#ezra's breaking pattern a bit but hell

[misaligncdarchive]

it had been three weeks since her run in with ezra. three weeks of feeling so many mixed emotions. she hadn't realized how badly it would mess with her to see him again. she had slowed way down as far as things with the food truck and even going to the club. something that she used to do almost weekly beforehand. she had heard about how things were going at the garage thanks to wren. apparently ezra hadn't taken to kindly to her remark about arthur. she had wanted to go talk to him but she doubted it would go over well. instead she had opted to keep her distance. maybe it was her way of punishing herself but she had no idea.

she realized that she couldn't continue the pattern. that was why she decided to hell with it and she wanted to go out. she had reached out to one of her partners who sometimes did scenes with her. he told her that he would try to make it but she had no idea what time he would be there. that meant that she could maybe do some exploring or enjoy a few drinks. she found herself going to take a shower to wash away the remnants of the work day.

she opted to wear a dress since she figured it might not hurt. it was a red number that she had bought years ago. something that she might have bought when she was still living with ezra but hadn't had the chance to wear. her hair wasn't exactly as long as it used to be but she was able to pull it back using a black ribbon.

the club was fairly busy by the time she arrived. of course she had to get the stamp on her hand as was policy. after grabbing herself a drink she found herself wandering about the different rooms. the last thing that she imagined seeing was ezra inside one of them. her breath hitched when she realized he was with a woman who had blonde hair and looked quite a bit like her. she didn't have a stitch of clothing on but ezra was fully dressed. she had no idea that he even knew about the club. especially since it was very exclusive.

she wanted to walk away but she was rooted to the spot. her free hand grasping at the skirt of her dress. there was a look of morbid fascination etched on her face. it felt like it wasn't something that she was supposed to be seeing but the room had a glass wall for such purposes. her hand was grasping so tightly at the stem of the glass she feared she might break it. she didn't even know what to do but she was turning to attempt to run when she slammed into a server who dropped a tray of drinks, making a loud noise," fuck!"

the chilly distance he'd felt before disappeared in an instant, warping into something much more familiar at everly's words. a sickening, heated rage stole up his spine and prickled at his neck, making him want to bare his teeth in a snarl. he felt like he was shaking, the temperature ratcheted up by at least twenty degrees, and ezra's anger stretched out not only to everly, but to arthur as well.

it wasn't him that she missed, but arthur. pretty arthur. that goddamn fucking asshole. just how fucking long had she missed him, why the fuck did she miss him? why the hell did she instantly think that it was arthur that talked about her, and why the hell did she trust arthur to talk about her, and not him? fuck yeah, there was bad blood between him and everly, and he had every damn right to let everyone know what a pretentious, spiteful, emotionally cruel piece of work she was, but he hadn't. even if he wasn't precious fucking polite arthur, he hadn't said shit.

he wanted to yell at her, to scream and shake her and while that was a common feeling back when they were dating, it was one that was shockingly strong for the way it had been absent in his life for years. no matter how long it had been since they last spoke, she still managed to get his blood pressure up, his pulse racing, his hands clenched into fists. he hated her, it was true, but ezra hated her in the way you could only manage when you once cared about someone far too much.

as she flirted like a fucking tramp right in front of him, ezra realized she probably was a tramp these days. she looked like one, probably hooked up behind her food truck when business was slow, and his stomach rolled at the thought. abandoning the food line, ezra didn't care about ordering food, didn't give a shit about staying around long enough for everly to hand out her number on every napkin she passed out. truthfully, he was far more concerned with getting his hands on arthur. let the guys think whatever in the fuck they wanted, ezra had far more important shit to handle than watching them eat like toddlers on a field trip. they'd figure their shit out or else.

[loversandantiheroes]

Can. Can we talk about how dexterous and clever Whiskey’s hands are. Can we talk about how strong and nimble and skilled they are. Can we.

(Hands anon) And honestly I’m a Frankie and Mando girl as well, you KNOW they hands are just as good 👌🙌

I want you to know I have tried to come back to this ask I don’t know HOW many times, but I always get incredibly distracted and just kind of stare into space with my eyes glazed over for like forty-five minutes.  Can’t imagine why...

1.8k words of pure hand-related yearning featuring Din, Frankie, Whiskey, and a bonus Ezra bc I was compelled.

Din’s hands are exactly what you’d expect in some ways - broad and strong as vise-grips, but meticulously deft when it comes to things that require care, whether that’s stripping down his weapons to clean them or patching your wounds (a surprise in and of itself given the impatient, almost flippant way he tends to the holes in his own hide).  What is surprising is just how soft his hands are under those ever-present gloves.  If you ever bring it up he’ll only huff a laugh, insisting his hands are as much a part of his toolkit as his weapons and his armor, and he wouldn’t be much of a Mandalorian if he didn’t take care of his tools.  Unpainted beskar needs to be cleaned and polished frequently, his guns need to be maintained, and the leather of his gloves need oiling to stay supple.  And his hands, too, need maintaining.  And well, hide is hide, and the oil he uses on his leathers goes a long way towards making sure his hands don’t crack or chap.

He’s a man of opposites, especially once you start to get past his defenses.  He can be absolutely unyielding and also shockingly gentle.  With the armor on he can be almost brazen about the way he touches you, particularly if what’s between you is purely physical.  Just scratching an itch?  Oh, he can do that, that’s easy.  And those hands can lock you down better than any binders.  But if it becomes more than that, if he starts pulling you close when he’s just down to his flight suit and there’s no cold press of metal between you, and finally works up the courage to pull those soft-worn gloves off?  It’s hard to imagine this is the same man.  He’s hesitant.  Nearly timid, you think at first, until you realize his hands aren’t trembling just from nerves but from the effort of control.  Touch is a luxury Din has never been afforded, something new to learn in the dark of his bunk with you pressed up against him with your back to his chest, overwhelmed by the simple contact of his fingers curling hesitantly around your own.  Give him time to breathe, to process, to touch without fear that it will overload him or that he might by some pure accident of excitement touch too hard and hurt when he doesn’t mean to (it is, he still thinks on his more rueful days, what he is built for; not this tenderness).  Your patience will absolutely be rewarded.

Frankie’s a bit of a different story, bless his heart.  His nails are starting to look a little less ragged these days - the nicotine gum has gone a long way towards both helping him back off the cigarettes and keep him from chewing them ragged when his anxiety’s off the rails - but given when he’s grounded he tends to go for more hands-on jobs, his hands can take a horrible beating.  If he’s not seeing anyone he doesn’t bother much trying to take care of them beyond pumice soap and the occasional application of vaseline or bag balm in the winter time when they get chapped.  But if that should change, suddenly he’s blisteringly self-conscious about his hands.  The spots where the skin is rough and peeling, the calluses that he’ll never be able to file down and the ones he is only just beginning to see fade (index finger, between the first and middle digits - his thumb still worries over it absently, as if trying to rub it out).  He buys a nail brush, starts using balm every night, trying to work the coarseness out of his hands before he ever dares to touch you with them. 

And god he wants to touch you.  Touch is a grounding thing for him, a much-needed anchor to keep him in the here and now.  If he’s near enough you’re almost certain to find his hands on you - snaking his fingers between yours, or resting his hand light and warm against your thigh when you come along for a drink with the boys, or pressing his palm flat and solid against your back to keep you steady when he walks you to the car after.  And that’s maybe the thing that clings to your bones the strongest: how safe those hands make you feel.  He’ll learn your body until he knows every dip and curve, knows the paths to skate his fingertips along, where to press in deep, where to only graze until he’s got every nerve singing.  But it’s that sense of safety that overwhelms you, that feeling when his hands cup your face or settle gently on your hips or close warmly around your own that there isn’t a force in the world that could hurt you as long as he’s there. 

Tell him so.  Fold his hands up in your own, brush your lips over his knuckles, and tell him that you know you’re in good hands - in the best hands.  It’ll nearly crack his heart in half to hear it.  He knows what those hands have done, no matter how hard he’s tried to wash them clean of it.  But if they can make you feel safe, then maybe they’re worth something after all.

Whiskey is too vain not to take care of his hands, let’s be honest. Though there is a bit of practicality to his vanity - there always is, somehow, like the grain of sand that spawns a pearl.  He learned early enough that if he was fool enough not to take care of his hands it played hell with his ability to use them properly, and much like Din, he fully recognizes that his hands are as much a necessary tool as anything Statesman could provide him.  Decades of experience with his lasso, whip, and guns have left the palms of his hands thickly callused (his right only slightly more so than his left), but careful attention has assured they’re never outright rough.  The way he uses those hands, though, that’s a different story.  They’re strong and shockingly clever, and just as greedy as the rest of him.  Whiskey has a permanent case of Roman hands and Russian fingers, all too likely to have his hand dangerously high up your thigh in public (and far higher still if you’ll let him), but always just out of the view of the people around you.  He’s a menace, through and through, but rest assured, he won’t be putting his hands on you unless he’s sure you want that (and if you do, he will absolutely make every second count - he is as greedy for your pleasure as he is his own).

If he’s managed to get himself in a state where there’s more than just his libido involved, well, it’d be disingenuous to suggest that tactile greed ever goes away, there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of that, but it does change.  He still wants to touch you (there isn’t a second in the day this man does not want to be touching you, somehow in some way), but it’s different.  It’s smaller touches among the big ones, almost innocuous.  Fixing your necklace when it’s crooked.  An idle stroke of his thumb along your wrist, or a brush of his fingers along your forehead to sweep the hair out of your eyes.  Helping you in or out of your coat, or taking a knee to do up the laces of your winter boots, or nuzzling ever so briefly into the back of your neck while his clever fingers cinch up a knot into the new apron you bought while you were on a baking kick.  The man’s got twenty years of latent domesticity stored up and he can’t quite help it if you bring it out in him.

When you meet Ezra, he’s down to just the one hand, though you don’t quite notice at first.  You're making your introductions - new dig crew, small, but seemingly well-seasoned, even counting the young girl that keeps a nervous orbit around Ezra - not quite clocking the way his right arm moves just a little different under the thick fabric of his suit until you close your hand around his and feel the hardness of metal under his glove.  If anyone is bold enough to ask how he lost the arm, he’ll just give a grin and insist it is not lost: he remembers exactly where he left it.  His remaining hand is striking somehow when you first see it without the thick gloves on.  Wide palm, thick fingers, a prominent thumb joint.  A small black target tattooed there in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger.  But his right hand, his new hand, he never takes the glove off of that one.  It’s accident the first time you see the thing in full, poking your head in his tent to let him know breakfast is running a little late on account of a brief problem with the water pump.  You find him sitting on his bunk in a battered thermal shirt with one sleeve cut off, his suit shoved down to his waist as he wrestles the prosthetic into place as Cee adjusts the harness over his shoulders.  It’s by no means top of the line, but it’s no cheap thing, that much you can tell.  The fingers, you know by now are fully articulated, and you can see now the digits and palm are thickly padded with silicone grips.  Ezra’s face hardens at the intrusion, Cee freezing behind him like a startled deer.  But then he sees it’s only you and the tension drains, his face softening, and he assures you they’ll both be out in a tick, just as soon as he’s made himself presentable.

It’s weeks later that you realize he’s only ever touched you with his right hand once.  Just the handshake that first day.  It’s tough to notice, honestly.  He’s not one to crowd into your space if you don’t want it, unless of course he’s trying to make a point.  You remember the floater that had wandered into your camp trying to make trouble, and the way Ezra had put a seemingly amiable hand on the man’s shoulder as he talked, smiling big and broad, and it wasn’t until the man cried out, dropping to his knees and clutching uselessly at his shoulder that you realized the full strength he carries in that prosthetic.  But every time Ezra is close enough to you to touch, it’s his left that finds you.  He makes a point of it, even going so far as to stay to your right when you walk together, but you don’t fully notice until one day he turns to you with an awkward twist to take hold of your arm with his left rather than his right.

It’s later, much later, in the dim quiet of your own tent, when the small touches finally snowball into something larger and more urgent and finally you feel that hand on you, bare and broad and warm as he cups the back of your neck to draw you close, and he almost laughs into your mouth when you suddenly ask him why he does that.

“Dear heart, if I am to touch you, I mean to feel it.”

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[headinthestaticsky]

NEW! The Fire of the Innocent Sun: Jasper Hale x Fleur Hale, Chapter 5

Authors note: Again some elements of the movie and book have been changed. Remember when this song was popular?

"I keep going to the river to pray 'Cause I need something that can wash out the pain And at most I'm sleeping all these demons away But your ghost, the ghost of you It keeps me awake."

Ghost by, Ella Henderson

I hadn't been down to the reservation in a while it's lush trees and plants were turning orange and yellow and its grass was still damp and slippery. It was as if it was frozen in time, being dormant in constant rain and coldness. Before I knew it I was at Billy Black's house, an uneasiness was nestled within my stomach. I didn't know how Jacob would react or how much he had changed. I knew he was still hurt after all the manipulation Bella had put him through and I didn't know how he would treat me. Would it be was cheerfulness and joy or would his heart freeze over and reject my plea immediately? I didn't have much time to ponder over my choices as the door had swung open. A smile greeted me at the door, Billy Black hadn't changed much... it gave me a sense of comfort.

"Fleur, it is so nice to see you again...Sam told me the situation you're in... I hope you make it out okay." Billy said, moving aside for me to come in.

"Thank you, I hope we do too... Did dad show you pictures of Ezra?"

Billy chuckled before answering me.

"You know he did, he looks a lot like you two... same black hair and brown eyes."

"He doesn't have my personality that's for sure."

"What's he like?"

"He's a lot like Jasper... calm and collected the only thing he got from me was my love for the Earth. He is obsessed with plants, water, and he is absolutely fascinated by space it's adorable." I smiled at the thought of my son... I never knew how much love I could feel someone until I had him. I loved Jasper to death of course but having a child just opens your eyes that much more.

"Not that I'm complaining that you visited but, there is a reason you're here I'm sure."

I looked at him, guilt replaced my joy.

"Yeah, there is... I need to talk to Jacob, is he here?"

"He might be down at the beach, if he's not there he's in the barn house."

"Thank you, Billy. It's so nice seeing you again." I said, I bent down to hug him.

I then turned around walking toward the front door, I walked down to La Push. The nerves had set in again and if I could, my palms would probably be sweaty. The wet gravel crunched beneath my feet and the wind howled loudly. I had stopped and looked around, the ocean looked grey matching the sky perfectly.

"What are you doing here?" I sternly voiced asked from behind me.

I slowly turned around and saw Jacob staring at me. The disdain was riddled in his eyes.

"Hey, Jacob..."

"What are you doing here?" He asked again he sounded angrier.

"I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't important... I think you know everything that is going on right now."

"I know some of it but that's not my problem. I left Sam's pack."

My eyes widened, shock replaced my apprehensiveness.

"What? Why?"

"I didn't feel the need to be there anymore... and before you even ask you know why."

"It is Bella?"

"Ding ding ding."

"I'm sorry Jacob... I know my sister really hurt you."

"Not like you care."

I walked up to him looking him dead in the eye.

"Of course I do! Jake, I've known you since I was a little girl... you were one of my best friends. I know you can't stand what am I but I am always going to care about you."

His eyes filled with sadness but relief began to shine through. I took a chance and pulled him in for a hug, he reciprocated it. I could feel hot droplets of water fall onto my clothes.

"She really fucking hurt me."

Venom leaked from my eyes and my face scrunched up.

"She hurt me too."

I didn't know how long I was standing there with him but suddenly the sun filled my vision. It was like our walls built with coldness and ice were beginning to thaw. I hadn't really talked much about any of this with Jasper or the others. No matter how much she screwed me over she was still my sister. As much as I didn't want to I loved her and I always would. Jacob and I pulled apart, I could see the relief on his face. He must've been holding all of this in too, all of that pain stuffed into a bottle that was about ready to burst.

"So... what did you need?" He asked, a small smile was on his face.

"You know I had a son?"

"Yeah, I do... Billy tells me all the time about the photos your dad shows him."

"Well... Bella and Edward told the Volturi about him and now they're coming after all of us."

"Wow... So that's where she went."

"Yeah... Leah told me that a lot more people are turning because of the vampires we found to help us out."

"So you're asked me to help the wolves out."

"Damn didn't even have to finish my statement."

Jacob laughed before answering.

"I'm in... you're going to need all the help you can get."

"Thank you so much Jacob you do not know how much I appreciate this."

Timeskip: 2 hours later

Jacob and I drove back down to the Cullens' house, I wondered how they would react. When I pulled into the driveway I saw Jasper and Rosalie waiting for me.

"Oh boy..." I muttered to myself. Jacob and I got out of the car and approached them.

"Fleur where were you?" Jasper asked.

"I had to find a little bit more help," I said, gesturing toward Jacob.

"Jacob, nice to see you again." Jasper greeted, I could tell he was tense.

"Don't worry I'm not gonna try anything on you guys... even if blondie tries to poison me."

"Don't push your luck." Rosalie threatened, her eyes took on a deadly look and her finger was pointed at him.

"Okay you two settle down and get in the house," I said, trying to breaking the tension. Before we could however I could he the sound of two people running. Their speed wasn't one of a human Rosalie, Jasper, and Jacob would all hear it too.

"Rosalie get Carlisle now!" I said.

Rosalie quickly ran into the house.

Before I knew it two men were standing in front of me... both were unfamiliar.

"Who are you?"

The door behind me swung open and Carlisle called out toward the two people. Kate, Rosalie, and Emmett were right behind him.

"Vladimir, Stefan, you're a long way from home."

"What are they doing here?" I heard Kate inquire.

"We heard the Volturi were moving against you. But that you would not stand alone." Vladimir answered.

"We didn't do what we were accused of," I stated.

"We do not care what you did."

"We have been waiting a millennium for the Italian scum to be challenged," Stefan said in eagerness.

"It's not our plan to fight the Volturi," Carlisle said quickly.

"Shame. Aro's witnesses will be so disappointed."

"They enjoy a good fight."

"Aro's witnesses?" I asked.

"Aww. Still, hoping they'll listen?" Vladimir said to me mockingly.

"When Aro wants someone from a coven it's never long before evidence turns up proving that coven committed some crime."

"So he's done this before?" I said, anger leaked in my voice and I quickly whipped my head around to look at Carlisle.

"It happens so rarely, I never realized it was a pattern," Carlisle replied.

"How in the hell do you not remember that he's done this before you've lived for hundreds of years!"

"I can't really tell you Fleur... I just know he always pardons one person whose thoughts he claims are repentant. This person always has an ability. And they're always given a place with the Guard."

"It has to be about Alice. He has no one like her!" I started.

"Which is why she left." Jasper finished for me.

"Why does he need witnesses?" Emmett asked.

"To spread the word that justice has been served. After he slaughters an entire coven." Vladimir answered.

"Come on inside, we need to tell everyone else the news," Carlisle said.

You could imagine the faces of everyone when they revealed the pattern of the Volturi. Horror and shocked were all anyone could feel in the room.

"Benjamin, Tia, we're leaving. NOW!" Amun demanded.

I quickly jumped up blocking his way toward the exit.

"And where will you go? What makes you think they'll be satisfied with Alice? What's to stop them from going after Benjamin next? Or Zafrina or Kate, Bree, or anyone else with a gift?" I started, I looked toward Jasper for support.

"They will try to get anyone they want. Their goal isn't punishment, it's power. It's acquisition. Carlisle might not ask you to fight, but Fleur and I will. For the sake of my family. But also for yours. And for the way you want to live." Jasper added. Jacob and Leah looked at each other before nodding slightly toward one another.

"The pack will fight. We've never been afraid of vampires."

"We will fight," Kate said, Tanya, Elezar, and Carmen nodded in agreement.

"This won't be the first time I fought a king's rule." Garrett added.

"We'll join you." Benjamin said, smiling at me."

"No, we will not!"

"I will do the right thing, Amun. You may do as you please." Benjamin said dismissing Amun.

"We will stand with you."

"So will we."

I looked at everyone before thanking them.

"We're going to take down these bastards once and for all."

[insomniamamma]

Greenhorn: young!Ezra x F!reader

A/N: This was inspired by @opheliaelysia and our conversation about how Ez wouldn't be able to resist squishing an aurelac pod, but it ended up turning into something more. ALSO, though reader and OCs refer to Ezra as "the kid" I am picturing an early 20s Ezra. None of these people are minors.

Warnings: Language. Canon typical violence. Death. Slight gore. Angst. Hurt/comfort. A lil bit of fluff. Implied may-december romance. No beta.

___________________________________________________________________

This is a bad idea, you think, as your drop-ship hits atmo, small squarish windows limned in fire, deep vibration that thrums up through your spine, the ship trying not to tear itself apart, and the kid is still talking. No one can hear him above the vibrations and the scream of superheated molecules shredding themselves apart against the heat shield. Del sings out

"We're at max pressure--" "Copy--" "There was this one time--" "No one gives a fuck, Greenhorn---" "All of you shut the fuck up--" "We're through," says Del, "Drogue deploy in 15--' 'There was a whole fuckin nest of em--" "Oi! Shut it!" "3-2-1, deploying drogues." Del punches the button at his right hand and the drogue 'chutes fire out and the drop-ship does a sick lurch, its pace slowing from suicidal to absurdly dangerous. You've got the ability to soft-land, but so long as Del lines it up right you won't have to, the bog should cradle you. Fuel saved on the way down makes the lift safer. "Deploying mains," you say, and flip the toggle, a loud thump and another jolt as the main chutes deploy, sprouting out from the top of your lander, like the days of Apollo on Old Terra. And still the fucking kid is yapping. In writing the kid seemed half-decent, a big, raw boned boy with a rakish, dimpled smile. Had his own suit and kit and filters. Was polite enough when you asked questions of him, all yes Ma'am and no Ma'am, and three bags full Ma'am. Never would have considered his green ass if Marko hadn't bailed, or, more precisely, if Marko hadn't gotten himself in trouble with the locals and run with his  tail between his legs, well, so now you had the kid, who could not for the life of him seem to shut up for two seconds. At first you thought it was just nerves, but he's been yammering away since you requested release. An uninterrupted, stream of consciousness narration. You are wondering if he is, indeed, brain damaged somehow.

"The thing about channel rats--" "For the love of Kevva no one gives a sweet jewel encrusted crap--" "Ezra! For the love of all that's holy, if you do not shut up I will shoot you in the face," you snap. "Clear?" He gives you a little wounded look. "Clear," says Ezra. And, for a brief, miraculous moment, there is silence. The drop ship lands, lurches in the boggy ground and is still. "How we lookin, Del?" "Nav dropped us right on the button," says Del, "We look great." The tight quarters fill with the sound of bodies unstrapping from the crash-couches. "Alright people. Let's suit up. Sooner we get our pull, sooner we get back up to connection orbit." You walk through the Green in loose formation. Del put you down not 3 clicks from the dig site, but the Green is tricksy and, lately, full of dangerous people. Del and Big Pete have rails. You and the kid have your throwers strapped to your hips. Del takes point, you and Big Pete hang back a hair. The kid is supposed to be bringing up the rear, but a look over your shoulder shows him entirely transfixed. This is probably his first time off whatever backwater sprung him, all shiny and new and dropped into the Bakhroma Green, his big brown eyes all agog, trying to look everywhere at once. And you feel this keenly, a spike in your chest that recalls your first time dirtside, the great, broad blue arc of the sky was enough to fuck you up, after only knowing smoothly curving station walls and blunted angles. You recall your wonder, setting foot on this lush and deadly ground, never had you seen so much life, never seen life that wasn't controlled and carefully cultivated. The Green is a truly wild place that obeys no rules but its own. "Is it all like this?" he asks, "So verdantly forested?" "Yep," says Del, "Once in a while you get a soft-spot like we landed in, but most of it's trees and roots." You slog along. The site is close, but it's already warm. And by the time you get there, the kid is mostly silent and that is truly a blessing, likely the effect of slowly poaching in his suit, not accustomed to the heat like you and the rest of the crew. "Should be getting close," says Del, brow furrowed, peering at a battered topographical map, a red x inside a red circle. You stop a beat and peer through the patterns of shadow and trees, the haze of winkling purple dust. "There," you say, hand reaching out to point without even thinking about it, a patch of dark, slightly sunken earth, devoid of brush. Plants don't like to grow over aurelac nests. You don't know why and it doesn't matter. "Right. We set up here. Trade me the rails, Del, you get to play teacher. Listen up, Ezra, Del is one of the best harvester's you'll meet. You listen to him, clear? You do what he says and nothing else." "Clear," says Ezra, grinning all big through his fishbowl helm. "Um...boss?" Says Big Pete, "Why we bothering with this boy?" "What if Marko can't get himself out of the shit this time, huh? We'll need another set of hands...we'll--" "PUT THAT DOWN!" Del's voice squeals loud and offended over the comms, "The fuck are you doin?" And before you can even think, you and Big Pete are running for the dig and would you look at that, there's the kid, gloves pulled out of their ring-seals and piled on the mossy ground beside him. He's got an aurelac node husk cupped in his bare hands, not even safely cut yet, it's umbilicus disappearing into the black dirt. "EZRA! WERE YOU BORN THIS STUPID OR DID IT TAKE YEARS OF RIGOROUS PRACTICE?" And, look at him, the kid smirks at you through his fishbowl helmet. "Sorry, Ma'am, " he says, "It seemed uncannily squishy. I just had to find out for myself--" You close the distance between you and grab his wrist, hard enough so that his idiot smile fades and you actually see some fear prick in those big brown eyes. Fear is good in the Green. Fear is your friend. Unlikely this kid has ever had cause to be afraid, but, by Kevva, you're going to give him some cause. You pull your knife from your belt and press the business end into Ezra's palm, right between the heart and head lines, just enough to dimple but not enough to break skin. He tries to jerk away, but you know how you hold him, grind those wrist bones together like marbles in a sock. "Ezra," your voice is soft, yelling does no good, this kid's probably been yelled at for most of his formative years, and it's obviously made no impression. "You see all this purple shit floating through the air? Pretty, isn't? Looks like fairy dust--" "Ma'am--" he tries to pull free. "Shut it, fool," you push the knife tip just a hair harder, feel him flinch, flinching is good, might save his idiot hide someday. "I break your skin, I give your the faintest kitten scratch of a wound and the spores will get in there and fest black. These spores will eat you from the bones out. You rot from the inside, clear?" "Clear." You let go and he scrabbles his gloves back on. "Fuckin hell," says Del. Big Pete just shakes his head.

Thank Kevva for small favors, the kid is a quick study. Those big hands are surprisingly clever, and even Del is impressed by his ability. The idea licks around your mind that maybe it's time to cut Marko loose for good, Ezra has plenty of raw talent even if he can't shut up. Your time in the Green is almost done, a half cycle to button up the dig, break camp and lift. You've given Del back the rail-gun, traded for harvesting. The thrill of splitting open those strange membranes has never gown old for you, the finicky work of dissecting the carom blisters away from the inner sac, the fizz of the fazer and then your prize revealed, in this moment your mind is fully on the pull, you don't notice anything off until you feel something thump into the back of your helmet, and hear the whine of a primed thrower. A voice crackles ever the common channel. "Drop your weapons boys, or this stupid cow gets one right through the brain pan." Big Pete already has his hands in the air, Petey always was a softy, Del still has his rails, looking at your face for a sign and you shake your head. Take the shot, you think, you try to think it AT him, but you see the rail-gun slide out of his hands. God Damnit.  You would have expected them to act selfishly. You always expected you'd die out here and the business end of some thrower. And, of course, the kid is nowhere to be seen. Probably wandered behind a tree to take a leak or already caught a blast to the skull. "Right then," Your assailant says, he's got your air-hose doubled over in his free hand, "You open up that case so I can--" The thrower discharges and you pitch forward, there is no pain, just pressure,  and suddenly you can breathe easier. You heave against the dead weight on your back, scrabble back down into the slick of dead leaves and needles and then the pressure is gone and you sit up. The dying man crawfishes over the loam, peering out of his helm with wide eyes and blood spattered lips, eyes that plead until they are obliterated. Ezra stands with his thrower smoking, his face pulled up into a rictus of fear and rage. "Del. Petey. Circle back. Comm channel zero. Anything flinches you take it out. Clear?" Big Pete :"Clear" Del: "Clear" "Ezra. Get his filter," "huh?" "Did I stutter? You get his filter and any other kit that's any good." You stand, but your legs want to betray you. You take a couple shambling steps and plant yourself on a fallen tree, watching the kid strip the corpse, peels the filters and o rings and hose like he's done it a million times. Your breath comes hard and ragged. Nausea grips you. All your time in the Green and you never get over that feeling of almost dying, the taste of it on your tongue like hot smoke, and here's the kid gripping your shoulder, helping you up. "We going back to camp?" "Yeah," you say, "Thrower out. There might be more of them."                                                                                                                                                                                         "I didn't want to--" You know where this is going. You remember hearing the same arguments spill out of yourself the first time you had to use a thrower, "I mean, he woulda--" You stop so you can look at him through the foggy business of his helmet. "You did right." You say, "he meant to take our whole pull." Ezra nods, but his eyes are still white-rimmed and shocked. You reach for him and give his arm a little shake. "Let's go. Eyes peeled, clear?" "Clear."

You keep expecting that shaky, nauseated feeling to dissipate on the walk back to camp but it does not. The suit seems suffocating, and you practically bolt for the tent, in and fumbling with your suit before Ezra can even turn on the scrubbers. You reach to doff your helmet, something you've done daily for years, but your hands shake and you fumble the catches, two attempts and you feel like you're drowning in your own exhalations, you need this fishbowl off your head right now, but your hands won't stop shaking. "Here," Ezra pushes your hands away and does the catches himself, lifting the helmet away from your face. His own fishbowl's gone, his sweaty hair sticking up in crazy quills, that little blond streak screaming up from his scalp like an exclamation point, and before you can properly process what's happening, Ezra pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapped tight around your shoulders. Your hands, which, by all means, should be shoving him the fuck off of you, turn traitor and creep around his middle. You're still shaking, but you feel him shaking too, the two of you vibrating with spent adrenaline like plucked guitar strings. His warm palm grips the back of your neck and nestles your head into the space between his neck and shoulder. You let out a watery breath. "Fuck. I'm getting to old for this shit." Ezra makes a dismissive sound. His fingers dig at your nape, pressing into the tight, cabled muscles there. You let yourself lean against him, lean into his warmth. You can't remember a time you've been this close to someone without expecting a backstab. Ezra murmurs. It's okay, we're safe, I've got you, we're safe, reassuring himself as much as you. "Ezra?" "Yes, Ma'am?" "Don't make this your life," You lift your head and look up at him, his brows are furrowed. "I'm afraid I don't understand."  You poke his belly. "Get yourself maybe three solid pulls and then you get the fuck out of here," you say, peering into those big, dark eyes, "Get out and don't come back." "Ma'am?" "The Green changes people," you say, "And generally not for the better." He gives you a hard squeeze that you return and then he releases you, but only partially, one arm still slung over your shoulder. "You know," he says, "I have among my personal effects a bottle of Kanvian fire-water. Once we lift we could find a quiet place on yon freighter and share it." "Kanvian, eh?" You turn up your arm to look at your chronometer. "We boost in, what, a third of a cycle? Manage not to do anything catastrophically stupid between now and then and I'll consider it." His lips pull into a smirk, his dark eyes glittering, crinkling at the corners. He raises his hand to his head in a mock salute. "Yes, Ma'am." "Del and Big Pete should be done with their sweep soon. Start system checks on the ship, then help break camp." "Yes, Ma'am." He scoops up his discarded helmet under one arm and heads for the entrance. "Oh, and, Ezra?" "Yeah?" "You say anything about..." You gesture vaguely, "Whatever this was that just happened--" "Not to worry, fair maiden," he says, grinning, "No word of our tryst shall pass my lips, because I know that the second I let things slip you will undoubtedly shoot me in the face." "The fuck outta here, smooth talker," you laugh. Ezra jams the fishbowl back on his head and steps out into the sticky heat of The Green, zipping the tent behind him. He's a fool, you think as you set about grading and stowing the day's pull, he's a fool and likely to get himself killed. You just hope you're not the one who has to see it.

[mcfreakin-bxtch]

Survival

Pairing: Ezra x Reader

Warnings: NSFW (soft, secret/quiet smut. Some thigh riding. None too graphic), death, blood

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: My first Ezra fic! I was gonna wait until tomorrow to post this but I’m really impatient and just said fuck it, it’s 2020. Hope you lot enjoy! As always, requests and prompts are open.

Masterlist

You didn’t want to be stuck on this godforsaken moon.

The Green is what most called it due to its forestry nature. It was beautiful, but deadly all the same. Being the oldest to Cee, it was your responsibility to look after her and show her the ropes.

Damon was not your biological father but took you in anyway after the death of your mother. You didn’t particularly like the man; he was just as cold and distant with you (which you didn’t mind) as he was with Cee. That was what bothered you.

Cee was a very intelligent girl, and you always encouraged her to keep writing her book despite what Damon said otherwise about it. The smile you would receive after was worth all the fights and arguments you would have with Damon over her.

This kind of life wasn’t suitable for a young girl like her. You weren’t related to her by blood, but you always felt like a sister to her. She looked up to you more than she did her father, relied on you for any piece of humanity and comfort. Every decision you ever made was always in Cee’s best interest, because she mattered more to you than anything else in the world.

But it was hard to depart from Damon. Cee still loved her father despite their differences, and so the only thing you could do – while you bided your time to eventually leave and take Cee with you – was to stay and deal with Damon.

His greed was also something you could never stand. Yes it was nice to be rich and plentiful, and you were not oblivious to the realities of the world you lived in; but Damon’s greed was starting to become dangerous, and it was putting Cee in danger as well.

So when you’re standing in the middle of a draw, the man you had learned to be Ezra and his silent partner trying to negotiate, and Damon robbing them point blank as they had tried beforehand, you couldn’t help but feel that this was all a very bad idea.

You rob anyone and it always results in a firefight. You were prepared for it, but yet when the mute and Damon both fired at each other, both you and Cee stood there with blank expressions. Shocked and scared, Cee started to panic as Ezra, the last man standing, quickly went for a weapon.

“Go!” You said to Cee, pointing your thrower at him.

Cee hesitated before making a bee line for the lander. You only hoped that she would be able to get there in one piece.

Ezra smiled and shrugged as he watched her run away, eyes still trained on yours.

“I don’t believe I got your name,” he said.

You hated the fact that despite the situation at hand, his accent – even through your helmets – sent little trembles through you.

“You don’t need it,” you said gruffly. “And tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you down where you stand?”

He huffed. “Well, I think you would’ve by now if that’s what you really wanted sweetheart.”

Your firsts tightened around the grip of your gun. “Don’t call me that,” you growled.

Ezra put his hands up in surrender. “Alright. But I’m serious. You seem like a reasonable person, and I’m willing to negotiate.”

You hesitated. Could you really trust this man? He was partly responsible for Damon’s death, although Damon was just at fault for the whole situation breaking out the way it did, and you had Cee to protect. Ezra hadn’t moved a muscle, watching you with trained eyes.

“We follow through with Damon’s plan,” Ezra continued as he saw you contemplating. “I help you with the girl, offer my protection for the both of you. Not that I think you need it,” he added with a small smile.

You chewed on your lips as you contemplated his offer once more. You eventually aimed your thrower down, glaring at the man.

You told him your name, which brought a shiny grin to his lips as he tested it out with his natural drawl. You hated the way your heart flipped at the sound of it.

“Well then,” he stepped closer to you, and you couldn’t help but take a step back as he did. His smile faltered, just a little. “Let’s go find your girl.”

It didn’t take too long to find the damaged lander. You gave a pattern of knocks before calling out to her. Cee quickly rushed to the hatch, eyes meeting yours in relief but wavering at the sight of the man partly responsible for her father’s death.

“He’s going to help us,” you told her. “We came to an agreement. We’re going to try and find a way off this fucking moon but we gotta move now.”

Cee looked back and forth between you and Ezra. You could see the internal turmoil she was having and hoped like hell she would cooperate with you.

“Okay,” she finally said. You thought for sure she was going to say more, and she most likely wanted to but bit her tongue.  

…

It had only been a week now. You knew time was precious, but the three of you had been monitoring The Green. You weren’t surprised to find other diggers and mercenaries; it was to be expected. Outnumbered, it was your suggestion at biding time and scoping them out, making sure you all had at least a good chance at making it out of there alive.  

You made Ezra promise that if anything happened to you, that he would protect Cee. Their lives didn’t matter, only hers.

“Of course,” the conviction in his voice settled you, as did the firmness in his eyes as he promised you.

Ezra was not only incredibly handsome (which you would’ve fought tooth and nail to dispute), but he was also smart. He knew when to keep his mouth shut, how to dig, fight, track. You figured he had been at this lifestyle for quite some time now, and the old, tired look in his eyes seemed to prove your theory.

Cee wouldn’t give him her name at first, and he – much to your appreciation – did not push it. Eventually, however, you heard her blabbing away about her book to him; your heart swelled at the soft smile Ezra held as he encouraged her to continue.

It was rocky at first, your little partnership. You only answered his questions when it was necessary, and always kept your thrower in your hand just in case. Ezra was nothing but patient with you and overtime you had begun to open up to him.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m enough,” you said to him. Cee stayed behind to rest in Ezra’s tent while you and Ezra went out to scout. “For Cee, I mean.”

Ezra, who was walking in front of you, stopped to turn around, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

You looked down, suddenly shy. “I- I mean that I’m not doing enough for her.”

He nodded then in understanding, turning back around to lead the way. “You’re tryin’. Putting her wants and needs above yours, it’s the best you can do for a young one.”

You nodded. You knew he didn’t see it, but you were so deep in thought you didn’t even realize he stopped dead in his tracks until you literally bumped into him. He caught you before you could fall, and you wanted nothing more than to melt in his arms in that moment.

“She obviously cares about you very much,” he assured, arms still settled around your forearms. You looked up at him, fighting hard not to trail your eyes down to his lips, which you desperately wanted to feel against yours. You wondered if they would feel soft or chapped, what he would taste like against your tongue.

“And I can see that you do too. Now I know that we had a rough start, but I gave you my word. The girl will see off this moon alive, no matter what.”

You clenched your jaw. “Yeah,” you croaked. “She will.”

You also couldn’t deny the sexual tension that coursed between you and Ezra. He didn’t miss the way you would quickly avert your eyes once he caught you staring at him, or the way you would hold your breath when he was close to you, fingers twitching as if you were desperate to feel his touch.

Being the man that he was, he teased you. Little brushes against you, blowing it off by reaching behind you to grab a bar or a tool. Throwing you little smirks when you explain something to him. It was driving you crazy, and you wanted nothing more than to jump the man. The only thing that stopped you, really, was that you had Cee.

You knew Cee had detected the flirting, and she rolled her eyes every time Ezra cracked a joke at your expense. It felt like your skin was crawling. The thick, fiery boil in your stomach coiling and coiling until it threatened to explode. The ache in your core was one of the worsts of all; it had been so long since you felt the intimate touch of another.

While Cee was dead asleep, you had decided enough was enough. The next sunrise was the day to finally make a move for the Queen’s Lair, and there was no guarantee for anyone’s safety. It was now or never, and if the feelings were mutual between you and Ezra, then you refused to die without feeling him. Pushing your small excuse for a blanket back, you tip-toed across to Ezra’s bunk. He looked so peaceful, and you could see now his age, but it only made him more beautiful in your eyes. It was enough to almost change your mind. Almost.

You gently shook his shoulder. His mouth, which was slightly open in a quiet snore, quickly shut, eyes opening wide in slight panic.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you whispered, hand still on his shoulder.

Ezra glared up at you, sleep washing away from his eyes. “Okay?”

You hesitated. He kept staring in puzzlement until it finally clicked. Your flushed state, the embarrassment, chest heaving silently in eagerness. He grinned, opening his blanket to you.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered huskily.

You inhaled sharply before practically jumping onto the bunk. Your hands sat awkwardly between the both of you, now enclosed in his warmth.  

Ezra covered you both, arms wrapping around your waist to bring you closer to him. You gasped, one hand on his covered chest and the other just under his chin. He brought a hand up to your face, brushing your hair way before cupping your cheek. Your lips were barely touching now and it was electric, breaths mixing together as you looked into his dark eyes; they were blown wide, and it only made you clench your thighs together for the friction you desperately craved.

“Tell me to stop if you want me to,” he said against your lips.

Such a foolish thing to say. You never wanted him to stop. He hadn’t even kissed you yet and you were already a puddle at his feet.

You answered with a clash of lips and teeth. Ezra had to hold back the groan that threatened to claw its way out, exhaling sharply through his nose instead. It had been a while for him as well.

His lips were better than you imagined. They were rough, slightly chapped, but somehow still soft all the same. You were convinced only Ezra could pull off such a distinctive and alluring spell with only the touch of his lips.

The hand that was wrapped around your waist slowly trailed down to your ass, groping it and kneading the flesh, earning a gasp from you; he took this opportunity to explore your mouth, both of you sighing at the taste of each other.

He slipped a thigh between your legs, bringing the other leg around his hip. You couldn’t help but to start grinding against his thigh, knuckles tightening around his arm as his lips trailed down your neck. You closed your eyes in bliss, his hand ghosting over the skin left uncovered by your shirt. Your stomach clenched, pulling back to pull the shirt over your head. Ezra looked at you in awe.

“Use me,” you whispered.

He gulped. It was all a blur, and suddenly he was on top of you, tearing down your pants and working on his. You shuddered at his thick girth, slapping against his stomach. You both looked over to Cee, still sleeping comfortably with her back turned as he pulled the blanket closer over the both of you, making sure to cover up your nakedness.

He kissed you again, palming your breast in one palm and tweaking your nipple in the other. Your back arched up into him, legs opening wider for him. His hips shifted against yours, the head of his cock brushing against your clit; Ezra had to bite back the moan, body shaking from restraint as he broke the kiss to look down.

“Please,” you begged. “Ezra.”

Ezra pressed his forehead against yours as he pushed into you. A moan would’ve escaped you if it hadn’t been for his lips. His breaths were shaky as he bottomed out, hips pressed firmly against yours. Your walls clenched from the fullness, making him close his eyes tightly and bury his face in your neck. The both of you knew you weren’t going to last long.

“Shit,” he whispered in your ear.

He started to move once you shifted your hips up, starting as slow and quietly as he could. He felt divine inside you. You trailed kisses down his gorgeous neck, biting down softly when he hit your sweet spot. He gripped a handful of your hair, tightening his grip as he started to move a little faster. His mouth stayed firmly planted on your collarbone as your hands trailed up and down his back, feeling the muscles ripple with every thrust before finally settling in his hair and back.

In that moment there was nothing else in the world but you and Ezra. You would die a happy woman if it meant having this moment with him. In the short time you had known him you grew attached, which you realized this to be a dangerous thing.

Where he was hard and calloused, touched by the harsh years, you were soft, sweet. The combination only fueled the desire, the need for each other. Where he was fire, you were ice, forming together in perfect harmony and creating something terrifyingly beautiful.

It felt as though Ezra felt the same, because when he pulled his head back to kiss you as your orgasms started to peak, you felt all the words he couldn’t say bleed into you like pure air – nothing like the sterile, recycled oxygen you were so used to.

You feel so fucking good around me.

I’ve wanted you since day one.

We have to fight through this together.

I can’t let you die.

I won’t let you die.

Every molecule in your body sang with euphoria as your walls tightened around his cock. His thrusts had turned harder now, not enough for it to be loud, but enough to bring that delicious ache you know you’d be feeling for days. You bit down harshly on his shoulder as you came, nails digging into his back. Ezra gritted his teeth and dug his short nails into the tender skin of your thigh, releasing himself into you.

You didn’t let go of him as you tried to catch your breath. You looked over to see that Cee had turned a little but was still otherwise very asleep. Thank god she was a heavy sleeper.

Ezra kissed your forehead, nose, then lips before pulling out with a small hiss. You grabbed your shirt to put on, watching as he pulled his pants back up. He reached over you, fumbling underneath the bunk until he found what he was looking for. He gently cleaned you off with the cloth, throwing it back under and pulling you into his chest after helping you with your clothes.  

“I apologize,” he said after a few moments of silence.

You frowned. “For what?”

“For…” His eyes trailed down, and it took you a second before your eyebrows raised in understanding.

“It’s okay. I liked it.”

You felt the rumble of his small chuckle, smiling softly.

“I’ll remember that then, sweetheart.”

…

“Go!”

Ezra was bleeding from the stab wound in his abdomen, pushing you towards Cee. The whole thing had gone to shit. Bodies laid out around you, their blood seeping into the patchy ground. And now there were mercenaries after you and only one pod to your ticket home. It was so close, but Ezra was already pale from the blood loss and you couldn’t find your fucking kit and you were crying and you can’t lose him.

“Ezra,” your voice shook. “Come on.”

“I can’t,” he panted. “You need to go. Don’t die because of me. Take Cee and leave.”

Cee. You had to protect Cee. Your chin trembled. You pressed your helmet against his before whispering an apology.

Ezra watched as you grabbed Cee’s hand and ran. He closed his eyes, struggling for air. But, oddly enough, he was okay with his death. Because it was to protect you and Cee. He wasn’t the definition of noble or good by any means, had killed plenty of people himself just for the precious gems alone. He did what was necessary to live. But if he could do this one right thing, if he could die knowing you were alive and safe, then he could accept it with open arms.

He suddenly felt an intense pressure against his wound, eyes going wide and mouth opening in painful shock.

You sat over him, patching his stab wound to the best of your ability before looping his arm around your shoulders and yours around his waist.

“C’mon!” You grunted.

Ezra stood up, grunting at the pain but letting you carry him – as much as you could anyway, even dying he was still mindful – towards the pod. Cee helped you carry him in and closed the hatch.

You and Cee sighed in relief once the pod had successfully taken off. You made sure Ezra was patched up properly and relaxed as you sat down next to him. He looked at you in amazement, offering a gently smile in thanks.

You smiled back as you grabbed his hand, reaching to your right to hold on to Cee’s. A new sense of hope coursing through the three of you. You survived.

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[mostfacinorous]

Whumptober 6th

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] Note: This entry is a continuation of the story from the 4th. It will be continued on the 12th.

Whumptober 6th: Dragged Away

After Hastur had come up and been summarily melted down, there was a period of quiet that they both had rather hoped would stick, this time. 

But of course, as was always the case on earth, nothing good lasted. 

Crowley had been fine, ultimately, treating the Holy water contact the way one would treat having been scalded by boiling water. It faded and healed, and he was very smug and self satisfied with his heroics, not that Aziraphale blamed him for it in the least.

They spent a few days talking with Warlock, explaining things and helping him to understand, as well as extracting from him a promise that he wouldn’t tell a soul, and would be kinder to his mother. He did promise, though privately Aziraphale knew that one of those would be easier to keep than the other for a boy of that age. 

Still, their godson was growing, and, in spite of his rocky home situation and their uneven at best tactics in raising him, he was a little less angry and hurt, knowing why they’d had to leave. Perhaps things would get better for him, after this.

Warlock’s impromptu visit had to come to an end, and he had to return to his mother, who cast suspicious and accusatory glares at Aziraphale until Crowley had come out dressed as Nanny Ashtoreth to reassure her that it was no trouble, really, and they’d missed the boy as well. 

And hadn’t that been odd-- the blending of Aziraphale’s Ezra Fell identity and that of Brother Francis. He supposed Harriet must think he’d had rather a lot of work done, but… at least it meant she was no longer quite so suspicious of why Warlock had come here of all places. 

They’d waved them off with a promise to visit, now they’d been reunited, and that was that on that front. Crowley had grown tired of skirts again after a week or two, and things had slowly settled into what counted, to them, as normal.

The summer turned colder and significantly wetter, and it seemed Hell just could not leave well enough alone. 

Aziraphale came back from a fairly routine shopping trip-- the woman at tesco marveling at how clear his complexion remained despite his apparent diet of cocoa and biscuits-- but he was greeted inside the door of his shop by Crowley, being held by multiple replicas of the same demon, and flanked by Beelzebub and Dagon-- whom Aziraphale recognized, but only through the haze of fear he felt. 

“What is this?” He demanded, stepping into a fighting stance, and readying himself to do his best against this many demons.

“Aziraphale, you are no longer under Heaven’s protection. You are charged with the murder of Hastur, one of the Dukes of Hell.” Beelzebub intoned, voice flat other than the undercurrent droning of insects buzzing. 

“You are subject now to be tried for your crimes in the court of Hell. So to answer your question-- this is a summons.” Dagon added. 

Aziraphale swallowed. 

“I think there’s some mistake-- it was self defense, and in defense of Crowley, who was being attacked, and is supposed to have been protected from such things--” 

“Save your defense for the trial.” Beelzebub answered, and Aziraphale nodded, dumbly, before realizing what he was doing and stopping. 

“No! I’m not going to hell. I can’t-- it will, it’d destroy me, wouldn’t it?” He looked, panicked, towards Crowley, who was actively fighting to break free of the hands of the demons who were holding him. There were, Aziraphale noted, significantly more of them than there had been before. Enough now to overwhelm Crowley, which he supposed was rather the point. 

He steeled himself and turned his eyes back on Crowley’s ex-bosses. 

“Unhand him and leave my shop, or I swear to you, it will rain Holy Water indoors.” 

It was a bluff, of course, because Crowley was there, but they didn’t know that he was still vulnerable to such things. 

“This is happening because you destroyed a higher up of Hell.” Dagon growled. “If you harm us, do you suppose it will not escalate? Do you think that Satan himself is so vulnerable, or that he would be as reasonable as we are? Come stand trial. Or Crowley will be forced to take the blame for this whole tragic affair.”

Crowley turned quickly into a snake, slithered free of his guards, and cried out 

“Yesss!” even as he returned to his default shape. Dagon cast a withering glare at the legion of demons, and they returned, shamefaced, to being a single entity. 

“Let me go,” Crowley pressed on, and Aziraphale opened his mouth to object, but was cut off. “Really angel, what will they do? Dunk me in more holy water?” 

“Everyone knows how Hastur felt about you Crowley-- no doubt this was a long planned act of revenge. And after what you did to Ligur, well-- that’s a pattern. A dangerous one. I don’t think anyone in Hell is willing to let such a threat continue to walk on any realm.” Beelzebub warned. 

“We are in the difficult position of needing to make someone answer for this crime. If you come to trial and are found guilty, we will have to get creative about destroying you. If Aziraphale comes, it will be easier. He’ll be found guilty, we’ll give him a bit of good old fashioned torture, and then he’ll be free to go back to--” Beelzebub looked around disdainfully. “All of this.” 

It sounded dismissive, and Aziraphale felt himself blanching. 

Torture. Him.

Or Crowley’s utter destruction. 

“I’ll stand trial.” He said quietly, and found himself suddenly unable to look Crowley in the face. 

The multiplying demon leapt to action, quickly recapturing and gagging Crowley, who had resumed his fight, thrashing now more wildly than before. 

“Good answer.” Dagon said, giving Aziraphale a slimy grin. 

“You’ll have to forgive us.” Beelzebub said. “There’s something of a tradition, you see.” 

With that, a hole opened in the shop floor, and Aziraphale found himself held over it by his lapels. 

“Oh-- not my books--” he managed, and Dagon rolled their eyes. 

“You have bigger concerns.” Beelzebub reminded him, and, as he was suddenly caught up from below by dozens of hot, stinging, clawing hands, he would have to agree. 

“Shit.” He managed, pithily, and then the last thing he saw was Crowley, glasses askew and eyes wide and horrified, reaching out towards him before he was dragged, quite literally, to Hell.

[yanderegameplaysprotectionsquad]

WTFS: The Show Begins!

Part 1/ Part 2

Hello everyone, welcome to part 2 of the ”Welcome To The Freak Show” series! Once again, this series was inspired by art by the talented @scythlyven-art . Her art is lovely. She is just lovely and I hope you all go check her out.

Art Inspiration:   Hosty Boy / Google / Yandere  / Bim / Dr.Iplier

Description: Grab you ticket and gather the family, The Freak Show is in town! One night only! Danger! Mystery! Adventure! Step right up to the best show in town!

“What do you mean by tha-” Ezra stopped as he turned to see Night had vanished. The reporter felt confused, all around. Senpai? Madness? Through his tense demeanor, he sat down in the lone balcony seat.He tried his best to shake it off, grabbing his small notepad from his pocket. He checked his watch to see he only had five minutes to attempt to gather his thoughts. He quickly jotted what he could put into words. Wilford Warfstache. Monochrome. Madness. His body tensed after merely jotting down the name. It couldn’t be him, he never made it. Offed himself, right? Right?

      Suddenly the lights darkened and a small cheer rose from the crowd. A single light shined down into the center of the stage. Willow walked out, smiling as the people cheered. His demeanor seemed much different then before. He was energetic and overly excited, unlike the calm chuckling man Ezra shook hands with. Ezra felt an icy blast shoot down his spine, an unlikely occurrence in the Florida heat.

“ Good evening ladies, gentlemen, and all configurations of being”, Ezra suddenly felt as though he might vomit.” In store for you tonight is danger, action, and thrills unseen by most!  So sit back, relax, and enjoy!” Willow let out an eerie laugh as the audience applauded.

“ Now introducing, The very spirit of magick, the magician, you all know and love, Hallow!” the crown cheered as the purple jacketed man took Willow’s place in the spotlight.

“ Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we shall give you an evening you will never forget. We will show you the darkest of humanity. The weirdest. The true freaks, if you will” Ezra found himself more invested than he had ever felt, merely by the man’s words.” But we will also show you the brightest of the bright. The true joy we crave day to day” as he said this, a single dove appeared on his hand, earning a gasp from the crowd.

“This creature, an innocent white rabbit, is everyone’s favorite magician’s trick” Ezra suddenly felt confusion wash over him once more, breaking him from his amazed trance. How could that be a rabbit? It was clearly a dove. He quickly jotted the occurrence down only to look up to see empty hands, yet the crowd seemed so invested as he spoke of the bunny. Ezra remained frozen in anticipation as Hallow told a story, seemingly providing much imagery Ezra could not see judging by the constant cheers of the crowd. As he carried on his cloth seemed to darken.

“ Now I must take my leave before our second act begins, but for now, enjoy the evening and remember, nothing is as it seems” Hallow then made a very dramatic gesture as he practically spun out of the spotlight. The audience stood in an ovation which Ezra partook in, fearing someone would be angered if he didn’t.

“ How did you find the first act, Mr. Evans?” Ezra jumped at the sound of Night’s voice behind him. This time Night seemed much less casual. Dark red lipstick and black heels accompanied his look as well as a single feather ear ring on his right ear.

“ It was... interesting” Ezra mumbled nervously as the younger man sat on the arm of his chair.

“ Interesting? Oh, senpai, you haven’t seen interesting yet” Night giggled to himself.

“ What does that mean? That name?” Ezra asked earning another giggle from the red head.

“ Oh dear, if I told you that, it would take the fun out of it. Now hush, the second act is about to start and I’ve heard the performer is quite enticing!” Night smirked.

“ Who is this performer?” Ezra asked, genuinely curious.

“ Me, of course” He laughed, standing from the arm of the chair.  Ezra nodded as Night disappeared behind the curtain, beginning his decent downstairs. Almost as soon as he heard the curtain hit the ground, Willow was on stage once more.

“ Now that you have seen what most cannot, you have heard what most will never hear, it is time to experience fear and wonder more than you ever have before. Presenting, the tamer of danger, the hell raiser himself, Night!” As he spoke, the stage went completely black. A large red hue fell over the room, revealing a thin tight rope in the air. The ground below littered with swords. All of them seemed to be blade up except for two that remained handle up, in the center of the pile.

      Night stepped onto the rope from the shadows, the crowd remaining in a scared silence. He moved gracefully across the tight rope, his white eyes seeming to glow in the dim red of the stage. Suddenly he stopped halfway and turned towards the audience to bow. People cheered and whistled in excitement. Suddenly he smiled at the audience before falling forward, off of the rope. A cry rang through the crowd as he fell towards the pile of blades. Even Ezra felt his heart speeding up. Suddenly Night put his hands in front of him, gripping on to the two handle up blades, in a hand stand. The crowded gawked at the save. No way he could fall that far and not shatter bones. Suddenly, another gasp came from the crowd as Night backflipped over the pile, keeping the two swords in his hands.

“ Fear is a fickle thing” Night began “ You were all in fear I would fall, then you were in fear that I would die. Now fear has left you. All in merely a minute. Now you’re left with a beating heart, maybe some relief, and curiosity. Well tonight we will be pushing that fear to the limit.” Night smirked, leaning his head back before beginning to push the sword down his throat. Ezra rolled his eyes, sword swallowing was a simple party trick. Anyone could do it. But what regained his fear was when Night bowed, sword still down his throat. Through his act Ezra noticed a pattern. He would begin to do something mundane, simply, then he would twist it or he would let it fail as if he never felt any pain from it.

“ Now ,ladies and gentlemen, as much as I hate to go, I must take my leave but remember, my darlings, nothing is as it seems” Night bid farewell, blowing kisses and winking as he walked off stage and the crowd went wild. Ezra barely had time to write two words before his notebook was snatched from his hand.

“What do we have here, Senpai?” Night laughed, “Madeness, Monochrome...Wilford War- how do you know that name, Senpai?”

Ezra could see the slight change in his face,” Everyone knows him”.

“ But how do you know him?” Night’s tone had changed. No longer light and curious, now it was condescending and slightly scared. How does one explain that? Such a tale as to how he knew Wilford Warfstache?

“He was a... a good friend...” Ezra felt his throat closing up. He couldn’t even attempt to explain. Night’s face was pale. Seemingly paler than when he first met him. 

“Excuse me for a moment, Senpai” Night smiled, handing him his notebook. 

Suddenly Willow appeared back on stage,” Now you’ve seen magic, you’ve seen danger, now you will see pure terror. This next act will leave everyone on the edge of their seat. Introducing, Barry Tremor!”

A man in a purple suit appeared on stage, full of smiles and waves,” Good evening everyone! My name is Barry Tremor and today we are going to be playing a bit of a game! Now for this game, I’m going to need a volunteer from the audience... how about you? On the balcony?” He smiled, looking towards Ezra. Ezra felt his mouth dry out before Night wrapped an arm around him, giving a nod to Barry before dragging Ezra down the stairs. He soon found himself on stage. He stood in the center on a small platform. Beside him, stood a table with 4 knives. on the end of the stage stood 4 wooden targets.

“ Now what might be your name?” The man asked, smiling at him in a way that left Ezra feeling odd.

“ Ezra, Ezra Evans” He tried to smile but he felt nothing but fear.

“ Well Mr. Evans as you can see you have 4 knives and 4 targets. In this game, you will throw a knife at each target. At the end of the game, if you did not hit a target, the knifes will fire back at you, do you understand? Great! Let’s begin!” The entire crowd cheered as the Barry stepped out of the spotlight. 

      Ezra’s hands shook as he grabbed the knife. Then he heard it, in the back of his head. The trick is to step as you throw light a softball. And how do you know that, Warfstache? We all had our own interests in college, Ez. He took a step back, pinching the bottom of the knife. He then stepped forward as he released the knife sending it flying into the middle of the target.

“Well, looks like we have us a natural, everybody!” Barry laughed as the audience cheered. He did this two more times. Cheers and quirky comments from Barry, until he missed. The knife grazed the target before landing next to it on the fake wall behind the row of targets. The audience fell silent as a smile grew on Barry’s face.

“It seems our Ninja in red has lost” Ezra had no time to think before the knives flew back his way, three missing him. One piercing his stomach .Pain rang through his body. The audience gasped before the platform opened and he fell down a long shoot. He heard a cheer from the audience as his memory begin to blur together. 

“Trimmer! You weren’t supposed to pick him! That’s the one we need!”

“Is he okay? Let me see him! Do remember I’m the doctor here!”

“Get Schneep!”

“If he dies, you die, Trimmer!” 

“Ezra!”

Flashes of monochrome, red, blue, and pink swirled together. Bright lights and pokes and prods. Loud beeps and shocks. Then the sweet peace of anesthetic. Sleep.

Taglist:

@scythlyven-art 

@sam-moss

[rainforestdawn]

I’m bored, so why not?

Thank you Charlie @adeathnoteblog for reblogging the questions in a blank format.

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? Always more cereal than Milk. Lactose intolerant, less milk the better.

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day? Yes, but only if it’s snowing big fat snowflakes.

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? Receipts, Grocery Lists, and Candy Wrappers, lol

4: how do you take your coffee/tea?I like it very sweet, with one dollop of cream. Or just black hazelnut.

5: are you self-conscious of your smile? Yes. It’s very big, and I really dislike drawing attention to my mouth.

6: do you keep plants? No, Each time I try, I wind up killing it. Even the hearty “hard to kill” ones.

7: do you name your plants? Nope.

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? Magazine Collage, and music.

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? Yes

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? I’m a right side sleeper. 

11: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends? One Word. Macarena.

12: what’s your favorite planet? For reals? We’re supposed to have a favorite? Earth…I guess?

13: what’s something that made you smile today? Not a damn thing, actually. I haven’t laughed or giggled or chuckled, either. That’s unusual.

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? That depends on which best friend you’re talking about. Like, I actually don’t have one best friend.

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!   *Do constellations look different other planets?*  The planets of the Solar System do revolve around the same central body, but they do so on different orbits, so they will observe the stars from slightly different angles. This will make the constellations we see from here slightly different from the ones you see from there.

16: what’s your favorite pasta dish?Chicken Fettuccine Alfredo

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? I’ve always wanted to go completely blonde, or smurf blue.

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. That fucking time I sat on a goddamned apple pie. It was a Christmas party, and I had excused myself to the porch to have a cigarette. I sat on a chair, and it occurred to me that it was warm, and didn’t pay it any mind. I don’t see well in the dark, and there was a towel on the seat, covering the pie, so I didn’t notice it until I got up. SO fucking embarrassing since I knew literally, two people, at this party.

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? I tend to doodle spirals, or repetitive lines, kind of like concentric circles. I write about how I’m feeling in that moment, the things that are randomly floating through y head, stuff I need to remember, grocery lists, phone numbers and appointments, and other random bits. I carry a hard covered spiral bound book or a children’s school notebook at all times with a pen.

20: what’s your favorite eye color? I really do enjoy all eye colors. No one in particular. Each eye is different, and I rather enjoy looking into them and noticing the variations. But I rarely do this.

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. I don’t have one in specific that I think of in these terms. I pitch any bag that carries a major association with. I do, however, have a green duffel bag that I’ve had since my first trip to the states with my first husband. That’s nearly 20 years old now.

22: are you a morning person? I can be. But I prefer waking in late morning.

23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? Nap. Listen to soothing music. Watch the leaves moving in the trees. Curling up on the couch. Watching a favorite movie. Eat yummy food. And then nap some more.

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets? My followers, of course. I haven’t given my tumblr address to anyone in my family, or my close friends. There’s actually only two people whom I’ve shared this site with that I know IRL. You’re all privy to my worst secrets.

25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into? An old Jail? I dunno, breaking into something isn’t really my forte.

26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit? Nada. Crocs from the dollar store, hahaha. Not a fashonista at all, and gave up matching shoes before I had my second child.

27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor? Excel Green. Whatever flavor that is. Spearmint I think?

28: sunrise or sunset? Depends. If I’m with someone I love, Sunrise. If I’m real fucking down, Sunset.

29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? Christ. This is a thing?! I dunno, they banter back with my sarcastic insults.

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared? Yup.

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. OMG. I’m a toe sock junkie. I prefer the fuzzy, soft kind of socks if the floors are cold. I like Toe socks because I can wear flip flops with them, and I call them my campfire socks. Less Mosquito bites if I wear those during an evening campfire. I have a lot of crazy patterned socks because my ex and the kids tend to steal them if they’re plainly colored.

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. Uhhh…I sobered up? No, really. There aren’t a whole lot of people I’ve stayed up all night with. It’s my time. It’s private.

33: what’s your fave pastry? Strudel.

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it? I have two stuffies I got as gifts as a kid. I don’t know why I keep them. There’s no association with them at all. Maybe because most of the things I had as a child were so often thrown away…Huh. I haven’t named them. Both are bears. One is on all fours, on is sitting on it’s backside. Now that I think of it, I really should just pitch them out.

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? I <3 comfortable, smooth writing pens. And when I find one, it stays with me until it goes dry, and then I miss it for months, and mourn it’s loss. I once had a pen I kept for seven years before it dried out, no joke. Stationary makes no diff to me at all.

36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now? Umm. The Cranberries.

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean? Clean. I feel good when my room is clean.

38: tell us about your pet peeves! I fucking hate wet towels on my bed. When people refer to the USA as “America” and not the United States, they aren’t the only goddamned country on this continent.

39: what color do you wear the most? Black. I love bright happy colors, but when I had my first child, my husband and mother in law insisted they help me build my wardrobe. It was all pastels or white & black, and a lot of khaki. So, I gave up my own sense of style. I wear a lot of black.

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you? I have a diamond and Ruby ring that my kinds’ dad gave me as an “I’m sorry” gift. He didn’t take my side in an argument with his parents. He didn’t agree with me.

41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving? Mo Willems Don’t Let The Pigeon Books.

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it! Not at all.

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? My youngest son.

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? That happens so rarely I actually don’t recall.

45: do you trust your instincts a lot? Absolutely.

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of. No. I refuse to start punning.

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe? I dunno, jalapenos? NO clue.

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? The Dark, or being in the dark with a lit doorway. It’s not my biggest fear now, but it’s still up there.

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? I love buying CD’s from Thrift Shops. The last one I bought was a Better than Ezra album I haven’t listened to yet.

50: what’s an odd thing you collect? i try not to collect things, they tie you down, or somehow they get thrown out. When I notice I’m doing it, I give them away.

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? Calvin - Who’s thinkin about you now by Jason Mraz

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far? Gawd, I dunno. I have no idea which ones are new and which ones aren’t. And I really don’t care.

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? Yes I have, and I didn’t get what the hype was all about. heathers? Never heard of it.  beetlejuice? Yup, and I thoroughly enjoyed it’s creepy vibes. pulp fiction? yes, and identified way too much with it. what do you think of them? —–^

54: who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?  My kids. They’re entitled.

55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA  Oh man, there’s WAY too many of those things to list here.

56: what are some things you find endearing in people? Their imagination, and their sense of humor.

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? yes, every time. I <3 this song.

58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why? This would indicate I have lady friends whom I might drink with. I don’t keep lady friends, the last time I did my ex slept with each one.

59: what’s your favorite myth? All of them

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? I do like poetry, but writing it. I don’t have any favorite writers of poetry.

61: what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received? I’ve given condoms a few times. I’ve received them too.

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?Nope. Water water water.

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? Not at all. I usually just arrange my books by size, when I have them out.

64: what color is the sky where you are right now? Dark blue with a grey tinge because it’s cloudy and night.

65: is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with? My childhood besties, Crystal & Jaime.

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? Daises and clover.

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? Introspective? Reflective?

68: what’s winter like where you live? Cold. And multiple feet/meters of snow

69: what are your favorite board games? Sorry, Pay Day, trivial Pursuit?

70: have you ever used a ouija board? Yes

71: what’s your favorite kind of tea? Black

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it? Sometimes.

73: what are some of your worst habits? I chew my nails, and I text paragraphs before I consider how it sounds when people are hurting and I’m comforting//advising.

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns. They listen without judgement, give as much affection as I need, and let me cry. Then they cheer me up and make me laugh until I cry again. And finally, they feed me and put me to bed.

75: tell us about your pets! I have a white, Californian bunny, named Mr. Benjamin. One of my children is allergic to cats and the other dogs, and I had a terrible experience with a Hamster once. Traditional pets really aren’t our forte. Mr. B travels well, and is typically well behaved until you piss him off.

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t? Finding something for dinner, since mine was scooped by one my sons’ friends. Or cleaning because our home will be shown by a realtor tomorrow.

77: pink or yellow lemonade? PINK *drools*

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub? I think they’re cute, but only because they’re yellow.

79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? Hm.I really don’t know. Someone sent me a jar with sand and shells in it recently, but that was more thoughtful and sweet, not cute.

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why? Wine red. Nope. I’m a renter. And these walls are fucking ugly.

81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. Whoa dude, tone back on whatever it is you’re on.

82: are/were you good in school? I was until I hit 8th Grade, then I was a fucking badass who shit on those who wanted me. I’m quite ashamed of who I was in my youth.

83: what’s some of your favorite album art? Pink Floyd’s The Wall, Boney M’ Nightflight to Venus? I haven’t actually looked at album art in a long time.

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones? Nope, all done with those. now I’m waiting until my wait time ends so I can start donating blood.

85: do you read comics? what are your faves? Not anymore. Classic Archie comics are my favorite.

86: do you like concept albums? which ones? I guess so? I dunno.

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? Christ. Anything Disney & Pixar.

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? Like, a group? Or a dance? Sheepers. I’ve no idea.

89: are you close to your parents? Not even.

90: talk about one of you favorite cities. I’ve always enjoyed Columbus, Ohio. It was the first city I explored and learned on my own. It’s the place I learned to navigate and not fear being lost.

91: where do you plan on traveling this year? I hope to find my way to the ocean on the West Coast someplace.

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? Sprinkle a pinch.

93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most? I’d love to have thicker hair, style doesn’t matter

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday? My youngest son

95: what are your plans for this weekend? It’s Canada Day Weekend, so we’re spending the day at the local festivities at our local beach.

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? Both

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? Don’t know, and not doing the test right now. Libra. And Gryffendor.

98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it? when someone close came for a visit. Yes I did enjoy it.

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. Honey Bee by Tom Petty, Free by Train, Home by Sheryl Crow

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? Neither. I wouldn’t risk it.