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teenypeony · 8 months

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THE NIGHT SHIFT

Summary: It‘s been a week since bhaalspawn Nerissa has shown her face around Baldur‘s Gate after the fall of the attempted Illithid takeover. After facing the consequences of defeating the Elder Brain, can Nerissa forgive Enver Gortash for turning his back on her? Or will she spend a lifetime making him regret it?

TLDR: An excuse to write Gortash smut, with plot sprinkled in :)

Warnings; +18, graphic depictions of violence, smut

Words: 4.9k

ao3 link here

The weather had been awful in Baldur’s gate this past ten-day. On the days when she would finally leave her cold stone temple, Nerissa was met with equally chilling winds and sleet in the city. As she snaked out from under the sewer cover, her hands gripped the cobblestone street, crumpling halfway frozen leaves on the ground. The satisfying crunching noises reminded her of the recent sacrifice she made. Oh, how he screamed when his bones made the same satisfying sound, she thought, as a sensation shot down the column of her spine, her excitement for blood nearly palpable. Nerissa kept her hood up and head down as she moved through the narrow streets of the city, keeping a watchful eye towards her destination. She weaved through crowds who had stopped at warm market stalls along the streets, hoping to leech off the warmth of the food offered inside. Keeping her eyes on the ground, on the mismatched and uneven cobblestone, she maneuvered around the city’s citizens catching glimpses of their conversation as she passed by.

Nerissa had been counting the days since she defeated the Elder Brain, anxiously awaiting the wrath of her father for betraying his orders to take control of the illithid army. The time since the Elder Brain’s demise had been spent in complete seclusion out of fear of what Bhaal would do to her once he found out. Nerissa had used the horrid weather as an excuse not to meet up with her companions as she spent her time in the temple meditating on the recent battle. Ruminating more like it. Nothing had played out as she had planned it, something had gone horribly wrong and it had cost her everything. Nerissa replayed every awful moment in her head, the memories plaguing her every thought as she decided who to punish for this failure. Ultimately she found herself to blame. Every moment in the temple was spent thinking of a way to redeem herself. To her father. To Gortash.

The days leading up to the final battle had been filled with bouts of celebration as Nerissa and her allies geared up for the fight ahead of them. Gortash had made an effort to see her a final time the night before she headed out.

“Nerissa?” The Archduke asked, standing in the doorway of her chamber inside the Temple. He leaned against the cold stone frame, staring as Nerissa turned from a chest she had been rummaging through. Blood stained scimitars and warped daggers laid sprawled across the ground as if they’d been thrown in a frenzy, an attempt to find the perfect weapon to turn against her foes. Nerissa’s robes flourished as she stood from her crouched position, turning to look at the man standing at the precipice of her chambers.

She couldn’t help but smirk at him, “Came to wish me a final goodbye did you? You’ve always had so much confidence in my abilities, Gortash.”

He rolled his eyes, slowly making his way towards her side of the room. The bhaalspawn kept an… interesting approach to her chambers, Gortash thought to himself. Chests lined the furthest wall from him, each marked with symbols relating to what each chest held. Droplets of dried, melted wax littered the floor from the candlelight chandelier that hung in the middle of the room. She had once remarked on the pleasure it gives her, to have the molten wax inconspicuously drop on her whilst she meditated on the cushions underneath it. On the west end of the room, lay her bed, as if he would even call it that. The bhaalspawn had little interest in worldly comforts compared to Gortash, instead opting for a slightly cushioned mattress which sat on a stone slab. She had only added bedding and cushions on the third night they spent together. If only to silence his antagonizing complaints of discomfort on the rigid thing. The rest of her chambers were filled with a quiet nothingness. He figured it was her need for the mundane after a strenuous day of ripping throats and biting still-beating hearts. The gray, unforgiving stone slabs was all she wanted to see after returning to home.

“Is it wrong for me to want to see my favorite assassin?” He approached her carefully, remembering the deadly acts she committed with her calloused hands, the same that he reached out to hold. Nerissa didn’t pull away but instead shifted closer to him, closing the space between them. She could hear his breathing intensify, his pulse quicken as she grasped his hands tighter and her eyes narrowed on the pulsing vein on his neck. She let out a loose breath, imagining how she could knick his artery, catching the blood that flows out of his throat with her mouth. A blushing feeling rose in the pits of her body remembering the taste of his blood on her tongue.

“It’s not…in truth I’d hope you’d come to see me tonight.” A long pause before she spoke again, “If I don’t survive, Enver, I-” She shakes her head at the thought. In the months she spent meeting and planning with the Archduke, the plan they engineered had to be executed perfectly. Nerissa’s objective remained somewhat simple, to retrieve the Crown of Karsus before it would be destroyed by her companions, most of all Gale. He had nearly salivated at the sight of it in the cave, talking non stop on the trip to Baldur’s Gate about finding a bookshop to research its power. Nerissa’s father demanded that she use the crown to control her army, however the Archduke proposed a different objective. One which would solidify her as his Archduchess, to rule over Baldur’s Gate and with the crown, the entirety of Elturel. It was a devious plan; a wicked, delicious, thrilling betrayal for love. The future he had promised her detailed endless opportunities for killing, a lifetime of undying worship and an extensive operation to expand the teachings of Bhaal across the land. Scleritas advised against the deal. He had reminded her of the effectiveness of her fathers plan, the immediate gratification that unleashing terror within Baldur’s Gate would give her. It took little to convince Scleritas that this plan, Gortash’s plan, would be superior, promising an unending supply of worshippers to fill her temple with the rotted, fleshy corpses of the Archduke’s enemies.

Gortash closes the space further,“You will succeed, my wicked love” He says, letting go of her hands and grabbing her chin to pull her gaze to his. “You must succeed, the future I’ve promised rests on this.”

“You’re right.” She assured him.

“And besides,” He started, “I came to give you a…well we’ll call it a good luck present.”

”For me? Enver you didn’t have-“

“Nonsense. For my favorite assassin?” He leaned his head closer to hers, lips at the edge of connecting, “For my heart? I’d give anything.”

The Archduke released his grip on her chin to grab a small rectangular box from the inside of his coat. Presenting the gift to her, Nerissa smiled as she grabbed the black case from him. Nerissa’s heart stilled as she opened the lid to reveal a sparkling gold necklace sitting inside. In the middle there laid a small vial attached to the golden chain. Inside, a small amount of red liquid sloshed back and forth as she lifted it out in her hand. Gortash chuckled as she tossed the box somewhere off to the side and oggeled the gift she had received.

“It’s my blood in the vial.” He answered the question she had been brewing in her mind. ”When we first met…” He glanced nervously around the room, avoided direct eye contact with Nerissa as if she wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings of adoration. “When we first met, you had promised me you would slit my throat when the day came, you made a joke about how you would drown attempting to bathe in the gore of my corpse” Nerissa remembered the night fondley. “Truthfully, you bewitched me Nerissa. Think of this as…a token of myself to remember on the battlefield tomorrow.”

“You have a warped sense of humor, Enver.” She smiled, reaching her arms around her neck to put the necklace on. The feeling of the vial was cold against her chest, drooping low enough to lay against the skin near her heart.

“It is warped. A warped, wicked vial of blood worn by my most precious wicked thing.” He spoke, the sound of his voice dragging deeper and slowly against her ears. Gortash walked over to press his lips against her forehead, Nerissa’s heart fluttered at the feeling. She pressed herself into his body as she snaked a slender hand up along his throat to rest on the side of his jaw. He leaned down, pressing against Nerissa’s lips, moving his mouth slowly against hers as he gripped the back of her head as if at any moment she would run off. Nerissa gripped the side of his face, pulling him closer to her as if to assure him of her permanence in this moment. Her hand slithered into his dark hair carelessly laying on the sides of his face, tugging at it. Gortash groaned at the feeling, pulling back from Nerissa’s lips to trail his lips down her neck. He stopped where her neck met her shoulder and softly bit down causing Nerissa to arch her back and push against him. Gortash returned to her mouth, pressing against hers with a forceful urgency. His pace against her mouth quickened as he lowered his hands, letting them roam the outlines of her body, taking time to run his hands along her curves. He slipped one hand over her breasts and she groaned as he palmed her, running his thumb over her nipple. Swirling his thumb around, Nerissa let out a small cry into Gortash’s mouth as he mimicked the motions with his other hand. Gortash leaned down to pull her robes to the side, taking one of her nipples into his mouth. With the other hand, he lowered to cup at the wetness forming between her thighs. Nerissa threw her head back at the touch, grinding her hips into his hand. She let out a low moan which the Archduke took as an opportunity to return to her mouth and slip his tongue into her. These motions were familiar to them, yet this time felt different. They currently sat in a state of in-between. Today, everything is as it was, yet tomorrow everything will change. Nerissa will obtain the crown and Gortash will wield its power to control the Sword Coast. It all depended on her. She hadn’t started to feel the pressure until days before when her companions started to truly stockpile their weapons, taking inventory on potions, poisons and spell scrolls. With the morning sunrise silently approaching, she was glad to be here with him, in this moment. The anticipation of the coming violence started a fire deep within Nerissa’s bones, her body beginning to shake at the thoughts of death mixed with the feeling of his touch against her most sensitive spot. Another moan escaped her lips as she continued grinding against Gortash’s hand.

He pulled his hand from her, retreating back towards her bed. Gortash tore off his coat and tossed it to the side, focusing on unbuttoning the loose white blouse he wore underneath. She began to follow suit, untying the belt that kept her robes in place, letting them fall to the floor with a shrug. Nerissa kept an intense gaze on him as he continued undressing, watching his chest rise and fall as he finally pulled his shirt off over his head, tossing it towards the coat. In the dimming candlelight, she couldn’t help but stare at the sight in front of her. Gortash’s eyes were half lidded with lust as he stretched a hand out beckoning her to him. His eyes were glued to her naked form as Nerissa stalked over to him, taking his hand in hers when he suddenly pushed her to fall back against the mattress. She snarled at him, sitting up with her elbows propped up behind her. Gortash kneeled on the stone slab under her bed, wrapped his hands around both of her legs and swiftly tugging her to the edge of the bed.

He smirked as he looked down at her nakedness, “Think of this as a good luck present too.”

Disappearing between her thighs, Gortash started his work quickly, unwilling to give Nerissa a second to recover herself. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her thighs, sending chills through her body in anticipation of his tongue. Gortash swiped his tongue through her folds at an agonizingly slow pace, lavishing in the taste of her. He hooked his hand around her thigh, gripping the flesh and bringing her thigh closer around his head. Nerissa’s foot dug into his back as she arched hers in pleasure, allowing herself to let out soft moans to fill the sounds of him drinking up her wetness. Gortash sped up his movements, focusing on the spot that made her plunge her hands into his hair and pull sharply. Gortash groaned, picking up his pace and flattening his tongue against her. Nerissa let out a low groan and tightened her grip on his hair, pressing his head closer into her. The increasing groans from Gortash could drive her over the edge alone. Her breaths started to feel shaky as her legs began to clamp around the Archduke’s head. He pauses his movements to extend a hand up to her, two fingers resting at her lips. She opened her mouth and closed around his fingers, swirling her tongue around them. Gortash quietly moaned as he felt her start to suck before she released his fingers, letting them drag out of her mouth, pulling a thin string of spit with them. Circling the fingers outside of her hole, he looked up to watch her expression as he pushed a finger inside. Nerissa yelled out, moaning and biting into her hand as she tried to muffle the sounds from traveling farther into the temple. Her eyes clenched closed and hips jerked as Gortash started pumping and curling his thick finger inside of her. He continued with her clit, using his tongue to flick against her while his finger pressed against the small spot that he knew made her scream. The sensations were dizzying as he picked up the pace, using his other hand to unwrap around her thigh and hold her hip down. When he added a second finger, Nerissa yanked his hair as if in an attempt to rip it from his scalp for which Gortash let out a delicious moan. He had her laying there for what felt like hours as he enjoyed the wicked sounds she made whilst her fucked her with his fingers.

“Enver, please” She gasped out. He pumped his fingers at a faster pace, continuing dragging his tongue around her clit, putting more pressure on the sensitive spot. Nerissa released her hand from his hair to claw at his scalp as her legs started to violently shake in response to Gortash’s unrelenting licking. As she reached her peak, Gortash pushed the two fingers deeper inside of her, curling up at a pace that pushed her over the edge. Nerissa yelled into her hand as she came against his mouth, jerking her hips slowly up and down Gortash’s face as he continued to lap up every part of her with his tongue. Looking down, Nerissa saw him pull away to lick his lips and wipe his face against her thighs. Gortash rose from his kneeled position and turned to pick his clothes up. Panting and still coming down from her high, Nerissa sat up on her elbows and cocked an eyebrow at the man now across the room.

“Enver, come back” She pouted, motioning to the empty space on the mattress next to her.

Gortash threw his shirt over his head and glanced over at her while lacing up his trousers.

“You can return the favor when I see you tomorrow. When you’ve succeeded.” He said with a cold tone in his voice. This confused Nerissa, he’d always stayed afterwards. It was probably the thing she hated the most about him- the clinginess. The illusion of commitment. Just for him to be gone by first light.

“Stay.” She replied, demandingly, in an equally cold tone. Although she despised the indent he made in the mattress, she had grown accustomed to it. To the whispers he made in his sleep, the way his leg sometimes jerked in the night. As if he was battling demons in his sleep. It made for a show during the nights when Nerissa couldn’t trance. In the darkest hours of the night she liked to lay next to him, running her fingertips across the length of his arm and chest, imagining the types of filthy carnage they could create together. As if she would ever let him know she did this in the first place.

Gortash crossed the cold, empty space to her bed and leaned down to press his lips against her forehead for the final time.

“Good luck, Nerissa.” He said. As he walked out of her chambers, Nerissa turned over in her bed and pulled the sheets up and above her head.

The streets began to widen and Nerissa looked up from the ground to see lamp lights flicker on as the sun began to hide behind the city’s outline. A light dusting of snow fell from the clouds above the city as the Bhaalspawn leapt onto a neighboring building, silently creeping along the rooftops until reaching a particularly high building. Grabbing stone by stone, Nerissa pulled herself up along the side of the tower until she reached a small balcony. She hoisted herself over the stone edge and sat atop it, teetering between leaping onto the balcony floor or falling backwards onto the ground far, far below. Something within stopped her from continuing, instead favoring falling face first onto the pavement below. It had been a long time since she last spoke to him and doubt started to fill her thoughts. If he had wanted to send her a letter, he would’ve. During the initial stages of their partnership, he had once sent twenty three couriers in hopes of reaching her at the Bhaalist temple. To no avail. Instead, she waited until midnight to drag a bloody burlap sack filled with the heads of each courier through the streets and to his balcony window. She gripped the cold stone beneath to still herself as a wicked smile crept along her face remembering the events that followed. He loved reveling in the theatrics of her killings.

Her mind started to reel at the thought of walking through the same window.

In the end Nerissa made a decision and her boots landed quietly on the ground next to the window. Looking closely through the glass she could see his back turned as he sat at his desk, scribbling feverishly on a piece of parchment. The light from the fireplace behind his desk shone a soft and warm light against the thin white shirt that loosely fit into black embroidered pants. Following the golden embellishments along his clothes, Nerissa’s eyes darted to the outline of his face and the concentrated expression on it. Something soared within her as she glanced down at the golden gauntlet adorning his left arm, the talons laying carelessly on the desk. The rest of the office was no different from the last time she had climbed through his window. Large bookshelves stretch the length of the walls ending at the ceiling. Absolutely useless. She had always thought as she used to watch him climb a wheeled ladder to even be able to reach the taller shelves. A short six person table sat in the middle of the room, utterly piled with random objects. A bowl of fruits (grapes in excess as it was his favorite), a centerpiece of half rotted flowers, his formal black coat strewn along one of the chairs, a map of the city including random markings with a knife standing straight up and piercing a specific area within the city. Nerissa squinted but couldn’t make out the particular spot it had punctured. With a short inhale, she pressed her hands against the window pane, quietly pushing it open. Warm air slowly seeped through the opening Nerissa had made, filling the air around her with the scent of his office and more notably, the scent of him. With a swift motion Nerissa leapt onto the ground below, rising up to stand behind him with a weak attempt to conceal her growing smile.

“Bhaalspawn.” Gortash paused, “Why are you here? I find it laughable that you decided to show your face after what you did.” There was a cold, uncaring tone to his voice that set Nerissa on edge.

“I came to grovel of course.” She joked, leaning down behind him, snaking her hands around his shoulders and resting her head against his. “I’m sorry I was bad.” She whispered in his ear. Nerissa could feel the chills this gave the Archduke so she decided to lick the shell of his ear. At this, Gortash decided he’d had enough. He lunged from his chair, unlatched her arms from him and made his way to lean against the table at the center of the room.

“Do you think this is funny, Bhaalspawn?” He spat, his chest rising slightly faster than before, his gauntlet clenched in a tight fist. She stared at him before making her next move.

“It’s not over yet, Enver we can still get it back-” She started but he cut her words short.

”You still failed me.” He sat blankly. She started to make her way across the room towards him, stopping before she got too close. She extended out a hand towards Gortash, inviting him into her but he swatted it away.

“I remember telling you to return to me once you’ve succeeded. Did you succeed bhaalspawn?” He almost spit out the last part, the way it rolled off his tongue with distaste. The same tongue which was previously eager to satisfy her, she remarked to herself.

Nerissa was caught back by his response, by the similar cold tone she heard as he left her chambers. She had thought about how she would explain this failure to him, but standing in front of the Archduke now, she was at a loss for words. “I..I mean I’m formulating a new plan-”

He turned his back to her, placing his fist on the desk in front of him. “I don’t need a new plan, I wanted the Crown of Karsus!” His once well hidden rage was starting to bubble inside of him. The talons on his gauntlet made a whining noise as Gortash gripped the desk, almost splintering the wood. He turned, furrowing his brows and staring at Nerissa, the look behind his eyes was feral.

“Enver-” She attempted to walk towards the man she knew. She knew she had failed him. She wanted to reason with him, to talk him down from this anger which she rarely saw.

“DON’T.” His voice boomed, commanding Nerissa to stop in her place. “You let Gale run away with my crown, and you did NOTHING to stop it.” Gortash broke eye contact and continued, “I gave you one job, Bhaalspawn, and you proved yourself utterly useless.”

His words shot into Nerissa’s heart. It was rare that an insult would hurt her this deeply, but she had trusted him with herself fully. She let him inside a part of her mind that she didn’t dare show even Scleritas. Nerissa had given up everything in pursuit of him. She had become an outcast to her companions, neglected their cries for help and much to her dismay, brutally slaughtered them in the process of battle. She had begged and pleaded to her father in the aftermath not to strike her down where she stood. As an initial punishment, he took her slayer form. Further punishment would await her as he decided what to do with her. She had become Gortash’s lap dog, running through the city to carefully and quietly assassinate any political competition he faced. She helped him create an empire, any metaphorical throne was built on the blood and bones of the people she slaughtered for him. After everything, the title of Archduchess would redeem her tarnished reputation in the city of being known as the Archduke’s psychotic cock warmer. She saw the way people sneered when she left her temple, the mocking illustrations in the papers after she had attended galas with him.

“Useless? Is that really what I am to you Enver?” Nerissa could feel the murderous heat build within her as she started to really process what he was saying. She clenched her fists together in an effort to calm herself, her nails leaving deep puncture marks on her palms.

“You heard what I said.” He retorted.

“After everything we’ve been through and you still cast me aside as if I’m just a killer for hire? You won’t even consider my plan to retrieve the crown back-”

He cut her words short. “You failed me once, Nerissa,” He says her name in mocking tone, as if calling her anything other than a useless bhaalspawn was a disservice. “I will not put myself in a position to be let down again.” His downturned expression did nothing to hide the silent pleasure it was for him to end things with her. She wondered, in this moment, if he ever really cared for her at all. If she was just a means to an end. It wasn’t sadness that Nerissa felt, it was unbridled anger clawing at her throat to be let out. It was an insatiable desire for bloodlust as the man she had so foolishly opened up to was now turning against her, as if she was meaningless. Meaningless. She scoffed to herself. As if losing her title and form meant she was any more extraordinary than him now. It was clear how she should proceed. To bring her father the Archdukes head on a spike would prove glorious for her. She may even be gifted the Slayer form again. If Gortash thought she was useless, she would spend every waking moment making him remember how absolutely deranged she really was. Useless. She scoffed again, this time loud enough for Gortash to hear. Nerissa grabbed at the dagger that sat on her thigh underneath her trousers.

“It’s someone else isn’t it.” She asked calmly. Gortash’s face filled with surprise and then quickly to no expression at all as he tried to collect himself. She doubted he had the time to give another woman and had mainly said it to agitate him, yet it was curious the way he reacted when she said it.

“Someone else? Don’t be ridiculous Nerissa.” He said, motioning with his hand. “You should be grateful that I am keeping our relationship in mind while I consider how harshly to punish you, now that you’ve ruined everything.”

“You wouldn’t be wise enough to threaten me, Enver.” Nerissa smirked, pulling her dagger out, carefully concealing it behind her thigh as she spoke, “Remember the promise I made to you.” At this, Gortash stomps over in front of Nerissa to reach under her blouse and pull out the golden necklace that had been tucked inside. She quickly grabbed at the hilt of her blade, ready to brandish it at a moment's notice.

“Act like I’m stupid enough to think you’d come unarmed.” He spat.

The thought of his hands under her shirt had briefly distracted her before he yanked on the chain, enough for her neck to bob under the force, and ripped it off her neck. Nerissa watched in horror as he threw the necklace to the ground, crushing the vial underneath his heavy leather boot. He backed away, shaking his head and motioning to the window, “This…” He looked at her with a cold, strange expression, “We meant nothing. Go.” Nerissa could only see red. She brought the dagger up in the air and launched it across the room at him. It was a pity that she had missed the spot between his eyes and only sliced through the top of his ear. Gortash yelled in pain, cupping a hand to his ear and looking up at her with nothing but fury in his eyes. She smirked as she picked up the broken necklace and lunged out of the window. Nerissa knew she had become too close to the Archduke. She needed to formulate a plan in which to get back at him. Stealing the Crown of Karsus back from Gale was a good first start. Maybe she would return to him, wearing the crown herself just to throw it in his face. Maybe she wouldn’t need to come back at all, as she did have a devoted cult working in her favor. It was too late to make up her mind yet, the moon had almost finished its track across the sky by the time Nerissa had stopped running across the rooftops, panting as she slowed her movements. A somber glance back at his tower gave her the final push to move forward with her plans. she would make him regret this, if it was the last bloody thing she did.

#enver gortash #enver gortash x dark urge #durgetash #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 smut #no beta we die like men #gortash smut #the night shift #the dark urge

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stayevildarling · 2 months

Note

Ask game✨️ 13, 17, 20, 22

13. talk about a writing experience that has pleasantly surprised you

I used to despise enemies to lovers. Don‘t get me wrong, I adore reading them but I always struggled to write them. When I got the regina mills x wilhemina venable x reader fic idea I knew I had to do that genre though. I was really surprised with how easy the plot came together and flowed.

17. what is your favorite line you’ve ever written?

“What about love?” she whispers, completely snapping you out of any thoughts, waking you up like a slap from reality just hit you in the face. “Lo- love?” you ask, stumbling over your words and locking eyes with your supreme. She nods, a statement of both reassuring you, you heard correctly but also begging you to explain.

“I have love in my life, Cordelia, it might be a different kind but I’m so grateful” you explain, feeling confident as she started the subject and conversation in the first place and part of you feeling like this being your only chance to ever have an open conversation about this with her.

from the cordelia x reader „in the silence“ fic

20. what is your favorite trope to write?

just anything where the characters give reader comfort

22. describe your writing process from scratch to finish.

So it‘s either I get a request and think about it for a while or I get a random idea mostly by listening to music or dreaming about characters. I write some notes in my phone and when I start writing I usually listen to music with headphones, laptop in my lap. I do the outline with gifs, warnings and the title. And then I just start😂 I often begin in fics with the atmosphere in a room or the weather and then gradually introduce the characters or plot. I add some backstory to their relationship and slowly get to the plot, adding both dialogue and a lot of metaphorical writing. I then get to the actual plot and let it slowly even out into the perfect ending.

#ask game #anon #ty for these🫶🏼

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wednak · 1 year

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The one where I make🥛

Oh dear Weddud. I‘ve been thinking about your song (lol thanks for using the links btw, I would not have recognized Vienna nor Billy Joel if you hadn‘t… tragic I know) and I have so many thoughts that‘s it‘s hard to even know where to begin.

I knew from the moment I hit publish that there was a high likelihood that Ed would be annoyed, feel resentful, rushed or whatever else you might be feeling about my actions. But that was and is okay with me, because this isn‘t for him, it‘s for Weddud. No matter how far you might have buried him, I know he will always be inside of you somewhere. And it‘s him alone that I‘m writing these for.

Nevertheless, I have been reflecting and there is a good chance I have been letting my enthusiasm for the topic and my own personal comfort in this particular space influence my judgement which then came across as if I was trying to rush you or push you to do something that you may have deemed an unworthy investment of time and energy for your current mission in life. I have thought about it and I will happily change it up and tone all of it down but what I won‘t do is stop.

Because what I need you to understand is that I have no demands or asks of you. I’m not afraid or trying to hurry along some imagined future. I‘m not doing this because I expect you to change so that one day you‘ll come back and be ready to give me all the things I dream about. There is no price for my love, it‘s not conditional and it doesn‘t need to be repaid with marriage, children, money and success or whatever else you think you need to be able to provide in order to deserve to be loved one day. I don‘t expect you to want me to be part of your life, I don‘t expect you to respond in any way whatsoever, I don‘t even expect you to read any of this if you don‘t want to or if it doesn’t feel right to you. We haven‘t spoken in nearly a year and I have absolutely no idea what is going on in your life. For all that I know you could be happy and thriving and if so, I would be ecstatic to deem everything I have said completely and utterly void. But we all have those broken pieces of ourselves that haunt us, the pain and suffering that feels like it’s too much to bear, and for whatever reason God has granted me the privilege to know yours better than anyone. To this day, that privilege is one of the most precious gifts I’ve ever been given. I cherish it with all my heart and I will continue to honor it to the best of my God-given ability. And so all that I care about at the very core of my being is that you know that I‘m here and that there is another way. There is always another way.

I could come here every week to write about psychology or Bible verses or the weather or what food I ate for dinner or any of the various annoying things people have done in the world. It wouldn‘t actually matter to me. I chose to write about what I wrote about because a) I thought if you and I are both stuck in whatever you want to call this bond that makes us return to this Tumblr thing over and over again then I might as well talk about something useful that could help you make your life better and b) thinking through these topics and writing them out in a structured manner actually helps me a ton in applying them to my own life and my work.

But at the end of the day, what I care most about isn‘t any of that stuff about trauma, emotions, the window of tolerance or any of the things I was planning to write about ADHD, genetics, mental illness, etc. What I care about is making sure you understand that it doesn‘t matter what you do, there is always a space where you will find unconditional love and forgiveness. And while I try to model that unconditional love and forgiveness for you, I have no doubt that my presence in your life is nothing but a sign post or a vessel, designed by the universe to lead you down a path to the truest form of unconditional love and forgiveness there is.

Jesus is our Savior. To me, that isn‘t just an ideological phrase to utter in church on Sunday or the most recent way of virtue signaling. It’s a metaphor for the realest truth I’ve ever been able to find. It‘s the answer to life‘s most fundamental problem which the knowledge of life itself, the knowledge of its finiteness and the knowledge of suffering. Jesus is our Savior because what he did was recognize something so powerful and wise about the universe that it has moved billions of people over thousands of years and helped them resurrect their lives from the ashes, to turn pain and sorrow into true meaning, hope and joy.

And so what that means for me is that it doesn‘t matter how hurt, resentful or angry I might feel with you (and believe me I get tempted to fall down that rabbit hole every single day), I will always choose love and forgiveness instead. Over and over and over again. You can judge me and think me weak. You can tell yourself I’m just afraid or I don‘t understand or I‘m trying to distract you from your ambitions. You can scoff at me and go back to thinking all of our time together was a waste. You can think whatever else that you might be thinking but none of it will change the faith I have in what I‘m doing here and who I am becoming.

You have a soul worth saving EG. It doesn‘t matter what you‘ve done, what you‘re doing or what you will do. The weight of our sins doesn‘t matter to God, His arms are always open and redemption is always possible. On the path towards a successful and fulfilling life, God would never require you to abandon yourself and forsake your soul as payment for success. He would never require you to punish yourself for mistakes made in the past. And He would surely never require you to achieve a state of flawlessness before you could receive His love, mercy and generosity.

That doesn‘t mean we shouldn‘t all strive to become the best versions of ourselves in order to serve God, our family and our communities. Service is the truest and most rewarding form of gratitude there is. But that is very different from the idea that we have to be perfect in order to become worthy of love, happiness and success.

I‘ve said this to you in so many ways. And I‘ll continue to say it in any way that I can think of. I‘ll say it using psychological language, religious language or any other language that I know. I‘ll learn Latin or Greek or even Dutch if that‘s what it will take for you to be able to hear what God so clearly wants you to hear:

You are worthy beyond your wildest dreams ESG. You can find your way to Vienna without having to continue to sacrifice your soul. Vienna doesn‘t have to wait until that one day when you’ll finally be worthy of arriving there. You can continue to run away from the omens, the signs and little nudges, the synchronistic moments, the voice in the back of your mind trying to get your attention. You can run until your lungs run out of air, your body is shutting down and all of your hair has turned grey. Or you can decide to stop running and rise from the ashes like a phoenix.

The choice is completely up to you. The power is in your hands alone. My only job here is to continue to remind you of that … which is exactly what I‘m going to do.

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peaceofmind-loveintheair · 1 year

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It‘s 16:16 on the 16th November. I‘m at school and life feels a bit clouded now, not in a packed way but more in a monotone kind of way.

My mood is in a constant weather of blizards.

I dreamt about being pregnant, which means a new beginning is coming, so that‘s giving me some kind of comfort..

- random but still worthy

#art #artists on tumblr #artsy #spilled thoughts #poetry #twcpoetry #wnq writers #poets on tumblr #savage words #important

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mylyricpages · 2 years

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INTERVIEW WITH JEFF SCOTT # 7 ( 2022 )

“I knew what I wanted to write about and I kind of kicked against it being too regimented, I knew I wanted to keep it as pure as possible.”

It‘s been a while, but after three years James Ellis is back with a new lyric collection. It‘s called ‘On The Outside Looking In’ and is possibly his longest and most lyrically dense to date. “I guess I had a lot to write about,” he tells Jeff Scott, “it poured out.”

IT’S A DULL afternoon in late September. Clouds hang over Mumbles Bay though the air is reasonably warm and it’s comfortable enough to sit outside the Beach Hut Café that overlooks the pier and has a panoramic view of Swansea Bay. Nearby is the rubble strewn remains of the Copperfish restaurant, destroyed during a devastating fire in late august, but all around it life continues on, as it always does.

I’m here with James Ellis, once again to talk about his latest lyric collection ‘On The Outside Looking In.’ Usually we don’t do a follow up interview but at the end of our last one I felt we hadn’t really got into the ‘songs’ enough, the process of their writing and the ideas behind them and I was still keen to do just that. We did something similar for ‘Electric Hymns,’ it went pretty well, so I thought we’d try again.

1. Welcome To The Big Sky

I wanted to use this as an introduction of sorts, a little prologue before we get into things proper. What I thought was going to be the chorus ended up being the first verse and what is essentially the chorus came a bit later. I didn’t let myself feel too locked into any usual structure, a lot of the time I knew what I wanted to write about and my thoughts came out very subconsciously. I kind of kicked against it being too regimented, I knew I wanted to keep it as pure as possible.

It’s about looking toward the horizon. I wanted to capture the feeling we’re all in some ways, young or old, rich or poor, chasing some kind of dream, about the journey that takes you on. The other part of it is more personal, when I look at the actual horizon, thinking of the places beneath those distant clouds, there’s a mystery to it which inspires me. It makes me think about who I am as a person, about making plans in life. I guess it’s that somewhere over the rainbow feeling.

2. Weathering The Storm

This was originally written about coming out of the end of Covid, that whole feeling of coming out of the dark and blinking into the light and taking stock of what you’ve just been through. I guess it can still be read like that but as I was writing it I began heading in a different direction, not even intentionally so, and it became more about relationships, whether romantic, family or friends, about how we often reflect on how the hell we’ve got through the things we have. It was bits and pieces at first, a bit muddled to be honest, until I found the title refrain, which helped me find the rhythm of how it went.

3. All Alone In A Crowd

It was written around the same time as ‘Weathering The Storm,’ actually if I remember correctly most of it was finished before that song. Many times in my life, still a lot now, I’ve felt on the outside of things. Even in my favourite and the best of company I’m often not entirely comfortable, I’ve always felt slightly removed and I struggle to be in the moment, it’s something I’ve been working on the last few years. It’s another song built around a repeated refrain, which is something I enjoy doing if I can find a good enough rhythm to spark off.

4. Hold Onto The Light

This ended up being a curious mash up of both old and new lyrics. Most of it is new but the bridge was written back in 2019 for another song. It was one of the things I had left over from the ‘Electric Hymns.’

It’s about how most days we feel like we’re fighting a battle, trying not to be worn down by the daily grind of things or simply gathering together the will to just get up every day, put on a brave face and focus on some kind of life for ourselves. To be honest, I thought I was writing it for people who feel like I do, maybe I was just writing it for myself.

5. A Place With Your Name

In august of 2020 my former music teacher, Phil Jones, passed away. I’ve wanted to write about how that affected me for a while. Phil was someone I greatly respected and admired in many ways, he was someone who was always around and who I thought would always be around, and when he suddenly wasn‘t it threw me. When I was going through one of the lowest parts of my life Phil graciously invited me into his world and for that gesture alone I will always be eternally grateful. It was the beginning of me finally turning things around again.

For a long time after I just couldn’t find the words. In the months after he passed, as I walked through various places where I used to see him I almost felt like I could still see him, like a fleeting image in the corner of my eye, a flicker of memory, and that’s where the pre-chorus came from, that was the start of it and the rest just grew from there.

6. Going Under/ Rising Up

It was called ‘Trying Too Hard’ for a while. I remember what is now the two pre-chorus were originally the verses but the further I went with that version the more I felt I was trying to put a square peg into a round hole. So basically I left it alone for a while. Later, I was working on another song when I came up with the verses and I pretty much realised immediately where they belonged. The lyrics in the second half of the bridge are actually about 5 years old. I’ve tried to put them into half a dozen songs but they finally found a place here.

It’s a song about the last few years. In 2020 I had a major shift in my life where I had to leave a place I knew well and people who’d become good friends. It was a necessary shift in a lot of ways but it was a hell of a big change. At first I was so busy I didn’t have time to process it all, and when I finally did I suddenly felt utterly adrift. It took me a good while to find my place and get myself on a more even keel.

7. You Way You Did Anything ( Was The Way You Did Everything )

I suppose this is the nearest thing to a romantic song on this collection but it’s still not quite that. I’ve had the title for a while and there was an earlier version called’ The Way You Do Anything ( Is The Way You Do Everything). The change to past tense came as I was writing this version and it felt like it fitted better thematically with the rest.

It’s about someone I knew, someone who had a way of getting through life with such composure, dealing with the bad things that come along with such grace, and like the song says I was in awe of them.

8. Insomnia Blues # 1

I’ve touched upon my sleeping problems in songs before but I’ve never directly addressed it, never addressed the feelings that come with it, about just how it feels to be wide awake when the world is asleep. It can bleed into everything. It not only affects the night but if affects the day too, how you interact with the world. It can affect every aspect of your life and I wanted to shine a bit more of a light on that.

There’s not really much to say about the actual writing of it. The chorus came first and when I set to work the rest pretty much flowed. There was supposed to be an ‘Insomnia Blues # 2’ but I didn’t get around to it, maybe it’ll turn up on another collection at some point.

9. Night Walkin’/ Waiting for The Sun

It’s another song where I’ve used the conceit of talking to someone else but I’m actually talking to myself. When I lived in the valleys during the 1990’s I’d often go out night walking. If I couldn’t sleep, if I was restless I would just go out walking and it was usually between midnight and when the sun came up, especially on spring or summer nights. There was something so calming about walking those empty streets. Again it has a repeated refrain, which became something of a thing in these sessions. When it was finished I realised it fit perfectly with ‘Insomnia Blues # 1.’ It wasn’t intentional at all but with ‘When The Sun Comes Up’ following it worked well as a mini lyrical suite of sorts.

10. When The Sun Comes Up

When I was originally coming up with ideas for this collection I had the thought of having what were kind of lyrical intermissions, titled Intermission # 1 and Intermission # 2, but as I began writing them they became more than that, so that idea changed and I’m glad it did.

I really like the fact that this one is about the city life waking up and it’s companion piece is about when that city’s night life is waking up. I also like the fact each of them pre-figures the multi-part songs that close out Act I and Act II. I thought there was a nice symmetry to that.

11. On The Outside Looking In

This was the first song finished for this collection at the tail end of May. I’d wanted to return to multi-part songs for a while and as it happened this was first out of the gate. It came in a weird order though. ‘Back Where It All Began’ was written first, then ‘The Summer Of Song,’ then ‘A Bitter Sweet Reminisce.’ It was only when the three parts were done that the flow felt wrong, it just didn’t scan right.

So I tried a few variations until I felt it worked. So, as it turned out, the first song ended up third, the second ended up first, and the third ended up second. Sometimes that’s just they way it comes about.

It’s the title song because I felt it encapsulated everything I wanted this collection to be, which is about not having lived a normal life in a conventional way, of always feeling on the outside looking in, and how that can make you wonder how things might have gone differently.

12. On Many Roads/ The Importance Of Being Kind

This is about living a life of just being kind, those simple little moments when someone just changes your day. Even something as simple as a friendly hello or a smile. The older I’ve got the more I’ve learned to value that a lot more. I was trying to go for a folk style lyrically, almost a narrative ballad of sorts, but it ended up as not quite that.

It’s a distillation of advice I’ve been given by different people over the years, the ones who really made an impression, and whose words I took on board. How I narrowed it all down was to use the conceit of someone being given advice by their father. I was listening to a lot of ‘Grateful Dead’ at the time and I think I was aiming for that kind of vibe.

13. Were We Ever Glorious?

I finally nailed this song on the third time of trying. I began, I stopped, I began, I stopped, then finally I started again and took it all the way. It was a struggle to get it to flow seamlessly but I just kept plugging away at it until I felt I’d got just what I was after the whole time.

It’s about missed opportunities, about how we see people years later, people we were close to, and it sets us wondering about how things might have turned out had we pursued things, made the unrequited requited, I wanted the words to have a wistful, melancholy kind of feeling. It’s also about wondering if certain relationships were even what we thought they were. Are we being tricked by our feelings and memory?

14. A Time To Share

I think this is certainly one of the most honest songs I’ve done, which isn’t always a comfortable feeling, but I was trying hard to get to the truth of something, questions I’ve asked myself a lot lately, about how I often struggle with maintaining relationships, especially the romantic kind, why when someone gets too close I step away. I’ve tried to change that over the years but we all fall into familiar patterns.

I’ve hurt people, never explained, never been able to explain, never really cared to look back too much over the years, that is, until now. Something has changed in the last year or so, something that used to be closed off now feels more open and for the first time I feel like I can share that part of myself, a part I thought I’d always keep locked away.

It came quick. I wanted it to be a very short, direct kind of song as the other songs were quite long, but as often happens it grew in the telling.

15. When You Feel Time Speeding Up

It’s a curious thing as you get older, the way you feel time speeding up, even though it really isn’t, it’s not going any faster than it ever did. The days feel shorter, life feels busier, and you struggle to find moments just to be yourself, to figure out what you want and where you’re going. You look around and you wonder have I done enough, did I miss the opportunities that came my way? I’ve wondered about how those two things relate to each other in regards myself. Actually, I’ve probably spent far too much time thinking about it to be honest with you.

It came together pretty quickly around the same time as ‘A Time To Share.’

16. I Miss You All

‘I Miss You All’ is kind of a sequel to ‘Live Your Life ( Like A Revolution )’ in that it touches on how certain people came into my life over the second half of the 2010’s, people who changed how I saw things and how I saw myself. Around two years ago I had to leave those people, not totally, not forever I hope, but I was in a place where I needed to change things, to move forward. I had to go but at the same time I didn’t want to and for a while after I was totally adrift.

So, I wanted to write this for them as a thank you of sorts, I guess. It came pretty easily, the chorus was first, and then the rest of it just flowed.

17. Far & Away ( The Best Of Days )

Along with ‘Ode To You ( Jayden’s Song )’ and ‘A Legend In The Making’ I guess this song forms a trilogy of sorts. It’s about watching my nephew growing up. He’s very much becoming his own person these days. It was an interesting realisation when it dawned on me that my life was changing along with his and I had to figure out how to adapt to the way things are now, which of course is always the kind of thing that sets you thinking about the times you’ve shared up to this point.

The whole song started with the line “And hopefully you’ll remember me fondly when I’m gone and you’ll smile when you think of me.” Once that was in place I figured out the repeated refrain and it went from there.

18. I Salute You

This kind of ties in with ‘I Miss You All.’ When I left that part of my life behind I was well and truly striking out on my own, stepping out into the world, with no back up or back up plan. Career wise I was out on my own for the first time in my life and as I result, probably a fear response, I looked for inspiration in those who’ve taken risks in their lives, put themselves in front of the headlights and really gone for it. I was going for a gospel kind of vibe, almost as a hymn to those people.

19. The Boy Who Never Was

I think what I was trying to get at here was how well do we remember who we used to be. Is what we remember about ourselves the literal truth of who we were or it is what we tell ourselves we were? Is our memory of our youth a true history or is it a kind of composite of what really was and how we might be seeing it through the passage of time. I’m not sure how successful I was but it’s something I’ve given a lot of thought the last few years and I wanted to put it into words.

It got written in a bit of daze actually but it came together in one sitting.

20. When The Sun Goes Down

The flip side to ‘When The Sun Comes Up.’ Having them as the penultimate song of each act worked well and gave things a more cohesive feel, which certainly wasn’t something I’d planned from the start.

21. The Sound Of Waves

Right from the very beginning of this collection I knew that I wanted multi-part songs and that I wanted them to be at the end of each act, which along with the amount of songs was a big part of splitting it in two.

It was originally going to be more about how the world is now, how it feels like its continuously speeding up, the environment, politics, that underlying feeling of communal anxiety that’s seeped into our lives.

I had a few goes at that version but it just wasn’t working. There was some good stuff in it but I wasn’t feeling a connection to it. It didn’t work on a personal level and I struggled to find what I was aiming for. I gave it one final go before leaving it off the collection all together, and this time I didn’t over think it, I just let a kind of subconscious flow happen and it began working. It was vague at first but it had the feeling I was after, which was a melancholy that was in some of the other songs.

‘The Art Of Self Deception’ was originally longer and could have been it’s own separate thing but I cut it down and it just worked better.

The chorus of ‘We Need To Fix This’ had been around since earlier in the year, I tried it in a few other things but this was where I felt it fit best.

With ‘The Last Hurrah’ I wanted to end on a positive note by saying we’re all in this together, that no matter what we’ve been through in life we should be proud that we’ve made it this far, because there’s a lot of good people who fell along the way. It felt a good way to sign off.

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space-mermaid-writing · 3 years

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House Arrest [Loki X Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: You are Clint’s 'little' sister and actually a trained Shield agent. But you gave that up a few years ago and became a Chef, because you wanted a normal live. Then one day Natasha shows up at your door and takes you to the Avenger Tower for a while for security reasons.

Tags: Reader is an former Shield Agent, chef!reader, Reader Barton, 2012 Avenger vibes, everything is still alright, Slice of Life, Avengers Family, Loki has a good heart, still the god of mischief, Slow Burn, mention of food and cooking

Read it on AO3

Chapter 1: New Home

It's just before midnight when you finally get off work. You really like your job, but the hours are murder. Being a chef at one of the most expensive five-star restaurants in Philadelphia has its price. You take off your apron, which has hardly any stains from the last few hours on it, and throw it in the wash. The white jacket goes neatly into your locker and is replaced by a cardigan and a scarf. It’s a cool night. With a last good bye to your colleagues, who are still putting the dishes into the dishwashers, you make your way home.

The night is dark, but the streets are lit by lanterns and the windows of closed stores. Even if it had been pitch black, it wouldn't have worried you to have to walk alone through the empty alleys. Last year a guy had tried to rob you and threatened you with a knife. You had given him a broken nose and several stab wounds in the shoulder. After all, you had been trained at Shield. But the poor guy didn’t know that.

Half an hour later you arrive at your apartment. It's more functional than nicely furnished, and everything is a bit of a pick 'n' mix. But you don't mind it, because you spend most of your time at work anyway. At home you don't feel such great importance to culinary variety when it comes to your own food. A pizza or French fries with ketchup were always welcome. After all, you've been standing at the stove long enough at work. Tired, you decide to wait until breakfast for your next meal and, after a quick change of clothes, just fall into bed.

Fortunately, the next day is your day off. You make good use of it and sleep in. Afterwards you have an nice brunch with eggs, bacon and toast and after a short shower you go into town to do some errands. The sun is shining warmly from the sky and it's a beautiful spring day. If this holds up until the weekend, maybe you'd visit the weekly market and see what exotic and rare foods you can grab there. You love these little trips, even if you rarely find the time.

About two hours later and with three full shopping bags, you re-enter your apartment. It's on the second floor of a rather nondescript building, but the interior is very modern, with pastel-colored, high walls. You put everything in the kitchen cabinets and then brew yourself a tea/coffee, with which you make yourself comfortable on the couch and turn on the TV. It's time to relax a little. So you zap through the programs, watch the rest of an episode of your favorite series and then decide to watch a reality series, which is not exactly known for its quality but is entertaining. So the noon goes by until suddenly the doorbell rings. You get up to see if it's the mailman or a neighbor with a package. But a look through the peephole shows you that it is neither. Surprised, you open the door "Nat!" Natasha Romanoff is a friend of you and your brother, as well as the godmother of his children. But due to her job you rarely see each other. "Hey," she greets you with a small smile. "Can I come in?" "Sure." You lead her into the living room, where you turn off the TV. "What can I get you? Tea, coffee, milkshake?" "Coffee is fine." You disappear into the kitchen for a moment as she sits down in the armchair. Natasha was a rare visitor. Mostly she came with some news from Clint. You see him even less because he spends what little free time he has mostly with his wife and the two kids. Understandable. You don't hold it against him and try to visit them on holidays or for birthdays at her farm.

It doesn't take long until you return to the Russian woman with a new cup and some pastries and sit down on the couch again. "Well," you ask her curiously. "What do I owe the pleasure?" Natasha reaches for her cup. "It’s rather inconvenience. But first tell me if you’ve observed anything unusual lately." Questioningly, you look at her. "What do you mean?" "Nothing weird? You sure?", she asks. "Tell me what I'm supposed to have seen, please," you prompt her, both impatient and confused. Natasha gets right to the point. "You're being monitored." "By Shield?" "By Hydra." Stunned by this news, you remain silent. Natasha uses this pause to drink her coffee. "Oh, this is really good." But you don't listen to her at all, because various thoughts are circling in your head. And again you try to remember if you have noticed anything: same people you met, vehicles, anything. But you got pretty used to your life and didn't pay attention at these things. "Anyway, I'm here to pick you up. For your own safety it’s best if you stay with us for a while," Natasha finally breaks the silence and you look up. "What could Hydra possibly want from me? I don't know any internal secrets anymore. There are better to kidnap than me." "That's what we're trying to figure out right now." "Well, the danger doesn't seem to be acute", you note. "If they wanted to grab me, I wouldn't be sitting here by now. Thanks, but I decline and prefer to stay here. I have my job and the apartment." And now that you know what's going on, you can pay attention and take the necessary precautions, too. "Thanks for warning me." Natasha, on the other hand, doesn't look like she gives you a choice. "You know Shield has its ways to convince you?", she reminds you, but you shrug. Why would such a large organization bother with a single civilian like you? "What does my dear brother say about this matter?", you ask instead. "He hasn't been informed yet." Ergo, they deliberately leave him out of it so that he can't protest. You know this kind of approach of Shield.

Clint understands and supports you in your civilian life, even though he protested the loudest back when you announced your exit. "How’s he?", you want to know from Natasha, who is now finishing her coffee. "He's alive." That can mean just about anything from being happy and healthy to badly hurt but breathing. Better than being dead, you guess. "He's out in Africa with Steve right now." "Busy, huh?" "As usual." She stands up as a sign that she has nothing more to say for the day, and you walk her to the door, where you bid her farewell. "We'll talk again soon," she promises, but admittedly you have little desire to do so right now. "Sure," you reply and close the door behind her.

Well, that were some news. You put her empty cup in the sink and pause thoughtfully by the window. How could you have missed Hydra's agent, you ask yourself while glancing out. Your new life made you too comfortable. But it also takes up a lot of time and energy. And anyway, you dropped out because you didn't want to be cautiousness all the time anymore. You wanted a normal life with a normal job and normal problems. Away from agents, assassinations and super powers. You didn't want to check every day on your way to work if you were being followed, secretly monitored or if someone else was out to get you. That's why you’ve chosen this life. With a sigh, you sit back down on the couch. The past never leaves you alone, you guess. But tomorrow would be a long day even without these new old worries.

The advantage of being a chef is usually that you don't have to get up at the crack of dawn for work. Most Restaurants open at noon, some even in the evening. So does the one where you work. There are preparations to be made before opening time, but you can still sleep through the morning, do some housework, and then head to the restaurant in the sunny afternoon. That's where the trouble starts, though. Just as you're about to open your locker to change your clothes, someone taps you on the shoulder. It's your boss, who hands you a letter. You can tell immediately from his serious expression that something is wrong. And when you open the envelope, you discover your resignation. You look up, perplexed, but you lose out in the following discussion. You don't even get a decent explanation, and that’s what annoys you the most. You're pretty sure your skills aren’t the issue, neither is the way you work. Nor the way you treat your colleagues, with whom you get along very well, even if the tone among cooks is a bit rough. You go back to your apartment, now in a bad mood. It‘s unbelievable! The sunny weather seems like a mockery to you now, and the people you meet along the way are in far too good a mood, in your opinion. It will be hell to find another good job as this was.

Arriving back home you immediately get more bad news: your landlord put a notice on your apartment door. The bathrooms in the building will get completely renovated soon and will be unusable for several weeks. Plus the heavy construction noise during the day. And the water would be turned off. It would be best to find temporary substitute apartment, so they recommend. "Haha...ha..." You laugh dryly and unlock the door. Was that a coincidence? When Natasha had been here yesterday? Probably not. You know Shield's methods and that it’s easy for them to take away your job and your apartment just to get their way. You have two options: either you accept the offer before Shield gets any more stupid ideas, or you run away and try to hide. With a sigh you go into your bedroom and throw a suitcase on the bed, in which you pack clothes, the most important documents and some things from the kitchen you need for work. Not everything fits, so you add a second travel bag. Meanwhile, you think about who you could complain to. Your brother was a favorite target of yours, but he a) had nothing to do with this matter and b) was not in the country. Which’s a shame, because you'd really like to have him by your side right now. If you wanted to complain to Shield directly, Fury would probably be the best person to do it. But you hold too much respect for him to vent your anger to him. Maybe just the next Shield agent who would come to you on this matter would have to step in. You know someone would definitely get back to you. With one last look around your apartment, you leave it and lock the door. Then you shoulder your bag and make your way out.

Just as you're thinking about getting a large coffee from Starbucks down the street, a red sports car pulls up to the side of the road. Natasha at the wheel. "Hmph..." You walk over to her and throw your luggage in the back seat. Then you take a seat in the passenger seat yourself. "Just for the record, I'm not happy with this." "I can see that." She tries to give a sympathetic smile, but you know this is just a job to her. "Well then, off to the Bat Cave, Wayne." "Does that make you Robin?", the Russian asks, driving off. "I guess", you reply snippy, not interested in keeping the conversation going. Fortunately, Natasha wasn't exactly the talkative sort either, so you have some peace and quiet to get your thoughts in order.

It takes you just under two hours to drive from Philadelphia to New York with city traffic slowing you down a bit. Otherwise, you would have arrived earlier at the former Stark Tower. It's been the Avenger Tower for some time now, but that doesn't make much difference, except that Tony Stark seems to be too lazy to put the remaining letters back on it.

Natasha parks in the private underground garage and you take the elevator up to the grand lobby. She tells you about the current residents here. There’s the usual staff, who are of course always present. Of all the Avengers, Bruce Banner is living here permanently. "He actually hardly ever leaves the lab," the Russian explains. "I'm currently living here, too. Every now and then Thor stops by, but mostly he prefers to explore the world. And his brother Loki is here. There have been some...problems with him and he's sort of under supervision here. Tony trusts technology more than Asgard. The owner of the house, by the way, is out visiting an outpost right now." "There are even Avengers outposts?" Natasha nods as she walks you down the halls to the living area. "But don't tell Hydra." "Sure", you promise unfazed. "Speaking of which, if I want to go out to visit someone, do I need a key or how does this work?" "It's better if you stay here in the house for now. It's for your safety, after all." "For how long?", you want to know. The answer is short. "As long as necessary." "So I'm sort of locked in here”, you state. That's typical Shield. As soon as there's any problem, an agent is sent in to put everything in solitary arrest or quarantine. As long as it’s shielded from the rest of the world. Natasha stops in front of a door that is now yours, but doesn't look directly at you, which as much of an answer as you get. "I'll be fine on my own now, thanks," you smile politely but not genuinely at her, and after she assures you that you're free to move around inside the building, you head off with your luggage in your new apartment.

#Loki #Loki x Reader #House Arrest #Chapter 1 #my writing #Clint #clint barton #hawkeye #loki laufeyson #imagine #chef reader #mcu #marvel

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firerose · 3 years

Text

Dark-Seven part three - Jason

I apologize @reading0mens for the longtime it took me but I love Jiper angst sooo it got a bit long XD, feedback would be cool :)

- The day Gea was destroyed marked the end of the giant war

- But for Jason, it was the most horrible day of his life

- He wakes up in the infirmary without Leo and Piper

- They are dead Chiron tells him

- Leo gave his life to kill Gea and the eagles could not catch Piper on time

- Jason refuses to believe it until he runs out and sees her

- Her bloodied corpse, her lifeless eyes they will hunt him until the end of his life

- He wanted to grow old with her

-As he gently rocks her in his arms he tries to understand

- Why would Hera let her die after she screwed so much with her life already?

- Why would she let Leo sacrifice himself in such a violent way?

- He knows the truth deep in his heart

-As he watches Piper‘s body burn among the others he learns what real hate feels like

-It scares him

- He was supposed to be Hera‘s champion, a loyal soldier to the gods

- His pain gets worse when he is alone

- Percy and Annabeth leave Camp for school

- Hazel and Frank go back to Camp Jupiter

- He spends his time alone in his cabin living in the vision he saw when the gods came to help them

- Piper is alive whispering soft words to him that everything is going to be okay

- That he is a person instead of Hera‘s shallow Champion

- They even help him to continue his designs for the minor gods temples

- But soon his love for her turns to desire

- He knows that she is not really with him and who is responsible for it

- He does not want to sit around anymore doing exactly what Hera would want him to do

-“I…..I can‘t do this anymore Pipes.“, He tells her one night his body trembling in despair

-“Yes you can Jason! You are a hero that always stepped up to do what‘s needed.“ She says her words piercing into Jason‘s heart like her dagger

-To him, they feel like an accusation

- All of the sorrow and anger boils up in him

- He does not notice the wind around him growing stronger, or the thunder from outside

- He is tired of Hera, tired of being too perfect

- The papers are thrown across the room and he stands his body shaking with rage

- A yell of defiance leaves him and the storm sends lighting to hit the Cabin

- The Campers find Jason sitting still in smouldering remains

-His eyes are closed tears running down his cheeks but there is a smile on his face

- Invisible chains put on by Hera have just been broken

- Jason never felt more alive

-“I‘m done being their servant Chiron and you should be too.“, that is Jason‘s goodbye, a reminder that the centaur should be a protector not a trainer of child soldiers

- No one follows him when he leaves not even Nico

-They all saw the cold bitterness in Jason once-loyal blue eyes, they all feel his calm aura like wolve ready to strike everyone that comes to close

- Jason is glad for their fear

- He does not want anyone innocent getting hurt in his crazy plan

- Jason fly away but still stays close to the sea

- The papers of the minor gods are destroyed but he can still remember all of their names

- Kymopolaia is the first one he calls on the beach of Montauk

- She emerges from the water in all her glory and Jason can‘t suppress his joy

-He acts like Jason grace always did

- Flattering, his compliments even making the violent storm goddess blush

- Only when she wonders why he is here that he shows her a few of his true emotions

- He talks about how Hera forced his mom to give him to the wolves

- He tells her about all the friends that he lost to Hera‘s obsession with tormenting him, how much Piper and Leo gave him hope for a home, how the queen of the gods let them die

-When he is finished high waves are fluting the beach while Kymopolaia cries in pity for the young hero

- Jason‘s apology enrages her even more

-“The twelve Olympians will never respect or honour anyone who is not useful to them.No matter how many temples I build for them you are just a goddess of lower rank just like I was just their servant. I would just waste my time trying to fix their mistakes and in the end, neither of us would get what they want.“, He says true regret in his voice

-Poseidon's daughter grits her teeth while high waves flute the beach as her body is shaking

- Jason confirmed what she has been dreading since the war ended and her father made up excuses to exclude her from his royal court

-He comforts her and he can tell how he stirs up her hate for Posidon

- Jason can barely hide his satisfaction, his plan is working just like hoped it would

- He advises her to turn the sea against her father, it‘s her birthright after all

- Kymaploaia‘s eyes fill with a mad gleam, a whirlpool around her shows agreement

- She is not afraid to take on the sea, hundreds of tormented river gods will stand behind her angry because they had been forbidden to kill the humans that hurt them every day

-After Jason wished her good luck she leaves and he lets out a laugh of satisfaction

-Words can be more powerful than lightning he learned that from Piper

- A part of him still despises what he has become but he tells himself that Hera turned him into this

- She created a weapon and now she has to deal with the consequences

- He continues to travel all over the country flying over it with his storm horse, never staying at one place for long as he is sure the eyes of Hera are on him

- Every stop brings a talk to another minor god

-Hypnos and Morpheus are easy to convince

-Every mortal needs to sleep and dream so why are they never invited to mount Olympus throne room?

- Jason orders them to rebel against the Olympians in the cities of the demigod Camps first

-It is the only way to ensure that his friends will stay out of his way

- Aelous is harder

- The mad lord of the winds always hated demigods and he is not pleased when Jason holds the dozens Venti he sends to kill him still in the air with one move of his hand

-Jason uses no charm on him but instead reminders of all the times Zeus forced him to deal with storm spirits all by himself

-The idea that he can banish the storm spirits once and for all after Zeus is gone finally convinces him

-But Jason still wants the god to know that he is the leader of this rebellion who should not be messed with

- So he concentrates and moves his hands to control the storm spirits again

- He can feel their anger through the winds but he still manages to force them to turn into wolves their lightning eyes blazing with hatred

-“You will serve me from now on.“, He orders them through his mind his voice sounding like thunder in their heads and they indeed bow their heads before him

-Aelous only laughs at this sight

-“You have changed Jason Grace! If you are ready to rebel against your father just because of the Aphrodite girl and that son of Hephaistus then you are just as crazy as me.“ The lord of the winds jokes when Jason is about to leave with his new wolves

-“I‘m just ready to do anything for the people I love.“, Jason replies coldly

-From Olympus Hera hears those words too

- They seem a weak excuse for all the chaos Jason has caused

-The sea has been stormy for days swallowing ships and fluting beaches while the cities are fluted by rivers

- Zeus is barely able to control his winds and so the weather jumps from hot to cold in minutes

The gods own children are sleeping alongside hundreds of mortals unable to help their parents

- Hera knows that Jason will make things even worse if he is not stopped now

- But her love for him or rather the love for his loyalty to her is what makes her believe that she can bring him back

- Not herself she is not that naive

- Only one person can and even though she is gone Hera has figured a way to use her against Jason

-If only she could see the cruelty of her tricks

- Jason begins to hear Piper‘s voice again in his dreams

- She is not soft with him anymore

- Instead, she tells him how terrible he has become, that he acts like a pathetic child just because he failed to save her

-He yells that he is doing all this to get justice for and Leo but that only makes her laugh so loud that he has to cover his ears to drown it out

- Sometimes he also hears Leo mocking him, saying that he can‘t believe he ever looked up to him

- Jason wakes from those nightmares in sweat and tears until he decides that sleep is overrated

- He feels more comfortable moving around with his wolves anyway, it reminds him of old times, his childhood

- Unfortunately, his sleep deprivation changes his methods to gain more allies

- The nature spirits (Nymphs and dryads), aren‘t met with his charm but instead little patience and quick anger

- To Jason they are dumb, Zeus hit on them for centuries why are they so unwilling to turn against him?

-He tries to stay calm but their talks about how his plan is insane to remind him of Piper and the things she said in his dreams

- Not only once does he command his venti to burn whatever three or plant annoys him too much, the wolves happily oblige and tore the spirits apart with their electricity sparking teeth

- More and more Jason Grace begins to remind them of Zeus, unforgiving, cruel to anyone that does not obey his wishes

-When a young dryad girl dares to say that to Jason out loud he snaps

-A huge thunderstorm is summoned, lightning blasting the girl loved ones

-The forest burns in bright orange flames and Jason uses the winds to direct them towards the girls three

- She dies screaming in the flames while storm wolves bite at her to electrocute

- Jason grins at her Beggs as he looks directly into her beautiful dark eyes, Hera has those too

- Nature decides to join him out of fear

- The gods will be mad but it is the only way to avoid Jason‘s rage

-Jason feels powerful riding past them on his horse while they bow

-He can feel the wind gods around him ice cold, hot like fire

-On mount Otrys he calls for Hecate as the next step for his plan

- When she ignores his call he does not care

- Electricity runs through his veins power, it does not matter if he has to wait a bit until Olympus falls

- Suddenly a voice calls him making his blood turn cold

-He turns his head to look behind him and as expected no one is there

-He tells his rising panic that it was not real, he just hasn‘t slept for four days

- The temperature drops, darkness crawls over the hilltop, he feels watched

-“I‘m here Jason it‘s okay.“, Her voice is sweet close and yet it makes him shiver in fear

- It can‘t be her

- Jason draws his sword and gets on his horse, the wolves growl restlessly as they can feel their master distress

-“Who are you? Show yourself!“, He demands despite his shaking voice

- Her laughter is loud wild like the summers breeze, he has heard it a thousand times before

-His eyes fly around frantically there is only the shadows of the rising night

-“I‘m your girlfriend Jason! Did you already forget that?“, the girl that can‘t be her asks amused

- A person stands in front of him out of nowhere

-Jason‘s sword falls to the ground, his eyes fill with tears

-Her clothes are nothing she would wear and yet he would recognize her blind

-Piper McLean, the love of his life stands there in a white long dress, her dark brown hair falls loose around her shoulders, her eyes of lighter brown are reaching into his soul

-“No…...this is a trick! You…….you are dead.“, Saying it hurt but it was the truth

- His venti flicker with lighting in agreement

-“I……..don‘t know why they let out but does that matter?!, I‘m here and….I missed you.“, Piper sobs, her despair finally washes away his doubts with guilt

-He slides off his horse ignoring the suspicious neighing

-Jason goes to her slowly putting his hand on her cheek, she feels real

-“I missed you too Pipes.“, He croaks and then breaks down pulling her against his chest all pain of losing her, the hatred against Hera, the things he did to convince gods and spirits to rise against their rulers, even the nightmares in which she hated him, spilling out of him

-He is scared of her backing away when he is finished, of her making his horrible dreams come true

-Instead, she looks flattered and sad as she puts a hand on his chin

-“Perhaps that is why they allowed me to leave the underworld.“, She says so softly and Jason is caught in confusion and overwhelming relief that she does not hate him

-“What do you mean?“, Jason asks suddenly feeling worried, the gods would never allow someone to cheat death especially someone close to him

-“I think the gods want me to save you from yourself.“, Piper answers with concern,

-Jason looks at her stunned then as he processes her words anger rises in him

.-Yes it does sound like Hera to use Piper that way

-“No Pipes I never felt better ! They are just scared because I make their system fall apart.“, He responds not able to hide his pride,

- He is happy that she worries for him but he wants her to know that he is okay that they are okay

-He wants to squeeze her hand as recurrence but Piper steps back with guilt in her eyes

“ Jason…….you haven‘t slept for days and all those burnt nature spirits? This isn‘t you.“, She says her words soft but they are too much like his dreams

-“Yea I have been a bit crazy lately but only because I want to make them stop Pipes. All those mistakes or wars of the gods that we have to die and fight for. Losing Leo and you was something I don‘t want any other demigod to go through. I want us to live in peace and that is only possible if we aren‘t controlled by an egoistic good and his controlling queen.“, He explains and despite his fear, he means every word

- He just wants Piper to understand so that she will fight at his side again

-The image brings a smile to his face

-The two of them standing in front of a chained up Hera in all their glory

-Piper brings him back with a sigh and the deep pity in her eyes fills him with despair

-Why is she so against opposing the gods, Wasn‘t she the one that cursed Hera and despised how the goddess put herself in charge of his life?

-A dread rises in the back of him, he suppresses it quickly

-“Our lives aren‘t controlled by the gods Jason. The fates are the ones that decide what challenges a hero has to face. You are wasting your time and ruining your own life fighting for something that will never change. Call off the rebellion Jason and tell the gods to be actual parents. Tell them to protect their children from their destines as long as possible and then go home to rest. That would be easier than a war you can‘t win.“, Piper finally says

-Despite all of his anger Jason has to admit that her advice is tempting

- The vision of him growing old with Piper could come true plus he truly is not strong enough to fight fate itself so why not ask the gods for a favour? Maybe he can convince them to change after all he is the favourite of their rulers

-But then a thought washes away that option and he figures a way to tell Piper why the Olympian council needs to be reformed

- When Piper takes his hand again he looks at her with determination

“I can‘t. Hera loves using demigods too much. Look what happened to Leo. She claimed that she wanted to prepare him for his future just to let his mom die and let him sacrifice himself. You once said that heroes have to step up and do what is right and that is what I‘m doing right now.“, He explains

-For a short moment he thinks guilt washes over Pipers face

- Suddenly he realizes how strange her pleading was

-Piper always was someone to take action, she would never tell him to just do nothing and the way she almost took all fault from the gods……..

-“Hera only did that because she knew what Leo‘s role in the war was gonna be. She may not be the best but she is not our enemy Jason. She cared for Leo and she cares about you too.“, Piper says and now Jason is sure

- He rips his hand away from her his eyes burning with rage

-“Piper would never defend Hera ! Who are you?“, He asks coldly anger numbing the shattering of his heart

-The girl looks at him in confusion, he hates that she does it through Pipers eyes

“ Jason -“

-“ Don‘t! Stop using her voice and show yourself! I want to know which god I have the honour to kill!“, Jason spats

- At this moment he forgets all of his good morals, only blind hatred is left

-The Venti come to his aid, they swirl around him like a mini hurricane and he can feel their power pulsing through him, waiting for his command

-“I‘m just trying to help you Jason even if you could kill me that would not solve anything.“She warns but it is still Piper's voice and he will make her pay for it.

-“Oh no I think this will make me feel a lot better and if Hera send you just know that what happens to know is her fault, not mine.“, Jason says with a cruel smile before turning his storms to pure lightning

- with a hand wave the spirits turn into pure lightning crashing into where she stood

-Flames light up the hill but she is not there anymore

-A huge dove is in her place attacking immediately scratching at his face

-Dark clouds gather thunder is booming, rain falls,

-the Windlords themselves lift Jason into the air pushing his attacker away

- He does not need his sword

- The sky is his weapon

-Jason chases the goddess, calls cold wind to let hail fall onto her instead of rain

- Lightning strikes and he catches it in his bare hands, it flickers over his entire body until it gets thrown towards his victim

-Despite all of this the dove keeps trying to get closer, her voice pleading for him to stop his madness

- A hysterical laugh is his answer, he remembers a time where the gods loved him for his kindness, the same one that forced him to keep Heras chains on him for too long

- This goddess is treating him like he is still a pawn but that will end now

- Jason spins himself around his arms outstretched

- Wind blows around him, the dove shrieks in panic

- A tornado is throwing her around in circles like a puppet

- She changes form to other animals, attempts to escape through the cloud storms walls

- That is when they become pure lightning

- it hits her makes her body twist unnaturally

- She falls and Jason is still in the storms eye, He feels like a god bathed in his fathers lightning bolts

- The goddess unmoving body beneath him looks so tiny almost fragile even when she has changed to her Olympian form

- He would have pitied her if he hadn‘t recognized her, now he only feels disgusted

- Another shockwave is sent through her body before Jason dissolves his tornado

- The wind gods hesitate for a moment not liking what Jason might have in mind

- Jason is stronger and so they follow him down towards his victim as only a soft breeze

-“Why?“, He spats down at her as she wakes up

- His short question holds her crime all the pain and false hope she put him through

- She gets on her knees to look up at him her ever-changing hair clothes and eyes even her skin that is healing her burns are no beauty to him anymore

-“Hera and I only wanted to help you Jason.“, Aphrodite apologizes maybe there are real tears in her eyes

-“ I need help? I‘m not the one impersonating my dead daughter to manipulate her boyfriend!“, He spats finding her trick even more disgusting as he puts it into words

- He thinks about how she held him, what would have happened if he did not find out who she was

- He feels dirty

“I always take on the form of loved ones that's why Hera send me. She knew that Piper was the only one to get you out of your grief. Love is the only thing more powerful than hate“, Aphrodite explains and with every word, she looks more and more like Piper again

- Jason realizes that she is just as bad as Hera, another god that messed with his mind

- He sees how heavy she is breathing, it is time to punish her

-“Well then let me tell you something about love.“, Jason says making a pulling motion with his hands reaching for her breath

- He bends the oxygen out of her, the goddess head being forced forward

-The winds grow stronger again, he hears their whispers to not do this, he is deaf to their pleads

-“N – No!“, She protests in horror, her body glows attempting to release her true form but his attack surprised her and is now making her too weak

-Jason continues an air bubble forming around her head

-She digs her nails into her throat until they are bloody, her eyes nearly pop out of her skull and her face is an ill shade of blue

- the chocking noises she makes are music for him

-Jason enjoys every second

-Her looking like Piper does not save her

- It only reminds him more of the future he has lost and that makes him more furious

-When her sounds and body become still and her face is one mask of fear he finally tells her

-“Love never lasts long in this world.“

-No air gets added to the bubble, it dissolves

- An Aphrodite goddess of Love and beauty falls dead to the ground killed by her daughter's lover

- Jason feels empty

- He just killed a goddess he should feel ecstatic

- But instead, he feels as if something broke inside him

-Jason stares at the sky waiting for a reaction

-“ Come on Hera! This is what you wanted me to become right? A murderer your weapon. Just come to me and admit it !“, Jason yells tears streaming down his cheeks

-He falls to the ground as the thing he did crashes down on him

-He killed for revenge just like Zeus, Hera and all other gods did for centuries

-How is he better than them now?

-His allies seem to think the same thing

-Jason can‘t summon his venti in the morning

- The winds are harder to bend under his will

- Nature hides from him it does not matter how much he burns no one shows up

- Sometimes he hears the spirits weeping but he knows it is not meant for him

- Jason gets more and more desperate

- As of last hope he goes to San Fransisco

- The first step he takes into the city shows him that it‘s full of life again

-He plays with the thought of going back to Camp Jupiter

- But he does not want his friends to see what he has become

- On Ocean Beach, he yells for Kym

-Jason tells himself that she can help him turn his fate around

-“I‘m sorry Jason but I don‘t talk to traitors.“, She whispers from under the sea

-Jason feels like a wolve being cornered

-“ I never betrayed you the gods did !“ He shouts his voice sounding childish in his ears

-“You promised to fight in my name and then went on a crazy rampage just to make Hera feel bad. I expected better from you Jason.“, Kym told him in a stern almost motherly tone

- The words are a punch to his gut, a mirror showing him the truth

-His plan was supposed to be a peaceful change of the god's council, yes he knew about the damage the minor gods would cause but that was just to get the higher gods attention

-He sees the dryad girl in the flames, aphrodite chocking as air is pulled out of her

-This rebellion started with a wish for justice for Leo and Piper, for all those treated badly by the gods

- His lust for revenge destroyed all that

-Regretful he walks into the sea the water going up to his knees

-“ I‘m sorry.“, Jason says honestly

-That is when they finally react

- The waves grow bigger a man with a trident emerging out of them, Nature spirits come out of their plants with pinecones and daggers for weapons the blond-haired woman with her crown of corn is their true goddess

- The mist rising around him lets him hear his victim screams once more

-“Jason Grace we are here to punish you for crimes against us and the entire western civilization. Surrender now or seal your fate.“All of the Command in Unison

-He thinks of giving himself up

-He was raised as a Roman, he learned when a soldier has no chance to win

- Yet the thought of kneeling and letting Hera win so easily makes him sick

- And so he refuses

- The fight does not take long

- Jason summons lightning to blast away Nyads that grasped his ankles

-He runs out of the sea directing lightning at the advancing Dryad warriors

-They burn but the flames seem to have gathered they're own concise

-Orange and high they rage towards him growing on sand which was not possible

-They burn Jason‘s arm as he attempts to fly over them

-Screaming in pain he struggles to stay in the air

-Demeter uses her giant staff to let the three roots attack him like huge arms

-Her followers throw weapons at histones that for some reason always hit no matter how much he uses wind to push them away

-Rain comes and turns into a huge rain shower blinding his view

-He is forced to fly backwards and that is when Poseidon's trident impales his gut

-Blood spills pain forbids him to breath

-His vision goes black before he falls in the threes arms

-Jason wakes in ironically on chains in front of Hera and Zeus

-"I hope you know what a disappointment you are to me.", Zeus says but Jason's eyes are fixed on Hera

-She looks at him with a deep sorrow he did not expect so he chooses the last beg

-" Whoever you choose as your next heroes Hera please don't control them. Remember me as a warning of what happens if you do.", He pleads

-He is scared of his punishment but if Hera realizes her mistakes then maybe all of this was worth it

-Hera only replies with a small nod

-Then he is dragged off to the underworld by Hades off to the cliffs that lead into Tartarus

Jason panics as he realizes

He thought that he would end up in the fields of punishment

-But of course, Zeus hates when his children ruin his good name

-He struggles against his bonds begs his uncle to at least let him see his friends one more time

Luckily Hades is one of the kinder gods

-He summons Piper's ghost, he does not say why Leo is not there

-She smiles at him sadly and maybe with anger which Jason does not blame her for

-Her kiss on his forehead brings tears to his eyes

-"Goodbye Jason. I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble.", She whispers and he shakes his head

-"Don't be. All of this is Heras fault and mine.", He tells her and with that, she is gone again

-He thinks of her and Leo while he falls

-Hera mourns him for days

-She watches the rest of the seven holding his funeral at Camp Jupiter

-They understand his motives and that's why they still love him as the friend he was

-Hera understands him too

-She was not liked in the past few centuries and that was why the idea of her very own hero made her blind for letting him be a child

-Now that was what killed him and Zeus was already off making another hero that he can be more proud of

-A child he warned her to not even look at

-The other demigods resent her even more

-Frank Zhang would be her other hero but Hazel Levesque would never let her near him

-She thinks about Jasons last words, his beg that she shouldn't mess with children's lives

-It's when Leo Valdez returns and learns of his friend's fate that she promises herself to remember

-The hatred in his eyes is enough to bring even a goddess to her senses

#Percy Jackson #heroes of olympus #Hoo #jason grace #dark jason #jiper #piper mclean #major character death

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dreaming-of-brawlstars · 3 years

Text

Mortifying Discovery: Part One

Desc: Colt’s been running around Starr Park for ages now, and had depended on Jessie as his navigator. But sometimes a map doesn’t do justice to what’s there.

Author’s note: I decided to try my hand at a bit of good ol’ fridge horror instead of blatant psychological horror. This one’s shorter than my others, but it’s a two-parter!

“Alright, Jess.” Colt held the radio close to him, normally it was in his duffel bag, but he didn’t want his voice muffled. Or Jessie’s. “Do you have any clue where I am? This place doesn’t look familiar.”

“Uh, where are you by? What’d you just leave?” She asked. Colt looked around.

“I… I see the Starrcade. I just entered in through the central area. I think I passed by the mines-“

“Mortis’ Mortuary.” Jessie cut off his ramblings. It took a few moments for her to explain. “It’s that big grey building in the distance on the left. You can’t miss it. There’s a big dead tree by the haunted house. They don’t even use it. The entrance is at one of the other corners.”

“…a mortuary? Haunted house?” Colt raised an eyebrow, glancing around. “As if Starr Park wasn’t creepy enough already. Now this?” He muttered.

Jessie sighed into the mic. “Colt, trust me. There’s nothing here, just the place and some trees. I heard it used to look a lot prettier, then the changed it to be like this for some reason.”

“Well-“ Colt was cut off by the sound of fireworks in the distance, making him freeze in place. He looked back at the main park, seeing colored explosions. “…Jess, it‘s starting.”

“I know. I can hear it.” He could sense that she had the same reaction as he did. “You need to get out, now. Find a place to hide, like you always do.”

“I’m going back to the park-“

“You won’t be able to make it out of there fast enough.” Jessie interrupted with an edge to her voice. “I know this area is pretty open, but there’s some bushes, and since everyone will be distracted by the fireworks I-I think you can make a run for it.”

“A run for it where?” Colt grumbled. “The only places near here are the park and the cemetery, unless you want me to go all the way to the haunted house?” His voice rose higher and higher.

There was a heavy sigh coming from the radio. “Just get to the house. Like I said, they don’t even use it. I doubt anyone’s even in there, and they’ll be busy with everyone freaking out at the fireworks going haywire.” A pause. “And the house isn’t actually haunted. It’s an attraction.”

“Well it’s Starr Park, I know half of the nightmare fuel here are literal nightmares, but they also managed to make a robot bear which chased me- are you laughing?”

“Yeah.” Jessie chuckled lightly. Her laughter died out. “Look, just try to get to the house before it’s over, okay? Get out of the open fast.”

“Okay. I’ll find a spot to hide then. I’ll get back on the frequency once I’m safe.” He began to put the radio back in his bag. “Okay?”

“Be careful.” Her voice softened. “Love you.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll see you later.” He put the radio back into his bag. “See you soon,” he muttered before turning it off. “Love you too, kid.”

The radio was light, so he didn’t really notice the additional weight. Besides, he found the weight of the duffel bag comforting. It made him feel grounded. He felt less uneasy. Still not completely relaxed though. It was probably because of the sudden silence of the area. Of course, there was still the noise from the explosions.

He heard it enough times that he was sure he could do a countdown to the news and weather announcement that would follow on the radio soon after. But he didn’t wait for that, instead bolting when he heard an explosion that was most definitely not a firework, then a chorus of screams that followed.

He dodged into a bush, staring into the darkness as the graveyard was illuminated by the fireworks. He took moments to scan the area, and run in the brief moments of darkness. Starr Park was most likely focused on the current disaster, but he didn’t like the idea of being spotted. Especially with his luck. Not that he couldn’t hide, no, he could. Just, there were some… accidents.

With a deep breath, Colt moved towards the nearest wall, and crouched down behind the closest tree in a bush. He was practically in what he could assume was the front yard of the haunted house.

This… felt familiar. In a bad way. Hiding in the dark, running from light, afraid of being seen… and intending to get into a house that wasn’t his.

“Nope, I am not dealing with this.” He pinched bridge of his nose, wincing, reminded the bandaid was on it for a reason. “Come on, Colt. Think. This isn’t the first time that you’ve gotten involved in something like this,” He didn’t remember much, but if it was familiar, he probably had experience. “So, you can make it through this one. You’re not the bad guy this time.”

He wasn’t here to steal something. He just needed a place to hide. That was all. He wasn’t a bad person-

A loud pop and bright flash of light that nearly made it look like daytime snapped Colt out of his thoughts, bringing him to reality and reminding him that he still had to hide in an actual place. Not in the open.

Looking out of the bush, he slightly grimaced as seeing that something had caught fire, bringing a constant light. And from what he saw, it was only getting more intense.

Screw it. He was making a break for it.

Quickly, he stood up and made a dash for the porch, checking the door. When the knob didn’t turn - which didn’t surprise him - he went to the window. Pulling his sleeves over his hands, he attempted to open the window from outside. Thankfully, it was unlocked, so he swung it open, climbing through as quickly as possible. As he landed on his feet inside the room, he glanced around, hearing the distant sounds of people yelling as well as more firecrackers.

He was in a living room. No lights were turned on. He stepped away from the window, briefly reminding himself to close it, slamming it, locking it. Then, he glanced around the place.

Not waiting anymore, Colt pulled out the radio, turning it on. “Jessie? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am.” She answered immediately. “What about you? You took a while - the news and weather announcement started and I was getting worried.”

“Sorry. I-I’m fine, I promise…” Colt tried to smile, hoping it’d reassure himself. “I made it into the house.” He added.

“That’s good.” He could hear her sigh in relief. “So, after the lecture from the weird guy, there’s the eight hour sleep music. As per usual. They usually start looking for you at night since they’re not busy with everyone else.” She reminded him.

“Then it looks like I’m staying here for a while, Jessie.” Colt mumbled. “Don’t worry, alright? I’m safe. I promise, and I don’t plan on leaving this place anytime soon.”

She exhaled softly again. “Good. Okay, you should-“ She paused. “…do you hear that?”

“Wh-“

“Shh,” she whispered. “It’s faint, but listen.”

In a moment of silence, Colt attempted to listen through the fireworks outside and the settling of the house.

Then he heard the familiar sound of the announcement. Another radio. He swallowed a lump in his throat.

“…I’m going to find it. And I’m going to turn it off.” Colt repeated as calmly and carefully as he could manage. “I’ll keep it quiet. I don’t want them finding out I’m here… or… anywhere close by.” He whispered.

“Call me back. Promise.” She said quietly, her voice barely audible above the fireworks. There was another moment of silence, and then she continued to speak in a whisper, almost as if she had lowered her voice so no one could overhear her. “If you need help, or if it gets really bad, don’t be afraid to tell me. I can help.” She paused for a second, as if collecting herself. “I’ll come save you, I swear it.”

“Jessie, you can’t help anyone if you’re caught.” He told her gently. “I trust you, but there’s a reason I’m out here and you’re the voice that hears me. ” His eyes darted around the room, listening intently. “And it’s just a radio. I’m just turning off a radio.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

There was another silence between them that lasted until the next announcement came on. The fireworks stopped. The man was nearing the end of his lecture. Colt listened as he tried to calm himself. He felt a bit better knowing that someone was looking after him. He didn’t have to rely on himself alone.

“I’ll get back to you.” He started to turn off the radio. He heard Jessie softly whisper an ‘okay’ before it turned to static.

To Be Continued.

#[free qwen’s dreams]#brawl stars #colt #handsome colt #jessie #writing #my writing #[dead air]#(noncanon)

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final-servamp-banter · 4 years

Text

White Day Event: Tsurugi

I wanted to do Tsubaki first, but Tsurugi is faster (so I can do him during my loooong lunch break on Mondays), plus he’s my comfort character, so! Tsurugi-chan it is!

Tsurugi: Hey~! It’s me, it‘s me~! Your Tsurugi-cha~n!

Tsurugi: Lua-chan, are you free tomorrow~? Do you want to go to the ocean? The ocean!

You: (Th-The ocean…?)

Player Choices:

1. Isn’t it still cold…?

2. Tsurugi-san, I thought you couldn’t swim…?

Option 1:

Tsurugi: Haha! We’re not going to swim~! I can’t even swim! I’d sink! We’re just going to look!

Option 2:

Tsurugi: Eh, you know me well, huh~ Yep, I’d sink! So, in other words, going to the ocean with me means…… No, no, I’m joking! Haha! I just want to watch the ocean~!

[Rest is the same]

Tsurugi: So, let’s meet tomorrow! See you~!

(He hangs up)

You: (Wh-Why the ocean…)

~ 3/14 ~

Tsurugi: The weather is so nice~ Perfect weather to take a dip in the ocean! Lua-chan, did you come wearing your swimsuit~?

You: (My swimsuit…)

Player Choices:

1. I brought it with me

2. I didn’t bring it with me

3. I came here wearing it

Option 1:

Tsurugi: Eh! You’re well prepared! I forgot mine though! What are you going to do, where will you change into it?! Here?! You can change under my coat if you want to?!

Tsurugi: … You were joking? Aww, too bad. The weather is so nice, too.

Option 2:

Tsurugi: Eh? I see~ You did say you wouldn’t go swimming, after all. What a pity, the weather’s so nice.

Option 3:

Tsurugi: Eh?! Really?! You’re kidding~ You can’t be planning to go swimming when it’s this cold! But let me see it under your clothes for a bit!

Tsurugi: … You were joking? Aww, too bad. The weather is so nice, too.

[Rest is the same]

Tsurugi: … Huh? You’re wondering why I wanted to go to the ocean today?

Tsurugi: Look, today’s White Day, right~? “Spending time with me” is my thank-you gift for you! Just kidding~!

Tsurugi: … I said “just kidding”, but it was the truth~ So enjoy it to your heart’s content! If there’s anything you want to do, I’ll do it with you!

You: (Tsurugi-san…)

Player Choices:

1. Do you like the ocean?

2. Do you like the sky?

Option 1:

Tsurugi: Hmm? Yeah, I guess I like it a lot. When I was in high school I came here sometimes with Yumi-chan and Jun-chan~ I rode bikes together with Yumi-chan~ … Ah, as a good kid, don’t copy that!

Tsurugi: We’d often dash on the sandy beach from the mole to the sea, racing to touch the waves and run back to the start~ The slowest had to treat the others to some juice. I never lost though! Usually, it was Jun-chan!

Option 2:

Tsurugi: ……… Hmm, I guess so. Maybe, I might like it. I did like looking at it through the windows back when I was at school. Like this, without any windows, it’s pretty, too, isn’t it?

[Rest is the same]

Tsurugi: … Oh!

Tsurugi: Look, look, a seashell. So pretty~

Tsurugi: Here, I’ll give it to you.

Tsurugi: Haha, maybe we should try coming here in summer next time~

[End]

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

T/N: I love Tsurugi with all my heart. I really do. But if he continues to refer to himself as “onii-san” when talking to me, I’ll throw hands. He does it when he offers you to change clothes under his coat and when he asks to see your swimsuit if you claim you’re wearing and I just. No. I know how he means it, but, no. I always referred to my big brother as my “onii-chan” while I was in Japan, and just, my “date” calling himself that, no. Ew. No. Stop. Tsurugi can call himself just about anything else, I’d be fine with it, just not that.

Also, when he talks about him and Yumi riding bikes, the words literally translate to “We did a bike with two butts”, and white I know the more reasonable assumption is Tsurugi sitting on Yumi’s bike rack, I love the mental image of him sitting in Yumi’s lap instead while riding the bike ashdjksldhj

Also, anyone else here feeling their heart break a little when Tsurugi has to think about whether he likes the ocean/the sky, and just isn’t sure, instead going “Hm, I don’t know, maybe? I guess so?”? Otoh I LOVE how excited he is, look at all those exclamation marks!! He’s SO thrilled to be with you it’s adorable!!!!

#Servamp #Tsurugi Kamiya #Kamiya Tsurugi #Tanaka Box #Translation #Servamp White Day Event #White Day Event #''We can do anything you want'' Tsurugi that just means you getting a lot of hugs #''It's too cold to swim'' only if you're weak asdhasjkdhj #(okay even I don't go swimming in the ocean in MARCH. Especially not up here.)#I'll try to do Tsubaki after work though. Until then. Have fun with Tsuru-wan <3

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9thbutterfly · 3 years

Note

2, 7, 9, 17, 21 for the ask game! hope you're doing good <3

Thank you! Doing pretty well considering it‘s April and thus one of the busiest months at work. (Well, not so busy right now because the weather is pretty cold...)

2. if you could be fluent in any language at the snap of your fingers, which one and why?

Either Turkish because it would be useful for work, or Finnish because I like the way it sounds. Or sign language would be neat and useful too. Yes, if I had to pick one, I’d go with sign language.

7. rain or sunshine?

I want to say sunshine because it’s better for gardenwork and business and being-able-to-spend-time-outside, but without rain, not much would be growing, and sometimes it can be fun to be out in the rain too, so I’m refusing to choose.

9. what are your favourite shoes like?

Purple and very scuffed leather, with two velcro straps.Very comfortable and sturdy. I would post a picture but my camera is currently refusing to talk to the laptop, and after searching through the entire Waldviertler website it does appear that they don’t make them any more, which is rather sad.

They have helped me walk around quite a few different countries by now - they started out as my travelling/convention shoes, because my friends kept teasing me because I always take my shoes off when I sit, and then they always had to wait for me to tie my shoes again. Thus, velcro.

17. what would your superpower be? how would you use it?

Making plants grow, and I could think of so many uses... repairing damaged ecosystems, restoring forests that had to be cut down because of bark beetles, turning cities green, sabotaging boring “lawn and thuja hedge only” gardens and filling them with wildflowers...

21.the best ice cream flavour

Amarena cherry (and wow, now I need it to be summer, and covid gone, so I can go to the city and eat so much ice cream while strolling up and down the main street.) I wonder if that one place that had elderflower icecream made it through the lockdowns, that was delicious too.

#chatty butterfly #bookshelfdreams #idk what is going on with the formating today #tumblr is being tumblr I guess

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justkeeptrekkin · 5 years

Note

Sharing a bed for the first time and spooning / hugging. Nothing too explicit but a lot of affection and comfort. I have this headcanon but I can't find any good fic about this

“You know, I’ve heard that the best way to warm up is body heat.”

Hope you enjoy this prompt anon!

***

The neighbours have noticed. The whole street has lost its central heating, the entire place is freezing apart from Aziraphale’s bookshop, and the neighbours have noticed. They aren’t pleased.

There are many cases in which Aziraphale has used his miracle abilities for selfish reasons, for his own comfort. There’s, of course, the whole situation with those nasty mafia type men wanting to buy his bookshop from him, who he’s… dealt with. There’s also all the customers he persuades not to buy any of the books, gently escorting them from the shop with an angelic smile till they find themselves outside, not knowing how they got there.

Today, there’s the central heating. It’s very easy, really, to keep the whole shop warm. And he might have been able to fix it for the whole street, but Heaven still aren’t very happy with him about Armageddon and he doesn’t want to attract unnecessary attention. And, what with the neighbours noticing how toasty his shop is and complaining and causing a fuss, it doesn’t seem worth the trouble.

So now, he’s lying in his bed, something he rarely uses- it also happens to have a duvet, which is helpful on this particular occasion- he’s wearing three jumpers, and he is still absolutely freezing. Lying in the foetal position beneath the sheets, he weighs up his options.

As far as he sees it, he only has one.

That is how, a twenty minute cab ride later, he finds himself at Crowley’s apartment building. After ringing the intercom, it takes a moment for anyone to answer. He dances a little jig on the spot, trying to keep warm, his breath pouring out of him in clouds of steam.

Then:

“What is it?”

“It’s me- sorry to disturb you, I’m- good Lord, it’s so cold-”

“It’s all this post-not-apocalypse business, angel, it‘s messed with the weather,” Crowley says, without missing a beat. “Come on up.”

The door buzzes, Aziraphale pushes it open, and as soon as he steps inside, he’s amazed by the difference. It’s so warm. It’s the warmest he’s been in hours, and it’s making his skin tingle. The elevator journey up to Crowley’s floor is quick, and as soon as the doors slide open, Aziraphale sees him- leaning against the doorframe, waiting.

“Why didn’t you text me you were coming over,” he grumbles.

“I still don’t like it, Crowley.” Referring to the iPhone that Crowley’s fobbed off on him, which he’s encouraging Aziraphale to use and is failing to do so monumentally. “Every time I try and open up the message thing, it thinks I’m clicking on something called iTunes, and then it starts playing music without warning, and it’s just horrible.”

Crowley steps back to let Aziraphale through. “You’d get the hang of it if you tried. Problem with you, angel, ‘s you’re too stubborn.”

Aziraphale ignores him, as he often does when he’s being insulted like this. Crowley’s flat is deliciously warm, and Aziraphale shrugs off his coat with a contented sigh.

“What brings you here this fine evening?” Crowley says in a jokingly formal tone.

“Central heating is buggered,” Aziraphale says, hanging up his coat by the door. He pulls off his scarf, thus shimmying off his bow tie a little, and Crowley appears fascinated by the action. “And you know how hard it is to perform any miracles these days.”

Crowley growls. “I don’t understand-” his whole body slumps with exhaustion and infuriation, “-Why they still won’t leave us alone. Didn’t we scare them enough? Why do they still care? Their plan went to shit, so why? Why?”

“Who knows, dear,” Aziraphale gently drapes the scarf over the coat stand hook, turns to measure Crowley- who’s sloped off to sit at his desk sulkily. Aziraphale watches him from the corridor, continues, “Better not to dwell on these things.”

“Better than being melted with holy water. Or burned with Hellfire.”

“Well, quite.”

Crowley is draped over his chair. Aziraphale stands and lingers. His nose is still cold. Actually, despite it being toasty in here, he thinks it might take a while for his body to reacclimatise. Crowley casts his golden eyes over towards him, where he hangs awkwardly in the sparse room.

“So you’re coming to mooch off me, are you?”

Aziraphale tuts. “No. I had rather thought that the offer was still open.”

“What offer?”He hesitates.

“The- well. The one you made in Tadfield. On the bench. Before we got the bus to London that was actually for Oxford.”

Something in Crowley’s expression shifts. And something in his shoulders, too- his whole body tenses a little. Like someone who’d been expecting a friend to walk into the room has suddenly found the Queen, asking if she can make herself at home.

“Right. Yes, right. You- hang on.”

Crowley launches himself from his chair, snaps his fingers, conjures sofas. Not the Spartan, minimalist type either- no, these are soft and tartan and very much Aziraphale’s style.

“Oh! Lovely. I’ve been telling you for months that you need a proper living room,” Aziraphale notes, rather pleased with how the place looks now. “See how much more homey it is?”

“Right,” Crowley replies, like he’s not really listening. “Um. So, you’re thinking of staying the night then?”

“Ah. Well, if you’d rather I didn’t-”

“Nope. S’fine. All fine, this is fine,” Crowley rushes. “This is fine. Uuuuuuuuuuuuuh- OK.”

And Aziraphale marvels at how suddenly flustered he is, spinning round in panicked circles before magicking blankets into existence, fetching a bottle of Rioja from his cupboards, turning side lights on and main lights off so the place looks warmer, less cave-like, and doing one thousand other things at once that makes Aziraphale soften.

He’s already soft enough, but this is all too endearing for Aziraphale to handle. He’s always taken pleasure from Crowley fussing over him. Right now, the sight of him bustling about the living room- it lifts something inside of him. Something in his chest lifts like bubbles rising to the surface of a still lake.

“Crowley. Crowley,” he repeats, when the demon doesn’t hear him. After the second time, Aziraphale receives a startled expression, brows raised and mouth hanging open a little. Surprised by the interruption. “My dear, you don’t have to do all this. I’m perfectly happy just being here. With.”

With you, he thinks. With you. Just say it, Aziraphale, you coward.

He doesn’t. He closes his mouth, stares at Crowley’s slack expression, then at the wall directly behind him.

“Thank you,” he eventually says. Adds a nervous smile. “For putting me up.”

“Don’t- don’t thank me, you don’t need to thank me, I offered, remember? Just…” Crowley hovers in the makeshift living room. His lips twist nervously, he stuffs his hands in his barely-there trouser pockets, kicks the sofa. “What is it that changed your mind?”

“How do you mean?”

“About staying over. You said. Back then, you said your side wouldn’t like it. Now?”

Aziraphale thinks about this. He looks above the cold apartment- warm physically, cold emotionally- and then at the sofas that have just been produced. Purely for Aziraphale’s comfort.

“I’m comfortable with you,” he says quietly, too quietly.

“What?”

“I’m- it’s nothing.”

It’s not nothing. Aziraphale’s been chasing after comfort for his whole existence, never really finding it except for in the company of one person. The one person he’s not meant to want to be with.

But-

“Well, even if you won’t accept my thank you, I’m offering it nonetheless,” Aziraphale ploughs on- Crowley frowns at him, but allows the change in subject. “So it’s there. If you want to accept it.”

After a pause, Crowley’s frown melts, and he shrugs. He collapses on the sofa. He puts on the telly.

“Alright, alright, don’t go on about it. Let’s see if there’s anything less depressing than the news on.”

***

It’s not that the sofa isn’t comfortable. It’s just that Aziraphale feels at a bit of a loose end.

He’d confidently assured Crowley that he could leave Aziraphale to it and retire for the night. But without his books, and in such a sparse flat, he’s sitting here feeling a little bit of a lemon.

He’s thought about sleeping. He tried, and it just didn’t seem like he’d drop off. He’s only just got the hang of this whole sleeping business anyway- he had a very successful nap after Armageddon, but it appears that he still needs practice. So, giving up, he’s resorted to looking out of the window and staring at the people down below, walking about Westminster in the cold. After a while even that gets a bit dull, so he sits on the sofa again and turns on the television, puts it on mute so as not to disturb Crowley.

And, amazingly, he’s still cold. Not because the apartment itself is cold, but because his body is still acclimatising. He sighs. And he thinks, as he stares at the silent television, that he may need a bath to warm up properly.

The sound of the door bursting open makes him jump out of his skin.

He turns around and looks at the door- it’s open, but no one’s there. “Crowley?”

“I can hear you sighing from all the way in here,” he calls out from his bedroom. “Just get in here.”

“Pardon?”

“You said you could entertain yourself, but you obviously can’t.”

Aziraphale stares about the living room, at a loss. Crowley’s acting as if there isn’t anything remotely intimate about him inviting Aziraphale into his room. Back on that bench in Tadfield, he’d been rather casual then too, offering to let him stay over. Aziraphale had been scandalised and tempted. He’s feeling similarly now.

This time, though, he’s leaning towards tempted.

And so, brushing himself off, straightening his cardigan uselessly, he stands up from the sofa and steps uncertainly into Crowley’s room.

He’s under the covers, laptop leaning against his raised knees. The room is equally sparse, except from a huge piece of modern artwork that- for all that Aziraphale can tell- is simply a large canvas painted black with a little white blob on it. He tilts his head and stares at it for a while.

“Planning on standing there all night?”

Aziraphale’s attention flits to Crowley. He’s sat there, peering at him over the edge of his laptop screen. Huge, yellow eyes. Watchful- and possibly a little bit guarded. He’s growing his hair out, too- it’s looking more like it did a couple of years ago, half tied up in a messy bun.

“Sorry?”

“Just. Don’t think standing and watching me from the doorway is going to be much more entertaining than whatever you were doing next door. You. You could.” His word catch in his throat. “You could actually get in.”

“A-ah. Yes.”

Aziraphale nods to himself, straightens his cardigan out again and walks purposefully towards the bed. When he gets there, he hesitates awkwardly- Crowley watching with wry amusement. He pulls the duvet back and covers himself, knees in the air. Back, uncomfortably, against the railing of the bed.

“Well done, you managed,” Crowley drawls.

“Stop it.”

“Just a bed, angel,” he adds, though the tone is too light.

“I don’t use them very often.”

“Yes, but, see, I was under the impression you still knew how they worked. Just then you looked like you’d forgotten the function of a duvet.”

Aziraphale shoots him a look, but Crowley’s doing something on his laptop. He seems pleased with himself.

Aziraphale straightens out his legs, wiggles his toes.

“It is very warm in here,” Aziraphale admits. “I can see why you like napping so much.”

“Like being warm,” he mumbles, continuing to do something on his laptop that Aziraphale can’t understand.

“What are you doing?”

Crowley sighs. “You’re so nosy.”

“No I’m- I beg your pardon. I thought you were meant to encourage curiosity, snake?”

He snorts. “I’m catching up on Love Island.”

“What’s Love Island?”

“You…” he wrinkles his nose. “You don’t want to know.”

“It sounds nice.”

“It’s- ha! It’s really not.”

“Oh. Is it one of yours?”

“Yep.”

“I see.”

Crowley looks at him. And there’s a strange expression on his face; strange in that it’s almost childlike. Wide eyed and vulnerable.

“I can watch it later,” he says, lips barely moving.

“Oh- no, don’t let me stop you-”

“Nah. Nah, you know what, I’ll watch it tomorrow,” he announces too loudly, closes his laptop loudly, drops it on the floor loudly. “Let’s just sit. Sit and talk. When’s the last time we talked? Just sat and talked.”

“I believe we do that almost every day. And have done for a few millennia now.”

“Yeah, but.”

Not like this, Aziraphale thinks, though he’s too scared to acknowledge that thought. No, he ignores it stoically like a dog being offered medicine, wrapped up in ham. He eats around the pill.

As it turns out, neither of them want to approach whatever direction that conversation was going. So they end up instead talking about nothing. Things that Aziraphale will forget about tomorrow, but are enjoyable in the moment. Eventually, he gives up on leaning against the railing and lies down, and then so does Crowley, until they’re laying side by side. It’s easy to imagine that they’re outside, on some grassy knoll, looking up at the stars. Or the clouds. Heaven.

“I think I’m only just about warming up, now,” Aziraphale sighs, after an extensive conversation about glacier cherries and which side invented them.

“Only just?” Crowley asks, aghast. “I laid out all those sodding blankets for nothing?”

“No, no, you- you did wonderfully, dear.” Aziraphale doesn’t miss the way Crowley turns his head away and stares at the ceiling with a deep set frown. “I just don’t think my corporeal form is used to being cold for so long. If ever I was cold before, I’d just…”

Aziraphale snaps his fingers. Nothing happens, of course; he’s being careful these days.

“Being human sounds rubbish, doesn’t it. Being cold all the time. Getting hungry. Doing exams and running out of phone battery.”

“It has its perks.”

“Yeah. Least we get to experience the good stuff.”

Aziraphale has been watching Crowley, lying on his back with his cheek pressed against the pillow. He’s been watching the way his hair is falling out of its loose ties, red curls around his face in tendrils. He also keeps finding little stray red hairs over his own cardigan; proof that this whole sharing-a-bed thing happened, in case he ever forgets (he never will).

And he thinks of all the things that Crowley has done for him over the millennia. Everything, from the Bastille to books to apocalypses to offering a warm place to stay. He thinks of how much Crowley gives, despite never receiving; thinks of his trial in Hell, and all the cruelty that he’s experienced from the beginning; thinks about how, actually, he understands how that feels. To not be good (or bad) enough, to not be worth the attention, to be treated so coldly. Aziraphale thinks that he understands, in many ways, how Crowley feels- and he thinks of what he can give back, after everything Crowley has done.

“You know, I’ve heard that the best way to warm up is body heat.”

It sounds ridiculous when he says it, not like him at all. But he knows that the only way he’ll be able to give Crowley a cuddle is by dressing it up. By making it seem like he’s asking for a favour, rather than giving Crowley what he deserves. Crowley will readily grant Aziraphale a favour, but will bear his fangs at the sight of a compliment. Aziraphale sees all the demon’s insecurities, and it’ll take every trick in the book to get past those defences.

Crowley’s head turns towards him. Eyes darting about his face. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes. So. If- that is, if you’re a willing participant, you could be that body.”

Crowley huffs a laugh. “An offer I can’t refuse.”

At first, it sounds like a joke. The mocking tone is there, but beneath it, there’s sincerity. It’s so genuine and affectionate and intimate- and that feeling returns in his chest, the happy-nervous bubbles rising to the surface.

“Right,” Aziraphale breathes. Watching the indescribably soft expression on Crowley’s face. “Well, that’s decided then.”

“Suppose it is.”

Now he’s suggested it, though, Aziraphale’s not brave enough to move. Luckily for him, Crowley is. Crowley’s always the braver one of the two, even if he’s technically the bad one.

And so Crowley lifts up an arm, a gesture for Aziraphale to lay his head on his chest. And he does, after a bit of shuffling. Crowley is bony and sharp, but there’s also an obvious landscape to him that makes it easy for Aziraphale to get comfortable- like a particularly chair shaped rock at the beach. Although it takes him a minute to find the right spot, and Crowley grumbles at him to stop moving and sort yourself out, angel. Eventually, though, they find themselves still. Cuddled up, Crowley’s arms around him The feeling of his chest rising and falling, breath tickling Aziraphale’s forehead. His smell. His hair, too close to be able to focus on properly- just a blur of red.

Aziraphale can’t believe his luck.

And at some point, he dozes off. They both do. Aziraphale knows this, because when he wakes up, he finds their roles reversed- they’re lying on their sides, and Crowley’s curled up beneath his chin. Their legs are tangled and so is Aziraphale’s heart.

He simply lies there. He lies there and brings in Crowley close, holds him. Embraces him, offers him all the softness, all the attention that he deserves. Wraps him up in his arms like he belongs there.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #my writing #fic prompt

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selfshipwritingandstuff · 3 years

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When Past and Present meet Chapter 3

There was so much to say, and yet she couldn't find the words for any of it. Her thoughts were an ever-repeating loop of "He's back, he's here", and for the first time in hundreds of years, she felt true joy.

Jack of Blades, her beloved hero, was back.

„It has been a long time, my dear", he spoke again. „How has life been treating you in these past few centuries?"

She swallowed the lump in her throat so she could answer. It was very much like him to treat this all so casually. „Life was pretty empty without you."

„Well, I'm here now. So no tears anymore."

She wiped the last remaining tears from her eyes, and suddenly found herself overcome with exhaustion.

„Tired?", Jack asked, ever perceptive. „Then sleep, my dear. I won't go anywhere."

That was all the permission she needed. She let herself drop onto her pillow, wrapping herself and the mask in the covers. As sleep enveloped her, her mind was flooded with memories. And this time, she welcomed them with open arms.

It was the middle of winter, and she has insisted on visiting her uncle, who lived in the middle of Witchwood, far away from her family's comfortable home in Knothole Glade, worried that he might not find enough food during this time.

The blizzard had caught her off guard on her way back home; and with the masses of snow whipping into her eyes, she hadn't seen herself stray from the path. Her clothes were enough to keep her warm in normal weather conditions, but with the snow and wind, she was soon so drenched that they clung to her skin like she had been swimming. A sudden gust made her stumble and fall to her knees. This wasn't good. Getting lost in a blizzard was bad news even in the less dangerous parts of Albion. But this was Witchwood, the most Balverine-infested region of the whole country, and she doubted that a bit of wind and snow would stop these creatures. She wrapped her arms around herself, holding back tears. Every breath she took felt like it filled her lungs with tiny icicles, each intake of air meant pain.

A miracle, that's what she needed. Otherwise, her chances of finding shelter before the cold or a pack of hungry Balverines took her was pretty much zero.

She faintly remembered someone once telling her that freezing to death was actually one of the easier ways to go. The cold was uncomfortable at first, but eventually, one would stop feeling it, and just get tired… and then fall asleep, never to wake up again. A good, quiet, pleasant death. She could accept that, sad as it was to die so young. But just when she was about to accept her fate, he appeared out of the frozen haze; dark armor and red cowl covered in a thin layer of snow. Only few people could claim to have met the legendary Jack of Blades. Mostly because few lived to tell the tale. Though in the sudden appearance of the fabled hero, she found an unexpected ray of hope. Maybe he would give her an even quicker death than the howling winds.

His golden, bloodshot eyes met hers.

He has pretty eyes, she thought in her freezing delirium. I think I'll die happy if these eyes are the last thing I see.

Said eyes widened for a moment, almost a hint of recognition in them, though with the rest of his face covered by the mask, his exact expression was nigh impossible to read. He looked around, then back at her… and extended his hand. She stared at it for a moment, both because the cold made it hard to think and because she hadn‘t expected that. Did he want to… help her? Did it even matter at this point? It didn't, of course.

So she reached out to his offered hand, agonizingly slow, as if she had to force every single muscle to move individually. His gauntlet felt even colder than the wind and snow, frost biting into her skin. But once she had given this sign of accepting his help, he came closer, grabbing her waist, pulling her out of the snowdrift that had formed around her and finally throwing her over his shoulder. The last thing she felt before passing out was him walking… she knew not where.

She had no idea if she had really slept or just spent the night lost in sweet memories, but when she woke up, it was just before sunrise; her usual time to get up. With a protesting groan, she untangled herself from the bedsheets and gathered up her uniform.

„I rememer you loving to stay in bed with me in the morning", Jack commented. „You'd sometimes not let me get up until noon."

She slowed down in her movement, a small smile blooming on her face. „Yes, I remember. But I can't do that now; Reaver will be furious if I don't start working on time, and I don't feel like being beaten today." She had spoken without thinking; something she only noticed when the air in the room grew noticably colder.

„He… beats you. Am I understanding this correctly?"

„He beats all of his servants", she added, as if that would make him any less angry.

„...Servants?" His voice was soft and quiet, but she knew him well enough to feel the seething rage behind it. „I cannot wait to have a body again. I'll make him pay for every single bump and bruise he ever gave you. I will strip his skin from his flesh and then his flesh from his bones. I will-"

A knock at the door interrupted him.

„Are you awake? Come on, the cooks are almost done making Master Reaver's breakfast. We need to get the silverware ready."

„Coming!", she called before quickly fastening the mask to her garter and rushing out.

Jack remained silent throughout the day, but she could feel the mask buzzing with anger every time Reaver gave her an order or the other servants made jokes about beatings. Feeling his rage made her realize just how used she had gotten to this atrocious treatment, and she felt appalled with herself for letting it get that far. But it also caused her to formulate a plan to put an end to all of this… and fully reunite her with Jack.

Good thing that she used to have trouble sleeping; a few sleeping pills, powderized and mixed into Reaver‘s supper, should have him pretty reliably knocked out by now. That would hopefully buy her enough time to go through with her plan.

The bedroom door opened with a quiet creak. She froze and listened, but the sound was answered by nothing but Reaver‘s quiet snoring.

Slowly, one step at a time, she crept up to his bedside. Still no reaction. Then she carefully unfastened the mask under her dress and leaned over him.

Every heartbeat seemed to be an eternity. The mask approached his face, slowly…

Reaver could only open his eyes for a split second before she pressed the cold material fully onto his face. He quickly reached under his pillow, for his gun, but by the time his fingers touched it, it was already too late.

His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into a crushing hug.

„Finally“, Jack purred in his soft voice. „It‘s been so long.“

She exhaled the air she hadn‘t realized she‘d been holding in a long, relieved sigh.

Jack was back, and Reaver was no more.

#When Past and Present meet fic #fanfiction #selfship fic #Between a Mask and a Hard Place

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