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jiminjamms · 3 months

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sex therapy :: 29. karma's a bitch

chapter tags/warnings: manipulative! naoya. naoya's anger issues continue. infidelity/adultery. extremely strong language. corruption. mentions of physical violence. family drama.

word count: 3.2k

notes: my sixty-hour work weeks have been taking a huge toll on me, so i apologize for this incredibly slow update. the good news is that i cannot take this corporate america bullshit anymore and will resign in the next two months. thank you for being patient! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Naoya had never felt this humiliated in his entire life.

When people said karma was a bitch, he never thought that it would actually make its way back to him. While he was not the most righteous person in the world, he was the Zenin CEO, for god’s sake! He was the leader to a multi-billion dollar conglomerate, the heir of a centuries-old bloodline.

Yet, here he was, charging back to his apartment like an irate animal.

He startled the lobby doormen upon his loud entry, and once he returned to his penthouse, he had to will every muscle in his body not to tear apart his abode in a rampage.

In his head, his encounter with Toji looped like a broken record, fueling his chagrin.

When Naoya sought to confront his cousin for the first time in months, he thought he had been prepared. He did not expect to end up digging himself into a deep hole surpassing the world's layers due to a judgment error—a slight miscalculation.

Correction: this miscalculation was anything but 'slight' because he wildly underestimated what felt like everything. Now, he bore the consequences of his mistakes after inadvertently turning himself into a laughingstock. Because his ego was his hamartia, he had become a mere jester in a story where he was meant to be the sole hero, and thus his ill feelings burned hotter than the surface of the Sun.

As much as he hated to admit this, Naoya had been shortsighted. He should have known better. Just weeks ago, he saw a vision filled with saccharine promises of a happy, comfortable life as the most powerful man in Japan imbued with power and wealth. He had been confident—a hundred percent certain—that absolutely nothing could go wrong in the trajectory he worked hard to create. But, what the actual fuck just happened at the therapist's office?!

He did not expect his mistress to make a complete fool out of him. Her very existence was an anathema to him, and he hoped to never be in contact with that woman ever again. In hindsight, Naoya should have taken the hint a while ago. He had previously forgiven his cousin's ex-wife, dismissing her blissful but intentional ignorance. Mari had never been too keen on actual intellectual and corporate matters, for she took far more interest in the money and comfort that came with starting from the bottom and sleeping her way to the top. Despite that, Naoya trusted that she at least had half the mind to not publicly discuss their affair, only for him to be proven wrong in front of none other than...Toji Fushiguro.

"Fuck!" Naoya screamed into the void of his empty living room. His reality was a nightmare as he thought about his despised cousin again—the assured gleam in his viridescent eyes, the smug smirk that tugged across his lips. The imagery soured his mood beyond measure. "I'm going to fucking—"

He did not finish his sentence.

Instead, he kicked a nearby lamp in an angry bout, toppling the fixture over and sending tiny shards cascading across the floor accompanied by the dull thud of the shade. Whatever. His housekeeper tomorrow morning would come in and clean that.

What he instead focused on was how he had never been this infuriated, this belittled, this undignified.

The entire apartment echoed with Naoya's loud huff.

'About ‘your wife’ or whatever you want to deem her, there is not a single chance in hell that she’d ever think about calling you her husband anymore.' These words from Toji affected him more than he would have liked.

What did he mean?

That bastard is bluffing, the blonde had to tell himself, yet even he could not believe in his own consolation.

He needed to do something about this.

No, no, Naoya wasn’t scared.

He couldn’t possibly be, right?!

Yet, after he could feel his ears begin to cool and breathing start to re-regulate, he stared at the emptiness in his halls as he came to the realization that had no better choice but to talk to you.

You didn't want to be here.

The moment you read Naoya Zenin's text to meet up for a 'quick chat' at the café near his office, you already knew that the upcoming conversation was going to be anything but 'quick.' The last thing you wished to do was to be in the same vicinity as that very man again.

After spending the last few days at your family residence, you had been showered with warm attention from aunts, uncles, cousins, and even house attendants who—despite naturally wondering the reason behind your stay—welcomed your visit with open arms. To your relatives' many inquiries, you forged a pretense that all was well even if all was not. (Besides, all did seem well in your family estate, away from the incessant pandemonium that was the Tokyo city center.)

While you knew that this peaceful break was not meant to last forever, you did not anticipate returning to the capital just to sit with the Zenin CEO alone.

Naoya had specifically chosen a corner table in the Hong Kong-inspired establishment, distanced from potential eavesdroppers. He seemed to have been waiting for a while by the time you arrived, his right leg crossed over his left knee as he twiddled with his thumbs impatiently. Sprawled on the table were a freshly brewed pot of jasmine tea and a platter of warm custard pastries.

He remained quiet as you took the seat across from him, observing with a crease on his forehead and a knit to his brows.

Anyone could tell that the blonde was not the least bit happy.

"Giving me dirty looks is not going to get this conversation anywhere," you pointed out while helping yourself to a tart.

From your comment, the inverted slope on Naoya's lips twisted into a deeper frown.

He did not understand where your annoyance came from.

Fine, he never treated you nicely either, but he did not expect you to snap at him when the discussion had hardly begun. You offered him no greetings, and Naoya also took great offense at how you chose not to look at him as you talked.

Truth be told, your neglect reminded him of all the other upsetting things that he was dying to bring up, and your unpleasant attitude whittled away the little restraint he had left.

“You didn’t try to ask where I’ve been. Not one text or call. Guess it would not have mattered to you if I disappeared, huh?" he lashed out through gritted teeth. He hated being forgotten, hated being looked over, and hated how easy it was for him to prove you to be a neglectful and apathetic wife.

Which was why there was no better option than to cut him off.

“You ordered me to leave you alone, Naoya.” Only slightly did you turn your head to glance at him. Stirring sugar into your tea, you kept your attention otherwise on the nearby window and watched businesspeople scurrying about on the streets on their lunch breaks. "You can live without my attention since I'm not the only woman you have around. What happened to your lady friend? Hasn't she been entertaining you long before our marriage? I am sure she would love your company, so why not pay her an impromptu visit?”

From a slanting angle, you could tell that the transformation from your normally calm demeanor dismayed him. Naoya, not you, was typically the one to make snide comebacks, but he could not deny your latest comments. Evidently, he wanted you to go back to your submissive and passive self, but that was precisely what you no longer could be for him.

His silence prompted you to reach into your purse and retrieve a thick manila envelope, and you presented the package on the table.

Naoya's gaze snapped to the parcel.

He was curious, but cautiously so. He had invited you here, expecting to control the narrative, to dictate the terms. As a result, your unexpected move threw him off balance.

"What...?"

“Take a look and find out for yourself.”

A puzzled Naoya demonstrated no hesitation.

He snatched the folder, tearing the top open and greedily grabbing the curated pieces inside. He stared for a long time at the first item: a photo. But he recognized the image of him and his mistress, boarding a private jet for their most recent trip to Mexico. Then, he flipped through the stack rapidly, barely registering each item before he turned to the next. Some were printed-out pictures and others were cutouts from news articles, but all featured him and his paramour. The confusion on Naoya's visage slowly morphed into aggravation, and when he finished his inspection, he forcefully threw the items back onto the table.

In the end, Naoya sat back and went still, not even blinking, thinking, or doing anything but pressing his tongue along his inner cheek. "How did you get these?"

No apologies. No remorse.

Hell, based on his response, the man could not even bother to deny your accusations, a telling sign of how little he could care for his relationship with you. Obviously, you must be a joke to him.

In one firm motion, you placed down your teacup.

"You're missing the point.”

While one's eyes may be the windows to the soul, Naoya's offered nothing in his current state. His pupils looked at—no, examined you in intense dark pools despite the iridescent glow from the lights above.

"Toji gave you these, didn't he?" Naoya continued with a disdainful laugh, himself insistent on getting answers to his own questions. "You can't find this shit on the internet anymore since I've had them all taken down. But Toji's fast. He has eyes everywhere, I know he does. Look at him. Months later, and he's still hung up on reclaiming a position he should've never had the right to in the first place!"

Thankfully, you didn’t flinch from his loud voice. What you did do was become more indifferent as if you were placing a wall to separate yourself from him, mentally bracing for his emotional maelstrom.

"You are missing the point," you said once more. This time, you shook your head in disappointment, and your tone was far more frustrated than the last. "Aren't you shameless?”

"Me? Shameless?!” His brows pinched closer from fury. "Take a look at yourself, woman! What did you do to get all this dirt from Toji and his henchmen, hm? Ha! Know what? I bet it’s because you're so willing to spread yourself for them,” he rambled with a nasty sneer plastered on his expression. At his comments, your jaw fell open before snapping shut as the meaning behind his words sank in. The way this man disregarded how he had an affair (that began many months ago!) only to redirect the spotlight onto you was repulsing, implying that the sole reason the therapists talked to you was that you had slept around. “A whore like you love taking all them all, don’t you? Well? Well? Am I right? Goddamn, you’re such a—”

The harsh scraping from your chair as you stood was what finally interrupted him. Unable to tolerate his vilification, you counteracted his anger with the venom in your rancorous glare.

"How dare you talk about me like that!”

In the meantime, prying eyes started to turn in your direction from the commotion: teenage girls, sharing nervous glances across their table; a lone businessman, stopping mid-sip from his cappuccino; even the barista, pausing mid-grind such that her arm froze inches from the hopper.

"That man...doesn't he seem familiar?" a distant voice asked.

"Is he a celebrity or something?"

"No, wait. He's the person on the cover of last month's Fortune magazine. Naoya Zenin!" another replied.

"Isn't that lady his wife?"

While the onlookers' curious glances turned into full-on stares, their regard steeled your resolve rather than bothered you. Instead, you wanted the crowd to take in the spectacle. Corrupt tricks and dirty money had long painted the Zenin heir as 'the most perfect man in Japan,' and the public deserved to understand the fraudulence and cruelty that underlaid his facade.

"For months, I trusted you. I respected you. I put aside the harrowing loneliness weighing on my heart all because I tried to understand you. You told me that finding the time or energy for our marriage was not easy because board meetings kept you late in the office or business meetings required you to spend several nights abroad. Fine! So, I had been patient. But," and your voice overflowed from anger as you pointed a shaking finger at the pictures on the table, "Taking another woman to Michelin restaurants for dinners? Spending nights with her at Ritz-Carltons and Four Seasons? Going on entire vacations with her across the Pacific? All while you had a wife at home? Are you out of your fucking mind ?!"

The man's nose flared with deep-seated rage, his eyes mirroring the same bitterness in yours. "At the end of the day," he began sternly, "we're still married."

Ridiculous.

“On paper, ” you had to clarify. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be cheating on me with your older cousin's ex-wife."

Immediately, louder murmurs rippled through the crowd. Naoya turned stiff, uncomfortable with the attention. So much for selecting a quiet corner in the café. He wasn’t stupid enough to sense that he had to be careful. Saying one wrong phrase would condemn him to a public meltdown.

However, you were already steps ahead of him when you loudly declared: “I’m filing for a divorce.”

That caught him off guard.

Your announcement even drew audible astonishment from bystanders as they stopped their meals, turning to each other and drawing out their phones.

In literal milliseconds, the vexation once riddling Naoya's demeanor shifted into denial.

“No. We’re not going to talk about a fucking divorce right now. We’re going to fix what we have, and you’re going to come back to me. We’re...We're married for a reason, and we’re going to keep with it!”

"That's a bullshit reason,” you had to snap. “Listen to yourself. Do you hear how selfish you sound!?" At this point, nothing could hide your bafflement. "Naoya, you were the one who said that if I wanted to leave this marriage badly, then I should leave. Ask Mai and Maki! They heard the entire conversation. Didn't you also say that you didn't give a fuck anymore?"

The man attempted to salvage some semblance of control. "I was just joking!"

"No, you were not." Picking up a photo of Naoya and Mari together, you pressed the picture to his face. “How much more can I take? How many days would I still have to go through alone in the penthouse, all because you would be spending your sweet time with the woman that you love?”

Unloading all this emotional baggage, not only for Naoya Zenin but also for the café spectators to hear, took courage. Previously, you would have let the burden gnaw at your soul. You would have rather wallowed in suffering rather than even think about speaking up.

But the past was the past, and you had grown immensely since then. Currently, you were stronger, more confident. You knew that, in Toji's words, you deserved better. Life was too beautiful to waste on a man who did not love or respect you and, with that in mind, you relaxed your clenched fists with an exhausted and fatigued sigh.

You broke me first, you said through a deserted gaze.

Naoya Zenin was the reason why you had become the way you were: a cold, seemingly heartless wife who cared none for her husband. The misery that he placed on your shoulders finally reached its limit, and while you could forgive, forgetting the memories in your scarred heart would be a task over months, years, and even a lifetime.

“Listen,” you began, tone terse, “this divorce will set you free. Mari is the person whom you need—”

“The hell. No!” the man interrupted in a violent outburst, taking your breath away as he slammed the table and hissed. “I don't give a damn about her right now! We’re…We’re over!" he snarled with incredible anger such that he almost appeared to growl. "I don’t need her, I need you! That...That whore doesn't give a flying fuck about my shit! All she cares about is...is...Fuck this. All she wants is the money. Why else do you think she married and then later divorced Toji? She doesn't want to hear about all the shit in my family because she had not been brought up to deal with all the fuckin' drama in my household. She can't understand because, unlike you, she wasn't born with a silver spoon shoved down her goddamn throat!"

Quietly, you absorbed his words, stunned.

So this was how their relationship had been.

You had not expected him to reveal all these entrenched feelings willingly, but his concoction between reckless rage and sheer desperation had allowed him to spill the ugly side of this extramarital affair. Naoya could not afford to lose you, and not just because this marriage solidified the respect of those around him. While Mari offered him an outlet for physical indulgence, only you could offer the cornerstone to Naoya's mental and social fortitude.

“So you ‘need’ me now, but what happens when you find another reason to hate me again? What will you do if you don’t think I can fulfill the role you want me to have as your partner? Or if you wake up one day and suddenly want your cousin’s ex-wife again? Or if you meet another woman? Am I supposed to stand there again, and watch this all happen?"

No answer.

The fact that he couldn't respond hurt.

"My decision is final. Looking back, I despised every single second married to you. In fact, I feel sorry for myself. The fact that I blindly put up with your manipulation, betrayal, and blame for all these months.” With your belongings collected, you prepared to leave. “You would be stupid to think you're the only one with options, you know.”

Only when you turned around did Naoya react, scrambling to his feet.

“What the fuck are you—”

In any other situation, he would have grabbed you, lunged at you, did everything in his power to stop you from going. Yet, given all the witnesses, all he could do was call you back like a helpless child, trying his best to not escalate the scene (although, at this point, even passerbys outside have stopped by the window to spectate).

"Hey!" Naoya called after you. “Hey! I’m still talking with you!”

Pathetic, really, to see him desperately beg for you to stay in his life.

There was a certain satisfaction in finally having the control at your fingertips. The feeling was empowering—electrifying, even—and you became so focused on the gratification that you barely registered Naoya's last question.

“Where are you going?”

At this point, you already stood by the exit.

“That’s not something that my soon-to-be ex-husband would need to know,” and you hardly gave him another glance as the door closed behind you. “Thank you for showing me everything I hope to never find in another man again."

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: Part of why this update took so long was because I wanted to have an encounter between Naoya and Y/N to showcase Y/N’s development, from someone who thoughtlessly defended her husband to someone who could stand up for herself (all while alone!). I envisioned this interaction many times, and I thought about different ways to approach the scene, the delivery, the dialogue, the choreography, etc. It took me a while to go for what I currently have. Thank you for reading!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

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reality-detective · 6 months

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It's going to be biblical 👇

The only conclusion here is: AMERICA....REPENT!

Think the coming eclipse is nothing? I did, too, until I discovered all these FACTS!

I don't claim to know what all of this means, exactly, but I believe it's important enough for all of us to be aware that this is happening and pray for wisdom.

On April 8th, 2024, there will be an eclipse. One eclipse is already amazing but this one is actually the last in a 3-part series that has SO much meaning behind it. It is important that we recognize that God said that He would use the sun, moon and stars to communicate with us:

Genesis 1:14- "Then God said, 'Let there be lights in the expanse of the heavens to separate the day from the night, and let them be for signs and for seasons and for days and years..."

Luke 21:25 - "There will be signs in the sun, moon and stars. On the earth, nations will be in anguish and perplexity at the roaring and tossing of the sea."

So now we know that God said that He would use the sun, moon and stars to communicate with us, so let's break down this 3-part eclipse series:

1) With the path of this last eclipse, combined with the first 2 eclipses (one in 2017 and the other in 2023), it will create the Hebrew letter over America that is "Aleph Tav" and in Greek it is the "Alpha and Omega" - both means "The beginning and the end." God said in Revelation 21:6 that He is the beginning and the end and this Aleph Tav is like His signature. Why would He use an eclipse to put His signature over America? Let's dig deeper:

2) God has used eclipses to warn nations of coming judgement so that the nation can repent of their sinful ways and come back to Him. This happened with the story of Ninevah. God told Jonah to go to the wicked nation of Ninevah and warn them about coming judgement. Jonah ran away from the assignment and while out at sea got swallowed up by a huge fish and was in its belly for 3 days. Jonah repented of running away so the whale spit him up. He then went to Ninevah and warned the people but there was something that also happened while he was warning the people...an eclipse came over the land.

In the 19th century, ancient tablets were discovered that described an eclipse called the Bur-Sagale eclipse where the totality of the eclipse landed right over Ninevah while Jonah was there preaching of the 40 day warning before the coming destruction. Because of this, the people realized that this was a sign from God that what Jonah was saying was true and they repented and God spared their nation.

It is amazing how much America mirrors Ninevah. (If you don't see it, you may be part of the problem.) To make this even more clear, this last eclipse on April 8th will be going over 7 cities here in America called - yep you guessed it - NINEVAH! I honestly didn't even know that we had any city here in the U.S. named that but here we are - with this eclipse going over these cities (and there will be an 8th one that it goes over also called Ninevah in Canada.)

Here are the cities: 👇

Nineveh, Texas

Nineveh, Missouri

Nineveh, Indiana (this will be the highest magnitude of eclipse Mag 1.023, the local time predicted for it to occur is at 3:07 PM)

Nineveh, Ohio

Nineveh, Pennsylvania

Nineveh, Virginia

Nineveh, New York

Nineveh, Nova Scotia (Not in the US)

Could this be that God is warning us just as He warned Ninevah? There have been many "Jonahs" in the past few years warning the nation that we need to repent and add in this sign above our heads - we can't turn away from the fact that it is not a coincidence. But if you need more proof, let's keep going...

The first part of this 3 part eclipse series was in 2017. The path of that eclipse went over 7 cities named Salem, which is short for Jerusalem (Ps. 76).

Salem, Oregon

Salem, Idaho

Salem, Wyoming

Salem, Nebraska

Salem, Missouri

Salem, Kentucky

Salem, South Carolina

The mathematical "chances" of there being 7 Salem's with the first eclipse and then 7 Ninevah's for the 3rd eclipse is unthinkable. But what about the 2nd part of the eclipse?

4) Perhaps the most striking piece of the 2nd eclipse is that the precise center-line of eclipse path exits the USA directly over Corpus Christi. Corpus Christi means the "Body of Christ" and is one of the only towns named that in the world!

But let's go back to this upcoming eclipse and dig even deeper...

4) Jonah was giving a 40 day warning to Ninevah during the eclipse. If you look at our April 8th eclipse and fast forward 40 days then you will get to May 18, 2024 - the day before Pentecost. The history of Pentecost is that is the last Spring Feast that the Lord has given us (there are 4 in the Spring and 3 in the Fall). This is the day that the Lord sent the Holy Spirit down to all those who have accepted Christ. We are told that the "Restrainer" (many believe this is the Holy Spirit) will be removed before the Tribulation could it be that this is a warning for that? I'm not sure as that is a worldwide event and this eclipse will be just over North America but it is something definitely to think and pray about for more clarity and wisdom. No matter what, there are too many things lining up for it to not be nothing and so my job is to get the information out to you all so that you can at least be aware of these signs that God is giving us so that you can pray about it.

But let's keep going...

5) From the start of this 3 part eclipse to the end, it will be 7 years. God uses numbers a lot to communicate with us, and 7 has a ton of meaning. A few examples are - He created the world in 7 days, there will be a 7 year tribulation, 7 is used for completion, etc.

) Going back to how this correlates with Jonah & Ninevah's story -at the time of this eclipse, there will be another sign in the sky...it will take place under the constellation, Cetus, which is the whale constellation! And not only will it pass through the 8 cities in North America named Ninevah, it will also pass through Jonah, Texas! Speaking of other towns that it will pass through, these are some of the other city names that it will go right over:

Rapture, Indiana

Williamston, Kentucky - this is where the Ark Encounter is located. The Ark Encounter is a full size replica of Noah's Ark.

Eagle Pass, Texas - where we are having so many border issues.

And the point where it crosses the 2017 eclipse to mark the center of the X is an area in southern Illinois called Little Egypt. What is even more fascinating about this is that Little Egypt is sandwiched in between 2 other cities called Alpha, Kentucky and Omega, Illinois - both having the 2017 eclipse come over their cities. Furthermore, the intersection of the 2017 and 2024 solar eclipses occurs directly over the New Madrid Fault Line, a major seismic zone. An earthquake along this fault line could potentially destroy the U.S., making it one of the most perilous fault lines in the country. I have no idea if this will happen or not, but there are too many things here that are all literally lining up to not share with everyone.

7) One more interesting fact is that there are 2,422 days in between the 2017 eclipse and the 2024 eclipse. If you look up 2422 in Strong's Concordance, an Bible concordance that has every word of the KJV, takes us to Exodus 1:19 which says,

"The midwives answered Pharaoh, "Hebrew women are not like Egyptian women; they are vigorous and give birth before the midwives arrive."

Why would this be of any significance? Well, to me, it reminds me of how Jesus said that His return would be like a woman in labor with the signs of His coming growing stronger and closer together. We are at a point in history where we are seeing all of the signs that He gave us happening before our eyes. In fact, we are even seeing things that will happen during the tribulation get setup now. If we are seeing those things being setup now, that must mean that we are super close to it actually happening. Going back to God saying that He uses the sun, moon and stars to show us signs - and then Jesus saying that the signs of His coming will be like a woman in labor, well this information leading us back to Exodus 1:19 explaining that the Hebrew women have labor fast is so interesting to me! Could we be on the brink of the rapture and tribulation!? I don't know exactly when it will happen but Jesus did tell us that we would know the season and I do believe that we have been in that season for the past few years and are pushing closer and closer to it!

It is no secret that this world has gone mad and everyone knows that there is something happening behind the scenes that feels really uncomfortable. If you have that feeling, you are right! There is a major push for things to happen that were predicted to happen over 2,000 years ago. Most people seek their understanding in the wrong place though. They look to the news and the world to guide them; however, these sources will only bring more questions, not answers. It causes people to live in fear, anxiety and depression. However, Jesus didn't want us to live that way. He gave us the information so that we would know what is happening when we see these things. The first piece of living in His knowledge is accepting that God sent His son, Jesus, to die for our sins and on the 3rd day, Jesus rose from the grave and conquered death. The second piece is to repent to God of your sins and turn away from your sins. Most churches only teach how God loves you but don't teach repentance anymore and that is a HUGE part of your faith. Jesus said that there will be many who come to Him and say, "Lord, Lord, I knew you." But because they didn't repent of their sins and seek Jesus' ways instead of their own, He will reply, "Get away from me, I never knew you." We cannot just live however we want without any consequences. Even little children understand this concept, but it has been lost on most adults. This is why Ninevah was going to see destruction - because they were a self- serving, sinful nation - just like America is today. You can't change the heart of this nation, but you can change your heart and lead your homes to do the same. Third, pray for wisdom in these areas.

I know this has been incredibly deep but just like Proverbs 25:2 says, "It is the glory of God to conceal a thing, but the honor of kings is to search out a matter." This sign in the sky will be right over your head in just a few weeks - will you have the eyes to see what it really means?"

You Decide 🤔

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earlgreytea68 · 1 year

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LOOK AWAY IF YOU DON'T WANT SO MUCH FOR (TOUR) DUST SPOILERS, OKAY?

~~~

Set list:

(1) That Pink Seashell spoken word thing actually opens the show

(2) Love from the Other Side: I assumed they'd play this first, and they did, and they looked very happy with the reception that it got

(3) The Phoenix

(4) Sugar, We're Goin Down: I overheard two guys when I was leaving saying, "I only came to this show for that Sugar song, and it was the third song they played," whatever to those two guys lol

(5) Uma Thurman

(6) A Litttle Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me

(7) Chicago Is So Two Years Ago: I know they always play this song when they play Chicago but the way the show is set up, there's this spoken intro that references a light being left on in Chicago, and then they launch into this song, and so I feel like maybe it's permanently in the set list for this tour, we'll see.

(8) Grand Theft Autumn: Patrick told the story again of how he wrote the lyrics while jogging with Pete. Here is exactly what he said, because I recorded it, hahaha: "I wrote this song out here, jogging, trying to figure out the words. This was back when I wrote a lot of the words. And Pete was jogging with me and he was like, 'Eh, maybe change this, maybe change this.' Before we knew it he was writing all the lyrics." And then Pete said, "Imagine us jogging" lolololol

(9) Calm Before the Storm

(10) This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race: They added a little Peterick-y moment in here? I don't remember them playing at each other during this song in previous performances? It was cute, it was during the instrumental part before Patrick leads the singalong, maybe I've just always missed it? They played it each other and kind of did some kind of kick thing with their legs??

(11) Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes: Honestly, always a delight to hear this song, this is one of my favorites <3

(12) Heaven, Iowa: THIS SONG LIVE, I SWEAR

(13) "The Take Over, the Breaks Over": OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS SONG AND I TOTALLY DIDN'T EXPECT THEM TO PLAY IT, I WAS SO HAPPY

(14) Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet: <3 Guess they got over being scared of playing this one lol

(15) Fake Out: I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW EXCITED I WAS THAT THEY PLAYED THIS ONE OMGGGGGGG. Also, there was some plan I wasn't aware of to, like, hold up cell phones with pink paper over the lights so the crowd lit up pink???? I have no idea who engineered that but it was CHARMING and at the end of the song Pete said, "Thanks for that, guys, that was beautiful," and the stage was on darkness so it seemed absolutely spontaneous on his part and I think they really did like the effect, so, Idk, future shows, keep doing it????

(16) Patrick did some kind of piano interlude where he played "Don't Stop Believin'"????? It was random but he was super charming, I think the rest of the band used it as a break, it was just SO GREAT. Part of his intro was: "Pete was putting together this show and he said to me, 'Hey, you should play piano.' And I was like, 'I kinda only play songs I wrote. I don't really play piano. I don't know how to play piano.' And he's like, 'Eh, you'll figure it out.'" And then Patrick sat down and played gorgeous piano ugh THANKS, PETE.

(17) Last of the Real Ones: I am glad Mania got some love.

(18) Save Rock and Roll

(19) PETE RECITED BABY ANNIHILATION WHAT. I SWEAR TO GOD. I SO DID NOT EXPECT THIS AND I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE THAT IT HAPPENED. If you're going to the show, pay attention, because I looked away and apparently there's, like, a magic trick at the end of the monologue where he disappears behind a piece of black silk?????

(20) Crazy Train cover: I...don't know what to say about this randomness hahaha but it happened??

(21) Dance Dance

(22) Hold Me Like a Grudge: I think Patrick adores singing this song, I really do.

(23) G.I.N.A.S.F.S.: I KNOW. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT, EITHER.

(24) My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark (Light Em Up)

(25) Thnks fr th Mmrs

(26) Centuries

(27) Saturday <3

The show ends with a little piano version of So Much (for) Stardust played over the sound system, so pay attention for that.

The set is super Alice in Wonderland-y and I adored it, it's playful and fantastical and has all these whimsical touches and interludes and I just thought it was delightful and at one point there were bubbles, and I heard some people complaining after the concert that the fantasy thing didn't suit their style of music and really, I was surrounded by downers after the concert, I thought they were perfect hahaha. Like, ABSOLUTELY PERFECT. They looked so, so, so tangibly happy, all of them. Patrick sounded fantastic and he looked like he was having a blast, he smiled the whole time.

I have a lot of videos but they seem like they're all pretty terrible, but I'll see how I feel in the morning lol

#fall out boy #fob #bandom

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gallusrostromegalus · 10 months

Note

all the captains and lieutenants accidentally get slipped some of ukitake's fucked up gigaweed edibles, what happens

First of all, it's not an accident, they straight-up plan a Friday-Night-Of-A-Three-Day-Weekend event of this. Everyone is curious, and Ukitake thinks it will be a funny way to celebrate his Birthday. He is correct: Yamamoto: Veteran of The Dank Arts, gets real high but not unpleasantly so. Would do it again next time he has a long weekend to enjoy it!

Sasakibe: Claims Ludwig Wittgenstein makes PERFECT sense now, attempts to write this philosophical revelation down but is thwarted by the jammed machinations of a clicky pen.

Soi Fon: Gives herself a hernia laughing at one (1) bad pun.

Yoruichi: Used to Urahara's Megaweed Edibles, so approaches the Gigaweed with undue confidence, declares This Edible Ain't Shit five minutes in and eats a second one. She has to be coaxed down from the top of the fridge where she's hiding from The Hatmen by bribing her with a can of Tuna. (Ukitake keeps the $21-a-can Good Shit in the house)

Omaeda: Creates a God-teir marinara Sauce, AND has the good sense to have Nemu pause her Game of Go and come into the kitchen to write down what he did.

Rose: Writes a magnificent new symphony, it's his best work ever, it's life alteringly beautiful, it's effervescent- When he sobers up, it's half a piccolo solo that barely qualifies as a ringtone.

Izuru: In the kitchen crying while eating an inadvisable amount of Omaeda's Spaghetti Marinara.

Retsu: Category Five Mukbang Incident

Isane: Thinks she's filming the Mukbang Incident, actually has her phone open to the calculator app.

Shinji: refuses to touch the Gigaweed because he "Owes The Hatmen Money" and nobody can tell if he's joking or not (he's not).

Momo: Literally Everything is HILARIOUS

Hiyori: Did not know it was possible to have a bigger, gayer crush on Momo, but she somehow opened up a new level of lesbianics. She calls it Gay 2.

Byakuya: Couchlocked for 24 hours straight.

Renji: Couchlocked right there with him, but able to text Izuru to bring them Spaghetti.

Komamura: Can't. Canine Weed Toxicity. (Relieved, offers to spend the weekend watching Toshiro and Yachiru so he has an excuse to go winter camping over the weekend)

Iba: Got High as FUCK. Found out later that the thing he actually ate was a Little Debbie Cosmic Brownie.

Shunsui: his alcohol tolerance actually makes his weed tolerance terrible so he's on the floor from jokingly licking the wrapper.

Nanao: Challenging people to knife fights (Romantic Intent).

Tousen: Immediately passes out because he managed to get his blood pressure down to normal levels, sleeps for 26 hours straight and wakes up feeling genuinely well-rested and in a good mood for the first time in two centuries.

Kensei: Gets his hand bitten at the Category 5 Mukbang Incident because he thought it would be funny to try to snitch off Retsu's plate.

Shuuhei: Attempting to refinance Shinji's debt with The Hatmen. Possibly succeeding?

Mashiro: Said "This Edible Ain't Shit", took a second, and appears to be unaffected. Playing Go with Nemu and winning.

Matsumoto: Makes the Hernia-inducing Pun. Will not STOP making Puns.

Hitsugaya: Being babysat by Komamura, would be madder about this if he wasn't also having a blast doing wintertime camping.

Kenpachi: Attempts to fight his own shadow, loses.

Yachiru: Also on the Wintertime Mountain Expedition, trying to talk Toshiro into joining her and Komamura on an Elk Hunt.

Ikkaku: Has done weed before, but only smoked it, but has a naturally suspicious nature and waits to see how Yoruichi does on her second edible, and avoids running afoul of The Hatmen.

Yumichika: Stays sober to collect blackmail on everyone. Actually films the Mukbang Incident for Isane

Mayuri: This is NOTHING compared to the Quantum Formaldymeth shit he's been on for the last century.

Urahara: from a prominent weed-growing family and lifetime connoisseur of The Herb. Takes one bite and realizes he's in deep shit, lies down on the floor next to Shuuhei and gives him terrible financial advice.

Nemu: Not chemically effected by The Edible but she loves A Group Social Activity so she's a little crunk on Social Recognition Euphoria and it's interfering with her game.

Ukitake, peeling his lieutenant off the floor: Y'all are wimps.

Rukia: has to be peeled off the floor, is affectionately dumped in the laps of Renji and Byakuya, where she forces them to have an emotionally honest and borderline normal conversation.

#AEIWAM #drugs mention #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Bleach #Bleach fanfic #long post #weed mention

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sweet-creature101 · 2 years

Text

Kiwi

Summary: Harry recently started his solo carrier and Sarah recommmeds y/n as his lead guitarist. Harry finds himself intimidated by y/n and y/n could not care less.

famous!harry ; an enemies to lovers trope

part two

warnings: mention of alcohol. Swearing. Suggestive language and sexual tension.

“Come on Harry trust me on this. It won’t go downhill. She’s really good.” Sarah pleaded her case for the tenth time since the past one hour. Harry was certain she would talk his ear off.

“What was her name again?” Mitch asked Sarah.

“Y/n.”

“Sarah, I don’t know about this. I’ve known you all since a long time and it’s easy to work with you.” Harry said, slightly skeptical about a new addition to his team.

Harry knew who you were, a very successful songwriter and one hell of a guitar player. He knew you worked with bands like 5sos, 21 Pilots and even wrote a few songs on Taylor’s swifts album, Reputation. He saw you at a concert once and immediately fell in love with the way your presence consumed the concert wholly. No one cared about who was singing because everyone’s eyes were fixated on the young seductress clad in black leather and playing her instrument as if her life depended on it.

“You can only grow if you’re out of your comfort zone.” Sarah firmly stated, crossing her arms over her chest huffing out a breath.

Harry thought about it for a good minute. He needed someone with experience and you seemed to have it. You knew how to write and what to write. Perhaps a little experiment wouldn’t be so bad.

“Okay. I’m trusting your judgement on this.” Harry said nodding.

“Great because y/n’s in the elevator right now.” Sarah said giggling slightly. “Thank God you didn’t say no. Would’ve been a difficult conversation.” She mumbled, relived at how the situation panned out.

The apartment bell rang and Sarah jumped out of her seat startling Mitch who was sitting next to her. She took long strides towards the door.

“Y/n! Oh my gosh, it’s been ages! You look wonderful!” Sarah said hugging you. You smiled and hugged her back, glad to meet her once again after what seemed like a century.

“Thank you. How’ve you been?” You asked her, not bothering to take note of the two men who seemed to scrutinise your interaction with quite a lot of concentration.

“Same ol’ same ol” Sarah chuckled as she let you in.

“Harry, Mitch meet y/n.” Sarah introduced you to them. You found yourself in an awkward postion so you simply gave a wave and a loose smile.

If Harry was a ball of sunshine then you were a raging hurricane. The two of you were polar opposites. Harry radiated warmth and seemed to be the kind of person whom other people could talk to. Meanwhile you on the other hand were someone who kept to themselves.

Harry couldn’t help but notice your sweeping eyeliner. He observed it quite attentively, how it was winged at the edge of your eye and in the inner corner as well in a feline manner. You wore low waisted jeans with a fitted graphic black tee shirt that ended just below your navel, showing a silver of skin.

“So y/n, what’s your work like?” Mitch asked you.

“I write mainly rock but I’m open to new suggestions.” You said. Sarah nodded as if to say ‘awesome.’

Your voice was firm and authoritative as you answered the question. Harry found himself completly entranced by this complexity of a person that stood in front of him. He figured it out the minute you walked into the room with your head held high that working with you wouldn’t be easy.

“Do you have any questions Harry?” Sarah asked him. Harry only nodded no.

“Great. Im going out for a smoke.” You said leaving the three of them alone again.

“She’s scary.” Harry said once the door shut. Sarah rolled her eyes in response. “She’s a no nonsense person Harry.”

“And scary.” He added again.

“I know you’re not used to people like her. Just because you’re both literal opposites doesn’t mean she’ll eat you alive.” Sarah snorted. “You like her, don’t you Mitch?” Sarah asked him. Mitch only swallowed and replied, “I like her better on stage.”

“Oh hush both of you. Give her time.”

——————————————

“It doesn’t sound good.” Harry huffed out impatiently, staring at the lyrics he scribbled. It had been more than a week since everyone started to work on his debut album.

Harry began to habour a certain disliking for you, owing to lack of your participation and one word answers. You would sit away from everyone, scribble in your diary and would rarely look up from its pages.

“You know what guys, let’s just take a breather yeah?” Jeff, Harry’s manager said getting up from his chair and stretching his legs.

“I’m going out for a walk.” Sarah said, pulling Mitch to his feet as well. Harry was about to get up as well but Sarah mouthed to him; ‘talk to her’ as she gestured towards you. Harry looked at her with wide eyes and was ready to protest but Sarah was quick on her feet.

“Y/n.” Harry called out your name. You looked up at him, the loose strands strands of your braid fell down framing your face. You raised your eyebrows as if to say ‘speak on.’

Harry cleared his throat. “What are you writing?”

“Nothing much. Just an idea.” You said. That was the most you had spoken.

Harry noticed that today, there was no eyeliner but smudged kohl lining your eyes. You opted for a plain white tank top and a pair of mini cargo shorts. A surprise for Harry who was much too used to seeing you in black.

“I think, everyone would appreciate it if you would participate more you know?” Harry said. You only nodded and went back to scribbling.

“See! This is what you do y/n. You don’t talk. You’re so busy doing God knows what. I get it, you know you’re talented but that doesn’t mean you’re better than us.” Harry exploded. You shut your dairy hard and stared at him with rage.

“It’s been almost two weeks since you joined us. Have you contributed in any way?” Harry added, his voice reaching a higher octave and getting louder by the second.

“First of all, I don’t think I’m fucking better than you and second of all, instead of blaming me why don’t you recognise the fact that you’re scared and absolutely clueless.” You spat at him.

“I’m not scared.” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah right.” You scoffed rolling your eyes. “You’re so scared that you’re putting the blame on me just because I’m the newbie. This solo carrier is new to you and that terrifies the shit out of you Harry. So much that you can’t even work. If I have to be the punching bag then I’m fucking leaving.” You stated grabbing your bag.

“You don’t know shit y/n.”

You didnt care about what Harry said next as you walked out of the room.

—————————————————

“Was it really necessary Harry?” Jeff said, rubbing his head with his hands. The stress of not having completed the album began to increase.

“I told you, ‘give her some time.’ Did you do that Harry? No. You just had to say something.” Sarah said, flinging her arms in the air.

“I mean, was Harry wrong though? Y/n was… just there you know. She didn’t talk, she didn’t help. Good riddance I say.” Mitch said.

The whole group was torn up over this. Harry began to feel guilt overpower him, but the rage he felt at your words was far too much for him to hone. He knew you were right and he hated you for that. He hated you for the fact that you were so good at reading him. Harry knew that you didn’t talk because you were shy but because you never found yourself as engaged as the others. You were aloof, and gave the impression that nothing bothered you at all.

“It’s been what; six days since she stormed off?” Jeff asked harry.

“Seven.”

“Jesus.”

Harry was certain that you overreacted to the situation. Granted, you didn’t want to be here and Harry left no stone unturned when it came to reminding you his dislike for you.

The door bell rang, Harry got up to look through the key hole. He felt the colour drain from his face. It was you. Standing in front of the door.

“It’s her.” Harry whispered with his eyes wide.

“You know I can hear you, ya dick. Open the door or I’m leaving.” You, irritation lacing your face.

You began to hate Harry or at least develop an aggressive aversion towards him as time passed. You hated how he seemed to have enough energy throughout the day to burst into a song. You hated that he was all smiles and giggles every second of the day. The only one thing you liked about him was how intimadated he was by you. But you knew that he could be much more terrifying than you when the time came.

“Pick your poison.” Mitch said.

Harry opened the door to meet your black smudged eyes. You push him as you enter the room and slam the diary on the centre table with a loud thud.

“Here you go. You said Im no help at all. Well I beg to differ. I’ve written three songs.” You said. Harry picked up the diary and flipped through the pages.

Kiwi

Medicine

Only angel

Strange names for such explicit songs.

Harry passed the diary to Sarah who looked at the songs with amazement.

“Harry we’ve got to add these.” Sarah said, excitement lacing her eyes.

“I don’t need anyone to plead my case. If he likes them, good enough.” You said, your voice unwavering as you looked at Harry who narrowed his eyes at you.

“I like them.”

—————————————

Within a week, all recordings were done and the album was ready to launch. Jeff suggested that the four of you should to go out, let off some steam because life would never be the same once the album got released.

Everyone was quite surprised when you suggested a place to party. You were quite intent on getting shit faced because the past month had been a whirlwind to say the least.

You wore a black mini dress, encased with sequins that was backless. Your eyes were lined with heavy kohl and mascara. Your whole face was bare other than your eyes.

“Johnnieeeee!” You exclaim to the large bouncer, a smile on your face as you high five him.

“Y/n been a long time. I see you’ve got friends.” He said, eyeing the people behind you.

Sarah felt that the club you brought them to too was far too dark and dingy for her liking. It was dark and the music was blaring. The club smelt of sex, drugs and alcohol. Your natural habitat. She held Mitchs hand in hers who was amused at her behaviour.

“I promise I’ll be good.” You say, looking up at him with doe eyes and a sly smile. John chuckled and let you in the club.

“We have go to do shots.” You exclaim to all three of them. Harry was surprised at your behaviour to say the least, he never would’ve pegged you as someone who even had the ability to smile let alone laugh.

“Nope. I’m driving.” Sarah said throwing her hands up in the air.

“Jeez such a buzzkill.” You said making Sarah roll her eyes. You stuck your tongue out at her as you made your way to the bar with Harry and Mitch.

“Don’t stop till your at least ten shots down.” You said with a cunning smile and excited eyes.

“Ten?!” Mitch exclaimed.

“Six.” Harry interjected.

“Deal.”

Harry learnt a great deal about that night. Especially the fact that you have a tendency to dance with almost anyone and everyone.

He saw you make your way to the dancefloor, not bothered about the fact that you had no one to dance with. You swayed your hips to the song, your arms moving and a bright smile etched on your face. You were surrounded by men and women. Harry saw you dance with a man whom you didn’t know, he wished you would be that carefree with him.

After an hour of drinking and talking, Harry found you dancing on the table with a few other people.

“Is this normal?” He asked Sarah who snickered in response. “Yep. She’s a fun drunk.”

You spot Harry and get down from the table, stumbling forward. The strap of your heel loosened and Harry quickly caught hold of you.

“Wait a second.” Harry said, as he kneeled down to fix your strap. Once he got up he saw your glassy eyes laiden with lust and simply smirked.

“You like watching me get down on my knees for you, huh?” Harry whispered in your ear, his grip harsh around your waist as he pulled you towards himself . You felt heat rise up your thighs and stomach.

“Isn’t that what men are good for anways?” You whispered, closing any gap you two had as you put one hand behind his neck, tugging him closer to you. “Don’t think this changes anything betwen us Styles. You’re still a nightmare.” You whispered to him in his ear slowly.

You stood so close to each other that you could feel each others heat radiate. Harry’s heart raced as his eyes met yours. You were cautious with your gaze, afraid that if you looked any longer in his eyes, he might spot the hunger in yours just as you might see his making you lose any self control you exercised.

“I have someone waiting for me.” You spoke, breaking the silence. Harry raised his eyebrows in amusement as his hands wandered down your waist to your lower back. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he left a bite there. You let out a soft moan, turning into complete putty in his grip.

“I could fuck you much better y/n.” He said, his voice dangerously low.

“I don’t want to be fucked missionary style that’ll leave me unsatisfied.”

“Your moan said otherwise.”

Two can play this game.

You wiggled out of his grip, ignoring the throbbing between your legs as you sauntered towards the dance floor, blowing a kiss at Harry from a distance.

——————————————

“Hello?” Your groggy voice spoke into the microphone of your phone. Your head throbbing due to last night.

“Y/n. Where are you?” Jeff asked you.

“Home.”

“Come over to Harry’s. Got something to discuss.”

“I’ll be there in five.” You said before hanging up on the phone.

You washed your face, put on a large tee shirt and an oversized pair of sunglasses. You brushed your hair and slipped into your slippers. It was a ten minute drive to Harry’s house. The radio was silent. The windows were rolled down because you needed fresh air now more than ever.

You reached his flat and rang the doorbell.

“My my look who’s here.” Harry taunted as he opened the door to see you in an oversized tee shirt, legs bare and slippers. He couldn’t control all the thoughts that seemed to slip in and out his head as he saw your legs.

“Show me your eyes love.” Harry snickered knowing they must be bloodshot. You flipped him off and plopped down on the bean bag, groaning as you held your head.

“You seemed to have a lot of fun last night.” Mitch said, getting a stare from Sarah. “You should see the videos.” He added. Your head shot up at his words.

“Videos?”

“Yep. They’re too good.” He snickered. You removed your sunglasses and pounced at Harry who began to play videos of you dancing on table tops.

“Give. Me. The. Damn. Phone.” You said in between breathes as you attempted to strangle Harry. You were about to smack Harry but he picked you up by your waist, throwing you on his shoulder.

“Put me down.” You stated firmly.

“Only if you don’t strangle me.” Harry said chuckling at your sorry state.

“I don’t make promises Styles.”

“Too bad. I’ll post it if you continue to be a brat.” He said.

“Fine.”

Harry put you down, running a hand through your messy hair which you swatted off. He noticed how young you looked without lining your eyes, a different girl, perhaps even innocent. You looked like a doe. You looked beautiful.

“You’re drolling on the carpet Styles.” You said rolling your eyes at him.

“Am I supposed to deny that I find you attractive?” He questioned, his voice low and alluring. He spoke slow enough to make your thighs quiver. Your mind suddenly flashed you images of how his large hand felt against your waist last night.

“I’m too hungover for this.” The only defense left.

This was new to you. This feeling of loathing someone to no extent but also finding them undeniably attractive. Attractive enough to make your thoughts wander off to forbidden places and scenarios.

“What happened to your neck?” Sarah said, noticing the love bite that Harry left the other night. You rolled your head back as you rubbed your eyes with a yawn. Harry felt proud to say the least, he smirked and winked at you while you barely controlled the urge to smash his face in the table neck to him.

“Why am I even here?” You said groaning. “The work is done. The albums done. What do you possibly need for me now?” You added.

“Come to tour with us.” Jeff said, his manager persona now showing.

“What?”

“Yes.”

“It wasn’t in the contract Jeff.”

“Consider this, an impromptu decision.” He reasoned with you.

“I’ll do only concerts. No interviews. No playing for videos and no recordings.” You said.

“Deal.”

You huffed a breath as you reached for the glass of water next to you. “That’s mine!” Harry whined. You flipped him off as you wore your sunglasses and went to sleep.

“Oh y/n what’s your Instagram?” Jeff asked. You scoffed at his question, “don’t have one.” You simply said. “Well, Harry follows his band members so-”

“No.” and with that you went to sleep.

—————————————

The album was a success to say the least. Everyone seemed to recognise Harry as Harry styles and not as Harry from One Direction. It was bitter sweet to say the least. Harry was excited and enthralled to be able to embark a whole new journey.

The album release party was a success. But you weren’t there, Harry had called you not once but twice asking you why you weren’t there.

“Y/n, it’s already six, why aren’t you at the party?” Harry asked you on call.

“Because I didn’t plan on going.” A short answer. Your one word answers now began to become a bit longer but they annoyed Harry nonetheless.

“The whole band’s here.”

“I’m not part of your band Harry. I helped you write your songs.” You stated.

“But you’re going to tour with us.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

And now as Harry stood in front of the stage, waiting for the crowd to pour in, he wondered where you were. You had insisted on driving to the show venue on your own instead of travelling with the band. Harry tried to persuade you but you didn’t budge.

“Is she here?” Harry asked Jeff who only nodded no. Harry was getting worried now. He was supposed to get ready, but he was much to engaged in wondering about your whereabouts. It was his first show and your words about him being scared rang in his head.

“She’ll be here don’t worry.” Jeff said.

By the time Harry got ready, he spotted you, a cigarette in your mouth as you look towards the stage. You wore a latex, dark emerald coloured waistcoat that resembled a corset. It pushed your breasts together and ended just above the curve of your waist. You wore low waisted black bell bottoms. The waistcoat and the bell bottoms gave off the illusion of an hourglass figure. Your eyes were covered in your signature feline eyeliner, curving in the inner and outer corner of your eye.

“Y/n!” Harry called your name. You looked up at him, a lazy smile on your face as you disposed the cigarette.

“My my look at you styles. A fucking prince you are.” You said snickering. Harry stuck his tongue out at you. He wore a red blazer clad with black flowers and the same pattern was all over his trousers. His hair were unruly yet only added to his charm.

“Ya scared?” You asked him.

“No. I mean, I’m just…. excited yet scared you know?”

“Hmm.”

“You stick out like a sore thumb.” Harry said, his eyebrows raised at you as he scanned you up and down.

“Excuse me for not wanting to dress up as a fucking rainbow.” You said scowling at Harry who passed you a smile. “Y’know what would really go well with your top?” Harry said, his eyes twinkling. “What?”

“Wait.” Harry ran off of to his dressing room, fetching a silver cross necklace. The cross was heavy and large, engraved with swirls and very small rubies decorating it. Harry gestured you to turn around, his hands brushed against your skin as he snapped it’s lock in place. The cross rested against the curve of your breasts, demanding attention and praise. “How about a hickey to tie your look together?” Harry questioned.

“From you? Not even in your dreams Styles.” You said. Harry smirked at you and went towards the stage.

—————————————

Harry felt alive. He felt free and invincible on stage. But you, you were the personification of sex. The minute Kiwi began to play, the crowds focus shifted from Harry to you.

You whipped your hair back and forth, your back arching, a cigarette encased in your pink lips, sweat gleaming down the curves of your waist, breasts and arms. The crowd went absolutely wild as you winked at them. Harry’s photographer, Lloyd was entranced with you. He couldn’t help but photograph you. Your eyebrows were sinched together in focus, your eyes closed, your mouth slightly open and your body fully arched.

After the first concert, the fans and media were deep diving into who you were and tried to uncover your identity. As the tour progressed, the crowd began to make posters stating things like “we’re here for y/n!” “Give us y/n!”

There were pictures of you everywhere, playing the guitar as your face morphed into an expression which Harry called your “orgasm face.”

Harry was asked about you during interviews as well, the media was left questioning about your identity and they found themselves allured by a recent stunt you pulled at a concert.

You jumped off the stage during Medicine and went up to a man, roughly around your age if not older. The man lit the cigarette in your mouth with his lighter as you winked at him and murmured “thank you love.”

—————————————

The tour had finally ended. You were in your dressing room, your chest heaving up and down. The adrenaline after the show still lingering in your blood stream. You removed your top and were standing in your bra, the minute Harry barged in.

“Knock on my door ya’dick!” You said, crossing your arms over your chest which did nothing at all to ease Harry since your breasts were pushed up.

After months of sexual tension, Harry finally felt himself crack.

“Got to teach you some manners.” You murmured.

“Really?” He tutted, pulling you by the loop of your jeans.

You understood where this was heading. “Hmm.” You hummed, moving your hands slowly on the buttons of his shirt. Harry caught your wrist making you look up at him. He looked in your eyes, deep and seriously as if to contemplate his actions. You pulled him by his neck, close enough that your foreheads touched.

“M’gonna regret this.” He whispered. He didn’t give you a chance to respond as he connected his lips to yours, his tongue swirling in your mouth. His hands wandered down the curve of your spine and lingered there. You deepened the kiss, letting your hunger overpower you. He wasn’t close enough, you needed his skin next to yours, rubbing, you needed to feel him, you needed him.

There was a knock on the door, you immediately recoil away from Harry although his hands were still on your bare back. “Y/n, Vanessa’s here for you.” Laura, his assistant said.

Vanessa and you were supposed to head out to paris the next morning. Harry felt a hole cave in his chest, remembering about your departure.

“I’ll be there.” You said.

You kissed Harry, a sweet and soulful kiss. Not the one that was ruled with consumption and the urge to mark.

“You should stay.” Harry whispered, holding you.

“I never stay anywhere for too long.”

Harry looked at you, his eyes staring into yours as you squeezed his hand. “Who’re you gonna strangle now?” You laughed remembering all the times you tried to strangle and choke him, resting your head on his chest.

“I’ve got to go.” You said, slipping out of his grip, slipping on a tee shirt as you picked up your stuff.

Harry looked at you with a look of longing. How stupid. How cruel. How unfair. He thought to himself as he saw you leave.

“When will I see you again?” He asked you.

“When it’s the right time.” You said, kissing his cheek.

——————————————

Authors note; how are we feeling about a part two? let me know in the comments section <3

#harry's house album #harry styles x reader #harry x y/n #harry imagine #harry fanfic #harry styles blog #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #famous!harry #enemies to lovers #harry styles #one direction #harry one direction #harry one shot

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skynapple · 3 months

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Spoilers for Xavier: 21 Days!

It's been a while folks but I'm back with the essays.

Mentions: spoilers for Xavier's completed myth and anecdotes as well. Read at your own risk below!!

I. Initial Thoughts

FIRST OF ALL

akskdkjshHhwhLWKJEKWH;ksjdSg;kdhdga

NEXT OF ALL

This card is so beautifully written for so many reasons. I am literally,,, going insane already.

YOOOOOOOOO OK SO LIKE

A. Xavier has been holding back a long time

It's so clear Xavier has been holding back, holding on for SO long. But he's also?? So freaking scared.

BUT THIS RIGHT HERE.

He holds soooo much for that girl who died in his arms; that girl who loved him so much and it was too late before he realized. And now he knows deeply that the roles feel reversed and he's terrified.

B. Contrary to Popular Belief; MC Has A Right To Be A Lil Confused

I don't think they show enough that MC still does fear losing him, and it's so obvious she's so curious about him, and wants to feel closer, but she DOES feel that wall he's built to protect his identity.

I groan a lot at how flippant and distant MC is, almost seemingly constantly rejecting Xavier's affection.

But Idk if you had a coworker who was scarily good at his job, also militant, gone for god knows how long, who knows where, and then was weirdly affectionate but then when you ask him like idk what his favorite color is he gets all "that's classified" which ok hasn't actually happened but it FEELS like it has.

He's always misdirecting anything super deep with her so yeah it goes without saying but she has every right to think that maybe he's trying to keep things professional so why wouldn't she always want to keep things professional even if she wants more?

But now he's actually being really honest. He's telling her things he's held on to for centuries (not that she knows that LOL) and you can literally see the relief in his eyes (and major props to the VA for conveying this cause my godddd it literally sounds like Xavier is TREMBLING??). And she still feels the need to clarify, hey is this real or are you lost in the moment?

Because honestly, I do feel MC does want this and has for so long. Her little "sneaky kiss" was her way of trying to say that like, what took you so long? and yes, because she does want it, she needs to be sure that he's being for real.

And props for Xavier for not wanting a three-peat of what happened with her past versions and all the miscommunication. He's done with that. He's putting his foot down to get what he wants.

C. Xavier Finally Being Honest With Himself

And for a former prince who literally gave up everything for her, he has never once allowed himself to convey just how deeply he does want her, and how much he really actually needs her and wants this with her.

I gotta hand it to @rose-tinted-kalopsia for saying this, too, cause like, this really is him accepting the whole of the past, and all of him, and saying like, "no, it's been like this all along, and I'm done hiding from the past versions, screw that, screw this, I'm getting my happy ending with you."

Cause for all of his sneaking in bits of lore (i freaking died!)

I KNOW IT'S A JAB AT HER PAST SELF I JUST KNOW IT. YOU JUST KNOW HE TENSED A LITTLE BIT AT THE ELOPE LINE.

THAT ARGUMENT HIT TOO CLOSE TO HOME.

They didn't elope because of communication issues!

He did leave and break ties with his family and she couldn't possibly know or remember that (It literally slips out and is not part of the script and you know he feels guilty about it but even that feeling and maybe mixed emotions - not anger but idk maybe a lot of THICK mixed emotions about it; none of which are regret! but STILL) like he has never been able to say it out loud and he does, he DOES. He FINALLY DOES.

So now there's a lot of the table.

D. The Spilled Cherries But It's Not What You Think

It's messy, my god how could it not be. Even the spilled cherries is like.... it's more of like "this is a mess, we're a mess, this relationship is all over the place" and the bowl gets knocked over, cause this whole situation has really literally tipped their bowl over. It's all out on the floor.

All her emotions of feeling that wall that she references a Lot™️ in all their cards, she finally breaks through and gets him to be honest with himself and with her

They actually kinda did sort of have a real genuine argument and maybe it's the first time he felt that way with her and i think honest to god he panicked a little bit - and I think that's why he says "that was normal" to her like, he has to reassure himself that's kinda normal?

good god the cooking!! he really has to wrestle with the fact that there are things he just can't do well all the time and he puts the work in to actually learn and he's semi-decent now! like maybe this man isn't about to make chicken fricassee anytime soon, but he can make some stews and simple dishes. So even that emotion of "i'm learning i'm trying to be better" is out

Their actual physical connection - she's finally stopped pressing him away, and has dropped the denial that she wants it too, but I think mentally she's a bit tired so that bowl toppling over is like, nah man I'm done with this rollercoaster too

They really do have so much synergy. Like who bought the cherries in the first place? She did, because she knows they're his favorite

The shadows merging like- his whole tearing in their earlier conversation "Do you think our shadows look like there's?" they don't specify what they were looking at out the window but it was probably a couple passing by, maybe sharing intimate proximity and a kiss and honestly that's helped tip the bowl too

the cherries being like- almost a metaphor of all these factors; all the times they've had so many, many, many miscommunication issues but it's all gone and said and done now (maybe not ALL but many of their issues)

So I'm really excited to see how it all goes moving forward.

This does not even capture half of my entire breakdown over this card but that's a majority of my brain dump.

What was your favorite moment in the card? Comment below!

#love and deepspace #lnds xavier #love and deepspace xavier #xavier love and deepspace #xavier x mc #lnds mc #lnds meta #madi plays lnds #lads xavier #l&ds xavier #lnd xavier

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thecreaturecodex · 3 months

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The Laughing Hand

Image by Jolyne Garcia, © Hasbro and Critical Role. Accessed at the Critical Role Wiki here

[Sponsored by @tar-baphon. Critical Role is not something I ever got into. And despite two official D&D sourcebooks for Critical Role and a post-OGL fantasy heartbreaker RPG written for the setting, there's no official statblock for Ganix the Laughing Hand. There are, however, plenty of dedicated fans on the CR Wiki and on Reddit who made observations about his abilities and some guesswork onto their own statblocks, which I did reference. Some things that I noticed while working on this stat block are the persistence of D&D 4e design elements into what is nominally a 5e campaign (but of course is really an entertainment podcast first and foremost). In Critical Role, the Laughing Hand is a servitor of Torog, a god from the 4e "Points of Light" setting who does not officially appear in D&D 5e except in the Critical Role sourcebooks. He can also summon minions, and has absolutely no ranged capacity, which are both very 4e design elements. I made him a servitor of Yhidothrus, being PF's giant subterranean worm divinity, gave him unholy blight so he wasn't completely helpless against an army of flying PCs and... had to get creative with the minions.]

The Laughing Hand CR 17 CE Outsider (extraplanar) This hulking giant is twice as tall as a normal man. His skin is gray and splashed with red, and his eyes burn yellow beneath his thick hooded leather cloak. One of his hands is replaced with an oversized, double-edged blade, and the other has a fanged mouth in the palm. Similar fanged mouths open up over his body at odd angles, twisted into wry, mocking smiles.

The Laughing Hand was once a mortal general named Garix. Garix dared to challenge Yhidothrus, rallying an army to slay the Ravager Worm in a mad attempt to fight and kill the concept of entropy itself. Only Garix and his prized hunting hounds were even able to reach Yhidothrus directly, and the demon lord was amused by the hubris of his human adversary. After a century of torture, Garix was transformed into the Laughing Hand, a fiend that will come back from death endlessly to inflict suffering on the world of men.

Garix finds his own torment and transformation hilarious, and unless he is trying to be stealthy, he constantly laughs from his many mouths. This laughter causes creatures to freeze in terror, being unable to flee or fight back as the Laughing Hand tears them apart. If blades are raised against him, a new mouth opens up, adding to the horrible chorus. The Laughing Hand is often mobile in combat, leaping across the battlefield in order to target vulnerable targets. He can summon ghastly shadows of his beloved hounds, which he uses to block pursuit and set up flanking.

In order to slay Garix permanently, his heart must be found—this was cut from his chest and transformed into an oversized reliquary of sorts. This structure, called the Permaheart, is on a demiplane accessible only through a handful of portals. Finding this heart is a goal of both Yhidothrus’ enemies and cultists—his cultists in order to gain leverage over one of their god’s most powerful servants. If the Permaheart is ever destroyed, the Laughing Hand’s defenses weaken, but even then he is still a powerful melee combatant.

The Laughing Hand CR 17 XP 102,400 CE Large outsider (chaos, evil, extraplanar) Init +8; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +31, see invisibility Aura mocking laughter (15 ft., DC 25)

Defense AC 33, touch 14, flat-footed 29 (-1 size, +4 Dex, +1 dodge, +4 armor, +15 natural) hp 264 (23d10+138) Fort +13, Ref +17, Will +18 DR 15/good; Immune poison; Resist cold 10, electricity 10, fire 10; SR 28 Defensive Abilities fortification (50%),rejuvenation

Offense Speed 40 ft. Melee armblade +30 (2d8+8/17-20), slam +30 (2d6+8 plus grab), bite +30 (1d8+8) Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Special Attacks rake (bites +30, 1d8+8) Spell-like Abilities CL 17th, concentration +21 Constant—see invisibility At will—unholy blight (DC 18) 1/day—summon (8th level, 100%)

Statistics Str 27, Dex 19, Con 22, Int 13, Wis 20, Cha 18 Base Atk +23; CMB +32 (+36 grapple); CMD 47 Feats Cleave, Combat Reflexes, Dodge, Improved Critical (armblade), Improved Initiative, Great Cleave, Mobility, Nimble Moves, Outflank, Power Attack, Precise Strike, Spring Attack Skills Acrobatics +30 (+34 when jumping), Climb +34, Intimidate +30, Perception +31, Sense Motive +31, Survival +31, Swim +34 Languages Abyssal, Aklo, Common SQ mighty leap, spawn maw

Ecology Environment any land or underground (Abyss) Organization unique Treasure standard (+2 moderate fortification leather armor, other treasure)

Special Abilities Armblade (Ex) The Laughing Hand’s armblade is treated as a primary natural weapon that deals slashing damage and threatens a critical hit on a roll of 19-20. Aura of Mocking Laughter (Su) All creatures within 15 feet of the Laughing Hand must succeed a DC 25 Will save or cower in fear for 1 round. The Laughing Hand can suppress or resume this ability as a free action. Demons are immune to this effect. This is a mind-influencing fear effect and the save DC is Charisma based. Mighty Leap (Ex) The Laughing Hand suffers no penalty from making a long jump without a running start. If he does get a running start, he doubles the distance traveled. Rake (Ex) When the Laughing Hand uses his rake attack, he normally has only one bite. He gains more bites by the use of the spawn maw ability. Rejuvenation (Su) If the Laughing Hand is slain, he reforms 24 hours later in the Spiral Paths. This can be disrupted if the Permaheart, hidden on a demiplane, is destroyed. If the Permaheart is destroyed and the Laughing Hand still lives, he loses his energy resistances, his DR is reduced to 5/good and his SR reduced to 18. Spawn Maw (Su) Whenever the Laughing Hand takes 10 or more damage from a piercing or slashing weapon, a new mouth opens up in the wound. This raises the save DC of the aura of mocking laughter by +1 for as long as the maw exists (to a maximum save DC of 35 for 10 maws), and gives the Laughing Hand another bite attack it can use when it uses its rake ability. Maws spawned this way last for 1 minute before they are resorbed into the Laughing Hand’s body. Summon (Sp) Once per day as a standard action, the Laughing Hand can summon four bleak hounds. Treat these as 10th level dog animal companions, only with spider climb as a constant supernatural ability and Precise Strike and Outflank as bonus feats. These hounds last for 1 hour or until slain.

#laughing hand #ganix #critical role #D&D #dnd #pathfinder 1e #outsider #sponsored post

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vidavalor · 11 months

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hi there 👋 i love reading your good omens metas. i'm wondering if you have any thoughts on aziraphale's line to crowley in 1967: "i can't have you risking your life, not even for something dangerous". this always sticks out as odd to me. obviously he doesn't want crowley risking his life for any reason, so why this weird qualifier?

Hi @mybelovedismine Thank you so much. :) I am so sorry it took me awhile to get back to you. Love me some 1967 Crowley & Aziraphale and this question is great. Cheers.

1967/Holy Water Era/some S2 Aziraphale meta under the cut.

If you go back-- and I mean way back-- to the very opening bit of GO 1.01, it opens with what seems at first like it's just a quirky, funny scene introducing God and her sense of humor and the show's sense of humor. It is all of that but it also contains what I think is a really important piece of information-- especially with relation to the 1967 scene-- which is the date that Earth began in the GO universe. Crowley and Aziraphale don't know exactly when the end of the world will come but they know "about" when-- and that is a ticking clock running in the background for them for millennia.

The date that God gives us for the creation of Earth at the opening of S1 means that 6,000 years exactly would math out to October 21, 2004... but we also know that they don't know if it's going to be *exactly* 6,000 years. It could have been 5,900. It could have been 6,500 or anything in between. It winds up the super-cruel 6,004 years, beginning in 2008 in S1. What is clear to Crowley & Aziraphale is that their experience is closer to that of humans in a way because even though 6,000 years would be a very long time to humans, it's "nothing", as Angel!Crowley put it in Before the Beginning, to Crowley & Aziraphale... and there has always been a very good chance that it's all they will ever have together.

Their relationship is like someone turned over an hourglass on the wall at Eden and it's been dripping sand steadily in the background this whole time. It's partially why their relationship accelerates a little faster over the last few centuries, imo. There is a chance they're running out of time together. Armageddon means the Great War between Heaven and Hell and they are an angel and a demon. Whatever side wins the war is the one who will live on for all of eternity. The other one won't survive it-- or, even if they did, they won't be able to be with each other. Not to mention that Armageddon means that, regardless of who wins the Heaven and Hell war, Earth will be destroyed and their life on it together will be over.

Aziraphale always thinks Heaven will win. He always thinks it's him who will have to spend eternity alone. Part of this is because he has to tell himself that Heaven is still the side of good, even if it's flawed, because he can barely deal with the guilt over being part of the machine that's caused Crowley so much pain. Aziraphale also thinks, though, that maybe when the time comes, they can find a way out of it all, somehow.

In close to 6,000 years, the best plan they've got for dealing with this is Crowley's plan to just run away to Alpha Centauri and hope that no one notices that they're deserters. (So, not a great plan, but also they're up against the will of God here so kind of hard to try to work out a way around that.) In S2, Aziraphale is so desperate-- SO desperate-- for a way to not have to lose Crowley that he is willing to entertain the idea that he can trust The Metatron's word and beg Crowley to come to Heaven with him and be an angel again just so that they can be together forever. Aziraphale doesn't need Crowley to be an angel to know he's good and to love him-- he already knows and feels those things. He loves him so much that he can't bear the thought that he could lose him. He's never been able to bear that thought.

In 1967, they were running out of time and it's something that became increasingly intense for them the closer the years got to 2004 and the day they would hit 6,000 years since the Earth's creation.

In 1967, they were down to 37 years until 6,000 years were up, so the end of the world was, to them, a moment away.

It's not hard to see how Crowley wants to carpe diem and go for broke, in case it's all they'll ever have. He wants to be a little less careful. To try for the things they haven't been able to give each other while they've had to be a secret for so long. 'Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all', right? And they have loved, do love, are loving in 1967... but Crowley feels the time slipping away and his anxiety is dialed up to eleven under that cool exterior and Aziraphale knows him like he knows the back of his hand and he can see where this is all going... and it's not where either of them want it to go.

Think of this from Aziraphale's point of view...

Aziraphale is an angel. His soul is saved. He is meant to survive Armageddon. That, to him, is actually something of a curse at this point because it means that he'll live for eternity. For *all* of time. An absolutely incomprehensible amount of time. Neverending time. The kind of amount of time that would make 6,000 years feel like less time than it took you to blink while reading this sentence. And if everything goes according to what they know of God's Ineffable Plan or Great Plan or Whatever The Fuck It Is lol, he's going to live through all of this time alone.

Without Crowley.

Forget even the end of Earth and humanity (and that's hard to forget lol), Aziraphale is slated for a post-apocalyptic return to Heaven and a celestial cubicle and spending all of time with Michael and Uriel and Sandalphon and no food and no books and no music and even all of that, he could stand, if only he could just have Crowley with him and he can't.

Because Crowley's a demon. He's fallen. He's eternally damned. Heaven has socialized angels to believe that the war between Heaven and Hell that Armageddon triggers will be the big triumph of Heaven over Hell. Aziraphale tells himself he believes it but he's honestly more *terrified* of it than devoted to the idea. Heaven triumphing over Hell could kill Crowley. It's what Aziraphale is *supposed* to want as an angel but it's actually *the exact opposite* of what he wants. He adores Crowley. He will never-- in all of the infinite time to come-- ever get over Crowley and he knows it.

Even if Crowley somehow survives The Great War 2.0, Earth will still be gone and Crowley's fate is eternity in dark, cramped, literally painful damnation in Hell. There is no way for them to be together without thwarting the will of God and Aziraphale is an angel-- his entire purpose as a being is to serve God. It's what he was made *by God* to do, as far as he's been taught, and he mostly believes it... it's just that he also thinks he was made for Crowley.

This isn't just what Crowley thinks. Crowley isn't wrong that this is a mutual feeling:

Aziraphale felt that then, too, and he's never stopped feeling it. It blends sometimes with his faith in God-- something that, ironically, he sometimes thinks Crowley somehow has more of than he does. If God made him and God made Crowley and if God made them for each other, then it can't really be just to take them away from each other after such a short time, can it? Maybe they're meant for some other purpose in all of it?

But this is the same God that Aziraphale knows can be cruel...

Aziraphale has gone up against the will of God countless times over the years now and he is, for reasons he doesn't understand, somehow still an angel.

It seems unjust and honestly pretty profane to him that *he* is the holy one when Crowley's been through--quite literally-- Hell, for thousands of years, and his biggest sin is being curious. It is very hard to be told that you were created for the purpose of representing the side of good in a war against good and evil but to then, over and over and over, find yourself believing that the good guys are maybe not so good... all the while falling deeper in love by the day with a being your side calls 'demonic' and 'evil' but whom you know to be a sweet, romantic, smart, gentle, funny, kind cinnamon roll. Crowley is a demon and he's the best angel Aziraphale knows.

Now imagine you've all those conflicts and you're running out of time and staring down the end game of all of this and when you've got maybe, if you're lucky, a century and a half left or so worth of sand is still in the top half of the hourglass (mid-1800s), Crowley starts to pull away from you.

He's honestly never done it to this extent before. He trusts you with a surprising amount of himself and has since early days and, in recent centuries, you were happy together-- as happy as your situation would allow and that was more than you ever thought you'd have. This is the same being whose willingness to push through his fear of being vulnerable to have something honest and intimate with you has had you in awe of his bravery since you met. He taught you how to do that and now he's putting up walls you can't scale and slamming shut every open door.

You were happy together and then, you went on a date in Edinburgh in 1827 and suddenly, the centuries of peace and of getting away with it all ended in a literal second when Crowley got dragged to Hell two feet away from you. Hell didn't find out about the two of you or about Elspeth-- they were pissed about the human grave guards that Crowley accidentally sent to Hell for shooting Wee Morag-- but Crowley comes back a couple of weeks later and it's like it's all over already.

He's badly shaken. They hurt him. He spent time in Hell not sure if they had found out about you or if you were still alive. The anxiety, depression, and PTSD he has from being cast out of Heaven and a lifetime of trying to survive being a demon of Hell goes into overdrive and you don't know what to do. You've always been good at helping him. Nothing works. The bookshop-- your home but his, too, in your mind, the safest space he can go to to get away from Hell and get some rest-- isn't enough. He's not coming around the way he used to. He doesn't want to talk about any of it. The connection between the two of you-- emotionally, sexually-- feels like it's eroding. It hurts more than you want to admit. Your relationship de-evolves for almost 35 years as you watch the spark seem to go out of him. You don't know how to fix it and you try everything you can think of. You can understand how the ticking clock makes it all hurt more and you don't want him to be in any pain-- ever-- and you'd go away entirely if it was what he really wanted but neither of you know how to say goodbye because you both know that neither of you actually want to.

He's your best friend. He's the only one like you in the universe. You're both miserable and lonely without each other and it seems stupid to spend the last years you might ever get together apart but it also seems impossible to ever get back to where you were. Then, one day, after *years* of this, he asks you for the one thing that can *kill him*...

In the moment, all you can think about is that he wants to die because he's seemed like he does for decades now. All you can think of is that he is in so much pain and he wants nothing from you but the means by which to end it.

He's your lover. Imagine being told by the being with whom you've spent countless pleasurable hours in bed that all he wants from you now is a suicide pill.

He used to laugh. He used to be silly and hilariously dry-humored. He used to flirt with you and gaze at you from the couch on the bookshop, all pretty yellow eyes and lounging limbs, and now he's spine-straight stiff, like the pain is what's holding up. He arranges meetings in the park instead of coming over. He wears his glasses, all the time. You can't remember when the last time you saw his eyes was.

All of it says to you that you aren't enough and then he asks you to give him a suicide pill and you're broken-hearted-- you're just broken, period at the thought of him in so much pain-- and you're angry. You're furious. How dare he do this to you? You've been in love for millennia. He is your best friend. How dare he shut you out and leave you alone when you are going to be alone without him for the rest of bloody time?!

You're so in your feelings about him shutting you out that you know you have been failing at caring for him and not really helping the situation for awhile now. Your defenses have been up for awhile. Years, probably. You're caustic and, frankly, pretty bitchy in your bitterness. It's a little twisted but you've tried everything else and maybe if you could even just make him angry, it'd at least be something. He's barely spoken above a whisper in thirty years and sometimes you think about him off his head on laudanum in Edinburgh, drawing you to him magically by your bow tie to look at you over his glasses, inches away, and how you didn't know that was going to be the last time he ever really flirted with you.

So, when he asks you for holy water in 1862, you do your best to piss him off, since he won't accept anything else from you lately. You used to be wildly compatible and now you're broken and you're angry because God was always going to break your heart by taking him from you but he was never supposed to. He was supposed to love you-- those things neither of you say-- to the end.

You did get him angry. You both got angry. So angry that it felt over.

It wasn't. You saw each other again in the interim and it didn't just magically heal itself, like you wished it would, because you regretted how you reacted to the request for holy water but somehow talking about it felt too much.

Because you thought you might have understood it more afterwards.

Because you began to understand that he felt vulnerable. That he needed to feel like he could defend himself and, if it came to it, you. That maybe he didn't want to die-- maybe he wanted to live. That this was him asking you to help him figure out how to feel safe again-- something you've actually always been good at-- and you were so afraid, too, that you handled it badly.

Maybe one of the things you were afraid of in the moment was the way he talked about it going wrong, going pear-shaped, about him wanting insurance... about how there wasn't a way to reframe that in your mind to not mean that he meant he was willing to kill a demon in your defense or his-- which could kill him. It could send a legion after him and destroy him. There was so much that could go wrong. No matter what Crowley wanted holy water for, his death felt like it was the end game. You would throw yourself into Hellfire before you did anything that could cause him harm.

He had been pulling away for years but there he was saying I would kill for you. I would die for you. and that was the closest either of you had ever come to saying I'm in love with you. and you weren't sure what was more dangerous: saying those truths you both knew and felt or holy water.

Crowley didn't bring it up again and neither did you. You're useless without one another so you saw each other again within the next couple of decades. The Old West in America. Back in London in the 1920s and times in between. Neither of you ever discussed the Holy Water fight or what it meant. You secretly learned to drive, for the future, just in case, when he turned up stupidly in love with a car in 1928. You would die for that dumb car if only because of how Crowley smiled when he turned up to take you for a ride.

Over time, Crowley seemed to get a bit better and your heart burst just looking at him, even if it also ached with the knowledge that you had made it harder and hadn't known that time how to help when he needed it.

Then, 1941. The Blitz. Bombs raining down over London and the world on the brink of nuclear annihilation and maybe, just like the humans, you both thought this might be it. Time slowed to surviving each night and every moment felt like it could be the last and maybe that's why you both wanted a different ending.

Crowley always did prefer the funny ones.

In the middle of it, Crowley joked about holy water-- the first time either of you had mentioned it in 80 years-- and you heard it there, woven into his quiet, coded but undisputable, confessions of love. It was for you, it was about you, it was to keep you safe... it was because you were two feet away from me when they took me and I want to be with you to the end and it's the only thing that can help me keep you safe from them.

He doesn't ask you for it again. You know why. Things are good. He doesn't want to fight. He doesn't want you to reject him again. He doesn't want to admit again that he feels unsafe. You think about giving him some after 1941 more than once but you are now afraid of what it might say to him if you do.

Because you could both be almost out of time, if everything goes pear-shaped when the clock runs out on about 6,000 years, and Crowley wants to try for more.

You both want forever. You both aren't sure that you'll even get tomorrow. The world is speeding up in 1967-- has been for decades now-- and you think Crowley is caught up in it. You both live in London, in SoHo, you'd be as safe as you could be. You'd blend in enough. It's too dangerous, though. It's not the humans you're afraid of, really-- not that the human world has ever been safe for your and Crowley's kind of love and you aren't sure that it will get there before it's all over. What you're afraid of is that you'll get caught by Heaven and Hell and you'll lose him before the about 6,000 years is up-- and then you will have no chance at all, whatsoever, of forever.

Crowley doesn't think he'll make it. He doesn't say so but his actions say so and his situation suggests it. He wants to go faster. He doesn't demand it, doesn't pressure you, but he periodically gently asks and you have to let him down somehow, you have to get him to slow down. It's not that you don't want him. If there were no risk to him, you'd never try to put up a speed bump. It's just that you are hopeful.

Ironically, you're hopefulness-- your optimism-- it comes from him.

He's brilliant. He's clever. Maybe, somehow, the two of you will find a way out of this.

You don't want to watch the world burn. You don't want to watch billions of humans and a whole planet and a whole solar system-- Crowley's nebulae-- destroyed for no reason and as much as you should be willing to go along with the Almighty's will, it's fucking ineffable and you secretly aren't sure if you believe in a God that would do this. You struggled during The Flood. You struggled over Job and Sitis' kids...

...if you are honest with yourself (and you are more than you care to admit), you struggle to be faithful to a God who has caused Crowley so much pain.

You think that, somehow, when the time comes, you and Crowley might find a way around it. How? You have no idea. None. But you think there is a chance that you could figure it out and so long as there is a chance-- even one, single, tiny, chance-- that somehow you and Crowley could survive it all and be together forever, you are not going to let him do something stupid and get himself killed trying to be together now.

You are not letting your far-sighted lover trip over his snake legs and go head-first into a faunt of stolen holy water that you could have given him safely 105 years ago, when he asked for it, and you fucked it all up...

You make him some. You use your powers and your essence and your body and turn water into a weapon for him. The real thing. The holiest.

You understand what it is to him now. It's not death; it's life. He doesn't want either of you to be in pain. He doesn't want to be left alone. He wants to feel safer. To be able to protect you from what Hell put him through and worse. He doesn't want to leave you. He wants a chance in Hell at surviving what's to come and an out for if it all goes pear-shaped and you want him to live and not to suffer and only you can give that to him.

You understand that now. It was never that you didn't trust him. It was that you didn't trust yourself.

You put it in a tartan thermos that silently says your anxious, emotional ass best thing of me before you ever decide to use this.

It also says this is for you to keep and it is of me and I know that's a risk if you ever get caught with it. I trust you to keep it hidden, like you do us, and protect me. This is for you and it looks like me and you know when the tartan started and why... you know it was because of our night in Edinburgh in 1827... you know it was the night they took you and I didn't know if I'd ever see you again and you know I've been wearing this pattern of us for 140 years and that I always will.

It's just that you also can't let him think that giving it to him is an assent of sorts. If Heaven or Hell ever found out you did this, they'd destroy you both.

So you rushed over with holy water, your tie undone, catching him before he can go any further with his scheme to pay humans to steal him some and you waited for him in the safety of The Bentley, one of the only places the two of you can actually talk with some expectation of privacy, and when he asks, you have to talk him out of it. You have to break his heart a bit. You have to disappoint him. You have to try to protect him from himself a bit or you'll lose him.

You tell him that you're giving him the holy water because you can't let him risk his life "not even for something dangerous." Dangerous is trying for more between you than there already is. You aren't rejecting him outright and he knows that. You never have, really. You see each other in secret. You have been for more years than either of you can count. You rely on each other to help each other to the right speed.

You need him to tempt you into giving yourself permission to do what you want and need but aren't sure you can or should. He needs you to help him keep from spiralling from anxiety.

He gets you to go a little faster-- not too much, at a pace you feel comfortable with. You get him to slow down-- gently, tenderly. You are both able to trust each other with your vulnerabilities and that's why it works.

He's blinded by the world changing in ways both exhilarating and also terrifying, by it breaking apart at the seams increasing his fear of running out of time.

You've been together for thousands of years.

You don't stay the night; you've never had breakfast together. You've never risked taking each other's hands in public. You've never directly said I love you.

If you can get him to see how dangerous it all still is-- because it is-- then maybe you can keep him alive long enough to have a shot of neither of you ever having to worry about losing each other again.

Somehow, it's not much different now than it was before the beginning. He's always been like this. Optimistic, progressive, free-thinking. Innovative. It might get you both out of all of it yet but it won't in 1967. He is caught up in the emerging new, human world and it's a heady cocktail when mixed with his existential terror. He's going to get himself fucking killed. You know better, just as you knew better before The Beginning. You know that too many questions, too much risk, will draw a metaphorical sniper's bead to his head. And you know that, on some level, he knows he needs you to rein him.

It's an era of freer sex and free love and wild, progressive music and art but... it's also an era of war and violence and assassinations... and Heaven and Hell are so far removed from Earth that it would take another 6,000 years to get them anywhere near close to this.

Crowley knows this, intellectually. You know he knows. He just feels the sand trickling faster and faster and there's hardly any of it left now.

You know how that feels-- you feel it, too. Every time you look at him. Everytime he slips away out the backdoor of the bookshop with a soft kiss and an even softer g'night, angel and you wonder if that was the last time.

Tick, tick, tick, tick...

Crowley sees All You Need is Love but you can see December 8, 1980 coming at some point down the road. You've both been on this planet long enough to know what they do to the first ones who break away, to the ones who go against the grain, and the humans are no different from Heaven and Hell in that way. You cannot tell him yes or you will be killing you both.

You put it on yourself a bit. He goes too fast for you, you tell him. It's not untrue. He does. It's just that if it all were different, you'd never refuse him anything. You hope he hears it as your issue, not his, though you doubt he will. It is so hard to look at him and tell him no when all he is saying he wants is the chance to love you more.

God, there are days when you think he might kill you if he were to love you any more than he does. You don't know what you ever did to deserve his love. You don't know how you survived before you met him or how you are supposed to if you lose him.

"You go too fast for me" is what you say and you know he understands that it means:

You'll burn us fast and bright and it will be amazing but it will *end*. They will catch us. They will kill us. I can't lose you. If I thought all we could ever have would be just a short, few years, then I wouldn't deny you but I think we could find a way to have forever. Somehow. I have hope for that. I get that hope *from you.* I need you to slow down because I can't watch you get yourself killed. I'm not strong enough to lose you. I need you to let me pace this for awhile...

You want him to know you understand, that you feel it all, too. So, you tell him of the things you'd like to do, if it was safer, not knowing if it ever will be. The things you choose are of all of these holy water years. A picnic-- one implied to be in the daylight, in this future you're both imagining, this world you hope to one day see emerge. He had tried to take you on a graveyard one at midnight in 1827. You know that had been what that would have been had you not ran into Elspeth. The two of you sneaking around in the dark, as always, but together. Alive. Maybe, you tell him now, you could one day have that picnic together under the sun. You think you can see that world. You have no idea how it arrives but he's not wrong. You can see some things changing here and there's always hope that things could change with Heaven and Hell. He has taught you to keep the faith in how he's survived the worst and remains optimistic.

Maybe, one day, you could be angels dining at The Ritz. It is intentional that you reference World War II. It is a way-- the only way you can right now-- to tell him you love him, as you both did in your own ways during The Blitz. It is saying:

I love you. I would love that life with you. I won't give up on the idea of it-- of having more than a short burst of it. That is why I need you to slow down and stay safe. It's too dangerous for more right now. Take the holy water and take a breath. You're okay. You have me. We keep *each other* safe, remember? Slow down. I need you with me forever.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #you go too fast for me #good omens 1967

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indigovigilance · 11 months

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The Hornet in the Beehive

The passages of the Bible that mention hornets (or, notably, just a single hornet) are talking almost exclusively about the Exodus of the people of Israel from Egypt and God guiding them to the promised land. Specifically, these verses discuss how the people already living in the promised land will be destroyed ahead of the chosen peoples’ arrival by the hornet(s).

The hornet is not who you think it is.

Read on Ao3

Exodus 23:28

The reference in verse 28 appears within this section, entitled God’s Angel to Prepare the Way:

20 “See, I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you along the way and to bring you to the place I have prepared. 21 Pay attention to him and listen to what he says. Do not rebel against him; he will not forgive your rebellion, since my Name is in him. 22 If you listen carefully to what he says and do all that I say, I will be an enemy to your enemies and will oppose those who oppose you. 23 My angel will go ahead of you and bring you into the land of the Amorites, Hittites, Perizzites, Canaanites, Hivites and Jebusites, and I will wipe them out… 28 I will send the hornet ahead of you to drive the Hivites, Canaanites and Hittites out of your way.

From this, we may be able to take that the guardian angel sent ahead of the Chosen People to wipe out the unclean is synonymous with the hornet (in the original Hebrew, הַצִּרְעָ֖ה, “haṣ-ṣir-‘āh” and yes it seems that the Hebrew word for hornet is pronounced Azira, or more specifically, “A-tsira,” “the-hornet”). (Why did I look at this? Because I wanted to know if the translation for hornet(s) was from a singular, plural, or group noun. Seems like it’s a group noun but I’m not certain.)

So what we have here is an angel symbolically represented as a hornet, pronounced Azira in the original language of the Bible, whose job it is to wipe out those God deems unworthy.

Do with this as you will.

Deuteronomy 7:20

This verse appears in a section entitled Driving Out the Nations

1 When the Lord your God brings you into the land you are entering to possess and drives out before you many nations—the Hittites, Girgashites, Amorites, Canaanites, Perizzites, Hivites and Jebusites, seven nations larger and stronger than you— 2 and when the Lord your God has delivered them over to you and you have defeated them, then you must destroy them totally (footnote: The Hebrew term refers to the irrevocable giving over of things or persons to the Lord, often by totally destroying them; also in verse 26). Make no treaty with them, and show them no mercy.

20 Moreover, the Lord your God will send the hornet among them until even the survivors who hide from you have perished.

Notably, “hornet” is translated in the singular in seven out of eight translations available here. The Message even capitalizes it.

Joshua 24:12

This section is entitled The Covenant Renewed at Shechem

8 “‘I brought you to the land of the Amorites who lived east of the Jordan. They fought against you, but I gave them into your hands. I destroyed them from before you, and you took possession of their land.

11 “‘Then you crossed the Jordan and came to Jericho. The citizens of Jericho fought against you, as did also the Amorites, Perizzites, Canaanites, Hittites, Girgashites, Hivites and Jebusites, but I gave them into your hands. 12 I sent the hornet ahead of you, which drove them out before you—also the two Amorite kings. You did not do it with your own sword and bow. 13 So I gave you a land on which you did not toil and cities you did not build; and you live in them and eat from vineyards and olive groves that you did not plant.’

Translation choices here are getting a little tricky: nine translations use “the hornet,” and the Lexham English Bible specifically emphasizes the hornet. New Living Translation and New Century Version have both replaced “the hornet” with “terror.” A footnote available here reads: Traditionally, “the hornet” (so KJV, NKJV, NASB, NIV, NRSV) but the precise meaning of the Hebrew word is uncertain (cf. NEB “panic”).

In summary

There’s a hornet (someone very powerful and very dangerous) in the beehive (Heaven), but it isn’t Crowley.

This is (in my humble opinion) some strong evidence that the intended symbolism behind Aziraphale’s name is a reference to the Hornet that goes before the people of Israel, slaying the Amorites, et cetera, to claim their land. There is some apparent parallelism between an angel clearing out the unfaithful to make way for the chosen people in the Exodus, and an angel whose major responsibility it is to bring about the Second Coming, the Day of Judgment which will also result in the wiping out of those who are found wanting.

The Final Fifteen, again

Aziraphale could not have said no. He could not have refused the Metatron and run away with Crowley. Aziraphale is the Hornet that goes before the righteous to rid the world of the unrighteous.

This was always Aziraphale’s destiny.

~~~

Author’s note: we live in interesting times. My use of the word “Israel” and surrounding language in this meta is strictly with regard to ancient Biblical texts as they are relevant to a fictional work, Good Omens. None of this should be construed as an opinion regarding current political events.

~~~

If you enjoyed this, please check out my meta index for some additional light reading!

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #good omens speculation #ivoc

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 5 months

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Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 21

MASTAPOST credit to @adonneniel, @brekitten and @bucketorandomness for all their help brianstorming. The scene with bruce has been a long time coming!

Walter Wekapipo puffed his second cigar of the day. Puff. Puff. Smoke filled his lungs, taking the edge off. Just another cold, damp day on a cold whaling boat in the middle of nowhere.

The captain shouted his orders. Walter got to it. He trawled to the back and grabbed some rope. He heaved. He hauled. The whale they got was a small one. Probably a baby. Should leave it alone. Let it grow big, but captain’s orders.

See, Walter saw himself as a morally complex man. You, dear readers, may consider him with disdain, He is a whaler! You may say. They are endangered species, you continue. And these are very valid points, for which this narrative will not only not judge you but appraise you for.

And Walter considered these points too. Sure they were pretty creatures, but they could always make more. People have been huntin’ whales for centuries. Millennia even. How could you blame him for needing to make a livin’?

No, who you should blame, Walter thought, was the rich pricks out on the East Coast. The assholes who run around in Armani and Gucci and drive fancy cars and do big speeches about the environment and then sneak off to Japan to try whale meat and raw horse. Bleugh.

What he could do with that kinda money…

But he didn’t have that kind of money, and you know? Mama always told him he needed to be happy first with what he got. So Walter picked up his harpoon gun, and dragged his feet to the side of the boat. A whale surfaced. There she was. Huge, meaty, tonnes of oil. Crying out like a bitch too. He remembered his mama crying out like a bitch every single day, till they institutionalised her. Poor mama.

Maybe in a better life, he wouldn’t be out here killing whales illegally. Walter didn’t really have the heart to fire the thing. Not really. But captain’s orders. And it was this or the streets.

Walter flicked his cigarette into the water. Time to get over with it. The captain yelled at him again. He knew he wasn’t getting’ fired. Boat was barely staffed as it was. Walter picked up his harpoon and took aim. So sorry, whaley-girl.

Something wet smacked into his cheek. Then it slid down his face, and dropped onto the floor. What in the world-?

Water slowly lowered his head. His half-smoked cigarette lay there innocently, chock fulla water.

Then came the most hideous, horrifyin’ screechin’ Walter had ever heard in his life.

May God have mercy on his tainted, tainted soul.

Damian opened his gills pre-emptively. He jumped out of the water at full speed, roaring the moment he surfaced. The first man, the repugnant one with the harpoon gun. He was to go down first. The poacher was too stunned to even move. Damian sank his teeth deep into the man’s hand, going deeper than his human bites had ever gone.

The man screeched like a distressed school girl. Damian did not relent. His opponent attempted to fling Damian off, but the small siren held firm. The man stumbled back, howling and trying his best to rid himself of the monstrous child.

The two men beside him shouted. They reached for their harpoons. Twin blue beams blasted them back. The ice bound them to the back wall, leaving only enough room to breathe and wiggle their fingers.

Damian moved to finish his opponent. Tired of the incessant screeching, Damian unhooked his teeth from the man’s arm. Raising his head to eye level, Damian matched the poacher’s terrified look with a hiss of his own. One firm head butt later, and he was down for the count.

And Damian was hardly done.

He may be without his grappling hook. He may be without his legs. But he was still Robin, and a Robin who could not adapt was no Robin at all.

Shouting erupted along the boat. Footsteps scrambled and ran in every which direction. Men rushed to where he was lying ‘prone’ on the deck. Let them come!

“You handle the right. I will decimate the left.” Damian shouted. Danny nodded, charging up another beam.

Damian held his sword in one hand, and activated the wrist ray on the other. The men hesitated.

“Come on mates. It’s just a baby! We could get rich selling it!” With that, the trio of sailors yelled and rallied, each of them carrying harpoons. Child’s play.

Damian coiled his tail, and jumped as a wound-up spring would. A harpoon fired. Damian fired back. The wrist ray’s beam hit true, and the harpoon flew off course. The siren boy continued his course, and latched onto the first man.

His movement came as fluid as gentle river. In one motion with one hand, a slash at the stomach. In another with the other hand, he launched himself at the next poacher. His second total victim fell to the floor like a sack of bricks, writhing and crying out. The second of the trio faltered. A fatal mistake. Damian went for the head. His tail wrapped around the disgusting human’s neck and squeezed. The third man lunged for him. Damian burned his feet with the wrist ray. Then he sent him flying back with a shot to the shoulder.

There were more men. Damian did not relent. He would not relent until nobody was standing, until they could no longer continue their dirty deeds.

His platform was beginning to lose consciousness. Damian slammed him behind the head with the hilt of his sword. As the man fell, Damian launched himself to the next person foolish enough to approach. Then the next, and then the next. Damian dodged and deflected harpoons. He leapt from person to person in a bloody game of leap frog, and when he ran out of people to jump to, he instead went for the crane in the centre of the boat. Damian clambered up the crane using nothing but his upper body strength, aided by his lighter weight.

The remainder of the men were cowering under shelter. It was foolish to think they could escape from him for long. A death rattled emerged, a warning for anyone who dared approach. A foolish man peeked from a window. The wrist ray burned off a patch of hair for his troubles.

Damian had no patience for these games. It seemed Danny had the same idea. The flashes of blue light ceased alongside the screaming. Oh how therapeutic the screaming was.

Before long, chaos emerged from even the cabin rooms. Looks like Danny had breached them. His opportunity granted, Damian dropped.

He landed on a hapless sailor. A slam to the back of the head had him slumping against the doorway. Damian leapt into the fray.

As soon as it had started, the bloodbath ended. Damian and Danny sat there in the bridge, surrounded by fallen poachers, still breathing, a small mercy. The boys panted heavily, their bodies not quite used to exertion over water. However, the deed was done.

“Has anyone told you you’re totally insane?” Danny asked.

Damian nodded breathlessly. “Many times.”

“High-five?”

Damian’s shoulders slumped. “Very well.”

They still had work to do. Danny tipped over a bucket of sea water on them both. “To keep our scales wet.” He said. Together, the sirens worked on freeing Dorothea. Damian cut the ropes, while Danny used his ice to smooth over the deck.

Damian laid his hand on her nose. He trilled his goodbyes. “Farewell, Dorothea. May you travel safely.”

With the ice acting like a smooth ramp, just a couple pushes were enough to slide Dorothea back into the water, safe and sound. Her mother sang to them in thanks. The whale pod departed soon after, leaving the two siren boys to the rest of the dirty work.

Damian emerged from the brig with rope. A lot of it. Danny worked on icing over the wounds inflicted by Damian’s rampage, many of which Damian would attest were well-earned. However, Damian did not intend to become a murderer again. Despite everything, he still wished to live up to his father’s ideals.

With the crew and captain rounded and tied up, that left another question.

“How are we gonna get these guys to the authorities?”

“We could always just sink the ship and allow them to perish.”

Danny crossed his arms, his face going flat. “No thanks.”

“It is simple. We emulate Basil the Second of the Eastern Roman Empire, who blinded 99 captured soldiers out of a hundred, and gouged out only one eye from the remaining one. Then he had the enemy soldiers return, led by the one-eyed men.”

Danny’s own eyes widened to dinner plates. His nictitating membranes flashed back and forth rapidly.

“I mean to say we allow one man to captain the ship home, while still heavily restrained.”

Danny’s body slumped in relief. “Oh thank god. I thought you were gonna actually try and do that.”

Damian bared his teeth at the crooks, who cowered as far as they could, tied up in rope and ice. “I would like to, but I am bound by higher principles these days.”

“Not concerning at all, but ok.”

Danny wisely chose to not press the issue. He chose someone relatively skinny, freed him out of the bunch. The scrawny man did not even try to flee. Damian’s sword made sure of that.

Just because they were allowing them to live did not mean they had to be nice. Land was less than a day away, so they could afford to be a little harsh. Damian tried the man wrists to the steering wheel, and Danny welded his feet to the floor. “Just so you don’t get any ideas, buddy.”

Danny patted the man on the shoulder, a gesture that was normally meant to encourage and provide support. The scrawny sailor trembled.

“Oh, Dami!” Danny perked up.

Damian’s fins rattled at the childish nickname.

“Now that we’re on a boat, we can call home.

That was… that was good news! Yes! He had completely forgot about that, lost in his righteous rage. That was the whole reason they’d ravaged the previous Atlantean town. Only the map had showed the nearest island to be thousands of miles away, and the coastline would have been too risky. Yes, this was good news indeed.

Damian put his sword to Scrawny’s throat.

Danny cleared his voice. “You might wanna give us your phone password, or my friend here is gonna make a sushi restaurant out of you.”

The man rattled off a series of numbers. Danny fished out his mobile phone, an old battered model, but functional.

“Here you go, Damian.”

Damian’s heart lightened. At last he could contact his father. Perhaps set up an extraction of some kind at the other end of Panama, or even earlier. This would be an enormous step towards bringing this adventure to an end, and returning back to Gotham where he was needed (and deep inside his heart, where he needed to be as well).

Damian slid the phone’s screen to unlock it, only for it to not work. Damian swiped the screen again.

“Why is this not working?” He rapidly rubbed the screen with his thumb, but the device did not respond.

“Oh yeah. These things are designed for human skin, which, uh, you know.” Danny showed his open palm, showing fingers coated in scores of tiny scales.

Damian looked to the side. He crawled up to one of the piles of tied-up poachers and came up to one fortunate enough to have been rendered unconscious. Damian yanked his arm forward, not caring for the deafening crack sound that motion created, and used the poacher’s human fingers to input the call for him.

An inelegant solution for an inelegant problem.

But that was no matter. Damian checked and double checked the numbers, making sure it was his father’s and nobody else’s. He took a deep breath, and pressed call.

Bruce Wayne sat on the back deck of the SAV, alone for the moment. The Fentons were just below, manning the controls. Apparently there was some kink in the system that was causing them to lose speed. Unsurprising, considering they had invented this whole new system in less than 48 hours. Or at least that was if Jasmine was to be believed.

The back deck sported an umbrella over a desk and a couple chairs for relaxation. On his tablet, Bruce carefully read the Fenton’s previous papers on sirens, a length catalogue dating back to over twenty years, when they were both in college.

In college with Vlad Masters, until he had disappeared, only to return grievously ill.

His phone rang. Bruce stared at the call. An unknown American number. He’d long ago stamped out the scam callers and telephone advertisers from ever bothering him or his family. The only person who could be calling this number was someone who knew it. Or at least someone who’d manually dialled it and wasn’t a scammer.

Hope began to swell. Surely it couldn’t be. It had to be Damian. Wasn’t it? No, he had to quash his hopes down. He had to stay focused.

Bruce answered the call.

“Hello, Bruce Wayne speaking. How may I help you?” His body tensed, hoping to God that it would be his son’s voice on the line, in the one and a million chance.

But what came through the line wasn’t his son’s voice. Or anyone’s voice. Instead, a series of frantic high-pitched trills, clicks and whistles came through. Almost like the caller put the phone next to an excited dolphin.

“Listen, I do not have time for any pranks. Who is calling me and why?” Bruce clenched his first. Of course he was a fool to get his hopes up.

Another frantic dolphin call. What a waste of time.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself for prank calling me.” The clicking went on in even more rapid succession, but Bruce ignored it. “Goodbye, and do not call this number again.”

Bruce hung up.

He hung his head in his hands, wishing for Damian to be back and safe. Wishing nobody had to be in danger.

#dpxdc #danny fenton #damian wayne #dcxdp #merman #merboy #mermaid au #angst #bruce wayne #oblivious bruce wayne #mer!danny fenton #mer!danny #mer!damian wayne #violence

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sinner-sunflower · 7 months

Text

A HH Lucifer-centric AU 5/?

PART 1 , PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

Shirtless Luci omo

Leviathan in my head is the green and gray guy from that one picture Luci has in his workshop. The one that looks kinda like an inverted him.

I wanna say that Zestial's dialogue was put thru chatgpt cos English is not even my first language, ain't no way in hell I'm doin that manually kalsjdlka

This took me too long to write. I miss writing Belphegor's dialogues.

Likes, Reblogs, And especially Comments are soooooo appreciated <3 <3

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

Lucifer's show and tell earned him looks varying from worry to disgust.

Lucifer: This is done by something ancient, as old as God himself. It was the reason for the First Heavenly War.

Asmodeus: Wait, Lucifer. Are you telling me this is Roo?!

Mammon: Bloody hell, didn't we seal that bitch for good?

Leviathan: Luci, are you sure?

Lucifer merely looks back to Belphegor.

Belphegor: Very. Although we casted a very powerful seal, her energy sometimes leaks out. Nothing major.

Beelzebub: What makes this different?

Belphegor: I.. do not have an answer to that as of now. We can attempt to cast a seal again but the power of the Sins will not be enough. We need every bit of high power Hell has.

Lucifer: I wouldn't have called you all here otherwise.

Zestial raises their hand to interject.

Zestial: Prithee, pardon, my liege. But who be this Roo thou dost mention?

Lucifer: The Root of All Evil. Don't know how it came to be in the first place. In the war, it got weakened enough for God to banish it to a dark pit that is now Hell. But after I gave humanity the fruit of knowledge... it regained power. The Sins and I barely managed to weaken it again to seal it below Sloth. We were incapacitated for a long time.

He catches his daughter's eyes.

Lucifer: It took each of us close to a century to recover.

Carmila: If I may, your majesty- us overlords cannot afford to lose our power- especially for as long as you said.

Zestial: Carmila speaketh true. Thou art the loftiest powers of hell, sin incarnate. And his majesty hath the blood of angels. If it hath drained thee so deeply, envision its effect upon a mere mortal soul.

A certain TV overlord let out indignant laugh.

Vox: Are you serious? You think we'll let ourselves lose power for this shit show?

Paimon: You would think before you badmouth your king, sinner!

Lucifer moves to sit on the table, propping up a leg to rest his elbow on. He didn't bother to button his shirt back on- these demons can use the reminder.

Lucifer: You can do whatever you want. I gave you free will, didn't I?But, do remember- death reaps from the bottom first. You are free to go as you please.

The Vees stand up first, muttering curses under their breaths.

Valentino: Ugh! I knew we shouldn't have come. A waste of fuckin-

The moth overlord was cut off by his own screams the moment he passed through the door.

At the same time, Angel Dust doubled over, hand clutching his throat as he coughed violently.

Husk and the others went closer in concern, willing Angel to breath slow while also asking him what's wrong.

Valentino stops screaming as he is held by Vox and Velvette. The Goetia's look on in curiosity while the other sinners all stood up in surprise.

Angel, still holding his throat, gasps.

Angel: No way.

Husk: Angel?? Are you okay?!

Angel let out a single chuckle that slowly turned into maniacal laughter.

Husk: Kid, you're scarin' me.

Angel: I'm free.

Husk: What?

Angel: I'm fuckin' free!

Angel continues to laugh some more while the sinner put two and two together.

Valentino: What the fuck did you do?!

The overlord shouted a the king.

Lucifer: Oh right! So that's what I forgot.

The Sins began to snicker behind their King as Valentino become even angrier. The rest of the overlords who were planning to leave as well are now rooted in place.

Velvette: You can't just do that! You said we could leave! The fuck happened to free will?!

Lucifer: And why not? You all can leave and not help. I won't stop you. But I am gonna be taking all the soul contracts you have. A small price to pay for staying in the safety of your own home while we risk our lives, no?

The lights of the hotel began to flicker as the aura around Lucifer and the Sins darken, 7 pairs of glowing menacing eyes and smiles show.

The entire room freezes, petrified at the horrifying image they are seeing in front of them.

Lucifer: Or did you forget?

The Devil grins.

Lucifer: You're in my house, bitch.

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

Might not update over the weekend. Most likely Monday again!

What to look forward for in Part 5:

Satan: Even with all of us, you know it won't be enough. Unless.. Can you even find her?

Lucifer: I don't know.

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