#and dear lord in heaven do not take this as me blaming anyone for anything. this is just standard small fandom stuff yknow. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

puckrph · 3 years

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FOLIE A DEUX SENTENCE STARTERS

taken from fall out boy's 2008 album. feel free to change pronouns, etc! TW FOR DRUG USE, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE.

DISLOYAL ORDER OF WATER BUFFALOES

' i'm coming apart at the seams. ' ' i'm pitching myself for leads in other people's dreams. ' ' there's a hole where something was. ' ' you'll never remember, your head is far too blurry. ' ' he needs his head put through a CAT scan. ' ' i'm a loose bolt of a complete machine. ' ' what a match: i'm half-doomed, and you're semi-sweet. ' ' boycott love. ' ' detox just to retox. ' ' i'd promise you anything for another shot at life. ' ' perfect boy with your perfect life: nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy. ' ' you've got me staring odd. '

I DON'T CARE

' say my name and his in the same breath: i dare you to say they taste the same. ' ' these friends, they don't love you! ' ' they don't love you. they just love the hotel suites. ' ' i don't care what you think, as long as it's about me. ' ' the best of us can find happiness in misery. ' ' let your body get a tolerance. ' ' free love on the streets, but in the alley it ain't that cheap. '

SHE'S MY WINONA

' life's just a pace-car on death, only less diligent, and when the two collide it's no coincidence. ' ' the lights are on. ' ' everybody's home. ' ' we had a good run, even i have to admit that. ' ' hell or glory: i don't want anything in between. ' ' you gotta show the world the thunder. ' ' we didn't come to compete. ' ' even the young ones become irrelevant. ' ' they always bring up how you've changed. ' ' i'm never the same person when i go to sleep as when i wake up. '

AMERICA'S SUITEHEARTS

' you could have knocked me out with a feather. ' ' we're just hell's neighbors. ' ' why won't the world revolve around me? ' ' in my dreams, trees grow all over the streets. ' ' i don't know much about classic cars, but i've got a lot of friends stuck on classic coke. ' ' i must confess: i'm in love with my own sins. ' ' you can bow and pretend that you don't know you're a legend. '

HEADFIRST SLIDE INTO COOPERSTOWN ON A BAD BET

' when you walk into a room, the walls lean in to listen. ' ' i've got a head like a steel trap. i wish i didn't. ' ' i don't just want to be a footnote in someone else's happiness. ' ' does your husband know the way that the sunshine gleams from your wedding band? ' ' i will never end up like him. ' ' i said "i will never end up like him," but behind my back, i already am. ' ' oh, darling, i know what you're going through. ' ' what if you peaked early? ' ' does he know the way i worship our love? '

THE (SHIPPED) GOLD STANDARD

' sometimes i want to quit this all and become an accountant. ' ' sometimes i want to quit this all and become an accountant, but i'm no good at math and besides, the dollar is down. ' ' i gotta feel the wind chill again before i get old. ' ' i want to scream "i love you" from the top of my lungs, but i'm afraid that someone else will hear me. ' ' i want to scream "i love you" from the top of my lungs. ' ' i'm afraid that someone else will hear me. ' ' you can only blame your problems on the world for so long. ' ' my dad caught me a horseshoe crab, and i asked him if throwing it back into the sea would bring our luck back. ' ' tell that boy i'll leave you alone; like a stove, i'll turn my love down. ' ' like a stove, i'll turn my love down. '

(COFFEE'S FOR CLOSERS)

' i can't explain a thing. ' ' i want everything to change and stay the same. ' ' time doesn't care about anyone or anything. ' ' oh, baby, when they made me they broke the mold. ' ' girls used to follow me around, then i got cold. ' ' i will never believe in anything again. ' ' though change will come, i will never believe in anything again. ' ' i'm a mascot for what you've become. ' ' i love the mayhem more than the love. '

WHAT A CATCH, DONNIE

' i've got troubled thoughts, and the self-esteem to match. ' ' you'll never catch us. ' ' just let me be. ' ' i still want you back. ' ' i'm the one who charmed the one who gave up on you. ' ' they say the captain goes down with the ship, so when the world ends, will god go down with it? ' ' where is your boy tonight? ' ' i hope he's a gentleman. ' ' this is they way they'd love if they knew how misery loved me. ' ' he tastes like you, only sweeter. '

' if home is where the heart is, then we're all just fucked. ' ' i want it so bad, i'd shoot the sunshine into my veins. ' ' i can't remember. ' ' i can't remember the good old days. ' ' my mind is a safe, and if i keep it, then we all get rich. ' ' my body is an orphanage: we take everyone in. ' ' i'm doing lines of dust and sweat off of last night's stage just to feel like you. ' ' you're a bottled star. ' ' are all the good times getting gone? ' ' i've got a lot of friends who are stars, but some are just black holes. '

TIFFANY BLEWS

' i'm not a crybaby. ' ' i'm not a crybaby. i'm the crybaby. ' ' i'm cocktail-party doing-alright. ' ' hate me, baby. ' ' maybe i'm a piece of art. ' ' my friends all lie and say they only want the best wishes for me. ' ' oh, baby, you're classic like a little black dress. ' ' you're a faded moon stuck on a little hot mess. ' ' you're like a little black dress, but you'll be faded soon. ' ' wish hard enough, i can turn it to what i like. ' ' your pupils are big. they're rolling like dice. ' ' i'm not the boy i was, and the boy i am is just venting. ' ' dear gravity, you held me down in this starless city. '

W.A.M.S.

' i'm a young one stuck in the thoughts of an old one's head. ' ' when all the others were just stirring awake, i was trying to trick myself to fall asleep again. ' ' my head's in heaven, my soles are in hell: let's meet in the purgatory of my hips and get well. ' ' you put my head in such a flurry. ' ' what makes you so special? ' ' i'm going to leave you. i'm going to teach you how we're all alone. ' ' it's your club, so let me in. ' ' how heartwarming it is inside your skin! ' ' if i don't take the medication, i won't sleep for days. ' ' if we pray to the lord, does he sing on a stage? ' ' i want to get stuck, and be golden in your memory. '

20 DOLLAR NOSE BLEED

' have you ever wanted to disappear? ' ' who will i be when i wake up next to a stranger? ' ' give me a pen, call me mr. benzedrine. ' ' don't let the doctor in. ' ' i wanna blow off steam. ' ' it feels like fourteen carats, but no clarity. ' ' the man who would be king goes to the desert, the same war his dad rehearsed, and came back with flags on coffins and said: "we won!" ' ' only one book really matters. the rest of the proof is on the television. ' ' it's not me, it's you. actually, it's the taxidermy of you and me. ' ' untie the balloons from around my neck, and ground me. ' ' i always thought i'd float away and never come back. ' ' you know me. i like being all alone. ' ' i like being all alone, and keeping you all alone. '

WEST COAST SMOKER

' this fight's fixed. ' ' don't feel bad for the suicidal cats: they've got to kill themselves nine times before they get it right. ' ' i'm a nervous wreck. ' ' the drugs just make me reset. ' ' knock once for the father, twice for the son, three time for the holy ghost. ' ' come on in, the water's warm. ' ' your eyes are blocking my starlight. ' ' i'm the last of my kind, and that's all that should matter to you. ' ' follow the disorganized religion of my head. ' ' we'll never get through customs. let's just take off again instead. ' ' i got my degree in the gutter and my heart broken in the dorms of the ivy league. '

#fall out boy sentence starters #memes #rp meme #sentence starter meme #askbox meme #ask meme

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ambrosiaaddiction · 3 years

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Not Meant To Be

Word Count: 3,750

Summary: Anthony became the center of your attention, and it seemed as though his feelings were mutual for you. But in light of recent events, he’d only be able to comfort you in more ways than one. With the help of a loyal friend, you have no doubts that Simon will regret leaving you.

Pairing(s): Anthony Bridgerton x reader, Simon Basset x reader

Part 3/6

a/n: Sorry for the incredibly long wait! I knew that editing takes time, but I didn’t think that I would have writer’s block for, well, however long I’ve had it. So much has happened, and I lost motivation after motivation. Although, it’s not entirely fair for those of you who want to read Bridgerton fanfic. Without further delays, here’s part 3!!

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

One might think that when he stood outside my home with roses, Viscount Bridgerton had finally set himself on the route to having a family of his own. The Viscount was welcomed by Charles and invited inside, which caused Mama to almost fall over her feet. “Lord Bridgerton! Heavens! What a pleasant surprise this beautiful afternoon to see you!”

It took a lot of willpower not to roll my eyes at mama's change of mood from just minutes earlier. Lady Bridgerton wrote to me her apologies, that were not even pertinent at all, and mama blamed me of humiliating the Bridgertons yesterday. Papa didn't make his typical remarks, but I knew what he had been pondering regarding my misdeeds.

Other than that, Lord Bridgerton told them his hellos, and when he saw me in the family room, his smiling face grew greater. “Miss Denbow, good afternoon. As it always is, you never cease to look so exquisite.” If I wasn't mistaken, I assumed he was intending to flirt with me, and undoubtedly fooled mama with whatever act he was putting on.

“Lord Bridgerton, how kind of you to give my daughter compliments after seeing what she did yesterday at the picnic. In this town, you and your family are truly the most genuine.” Mama was eager to speak in my place, and when she tried to bring up the incident for the second or third time, I swallowed thickly.

Anthony’s mouth twitched at the corners, and he stepped over to me in order to gift his bouquet of roses. “Lady Denbow, I do not blame Miss Denbow for anything. She was suffering and knew no other way to communicate.” Before he slipped back, his fingers lightly stroked both of my hands, then he sat in an empty chair.

Cheeky bastard. He was making light of my missteps, which Mama considered especially inexcusable. And for his compassion, I could not have been more forever thankful. “Oh, Lord Bridgerton, thank you. To hear you say that alleviates my anxiety. And thank you for these roses.” I ran over the smooth petals with my thumb, then bent closer to take in the fragrance of them.

But once again, with more berating remarks on my ‘unladylike’ and ‘outrageous’ nature, Mama ruined the temporary pleasant environment. “I can't understand why, my lord, you want to court her. She may be my only child, but I'm sure she would be a far better choice for another lord of her equals.” My own mother had a toxic tongue which might ostracize her if she didn't take caution of others.

In order to defend against the offensive expressions she was thinking about me, as if I weren't really there, I opened my mouth, but Anthony decided to stand up from his seat and settled next to me. “I'm going to say this as politely as I can, Lady Denbow. What Miss Denbow did at the picnic was not wrong, and she's a wonderfully capable young lady. You are her mother, and I must admit that what you have said makes me very mortified.”

With discomposure, Mama's face grew red and, at last, she remained at a loss for words. “Lord Bridgerton, my apologies. Forgive your mama, y/n. My intention was not to negatively impact you such a way. I'm worried you can't even defend yourself.” Excuse after excuse were all I heard coming from her, but I needed to leave this conversation in the past.

“Mama, I'm forgiving you. But please don't think of me like that. When you do not see that I am well aware of what I'm doing and what I believe is important, I am in despair. I'm no longer a little girl.” Mama nodded, but in sensitivity, she refused to speak as she left Anthony and I in the room alone. "Well, either that may well have gotten out of hand, or the way I hoped it would.”

A chuckle escapes from the Viscount, and I recline against the back of the sofa with a tired sigh. I loved my mama and papa, but sometimes they treated me like I would never age from my childhood years. Despite having no brothers or sisters, I had friends who supported me and shared the same interests as I grew older.

Having Lord Bridgerton here was an enigma that I couldn’t fathom, but I appreciated how he stood up for me when mama complained without cease. Now that she was gone, I took the opportunity to ask him as to why he came to my home. “Anthony, can you tell me the reason for your visit? We both know that you don’t have intentions to court me contrary to what outsiders might believe.” I crossed my arms and waited for a reply, which was his hand resting on the top of my thigh. Perplexed, I looked over at him to see his eyes full of sympathy.

“Y/n, what Hastings said could have been less severe than they actually were, and Daphne chastised him for doing so.” Anthony began, his grip squeezing in reassurance, and he gently pulled it away once I’ve had enough time to comprehend what he told me. It warmed my heart to hear that Daphne was upset in my stead, although I’m sure anyone in their right mind would have done the same for me.

My thoughts wandered to how both the eldest child and the Duke of Hastings were famous rakes with great influence. One had brothers who would take his title and estate if he were to pass, whereas the other had no known relatives and only Lady Danbury to defend his name after his death. I found it funny that I’ve fallen in love with the latter, and he was treating me like I didn’t have a place in his place.

I must’ve been worrying Anthony with my lack of response because he waved a hand in front of my face to bring me back into reality. I shook my head of the unrelated topic and smiled sheepishly at him. “I’m sorry. I became lost before I realized that I’d drifted off.” “Oh, it’s quite alright. Trust me, I do the exact same thing when I’m alone.”

“I’ll be impartial with you, Anthony. I hadn’t given it consideration that your sister would do such a thing, and for me, no less. Perhaps I’ve had the wrong impression of her from the beginning. Everything is going terribly, and I haven’t been able to think properly.” I wore my heart on my sleeve for him to see, and I didn’t care about exposing my weaknesses to him. But Anthony seemed be torn between hugging me and giving a simple pat on my shoulder lest an unwanted third party were to walk in.

If anyone noticed the unusual display of affection, then news would spread that rather than waiting to fulfill the courtship rituals, I was advancing on a lord. He wouldn't be much of a gentleman, in Anthony's opinion, if he were to neglect a woman in distress. “When you weep, I don't like it. It so pains me when I'm labelled useless, but when you're laughing, you look the most spectacular, y/n. Simon's blind and ludicrous, but I know you really love him, don't you?”

“You're right, my lord. Again. I need to let go of my struggles and to live my life to its fullest. The Duke encouraged what I would like to go do, become, and pursue, but under false premises, he is intimately involved to your younger sister.” I forced my body to stand, and in confusion, but without doubt, Anthony quickly followed. In my own house, it felt too stifling, so I concluded that a stroll outside would hopefully help take my mind off what occupied it at the moment.

“Is there anything other than whining and moaning that I could do instead? Wait, Queen Charlotte is holding a ball for her nephew, is she not? I do believe his name is Prince Friedrich.” Anthony gave a short nod, and I could tell that he was already dreading a night of being surrounded by desperate mamas along with their unabashed daughters. Who would blame the Viscount for trying to discourage total strangers from making unwelcome advantages?

I was unexpectedly given the best idea by his affirmation, and I couldn't wait to put it into motion. I wanted to prove my worth to Simon, which would make Anthony and the Prince the ideal partners to irk him. “What say you to opening Simon's eyes in the notion that I attract His Highness tonight? I will have to be in the most magnificent ballgown, and I know that you can help me with this.”

“In the heat of the moment, it won't take a lot of effort to raise feelings of inadequacy in Hastings. He will be fixated on Daphne and attempting to keep conversations with literally everyone who comes across him, but I don't find it unlikely that he will be observing you with the Prince. I know I wouldn't have the means to take my eyes off you, my dear.” That was just what I expected to hear from him, and furthermore. I felt that I had done well enough to seek a Viscount who had awareness of everyone else around him.

Then that settled it. I was going to win the Prince's favor, and Simon would spectate from the sidelines with no likelihood of attempting to snatch me away. It felt invigorating even to think about how it would play out tonight, but it would be seamless with Anthony's help. “For your time and soothing words, I am beyond delighted, Anthony. Until the ball, there is more than enough time, so I want to use it to aim for perfection. Tonight, I hope to see you, my lord.”

“Miss Denbow, I am forever happy to console a lady when she is enduring pain. And indeed, tonight, to my great reluctance, you will see me. For now, I will leave you and I look forward to enjoying your progress.” Anthony bowed as he started to walk out of the family room, and with a curtsey and a goodbye, I accompanied him to our front door.

Since then, hours have passed, and I finally found a dress from Lady Delacroix that was incredible. She wasn't even from France, and her accent didn't fool me. Not important. My makeup was done by Marianne, my hair was styled by Lucinda, and mama lent me her diamond necklace to wear. It matched the diamond earrings I got from papa on my eighteenth birthday, and tonight, nothing could go wrong. I was positive of that.

The time had come, and I was one of the few to arrive at the castle fashionably late. The eyes of all were on me, making my chest swell with pride. I got a glimpse of Simon and Daphne who were standing by the refreshments, and they couldn't stop watching as I elegantly walked down the stairwell.

To my amusement, Prince Friedrich was the first one to approach me, and he held my hand and placed a feather-light kiss on the back of it. “Good evening, my lady. You are by far the most beautiful and hypnotizing center of attraction in this ballroom. May I inquire for your name?”

I concealed the lower half of my face with a fan and smiled with my eyes, captivated by his mannerisms. “I have the luxury of being graced by your presence, your highness. My name is y/n Denbow.” After I've presented myself, Prince Friedrich's face lit up, and he guided me off the the last two steps. “To my ears, your name is like music, and it's perfect for a maiden like you, Miss Denbow.”

His flattery would make any young lady practically beg the Prince for a dance at the ball. Well, if he could ever tear himself away from me, that was. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You make me feel like I've got my head in the clouds. If you keep complimenting her, you will certainly find yourself a maiden to court this evening.” From my comment, I swore he blushed a bright red.

“Ah, hello, Prince Friedrich! Miss Denbow! I see that you have made friends with each other. Y/n, I'm so happy you've arrived safe and sound back in London.” Lady Danbury tapped her cane on the ground twice to emphasize her excitement, and I couldn't have been more relieved to see a familiar face among those whose names I couldn't match.

“I have so much to tell you, Lady Danbury. But not here, especially when I came so late.” I apologized to the Prince and wrapped my arm around Lady Danbury as we walked into a more private area. She furrowed her eyebrows together, but she didn't inquire until we got to the place where we could be alone. “Well, speak to me, y/n. What are you so worried about? And why did you come by yourself?”

I bit my lower lip and exhaled deeply, which all the more displeased Lady Danbury. If I tried to explain my desperate condition to her, she was going to have countless questions, and I knew she would never let Simon live in the humiliation he brought upon himself. “I'm sure you've recently read Lady Whistledown's column, and my relationship with Simon, Lady Danbury, is complicated.”

“Unbeknownst to me, when I was in France, he and Miss Bridgerton declared their engagement. He did not give me a letter or even a note when I returned to London that he had gone ahead with a marriage proposal to a young woman he had never met before. I invited him and the Bridgertons to have a picnic just yesterday. I have never been able to remain quiet forever; you know this, Lady Danbury. He lashed out at me, claiming that if he had known that I would be so self-centered and petty, he would never have gotten to know me.”

She went on a tangent as I predicted about how she raised and trained "the shameless rake" to do better than what he did. During the length of her grievances, I remained silent, then patted her arm softly when she started to run out of words to illustrate the Duke. “Compared to his late father, he's not terrible, but he might just be so after he treated you, y/n, and I apologize on his behalf.”

In disagreement, I shook my head, not acknowledging her apologies because she had nothing to do with that. In the sense of flirting with Prince Friedrich, all I wanted from her was to be an addition to humiliate Simon. “If we succeed, then he'll see the good thing that he lost because he agreed to marry another needy girl.”

This caused Lady Danbury to chuckle at my remark, and I had an inkling that her mood improved just a little bit. “I’ll take part in your schemes, girl. Now, let us return to the ball before we’re asked of our whereabouts.” She winked playfully, then gently pushed me back the way we came from.

Men and women danced to their heart’s content, their veins pumping with champagne and even the possibility that they will be courting after tonight. I see Anthony and Simon quietly bickering where no one could eavesdrop on the conversation, but their secrets weren’t going to be hidden from me. “Lord Bridgerton, I thought you promised me a dance?”

I chimed into the midst of their argument, and Simon’s mouth hung open in shock. He quickly closed it, though, and I bowed to him as acknowledgment for his presence. Anthony gathered the remnants of his dignity before offering a hand for me to take. “My apologies, Miss Denbow. I promise you that never slipped my mind from the moment that I asked.”

After the brief yet nerve wracking encounter with the Duke of Hastings, I’m led to have a dance with the Viscount and my new partner of schemes. I felt everyone’s eyes glued to us, which makes me uncomfortable because of the unwanted attention, but it dissolves when Anthony nudges me to look up at him. That’s when I knew how much I admired the man, and perhaps, there wasn’t any obstacle that we wouldn’t be able to overcome.

I may have lost my first love to Daphne, but I also had the power to pull the necessary strings to get what I wanted. Anthony tightened his grip on my waist then closed the gap between us, and out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Simon glare at our swaying figures amongst the others. The spectacle made me laugh softly against the Viscount’s shoulder, and his chest rumbled with a quiet laugh of his own.

“I believe that taught him a harsh lesson, don’t you think, Miss Denbow?” Anthony whispered into my ear, and an involuntary shiver ran down my spine. After clearing my throat, I nodded in agreement. The man wasn’t exactly reputable in every way, but he damn well had my respect. “Yes, it most certainly did, Lord Bridgerton.” I replied, head tilted downwards to avoid eye contact with him.

Once our dance came to an end, I was approached by Prince Friedrich a second time this evening. Young and older women alike flocked around his highness, and I took a small step closer to Anthony in fear that I would be ridiculed by them. Wait, what am I thinking? I shouldn’t be afraid of the people that make their bosoms unnaturally larger than they actually are nor should I be backing away!

“Miss Denbow, may I have this next dance? It’d make me extremely delighted.” Prince Friedrich asked, unknowingly breaking the tension growing between myself and the disappointed women behind him. All I gave him was a smile along with an enthusiastic nod, and Anthony released his arms from around my waist. “I’d love to, your highness. And I could say the same about myself.”

The prince took my hand just when the next song began to play, and we danced as if we were one. If I were being completely honest, he needed a little more practice with his feet, but I was enjoying myself nonetheless. We shared a few words and I kept glancing over our shoulders to see if Simon was keeping an eye on us. In fact, he had been watching the entire time, and Anthony gave me a signal that our plan had succeeded.

I bowed deeply to the prince when our dance came to its regrettable end, and bid him farewell for the rest of the night. Simon appeared out of nowhere then pulled me to an empty area despite my cries of protest. “What do you think you’re doing?! Just because you’re jealous does not give you the right to drag me as you so please, Hastings!”

“Will you keep it down, Y/N?! We both know that I’m not the only jealous one here.” He huffs angrily, and for the first time in a long time, he’s rendered me utterly speechless. No, I won’t play by his rules. Not when there was so much more for me to accomplish. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m simply fulfilling my role as a maiden who hopes to have a courtship.”

Simon rolled his eyes in disbelief, turning away from me so that I’m only staring at his broad shoulders. I’m beginning to lose my calm composure, and the more I stay alone with him, the less I’ll want to leave. He can’t learn of the nights when I suffered alone in France, and he certainly couldn’t force me to risk my reputation for his sake.

“You’ve changed, Simon.” My voice broke at the end of my sentence, but I continued to speak. “I’m not doing anything for you, so don’t get your hopes up.” He scoffed, not convinced by my words, and turned back to face me. His arms find their way around my body like they used to in the past. The next thing I knew, we’re kissing passionately against the cold marble walls.

He had me mewling his name over and over again, begging for a release that was on his fingertips. Simon muffled my sighs of pleasure with his mouth, and we fixed the bridge that was crumbling between the two of us. When we were satisfied, he muttered apology after apology as he kissed my skin. But we both knew that we run away with the position that he was in.

“I’ll figure it out, so wait for me. Please, Y/N.” “Don’t make me promise you, Simon. I want you to prove to me that I’m the only woman you love.” I kissed his neck and cheek, my heartbeat slowing to its normal pace before I fixed my dress. We’ve both been gone for too long, and I didn’t doubt that I would be questioned of my whereabouts.

Simon understood the weight of my words as well as what we would both face when we left separately. He kissed me one last time, and made his return to the ballroom until I did the same. Thankfully, neither Anthony or Mama asked where I had been, and I could breathe easy again. But now I was even more conflicted than before. I made Simon jealous, which ignited sex and doubt that we would be together after all this time.

Although... if I were to adjust my original plans in order for us to have a wedding and deal with the consequences afterwards, then it shouldn’t be very difficult, would it? Well, we would just need to face the challenges when the time comes, and I was determined to have Simon all to myself again.

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #simon basset #reader x simon basset #anthony bridgerton

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sk-lumen · 3 years

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Need serious advice about setting boundaries or communicating when dealing with a person who:

Is a parent

Has unhealthy communication methods -- it takes very little for them to start full-blown screaming, shouting out all your 'negative' things/mistakes/past, can continue to scream-criticise you even after you've gone silent, for WHOLE MINUTES even if you've shut up, will not accept anything that even hints at them making a mistake

You can't trust since childhood coz u made the mistake of confiding in them with a serious issue as a young teen --- mental related --- and they belittled and invalidated you, and since then pretended you never confided in them and have NO IDEA how you've been coping without them or ANYone else for years... Yeah thanks, parent, what u said back then made me think I was the one at fault and so I stopped trusting even friends coz yeah, when ur own parent doesn't give a damn, why would anyone else?

Is a master at silent treatments without explaining what EXACTLY they're punishing you for, then when theyre in the mood, will start talking to you as if they hadn't ignored you for days. Lol I'd rather be water boarded I think. Especially for all the damage this caused when I was a child

Won't openly talk about what they want, yet expects ALL FHE TIME others (in the family) to know what they want, then will complain/scream/angry for AGES about how no one cares, no one gives a damn... And when someone asks them what they want, they either say: nothing, or "you should know! Can't u see?"

Upon asking them to please talk normally, will blow a fuse, and lose it --- happened multiple times today

Literally will use me as a scape goat to unleash their frustrations upon. Even when I leave the room, I can hear them b*tch about how much of a failure I am etc. The trigger being anything that bothers them, from a phone call to something other siblings did, bla bla. I limit my time with them... But it's like, it feels impossible to have them treat me normally, without ridiculing or criticising me. I'm already a very low self esteem person... This doesn't help AT ALL

In short, refuse to tell/ask/discuss important stuff, and getting mad randomly that no one read their mind, bcoz everyone's 'old enough to have enough sense' to know what they 'should' do... Eg will not pikc up the phone when we call them from the store to ask when what the needed isn't available, so what other alternative can we get... And then when we get home, will instead blame us for being fussy and not getting the alternative, completelt skirting around the issue they didn't deign to pick up the phone... I mean, I don't get it. In the past I HAVE in fact asked them to just openly tell me what they want/expect from me to make them happy... Got passive aggressive answers like "don't you know? Are you dumb?" Bla bla

Passive aggressive to the max when they've lost it

Expect me to drop anything I'm doing and immediately cater to them, and expect me to help them in their hobbies (while simultaneously, as I learned many years ago to much heartache, not being interested or even pretending to be interested in my hobbies. The disinterest taught me very quickly how much what I wanted meant, leading to years of self-invalidation. Luckily I've learned it really is them, not me. My hobbies are valid)

Will not talk about why they're feeling angry, what causes it. Instead will blame me, who's like the golden scapegoat in our amazing family, by saying :YOU made me negative. They've said it many times now... It hurts a lot, when I'm also struggling with my own issues which I ofc can't confide in them about :)

Today I manned up -- the outburst of hatred happened again! Over a simple thing. It was NIGHTMARE and made me angry/sad/frustrated/triggered---, and so I told them to stop talking like that... Boy was that the wrong thing to say... I don't think I can accurately tell u what happened afterwards...

Usually children learn communication skills from the parents... I at least learned to recognize the unhealthy ones, and what NOT to communicate like lol. Like, other parent is even worse, believe it or not. But that's another complex situation

I'm not bashing on the parent. Lord knows I even have that much of a right huh? I hate myself eveb more when they invalidate me if I try to show how MUCH THEY HURT me after a 'communication session'. As in, heaven forbid me if I BE SILENT afterwards and DON'T wanna listen to their retardation. Nope. Even then they provoke me, rage at me, you know how sometimes enraged people hiss vitriol thru gritted teeth? Yeah, that's what they did today after I stayed silent and tried to ignore them an hour later after the 'session' when they wabted something. It's like they don't even need me to say a word and will carry on and on for minutes 🤢

I feel alone, helpless and at a loss what to do

I want to move out. Due to severe mental issues I can't even move out rn coz it scares me even more. But this has to stop. Things are only okay if I'm absolutely passive, say yes to whatever they want, kill my wants and needs, and become a perfect robot bred to cater to them (parent)

I hope you can help me out, dear

Hi darling,

It sounds like you’re in a considerably toxic environment. I'm sorry you're going through this. Know that this is not normal, nor is it how a parent/child relationship should be. In case there's any doubt, let me start by saying you deserve to be supported, respected, listened to, to have your needs met. You deserve to live in an environment that offers you all of these things.

With that being said, from the many scenarios you’ve mentioned you’ve already tried reasoning and setting boundaries, to no avail. There is only so much you can do on your own, if the other person in the equation is not meeting halfway or at all. After all, a healthy conversation involves two people, not just one.

Here's my advice, in this order:

Calmly and maturely asking the respective parent to have a serious discussion with you and to listen to what you have to say. Share how their actions and behaviour is making you feel, let them know you care, and make sure to mention several solutions for the issue as well. If this doesn’t work…

Bring up the subject of needing help from outside, such as the assistance of a specialist/therapist. Family counselling can shed a lot of light on toxic behaviours that are ingrained from childhood (both in their case and yours), on fears your parent may have, stress from their work, whatever is causing their outbursts and anger - because there is always a reason. Behind anger is sadness, and behind sadness is some need not being met, or an underlying fear, trauma, etc. This is not a justification for their behaviour, they are responsible for it; this is simply the fact of how energy dynamics work. People bottle up their frustrations, fears, etc, and let them out on those closest to them, to whom they feel superior. It’s not fair, and it’s not healthy, but it is frequently how this pattern works. If this solution doesn’t work either…

Then unfortunately, all you can do is focus on yourself. If they refuse to meet you anywhere along the road, you have to pack up your things and go your own way. Literally or metaphorically. They may be your parent and you may love them even in spite of their behaviour, but you cannot hold yourself responsible for anything they say or do; that is on them. In those cases, you have to prioritize your own mental health and wellbeing, and focus on moving out. If your (home) environment is toxic, you have to focus on first changing it. That’s vital. Only afterwards can you start healing, refinding yourself, reclaiming your self-esteem and confidence, your sense of worth. As long as you stay stuck in a toxic environment, you cannot really heal; if there is abuse of any kind (physical, mental, emotional), the causes are still there, leading to re-traumatizing.

If for whatever reason moving out is not (yet) an option, I would emphasize seeking some sort of counselling for yourself, if nothing else. You need an anchor, some sort of support that will help you along your path until you do get out.

Now, I don’t know how old you are. I am going to assume you are over 18 and of age, so only mind my advice if that is the case. (As disclaimer, I don't provide advice to minors as it's not the scope of my blog nor am I specialized/focused on that area.)

I understand moving out seems scary because it is unknown, but with that line of thought you may wait another 10 years in the same situation. Wouldn’t you wake up 10 years later already having done the hard work on moving out, finding your independence, claiming your sense of individuality and moving on from this sort of environment, this phase in your life?

Sooner is better than later, but do so with mindfulness and care over your mental health, of course. I know it’s scary. But being an adult requires some difficult decisions at times, and setting boundaries begins with choosing your wellbeing and doing what needs to be done, even if it is something uncomfortable short-term, but highly rewarding and beneficial long-term.

Hope this helps... and wishing you much luck, clarity, gentle guidance and comfort.✨

PS: Lately I've been receiving longer and longer letters in my inbox. As solution, I was thinking of having longer asks/letters redirected to my blog where there isn't any length limit, and readers can more comfortably browse both my tumblr and blog - and those requesting advice can share and receive a more in-depth response.

-Lumen

#mental health #toxic relationship #toxic environment #boundaries #parenthood #ask #tw? not sure what to tag just in case #tw: swearing #tw: mental health #tw: anxiety

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mirageofthecrystal · 3 years

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FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 13: Oneirophrenia

Oneirophrenia: A hallucinatory (dream-like) state that is caused by such conditions as prolonged sleep deprivation, sensory isolation, and drug use.

Faiolan stumbled, slipping on the uneven ground and slamming his down onto his knees. The pain hardly bothered him, but his eyes burned, each blink feeling heavier and heavier as he struggled to keep himself conscious. Sleep was a luxury he could ill afford, at least until he reached his destination. He had left behind the snowy highlands of Coerthas, traipsed across the Black Shroud, and had reached the sweltering plains of Thanalan. Ul'dah, a glowing jewel of possibility, was not much further. The freedom of anonymity amongst the crowds was the only protection that could keep the cloying hands of the Holy See at bay, for their influence lessened the further one traveled and the longer one remained lost to their perception. As a consequence, however, Faiolan had not slept in several days. He knew that they were on his heels, prepared to foist further blame upon him for the deaths of those knights, and the Inquisitor as well. The fortuitous arrival of both the snowstorm and the heretics themselves may have saved him from capture, but also lent credence to his complicity with that radical element.

"Run all you like, heretic. Run far and wide across all this world if you wish, but know this: you are ever under the gaze of the Fury, and her faithful shall not give up the chase until they see you punished for your crimes."

Faiolan felt his heart jump into his throat, tearing his blade free from it's scabbard and spinning to face the source of the voice. Yet he saw nothing, save for the rustling of leaves and grass as a gentle breeze blew over the plain. His breath began to slow and settle, and he cursed his imagination for playing tricks on him. Exhaustion was setting in, and this stomach firmly reminded him of his hunger as well, for as long as he lacked sleep he also lacked sustenance. Whatever he could scrounge from his surrounds had been all he could muster. A fire would create smoke, attract beasts or worse. Hunting took time, energy, and equipment he did not have. In any other situation, stealing would have been out of the question, but he was shamed to remember he'd been forced to do so while passing through a small settlement under the cover of night, afraid that if anyone saw him, they'd be able to answer when any of his countrymen came calling.

"So that's it, is it? Given the chance you'd abandon me? You'd abandon our family? What makes you so special? Why am I still the one rotting in a cell, while you get to breathe the fresh air? Am I to take your place in the grave as well, dear brother?"

Another familiar phantom calling to him, and still no one to be seen. He could hardly press on now, though he believed he was drawing closer. To sit and rest for only a moment... he had little choice in the matter. Pulling a waterskin from his belt, he tasted the last drops of water as it ran empty, his throat dry and scratching. He dropped to the ground, back against a tree to stop him from collapsing outright. The world around him was beginning to fade, the ground 'neath him feeling as if it were spinning.

"Hmph. I thought I trained you to be better than this. I suppose you'll always be that weak little boy that they sent my way, won't you little lord? It's no wonder you shamed me, your country, and your family. To think you could ever have served alongside the Heaven's Ward... we were all mistaken about you. I did not want to believe you were a heretic, but now I see the truth."

The third specter spoke with the voice of his mentor, and Faiolan could just make out the silhouette of Sergeant Reynard Belmont shaking his head in shame as he looked upon his former protégé. "No... it's not... it's not what you think. I'm no heretic. The accusations... they're false. I would never... betray Ishgard. I fought alongside you, against Dravanians untold. I almost died for you. You... have to believe me..." Faiolan begged the specter, but his voice was growing hoarser by the moment, to the point where every word was a labor.

"You fought because you had no choice. A little lord like you does what he's told. He does things for the honor of his family, lest they look weak, inferior, or like the traitors they are. Or perhaps... perhaps you're not a liar, but a coward. You saw the might of the dragons, and you believed we had no hope. That if you could not defeat, then perhaps you could join them and be spared. Is that it, Faiolan? Is that why you spit in the face of everything I stood for? Is that why you spit on my grave? And to think I ever saw anything in you... to think I could have ever loved you. Better to be a corpse than to love a traitor."

Reynard was no man, replaced by a woman's form. It was concealed by shadow, but he recognized her voice, the shape of her armor, the lance in her hand. A stray beam of moonlight broke upon her, though he swore it had been day only a moment ago. It set upon her face, and revealed a helmet cracked asunder. Her eyes were the milky white of death, her flesh cold and grey, her jaw torn halfway from her skull, hanging from a last strand of sinew. The moonbeam expanded, revealing a body that had been torn by tooth and claw, bones stabbing through the flesh where they had been broken at unnatural angles. "Traitor." The woman's voice spoke again.

"Traitor," came the second voice. The voice of his sister, Brielle, dressed in the rags of a prisoner, chained to the wall of her cell and awaiting her sentence. "Traitor," spoke the third voice, his disappointed mentor who was growing tired from fighting this long war, and to see his pupil throwing away all that he had learned. "Traitor," finally spoke the first voice again, but rather than disappointment, it spoke with satisfaction. "Heretic," it continued, stepping forward into the light. The robes of the Inquisitor billowed in unseen breezes, his face still shrouded in the dark of the night. "Kinslayer," Blood stained the front of the robes, gurgling from a still open wound. Inquisitor Mariuseaux, with a jagged gash running down the length of his throat, his speech unimpeded by the mortal wound. The voices began to speak together, repeating the words over and over; "Traitor, Heretic, Kinslayer, Murderer... Faiolan."

The shadows of his past encroached upon him, and as the light of the moon above illuminated them, the world around them all grew dark. Faiolan felt weakness settling into his body, as it surrendered to the exhaustion of these many days past. He braced himself for his fate at the hands of those he had wronged... and succumbing to his fatigue, fell unconscious against the tree.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxiv blogging #ffxiv mateus #ffxiv rp #ffxiv roleplay #ffxiv crystal #faiolan penderghast #nightmares of the past

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frizz22 · 3 years

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Growing Up Spellman Ch 2

Read on ao3

Note: Sabrina is 3, Morgan 7. Sorry for the extreme delay between chapters 😬

Zelda placed the potion in front of Diana, who eyed it skeptically and unconsciously lifted a hand to tug a strand of her hair.

“You sure you fixed it?” She asked, carefully taking the flask but not drinking it.

Unable to blame the woman’s hesitance, Zelda smiled reassuringly. “Yes, it was just a few tweaks with the ingredients. Perfectly fine, now.”

They’d been experimenting with potions to prolong Diana’s life and the last one happened to turn her lovely blonde hair an interesting shade of magenta—much to Diana’s horror and Morgan and Ambrose’s amusement.

Beyond that, though, the potion appeared to work and had no other side effects, so Zelda felt confident this potion would allow them to extend Diana’s life... hopefully without the unwanted makeover.

Though it seemed a promising answer, Hell knew how long it’d be effective. It was entirely possible Diana would develop some kind of tolerance to the potion and they’d soon be back in square one.

But this bought them time, quite literally, and Zelda intended to use that time find alternatives; her sister would not die prematurely and leave sweet Sabrina without a mother. Not if their family had anything to say about it.

She knew, even now, that Ambrose was in the basement researching additional ways to save Diana. Perhaps Lilith would have some ideas as well, might as well tap into that deep well of knowledge. Making a note to speak with the witch the next time she visited, which was becoming more frequent, Zelda’s inner musings were interrupted by Diana sighing.

“Well, here’s to hoping.” She attempted a smile, then plugged her nose and threw back the contents of the flask. “Hell,” she gasped, shuddering lightly. “Is there anything we can do about the taste?”

Smirking, Zelda took the flask back and walked it over to the sink, not missing how Diana replaced Heaven with Hell in her vocabulary. They were rubbing off on her. Refocusing, Zelda rinsed the flask. “Perhaps, that would be more Hilda’s expertise than mine. We can certainly try, the good news is, your hair is still the same color.” She nodded at Diana’s head.

Hand flying up to grasp a section of hair and bring it into view, Diana exhaled in relief. At Zelda’s raised brow, the woman shrugged and released her hair. “You know I trust you, Zelda, but after last time I was a little wary.”

A small chuckle escaping her, Zelda dried the flask then her hands. “Understandable,” she conceded, “it seems that for now we’ve accomplished our goal. Let’s go tell Hilda the good news.”

Happily sliding off the kitchen stool where she’d been perched, Diana led the way out to the garden where Hilda had the girls. While her sister was busy harvesting tomatoes, Morgan and Sabrina were kneeling in the dirt, a small basket of seeds between them.

It was only as they neared the two, that Zelda overheard Mo lecturing her little cousin on the properties of sunflowers, how to plant them, and the many things they were used for in both mortal and witching realms. Zelda smiled, Hilda would be proud of how well Morgan paid attention to her herbology lessons, and though Sabrina looked on with rapt attention, Zelda couldn’t help but notice that every time Mo looked away, Sabrina stuffed sunflower seeds into her mouth, chewing quickly to try and hide her transgression.

Sharing a smile with Diana, Zelda caught the girls’ attention. “How many sunflowers have you managed to plant for Aunt Hilda today?”

Her words had both turning, Sabrina with her cheeks still full of seeds, making Morgan frown at her disapprovingly. “‘Brina,” she admonished, taking the seeds from her cousin’s hand, “these ones aren’t for eating, Auntie Hilda set those aside already.” Nodding in agreement, Sabrina promptly snatched another handful from the basket and stuffed it in her mouth, much to Morgan’s chagrin. “Mama!” Morgan exclaimed, looking to them for help. “‘Brina keeps eating the seeds Auntie Hilda wants us to plant!”

Careful to smother her smile, Zelda lowered herself to the ground, Diana next to her. “Is that so?” She asked, reaching over and popping a few seeds into her mouth as well.

Caught between indignation and amusement, Morgan threw up her hands. “Mama!” She exclaimed.

“Morgan.” Zelda teased, tugging her girl into her lap and dropping kisses all over her head and face, making Morgan giggle and squirm though she made no real attempt to escape. “Sabrina can eat a few seeds,” Zelda soothed, brushing Mo’s wild curls away from her newly flushed face. “Though we don’t want to be ruining our appetite for dinner, do we?” She arched a brow as Sabrina reached for more.

Giggling, Sabrina fell into Diana’s lap without taking any more seeds. “No, Auntie Zee.” She chirped, playing with one of Diana’s bracelets, already distracted.

Arms wrapping around Morgan, who really was getting a little too big to be sitting in her lap—not that Zelda would ever have the heart to tell her girl such a thing—Zelda cocked her head. “I see you’re learning quite a bit from your Aunt Hilda.” She noted, just as her sister came to join them, basket full of tomatoes slung on her arm.

Only having caught her name, Hilda cocked her head. “What’s that, Zelds?” She asked, sitting as well and wiping a bit of sweat from her brow.

Beaming, Morgan leaned against Zelda. “Mama said I’m learning a lot from you,” she stated proudly. “I was trying to teach ‘Brina, but she kept eating the lesson.” She peered at Sabrina and shook her head, but the little girl just burst into giggles making Morgan lose her sternness and grin.

A soft smile curling her lips, Hilda reached over and cupped Morgan’s cheek. “I’m so glad you are learning a lot, sweetheart. Maybe next time Cee is over you can teach him a thing or two.” Her sister reached over and playfully tweaked Morgan’s nose.

Laughing, Morgan snuggled closer to Zelda. “Is he coming over soon? He promised to bring another book.”

“Morgan,” Zelda chastised softly, “Cerberus doesn’t come around solely to bring you things.”

Lips pouting just a tad, Morgan shifted to look at her. “I know, mama, but this next book is about ghouls, and he said we could read it together.”

Practically melting, Hilda interjected. “So, you want to spend time with Cee? Is that it, Mo?”

Morgan settled back against Zelda and nodded. “Uh huh, he’s nice and funny. And he makes you smile and laugh a lot too, Auntie Hilda.” She observed, playing with the ends of Zelda's hair as she spoke.

Examining her nails, Diana coughed pointedly. “He certainly does.”

Her lips twitching up at the comment, Zelda shared a knowing look with Diana over their daughters’ heads, both suppressing further amusement when they made eye contact. Despite her anxiety when Hilda first expressed interest in the odd mortal, Diana helped her come to terms with the potential relationship. And when the two truly started dating, Zelda went to Diana often for advice on how best to deal with it, how to interact with Cerberus before he knew the truth, and then after he knew as well. While a small part of Zelda still wanted her sister to date a witch or warlock, if only because their lifespans matched, she didn’t want to scare this Cerberus away… not when he really did make Hilda so happy.

Their attention was recaptured when Hilda playfully swatted at Diana and gave Zelda a ‘stern’ glare. “Cee does make me happy, darling, you’re very astute.”

Brow wrinkling, Morgan looked up at Zelda. “Astute means observant, my little demon.” Zelda informed her daughter before the girl could even voice the question.

“Ahh, yes, it’s very important for demons to be astute.” A voice sounded behind them, startling them as they whipped around to find the source.

Ambrose gestured to the witch walking next to him. “Look who appeared in the basement.” He remarked, bending over to swoop Sabrina up into the air when she barreled at him. “Thought I would escort her out here.”

Popping up as well, Morgan grinned widely. “Lilith!” She exclaimed, hurrying forward and hugging the witch hard. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

The witch returned the hug in kind and pressed a quick, soft kiss to the top of Morgan’s head—something Zelda noted Lilith had only started doing recently—and smiled. “Well, your mama told me today was another experiment day, I was curious about how it went.” She eyeballed Diana. “Unless you haven’t done it yet?” Her eyes glanced, not so subtly, at the woman’s head.

A blush gracing her cheeks, Diana patted her hair. “Actually, we have, kept my normal hair color this time, so progress.”

Gently disengaging from Morgan—who ran to jump on Ambrose as well, leaving the adults alone— Lilith joined them on the ground. “Well, while magenta isn’t really anyone’s color, dear, you managed to pull it off remarkably well.”

Scoffing in good-natured disbelief, Diana rolled her eyes. “Liar.” She intoned, amusement infusing her words. “But I appreciate it, nonetheless. No, I think Zelda and Hilda might have truly cracked it this time... can, can you sense anything different?” Diana peered up at the Demoness, fingers twisting nervously in her lap.

“If anyone can overcome the aging process of mortals, it would be the witches who outwitted and out-brawned the Dark Lord himself.” Her hand landed on Zelda’s shoulder in an act of solidarity, but the innocent gesture had tingles erupting in its wake as Lilith removed her hand and Zelda had to make a conscious effort to keep from leaning into the retreating touch.

She snapped back to attention when a now comforted Diana nodded. “Thank you, Lilith, I know you’re right. I’m in the best hands.” She smiled at Zelda and Hilda, eyes shining a bit. Clearing her throat, Diana turned—each of them following suit—to where Ambrose was playing leapfrog with the girls—Sabrina landing on top of him and Morgan more often than jumping over them.

The women chuckled at the sight, the small amount of anxious energy filling the air at the topic of Diana’s mortality dissipating as they watched the kids play.

Hilda broke the silence first, brushing off her dress as she stood. “Shall we head in for some tea? You have time to stay, right, Lilith?” She asked, automatically reaching down to help Diana.

Inclining her head, Lilith leveraged herself up as well. “Of course, I need to hear more of this potion you’ve allegedly perfected.” She offered a hand to Zelda, which she took with some surprise. “Besides,” she helped Zelda to her feet and smiled when their eyes drew level. “I do enjoy my time with the Spellman clan.” Her brow arched as she released Zelda’s hand and took a step toward the house.

Before Zelda could process the implications of that statement and all the physical contact, Ambrose and the girls joined them, having quit their game when they noticed everyone moving inside.

As they made their way to the porch, Morgan instantly fell into step between Zelda and Lilith, taking one of their hands in each of her own and walking happily between them.

Though touched by her daughter’s sweet behavior, Zelda glanced at Lilith to ensure she was okay—Morgan often expressed more affection than the witch was comfortable with, even with Lilith becoming more open to it—only to find the Demoness smiling softly at her daughter.

And, as if sensing Zelda’s gaze, Lilith brought her eyes up, expression now carefully blank except a minute hint of panic in her eyes, worried she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

Certain any type of fondness was considered weakness in Hell, Zelda smiled at the brunette, wanting her to know her treatment of Morgan was not only okay, but encouraged. It would devastate Mo if Lilith were to withdraw because she thought her actions toward the girl would be used against her.

Clearly still unsure of herself, Lilith gave a wavering smile in return then dropped her eyes back to Morgan who had started to chatter away while the two witches had their silent conversation.

Refocusing back on her daughter, Zelda’s smile remained on her face as they followed the others inside and settled in the kitchen for tea and snacks.

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

Text

Good Omens - “Risks and Consequences” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Crowley surprises Aziraphale with a surprise skating excursion on Christmas night during a suspicious snowstorm. (1436 words)

Read on AO3.

“You do enjoy shoving me headfirst out of my comfort zones. Don’t you, my dear?” Aziraphale asks, warily watching his husband strap a stiff black boot to his foot.

“Poppycock,” Crowley grumbles, struggling to unknot long laces he accidentally macramed while attempting to navigate the rows of eyelets and hooks. “Consider this an adventure.”

“This is certifiable! You do know that?”

“How? You’re an angel! What on Earth could happen to you?”

“A great many things, I imagine,” Aziraphale replies. It’s a thin response. Crowley can tell Aziraphale has a thought, a vivid one, of something plausible.

Something that has him concerned.

Crowley stops messing with the skate and looks into Aziraphale’s face. Aziraphale's gaze ducks and dodges, bouncing from his hands to his knees to other random things inside the confines of Crowley’s Bentley. But Aziraphale can’t avoid Crowley’s gaze, nor Crowley himself, for too long. “Sometimes, I feel as if, one of these days, I’m going to snap my fingers, and nothing will happen. Heaven will have found a way to make me mortal or …”

“Or abandoned you altogether?”

Aziraphale nods sadly. “Yes.”

“I get those thoughts, too, sometimes,” Crowley admits, going back to fixing his angel’s skate. “Too often, really. Which probably explains why you use your magic so rarely, and I use mine all the time.”

“You’re always double-checking."

“And you’d rather not know.”

“Losing my powers wouldn’t be the worst part. Inconvenient, yes, but not terrible. Abandoned by Heaven …” Aziraphale's words drift off, but their meaning lingers, clinging to Crowley's heart and building like the snow outside their windows.

Crowley winks at his husband, trying to get him to smile, to laugh, to roll his eyes and groan Oh Lord! “It’s not so bad ..."

“... once you get used to it. So you keep telling me,” Aziraphale teases, gifting his husband with the tiniest of grins, gone all too swiftly. “Are you truly afraid of being abandoned by Hell?”

"Ngk ..." Crowley’s shoulders bounce a shrug back and forth as he thinks over his answer “... nah. Not really. They've already tried to exterminate me once, haven't they? It’s the consequences that come with it that would really suck: being mortal, having no powers, growing old …” Crowley’s eyes meet Aziraphale’s - melancholy blue eyes exposing those same fears, a subject his angel hasn’t felt comfortable bringing up before tonight. He still doesn’t seem comfortable with it, tight-lipped as an oyster. “But let’s not talk about that now,” Crowley suggests. “Tonight is for having ridiculous amounts of fun. Stirring up a little mayhem.”

“We’re going to get into trouble,” Aziraphale laments. “With the humans, I mean.”

“Nonsense. They'll never even know we were here."

“There are security cameras everywhere!”

“When was the last time you got caught doing anything on CCTV? It would be all over the Internet if you had! I'll fix it. You'll see.”

“By wasting another miracle? Or do you have a small army of rodents positioned on light poles, waiting to do your bidding?”

“Besides,” Crowley continues, overlooking the jab at what was one of his more masterfully executed, if not elaborate, schemes, “I’m not sure this is actually illegal. As long as we abide by all traffic laws and posted speed limits.”

“Where did you even get this idea?”

“From YouTube. The youths do it - barrel down frozen roads wearing bicycle helmets and hockey skates.”

"You're getting your evil ideas from children?" Aziraphale tuts. “Aren’t you supposed to be the bad influence? Not the other way around?”

“No shame in finding inspiration outside your own head.”

“Yes, well, I hope you skate better than you drive.”

“Oi! I am an excellent driver!”

“I know two rabbits and a squirrel who might disagree with you.”

“That wasn’t my fault! You’d think they’d know to get the Hell outta the way of a moving vehicle!”

“Speaking of which, we’re going to get hit by a car.”

“What car?” Crowley stops fiddling with Aziraphale’s skate to wipe down a fogged window and take a look around. Beneath the glow of the street lamps, he sees nothing but snow - a veil of flakes wafting down from the sky, pushed into swirls by the frigid wind. “No one’s out here! It’s three in the bloody morning after one of the worst storms London has had in years! You’d have to be insane to be outside!”

“My thoughts exactly,” Aziraphale mutters. “Bit early for a storm like this though, isn’t it?”

“Uh … maybe,” Crowley says, abruptly returning to his task.

“London isn’t due for snow until January.”

“Is that so? Strange.”

Aziraphale's brow furrows as he watches his husband focus intensely on basically nothing. “Crowley …”

“Wot?”

“Are you responsible for this?”

"Wot would make you think that?"

"Crowley. Look at me."

Crowley's head slowly lifts, eyes aimed everywhere but Aziraphale's face. At one point, he even closes them, assuming that, behind his dark lenses, Aziraphale won't notice.

But Aziraphale does notice. Even if Crowley were speaking to him from a completely different room, Aziraphale would notice.

Because, for a demon, Crowley happens to be an atrocious liar.

“It’s Christmas night!" Crowley pleads, unable to hold back any longer. "The perfect time for a lock-yourself-indoors-and-get-sloshed sort of snowstorm, a'right?"

“So why are we not inside getting sloshed then?”

“Because this is something I’ve wanted to do for a while! And I was gettin' tired of waiting for Mother Nature to accommodate. Plus, with climate change and global warming, nothing's guaranteed, is it?” Crowley moves on from Aziraphale's right foot and begins sliding his reluctant left foot into its skate. “Live a little!”

“I aim to live a lot, which specifically requires avoiding activities such as this." Aziraphale pauses his complaining to watch Crowley work, beyond curious what was going on inside his husband's demonic mind when he hatched this plan. "So," he says, working through the mystery out loud, "you conjured up a snowstorm, froze the streets, are in the process of strapping these awful contraptions to my feet ... would you like to tell me why?”

"Do I have to?"

"It would be nice."

"I'm a demon. I'm not nice."

"Crowley ..."

“Alright! It's because I wanted us to be together like this."

"Like what?"

Crowley sighs. "Like humans. And do the stupidly wonderful things humans do when they’re in love: take moonlit strolls, hold hands, kiss in the rain, all that sappy shite. Humans go skating at Christmas! It's, like, number three on their list of Yuletide activities. It's almost a requirement! Even if they can't stand steady in regular shoes, they go skating. And they cling to one another, and they laugh, and they kiss, and I … I didn't want to take the chance that if I waited, I might miss ..."

Nothing's guaranteed, Aziraphale thinks as he watches Crowley sink in on himself, head bowed over Aziraphale's feet, curling as if he wants to disappear. And Aziraphale begins to understand.

Crowley has been a ball of anxious energy for as long as Aziraphale can remember. Aziraphale doesn't blame him. Crowley has been tiptoeing through minefields since the beginning - making innocent mistakes and paying huge prices for them. As supernatural entities, it's easy to get lulled into the false sense of security that nothing bad can happen to you.

But that's not true.

Not at all true.

Because even a demon and an angel with magical powers aren't anywhere near the top of the food chain.

Crowley destroying Ligur with Holy Water proved that.

So did his belief that Aziraphale had been extinguished by Hellfire.

The fact that he hadn't been didn't prove Crowley wrong.

Hellfire would most definitely annihilate his angel from the face of the planet.

Crowley and Aziraphale helped save Earth for humanity, but every day, the humans work harder and harder towards their own destruction.

Nothing's guaranteed.

Not for anyone.

"If you don’t want to go skating, that’s fine. I know it’s risky. Probably the last way in the world you’d want to discorporate."

"I can think of worse ways," Aziraphale says with a chuckle.

"We can go back to your bookshop, make hot cocoa, listen to your gramophone or ... or something.”

“The biggest risk I’ve taken is sitting right here with me. And that’s worked out so far. For 6000 years, as a matter of fact. I don’t mind taking another one. Just … try not to let me fall.”

“Just hold on tight.” Crowley scoots down the bench towards his husband and wraps his arms around him. “I promise I won’t let you fall.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #Crowley #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley

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nicotinemaiden · 4 years

Text

Just found Heaven

I don't really care where I go when I die 'Cause I just found heaven

You can tell the devil that's he's wasting his time 'Cause I just found heaven

Sins washed away, dark turns to light If your body is a temple, take me inside

I feel no pain, pleasures of mine If you give me a taste of eternal life

[Daughtry]

Read on AO3 →

The second one, a promise.

It had been a couple of days since Shirayuki saw Obi for the last time, peacefully sleeping next to her after the night they shared together. That day, when she finally dragged herself out of bed - tired of the nightmares that told her she would never see him again - she buried herself in her work and didn't talk to anyone more than what was necessary. If she could she would only nod and keep working. It was the only way she could stop thinking.

The next day even the office they assigned to them during their stay seemed too quiet, too calm without him reading small excerpts of the books - interesting facts that may be useful someday Miss, he would say. Some were more useful than others and, of course, sometimes he read things only for her to blush profoundly and throw something at him - there really are things you shouldn't read out loud Obi, she would answer after that, an unhidden smile on her face hearing his laugh. She missed him too much for her own good.

The third day she was growing impatient. So much so she decided to ask Ryuu if he'd seen him. He looked at her confused and surprised, as if she just asked an obvious question, his eyes picking at her from behind the book he was reading today.

"Obi is on a reconnaissance mission on the Bergatt territory to prepare for the soiree of masked knights."

She grunted loudly. How did she forget about that? She was busy preparing the medicine for that same event, relying on trial and error a lot more than she intended.

"I don't think it will be too long until he's back, if that's any help."

Ryuu added, arching one eyebrow, clearly wondering what was wrong with her lately.

She muttered a low yes, of course, thank you before returning to her desk. The young boy kept staring at her for a moment until he returned to his studies, writing in a patch of paper on his own desk. That was - maybe, probably - a good idea. If she could not talk to Obi maybe it was time she talked to the person she less wanted to at the moment: The second prince of Clarines.

She grabbed a piece of paper from the first drawer and tipped her quill on the ink. Good, that was the easy part. She breathed before starting, her thoughts unclear as to what she wanted to write in the first place.

Dear Zen, - she started, feeling confident only in those two words - I know we just saw each other not so long ago - if she was being honest with herself, it had been like two weeks - but I need to see you as soon as…

She stopped herself, crossing out the last words. They sounded… desperate. And a lot more romantic than she needed it to be. At least that was what her head told her. She continued on the same paper, deciding it was best to make a draft and then cleaning it when her thoughts were sorted.

I have to see you, whenever you can, only if you have time, there's no rush.

She crossed out that line too. She was in a hurry. She needed to tell him as soon as possible. She couldn't keep feeling like this and he deserved to know. Yet at the same time she felt she had no right to say anything before talking to Obi.

Shirayuki used the quill to scratch her chin, thinking.

"How would you tell someone you have to talk to them and it's not good news?"

She asked to the air, feeling hopeless. She was always good at talking her mind… in person. It was a lot more difficult doing so via letter.

It took a moment for Ryuu to realize he was the only one who could answer and he seemed startled by the question.

"I-I don't think I'm the best person to ask about relationships with people."

He watched her sulk a bit in her chair, her eyes fixing on the paper. He wanted to ask what was happening, what were those bad news, but he also knew she would tell him when she was ready. He didn't want to pry in something that didn't concern him.

So he closed his book on the table, whipping with his hands little smudges of dust from the corners.

"But… I'll try to be honest."

His voice caught her attention again, her eyes now studying him.

"I'll say there's something important that I have to say and that I would prefer to do so in person. If the person you're writing to cares at least a little about you, they will understand."

She smiled, her ideas clearer in her head.

"Thank you so much Ryuu. I knew you could help me."

He blushed, as always, before opening his book again and returning to it.

Dear Zen, I'm sorry to bother you as I'm aware you are busy. You know I wouldn't unless I had a good reason to do it. And I do. I need to talk to you, in person. We need to talk. And it's not something I could write or you would already know what's troubling me. I hope we can talk soon and I wish for our reunion to be one as friends, as it has always been. Shirayuki.

Reading it for the tenth time, she felt confident. She had been able to write it neutral, kind of urgent and important. Just the right amount. She pushed it to the envelope and sealed it before leaving her office to send it. That little letter was the first step on clearing the mess she forged for herself. Soon, it will all be different, be it a bad different or a good different. In all honesty, it already was.

She turned a corner of the hall just to come face to face with Hisame and she almost hissed at him, wanting to run far away from him. She didn't hate him, didn't even blame him anymore for what happened, but that didn't mean she was fine with having a conversation with him at that exact moment.

"Miss Shirayuki. Always a pleasure to see you."

Can't say the same, she thought, pushing the rude words away from her throat.

"H-Hisame, good evening. I wasn't aware you were still here."

He brushed her words with a hand, shaking his head.

"I just arrived a couple hours ago. Just some business to take care of."

She nodded, hoping it wasn't as visible as she felt it the fact that she wanted to bolt from him.

"That remembers me… Where is your shadow today? Haven't seen him."

There was a glint in his eyes that told her he was asking for more than that, but she answered only to his words.

"He's on a mission, won't be around for a couple days. If you have something to say to him you could rely your message to me and I'll make sure he hears it the moment he returns. If you trust me with such things, of course."

She smiled, just a facade to hide her jitters.

"Oh, I would, of course. But that's not it. I was just curious as to if he was the one who left that mark on your neck. I have a bet to win, after all."

With those small words, she panicked. Her hand moved to her neck without warning, searching for it even when she knew she couldn't feel that kind of mark just with her touch. Had it been there the whole time? Did the whole mansion know what she had done? She hadn't felt it when he'd done it. Why would he leave something like that if this was supposed to be a secret? She hadn't looked at a mirror in a while more than some passing glances, she hadn't felt the need to. Now she regretted it. Her mind kept racing, wondering why Ryuu hadn't said anything to her about it, and forgot she was supposed to be talking. Clearly Hisame saw the sudden display of nerves and the whiteness of her face because he laughed softly in front of her.

"Don't you worry, young miss."

He emphasised her nickname, the one Obi had made already clear it was reserved for him, and it made her angry, knowing it wasn't him who used it.

"You have absolutely nothing in your neck. I just wanted to see if something happened."

He came closer to her, crouching a bit to bring his eyes to her eye level.

"And the amusing thing is: It did."

He laughed a bit more.

"I didn't think he'd have the guts. Congratulations."

"I'm not here to amuse you, Lord Hisame. So if you'll excuse me."

She backed away a step, hoping for him to shut up and let her pass. She has had enough and felt stupid for letting herself be tricked like this. But there was no point telling him it wasn't true. She knew her reaction told him everything he needed to know.

He studied her for a moment longer before straightening himself and moving slowly to the side. She started walking and stopped herself after hearing his voice again behind her.

"I wasn't joking, I honestly congratulate you. I've seen the look on your eyes when you look at each other. This… fake relationship thing you had going on wasn't as fake as you two pretended to believe. I'm just relieved to see you being honest with each other."

She smiled subtly, looking at him over her shoulder, and continued walking on.

Honest. That was the word that failed her. She hadn't been completely honest. She was just now starting to be. But she made herself a promise that she would be. She would tell him everything once he was with her again and she would hope that, after knowing everything she knew, he would stay with her. As a friend, at least.

Before returning to her room she sent the letter she worked so hard to put together, not feeling any better than before doing it.

The next day started worse than any other. The nightmares were unrelenting and the pain in her chest seemed to have expanded to her head, her arms, her legs… She awoke before dawn feeling utterly sick yet being unable to return to bed. Lightning a candle next to the vanity she sat there, doing nothing, for a long time. Once the fog of her mind cleared and her brain accepted that nightmares were just that - nightmares - she picked up her brush and tried to tame her wild hair. She had to at least give the impression of being a normal person today. And she was so close to finishing the medicine she was sure today was the day. She had to give it her all.

When she arrived at the office she was alone. It was too early for Ryuu, or too late. More than once had she arrived at the pharmacy just in time to wish him a good sleep after a sleepless night of work. In any case, first things first: She needed a painkiller remedy. Shirayuki looked at the cupboards and stands, inspecting them. She picked up three petals of bromelain - which should have provided a small relief - before she found a jar of turmeric and decided that mixing the two would prove more effective. She just needed to reach it. It was a common ingredient, why in the world would it be in the tallest rack she had no idea. It was possible that she mistook it for another spice but that color was characteristic and the other she knew were similar were also uncommon. Or used in the kitchen instead of a pharmacy. She decided it was worthless trying to explain when everything here was sorted in a manner she couldn't comprehend. She missed the order of her pharmacy.

She moved the ladder under it without much effort, grateful for its lightness. One, two, three… and four steps took her to reach the jar. Or would have if she hadn't slipped at the last one, freeing the ladder from her hands before it could fall with her. She was ready to hit the ground any moment but, just like every other time she fell since she first left Tanbarun, her fall was stopped by strong arms keeping her steady for a moment before releasing her on her feet. She could still feel the burning of her skin - or his - moments later, crashing with the cold she had been feeling these last days.

"I can't leave you alone and trust you wouldn't hurt yourself even for a moment, can I?"

He sighed but she could hear the playful notes on his voice even louder than the pumping of her heart, so that was something. He was there, now in front of her, a half smile on his lips and dark marks under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept at all since his departure. Seeing him made her forget completely the reason as to why was she reaching for the jar. The pain, the ache, completely evaporated.

"What a shame. It seems you shouldn't leave me alone at all in case this happens."

She panicked just after hearing herself and tried to hide it pointing to the stairs, making a move to step on it again. Just an excuse at this point - she had exactly the painkiller she needed, right in front of her. He stopped her with a hand on her back and, with a swift movement and just one step on the ladder he pointed at the jar until she nodded and he snatched it out of the shelf.

"How's the medicine coming?"

He asked casually, leaving the jar on the desk and ignoring completely her last attempt at flirting.

"Good."

She thought for a moment, still looking at him, admiring him.

"I mean, it's not ready yet, but almost. I've had… trouble, concentrating, that's it."

He nodded and they both looked away, an awkward silence between them. She had so much to say she lost the words to say them. Looking at him like that, his eyes gleaming with the red of dawn, his hand playing nervously with his hair, his lips a thin line - void of the playfulness that played in them before… She just needed to kiss him. She wasn't sure if that was a normal thought on their situation but she restrained herself after realizing she was moving closer to him. Obi sat on top of the desk, facing the window but looking at her again. She could feel he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how.

"Miss, I- / Obi, I -"

They spoke at the same time and paused at the same time, causing a giggle from her. At least they broke the ice. She decided, as much as she wanted to know what he would say, she needed to speak first.

"I'm sorry Obi. For last time. I should have spoken to you… before anything happened."

She looked away. What they did was natural yet she didn't have the confidence to talk about it as if it was nothing. Not when it happened between them .

"No Miss. I should be the one apologizing. Nothing should have happened. I'm sorry I didn't stop it when I had the chance."

Was he… regretting it? She needed to know. Preferably before pouring her heart at him just to have it drained.

"Do you regret it Obi? That night… Would you like to go back to make things differently, if you could?"

Part of her was afraid of the answer while another was growing annoyed and angrier. This was not exactly how she expected this encounter to go.

"Of course I would. Of course I regret it. How could I not?"

He looked at her as if expecting understanding, but she was just angry and hurt. Most of it directed at herself. It was her fault he regretted it, it was her fault he was looking at her with such hurt on his eyes.

"You heard me the next morning, did you not?"

He nodded and looked away as if embarrassed to admit it.

"I was just… figuring out my entire life."

She allowed herself a small smile knowing she had already figured it out.

“I know how it must have seemed to you, that’s why I needed to talk to you. I don’t…”

She breathed for a minute. This was her moment. She needed to be clear, to say everything that was on her mind once and for all. And so, returning her eyes to his, she started talking faster than she could think, almost not breathing.

“I don’t regret it. I don’t think I ever will. It wasn’t just some crazy night of alcohol and hormones. Well, mostly it was, because that’s the way our body works, but that wasn’t all. I wouldn’t have done it with anyone else. And I mean anyone. I thought it was a mistake. Yes, the next morning that was the first thing I thought. But not because of you! It was a mistake because of the situation. I should have realized things first and done later, not the other way around. But, again, I was so blind I think it had to be this way.”

She was pacing nervously, moving her hands just to have something to do with them, talking more to herself than to him at this point. And she couldn’t stop even if she wanted to. She was drowned in all the thoughts that crossed her mind lately.

“I feel horrible lying to Zen. I ain’t even lying because I hadn’t been able to talk to him yet. But I already felt this way before, the last time he kissed me when I thought I didn’t really want to. I just needed it to be over. I just let him kiss me because it was safe, it was what I’ve known for years. And I was so afraid when my heart stood at the same pace while I was with him. I was calm yet nervous. I should have known then as I know now. But I didn’t. And now I feel I’ve been lying to every last person in my life, myself included. I had a path I was sure to follow, everything just to be at his side, and now I’m not even sur-”

She stopped suddenly when she felt his arms around her, burning away every word left on her throat.

“Breathe, Miss. I almost couldn’t catch half the things you wanted to say.”

And she did. She closed her eyes for a moment, hugging him back, and buried herself in his smell. Everytime she was like this she felt lost in a forest at night, a warm bonfire at her side, plants and flowers surrounding her. It was the safest place in the world, his arms. She had thought about it before but never had she seen it so clearly.

“This is exactly what I was trying to say.”

She looked up to his face, a smile wide on hers.

“Usually it’s shorter to say ‘I need a hug’”

And she hit him then, punching his arm with all the strength she could muster. But he saw something in her eyes, in her smile, because as soon as she lowered her hand he brought her closer again and kissed her. Without so much as another word. It was slow and warm and she was kissing him back before even giving the order to her body. It wasn’t the first time they kissed but it felt like it. It was the first time she could do so knowing full well that it was what she wanted, what they wanted. And this time - contrary to the night they spent together - it was him who kissed her. He didn’t run away, he didn’t put a wall between them, he wasn’t telling her it was a stupid decision. No. He was kissing her and she… she was crying. Because she hadn’t felt so right in all her life. It was as if all of her - really - stupid decisions brought her to this moment. To the moment in her life when everything clicked. All the times she had to endure the touches and sinful words of the drunkards in her grandparents bar, all the unwanted attention on the streets, at her own home. All the times she thought she was weird, an exotic gem, something - not someone - to decorate the room with. You don’t need to hate it, it’s part of you, but it’s not you. You’re so much more. He was the first one to encourage her to show it, not hide it. He always wanted her to be herself - not more calm, not more smiling, not more reserved. If she jumped out a tower he would jump with her, not wait to tell her she was being reckless. She paused for a moment, her entire being, the kiss, her thoughts.

“I love you, Obi. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize. And I’m sorry I made you think you were the problem when I was.”

It was the first time she actually saw him trip over the desk, catching himself in time to sit gracefully on top of it. She smiled, biting her lower lip. It wasn’t a bad shock, she could tell because he was smiling even wider than her, even when he didn't seem to notice. If she was going to keep getting reactions like that or like their kiss, she should keep talking. But he didn’t give her time to.

“Mis-”

He interrupted himself immediately, changing his wording.

“Shirayuki, you were never the problem. I was… really scared that morning too. I was absolutely sure you were going to, I don’t know, tell me that it was the worst decision of your life and that you never wanted to even look at me again. I was terrified thinking that maybe you were right and I had broken our friendship forever. And, of course, everything went south when I heard you, crying.”

Even knowing it wasn’t exactly that what caused her crying it still pained him. She could see it in the golden orbs that fixed on her.

“I had to do this mission but I was ready to leave. I wanted to talk to you, to apologize and pack my things afterwards. Instead, the first thing you say to me today? Hey maybe you shouldn’t leave anymore. How- What- You know how confusing it is coming back believing it will be the last time I see you only for you to tell me that?”

And they laughed, because that was the thing they did most when they were together. Worrying about one another and laughing.

“I’m sorry for that too. I just kept having these nightmares where you would go and never come back without even hearing what I had to say. I just needed to tell you. I won’t make you stay, unless you want to.”

He picked her up easily, her legs holding her to his body and her arms up on his shoulders, and kissed her again. Maybe it was the kisses who told her or the little smiles between them. Maybe it was the bigger smiles or the way her arms got up and her upper-body followed back, laughing to the sky - or to the ceiling, to be more accurate. Or maybe it was the way his hand pressed down her back, bringing her to him again just before she heard every word she needed to hear.

“I love you Shirayuki. And, for as long as you’ll have me, I’ll be here.”

She stopped her laughs and smiles and lowered herself to the ground, looking at him so seriously he seemed startled.

“Would you say that again?"

Shirayuki could swear he was blushing. He was. And she enjoyed it as much as she could for the brief moment it lasted.

"I love you. I've loved you for so long I feel I'm dreaming. I think I'm just saying these things because I'm waiting to wake up at any moment."

The feeling, that unnamed feeling in her heart, so warm, filing her chest with a strange kind of pain. One that hurt but wasn't bad. It was as if someone was gripping her heart with all its strength, so much so she was afraid it would explode. Yet at the same time she felt incomplete without that pressure. She never wanted to feel so empty again.

She brought her hand to her chest without thinking, taking in the universe that was originating inside of her. She had been afraid of many things in her life, never so much as to stop her from doing what she thought was right but she wasn't new to the feeling. Yet at that moment she was terrified. Terrified something would happen that would tear everything from her. Was it normal that, at the happiest moment of her life, all she could think about for a moment was how she feared to lose it?

And then it happened again. He touched her arm - a little pressure to remind her he was there - and smiled while lowering his hand to hers. He didn't say anything, didn't need to.

He was with her.

He was hers .

And if there was something everyone knew about them was that, while together, they could do anything - and so, so much more.

#hey nicotine maiden here wishing you all a good reading!#hope you like it #mistake series #mistakeseries #mistakeseries2 #Akagami no Shirayukihime #ans #obiyuki #Obi x Shirayuki #mywork #fanfic #posted on ao3

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ladyfawkes · 4 years

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FINALLY!!! AN UPDATE!!! Lol. Nice long one, too. Post-Cassandra's Revenge AU. Grievous injuries occur to more than one character during Cassandra's fight for magical dominance. These afflictions won’t become manifest until after they’ve left the Tower, however.

In the aftermath from Cassandra's Revenge at Black Rock Tower, Eugene is trying to use his rare alone time to process all that had happened. Thankfully, he has Lance to keep him grounded with his own irksome ways.

One enormous weight had been lifted and Eugene's psyche was flying because he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Rapunzel reciprocated all of his feelings for her. He also witnessed exactly to what lengths Rapunzel would move heaven and earth to fight for him.

Amongst his euphoria for Rapunzel, however, he must also figure out how to forgive Cassandra for all that she’s done.

Chapter 3 Summary:

Although Eugene had originally explained that he wasn't otherwise affected by his experiences from yesterday at Black Rock Tower, today was proving out much differently.

Eugene had tried valiantly to keep things from Rapunzel in order to save her more grief. Yet he had to quickly make the determination to tell her everything instead, due in large part to Lance’s prodding. Nobody had known it at the time, but Eugene’s affliction symptoms would soon send him spiraling too quickly. Unfortunately for Eugene, he would be caught up within the throes of the fight's aftermath before he could ever tell Rapunzel anything else. Or even confess privately to Lance. He was no longer capable of giving an explanation about anything to anyone.

What, exactly, had happened to him and who was to blame?

CHAPTER THREE MEA CULPA, TUA CULPA, NOSTRA CULPA

Approximately 40 minutes later, Lance, Rapunzel, Varian, and Eugene had sat down for tea. And although Eugene had originally told Rapunzel that the new scars didn’t hurt, the skin around them had definitely become more sensitized overnight. It’s why earlier he had practically jumped out of his skin even at Rapunzel’s lightest of touches. But he didn’t want Rapunzel to worry needlessly and he wasn’t entirely sure if the sensation was real or if he was just in a state of hyper-awareness and imagining things that weren’t there. However, since their confrontation in Eugene’s room, the presumed-healed wounds were even stinging and smarting somewhat, quite unlike before. Again, Eugene wrestled internally with the idea of telling her about what was happening or not. He finally decided that after tea, he should take Rapunzel aside and tell her about this latest development.

During the past several minutes, Eugene had barely touched even a morsel of his hors d'oeuvres, much less anything more substantial. That was not at all characteristic of his notoriously healthy appetite. At the present, he preferred instead to sip absently from the same cup of tea. Before long everyone at the table kept giving him surreptitious double-takes. Certain he must’ve been imagining it, Eugene turned away from the group and laid down his head, pillowing it against his elbow on the table…..and he was still barely touching that teacup.

Moderately taken aback by Eugene’s abrupt change in mood, the rest of them simply let him alone for the time being. Although still a sensitive person, Eugene wasn’t usually quite so moody anymore. In fact, Lance quite liked to tease Eugene about how his once formerly nihilistic professional thief friend had instead become a rather insufferable eternal optimist. The rest of the group wordlessly seemed to agree that whatever was happening would perhaps blow over soon and Eugene would be back to his normal self in no time.

Little did his friends know that at this very moment, Eugene had been additionally and shockingly swept up in the personal hell of biting back against rather sudden and excruciating pain emanating from his core. Red hot burning sensations now simultaneously emanated from and rippled outward from the new impalement scars; they had quickly forged a web of blazing pain over the entire surface of his skin. So rapidly tuned out was he that Eugene became practically oblivious to the world around him. As each corresponding wave of burning sensations caused him more pain, he subsequently had to fight mounting nausea, overheating, and dizziness. What was being fought from within him was now manifesting outwardly upon Eugene’s face, deepening his complexion to an alarming shade of crimson. Something Eugene’s friends hadn’t yet witnessed was him taking on the shocking appearance of one who had been stricken with extreme sunburn -- over the entire surface of his body. After all, Eugene had turned his back and covered his head with his jacket.

Some mysterious internal source of heat had arisen within Eugene, almost as if his body were trying to fight off something particularly nasty and virulent. And although earlier he’d promised to tell Lance and Rapunzel the story behind why he thought he’d received his newest scars, Eugene was currently in no shape to tell them anything, especially now, as he’d fallen silent with the rapid spiking of his internal temperature.

The young man had become so light-headed, overheated, and overburdened with pain that he could hardly think, much less speak intelligibly. Oh lord, it’s so hot, was one of Eugene’s only lucid thoughts.

At this point in time, he was finding it impossible to merely sit at the table without needing to fall sideways off the chair or slump bodily over the table. He was additionally getting so annoyed with all the racket surrounding him...the bits that penetrated his thickened consciousness and brain fog, anyway….why couldn’t the people around the table just stop yelling, already?? Eugene wished they all would just shut the hell up, and stop clanking their silverware on the dishes so loudly. That way, his ears would stop ringing and he’d have a better chance of getting his head to stop pounding a little. Although his back was toward his companions, they noted his non-verbal mounting signs of distress nonetheless. Rapunzel had stood up out of her seat and walked around the table to check on him. She lightly touched his shoulder from behind.

Without any outward indication he’d noticed her, Eugene greatly startled Rapunzel and everyone at the table as he clapped his hands over the ringing in his ears and shot up unsteadily out of his seat. He attempted an announcement to the entire table his intention to leave and take refuge in his bedroom until he felt better. Yet before he could complete any of the words coming out of his mouth, Eugene’s eyes rolled back in his head and he suddenly collapsed like a sack of potatoes. Everyone in the dining hall simultaneously expressed alarm and dismay upon seeing Eugene’s current condition.

‘--Gene!’” was the only panic-stricken syllable that Rapunzel managed to utter in that moment. Before the princess could even fully comprehend what was happening, Eugene’s chin slammed into the edge of the hard wooden table in front of him. The princess sprang into action and managed to catch Eugene before he could cause himself any further injury. Everyone at the table began chattering worriedly at once, wondering how it was that Eugene could go from looking perfectly healthy just minutes ago to outright fainting and turning red as a sunburn victim.

“Lance!” called Rapunzel. Lance made it to Eugene instantly, saying, “On it, dear Princess,” as he took up his friend Eugene’s side opposite Rapunzel and the pair laid the distressed young man on the cool marble floor of the dining hall. Varian had dutifully sprinted from the large hall, having volunteered to go summon the palace surgeon. They needed to see what, if anything, could be done for Eugene. And hopefully even get some insight as to his current condition.

Right now, blood was gushing from a superficial wound in Eugene’s chin where his skin had split open upon making contact with the unyielding table. Rapunzel had ordered one of the kitchen servants to bring her a bowl of cold water and several clean serviettes. This, of course, was done immediately. The princess took one serviette, folded over a corner, dipped it in the clean water, and pressed it against Eugene’s chin wound. It was only then he began to stir a little. He had turned his head enough to dislodge the cloth, which in turn caused Rapunzel to shift and firmly press the cloth back upon the wound.

“That huuuurts,” Eugene whimpered semi-consciously, feebly attempting to push away Rapunzel’s ministering hands with one of his own.

“I’m sure it does,” soothed Rapunzel, running her hand across his fevered brow. She looked up at Lance with deep concern, “He is positively burning up. Could you soak another cloth for me and press it against his forehead, please?”

“Sure thing, Princess,” answered Lance, and did what Rapunzel requested.

That much cold moisture coming into contact with Eugene’s reddened overheated face, however, nearly succeeded in fully rousing the unconscious young man. Their charge soon settled down, however, as Lance restrained one of Eugene’s flailing arms and Rapunzel restrained the other.

“Lance,” Rapunzel queried worriedly, “do you have any idea about what might be causing this curious overheating within him? And do you know anything about those new scars that he hasn’t yet told me?”

“The only thing I know for certain, Princess, is that he received these marks yesterday during the time, ah….Cassandra…..was squeezing him with rocks? -- whatever that meant.” Rapunzel’s eyes grew larger than saucers and Lance couldn’t hold her gaze. “But he did say he….” even Lance was having difficulty finishing the explanation in the same place where Eugene had, though Lance had originally been the one goading his friend into telling the Princess, “....he did say he had literally felt himself get run through in four places whilst being held onto by those rocks.” Rapunzel’s complexion noticeably paled, even in the bright afternoon sunlight of the dining hall.

“No…..please….no…..” she whispered, wilting before Lance’s eyes in spite of her obvious desire to remain strong for Eugene.

“But -- but he also was positively adamant and was almost certain that Cassandra wasn’t the one responsible,” Lance fibbed, not wanting to see Rapunzel’s confidence falter. “And that’s all I know,” he said in a rush, before he could descend any deeper. This little white lie of Eugene being sure it wasn’t Cass felt practically necessary right now.

“Really?” asked Rapunzel hopefully. Suddenly Lance understood why Eugene would do anything to keep Rapunzel from being disappointed or feeling betrayed, especially when it comes to Cassandra. “I wonder why Eugene wanted to keep this from me, though….” she mused to herself.

“The only reason he didn’t tell you is because Eugene knew how worried you would become if you had even one inkling that Cass had actively tried to kill him. His sincerest wish was to keep you from experiencing even more distress.”

Rapunzel looked down at her intended and ran her free hand lovingly through his hair. “And to think, I was upset with him for keeping it secret….I should've known he was merely trying to shield me. Dearest Eugene….what’s happening to you right now? If only I could’ve asked you sooner….” her eyes grew moist and she said to Lance, "he’s forever the protector, even when he’s the one in worse danger, or the one who’s truly suffered --”

“Princess Rapunzel?” An authoritative yet kind voice interrupted her speech as more quickened footsteps echoed across the hall. True to his word, Varian had brought the palace surgeon to assist with Eugene.

“Dr. Eden,” acknowledged Rapunzel, nodding with some relief, “thank you for coming so quickly. While we’re not exactly certain what’s affecting Eugene, we can tell you that the visual symptoms you can see weren’t affecting him as little as an hour ago.”

Lance stood up from his place by Eugene, volunteering the empty spot for Dr. Eden. The doctor quickly knelt down and began examining her patient. “So he’s not sunburned, then?” queried the doctor. “Not at all,” Rapunzel answered.

“And his fever?” continued Eden.

“He showed no signs of it at all until approximately 30 minutes ago, when he laid down his head upon the table during tea.”

“Hmmm,” Dr. Eden’s brows knitted together as she mused to herself. “Does anyone here happen to have a spyglass or other magnifier?”

“I do!” Varian chirped, clearly pleased to be of further assistance. The young teen stepped closer and volunteered his ever-present prism goggles. After Varian showed the doctor how to work the goggles, she asked the nearby servants if the castle had any ice stores in the palace cellars. Unfortunately, they did not and had used up the last of the stores the week prior and had yet to replenish them. It was then that Varian again volunteered. “Uhm, actually, I have an alchemical compound that creates ice from regular water almost instantly,” he said helpfully.

“Can the ice safely touch human skin?”, asked Dr. Eden. Varian answered in the affirmative. “Can you make enough ice to fill an entire washtub with it too?” Dr. Eden continued multi-tasking by asking Varian questions and closely examining the surface of Eugene’s skin up close with the goggles.

Varian made some brief calculations in his head and affirmed that he did indeed have enough ice-making compound for the task at hand.

“All right, then -- retrieve your supplies, Alchemist, and I shall meet up with you again in the bath chamber. My patient is in need of your services too,” said Dr. Eden.

“Yes, ma’am!!” said Varian excitedly, very nearly saluting the doctor as he rushed out of the hall, nearly ploughing into one of the palace servants in his haste. "Whoops! Sorry!!" the teen exclaimed in a hurry.

Then the doctor turned toward the princess and said, “We’ve simply got to bring down Eugene’s temperature as rapidly as possible. Now tell me -- has he perhaps recently been struck by lightning?”

“No!!” Rapunzel answered immediately. But then thought better of it.

“Wait….actually....” The power and energies that she and Cassandra had been wielding yesterday had certainly resembled nothing if not so much as awesome lightning…. And poor Eugene and Varian had been haplessly trapped and caught up right in the center of it all. Oh, how foolish she had been to assume they had all somehow escaped her goddess-like fight with Cassandra completely unscathed…..therefore she nodded despondently toward Dr. Eden.

“Y-yesterday,” Rapunzel’s throat constricted on the word, and a hand flew to her mouth. The princess could no longer speak. That instantaneous tsunami of guilt which built within her over the mere possibility that her actions from yesterday might’ve led to Eugene’s current state of suffering today threatened to overwhelm her.

Lance had just explained to her that Eugene was all but certain that Cassandra wasn’t the one responsible for his newest gnarly scars. Was it possible that’s because Eugene knew that Rapunzel was the one who had given them to him instead, however unwittingly?

#rta #tts #fanfiction AU #tangled fanfiction #cassandras revenge rewrite #eugene fitzherbert #lance strongbow #rapunzel #varian #cassandra #whump #eugene whump

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crowley-fe11 · 4 years

Text

You both like ineffable husbands.

Stranger: [Soulmate AU: Aziraphale saw in Heaven's archives that his soulmate was Raphael. But Gabriel made him believe Raphael was his actual name.] Why was Gabriel to your bookshop? Are you in troubles, angel? C

You: Oh, no trouble at all. Quite the opposite, actually. A

Stranger: Which means? Heaven gaves you a better title? C

Stranger: (*gave oops)

You: Well, in the archives upstairs, it lists that Raphael is my soulmate. A And Gabriel just told me that happens to be his actual name. A

Stranger: [Delay] That sheming little bastard. C // Gabriel is just Gabriel, Aziraphale. Nobody else, not Raphael. He lied. C

You: What makes you so sure? A

Stranger: I just know it, angel. C

You: Why would he lie about something like that? A

Stranger: Because he's a bastard, and that he makes to manipulate you! C

You: But even if he is just Gabriel, he'd have a different soulmate, right? A

Stranger: I suppose. What's your point here? C

You: Wouldn't he be with them instead? A

Stranger: Maybe Gabriel's soulmate fell. C

You: You think that's really the case? A It seems impossible, just looking at all the other pairs... A

Stranger: Yeah, I think that's really the case. His soulmate fell, and knowing him, he'd rather manipulate you that accepting this fact. C // Aren't you relieved? Your one isn't Gabriel. C

You: I suppose a bit. A But I don't suppose you know if Raphael fell? Where he might be now? A

Stranger: [Long Delay] He fell. He's Downstairs, I'm sorry, Aziraphale. Your soulmate is a demon. C

You: Well, if he's anything like you are, then that wouldn't be so bad... A

Stranger: As if, not a heartless beast? Yeah. He's not. He's closer to me than to Lord Beelzebub, be reassured. C

You: That's a relief. A What else do you know? A

Stranger: He was the Starmaker, so after he fell and saw soothing stars for the first time... He thought She was throwing his creations out as a punishment. C // He would adore you, I'm certain of it. C

You: He sounds lovely... A Maybe you could introduce me at some point? A

Stranger: Are you sure? I mean, he's still a demon. And even if She decided for you, you don't have to accept Her choice. C

You: I think it would be worth at least meeting him. A

Stranger: ...I can give you his number so the both of you can talk first. C

You: That would be splendid! A I would greatly appreciate that, dear. A

Stranger: [Attached Number - still Crowley's but an another phone.] Yeah, sure. Wonderful. C

You: Thank you, Crowley! I'll let you know how it goes. A

You: [...] Would this number happen to belong to Raphael? A

Stranger: It does, indeed. You are? R

You: My name is Aziraphale. A mutual friend gave me your number. A According to the Heavenly Archive of Soulmates, we appear to be a match. A

Stranger: Ah, I see. Didn't ever think that old legend about matches would reach me eventually. I'm quite busy, I fear, and I'm rather certain you wouldn't like me nearly as much as you hope. R

You: I mean, I know it unheard of for angels to have a fallen soulmate, and I understand if it's seen as taboo on your side as well. A But I was hoping if you ever had the time to talk, if you want to, I could learn a bit more about you. A I've found myself admiring the stars more than once over the millennia, and it seems rather touching that it was your work... A

Stranger: The matches have been made by Her before the Rebellion, and since so many angels fell during it, it isn't surprising an angel can discover he has a fallen soulmate. Not that they could be blamed if they preferred ignoring this bit of information forever. My side doesn't see it as a taboo, more as some holy nonsense they don't want to interact with. R // Thank you. I'd be arrogant to say it was all mine, but almost all of them are my doing, especially the ones you can see from Earth. Got inspired by a pretty special angel for a few. R

You: Well, considering an angel I know just claimed to be you, I thought it might be worth knowing who you really are. A But I'd like to think I'm open-minded. My best friend is a demon, and he spoke well of you. And he's been fairly honest about most everything. A Though I am curious if that angel was anyone in particular... A

Stranger: [Delay] It was you. Aziraphale, still a Cherub back then. You don't remember, most angels don't have any memories of anything happening before Time was made. Only Archangels still have pieces of memories of that time, since they had been created first. You were radiant, Aziraphale. Shining of joy, of curiosity. I even made... Ha. Alpha Centauri thinking about you. R

You: I'll definitely look for that system more closely from now on, then. A But I wish I remember you better. You seem absolutely lovely. A Perhaps if you ever have the time, we could meet up for lunch or something? A

Stranger: ...No. Won't be possible. You wouldn't like me, trust me. R // I'm hurt. Burned. Yes, that's it, I've been seriously burned during my fall. R

You: I mean, if there's anything I can do to help, I'd be more than willing. A Besides, if She made us a match, I'm sure that would transcend anything. A

Stranger: Don't you want to use your free will instead, angel? Instead of following her idea, why don't you find yourself someone you love? R

You: In a way, I used my free will to reach out to you, didn't I? A It was her decision to cast you out after the Rebellion, so it weren't for the connections I have, I would have never known what happened to you. A

Stranger: Such a fortunate event, isn't it? That you know Crowley too. He's a bit annoying sometimes, don't you think? R // I suppose you're right, you're using your free will to contact me. Howewer, you wouldn't be interested in me if it wasn't for that match. R

You: Oh, I wouldn't say that. He's been wonderful company to me. A Well, I'm at least curious what She had in mind for me. You and I could end up becoming friends, or maybe something more, or you might wish not to speak to me after this, but in the very least, I might learn something from it, right? A

Stranger: C'me on, it's just us, here. Crowley is not terrible but he is quite flawed. I bet you're relieved to have anyone but him as your fallen soulmate. R // From what I understood, this system is one of a partners for eternity. It goes beyond friendship or romantic features, it should make you say: 'I trust them with my life, and I know they'll always be here.' A never leaving shadow, I'd say. R

You: I mean, to put it quite simply, I'm not exactly a perfect angel either. And I think most everyone has their flaws. A But that is an interesting take on it. It's comforting, and maybe a bit familiar... Or maybe I've been yearning for something like that all these years. A

Stranger: A bit familiar? What do you mean? You have lived something like this already? R // It's the most incredible feeling one could dream of. This is truly a gift from Her, and the fact fallen ones are allowed to still feel it... I must say, it's great. R

You: Or maybe I've just imagined it. I've been told more than once I'm far too hopeful and optimistic. A Wait, have we crossed paths on earth? A

Stranger: [...] Oh, yeah. We have, a few times. I'm fairly often on Earth, so we certaintly saw each other, from a distance. I won't blame you if you forgot me. R

You: I wish I knew who you were. I'm sorry, dear. A Another question that comes to mind- if you don't mind answering it, that is. Does every demon just address angels as 'angel'? A Crowley does that quite a lot, and you happened to do that earlier, too. A

Stranger: Don't worry and don't apologize. Even if you think you don't know me, a part of you does and it's what matters. Furthermore, you only learned of my existence recently and we have all time in the world. R // ...Your name is complicated to remember, it's an angelic one. Potential holy one, it'd sting. It's just easier to give you that nickname. R

You: That's rather interesting, still. A But I'm rather looking forward to getting to know you better. Just talking to you, it feels like I've known you all along. A

Stranger: [Long Delay] I lied. Your name isn't complicated nor painful to say, Aziraphale. It's just me, I can not stop calling you angel. R // Fuck, you must think I'm awful and cruel. R

Stranger: (Sorry, my Wifi glitched. Did you receive my reply?)

You: (Yeah, I got it :) )

Stranger: (Great, thanks!))

You: Darling, it's fine, please don't worry. A I also realise this was all out of the blue, so I understand if it's a lot right now. A

Stranger: I panicked. You wanted to talk to Raphael, and I made all this up. That's pathetic. Not the part about the stars, this is real. And you having met Raphael before Eden, it was true too. R

You: Then could you tell me the truth? A

Stranger: I'm Raphael. I mean, I was before I fell. C

You: My dear, why didn't you just tell me? A I was already rather hoping it might be you on the other end, to be honest. A

Stranger: I was afraid you'd feel forced to stay around me because it's what She decided. I didn't want you to. If you are around me, I'd rather if it was your choice, because you enjoy my presence. C

You: Crowley, soulmate or not, I'd always want you around. You mean the entire world to me. A

Stranger: And you mean the entiere universe to me, angel. C

You: Would you be able to come by? A I was thinking we could share bottle of wine or two, maybe begin making up for the last six thousand years of not realising we're soulmates... A

Technical error: Server was unreachable for too long and your connection was lost. Sorry. :( Omegle understands if you hate it now, but Omegle still loves you.

GAHHHHHHH I WANT TO KEEP GOING

#ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #crowley #azirafell #good omens #good omens rp #soulmate au #omegle roleplay #omegle rp #lost rp #please message me

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mwolf0epsilon · 4 years

Note

Can you write a short dark fic for the pairing Joey x Henry, where after Henry threatens to leave the studio, Joey snaps and kidnaps Henry and turns Henry into a perfect Boris or Bendy so that Henry would never leave his side, please?

Summary: Joey Drew couldn't ever take 'No' for an answer, much less when it came from the object of his ill-fated obcession.

---

[[MORE]]

When brought into the world children were never inherently cruel. They were curious and blunt, which often resulted in uncomfortable situations for those they interacted with, but overall younglings were empathetic at heart until reshaped and redefined into something otherwise.

The world was a terrible influence after all, and it could marr even the purest of things.

There were exceptions to this rule however…

Joey Drew had certainly been a curious kid. Unabashedly blunt too, with how often his innocent words cut deep into both his parents and peers.

But not once did he empathise enough with others to be considered a kind child.

If anything, most others his age had steered clear from his company, finding the mellow kid with the great big toothy smile to be unsettling on an instinctive level. Children were, after all, capable of sensing evil. Even in its stages of infancy.

So imagine everyone's surprise (Joey's included) when Henry Stein decided to befriend the town's most infamous little black sheep.

Kind bleeding heart that he was, Henry had thought it unfair that others would judge another as strongly as they judged Joey, so he'd taken it upon himself to make the kid next door's life a little less lonesome.

Give him what he surely needed: A good and caring friend.

Needless to say, he regretted that decision more than anything in the world...

It hadn't always been so bad. Once Joey had actually been a friend to him, and cared enough to look after Henry when he'd most needed.

Now however? Now Henry could barely recognize the monster behind that unnerving grin...

The burning selfish desires in those sapphire blues, hidden behind an half-lidded expression that was reserved to feign a serene and caring persona…

As charming and handsome as Joey looked (because he'd always been unnaturally pretty, even when going through the awkward stages of puberty), Henry couldn't help find his apathetic and selfish nature abominably hideous.

Especially now as he brought him the results of yet another failed experiment.

"I'm getting closer dear friend." He held the snapping, snarling little beast at arm's length, this failed mockery of Edgar barely looking like the adorable cartoon spider he was meant to be. "Soon I'll be able to make you perfect, and then we'll be back together as the dynamic duo we always were..."

Henry shuddered at the thought, tightly curling in on himself as he watched Joey end the poor creature's miserable existence. His bowl where his meals were served clattering loudly, as the inky heart of the slain critter was tossed onto it with precision. A mimicry of flesh thumping against the metal with a wet splat.

He fought back the urge to cry as he felt his mouth water.

"Eat up my loyal wolf… We can't be wasteful." Joey's cruel smile almost ruined his appetite. Almost. "Don't worry, this wasn't anyone you knew…"

With that said, Joey left him to greedily consume the offering.

Looking in the bowl's reflective surface once he'd licked it clean, Henry found that he could barely recognize himself anymore.

His stretched out face progressively becoming less and less humanoid as he was fed the experimental failures of Joey's horrid machine, and his pale hair having long since turned black and begun to spread.

He looked like what one would envision Boris the Wolf to look like in some lovecraftian fever dream. Dressed in ill-fitting ripped clothing, and barely able to balance a pair of cracked glasses on the bridge of his elongated nose.

An inhuman beast that fed off of the misfortune of others, losing his humanity as time passed on by.

He wondered if he'd forget himself eventually. If he'd forget that the devil in disguise that was Joey Drew was to blame for his malformations.

If one day he'd actually grow to love his captor in the same manner that Stolkholm syndrome victims tended to do, once brainwashed into submission by their abusers?

Another shudder forced a garbled whimper out of his deformed face.

To whatever god that could hear his broken pleas, he sure hoped not.

Henry didn't want to give Joey what he wanted.

Not when that monster of a man had taken him away from his family to keep as some sort of freak show pet.

Playing some sick version of house with the "puppy" he sustained on a cannibalistic diet. Disgusting.

Curling up, Henry cried himself to sleep. Thinking of his wife and children.

Missing them terribly while locked up in the bowels of Joey's demented studio.

The Ink Demon wasn't bad company, Henry had found. It seemed to understand his pain on a level no other creature did, offering him what little compassion it could whenever Joey dropped by with more "food".

It feared and loathed that devil of a man just as much as Henry did, and it knew to be kind despite never once being treated with the same sort of respect.

The one positive of this odd kinship between the two, was that Joey seemed pleased by them forming the sort of bond Bendy and Boris had. Thus never getting in between their interactions.

"One day soon, it'll all be just as I envisioned." He'd purr as he pinned the bound inky wolf to the ground, touching Henry in a way that made him want to gag, and rip the rat bastard's throat out with his horrific set of doggish teeth. "Just a little more and you'll be perfect."

He didn't want to be perfect.

All Henry wanted was to kill Joey Drew and go home.

"But first, I have a surprise for you." A surprise that came right after this twisted display of "affection". This gross invasion of the abominable wolf's personal bubble.

Joey presented him with an absolutely Perfect Boris.

Overalls, pie cut eyes, soft velvety fuzz and all… no signs of dripping or asymmetrical proportions.

The terror in those eyes however… it was all too human.

"I told you I'd find a way to reach perfection. Once I've finished tweaking the process you'll be just as perfect as him… Maybe more." Joey purred. "I miss your voice after all, dearest friend. Until then I give you this fearful pup to do with as you wish."

Upon his tormentor's departure, the cartoon wolf scrambled away from Henry. Shaking like a leaf and whining pitifully.

A child, Joey had converted a child…

Hell hath no fury like the righteous rage of a scorned father.

That bastard would pay for all he'd done!

But first, the large and deformed beast that was Henry Stein carefully scooted over to the shaking Boris clone and comforted him as best he could.

He'd protect this poor pup, no matter what.

The Ink Demon seemed to be in favour of extending that same grace, although it did still go for the kill when the less than agreeable ink monsters came around looking for trouble.

Buddy's transformation had certainly enraged him when Joey presented the poor boy to him. Sammy's and Norman's fates however were the last straw to break the camel's back.

Most of the people that worked at the studio were strangers to Henry, but the young musician and the oddball projectionist had been friends to him.

With every stranger's heart he consumed, the large beast of a wolf grew more and more restless. The revulsion he felt when looking upon Joey growing into an all consuming desire to violently murder his captor.

When a faceless ink creature wearing only suspenders and a Bendy mask came in one day to bring him his meal however…

"My lord wishes me to feed you, oh Great Lupine... Abyssal Hunger of the Ink's Abyss…" The body shape wasn't one he recognized. The slight arch to the creature's legs a bit strange to look at, and the four fingered hands an indication that something strange had definitely come to pass in this poor madman's transition into his current state. But that voice…

"Shhh...Shhaaammiieeee…?" His voice had returned as a dissonant mess, one that was not fit for a gross mockery of a muzzle like his own.

"Is… Is that my name, oh Hungry One?" There was both fear and hope in his voice. That in itself made something twinge painfully in Henry's chest. "I… Yes, yes that is my name isn't it? Sammy… I… oh thank you kindly, Benevolent Wolf. Please, feast upon your meal. I have worked hard to acquire it in the name of our Lord, your most wonderous companion."

What had Joey done to Sammy Lawrence, the proud music director that had more than half the mind this mindless drone had? Good heavens, what had he done that completely broke the poor kid?!

Rather than voice his horror, Henry did as he was told. After all the more he ate, the more his gluttonous appetite grew… as did this horrid body he was stuck with.

Abyssal hunger indeed…

He forgot what shame tasted like, but not mercy.

As selfish as it may be, he did request one thing.

"It is as you wish, oh Hungry One… I shall protect all pups that enter my lair." The Prophet bowed once, twice and then trice as he took Buddy by the hand. "Another horror skulks in the darkness, wearing an Angel's face. She hunts wolves, for fun. I shall show them your mercy."

He trusted that Sammy would keep his word. He was as stubborn as they could get, after all, and did not back off from a challenge very easily.

Henry would miss Buddy's company though.

That particular encounter was bad on a moral level, but it did turn out alright in the end. When the Projectionist was presented to him as a play thing however, Henry had begun to crack. No one deserves such a horrible fate as to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Norman had once carried a world of unimaginable knowledge on his back.

Now he only had the painful weight of a projector on his neck, and the volatile temper of a mindless beast.

The deformed wolf had done his best to gain the creature's trust, but it feared being attacked far too much to let a nearly 20 foot inky monstrosity near itself.

Self preservation hadn't completely left the Projectionist it seemed.

He'd let it go, hoping doing so would be a sign of good will on its own.

And then when he'd been once again left alone, Henry continued to stew in his anger. Talked himself into showing a rarer more violent side on Joey's next visit.

Even tried to fight back against him the next when he tried to touch him.

This was a losing battle however… After all, Joey Drew couldn't ever take 'No' for an answer, much less when it came from the object of his ill-fated obsessions.

Henry Stein just so happened to be his biggest obsession. Even as this horrifically imperfect monster that only an equally horrific demon could ever hope to understand.

#eps writes:#bendy and the ink machine #batim #henry stein #joey drew

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piperholmes · 5 years

Text

A Little Patience in Love

Marilla Cuthbert loves Anne Shirley Cuthbert to the ends of the earth. This girl had grown into Marilla’s greatest love and had brought such life and happiness that Marilla at times felt her heart want to burst with love and affection.

Which is why she needed to get Gilbert Blythe out of her kitchen.

Otherwise she might murder them both.

There was no denying, of course, that she adored Gilbert Blythe. She could not have picked a better companion for her Anne if the universe had allowed her a personal choice. He was an honest, hardworking, kind man. She saw his father in him. And where that used to inspire a pang of regret and heartache, now only brought a sense of peace and pride. He loved Anne desperately. It was clear for anyone to see.

She simply had a Christmas dinner to get on the table, and love wasn’t going to cook the ham.

“Anne, you have to keep whipping to get the meringue to set!”

“Anne, you nearly forgot to add the butter!”

“Anne, the plum sauce is burning!”

And so the morning had gone, once Gilbert had arrived.

She didn’t blame them. She knew it was hard for them to be so far apart for so long during the semester. The pair had been home for two weeks and if Gilbert wasn’t at Green Gables then Anne was at the Blythe-Lacroix homestead. Mostly it seemed the pair moved back and forth depending on Marilla and Hazel’s patience levels.

The rest of Gilbert’s family wasn’t set to arrive until afternoon, closer to meal time, but Gilbert had knocked lightly on the back door just after breakfast, letting himself in, and offered his help. Marilla had raised an eyebrow, but recognizing the boy’s request for what it was, a chance to spend more time with Anne, she’d given him the task of rolling out the dough for the mince pies.

And immediately regretted it.

These two spent more time making moon-eyes at each other than actually helping. After her third attempt to get Gilbert to roll the dough further out, she sent a quick, silent prayer heavenward, asking the Lord’s forgiveness for her white lie before kicking the small stack of firewood far enough behind the stove.

“Oh dear,” she cried dramatically, easily gaining the young lovers’ attention.

“What’s wrong Marilla?” Anne asked, pausing her lack-luster attempt of cutting the corn away from the cob.

“I seem to be out of firewood.”

Gilbert dropped the rolling pin and dusted his hand free of flour. “I’ll go cut some.”

“Oh thank you, Gilbert,” Marilla gushed, not feeling the least bit guilty playing off the boy’s good manners and need to please. “That’s very kind of you.”

Anne’s eyes lost their concern over Marilla’s plight and softened to the affectionate adoration of early love as she said, “That is awfully kind of you Gilbert.”

He smiled brightly and Marilla had to fight to prevent her eyes from rolling.

Once Gilbert had left to complete his task, Marilla hoped Anne would be able to focus enough to get at least one dish done properly.

“Do you think Gilbert is cold out there?” Anne began. “I’m not sure his coat is thick enough. Isn’t it wonderful that he wants to help in the kitchen? I think that is quite progressive of him. It would make a scrumptious tradition for us to make Christmas dinner together. Oh Marilla, isn’t it wonderful to think about the future? It’s much too early to think on marriage with any seriousness. I have another year of school and Gilbert has at least three, but it’s so nice to imagine. Gilbert says he’ll marry me or no one. Can you believe that? I’m his one and only. And he’s mine!”

“Anne, for heaven’s sake—” Marilla began then bit her tongue. She forced a calming, deep breath.

“Marilla?” Anne began, the corn long forgotten.

Marilla was saved from responding when a knock came at the door. Hazel Lacroix made her way into the kitchen and met Marilla’s frustrated gaze.

“Why, Mrs. Lacroix, what brings you by so early?” Marilla asked.

“Bash mentioned Gilbert had come over to help, and I thought I would do the same.”

Brown eyes met blue and a moment of understanding passed between the two women.

“But you’re our guest, we couldn’t possibly ask—“

“Anne,” Marilla interrupted abruptly, before softening her tone. “Why don’t you go see if Gilbert needs some help?”

“Really?” Anne beamed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Cried Marilla, surprising Anne before adding gently, “Yes. That’s fine.”

Anne gave a squeal before dashing to grab her coat and hat.

Once she’d left, Marilla turned to her new friend. “How did you know?”

“These two have spent enough time getting in my way, sitting at the kitchen table going all dreamy over each other, I knew you’d be going all funny. When I saw Gilbert out chopping wood I had my suspicions confirmed. I can’t tell you how often I’ve sent that boy out to get wood just to get those two out from under foot!”

“Well, I won’t pretend I’m not grateful Mrs. Lacroix,” Marilla answered.

The other woman nodded, taking up the knife Anne left and began cutting the corn for creaming. “Not to worry Ms. Cuthbert, you and I will get this Christmas dinner done in time.”

“Thank you, and please, call me Marilla.”

Hazel’s hand slowed for a moment before she said, “And call me Hazel.”

“Hazel,” Marilla said by way of confirmation. “A lovely name. After all, it seems one day, we’re going to be family.”

Hazel paused, considering the other woman’s words. Months earlier she would never have even entertained such a possibility. Now she wasn’t so sure. She’d grown to quite like the Cuthbert, and began to believe they quite liked her.

“Sooner rather than later it seems with those two,” she finally said.

“Oh dear,” Marilla sighed. “It really is going to be a long four years.”

“We’ll see which comes first, murder or matrimony.”

Marilla’s eyes grew large and Hazel feared she’d over stepped the mark, years of servitude whispering doubt in her ear.

“I was thinking the same thing,” cried Marilla, before chuckling heartedly. “If I don’t kill them then they’ll likely starve to death.”

Hazel laughed as well. “Absolutely smitten stupid. I don’t know how they get anything done together.”

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Marilla wondered aloud.

“Yes,” Hazel agreed, her tone growing wistful. “Quite.”

#awae #anne with an e #awae spoilers #shirbert #my manip #my fanfic #was inspired by something on twitter this morning #something silly

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mltrefry-ficwriter · 5 years

Text

A TV series AU in which there was no last prophecy from Agnes.

Crowley and Aziraphale face their executions with the memories of the hours before lingering in their minds. Only things don’t go quite as anyone expected….

————

He watched the holy water fill the tub, and sighed quietly to himself, resigned. It was a good run, really. Six thousand or so years, the last few decades with more Aziraphale than he’d ever thought he’d get, especially that last one. It was wonderful, best years of his long life, really. Though last night was easily the best. How could it not be? “This is, in all likelihood, the last night we live.” Aziraphale had said in the quiet darkness of Crowley’s flat. He looked to his hands, wringing them before hesitantly reaching for Crowley’s hand. “Crowley,” he said his name so reverently that the demon’s knees buckled a little. “My dear, dear Crowley. If this is our last night, the last moments of our lives….” “Angel-” He tried to interrupt, but Aziraphale shook his head. “No, dearest, I must confess. Because I think… I think if I keep quiet much longer I’ll surely die all the sooner.” He smiled, sadly. “Well, inconveniently discorporate from an implosion of the heart. But, well, it would just mean heaven would get a hold of me that much sooner.” He took a deep breath, “I love you. I have… for so long.” Hearing those words was all he really needed, everything that came after? That was just the … thing that goes on cake, whatever it was. Aziraphale would certainly know.

That’s what he thought about as he prepared for his fate, a fate he’d always known was going to come. The Arrangement was always going to be his end, but at least the last hours before said end were…everything. The water finally stopped pouring, the tub ready. The small usher, a toad-like creature, was sacrificed to ensure the holiness of the water, and Crowley averted his eyes behind his sunglasses so he wouldn’t have to watch. “Demon Crowley, I sentence you to execution by holy water. Do you have anything to say?” Beelzebub asked. Crowley glanced down at his feet, his eyes catching on his tie, his jacket. Hands gripped his lapels to pull him in, a giggle of pure joy against his lips before those hands ran from the lapels to his tie. “Yes, this is a new jacket, mind if I take it off?” Let one thing from the last few hours survive. “Keep making jokes, funny man.” Hastur sneered. Crowley’s lip curled, but he kept his mouth shut as he removed his jacket. And then his tie. Maybe there would be enough holiness somewhere in the fibers that a demon would burn their fingers when they picked it up after he met his demise. But that’s all he removed, all he was willing to. He wasn’t about to give the demons a show. Jacket and tie discarded, Crowley squared his shoulders. He was never very brave, he’d always been more than willing to run than face up to things, but he thought of his angel. His brave, wonderful angel who was likely no longer in existence. Human’s had an afterlife, but did angels? Do demons? Only one way to find out. He took a breath, and and inched forward. Crowley turned around inching back, his legs hitting the lip of the tub. He closed his eyes, and he remembered. He remembered Aziraphale through the years, of course, there were so many memories. But he focused mostly on their last hours. Of lips on lips, of sighs and giggles. Of “I love you” spoken so reverently it must have been a form of blasphemy. As he exhaled, he sunk backward.

————

Aziraphale felt much less confident than he portrayed, looking at the pit of hellfire roaring toward the ceiling. He knew, logically, that this was the only way to truly kill an angel. And though he was pretty sure that he and Crowley were not going to survive to see another night, he still had a hard time believing this was happening. There was still a small part of him that thought perhaps he’d be imprisoned or set to task for the rest of eternity. They were meant to be the good guys, after all, which was a thought he voiced earlier. Not that it was heard. Heaven had to make an example of traitors, after all. But how was he a traitor? He certainly didn’t turn his back on the Almighty, and he was more certain now than he ever was that the Great Plan was not Her plan, not the Ineffable Plan. He truly believed if Armageddon was meant to happen, it would have, and he wouldn’t have spent the night…. Oh, the night. He felt his heart flutter at the memory. “You don’t have to say it,” He told Crowley, gripping his hand tighter as Crowley continued to stare at him in disbelief. “I’ve felt it for a long while, my dear. Your affections, that is. I’ve tried to ignore it, admittedly. What could be done, we were on opposite sides for so long? But Crowley-” “I love you,” Crowley rushed. “I love you, I love you, Angel, I love you, I love-” Aziraphale gripped Crowley’s lapels and pulled him in, silencing the demon by kissing him happily. He giggled as Crowley, momentarily stunned, was suddenly very enthusiastic. As Aziraphale was pulled closer, his hands moved to Crowley’s tie. The heat on his skin now, radiating from the inferno before him, wasn’t nearly as lovely as the heat he’d felt on his skin just hours before. They may have come from the same place, but they were infinitely different. At least he had that, that knowledge of Crowley’s skin, and mouth, and words deep in his soul to take with him when he left the realm. Whether he moved on or simply vanished, he would carrying that joy, the love, with him. A joy and love he never felt here, in heaven, among those he was meant to call his own. A joy and love second only to the almighty, though he had a feeling that, had it surpassed even that, She would not be all that upset. She was about love, wasn’t she? And they were meant to love all creatures. If he loved one demon more than anyone and anything else, well…. He looked at Gabriel, Uriel, Sandalphon, wondering to himself for a moment if they knew love. Proper love, not just that of heaven that they sensed more than felt. Did they knew what it was like to have someone who they could always count on to be there? That made existence that much better? No, he didn’t think they did. He hoped they would, one day. He truly did, even if he didn’t like any of them very much. Maybe if they do, the future will be different. Maybe the angel that will take his place on Earth will befriend Crowley’s replacement. Maybe they’ll understand that they weren’t so different. Maybe…. But he won’t be around to know, will he? “Right,” He sighed, standing taller. “Well, lovely knowing you all. Maybe we meet on a better occasion.” “We won’t.” Gabriel said, a bit too cheerful behind his stony demeanor. “It’s hellfire. It will destroy you absolutely and utterly and for ever. Now shut your stupid mouth and die, already.” He grinned, just for a moment, before glaring. Aziraphale’s jaw tightened. Okay, perhaps maybe he didn’t wish the sort of love he had for Crowley on Gabriel. Crowley. Aziraphale turned to the fire, and focused on his demon. Hands on his back, his sides, in his hair. Beautiful, golden eyes closed in ecstasy. Hisses coming unbidden and uncontrolled, but for once in sheer bliss than stress. Aziraphale closed his eyes, remembering the way Crowley’s voice broke on the pet name he’d deny was a pet name as he stepped into the hellfire.

————

It took Crowley a few seconds to realize he’d replayed the night before a bit longer than someone who was dead should be able to. And then, as he came back to himself, he felt uncomfortably wet. It was a great thing he’d had so much practice at playing cool, otherwise the surprise he’d felt would have been clear on his face when he opened his eyes and found himself very much alive, sitting in a bathtub in Hell. Had… had the water been replaced somehow? No, no, he watched the little usher melt in this same tub. Could that have neutralized the water somehow? Crowley lifted his hand out of the water, watching the droplets fall from his fingers a moment before flinging his hand toward the window next to the tub, spraying the droplets against it. It sizzled harshly, the demons behind the protective glass jumping back as small puffs of smoke wafted above Crowley’s head. Right, so not neutralized. He sunk down a little further into the tub, miracling the water a bit warmer. He sighed happily. “That’s better.” He said, shifting his legs, stretching them out, crossing his ankles and not-so-accidentally sloshing water over the edge of the tub. The sizzle was loud, the yelps of the demons in the faux courtroom jumping back was louder, and far more amusing. “Quite relaxing, really. A bit cool at first, but once ya warm if up it’s very nice.” He turned and smirked at Hastur, glancing at Beelzebub, “You should try it sometime.” They stood horrified, and Crowley didn’t blame them. He was terrified, so much so he lulled his head back, then turned to catch his face in the glass. He took off his glasses, dipping them in the water before tossing them over the side. As they clanked against the floor, he focused his attention on the snake eyes reflecting back. So, not risen, that was… well not good. Wasn’t precisely bad, either. He didn’t know what it was, actually. “The water, in the flat,” he heard Hastur say. “In the mister. He could have….” Oh. Right. He had bluffed but if he hadn’t, well, it didn’t matter did it? There was a ding, and Crowley turned his head to watch Michael come into the room. “I’ve come to collect the - Oh, lord!” She gasped, tightening her grip on the jug. “Sorry, wrong floor.” He said, turning back and sinking back in the tub, his heart beginning to pound. If she were here, back so soon… did she… did she come from Heaven? Had she seen Aziraphale…? There was talking in the room, but Crowley couldn’t hear them. Didn’t want to hear them, because if she mentioned what happened to his angel, he wouldn’t be able to keep his cool. He wouldn’t be able to take the minor bit of joy that was coursing through him for surviving his execution. He closed his eyes again, recalling the morning before they took the walk they knew would be their last. Or, thought. He remembered the way the light made Aziraphale’s curls glow, the sparkle in his eyes that was made of love, and joy, and a just a touch of tears. He remembered the feel of his angel’s fingers on his cheek, the breath on his chin. “You, up.” Michael commanded, and he opened his eyes. He looked up, and saw something in Michael’s eyes he hadn’t seen before: weariness. Crowley looked past her to Beelzebub. They were standing a few feet behind Michael, looking expectant, a little worried. Hastur was behind them, smiling smugly. “Alright,” Crowley shurgged, swung his feet around, pushing himself up, sloshing so more water on the floor. Beelzebub stepped back a little, avoiding any run-off. “Follow me.” Michael said, turning and waving at him over her shoulder as she headed to the elevator. Crowley followed, sensing someone coming up the rear. The elevator doors opened, and Crowley followed Michael inside. Beelzebub inched in as well, sticking to the walls and avoiding everywhere that Crowley stepped. Well, he was going to dry off, but now? Where would be the fun in that?

————

He’d been able to recall Crowley’s arms around him for a bit too long, which could only mean that he was very much still alive. Yet, he knew this was hellfire. He saw the demon bring it up from below, he knew by the way the other angels took a step back that this was, indeed, the real thing. Probably. He opened his eyes, and saw the utter terror in Gabriel, Uriel, and Sandalphon’s face. Had he fallen? No, he didn’t think falling would be utterly painless. This, this was warm, comforting, almost blissful. He hummed happily. “This is nice.” He said with a smile, “pleasant. You should try it, really.“ He smiled bouncing on his toes a bit. "What is he?” Uriel asked, and Gabriel could only shake his head, confusion and disgust evident. There was the sound of “Do-Re-Mi” in a terrible, tinny recreation of a harp, and Sandalphon pulled a heavenly phone from his pocket. “Hello?” He answered, never peeling his eyes off Aziraphale. “No, he’s not.” Nothing else was said from Sandalphon’s end, and he ended the call, re-pocketing his phone, and only half turning toward Gabriel. “Michael is on her way up.” He said, “She’ll have company.” “Company?” Gabriel said what Aziraphale was thinking, more confused now than disgusted, though he still didn’t take his eyes off Aziraphale. Sandalphon merely nodded. It was obvious they weren’t going to be letting him out of the fire just yet, at least not until Michael and company came, so Aziraphale relaxed a fraction. He let his mind drift to warmth beside him in the dark of the early morning, of a head of flaming hair resting on his chest for just a moment. He sighed heavily, and heard a startled, choked sound that probably came from Gabriel. He only just realized after that his rather large puff of air had caused the hellfire to shoot out a bit. Before he could give in to the temptation of doing it again, the elevator chimed. He turned, and watched as Michael came out of the elevator, followed by Beezlebub, and a very wet Crowley. Maybe it was a mistake to smile the second their eyes met, but what was one more sin in the eyes of Heaven at this point? Well, Crowley didn’t smile so much as smirk, no glasses to cover the absolute adoration in his eyes. Oh, how often had that been hidden behind those dark shades, how many times in his life had he missed out on seeing them? “Well,” Gabriel’s voice boomed, the smack of his hands breaking the small spell. “It seems our plans are a bit… spoiled.” “It seemzz to be the case.” Beelzebub replied, a good few feet away from Crowley, eyeing him uncomfortably. Gabriel stared at the short Prince of Hell, then gestured to Aziraphale. “Alright, step out of the flame.” He did so, feeling a touch chilly as he did, like leaving a warm blanket next to a fire on a cold winter’s day. “I have a thought.” Michael said after looking between he and Crowley for a moment, a v forming between her brows. “What is it, Michael?” Gabriel asked, only a touch of his usual annoyance in his tone. Perhaps that really was just reserved for him, then. She remained silent a moment, eyes still flitting back and forth before she miracled a tall, clear glass. She then began to pour from the jug she had in her hand. “Demon Crowley,” She said conversationally as the glass filled. She righted the jug, then looked over at him. “You’re a bit wet. Perhaps you’d like to dry off.” She said, glancing at the tower of hellfire. Crowley looked at it, shrugging. “And maybe Aziraphale here would like a drink,” Michael added, extending the glass toward him. “You look like you could cool off after being in the flame.” Aziraphale took the glass, an understanding coming to him just a second after Crowley seemed to get the gist of what the archangel was thinking. “Michael, that’s brilliant,” Gabriel praised. “I mean, obviously, if they aren’t going to die by the usual methods, it needs to be a reversal, right?” “Juzt get on with it.” Beelzebub huffed. Aziraphale looked to Crowley who had been standing with a slight slouch, hands in his pockets as if this had all just been a very casual rendez-vous. He barely glanced at Aziraphale as he turned and moved to the flames, standing before it, taking those hands out of his pockets and standing straight. Aziraphale wanted to call to him, but he didn’t have to. Crowley turned around, and looked at him with those serpentine eyes. He could see the words they couldn’t say as plainly as he felt them, radiating deep within his being.

————

It had never occurred to him that maybe he was immune to holy water only to be killed by hellfire now. And Crowley couldn’t say he was overly fond of the idea of dying in heaven, a place he hadn’t ever wanted to return to. But this way he wouldn’t have to have his last thoughts be memories of his angel, his last moments could be looking at him as he stood across from him, holding a glass of something that may be his demise. It couldn’t be, though. Aziraphale had no more fallen than he had risen, so the water shouldn’t harm him. But then, the fire should have, and well…. Aziraphale raised his glass slightly, almost as if given a toast. He might have been exasperated if it weren’t for that tiny bit of worry in his eyes. But oddly, there was no fear. Funny, Crowley realized, he hadn’t been afraid, either. Aziraphale lifted the glass to his lips, holding Crowley’s eye the whole time, and the demon took a slight step back. The heat of the flame licked at his back, and the serpent in him begged for more. Still holding his angel’s eye, Crowley took that final step backward and Aziraphale tipped the contents of the glass into his mouth. As the flames roared just a touch at having been disrupted once more, the only other sound in the room was the quite gulps of Aziraphale. The angel gave a contented sigh as he finished the drink. “Lovely,” He said to himself, looking at the empty glass before looking back at Crowley. “How’s it, dear? Are you drying off?” Crowley grinned, tilting his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “Yep,” he said softly, rolling his shoulders. “Could stay here all day. Care to join me?” He asked, twitching his brows. Aziraphale gave a startled laugh, blushing a little. “Perhaps not just now.” “What,” Gabriel asked, cutting any further flirtatious banter off, “if going on. How…. How are neither of you dead?” “They’ve gone native.” Beelzebub said, morbidly fascinated. “They aren’t one of uz anymore.” “Then we torture them,” Sandalphon said simply, shrugging his stupid shoulders as he grinned with that stupid gold thingy in his teeth. “No,” Michael said, and Gabriel looked so betrayed, Crowley had to swallow a laugh. He noted Aziraphale turning his head away, bowing it slightly, the mirth heavy in his eyes. “No?” Gabriel nearly demanded. Michael, calm as ever, turned to her fellow Archangel and shrugged. “No.” She repeated. “Lord Beelzebub is right, they aren’t one of us anymore. They can’t be judged by us.” “B-but,” Gabriel started to stutter. “We could try and force Aziraphale to fall, but something tells me it wouldn’t work. There’s no where else for the demon to go, he certainly wouldn’t be welcomed back here if it were possible.” She paused, studying Gabriel who remained baffled. “They aren’t of heaven or hell. They are of humanity.” She took the glass Aziraphale had still been holding from him, than miracled it away. “We need to let them go.” “Let them go?” He repeated. “Just like that, let them go? What about punishment? What about making an example?!” “I think it’s safe to say that they will never be welcomed back in Heaven or in Hell,” She replied, turning to Beelzebub with a brow arched. “Wazn’t exactly welcome to begin with.” They muttered. Michael turned back to Gabriel, “See.” She said. “We let them go, but they can never return.” “And if they discorporate?” he asked. “Then a body will be given to them promptly, and they’ll be sent back.” She stepped closer. “Better than having them around where others may see them and question.” Gabriel seemed to think on this, glancing at Beelzebub who appeared more bored than anything. They made a gesture, arms flailing and eyes bugging in a way that screamed, “sounds fine to me, can we get on with it”? Gabriel’s lip twitched ever so slightly. “Fine.” He relented, and Crowley swore he heard a groan of disappointment from Sandalphon. “Go,” Gabriel added, waving them off. For just a moment, Crowley considered asking for his jacket and tie, maybe his sunglasses. But when he took a step out of the fire, Aziraphale was at his side, hand sliding around to grip Crowley by the elbow, and began to lead him to the exit. He kept his mouth shut instead.

————

“Do you think they’ll leave us alone now?” Crowley asked him as they sat together on a bench in the garden. He was half laying against Aziraphale, sat in his usual, awkward way but using Aziraphale as a sort of backrest. He didn’t mind, not at all. He’d moved his arm to have it rest around Crowley instead, keeping it free. He wanted to play with the demon’s hair, but that was probably a bit much for being out in public. “At a guess, they’ll pretend it never happened.” Aziraphale replied. “Do you understand…?” Crowley asked tilting his head back just a bit. Aziraphale shook his head. “I think I do, I want to believe I do, but… no. I can’t for absolute certainty I know what happened.” He paused. “Beelzebub said we’d gone native, but that’s not quite right. I can feel my wings, my grace, my connection to heaven. I sense your demonic aura, and I’m willing to bet you are as intact as I am.” Crowley hummed his confirmation. “I believe, really, that maybe Adam had done something when he changed reality.” “That’s a possibility.” Crowley agreed. “We said we’d be there, for good or for evil. If he severed our connections in a small sense, just enough that we’re on our own side. On his side.” He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “I think this will be used as breathing space before the big one. All of us against all of them.” “Heaven and Hell against humanity?” Aziraphale asked. And that did seem the most likely, didn’t it? But was Adam going to live to see it, or perhaps he just realized who humanity’s best protectors would be? He glanced skyward as ray of sun shone on their little bench, the light a little warmer than normal, feeling almost divine in the literal sense. Well, maybe this was how it was supposed to work out in the end. A bit of heaven, a bit of hell, everything that it meant to be human being looked after by two beings who truly loved it all. It was … well, he wouldn’t say it. There wasn’t a need to. “Tempt you to a spot of lunch?” Crowley asked, leaning back again. “Temptation accomplished.” Aziraphale replied with a smile, one his serpent returned before leaning up and kissing him quickly, then practically slithering off the bench. “Perhaps after we can see if the bookstore was restored, seeing as how the Bentley was.” “What ever you want, angel.” Crowley said as he reached down and took Aziraphale’s hand, helping him up. He didn’t let go. “I wish we’d done this sooner,” Crowley said as they were pressed together in tangled sheets, the moon still high and shining bright. “Think of what we could have had.” “I know,” Aziraphale replied, pressing his forehead to Crowley’s closing his eyes. “I’m sorry. But you have me now, I’m yours. For as long as I exist, you’ll have me.” “Even if you exist for longer than a few more hours?” He said with a slightly teasing lilt, trying to keep the levity of the evening high. “Oh, dearest. I swear it, as long as I exist.” “You’ve always had me.” Crowley said, shifting to kiss Aziraphale’s forehead. “And you always will.”

#Ineffable Husbands #ineffable partners #good omens #good omens fic #crowley x aziraphale #crowley #Aziraphale #alternate universe #tv au #no beta #fan fiction

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hawksmagnolia · 4 years

Text

In times of sickness we all need a hero.

Darcy is sick so Clint, Nat and Sam send her a hero to save the day.

A/N: Based on the prompt: “What do you mean you’re sick? You’re my partner in crime!”

Warning: Fluff, bathtime snuggles, sweet Bucky

“What do you mean you’re sick?! You’re my partner in crime! Who else is going to encourage me to do dumb shit?”

Darcy sniffled through the phone. “Clint, you’re perfectly capable in doing dumb shit all on your own.”

Clint considered this. “Well, yeah. But it’s not as much fun without you. Plus who is going to warn me when Nat is coming? Wilson sucks at being the look out. He gets distracted.”

“Sam gets flirted with. You get distracted. You’re the walking, talking poster child for ADHD. You’re like one of those monkeys who ate all the cocaine at that drug lord’s house down in Miami. Although you’d probably be calmer on coke, pretty sure it’s just like super Adderall.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

She sniffed again. “I’m going back to laying on my couch in misery and watching Hallmark Christmas movies until I feel better. Stay out of Tony’s expensive espresso or you’ll die and we won’t know because you’ll be twitching for another 48 hours.”

“Spoilsport. Call me if you need anything.” Clint made kissy noises into the phone and hung up.

Clint looked over at Sam and Nat. Natasha looked bemused and Sam looked annoyed. Which was his normal state around Clint.

“I do NOT get distracted.” Sam grumbled.

“You do get flirted with a lot though.” Natasha pinched his cheek and he batted her hand away.

“What about me?!” Cried Clint and Natasha kissed him on his pouting lips. “I threaten to kill people who flirt with you.” Clint smiled fondly at her.

“Now what?” Sam eyed Clint suspiciously. “I know you’re up to something but since we have Nat here I feel much safer.”

Clint cut his eyes at Sam. “You feel safer with her? She’s an assassin!”

Nat thumped Clint on the back of the head. “So are you. Give me your phone. He won’t expect you to be capable of this kind of manipulation.”

Clint looked hurt and Nat kissed him again as she took the phone from his hands. “We all know the stupid is an act.” She held the phone to his face to unlock it and then began to type on the screen. Clint leaned over to watch her and a smile blossomed on the archer’s face.

“Oh Nat. When you’re good…you’re good.” He plucked the phone from her fingers and held the screen for Sam to read.

“Damn girl. You almost sound like Clint in that text. Except it has proper spelling and grammar.”

“Not many schools in the carnival life.” Clint shrugged. “Doesn’t affect my aim. Find bad guy, shoot bad guy. The end.”

“Will you two idiots shut up? I’m setting the trap, let’s see if he takes the bait.” She pressed ‘send’ on the text and then spun around in her chair to watch the monitor screen of the gym where their mark, also known as James Buchanan Barnes, was working out.

Clint pulled out a box of caramel popcorn and kicked his feet up onto the desk where Natasha immediately shoved them off.

“Really Barton? Popcorn?”

He held out the box to Sam. “Want some?”

“I’m not sure why I’m still surprised by anything you do.”

Natasha shushed them as she saw Bucky glance at his watch before re-stacking his weights and going to his bag to get his phone.

“Hook, line and sinker.” Natasha smiled smugly as they watched Bucky pack up his bag and jog out of the gym.

——————————

Darcy laid on her couch in a pile of blankets as she wallowed in self pity. She felt awful, with a congested head and fever. Everything ached. Downfall of living with so many super people? None of them got sick but somehow they managed to bring home many, many germs to those of the non-super people variety. She coughed and considered calling Clint back so she could whine and then guilt him into bringing her food. She had food here but it was not food she wanted.

She had just picked up her phone when there was a knock at her door. She looked back at it before pressing her phone screen to unlock the door.

When the door opened Darcy desperately wished she had died and this was now heaven. Because that was preferable to the reality of the super hot super soldier actually seeing her looking like a hot mess.

And, dear gods of thunder, he looked super hot. His hair was damp and loose around his face and he was dressed like he’d just left the gym. His tank top showed off every single defined muscle of his arms and was just clingy enough to give a hint of those abs while his shorts rode low on his hips. He was also looking at her oddly. Which is when she realized she was not only staring, but staring with her mouth wide open. She snapped her jaw shut and felt her face burn with something other than fever.

“Darcy? You okay?”

“Um. Yeah. Peachy.” She tried to flash a smile but ended up coughing again. She heard a thump on her table and then a broad, warm hand was rubbing her back.

“Jesus. You’re burning up.”

She waved a limp hand at him. “I’m not quite dead yet.”

“Clint said you were sick and asked me to check on you. So I brought that egg drop soup you like since you can’t get me sick.” He pointed to brown paper bag on her tiny kitchen table.

She peered up at him. “How do you know what soup I like?”

Bucky smiled at her. “You order it every single night we get Chinese.”

“Oh. Oh!” She yelped as Bucky reached over the back of the couch and scooped her into his arms. She hissed as his prosthetic pressed against her fevered skin.

“We gotta get you cooled down Doll.” He carried her with ease into her bathroom. She was suddenly very, very grateful that she’d actually put her laundry down the chute earlier instead of leaving it in a pile on the floor. Keeping her cradled in his arms, he sat on the edge of the oversized tub and turned the tap on.

“What are you doing?” Darcy’s voice was a little muffled from being buried into his chest. She peeked up at his face.

“Told you. Getting you cooled down.” He kicked off his sneakers and reached down to peel off his socks.

“But why are you getting…less clothing-ish?”

Bucky laughed as he checked the water. “I’m getting in with you. I can watch your temperature with my arm easier than any other way.”

Darcy squeaked. “In with me?!”

He laughed again and kissed the top of her head which sent little tingles all the way to her toes. “I promise your dignity is safe with me. I’ll keep my shorts on.”

“What if I don’t want my dignity to be safe?” Darcy mumbled and Bucky chuckled.

Bucky turned the water off and shifted her again as he yanked his tank top over his head. Darcy tried very hard not to stare but she was 1000% sure she failed.

He stood, her still cradled in his arms and against that gloriously naked chest, and stepped into the tub. He sat, putting her between his legs with her back against his chest. She shivered a bit and he wrapped his arms around her.

“Sorry doll. But this-“ He plucked at her tank top. “has got to go.”

Darcy felt herself blush, she wore nothing under it, but Bucky leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re gorgeous and should know that.” His lips grazed her ear as he slid his prosthetic hand over her stomach and lifted her shirt with his other. Once the soaked fabric was tossed aside he settled her back against him. His thumb slowly traced a circle on her abdomen while he used the other to run through her hair. Darcy practically purred as his fingers slid across her scalp.

“How long have you been like this?” His voice rumbled against her back.

“Mmm…I don’t know. A couple days? What day is it?”

“Have you been miserable the whole time? Why didn’t you call someone?”

“Clint and Nat have been checking on me. Steve came by too and dropped off some Gatorade and cold medicine. Sometimes you super people forget that not all of us have magic immune systems. Normally I’d have Thor bring me Asgardian medicine but he’s off in space doing space things.”

He pulled her a little closer and she snuggled into him. The water felt amazing on her skin and Bucky was warm enough to ward off the chill of the water and her fever finally breaking.

“Next time call me. I’ll come stay with you.”

Darcy craned her neck to look up at him. “Don’t you have world saving to do though? I’m pretty sure that’s way more important than babysitting me.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll decide what’s important.”

“Does this mean I’m important?”

“I don’t go climbing in bathtubs with just anyone.”

She sighed dramatically. “Of course you pick now to do it.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her. “You sayin’ you want to do it again?” His Brooklyn drawl crept into his voice.

“Only if you want to. But, I’d be either dead or a complete idiot to say no. Please know if I am asked about this later I will blame fever.”

“Then we will make a habit of this…especially when you’re better.” He flashed a wicked grin at her that made the heat she felt throughout her body have nothing to do with her illness. “But until then, out we go. I don’t want you gettin’ too cold.” He slipped from behind her and out of the tub, reaching to grab a towel. Darcy swallowed hard at the sight of his ass in water soaked clingy shorts. She crossed her arms over her chest self consciously.

“You done lookin’?”

“Um…no? I mean, I can lie and say yes but no. I’m not.”

Bucky smiled and held out his hand and Darcy slowly stood on unsteady legs as she attempted to keep her chest covered. Gently he wrapped her in a towel and sat her on the side of the tub before wrapping one around his waist. Grabbing the wet fabric of his shorts, he pulled them down his legs and tossed them aside.

Darcy gaped at him. Her brain shorted out and the only noise to escape her mouth was a wheezy gasp.

Bucky pretended not to notice as he grabbed another towel and tenderly began to dry the ends of her hair that had fallen into the water. She closed her eyes as he ran his fingers through her tangled curls until was able to braid it out of her face.

“Where did you learn to braid?”

Bucky was pulling a hair tie from around his wrist and he paused. “My sister. She was constantly running around with wild hair but she’d let me brush and braid it at night after her bath.” He secured her braid and stood. “Out of your wet stuff. I’ll be back in a minute, going to try and find you dry clothes.” He disappeared into her bedroom.

She heard him moving around in her bedroom. The idea of James Buchanan Barnes going into her underwear drawer was enough to make her yelp. He stuck his head back into the bathroom.

“You okay?”

“I..I can find dry clothes.”

He searched her face for a moment and then slowly nodded. “I’ll clean up in here.”

Darcy wobbled her way into her bedroom and stopped in surprise. Her bed had been carefully spread up with the quit and sheets pulled back so she could climb in. A bottle of Gatorade sat on her bedside- it wasn’t her normal flavor so she wondered if it was from him. She pulled on another tank top (this one with a built in bra) and dry boy shorts, kicking her wet ones aside. She was sitting on the edge of her bed attempting to get a pair of shorts up her legs when he came in still just wearing a towel around his waist. Without being asked, he knelt at her feet and slid them up for her. His fingers grazed over her bare flesh and it broke out into chill bumps.

“Into bed with you.” He gestured and she crawled up towards her pillows. He sat on the edge and pulled the blankets up.

“Are you leaving?” She whispered.

“Do you want me to?”

She shook her head.

“I’m going to put your soup up and grab dry stuff for me. I’ll be right back.” He kissed her forehead again and padded barefoot out of her room.

Darcy closed her eyes for just a second, she wasn’t asleep, just resting her eyes. She opened them again when her bed shifted. Bucky sat there in another tank top and shorts. His hair was scraped back from his face and the light from the bathroom cast shadows across his face.

“Hey. You good?”

Darcy nodded sleepily and he went to stand up but she grabbed his hand. “Stay.”

“I ain’t leavin’ doll. Just going to lay on the couch.”

She shook her head. “No. Stay here.”

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly. “In bed? With you?”

She nodded.

“You sure?”

She nodded again. He carefully went to the other side and slid under the covers behind her. Darcy sighed when she felt his body pressed against hers, her legs tangling with his. He tucked her head under his chin and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Not exactly how I expected our first time in bed to go.”

“What?!”

Bucky laughed. “Sweetheart, I’ve wanted to do this for months.”

“I’m sorry. I must be delirious. I could have sworn you said you’ve been wanting to get into my bed for months.”

“Well, me into yours or you into mine. I ain’t picky.”

Darcy shifted and then rolled to face him. Her eyes roved over his face and she traced the angle of his jaw with her fingertips. “So, why the hell haven’t you done something before now?”

Bucky shrugged a little. “Figured you weren’t interested.”

“Are you high? How would I not be interested in you? Have you seen yourself?”

“I’ve got…baggage.”

“So does everyone. But you also have lots of muscles, pretty eyes and a great smile. And you’re a good person. You’re here, in my bed, making sure I don’t die.”

“You’re not going to die from a cold.”

“I might. This is why you have to stay. To protect my life. It’s very important to my health that you stay.”

“Well, if it’s that important then I’ll stay.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and left them there. His warm breath slid over her skin and she pressed a little closer. “You keep that up and I’m makin’ no promises about your dignity being safe with me.”

Darcy picked up his arm and draped it over her side where he curled his fingers against her skin.

“What if I say I’m feeling much better? Like I’m almost cured?”

“I’ll still be here when you’re actually well.”

“But..!”

Bucky cut her off by pressing his lips to hers and when she gasped and opened her mouth, his tongue slid over her lips deepening the kiss.

When he broke off from her, she looked a little dazed. “You’re really good at that.”

He gently kissed her again. “I’m really good at a lot of things. But for now, you need to rest.”

“Promise you’ll show me?”

“Hell yes.”

——————

“Told you it would work.” Clint tiled the box of popcorn to dump the crumbs into his mouth. “Wasn’t expecting him to go wandering the halls in a towel though.”

Sam nodded slowly. “I have to admit Barton, I’m actually kind of impressed.”

Natasha tapped her fingernail against her lips. “I think this is exactly the push they needed. Bravo Clint.”

Clint shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m a genius sometimes. Can we go eat now? I’m starving.”

“You just killed an entire box of Cracker Jacks. How the hell are you still hungry?”

“It takes a lot of food to power my big brain.”

“Come on Sam, let’s go feed him before he starts drinking coffee again on top of pre sugar. I don’t want to have to get him out of a tree again.”

“That was ONE TIME. And I could have gotten out. Eventually. I was almost out of my belt when Wanda got to me.”

“You were almost out of your pants and you damn near scandalized the poor girl.”

“Shut up Wilson. Food time. FEED ME SEYMOUR.”

Natasha, who had stood up, leaned over and kissed Clint. “If you shut up, I’ll buy a pizza just for you.”

“Deal.”

@the-ss-horniest-book-club @eurynome827 @cchellacat @daughterofsteven @sevans-is-my-weakness @sallycanwait68 @nano--raptor @buckys-broody-muffin @godofplumsandthunder @book-dragon-13 @fuckyeahdarcylewis @fuckyeahwintershock

#HBC #Wintershock #Bucky Barnes #Darcy Lewis

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promiscuous-jalapeno · 5 years

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Happy Blogiversary! I'm grateful for all the content you've shared with us! And thank you for being here ♥️ If you're still taking requests, I'd like to ask for Silence - a fable or The Man of the Crowd (from the poe prompts) for Jinpachi from SLBP. Feel free to skip this if you don't want to do it, but thank you very much if you do :) Have a great day!

Thank you so much, dear! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ I would be more than happy to! Jinpachi is a fav I love him so much! Also, this really got away from me omg. This is not a drabble, it turned into a one-shot haha.

────────────────

{Nezu Jinpachi}

│The Man of the Crowd│following, curiosity, fascination

────────────────

It had only been a bit of harmless self-indulgence. That’s what he had told himself. Yet he knew indulgences, albeit even harmless ones, were not suited to shinobi. Jinpachi was unaccustomed to acting of his own accord as he had oft of late, and even in the slivers of downtime, he couldn’t come up with plausible reasoning behind his actions. Aside from the obvious–he had, for the first time, been captivated.

She had twisted her ankle in town when first they met, a heavy basket of daikon and various vegetables toppling into the street. He had gotten her permission before wrapping the delicate thing in a strip of white cloth. And her hand was so small as it slid into his for support. Soft. Is this what a woman’s hand feels like? Later, he’d ponder if perhaps only hers could feel that way against his skin.

“Thank you, I’m sorry to trouble you,” she apologized, and Jinpachi had not missed the wince as she stood. Nor the way the sun’s rays illuminated her face as she looked up to him with a smile. It made his heart knot in his throat.

But he was an expert at hiding even this. He was practiced. He was calm. The unreadable expression so many had deemed aloof would come at his benefit, after all.

“It’s nothing. But can you walk?”

“My restaurant isn’t far from here, I can manage,” she hobbled.

Jinpachi’s face pulled from stoic to troubled frown. “If it’s not far, then allow me to assist you.”

“I couldn’t possi-”

“Forgive me,” Jinpachi interjected. He had already extracted the basket from her grasp and was now wrapping an arm around her waist in support.

He couldn’t help but notice the beautiful blush on her face when they finally made it inside the establishment, and she had a hard time making eye contact after he placed her at a vacant table. Had he done something uncouth?

He had only touched her enough to be of help, he frowned pensively. Yet she continued to stumble over her words. The more she attempted to conceal her flushed face the more desperate he grew to see it. It’s not as if he had never seen a woman’s blush before, however. Women fell over themselves for a chance to blush at his Lord. But this…this was different. She was different. Somehow.

Despite his protests for her rest, she cooked for him in gratitude. And when he ate at his usual rapid pace she laughed. Oh, heaven. She laughed! And the sound sent him choking on a mouthful of rice.

“I’m sorry,” she finished laughing. The melody faded into her light pants like the sound of rustling leaves carried off on autumn wind. “That was rude of me, wasn’t it.”

“No, I’m…often told my eating habits are strange.” Among other things, he thought, shifting his gaze uncomfortably. No matter how many times he’d heard the remarks about his peculiar stoicism or the speed at which he ate, there was simply no changing the habits of one such as a shinobi. That did not, however, make him less self-conscious in the present moment.

“I’m not laughing because I think it’s strange,” she corrected. “I laughed because, in a shocked sort of way, it made me happy.”

Happy? Now who was the strange one, he thought. This was the first time anyone had regarded him with normalcy. Aside from Nobuyuki, that is. But Nobuyuki was far from normal, himself. The confusion must have registered on his face, and she explained while pouring more tea.

“You ever feel like you were just born to do something?”

Yes. He gave a nod.

“Well, that’s cooking for me. My father left this restaurant before he died. I guess in that sense, I would have ended up a cook either way, but…I’m lucky to love what I do every day. Seeing people enjoy my food like you just did, well, it gives me great pride. So yeah, I was happy to see you eat so quickly.”

“Is that so…I’m sorry about your father.”

“It’s alright,” she sighed wistfully, “his memory lives on in the recipes, at least. Would you like some more?”

Yes. He gave a nod.

──────

That night he couldn’t forget her. What if she fell in town again? Trouble always seemed to follow women as kind as she. And what’s more, the whole reason they had come to Kyoto was to track thieves fleeing Sanada lands. What if she had been accosted while mindlessly thinking about recipes?

What if they happened upon her restaurant and caused trouble? The blame would be his, in his failure to apprehend. Yes, he had a duty. Yes, he decided. Maybe he had better check on her once more.

Out of sight, he watched her day. Her early morning service prep and the elegant way she tied her sleeves back, hands of grace chopping vegetables into uniform bits while she hummed to herself.

He watched her the day after. And the day after that.

The way she lit up the town when out went shopping for ingredients. Jinpachi couldn’t help but smile at the charming way she held up each bit of produce for inspection. She was a curious one, indeed. He didn’t know what she was looking for.

She’d sniff and poke and weigh two against each other in her hands, quirking an eyebrow with pensive concentration. He couldn’t understand what drove her to care at such lengths over a simple onion or radish, but oddly enough, that made it all the more endearing to watch.

He felt a twinge in his chest when a young grocer stepped a little too close to her one afternoon.

“A discount again? But there’s nothing wrong with these…I couldn’t accept, I’d feel like I was taking advantage of you,” she kindly protested.

“Don’t be silly! Look, I’m stopping by your restaurant after I close up shop here. If you’re still feeling guilty you can always treat me to some sake, on the house,” he grinned. “Even better if you decide to share it with me.”

This guy…there was no mistaking that tone and what he was implying. Jinpachi’s lips pressed into a thin line…Using a favor as leverage against her. He wanted to tell him as much, but meddling was never his forte.

Besides, what if she was actually interested in his company? The thought turned his stomach. Still, such an underhanded tactic…he waited until she left and settled for hurling a hearty pebble at his head. Cocky smile growing on his face when the man yelped, rubbing the wound and looking up at the sky in confusion.

And the man did show up that evening as promised, but she paid him no more mind than any other customer. She smiled as she did for everyone else. She poured only when necessary. And though his eyes were trained on her, she seemed fixated on stealing glances at the door.

──────

Her path to and from shopping had a few rough spots. Thieves and gamblers and drunks loitering around. The usual. Too dangerous to be left alone, surely. But nothing he could not handle in a day. Those that couldn’t be verbally threatened away were subdued so easily he hadn’t the need to use weapons at all.

“You’re back awfully fast!” he heard her mother exclaim.

“It’s the craziest thing,” she huffed, placing the heavy produce on the counter before throwing her hands on her hips, “all of the shortcuts home have been practically empty lately.”

“Now that you mention, the crime around here seems to have gone down. I wonder what’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but whatever it is I hope it stays this way,” she laughed.

Jinpachi smiled.

──────

When visiting her father’s grave she was surprised to see a bundle of fresh vibrant flowers already placed. Curiously she picked them up to examine them, looking around for a sign of anyone else on the lonesome hill. The only answer a silent swift breeze.

──────

The day he saw her eyeing a peach a little too long, he couldn’t resist buying it. Finding a way to slip near her in the crowd and toss it at the top of her basket. The surprised noise she made when she arrived home and discovered it was gift enough for him. And the pleasured ‘Mmm’ she made when she bit into the juicy thing, even more so. She looked around curiously, clutching it between her palms like a treasure.

──────

It was best this way. He was comfortable in this. Ever the invisible hand from the shadows. He needn’t glory nor recognition for his deeds, these small moments were enough. But it never occurred to him that he might simply be frightened at the idea of anything else.

Not until this night, when she had closed up and sat alone, her family all gone to sleep. A single bright lantern and her gaze fixed at the door. He wondered what she was thinking, her cheek resting in her palm as she sighed. Maybe she was having trouble sleeping. Or was she was ill? He hoped she wasn’t.

But then he watched her reach into her sleeve and retrieve something in a balled fist. He wasn’t thinking anything, then. Time slowed. Finger by dainty finger she unfurled. Eyes trained down she untangled a familiar white strip of cloth with care.

He was thinking everything, then.

Eyes wide and heart racing he left as fast as he could manage. It couldn’t be. He’d imagined it. Surely, he did. It was something else. It didn’t matter, either way...he wasn’t staying in Kyoto.

“You’re rather late again.” Nobuyuki’s brush stilled before he placed it on the writing desk. His face was illuminated by dancing lantern light.

“Forgive me,” was all Jinpachi replied. He had been concentrating on the evening of his breath. Shutting the shoji behind him, he quietly took a seat against the wall. If he spoke now, Nobuyuki would surely catch on that something was amiss. He was far too clever for anyone’s good.

“Jinpachi.”

Oh no. “Yes, My Lord.” He knew that tone.

“Who is she?”

Oh no…How? “She?”

Nobuyuki smiled. “Your thoughts are preoccupied, you arrive late almost every evening. And you apprehended the bandits days ago…or did you think I would not find out?”

“I…” It was not as if he was purposefully hiding that fact. Though, he had told himself he might have missed one somewhere. That one had gotten away. That they needed to stay a little longer, to be sure. Absolutely sure. Perhaps it was all just a selfish excuse after all. Suddenly, he felt terrible.

“Come now,” Nobuyuki laughed lightly, shrugging it off, “no need to look like a child caught sneaking sweets. I was beginning to think I’d never get to see this side of you, old friend.” His face fell into a more serious expression, and he picked up the brush once more. Making one last point before turning back to his work. “But we depart for Ueda in two days’ time. I trust you know what I mean by that.”

Yes. He nodded. “By your will.”

──────

If she did not remember him, it would be just as well. And why would she? He was quiet and near impossible to understand. They had only met once. If he walked in and she gave him the usual empty courtesies, he would drink he tea and leave quietly.

Had what he seen the night before truly been a mirage built from exhaustion and buried hopes, that would be alright. But if she did remember him, then maybe…No. It was not likely.

The town was painted in scarlet when he finally had the restaurant in his sights. He’d faced death countless times over. He’d been surrounded by enemies, sword to sword with foe’s in battle, yet nothing gave his heart chase like parting that noren and stepping inside the mouth of fate.

“Jinpachi!” she beamed immediately. The face he had grown to love cheerily peeked out from the back room. He could swear she practically skipped to him from the kitchen. “I was…hoping I’d see you again.”

#Jalapeno Blogiversary #slbp #samurai love ballad party #slbp jinpachi #nezu jinpachi #slbp fanfic #my writing #Anonymous

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