#dear God in heaven what has my life turned into

[arrowpunk]

Do circumstances in your life ever get so fucking insane that they don't feel real and in fact feel ripped straight from a novel or some shit? Because that's what I'm feeling right now and it is difficult to feel like the things that are happening are real and actually happening even though I know they are.

[fayes-fics]

Comfort

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict comforts his new wife when her courses arrive…

Warnings: mentions of menstruation, non graphic references to period blood. Otherwise, just the fluffiest of fluff.

Word Count: 2k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Thanks to @colettebronte for help with the title. Request fill for anon HERE, where Benedict comforts his new wife when her period arrives overnight. This might be the most saccharine-sweet fluff I have ever written. For my usual smut peeps… err, apologies? Normal filth will resume shortly, I'm sure lol. <3

You stir from your slumber to a dreaded dampness you know far too well. 

Oh dear heavens, no! 

Overnight, your courses have arrived without warning. Or perhaps, with hindsight, there were some signs, but you had assigned blame for the symptoms elsewhere. You had put your tiredness down to the exhaustive social whirlwind of your first ball as a Bridgerton. The dull lower back pain you had felt merely due to traipsing around the extensive grounds the host was keen to show off to all and sundry.

For a few moments, you lay staring frettingly at the ceiling, unsure what to do. You can tell that your nightgown and, likely, the bedsheets will carry evidence of this unwanted early arrival. You had plans to inform your lady's maids to prepare the following night. Trust your body to be at least a day early when you least need it. 

Next to you, your new husband of just fourteen days, Benedict Bridgerton, is sleeping soundly. You roll your head to look briefly at his handsome face in repose on the adjacent pillow, then bite your lip in anxiety.

Oh god, he cannot see this!! He simply cannot! What am I to do?!?

____

You had been taught a few things in the run-up to marriage by your Mama. One of them was never to mention or address the “monthly visitor” to your husband—it was a matter for you and your maids to deal with. On the nights you were “visited”, you were strongly counselled to sleep in your room rather than with your husband so he would not have to deal with “such unpleasantness”. This may have been logical advice for a regular wife of the Ton, but your mother probably never considered how non-traditional your husband would turn out to be. 

Hours after your nuptials, upon arrival at your new marital home - a wonderful brick townhouse just a few streets from Bridgerton House - you had politely inquired where your bedchamber was. At first, he laughed, then frowned when he realised you were serious. It turned out he had not made plans for, or indeed, set up a room for you separate from his.

“We are husband and wife now. We shall sleep together,” he explained, drawing you into his arms and planting a tender kiss on your forehead.

“But… every night?” you stuttered, still grappling with what exactly was expected of you as a wife.

“Yes darling,” he confirmed, still sounding vaguely bemused.

____

Since that day, you have shared a bed every night, which has been delightful for so many reasons. Indeed, you have never slept better in your life than in the two weeks since your wedding, falling asleep securely in his arms and awakening to his handsome, smiling face…

…Well, that is until now.

Now, you have no earthly idea what to do. 

You surmise it must be early, dawn breaking, a grey, feeble light peeking around the top of the heavy velvet drape curtains over the windows. Barely enough to see shapes and rough outlines as your eyes adjust. Not wanting to awaken Benedict by igniting a candle, you gingerly push back the bedspread and slide out as quietly as possible. In the mirror across the room, you catch sight of a scarlet bloom, visible even in this low light, so stark against your white cotton nightgown. Turning back around, your fears are fully realised when you see a mirror imprint left upon the sheet where you slept.

Horrified, you fly into a flurry of movements. Wanting to hide both your nightgown and the sheets you have sullied, albeit unintentionally. You slip as silently as you are able to the linen supplies cupboard and gather terrycloths designed for bathing. One, you wrap around yourself; another two, you decide to place upon the bed, hoping it will conceal the stain until your husband leaves the bedroom.  

You cannot wait to bathe but know that running a bath would surely awaken Benedict, the noise of water being poured into the echoey copper, even if across the hallway, being bound to rouse him.

Once back next to your side of the bed, you push the covers towards the middle and start to pull at the edge of the undersheet, hoping to slide a cloth under the stain and one atop, to stop the evidence from spreading. You glance furtively at your husband as you work, who unfortunately is turned onto his side facing towards you, as he often is when you awaken. 

In all heavens, could you not turn the other way just for once, my love? 

You move as stealthily as you can, so very keen to be unnoticed. The most challenging part is trying to wedge a cloth underneath, the sheet pulled taut by your husband's weight pinning down the other side. Just as you are fighting with both hands shoved far under the sullied sheet, you hear a sudden sharp intake of breath.

Oh no! He is awake.

His eyes fly open, and he squints as he takes in the sight before him. Then, a frown passes over his features.

“What on earth are you doing, my love?” his voice is deep and rough with sleep.

You whip your hands out from under the sheet, belatedly realising you are also muttering a repeated “no no, no no” under your breath as you attempt to reach for the upper cover and hide what has happened, but it is just out of reach, kneeling as you are beside the bed.

“Darling,” he sits up slightly, rubbing his eyes, obviously thrown off by your agitated state. “Please, whatever is the matter??” his tone rising in volume and concern.

Your eyeline falls reflexively upon what you are trying to conceal on the bedsheets, and his tracks yours. Unable to handle your embarrassment, you bury your head in your hands and slump backwards onto your heels, certain this will be repulsive to him.

“I am so sorry, husband; I was not expecting this to happen today; please forgive me,” you mutter defeatedly behind your hands, ashamed.

You are expecting a noise of derision or disgust. What you do not expect is a chuckle and then a large, warm hand brushing your shoulder.

“Darling, please get up off the floor,” his ask caring, no rebuke to be heard.

Your head slowly tilts up, and to your shock, he is leaning over onto your side of the bed, not far above the stain, and is observing you mildly befuddled benevolence.

“But, I…” you trail off, even as he reaches for your hand.

“It is fine,” he cuts in, squeezing reassuringly with his fingers. “You are a woman. Such things happen. There is no need for shame,” his eyes are soft with understanding. “I do have sisters, you know,” he adds with a sanguine laugh, a shorthand to explain his knowledge of your situation.

Your mouth falls open a fraction, completely taken aback by his affable, almost nonchalant reaction; it is very different from what your Mama taught you to expect. While you flounder in surprise, he rolls away and gets out of bed, padding around to your side, crouching next to you and drawing you into his arms.

“You… you are not repulsed?” you stutter as you recover, your brow creasing.

“Of course not, my love. It is perfectly natural, and there is nothing about you or your body that repulses me,” he assures, kissing your cheek. “In fact, it is very much the opposite,” his tone sincere and soothing.

You get lost in his hazy eyes and gentle smile, accepting his doting kisses that make you feel warm from head to toe. It is then he looks down and spies the bathing cloth you have swaddled yourself in from the waist down.

“I assume your nightgown is in a similar state? And that you would like to get clean?” he guesses empathetically as you nod demurely. “Then I shall summon the staff to run you a bath,” he hums, delicately brushing the stray strands of hair that had fallen askew in your scrambling efforts.

“Thank you, Benedict, so very much” you exhale, relieved and still slightly unmoored by his reaction.

His face breaks into that crooked smile that makes butterflies flutter under your ribs. 

“Please, my love, it is literally nothing. We have promised ourselves to each other for life. I expect to see this many more times,” he explains calmly as he rings a bell to summon his butler and presently provides instructions for a warm bath to be drawn and the bedding to be changed by the maids.

“You do not wish for me to sleep elsewhere when I am so afflicted?” you check as soon as you are alone again.

He chuckles as he did before. “Whatever for? You are my wife. I want you beside me all the time. It matters not to me if you have your courses. I still wish to fall asleep with you in my arms.” His sweet sincerity makes your heart skip a beat as he nuzzles your temple. “Although it has been a few short days since our wedding, I have rather gotten used to you being beside me. I cannot sleep soundly without you, my love. Nor would I want to try. We shall share our bed every night,” he adds solemnly.

“But, what if one of us is sick?” you inquire as he helps you to stand up from the floor, pulling you into his arms.

“‘Tis no bother. We shall surely both contract the same, seeing as we reside under the same roof; at least we can suffer in company,” he jests warmly into your ear as his hands rub your lumbar spine with a pattern that soothes the ache you feel there.

“What if you must travel for your art?” you challenge.

“I would be heartbroken if you did not come with me,” he volleys back with a playful pout that you can't help but giggle at.

“What if one day we have a child, and they will not rest without their mother?” your question is almost timid, knowing there is a bloom on your cheeks at the very thought.

He cups your jaw gently and tilts your face to look up into his. His mien is so devoted that the air is stolen from your lungs. 

“Then they shall simply sleep between us, my love. It will be my child, too. You will not be alone. Not when you have your monthly courses and not in the raising of our children. Of that, I promise,” his cadence is lilting and ardent.

“Thank you, Benedict,” you breathe shakily, scarcely able to believe that the man you married is nothing like how your mother had warned. It makes you feel so grateful you cannot stop your emotions, heightened at this time of the month, from bubbling over.

A large, warm thumb blots the tears that gather at the corner of your eyes without comment; he just accepts your state, bussing a kiss onto your forehead.

“I love you, y/n,” he breathes, warm air gusting over your skin.

“I love you too, Benedict,” your reply muffled into his neck as you mould into his strong embrace, remaining there until a lady’s maid taps on the door to convey that your bath is ready.

And true to his word, over the years, you are never a night without your husband. Through many monthly courses, through sickness and health, through children and even grandchildren. It is always his face you see just before your eyes droop closed and the moment they flutter open again. Your safe space. Your comfort. 

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb

[oepionie]

—"POETIC RIZZ" various

SYNOPSIS: Horrible 3AM post—Just a bunch of random quotes/lines from various shows & books that i mixed together (Also diasomnia has the best rizz ngl)

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT RIDDLE ONCE SAID

"In vain, I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. One word from you will silence me on this subject forever. And so I beg you, most fervently, to relieve my suffering and consent to be my lover."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT DEUCE ONCE SAID

“This feeling has possessed me, I think and...I wanted to tell you that wherever you may end up in this world, I will be searching for you. I'm not afraid of anything now. I finally understand. I'm in love. We're in love. That means we'll meet again. I'm sure of it. ”

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT LEONA ONCE SAID

"I had not intended to love but now, I have for the first time found what I can truly love—I have found you. And I will love you until I die, and if there is life after that, I'll love you then. You're more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT RUGGIE ONCE SAID

“I love you but I know it's not gonna be easy. It's going to be really hard; I'm gonna have to work at this everyday, but I want to do that because I want you; forever and everyday.—I am who I am because of you. You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I've ever had, and no matter what happens to us in the future, everyday we are together is the greatest day of my life."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT AZUL ONCE SAID

"I desire more…than what's within my reach. Who blames me? Many call me discontented. I couldn't help it: the greed is in my nature. Please just bear with me. You pierce through my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT JADE ONCE SAID

"I miss you deeply, unfathomably, senselessly, terribly.I long for you; I who usually longs without longing, as though I am unconscious and absorbed in neutrality and apathy, really, utterly long for every bit of you. Moreover, you are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT FLOYD ONCE SAID

"I heard what you said. I’m not the sappy romantic you think. I don’t want the heavens or the shooting stars. I don’t want seaglass or shiny pearls. I have all those things already. I want…you. A steady hand. A kind soul. I want to fall asleep, and wake, knowing my heart is safe. I want to love you, and be loved by you."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT IDIA ONCE SAID

"My Persephone, I would have chosen you a thousand times over, the Fates be damned. Even if they unraveled our destiny, I would find a way back to you. All my heart is yours: it belongs to you; and with you it would remain, were fate to exile the rest of me from your presence forever."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT VIL ONCE SAID

"Darling you are mistaken, and you know nothing about me, and nothing about the sort of love of which I am capable. Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own. Now, tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you, anyway. Yes, you make mistakes, are out of control and at times hard to handle. But if I can't handle you at your worst, then I surely don't deserve you at your best."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT ROOK ONCE SAID

"In beauty of face and soul, no maiden ever equaled you. If I were to be blinded the moment I laid eyes upon your incandescent form, I would not grieve, for in that very instance I have truly gazed upon everlasting beauty."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT LILIA ONCE SAID

"Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad. But I beg of you do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you. Oh, God..It is unutterable. I can not live without you in my life. I can not live without my soul. It is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT MALLEUS ONCE SAID

“I have little left in myself—I must have you. The world may laugh—may call me absurd, selfish—but it does not signify. My very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame.”

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT SEBEK ONCE SAID

"I am a gentleman. I have been raised to act with honor, but that honor is hanging by a thread that grows more precarious with every moment I spend in your presence. You are the bane of my existence, and the object of all my desires."

WHEN HE SAYS “ILY”, BUT SILVER ONCE SAID

"I have a strange feeling with regard to you. On some days—I have dreamed and wished I was one of your tears. To be born in your eyes, roll down your cheeks, and to die on your lips."

[dykells]

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 | 𝐀.𝐀

𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✷ she hopes im cursed forever to sleep on a twin sized mattress never graduating up in size to add another 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,1k ✷ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: religion, homophobia n’ nsfw content

abby feels owen’s hand on her waist like a brick to her chest weighting her body down, it wouldn’t take much for the drowning to begin but your face across the room was both oxygen and the final anchor of her demise. she weighed her options as their personifications stood before her, father smiling brightly at the happy couple unaware his own daughter forced her chirpiness while she yearned in the deepest aching to be swept off her feet by the girl just a few away– who now refused to face her much understandably. you cursed her for inviting you to their preppy engagement party, cursed her for multiple reasons more, yet your heels stuck to the ground like they clung for dear life anticipating a plot twist shaped by regret.

“excuse me” she finally croaked out mid conversation, the place where her fiancé’s hand once held onto now burning her skin like a rotting poison. she wished to bathe herself clean in the rain like a baptism, wished owen didn’t felt like sin tainting her body from being with you, her holiest of experiences, wished she had not known heaven between your legs so she may live on her life guiltless and not as someone who has felt blasphemously like a god herself. your fingers brush past eachother as she walks up behind you and fireworks bloom from your fingertips like lily flowers at spring. lillies, her favorite, your perfume.

you follow her to the bathroom, breath unsteady, and regardless of how long the affair has been happening no familiarity prepares you for the crash of her lips against yours as you twist the doorknob. sometimes you think these moments might make you understand her, to have abby anderson’s tongue exploring your mouth, hands by your neck to keep you still, perpetual apple cinnamon smell, was nothing short of a religious experience. perhaps that is what the church brought out in her, this same inextinguishable fire at the pit of your stomach with understanding of icarus and his hope for the sun. if all sins felt this sweet it did not seem so big of a sacrifice to die for them– you’d die for her if asked.

“abs, stop” you whisper once her lips are on your neck, long wet kisses all across the exposed skin warming up your body from the winter cold better than any cloth could have, she’s hungry, biting you down and her fruity scent doesn’t let the irony of forbidden fruit to die on you even as she hums in fake confusion allowing herself more time in her feast begging it to cloud your judgement as it almost does “abigail, we have to stop”

“don’t do this to me” she begs, voice cracking “please don’t leave me, you’ll take all the sunshine with you and it’s cold, it’s a cold winter i need your arms, your limbs, your body, my sunny girl-“

“you’re getting married, abs” you sigh with the exclamation, it seems nearly as though you’ve just reminded her of it like someone who forgot to turn off the oven before they had left the house, someone destined for burnt flames, your reality scares her into kneeling submission and you’re laughing because it looks like a proposal and it’s absurd, her hands gripping yours, her gaze doe-eyed and unconditional. you are missing a ring but you see hers, diamond, and the ache doesn’t easen.

“you are everything that i want…”

“then leave him, abby. don’t sit on the dirty bathroom floor of a venue for your engagement party and promise me a love you are too scared to give me, i can’t keep excusing your cowardice for the sake of sanity. take off that ring and walk out of here with me, we’ll figure it out, we’ll be happy together, your winter won’t be cold”

she pretends to take in your words, analyse them as if her nights haven’t been filled with scenarions and possibilities all of which there is pain unbearable. you’re searching her eyes with a hope unbeknownst to men and suddenly you feel the line between dream and desperation blurring itself into oblivion. abby lets go of your touch and slides the ring from her finger out onto it’s demise on the tiled floor. you think you won. you think god exists when she locks the door behind you and presses you against the wall, believe he had heard your prayers once her fingers dip between your thighs. when she’s thrusting inside you, you cry out for god instead of her name, moan louder at the sight of her wedding band far away on the ground, feel your walls clenching around her digits and her warm breath against your neck, she’s mumbling so many i love yous you barely notice how multiple sound like im sorrys.

with your hands curling around her loose hair she gets sloppy, deprived, wants you to tug on her and beg for her mouth without needing the plead to taste you and you do so eager it burns her scalp. she’s back on her knees and she thinks for a moment not admited this might be her holy repent. tugging on your jeans till their ultimate glide towards the floor, shes sucking on the wet patch of your underwear as a tease, letting her senses flood of lillies and pussy. she finally pushes it aside and dives in, godhood in the shape of your swollen clit grazing her teeth, you tilt your waist to give her further access and there are stars and angels behind your fluttered eyelids.

she calls your her sunny girl as you rain down her face in white honey, her muscles spread your legs further apart and suck it in till it has destroyed her makeup, part of her wishes to leave this bathroom and still smell of you, part of her is scared owen might kiss your heavens from her tongue and catch it all. she’s putting her ring back on at your climax, and you’re confused and heavy breathing. a sob clings to your throat.

abby tells you all she’s ever known is the cold. tells you girls like her are unworthy of the sun. tells you owen is waiting and maybe you should leave. she doesn’t tell you she thinks god isn’t real once you’ve turned your back because he would never have created something to purely magnetic to have it ripped from her hands, she does not tell you the only thing worth worshipping is the gap between your teeth, the crook of your neck and the dimple in your cheek, doesn’t tell you she thinks hell is this. but she almost does. she almost does. on your way out, you just sob and hope she’s cursed. hope god is angry. think god is her.

© dykells twentytwentythree

[2truehearts]

✦ — BUT DARLING, YOU ARE THE ONLY EXCEPTION.

✦ CHARACTER/S︰ijekiel alpheus & lucas from wmmap (who made me a princess).

✦ SYNOPSIS︰love can bloom and burn in any heart at the first sunlit-brindled brief—whether it be bounded by duty, ice, or disbelief; as long as that epitome of affection is you, they suppose they can make an exception and make some space—or in which they fall in-love with you first glance and sight.

✦ CONTENT WARNING/S︰nothing other than one swear word (fuck), & the general fluff and infatuation (from the character/s) + everything is proofread with the wc 200 - 300 each.

✦ A/N︰making my debut as a manhwa writer on main is not the ideal move but idk where to post it okay (side eyes the 2367838 sideblogs under this one/silly (also the title is inspired by "the only exception" by paramore <3 it's bleeping awesome go and give it a listen!!))

IJEKIEL IS NOT ONE TO FALL IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT, to have his world still for a few seconds while his heart overrides and blood races to the forefront of his cheeks—but dear heavens, were you the only exception to that rule bound by duty and a planned future in his chest. you surely weren’t the epitome of grace or as enchanting as the gods, but to him you were enough—more, than enough, truly.

he first met you in an arrangement of his father and your parents from your vague childhood—but oh, how he remembers every second of that first meeting. when the doors opened to you bowing in front of him with a barely-hidden smile of excitement curving the tips of your mouth to look at him with big, bright eyes of wonder staring directly at the copy of the sun—not once backing down to blink or burn away from awe and fluster. so ijekiel does that instead.  his skin flares with the color of blooming carnations, sunlight-prickled hues wide from childish panic at the sudden increased beating of his heart.  was something wrong with him? he felt light-headed and dizzy, stomach twisting, tossing and turning as if he was about to faint from merely seeing you presented before him like the finest muse of a pristine piece of art, incomparable to anything else other than itself. what should he do? should he compliment you? should he act indifferent and use a practiced smile? his mind is trying to adjust to the drastic changes of his swayed heart, but the boy just can’t seem to do just that when he’s faced with a fairytale protagonist right in front of him—and he blinks, catching something from the corner of his eye—and is brought back down to earth when he sees his father’s questioning gaze. then, bows with a smile, greeting you further in to sit down and perhaps enjoy a cup of tea with him?  you said yes out of common courtesy, but that only made his smile grow wider.

LUCAS FIRMLY DOES NOT BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT, like come on—who believes in love like that these days? naive little kids? newly adolescent noble ladies? men of high and poor status? it’s simply too . . . unlikely to actually happen in his eyes. the butterflies when you meet “the love of your life’s” eyes? could be the early signs of constipation. the flush in your cheeks when there’s too much prolonged eye contact with them and the dizziness of your heart and mind? could be an oncoming migraine, headache, or a sign you're being possessed by some evil spirit, y’know? anyways, enough joking aside—the point is, he finds the subject some far-fetched fairytale that is highly impossible even with the magic he has—that is, until, you waltz into his life. the things he feels when he's around you is something that could be described as a contradiction. the first gazing into your eyes turns the world upside and back again, the first brush against your fingertips suck all the air out of his chest, the first chuckle that he manages to rouse from deep within your giddy joy paints him a shade darker than his eyes from head to toe—holy fuck were there a lot of firsts that made him experience everything and anything all at once; with most he can't even explain properly without sounding so . . lovesick. god do you make him sick to the last bone with whatever sorcery you possess. in short; when in love, lucas is everything that correlates to being stupidly infatuated and is constantly reeling himself in by a hair’s breadth back to the surface when you smile, laugh, or simply exist next to him—like, can you imagine how utterly moronic it is to see how degenerate he’s become from before you?! . . . but, if it makes you happy, he’ll gladly be idiotic for the rest of his life (though, that depends if you're gonna annoy him or not).

✦ — @khasmies 2023.

[literallyjusttoa]

What’s better Christmas present than a bit of angst huh?

When Apollo was young, not yet a year old, he was banished from Olympus due to his crime of murder. Gaea called for his head, but Zeus shielded him.

“I will not rule as my father did,” he said “The boy can learn, he can be better.”

Apollo was sentenced to exile. Nine years, though he was not told this. No, Apollo was certain that he had lost his chance to join his family in the heavens. His father had spared his life, and as penance he now had to stay on the mortal realm for all eternity, alone.

The young god made due with what he had. He wandered through the fields of Greece, tending to the animals he found along the way. He would sing, as light and clear as the birds, and mortals would flock to the sound. Apollo was never allowed to linger long, but he fell in love with that feeling of warm comfort mortals seemed to carry with them, that joy that he could never quite reach. When he could, he worked, often for little reward. He wanted another taste, another glimpse of a less lonely existence. So he became a shepherd, a soothsayer, a musician, always a few steps away, watching but never being.

One day, in the middle of the coldest months, Apollo was hired by a farmer in the Vale of Tempe. He had a large herd of cattle and was in desperate need of a someone to care for them. Apollo traveled through the backroads and forests, making his way to the valley. When he arrived, however, he found no farmer, and no cattle. Instead, a lone man sat at the base of the river that flowed through the vale. The water was near frozen over, but the man did not shake. Instead, he turned, and smiled wide.

“Apollon,” Zeus said, “Olympus has missed you.”

Apollo was shocked. Had his father truly come for him? He dropped into a low bow, too nervous for words.

Zeus chuckled, low and warm, “Rise, son. There is no more need for humility. It has been decided you have done enough.”

“Truly?” Apollo asked, “May I truly join you on Olympus?”

“You may join me at home, Apollo.” Zeus responded, “Your home. Come, we shall perform a rite of purification in these waters, and then you will ascend to your throne.”

And so the rite was performed, and Apollo was cleansed. As far as the rest of the world knows, the two immediately ascended to Olympus, to the glorious applause of the other members of the divine court. Apollo took his throne, next to his dear sister, and began his immortal duties.

But there was a moment, one moment, which was kept away in that sheltered vale. Once Apollo had been cleansed, he stood at the bank, waiting for the next step. Any demand his father asked of him, he would have agreed too. But Zeus held nothing over his head. Instead, he summoned a cloak of sheep’s wool, and placed it over Apollo’s shoulders.

“A gift,” he murmured, “The golden treasures you were born with will bring you glory, but this my son… I hope this will keep you warm.”

And Apollo believed, with all his heart, that he would never be lonely again.

Time is a cruel master. As years bled into centuries that bled into millennia upon millennia, Apollo realized that loneliness would be his most constant companion. He realized that the source of this loneliness, this suffering, would often be the very man that promised to keep him warm. The fire of his father’s hearth burned everything it touched, leaving Apollo with blistered hands and a scorched heart.

But he still wore the sheepskin. When the loneliness crept into his bones. When the lightning crackled across his limbs with a burning pain, as warm as his father promised with an agony he’d never mentioned. When all seemed lost to the ground and the dust. Apollo found that wool cloak and cast it over his shoulders. Even broken promises can bring some sort of comfort. Even old sheep’s wool can bring an illusion of warmth.

I was his child once. He used to love me.

If only the bite of a king’s cruelty could be chased away as easily as the chill of a winter’s day. The wool does nothing, and the loneliness remains. Apollo shivers, and goes to rest.

[sambhavami]

Krishna: a character adored for over two thousand years, revered as one of the most significant political masterminds of the ancient world with his words forming the philosophical core of the country today. Concurrently, he is the god shrouded in inimitable domesticity- as a friend, a lover, and a child. No other deity in the Hindu pantheon has probably achieved as dear a position in the hearts of people as this flute-wielding cowherd of Gokula.

For generations, he has shined as the muse of countless poetfolk, of unfinished business, of unspoken desires and of repressed lovers' qualms. In Meera's longing for her marble beloved, and in Kothai's dulcet dreams of a celestial wedding, Krishna blossoms not as a warrior, but rather as a confidante of young women- the keeper of all secrets.

Curse, o ye, this wedding of devotion, 

For I was better off unmarried,

Writes the lovestruck Nawab Sadiq Hilm,

I was well enough at my mother's; 

Oh, why did I pine for him?!

Who am I, or what: go ask Rizwan, the gatekeeper

For heaven has been rejected by my forebearers!

He says, in a nostalgic ode to the cowmaids from old tales. To the ones that massage the dust off their feet on Krishna's fevered forehead to soothe his illness, even as the apparent disrespect dooms their afterlives.

Jayadeva notes a more rugged form of Krishna, one that is almost hungry for love. His Radha smiles down upon Radharaman Dutta's kalankini. Of course, she would accept even infamy if it was in relation to her Krishna. However, in time, this epithet has been reclaimed as a celebration of the meteoric, tempestuous love that this unseemly duo had carved out for themselves of the pages of a mostly unwilling history.

Tagore's Krishna is mysterious, eagerly anticipated but rarely seen. Rather, here Radha's pining is crushing and all-encompassing, inherited from Chandidas' virahini. Radha's guttural desire to transform Krishna into herself, subjecting him to the same suffering that she undergoes as a woman in love with a furious ideology more than a man, reverberates eerily against the lighthearted cross-dressing tale of Surdas'.

As often as bards favour the songs extolling the love of the cowherd and the wedded maiden, Krishna's wives are seldom accorded any thought outside of Vasudeva's family tree. Their silence speaks to the stringent rules of a typical patriarchal household. Some of them do speak, and hence Satyabhama becomes conceited and Kalindi wayward. However, the mere few lines that they are mercifully allotted in the text are enough to speak to their resilience. The lines inadvertently hold up a window to the million unspoken words and unexchanged glances. It speaks to the long years, happy and sad. It speaks to the nights of waiting for the beloved to return. It speaks to the quiet lunches in curtained rooms and taste tests in the kitchen.

Each of Krishna's eight wives has their own life, and their own equation with Krishna. Each of their distinct personalities, coupled with their unique introductions to the prince has the potential to bring a distinct flavour to the story of Krishna, the statesman. The understanding that Krishna's heart belonged first to Vrindavana and then to his ambition, must have weighed somewhat on their hearts and yet, the choice to patch up the battle-hardened cowherd, after every blow, sans complaint, and send him out into the world as the architect of history, must have demanded restraint.

The distinct turn of events that brings each of the chief eight queens to Krishna's is quite interesting. Rukmini, the first, demonstrates heart, even if it is born out of desperation. Seizing control of her life, she sends a message, relying solely on rumours of his compassion. Her gamble yields returns manifold as Krishna not only rescues her from an unwanted marriage, but instates her as his chief consort, elevating her, alongside himself, to a divine status. Far from the impulsiveness of her youth, Pandhari's Rakhumai, astute beside her beloved, proudly bears a conch-shell, calling for harmony and community. In life as well, Rukmini brings to Krishna much needed stability, and oversees the blossoming of the city of Dwarika as well as Krishna's growing household.

Jambavati and Satyabhama are given in marriage to the prince by their respective fathers and do not seem to have much of a voice at the time. Jambavati fulfills an ancient destiny, a forgotten promise, then going on to mother the child that ultimately brings about the demise of the Yadava clan. Satyabhama, though often maligned with unfair accusations, is self-reliant. Making no attempt to hide herself from the eye of society, takes her rightful place beside Krishna, not on a throne, but by his side in battlefields. Kalindi however, is an extremely interesting character in Krishna's story. Enmeshed between mortal and divine, she exists as neither. Chancing upon the prince, she unabashedly declares her intentions to be married, and yet she is uncharacteristically silent after her marriage. Lakshmana and Mitravinda, are both won in conquest. They might have been able to sympathize with Rukmini, given their kin had turned against them, on account of their choice of a life partner. Bhadra, on the other hand, has no fancy contests to boast of, or an adventurous rescue. She marries Krishna at the behest of her brother, the only highlight being the arduous journey she undertakes from Kekaya to Dwarika.

After their marriages, these women practically disappear from the narrative until their last moments. We can assume that they were all presumably content with a life outside the spotlight. One can only hope to be privy to their lives after marriage, to know their dreams, nightmares and daily chores. They enter Krishna's life at crucial junctions, and I choose to believe they each had a unique effect on Krishna's worldview, bringing with them a fresh outlook into the mostly stagnant golden city.

[coltishcaterpillar]

Unmasked / Platonic!Alastor x Teen! Daughter Reader

Chapter II: Sneaking Suspicion

Summary:

After reading over thirty-one entries, three disturbing pages are brought to light….or the darkness, depending on how Emily wants to look at it.

WARNING: This entire chapter (and probably the next one) depicts a very disturbed, traumatized, paranoid child (who is you, the reader.), who has just lost the person she loved most in the world. A HUGE deterioration in her psyche is seen here.

Look out for: Murder, Mental Illness, Paranoia, Anxiety, Delusions, Cannibalism, etc….

November 12th, 1933

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, my dear diary. Please, Jesus, please help me find my way back, I’m…I’m shaking relentlessly and the monsters at night won’t leave me alone.

My Pa….he’s not come home in three weeks. I know he will never open that door again, but I wish he would just one last time.

It started with a simple hunting trip. I saw him bringing a large trash bag over his shoulder whilst he was going out, and I just assumed it held his gun and other necessities.

A few hours later, people heard gunshots go off in the area he hunted and now he’s…..

When they opened the bag they found another mangled body….and concluded that my Papa was the serial killer terrorizing New Orleans since 1922.

No, he couldn’t have done anything of the sort. He was a good man. PAPA was a good man. He was. He is.

I read it in the papers…nobody wants to see me anymore. I’ve tried contacting everyone I knew and loved, and they told me to never set foot on their property again, they thought I was involved in this hellish situation!

Anne, James, Elbert, Carol, Mr. Devereaux, Charlotte, Martin…..EVERYBODY has abandoned me!

I wanted to desperately contact Grandma, so I wrote her a series of letters. Her caretaker wrote me a letter back that she went into shock after finding out Pa died, and she’s….well, she’s in Heaven now too.

I just turned sixteen, please. I need my Papa back….my Grandma….

I’ve been in the house surviving off of scraps. I’m afraid to leave again; I don’t want to be shot, I don’t want people coming after me because of what my Papa allegedly did. I’ve lost so much weight, I’m tired, I feel sick….

I’m not ready to be a woman, to grow up, quite yet. I grew up taking things for granted; I thought I would have my family and friends for life. How will I find a job? Will anybody take me in? Can I find a new family?

I’m still here, I’m still here, my dear friend. My beautiful…I’ve not lost my mind, not yet. I’m not crazy, am I? No, no….I’m just….going through some traumatic moments!

I’m hungry….

My stomach is hurting so bad, I’m perspiring and my toes are curled…I need more food. I’ve eaten nearly everything, I have no money to purchase anything else…

Every time it growls, there’s a new tang of pain….

Papa, you would never….you’re a good man, Pa. I love you, I’ll always love you….

Oh, it all makes sense now! Why you never wanted me to see what you brought home, why you were always out late, why you were so secretive…oh, Pa, why didn’t you tell me?! I…I would’ve….contacted the authorities.

Which is what you didn’t want.

I HATE YOU, YOU FUCKING DEMON! HOW DARE YOU BRING THIS UPON ME AND GRANDMA, I HOPE YOU ROT YOU SICK, TWISTED, SORRY EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN-

I miss your kisses and your hugs, Pa. Please….please come back. At least tell me where your grave is so I can hug your body one last time….I’ve never wanted to hear your voice more, whether it be in real life or the radios, please!

Oh my god, what are we having for dinner? I’m starving, Pa….

I have a headache, Pa….please give me some medicine to ease the pain…..

I need you, I need somebody. Anybody. Please….

I never want to see you again. If I ever see you again after this lifetime I will do everything in my power to slaughter you a second time for all the pain that you’ve caused….

I’m going to take a breather soon, my dear friend. I need to let off some steam. I’m….I just need to find an energy source. I’ll be back, I promise.

——————————————

November 13th, 1933

Oh, I’ve found something to eat, finally. It didn’t taste as terribly as I thought, and in fact, it tasted similar to how you cooked our meat, Pa. So tender….so, so, tender…..

The gangster didn’t even see it coming. I don’t think he liked me, he was looking at me like I did something wrong. I hushed him, hushed him well, and said,

“No, no, sir. Why are you giving me that look?? I’m only hungry! I’m just trying to survive! Please don’t let me starve!”

I hated that gaze. That look on his face made me feel like a monster, like I wasn’t justified in my action to cut him into tiny little pieces-

Pa, it’s just like you used to make. I never knew how…similar the meat tasted until now. Why did you do that? To so many innocent people….this man was not innocent, Pa. He was part of a cartel, I was doing this world a favour!

I feel better, I think. My stomach feels more satisfied than it has in days.

I don’t feel any better, though. I just…I just ate somebody….

I don’t know what to do! How is….how is his family going to react when they find this out?! I….I caused him pain, so much pain….

But I need more. I want to live….I have so much goodness to offer to the world, I promise I can be better! I’m not usually like this! I promise to make you proud! To make everybody proud…like I’ve always tried to do!

I know how much I was lacking in performance, I’ve never been cut out for the big leagues, but I am positive I can amount to something! If this world will give me a chance, I’ll be the best version of myself I can ever be. I can, I can! You always said I could do anything I put my mind to, I can do this. I can still be a happy girl and young woman, I can still grow up, I can make new friends. Perhaps I’ll move? Yes, maybe that’s a good idea…

I miss you. I miss Grandma, I miss our talks. The things you would do with me…how you used to sing to me when I was scared of the monsters under my bed, our weekly theatre nights; we’d always go to see Charlie Chaplin, that was your favourite; and it grew to be mine too.

I miss how close we were to each other. We were like….we were like two peas in a pod. We couldn’t be one without the other.

1917, was the year of my birth. How well do you remember picking me up that day? When I was alone, cold, nearly dead…in a dumpster? You saved me.

That’s why….I don’t want to believe you did those things, Papa. I don’t. I have a very strong sense of morality, you know that. I….I can’t fathom you ever being capable of something like that.

I…I don’t think I knew you, Papa. You…

You betrayed me.

Everybody was right, you know. The suspicions people had about you. Anne…she always talked about you with a certain look of fear in her eyes, and I always made the time to defend you to anybody who ever judged.

How was it, that the only person who never saw the signs, was me? The person who lived with you for sixteen years?

Maybe I just didn’t want to believe it.

And now look at what you’ve done. You’ve killed a part of me…you killed Grandma; your mother! I was supposed to meet her up for tea a few days after your death, but time had beaten me to it. What ever will I do, without your love?

I miss you, Pa. And I love you, so very much. But you better pray to the devil himself; that I do not die for another five decades. I won’t be able to hold myself back…from hurting you. And I’ll hurt you bad.

To be hated….to be attacked by somebody you protected, nurtured, loved with all your heart….yes, that’s the pain I want to inflict on you. Your daughter, the person you’d kill for, turning against you.

I love you, Pa, I really do. But….a serial killer will never be somebody I bode well with.

———————

January 10th, 1934

I am sorry. For everything. It’s very frigid out here due to winter, and I’ve been camping outside for quite a while…I can’t feel my legs anymore.

To….anybody I may have scared or hurt, from the bottom of my heart, I am sorry.

[jahnavisurenda-21]

Hazbin Hotel||Alastor X Reader||Stress Relief

Take a deep breath, before you yell at some poor face who just happens to have the misfortune to walking in to one of your days, where everything seems to be going south.

This seemed to have taken one of the most bizarre turns you could have ever imagined, you had no idea why you had agreed to such a trivial, petty matter.

Oh! Now you remember it was Charlie, who had clasped your hand looked at you with the doe eyes which reminded you of some of the Korean shows you watched as a teen and young adult.

You would admire the eye makeup, the most because once your dad who had been a makeup artist had told his philosophy of makeup to look absolutely flawless, the eyes and lips should be standing out the most.

Totally irrelevant, you didn't understand the point of recalling this faint memory of your dad. You wished you could just go back to your suburban house, in the mountainside feel the spring flowers touch your skin again, you can't believe you once hated them.

Well, you always, miss what you once never cherished and lost.

"Coming this far, can't believe all the messed-up hotel mess is on Y/n." Angel dust once told Alastor, "The civil examinations study there and study even after your dead!"

"A what now?" Alastor questioned, "Oh! you didn't know? Not very bad now, are you?" Niffty asked, climbing on Alastor.

"What exams?" Alastor had asked once again, pushing Niffty from his shoulder,

"You always are the last person to know about anything are you? Don't you have like special powers or something which you can spy on anyone?"

Alastor looked at them like he was just about to lose his smiling grin, but of course smile is the best makeup.

"So, you know right Heaven is facing some economical crisis they spent so much time providing the 'perfect after life' guess the angels forgot money doesn't exactly grow on trees." Angel said sarcastically. But some hints of satisfaction could be made out.

"How exactly is this related to Y/n now?"

"You seriously don't know anything." Vaggie interjected, "When you had mysteriously run of in one of your 'expeditions' Adam the asshole came to the hotel, not for the execution apparently in the weekly magazine or something in heaven there was about a mysterious economist, or a business manager who was really good at managing expenses and could stabilize the afterlife."

"Well that turned out nicely did it not?"

"Ugh!" Vaggie hit her head, "No you egocentric, piece of shi--"

"Don't try that with me." Alastor warned,

"Yeah yeah she's really good." Angel finished, "It was tracked to Y/n, now heaven knows that Y/n is still choosing to be in hell, Now they want her there in heaven."

"To help them manage there life."

"Y/n has to write a civil exam the hardest one, or else they would attack the hotel."

"Well they don't know who they are messing with."

You sniffled, "Can't do this anymore." You murmured, "Want to die."

"Now my dear, is that a word you should use when you are literally saving the hotel?" Alastor appeared like the shadow, like always.

"Alastor?" You slowly poked your head from the blanket, "Why dear you're a mess!" Alastor said moving next to you on the bed,

"Can I put my head on your lap?" You asked, he nodded cheerfully.

"So why did you agree to this my dear?"

"I didn't want to fail everyone the extermination is already scheduled earlier than expected I didn't want to crush Charlie's dream."

"You're working really hard, without sleeping, isn't that concerning? It's concerning me."

"Thank god your here!" You said,

Alastor put a hand on your tear-stained cheeks.

"It's time for a little rest. Dear."

"I can't the exam is in three more days I think, I don't know how time works in hell."

"If That Adam guy keeps bothering you, I'll just remind him why I am here."

You laughed, "I'm sure you will."

You kissed his cheek, "Thank you."

"Never forget to smile my dear, and now take care."

He switched of the lights, and saw you instantly hold him close before cuddling up to him, he really knew how to make you loosen up a bit.

[unforgivablego]

I still see people talking about the Season 2 being bad. Sometimes they explain their opinion, and sometimes they get hung up on what happened in the final.

I want to speak out a little about it. “Some dumb theories” time. You can’t stop me, anyway.

Yes, the characters can't come to an agreement again. Yes, Aziraphale still believes that Heaven can be fixed. Yes, Crowley is still in love with him and wants to run away from problems instead of solving them. Yes, they are still the same as they were in the Season 1. Yes, they have learned nothing in 6,000 years. But is it really that bad?

Let's start with the fact that we were warned in advance that there will be no important storylines this season. "Quiet, gentle, romantic" - the style of the Neil for this season. And I don't think it goes against the grain of the first season. Season 1 was about the Apocalypse. Season 1 was about how the characters come to the conclusion that they like the Earth the way it is. Season 1 was about the love of the Earth. It was a journey of 6,000 years. Do you think it taught them anything besides the fact that the Earth is really dear to them?

Please don't forget the fact that Aziraphale is an angel. He may doubt that Heaven is so good, but he will never doubt that God wants the best for everyone. Aziraphale is loyal to God, not to Heaven. When Crowley asks which side he is on, Aziraphale doesn’t answer that he is on the side of Heaven, he replies that he is on the side of God. The decision that Aziraphale makes at the end of the second season is "I never doubted God, I believe that I can change Heaven if my faith is stronger than Heaven itself."

Entire Season 1 was about Aziraphale's belief in a simple thing - God never wishes them all harm, so Aziraphale trusts Him. It was Aziraphale's faith that saved them all from the Apocalypse in the first season. Heaven, Hell, Crowley, Gabriel, Michael, Sandalphon, Uriel, Metatron - the voice of God, they all told him that God wanted this war to happen. But Aziraphale refuses to believe it, he is ready to doubt them all, but not God. God loves his creations. They are His children, they are dearest to Him, and if the Great Plan dictates that all this must be destroyed, then the Great Plan is wrong. Tens of thousands of angels and demons are ready to believe that their Creator created them only to destroy them, but not Aziraphale, no. No matter what, he will never begin to doubt that God loves them more than anything in the world and this war is certainly not what He really wants.

And do you think Aziraphale will lose his faith after the Season 1? No, he will never stop believing. His faith is so great that he is ready to turn a blind eye to all the atrocities that Heaven has arranged for the Earth and which God hasn’t prevented. Aziraphale is the most real Angel of all. This is his essence, this is his curse.

For me, Aziraphale's refusal to run away with Crowley at the end of the second season doesn't go against the idea of ​​his character. What goes against the grain is Crowley's repeated desire to run away. In Season 1, we saw how strongly he was against the Apocalypse. Who persuaded Aziraphale to save the Earth? Not Heaven, not Hell, not God. Crowley! He loves the Earth, he loves Aziraphale, he wants these two things to continue to exist together. He likes life on Earth, life with Aziraphale. He doesn't want to destroy it all. But what do we see in the fourth episode of Season 1? Knowing that there is no way out of the situation, Crowley is ready to leave the Earth - the Earth he loves as much as Aziraphale - and run away from the problem. Only after finding out that Aziraphale is getting involved in the development of the Apocalypse, he rushes to him. Only because his angel is there. Where did his love for people go? Why is he suddenly ready to fly off to Alpha-Centauri and leave everything burning in hellfire?

He has no faith. This is their difference with Aziraphale. The angel believes that there is always a way out, that if the Great Plan is talking nonsense, then this is not God's plan. And he is ready to fight for the Earth, even if for this he has to go against his own. He openly defied Heaven, he openly sent his side and returned to save the Earth and Crowley.

Second. Why, if the Season 1 was filled with action, rush, wars, an abundance of characters and puzzle solutions, then the Season 2 should be the same? Season 2 is not about the Apocalypse. Season 2 is about what happened after it. The characters behave unnaturally precisely because we have only seen their behavior on the brink of War before. In Season 1, their characters were not fully revealed to us, there was almost no emphasis on inner experiences, since the End of the World is right here, there is absolutely no time for this. Season 1 was filled with many storylines and we just didn't get a break between them to consider the nature of the relationship of the main characters.

Neil said that he intentionally inserted a journey through the years into the ep3. Precisely because we wouldn’t understand why the quarrel in the bandstand at the end is so important. Season 1 doesn't let us learn much about the characters. We almost don't see Aziraphale being bastard and Crowley being kind. We don’t see why they are so attached to each other. Season 1 had a clear plot and this plot had to be kept. Season 1 had a rigid framework that the plot couldn’t go beyond. And the abundance of secondary characters didn’t allow to keep track of everything at once.

What happens in the second season? We finally see how the relationship of the main characters looks like. We see their interaction. We can look into the subcortex and read how they feel. Now Crowley's inability to contain his anger is brought to the fore. We see how he runs away from solving difficult problems, we see how he avoids everything that can be simply discarded and forgotten. And by watching how Crowley handles different situations, we can finally understand why Crowley left Aziraphale in the bandstand. We now see him in the full picture, and we can imagine why he was ready to leave the Earth he loved so much and run away with Aziraphale. This is his way of solving problems. He simply avoids them, shifts others well, or decides in the simplest way - gets rid of them, like plants with spots, or how he wanted to get rid of Gabriel in the Season 2.

Aziraphale solves problems. He is ready to sacrifice his time and energy to figure something out and face it face to face, instead of letting everything take its course. He doesn't get rid of defective books, he gives them as much love as he does for everyone. No matter how difficult the task, he is ready to fight. Even if it Hell, Heaven or an amnesiac Archangel. Even if he had to face Satan in combat, he would raise his sword ready to fight for Earth and Crowley. He can pull himself together. He is kind, sometimes naive, but he has faith. He doesn’t believe that someone can be fundamentally bad, he thinks that the right approach can change everything.

Crowley is a perfectionist. He fell because he asked uncomfortable questions - he wasn’t like everyone else. Therefore, plants with spots are an analogy to his life. He believes that they need to be disposed of, as Heaven once got rid of him.

Aziraphale is the opposite. He keeps misspelled Bibles in the shop. He is proud of his collection, he sees nothing wrong with being different from everyone else. This is an analogy to his worldview.

Crowley only has Aziraphale. He was expelled from Heaven, expelled from Hell, he lost his faith and this is justified. I can understand his point of view. I understand why at the end of Season 2 he asks Aziraphale to run away again.

Aziraphale has Crowley. And faith. Knowing what happens in Heaven, when he is offered to change something, he is ready to go for it. But with Crowley. Remember, he refuses the offer until Metatron pressures Aziraphale to bring Crowley back to Heaven with him. Aziraphale wouldn’t leave without Crowley, which would mean that Crowley wouldn’t be safe. But an offer to go back to Heaven with Crowley, where they would be there all the time and he wouldn't have to worry about Crowley being in constant danger? Think about it.

They both ask each other to leave, but cannot understand why each chose their own path. They don't listen to each other. This is their problem. They love the Earth, they love each other, but they don't listen to what they is trying to tell each other.

And both - BOTH - act in the way that is very characteristic of them. Crowley runs away from the problem, and Aziraphale goes to great lengths to solve the problem.

Why is Aziraphale going back to Heaven? We all pay attention to the fact that he doesn't return Crowley's kiss = he rejects Crowley. Nobody rejects anyone! This act of Crowley was quite cruel. It’s like he’s saying, "This is what we could have if you would give up your God." Do you remember that Aziraphale is an angel? For him to refuse God is the same as to fall. If he renounces God, he will no longer be an angel. I don't understand how people still can't understand something as simple as Aziraphale's true faith.

Crowley left him, so he leaves alone. No, let me explain it differently. Crowley really abandoned him and for lack of an alternative, Aziraphael humbled himself and went, where he was pulled harder. In this case, Metetron was just nearby. If Crowley had been in his place - if Crowley had stayed and not left again - Aziraphale would have stayed with him.

Aziraphale loves Crowley and this season we're being revealed more about that because there's time for that. We are not in a hurry. Against the backdrop of the mystery of Gabriel's memory loss, even the threat of Hell and Heaven is no match for the Apocalypse in the Season 1. This season is not about that. He fully justified his main syllable "quiet, gentle and romantic." Despite the dramatic ending and broken hearts, we have atmospheric quiet everyday life, gentle characters with funny stories, and romance that wasn't given much time in Season 1. “Every day it’s getting closer” describes this season perfectly. We have a breather between global events and the opportunity to enjoy our favorite characters that we haven’t seen for a long time. All this against the backdrop of a showdown between Hell and Heaven and funny scenes in which characters are thrown in order to tell as much as possible about them.

The denouement with Gabriel and Beelzebub may have turned out to be strange. But don’t forget that this season is not about them. If Neil wanted to go into more detail about their relationship, he would’ve spent the entire season on it. But we came to see our husbands, didn't we?

Maggie and Nina's love line doesn't seem out of place to me. They played a good role in developing the relationship of our main idiots and lived up to the phrase "romantic" well. Yes, they also didn’t have a good ending, all our expectations that they would become a couple in the end didn’t come true, but this is a human life, as simple as in Season 1 (the love line of Anathema and Newton was simply illogical and very striking , like sand in mouth) it will not be shown again.

We were shown more of Shax's story to get an idea of ​​what would happen to Hell if this character was in charge.

Despite the certainty, we still don't know who Crowley was before the Fall. Here's another mystery for you. We also don’t know what Metatron is up to, although everything is also crystal clear with the Second Coming. Maybe.

For me, the ending was heartbreaking, but quite logical. The characters acted as they normally do, without losing their principles and beliefs. Aziraphale is not the villain in this story. Crowley is not an abandoned puppy suffering from unrequited love. They just have another quarrel, which of course they will resolve and survive, because they simply cannot live without each other. This is not the end of their relationship, this is an occasion to start again. Believe me, all they really ever needed was to talk. Crowley's decision to talk now was just the wrong moment. This doesn’t mean that Aziraphale abandoned him. This means that both of them are simply not ready until they deal with their main problems.

Think how many times before this, Crowley left Aziraphale, and then dramatically drove off into the sunset? How many times did Aziraphale stand and look after him brokenly in the hope of replaying everything? How many more times is Crowley ready to return and Aziraphale to accept him? Believe me, this is not the first time for them, they will cope. We still have a whole Season 3 ahead of us. And they certainly won't end up all apart.

Season 2 is all about Crowley and Aziraphale. Season 2 is about their experiences, petty fights, arguments, romance and the life they both love. Angry that we didn't get a concrete plot in Season 2 just because Season 1 was like that? Well, excuse me, we have here an ordinary sitcom with ordinary, standard human problems. With ups and downs, with partings etc.

Graphics not up to par with Marvel? Well what do you want? This is not a super universe for you with a global audience. I don't think this season is bad. I consider him as much as he can.

So it goes.

Also, I think you need to read this👇🏻

Geniuses among us

[fanfic-corner]

10–50k Destiel Fics

Hello everyone! Here are some novella length fics for your reading enjoyment :D

In Due Time (Dean Winchester is Saved) by caelum_writes (11k)

A 26-year-old Dean is transported to 2021 and confronted with the unfathomable - a future where he is happy, safe, and loved.

Equinox by luchia (12k)

In which Castiel is the weird time-traveling freak who just might be the love of Dean Winchester's life.

let the waters rise. by outpastthemoat (13k)

When Dean thinks about it later, he could almost swear it had been raining the day Castiel left. But the rain came after. Castiel leaves on a day with no clouds, a day with golden sunlight warming Dean throughout. It happens without warning, like lightning striking out of a clear blue sky.

It’s raining when he throws his bags in the Impala and it’s raining when he turns on the interstate and it’s still raining when he hits the state line so he keeps on going. Dean drives and it rains, so he turns on his windshield wipers and watches raindrops sliding down the windshield and flicking away into the gray air, and he just keeps thinking that this can’t be happening. It just can’t.

25¢ pocket guardian angels by hopelessheathen (13k)

Dean walks into his local bank one day and notices that someone has filled the old gumball machine with these tiny, wiggling, sentient angels in individual plastic packaging. Deeply concerned about their air supply and the fact that they're trapped there in the sun, he starts pumping in quarters to rescue them. This is worse than leaving a dog in an overheating car.

Now he's got forty of the little guys running all over his house, and god knows how many others might be trapped and dying all over the city.

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built by MajorEnglishEsquire (14k)

Castiel travels with the angel tablet and without the Winchesters. One day, Dean gets a text from some anonymous number. (They speak in the language of need.)

for which no words exist by MediaWhore (14k)

"Dear Cas who art in my bathtub, give me the strength to be honest about how I feel. For your sake and for mine. Forgive me all the times I wasn’t in the past, all the words I should have said but didn’t. And please stay. Please stay with me when all is said and done. Amen. "

Dean rescues a newly human Cas from the Empty. That's the easy step.

Falling Home by sunshinewinchesters (15k)

The angels have fallen and all Dean knows is that he needs to find Castiel, blizzard and feelings be damned.

Written On Your Skin by noxsoulmate (16k)

When the handprint Cas left on his shoulder flares back to life, Dean knows something is wrong. Moving Heaven and Hell, he’s able to find his best friend – imprisoned and covered in writing. Every meaningful word ever spoken between them is etched into Cas’ skin, fading slowly, one line at a time. A battle against time begins because once the last line vanishes Castiel’s memories will be gone with it. Not only of Dean, but of everything he has ever learned from him about humanity, love, and free will.

love bade me welcome by mmtion (23k)

Cas gives Dean a wooden carving to celebrate their fifth wedding anniversary. But, despite their friends freaking out about it, it's not like that.

(or; Dean and Cas build a gentle life together, in the wrong order.)

Morning Glory by edgarallanrose (25k)

Dean can no longer hunt, Cas has gone from Warrior of God to beekeeper, and Sam has left home. Taking place two years after the Season 12 finale, Dean and Cas have to learn what it means to be themselves, and who they are meant to be to each other, without the threat of an impending apocalypse hanging over their heads.

Dream House by breathingdestiel (26k)

Castiel Shurley and his best friend Dorothy Baum have decided to move in together. After his aunt assumes they are dating, she offers them money for the house, but only if they apply for a famous reality show ‘Dream House’. Since they could use the money and he doesn’t want to come out to his aunt, Castiel and Dorothy agree to fake date for the show. But things go wrong when Dorothy falls in love with the show’s producer and Castiel starts to develop feelings for one of the hosts.

Dean Winchester is a co-host of ‘Dream House’, along with his brother. Sam, being a realtor, finds a fixer-upper and Dean turns it into a perfect house for their clients. Even though he has what most people only dream about, Dean is incredibly lonely. He had bad experiences with relationships in the past and he doesn’t think he will ever meet anyone who can earn his trust. Until he meets Castiel.

On Drowning by domesticadventures (28k)

The absolute last thing Dean would ever admit, after saving Cas' life, is that it was all thanks to the unhealthy amount of time he spent reading about drowning on Wikipedia.

Not that he's not grateful, but what he really needs is an instruction manual for everything that comes after.

A Hard-Won Peace by patheticfangirl (28k)

“Afterlife” no longer means forgetting what happened during life.

In Heaven, Dean is tormented by peace and freedom until he reunites with an also-struggling Castiel. Together, they work through issues they couldn’t leave behind, hoping to find something resembling happiness.

Three Funerals and a Wedding by Englandwouldfall (29k)

“So, um…basically, it’s this… I need you to marry me. For plot.”

Castiel stares at him.

“What?” Dean asks, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“I cannot believe gay marriage came to Moondoor before a significant part of America.”

break the skin (to break the barriers) by sobsicles (29k)

Dean is silent for a long, tense moment, then he gruffly says, "It's not for banishing the angels. It's to summon them. So, it doesn't—it's not to get rid of 'em, but to draw 'em in." 

Mitzi can't help but glance up at him at that. His voice is so heavy with so much unexplained pain, and she doesn't understand why, or what angels have to do with it. She knows religion can impact people. She's very aware that it can get complicated, and that it can be a huge source of pain for someone, but Dean sounds grievously wronged, somehow, as if it's a truly personal thing. 

She pushes through, focusing back on her job, clearing her throat before murmuring, "Well, I guess we all want angels to visit us sometimes." 

"Just the one," Dean mumbles. 

"Your guardian angel?" Mitzi asks. 

Dean breathes out, "Something like that. As close to one as an angel will ever get." 

Lucky Winner by natmoose (31k)

Dean wins a trip to Paris. In and of itself, that’s an amazing thing, but the problem is: he isn’t in a relationship with Lisa anymore, and the trip requires a romantic partner. The obvious choice is Cas, his roommate and best friend of 3 years, but coming with that are some very very complicated feelings and things Dean absolutely doesn’t want to deal with.

But Dean isn’t selfish and also really wants to give his overworked best friend a well deserved holiday, so the only and best solution is to take Cas to Paris, romantic theme be damned. What Dean doesn’t know is that their whole trip will be documented by a photographer from the company - so to avoid their vacation being cut short, Dean and Cas will have to convincingly play a couple.

First Gentleman Wanted by youaresunlight (31k)

President of the United States Castiel Novak is popular, charismatic, and knee-deep in campaigning for a second term. He’d be the ideal candidate if it weren’t for the fact that he hasn’t dated once while in political office. With his opponent’s relentless PR team calling him incapable of emotional commitment, Castiel’s staff decides to remedy the situation by finding their boss a fake, picture-perfect boyfriend. And when Dean Winchester enters the scene, he and Cas become America’s new favorite couple, except they’ve got a whole lot of history between them and complicated feelings to resolve.

All The Nights by NorthernSparrow (32k)

A ghost hunt goes wrong, and Dean ends up fighting for his life in an icy river. A certain angel somehow knows he's in trouble and shows up to help, but doesn't have enough power left to warm up Dean. It's just a simple cold night in the woods, but things can go wrong fast at night in the woods, and soon Cas and Dean must each decide what they'll risk to save the other. And they just might end up so exhausted that they accidentally start talking.

although we are faithless by noviembre (32k)

Dean is driving. Driving down a long road with Sam, and his parents are at the end of the road, and his mom made pie, and it's everything he dreamed about when he was a kid. Everything is okay. Everything is fine.

Except it doesn't make sense, and something is missing. Something is broken here --

Dean is driving again.

Diagonally Parked in a Parallel Universe by TheBlackLagoon (37k)

Cas Novak can’t see an escape from the life of hunting. Even with the frequent pleas from Jessica to leave it all behind, where in the world is he supposed to fit in? Dean Winchester can’t see a life beyond pencil-pushing for the Men of Letter’s Midwest branch. Even with the responsibility he holds to upkeep his family name, is it really what he’s meant to do? The two duos meet on what appears to be an easy salt and burn but which quickly spirals out of control.

sir this is a wendy's by noviembre (40k)

Dean is a custodian at a fast food restaurant. Cas is the President of the United States.

Heroes for Ghosts by pantheon_of_discord (42k)

Canon-divergent from 12.08

After Sam and Dean are arrested, Castiel is left alone and scrambling to find them. He knows they’re locked away in a government facility, and he’s still able to hear their prayers, but no matter how he tries Castiel can’t seem to track them. He chases leads and even attempts to hunt on his own, but Mary is AWOL, Crowley refuses to help, and Castiel’s options are running out.

Weeks pass, Castiel’s hope dwindles, and through it all Dean prays, keeping them connected. His voice is comforting, frustrating, and occasionally annoying, but in his solitude Castiel comes to cherish it. But then one day, without warning, Dean stops praying, and Castiel is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his feelings.

Keep Your Love Alive by dothraki_shieldmaiden and FriendofCarlotta (42k)

Dean gets to spend eternity sharing beers with Bobby on the Roadhouse porch and riding around in his Baby with Sam. He’s at peace… or he feels like he should be. But a few things nag at him: Where is Cas, and everybody else Dean had been hoping to see in Heaven? Why does he feel like he’s stuck in a loop, reliving the same memories over and over again? And who are the strangers wearing Sam’s and Bobby’s faces?

From Sea to Shining Sea by MsCaptainWinchester (43k)

Dean and Castiel are only a few short months of college from reuniting after five long years on opposite coasts. It doesn’t seem like long, but then a virus breaks out close to Dean, and suddenly all their plans are ruined.

Now there are new plans. Dean is going to do everything he can to cross the country, picking up strays and a reputation for violence along the way. Cas is building a new colony of survivors, determined to stay still long enough for Dean to find him.

But without contact, neither knows if they will ever see the other again. Can Dean survive his cross-country road trip through zombie nation? And if he does, will Castiel still be there to meet him?

psalm 40:2 by unicornpoe (44k)

Dean meets an angel who says he's from the future. It all gets a lot more complicated from there.

This list is getting pretty long so I'll make a second part! Thank you to all the amazing writers who have shared their fics with us, and happy reading!!

[seeingivy]

false god

satoru gojo x f!reader 

you and satoru talk about faith. 

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: lowkey suggestive, talk of god/religion/faith, reader is down bad for satoru but he’s down bad for you too!!! 

an: someone reblogged my fearless story and called it the swiftie agenda. so obviously I had to do it again. 

- 

Satoru Gojo never gets in his own head. So self assured in himself, in his own volition, that you sometimes you can’t believe he’s real. He moves through life, unchanging, unaffected, wherever the wind pushes him. You wonder if some part of it is arrogance. 

Satoru Gojo thinks he’s invincible. That’s why he can do anything and everything - nothing will ever be too much for the strongest. At times, you think he rubs off so much on you - when he whispers sweet nothings into your mouth or when he presses kisses to the sides of your thighs. He rubs off on you so much so that you’re starting to think that you’re invincible too. 

He’s like a disease, a drug, a vice you can’t quit. So soft, so unreal that your head is pounding in anticipation for when you can be with him next. Not even to touch, smell, or kiss him - just to catch a glimpse of his face. When his eyes meet yours, that glimmering look in his eyes beaming into yours, you are invincible too. 

As much as you can accost Satoru for thinking he can do anything, it turns out he really can do anything. His latest feat? Taking two kids under his wing and letting them live in his apartment with him. He’d mentioned in passing that he understood if you walked away, ran for the hills. I mean who would want to take care of two kids at twenty-one? 

You. Because you can follow Satoru Gojo anywhere. And you will. The DMV, the pits of hell, an awkward student conference - any place is heaven if he’s there with you. And anyways, two kids, who clearly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy theirs, could never scare you off. 

What could scare you off was the doubts racking around in your mind about Satoru, implanted by the conversation you just had with his parents. 

They had approached you, finding you outside the high school you taught at, under the guise of concern for your wellbeing. 

Satoru had mentioned that he had a rocky relationship with his parents - who he had mentioned were no better than Toji Fushiguro, who you have a very strong disdain for. 

But as much as he had convinced you to walk the other way if you ever met them, your curiosity got the best of you. And now their words couldn’t help but seep into your mind, eating away at any guise of confidence you had in you and Satoru - to take care of Tsumiki and Megumi, to stay together when the road gets hard, to make it out of a fight. 

“He wavers. The boy has never followed anything, living a faithless life. I’d advise you against the clear devotion and loyalty you have for him. Your blind faith will be your downfall. ” 

It’s all you can think about when Satoru comes home, sans Tsumiki and Megumi, who are on an overnight field trip to an outdoor education camp. What was supposed to be a delightful weekend - you and Satoru tangled in the sheets, running on the streets in the middle of the night, counting stars over his favorite dessert - was now you silently staring at him in the kitchen. 

“What’s wrong, love?” 

You want to give in. The touch, the promise of his sweet lips on yours, his sweetened smell - dear lord, do you want to give in. 

But you can’t. If he touches you again, sends you to heaven with his fingers, his eyes, his lips, it’ll just give you another memory to relive when he leaves, the wind pushing him away from you. 

“Do you believe in God, Satoru?” 

“Not particularly. Do you?” 

You try to silence the voice, their words ringing in your ears. He’s never followed anything, a faithless life. When is he going to stop following you? Can you even say that when you’re clearly the one following him? 

He wraps his arms around your waist, his frame crushing you from behind. You silently thank that he can’t see the confusion, the discomfort, the anxiety you’re sure is visible on your face. You can feel his warm breath against your ear, willing the need to be swayed by his sweet, sweet nothings down to your stomach. 

“What is it, love? You’re hiding from me today.” he whispers, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. 

You curse your sweet spot for him and abandon any rationale. 

“I saw your parents today. They came up to me after work.” 

His arms leave yours, retreating behind his figure. You turn around, an unrecognizable expression on his face. Anger? Sadness? Fear? 

You can’t handle it. One second away from those glittering, sparkling eyes and you can already feel your heart sink into your chest, the loss settling in you. But he’s not even gone yet. Anticipatory grief - you’re mourning something you haven’t even been deprived of yet.

He turns to the window, his arms outstretched against the ledge. 

“What’s bothering you about what they said?” he says, his voice clattering in your ears. 

You walk up next to him, keeping a distance so as not to touch him, leaning over the window as well. There are kids playing in the park below, kicking a soccer ball back and forth down the field. You think of Tsumiki and Megumi, silently hoping that they’re faring better than you and Satoru right now. 

“They told me that you’ve never followed anything. That you live a faithless life and that my devotion for you is going to be my downfall.” you whisper, resting your chin against your forearms. 

He’s silent next to you, his hand a few inches away from yours. You fight the urge to interlock your fingers with his, run your hands through his hair, pull his shirt off the top of his head. You have him to blame him for making you insatiable, his gentle touches never being enough. 

You feel his fingers wrap around your arms, pulling you up into his embrace. He pushes his frame against yours for a second time, the pressure of his arms encircling you and his bergamot cologne permeating your nose. 

“I don’t believe in what I can’t see, love. I’ve never understood how my parents can worship something they’ve never seen, touched, or felt.” 

He breaks apart, his fingers circling around the side of your cheek. He runs his fingers across your bottom lip, the touch shivering all the way to the bottom of your stomach. Satoru and his fingers. 

“I can believe in something I see, something I can touch, I can feel.” 

“So, you do believe in a God. Just not that one?” 

He shakes his head, a soft smile pressed against his lips. 

“You’re not getting it. My religion is you. Your lips, your hair, these eyes. The thing I follow is you.” 

You pale against him, your cheeks, your skin, your heart, burning. In this moment, you realize he was going to be the death of you, you were sure of it. 

“You might be a false god, but you’re the one I worship. My devotion for you is my salvation.” 

You can feel yourself trembling in his hold. He’s moving, sidestepping you back off the balcony into his bedroom. You can feel his hands, that stupid touch, moving from your hair, to your neck, to your hips. His lips follow, leaving marks, indentations on your skin. 

As he presses soft kisses to your cheeks, his lips suckling on that sweet spot in between your neck and your ear, you decide that it’s enough. 

He may be faithless, but he has faith in you. If he can worship this love, you can too. 

- 

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

[pizzapasta23045]

KAEYA HANGOUT ANALYSIS

Qubad: Fate means to send the machinations of war to every corner of the land, to fan the flames of conflict till they engulf the entire world...  Qubad: Fate would see my sword tainted with the blood of innocents, that the bright banner of my homeland might fly in every nation known to mankind. 

It so perfectly tells you what will happen in Kaeya's story without actually saying it. It's utterly lovely.

Firstly, it points out that Kaeya does not like violence, does not want it and he hates that fate wants him to be active participant in the creation of violence.

The homeland in the story could seem to be reffering to Khaenri'ah if you don't think about it too hard. But, weirdly, it reppresents both at different times of the play. In the beginning, fate wants the homeland to win, which would imply it's not exactly a 1:1 to Khaenri'ah unless the heavens have a weirdly convuluted plan as they themselves are the ones that destroyed it to begin with. It is also a place with a god, as you can tell in multiple points in the story.

Qubad: When I departed my beloved home to fight in a foreign land, I did so to honor his wishes and for my duty to our people.  Qubad: Alas, is this fate's grand design... Is this fate's grand design... Qubad: Must it be so...?

Kaeya was, in a way sent to fight in a foreign land. Not in the sense of physically fighint but in the sense tha he's an agent there for a specific goal we are not privy through.

He's placed in the impossible position of having to choose between Mondstadt, the place he loves and Khaenri'ah, his homeland who he owes a duty to. Fate, not his father decided this. His father has not helped the situation, his father has harmed him, but in the end he is not the one that created the problem in the first place. As Kaeya's himself points out here.

Kaeya: Yep, "inept" is a good word for it. Honestly, it might even be a little too civil to describe a god who turns fathers against their sons and is bent on endless warmongering... don't you think?

While there is clearly an arger towards his father, Kaeya does not see him as a bad person but as someone who was forced to be evil. A victim of manipulation, just as much of a pawn of this game as Kaeya himself is. The god (Celestia) is in the end the main problem. Because he set up the twisted system in teh first place.

 Qubad: I, Qubad, will spend the rest of my days in a foreign land, till I breathe my last in a place far from home. Qubad: But I shall not bow to the will of fate. I am no pawn in heaven's plan. Qubad: Gundafar, my dear mentor... You have always been like a father to me. It brings me only anguish to bid you farewell.  Qubad: But I must walk this path, or freedom dies by my hand. Goodbye, my tribe and kin. Farewell, sweet land of my birth.

The important part of the hangout is this. "I shall not bow to the will of fate. I am no pawn." Kaeya makes his decision. He's made up his mind finally. He knows what he should do.

Now. What is that?

Well, we can see in the play in Kaeya's improv that he'll say goodbye to his mentor who was like a father to him. He also says goodbye to his kin and his tribe. He isn't picking either the side of his family of choise and his blood.

What we see here is fundamental. Kaeya shouts it at us. He is not picking either side, because both have significance to him. It's important to realize that the thing with his sides, that is also made up. It's a construct set up by the gods. Neither side is whooly right or whooly wrong. The Heavens WANT kaeya to choose.

Kaeya: If you don't like the script, just walk off the stage and join the audience. You always have a choice.

You always have a choice. There is always a less obvious choice. The Heavens do not control anything.

Qubad: My dear audience, I ask you this: Do you believe in fate? If fate decreed that your life was to end in tragedy, what would you do?

The point it's making about Kaeya's story is fundamental to both his and the travler's story. Kaeya's life is to end in greatness and tragedy as his constellation says. It's written in the part. But Kaeya is no pawn, and Kaeya will not turn back, as freedom itself, as a concept dies. Unlike his father, he will not let himself be tainted by hate and preperpetuate the cycle of violence that the warmogering gods want him to do.

Anyways this is my coming out as a "Kaeya isn't picking either Khaenri'ah or Mondstadt he's picking the secret third option the heavens don't want you to know about."

[queers-gambit]

Here’s a little prompt if you are still taking requests

Billy leaves reader at a gas station after an argument and Eddie (or even Steve) show up see them sitting outside on the ground with obvious signs of crying and offer to give a ride home.

(Reader can be the type of person who is kind to everyone just to add that little extra)

ooooohhhh, this one hurt, not gonna lie. slutty angst club - i'm calling you to arms!!

my apologies for how long this has taken me, but depression be WILD and i have the attention span of a squirrel ✨ anyways, thank you very kindly for the request - i hope you like it - and all of my love unto you! 🖤

🍒 requests are now reopened

Natural Instinct

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader, small Steve Harrington x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: (shorty) 3.4k+

note: beef cake beef cake beef cake, author is sleep deprived.

warnings: cursing, significant others fighting, the prompt a.k.a Billy being a dickhead. cutie Steve, Lord's name in vain, and angst. kinda ambiguous ending that i don't know if it counts as comfort or not.

"Christ on the Cross, Billy!" You gasped, hanging onto the 'oh shit' handle for dear life as the car's tires squealed with exertion. "Can you slow down!?"

"Nah, you know what? You think it's cool to fuckin' bring this back up! Fine, then I think it's cool to drive this fast!"

"Slow down, Billy! Please!" You snapped, enraged by his reckless driving. You could recite statistics to crash crashes like you had it tattooed on the back of your eyes, a slice of information you sought out after dating Billy - perhaps for this reason.

He sighed heavily but begrudgingly did as you bid and slowed down considerably, reducing speed by at least 30 miles an hour. You breathed a little easier, but Billy was snapping, "Why'd you have to bring it back up? Huh? You not tired of your own drama by now?"

"Look who's talking! We wouldn't have any issue if you actually respected this relationship! And I have to bring this back up because Chrissy is still all over you," you snapped in return, truly fed up with having the same fight over, and over, and over again. "I'm sorry it makes me uncomfortable but you know, watching the cheer captain make come-fuck-me-eyes at my boyfriend is really getting old! It's almost like you get off on other women's attention!"

"Doesn't mean I'm doing anything to them in return," he snapped back at you, briefly reminding you of a feral animal as he made a sharp left turn into the glowing lights of the gas station. "Keep your ass there, I'll be a minute," he sneered as he turned the ignition, stepping out of the car and slamming the door with the intent of filling his gas tank.

You felt something in your stomach snap and prickle, making you stand from your seat and let the door shut behind you as you rounded the back of the car, "Billy, we're not done talking about this."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he sighed, hand slapping to his thigh as a cigarette dangled from his lips.

"Jesus Christ - tell me you're not actually thinking of lighting that!?"

"I'm not fucking stupid!" He snapped, eyes ablaze as he shoved the gas nozzle into his tank. "I told you to stay put! God damn it, can't never do what you're told, huh!?"

"We're not done talking about this and if you think I want to show up at this party with you pissed off to High Heaven, then think again!"

"I'm really not tryna think about you at all," Billy rolled his eyes, scoffing, and turning away from you to lean against his car with his arms crossed defensively.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" You moved around to face him. His eyes refused to meet yours. "Billy, it's just not a good feeling seeing all those cheerleaders throwing themselves at you everyday, and you know it's only to make their boyfriends jealous."

"Or maybe I'm trying to piss you off," he sneered quietly.

"What?" You felt something in your heart crack slightly.

"Just get out of my face."

"Billy! C'mon - "

"Nah, you know what?" His eyes now blazed with anger, making your feet cement to the ground beneath you out of sheer anxiety. "I think I've had more than enough of you for a lifetime," Billy scoffed again, moving to yank the empty nozzle free and set it back to the gas station tank. When he moved for the driver's door, you snapped back into action.

"What's that supposed to mean? Billy!"

"Means I'm done with you! You don't trust me?" He rounded on you. "You think I'm inviting all those bitches closer to me? Then fucking fine, we're done, I'm done, this," he gestured between you deftly, "is done. Find your own way home 'cause I'm goin' to the party without you, I'm sick of hearing you bitch and gripe about this."

"What - wait, wait, wait!" You gasped, watching him drop into his driver's seat, not even sure when he had opened the door.

"Nah, I've fucking had it with you and these fucking insecurities. If you can't trust me, as your boyfriend, then you know what? We ain't got no type of business being together. I'm done wasting my time."

"Billy, don't do this," you tried, already feeling the cold set it - but for your bones to jump when his ignition roared to life. "Billy, please, baby, wait, I'm sorry - I'm sorry, okay - I'm so fucking sorry, baby, please, just wait," you moved with his window as he rolled away from the station. Your instant need to please him, to placate his anger, kicked you into overdrive and made you suddenly regret bringing the entire subject up.

But in truth, you didn't want to go to the stupid fucking party tonight if he was just going to invite the attention of other women in! Was that so wrong? You didn't think so - but based on his current actions, you were beginning to think you were damagingly wrong.

"Yeah, whatever, take it up with someone who's gonna listen to you bitch, whine, and cry the rest of your time," he sneered, rolling his window up, and without waiting for you to move away, pressed on the gas pedal and sped away from you.

"BILLY!" You screamed at the retreating car, feet stalling in the dirt as you look around you. Truth was, you were maybe 5ish miles from town because Kasey Werner was throwing a party in her Granddaddy's barn; leaving you on the outskirts with no ride. "Oh, my God," you panted, pacing for a moment and feeling your heart lurch with panic. This wasn't good...

What you would've given to have one of those portable walkie-talkies the kids you used to babysit for used.

With tears in your eyes, you turned back for the small bodega at the gas station and wondered in. But the only person present was a young lad who didn't speak a lick of English - and you, who didn't speak a lick of Amharic, was unable to communicate your needs properly. He just smiled at you, repeating, "Yes? Gas? Good price!"

Giving up, you moved back outside and looked both up and down the road; feeling your heart drop to your feet when you realized the only lights were sporadic and few between... Leaving you feeling unsure if you could even walk home; not feeling entirely safe.

Shout out your home town of Hawkins for giving you lingering trauma by being some door to an alternate, creepy, slimy dimension!

Dropping onto the curb, you felt the first sob claw its way out of your throat before an entire avalanche of emotion fell over you; leaving you sputtering for breath. However long you sat there, you weren't sure, but you knew you sobbed the entire time as self-pity overwhelmed your body like a tidal wave. Distraught and alone, you felt your options were gone and done, figuring when the wave of desperate sadness passed you'd start to walk - but then, your saving grace pulled up in a red BMW.

You picked your head up when you noticed Steve Harrington stepping out of his car, feeling honest, white-hot shock run through you when he was making a direct beeline for you. You sat up a little and wiped your cheeks, shying away from his inquisitive stare as he reached you and softly mumbled your name.

"Oh, um, hey, Steve," you nodded softly at the boy you had no other contact with outside of that shared, lingering trauma Hawkins put you both through. Him more so, but still.

"Hey, um, so, this might be a dumb question, but are you okay?"

"Well," you twisted your hands together, feeling foolish, "um, B-Billy got kinda mad at me and... Well..."

"Don't tell me he left you here," Steve seethed, sighing as he took the seat on the curb beside you. "Shit, man, c'mon, please, don't tell me. That means I'd have to kick his ass again."

You shrugged, "I don't know, yeah, guess he did leave me here." But then his words registered in your brain, "And I'm pretty sure he kicked your ass, buddy-boy."

"Logistics," He rolled his eyes, waving your words off. "How long ago did he leave you?"

"'M not really sure," you rubbed your hands together. "Enough for the chill to set in, I guess?"

"Oh, my God," he realized, looking you up and down and finding you only in a thin party dress, "you must be freezing - c'mon, come with me," he nodded, standing to usher you under his arm. And in that moment, your mind reared with worry to remind you that your natural instinct to trust everyone made you forgiving and left you wanting to trust all of them; and that perhaps, not everyone was worthy of it.

Not to say you had any reason to think Steve Harrington untrustworthy, but only that you needed to heed caution before jumping into people's cars. Look where your nature got you with Billy - dating a manipulative jackass who couldn't regulate his own feelings for the life of him; someone who always charged you with their own (un)emotional stability; someone who made it your problem if you couldn't be their punching bag and tried to stick up for yourself. Trusting Billy got you nowhere, so, with Steve, it was only 'natural' now that you were cautious.

Steve both felt and noticed your hesitation as it physically portrayed itself in the form of you coming to a halt, spying the tears collecting in your eyes again as your mind screamed at you to use caution - something you didn't heed before starting your fight with Billy. "Hey," he nodded softly, brows gently crinkled with genuine concern, "you all right?"

"I-I'm sorry, but I don't - I don't know you. Sure, we went through all that shit together, but I don't know you - you know? I-I can't just go with you."

"No, hey, it's okay, I know," he sighed, "but seriously, I can't leave you alone all the way out here." He offered a genuine smile - something you noticed Billy rarely did, as he preferred to smirk as it hid most of whatever emotions he had. Oh, shit, here you went comparing Steve and Billy; which, truthfully, was like comparing a sweet Georgia peach to a half-burnt cigarette. When you appeared calmed by his little 'joke', Steve continued, "So, could I please sit you down somewhere warm, put gas in my car, and make sure you get home safely?"

"W-Wh-Why are you helping me?" You worried, shaking from both the cold and expulsion of adrenaline.

"I don't really need a reason to do the right thing, do I?" he asked softly, offering a small smirk. "I know we aren't really friends, but my mother raised me better than to see a woman in trouble and walk away. Least I can do is offer you a ride home in a warm car, right?"

You twisted your fingers together, "Um, y-yeah, okay. Sure, okay, yeah, I'd really appreciate the ride. Listen, I can offer you a few bucks for gas - "

"No, don't even go there, it's not necessary," he assured, smiling brighter then before at you. "I appreciate it, but it's okay, I gotta fill up anyways. Here," he lead you to his car finally after your feet unstuck themselves from the dirt ground, and opened his red passenger door. "Gimme a sec to fill the tank and I'll get the heat going."

"Take your time," you nodded meekly, sitting, and trying to drawl in yourself; to minimize your presence.

Steve didn't take long, and just as he was dropping into his seat, turning the ignition, and cranking the heat, you heard the roar of Billy's Camaro from down the road. Steve took one look at your tearful face and pulled out, heading back towards town; a full minute passing before Billy was tearing back into the gas station - frantic eyes searching for any clue of you.

In the car, you and Steve had settled into a comfortable silence. But he seemed anxious to leave it like that; leaving him to start a new conversation. "So, uh, d-do you mind if I ask... Like, what happened?" ex-King of Hawkins High asked softly, his radio turned down to four to hear you properly.

You shrugged, "I told my jerk boyfriend that I didn't like it when cheerleaders flirt with him because it made me uncomfortable, and he took it as I didn't trust him."

"Well, do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Trust him?"

"I do," you admitted, leaning on your hand pressed to the passenger door. "But that's my personal problem for trusting everyone and not learning when they betray me, show their true colors... Listen, hey, uh, c-can I ask you something, Steve?"

"Shoot."

"Do you think Billy's good for me?"

Steve avoided your eyes, "I don't think I should ans - "

"C'mon, I know you have an opinion. Am I just naïve for trusting him? Please, Stevie, I need someone to help me make sense of it all. I don't even know what I'm feeling, so, please, am I being naïve?"

"No, no, I don't think so. I think you're in love and that can make you wear rose-tinted lenses that filter everything you see, feel, hear, whatever have you."

"Is that bad?"

"No," he assured swiftly, "because being love is really great when you do it the right way with the right person, but sometimes it makes us a little blind. We accept love as we think we deserve it, because we don't know any better, and we don't have other prior experience."

"Right..."

"So, it's not your fault for figuring it out. Maybe you love Billy, and maybe he loves you, too, but that doesn't mean it's 100% healthy. In truth, I don't think any relationship is really going to be 100% either which way, but it's up to us to determine pro's and con's of each."

"How do I know?"

"I don't actually know," Steve admitted, sighing sadly after. "I guess it's one of those things we all have to just figure out for ourselves instead of hoping someone will tell us."

You groaned, "Why can't this just be easy?"

He chuckled a bit, "My mom would say that if things were easy, everyone would do them. Maybe that's why sometimes, it's a choice to be single."

The sigh you heaved was mighty, "Am I stupid for not even feeling angry?"

"You're not angry? But he left you!"

"I know!" You assured sharply, "But I feel more sad than angry!"

"Oh," he deflated a bit, glancing at you, "yeah, uh, I guess I get that."

"He was angry, and I know that makes him irrational, but I'm just really sad that I trusted him and he left me like I was some piece of garbage! I'm angry, sure, but fuck! I'm just sad! Like... Like why was it so easy for him?"

"I don't know," Steve frowned.

"N-No, I'm sorry - I'm not asking you to hold answers to my relationship, I'm just..."

"Sad," he understood, nodding. "Whatever you wanna talk about or say, I hope you feel free enough to in the safety of this car. Whatever you say won't leave this sanctuary."

You sighed gently, "Thanks, Steve... Hey, um, what were you doing tonight?"

"Oh, I dropped Robin and Vickie off at Kasey Werner's, I was coming home," he shrugged some.

"Do you have to pick them up, too?"

"Not until much later," he assured.

"Would you maybe wanna hang until then?" You asked with a sigh. "I just - "

"You're sad," he understood empathically.

"My mom made cookies, if that helps?"

"Oh, I was in before, but now I definitely am!" He laughed. "I swear, your mom's baking could be the solution to world peace!"

You chuckled as he went on a tangent about how your mother's baking was 'legendary'. He told you about how, years ago, he told his mother to start getting his birthday cakes from the hometown bakery since he tried samples during the 4th grade Career Day. You understood better than anyone because your mother was more than talented in the kitchen, but it didn't really translate over to you.

In fact, only half an hour after getting to your house, you and Steve had covered the kitchen in flour as you tried to recreate one of her recipes, while her pre-made dough was divided up on cookie sheets, sitting in the oven to bake. And that was where Billy found you when he burst through your back door; laughing loudly with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington, flour dusting both of your guys' cheeks and hair.

"Billy!" You shouted in shock, hand to your chest to try and calm your erratic heartbeat as he stood there - just staring wildly.

Home security wasn't a thing in the '80s, so, yeah, Billy can just show up at your house and walk in whenever he wants.

"Oh," Steve muttered, sighing as he set one of the mixing bowls aside. "You wanna handle that?" He asked you in a whisper, but your eyes were bulging as you couldn't believe he'd show up like this.

"What? We get in one fight, and you run into some other dudes' arms?" He sneered, glaring at you. "But Harrington, no less? And I gotta find out about it by showing up - "

"Unannounced, uninvited, and unwelcome, I might add," You perked a single brow.

"You had to stoop this low?" Billy growled at you. "Harrington, like, are you serious right now?"

"Hey, dude," Steve muttered sarcastically, giving a short flick of his wrist in the form of a wave.

"Just for your information, Steve's literally only here because you left me, you fucking jackass!" You raged, missing the way Steve smirked as he was waiting for your anger to take over - and it turns out, seeing Billy was the last straw.

"But I came back!"

"That doesn't excuse the fact that you left me all alone - in the cold and dark - with no way home, no way of calling for help!" You screamed as you slowly stalked towards him. "I can't believe you! I tell you that shit you're doing in making me uncomfortable and instead of trying to take the time to understand my point of view, maybe even want to fix it, you just shame me for it! Then got mad as if I caused all this! And then, the cherry on top of of this fucked-up sundae, you LEFT me at a gas station!"

Knowing he wasn't going to win this, Billy held up placating hands, "Hang on, sweetheart, just let me - "

"Don't try to break out pet names now, you fucked this up!" You raged, hands flying with animation. "And now I want you gone - go! Get out of here!" You pushed him towards the door.

"Hang on - "

"No, you know what? You might not respect me, but I'm tired of treating myself like that! So, from now on, I'll do what's best for me, and right now, that's having you gone! You might not respect me, but I sure as shit do, so get out! Get gone! Goodbye!"

Billy scoffed as you pushed him out the door finally, locking it after him as you laid your body against it. Huffing, you looked up to spy Steve in the back of your kitchen, smirking as he nodded before clapping slowly.

"That was - wow," he chuckled, clapping still. "Way to go, superstar. That was pretty impressive to watch. Feeling better?"

"I feel great actually," you admitted. "Is that normal?"

"That's what standing up for yourself feels like," he smirked.

"I like it..."

"Good, ride that high," he advised. "And try to direct all that into baking skills 'cause so far, we're failing pretty miserably."

"Speak for yourself," you teased, pushing off the locked door to venture towards Steve; unaware that Billy laid against the locked backdoor, tears in his eyes and slowly (like molasses slow) dribbling down his cheeks as white-hot guilt overwhelmed his heart, mind, and very soul. Billy wasn't accustomed to this kind of empathy, and it was rattling the stony boy to his core.

Usually, there was anyone else to blame for his fuck-ups, but now, it was only Billy's fault, and it was a harsh realization for the lad.

Another thing he wasn't accustomed to confronting? His accountability.

And when he heard your effortless laugh from within your kitchen, he had to push away from both his heart, mind, and your house with a plan forming each step he walked away from you.

[beesinspades]

TRIGUN FIC REC LIST (FOR FANFIC WRITERS APPRECIATION DAY 2023)

For years I haven��t been able to participate much because I barely read any fics anymore, but Trigun has definitely changed that, so here it is! A rec list of every fic I’ve enjoyed so far! I have terrible memory and not enough brain power to leave a note about each one, but I put a ♡ next to every fic I particularly loved! They're all rated G or T, but five of them are rated M (mainly for violence and canon-typical heavy topics). A lot (I mean. a lot.) of them have a Hurt/Comfort tag. Most are Vashwood BUT there are 10+ Gen fics and a couple of Mashwood ones as well :3 Please note some of the fics in this list are not spoiler-free!

VASHWOOD

♡ tell me why your hands are cold (show me how) by desertblooms

Beelio’s comment: the first Trigun fic I ever read, so of course it’s a lil’ bit special to me!

♡ terrors don't prey on innocent victims by procrastinatingbookworm

♡ Heavy Weight by eshtaresht

Beelio’s comment: I only read the Wolfwood POV chapter. As the first ace Vash(wood) I read besides mine, it made me really happy!

The Problem with Making Friends by sad_ghost_kid

half your life you've been hooked on death by procrastinatingbookworm

♡ stars by the pocketful by the_13th_battalion

Beelio’s comment: gave me cavities and i said thank you

♡ a phantom's reverence by bricus27

Beelio’s comment: another one of my favorites!

♡ heaven's grief brings hell's rain by JazzRaft

say it's such a fault by procrastinatingbookworm

A Ship and his Anchor by DerringerMeryl

lazarus wept by Bioluminescent

shepherd my flock by Bioluminescent

Beelio's comment: a really cool concept with Wolfwood as a church grim!

♡ a spark of hope is what i'm after by IceEckos12 

work song by AllegedlyAnnie

♡ Breezeblocks by caffeinefire

two eggs, over easy by AllegedlyAnnie

Beelio’s comment: this one is just so funny. trust me. 

dear star and spring bud, my preachers by elemmacil

"Love nourishes, like the rain. We turn the hills green and fill the creeks so they will sing in their creekbeds." by selcouth_raw 

♡♡♡ water bucket blues by fathomfive

Beelio’s comment: literally begging you to read this. good god. I never read first person pov fics AND YET. probably my favorite Trigun fic!

safeguard by the_13th_battalion

in a phrase to cut these lips by gorgongorgeous

Of Nick and Nicholas Names by theMusicmaniac

♡ under the bloody moonlight by spinoffprotagonist

Even Angels Deserve Guardians by glaivenoct

♡ scattered feathers, shattered glass by SpiritusRex

MASHWOOD

and i'll love the littler things by procrastinatingbookworm

To Touch You by hypermoyashi

GEN

The Sobs of a Bear and the Tears of an Angel by loveandpeanus

♡ How Judas Earned His Name by BrownieFox

♡ nobody said it was easy by procrastinatingbookworm

Beelio’s comment: this gorgeous post-trimax fic made me cry which is a feat in itself

♡ if only there was some way to ease the pain by SpiritusRex

the river brings you home by tissuebocks

♡ For the world that we leave, not the world that we found by RedWritingHood

I wanna feel like the work had some meaning by RedWritingHood

Season of the Witch by tragic_unpaired_electron

What Was Taken, What Was Restored (series) by Anxiety_Elemental

♡ If You Had Not Have Fallen by aboxthecolourofheartache

♡ YOU ARE HERE; or, How to Get Lost in the Desert Without Really Dying by fathomfive

Start here by AsterAspera

Now everyone knows about my tastes in fanfiction. If you read any of them, please leave a nice comment for the author if you can, I'm sure you'll make their day! 💜 Happy Fanfic Writers Appreciation Day to my fellow fic writers! Thank you for feeding me (us) so well.

[juanarc-thethird]

Follow up to I accept your proposal. Blake invites Jaune to join her in meeting her parents. It is weird but he goes there expecting to just go as a friend. However Blake surprises everyone by putting on the collar and comes out to everyone that she is his pet. She goes into the gritty details about their sex life to Jaune's embarrassment. How Kali and Ghira respond to this is up to you.

I just change it a little bit, I hope you like it.

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

I Accept Your Proposal! Part 2

At a small and private coffee shop.

Blake: Thanks for coming Jane. Having you here makes me feel safe.

Jaune: No problem, but why do you need me to talk to your parents. I mean, they're your parents, I don't think they're going to be mad at you for whatever you're going to tell them.

Blake: We'll see.

Ghira: *In the distance* Are you sure this is the place?

Kali: Yes I am.

Blake: *She turns around and she sees her mom and dad* Mom, Dad, we are here!

Ghira: *Happy* Blake!

Kali: *Happy* My baby!

She runs towards her and hugs her. Her father follows behind and embraces the two women in a group hug.

Ghira: We are glad to see you dear daughter.

Kali: You look so thin, are you eating well?

Blake: *Chuckles* I'm fine mom.

Ghira: *Looks at Jaune*

Jaune: *Nervous* Hi

Ghira: Is he a friend of yours?

Blake: Oh well, he's someone important. *She blushes*

Kali: Oh~ Looks like my girl is all grown up now.

Ghira: Is he your...?

Blake: Why don't we sit down and I tell you guys everything.

They each take their seats and look forward to what Blake will say.

Blake: Okay. She takes a deep breath. He is Jaune Arc and he is my…

Jaune: *Happy* (Wait?! Is she going to say what I think she's going to say?! Is she's going to introduce me as her....)

Jaune/Blake: (..boyfriend?!)/...Master!

Ghira/Jaune: WHAT?!

Kali: Oh my!~

Ghira: Is this true! Are you her Master?!

Jaune: Wait a minute! I never agree-!

Blake: Yes he is, and I have this to prove it!

Blake opens her shirt slightly revealing a collar that has a heart plate that says property of Jaune Arc.

Blake: *Proud* See! This is proof of our love!

Kali: *Awkward* Honey, I know it's none of my business, but why?

Blake: You should have seen it seen mom. The first time we did it, it was magical. He put me on a leash and handled me like his kitten. He made me lick his big dick like a popsicle, god I love that taste~ Then he put me on all fours and gave me so hard from behind that my legs were shaking after 1 orgasms. And the body odor from him, gosh~, it's so addictive. Just smelling it turns me on so much. But best of all, after he uses me as his fuck toy, he holds me in his arms, he caresses me, gives me a lot of kisses, and he whispers to me how much he loves me. For me it is like a piece of heaven on earth.

Their parents don't say anything, they are silent. On the other side, Jaune covers his face from embarrassment and fear of what has just happened and what is going to happen. Whatever it is, it can't be a good thing.

Jaune: (Somebody kill me Please!)

Blake: So, do I have your blessing to keep seeing him?

Jaune: (Are you stupid?! They would never accept something like this!)

Kali: *Happy* But how wonderful! You found a good man. Lucky you.

Jaune: (Eh?)

Ghira: I must admit that I was somewhat surprised. But you are already an adult woman, it was a matter of time for this to happen. But I am happy that he is a man like you, Jaune. Please he takes care of my daughter.

Jaune: Yeah sure... Hold on! How can you two be okay with this?!

Ghira: *Embarrassed* Oh well… Is a funny story.

Kali: *Smiles* I handle this. Well Jaune, our relationship is not much different from yours.

Jaune: Wait. You're telling me that you and your husband are…

Kali: That's right. I am his Master and he is my big fluffy cat. *Rubs his belly*

Ghira: Honey please, we are in public.

Jaune: You are the Master!... I admit, I didn't see that coming.

Kali: A lot of people do.

Blake: So, can I have your blessing?

Kali: Of course, but with one condition.

Blake: Which is...

Kali: We want grandbabies!

Ghira: Lots of them.

Jaune: Wait, we are still young. We should focus on-

Blake: *thumbs up* You got it!

Jaune: Blake!