jeneprendspasletrain

[ink-blot-thoughts]

OK so could someone please explain what the fuck is going on with Dottore's age to me?? Cause like in the Sumeru Archon quest he's referred to as that dude who got kicked out and became a Harbinger, implying that this was recent enough for people to remember him and his crimes against life itself or whatever.

But then in Scaramouche's backstory he was a fully grown adult 300 years ago?? And had enough bullshit going on to know what was happening in Tatarasuna and do his fun little murder spree???

And like yeah I know segments but they don't explain this cause they're clones of him at different ages it doesn't mean he can time travel.

So here's the only options I can think of:

1)He's like 400 but his dramatic murder-and-drop-out is legendary enough at the Akademiya that everyone still knows him by face (which doesn't really explain the Zandik notes but whatever)

2)He can fucking time travel now

Or 3) He's doing that Twilight thing where every few years he goes back to the Akademiya for shits and giggles, but the most recent visit is when he got kicked out

Personally I'm with option 3 but fuck if I can think of something that makes sense. Lore masters, pls assist.

[thehorrorsoftheblackbunnymask]

So, some shit happened a Friday where pretty much, in short terms, like, two of my friend pretty much told me every problem they had with me and my friend group.

It kinds got me pissed off, and what got me mad is when they called me a liar.

So, three years ago is a complete blur. It was a very Traumatic time in my life because I was in inconsistent consistent contact with my abuser and just my mental health was just ass. My mind pretty much blocked out that entire school year except for theater, and even that's a blur.

So apparently, I remembered something wrong, and when shit came up abt it, I talked about how I remembered it. And when I said that year was a blur, one of my friends asked why I would forget something so important. Cuz my brain blocked it out, but anyways.

What really pissed me off is the fact that I'm not seeing one of them til the end of summer, and that day was her last day. It's the fact that they did it on her last day. It's the fact that she chose to end on that note with me.

And when it came to my friends, they mentioned how my crush, who's a close friend of mine, was walking all over me and lacked respect for me. It made me mad because they don't see our complete dynamic fr.

And afterwards, they act like nothing happened.

Nah, fuck that shit.

I'm a bad person with bad thoughts and some may consider insane ideals and morals, so I have to put on some kind of mask just so people don't see me for how I truly am, and so I don't fucking get carried away and lose myself and fall back down into a spiral. But, that single interact is causing causing cracks. I'm terrified on the fact I'm gonna lose everything just because of some bullshit. I hate it when my groups mixed, so I keep y'all separate. Sorry if you feel left out, but that's just how I am. This why I hate having a lot of friends, someone is always upset! Not everyone can be happy, I'm sorry. But I don't know what you want me to do. It's a pre-etablished groul you're entering on and I don't know what you want me to do. I have separate friends for a reason, and you just don't fit and I'm sorry for that. Would I be upset if I were you? Yes, I've been in your spot before. But, that's why I always leave and either be on my own and go to my own group. Not everyone can be included, including me, and I'm sorry for that, but I don't know what you want me to do.

You tell me every problem you have with one of my friends, I'm sorry that happened and I'm sorry you feel that way, but I don't know what you want me to do or say to him. He ain't gonna listen to me

I know I defend my friends for some crazy shit, but you don't know what they symbolize for me. Am I wrong for that? Most likely, yeah.

I'm actually tweaking out, I'm sorry. But cracks are starting form and I feel like I'm going crazy. And don't just ask me if I'm OK since I'm being quiet after y'all just said everything wrong with me. You chose to end on that note with me.

I'm a immortal, jealous, apathetic, two faced lunatic who lacks a single sense of self or self worth. You know this.

[aita-blorbos]

Aita for rejecting my (ex?) Fiances offer to join him in the organization he works for?

Some background context. Both my fiance and I are from a country that was destroyed by the gods, any noble from the country was cursed with Immortality- which includes my fiance and I

A few weeks before its destruction I had been exiled (due to my choice of subject to study.). I was not there when the destruction happened due to this. And my fiance had active plans to tie up loose ends then leave to be with me.

The plan fell through when he ended up fighting for my country when it was destroyed- as he was from a long line of knights and was considered a skilled one for his age.

I ended up going into hiding after hearing of the event. I admittedly lived a cowards life for centuries. Terrified of both the gods and the organization that formed after my country was destroyed.

Recently I've been trying to change for the better after a unimportant series of events. I've grown attached to the community I've found myself in.

But yesterday night my fiance approached me- apparently he had been looking for me ever since the destruction. He's a high ranking general for the organization I mentioned earlier and he wants me to join it- as a scientist. Both so we can be together again and because apparently my research is of use.

I told him no- I am still admittedly very scared of the gods and this organization is directly trying to overthrow them- and the organization itself has directly hurt people I know and would consider friends.

He was clearly very hurt and betrayed- he quickly left afterwards telling me thatd he'd say he failed to find me once again. And that he feels as though I've changed for the worse.

I'm debating whether I should've said yes or not- I've never stopped loving him. And he spent so long searching for me. I know that if our positions were switched he'd say yes in a heartbeat (and I honestly think I still could go back on my choice? I feel like I've been seeing him around)

[bates--boy]

Be selfish every once in a while. What did that even mean at this point? It was a question that Peter pondered as he lied in bed, mulling over Mike's text. If Mike (and, apparently, the rest of the crew) wanted him to loosen up and not lose himself in fatherhood, then he was going to need something to do.

But actually thinking of something to do was the hard part, because lying in that bed, Peter tried to come up with something fun and that was all his own, and coming up with nada. It made him realize that, wow, he was so focused and involved with Sadaf, with keeping her safe and healthy and wanting for nothing, that he was beginning to know nothing else.

He could read some of the new books he checked out and was excited about, but he already did that when he took breaks from work. Plus, he knew that that wasn't what Mike had meant. He had meant extravagance, a whole ado, something that, maybe, would require getting dressed up or getting a reservation in advance, maybe something that would make him shell out wads of cash. But what?

...Wow, Peter was out of practice with being selfish.

Going to a fancy restaurant? Nah, that's something he could do any day of the week, plus getting a table just for himself would be a hassle. Fly out for a vacation? Probably a good idea, but his agent wanted him to do some more book signings in town, and still, Peter wanted to be near Sadaf (Be selfish every once in a while, the text came back to kick him in the knee) in case anything happened to her. Definitely no bars; some did serve nonalcoholic stuff, sure, but he wanted to stay away from temptation as much as possible. Plus, without the promise of booze, bars, especially ones without dance floors, were kind of... boring.

So, then... what options did he have? Peter watched a bug, a familiar bug (Oh, god, did it absorb some of my immortality?) crawl across his ceiling, and he mindlessly passed his tongue over his teeth, brushing against hardness in the corner of his mouth. Reaching for his phone, Peter held his device above his head, and kept the screen black to use as a mirror. He lifted the corner of his lip with his thumb, finding something winking in the sunlight.

Ah, right, his grill. That singular, rose-gold tooth cap with the diamond front. Some part of him was surprised that, throughout the whole ordeal of the breakup and the surprise semi-immortal baby and the nonsense in-between, Peter had taken great care of the tooth. Then again, it was easy to maintain it when his motivation was to not have a rotten tooth fall straight of his mouth.

Still, as he turned his head this way and that, Peter felt the tickles of an idea forming. It was going to be a good start.

[thefanficmonster]

Power Couple

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing 

Genre: Fluff, Humor

Summary: Sean, Felix, Dave, and Joel welcome Corpse’s girlfriend to a game of Party Animals. It’s her first time playing and she has to deal with a lot more than just the controls and objectives - her boyfriend being a cute, cuddly sweetheart with ulterior motives to his clinginess.

Requested by @susceptible-but-siriusexual. Thank you so much for your request! Hope I captured what you wanted and how you wanted. Feel free to send any other requests you may have XOXO

It’s been one hell of a day. Had to correct twice as many documents as I was originally supposed to at work; found my car with a flat tire in the parking lot as I was about to go home; argued with my boss over the phone while stuck in a traffic jam. It’s been a rough twelve hours, but it has led me here and that’s what I’d rather think about.

By ‘here’ I mean I’m sitting on the couch in Corpse’s recording room, my computer in my lap, my screen displaying the screen to the game Party Animals. The suggestion was Corpse’s. He immediately picked up on my below par mood and wasted no time finding a solution to bright up the remainder of the day, shadowing the shitty portion of it. I am not what you would call a gamer. Sure I’ve played Among Us with Corpse and his friends a few times. Even that I struggle to do because I’m internally fangirling over all the people in the lobby. Yeah, dating a youtuber doesn’t mean you automatically stop gushing over the many content creators on the platform you’ve been watching for quite some time now. Corpse knows how nervous I get so he’s always near me when we play with Sean, Felix and the other. All he has to do is give me that encouraging smile and wink of his and I’m good to go. Side note: massive props to him for going easy on me in Among Us, getting teasingly called ‘simp’ by his friends in the process.

“You’ll love it.“ He promised me over and over again as the game was downloading on my computer.

“I don’t doubt that, Corpse. But I am going in completely blind and I seriously don’t wanna embarrass myself.“ I mumble a quick ‘nor you‘ under my breath, hoping he doesn’t catch it because I’m in for a pep talk if he does. 

To my dismay, he does, “Listen here, you couldn’t embarrass me even if you actively tried to do something outrageous. Most likely scenario, I’d join you in the act.” He ducks in front of the couch so we’re at eye level, his hand coming up to cup my cheek in the sweetest, most comforting gesture ever. “We’ll show em who’s the boss at stealing candy.”

I can’t help but laugh, feeling unable to express just how much this man means to me. Words can’t do the feeling justice.

“Y/N!“

“Y/N!!“

“Corpse Wife has arrived!“

Hearing all the greetings lights a flame in my chest, the warmth spreading all the way to my neck and cheeks. “Hi guys! Missed playing with you!”

“We missed you too!“ Dave, the only one of the gaming gang I’ve actually met in person, replies to me, his words along with all the others’ wrapping around me like a comfort blanket. Despite them knowing I’m a fan of theirs, they’ve always made me feel welcomed, comfortable, nothing less than them.

“You know anything about this game?“ Felix asks me.

I shake my head, almost forgetting he can’t see me, “Corpse told me it’s funny and cute. It sounds like the perfect game for me.” 

“Oh no, this is a game of survival. Survival of the fittest!“ Sean shouts excitedly, a bang following his shout I can only assume was him hitting his desk.

“I’d like to think I’m pretty fit.“ I shrug my shoulders, laughing along with the guys.

“This is the only way to find out if you actually are.“ Joel’s voice comes through my headphones in the form of a tease.

Sean mumbles quietly to himself as he’s deciding how to separate us in two teams. “Guys, a little help here. We all suck at this game, it doesn’t really matter who’s in which team.”

“Actually...“ Felix trails off, “Corpse and Y/N are the ultimate power couple in Among Us. Chances are they will be in this as well. So, the only logical move would be to...“

“I’m taking Y/N, you take Corpse.“ Sean declares. “Joel, Dave, who do you guys wanna be with?“

And the game starts. Sean, Joel and I are the Meowfia while Corpse, Felix and Dave are yet to choose a team name. We throw around snarky, cocky comments at each other, taunting the opposite team as we struggle to take the candy to our respective sides of the map.

“Don’t you dare pull that lever, Dave!“ I launch at Dave, knocking his cute avatar away from the lever, buying Joel and Sean some time to steal back the gummy bear Corpse and Felix took from us.

“Y/N! Joel is out! Help me!“ Sean is freaking out now. I ditch Dave’s unconscious body and run to Sean’s aid. 

As I’m helping him push it towards out area a member from the opposite team latches onto my avatar, weighing me down and hindering me from doing anything.

“Hug!“ Corpse laughs as he has literally turned into a koala, holding onto my avatar.

“Corpse, you know you are actually supposed to hinder Y/N, not hug her. It’s cute though, don’t get me wrong.“ Felix laughs as him and Sean continue to struggle over the gummy bear.

“Nah, his tactic’s great. I can’t do shit.“ I desperately try and shake him off, “Babe, this is unfair. I can’t even be mad at you!“ I whine, staring to panic now that Dave is back to life and Joel is nowhere to be seen.

The round is won by Felix, Dave and Corpse who, if I might add, didn’t let go of me for the rest of the game.

We switch maps, now every man for himself. We’re on the submarine, recreating the Hunger Games with cute fuzzy animals. The thought passes through my mind, causing me to giggle.

“Y/N, you sound exactly like I’d imagine your avatar to sound. You’re so cute.“ Sean’s avatar circles mine a few times as he laughs.

He’s not wrong, my pale blue puppy is indeed cute. Apparently immortal as well.

“How is Y/N still alive?! Holy shit, her and Corpse really are a power couple.“ Dave shrieks when he sees me pick up the freeze gun. “NOOO!“ He shouts, devastated by the fact I shot him, sending him straight to his death.

“Chill, Dave. It’s all cool. Nothing personal.“ I struggle to hide my laughter, “No hard feelings, right?“

“Of course not, love.“ I can tell he grits the sentence through clenched teeth.

“Aw Dave, you are such an ice guy.“ I giggle, now shooting Joel with the gun.

“Someone take that gun from her!“ Sean cries as him and Felix race up the submarine.

Suddenly, the avatar of my boyfriend again wraps itself around mine. I hadn’t seen him in a while, considering Sean knocked him into the ocean earlier in the round. 

“How are you still alive?!“ I try to spin my puppy to get him to let go but he holds on tightly. “Babe, I swear, you are cute and I love you, but this is ridiculous. How and why are you alive?”

“That’s his superpower! He never fucking dies.“ Felix laughs, letting out a yelp when he briefly slips while climbing.

“Immortals!!! Immortals!!!“ Sean breaks out into a song, a song I really like, breaking the restraints I had on my laughter.

“Drop the gun or we’re dying together.“ He says almost seriously. Even though I can only see the back of his head I know he’s grinning.

“A Titanic/Romeo and Juliet mashup? Why not? I can live with dying a double historical death.“ Even though I appear accepting of his offer, I’m still trying to set myself free.

In the end, Sean claims his first win of the game and the rest of us are dead at the bottom of the ocean. Corpse and I did indeed die a Romeo and Juliet/Titanic death, getting everyone in their feels. We make a deal to get together and play again as soon as possible and we all go our separate ways, exiting the Discord call.

*Later that night* 

After a dinner consisting of takeout and two thirds of a shitty romantic comedies, Corpse shifts from next to me, starting to get up from the couch. I am surprised to feel jolted out of a half sleep as the room is now completely silent, the TV being turned off.

“Hey where’re you going?“ I ask groggily, rubbing my sleepy eyes.

“I have some editing to do. Don’t worry, I won’t stay up too late.“ He kisses my forehead before grabbing his phone from the coffee table.

Just as he’s about to walk away, I wrap my arms around his legs. He laughs, catching onto what I’m insinuating. His chuckle brings a smile to my face and butterflies in my belly. No matter how long we date for or how much time we spend together, some things never change. 

“Payback, huh?“ He asks, the smile audible in the question. I keep my eyes shut but nod, my arms still around his legs. “Alright, you koala. You’re coming with me.”

In his recording room, he settles in his chair placing me in his lap in a way that my legs dangling off to the side, my side leaning against his chest, my face hidden in the crook of his neck. We’re both comfortable, content and relaxed.

I don’t know when exactly it happens, but all my mind has registered is a quiet ‘I love you’ and the soft touch of Corpse’s lips on my temple. I manage to reply with an ‘I love you too’ before my sleepiness consumes me, my body completely relaxing against his, the warmth of his body, his scent, the sound of his breathing making me feel safe and loved: the two feelings I want him to feel with the same intensity when I’m in his arms.

Something tells me he does.

@simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios  @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help

[finaledenialist]

so in one of your asks you said you dont think cas was in love with dean since the beginning and idk its interesting to me because everyone seem to think he was from the start so what is your take on that? idk im just curious haha

ohhh I wanted to make a post about this so thanks for asking!

disclaimer: I don’t want to rain on anyone’s parade I just have a different take on this whole thing!!! 

So. I see people are like: OMG he was in love ALL THIS TIME SINCE 4x01 and I am like: no. 

Was he lost since he laid his hand on Dean in hell? Yes. Was he instantly in love? Nah.

See, Cas in season 4 and 5 is starting to feel. He is conflicted, he is questioning, he doesn’t have ‘people skills’, he is confused by what he feels, he knows there is a ‘profound bond’ between him and Dean and he is rebelling for Dean, because Dean has a point and Cas feels Dean is right and apocalypse and destruction are wrong, and this human is so human and he never had that connection before. Add the sexual innuendos, the eye fucking and the tension between those two and this is what i call ‘classic destiel’. I do have a strong feeling this is partly Jensen’s and Misha’s fault though haha but I am also convinced that the jokes like ‘Cas, get out of my ass!’/’Blow me Cas’ are purely for ‘comedic purposes’ because haha gay so funny (keep in mind it’s still 2008/2009 and things were so different then BUT we still got Endverse which had not only sexual stuff implied but romantic as well - ‘all we have left, Dean and I, is each other, if Dean says it’s time to go in a blaze of glory, so be it’ (I am writing this from memory so these might not have been exact lines but you know what I am talking about).

And then in season 6 and 7 is where things start to get romantic. ‘I watched you rake leaves’, Dean’s blind faith that no, Cas can’t be working with Crowley behind their backs because come on it’s Cas and the whole 6x20 episode is *chief’s kiss* and then season 7 and Cas dies to make things right and Dean keeps his trenchcoat and moves it from every car they have been using that season to always have it with him because part of me always believed you’d come back. OK, but I was meant to be talking mostly about Cas’ point of view. Which takes me back to 7x23 and I’d rather have you, cursed or not. I think these words had a major impact on Cas. Something just clicked. Because he realized that he could say these exact same words to Dean and they still would be true. 

And then we got season 8 which was a major shift and it really moved stuff from ‘sexual tension’ to ‘romantic tension’ and it’s still called ‘season fanfiction’ because I wanted to keep them away from you in purgatory and Cas generally not feeling worthy of anything but I think this is when he started to realize that what he feels is not like ‘brotherly friendship’ but something much deeper but he had his issues (I don’t deserve to be saved from purgatory thing) so he kind of kept it buried. But this was when the Real Love really started. But did he admit it to himself? Well I am not in Cas’ head but something must have been on his mind - Naomi had access too his mind and she immediately recognized that there is a certain Feeling that is dangerous and Cas needs to be fucking lobotomized (I still have shivers thinking about it). Did Naomi knew it was love? Idk, but she felt something was going on - that is why she tried to mess things up between Dean and Cas (I only wish he felt the same way ouch my heart....) and Metatron also recognized it, quicker and better (maybe because he spent much more time on earth and was generally a little more powerful and knowing as the scribe of God) and he immediately used Cas’ grace to banish angels from heaven because Cas was feeling love for a human. But did he, himself recognized it as love? Did he admit it to himself? I still have a feeling that no. I still think that his ‘I don’t know’ after Dean’s ‘What broke the connection?’ was honest.

Now let me fast forward to season 12, because this post is getting too long already and while seasons 9-11 had some good episodes and even good destiel scenes I feel this was the time many people - rightly so - were starting to lose faith in canon destiel, starting with Dean not letting Cas stay in the bunker in season 9 and bros acting like they only call Cas when they need him. I repeat - there were still some good episodes, even great ones. And we were shown Cas worried about Dean and being there for him anytime Dean called, there was so much pining but once again let me raise The Question: did Cas know what he was feeling was love? Or was he still confused, not letting himself believe, not being able to name his own feelings and emotions? And this is merely my opinion but this is also time where many people started to be bitter and negative by how writers treated Cas (and other characters in general but I am not gonna dive into that dumpster now, especially the Cas-having-sex-with-a-reaper thing which was awful, but in retrospect is even more awful because if it was Chuck’s writing this seems like some kind of sick attempt to do a conversion therapy and I want to throw up; plus he thought? he was into his boss at gas’n’sip and he thought she was into him and what even was it if not a. bad writing; b. Cas being confused; c. Cas being confused about this bad writing).

So season 12. First of all 12x12, when Cas thought he is gonna die and the infamous line ‘I love you. I love all of you’ happened. I  am 100% sure this is when Cas realized. This must have prompted questions for him. Why did I say what I said? He blurted those words out but why like that? Aaaand after some thinking I think he realized why. He must’ve been like ‘oooops’. But then Jack was about to be born and he had to protect Kelly and then he died.

And then he is in the Empty who says - I know who you love, I know what you fear, there is nothing for you out there. She doesn’t know shit, she just has access to Cas’ mind and apparently those were his thoughts, already at that time, he thought there was nothing for him out there (again, his depression issues) BUT THEN CAS, MY SWEET CAS, THIS BAD ASS MOTHERFUCKER says fuck you Empty in one of his best monologues (before 15x18 I’d say it was his best but here we are) and she yeets him out, because HE decided HE is already saved and he doesn’t need a permission and you can preen and you can scream and yell and remind me of my failings but somehow, I'm awake. And I will stay awake and I will keep you awake until we both go insane. I will fight you. Fight you and fight you for... ever. For eternity. 

And then Jack dies and he takes the humiliating deal.  And now we’re at 15x18 and he says: ‘I have always wondered.... ever since I took that burden.... What my true happiness can even look like... Because the one thing I want is the one thing I can’t have’. SEE THESE WORDS HERE ARE WHY I CAN’T SLEEP AT NIGHT. BECAUSE THEY IMPLY at least to me THAT:

1. He was aware of his feelings, he knew what he felt was love at the time he took the deal. and after that he was like ‘I guess I am immortal now’ because the one thing I want is the one thing I can’t have so nothing else is going to make him truly happy; this also implies that there is only one thing he truly wants and the rest is just not that important, whatever else happens won’t make him happy which is heartbreaking;

2. He knew what he wanted, so this means that at some point he wondered, he imagined, he took his time to picture the ‘thing’ he wanted. Which is life with Dean. Because he is in love. LIKE HE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS, HE REALLY DID AND HE CONCLUDED THAT THIS IS OUT OF HIS REACH (now people argue if that is because he thinks it’s unrequited or because he thinks that something something hunter life-fighting all the time-no attachments lifestyle won’t allow them to have this sort of life - and frankly, knowing that he learned everything, or almost everything about emotions from Dean, who isn’t really good at them, I am not surprised if he is sure that this feeling is one-sided, because maybe he conquered his fears in the Empty the first time around but taking the deal must have made him anxious and Chuck still calls him self-hating so he probably thinks this is one-sided and he is unworthy of love anyway);

3. He tried to imagine different scenarios that would make him happy but eventually it all came down to That One True Scenario, out of his reach, that couldn’t compare with anything else, and he tells Jack - you know about that deal, it’s ok, I don’t see myself becoming happy anytime soon AND IT HURTSSS

so to conclude and tl;dr - I think Cas realized that what he was feeling was love after 12x12 although he felt it before but might have been confused by it. I do not think he was ~in love~ since 4x01. There was tension and there was pining but no. This feeling evolved, it didn’t *just* happen in the barn. 

also i am so sorry this took so long but i have thoughts and feelings and can’t form a coherent sentence since november 5th anyway thanks for asking nonny, ily!!!!

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 79: The Rites of Blood and Knowledge

Chapters: 79/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: pg 13(Blood)

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),Thor(Marvel) Wanda Maximoff, vision, Bruce Banner

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Party Time, In Reference To Blood Mixing Mentioned In The Eddas

Summary:  The great ceremonies begin.

The dreams were powerful that night, whisking you off to far away places, off to the increasingly familiar form of the gargantuan space artist. There was a strange nostalgia out here that you were slowly coming to recognize as being not your own. How could it be? You had never physically been here, only visited in dreams.

With green and blue sparkling at your right and left, you drifted along in their orbit, yet another asteroid in a primordial star system.

First Wielder.

The concept filtered through your mind, trailing a warm and wistful longing behind it.

Peace. Eternity. Creation.

Before battle. Before separation. Before imprisonment.

Before all.

The star system was strange: every time you came here, the sun was a little different. A variable star, its brightness oscillating, it was still young and new.

There was only one planet in this system, located fairly close to the star. The presence of the colossal giant perturbed the asteroids and gas around the star, but their great mass prevented them from coalescing.

Comets formed in great numbers from the gas and ice beyond them, whizzing past them, inspiring new drawings. Asteroids clumped up against them; a brush of their great hand sent them flying, to collide into one another, to spin away from their unstable orbit, and join the comets on their cross-system journey, to crash into the singular planet.

The colossus watched with the patience of true immortality, as the planet burned and erupted, filled up with water, and clouds, and sky.

Thoughtfully, they regarded an asteroid they held in one hand, then, with their color-stained fingers, they began to draw.

The wistfulness and regret reached their peak, and you woke up in the empty bathtub, with a thought ringing in your head.

The Wielders always came to a bad end.

                                                                            ******

Loki was somewhat disgruntled to discover that you'd been having these dreams without him. He didn't scold, but his concern was clear. You described them in as much detail as you could, but, to your dismay, he didn't have any explanation for what you'd been seeing while you slept.

It would just have to remain a mystery. The upcoming day was going to be far too busy to dwell on it.

Both you and Loki had dressed in your absolute finest, your armor polished bright, your skirt covered in embroidery, your chest and neck festooned in beads of carved gold and pearl. You still felt a little bit like you were so buried in finery that you became invisible, but you tried to carry it with pride. All of this had been put together especially for you, and that hard work deserved to be shown off.

Loki was so magnificent in his fur-trimmed cloak, and elaborate helmet, you had to firmly tell yourself not to spend the whole day just staring at him all moon-eyed.

Maybe just a few hours.

Today, the Second Feast, was really the main event, as far as this Buridag was concerned. At noon, you would participate in the Blood Taking ceremony, wherin you would 'mingle blood' with the royal brothers, in order to be formally adopted into Asgardian high society. This would cement your status as high enough to advise Loki as one of the most important members of his personal entourage. And before the evening feast, you would perform the ritual that would confirm you as an official Seidkona.

But before that, you would have the time to run around and enjoy the festival.

It was set up like a combination job fair and reenactment fest. Stalls lined the streets and filled courtyards, peopled by the crafters of Asgard. Smiths, armorers, and carpenters, goldsmiths, lapidaries, scrimshanders, and glassblowers. Weavers, spinners, leatherworkers, and dyemakers, artists, musicians, chefs, academics, mages, stonemasons, construction workers, scribes, dancers, and cheesemongers. All the sights, and sounds, and scents, and flavors that made up Asgard were being demonstrated and celebrated.

Your Father and Tara joined you in the streets, and Loki reluctantly released you into their care, having some preparation left to do.

Tara, flouncing around in an apron dress and domed brooches very much like your usual style, gushed over how beautiful you looked, and your father, rather sheepishly dressed in an Asgardian greatcoat and cowl, agreed openly.

“You look like a princess.” he said. “A real one. You...You walk different now. Talk different. You look so strong.”

“Is it me, or are all these people following us?” Tara asked, not very quietly. A few chagrined people in the crowd that flowed in your wake down the street peeled away, and wandered in different directions. The rest either had less shame, or had orders to keep watch over you.

You spared the group a glance. There appeared to be a solid mix of Asgardians and humans, several of which had their phones out. You surmised there would be a new wave of photos of you on the internet over the next few days.

“Keep your cowl up dad.” You advised.

“Want me to run them off?” he offered.

“Nah. I don't really mind if they take pictures of me. Can't really hurt anything.”

“Wasn't so great last time.” Tara pointed out. “I spent a lot of time stanning for you.”

“Well, last time was sensationalized bullcrap. This time is a nice festival. I mean, check out that guy!”

That Guy was a glassblower in his stall, spinning a huge, bubble thin amphora of rose pink glass. You had seen its like before, but never seen one made.

“Oh, they age crystal mead in those! The pink lets in the right wavelengths of light that give it it's shimmering quality.”

“What's crystal mead?” your father asked.

“Don't try more than a few sips, if anyone offers.” you warned. “Asgardians have iron guts. Their booze is way too strong.”

“Yeah, they warned us about that on the plane.” Tara said. “And yesterday, it looked like they had everything divided up by species, so no one got the wrong thing.”

You took them around to various demonstrations: spinners spinning yarn, brewers preparing several of Asgards many alcoholic beverages, apothecaries showing how basic medicines were made, a cobbler putting together a nice pair of boots.

“So, Asgard's really advanced, right?” Tara asked. “Why is everything like Ye Olden Times?”

“Asgard's never had that big a population, even at it height. There just isn't that much demand for mass production. Most things are bespoke, or self-made. Quality depends entirely on the maker, so that, of course, becomes a competition. And that, in turn, becomes a matter of cultural pride. Also, they have thousands of years to get good at what they do, so Asgardian made goods are super high quality, and they judge personal worth by that. I don't think they'll ever automate; it would go against a lot of what they stand for.”

You snagged the three of you a traditional Asgardian snack; fat sausages, wrapped in savory pastry. You thought it might be good to have something else in your stomach before the first ceremony.

Tara called them Asgardian corn dogs, which you couldn't wait to share with Loki, if only to watch his nose wrinkle with disdain over the undignified term.

“So when do we have to let you go?” Tara asked.

You checked your phone for the time, stuffing the last of your sausage into your mouth.

“Eh, I've got a few minutes left. Better start heading over though.”

Your winding path through the courtyards took you past minstrels, impromptu dances, and games, to a large, tall dais that had been put together as a temporary mirror to the throne room. It towered over the City Hall courtyard like a ziggurat. You'd be up there soon enough, but currently...

“Who's that?” your father asked, pointing at a man standing at the top. “Doesn't look like Thor.”

You squinted up at the figure, his bright armor shining in the rarefied sunlight.

“Ah, That's Heimdall. He's the Guardian of Asgard, and god of...uh, sight? I think? Vigilance? It's not quite that neat and simple, you know? The whole 'God Of' thing is a bit more complicated than that.”

“So that's a god?” your father asked. “How can you tell? Are they all gods? What does that even mean?”

“All good questions. Mostly because they are very hard to answer.”

Your father and Tara jerked at the sudden new voice, and, not for the first time, you found yourself amazed at how easily a man of the sheer size and importance as the king of Asgard could sneak up on people.

“Your Majesty.” you said calmly, inclining your head. Your father and Tara dipped into awkward bows, a little awed by the mythical figure before them. Thor didn't necessarily demand obeisance, but he didn't exactly discourage it either; he let people act as they felt appropriate.

“Not every Asgardian is a god.” Thor explained. “Those that are go by the term 'Aesir', a common name through most of the realms for beings of that type. You are born Aesir; you cannot become one by outside influences. However, Aesir nature doesn't always become apparent at birth, it often doesn't manifest until adolescence. As for what it means to be Aesir...that doesn't have so straightforward an answer. I leave it to the philosophers, who, incidentally, are in booth seventy-eight.

Anyway, I have come to collect your daughter for the ceremony. There isn't much time left, so we'd all better get in place. If you go through those two poles there right now, you can get very good seats.”

“This could get a bit weird.” You warned. “It's a ceremony more ancient than any recorded human practices, so it's probably going to seem archaic.”

“Oh, it's not so bad.” Thor said. “It's been updated and refined over all those years. For instance, everyone remains clothed now, and there are at least seventy percent fewer entrails used.”

Your father coughed, and you rolled your eyes. Thor's sense of humor was difficult for you to understand, considering how serious he was about everything. The thing about Thor's jokes was that he might have been joking about something that had really happened, or he might have been joking about something he'd completely made up, but he would never specify which.

“On that note, I've got to go.” you said. “Entrails to sort, and all that.”

Your father coughed again, Tara patting him compassionately on the back.

“Good luck!” she called to your receding back.

                                                                                ******

“Now, you've been fully briefed on what will happen during this ceremony, correct?” Thor asked, as the two of you loitered near the back stairs of the temporary dais. People were filtering in to seats and standing room around the courtyard, waiting for things to start.

“I think so.” you said. “If I've got this right, there's going to be a special dance-”

“The Alignment of the Celestial and Worldly bodies, yes.” Thor said. “It symbolizes everything that must come together to bring the 'adoptee' to the greater 'family'. In this case, it will tell the story of how you came here to join our family.”

A soft warmth crept up your neck, and heated your ears beneath your helmet. You knew it was all socio-symbolism, but the notion of 'joining the family' hit differently now that you were on intimate terms with Loki.

“And then all the braziers will have some kind of incense thrown in, and in the smoke, we'll all go up the stairs like we're magically appearing. Honestly, it sounds like it'll look really cool.”

“All ceremonies contain a bit of theatrics.” Thor agreed. “Perhaps that is the most important part. Or that's the part that makes it important. I wish we still had some of the traditional ceremonial incense, but we just don't have access to the materials anymore. You would have liked it; it was much more floral than most of what you have here. We did manage to get some lavender though. That should be nice.”

“Maybe one day, when the Bifrost is more stable.” You said. It did sound very nice. “Loki said that you, and he, and Heimdall will sing a blessing song?”

“Yes, a divine blessing from a trio of Aesir. It's got to be three. And then...”

“Yeah. And then.” Loki had told you about the bloodletting. He had been very frank about it. “I know. I'm nervous, but not afraid.”

Thor nodded. “Sometimes there are unforeseen effects, but never anything bad. You'll be perfectly safe.”

“I know. The nervousness just comes from knowing it'll hurt. Even if just for a short time.”

You buckled under Thor's hand when it came down on your shoulder, enveloping the whole thing.

“Loki would rather slice out his own guts than draw your blood, trust me. He's been trying to figure out how to get around it for weeks. Unfortunately, the blood is the most important part of the magic. It carries all of the power. It's very old magic: according to him, this is practically the only part of the ritual that has remained unchanged from the beginning.”

“Did there really used to be entrails and naked people, or was that a joke?”

“Ehhh, well, yes and no. This ceremony originated with the Vanir, and they are not opposed to nakedness under certain circumstances. In this case, everyone who attended was expected to leave the clothes they came in at the door, and wear a special loincloth instead. This was actually to prevent violence, by barring hidden weaponry from being brought to ceremony grounds. So rather than pure nudity, everyone was dressed as scantily as was possible.

As for entrails...unfortunately yes, that was also a part of it. A seer would perform a divination using the entrails of a slaughtered animal. That practice was going out of fashion, even before the war, and I don't think anyone today even remembers how it was done.”

You shuddered. Yes, it was a different culture, and a long time ago, but it still grossed you out.

“I'll have to remember to thank Loki for trying to get me out of it, even if he wasn't successful.” You said. He really did put in a lot of effort behind the scenes. If only he were more open about some of that effort, so you could appreciate it more.

“He was adamant about the bull.” Thor said. “Demanded a private ritual the night before. Put your helmet up on the pillar, then sacrificed and butchered the beast himself. Insisted on it. Did our ancestors proud, but you know he knows his way around a knife.”

“I wish he'd told me. I was really stressed about that whole thing. I'm glad, in the end, that he was thinking of me, but I really wish I'd known. I wouldn't have lost so much sleep!”

“It was a little last minute.” Thor admitted. “I approved it the instant he explained, but we had to do it pretty much immediately afterwards. He really should have told you, but I fear my brother is usually more invested in the making of plans, rather than what to do once they come to fruition. I feel you will be a positive influence on him, though.”

Even though he was wearing his eyepatch, rather than the mismatched prosthetic, his one blue eye was open and sincere.

“I think so too.” you said. You already were influencing each other. It was impossible to live so close, to sleep in the same bed, without doing so. But Loki did have a bad habit of assuming things, a by-product of his upbringing as a leader, you supposed. You would simply have to speak up more.

Perhaps you had gotten too comfortable. But perhaps you wanted to be too comfortable. It might be a holdover from your year of struggle, but having someone who wanted to do so much for you was very tempting. You knew it would be better to strive for a balance, but you also knew that, unless Loki somehow diminished himself severely, the two of you would never truly be equals.

But you admired that greatness, and somehow, those all too common flaws in him made him easier for you to love. They made him so real.

An ambling drum beat started up, accompanied by the brassy ting of zills, and a flute. Loki joined you and Thor in peeking out around the dais, just as a group of dancers spread out around the courtyard.

You'd been told that the dancers represented personages from history and legend. You were pretty sure that the three women who orbited the dance stage equidistant from one another must be the Norns, and you assumed the cluster of people standing beneath a glittering tree branch and clanging their zills were probably meant to be the ancestors of the royal family.

The dance told a story of a woman dressed like you, and a man dressed like Loki, wearing silver bells at their wrists and ankles that jingled with every step. They made everything look so much more graceful and sensual than it really had been: Holding hands like the rune branding had been on purpose, dancing circles with each other, like everything had been friendly and not at all awkward from the very beginning. How elegantly 'you' swooned into 'his' arms, while the assassin was caught. How triumphantly 'you' defended 'him' against the Huldra. And how beautifully 'he' clasped 'you' in a romantic, yet properly chaste embrace.

There was none of the blood, none of the fear, or anger, or petulance, or confusion. No loss, or loneliness, or uncertainty.

But that was how it worked, wasn't it? None of those things could be shown to the general public. This was ceremony. This was spectacle! This was what would be remembered.

The pair danced away, out of sight, the ancestors retreated, and the Norns raised their arms in unison. All around the courtyard, attendants dumped incense into the torches and braziers, sending thick smoke and mysterious perfume wafting over the entire area.

“Show's on, darling.” Loki said, grasping your shoulders, and leading you up the stairs. A new wave of anxiety washed over you as you rose above the sweet smelling clouds like a legend. Heimdall stepped aside to let you pass, Loki and Thor leading you right up to the edge of the elevated platform, where waited a podium, upon which rested a brass bowl. An unfamiliar rune was stamped on its bottom. So that was where the magic would happen.

Thor held his hand out over an unlit brazier just in front of the podium and concentrated. Scarcely a moment later sparks danced between his fingers and jumped to ignite the fuel. The light illuminated the clouds of incense, obscuring the audience. Cut off thus from every other person out there, you didn't flinch as the trio of gods each placed a hand on you, and began to sing.

You couldn't help but wonder if they had done this before. It was a complex song, with rising and falling harmonies, parts layered over one another, something that couldn't have been easy to learn. As their voices dipped and flowed, you felt the power rising, just like out in the camp, months ago. Why could you sense divine power? Was it because of your magic? Was there anyone out in the crowd that could feel it too?

Thor's good eye had begun to sparkle with crackling white energy, the power of the blessing he was singing into you. You assumed Heimdall, behind you, was lighting up orange, and when you turned your head to glance at Loki, you were suffused with the gentle glow of the blue light from your dreams.

All of the anxiety drained out of you at the touch of that light, your arms dropping to your sides as relaxation took over.

Everything was all right. Loki was right beside you. Thor and Heimdall were with you, their voices reverberating through you, their blessing upon you. The rare winter sun filtered down over you like a blanket, as the last notes of the Aesir's song filled your head.

Loki gently took your hand, gazing earnestly into your face as the calming light faded from his eyes.

“Forgive me, my love.” he whispered.

A sudden, painful jab, ripped you out of your cocoon of sunny calm. With a sharp cry, you turned to stare at your fingertip, pierced deeply by the tip of one of Loki's knives.

Loki held your hand over the brass bowl, letting the blood drip, enough to cover the rune at the bottom. Then he tenderly bandaged the tiny wound, lines of regret around his eyes. Thor held his hand out for a slash, and then Loki turned the blade on himself. Blood slowly filled the little bowl, as a light throbbing started in your head. Every drop that rippled its surface was like a giant heartbeat within you.

Once it was full, Thor and Loki began singing again, lifting the small bowl between them. They held it up to the sun, and then poured it onto the burning brazier. The fire sputtered, sizzling, sending a huge cloud of smoke directly into your face. You gagged on the scent of burning blood, practically bathed in it, a layer of death-scent on your skin. The song cut through it, thrumming in your ears, an echoing promise of cherishment and fidelity.

The blood burned down into nothing, the smoke slowly clearing. All of the people in the courtyard came back into view, the upturned faces solemn. The dancers below picked up the chorus.

And you understood them.

Loki took your hand and lifted it up, flourishing to the crowd. They cheered, while you stood there, stunned. You understood what they were saying, their enthusiastic calls, their songs. The blood smell lingered in your nose, the throbbing swiftly receding from your head.

He led you to the stairs down as you wobbled, but you never made it all the way down. Dizziness overcame you, and you collapsed into Loki's arms.

[magnolia-penn]

Future Vision Chapter 2

DIO? God?

Oop- sorry this took so long. It took me forever to write and I had no motivation to type it all from my notebook.

Also, brownie points to whoever finds the Avatar: The Last Airbender reference.

Warnings: Swearing (so much swearing), Spoilers (sorta), mention of death (no one important) lemme know if I missed anything

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"31 years!" Polnareff shouted in disbelief.

"Apparently." You shrugged, already over it.

The men were flabbergasted about your current predicament. Stands were a fairly new concept and to think that there was a Stand strong enough to pull you from the future, breaking all sorts of time and space laws? You'd have to be crazy!

Yet… There you were, completely adapted to the strange situation. You were thrown almost double the amount of years you existed and all it took was a quick scream session behind a sand dune for you to calm down? 

"You seem so startled. Stands have crazy abilities. My friend, Magnolia, works alongside a mafia boss with the ability to create infinite life and make it so you can never truly reach death!" You pumped your fist in the air in excitement. "Time travel doesn't seem that far out. My Stand isn't too terribly special, especially compared to some of the other Stands I've seen, but it's pretty cool."

The group's confusion settled deeper as you went on a tangent about future Stands that your friend has described from her time working at the Speedwagon Foundation. You used words that didn't make sense, phrases they didn't understand, but your growing excitement caused them to nod along with you.

"OH! And Stands can be upgraded! Although we do-" You cut yourself off suddenly, eyes zoned out.

You didn't say anything, just stared into the endless expanse of sand and heat. It was Kakyoin who spoke up first.

"Y/n? Are you alright?"

You snapped out of your trance with a start. "I FORGOT TO FEED MY FISH SHIT SEND ME BACK!"

Your sudden outburst sent Polnareff jumping back into Mr. Joestar, your attention dragged to him as his face dropped from confusion to somber defeat.

You picked up on the nervous weight shifts and glances away. You tried to look back at the man who brought you here, only for Mr. Joestar to clear his throat, bringing the attention back to him. He fumbled with his words a bit, trying to justify the shift in attention, but he ultimately failed.

"Oh ho no, I see what's going on," You said after Mr. Joestar gave up on trying to explain. "This fuck-" a pointed finger towards the corpse behind you, "was my only ticket back to the future?"

"Well no. Technic-" You cut the older man off.

"'Uh well no'," you mocked. "Lemme guess, he would've been the easiest way?"

"Now, Miss Y/n, there is no need to be so aggressive. I'm sure we can figure everything out. Our enemy, DIO, has a lackey-" 

You cut Avdol off as well.

"DIO? God? In Italian? What kind of narcissist names their kid 'God' in Italian?"

You gave a snort before falling into a fit of mocking laughter. Your humor was short lived, though, as Jotaro finally spoke up. Or shouted I guess.

"Can you shut up? Good grief, all you do is yap! God, all you women are the same."

You stopped your laughter to stare at the teen clad in black, sizing him up. It was a tense couple of minutes, an unstoppable force and an unmovable object locked in a stubborn standoff.

After a bit, you let out a chuckle and let your head fall back to face the sky.  You watched the clouds for a second before sighing.

"You know, Joots," You catch him visibly tense from the nickname. "I see why you become a marine biologist in the future. The ocean is powerful and terrifying. It's been like that from the beginning. My friend often describes me like the ocean, although, unlike the tides, who have decided to kill you millions of years ago," You bring your hand up near your face before clenching it into a fist, shimmering from the effects of your Stand. "I still haven't made up my mind."

Jotaro's face turns sour in fear for a split second before returning to the default steely glare. You watched in amusement as his Stand began to manifest, but the hesitation you saw in the purple being's eyes told you all you needed to know.

Jotaro was, at the very least, cautious of you.

But also curious.

You managed to make full contact with Hierophant Green, something no one can do unless a Stand is initiating the contact. Kakyoin also couldn't see you, so how could it've climbed up you? Stand don't act on their own violations.

You also mentioned the future Jotaro. He becomes a marine biologist? And one famous enough to be known by teenagers? Jotaro can't even name a famous marine biologist.

He figured killing you know would be disastrous, there was still much to learn from you. Maybe you held knowledge that once came with hindsight.

"Nice to see we're in agreement." Jotaro gruffed out, allowing Star Platinum to fully dissipate.

A small smile graced your features as you extended the same hand you threatened him with.

"Well then, a truce. Until we decide to kill each other." 

Jotaro nodded and took your hand, allowing a handshake to secure your mortalities.

For now.

"MON DIEU! I THOUGHT SHE WAS DEAD!" Polnareff wailed suddenly, startling the group.

Tension rolled off all of you as Avdol let out a sigh of relief. "I am quite surprised you are alive as well. Not many people can insult Jotaro and walk away intact, Y/n."

You chuckled and waved off the man's concern. "I may only have six brain cells, but I'm not stupid. He wouldn't do shit. Not without knowing what I can do."

"Is that so?" Jotaro let a small smirk slip out. It's hard not to grin when you were acting stupid.

You nodded and hummed in agreement. "I like to think I'm good at reading people."

Jotaro only scoffed and rolled his eyes, although there was an inset glimmer of amusement deep with those cerulean orbs.

"So what exactly does your Stand do?" Mr. Joestar asked the elephant in the room.

"Hmm? Oh, my Stand. Okay, so, here's the thing. My Stand is actually really weak." You confessed.

"My Stand, Chemical Romance, is only really good for getting info from people. I'm often called in to the Speedwagon Foundation to help with interrogations. My Stand allows me to talk to and understand other Stands. All those unintelligible noises your Stand makes are actually your soul trying to communicate, and Chem translates them for me. Even silent Stands or Stands with no humanoid form." You glanced at Mr. Joestar. "I can also touch and interact with them, like I did for Hierophant Green. Also, and we think this might just be a radius effect, but Stands become more sentient around me. They think for themselves."

And….. just like that you lost them. It's hard to understand  such complex Stands when all they know is Many Punch, Tasteful Nudes, French Sword, Fire Bird, and Shiny Rock.

"So… You can't actually follow through with your previous threats?" Kakyoin asked cautiously.

"Excuse you! Just who in the hell do you think you are? I am a whole ass person shaped can of whoop ass and no weak ass Stand or Death Parade wannabe looking ass is going to beat me!" You pumped your fist in the air again.

"Whew- That's the sort of can-do attitude our team needs." Mr. Joestar chuckled. "Wait, that wouldn't be a bad idea!"

"Oh ho? Does the great Joseph Joestar have an idea? Careful, Old Man, thinking can hurt ya." You joked.

"No no no no no hear me out. You need to get back to the future, we need to stop DIO from murdering everybody and taking over the world." Mr. Joestar explained. "We both have to get to Cairo for DIO! Join us! You and your Stand are really useful!"

Surprise crossed your face before slipping back to its usual cool façade.

"Nah, I was kind of digging the idea of shriveling up dead in the desert. Although~" you drawled. "I guess, if you're so desperate for my help. It would be immoral for me not to help you, you're so old, even thinking about fighting DIO is going to trigger a heart attack."

You snorted out a laugh and Mr. Joestar did chuckle a bit before you realized something.

"Sooo. Who exactly DIO? Other than some bitch who wants to take over the world." 

As quickly as a light flicking out of existence, the once humorous and airy atmosphere of the group became tense and tragic. The utter rage, disgust, and hatred for this mysterious man was palpable. Even the fun and boisterous Jean-Pierre Polnareff extruded murderous intent.

"DIO is a very bad man." Avdol broke the silence, but found himself unable to say more.

"Thanks for the life lesson, Dad," you spit sarcastically. "No. Who is he and what might he have done to sound so familiar."

"DIO is a monster that was created by greed and a lust for power. He is a vampire who ruthlessly slaughtered those who took him in when he was orphaned at the age of twelve." Mr. Joestar explained grimly. "He rejected his humanity to become something monstrous and immortal, but even now, that wasn't enough for him."

"He's notorious throughout the Speedwagon Foundation, whose founder fought him a hundred years ago. I wouldn't doubt it if his story still circulated in your years, Y/n." Avdol completed.

"All of us are here now because of DIO. Polnareff and I were under his control because of a flesh bud, Advol was almost conned into the same situation, and Jotaro's mother, Joseph's daughter, is under attack by her own Stand because it was forcibly awoken by him." Kakyoin said, then shot you a soft smile. "And I guess you as well."

"Oh yeah! Eli did mention they were looking for a girl who could strengthen DIO's Stand, so I guess he is why you're here!" Polnareff's smile returned to his face at the prospect of making a new friend who was in the same boat as them.

"Y'know, think back on it, I do vaguely remember my friend mentioning your mom, Joots." That damned nickname again. "Stand Sickness is what we call it now. That might be where I know DIO from." You shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "Anywho, now that that's settled, can we get out of the desert? I'm roasting to death."

"Oh! Of course! We have to get to the next town before nightfall anyways. To the car!" Mr. Joestar cheered.

You all piled into the three rowed vehicle. Jotaro and Polnareff sat in the way back, you and Kakyoin sat in the middle, with Mr. Joestar and Avdol occupying the front.

The road to the next town was filled with fill ins. They explained how they came together and how they defeated their foes that found them at every turn. You spoke of how the world has changed and advanced. You showed them your music and all the apps on your phone. You found that you were still connected to your home wifi at full strength, but you couldn't comment or post anything. All true contact to those in the future was cut off, but you could still consume media.

As the dust and corpse was left behind, you could feel the newly forged bonds between you and the men around you strengthen and grow, becoming more entangled and intertwined. And you felt happy about it.

[ninjakitty15]

Chapter 11: Tell Tale Hearts (Loki X OFC Pairing)

"You've been holding out on me," Loki noted later.

"We've not known each other long and there's just some things you don't need to know, besides, I'm sure there's lots I don't know about the trickster god." We were currently taking a stroll through the nearest park to get some fresh air and out of Tony's hair.

"Not if Thor has anything to say about it," Loki muttered. "If I won't tell you, he probably will, especially after you introduced him to moosetracks, he probably believes he's in debt to you for allowing him the last bit."

"Yeah but like he's never around so I'll still get nothing on you."

"What I don't get is why you don't seem to use those skills you used on me in the battlefield?"

I snorted. "What? Bo staff fighting? It's a pacifist weapon unless you're really motivated and skilled and aint nobody got time for that."

"I mean close range combat."

"Why do something yourself when you can get an army to do that for less?"

He scowled at me but couldn't come up with anything to rebuke that. "I hate your logic."

"But you love me so it all works out in the end." I stopped walking and kicked off my shoes to expose bare feet despite it behind in the 50's, feeling for the dead beneath the earth as well as just enjoying the feeling of nature against my flesh.

"Is that so?" he challenged, studying my actions as I stood still, eyes slightly closed to block out distractions aside from him.

"Typically people, gods or not, don't go through measures to protect their live-in booty call, not to mention you pretty much swearing yourself to me a few days ago. Just because I was on a warpath, doesn't mean I'm gonna forget what you said once I calmed down."

"And you have experience in this area, do you?"

I opened my eyes to meet his, turning to him out of curiosity and while his tone was light and teasing I could tell from his expression he genuinely wanted to know my history there. "Does it matter?"

"I just want to know if there's another man out there that death comes for?"

"What if I told you it was a woman?" I teased, cackling when his eyes widened at my response. "Many women actually at one point, since you asked. I told you, I'm all about ultimate pleasures, they're all that's keeping me from going numb and truly dead. Much like Tony before he decided to stick to the one under his nose the entire time."

"What changed?"

"Everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. Sorry, couldn't resist. Many things changed but long story short, things got complicated and I couldn't keep burying myself in boobs to stay alive when I wasn't really alive at all and that much closer to the grave. At the moment though, there is only you. Nothing compares to you. Is that why green is such a good color on you, because you're always jealous of something...or someone?"

He scoffed at my attempt to throw shade at him. "No other color does me justice aside from gold and while I am royalty, I'm not nearly that pretentious like my adoptive father wearing just gold."

I tried to imagine him in just gold attire and wrinkled my nose at the mental image. "Valid point there, I wouldn't fall for you in just that either, not that much of a golddigger."

"Though something tells me you have a soft spot for immortals of sorts."

I smirked and shrugged. "Something like that."

"You don't have what you midgardians call 'a crush' on Thor, do you?"

"I'm not overly fond of the facial fuzz among other things."

"What other immortals besides me then?"

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

Loki scowled at me. "Stop teasing me, woman."

"Nah, where's the fun in that?" I walked to the pond in the park and stepped into the water, not bothered by the coldness of it as my feet sunk into the earth more. So much death and decay underneath the life on the surface, the dead would always outnumber the living, it was such a waste without necromancers recycling the bodies. And we were fast becoming an endangered species which meant even more bodies left to rot away. And there were still so many souls with unfinished business that deserved to rest but couldn't till they got their last fight in. I shut my eyes, listening to them, watching them, offering them a chance when I could, they needed peace but to do that, they had to join another war. Strange how you needed the opposite of something to achieve something sometimes. "There's so many of you, take care who you choose to follow, I'd hate to have to send you back without getting what you need from them."

"Nell," Loki spoke softly with uncertainty.

"The dead," I responded. "This planet is full of them and I don't want them in the wrong hands."

"You worry about the dead like normal midgardians worry about the living, regardless of their current status you can't protect them all."

"And that's the side effects of being what I am, there's always a catch isnt there? Sure they no longer feel pain in their rotting meat suits but they're souls, beautiful burning souls that need peace at the end of the day."

"What happens to the soul in the wrong hands?"

"They're collected, contained and used as a weapon against others. I told you, souls are nuclear reactors, a dangerous power source that can be super destructive to others and itself."

"Is it difficult for others like yourself to get a hold on them?"

"Depends on how strong they are and how powerful their powers have become." I opened my eyes and turned around to face him, walking out of the water and placing a hand on his chest, for some reason I always got a bit excited feeling his heartbeat. I didn't take my eyes off his. "You have to be quick and careful, reaching in to grab something that could potentially kill you just by touching it. You're also a bit exposed yourself being in such close range to your prey and while simply holding it is the worst form of pain imaginable to the person you're grabbing, they usually survive simply being held so if you want the job done, you gotta rip it right out of them but that exposes its raw power as a soul. Not many necromancers can hold onto an exposed soul without side effects that may include their own death."

"Have you ever done it yourself?"

"Once or twice ages back, I won't be making a habit of it though."

"What were the side effects then?"

"Took too long disposing the damned thing and sorta kinda leveled the building we were in as well as nearly blowing myself up in the process. Worth it though, that was one bad egg I won't lose sleep over destroying without peace. May have lost a bit of myself in the process too."

"In what way?"

"You'll find out if I can get to the other bad eggs of necromancy before the Avengers do, easier to show you than tell you. I'll give you a hint though." I stepped back, dropping my hand from his chest to take his and put it on mine. "What do you feel?"

He was quiet for a second, his eyes not leaving mine. "There's no heartbeat, I knew that already. But there's something there, isn't there? You told me the magic keeps you moving, is it that?"

"It's more than magic. What is it you told me at one point? Someone that can survive something likely to kill most virtually unscathed is the definition of immortal. Very few necromancers can survive handling an exposed soul that's bursting but no one should be able to survive that plus a crumbling building and no escape routes and I did both."

He was quiet, almost mesmerized by what he was feeling beneath the undead flesh. "It's ancient. But it can't be-"

"Not an infinity stone," I assured him. "We have no need for those, we have our own stones of power to use how we please."

He stared deep into my eyes once he realized what I hinted at. "It's in there, isn't it?"

"It's part of me, yes. Fused to my soul so no one can rip it out of me, wasn't my idea initially, I opted for having it broken into shards and then have them implanted throughout my body but apparently I had no say in the matter."

"What about that necromancer you got to before? Where was his jewel?"

"The dagger, pretty common tactic for the lesser ones like him, keep the tools together like that. I absorbed it when I first picked it up, it's why it would've eaten away at you if you got to it first, only necromancers can handle their own tools."

"But they can't get yours?"

"Two highly destructive almost unlimited power sources fused together, no one on this planet could even touch it without instantly blowing themselves up, let alone ripping it out."

"If it wasn't your idea to do that, then whose was it?"

"Uh uh, spoilers."

He frowned and his hand moved from my chest to cup the side of my face. "Troublesome woman."

"You love it."

A smirk tugged at his lips as his tilted my head up and dipped his head to snag a kiss from me. "So what if I do?"

"Then someone went to Oz and got themselves a heart," I teased.

He pulled me against him and shut me up with a hotter, longer kiss. Away from the Avengers, away from Hydra and everything that was causing me a massive headache, and as close to nature and what I love as I was allowed while still under house arrest more or less. This was my tiny slice of paradise and peace before it would most likely all go to shit.

[corpsentry]

LAUNCHING MERRILY DOWN THE PATH OF SIN AGAIN

ao3 mirror pairing: atsumu/hinata rating: teens featuring: post-timeskip, side bokuaka, black jackals dynamics, sakusa suffering, author’s weird oral fixation

Hell yeah. Miya Atsumu is in love.

“Shit. I think I cut my gum.”

They’re having dinner together for some reason. Bokuto probably roped them all into it to stave off his boredom, but he offered to pay, so Sakusa went along with it, and because Sakusa went along with it, Hinata went along with it, and because Hinata went along with it, Atsumu went along with it. He suspects Hinata would’ve said yes from the start, but Sakusa started lecturing them on the perils of Korean BBQ restaurants, so Bokuto staved him off too with the cash thing. Sakusa is a practical person. Sometimes.

Anyway, Hinata winces as he says shit I think I cut my gum. Then he smiles like he’s really happy about it and Bokuto’s eyes go all round like volleyballs and he slams his hands on the table. Sakusa tells him not to put his hands on the table. Bokuto ignores him.

“Are you okay?” Bokuto asks.

“Yeah,” Hinata says, making a weird face while he feels around in his mouth with his tongue.

Atsumu tries to think of something intelligent to say and draws a blank. “Let me see,” he says instead. He’s sitting next to Hinata because Sakusa doesn’t trust Bokuto to share a grill with him. Bokuto is sitting next to Sakusa because he can’t share a grill with him but he wants to either try to get to know him better or piss him off. If nothing else he’s definitely succeeded at the latter.

“Huh?” Sakusa stares at Atsumu like he thinks he’s stupid, which he probably is. “The fuck are you trying to see?”

“The, uh,” Atsumu begins, but Hinata opens his mouth for him for some reason and he forgets to finish his sentence.

“I can taste blood on the right side of my mouth,” he offers.

“Uh,” Atsumu says again.

Bokuto stands up and leans over the table because Bokuto is immortal and will not be wounded by the likes of a Korean BBQ grill. “Do you need a flashlight? My phone has a flashlight.”

“Who the fuck doesn’t have a flashlight on their phone,” Sakusa says, staring at Bokuto like he thinks he’s stupid.

“Me,” Hinata offers. Hinata is using an iPhone model from the Stone Age.

“Stop talking and let me look at your gums,” Atsumu says, looking at his teeth. He has made a discovery: Hinata has very nice teeth. This aligns nicely with the other nice things he has noticed about Hinata’s face, like his eyebrows and the softness of his mouth. Hell yeah. Atsumu is in love.

“You’ve been looking at his gums for over a minute, Atsumu. Have you found anything.” Sakusa.

“Yeah,” Atsumu confirms. “There’s a cut.”

“Shit, where?”

“There.”

“Can you show me?”

“Oh, no.” Sakusa pushes his chair away from the table. “Atsumu. Don’t do it.”

Atsumu is really fucking confused. “What am I supposed to not do?” He’s still thinking about Hinata’s face. You have to get really close to someone to look inside their mouth. Close enough to kiss them. Is this what intimacy looks like?

“Are you gonna put your fingers in his mouth?” Bokuto, in a moment of clairvoyance, has caught onto the source of Sakusa’s terror. He sounds proud of himself.

“Are you?” Hinata looks at him innocently.

Atsumu puts his fingers in his mouth.

    ::

    Sakusa Kiyoomi followed Inarizaki’s match against Karasuno in his second year of high school from a livestream on his phone because he wanted to minimize contact with the crowds in the gymnasium as much as possible. The match being an Inarizaki match, had attracted an especially large and diverse crowd of spectators. Nonetheless, they were united by the fact that they were all screaming. At first they were screaming because the Miya brothers were winning. Later they were screaming because the Miya brothers were losing. Then they finished losing, and Kiyoomi scoffed at them behind his mask while he wondered how Miya Atsumu was taking the fact that he had blown his first match at the Spring High.

Later he would recall the way Atsumu had looked at Karasuno’s orange-headed number ten. Kiyoomi, being the calm and logical person he is, would detect the complex twist of fascination and admiration that lay behind the twins’ duplicate of the freak quick. He might even begin to form a coherent thought about Atsumu’s motivation for executing such a shaky attack. This would involve a careful perusal of the few years of friendship between them and an evaluation of Atsumu’s taste in sports, men, and sportsmen. Then someone would cough in his direction from thirteen meters away, and he would get so mad at them he would forget all about it until he met the two of them again as teammates in the MSBY Black Jackals and Atsumu put his fingers in Hinata’s mouth.

    ::

    “Dude you have to tell me why you did that,” Bokuto says. He’s leaning on Atsumu’s shoulder because he’s drunk and it’s a Friday. Bokuto only drinks on Fridays. This is a fact of life. If he could have it his way he would apparently drink on several days but Akaashi the shounen manga editor vows to wipe out seven generations of his family if he does. Therefore he abstains.

Atsumu wishes he would abstain from leaning on his shoulder. “I do?” he wonders aloud. He is drunk as well. Luckily Bokuto is more drunk so Bokuto cannot admonish him. Atsumu holds all the power in this situation.

“Yeah dude you were blushing like crazy.” Drunk Bokuto doesn’t use punctuation. It does not register on his list of things that exist in the universe. One time Atsumu made a bad life decision and crashed at his apartment; that night he overheard Bokuto talking to Akaashi the shounen manga editor on the phone, sounding like a bullet train with a caffeine addiction. Every once in a while Bokuto would fall silent. Then he would make an abrupt sound like a deflating balloon, presumably interrupting whatever Akaashi was saying, and there would be no more silence to be had for the next thirteen minutes. Atsumu felt very sorry for himself all night. He also felt very sorry for Akaashi, but less so since he had chosen to saddle himself permanently with Bokuto unlike the rest of them.

“Dude.” Drunk Bokuto says dude a lot.

“No,” Atsumu says.

They have almost reached the train station. Atsumu can see it blinking in the distance with its glowing signs and other artificial shit and he is so fucking glad for it. He manhandles Bokuto into the station and props him up against a pillar once they reach the platform. Bokuto’s coat is slipping off his shoulders. Atsumu pulls it back up.

“Do you think he was weirded out?” he asks later on the train. The soju he chugged after sticking his fingers in Hinata’s mouth is wearing off and primal fear is starting to set in. Suddenly he finds himself deeply regretting everything he has done since Hinata joined the Black Jackals. Spending so much time practicing that quick attack with him was a mistake. Buying him chocolate as a joke for Valentine’s Day was a mistake. Walking back to the train station alone with him after spending too much time practicing that quick attack, watching the way Hinata had laughed at his dumb jokes as they moved through the neon blur of the city was a mistake. Now he's in love and Sakusa's going to make fun of him. Sakusa has alien-like sensors installed in the back of his head which allow him to notice everything important in life before Atsumu does. Ah, Atsumu’s drowning in regret. He’s going to die.

“Nope,” Bokuto says cheerfully. “Hinata’s a good guy.”

Atsumu broods. “Good guys can be weirded out too, y’know.”

“Nah. He likes you.”

“What are you, psychic?”

“Hell yeah I’m psychic.”

    ::

    Bokuto is not psychic. He’s just a fundamentally nice human being who gets an endorphin kick out of supporting every single person who comes within a hundred-meter-radius of him. Okay, Atsumu wants to say. Okay, so you want to support your teammates and your friends and shit. That’s great. But what if two of those teammates are At Odds with each other. What if you have to pick one.

Atsumu and Hinata are At Odds with each other. On the bright side, they’re both old enough to draw the line between work shit and personal shit so it doesn’t spill over into their professional lives. They are alarmingly civil during practice. The Black Jackals continue to get their ass handed to them by the Adlers. On the dark side, Hinata won’t so much as breathe in his direction off the court, which is pretty fucking miserable.

The best part is Atsumu doesn’t even realize he’s being ignored until Sakusa points it out to him. He’s spent the last week in denial and is actually growing kind of comfortable with this new lifestyle. He doesn’t have to deal with the fact that he has feelings for the guy who pissed him off in his second year of high school; he also doesn’t have to deal with the fact that he stuck his fingers in his mouth last Friday. Maybe Atsumu should just end his friendship with Hinata Shouyou. They can start over as business partners. Make a joint venture.

But of course, Sakusa points it out to him. “I know you think you’re being really fucking slick by ignoring Hinata all the time, but I must sadly inform you that he’s actually ignoring you as well,” he says, examining his nails absently. “Plus I think he’s trying harder at it.”

Sakusa smells like eighty-five different brands of shampoo. “I hate you,” Atsumu says.

“Your hatred means nothing to me,” Sakusa replies, unfazed.

    ::

    The first time he and Hinata played together in an official match, Atsumu remembers thinking that he was glad he let Osamu set up his onigiri shop and pushed ahead with volleyball alone after all.

He figures he’ll always be a little bitter about how his high school volleyball career ended. It’s like how he still hates the everloving shit out of spicy food but has developed a tolerance for it due to his teammates’ dietary preferences. The sensation will never be pleasant, but he gets through it. He drinks a shit ton of water. After their meal he treats himself to dessert from a nearby convenience store and makes someone else pay for it out of spite. Sometimes they agree. Other times he winds up paying for his souffle cheesecake himself. But fuck it, whatever, it’s sweet.

The first time he and Hinata played together in an official match they unleashed their new freak quick in front of Kageyama Tobio and like half of Japan’s previous high school volleyball circuit. At the moment in which the ball he set went up in the air and Hinata made contact with it, Atsumu had the distinct sensation that the rules of the world had been quietly rewritten. It was akin to having a fully-grown deer ram its antlers into your chest, shattering your ribcage instantly. He couldn't hear himself anymore. Just the crowd.

Take that, he said with his eyes after Hinata scored that first sweet, sweet point, smiling at Kageyama like a switchblade. Hinata’s ours now.

Upon closer examination, what Atsumu actually meant to say was: he’s mine.

    ::

    Why didn’t he say that, you ask? Because he’s a fucking idiot, of course. By this point Sakusa had already caught on to his feelings. If you had looked carefully at the background you would have noticed him squinting at Atsumu at various points throughout the match with three percent more intensity than usual. The rest of his attention was reserved for the ball, but he devoted three percent to Atsumu. This is Sakusa we’re talking about. Three percent is significant.

    ::

    There is a boring romantic subplot in one of the manga that Akaashi’s magazine serializes. Unfortunately it’s about a boy and a girl, so it was probably destined to be boring from the start. But the brilliant thing about it is both the girl and the boy realize they have feelings for each other in chapter thirty and then proceed to make zero progress in their relationship for the next two hundred chapters.

“Why don’t they just get together?” he asked Akaashi once. They were having hotpot in Bokuto’s apartment. Because it was Bokuto’s apartment they got Akaashi as a freebie. Akaashi had brought wagyu beef.

“The author doesn’t feel like it.” Akaashi’s glasses kept getting fogged up by the steam. He looked like a character from a detective movie.

“Oh. Is the author single?” asked Atsumu, who was single.

“Yes,” said Akaashi, who was not single.

“Are you hitting on my boyfriend?” Bokuto called from the bathroom. They ignored him.

“Aha,” Atsumu said triumphantly. “I knew it. The author clearly has no experience. It pisses me off that they keep hinting at their feelings without getting to the point.”

“That is fair.” Akaashi had decided to take off his glasses at risk of stabbing someone in the face with his chopsticks.

“Alternatively, you could remove the romantic subplot altogether. I doubt much would change.”

Alternatively he could chase Hinata down after practice on the way to the train station. It would be snowing, because snow is pretty and makes everything look soft and cinematic. Atsumu would call out Hinata’s name as he approached him from two hundred meters away. He would be out of breath because everyone’s constantly out of breath in romantic cinema. Hinata would telepathically know that Atsumu was here to confess his undying love for him and hide his blushing face in his scarf.

Alternatively, they could have dinner together at a stuffy candle-lit restaurant. Only this isn’t a manga, and Akaashi isn’t the editor, so Hinata is still practicing serves in the gym when Atsumu appears in the doorway, still reeling at the realization that he’s been ignored for a week.

Well then. He scrolls through Instagram to pass the time.

    ::

      When he’s done, Atsumu offers to help Hinata with clean-up. “Thank you,” says Hinata rather reluctantly, still not breathing in his direction.

“You know,” Atsumu says, feeling very tired. He’s too tired to beat around the bush. He has decided to eat the bush. “I can tell you’re ignoring me.”

Hinata creates distance under the guise of picking up loose balls. “Mm.”

“Why?”

Hinata squats down in front of a ball. Atsumu walks over and squats down beside him. The ceiling lights are fierce and bright above them, and Hinata’s face is tilted away from it. Atsumu can’t read his expression but he can see his ears, which are pink, and the side of his neck, which is pink as well. In this position, from this angle, Hinata’s musculature is even more stunning than usual; biceps, shoulders, back. This shouldn’t be a surprise given that they’re all adults now instead of petty high school kids with grudges as big as clenched fists. But if asked right now what the prototypical volleyball player should look like, Atsumu would point at Hinata and say: that guy.

“Sorry about sticking my fingers in your mouth,” he says quietly, folding his arms together over his knees and resting his chin on top. And then, in a flash of inspiration: “Also, I’m in love with you. I hope your cut healed properly?”

Hinata finally lifts his face up into the light, and Atsumu is reminded of watching the rising sun spill across the surface of the sea in a NatGeo documentary. For a second he looks absolutely lost. Then he knits his brow, stares hard at Atsumu like he’s trying to do calculus in his head or something.

“About the cut,” he says, hesitating. “Why don’t you find out for yourself.”

Atsumu chokes.

    ::

    It’s not like he hasn’t been in love before. In high school he had a crush on Kita Shinsuke that was so debilitatingly bad, he never even told Osamu about it. But Kita Shinsuke didn’t have a debilitating crush on him and he never went pro. They didn’t wind up as teammates again several years later when Atsumu finally figured out how to style his hair properly with gel. Kita vanished off the radar after high school with that unnerving smile of his. They haven’t seen each other since.

Anyway, Atsumu has a lot of complicated feelings for Hinata. At first he was pissed at him for teleporting off to Brazil for two years, and thinking that he could still brute force his way into a Division One team immediately upon his return. Then Hinata actually did that, and Atsumu spent several weeks sulking about their new teammate by refusing to so much as breathe in his direction. Eventually Sakusa sat him down in the empty locker room one morning and looked him straight in the eye from two meters away and said you want to set for him don’t you. After thinking about it for a while he realized that Sakusa was right. He wanted to set for Hinata Shouyou. Back in high school the feeling had arisen mainly out of spite and childish frustration. Now it was genuine.

So fine, maybe he likes Hinata a little more than he should.

They’re not high schoolers anymore. They’re old enough to know where to draw the lines between work shit and personal shit and risk-taking and stupidity. They’re supposed to know themselves better by this point. Like what’s your favorite alcoholic drink. What’s your taste in men and sports and sportsmen. Do you believe in miracles.

Do you believe in—?

“—This,” Hinata says. Atsumu realizes belatedly that he had missed the first part of his sentence but before he can try to figure it out Hinata fists a hand in his shirt and yanks him forward.

Oh no, Atsumu thinks. Hinata’s smiling. All crooked like a semicircle of sun. All pretty-like.

“Since that’s out of the way,” he says brilliantly, warm breath fanning out over Atsumu’s cheeks, moving closer still. “I hope you don’t mind if I just—”

Atsumu closes his eyes and lets Hinata pull him in. He’s old enough to know where this leads.

    ::

    They’re having dinner together again for some reason. Bokuto roped them all into it to stave off his boredom because Akaashi the shounen manga editor is in Hokkaido on a business trip, but he offered to pay, so Sakusa went along with it, and Sakusa went along with it, so Atsumu went along with it, and Atsumu went along with it, so Hinata went along with it. The truth is they almost always go along with Bokuto’s whims because Bokuto’s a fundamentally nice human being and Akaashi brings the fanciest ingredients to their hotpot parties. It doesn’t actually matter if Bokuto offers to pay. Someone will start the reluctant-yes-train and then the rest will join in and before they know it, they’re all ducking into the doorway of a restaurant together.

“So was anyone gonna tell me that two of my teammates are dating,” Bokuto says, waving his chopsticks around grandly while Sakusa attempts to shield his risotto from the onslaught of loose rice grains. “Or was I just supposed to find out from Omi-kun here?”

Hinata’s eyes go wide. Atsumu, who had been chewing on a fry, doubles over coughing.

“ATSUMU. ARE YOU OKAY.” Bokuto’s feet are on the table. Sakusa is seeing God.

“Shit.” Atsumu winces, feeling around in his mouth with his tongue. “I think I cut my gum.”

“Let me see.”

“Uh, Hinata, you don’t have to do that, actually—”

“Are you going to do that thing again?” God bless Bokuto and his endless store of curiosity towards all things chaotic and doomed in the world. God bless Sakusa who has ascended to the next dimension. God bless Atsumu's poor gums.

Hinata beams at Bokuto. “No,” he says slowly, bright as a bonfire. “I’m going to kiss him.”

God bless them all.

[mostfacinorous]

GO Whumptober Day 14: Is Something Burning?  [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13]

They came for them later, though by how much, neither of them could guess. The empty void of Purgatory was neither the cramped, chaotic darkness of hell nor the spacious and organized brightness of heaven, but a swirling dull greyness with no definition at all. Nothing seemed to hold onto its shape, save the two of them, and, Aziraphale suspected, that was only because they alone were there in physical corporations. 

He would bet that if they’d been placed there in spirit form, they would have been pulled apart and dispersed like just so much more fog. 

It was horrific, and didn’t bear thinking about. 

When a section of the fog slid away, revealing the elevator that would return them to earth-- or send them to Heaven or Hell, Aziraphale climbed to his feet and pulled at Crowley’s coat, pointing mutely. 

The conversation hadn’t ended, per say, merely trailed off several times as they grew thirsty and had nothing to drink, or spoke in circles, or let the fear of the future overtake their minds until they had to stop lest they inflict their imaginations on one another. 

Crowley stood as well, and flinched as the shapes in the elevator became clear. 

The Archangel Gabriel stood there, but beside him was Lord Beelzebub. 

This could only spell trouble for the both of them. 

“We could stay.” Aziraphale offered, even as he began straightening out his clothing. 

“Nah. Might as well get whatever this is over with.” 

“Quickly please!” Gabriel yelled, unhelpfully. “This damp is depressing enough without having to watch you dither.” 

Resigned, they approached the door, stepping out of purgatory and back into the somewhat equally neutral, but more appealingly defined elevator. 

“So.” Gabriel said, looking altogether smug and folding his hands. “It seems there’re some things you’ve been keeping from us, Aziraphale. Nice little jaunt to hell-- slaying a demon in battle?” 

Aziraphale gulped audibly. 

“Yes, well, it was a bit of a long story, and I meant to put it in my report, but--”

“And you.’ Beelzebub turned their attention on Crowley, and he lifted his chin, once again quaking in his not-quite-boots. “Aiding in the escape of an angel?” 

Crowley shrugged. 

“Seemed the thing to do at the time?” He offered weakly. 

“As you’ve both proven yourselves traitors, and as you haven’t fallen--”

“And you can’t fall again…”

“And technically Hell started it…” Gabriel shot an almost fondly annoyed look in Beelzebub’s direction. 

“And we can’t kill you, yet-- apparently you both factor into some Plans. So you will return to your posts. With one exception-- you will be marked.”

Crowley saw Aziraphale’s usually rosy cheeks pale. 

“What, again?” Crowley asked, reaching up to trace the tattoo at his temple. 

“Oh, not like that. Rather, you’ll be in Gabriel’s hands, and I’ll have the Angel to myself. We’ve already agreed on the design.”

“But-- but surely, if God herself doesn’t see cause to punish us--”

“The Metatron says you just aren’t worth Her time.” Gabriel cut in smoothly. “So it’s up to us to create a reasonable solution. And this is it: We’re going to brand you as traitors, straight through your physical bodies and onto your immortal souls.” 

“Wha-- how do you plan to do that?” Crowley asked, nervous. 

“Holy water and hellfire.” Beelzebub answered with relish. “Respectively, of course.” 

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Two chairs sat opposite one another. 

Beside one was a bucket, beside the other was a flame. 

From here, they could see a single poker between them. 

Crowley felt his stomach fall out. 

“Just a little burn, then it’ll be done.” Aziraphale muttered. 

“Oh, I imagine it’ll hurt more than that.” Gabriel told him cheerfully, as he began rolling up his sleeves. “Crawley, you’re with me.” 

Crowley shot one last, quick glance in Aziraphale’s direction, shrugged, and followed, inwardly panicking and trying not to hyperventilate. 

He settled into the seat, and saw Aziraphale doing the same. They were aimed to face one another-- to see each other get branded. 

“Who wants to go first?” Beelzebub asked, rubbing their hands together excitedly. 

“I will.” Aziraphale volunteered, voice calm and cool, eyes locked on Crowley’s. 

Crowley licked his lips and winced as the poker was put into the flames. It glowed white hot in only moments, and then Beelzebub pulled away Aziraphale’s collar and pushed his head forward, the brand searing through the skin on the back of his neck. 

From here, Crowley could hear the sound of it, smell the skin and hair being burnt. He jolted forward, his first impulse to go to him, to try to help, but Gabriel took hold of his shoulder and shoved him back and into the chair.

Aziraphale let out a gutteral scream that stayed locked behind his gritted teeth as long as possible, and only when it finally broke through and left his throat was it over. 

Beelzebub walked away from him and toward Crowley, dropping the hot brand in the bucket of Holy water. 

“All yours.” They said, with a too sharp smile. 

Crowley looked up at Gabriel, licked him lips, and tried a smile of his own. 

“Can I at least see the design first?” He asked. 

Gabriel pulled out the poker and held it up for Crowley to see. 

“On you, it’s gonna be a halo over a pitchfork-- you putting an angel before your own kind. On him, we inverted it-- a pitchfork stabbing a halo. Proof that you’re both traitors, and you’ll never be able to heal it or wipe it away.” 

Crowley nodded; it was fitting, not something he’d have picked, of course, but-- 

He heard the poker dipping back into the pot and leaned forward on his own, baring the back of his neck. 

He bit his lip, closed his eyes-- 

--screamed

--and passed out.

[dannineedsfriends]

A Favour - Parrlyn Part 1

About a week into the second half-term of the year was exponentially and quintessentially annoying. Cathy was cold, irritable and tired and being too paranoid to delay school for coffee, she was grouchy. Constantly. Yet the uncaffeinated version of herself was outwardly positive and inwardly demonic, which is extremely detrimental in the long run, when people ask you to do their homework for them.

  She found it hard to say no to people in the first place, and now that the internal demon had latched itself, like a leech, to her soul, she was most definitely going to pretend to be very enthusiastic and happy, when she's digging herself into a sad hole to the underworld. So when Anne Boleyn came sliding into the seat across from her, she was preparing herself for total anarchy. 

  "Before you say a word, yes. I'll do it." Cathy sighs, knowing the exact words that were about to erupt from the girl's mouth. 

  "Okay good. So if you're into pussy, I need a desperate favour from you for like 3 months." Anne's face has lit up with relief, and she leans eagerly forward onto the table, not at all detecting the realisation of 'fuck' plastered across Catherine's face.

  "Hey- no- no no no -" she defends. "I never said that-"

  "No take-backs! You're helping me now." She smiles sweetly, and the tone leaks into her voice. Boleyn has a high reputation for never needing anything from anyone, taking no bullshit, and being extremely defiant. What would she possibly want from Parr? 

  "You do realised that you definitely tricked me, right?" 

  "I know exactly what I'm doing now shush, smarty pants! So - I need you to pretend to date me for maybe half a year--"

  "You just said thre-"

  "You have no right to interrupt me." She brushes her comment aside. "Because I may or may not have bragged about the fact I was seeing a really beautiful girl, who's super smart, for ages and now people want to actually know who she is."

  Anne leans over to over Cathy's hands with her own, grabbing her fingers and squeezing them. "This is a thing now. And you can't stop it." 

  The smile the girl gave her as she bounced away was unnerving. What the fuck just happened? From what she could understand in such a short time, she was no longer single. For six months. But not really not single because it was fake? She sighs and scribbles out her plans for the weekend, written on her hand. 

  Cathy wasn't exactly sure how she was even supposed to contact Anne, considering that they had never had a conversation, let alone any form of contact outside of the school ground. She realised that she was watching Anne walk away when she noticed her turn around, as if realizing the same thing before trudging back, throwing her bag on the chair and raking through it, before taking out a small piece of paper and slamming it down in front of her. 

  "Now I can leave." 

--

  Every time she saw Anne from that point on, her life was a living nightmare. Catherine didn't even like talking to friends - let alone a random girl from school claiming to be her girlfriend, when she was straight. 

  Cathy always enjoys coffee alone on a Saturday morning, before going to the library to continually revise or return some-book-or-other. She sat on the table, the one near the window, farthest from the door. She has her coffee black, with one sugar: she had often been told that someone's coffee order reflects a person and considering hers was pretty bitter, she assumes it's of relative accuracy. 

  She runs a hand through knotted curls, left down for once and they parade down her shoulders, concealing her face more than she cared for as she stared out the window at nothing in particular. Or at least nothing until a figure dressed in all black crossed over the road and threw their hood down, waving vigorously to her attention. Anne. 

  Cathy groans and turns away from the window. Now? Really? There were somethings in life that happen at the wrong time, and this was one of them, she decides. Her hands clench the warmth of the coffee cup, eyes squeezed shut and hoping that the prosecutor of her doom would spring through the door and bother her. Someone, somewhere was trying to severely mess up her day.

  Quiet webs of mumbling embrace the room and bring comfort to Cathy, who is still trying to  indoctrinated herself into believing that Anne wasn't going to walk in and sit down in front of her. 

  "Why do you have your eyes closed?" a confused voice calls abruptly from across from her. She opens her eyes to see the black-lathered figure that was Anne Boleyn. Gremlin energy at its finest. 

  "No reason. I was meditating, it has a very calm atmosphere in here." Catherine nods slowly, taking a slow sip from her cup, inhaling loudly to exemplify her tranquility. She wasn't exactly lying to her, either. Sometimes she did meditate here, briefly and uncomfortably, but the smell of the shop gave her a sense of safety and wellbeing. 

  She catches Anne looking her over with slightly squinted eyes and for once, she doesn't look like she's about to rip Cathy's outfit to shreds. The girl stands up, putting her bag in the seat. 

  "Wait here a minute? I just want to get a drink." 

  She nods and Anne walks to join a cue, coming back about five minutes later, smiling gratefully, as if she was expecting Cathy to get up and leave before she got back. 

  "What'd you get?" She questions curiously, placing her cup down on the table to look into hers. 

  "Fruity tea! You wanna try some?" She pushes the cup across the table. 

  "Are you sure? What if I have herpes?"

  "Do you?" Anne cocks an eyebrow. 

"No…?" 

"Then take a drink!" 

  Cathy watches her for confirmation before taking a sip, eyebrows furrowing as she tastes it. "I don't know if I like it. Nah. You keep that shit."

  She gently pushes the cup back across the table and gets her own drink to get the taste out of her mouth. 

  "Says the one drinking black coffee. Like some sort of demon-" 

  "I'm not a demon! Milk makes coffee disgusting and it gives me energy. Shush yourself."

  "Uh-huh, uh-huh. Suit yourself, Cathy." Anne smirks, finger tracing the rim of the plastic lid. 

  "I can hear the sarcasm in your tone, and don't give me those eyes, Annie." She counters, running a hand through her hair again, feeling the corners of her lips curling into a smile. 

  Anne grins through gritted teeth. "What a lovely nickname."

  "I know you love it, Annie." She sings, tilting her head to one side as if to antagonize her that slight bit more, and to her surprise, Anne starts laughing. 

  This seemingly immortal, and extremely annoying, being was laughing. It's bubbly and as her smile grows wider, she throws her head back for brief seconds before her eyes find Cathy's. Why was she laughing so much? 

  Anne sips at her tea, the smile lasting way longer as she watches Cathy. "I'm super hungry right now. How would you feel about going and getting some food with me, after we've finished here?" 

--

  After Anne had offered to walk her home, Cathy began to feel more appreciative of being stuck with the girl for so long. If she was this nice all the time, then it was practically a dream come true, if she was completely honest. Though she still had her moments of being annoying, they became more and more playfully annoying, less maliciously annoying, as before. 

  "So…" Anne drawls, walking close to her. "Are you free later on this evening? Late on tonight-ish."

  "Is it a girlfriend thing?" She asks slowly, contemplating her words carefully, and Anne nods in response. "What do I even need to do..?"

  She shrugs. "Give me a nickname. I don't care wha--"

  "Annie."

  "Okay." She hesitates, forgetting her words and not wanting to say something completely unorthodox. "Maybe hold my hand? Whatever comes naturally?"

  Cathy nods slowly, their shoulders brushing against each other as they walked down the streets. It was still mid-morning, and it was relatively quiet outside, the only other sounds being passing cars and the squawking of unseen birds, the rest of the space filled with their voices. 

  "Am I supposed to wear anything nice..-? I don't have any party-suitable outfit, to my recollection."

  "Who on Earth uses the word recollection in a normal conversation? I swear you speak like you're constantly writing an essay." Anne rambles, shaking her head and brushing hair behind her ears and looking over at Cathy. "But honestly anything's fine. Wear jeans and a shirt, and that's about it. We can ditch the shirt on the way home, if you get me."

   It takes a moment for the comment to register before Cathy realises and playfully smacks her arm. "We are keeping our clothes on, thank you very much."

  "Ohhhh, so you're that type, huh?" 

  "Anne Boleyn, I swear to God-" Anne snickers at her anger. 

  "But yeah! Honestly anything's fine. Come what you're in now- you look pretty."

  Cathy scoffs and stops in front of her house, shaking her head to Anne. "Thank you for walking me home, but you really didn't have to."

  The other girl just smiles at her as if to say: you know I did. She's still thankful nonetheless and gives a small wave as she opens her door, turning around one last time to blow her a cheeky kiss, before closing the door behind her. 

--

  Cathy walked to the address of said party, waiting for Anne outside, where she had been messaged to meet her, hugging her cardigan around herself and looking both ways down the street again, eyes raking through the darkness and finally the vivid sound of sandals hitting the pavement sounds behind her. She turns and sees the one and only Anne Boleyn tearing down the street in dungaree-shorts and sandals, which she inferred to be the worst possible decision of clothing in the middle of November.  

  The girl steams to a halt in front of her, breathing wildly with the biggest grin on her face, red lipstick coating her lips and apparently part of her chin. Cathy steps forward to her, taking her face in one hand and using her thumb to wipe away the straying lipstick. 

  "You scruff. What am I, your mother?"

  Anne grins into her hands, wrapping her arm over her neck and kissing her jaw softly, moving to whisper in her ear. "They're watching us through the gap in the curtain. They think we don't know they're there."

  Cathy shakes her head softly and pulls away from her. "Can you lead in? I've never been to a party and I'm nervous."

  Anne makes a comment about her being nervous at everything but leads anyway, knocking briefly before letting herself in. 

  "THE GREMLIN'S ARRIVED." Cleves shouts from the couch, Kitty next to her grinning and turning to look at  the two girls stood in front of the door. 

  "Who's the random girl-thing-?" Kitty asks ambiguously, referencing to Parr and pointing a single finger, lazily. 

  Aragon, at the statement of her friend pops her head around the door frame to catch a glance at the two unsuspecting lovers. "Are you kidding me? She's real?"

  "Duh she's real. Why else would I say she existed?" Anne narrows her eyes to slits and shakes her head, taking Cathy's hand and leading her in to the rest of the girls, all lounging around. 

  Practically as soon as they sit down, the blonde girl, who Parr finds out is referred to as 'Jane', 'Seymour' or even 'Mother Seymour', moves away to sit on the floor and then she watches the four girls form a semicircle around Anne and herself, and she clenches her hand. 

  "What're they doing..-?" Cathy whispers softly into Anne's ear, and she earns a shrug in response, unsure herself. 

  "I'm Catherine..?" She says louder, and her voice ceasing to shake, to the credit of her emotional stability. 

  "So then Catherine. When exactly did you and our dearest Anne Boleyn here meet?" Cleeves presses, a wicked smile spreading across her lips.

  Her eyes widen and she shifts slightly. "Ah- gosh. We- uh. We met in school. She wasn't in any of my lessons- but she caught my eye because she was so beautiful and- and we got talking." she nods, certain and looking over at Anne with an affectionate smile. 

  Kitty's the one that presses it even further. "Out of curiosity, how in this entire galaxy did you choose to fall in love with Anne Boleyn?? When did it happen?"

  She wipes the look of surprise off of her face and lets out a shallow breath. "If I'm honest, it wasn't a choice. It was something that just happened all of a sudden and I don't exactly know how- but the moment I think I decided that I had fallen for her was when she decided to walk me home from getting coffee, on our first date. It wasn't planned either, she just showed up and sat down and shoved tea down my throat..- and then all of a sudden she was walking me home and I wanted her to stay so badly."

  Anne's staring at her from the seat beside her, a stupid grin teasing her lips and she purses them to hide it, hands interlocking at the base of her own neck. Cathy ignores the look of her, scared of the reaction she's getting from her, and her gut begins to drop when she realises that she meant every single one of her words. 

  "And how long did it take for her to bed you, hm?" 

  "Well… she hasn't yet… She desperately wanted to, but I wanted our first time to be special and not hiding from the kids in the school bathrooms." Cathy shoots her a glance and Anne's jaw has dropped to the floor, and a surprise looks across her face as if to say: how did she know?

  Aragon grins, interjecting to the conversation. "Since we're getting into these juicy kind of details, does Anne have any weird kinks that she's told you about?"

  Catherine crosses and uncrosses her legs anxiously. "Uh.. to the discretion of Anne, I won't reveal that answer."

  "conFIRMED: ANNE BOLEYN HAS A PISS KINK" Cleves stands up and yells, followed by Anne herself shortly after. 

  "Okay! That's enough. Leave her alone." She announces loudly, turning back to her with an apologetic look. 

  "She didn't deny it..-" Anna mumbles, dipping her chin and turning to the other girls. 

  Anne sits back down, closer to Cathy then before, putting her chin on her shoulder as the room breaks put into general conversation. "Thank you, for that." She whispers, smiling at the lipstick mark against her jaw, deciding not to tell her because it made her beauty more authentic. 

  Cathy turns to her, shrugging the shoulder that Anne wasn't leant on. "I do try, y'know. And that's now fifty quid, please. Pay up, gremlin." 

  "I'm not paying you shit until I get my money's worth, thank you very much. And I'm paying you in kisses because I'm poverty." Anne grins, hand raising to push a curl behind Cathy's ear, and to her bewilderment, she doesn't object to it. In fact, she leaves her hand there, resting against her head and she watches as the girl gently closes her eyes and leans into the touch. "That's gay."

  With that, she gets up from leaning into Anne's hand, shifting to look towards her more. "You are literally a lesbian, what do you want from me?"

  "She wants pussy!" A perfectly timed comment from another conversation makes Parr grin and purse her lips to stifle a laugh. 

  "I mean- she's not wrong." Anne admits. "I'm either horny or sad, constantly and at this point I can't tell the difference between the two." 

  "Wow. You should probably get a girlfriend sometime soon." She shrugs, watching her lips and the velvet-red colour that covers them. 

  "Mhm." Anne hums, tilting her head as her eyes wash over Catherine. "Hopefully, soon, yeah."

  She drags her eyes away from the scarlet lipstick, and back to around the room, scanning each person carefully. "Since when was this a 'party'?" 

  "Well… this is our version of a party. We usually don't drink or anything, because we look to have a combined age of six years." Catherine can't help but glance down at Anne's bra, which she could clearly see through her shirt. 

  "Uh-huh. Yeah-" she nods and looks her in the eyes again, and looking away. 

  "Did you just-"

  "Yeah."

  "Well then." Anne shifts, throwing her hair over her shoulder. 

  "You don't look six." Cathy feels the need to clarify. "If you were six, I would be seeking serious and intensive therapy about my sexual tendencies."

  "Did you just-"

  "Yeah. Don't mention it." She shakes her head, looking away, but Anne insists on scooting closer, and putting her hand on her knee, smiling comfortingly. "You're so cold- I can feel your hand through my trousers." 

  Cathy shakes her head, disappointed and sighing at how idiotic Anne is. 

  "What gave you the genius idea to wear shorts and sandals in November?" She grumbles, taking her cardigan off and draping it over Anne. 

  "I like being cripplingly cold so that when I get into bed, I don't want to get out because the only warmth is bed." 

  "I hope you know that that's fucked up, right?" 

  Anne shrugs, putting her arms through the sleeves and wrapping it around herself, shuffling to lay into Cathy, sighing softly. "I'm sorry." 

  It comes naturally to turn and press her lips to the apex of Anne's head, leaving them there for a few seconds before her arm reaches around her, shushing her gently. 

  She sighs into her hair, breathing her in. Anne smells nice, she decides, though she's not exactly sure what of. Cathy can picture nights in with the girl nestled in her arm, cuddled up watching movies until they pass out, gripping onto each other, and then she turns away from her, looking around the room. These girls are the reason this is happening: why Anne Boleyn was tolerating her, loving her, to a degree. It was fake, she reminded herself coldly. All of it. 

  Anne Boleyn was only being nice to her because she got herself into a mess. After all, who could possibly love Catherine Parr for who she really is? 

[sleepymccoy]

Not Quite Human

The apocalypse had been, all in all, a bit of a let down. All the angels of Heaven and demons of Hell had found it rather disappointing.

In the years following the demons attempted a mutiny, but they lost interest fairly quickly when they’d realised there was no one around to mutiny against. After all, no one had had any control over the not-war except Crowley, and he’d turned his location off on his phone. And he was a bit frightening now.

The angels hadn’t bothered to complain, they were all far too used to doing as they were told.

One of each of these species had found their mood significantly different than their type in the aftermath. The aforementioned demon Crowley, and one angel Aziraphale. They’d both quit their jobs for each other and returned home, tumbling rather helplessly towards a relief-filled romance. But old habits die hard and with nothing left to keep the pair from expressing their feelings, they created their own barriers to hold themselves back.

And so years passed with pointless desire, self inflicted wallowing, and miserable restraint.

Luckily for both of them, the angel was fed up. He’d been stewing too long and had decided to give it a go.

Sitting may be a polite term for what Crowley was doing to his couch. He’d picked up this rather disturbing artistic effort at interior decorating, a modern exploration into levels, at far too high a price. The couch had no dedicated back (or front, for that matter), but rather was made up of different cubes and blocks of varying shapes and sizes, placed with no apparent awareness of the needs of a body to lounge. Aziraphale hated it. Depending on his mood, Crowley either found it unbearable, or the most comfortable thing in existence.

Today it was very comfortable. He lay splayed like a lost starfish across the surface, staring at his phone, not really thinking about anything.

Aziraphale was reading a simple book that didn’t require much concentration, and his mind was wandering and thinking and scheming. As an angel he had excess eyes, so while his humanoid pair were enjoying a lengthy description of the kind of elderly English person who frequented Betram’s Hotel’s parlour, his more angelic and unknowable eyes were keeping a watch on the demon across the room.

“I have a fear, Crowley,” Aziraphale said into the comfortable silence that had formed, “that we may spend the rest of our lives together with you not asking me for as much as I am willing to give you.”

Crowley dropped his phone and twisted his spine back to tip his head over the back of one of the absurd edges of the couch. His hair fell in his face and, after blowing the long locks out of the way, he asked, “What d’you want, then?” His glasses slipped up to his forehead, so Crowley scrabbled at them to keep them at least vaguely in place.

Aziraphale turned his human eyes to Crowley. “You misunderstand, and I am not sure if you do so unintentionally or not, dear,” he said, unimpressed.

Crowley lay there, staring upside down at Aziraphale. He didn’t respond.

Aziraphale sighed and put his book to the side. He pursed his lips, spending another moment deciding if this was the right sort of track to take. He wasn’t sure, but he also simply couldn’t keep going forwards in the pointless, meandering, tense manner. “I have a feeling that you want more of me than you have requested. I would like you to ask me for what you want.”

Crowley rolled over, his body briefly giving him a few extra vertebrae to complete the movement. The poor demon was panicked, he had been living in a state of near terror for the last month as Aziraphale had begun pushing the non-communicated boundaries of their unspoken New Arrangement (the main difference to the Old Arrangement seemed to be that if Crowley didn’t come by the shop for a day, Aziraphale would call him and inquire as to why) into more and more intimate territory. He’d taken Crowley’s arm last week as they’d walked through what was left of St James’ Park and Crowley was still sorting through whether that had been meant as an overture to something more , or if he was just assisting a friend.

Crowley had enjoyed it, of course, he was in love after all. But he didn’t really want it. Well, he did, he wanted it a whole lot, but not to the point of being willing to risk what he had now. Things were good for the demon, he saw his angel every day, he spoke freely (mostly) and laughed more. Aziraphale came to him first often enough to make him feel special and wanted. So what if he’d cried at a sunset the other day, that was the sort of thing one simply does sometimes.

He spoke slowly, somewhat resenting the request for an honest response. He could blow most things off with a joke, but this allowed for no casual falseness. “What if it's more than you want to give? I'm happy with this much,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale smiled tightly, still unimpressed. “I have more to give than I have given thus far, Crowley. And besides, the worst I can say is no. On the back of that, is there anything you'd like to get up to tonight?”

“Nah.”

Aziraphale swallowed his disappointment bitterly. “Very well.” He opened his book up again, returning unerringly to the precise word he’d left off at. “Let me know if anything occurs to you.”

The book shop had gotten bigger since the apocalypse, but the empty space within had shrunk. Aziraphale, after a few years of Crowley insisting he could, had relaxed and begun expanding his collection into more outrageous areas. There was an entire shelf of dedicated pornography that Crowley had teased the angel over for about thirteen seconds before Aziraphale had met his gaze unflinchingly and invited him to read a few of the novels. Crowley had not yet picked one up.

There was a collection of paleontological books, all very seriously written, which Aziraphale found simply hilarious. Companion books for musicals sat on a bottom shelf, poking out in such a way as to trip unsuspecting customers, although these musicals ran more to the tune of Rent and Hair than they did The Sound of Music . There were even instruments (some recognisable to modern eyes, some forgotten to all but time and the two present) leaning against a few walls that Aziraphale had taken to practicing despite not being very good at it yet. All in all the shop reflected a more honest picture of the angel that ran it.

Crowley didn’t pick his phone back up, instead he lay on the now very uncomfortable couch on his stomach, staring at the edge of the coffee table seriously as he considered what he could ask Aziraphale for that the angel might give him. He wanted Crowley to push a boundary, clearly. They had moved rather slowly since the apocalypse, barely changing a thing as their very well built fears trickled away. Crowley’s had been replaced by a consuming fear of rejection (which hadn’t been far off consuming before the apocalypse, but had certainly grown since), and to his eyes Aziraphale had simply stopped living in fear. He was wrong, of course, Aziraphale was afraid of his own cowardice, which was its own kind of spiralling disaster, but Crowley didn’t know any of that.

Crowley wanted to ask Aziraphale to shift their dynamic into what humans would label as a romance. Being immortal beings crafted by God, the dynamic of such a romance would hardly be human in nature, but the agreement could start there. Of course, Crowley had no idea if Aziraphale wanted anything in that vein. The pornography books flitted through his mind as a possible answer to that, but he decided they weren’t complete enough an explanation to rely on.

The worst he could do is say no, Crowley mused. That was true. And Crowley was unlikely to ask for something that would be so totally and utterly reprehensible that Aziraphale would depart. He may just refuse, shower Crowley in a moment of disdain, and go back to quietly reading a book and thinking about desserts.

Unfortunately for Aziraphale, Crowley rather liked hope, even of the false variety, and didn’t want it dashed. So Aziraphale’s wishes weren’t met exactly, but they weren’t totally let down. Crowley refused to ask for much, but he did, at long last, ask for something just slightly left of their centre.

“Can I come sit with you?” Crowley asked.

Read the rest on ao3

Things to expect in this fic, altho do read the tags on ao3 if youre not sure: mututal pining. somewhat omnipotent pov (not god). first kiss and talking of that nature. some sexy times, but not a full fuck, still enough to rate exlicit imo. nose diving right into their approximation of a human relationship. asexual aziraphale, demisexual crowley 

[blankdblank]

Loki Baby Pt 5

…    Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - ...

Wk 19 -- “…I left it in my room…”

… @sdavid09​, @theincaprincess​, ...

Through the line giggles filled the room Scott and his little girl were playing and joking around for a few moments before the father answered, “Scott here.”

Tony smirked answering, “Scott, Tony Stark here, got a job for you and that suit of yours.”

“Um,” he said glancing at his girl moving onto putting together some snacks, “Tony, I don’t know about that, last time in Germany-,”

“This is not about that, trust me, this will not have any federal repercussions. It is entirely domestic, child play really for a pro like you.”

Scott’s brows furrowed and he leaned against the doorframe asking, “If it is so simple then why me?”

“Because the target hates me and I need an alibi.”

His lips pursed for a moment then he asked, “This is not an approval, but, what am I supposed to be after?”

Tony, “I need you to break in and take this pen,”

Scott laughed out loud, “A pen?!”

Tony, “It looks like a pen, but it isn’t, and I need you to get it so I can test it and find out what it is exactly.”

With a tilt of his head Scott’s lip curled for a moment and he turned to grin and wave at his daughter and said, “Send me the details, I’ll scope it out.”

“Good, fifteen grand in it for you when you deliver the pen.” Scott had to hold back his giddy laugh and sharing of the deal until the following morning when he went in to work in handing off his little girl for the weekend trip to an amusement park out in Florida.

.

Off to his job he raced and through the door he stepped with arms out saying, “None of you are going to guess who just hired me for a job today.”

Kurt, “Bruce Springsteen.”

Dave turned to look at him with a momentarily scrunched face, “Man, no way is Bruce Springsteen even on our radar.” Looking to Scott he said, “Ugh,” he said snapping his fingers, “What is that guys name?” Again he snapped then pointed at Scott, “Guy Fierri!”

Kurt, “Who is Guy Fierri?”

Dave, “He’s that tv chef with blonde spiked hair and that dark goatee. My lady’s got me hooked on these cooking shows, and-,”

Kurt, “Oh, yes I saw that Kitchen Rescue show. Cannot get enough.”

Luis turned in his chair after having untangled his chair from the phone and internet cable looking over the trio as Scot waved his hands, “Guys! No!”

Dave sighed leaning back in his chair faking interest in the change of subject, “Fine Scott, who did hire you?”

“Tony Stark!” He replied quickly receiving a room full of blinks. “Guys, ok, I know what you’re thinking, after the Germany thing, though this time, this time entirely domestic and so simple!”

Kurt, “What, he wants to have us install security system in one of his offices?”

Dave, “Nah man, he’s got his own grid, why would he go about hiring us?”

Scott bounced on his feet in a momentary crouch, “He wants me to steal a pen!” Brows rose and he added, “For fifteen grand! Though it’s not really a pen he thinks it just looks like a pen and he wants me to get it so he can check it out.”

Kurt’s eyes narrowed, “Is it pen gun?”

Scott’s eyes turned to Dave as he said, “Ooh, one of those poison dart pens? Saw one of those in a spy film once.”

Kurt, “Can’t be a grapple hook pen, completely illogical.”

Dave, “From that Johnny English film, yes!” turning to Scott he asked, “Why you?”

Scott looked between them then said, “Apparently he’s hated by the person with the pen and needs an alibi.”

Luis climbed out of his chair to join the others as Kurt asked, “Who’s the target? Some mastermind villain?”

Scott glanced at his phone rereading the message with all the info in it, “Some lady named Jaqi Pear.”

Luis, “Woah, woah, woah! Back that bus up you are not telling me that you accepted a job to rob one of the sweetest ladies on this planet, not counting my Grandma and your little girl. Cuz man, if you did I gotta judge our friendship a bit closer for your motives on that spectrum siding with Stark against the sweetest lady on the planet!”

The whole speech fired out rapidly and nearly had Scott reeling before he replied, “How do you know her? I’ve never heard of her.”

Kurt, “Pear? Like the fruit Pear?”

Scott nodded and Dave waved his hand and clicked his tongue, “Man, you mean you accepted a job from the woman who backed our company loan?!”

Scott, “Wait, what?! No, I though Master Industries backed us.”

Kurt, “Master, founded by a Miss Pear, the leading security and technology company in this country with resources even Stark cannot touch.”

Scott haltingly replied, “I, did, not, know that…”

Luis crossed his arms, “So, what does this Stark assume the sweetest lady on the planet ever could possibly be up to with this pen?”

Scott shrugged, “I don’t know man, he just said he wanted the pen.” Looking his friend over he asked, “Wait, how does one of the biggest tech and security companies take the time and money to invest in our band of misfits?”

Luis clicked his tongue, “Man, that goes way back to my Mom, when she was fresh out of high school,” with a grin he pointed at himself, “She just had me, and she needed  place to get a job, and she heard from these guys on the street corner while waiting for the bus that this ‘dragon lady’ had spent half an hour railing them on their credentials and kicked them to the curb. Well, moms was straight up impressed, cuz these guys were in like top of the line suits with those really shiney shoes, one of ‘em wearing their Harvard pin on their tie. So she goes, ‘Hey, any chicka crazy enough to send these money bags off to the curb has got my interest.’ So she goes three blocks over skipping an interview for a maids job over to this just glass wrapped building thinking ‘Worst comes to worst I can shine the hell out of these windows and floors have this chicka working in a bomb office!’”

The guys nodded and Luis wet his lips saying, “So she goes right past the doorman, who for his nice suit didn’t say a thing bout her bringing me with her, and she strolled right up to the desk saying, ‘I came to see Miss Pear.’ Again no comment form the man behind the counter, kind of shifty in her mind at first, cuz they should have said something cuz she wasn’t really at the top of her game that day, her curling iron died and had to head out in last night’s makeup after a colicky night with me. But she gets told ‘go to the elevator’ so she does and up we go. Right in the line of suit clad guys Mom just sat her self down and waited for the line to go through, each time seeing a guy, who’s like a twin to the guy downstairs, only he’s got a red shirt on, who looked like the guy at the door, so she’s figuring maybe they’re all related somehow?”

Scott nodded, “Makes sense.”

Luis nodded and continued, “Right so surprisingly half an hour later the guy comes out again after the last guy looks at the list and turns around saying, ‘We have an unnamed applicant.’ And my Moms hears this honey dipped angelic voice say, ‘Show them in.’ She gets up, little bit wobbly, cuz, again, not top of her game, but she draws it in and struts right in, just working the confidence and sits right down across from this just top notch woman. Sleek green dress leaned back in her leather chair just working her figure, with long curled ponytail laying over her chest and just this stunning smile though it wasn’t till she leaned forward and that’s when she saw it.”

Dave, “The pen?”

Luis, “What? No! Her eyes! Bright purple! Shook my Moms hand and asked her her name and how do you do’s and all that then she got to the big question, ‘What brings you in today?’ and Moms just busted out with her hearing about those guys and her just knowing that this would be the right place for her and said that she’d be grateful for even a cleaning job.”

Kurt, “So she got the job?”

Luis smiled wider, “Miss Pear gave her an assistant job,” parting their lips, “I know right! Ya, took a chance on my Moms, and she just nailed it right out of the park. Sure she’s a bit,” his teeth flashed in a tilt of his raised hands, “Low key immortal but all around-,”

Scott, “Wait, what?”

Dave, “Did you say immortal?”

Luis, “See, she’s older than I am, cuz clearly I was a baby at the interview, but Mom said it wasn’t that big of a deal cuz Gran met her once and said there was nothing shady there, ‘sometimes there’s just those that are sent down to bless’ and that’s what she did. Cuz for 25 years she employed my Moms and even helped to get me a better lawyer to take up my appeal case pro bono and then after I got out insisted she take time off and see a specialist for that lump she had on her neck. Turned out it was cancer, and even when the company insurance refused to pay Miss Pear paid for everything, even the driver service to get her to each appointment and when my Moms passed she got top of the line everything down the line.

And of course I felt a bit bad you know, my growing up in the office and then taking that wrong legal turn that maybe I shouldn’t go there, but we had such a great idea and I knew that she would understand my idea and that if there was a problem with the pitch she would help me fix it, so I called the number and she says just drop by. Right in my Moms old chair is my second cousin in law Trish, who just sent me right in saying she cleared her morning for me. We caught all up and she wanted to hear all about how I’ve been doing and cleaning up after getting out and then I showed her the plans and how the banks refused the loan applications and asked how I could fluff it up for the business world.

All she does is do what she always did to seal the deal, lean her way back in that chair, still one bomb chicka after all these years and she dials the phone and makes a call, says ‘Charles, I’m sending someone over, give it to him.’ Then looks over to me when she hangs up ‘Just head over to Brumson Bank head straight up to Charles’ desk and tell him I sent you.’ And,” Excitedly he mimed a bomb exploding, “Boom! We got our loan!” his grin dropped and he said to Scott, “Now tell me you didn’t take a job to rob the sweetest lady on the planet?”

Scott felt his stomach drop a foot lower in hearing how this woman had changed his best friend’s life and his own by backing their company and he rubbed the back of his neck, “Um, I mean, it’s just a pen.”

Dave pursed his lips for a moment then asked, “Maybe, you could just talk to her? Maybe explain the situation, she might let you take a picture of the pen or something.”

Kurt nodded, “Yes, any woman that kind may be understanding.”

Luis pulled out his phone saying, “I’m gonna give you her address and send her a message you’re dropping by her office, and you better clear this up!” Luis typed on his screen and then said, “She’s shopping right now but she’ll be in her office in an hour. She will see you then.”

Scott nodded and said, “Cool, cool…” his lips pursed a moment and he said, “Wonder why Stark said she hates him.”

*

Waffles filled the air of your apartment that Loki let himself into after an otter opened the door for him and closed it behind him. The usually alluring scent you gave off was nearly doubled making his fingers clench around the sleeves of his sweater as his slippers tapped silently across the carpet in your warm living room making his flannel pants seeming all the more cozy nearly driving him to curl up on one of your couches for some more sleep. A striking glimpse of you however halted him in his tracks, fully done up and dressed to the nines, but groggily pacing in a stunning aura of something he could only explain as ‘snuggle up with me’ you finished setting out the various clearly freshly made fruit jams and spreads for the waffles, cinnamon raisin bread and muffins you had made.

A brush of your curled bangs that fell into your face from behind your ear clearly from the mess of curls pulled up into a messy bun on top of your head. In passing the island to fetch the juice for you, and milk for the tea brewing he caught sight of the short shorts in yellow under your grey baggy t shirt, tall socks pulled up to your knee in moose slippers had him wetting his lips and moving closer. Turning your head you spotted him and even in your clearly drowsy expression he forced a grin onto his face reminding himself to breathe. You were stunning with makeup and now he had seen you untouched, sleep wrinkles and indents from pillows still pressed into your cheek. Though the thing overpowering him was the scent wafting off you.

“Morning.” He forced out and you grinned back turning to fetch the whistling kettle.

“I have tea, and so many things.” You said turning granting him a change to exhale and let his hand rest on the counter blinking through the surge of hormones racing through his body before burying that behind another grin. “Um, it’s all on the table, help yourself, be right there.”

He nodded and turned trying not to shake from the powerful waves crashing through his body urging him to close the distance between you. Into his seat he lowered and filled his plate with his eyes drifting back up to you, he was never one to be lost to the throws of lust and very rarely found himself even pretending he was sexually attracted to anyone. Yet his eyes locked on you and wouldn’t leave the longer he stared at you sending his blood pumping causing his left arm to drop to his waist to manage the visual issues of this sudden pull to you. Managing a cool tone he asked, “Did you sleep well?”

In a half turn holding the kettle your hand was raised smoothing around the back of your earring untangling a strand of hair from it as you answered, “Sort of, got woken up by this call-.” In a sudden lift of your gaze your fingers stroked along the skin under your ear not feeling the strip of pheromone blocker you normally added when you had company. The absence of which fully explaining the bright red eyes of Loki locked on you, the enhanced pheromones you inherited from your father mingled with your Time Lord genes only worsening your attraction abilities on others and even more so when you were ovulating, shaking your head you carried the kettle over and poured out into your mugs set out. His chest rising in his deep inhale as you drew closer to his side, “Just some work thing.” You set the kettle down on the cooling mat on the table and said, “I forgot something, …I left it in my room…right back,”

Turning to cross the floor to your stairs you felt his gaze following you as you mentally berated yourself. Blinking his eyes Loki felt the wave drop all at once in him after you crossed the first rug and the scents of the meal you had made leaving him absolutely puzzled for what had just happened. True he knew the most of Frost Giants and their home but nothing of their physical, or chemical makeup through their lives. They had no study on it. True his mother had done what she could to learn enough to help him through what he had assumed to be his only flash of puberty when he was younger, but this had never happened to him before.

Thor sure enough like other Asgardian males had gone through a flash of heat where he had to be managed to keep from populating a kingdom of his own like other males sent off to traditional secondary planets far from any females in their own wave of hormone fueled misery instantly evening out when separated from the other gender. Loki saw this, from a bystander’s view, feeling none of the agitation or rage at not being able to breed to their fullest potential, his came three years later and lasted twice as long spurring on a special job from his mother to hide this from others. But even that was nothing like this, instant on and off again instantly making him hope that this was not true and he would not be putting you in any danger by being around you through this. He would never hurt you or force you in any way but with your size difference and his clear silver tongue mastery of persuasion no doubt it could be left to you having no choice in the matter of sleeping with him surely ruining things if he could not control this.

Down again you came and thankfully his below the waist situation had calmed enough he could sit up straight and flash you a grin slightly uncertain of the much more diluted excitement in seeing you again somehow troubling him more than the initial surge of attraction. As if now he ached in missing the unhelped attraction he could not dream of fighting, though he could never dream of wishing to have that for anyone but you for an even more puzzling truth settling in his mind worrying him as to why. Flashing a grin of your own you felt the circular patch fading into your skin beneath your ear radiating your pheromones into an aura of green apples around you, a simple solution to a problem your parents had showed you how to make on your own when you were younger for this very reason.

Into your seat you lowered and Loki looked you over with eyes narrowing for a moment at the scent of apples washing over him in your tending to your morning tea you raised for a sip to test how much honey to add to it. “Forgive me, but, did you put on perfume?”

Lowering your mug you wet your lips, watching his eyes trailing after your tongue, actions like that only worsening your pheromone problem as your attraction to the one affected by it only made your body give off more pheromones to drown the poor creature in them. He was clearly still feeling some effects of that initial hormonal draw to you, “No, it um,” your brows furrowed and you decided to tell a tiny white lie. “I’ve been working on my power cells lately, a new mechanism for it exactly, and recently I’ve noticed my pheromones just bursting out. I made some patches for it to block that, I forgot to put it on. Sorry about that, didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Exhaling sharply he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t relieved in your explanation, yet meanwhile disappointed it wasn’t something genuine for and from you sank in and he had to force his grin to remain in place until his mind flashed back to your flinching from staring at him in changing his shirt followed clearly by your stating that you did find him attractive. Bite by bite he felt his reminders that this was merely financial slipping away, with his hormones and attachment building in his urge to people please this was a losing battle he would hold no regrets over losing.

He had sworn to himself not to lose control and get attached but that damn calming innocence you exuded just lulled him right into the trap and that wave of hormones had him trying to steal glances to find that patch you had mentioned to see how simple it might be to brush against you and remove it to see what would happen. Before he knew it the meal was through and he was back in his closet staring at his clothes trying to choose which clothes to wear simple enough for your trip to the market for his pantry and basic supplies. Keeping it simple he chose a pale orange shirt he tucked into his black pants he pulled on with his boots tied on after. At his mirror he inhaled fixing his sleeves looking himself over only to shake his head at the thought on what to do to make you more attracted to him. Or rather which features you were attracted to helping you to choose him over someone like Thor.

Turning away he wet his lips heading back to the stairs to meet you in the hall, down he trotted hurrying to meet you hoping he hadn’t taken too long. With the door between you he paused smoothing his hand over his chest ensuring his shirt was smooth over his chest and stomach before opening the door to find the hall empty. Lowly he mumbled, “I cannot have taken too long..”

Your doorknob turned however and he stepped out using his key on the ring he had been palming to lock the door behind him then turned to grin at you looking over the jeans and blouse you were wearing with a flash of mint green from your heeled boots helping to get you to his shoulder. A click behind you and a grin eased across your pink painted lips. Back to your dolled up appearance his chest ached, already missing the intimacy of seeing the face and curls you kept to yourself. True makeup made little change as you used little of it to accent your eyes and lips but still nothing could touch the stunning shift of you in your most comfortable setting calling to his own urge to remain lounging in a book filled nook all day. That was his new daydream, hiding the day away with you reading or being read to as one of you lounged against the other, a perfect day filled with cuddling and stolen naps between sharing words of wonder and longing.

A compliment was given and sheepish chuckles were traded in the turn for the stairs down to the waiting car, it was a short drive but still you needed the trunk to transfer everything inside. Four steps in a stretch of his index finger looped around your pinky finger and the connection held for the trot down to the first floor. It seemed so simple, just a finger hold but a welcome invitation for a hand to hold was too much to pass up on. Another part of his dissolving line between the fantasy of this all and whatever it truly was. Settling into the car however the hold broke only to have his hand mold around the top of yours when it rested between your thighs, his thumb tenderly tracing pathways across the backs of your knuckles.

Turning his head he asked, “How long do we have?”

With a smirk you replied easing out his grin, “As long as you like, whole day’s clear.”

Locked in place his hand remained on yours even in the slide out of the car, which he used to help steady you to your feet and shifted to retain in the stroll to the front entrance. His spare hand used to guide the cart he tugged free from the corral and even a his eyes scanned the store he asked, “Where should we start?”

“Um, we could start with soaps and such if you like? Usually I leave frozen and refrigerated items to last.”

“Good plan, soaps and such it is.”

Each and every aisle he went down collecting a supply of possible necessities keeping up the conversation you had started and always claimed your hand again after each step away to inspect or fetch something new. The food half was next and from basics to comfort food and snacks came next, though lost between two chip flavors his head turned slightly seeing you draw your phone out of your purse after it’s buzz and chime. In a full glance your way as you read the message he asked, “Work calling?”

‘Miss Pear, I was wondering if you might be able to meet up with my best friend sometime. Seems he’s got himself in a bit of a jam and needs someone to talk to.’

To yourself you let out a hmm in confusion and raised your gaze to Loki, “Friend of a former assistant of mine wants to talk to me about something.”

Hastily you typed back, ‘Tell them we can meet in an hour at my office.’

“You need to go now?”

Shaking your head you replied with a grin, “No, said I’d meet them in an hour.” His lips parted then closed and he nodded making you move closer and loop your arm in his making him grin, “Don’t look like that I’m not abandoning you. Plenty of time for you to pick a bag of crisps and finish the aisles. The otters will make easy work of the bags.” Looking at the bags he was stuck between you asked, “Ridges or barbecue?”

“I know I would care for one in one occasion but the other in different occasions.” Turning his head his gaze lowered to yours at the resting of your cheek against his arm while the thumb on your free hand traced a muscle in his bicep, “I suppose I could choose both, however the question is how long the bags would last.”

“If you mean freshness usually they last a few days before growing stale, though usually they are a bit addictive, even I can get through a majority of a bag before I’ve realized it.”

Loki nodded, “I shall pick both then, I rarely have gotten to try them, the team usually rushed in snatching them away.” He said claiming two flavors he added to the cart before eyeing the other flavors, “I suppose I could try a new pair a week. There are so many to choose from.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You said as he guided you along hoping you would stay draped against and around his arm for as long as possible. Through the line you did up to the car where you helped him fill the trunk and grinned to yourself when his hand melted around yours again. Inside the car again he looked to you in a subtle scoot closer to you and wet his lips before asking, “Any plans after your meeting?”

Turning your head you caught a flinch of his eyes over your face as you drew in a breath to keep your pulse slow noticing he’d moved closer again making your eyes flinch to his lips for a moment, “Just heading back. I doubt it would take long,”

Taking the words out of your mouth he asked, “Up for a film after?”

“Sure, give you a chance to break into those chips of yours.” Back home again into the garage you went and in a sea of floating otters with their arms full of bags you rode the lift up to his apartment he unlocked and chuckled in following the adorable floating otters to his kitchen to put everything away. Stealing a glance at you he flashed you a grin as you said, “I should pop off. I will see you after, and be careful they tend to alphabetize everything, while the one with spots tends to sort things by color.”

Loki couldn’t help but chuckle, “I will monitor the situation, thank you.” His eyes followed you in your path out of the apartment down to your car again.

Down the steps you trotted asking, “What could this possibly be?”

Pt 6

[razieltwelve]

Littlest Reaper (RWBY AU Snippet)

Death’s high priest was an old man who was, quite frankly, a lot closer to the end of his life than the start. Oh, he wasn’t afraid of his impending demise. He’d met Death many times, and he had no reason to fear her. He’d lived a good, honest life, and he’d done his best to teach others how to do the same. His only fear was that he’d die in some ridiculous fashion. His unfortunate predecessor had choked on a pickle. That wasn’t to say he was hoping for a heroic death or anything so noble, but dying in his sleep wouldn’t be half bad. It would certainly be better than becoming known as ‘the second pickle guy’.

His goddess had appeared several minutes ago and had immediately set about devouring some of the offerings her loyal worshippers had left. Gold was all well and good, but Death had always had a soft spot for cookies, and even a person of little means could usually afford to get a cookie or two. In keeping with the wisdom his predecessors had left behind, the high priest waited patiently for her to finish. Interrupting her while she was eating cookies was a good way to earn a smiting, and there were times when he wondered if that’s what had caused his predecessor’s humiliating demise.

When she was finally done eating, she set her plate down and stood to her full height. The high priest was not a short man, but she was still taller than him. Strangely, she’d left some of the cookies uneaten. That was the first time he could ever remember her doing that. “So… you’re probably wondering why I decided to visit today, right? I usually drop by on Tuesday, but it’s Thursday.”

“I do hope it’s not time for me to go,” the high priest drawled. “My successor still needs a bit of seasoning before he’s ready to take over.”

Death chuckled. “Nah. You’ve got a few more years left in you yet.” She grinned. “You’ve done a good job, you know. You’re definitely in the top five high priests I’ve ever had, and I’ve had more than a hundred. It’d be a shame to lose you before your time. I’m just here to introduce someone.”

The space beside Death bent and twisted, and a small figure stepped out. Much like Death, the little figure wore a cloak of bloody shadows, and there was a small scythe draped over her tiny shoulder. Beneath the cowl of the cloak she wore, he could glimpse a pair of star-like silver eyes, but the hair that framed her face was not dark like Death’s but unmistakably pale. The little goddess took one look at the cookies Death had left behind and immediately began to inhale them in an almost identical manner to Death.

“Honoured Goddess,” the high priest began. “I do not wish to make any assumptions, but could this be…?” The gods did not often sire children with one another. There was little need for it since they were immortal and possessed unbelievable might. This was especially true for gods like Death whose powers were beyond even those of their peers.

“Yep.” Death reached over and ruffled the little figure’s hair, earning herself a scowl. “This is Little Death. She’s my daughter - and Bureaucracy’s. But she takes after me more. I mean she even came with her own scythe, so it was pretty obvious which one of us she was going to be like.”

“She came with her own scythe?” That could not have been comfortable.

Death must have known what he was thinking because she laughed. “Ah. Right. She wasn’t born like a mortal child or a demigod. You see gods like Bureaucracy and I can’t have children in the usual way. Our powers are too great. Instead, we have to combine our divine essences to create a new being. Little Death is the result of that, and she came into being fully formed and with her own scythe. She’s actually only been around for about a month, so I thought I’d bring her down here, show her a few things, and maybe let her reap a soul or two.”

“I see.” The high priest bowed low to the ground and then spoke to Little Death. “It is my greatest honour to meet you, Honoured Goddess. I never thought I would be so lucky as to see a child of my goddess.”

Little Death said nothing, but she did smile and nod… and continue to eat cookies.

“Don’t mind her. She’s really young still, so she’s a bit quiet. She’ll start talking more in a couple of months.” Death chuckled. “It’s also a good chance for Drei to learn more about the mortal world.”

“Drei?”

“You know how I have a dog?” The priest nodded although calling Zwei, Watchdog of the Abyss and a Divine Beast of unbelievable power, a mere dog would have been blasphemy if anyone but Death had done it. “Drei is her dog.”

There was a little puff of smoke and fire, and the smell of brimstone filled the air. A three-headed puppy appeared. It growled as menacingly as it could given its small size before it bounded into Little Death’s arms. It glared balefully at the high priest with all three of its heads.

“An impressive beast.”

“Don’t worry.” Death laughed. “This is just how he likes to get around. Like Zwei, he can get a lot bigger if he has to. He just likes being carried.” Death shrugged. “Anyway, I thought I’d drop by and let you know what’s going on. You’re going to have to modify my temples and all of that since Little Death’s a bit young to have some of her own. I’ll have Bureaucracy forward you the paperwork.”

“Of course.” The high priest bowed again. He was so going to make his successor do all of it. He could call it a training exercise or something.

X     X     X

Death bit back a laugh as Little Death pointed her scythe hopefully at the cat that had just been run over by a wagon. The irate feline hissed at the wagon and bounded back to its feet. Before Little Death could take a step closer, the cat waved around a little punchcard and hissed angrily.

“Not yet.” Death showed Little Death the punchcard. “See this? Due to some… finagling that happened way, way, way back, cats get nine lives. This fellow just used up his third life, so you can’t claim his soul just yet.” She returned the punchcard to the cat who promptly darted off only to be stepped on by an ox. The feline sighed and then continued on, more carefully this time. “Although having so many lives can make them a bit careless.”

Little Death huffed. She’d been looking forward to reaping a soul.

“Don’t worry. We can keep looking.” Death smiled. “Ah, there’s a good one over there.”

They vanished and reappeared miles away next to the body of a bandit. The scruffy fellow had been running away with his latest haul when he had tripped and impaled himself on his own sword. Apparently, he’d been spending all of his money on wine and women instead of buying a scabbard for his sword. He was right there in front of them and choking on his own blood.

“We can just wait here.” Death patted her daughter on the head. “He should be done any second now.”

Not content to wait, Drei hopped out of Little Death’s arms and landed on the bandit’s back. The dying man gave a choke gasp, and the three-headed puppy jumped up and down, driving the bandit further onto his own blade until he finally expired.

“Or we could do that.”

Right on cue, the bandit’s spirit appeared above his body. He took one look at Death and Little Death and tried to flee, but Little Death was ready. She bounded forward and struck out with her scythe. His soul vanished in a flash of light, and she turned to her mother with a grin.

“Good work. Now, given what he’s done, he’ll probably go somewhere nasty, but don't worry about that.” Death smiled sunnily. “We’ll see if we can find a battle, and then maybe we’ll grab some cookies and then head back.”

Still standing on top of the dead man’s body, Drei barked a suggestion.

“No, you can’t go around and kill some people, just so we can harvest their souls. That’s not how it works. There’s a schedule for this sort of thing.” Ruby smirked. “Or do you want to tell Bureaucracy you decided to break the rules.”

Drei gave a low whine and shook his head. 

“I thought so.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

People have been asking for snippets where Death!Ruby has a kid for a while now, so I thought I’d put one up. This version of Death!Ruby is with Bureaucracy!Weiss, so their kid is a full god, just like they are. And just like Ruby, Little Death has her own dog, albeit a more vicious one that Zwei. Just as Ruby is Death’s name, Little Death also goes by Luna.

Some of you might also find Little Death a bit familiar. There’s a good reason for that. She is heavily based on Young Death, a character who appears in two of my collections of original short stories, Divine Assistance and Divine Interference. If you enjoy my fan fiction, you might want to check out my original fiction on Amazon. I’ve recently released a new story there called Monster Whisperer.

[mgrgfan]

Past of the future, future of the past...

Chapter 7. Never the same. "Entering Hoenn airspace!" announced the navigator. "Current speed - 100 km/h, altitude - 10 km." "Coolant temperature… normal," added mechanic. "Reactor’s working at optimal capacity. Main propellers rotating at 300 rpm, blades angle set at position 4." "Good," responded the captain, looking in the front window. "Rad-scans?" "I think directed rad-scanners are picking up something in the Meteor Falls… looks like our target," said the radiation safety officer. "Pilot - drop us down to 3 kms and lower the speed to 30 km/h. When we'll be directly above the Meteor Falls - shut down the primary propulsion and deploy the auxiliary thrusters, then transfer the control to me." "Acknowledged, commencing corrections," replied the pilot, slightly shifting joystick and thrust control rudder. "Good," noted the captain, then relaxed a bit. Right now, they were escorted by a few of military helicopters, tiltjets and some Hoennian military Pokemon, just in case anyone gets the wrong idea upon seeing such a great airship. After all, it was equipped with a nuclear reactor for power source and, should the rest of the airship be destroyed and the ultra-durable protective shell breached, will cause a lot of contamination… ---- "Your Majesty… your Majesty..." a scientist in Zemlino carefully tried to wake up the Emperor, who was sitting asleep in the chair near the ORBCOM station, after all those crazy events of yesterday. "Hm?.. If there's a third moon around the Red Planet - notify the Team 37, especially if it turns out to be an… eyed balloon or something…" the Emperor replied without actually awakening, being, apparently, in the midst of some bizarre and adventurous dream. "Again…" the Empress, who has just recently arrived to the flight control center, sighed, knowing a bit too well, just how enthusiastic her husband could get about anything aerospace-related. Especially after the first manned flight, when he has, somehow, managed to get into the SP-04 "Black Bird" spaceplane and, therefore, become the first human in space... "Anyway… now with the "Red Explorer" around the Moon, "Hauler" preparing to deorbit and "Dreamwing" back in hangar… we need to decide, how to direct the space program," said director of Zemlino FCC. "During the last nine months, it was directed solely towards building and launching the nuclear pulse battleship to open the road towards the skies again, with a few resupply vessels for it, but now, once we did it and made our intentions on keeping it open clear… what do we do?" "Honestly…" Empress started, in uneasy voice, "... I don't know. I mean, yes, we've opened the road to space again and people of the Empire are very happy about that, as well as showing Nation, that we're no jokes, but… I'm not really sure, what kind of directions are to be made of greater priority." "Orbital factories," Emperor replied, waking up upon hearing it at once. "Factories? Well… yes, they can be of use, but…" began director, only for the Emperor to interrupt him: "No buts. Even though I'm not big at ruling, I think we should capitalize on our success and get the info about the materials, which can be produced only in microgravity, and how they can help to improve the lives on the ground. I think info about the orbital hospitals can also help, since they are something everyday human can understand. If they start telling, that it'll be only available to aristocracy and rich - we should capitalize on grandiosity of our new Integrated Program Plan. It's finally time to put it back into action and make it reality." "... I guess," sighed Empress, thinking about words of her husband. "No time for guessing. We must make them realize, that the only way for them to get access to all the cool space stuff is to support the space program and help it grow as never before. We're on the verge of greatness now and we must achieve it." "Hopefully, you succeed at this," said director of the FCC, "because I'd hate the program falling apart, after all we've done..." "We all would," replied the Emperor and the Empress at the same time. ---- "So… that's it," murmured Damien, seeing gigantic nuclear-powered airship soar through the skies back to Soris, carrying highly radioactive corpse of Rayquaza inside the shielded cargo section. For all of the Draconid People, it was one heck of a blow - not only the Dragon Lord was killed, but they could not even bury it properly, having to allow sorisians to stuff it into an underground nuclear waste dump. And, what's worse, none of them could do anything about it - not only Rayquaza's corpse was radioactive enough to be able to give human a fatal radiation poisoning in matter of a few minutes, burying it in classic way would've allowed the leaking isotopes to, eventually, contaminate the groundwater and cause a big ecological catastrophe. "Grannie…" started Helian, "... What will happen now? With no Dragon Lord?" "I don't know," said the Elder, looking at the airship too. "But I think, that the world will never be the same…" ---- "So, we're done with preliminary checks," sighed mechanic, who was servicing the "Dreamwing" in the hangar #2 of Zemlino Space Center. "So far, everything looks fine." "Great," replied commander of the spaceplane. "Hopefully, our birdie will stay fine in the future too." "Hopefully… but it may get replaced with the new nuclear-powered spaceplane soon, when they iron out the hiccups of nuclear turboramjets and aerodynamics of the aft. I've heard Emperor got opposed to the idea of jettisonable aerodynamic tail cone and they're busy developing something, which will allow everything to come up and down in one piece." "Cool. Almost like our machine." "Yeah. From what I've heard, test flights of the SPN-01 "Blizzard", the first BLUEBIRD spaceplane, should start pretty soon. And with no Rayquaza around, they should be safe enough." "Safe, you say… the debris is still in place, though. And I don't think, that this spaceplane can be as armored as the battleship we've launched recently." "Well… yeah. Still, we've managed to take a flight to the "Red Explorer" and spend some time up there, so, maybe it won't be as bad. Besides, I've heard some rumors about how there are plans for dual-purpose weaponized satellites, which can both destroy targets in space and use their weapons for clearing space junk." "Hm… Interesting and kinda makes sense. I guess those laser researches in the ISFs 5 and 9 will be put to good use, after all." "I guess." "Hi, guys," said the engineer of the "Dreamwing", approaching the two men on this catwalk. "Anything wrong with sensors?" "No, nothing is wrong with them," replied mechanic and was a bit surprised upon seeing, how crewmembers of the "Dreamwing" suddenly got grimier and exchanged looks of understanding. "I guess we may have another dragon problem soon enough…" stated the commander, looking at the machine. "And who knows, if we'll have to resort to warships again…" ---- Awake. Alive. Those were the first thoughts of the young dragon. Right now, it did not understand the situation yet, but some strange memories, belonging both to the dragon and not to it at the same time, were flooding its mind. It was slowly to understand some things, but not too fast. It understood, that its name was Rayquaza, the Sky High Pokemon. It understood, that it exists to protect the skies and deal with Groudon and Kyogre. It understood, that something must've happened to its predecessor, if it was awakened right now. With those thoughts, young dragon has struck the hard shell of the egg and broke it apart, freeing itself. As it has just remembered, despite most of the Legendaries, like itself, being near-immortal, there were still contingency protocols in events of something exceptional happening. And, apparently, something exceptional it was. The young dragon has remembered the last moments of the old dragon, when it fought some huge cone-cylindrical metallic construct and, somehow, was struck down by it. Whatever moves this construct was using, they've had near-infernal power. And young dragon could not allow itself to suffer the fate of its predecessor. For now, it will lay low and explore, as it grows back to the power level of a full Legendary. Then… it will depend on circumstances. With those thoughts, young pitch-black serpentine dragon took off, flew past the obstacles and left the cave, well-hidden in the mountain range. Right now, it had to, first and foremost, survive and grow up. ---- Inside the bridge of the huge sorisian airship, there was not much action now. Rayquaza's highly-radioactive corpse was now in the reinforced storage, they were en route home, everything on the airship worked perfectly… honestly, it was kind of boring. "Guys…" started the navigator, "Do you remember our first assignment? The aerial expedition to Alola?" "Oh, I sure do!" replied the pilot, shifting in the chair a bit. "How we all have flown to it, how we've spent a decent amount of hydrogen burnfuel for our recon plane and heavy-lift helicopter, how technicians were able to assemble the mooring masts in just three days… that was the time!" "Especially with how we've managed to bring some Flygon eggs to Soris. Who knew, that those insect-dragons will become so popular at our home!" "Well… they did become popular with our colonists, didn't they? I mean, by the end of our stay there, quite a few people liked their partner 'Spirits of Change'. Including you." "... Yeah. Also…" With those words said, pilot reached out for one of his MFDs, quickly selected "security camera feeds" options and looked at the feed from the top hangar a bit. In it, an insect-dragon was quietly sleeping, curled near the tandem-rotor helicopter - much like during their return from the expedition. "... Nah, she's fine. Took Sunny form for some reason, though." "I would've said because of our cargo, but it'd be stupid. By the way… strangely enough, but native Alolan Flygon seem to be extinct nowadays, with Hoennian subspecies, somehow, having replaced them." "Hoopa's shenanigans again?" "Likely. May also be combined with the fact, that Hoennian Flygon, while lacking the sheer versatility of its Alolan progenitor, is better adapted to the desert conditions. I guess they've just lost the competition there." "And our region has preserved those dragon-bugs. Cool." "I guess. I've heard from some of my friends in ISF 4, that some scientists from Hoenn and Alola would be really happy to get more data about the extinct-for-them Alolan Flygon." "Likely." Author's notes: ISF - Imperial Science Facility. ORBCOM - Orbiter Communicator. MFD - Multi-Function Display. Sorisian nuclear airship is based on that. BLUEBIRD spaceplane is based on the real M(G)-19 "Gurkolyot". Alolan Flygons are based on that wonderful picture.