“It’s too late,” Iris said. Iris smiled at the blonde in her screen. “Think of it as an early Christmas gift.”
Annabeth, the young and brilliant woman who had walked into the firm years ago with a point to prove (and has since proven it, many times over) sighed in defeat.
“I’ll have to return the favor.”
“And I’ll say ‘thank you’ like a good gift recipient.”
The younger woman’s head dipped for a moment before she looked back into the webcam. Iris remembered how long it took the architect on her screen to let her make a cup of coffee for her, how more than a year had passed before she even had a conversation with Annabeth that wasn’t work related. The way Annabeth had walked in on a Wednesday with a wedding ring, no vacation days to follow, no pictures to pass from fawning hand to fawning hand, only to mention in passing a few months later how she and the dark haired man she'd brought to the Christmas gala had married in the courthouse next to the library they were remodeling. This conversation, and the alteration of her work email (annabethchase to annabethjackson) had be the only indictors at the time of Annabeth's change in relationship status.
She’d like to think of herself as a friend to the younger woman, it was just her and Ed, the civil engineering consultant, who had somehow inched their way up from coworker to something more, who had wormed their way ever slightly into the mysterious life of Annabeth Jackson.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m good. Really good. I’m so happy to be home right now without having to worry about going in or…” Annabeth looked at something off camera. “Or explaining anything.”
“Timing is everything,” Iris said, watching Annabeth’s expression morph into something bright, almost playful. She looked utterly her age. And plainly focused on something else, not their work call.
“Yeah…” Annabeth was visibly attempting to tamp down a smile, top teeth biting into her lower lip, but it was to no avail. Even when those gray eyes darted back to the screen, one shoulder shook with barely contained laughter.
Iris smiled knowingly. “Okay.” She dropped both hands on her thighs with finality. “Where’s that handsome husband of yours?”
Annabeth’s eyes landed on something off screen again.
“He’s right here. Being a nuisance.” She tilted almost out of frame. “Percy?”
A moment later, man in a gray crew neck entered the picture.
Iris smiled wider. “Hello there, mister.” He had something in his left hand, which he kept tucked behind his leg.
He gave her a boyish wave with the other hand. “Hi. Thank you for the gift basket. And the letter.” He rubbed the back of his neck as his mouth turned up in a self deprecating grin. “Both of us cried like babies reading your message.”
“Good.” She leaned closer to the screen so he was sure to see her sternly raised eyebrow. “Are you taking good care of her?”
“I hope so.” His chin dipped so he could look at his wife. “What do you think?”
Annabeth, whose eyes hadn’t left him since he’d come to her side, nodded then answered, “He’s doing alright. I think he could be more generous with the foot massages.”
Iris laughed at the surprise that dropped the man’s mouth wide open.
“You’re just tryna make me look bad in front of your coworkers.” He moved a loose strand of Annabeth’s hair off of her neck.
“Iris is my friend and she deserves the truth.”
She couldn’t help the zing of pleasure she felt hearing that. Saving it for later use (to gloat to Ed), she cleared her throat. “I don’t want to be the cause of any problems.” Both of them started to dismiss her concerns but she waved them off. “I’m due to meet with Evan in a minute so I’ve got to disconnect. Anyway, I know there’s all these new contraptions for newborns, but sometimes the old stuff is the good stuff, and they’ve got some sweet memories and lots of love in them, too.”
“It means a lot, Iris. Really.” This was from Annabeth, whose hand was now resting on the rise of her stomach. Iris lingered on the sight for a moment. The Annabeth she knew, the architect, her coworker, her friend, was sharp: a visionary, purposeful and stubborn and decisive. Iris was curious, excited as well, but mostly curious to see her in this new role. Mother.
“Alright.” She let the thought go. “Percy, it’s good to see you, take care of yourself out there.”
“Always.”
“I’ll see you both.” She gave them a two handed wave through the screen. Both of them waved back. Then–
hey thank you for your work, makes my everydays fr
could i ask for some more 1800 edinburgh crowley? it's my fav but i couldn't find any cool HD screenshots anywhere😭
Crowley Of The Day: obviously, not all of these photos are HD so I’ll start by apologizing for that. Also, I wasn’t sure if you wanted 1800s from S1 or S2 so I did both.
If I got it wrong, you want more photos with better quality, or just from a certain season don’t hesitate to message me again and I can do that! I have thousands of thousands of GO photos these are just the first ones I came across that I have saved.
"Ah...But... Um... My intuition might not be that helpful for an investigation... so even if you ask me..."
"Why not? Are you not confident in yourself?"
Love the sparkles Lucy gets in her eyes when she really starts to put things together and get caught up in solving the mystery - Alfendi is a good mentor and friend to her
The thing about Dazai is that he's cruel when he wants to be.
You know this—you've known this even before he admitted in his long-winded way that he's an ex-mafia member. He has a clever tongue, knows how to use it to his advantage when it comes to swooning women or interrogating suspects. He's multifaceted in that regard.
You've only really seen a glimpse or two of his mean streak, a vague memory of when you were ushered out of the Agency infirmary while Dazai was left alone with Kouyou Ozaki that one time. It's best not to think about it, you tell yourself, but all you can think about right now is that you really, really wish he could be that mean right now.
It slipped out somehow—in your rambling, you didn't even notice when you'd stupidly admitting your more-than-cordial-platonic-coworker feelings for him. But you did, and these are the consequences, just not the ones you were expecting.
Fingers twitching, joints tight and stiff in the cold, you look up at Dazai's blank eyes and the flat line of his lips. Stupid. You feel so utterly stupid, and you're waiting here for his response and yet there's none to be given.
What makes it worse is that his eyes are soft. He's not poking fun at you or rolling his eyes or brushing this off. You really, really wish he would, you wish he'd make a joke out of this and humiliate you, you wish he'd run to Kunikida and laugh about it with him and group you in with all the other people he's swooned before, but he just stands there. There's pity in his eyes, or maybe something like careful consideration as he chooses his next words.
"You..." and a thoughtful hum escapes him before he goes quiet again. You hate this. You hate every second of it and you just want him to laugh at your stupid feelings and leave you in the dust so you could cry alone and not in front of him. A burning feeling pricks the backs of your eyes and you're going to die right in front of him, because that'd be much better than dealing with this awful, awful silence.
"I don't think you really mean that."
And you hate him. You hate Dazai, because of course he'd say something like that. In all his self-loathing, he wouldn't think for a minute that you know what you're talking about—that you mean it. You hate him. This is crueler than anything else he could've done.
"I do, Dazai," and your voice is strained, and choked, and your face is hot with embarrassment because this is stupid and ridiculous and just supposed to be a workplace crush gone out of hand. "Just shut up. I do." And when he opens his mouth again to protest, you shake your head and roll your eyes and try not to make this whole thing more dramatic than it's already gotten.
"Whatever. I mean— whatever. I didn't say any of that. I didn't mean it like that. Can you forget it, please, and don't tell anyone, this is awful, Dazai, you're awful, you know."
"I know. I'm sorry."
In your years of working here, you've never heard Dazai Osamu say sorry, not like this. Not with gentle eyes and a hesitant breath. This is ridiculous. You're going to kill him.
"I wouldn't tell anyone," he keeps talking, he keeps talking and you're going to kill him, "That's cruel. I'm sorry."
Cruel. You want to laugh. He would know a lot about that.
Yeah and so the movie was 75% finished before it was completely shut down. What a loss to the community, and I can't imagine how heartbreaking it must've been for Nate and all the people working on it. Nimona (2023), later picked up and adapted by Netflix, is a phoenix risen from the ashes and it had to fight to be here despite the book's (and She-ra's!) prior success.
I’m feeling so much kinship with my plants right now.
My idiot brain has decided that it’s clearly autumn, now that we’re heading back into chilly wintery weather after a warmer false spring.
My beloved idiot babies, i.e. my air plants, ferns & ZZ plants, have all been going hog wild sending out new growth & popping off new pups since the arctic blast as if it was the middle of spring.
This is an apartment of NO seasonal awareness and no brain cells (though I guess that’s more a problem for me than the greenery) and we’re all confused.