations at this point.  ‘Yaya’, as Crowley (and most of the regulars) called her, was the family matriarch. She took one look at his skinny frame and immediately decided that no one had fed the poor boy a decent meal in his life, and therefore he was never allowed to leave without eating as much as she put in front of him.  Aziraphale always found this hilarious.

3 - It is a known trait of witches that they always know the precise moment to arrive and the precise moment to leave.  Whether or not this particular witch had any intervention on this conclusion from a different, much more particular witch from the 1600s was neither here nor there.

[turtle-steverogers]

Never Quite Settled (2/2)- greaser au

sequel to this

ship: sprace, brotherly jack/race/al

warnings: bad mental places, crying

editing: nopee lol

word count: 1871

-

Spot sat back against his pillows, allowing his eyes to droop shut as he rested his head against the headboard.  Math sucked.  He didn’t understand it and it was nothing short of unfair for the teachers to assign so many problems for homework when they’d barely explained it during class.  He could go in for extra help, but his teacher, Mr. Cratsley-Gimmelfarb, was about as intimidating as his name, so that was off the table.

Spot sighed, reaching up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.  He could feel a tension headache niggling between his eyes and a distant longing for Race entered his mind.  Race was usually good at math.  If he were there, maybe he could help him understand his homework and then they could cuddle afterwards.  Or makeout.  Spot was honestly up for either.

A loud knock at his window brought Spot out of his reverie and he opened his eyes, wincing at the light in his room.  He turned his head towards his window, a small spark of hope igniting in him.  Maybe his prayers had been answered and Race had magically appeared at his house, wide smile ready to help him.

He highly doubted it, though.  Race was most likely in trouble with Jack at the moment.  Jack had seemed pretty ticked off when he’d caught them running from Bumlets and Itey that afternoon.  There was no way Race would have been allowed to leave the house.

He pulled himself off his bed, taking a moment to draw back the curtains before looking out the window.  A grin spread across his face as he realized that it was, indeed, Race outside.  But the grin quickly faded when he noticed the splotchy tears that stained his face.

He immediately opened his window, reaching out a hand to help Race inside.

“What happened, are ya hurt?  Do ya need a doctor?” Spot was fussing over Race the moment they were sat on his bed, but Race weakly pushed him away.

“Ah fuck, not you, too,” Race groaned.

Spot frowned, “Whatcha mean?”

Race scrubbed a hand down his face, “‘M jus’...” he took a breath, “‘M sick a’ everyone thinkin’ m’ incapable...or like, weak or sum’.”

“Did Jack say somethin’?” Spot pushed.

Race shrugged, “Kinda, I mean, yeah,” he fiddled with his fingers uncomfortably, “He jus’, he still treats me like the troubled kid who couldn’t handle when shit went south and I guess I didn’t help matters much by stabbin’ myself and jus’,” he clenched his fingers, defiantly biting out, “‘M not a kid.”

Spot digested his words, mulling over his own thoughts for a moment, “‘Course ya ain’t a kid, Racer.  You’se one a’ the strongest people I know-”

Race scoffed and Spot hastily shut his mouth, “What?”

“I don’t wanna hear none of that shit either,” Race said, “Makes me feel,” he let out a frustrated noise, gesturing in front of him, “uncomfortable I guess? Like, you’re overcompensatin’ by sayin’ I’m strong.  I don’t needa hear it, I jus’ wanna be treated my age….normal.”

Spot nodded, “Aight,” he paused for a moment, “Why were ya cryin’?”

Race bit his lip, discomfort radiating off of him in waves, “Jack got mad,” he mumbled, “An’ he shouted a bit an’ raised his arm like…yeah, an’ I got spooked.  S’why I came here.  Kinda.  I also jus’ wanted ta get away for a sec.”

Spot winced, picturing the situation, “You okay now?”

“Yeah,” Race waved a hand dismissively, “m’aight.”

“Listen,” Race looked at Spot expectantly, “M’not the best with this kinda thing, either, but maybe you should talk ta Jack ‘bout this?  Tell him whatcha told me?”

Race leaned sideways against Spot’s pillows, pursing his lips, “I dunno, prob’ly won’t listen.”

“Worth a shot, though,” Spot reasoned.

“Yeah, I guess,” Race mumbled.  They lapsed into silence and Race looked around awkwardly, spotting Spot’s math homework.  He rolled his shoulders, regaining his cocky composure, “Need help with this?” he asked.

Spot blinked, wiping away his own worries, “Yeah,” he said, leaning over, “I don’t get it.”

Race smiled softly, pulling the textbook towards himself, “Aight, lemme take a look.”

XXX

Jack stared at the place Race had been a moment before, the echo of the door slamming replaying in his head.  Shame bubbled in his gut and he mentally scolded himself for losing it.  He wasn’t going to hit Race.  He would never.  But he could imagine how his actions looked from Race’s perspective.

He would have been freaked out, too.

He hung his head, sighing.  This wasn’t going how he’d wanted it to, but that goddamn kid never learned.  

“You fucked up.”

Jack resisted the urge to snap at his younger brother’s words.

“I know,” He said, “I know, I- yeah.”

“Like,” Albert stood, clearing his cereal bowl to the kitchen, “you really fucked up.”

Jack finally moved from where he stood, guilt weighing down his steps, “I know, Al.  Ya ain’t helpin’ no one by statin’ the obvious.”  He sank down onto the couch, dropping his head into his hands.

He felt the cushions sink beside him, but the air remained silent and thick between him and Albert.

“I jus’,” He ran his hands through his hair, sitting back up, “I wish I understood him, I wish I could get through ta him, but he’s so goddamn stubborn and impulsive that it don’t matter what I say.  He’s always gonna end up on the short end of shit.”

Albert looked thoughtful, fingers tapping idly on the arm of the couch next to him, “I mean, could be jus’ me thinkin’ things, but maybe it’d help your case if ya didn’t treat ‘im like one of those ‘handle with care’ packages.”

Jack furrowed his eyebrows, looking for the first time at Albert, “What d’ya mean.”

Albert shrugged, looking a little out of his depth, “I mean, I know you’re scared an’ all.  I am, too.  But, he’s right.  He ain’t a kid no more an’ I know he ain’t got the best track record on the whole safety front, but he can handle himself.”

Jack allowed his words to sink in, “I don’t doubt that he can-”

“Ya kinda do,” Albert cut him off, “I jus’ think he’d be a little more open to listenin’ to you and sharin’ shit if ya didn’t freak out at everythin’.”

Jack let out a resigned sigh.  Albert was right, he did need to trust Race a little more, but it was so hard when the prospect of losing him was so present so often.  He couldn’t stand it if anything were to happen to him.  He wish he’d known about Spot before the rumble, he wish he’d had the chance to be there for him; help him somehow.  But Race needed to let him in on his troubles in order for that to happen and looking back, Jack hadn’t necessarily created the best environment for that.

“You’re right,” he admitted after a long moment, “I needa trust ‘im more an’ fuss less.”

“Bingo,” Albert snapped.

“I should find him and talk ta him” He started to stand up, but Albert reached out a hand to stop him.

“No,” Albert said firmly, “let him come ta you.”

Jack let out a shaky breath, sitting back down, “Okay.”

XXX

Race didn’t return until nearly midnight.  He tried to sneak back in through the kitchen window, but Jack was still awake on the couch, waiting for him.  Race made it as far as the stairs before Jack’s tired voice froze him in place.

“Hang on a sec,” Jack called, closing the newspaper he’d been reading and tossing it onto the ground, “C’mere, I wanna talk ta ya.”

Race rolled his eyes, dragging his feet as he walked over, “If you’re jus’ gonna chew me out for runnin’ out earlier, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Nah, m’not gonna do that,” Jack pat the couch next to him and Race reluctantly sat down, “Jus’ listen for a minute, canya do that?”

Race shrugged, “Sure,” he sounded entirely uninterested and wholly pissed.  Jack couldn’t blame him.

“So, uh,” Jack steeled himself, “I was thinkin’ bout a lotta things an’...I owe you an apology.”

Race cocked his head, surprised, “ya what?”

Jack looked at him, holding eye contact, “I’m sorry for treatin’ ya the way I did, Racer.  I know you ain’t a kid and I know you can do things for yourself I jus’ worry, aight?  And I can’t help that none, but that ain’t an excuse ta make ya feel bad, so I’m sorry,” when Race said nothing, he continued, “It’s jus’ that you an’ Al are all I got and if something were to really happen to ya, I don’t think I could live with myself.  I meant it earlier when I said two close calls are more than enough,” he held up a hand when Race opened his mouth angrily, “and I know you ain’t like talkin’ about what happened in the garage, I’m not sayin’ we ever really gotta, but ya gotta swear ta me you’ll be more careful.  I won’t push ya none anymore, but ya gotta tell me when you’re in hot water an’ I know what happened earlier was jus’ roughhousin’, but what happened at the rumble wasn’t.”

Race opened and closed his mouth several times before looking away, blinking rapidly.  Then, all at once, his face crumpled, tears forcing their way out of his eyes.

“‘M sorry,” he choked, drawing his knees up to his chest, making him look younger, “I know I freak ya out too much an’ I know I don’t pick the best fights or make the best decisions, I jus’,” he took a moment to breathe, “I’m scared I think?  Like, shit in my head gets so loud sometimes and I jus’ needa kill the energy somehow, so I sneak off with Spottie or fuck shit up with the Socs.  It don’t do much, but it distracts me from the scary stuff and...I’m scared of what happens when I’m not distracted.”

Jack’s heart seemed to shatter in his chest, but he kept his face neutral, adhering to his promise of not overreacting, “Thank ya for tellin’ me that, kid,” he opened his arms, allowing Race to lean into him, “An’ we’re gonna figure this all out, okay?  We’s family, I ain’t gonna letcha be alone with the scary stuff.”

Race nodded against his neck and pulled away, wiping at his face, “Okay.”

Jack reached out, tapping his chin, “Lookit me, kid,” Race looked up, sniffing, “I love ya, okay?  I’ve gotcha.”

Race nodded, “I love ya, too.”

Jack clapped his shoulder lightly, “Aight, it’s still a school night.  Go on upstairs and get some sleep while ya can,” he paused, watching as Race stood to climb the stairs, “An’ I hope you don’t got homework.”

Race rolled his eyes, “I don’t,” he gave a small wave, “Love ya, Jackie, goodnight.”

Jack smiled, “Goodnight.”

He waited until he heard Race’s bedroom door close, then sat back against the couch.  Things were still far from calm in their little family, but everyone was there and everyone was safe.  And that’s what mattered.

-

yeehaw 

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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@mentallytiredgoat

@yxseminx

@be-more-chill-evan-hansen

@stopthe-presses

@elmers-half-a-cup

@and-i-lostmy-shoe

@spot-me50-papes

@honeynutpoptarts

@newsies-ensemble

@bennie-badeend

@auspicioustarantula

@faithmil

@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters

@bxnesof92

@backgroundnewsies

@sure-as-a-star

@skybert-daherty

@eveningpaper

@malex-13

@albert-eats-cookie-cake

@heart-a-n-o-n

@bitching-newsboys

@orollyitsracetrackhiggins

@joshuaburrageenthusiast

@random-superhero-stuff

@awkwardstranger98

@falling-out-trees-101

@modern-race-owns-airpods

@asphodelnerd

@i-dont-do—sadness

@rockyroad236

@sirgrahamcracker

@godhatesjordan

@thats-our-que-boys

@bastille-smedry

@nerdsies

@toss-me-a-pape

@newsienewsie

@its-just-a-jump-to-the-left

@isitthescreaming20syet

@punkrockcheshirecat

[spidergwenstefani]

Stakeout Makeout

Happy Valentines day!!

I’ve been meaning to write more 616 canon fics so I went all in with this one. It’s just a valentines day fic set with current comics canon (except not the new Winter Soldier title bc I’m not caught up with that)

cw: none

rated: g

also credit to @kangofu-cb for spinning that title just right off the dome. Amazing.

“It’s getting pretty cold, huh?” Clint says, rubbing his arms and not bothering to suppress the shiver that runs through him. LA in February isn’t nearly as rough as New York, but once the sun goes down it’s not exactly balmy, plus the lip of the roof he’s perched himself on is all ice cold concrete. An hour or so more of sitting here and Clint’s ass will be as numb as his fingers. Bucky doesn’t look up from where he’s cleaning his rifle. Who the hell brings a spare sniper rifle to a stakeout just to clean while they wait? Bucky Barnes, that’s who.

And the whole stakeout thing. What the fuck is that about? Sure, it’s not like they’re... what? Going steady? or whatever the hell Bucky would call it. Still, a couple team-ups that end with back-alley blowjobs, a few hookups, some movie and pizza nights scattered in between. It had to count for something. The kind of something that would perfectly justify Clint coming to a different goddamn conclusion when Bucky texted him an address and told him to show up on February fourteenth.

“It’s your fault for coming here in a uniform with no sleeves,” Bucky says, like he doesn’t eye up Clint’s biceps every time he wears said uniform. Clint grunts and glares at the leather jacket lying at Bucky’s feet, completely available and probably still holding some of that supersoldier body heat.

“Well, I didn’t know we’d be here all night,” Clint grumps. Bucky snorts, still not looking up from his gun.

“You sound like a twelve year old.”

“You sound like an asshole.”

Bucky looks up at that, probably because it’s a shade too harsh to be their usual banter. His brow creases behind the domino mask, like he’s just realized Clint is actively not having a good time.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and Clint resolutely does not cave at the genuine concern in his voice. “Is everything okay with the team? Kate doing okay?” And fuck. That does get him a little bit.

“Kate’s fine. The team is… a bunch of children, but they’re fine. I guess I’m getting a taste of my own medicine after what the twins and I put Cap through back in the day.” Clint shivers again, and this time Bucky notices.

“Yeah,” he says, wiping his hands off on his pants before scooping up his jacket. “Kid sidekicks are the worst, right? Dunno why anyone bothers with ‘em.” There’s a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, and Clint doesn’t want his eyes to catch on it the way they do. He doesn’t want to spend his already shitty night pining over some guy who doesn’t care enough to bring him shitty candy, at least.

Bucky sits down on the roof ledge, leaving a good foot of space between them. Clint tries to fixate on that, but then Bucky is reaching over, enveloping him in super soldier warmth for just a moment as he wraps his jacket over Clint’s shoulders. It’s heavy. There’s probably layers of kevlar under the leather and it smells like gunpowder.

“You weren’t busy tonight,” Bucky states. He still has the domino mask on. There’s a billboard for a plastic surgeon hovering over this city block, and it’s throwing neon pink light over Bucky’s face, exaggerating how much the mask really hides.

“What else would I be doing?” Clint says, a little petulantly. Bucky doesn’t answer, instead turning to glance at the window they’ve been keeping an eye on. The mark still hasn’t shown up. Clint can’t even remember who it is they’re supposed to be watching for.

“Thought you’d have a hot date, maybe,” Bucky says, still staring at the window. Clint pulls the jacket tighter around him, wondering if he’s reading this right.

“Well, I do now that you called.” He bumps Bucky’s shoulder with his own, using the momentum as an excuse to scoot a little closer, to press their legs together as they dangle them off the rooftop. The corner of Bucky’s mouth starts tugging into a smile again, and Clint’s pretty sure the pink in his face is from more than just the weird lights.

The sounds of LA at night replace their conversation. Car horns, music spilling out from windows and storefronts. Clint almost thinks he hears Bucky start to talk a few times, but it’s hard to catch over the noise. He’s also trying very hard to stay cool and aloof, and not sneak furtive glances at the way the streetlights are making Bucky’s hair look soft and golden.

“What kind of flowers do you like?” Bucky says suddenly. He blurts it out in a rush, and Clint stares at him for a moment while he tries to parse out what exactly the question was.

“Um,” he says. “I- purple ones, I guess. Violets? Daisies are nice.” He’s never thought about it much before. He’s never been asked before.

“What about roses?” Bucky asks, flicking a piece of gravel off the ledge and watching it clatter down the side of the building. “Because the corner store was only selling roses today, and I just- I didn’t know if you liked them or not.”

Clint just stares at him. He doesn’t even notice he’s let the moment lapse into silence until Bucky turns to look at him.

“Sorry,” Bucky says, his shoulders slumping in a way that’s barely noticeable. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Can I take your mask off?” Clint interrupts. “It’s just that, I didn’t bring a mask and I’m kind of having a bitch of a time reading this situation.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, and now the pink in his cheeks is definitely not from the light. “Yeah, okay.”

Bucky’s jacket slips off Clint’s shoulders as he reaches up. He peels the domino mask off, getting weirdly giddy about the way his fingers brush over Bucky’s cheekbones. Jesus christ. He’s had his hand down the guy’s pants behind an In-N-Out before. This shouldn’t be giving him butterflies.

Bucky’s eyes are dark in the odd lighting, and more intense than Clint was expecting. He sucks in a breath as Bucky blinks at him, reaching up to rub a little at his face where the mask had probably been chafing.

“Roses are good,” Clint says finally, and Bucky’s smile starts creeping back again. “Better on special days, though. Anniversaries and stuff. Chocolate is way better for Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah?” Bucky says, and his eyes are kind of twinkling in the semi-darkness.

“Yeah,” Clint answers, a little breathless. Bucky leans forward, and for a moment Clint thinks he might be going in for a hug. His next thought is that he’s just about to be shoved right off the roof, but Bucky just gathers up his jacket and pulls it back over Clint’s shoulders. Their faces are inches away. Clint licks his lips and watches Bucky’s eyes drop down to his mouth.

He closes the distance, shuddering at the heat of Bucky’s mouth after shivering for so long in the cool night air. He tries for tongue, tries to press even closer and tangle his hands in Bucky’s hair, but Bucky seems set on keeping the kiss short and chaste. He doesn’t even run his fingers up Clint’s side like he likes to. Instead, he just dips his hands into his jacket pocket, pressing something round into Clint’s hand as he pulls away.

“Are these-” Clint starts to say, his voice getting a little choked up at the sight of holiday-edition pink foil.

“Cadbury creme eggs,” Bucky says, wrinkling his nose in a way that’s so fond Clint loses his breath all over again. “I didn’t know what flowers you liked, but I’ve got your shitty taste in chocolate down.”

“Fuck you,” Clint says gleefully, but he’s already unwrapping one, stuffing it into his mouth whole just to watch Bucky’s face turn from fondness to disgust.

“Well I was going to offer, but now that I see what an animal you are-”

Clint cuts him off with a protesting noise, swallowing his mouthful of chocolate so he can grab Bucky by the front of his uniform and pull him into a properly searing kiss. The jacket slips off his shoulders again, and Bucky buries his laugh in Clint’s neck, nudging him gently backward until he’s lying on the edge of the rooftop. The leather and kevlar underneath him cuts the chill of the concrete, and the billboard lights cast a pink halo around Bucky as he pulls back. He holds Clint in place with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Hold on,” he says, his breath a little ragged. “Let me just- I just wanna say it before we-” Bucky’s eyes keep drifting down to Clint’s lips, so he bites them, grinning as Bucky falters in his speech. He slides his leg up to hook around Bucky’s waist, which has the unfortunate effect of getting him talking again. “Will you go steady with me?” he says, and he’s already sliding their hips together, but there’s a sort of worried hopefulness in his eyes like he thought Clint could ever say no.

“I fucking knew you’d call it that,” he says, laughing as Bucky bites halfheartedly at his shoulder. He doesn’t move from there, though, and Clint realizes he didn’t give an answer. “Yes,” he huffs. “Yeah, obviously. Jesus, Buck.”

Bucky runs his fingers up Clint’s side then, rucking up his uniform shirt and making him shiver from the cold. Clint turns his head, baring his neck for Bucky to press messy kisses to, and he lets out a frustrated whine as his eyes land on a window across the street.

“Hey, Buck?” Clint says, swallowing a moan as Bucky nips at his ear. “Our, uh. Our guy is here.”

Bucky groans, pressing his forehead to the concrete by Clint’s head.

“If I just… shoot him in the head. Real quick. Will you let me fuck you after?”

“Probably not, no,” Clint admits, running his fingers down Bucky’s spine as he thinks. He arches into the touch, shifting enough to press a kiss to Clint’s cheek.

“Fuck it,” he says, and Clint can feel his smile against his cheek. Bucky shaved today. “We can’t interrogate him tonight. It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Good call,” Clint says, and Bucky presses their lips together again, tugging Clint’s arm away from his back so he can tangle their fingers together.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S2 Ep 33:  ᵇˡᶦᵐᵖ ʙʟɪᴍᴘ  BLIMP ԀꟽI⅂ꓭ

I usually don’t really do these during weekdays but lets just say today was a day where I felt the need for a healthy distraction.

Ah, it is episode 33. There are...so many episodes in a Yugioh season, guys. I was just not aware. But, here we are at episode 33 and we are finally going to start the finals.

For reals this time, no one’s going to get engaged, no one’s going to randomly murder a bunch of people. We are officially starting the finals this episode.

Sort of.

Man, Kaiba and his butterfly-wing shoulderpads. Sometimes it just looks like he’s just going to gently flutter away.

Also in this stadium with Kaiba and Mokuba is Marik and Odion, who is just as confused as to where the hell everyone went and why the hell Mai just flew by being carried off by a ninja in a jet pack. The hours it must have taken to wait for Yugi’s crew to walk 2 single blocks was enough time for Marik to formulate yet another back-up plan. I want to say this is plan #9.

It’s a good thing Pharaoh can’t read anymore, considering that Marik’s just walking around in a crop hoodie with a tattoo that just reads “SEASON 2 SPOILERS, PHARAOH, DO NOT READ” in hieroglyphs.

But if you wait long enough, even Yugi and his friends will accidentally wander the correct direction and actually show up.

(read more under the cut)

Not a joke, this is actually an unfinished public works project, congratulations, Kaiba Corps, there is nothing that Kaiba won’t try and then fail at, at least once.

Anyways, this shady-as-hell unfinished stadium seems kind of like a good place to get murdered and then tossed into a cement slab. Which honestly, would have been a very likely end to this season, considering what we have been through so far.

Marik decides to sneak around the bleachers, probably on all fours so no one would spot him, jump out a window, and then come in through the front door like he’s not been here this entire time. As he did, apparently he made everything very, very windy. In fact, everyone with a millennium item brought with them a spooooooky gust of wind except I think Yugi, who is probably too short to pull that one off.

Yugi did manage to get the vibe of “something bad is coming” before Marik entered the field, but like...there’s so many bad things at this point, Yugi. So many people that could be. It feels like that might be half the cast. You could say that at any given moment in this season and be absolutely right.

So, after possessing Tea for a second, for...some reason? Did she need threatening? Anyway, after doing that, Namu is in with the gang because literally nothing will prevent Yugi from becoming a friend with you, especially if you are trying to hide the fact that you just tried to kill him by drowning him in the ocean.

Funny how instead of them asking how the hell Namu got away from cultists, they have to fixate on the mystery of “is Bakura good at cards!?” because, and I kinda forgot about this, I guess they don’t remember the last time they saw Bakura play. How far up their own ass is Yugi and Joey to assume that just because Bakura doesn’t brag about cards all day, that Bakura hasn’t been equally good at cards? They kind of deserve this.

Yeah and PS Kaiba absolutely did not check the satellite to get the DL on why the hell Bakura got so many cards. Dayjob Saruman I guess went home for the evening so...although that shadow game was definitely being recorded on a computer, we’ll never know what that mess looked like on Kaiba’s end. Like there’s just three duel disks covered in ectoplasm hanging out in the cemetery and no one seems to have noticed?

Like for a competition that was huge about security and tech, they only seemed to watch the God Cards players and then Mokuba randomly monitored Joey Wheeler for some reason. That was it. That was all the people the Kaiba’s cared about.

So although Marik and Odion and Bakura could probably take on everyone right now. Like riiiight now. They decide not to because, well, I nearly forgot about someone that I was really looking forward to seeing again, that’s right, my favorite boy!

AW THERE HE IS!

to quote one of my actual favorite earworms,

Where has this big boy been hiding!? He’s freakin ginormous, but apparently he was just hiding behind a soft cloud or something, in anticipation of this grand reveal in a very sketch unfinished stadium that’s probably being used to bet on bum fights.

Mokuba gets excited for the first time since...I don’t remember if Mokuba’s ever actually been excited before. Like I’m digging through my memories here and no, Mokuba’s been mostly abducted, angry, bored, or scared, this is the first time he’s exuded that pure pre-teen energy.

PS a blimp’s max flying height is 1500 ft, and what surprised me the most about this was realizing that this entire time we’ve been watching this show, we’ve been getting measurements in US metrics. Didn’t realize that before today.

Also, on my wikipedia deep dive into blimps, I found out that like...this is probably not a “blimp,” but actually a semi-rigid airship but...I’m gonna keep calling it a blimp. Don’t @ me, blimp fandom on tumblr.

It’s so good to see more Blimp. Even though...probably the worst place to throw a tourney? Like...how many people are you even gonna fit in there? Like...is this televised? I mean I don’t know how Kaiba’s marketing works for this, honestly, he took over every TV in the city to get people to join this tourney, and now that it’s in full swing no one can watch it?

Whatever, it’s a blimp.

Duke Devlin is still here, despite the fact that I don’t think he’s going to do anything for the rest of this season. I guess they had to promote that gameboy game so his face will just be in the background always although as a dice player he um...he has no purpose here.

In fact it makes no sense, he works with Pegasus who straight up killed Mokuba and Kaiba like a month ago, why are they just letting him on their airship? Whatever.

I dunno, maybe there’s more that Duke will do eventually, but he just seemed like a replacement for Bakura at first--and Bakura’s back now, so why’s he still here?

Ishizu is here, and while every other time we’ve seen Ishizu, she’s been talking our ears off, the one time she should probably say something, she instead decides to lock herself inside her bedroom and avoid everyone.

I guess she was mostly avoiding Marik so they don’t have a sibling laser fight in the hull of a Blimp. That would have made things so awkward for Yugi and Bakura. Especially Yugi, who still doesn’t know that thing around his neck shoots freakin lasers.

Props the background artists who had to draw billions of small little buildings AKA the worst background in the world to draw. I will go through hoops to avoid drawing even a single building, but to have to sit down and paint just a whole page of buildings that someone’s going to smack a foreground on anyway? Mad respect. If you look closely you’ll see that this artist had to use a ruler and perspective and other annoying tools that take up time and energy. Even using editing tools like using blocks of black color to imitate the look of rooftops and crowded structures, it probably took them a few hours to make the background that went in a .2 second scene.

They’ll probably reuse these buildings later, don’t get me wrong, but oi, I feel for them in my carpel tunnel bones.

Seto keeps telling Yugi that they’re rivals but I don’t think anyone on this show other than Joey thinks of Seto as much of a rival at all. You almost feel a little bad for him, like he’s in a weird...hate triangle, but very much on the loosing end of it.

Next we get a good look at Kaiba’s interior design decisions, and much like his mansions, it’s a lot of very unexpected soothing pastels. Like this is a lot of seafoam blue. How can someone so angry make something so grandma-zen? Is it actually Kaiba’s grandmother who is just slapping down all these paint chips when he’s not looking? I mean it’s got muted pink stools even, with a makeup station.

Tea, Tristan, and Duke have no rooms to go to because they aren’t actually part of this competition, so they’re just squatting around until they’ll probably all end up crashing with Mokuba, the only other person who is not dueling in this competition. Reminds me a lot of the first week of college, where everyone is just coasting dorm room to dorm room and there’s like 10 people there who actually don’t actually go there but want to hang out with their high school friends and they just end up sleeping in your room for 7 days until they read your other friend’s diary, get hella indignant, and then storm off back to California. My apologies to my Freshman year roommate who had to put up with all that girl drama.

And because it’s this show, the men and their bottomless stomachs decide to raid the smallest little mini fridge and you wouldn’t believe what takes up about 1/4 of it

There is so many cheese wheels in this Japanese show, guys. So, I felt like doing a quick google search of Japan and Cheese and it’s just a bunch of ex-pats talking about how the European cheeses most of us are familiar with is harder to find in Japan. So, maybe that’s why? It's a status symbol that he can find round cheeses?

But even if you can only get your hands on a 30$ Swiss wheel every so often (because that really is just Swiss cheese, like lets be real.) how much Swiss cheese can one man eat??? Especially since, looking closely, there is not a single baguette here. No man can eat that much cheese without a bread!

Sorry, stuffing your face full of free cheese you pulled out of your friend’s mini-fridge is also giving me vivid flashbacks to my Freshman year of college.

Also little edit--just realized that flag is flipped 90 degrees from French so that’s probably a Holland flag? Although I looked up European flags and there is...none that have that color order so I don’t know which country they were originally going for.

YO I just realized there’s no curtains on any of these pelvis-height level windows. So, you can’t sleep because of the lights, and you can’t change into pajamas because like--the whole city will see.

Kaiba does seem like the type that would on purpose not install any curtains on any of the windows he’s ever owned, though.

Keto is gone, and now we just have Roland, who is probably too terrified to ever abduct the Kaibas by picking them up by the neck with one arm.

Anyway, in case you were wondering--since the show has decided to make a huge fuss over card prep time--how can they prep for a card game if they only have the cards they brought with them and they don’t know what the other people are even playing or which person they’re playing first?

Kaiba did nothing. He sat there and thought “If Yugi doesn’t even put that God Card in his deck this entire tourney will be absolutely pointless.”

Mai took little sips of milk. Probably paired it with Swiss cheese. Just a huge bite out of a wheel of Swiss cheese.

Odion never found the refrigerator.

Marik took a nap on this bed that looks like it’s just made of foam. Why is this the only one on the show who’s like “Youknow, I should sleep at some point.”

And Yugi’s prep involved talking to himself a whole lot, which explains why none of his friends wanted to stay here for that. I doubt very much Yugi kicked him out of the room. He was probably like “no, stay, stay” in that high pitched-low pitched voice combo until they were like “nooooo I don’t want to be present for your daily seance checkup byeeee.” while slowly backing out of the room.

Yo remember that time we were worried about Bandit Keith stealing the puzzle?

Apparently...Pharaoh could have just sort of done that dizzolving thingy and appeared right back on Yugi’s neck.

And remember that time Yugi handed that puzzle to Joey?

Apparently...Pharaoh could have just sneezed and then bam--right back around Yugi’s neck.

Like remember any time this season that we’ve been like “Oh no, the puzzle! We’re gonna lose it!” no that...that was never a problem.

I mean to be fair when it’s dismantled it might not work but um--apparently you can’t lose an item after it’s decided it likes you. At all. Which is kind of weird because Pegasus totally lost that eyeball, and aren’t all these items property of Pharaoh anyway?

I’ll try not to think about it as this rule seems to only really apply to Bakura. 

Anyway, next week--I’m pretty sure the finals are indeed actually starting next week. I could be wrong as I have been every single episode but maybe--probably--the finals are actually going to start. We shall see.

[geoffreytoday]

The Division Forge

I spent ages composing a post about my thoughts for The Last Jedi edit yesterday, only to have it erased by a glitch with tumblr's post editor. Fingers crossed today's attempt works out better.

The Last Jedi, that sure was a divisive film. Thank you, I hope you enjoyed this ice cold take.

I'm not going to get into the whole shit storm that surrounded The Last Jedi, these posts are about my fan edit project, and that nonsense is just too draining to bother with. If you absolutely must know how I feel about The Last Jedi though, I love it.

Now then, how do I want to chop up this thing that I love?

The title is great, I'm not going to touch that. The opening crawl is pretty decent, although I'm not wild about one particular portion: "...certain that Jedi Master Luke Skywalker will return and restore a spark of hope to the fight." I dunno, that segment just feels too... simp? Am I using that correctly? I'm an old man, and modern slang has left me behind :p

Going to make a quick trim right out of the gate. I'm sorry to say that the lines Carrie's daughter has, which opens the movie, just fall flat to my ears. I don't want to cut it all, but at the very least I'm going to end her dialogue before she says "oh no".

I know a lot of people are not fans of the humourous exchange between Poe and Hux. I loved that shit, so it's staying in. I do intend to makes some trims to the dialogue between Leia and Poe. Specifically, I am going to remove the part where Leia orders Poe to disengage, and he turns off his radio. The problem to me was that Leia is the big cheese, so it doesn't matter if Poe turns off his radio, the bomber fleet and the fighter escort are all going to follow recall orders.

Personally, I think the sequence works better if, after Leia tells him to break off his attack and return to the fleet and Poe counters by arguing that they can't pass up this opportunity to take out a dreadnought, that Leia acquiesces against her better judgement. She's giving Poe an opportunity to show his leadership skill here, and she does see the value of this rare opportunity. She's hoping that Poe's plan will work out. Sadly, while it's successful, the cost was too high. Leia will still be justified in demoting him over the assault.

The Last Jedi has an issue with its timing that desperately needs to be addressed. The timeline of the film currently is that Rey left to find Luke, let's say a few hours before the arrival of the First Order at the Resistance base. Rey spends, what appears to be several days or possibly more on Luke's planet. Meanwhile, the Resistance fleet comes out of hyperspace that first day, only to be immediately found by the First Order and locked in a chase, staying just out of range of the enemy fire, but burning through their fuel quickly.

Later that same day, as the pursuit continues, Finn meets Rose, and they leave on their secret mission to disable the tracker so the fleet can escape. Finn says the fleet only has 18 hours of fuel left. They go through their business on Canto Bight, then infiltrate the lead First order cruiser.

And here's where the problem comes in: While Finn and Rose are sneaking about on the cruiser, Rey and Chewbacca travel back in time so Rey can be on the cruiser at the same time and have her confrontation with Kylo and Snoke. Technically, based on the passage of time we've seen with the resistance fleet, when Finn and Rose are boarding the cruiser, Rey hasn't even been to the Jedi tree yet. She may not have even seen Luke go fishing or milk that big whatever it was (I know it's called a thala-siren, let me pretend I'm not that big of a nerd though).

The passage of time needs to be addressed. My current plan is to keep the resistance in hyperspace much longer. I don't know how feasible that is, but I'm gonna give it a try. I'm thinking they'll be in hyperspace for a couple of days, like they're crossing the entire galaxy in an effort to get as much distance as they can from the First Order.

I like this approach because it does three things:

First, it mostly fixes the timing issues between the resistance fleet and Rey's time at Jedi camp.

Second, it gives us a rock solid reason why the fleet is low on fuel, so the whole not being able to jump again because it will burn through the rest of their fuel thing feels less contrived.

Third, it helps fix an issue I had with the sequels: Hypserspace is not instantaneous. I was not happy with how TFA turned hyperspace into fast travel.

Another issue I had with the resistance chase plot thread was that they never explained why the First Order didn't just execute a small hyperspace hop to catch up with the resistance fleet and wipe them out right away instead of wasting their time slowly chasing them.

I'm going to try to create some dialogue that implies that Snoke is the one who has ordered the fleet to pursue the resistance in this manner. It's part of his plan. Just like how the Emperor didn't wipe out the rebels immediately at Endor, because he knew he'd be seeing Luke, and he wanted to use the destruction of the rebel fleet to goad Luke towards the dark side. Snoke is doing the same thing. He knows Rey will be coming, and he wants to use the destruction of the Resistance in his efforts to turn her.

I may also try to imply the chase carries on for a few days too, to give Rey more time with Luke.

Now then, let's talk about Leia. I'm on the fence about whether or not to have Leia die when Kylo attacks the Resistance cruiser. Not because I have a problem with the "Mary Poppins" scene, but because her scenes in episode IX are so bad, and it would be easier to just cut her out of that film entirely, but having her die between movies kinda sucks, and would take up valuable real estate in the opening crawl.

It's not the hero's death I'd want for Leia, but she doesn't get that anyway, her death in episode IX totally sucks. I wish I could have her be the one to pilot the cruiser when it lightspeeds into the First Order flagship, but that's beyond my meager skills, and it just creates another problem afterward: Where'd Holdo go? I'm also not keen on losing Leia's reunion with Luke, I love that scene.

That's going to be a tough decision.

I don't have many changes in mind when it comes to Holdo. I know there were fans who complained that not telling Poe the plan was a mistake. I get that, I felt that way myself on my first viewing. Subsequent viewings though have had me come around on that. Now I totally get it, and it doesn't bother me at all. That said, for the sake of narrative clarity, I do have a "fix" in mind, since it probably shouldn't take multiple viewings to get on board with Holdo.

Since they don't know how they were tracked through hyperspace, the easy fix here is to imply that there might be a mole on board. That way, Holdo keeping things secret feels much more clearly justified. I'm not sure *how* I'll do that, but that's what I'm thinking.

Time to talk about Finn. Sadly, Finn got done dirty by the sequel trilogy. Sadder still, is I can't actually do much about that, there's just not a lot of useable extra material to work with. We get some deleted scenes for TFA, TLJ mercifully gives us considerably more, but we got none at all from TRoS.

I will do my best to improve things for Finn as best I can though. In TLJ that's going to mean clarifying his arc. By the end of TFA, Finn had not joined the Resistance, his only concern was Rey's safety and getting away from the First Order. TLJ really needed to reestablish where Finn was at in his personal journey. There's a deleted scene where he makes things very clear. It's a great scene too, and it would have helped clarify his arc considerably if it hadn't been cut, so I'm putting it back in.

Let's talk a little about Canto Bight. Not a well-loved sequence for some. I get it. Canto Bight was hit or miss for me. There was plenty of material there I really liked, but there was a lot of stuff that just didn't land for me. I'll be trimming the sequence a bit.

A big issue for me, which I haven't actually seen addressed much, is that the Canto Bight sequence really lacks a sense of urgency on the part of our heroes. They do a number of things that just don't track for me considering they are on a vital and time-sensitive mission. I'm pretty forgiving, and I'm willing to attribute some of their missteps to them not being trained covert operatives, that's fair enough. However, some stuff just feels like common sense.

For instance, I don't understand why they parked on the beach. This place clearly has parking. Parking illegally seems like clearly a bad idea. Finn is much too distracted by the casino, which doesn't help sell the urgency of their mission. I don't have a problem with Rose explaining to Finn about why this place sucks, it informs her character, and Finn was a slave soldier for the first order his whole life, so this isn't shit he's learned about.

I'll be doing my best to trim and restructure Canto Bight to better convey a sense of urgency, while not entirely abandoning the sense of fun and spectacle, because there's a place for that in Star Wars too.

I super wish the deleted scene of Finn's final battle with Phasma wasn't entirely unusable, because it's just worlds better than what they decided to go with. That might be the worst decision made on this film.

I feel a great disturbance in the force, as if thousands of toxic star bros suddenly cried out in anger :p

And I think that about covers the majority of the stuff I want to address in TLJ. There will, of course, be other trims here and there, but this was the important stuff.

Tune in next time when I take on the final film in the saga. Can The Rise of Skywalker be salvaged?

[glacierbash]

*insert a clever title*

summary: Just Liall being stupid with her sister and another random elf I made up on the fly. Actually part of her backstory but... meh warnings: None Word Count: 2352 on Word, but I ended up taking it somewhere else and edited it so... Probably a bit more. I’d say 2375 is a safe bet. A/N: Ashane actually belongs to my friend! We were talking about elves and we thought “Hey wouldn’t it be cool if they acted like a specific animal” because I was joking about Liall being a stupid cat, so... There we go. Ashane is her sister and Arven just... Exists. He’s going to be important but I don’t know how yet. And Rosalie is... very important too. I’m sure ya’ll can guess why.

              “You’re an idiot, Ashane, and you’re going to get us all killed.” Liall crept forward from her branch, staring down at her sister. The elf was sneaking towards that blacksmith forge at the edge of town. Arven, their other friend, sat against the tree stump.

              “Have faith, Liall. She’s done this before; she’ll be just fine.” He glanced up and gave her a small smile. Still, Liall couldn’t shake the growing sense of dread.

              Ashane emerged from the underbrush of the forest, now just a few feet away from a shiny sword. All she had to do was grab it without being caught. Although, knowing her, she didn’t understand the “Don’t get caught” part of this.

              Liall hooked her legs onto the branch and swung down. Her hair flopped down, covering her eyes. Arven laughed, standing up and brushing the hair back behind her ears. Liall huffed and went back to watching her sister.

              She had a hand on the hilt now, slowly creeping backwards. She had it lifted ever so slightly, so as not to make a sound. And for a second, it almost looked like she was going to get away with it. Both Liall and Arven held their breath, waiting.

              Of course, the human just had to turn around right as Ashane was backing away. Which was when the shouting started.

              “HEY! DROP IT!” The blacksmith cried out, dropped some glowing metal onto the ground. He started saying some extremely colorful words that Liall didn’t understand. Were they in another language? She would have to ask the Keeper about it.

              Ashane didn’t drop the sword. Instead, she turned around and bolted off into the distance. Arven turned and followed. “DA’LEN, RUN!” He said, sprinting away. Liall tilted her head, looking at the approaching blacksmith. It took a couple more seconds for the situation to finally hit her.

              Oh. Ashane got caught.

              Liall swung back up, and then jumped down from the branch. She rolled as she hit the ground, and then began following. The blacksmith was still slinging insults, sometimes using those words she didn’t know, and other times using words like “knife ear.” Liall definitely knew what Knife-Ear meant.

              But they had an advantage the Shem didn’t have: They knew the forest like the back of their hands. Arven and Ashane were busy weaving through the bushes and trees, trying to disappear. Liall, on the other hand, was just trying to find the tallest tree she could. The blacksmith was chasing her now, and was gaining scarily quickly. Liall swallowed, glancing back for just a split second. “I DON’T EVEN HAVE YOUR SWORD!”

              “YOU WERE AN ACCOMPLICE! I KNEW WE NEVER SHOULD’VE LET YOU KNIFE-EARED BANDITS SET UP NEXT TO US!” He retorted, huffing now.

              “RUDE!” Liall kept pushing forward. And then she took a sharp right, directly towards a tree. She slowed down as much as she could and jumped up, quickly grabbing onto it. She scrambled up, just in time to avoid the blacksmith’s attempt to grab her foot. She looked down at him, stuck her tongue out, and continue scaling the tree until she reached a sturdy branch. The blacksmith was trying to climb the tree after her, but he kept slipping down after a couple feet.

              In the distance, she could see flashes of movement, and hints of color. No doubt it was Ashane and Arven. Liall looked down at the blacksmith, who had now resigned to just pacing around the tree. Then she looked back up to see how Ashane and Arven were faring. The two other elves were approaching now, moving quite quickly. Liall sighed and hooked her legs, swinging down again. She waved at the blacksmith, who tried to jump up and grab her.

              “Hey! I did nothing wrong! I was just minding my own business! I don’t even have your stupid sword, anyways! Stop trying to grab me.” Liall stuck out her tongue again, before she sat back up. A couple more minutes passed with the human still trying to grab her. And then Ashane and Arven both burst out of the brush, screaming and chanting utter nonsense.

              It worked.

              The human instantly turned and started sprinting away, shouting at them. Liall nearly cackled as she watched him flee. They waited until he was out of sight before they burst into their own laughter. Liall descended the tree, grinning. “Something told me you would get caught, Ashane.” She said, looking up at her sister. Ashane just smiled back with pride.

              “Still! I got the sword, which is better than what you idiots got!” Ashane held up the shiny new weapon. Arven folded his arms.

              “Mar solas ena mar dinv, friend.” Arven said, smirking. Ashane just chuckled.

              “Tel’abelas. Prick.” She replied.

Liall frowned, her ears lowering. “Uh… I think we have a new problem. No doubt we’re going to have to leave now. The shem is definitely going to tell whoever is in charge of their home what we did. And I don’t know about you, but we’re pretty recognizable.” Liall said. Ashane shook her head.

              “We’ll just cut off all your hair, Liall. How’s that sound?” She teased. Liall’s ears flew back even more.

              “Please don’t.” Liall replied. Arven was frowning now.

              “I mean, she’s right. We might’ve just screwed the whole clan.” He mumbled, scratching his neck. Liall nodded in agreement, though Ashane just scoffed.

              “Whatever. I’ll return the sword tonight, yeah? Then he’ll just look insane. Come on, let’s get going. I’m bored now.” Ashane turned around and started walking away. She then paused and stashed the sword under a tree, before she placed a flower beside it. And then she led the way. Arven motioned for Liall to follow, and they began the trek back to the clan.

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

Liall had drawn the short stick for real this time.

She was stuck returning the stupid sword Ashane had stolen. And the sword was clunky and awkward. Much less efficient than anything else. Even just a stick would be better.

Liall grumbled the whole way towards the forge, constantly adjusting her grip on the sword. How was Ashane able to carry this cursed thing with just one hand? One of the many things about her sister that never has and never will make sense.

Eventually, Liall could see the glow from the forge. There was nobody operating it right now, just some embers glowing. It actually looked kinda pretty, in a “burn your hands off” kinda way. She crouched down, creeping forward. She almost made it to the counter where several other weapons lay in a neat little row. They could so easily be stolen, laid out like that. It was like he was just begging for some thief to take them. Good thing Liall was a good person.

Unlike Ashane.

She set the sword down on the table, making it as straight as she could without cutting her hand open. She was about to retreat when she heard a voice.

“Hey. I can see you. What are you doing?” It was a woman’s voice, young. Liall froze, eyes darting around as she tried to find the source of the voice. The woman laughed.      

“To your left.” She said. Liall obeyed, and there she was. The first thing Liall noticed was that she was tall. Extremely tall. Granted, everybody was taller than Liall, but she was… even taller. She had a small smile and friendly enough eyes, and except for the fact that she was in armor, with a sword dangling in a hilt by her side, she looked almost nice. She laughed again. “Well, now you see me. So what are you doing?” She asked, walking over to Liall. Liall blinked, starting to back away. “Hey, wait, don’t go yet!”

Liall stopped moving, tilting her head to the side. The woman breathed a sigh.

“Okay, good. You can understand me. I’m not going to hurt you, okay? You’re one of those dalish elves, right?” She asked, holding out a hand. Liall swallowed, before she nodded.

“Yes. I am.” She said. She could see the woman raise her eyebrows in surprise. Probably at her voice.

“Woah, I… Ahem, sorry. I... didn't expect you to sound like that.” She cleared her throat. “Anyways. What are you doing at my father’s forge? Were you one of the ones that stole his sword?”

“…In a way. It was a… A friend.” Liall stood up to her full height. She barely reached the woman's chest. The woman laughed again.

“Okay, then. Follow me.” The woman motioned for Liall to walk with her. Liall just stayed put.

“I... I don’t think that’s smart. For me. To go with you.” She mumbled. The woman paused, tilting her head to the side.

“If I was going to hurt you, I would’ve done so already. I’m nice, I swear. Come on.”

“Where do you want to go?” Liall asked, still not moving.

“Some place where Dad won’t find you. He’s still livid from earlier. Now come on, stop risking your butt sitting here and chatting.”

“Oh.” Liall started backing away. “I… I can just leave… this way. I know the forest a lot… I can just go, and… I’ll be fine.” Liall started to back away, but the woman sighed and followed after her.

“Okay. You’re… not as smart as I assumed. I’m trying to get you to follow so I can talk to you.” The woman said, crossing her arms. Liall opened and then closed her mouth.

“Oh. That makes more sense. I thought you were just trying to kidnap me so you could kill me and cut off my ears.” Liall said.

“Does that actually happen?”

“I dunno. Probably.” After a couple more seconds, Liall walked up next to her. The woman grinned.

“I can’t blame you for being cautious, but…” she shrugged. “My name’s Rosalie. My friends and parents just call me Rose, though.” She smiled, looking down at Liall. “…This is the part where you tell me your name. You elves must have some weird customs if you don't introduce yourselves.” She added after Liall didn’t say anything.

Liall frowned, staring at the ground as they walked. “I… My name is, ah… It’s Liall.” She said, her voice barely a murmur at the end. Rosalie placed a hand gently on Liall’s shoulder.

“Then it’s good to meet you, Liall. Now, why did you steal the sword?” She asked, stopping. Liall froze, her body tensing up. This was it, she had walked right into a trap and now Rosalie was going to stab her and she was going to die and then her clan would get slaughtered and it would be all bad news. Liall started to back away, slowly. Rosalie said something under her breath, before she spoke up. “Would you stop trying to run away? It’s hard to have a conversation when you keep trying to bolt every five seconds.”

“I didn’t steal it! It wasn’t me; it was my sister! She took it because she wanted to prove to me that she could be quiet, and she also thought it looked really pretty but we don’t have any money and so she was thinking about maybe keeping it but then your dad caught us and—”

“So it was like a bet?”

“Huh?” Liall tilted her head. “I mean, in a way, but… We didn’t mean to hurt anybody, we just… Were having fun. It’s boring sometimes and we do competitions like that, and… Please don’t hurt me.” Liall's ears flew back, not unlike a frightened cat.

“I thought the dalish were all savages that would kill humans. But… Are they all like you? Rosalie asked, smirking. Liall frowned.

“No, not at all. That’s a stereotype. And they’re not all like me. We have amazing hunters that could beat a human in any way, any day.” Liall puffed up, a complete switch from before. But she was proud of being dalish, of course she was going to defend her people! Rosalie snorted.

“Likely.” She said.

“Hey. Your dad can’t even climb a tree.”

“He’s a blacksmith, not a knight or something.”

“Even our craftsmen can climb trees,” Liall said, almost smugly. “It’s not that hard of a skill.”

“Trust me, I know it’s not hard. I can climb them too.”

“Oh.” Liall felt herself deflate, that temporary burst of confidence draining from herself. "...Now I just... Did the same thing you did. I probably look really stupid right now."  She sighed, running a hand through her hair. Rosalie shook her head.

“No. You just care about defending the honor of your people. That’s not a bad thing, right? I mean, I’ve read about what the dalish have had to go through. Must be rough, all that.”

“Not just the dalish. Look at the Alienages in any major city. All elves suffer at the hands of humans. We’re just the ones that decided no more.” Liall sighed, rubbing her arm. Rosalie hummed for a second, before she nodded slowly.

“You’re nice. A lot nicer than most people I’ve met. I want to talk to you more, so you're going to meet me here tomorrow night. I’ll make sure Dad isn’t angry, and your clan will be okay. Alright?”

“Here? Meet here? Tomorrow night?” Liall asked slowly. Rosalie nodded.

“That’s what I said. Now you go back to your clan. Don’t let them catch you wandering around late. I’ll see you tomorrow then, Liall.” She then turned and walked away, leaving Liall alone.

Liall watched her walk away until she couldn’t be seen anymore, before she turned and sprinted away into the forest. Her ears felt like they were burning up, as did her face. She was blushing like crazy and she didn’t know why. And that fact that she actually felt like she could speak up with her, possibly even argue… It felt strangely good. Like… powerful, almost. Not quite, though.

Liall stopped when she felt she was far away enough, about halfway to the clan. She sat down and sighed. She was a strange human. She didn’t even look that old, she looked around Liall’s age. But why was she so tall? And that sword… She looked ready to fight anything at any time. It was…

Impressive, to say the least.

Liall stood back up and started walking back to the meeting place to tell Ashane she returned the sword. A distraction was what she needed.

What has she gotten herself into?