#i don't believe in the new year but i DO love it

[yessirplease69]

❝Above The Clouds & Among The Stars❞

Synopsis: Moments belonging to the relationship between you and your childhood friend, which has evolved over time. Caleb still believes that hiding his feelings from you is the most suitable choice.

✈ Content: caleb x fem reader, caleb headcanons, nsfw, explict sexual content, suggestive (mature content), drama, angst, fluff, reader being slow for not realizing how caleb is in love with her, caleb being so loving, caleb being possessive, reader is a virgin, the final part maybe happens just before the explosion?, there are many references that are found in the history of the game.

✈ Word Count: 4K

♫ Caleb playlist on Spotify: here.

a\n: ✎─ It's been so long since I posted here, finally college gave me a break. I wrote this while listening to ♫ Tinashe - Cold Sweat ♫ 50 Cent - Just a Lil Bit ♫ so you guys could say these songs were playing on the radio in the garage (spoiler lol). I feel like he would listen to songs like 50 Cent's, it really fits his style... Hope u enjoy it!

Caleb, during his high school years, is part of one of the senior classes and he has been assigned the role of class monitor for Physical Education. Although he is not in the same section as you, his role is incorporated into your core subjects, which means you encounter him more frequently in the gymnasium or in other sports areas. Occasionally, you bump into each other in the hallways, despite both of your schedules being different.

Caleb, who is always looking after you, ensures that you have all the necessary items for school, helping you choose the appropriate gym clothes for physical exercises and new supplies. This includes preparing breakfast for you and his Gran, washing an apple, and packaging it perfectly for you to take for a snack. He always wears a radiant smile on his face as he takes the strap of your bag to secure it on his left shoulder, since his right shoulder is occupied by his backpack. Caleb never allows you to take it back, as it is difficult to go against the strength of this man, who stands at 6 feet 3 inches tall, and you simply have to accept this, even if you grumble from the passenger seat of his car all the way to the school entrance.

Caleb, who has always been so affectionate only with you, is constantly touching your arms, back, cheeks, waist, and tenderly kissing your hands, even making random drawings on their palms while he is captivated by you as you excitedly share about your day. He is the type who loves physical touch and believes it creates a connection between souls because he loves you so deeply that it hurts, and this man feels that pain when he touches you. Most of the time, it is an innocent affection, and he just wants to have you close, as it is not possible to have more than that.

Caleb, who sees you growing physically and mentally with each passing day, becomes possessive and jealous of anyone who looks at you in a way that only he is allowed to. Every night before going to bed, you have conversations about boys, hoping to hear the same response come from his lips: "Don't trust those guys, pip-squeak. You still don't get how they can be mean and shady." However, with all the strength he has left, he tries to ignore it all and pretend that it does not affect him, especially since it should not interfere with your romantic or sexual life... Oh, in a rather convenient way, he will interfere with that.

Caleb, who has a toned and defined body since he exercises a lot to maintain it and prepare for when he becomes a fighter pilot in Deepspace Aviation. This boy is huge (in every sense), looks like a fridge with a chest and back as solid as iron, and he always fears breaking you when you are in his arms of pure muscle. It is inevitable not to notice teenage girls from different grades drooling when he is exposing his defined torso while walking out of the boy's locker room with the other guys. Your friends often ask you for his number, and you do not understand why you are making a sour face at them while a strange feeling hits you.

Caleb, who is naturally very skilled at winning plush toys from the claw machine. He has left his entire collection for you, however, it is still likely to find a single cute and fuzzy stuffed animal in his room, comfortably sitting on the dresser next to his bed. He always thinks of you whenever he looks at it.

Caleb, who is fucking other girls while thinking of you. It is obvious, he is an 18-year-old teenager in the process of development, and it is not possible to confront testosterone because he needs to satisfy the urges that puberty presented to him. However, he cannot remove you, your scent, or your beautiful body from his mind, and even less can he touch you as he desires because he is afraid of breaking the bond you both formed in childhood. Thus, releasing this carnal desire while he is burying his cock in some pussy out there is all he can do or imagine.

Caleb, who never walks around the house without a shirt on because he would not want to make you uncomfortable, and It is not necessary for Grandma to correct him for such a lack of manners, since his well-being is what matters most to him. But, on a weekend morning when the ladies of the house were still in bed, Caleb didn’t mind not having to put on anything right after he took a shower. Coincidentally, you had woken up quite early and caught him nearly naked in the kitchen preparing your favorite meal, with the poor boy displaying a surprised expression when you harshly told him to cover the visible marks left by feminine nails on his back. He never imagined that you had cultivated a feeling like jealousy before beginning to act roughly with him for the rest of the week.

Caleb, who splashes water on you while you are washing the dishes, and it is hard to explain at what moment the scenario turned into a war. The scene repeats when you are enjoying the summer by the pool, and the atmosphere shifts when Caleb ceases to laugh and gazes at you with a different intention in his eyes. You observe the dark-haired boy approaching, unaware that he is gripping the edge of the pool to contain the desire to kiss you.

Caleb, who maintains a very healthy routine at home and school, where you can always find him doing push-ups on the floor or running on the grass of the football field. You are seated in the bleachers with the girls when he notices your presence from miles away, and the way he flashes the purest smile while waving in your direction leaves you feeling confusingly irritated at the moment you see your friends fanning themselves and sighing loudly in unison like bitches in heat. You will blame him for making you feel this way or create reasons for it, using your anger to write unflattering things about him in your facade account book. This silly guy is completely oblivious to these details, you are ignoring him so that he follows you down the hallway, questioning what might have happened. Heaven, he is playing your game and blaming himself too, until you relent upon noticing his face marked by puppy-dog eyes.

Caleb, who is such a respectful boy, walking down the hallway and noticing that you had forgotten to close the bathroom door while you are showering. He is simply closing it slowly, intending to prevent you from being startled or thinking that he is a pervert. Not that he is not.

Caleb, who begins his training as a pilot at Skyhaven, makes a promise to take you to the clouds as soon as he returned home during his military leave. It was a summer afternoon when he wrapped his pinky finger around yours, and the casual conversation about the planes he mastered made you sigh with shining eyes. After all, who could be better than him to make you fly in the sky? Besides his incredible piloting skills and placing your safety first, this man has the power to manipulate gravity. If you were ever flying over Linkon City and were about to fall to the ground, he would use his abilities to maintain control and balance until landing. This man would never let you fall in life.

Caleb, who is automatically attracted to you and it does not require much effort on your part unlike other women. It seems that he becomes more enchanted when you compliment the delicious flavor of the meals he prepares. It is always a new achievement when you are humming and squinting your eyes with his food in your mouth. It means he is feeding you well, a task of the day completed.

Caleb, who allows you to sleep in his bed, with him, on rainy days with intense thunderstorms. You fall asleep together, your head resting on his chest as he holds you tightly while raindrops patter against the window. If he has an obligation the next morning, you will find breakfast laid out on the sheets along with a note that has a good morning message filled with childish and silly drawings. But if he does not have any other engagements, you will wake up to a kiss on your forehead or a teasing pinch on your cheek. Even when Caleb is away, he will leave the door to his room open just so you can rest there whenever you wish. You would not mention it, but you often spend more time in his room than in your own. His scent is everywhere, and when your nose detects it, only then do you feel comfortable enough to be lulled into sleep.

Caleb, who practices combat moves with you whenever he is home after being away for an extended period. Despite having become a Hunter, your fighting skills still need further refinement. And seriously, he is an excellent teacher, it is no surprise that he received praise during his time as a class monitor in high school. This man is calm and highly experienced, he will teach you each movement correctly, and as a diligent tutor, he will explain countless times, regardless of how many times you stumble and fall onto him until you successfully land a hit. You can feel the tension in his triceps as they constrict around your neck in a rear naked choke. "One wrong move and your enemy could end your life just like that." His breath caresses your neck, and he remains in that position for a few seconds as he analyzes how your body is reacting pressed against his. The grip becomes weaker, your blood circulation stabilizing, and there is an indication in your reaction that your oxygen has been lost, even though he did not apply much pressure to your neck. "Someone here needs to step it up, or else you're not getting any of Caleb's decorated cookies!"

Caleb, who tries not to look when you are doing a squat exercise in front of him, feels his cheeks flush pink every time your knees bend, presenting an indecent view of you. Fortunately, this man is very composed and will act as if nothing has happened, hence, you will see Caleb turning his head to another corner while he coughs awkwardly. He condemns himself for having such thoughts about you, and motivated by this fact, he feels the need to avoid you, using this justification in his mind to hang out with his friends instead, for example. He needs a distraction. Yet there you are, calling him with a sweet and pleading voice, hoping to get help with your homework or to fix the bathroom socket so you can use it. How can he say no?

Caleb, who has no idea how he has made you feel attracted to him, your childhood friend, as you have labeled him. He has at least noticed how you hold your gaze on his violet eyes for a bit longer, the way your chest rises when your breathing becomes frantic, how your voice suddenly trembles, or how your body responds when he is too close. This charming individual is putting you in the palm of his hand; he does not tire of teasing you by pressing you against the refrigerator when he finds you wandering the kitchen late at night, solitary and restless, nibbling on something. Sometimes, it is not even intentional, you know, it is simply the seductive nature that Caleb possesses.

✈ ✈ ✈

The smell of gasoline mixed with grease is overwhelming and nearly clogs your nose as soon as you set foot in the large garage at home, the reason for the odor justified upon finding Caleb sitting in one of the old armchairs, deeply focused on fixing what appeared to be a car part. The radio is active on the Linkon City FM station, the device accompanying several tools scattered on the table. This place has been transformed into the man's personal space, as more airplane and car-related items are found on the shelves. Grandma and you now refer to it as Caleb's garage.

"Aren't you going to join us at the table for lunch?" Your voice is demanding as you lean half of your body against the doorframe, arms crossed while questioning the man, who does not look at you. His car is parked on the other side of the area, and you notice that the hood is open.

"Just give me a few more minutes and I'll finish up here." He finally responds to you, still immersed in the work that his hands are performing. The old white tank top that clings to his torso bears dark stains that reveal the product used, and your eyes complete their inspection of the mess displayed on Caleb's pants and across the skin of his arms.

"Busy playing with your toys, huh?" Feeling curious, you approach the Lamborghini to see what is demanding so much of the man's attention. A smile adorns his lips, and you hear a low laugh resonating in the Caleb's throat. He leans forward, rifling through the box on the floor filled with equipment. 

"Aaand... clean girls can’t come in here." Caleb studies you from head to toe for a moment, the tease playing on his lips with a smile, which broadens when he sees you roll your eyes.

"Before I leave, I'm telling you not to touch me with that dirty hand, Caleb." Your teasing retorts against him. "Go take a shower before sitting at the table, 'kay?"

"C'mon. My hand isn't even dirty, bossy brat." The tip of his boot hits the floor, driven by the beat of the music that starts playing from the device. He is moving the toolbox aside after grabbing what he wanted. "I'm gonna do a test and jump on your bed to stain your pretty white sheets."

"Pfft! You." One of your fingers is pointing towards his serene smile, which conceals all the little mischiefs. You watch him twirl a heavy object between his fingers, disregarding how you have placed your hands on your hips while gazing deeply at him.

"Stay away from the sharp tools, I'm telling you too for the twentieth time this week." He makes it very clear to you, despite not giving a firm look to affirm his words. Caleb do not want to witness the scene of you slipping in the puddle of gasoline that had formed on the floor and hitting your head against one of the saws and axes attached to the wall.

And, oh, you are doing everything except listening to him. That is why he feels you are about to do something reckless as your hand approaches the sharp edge of the object. Before the tip of your finger fully touched it, an unnatural force exerted itself upon your palm, pushing it away. You shot a piercing glance at the man seated, intending for it to penetrate him like the blade you were willing to touch.

"You're so stubborn." Caleb is staring at you, remarkably calm, the fringe of his hair falling over his eyes like a waterfall. His lips are curved in frustration as he holds an open hand in the air. His Evol is still controlling you, the vibration of that power surrounding your skin due to gravity.

"Why are you like this?! I can totally resonate with that!"

"Your powers aren't strong enough for that yet, pip-squeak." You can hear the sound of his sigh, and he is prepared to dismiss any complaints you may have. "I'm just protecting you from your own innocence. It's for your own good."

"I don't need your protection." The conviction carries your voice like a powerful weapon. And you are aiming it at him, more than ever as that manipulative pressure finally releases from your hand. Caleb was gentle in using just a little strength, with no intention of hurting you.

"You don't need it?" The way Caleb has spoken so sarcastically yet with a certain conviction has left you immobilized in place, and he was no longer using his power over you. There is a feeling of rage consuming you as you clench your fists and grind your teeth at finding him so perplexed by your behavior.

"Yeah, I'm done." Your breath quickens as you take rapid, unexpected steps toward the man. He watches your movements intently until you push his shoulders, and his back is hitting the upholstery. Strands of hair on Caleb's forehead are ruffled by the impact, and his face bears a tightly clenched jaw as he watches, frozen, while you ascend onto the chair and rest your knees on either side of his thighs.

You need not check to know that your clothing has been ruined by a bit of grease. However, the thought quickly disappears when you are approached by Caleb's fixed gaze, the overhead perspective providing a perfect angle to see the top of his chest escaping from his tank top. The shiny necklace you gave him glistens in contrast to the light, and your attempt to divert your gaze toward it proves futile.

"I don't need you treating me like a kid. Not anyone." Your mouth commands your attitude, and the dark-haired man follows each of its movements. You appear too serious, which influences his features as he raises his chin in a sign of dominance. "You idiot."

"Watch you mouth." He is reprimanding you, his tone of voice shifting to a deeper harmony. His occupied hand releases the metal piece into the air, and it makes a violent noise when it hits the ground. Suddenly, you notice his eyes darken as he closely scrutinizes your reaction, and now his fingers are pressing against your wrists. You cannot just sit on him like that, in that position, like it's no big deal. "Don't you know how to treat your elders right anymore, brat?"

"Stop!" You spit, attempting not to show your vulnerable side whenever you are around him. "Is that all I mean to you, yeah? Just a helpless brat. "For a moment, your heart aches with guilt for behaving insensitively while you find so much love in his warm gaze directed at you. This is further compounded by a small streak of black grease on his cheek, which makes him even more endearing.

"Hey silly girl, what are you talking about?" A laugh escapes his lips, and you are unsure if it was meant to sound innocent or somewhat foolish coming from him. However, as a habit, this man tries to lighten the mood of the situation, even when it leaves you feeling awkward. He wonders why on earth you have been so rude to him lately. He understands this whole independence thing you are going through, but he is beginning to lose the patience that has remained intact for years. After all, he has always done everything for you, indulging you with good things and ensuring your protection, yet you repay him in this manner.

"You don’t know?!" The walls tremble as you laugh ironically, the closeness of your faces does not intimidate him. "I hate... how you still see me as your little girl, and not as a woman." You hiss when you realize that you spoke those words too loudly, and you are failing to remove his hands from your skin, which are beginning to burn your very being.

"What?!" He cannot help but shake his head, incredulous at your words. Your breathless breaths are intertwined in the space, which suddenly becomes suffocating.

You look so beautiful sitting on his lap, that he thinks he could get used to the view. Caleb is clenching his fist tightly against the seat, trying to prevent himself from touching the accessible and more sinful areas of your body on top of him.

"Do you want me to show you how I can see you as a woman?"

There is a silence enveloping you and him, but the beat of the music becomes increasingly captivating in the background. You are still recovering from the weight of the double entendre posed to you. A tension saturates the air in more palpable forms, Caleb's gaze appearing indecisive between your enticing lips and the way your beautiful tits move as your breathing grows irregular. The manner in which his violet eyes encompass your entire body is so alluring, and you find yourself questioning why you had not noticed this much earlier.

"Yes." The whisper slips from your lips almost like a secret, yet you show no fear of proving the consequences of your bold action. You are venturing into uncharted territory, tampering with danger. The boy growls sensually in response, a primal sound that reveals how much he desires you as a woman.

He believes he can no longer endure hiding all these feelings any longer, and this man swears by his soul that if it were not for his self-control, he would throw you beneath him into that old armchair and position you to make love to him. He would not release your wrists while possessing you as his own. Caleb imagines how he would start to move his hips in a slow and tender way, just as a princess like you deserves, but then he would take you with such brutality, and you would accept him, his size, so perfectly inside you. The noise of the slaps on your ass and the sounds of wet sex would be louder than the music playing in the room. And he would keep repeatedly going in and out even if Grandma upstairs was disturbed by the depraved noises coming from your mouth. This man would make you scream in that garage until the sun sets, depending on your cardio endurance. It is okay, he has been letting you scream all the time with him lately, so it is only fair to leave you voiceless.

"Please." Your pleas are persistent, the throbbing pain in the center of your legs making your hips roll almost automatically and slowly on his groin. And it was possible to watch Caleb flying to the sky and seeing stars while he releases your wrists to grip your waist, commanding you to stop these movements. Because his big cock is hard right under you, Jesus. He would go crazy in this place and would take you to sin with him, a single slip could change everything. What would you think of him after this fateful decision? Your sweet purity going down the drain like this...

Caleb is thinking about how you are still not ready, watching you gazing innocently at him, unaware of the many desires and darker thoughts hidden within those purple orbs. You would not be able to handle all the things he wishes to do with you. Therefore, all he does at this moment is close his eyes tightly and take a deep breath in unison.

"No." His raspy tone conveys much about his arduous battle against these desires thus far. Your eyes instinctively close when his lips draw near, you emit a soft moan as you feel them brush against yours. The man is aware that once he begins to kiss you, he would be unable to stop. It is a torment to realize that you are unprepared to be wholly his, in body and soul. He requires you to have conviction in your actions before engaging in any recklessness, as both of you must be ready for that.

Then the place becomes cold as he crawls out of the seat, silently distancing himself from you while wearing a sad countenance. His eyes convey loneliness and melancholy, even as he closes the door behind him. You notice that your skin has been marked by the grease and his hands, it may take some time for you to forget the feeling of them on your body.

[the-offside-rule]

Joe Burrow (Cinccinati Bengals) - Game Day and Grammys

Requested: no but someone asked about NFL imagines and the Pro Bowl and Grammys were on so how could I miss this opportunity?

Prompt: Joe Burrow x singer!girlfriend

Warnings: none other than it being long and full of fluff

Y/n sat in the plush chair of her hotel suite, a stylist curling sections of her hair while another dabbed powder on her already flawless face. The room buzzed with quiet excitement—her team murmuring about last-minute dress fittings, run-throughs, and camera angles. After all, tonight was the biggest night of her career. Five Grammy nominations. Five.

But her attention? Completely divided. On the sleek flatscreen across the room, the Pro Bowl was in full swing. Her boyfriend, Joe Burrow, was out there, tossing passes and leading drives while she got glammed up for music’s biggest stage. She’d wished she could be there, but the Grammys and the game fell on the same night, and there was no way to be in two places at once.

Her phone vibrated in her lap. Another text from Joe.

Joe: This is so much fun. Wish you were here

She grinned, typing back quickly.

Y/n: Wish I was too. But you better be focused, Burrow. No interceptions.

Another buzz.

Joe: No INTs. Just vibes. Also… scored a touchdown. No big deal.

Y/n let out a laugh, her lips quirking as she typed her reply.

Y/n: A touchdown?? Damn, you haven’t scored one of those in a while.

Her stylist stifled a giggle behind her. "Good news?" She smirked. "Joe just ran one in himself." Her phone buzzed again.

Joe: Wow. The slander.

Joe: But fair.

Joe: Good luck tonight, superstar.

Joe: Ja'Marr said if you win two tonight, that makes it 9 grammys you have ever won

Joe: And guess what my number is?

Y/n chuckled at the coincidence. No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, they were always supporting each other.

Y/n: Alright, QB1. Ill get the Grammy's you worry about not getting tagged.

With one last glance at the game, she turned back to the mirror, ready to take on her own championship night.

The flashbulbs were blinding as Y/n posed on the red carpet, her dress hugging her perfectly while she effortlessly smiled at the cameras. The energy was electric; reporters calling out her name, fans screaming behind the barricades. She was used to this, but tonight felt different. Bigger.

As she moved down the carpet, she began her interviews, each asking the same old question that she had rehearsed about a million times. How does it feel to be nominated 5 times? She had been nominated for Album of the Year, Song of the Year, Record of the Year, Pop Vocal Album and Music Video of the Year. She had been to the grammys before but she had only ever been nominated twice each year. Granted, she did win them, racking up an astonishing 7 grammys in just 4 years, but her once edgey music had shifted to softer love songs, all thanks to a certain quarter back.

She smiled as she moved on down the carpet to her last interviewer, a little kid who she had seen on tik tok time and time again. "Oh my gosh, hello!" She smiled as she did her best to get down onto the kid's level. Her calf were killing her from the heels standing, nevermind squatting down. "You look beautiful. I love the dress." She said. "Thank you! And you look so beautiful too." The child replied. "I have a few questions for you if thats okay?"

"Of course! I would love to hear them." Y/n said warmly as she held her own microphone. "So, obviously this is your record for the most amount of Gammys that you have been nominated for. If you could go back in time and tell your younger self that this would be happening, what would you say?" Finally a way to answer the question of how she felt about being nominated that didn't involve her rehearsed answer. "I think I would tell my younger self to keep going, to believe in myself and don't put the guitar down because it's gotten me this far." Y/n replied. "Your album Nine Sunday Mornings was a very abrupt change in your music. It was more edgey and angsty the last time you were here-" Y/n laughed at the very blunt question. "Why do you think this change happened or is it because you just got bored of that genre?" Now that was a good question.

"I mean, as you said it was a big change. I mean any love song I wrote before was scrapped because I thought it was too sappy so I stuck to breakup songs or rage songs. I think the change came in meeting Joe. From the songs right down to the title it's all him. I remember the very night I met him I stayed up nearly all night writing about the like 5 minute encounter we had and now it's nominated tonight so. I have to give credit where credit is due." She answered. "Have you been keeping up with the Pro Bowl?" Y/n laughed, adjusting the Grammy-branded microphone in her hand. "Of course! I have it on in my hotel room. Joe keeps texting me updates, so I think I might have a better play-by-play than some of the commentators."

Her manager tapped her shoulder to tell her to make her way inside, so she bid the mini-reporter farewell and walked in to the packed venue.

Once inside, Y/n glanced around, trying to spot her team. The Grammys were always a production, but tonight, the room felt even bigger. Row after row of tables and glowing stage lights. She turned in circles, scanning the room. Where were they? Her manager, her producer, anyone?

"Y/n?"

She spun around to see Jack approaching, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. "Hey, are you okay?" She let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, I just… I can’t find my seat. I have no idea where my team is." Before Jack could respond, a familiar voice chimed in.

"She can sit with us!"

Y/n turned to see Taylor Swift standing a few feet away, a warm smile on her face. Taylor, dressed in an elegant yet edgy ensemble, motioned toward her table. "If you don’t mind sitting with us, of course." Y/n hesitated for a second. She didn’t want to intrude- Taylor was with her own crew, and this was a huge night for her, too. "Are you sure?" She asked cautiously.

"Of course! Come on." Taylor said, looping an arm around her gently as they started walking toward the table. "Besides, we have a lot to talk about. I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting." Y/n chuckled, relaxing a little as she took a seat beside her. "Are you going to the Super Bowl?" Taylor asked after a moment.

Y/n shook her head. "No, I’ve never actually been. I told myself I wouldn’t go until Joe is the one playing in it." Taylor’s brows lifted in amusement. "Oh that is goals."

"Plus, I’m heading to his family’s house to watch it with them." She added. "I think it’ll be more special that way." Taylor smiled knowingly. "There’s nothing like watching a game with the people who love him most. Honestly, I think you guys are gonna be there next year." Y/n nodded, already picturing herself in the Burrow family’s living room, wearing one of Joe’s sweatshirts, surrounded by his parents and siblings. It felt right. "Honestly, I don't wanna be too picky but I want a Bengals and 49ers Superbowl. That would cure the world, I think."

"That would be a good one."

Just then, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show. Y/n took a deep breath, ready to take on the night—Grammys, football updates, and all.

Joe stretched his arms over his head as he stepped into the hotel lobby, still buzzing from the Pro Bowl. The game had been fun, a rare chance to play a little looser, joke around with the guys, and even run in a touchdown himself—something Y/n was sure to remind him about later. His teammates followed behind him, still hyped up from the day. "Alright." Ja’Marr announced, clapping his hands. "Let’s turn on the Grammys. Gotta see Y/n win some trophies since Joe isn’t bringing any silverwear home."

Joe grinned as he nudged Ja'Marr for that dig, leading the way to the suite where they all piled onto the couches, flipping the TV on just in time to catch the ceremony in full swing. The room filled with snacks, drinks, and casual conversation, but anytime Y/n appeared on the screen, the guys would nudge Joe, who was watching intently, phone in hand, ready to text her.

Then came Best Pop-Vocal Album of the Year.

Joe sat forward, hands clasped as they listed the nominees. He knew how much work Y/n had put into this album—how many late nights, how many times she’d called him exhausted but excited, how much of her heart was poured into every track.

"And the Grammy goes to…"

Not her.

Joe exhaled, lips pressing together as he watched her smile and clap for the winner. She was graceful as ever, but he knew her well enough to see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. "She said she was gonna be surprised if she got that one. She like, knew Sabrina was winning that hands down."

Then came Record of the Year.

Not her again.

"She got robbed." Russell Wilson muttered. "Bro, you're gonna be the first one singing Not Like Us at the halftime show next weekend." Lamar Jackson replied. "She's in like the toughest categories." James Cook added. Joe didn’t say anything, just shook his head. He hated seeing her not get what she deserved, but he knew Y/n. Knew she’d keep smiling, keep pushing forward. And damn it, he’d keep cheering her on, just like she always did for him.

It didn't matter. 2 down, 3 to go. Music Video of the Year.

Joe sat up straight. He knew this one mattered to her, too. Her video had been a passion project, something she’d fought to bring to life exactly the way she envisioned it. The competition was stacked—the other nominees had incredible visuals, and any of them could take it. Y/n sat at her table, her hands clasped in her lap, holding her breath. Joe could practically feel her nerves through the screen.

"She’s got this." He murmured. "She’s got this, she’s got this, she’s got this, come on, baby."

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n!"

Y/n gasped, letting out the breath she’d been holding. Taylor pulled her into a tight hug as the entire table erupted into cheers. Joe leapt off the couch, throwing his hands in the air. "Let's go! Yes! Wooh!" The suite exploded with excitement- Ja’Marr was shouting, some of the guys were recording Joe’s reaction, and others were laughing as Joe jumped up, singing along to the snippet of Y/n’s song that played as she made her way to the stage.

On the screen, Y/n’s smile was blinding, eyes slightly glossy as she accepted her award. Joe grinned, pride swelling in his chest. She’d done it. Just like she always did. "Oh my god, wow." She began. "I’ll be honest, I did not expect Music Video of the Year. There had been some amazing Music Videos so I just wanted to congratulate my fellow nominees and their directors." Joe clapped as he listened to her. "I want to thank my team, the fans, my family and all of you who voted for the video. My boyfriend Joe of course, who may or may not be still playing his game of tag football but I'm gonna thank him anyway." His face grew red. "I think that's all I have to say to be honest. Maybe I'll see you up here again pretty soon."

Joe lounged back on the couch, finally feeling like he could relax a little after all the emotional whiplash of the night ao far and he was still buzzing from it. "She’s performing next." Ja’Marr pointed out, nodding toward the TV. Joe sat up again, straightening his hoodie as the camera panned to the stage. The lights dimmed, and then—there she was.

His girl.

Y/n stood center stage, bathed in golden light, singing a balld version of her nominated song. She wore the most stunning outfit—a gold sparkling, elegant number that hugged her perfectly. She looked ethereal. "Jesus Christ." Joe muttered under his breath before saying a little louder, "Her outfit is so pretty." Some of the guys laughed. "Yeah, it is." Ja'Marr teased with a smirk. "You good over there, Burrow?" Russell asked, causing all the other guys to take notice of his blushing face and tease him further.

Joe just waved them off, eyes locked on the screen. Then, just as the song picked up, she reached down, grabbed the edges of her outfit, and-

Riiiipppp

The elegant gown was gone, revealing a bold, dazzling second outfit underneath—sleek, fun, and perfect for dancing. "Oh my God." Joe groaned, immediately hiding his face in his hands as the entire room exploded. The guys were shouting, laughing, some recording his reaction as they all clapped and cheered. "Ayyy! Okay, Y/n!" Ja'Marr called.

Joe shook his head, chuckling as his ears burned. He peeked through his fingers just in time to see her seamlessly transition into the next part of the performance, moving with ease, completely in her element. She was dancing, smiling, engaging the crowd like she was born for this moment. "I didn't know she could move like that! Damn!" Trey said.

Joe dropped his hands, watching as Y/n held the mic out, getting the entire crowd to sing along with her. She looked so happy, completely in control of the stage, like she was having the time of her life. Joe smiled. His teammates might have been teasing him, but he didn’t care. He was just so damn proud of her. As the song ended,she looked aroukd for the camera that would be zooming in on her. She spotted it and winked, before blowing a kiss right to it. Joe reached for the imaginaru kiss and put it to his heart as the guys teased him even further for it.

Joe sat back against the couch, his arm draped over the back as the next category came up—Song of the Year.

"Alright, this one’s huge." Ja’Marr said, leaning forward. Joe nodded, eyes locked on the screen. Y/n had poured everything into this song and she loved it the most for reason unknown to him, and even though she’d already won Music Video of the Year, he wanted this for her. Badly.

The nominees were stacked— some of the biggest songs of the year, including Y/n’s. The room quieted as the presenter opened the envelope.

"nd the Grammy goes to… Kendrick Lamar, Not Like Us!"

Joe exhaled, shaking his head, but before he could react, he spotted Y/n on screen, grinning and dancing along to the snippet of Not Like Us that played through the venue speakers. Joe burst out laughing. "She doesn’t seem too bothered." Trey snickered. "Bro, she looks kinda tipsy."

The whole room chuckled as they watched Y/n dancing up out of her seat singing along as Kendrick made his way to the stage. She was still clapping and smiling, showing nothing but love for the win, and Joe couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly cool she was about it. "She’s just vibin'." Joe said with a smirk, shaking his head.

And then finally came Album of the Year.

Her final nomination.

Joe sat up one last time, his heart pounding a little harder. He could see Y/n on screen, hands clasped together, her lips pressed tight as she waited. The tension in the room was thick, even through the television.

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n, Nine Sunday Mornings!"

She didn’t move.

She didn’t react at first—just sat there, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Joe felt like the air had been sucked out of the room before he erupted. "Yes! Let's go baby!" He jumped up again, fists in the air as his teammates laughed, recording his reaction for the second time that night. "That’s my girl! That’s my girl!" He cheered, pacing the room as the suite filled with whoops and applause.

Back on the screen, Y/n finally stood, still in complete shock. As she made her way up to the stage, she kept shaking her head, her mouth open as if she still couldn’t believe it. She took the award in her hands, staring down at it, blinking before looking around. The crowd chuckled. She looked up at the mic, then back at the award. "What?" She squeaked.

Laughter rippled through the audience. Joe grinned, shaking his head. He could practically hear her thoughts—How? Against all those incredible albums? She took a deep breath, exhaling sharply, still looking down at the trophy. "I—I don’t even know what to say, honestly I'm a little drunk so-" Joe smiled proudly, watching her collect herself and begin her speech. She had done it. Two Grammys in one night. And even though he wasn’t there in person, he cheered for her just as loudly as she did for him on Sundays.

"I want to thank the incredible Jack Antanoff for helping me produce this album first and foremost, my team also. But there is one person in particular who I will ramble on about because he was the inspiration for every single song I wrote since the 9th of December 2023, when we first met." Joe felt his eyes watering upon hearing it. He didn’t lile seeing her cry, it often meant he would cry too. "The album itself is a hommage to the fact that it took just nine sunday mornings for us to decide we wanted to become a couple and honestly, those 9 Sunday mornings were the best I could have ever lived through because I got to fall in love with the love of my life." Joe wiped his eyes, lookong down as Ja'Marr patted his back in support. "Joe, wherever you are, I wanted you to know that this award is for you, you can put it right next to the Heisman and my other 8 Grammy's."

Joe chuckled lightly as her little dig. "And just in case this wasnt a clincidence enough already- I'm going to shout out Ja'Marr Chase for this information- this is my ninth Grammy, and its for Cinccinati's number 9." The microphone cut out, singalling that her time for speaking was up. She mouthed a very animated 'I love you' to the camera before smiling and heading off the stage.

As soon as Y/n sat back down at her table, she reached for her phone. Her hands were slightly shaking—part adrenaline, part sheer excitement. The night had been a whirlwind, and there was only one person she needed to talk to right now. She hit Joe’s contact, pressing the phone to her ear as the Grammys continued around her. The line barely rang once before he picked up.

"Baby!" She let out a breathless laugh. "Joe!"

"Oh my God!" He said, and she could hear the pure excitement in his voice. "You were insane. I mean first of all, two Grammys? And then that performance? What was that outfit change? You’re trying to kill me?" Y/n giggled, running a hand through her hair. "Did you like it?"

"Like it? Babe, I almost had a heart attack. These guys aren't gonna let me live it down." She laughed again, picturing Joe hiding his face in his hands while all his guys teased him. "I was just thinking about you the whole time." She admitted, voice a little softer now. "I figured you were watching."

"Of course I was watching." He said immediately. "Are you kidding? We had the Grammys on as soon as we got back. I was cheering for you all night." Y/n smiled, glancing down at her awards sitting in front of her. "It still doesn’t feel real. I mean…Album of the Year? What?"

"You earned that, Y/n. No one deserved it more." She bit her lip, warmth spreading through her chest. "I mean, Billie should have won it." She replied. "Oh my God, I'm gonna cry again."

"No, don't cry." He said quickly. "Not unless it’s happy tears." She laughed, leaning back in her chair. "How was the Pro Bowl? I feel like I barely got to ask you." Joe chuckled. "It was fun. I mean we lost, but it was fun."

"What was the score?" She asked. "Like 76 to 63 or somethin' like that?" He looked around for nods of approval. "Did I mention I scored?" Y/n chuckled. "Yeah and as I said before I haven’t seen you do that in a while."

"Okay, woah." He deadpanned, and she could hear his teammates laughing in the background. "I’m kidding." She teased. "I’m proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too, baby." Y/n exhaled, her whole body finally starting to relax after the chaos of the night. "I just wish you were here."

"Yeah, I know." Joe said softly. "But I’ll see you tomorrow. And then we can celebrate properly." She grinned. "Deal."

"I love you, Baby."

"Love you too, Shiesty "

As she hung up, she clutched her phone to her chest, still smiling. It had been a night to remember— and she couldn’t wait to get home to him.

[wewringmagicfromtheordinary]

#this this this THIS#i don't know how to read this scene other than as a man desperate not to lose the love of his life again#and willing to do anything to stop that from happening#if it's literally the LAST thing he does#i mean god when you stop to think about it#first steve had to watch him die#then HE died believing that bucky was gone#but at least steve was following him quickly enough right??#WRONG#because then it turns out that steve's not dead at all#he's back in the world and it's a world where bucky has been dead for some 65 years#and now steve has all the time in the world to really drown in that grief#and he does#he gets - i think - a little over two years of that#two years of mourning this loss#two. whole. fckin. years.#and then one day he discovers that bucky is very much alive but he's been put through the unimaginable#and only a couple of days later steve loses him AGAIN#and he spends TWO MORE YEARS without bucky#riddled with a new kind of grief and with plenty of guilt and desperate to find him#and now that steve HAS indeed managed to find him#AFTER EVERYTHING. AFTER ALL THIS TIME.#he's about to lose him all over again??????????#I WOULD HAVE LOST MY FCKIN MIND IF I WERE HIM LIKE LET'S BE REAL#yeah. yeah he's not letting go of that helicopter for anything#not even if it tears him apart#frankly i think letting go would tear him apart more than being literally split in two via rillils

I just don’t understand how literally any human looks at these two and this moment in particular and is like ‘yeah they’re platonic besties.’

Steve is literally breaking his body in half to keep his heart where it is. He’s 100% okay with being legitimately torn in half (you cannot tell me he knew he was strong enough to hold that thing there) because he can’t think of any other way to keep Bucky there and he can’t live letting him go again.

And Bucky, the Asset, the goddamn Winter Soldier, can’t comprehend who would love him that much or why, and also he’s 110% checking out those muscles (because DAMN, SON, we all were) and I just.

Platonic best friends?

[fun-k-board]

Happy New Year!! 🎉

If it's alright, could I request Loki Headcanons about a Shy Lover or Secret Admirer? I imagine something like that wouldn't stay secret for long, knowing Loki, but I love the idea of the Lover in question being flustered beyond belief at being found out 💕

MARVEL RIVALS - LOKI LAUFEYSON With a Shy Secret Admirer Headcanons!

Note(s): I'm sorry this came out a bit late, college stressed me out so bad my body and mind did a factory reset. I'll be trying to finish the rest of my requests weekly.

"Oh?" Loki's eyes are light, something unusual for the trickster. Almost eager, they flick between you and the paper that's held loosely in his hand, the usual hint of amusement in his upturned lips. "You wrote these? Well, I can't say I'm not flattered, but you are aware I've been courting you for quite some time, yes?"

You and Loki would most likely know each other prior to you becoming his secret admirer, after all, he is a bit of a flirt and you're most likely one of many that he's charmed over the years. But, for him to accept your proposal, which is how I intend to write this as to avoid angst, he would need to reciprocate your feelings. In short, he'd probably be actively courting you while you do this.

It'd mostly be insignificant things, not killing you, maybe paying you a compliment every now and then, and maybe, just maybe, if he's feeling generous he'll find it in his heart to give you a gift. Typically it's jewellery, something that reflects him, gold with green jewels are his favourite. Necklaces are a no brainer, they're so easy to spot, and it's so easy to tell who it's from, too (You'll be lucky if he doesn't engrave his name on the damn thing).

Of course, he loves to tease you. It's so fun to see you squirm and try to hide away, even if he can't see the effect of the blood rushing there, he likes to hold a hand to your face every now and then to see if it's hot. One of his favourites is to whisper plans of mischief, and maybe try and get you to tag along in his next prank or attempt to steal the throne, it depends on his mood, really.

Infuriatingly, however, you don't seem to pick up on his obvious flirtations. He immediately decides that's an issue on your part, but he'll indulge you and give an extra flirty, witty remark every now and then. Wait- you're still not- oh you frustrate him endlessly! He's got half a mind to smite you, you know!

The thing is, Loki enjoys a good mystery and a thrilling hunt, but what he wants most of all is to be adored, worshiped, have thousands at his feet begging and pleading just for him to spare them a glance. So, when he starts getting little trinkets wrapped in bows, with papers written full of heartfelt devotion... Well, how can a God refuse such wonderful praise?

It's around that time of annoyance and pining, his stubbornness refusing to allow him to confess first, you must make the first move as it's obviously you who is obsessed with him, that he actually begins to receive your gifts. In such random places too, sometimes even tucked in the pocket of his clothes! Not that he doesn't admire the bravery to do such a thing.

At first he doesn't really look deep into it, he's content to find the very obviously placed gifts and doesn't care much for where they're found. As long as he's getting the attention he rightfully deserves, he doesn't care who it's from. Why should he need to know who loves him when he's being loved either way?

But, when he does want to find out this secret admirer's identity, perhaps in a ploy to make you jealous and confess, it's when he realises that it's you. The handwriting, the way of speaking, grammar, punctuation, and the nail in the coffin is when he catches you placing a note in his quarters while invisible.

This works out brilliantly.

Not only does it confirm in Loki's mind that you're utterly infatuated and obsessed with him, but it makes him believe that you were secretly aware of his courting all along. That you, given your shy nature, had done this to play into his trickster personality. He can't say he isn't impressed by your wits! (Someone please get him a reality check...)

Naturally, Loki plans something sweet yet embarrassing for his your confession, and despite his want for love and attention, he supposes that he'll make it a private affair. After all, he does want you to admit your love for him and giving you a panic attack would probably only drive you away.

The gardens are certainly beautiful this time of day, not bright enough to burn your eyes but not dark enough so you can't see, it's perfect. Not to mention quiet. Many people prefer to admire the gardens after their meals, either in the morning or in the night, but strangely never the evening, which leaves you by yourself. It's peaceful.

Yet the peace, as usual, is interrupted by a certain prince.

You turn around when you hear your name being called, your brows shooting upwards when you realise it's Loki. What could he need? Is he planning another prank? No matter, either way you're clearly involved. So, you wave a friendly hand and hope that you can ignore the sickly butterflies in your stomach that flutter harder when the sound of his shoes click closer and closer towards you.

"I want to speak with you." Loki hums, coming to a halt only a meter away from you.

You ask what he wants to speak with you about and he searches in his pocket for a moment until he finds a small piece of paper, holding it out in his palm almost like an offering. It looks familiar. Hesitant, you feel your fingers pinch a corner and take it for yourself, dread setting in your stomach as you realise. He figured it out.

When you look up sharply to explain, his face is inches from yours. The action causes your cheeks to get unbelievably hot, and even if the blood rushing to your face isn't visible, Loki knows you, he knows your tells. "I admire your worship, darling." He whispers, eyes narrowing as a sly grin grows on his lips. "But I would prefer it to be in person."

[pastorfutureletthembe]

I love YINGDU as it is

I don't think I'll read these interviews everyone is talking about :/ I thought hard about it, I've read the general points of it, but I don't think reading them will make me enjoy YINGDU more. Quite the opposite actually.

Me: thank you but no thank you. Later maybe. Love you, still.

I don't understand why they had to get interviewed to clear things up. By why, I mean, this situation is fucked up and I don't get how things got like this in this industry.

First. Can't the fans just wait and see? We're grownups, stop treating us like children who cried to get a lollipop. We'll still be here next year. Trust your fanbase.

Second... in what kind of world were the animators under pressure to the point they created plot holes and new timelines by accident? I'm extrapolating but, for real, how fucked up is it that they decided to rush a show that popular for the sake of airing it early? I'm sorry, was the money we spend on merch every few weeks not enough? I'm just mad at the production, honestly. Because they made a big mistake.

They're rushing in like bulls in a china shop. The character PVs were a mistake as well. They should have been released after YINGDU, to manage our expectations on characters that were yet to be introduced. I used to think it was an actual teaser, a window on how Lu Guang saw them or what they will become because of Lu Guang's meddling with the timeline. Now, I'm starting to think they needed strong marketing to get people's attention.

The whole thing makes my viewer experience less than optimal. So I'll keep writing meta but I won't take these interviews into account. 🧩Meta is for fun🧩, mere interpretation, only fanon, and that's okay. Meta is gamble. Meta is character study and theories on plot twists.

✨And that's okay✨

We're not suppose to write season 3 in advance. So it makes sense to me to keep having fun on what the show and the official content bring us. But as far as I'm concerned, the interviews didn't happen. It's not denial, just-

When I was studying cinema in university, my teacher once told me a very harsh truth: if you have to explain the sequence you filmed, then you didn't film it right. Sadly, in this context, production limitations were at fault but the lasting impression is the same.

Do you realize how insane it is that a creative team has to spell their work out to their fans? How humiliating it must be? There's revealing easter egg, teasing next season, spilling spoilers on accident, and then there is whatever that was. I feel for the creators and animators who worked themselves to exhaustion to bring something as beautiful as YINGDU to life. Because this season? It isn't perfect and it's inconsistent and different but no one can call it ugly. I would lick my screen because the image does look tasty lmao. My heart bleeds for all the people involved in this season.

Meta is trying to understand and noticing easter eggs, honouring the writers and animators' work X

Of course, that's only my stand on the topic. I might take different directions in my interpretation than others, that's all. Aaaaaand? Yes. That's okay 🥰

As an artist myself, I feel like the situation is kind of disappointing for the people who worked on YINGDU. That's why I'll take the canon as it is. I don't want to mourn what could be or should have been. I want to enjoy what is.

Meta is diving in the depth of symbolism X

As a fan, I get that we're happy with every nugget of information on what's coming next. The lore in Link Click is still blurry and while I honestly want to believe it is an artistic choice and will stay under control, I can't help but fear it's the result of bad writing. But. What if it is? Meh, I'm still here, enjoying myself. Because I love this show as it is, I see the flaws and the beauty in it. I'll be there.

Meta is love and each of us expresses it differently X

[asexualbookbird]

It sure has been a Year huh. Ups and downs this month, as life happens. Saw friends I haven't seen in years, went into the city and met new friends, tried new foods, saw some birds, tried new crafts, read new books.

The Fireborne Blade by Charlotte Bond ⭐️⭐️⭐️ - Hm! Interesting! Didn't hate it, but something feels missing? Almost like it could've benefited from being at the very least a short novel. It needed more. I also have qualms at this being pitched as sapphic when there is no romance at all and the main character talks a lot about being betrayed by her last romance with a man. One mention of Woman With Hot Thighs. Not mad I read it, might even read it again.

That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Demon by Kimberly Lemming ⭐️⭐️ ‐ I'll be honest, one star is Mean but I had a lot more fun reading Fourth Wing and that was two stars. The tone is what dragged this one down for me. It reads like YA, but it's very much not. I do not believe for a second the MC is 24, she doesn't act like it at all. The sex scenes. Are there. I could make an entire post about the book ending on them having penetrative PiV sex. Part of my grievances are me not liking the genre, but I truly think this just isn't that good. Plenty of people on the internet write better more filthy works for free. Why was this sitting unassumingly on the library shelf.

*amended to two stars if this is indeed satire

The Dead Cat Tail Assassins by P Djèlí Clark ⭐️⭐️⭐️ - Fine. Not much to say because it was Completely Average. Not mad I read it, but don't wish to repeat the experience. I think maybe Clark isn't an author for me, as I recall feeling similarly about A Master of Djinn. It's not so much that the characters or world feel flat, but something definitely feels missing. It was silly and lighthearted and gory and I did like that though!

The Spellshop by Sarah Beth Durst ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ - Another hit from Sarah Beth Durst. I see your Themes. I see your Tropes. Kindness. Found family. Accepting help. All personal attacks on me. Adorable, fun, some sort of cross between T Kingfisher and Becky Chambers, I didn't want it to end, and now have a name for my spider plant. It also seems like I need to get my spider plant a friend.

The Woods All Black by Lee Mandelo ⭐️⭐️ - I have very mixed feelings about this that are really summarized as This Wasn't For Me. I like the idea that yeah you're a monster but someone loves you anyway. I like using the monster to punish those who called you one. I think there's some very specific midwestern religious trauma that I'm missing to really Get It, though. On top of that, while I recognize the themes and significance in the age gap, a 30 year old going after an 18 year old icks me out. I'd still recommend it with very very heavy reservations.

The Spare Man by Mary Robinette Kowal ⭐⭐ - Going to be honest, I just finished this and I'm already moving on. The writing was fine and I'm not put off of the author entirely, but I never felt wowed. I was annoyed more than anything. I didn't love any of the characters, but I didn't really hate anyone either. The amount of people Tesla let pet her service dog drove me nuts. The ending felt slapped together. It never really felt cohesive. I feel vindicated reading that fans of her other books also were unimpressed with this. I wouldn't steer people away from it, but I didn't have a lot of fun.

I'm tentatively excited for February. I have art ideas I'd like to get started on, I am working on a craft thing that I might be able to profit a bit off of, I'm flat out ignoring the world, book club is approaching. I'm looking for good things in the world, and I will find them. That is a threat.

[dchuntress]

Subject: Re: Extension Request

Hi Madi,

I had your sister in my class two years ago. Samantha O'Reilly was sharp, determined, and never backed down when she knew she was right. She believed in Gotham and its ability to get better in a way that, frankly, inspired me. I remember helping her with her essay for college applications, and I knew then if anybody was going to revolutionize Gotham's healthcare, it was her.

It hurts to hear that she's gone missing. But I do not believe that Scarecrow has the power to change her, to take away who she really is. She may be manipulated, she may be roped into his schemes, but she isn't lost, my dear. She is in trouble. And those are not the same thing.

She needs us to believe in her more than ever. And I need you to have faith in yourself, too.

Take the extension. Take all the time you need to cope and focus. If doing schoolwork gives you something steady to hold onto, then do what you need to do. But by no means think that you need to prove something by burning yourself out, Madi. You are brilliant and dedicated, and you don't need me or my opinions to know that. Your well-being comes first.

If Scarecrow is recruiting, then he is expanding, and I need you and your family to stay far away from his radar at all times. Keep your routines unpredictable and your location private. Stay with people you trust and be wary of anybody new who take an interest in you. If anything ever feels off — strangers watching you, cryptic messages, odd delivers, friends going missing — let me know immediately.

Scarecrow preys on fear, but he cannot really destroy you, Sam, or anybody else in this city. Not in a way that matters, as long as we remain steadfast even in our nightmares and our uncertainty. I understand how helpless this feels, and I don't have the right to tell you not to feel that way. The trajectory of your lives may have changed irreversibly, and things might not be the same.

But what I will tell you is that the love you have for Samantha is far more powerful than whatever Scarecrow throws in her way. Don't give up on your sister, Madi.

And do not, even for one second, think you are alone in this: you are not. Sam has people looking out for her, you have people looking out for you. You have me in your corner, by your side, always.

So, do not hesitate to reach out for anything. I mean that, Madison. Take care of yourself.

All my love,

Helena

Huntress doesn't care that that by now Scarecrow is intimately familiar with what makes her tick, what makes her crack, what makes her falter. She doesn't care how fortified his lair is; numerous lackeys ready to launch into bloodshed in an instant, the air reeking with gases and chemicals threatening to send Huntress spiralling down, breaking down, hesitating. She doesn't hesitate. Helena's spent weeks tearing through Scarecrow's operations — destroying labs, cutting off supply chains, thinking she was making a dent. And still, here they are. Another name added to the list of Gotham's stolen, neglected, forgotten. Another bright mind warped into something ugly. All that Huntress cares about right now is getting Sam out of there and back home in one piece, alive and breathing. She doesn't care if Madison's sister is already brainwashed beyond recognition, if she might resist at every step of the way out. That's a problem for later — for Oracle, for Batman, for Zatanna, for anybody to undo. Huntress' job is extraction. Making sure there's someone still left to save. Huntress doesn't care how deep into the darkness Scarecrow has dragged Samantha. She's pulling her out.

—

Subject: Re: Interview With The CatWoman

Hi Ananya,

Well, of course, you would be the one to track down Catwoman and persuade her to do an interview. I'm not all surprised, and I am perhaps a teensy tiny bit impressed.

I must admit, this is not what I was expecting. And I do hope you're staying safe, young lady, I'm not thrilled that you got that close to such a volatile situation. But I understand how these things unfold.

That being said, you showed great initiative and quick thinking. You saw someone who made a real, tangible impact on your surroundings, and you found an unconventional yet necessary perspective into your work. That is the heart of analysis and good storytelling.

No signature? No problem. I'm obviously not going to ask you to chase down her just for an autograph and risk getting clawed. And let's be honest, Ms Catwoman doesn't strike me as someone who enjoys leaving paper trail behind. Some people let their actions speak for them.

And that’s the thing, isn't it? The point of this assignment isn't to necessarily scout out a well-known superhero, but to find someone who makes a difference, someone who helps out. You don't need a badge, a title, or anybody's permission to do the right thing — you just do it.

Your interview was solid, and I’ve given you a good grade. Take a look at my feedback in the attached scan when you get the chance, though — there are a few areas that could use some refining. You’ve got a great story here, kid. Let’s make sure it's told right.

Nice work. Stay safe.

Best,

Miss Bertinelli

[ Attachment: I_Interview_Catwoman_scan.pdf ]

The fire escape isn't the most comfortable perch, but it gives her a decent vantage point. And it's a good enough spot to read Ananya's work thoroughly, annotate, and get a glimpse of a side of Selina Kyle that Huntress doesn't see much. The side that steps in, the side that doesn't let drug dealers get away with thinking they can take advantage of young minds, the side that answers a bubbly, young teenager's questions with warmth, charisma, and a signature flair that's uniquely, intriguingly hers. The side that gives a damn. Catwoman is nothing less of a wild card, but Selina has a good head on her shoulders — draws lines that she doesn't like to see get crossed. The Cat always lands on her feet, and tonight, Huntress wonders if she'll land on the right side. If she'll give another damn and show up. Catwoman isn't anybody's idea of a hero in the traditional sense. But again, neither is Huntress. Selina knows the darkness that prevails on the broken, vulnerable streets of this city; all-consuming and never forgiving. Helena knows that darkness too. The kind of darkness that chews up and spits out anybody into a hollow husk of their selves. The kind of darkness they both refuse to be caged by any longer. The kind of darkness they won't let engulf innocent kids anymore. Huntress hopes—prays for Sam's sake that Selina will hear her out. And extend that listening ear to Pamela, whose brilliance rivals that of Crane's. His brainwashing isn't impossible to tackle, but it spreads rapidly throughout the nervous system. Ivy might know how to reign those in before it's too late. And Catwoman might be able to convince her to step in. And maybe — just maybe, if Helena's prayers are heard, Selina might just know the darkness well enough to predict where Gotham's missing kids go when the rest of the city falls asleep. It's a long shot. But long shots are all Huntress has.

—

Subject: Re: pokodot man stole my shirts and i have nothing to wear for the trip :(

Hi Ken,

Are you and your mom safe? That's my main concern.

That being said — seriously, Ken? Polka-dot shirts?

I'll be honest, this is a first, even for Gotham. This city truly never runs out of weird. I have no issue excusing the class trip, but I will need more details before I write "Absence due to polka-dot-related crimes" in the attendance log. Please ask your mother to call me when she has a moment and we'll sort it out.

Best,

Miss Bertinelli

Seriously, the Polka-Dot Man? Scrounging the local laundromat and looting some kid's shirts that won't even fit him? The mental image alone should've made her laugh. Gotham's walking eyesore, some washed-up D-list villain, shifting through other people's laundry baskets — and possibly the bargain bins at joke shops for a suit upgrade. But Huntress didn't. Not a lot of jokes were really that funny in Gotham. They tended to die and rot out in your mouth before you could spit them out. There was the simple set-up:

Some ridiculously, mind-numbingly, garnish gimmicks and corny costumes that'd even make a two-year-old roll their eyes. And then there was the punchline:

The bloodbath that spilled all over for rogues to lap, the homes that were left in ruins. Or a laundromat, in this case. A flick of Abner’s wrist sent a cluster of neon dots whirling through the air, and Huntress barely dodged in time — one of them piercing straight into a dryer, causing it to blow up on impact. The polka dots weren't really just a bad fashion statement. They were weaponised — hot, colourful, searing disks flung at her with deadly precision, sizzling against the concrete like dying stars when they missed. The next one sliced through her thigh, drawing blood with a burning tenacity. Yeah, she wasn't laughing. And Huntress didn't think for even one second that Abner Krill was just dillydallying at laundromats, but she wasn't going to stroke his ego either. "The Suicide Squad kick you to the curb or something?" She taunted, as she dodged a buzzsaw dot and rolled behind a vending machine. "Didn't think you were shaking down dryers for spare quarters now!" A beat of silence after that — the dots have come to a halt. A pause long enough for her to peek out. For him to give her a smile. "You think this is about the laundry, Huntress?" Abner stood there, casually twirling a glowing dot between his fingers. "You think this is all I'm doing? You don't think I'm capable of anything greater?" Abner laughed a loud, joyless laugh. "You're just like my mom, Huntress." "Gross, dude," Helena shot back, swiftly placing a bolt in her crossbow. "Why? Mothers are like bridges, you know..." His smile broadened, but never reached his eyes. "People trust them without question." His smile fell. He flicked his wrist — And she fired, and — The dot and the bolt met in a thunderous crash. In the back of her head, she wondered if his quip was just some dumb, random, stupid inside joke she wasn't supposed to get, and — Huntress really wished she didn't.

—

Subject: Re: ...

Hello Malik,

I need you to listen to me very carefully. Thank you for trusting me. I know this is a scary situation to be in, but you did the right thing by letting me know.

I want you and your dad to stay safe. If you have family somewhere else, consider staying with them for a while. Otherwise, I can send you a list of trustworthy places you'll be safe — shelters, community centers, mosques.

Be selective in whom you trust at this time. Trust your judgement. Keep your head down, avoid drawing attention, and if you notice anything suspicious, don’t try to check it out on your own. Just leave, get somewhere safe, and call for help. You're doing the best you can already.

And listen, kid — whenever you feel like you’re out of options, whenever you want to shout into the void, whenever you think no one's listening? I'm here to hear you. You can always tell me anything. Everything you say will stay between us. If you're worried about your dad knowing, I won't say a word to him.

I'm very sorry the police aren't taking this seriously. But I believe you, Malik. And I know some people who will believe you too. We will figure something out together.

We will keep our city safe. And that starts by keeping ourselves safe.

Okay?

Stay in touch.

With love and prayers,

Miss Bertinelli

Her heart aches. God. Good God, why — why is she the only adult that Malik can trust? That's — that's not right! Malik doesn't know that his teacher wields a weapon uglier than a pen. Malik doesn't know that her face is slick with blood — blood that's not hers. Malik doesn't know the ugly things she does in the nighttime to secure a brighter morning for other people. But Malik has faith. He trusts that Miss Bertinelli with that information, he trusts her — a schoolteacher — to do something about a citywide threat. This isn't a fight she can win on her own. So, mirroring that trust, she casts the net wide, spreading his warning like wildfire and hoping it reaches the right people — enough people. Oracle's Birds, the Bat's brats, the few independents that don't answer to Batman, and hell, even a handful of rogues that hate Joker more than they hate Huntress. Anybody outside of Gotham willing to cross the distance just to get their punches in. Some of her allies are still en-route, others have already started petty brawls in proximity, few are monitoring the area, some are waiting for the right moment to strike. But her gaze is locked on the bridge: it's still in one place. Blood rings in her head and burns in her eyes. The bridge isn’t just that — it's a crucial artery of Gotham. One wrong move, one wrong incision, and — And it won’t just fall. It’ll crush. Families. Homes. Futures. A graveyard that symbolises their failure to protect Gotham's innocent, effectively punishing these people for not being able to afford to live elsewhere. That caked-faced bastard picked his target well. Damn him, damn him, damn— Tears sting her eyes. She doesn't know if she can do this. She doesn't know if her allies of the night can save the day in time. She doesn't know if the bridge will stay intact. She doesn't know if they'll prevent casualties. She doesn't know how it ends tonight, and what happens tomorrow. (But Huntress has faith.) Something cold and solid brushes against her boot, snaps her out. She looks down and picks it up. A crowbar. Her grip tightens. The last time one of these was in the wrong hand, a young child died screaming. As if life means nothing. He took an innocent life — as he always did, destroying lives beyond repair, beyond redemption, beyond reprieve. (Never again.) And tonight, he has set out to claim thousands of lives, millions more in collateral damage. But that won't happen. No. No more families torn apart. No more children left in despair. No more bodies will be piled up at his feet. Because it won't be the damn bridge that falls.

(Never again.) Because Huntress has faith. She touches the cross at her throat, and remembers she is here. (NEVER AGAIN.) She brings the crowbar down — breaking the metal and a lackey's bone simultaneously. Reloads her crossbow. Marches ahead. Beside her, movement. More figures joining the fight. Allies, reluctant or otherwise. Capes, good and bad alike, drawn to this fight like vultures, like wolves, like something holy. She doesn't stop to look back. "Let's finish this."

—

Subject: Re: Library Suggestions

Hi Eden,

You're smart to trust your gut. If something smells fishy, it's probably not for no reason.

Here are some safer options:

• Hemingway Community Library: Well-lit, quiet, good security. It's run by the volunteers in the neighborhood, so the staff actually care.

• Eastpoint Library: This one's near your aunt's workplace. Might make pickups easier. Oh, and Sol Azteca is close by — you two should stop there for the carnitas tacos. Best in Gotham.

• Gotham City Public Library: Not super close, but it’s just one bus stop away. A friend of mine works there, Dr Gordon. She’s nicer than she looks — if you need anything, you can always approach her.

• The Woolf & Austen Bookshop: My personal pick? This bookstore on 5th and Wilburn. Good coffee, quiet atmosphere. I drop by there a lot. A little farther out from the school, but it's near my apartment. I don't do any grading here, I promise.

• If none of those work for you, let me know. I’ll help you figure something out.

And don't apologize for reaching out. You deserve safe spaces. Always.

Take care,

Miss B

Huntress follows her own gut, too. She steps into the library and immediately smells it: Not old books, not dust, not coffee — chemical rot, dense in the air. It’s a lab. A drug operation. Of fucking course. The same bastards who occupied Miriam's apartment basement have moved their operations here. The same ones Selina stopped from selling drugs to kids. Gotham’s rogues aren’t criminal masterminds. They’re roaches. The kind that refuse to die, that scurry to a new corner when the light exposes them. The kind that don’t learn their lesson until their heads have been shoved into a bookshelf hard enough to make them beg for a third chance. Unfortunately — or otherwise — Miss B doesn't know how to quit either.

one of helena bertinelli's students emailing her at 12:59 am asking if it's too late to submit their assignment now since their house got burned down due to gotham incidents:

helena bertinelli responding at 1:07 am after grading their work and reassuring them it's fine even though she's literally yet to take care of the third degree burns on top of 500 other fatal injuries she just got from her other job:

[redpill-tfs]

How dare you go around forcing these intelligent strong-willed guys into taking that dumb pill and turning them into this pretentious clown right wingers! I would never submit to this obsurdity!

I believe you mean "absurdity." You feeling alright? Maybe you shouldn't try to use such big words. They just confuse you after all. A big dumb guy like you should stick to small words.

I see you didn't notice my men behind you. The injection was given successfully. A syringe filled with a bright red liquid. The pill can take many forms. While I prefer the classic, we needed to find other ways to deal with those "less willing" to see things our way. The effects are the same though.

Your body ages to your mid thirties. You grow taller, raising up to 6 ft 4. Your jeans almost look like shorts now! Your chest expands outward, giving you a commanding presence. Your shoes and socks are ripped off as your feet grow to a size 13. Your hair turns a nice light blonde with a trendy haircut. Can't look sloppy in your new role after all.

Now let's get you dressed. You need to be professional in your line of work. Let's start with this white dress shirt, crisp and form fitting. There we go. Now a set of blue dress pants. Just stick your legs right in there... No don't struggle. You want this deep down. Perfect. Now for the necktie. A nice navy blue should do it. A matching jacket over top. Don't you think the gold buttons really bring out your eyes? Finally, a utility belt to bring it all together. So many tools for your new job.

From the look of utter horror on your face, it seems you've figured out what you are now. That's right. You're going to be one of the boys in blue. A true loyal MAGA cop, completely devoted to the system you once fought so hard against. I have your badge right here. I'll just stick in on your jacket here and kick off your reality change.

Gone are your days of protesting the system, fighting for the right for women to kill their babies, protesting the so-called "racial injustice" committed by cops. You're a true man now. You joined the police academy right after high school against your liberal family's wishes. They wanted you to go to college and create a better life for yourself but you weren't about to be brainwashed by the liberal institutions. Not that you were smart enough to go anyway.

You met the love of your life not long after and married her after graduation from the academy. You two have been happily married for 15 years now, three wonderful boys under your belt and a little girl on the way. You love your children more than anything, being sure to raise them right. You and your wife take them to church every Sunday without fail, raising them on the traditional values you wish you had growing up. Your oldest organized a protest at his private school against a student wanting to form a Gay Straight Alliance and you couldn't;t be prouder of him. You have no time for queers trying to indoctrinate your children with that bullshit. They're much too young for that.

Well Officer Jackson, I think it's time for you to get back out into the city. There's word of nationwide protests against our dear president and his administration and you'll need to preserve law and order. I'll give you some red pills to take. You never know, a protester might just decide to get violent. and need to submit to some corrections...

[elliesglock]

I’m gonna say this in a way that I hope makes sense, but PAZZI DENIERS… WOWW they are so oblivious. My whole thing is that Paige is OBVIOUSLY gay. And even if people have a hard time believing Azzi is, I think it’s pretty clear. They’re so attached to each other in a way that just wouldn’t make sense for two grown adult women, and if you can honestly look at the US Open photo and tell me they don’t give married couple… well maybe you need a new set of eyes. THEYRE SO IN LOVE

honestly, their attachment would be normal if they were like 16-17 years old but they are grown ass adults NOBODY AT THAT AGE is doing the stuff they do with their best friends. again it's just because it's shipping they don't believe it. i don't know how u can watch the us open and think they're not together. they're trolling or sum

[zablife]

@peakyswritings What an incredible finale, Reb! You should be so proud of every word you've written over the past year bc this is a masterpiece. (And it's only the first act! Squealing with glee that we're getting more after this!)

I can't believe we've come to Tommy x Nina's wedding day already! Tho they're forced to marry under less than ideal circumstances, their union feels deeply satisfying. The way Nina finds reassurance by staring into Tommy's blue eyes made me melt 🫠 I love that he makes her feel safe with him. However, I also appreciated how you explored all her emotions surrounding the marriage. Her fear of losing her dreams is wonderfully realistic.

As for her family's reactions, I can understand the bitterness of their disappointment and I'm hoping their opinion changes over time. (Obv that hinges on how Tommy treats her. Don't fuck this up, Tommy!!) Ngl her father's cold silence stung. I'm trying to remind myself that he's prob still in shock tho, not to mention melancholic over sending away his only daughter. In the end he did give his blessing and will face fall out with his brother which is an enormous sacrifice.

Hooray for Pietro being the voice of reason! His strategy proves he'll make a successful and compassionate leader one day. I'm so happy he was the one to tell her about the decision. I love the fact that he acknowledges her ambitions and encourages her to do everything she's dreamed of. He makes me so hopeful for the future generations of the Ferrante family!

I wasn't sure how Salvatore would react, but I had the biggest grin on my face when I realized he would support her. Gifting her the family knife is such a lovely gesture and def not something I would have expected from him. I think Nina is right, if not for the war, he would have been a v diff person and he's attempting to show that side of himself here. (In many ways I feel he's much like Arthur which makes me curious to see how she'll handle her brother-in-law with his fits of temper.)

I'm anxiously awaiting the next part to learn how Nina acclimates to her new home (and family)! Poor girl has no clue about the chaos she's walking into 😆

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

CHAPTER 14 - EPILOGUE OF PART ONE

Summary: All hell has broken loose in the Ferrante household. There’s a choice to be made, and too little time to hesitate.

Warnings: time-typical misogyny, arranged marriage, mentions of forced marriage, mentions of killing, mentions of violence, mention of beatings, a bit of an age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s). This is set between season 1 and 2. English is not my first language.

A/N: nothing for now, but I left a note at the end of the chapter. I got quite sentimental and rambled a bit, so I decided that it would be best to leave it there.

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“According to tradition, they should get married at dawn, before word spreads,” Pietro paced around his father’s office, arms crossed, brain striving to find a solution to the predicament the family had found itself in. “But it’s too late for that.”

He snorted, wiping his face. The lack of sleep was starting to get to him. He hadn’t gone to bed after talking to Nina, he couldn’t imagine trying to sleep while the household threatened to collapse and implode. Moreover, he knew he would find his father awake as well, and he had been waiting for the chance to speak to him alone all evening. The meeting had been nothing but a mess. Everybody was too angry to think or act clearly, and they had accomplished nothing.

“Your uncle Mario has spoken against it,” his father shook his head. “And I can’t blame him. Shelby humiliated Agnese by…” he paused, grimacing. “Engaging with your sister. He wants him dead.”

“Uncle Mario has no head for business. We can’t afford to act out on revenge, not right now. If we listen to him, we’re fucked, you know it too.” Stopping in front of his father’s desk, Pietro rested with his left palm upon the wooden surface, slightly leaning in. “Imagine what would happen. We kill Shelby, we lose our ally against Sabini. And on top of that, we’ll have that mad brother of his seeking revenge,” he said, punctuating his speech with his finger.

“But if we give Nina to Stefano, we’ll seal our alliance with the Spinietta family.”

Pietro scoffed, raising his eyebrows. “The Spinietta family would betray us without a second thought, if that granted them the chance to rise, family or not. You forget Giuseppe Spinietta killed his own brother to take charge of the business. I wouldn’t be surprised if Stefano and Vito followed his example, someday.”

His father tapped his fingers on the desk, squinting his eyes. “So what do you suggest that we do?”

“We get Nina and Shelby married tomorrow, in secret,” he straightened his back. “During the night, or at dawn. Then we put them on the first boat to England.”

His father got up in an abrupt movement, taking a few steps away from his desk. He rubbed his mouth with his palm, pondering. “You want me to turn my back on my own brother?”

“It’s the only way.”

“He’ll never forgive me.”

“He will, when Shelby’s men help us in our war against Sabini.” Pietro crossed the room with long strides, until he was standing in front of him. “If uncle Antonio was here, he’d tell you the same thing.”

“But he’s not here, is he? And I don’t know how happy he’ll be when he finds out we made a decision without consulting him too.”

“Dad, this isn’t about us getting all along,” he said lowly. “This is about us averting a war we don’t need.”

The silence Pietro got in return told him he was finally getting through to him, and it spurred him to go on. He placed his hands on his father’s shoulders, looking him right in the eyes. “I can tell you’re not just worried about uncle Mario. You’re worried about Nina, about sending her away overnight. I am too. But right now, this is the best thing we can do for her. I don’t trust aunt Rita to stay quiet about what happened. If word spreads, she’s ruined.”

His father’s eyes traveled across his face as he took in his words, his expression indecipherable. At that point, Pietro could only hope they’d have the desired effect. Saying more was hazardous, and he had already pushed his luck by talking to him that way.

Long moments passed before his father nodded, more to himself than to him, a bitter smile making its way on his face. Then he affectionately patted him on the cheek. “One day, it’ll be you taking my place. I guess I should start letting you make decisions.”

Nina watched as the first rays of the sun filtered through the lace curtains, hues of amber and violet lightening the dark room. She hadn’t been able to sleep all night, tormented by thoughts of helplessness and guilt. What up until a few hours before had been nothing but a haze had finally taken shape in her mind, forcing her to face the mess she had made. Yet, there was still a missing piece, a doubt that nagged at her brain, a question she just couldn’t find an answer to.

How did it happen? Was there a turning point that had caused the unfolding of that unrelenting chain of events? Or was it a result of something so gradual she didn’t even notice it until it was too late?

Useless musings, she was aware of it. It had happened, no matter when, no matter how. Somewhere along the way, she grew to care for Tommy, and it made her reckless. It made her careless. So careless that she would leave her home, her family, everything she had ever known for the man who her cousin was supposed to marry. She felt like a terrible person for it. God, she was a terrible person. The vicious things she had said to Agnese that afternoon still haunted her. Agnese, who all her life had shown her nothing but kindness. She had ruined everything. For her cousin, for her family, for herself. And the worst thing was, despite the mess, despite the danger, and the risks, and the pain, - she did not regret it. She did not regret him. Because she had never felt more alive than she did with Tommy. When everything was dull and hopeless, he had lit a spark inside her, and that spark had bursted into a flame, and that flame had set her soul on fire. How could she ever regret something like that?

A soft knock on the door cut through her thoughts. Winston promptly raised his little head from his spot next to her, his yellow eyes snapping toward the source of the noise.

“Come in,” she said faintly, so faintly she suspected whoever had knocked couldn’t even hear her. But the door opened, revealing Pietro’s tall frame in the semi-darkness.

“I have just finished speaking to dad,” he said gravely, taking a few steps inside the room. He was still dressed as the previous night, and from the tired look on his face, Nina could tell he hadn’t closed an eye, just like her.

She anxiously scanned his features in search for a shift, a clue she could read to get her answer. But his expression was cold as stone. “And?” she enquired, fidgeting with her own fingers.

Pietro exhaled deeply through his nostrils, placing his hands on his hips. “He agreed,” he nodded, fixing his gaze on a point straight in front of him. “You’re marrying Shelby.” There was no inflection in his voice, nothing that could betray whatever emotion he might be feeling.

Nina’s breath caught in her throat. She blinked, letting his words hang in the air, afraid that it was only a trick or her own imagination, a counterfeit reflection of her hopes. “Are you serious?”

Her brother shifted his dark eyes on her, giving her a single nod. “Yes.”

Yes. Her father had said yes. A wave of relief washed over her, and she felt like she had been given back the air taken from her a few hours before. Tommy was safe. He’d be fine. They’d both be fine. She rubbed her eyes with her hand, holding back the sudden tears that had gathered. She hated feeling so emotional, so weak, but she couldn’t help it. And as the realisation sank in, something else came to the surface. Fear. Until that moment, marriage had been nothing more than a distant hypothesis, a possibility, a chance. Now it was awfully real, with all its implications, and risks, and consequences. Because it didn’t matter how strong her feelings for Tommy were, she had no certainties. She was jumping into the void not knowing where she’d land.

The mattress sank beside her, and a warm hand rested on her shoulder. “Chi fai, chianci?” Pietro taunted her, his tone softer, but still bearing a hint of reproach. (What are you doing, you’re crying?)

“No,” she sniffled, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Letting his hand fall, he leaned with his back against the wall, his shoulder brushing against hers. For a while, neither of them spoke. There wasn’t much to say. She had brought trouble upon the whole family, she knew that, he knew that. Nothing they could say could undo what she had done, no amount of anger and resentment could make them go back and change it. And Nina had already paid enough. The split lip their father’s heavy hand had left her with was proof of that.

It was Pietro who broke the silence. “If two months ago someone had told me you’d offer to marry a man just to save him I wouldn’t have believed them.”

Nina shook her head, the shadow of a smirk playing on her face. “Me neither.”

“You were supposed to do something more.”

Those words came like a stab. There was no malice in them, just pure, painful truth. A truth everyone around her had forced her to forswear, to lock away in a drawer as yet another hopeless dream. In her heart, she had always known she was meant for something more, that she would never be able to find her happiness in marriage and family, but the reality of things had hit her too hard way too many times.

Nina clenched her jaw, her mouth going dry. “I tried.”

“And you will try again,” Pietro murmured, like a statement of fact. “Because this is who you are.” A shadow of melancholy darkened his eyes. He let out a sigh, dropping his gaze to his hands. “I’m sorry I abandoned you after I came back from the war. I should’ve done more for you, I should’ve forced dad to see what I saw. Maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe-”

“You did enough,” she interrupted him, but there was no harshness in her voice. “Dad only sees what he wants to see.”

Their father was a stubborn man, and he had his own beliefs, beliefs he had already betrayed by allowing Nina way more than any other father allowed his daughter. Asking him more meant asking him the impossible.

“And…” she pondered her next words, playing with the hem of her nightgown. “This is not a sacrifice. Not completely, at least.”

She didn’t need to look at him to know that Pietro was scrutinising her, waiting for her to go on. For the bomb to drop.

“I care about Tommy,” she revealed. “I might not know what my life would’ve been like had things been different, or what my life will be like a year from now, but I know that I care about him. And that’s enough, for now.”

Her words sounded foreign to her own ears. She had never dared to say it out loud before, and yet there it went, coming out of her mouth as the simplest of truths. She felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Because finally she could admit it to herself. Tommy Shelby had bursted into her life and made her question everything she thought she knew. He had made her feel things she never thought she’d be able to feel for anyone, he had taught her to see him. To love him, without neither of them realising it. And now that she knew how it felt to see and be seen, she wasn’t sure she could just let it go.

When she glanced at Pietro, a small smile tugged at his lips. Her eyebrows knitted in a confused frown. She could swear he was disappointed in her up until a few minutes before. But again, what went through her brother’s mind would always be a mystery to her.

“You’ve always done as you pleased,” he said. “You wanted to finish school, you finished school. You didn’t want to marry Spinietta, you didn’t marry Spinietta. Now you have decided you want to be with Shelby. God knows what you’ll do when we won’t be there to keep an eye on you.”

Despite his attempt at a joke, his voice bore a sadness that pierced right through her, and that she immediately recognised as her own, too.

We won’t be there to keep an eye on you.

That would be the last day she spent at home, with her family. She wouldn’t wake up to her mother’s rants anymore, or to her brothers’ fighting. She wouldn’t sneak into her father’s office to read when she’d need some peace, or cover up Winston’s shenanigans to prevent her mum from throwing him out the house. There was no telling when they’d get to see each other again. She pursed her lips, forcing herself to smile. “I guess you’ll find out.”

“I hope so,” he whispered. He turner to look at her, and when he spoke again, his tone was deadly serious. “You can still do what you want to do. This doesn’t have to be the end.”

She hoped he was right. She desperately wanted to believe he was. But that was the kind of thing only time could tell. She nodded, her eyes travelling to her window. The sun was rising above the horizon.

“Pietro, I need to talk to Tommy.”

She felt him stiffen beside her.

“You’ll have plenty of time to talk after you’re married,” he said dryly.

“Please.“

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright. But there are men watching, and they don’t know why Shelby’s confined there. They can’t see you. I can distract them, but you’ll have to be quick.”

Nina nodded frantically. “I’ll be quick,” she promised. “I just need a minute with him.”

“Fuck!”

Tommy’s voice resounded in the small room as he angrily kicked the door. He had been locked in there for hours, like a lion in a cage, waiting to be freed or put down. He had been brought to some kind of shack in the middle of the Sicilian fields, and left there to go insane. From the considerable number of pits he had caught a glimpse of before they pushed him inside, he could tell that was the place where the Ferrante family made people disappear.

Chances were, someone was digging a fresh one for him that very moment.

It was quite the exit, killed miles away from home, then thrown in a shallow grave where no one would ever look for him. All because he had fallen for the wrong woman. Again.

He sat on the edge of the small, uncomfortable bed, and dropped his head in his hands. That was not how it was supposed to go. Things had taken such an unpredictable turn in such a short span of time he could hardly believe it. Some part of him expected to wake up in his bed, in his house in Small Heath, and find out that all of that had been nothing more than a strange dream. He wondered when and how his family would receive the news. If they’d receive the news, or they’d be left to come to their own conclusions. If they’d grieve him, or only grieve the things he wouldn’t be get to give them anymore.

How foolish had been of him, to think he could have a chance at happiness. To think he could find someone whose mere presence seemed to heal the most wounded parts of his soul and keep them. Maybe what Campbell had said to him a few months before was true. Men like him weren’t meant to be loved.

The sound of keys hitting the lock startled him from his musings. His head snapped towards the door, heart racing. He was unarmed, but he could still fight. He was a soldier, for fuck’s sake. And a gangster. He had cheated death more times than he could count, what was one more?

He jumped to his feet, waiting. And it took him more than a moment to realise it wasn’t death who had come for him. It was Nina.

“Nina…”

Before he could say anything, she closed the door behind her and threw herself into his arms, holding him with a strength he had never imagined she could possess. He promptly wrapped his arms around her, burying his nose into her hair, her scent soothing his frayed nerves. She was there. She had come for him. He tightened his grip around her, scared that she was only a figment of his imagination, that she would slip away and disappear at any moment.

“Are you alright?” she asked, pulling away just enough to check. She cradled his face in her hands, frowning as she got a glimpse of the cut above his eyebrow.

“I’m fine, love,” he reassured her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, lowering her gaze. “I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.”

Tommy’s heart clenched in his chest. “Hey, look at me,” he said hoarsely, running his fingers through her raven hair away to move it away from her face. He gently took ahold of her chin, his thumb ghosting over her split lip. “Look at me. I don’t regret anything. You hear me? No regrets. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Nina put her hand on his, then brought it to her lips to place a tender kiss on it. “We need to talk,” she murmured, and sent a quick glance towards the door. “But we need to be quick.”

Tommy swallowed hard, feeling the muscles in his back growing tense. He had to remind himself that yes, Nina was there, but that didn’t mean they were safe, not yet. “Go on.”

“The peace will stand. My father and Pietro are planning to make us get married in secret,” she explained, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “Then they’ll send us away. By the time my uncle finds out, it’ll be too late.”

He nodded, taking in her words. He should’ve felt relieved - and he did, to some extent -, but there was a doubt, a fear that stung at the back of his mind like a thorn by his side. Was it what she wanted? He wanted it, he knew it, and he had told her more than once. But she had never expressed the same wish. Not openly, at least.

She must’ve noticed the way he had wavered, because something changed in her expression. “If…” she paused, uncertainty flashing across her face. “If that’s what you want.”

Tommy quirked an eyebrow, tilting his head. “Well, it’s marriage or death, eh?”

Nina inhaled deeply, averting her gaze.

“Nothing has changed for me, Nina,” he said softly. “I’m just worried that this might not be what you want.”

She jerked her head up, shooting him a disbelieving look. “What part of ‘I’m yours’ did you not get?” she reminded him of what she had said to him the previous morning.

Tommy couldn’t help the grin growing on his face, a warmth he only felt with her spreading in his chest. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss on her lips. God, he had been wanting to do that since she had walked through that door.

“Tommy, wait,” she stuttered, gently pushing him away.

He looked at her in confusion. What, now?

“There’s something I need to tell you before we go through with this,” she said, taking a step back. “I mean, it’s not like we have much choice at this point, but still...” She sighed, searching for the right words. “You… you need to know. I don’t want you to jump into-”

“Nina, just speak,” he said firmly, putting an end to her rant.

“I don’t want children,” she blurted out. “I mean, I don’t want them now. Maybe that will change, maybe it won’t. But there’s a chance it won’t change, and you need to know.”

Tommy blinked, a frown making its way on his face. That was what worried her that much? He already knew. She had never put it in those words, but from the things she had said to him in the past, he had imagined it. And it wasn’t that big of a deal, for him. “It’s alright. We can wait until you’re ready.”

“What if it’s never?”

“Then we won’t have them, we’ll be careful,” he assured her. He let out a sigh, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Nina I want you. Fuck the rest. I love you. You don’t have to say it back, but I want you to know.”

Something unreadable flashed across her eyes, and he wondered whether he had made a mistake, by telling her. But he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore, he had to say it, cause had been eating at him for days. And she needed to know that what they were about to do wasn’t for nothing.

A soft knock on the door interrupted them. Nina glanced behind her. “I need to go,” she whispered, giving him a quick peck on the lips. A bitter disappointment filled his heart. He didn’t want her to go just yet. And a part of him had truly hoped she’d say it back to him.

When Nina walked away from him, she brought with her the warmth that had engulfed him, and he was left feeling almost cold, despite being in the middle of the summer. Before she walked out the door, she turned to face him, as if she had just remembered something. “Winston’s coming with us,” she stated in a tone that brooked no argument.

A throaty chuckle escaped his lips. “Yeah, Winston’s coming with us.”

She smiled in satisfaction, moving to walk out. Then she stopped again, turning to him one last time. “And Tommy?”

“What?”

“I love you too.”

Having placed the last of her bags in the hallway, Nina took one last look around her bedroom. It had been left almost completely untouched, she didn’t have the time nor the space to take all of her stuff with her. Her desk was still scattered with papers and notebooks, her favourite candle was still resting on the bedside table, her dresser was still full of books. Only her diaries had been safely packed in one of her suitcases. Her eyes trailed over all the things her grandmother had hand-painted for her when she was little: the little flowers on the closet, the bluebird on a corner above the door, the ivy on the side of the dresser. She couldn’t believe she was about to leave it all behind. The place that had watched her grow up, play, fight. The place that she had hated, cursed, that she had so desperately wanted to flee from. The place that would always have a part of her soul, despite everything.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to turn the light off and walk out the door. It was past midnight. It was almost time.

The door of Salvatore’s bedroom was open. They hadn’t talked since the previous night. He had been avoiding her on purpose, ignoring her questions, pretending not to see her, changing room whenever she walked in. She didn’t even know if he’d attend the wedding.

Gathering her courage, she peered into his room. He was facing the window, adding cufflinks to his pristine white shirt. From the way his back stiffened, she could tell he knew she was there, but he didn’t turn around, nor did he utter a single word.

After a moment of hesitation, she spoke. “Are you coming to the church?”

No answer.

She cleared her throat, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Is that a no, or…” she trailed off, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

Again, no answer.

“You’re still so angry with me you won’t even say goodbye?”

Salvatore’s movements came to a halt. He slightly turned his head, looking at her from the corner of his eye, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. For a moment, Nina thought her words might’ve gotten through him. But he didn’t face her. Instead, he walked over to a jacket laying on the chair in front of the desk, and started fumbling in one of the pockets. She frowned, watching as he took something she couldn’t see out of it. As he then approached her with slow steps, she couldn’t help but tense.

Salvatore had become unpredictable, over the past couple of years. He had always had a temper, but the war seemed to have taken it to the extreme, turning his anger into a dormant beast, ready to bite and devour at the slightest trigger. A part of her felt guilty for even thinking that he could ever do something to her. But she hadn’t forgotten the way he had tried to hit her the day before, and the spiteful look in his eyes as he dug his fingers in her arm.

However, there was nothing menacing in his demeanour when he stopped in front of her. He stood tall, proud as usual, but there was a hint of sorrow on his scarred face.

“I know you stole a knife from me a few years ago, and I know you always carry it with you,” he revealed, his lips curving in a grin. “But I thought you should have something more…”, he paused, searching for the right word. “…suitable.”

Nina immediately recognised the switchblade. She knew well the intricate design of its bone handle, the roses painted on it. The family knife. All the men of the family had it. Her father, her brothers, her uncles, her cousins. She carefully grabbed it, turning it in her hand. Its lightness was impressive. She flicked it open in one swift motion, pleased by how easy it was to handle. She read the incisions on the blade. Che la mia ferita sia mortale on one side (May my wound be lethal). Ferrante on the other.

“You don’t forget who you are,” he said, his tone grave. “In less than twenty-four hours you’ll have his surname, but you’ll always be a Ferrante.”

Nina closed the knife, raising her gaze on her brother. For a split second, she got a glimpse of the boy he used to be. The loud boy who bothered her, who pushed her around, who found many different ways to make her angry. And she could swear his eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

Suddenly, he pulled her to him in a harsh, tight hug, and at first she had no idea how to respond. Her family, including herself, had never been too physical, and they often felt awkward when it came to displaying affection. Yet, it didn’t take her long to warm up. She wrapped her arms around him, hiding her face in his shirt. They’d never gotten particularly along, they’d had a considerable number of fights and disagreements, but he was still her brother, and she would miss him. She would miss him so much.

He placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Si ti tratta mali, iu vegnu e cci rumpu li gammi.” (If he hurts you, I’ll come break his legs.)

The small church smelled of incense, wood and stale beeswax. The pale, timid rays of dawn filtered though the stained glass, eerily falling on the crucifix statue at the rear of the altar. Christ’s tortured face was the only thing Nina could focus on as the priest’s voice reverberated through the stone walls. From where she was kneeling next to Tommy, he seemed to be staring right into her soul.

Her family was standing on the side, and by the looks on their faces, the function looked more like a funeral rather than a marriage. Her father’s expression was a mixture of pain and shame, her brothers were stoic, and as for her mother, she didn’t have the slightest intention to make an effort to hide her discontent. Maria had always wished for her daughter a beautiful wedding gown, a church full of flowers and candles, solemn music. Instead, she got nothing but a short, hurried ceremony. No readings, no elaborate vows. Just a quick ‘yes’, the bare minimum to fix her situation. Then she’d be gone.

Vincenzo Ferrante had taken care of everything. He had instructed the priest on what was to be done, and made sure the language barrier wouldn’t be a problem. Tommy would just have to express his consent. Then, after the ceremony, a car would bring them to the dock.

Nothing had gone as expected. And the Ferrante family could’ve never imagined that after Tommy Shelby’s arrival, they would never be the same.

As the priest spoke, Nina couldn’t make herself listen to him. The crushing weight of an unknown future was slowly descending on her shoulders, growing heavier with each second that passed, trapping her in its dark, icy grip. Fear had taken root inside her, and it was gradually draining her of every ounce of courage she had left, turning it into a poisonous lymph than ran through her veins, to her heart.

In all that darkness, she found herself praying. Praying that things would turn out fine. Praying that she hadn’t been a fool, by following her heart. Praying that she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life. Never before had she so strongly hoped that there was a God listening. Lacking the blind faith of the believer, she didn’t often pray. Yet, right now it was the only thing she could do. But it wasn’t a Father she was turning to. No. She had always thought that if there was a God, it must’ve been a woman. No Father could love so unconditionally, no Father would ever die for his ungrateful children’s sins. It was the kind of sacrifice only a Mother would make. And the act of creation had never belonged to men. So she prayed that good, nurturing Goddess she desperately wanted to believe in to welcome her plea and protect her like a loving mother.

As if sensing her agitation, Tommy subtly brushed his pinky finger against hers. It’ll be alright, he seemed to say. That fleeting contact was enough to bring her back to her senses, but it hardly calmed her rising panic.

When the priest started to ask the questions, her heart began to race. Tommy shifted his gaze on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do the same. She was afraid that one look in her eyes would be enough for him to know what thoughts were poisoning her mind.

“Thomas Michael Shelby, vuoi accogliere Anna Ferrante come tua sposa nel Signore, promettendo di esserle fedele sempre, nella gioia e nel dolore…” (“Thomas Michael Shelby, do you take Anna Ferrante to be your wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and in bad…”)

She took a deep breath, trying to escape the fog gathering inside her head.

“Nella salute e nella malattia…” (“In sickness and in health…”)

Marriage. An unbreakable vow. An arrow that, once shot, could never be retreated.

“Di amarla e onorarla tutti i giorni della tua vita?” (“To love her and to honor her all the days of your life?”)

“Sì,” Tommy’s deep voice resounded through the high walls.

She froze, her fears finally gaining the upper hand. Was it what she truly wanted, or just what she thought she wanted? Was she doing the right thing? Would she regret her choice? Was she betraying herself?

“Nina,” Pietro hissed, snapping her out of that whirlwind of thoughts.

Without her even noticing, the priest had asked her the question, and was now waiting for her answer. Everybody was. She gulped, turning to look at Tommy, whose features were now full of apprehension. But she didn’t find the unknown that had scared her so much, in his blue eyes. She found the safety he had made her feel, the love he had shown her through every glance, every word, every touch. Slowly, she let her doubts drift away. She wasn’t scared because she didn’t trust him. She was scared because she had never thought of herself like someone who could be loved, and it felt foreign, and hard to believe.

The words her brother had said to her echoed in her mind. This doesn’t have to be the end.

She bit the inside of her cheek, gathering her courage. It was Tommy, just Tommy. He loved her. She loved him. She could still do the things she wanted to do.

So she said yes.

The land slowly faded into a dark silhouette as the ship sailed farther and farther away. Nina’s eyes strove to hold on to it, refusing to move until it became a black dot, and then disappeared into the distance.

Her heart felt astoundingly lighter.

She leaned against the railing, watching as the light reflected off the crystal water, sparks dancing across the blue expanse of the sea. She had ripped off her roots, mercilessly severing them one by one, and found herself surprised to acknowledge how easy leaving was once she had eradicated herself.

There was just one thing weighing her down. She would never forget the look in her father’s eyes when they said goodbye, or his silence when she asked him if would ever forgive her. In her heart, she knew he’d never be able to look at her the same. Although kept secret, the stain of shame had dried all over her name, and it could never be washed away.

Shame. That word had been following her like a shadow ever since she was a child. She became scared of it before she even knew what it meant. It hung over her head, carrying the terrifying promise of a wretched fate. A four-headed monster whose dreadful eyes watched her every step, waiting for her to fall.

It would have to wait a while longer. Because there were lots of things to be ashamed of, but love was not one of them.

She glanced at Tommy, standing next to her against the railing. Smartly dressed, with his peaky cap on and his gun poking out of his jacket, he looked just like the first time she saw him. She couldn’t notice it in the church, too overwhelmed by her own thoughts. He rubbed a cigarette between his lips, then placed it in his mouth, his gaze lost in thought. Like her, he was probably just processing everything that happened. She wished she could enter inside his mind, only for a moment, to know what was going through it. If, now that they had taken that step, there was any kind of regret taking shape inside it. But when he shifted his blue eyes on her and gave her a playful wink, her worries started to fade. His look was still as full of love as it was in the church.

“You’ve survived my family,” she said, lightly nudging him with her elbow. “Now it’s my turn.”

A wide grin grew on his face, which he concealed by lighting the cigarette. “I think you’ll fit in just fine,” he murmured.

Nina shook her head, her own lips curving in a smile. She wasn’t that scared anymore. The unknown opening in front of her felt more like a chance, rather than a threat, and she was ready to step into it. But there was still a needle digging into her brain, one it would take time for her to get rid of.

“Tommy,” she grabbed his attention, her tone dead serious.

He turned to look at her, his eyebrows twitching slightly as he waited for her to go on.

“I’m trusting you. Don’t make me regret it.”

A/N: We’ve come to the Epilogue of Part 1, and I still can’t believe that over the course of almost one year and a half it became what it became. I wanted to take a moment to thank all of you who have followed Nina’s journey up until now, and those who will continue to follow it in the next parts. To those who have left comments, and asks, and engaged constantly with it. I may often be late with my replies, but I can assure you I remember each one of you. The loved you have showed to this story has been so important for me. A special thanks also goes to my wonderful mutuals, who have joined this mess and shown endless support. And for those of you who will continue to read this, be ready, cause this is far from the ending. I’m so excited to move forward, and I hope you will be, too🤍

Heart, Body and Sould tag list

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @outlanderuniverse @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

@look-at-the-soul @gathania93 @wonderlanddreamer @thelastemzy @meadows5

@mischievouslittlecreature @seedlings-stuff @misslittlegetou @strangeobsessed

General Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella

@caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark

@jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

@lunarubra @rangerelik

Tommy Shelby tag list

@50svibes @bellabarnes1378 @jbrownta

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Golden Girl Texts

Written for @jolapeno's Dear-uary challenge. I chose to do texts between Dieter and Golden Girl throughout their friendship. General warning for drug and drink mentions... it is Dieter.

Thank you to @devineconjuring for her help and accepting my rambles. She also made the Sweets bride pic much more ~Golden~

The texts start from when Warren & GG get engaged and end at Dieter leaving for London at the end of So It Goes.

FYI, the texts receivers switch. Check the top first for whose phone it is. 🫡

Blue is Dieter. Pink is Golden Girl.

✨July, 2016✨ Dieter’s Phone

There’s that familiar hot pit in his stomach, it burns brighter as he zooms in on the ring. Fuck. He should have done something… or at least told you how he felt about you, but instead he stayed quiet, finding solace in illicit substances and people. He’ll respond tomorrow. Right now, he’s going to pop some pills, fuck someone, and try to forget the text. 

✨September, 2016✨ GG’s Phone

Oh Sweets, you're too good to everybody around you. Too good at finding the best in anyone. A broken man like him doesn't deserve your concern. He hits repeat on "Self Control" waiting for the lines that always makes him think of you:

Wish I was there, wish we'd grown up on the same advice And our time was right Keep a place for me, for me I'll sleep between y'all, it's nothing

✨April, 2017✨ GG’s Phone

Why are you zooming in on the picture of your husband's best man? Why do you wish he was sitting on the lounger next to you at this luxury five star resort? Why does Warren have to insist on working during your fucking honeymoon? Why is it only 1 PM and you've already had three piña coladas?

✨September, 2018✨ Dieter’s Phone

You got it. Your dream house with the picket fence and the pretty lawn. You got the large backyard with the picturesque view. You're going to fill that home with cool art, unique finds, and beautiful memories... and he'll just be a visitor.

✨January, 2020✨ GG’s Phone

New Years is bullshit. It's something he's always believed, but it's made worse when he has to watch the woman he's in love with inside her beautiful home kissing her husband at midnight. Bullshit.

✨August, 2020✨ Dieter’s Phone

You call Dieter, he answers all bleary eyed with a huge smile lighting his face at the first sight of you. You talk to him for three hours, comforting him, telling him all of this will be worth it. You put a package of cookies in the mail for him the next day.

✨September, 2020✨ Dieter’s Phone

Of course you're happy for him. Of course you don't know that when he stood at the altar in that dingy Las Vegas chapel and Anika walked out, his heart sank when he realized she wasn't you. Of course you don't know he's already miserable.

✨April, 2021✨ GG’s Phone

You knew it wasn't going to last, but you still wanted to believe that maybe one day Dieter would find his soulmate.

✨June, 2023✨ Dieter’s Phone

Damn, he's getting brave with these mixes.

A selection of songs from Dieter's playlist For Sweets #16

"Sun In The Morning" - Future Islands

"Pretty Please" by Dua Lipa

"Red Eyes" by The War On Drugs

"Amoeba" by Clairo

"The Color In Anything" by James Blake

"Bodys" by Car Seat Headrest

"Foreign Kicks" by We Are Scientists

✨June, 2023✨ Dieter’s Phone

Dieter doesn't answer, as amazing as Vegas sounds. Frankly, he's sick of Warren and his bullshit. He barely even recognizes him these days... he wonders what you think.

✨September, 2024✨ GG’s Phone

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

october 1, 2021 4:15 p.m. grant's house

[juhani] hello? grant, can i call you tomorrow? it’s late.

[grant] no, you can’t. i know it’s 11 o’clock where you are right now, and i don’t really care. you answered, so you’ve trapped yourself.

[varpu, faintly] juha, if you don’t talk now, he will never call you back.

[juhani] i want to speak with you, of course i do, it’s just–

[grant] fantastic, because that’s what we’re doing. we’re talking! i have 30 years of stuff to get off my chest, and i'm sure you have your own piece to share. not sure where to start, but.

[juhani] may i ask you a question? what did you overhear at dinner the other night? are you upset i'm moving? is that it?

[grant] i mean, that stung a little after the whole “i’ll be around to build a relationship with you,” thing, but i gave you my express permission to go home, so it’s whatever. we are both adults, so i am not going to fault you for making adult decisions that improve your life. i'm more upset by you claiming you didn’t tell me about your plans or include me in the moving and wedding stuff and whatever because i'm difficult.

[juhani] that’s not what–

[grant] oh, come on. don’t kid yourself. you said it yourself, anything involving me is like pulling teeth. i heard it loud and clear.

[juhani] well, when i tell you things, you never react well. it always goes precisely like this conversation is going.

[grant] really? never? because i remember being pretty positive about your proposal and about you contacting me in the first place and about coming to dinner to acquaint myself with varpu’s kids and about meeting varpu a while back…

[grant] what i react poorly to is you leaving me out, you calling me difficult, you complaining about me in front of impressionable people, etcetera.

[juhani] i don’t want to leave you out.

[grant] that’s what varpu said, too, but i didn’t believe her, so why would i believe you?

[juhani] i have no idea how to interact with you. i've apologized to you, told you i regret the events of your childhood. nothing works.

[grant] do you regret it? because it kind of just feels like you’re doing the same shit again. abandoning me for your own self-interests. oh, and this time you’re replacing me with a brand new family you treat better.

[juhani] i'm not repl–okay, what would you prefer me do when you push me away? you told me i was difficult.

[grant] when did i say that? i mean, that's true, sure, but i would not say that to you. what i probably said that you’re misconstruing is that talking to you is hard because i'm not comfortable around you.

[juhani] and how long will it take you to be comfortable around me? i don’t know what else you want me to do. truly, i don’t, and it is not pleasant to be rejected endlessly.

[grant] well, i'd have to forgive you, but i don’t. if forgiveness was meant to happen, it would not be instant. you’d have to keep trying with me, even if i piss you off, even if i push you away. you’re my fucking father, it’s your job. you show up for your kid even if they’re horrible or annoying. you never turn your back on them. but, you know, you didn’t show up for the first 22 years you were around, so you’d have to try extra hard now to change my mind.

[grant] but honestly, i will never be comfortable around you. i've realized that over the last few days. i did actually think if you just kept trying, i'd relax and be less on edge, but nope. you could become an honest-to-god saint tomorrow, and i'll still be furious because nothing will make me understand why you couldn’t have been a decent person when i was a kid. like, when i needed you.

[grant] and i don’t get why you weren't. i don't. i'm serious. i can’t comprehend it. clearly, you have it in you to be a decent person. you love varpu's kids. you're fatherly towards them. you take them on vacation, you invite them to house and wedding venue tours, you tell them about and include them in your hobbies, you remember details about them, you smile at them without being forced, you go to their weddings and don’t flip out about them being queer even though you were viscerally disgusted with me when you found out–

[juhani] you shouldn’t bring them into this. it isn’t fair. and i've taken you on vacation before, for one.

[grant] i am being petty, but i think it's fair because i'm not shitting on them specifically. and yeah, okay, you took me on vacation once. you took me to finland exactly once, but i never met your family, and i remember nothing other than the plane rides.

[grant] and you shouldn’t do this. we don’t need to split hairs. you don’t need to crawl through that list of grievances and “well, actually” me as many times as you can manage. one vacation changes nothing. that does not erase all the times you sat there like a lame duck and ignored me or mocked me or let my mother abuse me. there is nothing for you to pat yourself on the back about.

[grant] nothing.

[juhani] so, what are you upset about now?

[grant] why?

[juhani] why what?

[grant] why are you like this? why were you a terrible father? why have no heart for me or my sisters? why did you save all your love for someone else’s kids?

[grant] oh, and how about cerise? you sure didn’t care about your bastard kids either, did you?

[grant] shit. i'm sorry. that just kind of came out. that’s not how i wanted to, you know, pepper that into this conversation. i was going to save that for the end.

[juhani] how do you know about her?

[grant] doesn't matter. it's a long story.

[grant] on that note, what is up with the secret daughter? how’d that happen? is she the only one, too, or should i be on the lookout for any other siblings? and hey, you only divorced my mother in the last few years, so you were cheating. how many times did you fuck around on her, and why would you? you wouldn’t divorce her because you were afraid of her, but apparently it's no big deal to cheat.

[juhani] grant, how can i answer you if you don't allow me to talk? cerise’s mother michelle is a doctor. your mother and i were both at a conference in detroit about healthcare outreach, and…

[juhani] i know it seems contradictory, given how long i stayed with your mother, but i was unhappy in the marriage. i met michelle there at the conference, and she was kind and intelligent, and i suppose the rest of the story should be obvious to you.

[grant] goddamn, man. i hate my mother, but that’s bold: sleeping with another woman right in front of her face.

[grant] did she ever find out?

[juhani] eventually. you remember how she was with the finances. she tracked all the money going in and out of the household. you couldn’t have one cent go missing without being accused of something, and she’d always blame it on some incident with her brother and start ranting about him.

[juhani] look, the agreement with michelle was that i'd stay out of her life and send child support, and she wouldn’t interfere with my family either. i used to lie and tell your mother the child support funds were going somewhere important, but she didn't believe me very long. she did finally question me and find out the truth.

[grant] and?

[juhani] in hindsight, her reaction reminds me a lot of the one she had when you lashed out at her during your graduation dinner. very little left her speechless, but that did. initially, i should clarify. she would go on to never let me live cerise’s existence down.

[juhani] and to answer your question, as far as i know, cerise is the only other child.

[grant] as far as you know?

[juhani] i cannot rule out further surprises.

[grant] jesus christ. my grandmother is right, all men are dogs, but you most of all.

[juhani] does it upset you that much?

[grant] again, i don’t like my mother, but if i needed any more proof that you’re more spineless than a sea sponge, this is it. you were so unhappy with my mother that you’d cheat on her, but you’d not divorce her when your kids were vulnerable.

[grant] you disgust me. you slept around and thought with your dick before you spared a single thought for the kids you let my mother abuse. or for yourself! fuck you. if you’re going to be that selfish, at least be selfish enough to prioritize yourself and leave the woman making you that miserable!

[grant] and now i don’t believe you when you say you wouldn’t leave her back then because you were scared of her. do you seriously mean to tell me it’s less terrifying to cheat on her than to just walk out of the house and never come back?

[grant] i did that, you know? when i'd had enough of my mother, i told her as much and then never spoke to her again. and guess what? wouldn’t you be so stunned to find out she’s never tracked me down, never tried to call or email to reel me back in? she left me alone after i told her to go fuck herself!

[grant] and technically, you know it's possible to leave her, too. what did you say about the divorce? that she just rolled over and let you do it and was fine with you just coughing up all the assets and dipping?

[grant] exhibits A, B, and C that she’s a coward, too. she thinks she’s the boss, but if you fight back hard enough, she gives up. you could have left her at any point in time.

[grant] god. oh my god. you stupid, spineless motherfucker. i thought i'd maxed out on anger. apparently not!

[grant] you really could have been a better father. you could have had your whole little life overhaul decades ago, and you could have saved the entire family so much pain. you, me, elizabeth, kelly…

[grant] i should have suspected as much, and i guess i did, but it's shocking to realize over and over just how useless you are as a father. i think it can't get any worse and then it does. you are a complete and utter failure as a parent.

[grant] this is why i can’t forgive you. you didn’t have to mess up so badly. but no. whatever you got out of the relationship was enough to convince you to sit there and watch my mother ruin all of us, and even thought you weren't happy with her, you got by with fucking other women and only regretted staying a billion years later when you noticed you had nothing of substance left in life but my mother. and that’s a pretty depressing way to live, isn’t it?

[juhani] i stayed because i thought we deserved each other.

[grant] with that attitude, maybe you did.

[grant] listen, i'll admit this, no problem. it’s no one’s fault that she is the way that she is. it’s not even yours. she’s abusive, and what she does to other people is her fault and her responsibility. she’s excellent, too, at convincing you to just go along with it and never question her. it's not that hard to get caught in her trap at first, and she will try her very best to break you. but at some point, you have to question anyway. at some point, you have to recognize you deserve better and do something about it.

[grant] but you didn’t. not until it was too late for it to mean anything.

[grant] i would never think i've done everything right, but in the end, i've respected myself enough to make better choices and do something about the situation i was in, and i've had to do that because the adults in my life weren’t responsible or organized enough to fix things before responsibility fell into my hands.

[juhani] you are a braver and a better man than i.

[grant] i'm glad i am, but do you know how exhausting it is to be brave all the time?

[grant] i am because you weren’t. it is entirely because you failed. you weren’t brave enough to give a fuck about yourself or your kids, so i've had to be brave my entire life. brave enough to survive my childhood, then brave enough to leave. and guess what? i don’t want to be brave. i just want to exist. and back then, i just wanted to be a kid.

[grant] just a kid.

[grant] i wanted to come home from school and play with my pokemon cards and hear my mom and my dad say, “hi honey! how was your day? we love you!" i didn’t want to live in fear of what horror would befall me each and every day.

[grant] fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. you stole my childhood. you stole elizabeth’s childhood. you stole kelly’s childhood.

[grant] you and my mother, but you could have done something. you could have given us our childhoods back. you could have done something! you should have done something!

[grant] you didn’t have to do everything right even. parents mess up, i know that, but you could have at least tried. the bar was on the floor. i would have over the moon living in a single parent household with a father who at least showed up to my hockey games if he wasn’t busy at work and gave me a hug every once in a while.

[grant] and you know what, you did more than steal our childhoods. because you couldn’t stand to sacrifice your comfort long enough to take care of your kids, we all have to live in permanent hell. i have to spend the rest of my life freaking out when someone walks up behind me or speaks too loudly or–god forbid–touches me! it took me years to finally learn not to flinch when someone high fives me! and kelly–i don’t know what she deals with, but i know her life can’t be peaceful.

[grant] again, i am not blaming you for what my mother did–i know she was not kind to you either– but i do blame you for not even trying to stop her or get away from her. you were an adult with power, and you didn't use an ounce of it. actually, you did use it, just not for good. you threw me specifically under the bus because it was easier to let my mother use me as a punching bag than you.

[juhani] you’re right.

[juhani] you’re right, grant.

[grant] i have nothing else to say, short of "fuck you" again. i think i'm done yelling at you.

[grant] no, wait, one last thing. what did you even see in my mother in the first place? what was so enticing about her that you’d stay with her so long and ditch your college sweetheart for her?

[juhani] i don’t know. i don’t know anymore.

[grant] i guess it was two people drawn to each other's misery.

[grant] great. well, that’s all, folks.

[grant] good luck with the new family. maybe you can make it right with someone else and enjoy a totally fresh start because you will never make it right with me, and i will never let you forget what you did to me and my sisters. and don’t lose varpu again, by the way. she is, like, far out of your league–so far it's not even funny–and you are lucky to have this second chance with her and to have a good relationship with her kids.

[grant] also, just so it's clear, i don't want to speak to you anymore after this. don't call me, i won't call you either, except in one circumstance. i'll consider it on the day my mother kicks the bucket. we can toast to the end of that chapter of our lives and hope that the haunting ends. because surely you have to feel a little haunted, too, right? i have a sinking suspicion that’s why you reconnected with me. you don’t care about me. you care about that fresh start, about making yourself feel better about wasting your life and fucking up everyone around you.

[vi-is-badass]

Haha. Love that we've abandoned the idea that we're not writing essays.

I want to start off by agreeing with a few of your points. I can definitely see the threads you pointed out about Viktor always having a negative view of his disabilities. I hadn't really thought of Viktor's flashback that way, but I think I like the way you framed it more because it feels more cohesive. I appreciate the new perspective!

I also completely agree with your points about Silco in the alternate reality. Silco's personal beliefs and philosophy were so incompatible with Vander's by the start of the series that I simply cannot believe that the letter would mend things between them. I think you put it better than I could.

Caitlyn's arc in act 1 was also another point I completely agree on. Her descent into authoritarianism is fascinating and the way the show frames Caitlyn's "justice" as hypocritical is brilliant. I also completely agree that it fizzles out. (I have a lot of thoughts on that. Question: What do you think is the biggest reason for that? I have my own thoughts, but I'm curious to hear yours)

This response is going to have a lot to do with Vi because I have a lot to say about her and the way she was written in the last act. (unlike a lot of people I love the writing for her in acts 1 and 2, but feel like the last act is where her arc didn't work)

I agree with most of what you wrote. I only really have 2 points of conflict.

The first is that I don't think I agree with the idea that Vi shouldn't necessarily play a vital role in the final battle. There are 3 main reasons for that. (wow brevity is not my strong suit)

1. I think the idea you presented that "even the best efforts of a strong, kindhearted person can't overcome the cold reality of oppression and war" my issues come from the story and framing around it.

In season 1 Vi's inability to stop things or prevent the outcomes that occur aren't framed around that idea. Or more accurately I don't feel like they were intentionally framed around this idea. Instead, they are framed around her inability to accept change and move forward.

The most blatant example of this is in the bridge scenes in episodes 1 and 7. In those scenes every character's role is reversed except for Vi's. The enforcers are the ones on the ground with Jinx being the one shooting them. It's a direct mirror of what happened in the first episode, but Vi is still the "helpless child" who can only observe the destruction and try to protect the person she's with (though she doesn't fully succeed).

Because she was in prison she's essentially been stuck in stasis for 7 years while the world moved on without her. She hasn't had the chance to grow like everyone else.

The tragedy is that her understandable struggle to accept change in season 1 inevitably, unintentionally pushes Jinx further away.

Season 2 act 1 continues that thread and has her reject the reality in front of her. "My sister is dead." She can't accept that her sister has changed and become Jinx, so she rejects that reality and insists that the "monster" that is Jinx killed Powder. It's only when she's about to kill Jinx and Isha jumps between them that Vi recognizes her sister again. Her denial is shattered. Jinx is her sister. She can't deny change in the world or in her sister anymore.

Act 2 continues this thread and shows that she has grown to the point where she can accept change. The end of episode 5 is only possible because Vi trusts Jinx, sees her as an equal/adult rather than someone to protect, and embraces this changed version of Vander. She is no longer desperately clinging to the version of her family from her memories.

I personally feel like Vi's inability to bring about the outcome she wants is framed more around this flaw than the thematic idea you presented because of how much of a core pillar this flaw is to her arc.

If the end of episode 6 was framed around the idea you put forth and her ending in episode 9 wasn't framed like a "happy ending" for her (I don't personally think it's happy, but the show seems to want to frame it that way) I would be able to accept from a thematic level that Vi's lack of substantial impact on the final battle makes sense.

But I'm not sure it truly fits even if I agree that Vi's kindhearted nature is what the show framed as what was preventing her from making a substantial impact. Ekko, Jayce, and Mel are all framed as morally good, kindhearted characters who are trying to do the right thing and yet they are all integral to the final battle.

Maybe I misunderstood what you meant by your statement. You can disagree with me and counter my point if you want. I think your points are very interesting and I'm willing to listen.

I want to make it clear that I do think the idea you presented is very interesting and tragic. Vi is a genuinely kindhearted person and presenting a counter to the typical belief that the protagonist with a good heart can save the day is such a fascinating idea. Outside of rare examples in fiction like The Hobbit, which is written by a man highly critical of war, you rarely get a story where the protagonist doesn't do something to shift the outcome of a climactic battle/war. I just don't feel like that was what the show was intentionally implying.

2. Vi is the only main character that has no substantial impact on the final battle.

This is a big one for me because every other character does something that makes it so they can't be removed from the final episode. Caitlyn and Mel take on Ambessa and are the ones that take her down. Jayce and Ekko are the main reasons Viktor is defeated. I already wrote what Jinx does to impact the final battle. They are all essential for the story to play out the way that it does.

Personally, I feel like that's what should happen in the climactic battle of your story unless you're making a bigger statement through the decision to have the character be unimportant.

3. A lot felt like it was dropped with Vi in the final act. There were so many threads and arcs that the show set up for her that were left feeling incomplete.

Vi's lack of impact on the final battle could have been easier for me to swallow if her arc felt complete.

In season one and the first two acts of season 2 Vi is struggling to find her place between the cities of Piltover and Zaun. She doesn't quite fit into either one. In the first season she's alienated from Zaun because she's just gotten out of prison after 7 years and Zaun has changed without her so she doesn't recognize the city or its people. She struggles to find the community she once held dear in a Zaun morphed by the man that killed her family. In the second it's due to her choice to join the strike team. Even if it was with good intentions she still joined their oppressor and became a "traitor". And she doesn't fit into Piltover because of the prejudice held towards Zaunites even though her only real tether after getting out of prison is Caitlyn-- a pitovan.

Unless you want to believe that the answer is simply "by Cailtyn's side" that thread isn't resolved. At least not in a direct way.

She also doesn't know her place in the world. She was never allowed to be an adult and discover what she wants to do or what she wants to be. League lore dictates that it's eventually to be an enforcer, which I guess we can infer she became off screen either between the meeting and the final battle or between the final battle and the epilogue, but the fact that it's not really addressed and doesn't happen onscreen I don't really count that.

They don't really allow Vi to move past her guilt and responsibility. She feels responsible for what she did to Powder as a child, she feels responsible for what happened to Mylo and Claggor and Vander at that warehouse, she feels responsible for what happened to Caitlyn and her mother. She feels immense guilt and responsibility due to her parentification as a child and what she perceives to be her failures as a big sister to Jinx. I am a little confused at to how the last act allowed Vi to move past any of this. Maybe I missed something the writer’s implied or something, but I didn’t see what moment or beat was meant to be Vi moving out from under the weight. I get that Jinx tells her that she isn’t Vi’s responsibility (absolving Vi in a sense of the responsibility she feels for her and what Jinx went on to do) but if that’s the conclusion (plus her getting together with Caitlyn) it felt half baked to me.

Why would Vi move past her guilt after all that? Wouldn't the way that Jinx "died" (Jinx isn't dead but Vi believes that Jinx is) just add more guilt onto her shoulders? Wouldn't she view this as another failure on her part? She "made the wrong choice" and Jinx had to sacrifice herself for her as a result. (I don't view it this way but Vi likely does unless she worked through it off-screen)

I think a lot of my issues could be solved through a few of the fixes you already presented yourself. Vi interacts more with the firelights or an expansion on Vi's thoughts about Caitlyn's descent into authoritarianism outside of guilt, etc.

Now onto my second point of contention: Jinx's ending. I agree and disagree with you.

I firmly believe she didn't die, so that colors my perception of this ending, and because of that I feel like the ending on its face is good for Jinx. She finally succeeds in protecting her family, her sister who she loves more than anything, and gets to willingly leave Piltover and the violence it wrought in her life behind to start a new chapter.

Jinx feels like she is a literal curse in the lives of the people she loves. She accidentally killed Mylo, Claggor, and Silco and believes she's the reason Vander and Isha are dead. Yet all she's ever wanted to do was protect them. There's a reason she looks so glad when she's falling. She's happy that she protected her sister and can give her a chance at a future.

JInx leaving Piltover is also something I feel like does make sense. Even if she stayed after saving Piltover she would likely still be charged for her crimes or hunted down. At least now she gets to leave the violence and oppression of her life behind and build something new.

My issues with the finale come from two things: the way the show (and writers) framed it and the fact that Vi believes Jinx is dead.

This is a literal excerpt from an interview "There is a definitive tragedy in Arcane where healing is only possible by letting something go, even if it’s a person you've spent your entire life trying to save. Vi not being able to accept parts of who she is or be with the woman she loves without such a sacrifice is heartbreaking in itself, but the circumstances behind the ending we received make sense, whether Jinx survived in that explosion and escaped on an airship or not".

The way it's worded makes it seem like Jinx had to "die" for Caitlyn and Vi to get together and I despise that framing.

This excerpt (and all the post season 2 interviews) frame it as if Vi would always choose Jinx to her own detriment, but that's simply not the case in season 2. Every time Vi chooses Jinx in season 2 it's framed as the right thing to do: Vi stops Caitlyn from taking the shot, everything in episode 5, Vi freeing Jinx from prison. They all lead to better outcomes.

They even have a whole scene in episode 5 that builds to Vi admitting that Jinx hasn't needed her in a long time. Vi understands by this point that Jinx is her own person.

I 100% believe that Vi should have seen Jinx after her "death" to confirm to her and the audience that Jinx is in fact alive and been told by Jinx that she's going to leave Piltover. Vi is left with a choice to stay in Piltover and be with Caitlyn or leave with Jinx. In this moment she chooses to let Jinx go.

They both get the ending the ending they need, Jinx is confirmed alive (something I think needed to happen considering her suicidal ideation), and Vi gets an actual moment of growth and completes her arc with her sister.

Vi's arc is about accepting and moving on from the past this would have provided a satisfying conclusion to that arc. Jinx completed her arc, but deserves a chance to live her life and have it confirmed to be the case in series.

The explanation given in the interview just flies in the face of the character development that we got and ignores the arcs they set up. The choice to leave it ambiguous was clearly meant to create more emotional damage but it was at the expense or Vi, Jinx, and their arc as sisters.

So I guess I do have the same complaints as you, but it's tied less to my own personal interpretation and more to the intent of the framing of the scene.

Wow... that was a lot. I've been really fascinated with the points you bring up. It's changed the way I view certain things like your points about Viktor. I also think your points about the way Arcane approached its systemic issues are incredibly nuanced and well articulated. It's always fun to read!

I actually think this video is really interesting. Not because I fully agree with it (there are a lot of points in the video I don't agree with and a lot that I do), but because I appreciate its intent.

I also fall in the same boat where I really liked the second season, but I didn't love it like I did the first and I appreciate that this is a video that wants to start a conversation. He wants to talk about why things didn't necessarily work for him, why it didn't seem to have the same impact as the first, and about how he wants to hear why those things might have worked for others.

So much discourse about this season has framed it as either the best thing ever, above any criticism, or the worst thing ever with no redeeming qualities and it's made it very frustrating and demoralizing to try and talk about it online.

I want to talk about how I loved aspects of this show and that I was also let down by certain aspects of the show as well, but anytime I try and talk about criticism it's rarely met with a genuine conversation.

I would love to hear how people interpreted things differently from me, why they felt that way, how it connected with them, because I feel like that's the purpose of stories. It's never going to resonate with anyone the same way and there may have been things I missed.

I also know I haven't always worded what I've wanted to say and my criticisms the way I want to get across what I mean. It has never been my intent to sound like I wasn't open to discussion, different interpretations, or counterpoints. I would like to actually talk more about this season and hear other people's thoughts as well.

[haloslips]

last night two cherished friends and i went to the brewery for one round, met some cute dogs, went back to their place for homemade beef stew. i made it until 10:30 before i had to tap out and go home, which i'm pleased with. fell asleep before midnight, woke up at 12:08am, wished myself a happy new year and went back to sleep. got up to my alarm this morning and had brunch with jess, which i am treasuring especially because i won't see her for a few months now. walked around the city i live in and thought: you are living a life.

i never thought about what it meant to be alive. i was suicidal from a young enough age that it never made sense to envision the future. it took me a long time to figure out what living could look like once i realized i was going to do it; to figure out what i like and what i want. but i'm starting to learn.

last year i: watched the kraken shut out vegas with my dad and one of my best friends; witnessed genocide; took thirteen million cat photos (and even a few selfies); saw many inspiring vanity plates; moved into a new apartment; only got one tattoo; had covid again; cried about trevor zegras (a lot); restarted therapy; got a new job; listened to the man who killed my mom plead innocent; went to three different neopets meetups; rode a horse for the first time in years; danced with my friends, giddy and drunk, at one of their weddings; published two fanfictions; broke both my wrists at the same time; saw the northern lights twice; let my friends take care of me; won a game of scrabble; saw my favorite band live; learned many new things; failed at learning some things

the best advice i ever got was that life doesn't get easier, but you get better at doing it. when i first heard it i could only think about everything i had to endure, but i realized that you don't just get better at bad things. you get better at the things you practice.

i've always liked the practice of affirmations, and upon reflection these past few weeks i decided it was time for some new ones. so, for as long as i need them, here's what i came up with:

you are allowed to take up space

you are capable

you will be okay

you are safe

you have time

this year i will: have as much fun as possible by my own standards; be vulnerable even when it isn't rewarded; use my hands to create something beautiful; cry about trevor zegras; listen to so much new music; see as many of the people i love as possible; experience the epic highs and lows of seattle sports fandom; get so fucking goofy with it; miss my mom; let my friends take care of me; act intentionally; cook something new; get nervous when philipp grubauer posts insta stories from gasworks park; celebrate new milestones; take a bunch of pictures; apply for grad school; watch new movies and read new books; appreciate as much as possible; watch as the world keeps ending; rejoice as the world goes on

[silverwhittlingknife]

OKAY SO i have been rereading dustorange's wonderful post here about Dick in an UtRH-esque scenario where he dies & then comes back to life

AND I HAVE INCOHERENT BRAINSTORMING THOUGHTS:

so first, i think Robin!Dick would be just as hurt by the discovery that Bruce has a new Robin, and brood about it - but i think the shame of having died would stop him from confronting Bruce about it the way Nightwing!Dick does in canon.

and I do NOT think that he would expect Bruce to kill anyone for him (or even be upset that he doesn't? I just don't think this would be a consideration for Dick. he's gonna be fixated on "I failed." so he'll be upset about being replaced but not about the lack of revenge. and if Bruce did take revenge, i think he'd actually feel angry and betrayed about that because it'd feel like the choice was taken away from him, a la how upset he gets when he thinks Bruce has arranged to have Zucco killed - even if he intellectually knows that Bruce wasn't deliberately undermining himbecause he didn't know Dick was gonna come back to life.)

anyway so what WOULD he do??

what comes to mind is something along the lines of "Dick obsessively keeps an eye on Batman & Robin even while telling himself that he's not"

and then - say - if it's Robin!Tim (i feel like this has to be Tim because in the world where Dick dies there is no way that Bruce is voluntarily picking a new Robin), then maybe the moment when Dick steps in is when Bruce is in danger & he's furious / critical of Tim for not protecting Bruce well enough

and i feel like that's how he'd channel the hurt feelings - it'd all be deflected under shame and obligation, and then translated into the anger of "you replaced me & yet you're failing to do the job that you're supposed to do" (which is actually about projection/self-hatred because Dick would actually be mad at himself for having died & not doing that job anymore)

and Dick wouldn't want to see Bruce at all because of the shame over dying & subconscious fear that Bruce doesn't want him back, plus every little thing that Tim does differently would drive him NUTS because it implies that maybe the way Dick did things wasn't good enough for Bruce

i'm actually kind of fascinated by this now. because i am me and i have (1) obsession i am mostly invested in the dick & tim side of it sdfsdfds

so i'm picturing Tim very stung by whatever critical things Dick said to him & tracking this mysterious vigilante down, and then Dick doesn't want to spend ANY time with him BUT he's also subconsciously desperate for news of Bruce!!! so then something something Dick starts sorta training him a la Tim's various contacts with edgy non-batman-aligned vigilantes, and Tim's very defensive about how he IS a good robin so THERE but of course he's also defensive because he's secretly worried he's not good enough.

normally i would have tim Recognize dick since recognizing dick is tim's most basic skill HOWEVER i think it would be much more fun if tim doesn't recognize him so he can give dick a speech about legacy & the first robin: "i do x and such because that's how the first robin did it so it is Objectively Correct." which Dick will find incredibly infuriating but will be unable to counter since he cannot counter with 'the 1st robin was ME'

…hmmm i do think Dick ought to be angry about SOMETHING about batman's methods/attitude just because that's more dynamic? I feel like in order to make the adaptation work, there ought to be SOME kind of argument with Bruce right before he dies that he can still be mad about, a la the garzonas fight for Jason and Bruce. unsure what though?

okay let's see: I feel like Dick's main arguments with Bruce aren't about vigilante issues per se so much as they're about working in a team - so e.g.

1) Bruce being controlling/demanding, and 2) Bruce being secretive and doing stuff behind Dick's back, and 3) Bruce not allowing Dick enough autonomy, 4) just generally a perceived lack of trust.

SO maybe whatever The Frustrating Thing that bruce was doing when dick died is a thing he's STILL doing with this new robin, and dick is getting frustrated all over again sorta on tim's behalf but mostly on his own behalf because he never got to resolve this with bruce

but anyway that way when Bruce finally spots disguised!Dick, then they can have the fight again before Bruce realizes who he is <3

[thesmokinpossum]

Maurice Sendak | I get so jealous of euthanized dogs, June Gehringer | The Godfather, Mario Puzo | The Great Believers, Rebecca Makkai | Wasted, Marya Hornbacher | Things Haunt, Joshua Jennifer Espinoza.