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dr3amofagame · 3 years

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vegas team 2.0 lets go !!

vegas team au 2.0 my beloved !!!

if you don’t know what the vegas team au 2.0 is, it’s an au that a couple of my twitter friends and i developed (notably, @stabbysideblog and @dreamsclock) as a post-canon version of sparrow’s vegas team au, which had c!dream, a post-revival c!wilbur, and c!quackity working together at las nevadas.

this au exists much in the same vein, but exists post-canon (and therefore, post torture from c!quackity) and adds c!sam to the crew - it’s essentially four really, really messed up people screwing things up in las nevadas and being completely AWFUL to each other. it’s a very messed up group dynamic, 50% angst 50% crack 0% fluff or healing (...unless ;) ) and it’s absolutely one of my favorite aus at the moment.

anyway, have this ficlet for the au i wrote a little bit ago that basically goes into how these four end up working together !!

tw: implied torture, unhealthy relationships (SO many unhealthy relationships), manipulation, threats, emotional distress, mental instability

When Sam first sees the two figures standing on top of the roof of Las Nevadas, the first thing that comes to his mind is oh no, I have a bad feeling about this.

The feeling is far from foreign; a "bad feeling" has been his life for the past week ever since Dream and Wilbur had disappeared from Pandora's Vault seemingly without a trace. He's tried to keep the knowledge under wraps, only telling Bad and Ant to send them on a manhunt to find the prisoner (a lost cause if he's ever seen one; the two have hunted Dream before, and all of them know that there is no way they're finding the man if he doesn't want to be found) while he and Quackity plan for the coming storm. And there will be a coming storm, he's sure - he's heard enough of Dream's desperate, deranged plans of revenge voiced in near incoherent screams through bubbling lava to think that he will come out of the cell with anything close to mercy in his heart.

Unfortunately, there's been little to nothing from the pair of fugitives running around the server, his communicator chat still buzzing with Tommy's usual shouting and Puffy's usual invitations to tea and Technoblade's usual cryptic "technoblade" messages sporadically throughout the day. It's frustratingly, maddeningly normal, and each day of waiting for the other shoe to drop only leaves him even closer to snapping completely. In a twisted, bitter sort of way, he's almost relieved at the sight of the people standing on the polished quartz roof of the casino; at least now he'll finally get some answers.

Next to him, Quackity narrows his eyes. "Nobody should know about this place," he says, lips twisting into a tight frown.

Sam shrugs, shoulders heavy and tense under netherite. "Do you think-"

"-that it's our dynamic fuckin' duo? Yeah," he breathes out, short and quick through his teeth, and his wings stretch and flutter behind him, "I think it might be."

The figures become clearer as they step closer, silhouettes dark and thrown into harsh relief against the backlighting of the sun behind them. One of them is definitely wearing armor - netherite, from the looks of it - and both are very clearly armed. Wonderful.

The taller turns towards them, gestures with a wide sweep of their arm. "Big Q!"

Sam jumps at the voice; Quackity smiles humorlessly. "Wilbur."

Wilbur turns towards the other figure - Dream, for sure then - and they seem to talk, though they are far too far away for Sam to make out anything they say. Dream seems to hand something to Wilbur, and seconds later twin dots of bluish-green arc smoothly towards the ground in front of Sam's feet. He steps back, watching from the corner of his eye as Quackity does the same, and sure enough Wilbur, and then Dream, land on the grass where their enderpearls hit the ground.

"It's been a long time, Big Q, Sam," Wilbur smiles, tight-lipped, confident, tipping his head at each of them as he says their names. He's not wearing any armor save for a crossbow - enchanted - slung loosely over his hip and a netherite sword hanging off of his belt. "How have things been?"

"Cut the crap, Wilbur." The smile stays on Quackity's face, but his eye is dark and cold and dangerous. He's changed - of course he has, you can't do what he's done in Pandora without changing, but the sight of his expression still sends a disturbed shiver down Sam's spine. "You want something."

Wilbur, to his credit, doesn't seem fazed at all. "We've been doing pretty well - I think we've made quite some progress, considering how little time it's been since we've escaped that prison - nice build, by the way, Sam." His voice is lilting, almost sincere, and he looks over at Sam with a laughing light in his eyes like they're sharing an inside joke. "It's really quite impressive - what do you think, Dream?"

Dream doesn't seem to respond; he's all decked out again, netherite covering him from head to toe, the enchanted metal plates completely dwarfing the man hidden within them. His hands clutch at a golden apple, knuckles white against the golden skin, and a plain shield is strapped over his left arm as well a hulking enchanted axe on his back. They've been busy, it seems, and Sam's teeth grind against each other; he's not sure, if it comes down to it, that this is a fight that he and Quackity can win.

"Wilbur," Quackity repeats, impatience creeping into his tone, "What do you want?"

Wilbur smiles wider; it makes Sam uneasy, like Wilbur had been waiting for this, waiting for their desperation to send them at the devil's table with paper in one hand and a pen in the other.

"You're a businessman, aren't you, Big Q? You know how business deals work - so let's talk business. I think we can come up with something agreeable, what do you think?"

Quackity huffs a short laugh- "And what's stopping me and Sam from putting a sword through your gut?"

Wilbur smiles, sharp-edged. "Well, Big Q. Resurrection magic- it's quite interesting, really. Dream was explaining it to me, you know. And here's the thing; how many lives do you think I have right now?"

What- oh. "You have all of your lives back."

"Oh, no, Sam, I'm not saying that, exactly," Wilbur waves his hand flippantly, "I'm just saying you don't know, you know? And if I were to- say, have more than one life, and you were to kill me, well," he shrugs, a thoughtful look on his face. "We were smart enough to set our beds far away from the prison, of course. It would be an awful shame if people were to find out about what the perfect, responsible Warden was allowing in his inescapable prison, wouldn't it?"

No, no, no-

"So you're blackmailing us," Quackity's eyebrows are furrowed, jaw clenched tightly. Wilbur tips his head back and laughs.

"Oh, this isn't a threat, Big Q! Just a few- let's just call them hypotheticals." He begins to pace back and forth, gait smooth and unburdened, "I'm just saying that you two are powerful right now, you know? And it's great! I love this- what was it, Las Nevadas, you're calling it? It's great. It's absolutely magnificent. I'm just saying that you might want to be careful about what people end up finding out; you know people can be about power, on this server, and it would be such a shame to see this place burned to the ground."

Quackity's wings tense, and Sam can already see the younger's mouth opening and his fingers beginning to glow white with him reaching into his inventory, and oh prime if things escalate here then they're so, so screwed-

"Business!" He shouts louder than he wants, Quackity's head snapping towards him, lips still slightly parted from the words that he never got to say, and Sam ignores him to focus his attention on Wilbur, still staring at them with a smile playing on his lips. "You said you would be willing to talk business, right, Wilbur?"

"Yes, of course! Let's talk business. What do you think, Quackity?" Wilbur pauses, looks Quackity in the eye, and the younger glares but doesn't say anything. "Oh, don't worry too much, Big Q. I honestly think that it'll be good for all of us - a mutually beneficial arrangement, if you will."

"Wilbur, just," Sam sighs, fights against the incoming headache. "Can you please just get to the point?"

"Of course, Sam," Wilbur all but chirps, "So- we have something you want, and you have something we want. I say we pool our resources- our knowledge, Dream's combat prowess, your protection and items - and make something better."

"Pool our resources- wait wait wait, you mean you want to fuckin'-"

"I don't know how much Dream has told you, but I've been dead for a pretty long time; there really isn't all that much to do in the Void, you know. I've gotten pretty bloody good at cards, if I do say so myself." Wilbur grabs Dream, ignoring the way he flinches as he slings an arm around his shoulders, "What do you say? Have room in Las Nevadas for two more, Big Q?"

Sam blinks. Prime, give him strength. "What?"

Quackity hisses quietly, "You want to help with Las Nevadas? Both of you?" Sam watches as he turns his glare from Wilbur to Dream, and oh, so that's what this is about. He points his thumb jerkily in the direction of the masked man, watching, as Dream ducks his head down, unable to back away too far with Wilbur's arm still braced behind his neck. "And why should I work with him?"

"Two in one deal, Quackity, you have both of us or nothing at all," Wilbur drawls, "Besides, I know you've wanted the power of the resurrection book - and done quite a lot to get it! I'm really very impressed. Of course, we couldn't simply give it to you, but with us on your side, there's hardly even a difference." Quackity opens his mouth, looking like he's about to protest- "And, really, it would be nice to have Dream on your side in case the Blade comes for your other eye, no?"

His mouth shuts with an audible click, one-eyed glare meeting Wilbur's all-too easy expression, before finally nodding jerkily. "Fine. As long as he doesn't cause too much trouble."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Wilbur claps Dream on the back, and he curls into himself more, arms raising up to his head. "You've done more than enough to keep him obedient."

"We'll have to write out the terms later," Quackity presses on. "Don't want either of you trying anything. I've put so much fuckin' time into this place, I'm not letting you fuck it up, you hear?"

"Of course, Big Q," Wilbur's smile is jagged, all teeth, as he holds his arm out between them. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Quackity breathes in, out, looks over at Sam. There's a question written in the tight edge of his shoulders, in the way his wings are braced and held to his sides - are we sure about this?

Sam tips his head in a shallow nod. Do we really have a choice?

Quackity takes Wilbur's hand, shakes it. "Then welcome to the team."

Wilbur laughs, and it sounds like flames and explosions and the ground shaking beneath your feet, burns with the cold heat of smoke and ash - and Sam knows, with a bitter, searing certainty, that this is going to collapse around them in a blaze of glory, that they've all but signed their death warrants, have nothing left but to wait for the countdown timer to hit zero and blow this place up to kingdom come. Wilbur meets his eyes - dark, dead, grey like cinders and gunpowder - and he knows that the other man is thinking the same thing.

"I think this is the start to something beautiful," Wilbur says, and Sam grits his teeth as he steps into the building.

Something beautiful, indeed.

#-> vegas team au 2.0 #queue <3 #tw torture #tw toxic relationship #tw unhealthy relationship #tw manipulation #tw emotional distress #tw mental instability #tw threats #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

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sl-walker · 3 years

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All right, since I’m in the middle of a flare and have to work manual labor for the next four days despite it, I figured I would make myself -- and hopefully other people -- laugh by talking about one of my favorite OG Captain Marvel stories. Namely, from Whiz #50, with a cover date of January, 1944, meaning it was probably produced sometime in late 1943.

I want to share it because why not, this is some absurdly charming stuff.

I’ll get more into why it’s one of my favorites as we go, in the form of running commentary. So, full story (with said commentary) under the cut. If you wanna just read the story without my commentary, stick to the pictures. XD

First, let me say that the cover and splash page definitely live up to the story, though the cover’s a bit more sensationalized. But the premise is pretty damn simple: Our intrepid hero and his newsboy alter ego are on vacation. Cap decides to go swimming. It goes hilariously wrong and thus ensues a bit of a madcap adventure, no puns intended.

Second, the fact that Cap and Billy are depicted as essentially different entities makes what Billy does next the ultimate trolling:

Gee, airing out the stolen laundry on the radio? Really? I’ll leave it up to you, gentle reader, whether Billy actually was trolling his own alter-ego for ratings or whether he was just innocently sharing the story while his other-self winced quietly in whatever ether-space he exists in when not front-and-center.

Either way, I love it.

Continuing on...

I get a kick out of the fact that Billy’s monologue is that he’s no dare-devil. One, because that’s so obviously not true in any way -- (that kid is awesomely, sometimes recklessly brave on the regular even without Cap) -- but two, because the bridge is actually named Dare-Devil Bridge. We aren’t given any reason why this dangerous potential death-trap is there, hanging without so much as a gate or a warning sign or anything, because we don’t need one. It’s there specifically for what happens next.

Which, of course, is Billy calling in Captain Marvel, who does some light complaining about the situation Billy left him in. There’s no bite to it, which I find adorable -- Cap actually does get frustrated once or twice in other issues with Billy calling on him for mundane stuff, though he’s never mean about it -- but there is a bit of the sense of being put-upon there that’s just-- I dunno, cute. It’s something I miss a lot in the various post-crisis takes on the character: That duality, that difference in personality, and the way each of them responds to different situations. Often, they’re on the same page, but notably, sometimes, they aren’t.

Someday, I promise, I need to sit down and write how I think that works between those two without being a truly frightening mental illness manifested, what with them being the same person but not the same person. Because I have so many ideas, and I’ve only had since the early-2000s to percolate them. LOL! But until then, just enjoy this.

Here is another reason why I love the Golden Age Captain Marvel books and why I love this specific story: This is an absolutely normal, mundane thing to do. It’s the human thing to do. These aren’t the actions of some super-serious superdude. These are the actions of a pretty shockingly normal guy doing something mundane. And a whole story is built around that normalcy.

It’s cute. It’s funny. It’s the reader already knowing that he’s getting himself into a situation that he absolutely could have avoided, but also completely understanding how it happened anyway. It’s pretty brilliant writing: I say this as a pretty damned good writer myself.

So much of the reason why, I think, Cap was so endearing as a hero is that humanity. He’s got pretty much god-tier power in the Golden Age, once his powerset is established. He’s utterly invulnerable to all physical harm while powered up. But-- he’s human. He knows he’s human. He acts like it, and decides, “You know what? I’m going skinny-dipping.”

He and Billy are both characters it’s so easy to empathize with.

Also, a reminder that the art under Chief Artist C.C. Beck is really, really good. (He had a whole stable of artists to help produce this stuff!) Ignoring registration issues on the printing press, the actual line art is amazingly good; proportion and perspective and consistency.

But anyway--Cap does get to enjoy his swim. But, then, oh no.

I love the idea of a world where the prime hero -- and he definitely is in that world -- can take off his suit and go swimming, and where someone else is bold enough to steal the damn suit off of him. The first time I read this, I started laughing here. Not at him, but at the situation he’s found himself in. At the idea that some random passer-by saw Captain Marvel’s costume and went yoink!

Another thing I love about this particular story is how much Cap and Billy have to work together, just by necessity. Like-- it’s just really good. But anyway, thank everything Billy Batson is on the ball, coming to the rescue.

Sheer bad luck via the weather keeps this story rolling along in hilarious misdirections. Realistically, that uniform probably wouldn’t be all buttoned together (we see Cap take off pieces of it aside the pants in other issues, including socks!), but who cares? The point of the story is that giant bear rug on the floor’s gonna get put to use.

Man, when have you ever seen Superman creeping naked through some stranger’s house wearing nothing but a random polar bear because he went skinny dipping? No wonder these comics sold so well. This next panel is when I start wheezing, though, and pretty much keep wheezing.

“A lady, too! I’ve got to get away from here!”

I’m dying at this point. That’s such a characteristic response, and yet, I think that’s why it’s funny.

Anyway, because this is an excellent story (I mean this without an ounce of irony, too), our dynamic duo stumbles across a plot in play to rob the hotel they’re staying at.

Here’s a big part of why this is such a good tale: Everything fits. Even when it isn’t explained, like Dare-Devil Bridge, it still fits. Why is the tree down? Because there was just a thunder storm, the same one that blew Cap’s suit into the room with the gangsters.

I don’t know if this is Otto Binder’s story, but I wouldn’t be surprised in the least. It’s a complete story told in relatively few pages that accomplishes everything it’s meant to.

Anyway, using foliage as cover, Cap gets to be heroic----then Billy gets to get back to the business of trying to stop the robbery of the hotel and get his heroic alter-ego dressed again. Which leads to a rather adorable and funny scene of Billy not only trying to describe what Captain Marvel wears, but what size it would need to be tailored in.

(Cap is supposedly a 44 for a suit coat, we find in some earlier appearance, which would refer to his chest size. So, an XL for shirts and suit-coats. He’s a big guy, but he’s actually not a hulking huge guy. But more on that later.)

I love the fact Billy tries to like-- use himself as a model. Maybe in another ten years, kiddo. Billy’s actually pretty buff for like a 12-14 year old, he’s not a scrawny kid at this point, but yeah, no. LOL!

Another thing I also really, really love about this style, though, is that they draw Captain Marvel as being strong, as having a powerful build-- but not as a dehydrated body-builder with deep cuts. He’s got human proportions, regardless of his strength; he’s got a human build, not a superhuman one.

C.C. Beck had a lot of things to say about superheroes who were just muscles on top of muscles, all clearly defined, and he didn’t like it. As someone who first got into comics in the early 90s with Jim Lee’s X-Men--

I do get Beck’s point. I not only get it, but I really highly approve of it. He maintained to the end that he drew (and oversaw) the Marvel family to look like high school and college athletes, and I can see that. I think the one person who’s gotten it right in the modern era is Evan “Doc” Shaner, who did Convergence: Shazam! He not only nailed that strong-but-not-hulking build for Cap, but also how young he looked. College-age, in fact.

But anyway, enough digression into art and why I like this better than most modern takes on the character. Also, that’s just a cute set of panels.

I also like that there wasn’t an easy fix there. Cap’s still in his not-birthday suit, and Billy’s still stuck running around trying to solve the issues at hand. Next comes some other really good panels:

-snorts- He’s locked in. Yeah, that’ll hold him.

Anyway, what I really liked here was again that tandem working; Billy can’t punch through a wall, but Cap can. Cap can’t crawl out while he’s au natural -- well, he could, but he’d probably rather die first -- but Billy’s got no such issue. It’s just fun when you get to see them doing something like that. You have to really think for a minute about the trust each of them must have in their alter-ego.

ANYWAY, we get the rare treat then--

--of Captain Marvel not only yoinking a dude into a dark room, but then stealing his clothes. Except, not his underwear. Because that’s nasty. LOL!

I love that in this series, you do actually get to see him wear other stuff. Go incognito. Get his red suit messed up enough to take it to a dry cleaner’s, wherein he ends up dressed like a musketeer after. Jerry Ordway’s series is, I think, the only other time we see Cap not wearing his famous suit, but it happened enough in the Golden Age that it wasn’t a shock.

Like, I hate to be the one to say this, but I do think DC drops the ball often on just how much you can do with Captain Marvel (or Shazam, depending on timeline, but that’s the wizard’s name to me so mostly I’ll stick with the original name) if you unbend enough to. It’s not just the costume change, or the duality of him and Billy being the same but not, but also his inherent, essential humanity.

But I am digressing again, sorry. XD I just feel strongly enough about these versions of these characters to spend hours writing this.

Anyway, only a single panel later:

And that’s that! Billy Batson has just outed his own alter-ego’s most embarrassing moment to whomever’s listening to WHIZ radio -- thank everything podcasts and the internet weren’t available then, ha! -- and we get to see a recounting of a very fun story.

Like I said earlier, I love this one for its essential humanity. The hero got himself into this mess, he and Billy got him out of this mess, and stopping the criminals was actually just kind of a lucky stroke thrown in there. But even though Cap got himself into this, the story never treats him like he’s stupid. It never treats him like he’s some kind of idiot. You’re laughing, but-- not in a mean way.

I love how human it is. How complete it is. How genuinely funny it is. It’s a thousand times more funny when you genuinely love and respect Captain Marvel and Billy Batson, too.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this dissertation on a skinny-dipping hero. LOL! I enjoyed sharing it with you.

#dc captain marvel #billy batson #shazam #whiz comics

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morepeachyogurt · 3 years

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we are good people (and we've suffered enough)

word count- 2.5k Pairing- Temily

Summary- After Scratch, Tara and Emily run away to Italy to start a new life, ft. cats, cafes, and gardening. Based on this post, and this prompt.

Part 2 of my, maybe we’re from the same star, series, work is a standalone, part 1

read here on ao3

tw’s- very minor mentions of substances and ptsd

Things were never the same after Mr. Scratch. The two of them were filled with more trauma than they had room for in their hearts to still hold each other in. Nights were no longer filled with a movie and cuddling, or talking about philosophy but tense sentences, paranoia, and nightmares. Tara knew that something needed to change, anything to stop the monotony of desolation. But still, they went to work every day and drowned their sorrows in killers like that would bring back the part of her that died when Scratch took Emily. There are only so many times one can be held captive and wait for death before something inside them breaks.

One night they get wine drunk, Emily laying sidewise on their black couch, and Tara sitting on the table staring at the ceiling.

“I miss being young, god, that’s such a weird thing to say. I mean, I spent my youth hating it. Hated my mother, and all of our traveling, never could make friends. I hated that I never belonged, hated not being in control of my own life, and here I am 50 years old working for the government that I used to despise trying not to cry myself to sleep every night,” her voice takes on a bitter tone.

“We love in our old age the things we hated as children. Does that make us matured or foolish?”

“Both, I think.”

“What was your favorite place to live? I mean it sounds like hell to keep moving between places but there must have been someplace you loved, right,” Tara’s voice fills with a tang of desperation as she searches for a way to help her lover.

“Rome. The weather and the scenery,” her voice takes on a dreamy tone, “and the food! Man, the food is good, don’t tell Rossi but his carbonara tastes like Olive Garden compared to the real thing,” they both chuckled at that, knowing it would have sent Rossi in a fit if he were to hear that.

“That sounds really nice honey.”

“I miss it sometimes you know? I think about how gorgeous everything was. It feels like home in my distant memories.”

“Then let’s do it. Lets, go move to Rome. You aren’t happy here Emily, I know you say you are, but you do this job for our team, not the position now. I miss when you laughed,” both of them sobered up by now, knowing that it has taken a turn for the more serious.

“No, no we can’t. I, I can’t keep leaving this team and our friends. And, people need us. You love this job Tara I can’t take that away from you, not for me.”

“They’d understand Emily, they all love you so much. Yeah, I love this job, I won’t lie. But, I love you more, and I’m not happy if you aren’t. So let’s do it. Let’s fucking run away to Rome together and be happy .” The two sit in silence for a minute, the unanswered question still hanging in the air.

“Okay. Let’s do it. Maybe I’ll fulfill my long-lost dream to have a nice, big garden.”

The team took it surprisingly well, they’d all noticed a change in Emily in the months following Scratch and knew that Tara had Emily’s best interest at heart. Of course, they were sad to lose two of the best members of their team, but Emily was family, and family looks out for each other.

“I’m going to miss you my favorite dynamic duo and your guys’ jokes. Ugh, it’s going to be so quiet without you two lovely ladies,” her eyes are welling with unshed tears as she says goodbye to more of her family, “Send me things from Rome or I will install a virus in your phones,” they both laughed at Penelope’s antics and promised her that they’d send as much stuff as they could. The last two weeks of their stay in the United States were filled with mixed emotions. They were excited to start the next chapter of their lives together. Away from all the serial killers and monstrous people out there. They could finally live with a fraction of the naivety that most people carry. On the other hand, Tara only speaks minimal Italian, and now they’re going to be living in a brand-new country, surrounded by strangers. A fresh start, but one filled with anxiety.

“Okay 4:30 is way too early for a flight,” Emily grumbled as they made their way to the airport. The pair had woken up at three, knowing that Tara can’t sleep on planes they tried to go to bed early and were now making their way to the airport in the dead of morning.

“Wait, babe, look! It’s a full moon,” they pulled over just for a moment and got out of the car to sit on the hood. The silence between the two is peaceful, the wind was the only whisper in the air. Moonlight shone on Tara’s face and Emily knew that there was no sight in the world as beautiful as this. With the moon reflected in her eyes and a small simple ghosting on her lips. She’s home.

Security was a breeze, they are former FBI agents after all, and they made their way to their gate. Airports always have a certain air to them, a place where time seizes to exist yet completely runs the place. Their gate was quiet, filled with the tired murmuring of people excited to travel.

“Tara, honey, wake up we’re boarding.”

It was odd for the two of them to be flying commercial after all those years on private jets. It was nice to feel normal though, to fade in the background instead of being other . Human desire is both to be noticed and forgotten all at once.

Italy’s airport is very similar to the DC airport, it would seem like they never left. Outside was a whole different story, bustling crowds and hot air hits them as soon as they step outside the building. They had picked out a quaint apartment building a week prior. Yellow walls with a terrace looking out to an alley. The couple's belongings had been shipped and were waiting to be unpacked. Not right then though. Now, it was time to explore.

Hand in hand they walked leisurely down the narrow alley way of the small Italian town they are now calling their home. Vines and every other type of plant that could grow did. Hanging off banisters, and climbing up orange brick walls. The sunlight was close to blinding, and it hit Emily just right. The golden rays hitting her face and illuminating the ghost of the smile now appearing on Emily’s face. That smile told Tara all she needed to know about their decision. Emily catches her staring, “What are you looking at,” humor evident in her voice.

“You, I’m looking at you miss Emily Prentiss. You’re smiling again,” her words come out softer than she intended, but they convey her point.

Happy couples seem to fill the streets, old and new, young and old. The town may be old, but it was filled with a life that they had been lacking. They pass a quaint little bakery. Bread, cupcakes, and assorted pastries fill the windows. There're bookshelves on all the walls filled to the brim with different books. The walls are light blue and there are flowers everywhere. It looks like something from the movies.

“Un Piccolo Angolo di Paradiso,” Emily reads the name of the building in front of them, they’ve since stopped to admire the view in front of them. It reminds the two of them how Emily asked Tara out. With a cupcake and book who had ‘I know there’s plenty of sugar in that cupcake but it’d be even sweeter if you went out with me. Let me take you to dinner Tara? ’ written on the inside.

“As much as I love hearing you speak Italian, what does that mean? Something heaven?”

“Little Slice of Heaven.” It’s truly a perfect name for the place.

“Okay, now we have to go in,” they’re both smiling now. They push open the glass doors, greeted by the high-pitched ringing of a bell and the smell of freshly baked bread.

The woman at the counter finishes the greeting, “Benvenuti nel piccolo angolo di paradiso, cosa posso offrirvi, adorabili signore?” they blush at the compliment and Emily orders them both cupcakes and coffee. Tara busies herself with admiring the books. Some of them have the most beautiful covers she’s seen. She knows not to judge a book by its cover but sometimes the most beautiful things are just as gorgeous on the inside as out. Just like Emily. She buys a book, and they take their drink and desserts to go. They make their way to a waterfront and sit down on the stairs, side by side.

“Rome is just as beautiful as I remembered. I missed it. It really does feel like home, although, anywhere I’m with you is home,” at the end of her sentence, she turns to face Tara, a look of pure love shown clearly on her face. And for that, Tara just has to kiss her.

The next day they unpack their boxes of belongings into their apartment to help rid the homesickness. Paintings go up on the walls and furniture is placed with the best view in mind. After a couple of hours they’re done, their apartment a bit more homey than before. They crack open a bottle of wine, put on an album, and sit out on the terrace. They watch the sun set over the water, the sounds of big band music filter in as the soundtrack for their night. The sky painted yellow, orange, and pink in the way only nature can create. If nature were an artist they’d be in every museum and sold to the wealthy. Instead, they are for the masses, the beauty of nature is for all to enjoy, free of cost, for those who wish to escape and fly into the night sky.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to do?” Tara leans forward on the balcony, not taking her eyes off the view in front of her, even as the colors begin to fade the sky darkens.

“No, tell me, what?”

“I always wanted to open my own bakery. I know it’s stupid, me a baker. But, I don’t know making things, it feels so uncomplicated. Just me and the dough.”

“In this alternate universe, I’d be a gardener. You and your dough and me and my flowers against the world Tara. Wait a second. I think you and I are onto something my dear,” Emily’s joined Tara at the balcony, the two of them leaning against the railing.

“Actually? You’re serious? You want to do this.?”

“Yeah! Why not? We’ve got enough money in the bank for us to last a bit, you can work at Un Piccolo Angolo di Paradiso,” the Italian rolls of her tongue in a way that drives Tara nuts, “I’ll find a gardening place to work at. We’re in fucking Italy let’s make our dreams come true.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

Alessia, the owner of the bakery, is pleased to have another employee. Especially one that is actually interested and isn’t in high school. Tara learns the basics of bread and pastry making. She has some skill, she used to bake with her mother before she died, it had been awhile since she had been able to bake without bumming herself out. Now it’s a nice memory of her. Gone but not forgotten, as is the saying. Emily comes in every lunch break for whatever Tara’s whipped up and to get her caffeine fix. One of the things that she still keeps from her law enforcement days.

They aren’t perfect. A move across the country isn’t going to cure PTSD, she has good days, bad days, and worse days, but now they have the time to deal with it. There was never anytime to process things at the FBI. It was always, distract yourself and throw yourself into solving cases. Now they can slow dance in the kitchen and stay up until three am telling stories from college. They fill their days with the happiness that was once stolen from them and bathe in it like perfume.

True to their word, they send Penelope all sorts of things, books from the café, pressed flowers, trinkets from the small shops to adorn her desk. In return, she sends them pictures of Sergio.

“I miss Sergio, his little paws, and his ability to climb on top of anything.”

Emily finds a job at a nearby garden that sells flower arrangements and herbs to local restaurants. It’s convenient, more than they would have thought. Emily now gets to stop into the bakery on occasion to deliver herbs and has plenty of flowers to give her lover. She also sends a few bouquets back to DC. Hoping that the flowers can brighten up the office in a way that fluorescent lights never can.

On one of their late afternoon walks, they hear a rustling by a trash can.

“What’s that noise?”

“I don’t know, let’s go look, it almost sounds like an animal. Could be a mouse,” Emily suggests, absently reaching to where her gun used to rest on her hip. They open the bag to find three small kittens. Seemly abandoned in a corner.

“Oh god, they’re so cute. We have to keep them.” It’s not a question, Tara knows that Emily is thinking the same thing, their minds connected in the way people who love each other’s minds always are. They look up the nearest veterinarian to make sure that their new pets are okay to take home and healthy.

The vet is sterile and a stark reminder of all the hospitals they’ve spent time in. Tara squeezes her girlfriend’s hand to remind her that they are both safe .

“They look fairly health, a bit malnourished but that is to be expected in these circumstances,” the vet is an elderly man with a mustache as thick as his accent,

“I’ve give them the shots they need, for now, come back in few months and let me take another look. Ciao.”

The kittens are fast asleep by the time they make it home. They gently scoop the kittens out of the bag and into their arms and the couch.

“Okay, what are we naming these angels?” Emily’s voice is pitched up as she talks to the kitten in her arms.

“Well, I’ve always been a classics enthusiast, what if we name them Artemis and Apollo?”

“That’s adorable. Little tiny archery kitties, yes, isn’t that right!” she coos, “And I think I’ll name this one Carter.”

“I love it, and you. Come on, sit with me, you look tired,” Tara grabs Emily’s hand and pulls her onto the couch. They fall over a bit and Emily yelps in surprise. They put the old music back on, a sense of peaceful needs for their new lives. The two sit on the couch, Emily’s head in her girlfriend’s lap, a hand playing with her hair. Apollo climbs on Emily’s feet and lays down to rest.

“I love you, Tara,” she doesn’t respond, just lays a gentle kiss to the back of her head.

The world is big and scary but the two of them feel safe in each other's arms.

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