#just in a constant state of denial that eventually drives him to hurt people and makes him lose everything

[vaugarde]

always feel kinda weird when i make a canon character “worse” than they are in canon in my own hcs but also like hyness was a literal cult leader who exploited the sisters and hit zan onscreen and literally used her and her sisters bodies as tools in his boss fight so like. canonically he is a horrible person who’s actions just get sweeped w a vague “oh he might have been corrupted actually theyre cool now” ending. so i guess its not that strange to just lean into him being abusive in my hcs

[that-blue-vault-dweller]

We've had so much happy sappy things lately. How about some angst? Companions react to sole getting super pissed at them and just leaving forever?

Oh, no..... I knew this was going to come soon enough... All good things must come to an end, after all 😔💙💛

All jokes aside, this literally broke my heart to write, but I very much enjoyed your suggestion for the new perspective it gave and the opportunity to write some good, old-fashioned angst 🥰 I didn't provide an explanation for what they said or what they did to make F!Sole mad, which I hope is okay! (I couldn't picture my F!Sole leaving any of them for any reason but I'm sure everyone's Sole varies in that respect)

Warnings: Light mentions of suicide, heavy mentions of drug and alcohol use.

Cait - Falls back into chems and will likely drug and drink herself to the grave. She can't believe that she went and screwed everything up again. She let down and upset the one person she vowed to never do that to, and now she's alone. Again. She's managed to run off the one person in her whole lifetime that actually cared about her and all she knows is that life is not even really worth living sober if she has to endure pain like this.

Piper - Cries herself to sleep for many nights after and sometimes finds herself crying during the day while she's typing an article or doing small mundane things, her guilt and sadness consuming her. (If F!Sole let her interview her back when she first came to Diamond City) Piper keeps a copy of the View from the Vault articles beside her bed and numbly reads them sometimes before going to sleep just to remind her of the only best friend she had ever had in her life. The only person that had stuck by her and tried to look out for her since her dad. Eventually she stops crying, but it takes a long time for her to rebound and her smile to come back. It never is as bright as it used to be when F!Sole was there, though.

Curie - Breaks her heart and completely destroys her. She cries for days, weeks, forever. All she knows is that there is a huge hole in her heart and she thinks of F!Sole every day. Her humanity is a constant reminder of the great person that she had lost and she will forever blame and kick herself for being so horrible that F!Sole would leave her. Curie will always care about F!Sole even if F!Sole doesn't care about her and Curie will forever miss her.

MacCready - Ends up heading back to go be with Duncan permanently. F!Sole was the only thing keeping him in the Commonwealth but now that he screwed that up, there is no reason left to stay. He was originally going to have his son brought to him as soon as possible, but he decides that they're better off away from where all of the sad memories are lingering. When he returns to his son, he is very happy, but he soon falls into a basic routine, trying to get through his grief of losing a true friend because of his own stupidity. He will eventually come out of the depression, but he will always carry the intense guilt of driving her away for good.

Deacon - Despite the fact that he just continues on with that constant mask of looking like he's just as calm and happy as anyone else, he is hurting deeply on the inside. It is easy to tell because of how he seems even more distant than usual and he very rarely ever comes back to the Railroad HQ. Guilt turns him into someone even more detached than he used to be before she left. However, he sometimes goes undercover just to watch her at a safe enough distance to keep her from recognizing him. After all, he has not changed his face since she left, preferring to keep some souvenir from his time with her. Unfortunately, his face is all he has left of those days.

Codsworth - Is broken-hearted and is at the epitome of guilt because he cannot believe he has made her so mad that she will have nothing more to do with him. He has absolutely no one left to serve and there is no one left who cares about him at all. He ends up falling into a state of denial, somehow glitching and convincing himself that she, sir, and young Shaun are simply away and will come back eventually. He sadly remains in this deluded state for the remainder of his days.

Hancock - Somehow does even more chems than before, knowing it cannot kill him but needing the rush to distract him from the complete and utter pain after sending away one of the few people that actually stood by him through thick and thin. He goes back to being the full-time mayor of Goodneighbor, but when he falls so deeply into the chems, the citizens begin thinking that it would be best to overthrow him. When he figures this out, he knows he has to stop doing the chems quite so much. He cuts back just enough to be coherent and make speeches to inspire people, but anyone can see that he is by no means doing as well as he used to before F!Sole left. At some point he is completely numb and he takes the chems to just feel something besides this deadness inside.

Danse - Is devastated. She is all he had left after being kicked out of the Brotherhood. He can't believe that he drove away the person that convinced him to see his own worth despite his true identity. He finds himself in deep, inescapable depression, and he eventually loses sight of why he should even keep going on at all. After all, he is just an instrument of evil that breaks friendship, families, and all good things. Why would the world need something like that?

Preston - Despite the fact that he does not believe he can do it, he forces himself to take up the mantel of General. He tries to lead and maintain a brave face even though he feels like he is falling apart. He knows the Minutemen are depending on him, and he feels so helpless. Eventually, he hands leadership over to Ronnie Shaw, returning to a second-in-command position as he throws himself into duties and work to try not to think about the loss of one of the few people that actually saw his vision and tried to help him achieve his dream. However, he can't quite forget the fact that it's all his fault that it ended up like this.

Valentine - Honestly cannot believe it and is in pure shock and devastation for several days before the grief and depression finally sets in. He throws himself into his work and becomes even more self-endangering, caring very little about himself and what happens to him. He knows he still has Ellie and the agency, but it just kind of seems to fade in importance as he thinks of F!Sole and how he drove her away. If he doesn't manage to get himself killed during this period, Ellie has a stern talk with him, and he actually does start being a little more careful. Not quite the level of careful he was when he had both F!Sole and Ellie on his back about it, but he tries for Ellie's sake if not his own.

X6-88 - Is quite angry at himself for angering and isolating such a vital and valuable asset of the Institute, but there is something else inside of him that pricks and pokes at his mind and gut. It is something he cannot identify and something he has never experienced before. It frequently brings her face to the forefront of his mind, homing in on just how angry that she looked and how she looked like she would rather be looking upon a pile of Brahmin dung than to be staring into his face. It bothers him for some reason, and when he returns to the Institute and expresses his thoughts, it is the last thing on his mind before they wipe his memory of her and reset him entirely.

Dogmeat - Tries to follow her even though she does not want him to. When she screams and throws things at him, he lowers his ears and tucks his tail, confused at what in the world he did wrong. He just wants her to love him again like she used to. He could be a better boy. He could stop pooping in Cait's shoes and stop chewing holes in things. Eventually, after weeks of following her and being rejected, he finally leaves her alone, heading back to Red Rocket Truck Stop where he decides to wait for her in hopes she will one day come back and give him all the pets or at least one pet. He ends up living his days waiting for her and pacing the place, waking up every morning with hopes that the sunrise will bring her back to him until he doesn't see the sunrise again.

Strong - Stays mad at her forever. However, he sometimes does wish that he had tiny human to help him with some things like fighting or cooking, but he quickly remembers that he's mad at her and tells himself that super mutants don't need puny humans. But there is something strange in his stomach when he thinks of her, but he usually smashes something to try to make himself feel better. The feeling never goes away quickly, though.

[rogerslovesstark]

Hi there! A huge fan 💜💙 I was wondering if your requests are open?

If yes, could you please write an angsty fic where in reader is dating Bucky and for some reason he belittles her and breaks off their relationship. After which eventually everyone on the team stops talking to her. She's forced to leave off on her own and struggles a lot. Later Bucky realises his mistake and tries to contact her but the old her is gone. Like she finds her own happiness. Sorry if it's too detailed☹️

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

WARNING: Angst

Your recruitment to the team was quick and very low-key. Almost no one knew that you had joined the Avengers because you requested Tony not to hold a press conference. You loved being an Avenger, the idea of helping people in need was so fulfilling.

However, the spotlight of being an Avenger was not pleasant. You did not know how Tony and Steve were able to handle it, the constant feeling of eyes on you, paparazzi almost always being on top of everything you do.

The few events you did go to, you stood with Bucky most of the time. He always kept you safe and comfortable while the party was booming. The two of you would walk around the venues Tony would rent out, looking at the architecture of the building, admiring the art that was around.

The conversation was kept minimal because there was already so much noise from the party. Both silently agreed that there was no need for extra noise.

It was the New Years Party two years ago where Bucky asked you if you wanted to slow dance. The Venue had multiple balconies and he chose the smallest one for the two of you to dance.

The two of you swayed to the soft music that could be heard from the party. Once the clock hit 12:00, Bucky leaned over and kissed you. You two began dating shortly after.

Every Sunday was a day for a date unless either of you had a mission. Every other week you planned a date for you and Bucky, walks in the park, restaurants, bars, everything you could think of.

You developed a dependency on Bucky. Always seeking his reassurance, seeking his comfort and touch. You felt as though you were not complete unless you were with Bucky. 

Your childhood was to blame, primarily your father. Physically, your dad was there but not emotionally. You never received emotional love from your father, the ‘I’m so proud of you’ or ‘you’re doing amazing’ Just a stiff nod.  

Being raised by your psychotic father was the reason you developed into the cold-hearted killer you were. From 16-19, you worked as a mercenary and killed for money.

You craved emotional validation from someone because you were so deprived of it when you were a child. You struggled to form relationships with others because of it too. That was one of the main reasons why you were not as close to the team.

Bucky would always smile at you, or kiss you when you were excited about something you would accomplish. On missions, he would always stay near you unless instructed otherwise by Steve. 

Bucky has been extremely off recently, always working with Steve, or working out with Sam, helping Wanda train her new abilities because it’s hard to kill a super-soldier than a normal human. 

He had missed five Sunday dates. Five of them. In those five weeks, you barely saw him and it was driving you crazy. You constantly would search for the time where the two of you could just be alone. You were so deprived of physical touch and emotional love, you began to fall into a depressive state. 

You walked towards the conference room, you asked Friday where Bucky was. She said he was in the conference room alone which is weird that she specified.

You opened the door and found Bucky just sitting on his phone. It was almost 10:30pm and he was just chilling in the conference room on his phone.

“Baby, I’ve been looking for you,” You said, walking over to him and running your hands along his broad and muscular shoulders. He was always so tense when he was sitting hunched over.

He shrugged you off his shoulders and turned to look at you. Not a soft, loving kind of look that a lover would typically give his lover; he gave a harsh glare as if you had done something to him. 

“God, you are so fucking annoying, you know that,” Bucky said. He grabbed that hand that was touching you and stood up from his chair. He let go of your hand rather quickly as soon as he stood from the chair. 

“I can’t fucking stand being around you Y/n, I don’t know why I ever asked you to be my fucking girlfriend,” He said, lowering his face closer to your face so the two of you were at eye level. 

Tears pooled in your eyes, every word he said was like a thin blade stabbing you in the stomach over and over again. You did not know what you did wrong, you had not even seen him in almost a week despite living with him.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I’ll be better, what can I do to be better, please,” You whispered, if your voice were any higher, you would being sobbing. 

Bucky just watched as you pathetically tried to hold your sobs in. You really were a weak woman and Bucky knew that. He knew that he held you in the palm of his hand and if he wanted to, he could break you.

He watched as your world crumbled around you because Bucky had decided to hurt you. Your hands were shaking and curled into fists. Your nose was turning red from holding back your tears.

“You are nothing without me, and I don’t want you anymore, so get the fuck out of my face and leave. No one on the team likes you, they would rather see you dead than ever have to see your horrific face ever again.” Bucky snarled, ready to see you burst into tears.

He knew that was the last straw.

You quickly turned around and left before you burst into tears. Bucky grabbed your arm and tried to turn you around, wanting to see you cry. You were forced to turn around, tears in your eyes pulling your hand back and smacking Bucky on his cheek. 

You left him dazed in the conference room. You ran to your shared room, collecting all your belongings. You had a small apartment in the heart of Montreal that no one knew about. You deliberately left off your information given to FRIDAY.

“FRIDAY, get rid of all information regarding Y/N L/N” You requested.

“Request denied, reasoning: unauthorized access to function,”

“Override denial, code Tony Stark has a fat ass” You rolled your eyes at the code Tony had told you to be used as a last resort code.

“Permission granted, removing all information regrading Y/N L/N,”

You grabbed a piece of paper on your desk, writing a short goodbye to Tony knowing he would wonder where you went. You quietly walk over to Tony’s office and placed it on the monitor he mainly used.

You left the compound shortly after, walking seven miles to the small car you planted in the forest. You prepared this as a last resort option. You never wanted to use this car but times were desperate and you had to get away from Bucky.

++++

You were struggling, barely able to figure out how to live on your own. The money you had saved from working for the Avengers was running low and the waitress job you did have has barely enough to pay the bills you had. 

Montreal was really expensive you ended up realizing, with such a horrible job, you sold your apartment and moved in with some college students in a small house. You shared a bedroom with one of the women in the house. 

Ashley, your roommate, actually found the job for you, she helped you changed your appearance and spotted your money whenever you were desperate for it.

You had no skill set for an actual job, the only skills you had were killing. And your skills had developed rapidly as an Avenger. You knew what you had to do to survive.

The first kill that you had was a child trafficker in Toronto. Ashley covered for you, saying you two would go to a spa for a girl's weekend. She stayed at the spa while you finished the job. You gave her 20% of the income made. 

You two had gotten close over the two years that you spent in the shared house. She was one of the only people that you trusted at this point. She suggested that you started therapy, which you decided to actually go to.

Your therapist wanted you to start realizing that you were more than who you surrounded yourself in. You deserved the love that you craved and you could only get it when you truly loved yourself.

++++

Bucky was laying in the bed the two of you shared. Two years had passed since he had driven you out of his life. He didn’t know why he did it, he was so upset because he saw you flirting with Tony. But Tony got engaged to Pepper only a few days later. 

After nine months of you being away, he started to crave your presence in his life. He asked FRIDAY where you were but she had no information on you. When FRIDAY said she had no information on you, he had one of the biggest meltdowns he ever experienced. 

You were officially gone from his life. Even with all the winter soldier experience of tracking people down, he couldn’t find you. Bucky knew that you were smart, you could hide in plain sight if you wanted to. 

It was in Toronto that he saw you again. Bucky’s whole world stopped after he saw you. You were so different now. Your hair was completely different from what he was used to, and you dressed differently too. 

It took him two months to finally get you to speak to him.

“What do you want Bucky?” The way you used to speak to him was so soft, now you were so cold towards him. Bucky’s stomach churned, almost nervous to respond to you.

“Y/n, please come back, I’m sorry for everything I have done to you, everything I said was a lie. I still love you” Bucky pleaded to you. 

“Bucky I’m not the same woman I used to be, you broke me, I was so broken and I was the only one who fixed me. You don’t get to come back after I learned how to not live with you.” You shouted at him.

Tears pooled in Bucky’s eye, he had lost the one person who had shown him, true love. The one person he wanted to protect for the rest of his life. He lost you, forever.

[dreamingofscully]

Season 6 Summary

THEME: DUALITY

Other Seasons: Season 1: INNOCENCE Season 2: IT’S PERSONAL Season 3: THE STANDARD Season 4: BARRIERS Season 5: RISK

Season 6 is all about the conflict between Mulder and Scully as well as the things they are struggling with inside themselves. In the end, though, it is about them coming together despite all the things thrown in their way. The magnetic attraction that cannot be stopped.

THEIR DUALITY - THE CONFLICT BETWEEN THEM

The friction between Mulder and Scully arises from his frustration at Scully’s inability to accept the wondrous things they experienced in Antarctica (“Fight the Future”). She’s hyper-focusing on what she can prove without acknowledging what she actually believes (“The Beginning”). This conflict stretches throughout the entire season, Mulder’s anger manifesting all the way to the end of the season (“Field Trip”, “Biogenesis”). It doesn’t stay constant, though. At the end of “The Beginning” when Scully brings him the evidence she’s been so adamantly searching for, he knows that regardless of her beliefs she is on his side, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything. I think he knows that her stubbornness stems from something more than just an outright refusal to believe him, that it will only be a matter of time before he can share his wonder at the fantastical with her. Some near-death experiences (“Triangle”) and a strange feeling that he almost lost her (“Dreamland”) tempers his annoyance, gives him some perspective. He loves her, and whatever her attitude about the paranormal, she’s the best thing to ever happen to him.

The damage to their relationship is nearly repaired, but then we have “Two Fathers”/ “One Son” and Diana/CSM popping up again. Diana attempts to destroy the bond between Mulder and Scully by forcing Scully to make Mulder choose between them. It’s obvious to Scully that there is something strange about the circumstances they are forced into, but not obvious enough for him to get suspicious. Mulder can't view Diana as duplicitous, and she knows it. When the evidence piles up but Mulder still chooses Diana over Scully, it really hurts. All of the healing they've done since "The Beginning" vanishes, and things are even worse now than they were then. Mulder is also in a hopeless state - being separated from Scully (emotionally), his work gone, the colonization/destruction of life on earth seeming imminent. He doesn't have Scully there to give him hope, to guide him to make the right decisions, so he feels like he has no option but to give up. This hopelessness impacts decisions that he makes in season 7 (“Sixth Extinction”/”Amor Fati”).

SCULLY’S DUALITY - HER CONFLICT WITHIN

Truth vs. Science

Scully DID see the alien spacecraft in “Fight the Future”. However, when they return and attempt to get the X-Files back, she refuses to support him in his belief, disguised as her attempt to give him evidence. She struggles against her experiences, denies the truth because ultimately she is afraid to believe. This theme is most evident in “How the Ghosts Stole Christmas” where Scully is the most scared that we’ve ever seen her. When confronted by things that she can’t explain, she’s terrified. She needs to be able to figure out how things work in order to have power over them. Similarly, she is afraid of death and dying (preventing people from getting too close) and so she chooses to specialize in pathology in order to know it and have control over it.

Scully’s denial of reality and experience doesn’t get resolved this season. She holds onto her skepticism by a thread. We don’t see any personal resolution to this conflict until well into season 7 (“all things”). Regardless, Mulder accepts her for who she is, stubbornness and all.

Fear vs. Risk

The risks that Scully took last season seemed to backfire and makes her reluctant to take a chance and open up again. She KNOWS after “Fight the Future” that Mulder holds some distinctly non-platonic feelings towards her but the falling-out between them in “The Beginning” as well as “One Son” makes her even more unsure about their relationship. It really hurts when she thinks he chooses Diana over her, so it takes her a while to be in a place where she’s ready for something more. In fact, it takes Padgett’s obsession with her, and his ability to bring her suppressed feelings to the surface, for her to be in a place where she can move past her fears and open up to him (”Milagro”).

MULDER’S DUALITY - HIS CONFLICT WITHIN

Belief vs. Skepticism

Mulder is blind when it comes to Diana Fowley. He’s learned so much from Scully about not trusting people, but this woman manipulates him so easily. He believes she loved him, that their relationship ending was his fault, has guilt surrounding the entire thing, which makes him INCREDIBLY MOTIVATED to dismiss anything that hints at her guilt. Even if it comes from Scully. The one thing he is skeptical of is Diana being guilty. This stems from his insecurities about himself - not believing he is capable of a healthy relationship because of how manipulative his prior experiences have been. He sees their failure as his fault, so how could he attempt something with Scully when it would only mean he would lose her in the end?

Pursuit of Truth vs. Love

Mulder’s focus on his quest is all-consuming. He uses this obsession as one of his excuses to pursue any serious relationship with Scully, even though he knows how he feels about her. How can he pursue the truth AND have a romantic entanglement with Scully? How can there be room in his life for both things? 

There are several events this season that encourage Mulder to pursue love rather than be so single-minded. His adventures in “Triangle” show how dangerous his recklessness can be, and make him realize that one thing he really wants, if he doesn’t end up returning to his normal life, is to know what it feels like to kiss Scully. In “Rain King” there are so many parallels to his own life. Holman is lonely and feels like he is unworthy of the love of his life. Mulder helps him realize that he should tell Sheila how he feels, all the while denying what everyone else sees between him and Scully. Finally, in “The Unnatural”, Arthur Dales manages to reach Mulder with a tale about baseball and aliens. It reminds him of a time he was happy, to his childhood, that he’s never happier except when Scully is by his side. He realizes he can work on the “heart of the mystery” at the same time as the “mystery of the heart”. 

Mulder is a risk-taker. Despite his fears, seeking something more with Scully would be worth it and so he takes a chance. (And hits it out of the park.)

THEIR DUALITY - COMING TOGETHER DESPITE IT ALL

Even though the X-Files are taken away from them, they still work together and grow closer despite the difficulties in “The Beginning”. Mulder is discouraged and rebellious but he is still very MOTIVATED. Convincing Scully to investigate a strange case while they are on a boring assignment ("Drive"), travelling to the Bermuda Triangle on a whim ("Triangle"), sorting through trash to get a shredded file ("Terms of Endearment"), getting Scully to come with him to Area 51 for a source ("Dreamland"), getting her to join him at a haunted house ("How the Ghosts Stole Christmas"), and flying with her out to Kansas on a tenuous case ("The Rain King"). After his jaunt in "Triangle" he makes choices to keep her with him. He appreciates her, doesn't seem mad at her determination to STILL not believe despite the things they experienced together. He puts aside his frustrations and seems to want to deepen his relationship with her, or perhaps DESPITE his frustrations he realizes how special she is, wants to have more. 

Scully comes around eventually. She’s upset with Mulder for his distrust of her. She understands that he’s disappointed she can’t believe, but because she can’t quite admit the reasons behind this to herself, she thinks that it’s impossible for her change. That she’s all she’ll ever be - hopefully Mulder can accept that about her. She rejects him in “Triangle” because she’s still not over his distrust in her and she won’t believe any admission until he’s completely sober. Her reluctance in the beginning of “How the Ghosts Stole Christmas” turns into a choice to spend the holidays with him. 

After their relationship suffers again in “One Son”, Mulder offers some sort of apology for his mistrust of Scully, and Diana’s presumed death tempers Scully’s jealousy. They forgive, move past the things that happened slowly but surely. They hunt a sea monster in Florida (“Agua Mala”), where Dales (the original) reinforces Mulder’s beliefs that Scully is invaluable to him. Scully pushes them to go on a case where they go undercover as a married couple, and while she is uncomfortable with Mulder’s seeming inability to take the case seriously, she does enjoy that he seems happy again (“Arcadia”). Scully marks her territory (Mulder) while they investigate a case that involves a woman that has a crush on Mulder and that she thinks wants to manipulate him (“Alpha”).

“Milagro” brings all of Scully’s buried emotions forward, exposes the truth that she’s been trying to hide - that she’s in love with Mulder. At the end of the episode, Scully’s walls break down, makes her fears about opening up seem irrelevant in the face of her death. She’s ready to accept Mulder’s love, to take the next step in their relationship. “The Unnatural” gives Mulder the bravery to take that chance, and they finally admit their feelings for one another. 

Things are amazing for several months until (guess who) Diana pops up again (”Biogenesis”). Scully is NOT jealous because she knows where she stands with Mulder. The devastation of his mysterious illness prompts her to act without any second thought - to confront things she’s afraid of because the alternative would mean losing him.

[toomuchofabastard]

Heaven’s Final Betrayal (3/6)

[ << CHAPTER 1 ] [ < CHAPTER 2 ]

Fandom: Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Aftermath of Rape/Non-Con, Denial, Drinking, Self-Blame

Word count: 3,228 (total 9,818)

Fic Summary: It was obvious that Heaven wouldn’t exactly be thrilled about Aziraphale’s role in preventing Armageddon. But neither the angel nor Crowley could have predicted how far they were willing to go to get  revenge, and now Aziraphale needs him by his side more than ever.

READ ON AO3

___

Crowley was stirred from the inky grasp of sleep by the rumble of the mattress and the sensation of shifting weight next to him. Reality slowly seeped its way back into his consciousness. Aziraphale. The angel was awake. His bed, his flat. Morning.

What happened yesterday.

Crowley grimaced as the memories resurfaced. Fuck. Images flickered unbidden in his mind, snippets and sounds of events like a highlights reel designed specifically to torment him. He rubbed his gluey eyes with the heel of his palm, and forced them open. The visions vanished.

Aziraphale was sat on the edge of the bed, still and silent. Crowley couldn’t see his face.

“Mornin’, angel,” he mumbled.

“Good morning,” Aziraphale replied quietly, but still facing away. Crowley cocked his head, trying to guess at what was going through the angel’s mind. After a long pause, Aziraphale turned to him.

“So-,” he began, with what Crowley could tell instantly was painfully-forced cheerfulness. He patted his thighs and gave a half-hearted wiggle.

“Breakfast at the Ritz?”

His voice was thin and brittle-sounding, higher than normal. The smile on his face didn’t reach to his eyes. The sight rekindled the ache deep in Crowley’s chest.

Crowley sighed. “Angel, it’s- …You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Aziraphale replied quickly. Then he exhaled shakily and his eyes scrunched closed.

Crowley sat up next to him and encircled his arms gently around the angel’s waist, hugging his belly and resting his cheek against his shoulder. When Aziraphale’s eyes opened again, they were filled with the same despair and devastation from the night before. His chin started to pucker and he blinked rapidly. He wouldn’t look at Crowley as he spoke, instead staring down at his hands rested loosely in his lap.  “I… I don’t want to think about it, Crowley. Please, just for today, can we please just pretend…” His voice wobbled and he trailed off with a gulp, turning away.

Crowley sighed unhappily and rubbed his hands over the angel’s stomach. Pretend what? Pretend like it had never happened? Like yesterday afternoon had just been a bad dream. Like they were still happy. Like he hadn’t been raped. Oh God, thought Crowley, as the weight of the word hit him fully. He’d been raped. They’d raped him.

He looked again at Aziraphale’s face. No matter how valiantly the angel was trying to bury it, he couldn’t just suppress all that hurt, all that trauma. He was visibly this close to breaking, barely holding himself together. Crowley was pretty sure one tiny thing would be enough to throw him over the edge. And stoically, stupidly trotting out that stiff upper lip and hiding behind denial would only make things worse, Crowley knew. Why did he do that to himself? He supposed Heaven had taught him to be that way. Some kind of self-defence mechanism against all their cruelty and control.

But he couldn’t ask Crowley to be party to it. Crowley couldn’t do that, it just hurt too much. Even if Aziraphale needed him to… ah, shit. He looked down, and ran his tongue despondently over the back of his teeth. Yeah. Aziraphale needed him. And wasn’t he always there when Aziraphale needed him. He knew this was never going to be sustainable in the long term. But, especially with how fragile Aziraphale seemed right now… maybe just for one day…

“Alright,” Crowley eventually conceded. He nuzzled sadly into the angel’s shoulder.

“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale whispered.

“So-,” Aziraphale took a deep breath and tried again, the artificial mask of cheerfulness returning. “The Ritz, for breakfast? We haven’t been there for a while. And their smoked salmon is simply delectable, and they do that fancy juice that you like, or at least you said that you did last time. Or-or we could do the Wolseley, if you prefer?” He was rambling, still smiling too wide and too emptily.

“Whatever you want, angel,” Crowley replied quietly. Just because he’d agreed, didn’t mean he had to encourage him. He was already hating every second of this.

Aziraphale flashed the fake smile again, and swallowed. “The Ritz it is.”

◥|⧗|◤

They took the Bentley. Crowley drove with less reckless abandon than usual, not wanting to rattle his angel in his current state. Aziraphale spent most of the drive looking vacantly out of the window as the busy London streets zipped by. Crowley shot him furtive glances, wanting to keep watch over him but hoping to avoid the usual chiding “eyes on the road, please dear”. Aziraphale either didn’t see or was choosing to ignore him. His hands in his lap were clasped tight, Crowley noticed. The little signs were still there, betraying what the angel must really be feeling inside.

A table for two for the breakfast sitting was miraculously available, and they were seated immediately. Crowley dismissed the waiter with a flick of his hand when he tried to pull out the chair for him, whereas Aziraphale smiled graciously at the man and accepted his help. He couldn’t hide the wince as he sat though, and even as he tried to smother it, Crowley could see the despair flicker again, ever so briefly, behind his eyes. Then it was gone, and the smile was back, though even less convincing than before. Aziraphale sat up ramrod straight and busied himself with his napkin. Crowley smirked vaguely back at him, heart heavy. He’d put on a new pair of sunglasses, and was very thankful for the camouflage they provided. He didn’t want Aziraphale (or any of the humans, for that matter) reading his expression at the moment.

They ordered quickly, and ate quietly. Aziraphale maintained the frozen smile throughout the meal, and tried a number of times to engage Crowley in pleasant small talk, but Crowley didn’t feel any more like talking than he did like eating, and the resulting silence hung dead and flat in the air around them. Aziraphale, likewise, wasn’t eating with his usual relish, instead picking at his food and batting it around the plate with a far-away look in his eyes. Nonetheless, the angel forced down every morsel and afterwards made a great show of wiping his lips with the napkin and complimenting the waitstaff. Crowley watched him carefully all the while, ready for the moment when the mask would finally crack, already preparing himself to pick up shattered pieces of angel in the aftermath.

But it didn’t come, and once they’d paid for the meal*, they headed to St. James’ Park at Aziraphale’s suggestion. The ducks were rowdy as usual, tearing the pieces of bread they threw to shreds, like vultures at a carcass. Crowley begrudgingly left the angel alone at the pond-side while he fetched them ice-creams from the kiosk, as had become their habit. Aziraphale accepted his with another flash of that god-awful broken smile, and linked his soft hand with Crowley’s purposefully. Crowley gave it a squeeze.

*Crowley, by force of habit, left a handful of pennies on the table for the waiter, but discreetly doubled the service charge on the bill. 

They strolled around the edge of the water as they ate. Occasionally, Crowley felt a subtle tremor run through Aziraphale’s hand in his, but when he turned to check on him, the angel always looked away, suddenly remarking on the activity of the waterfowl or pointing out a worthy target for one of Crowley’s demonic wiles.

The deflection continued as they finished the ice-creams and headed back towards the bookshop, stopping at Piccadilly Market on the way. It was busy with people today, milling around between the red-and-white striped awnings, underneath which proprietors were hawking old books, antiques, and other sorts of tat that the angel loved. Aziraphale dragged Crowley from stall to stall, cheerily inspecting their wares. He seemed unable (or, Crowley guessed, unwilling) to pause for even a moment, presumably lest the façade he’d built up crumble without a constant distraction. But Crowley caught the mask slipping in a few moments when the angel thought his face was hidden. A shimmer of uncertainty in his eyes, a tiredness in the way he held himself. As the afternoon wore on, Crowley could swear Aziraphale began to limp when he walked, just imperceptibly.

Crowley was worried about him. It had been gnawing away at his stomach all day. But he couldn’t help but feel annoyed too. Aziraphale must realise how much it hurt whenever he turned that bloody fake cheerfulness act of his on him. Sure, hiding his feelings from Heaven or even from the humans was understandable, but they were supposed to be on the same side now. They were supposed to share these things. Did he think Crowley would judge him? That he wouldn’t see through it in an instant? They’d known each other too long for the latter, and Crowley prayed that Aziraphale didn’t believe the former. It just hurt, the way Aziraphale was shutting him out.

The sky was turning peach-coloured with the first omens of sunset when they eventually got back to the bookshop. Crowley held his breath as he opened the door. Aziraphale hung back behind him. Inside, everything was still, the air heavy with dust, and the books, papers and furniture exactly as where they’d left them the last time they’d been home. Before. Crowley sighed deeply. Nothing had changed. Even though it seemed everything else in their world had. A weight that he hadn’t realised was pressing down on him seemed to lift slightly from his shoulders.

He turned and motioned Aziraphale inside. The angel looked briefly hesitant, but then he swallowed, raised his chin, and entered. Crowley’s hand went automatically to brush his back as he passed. Finally, they were back where they belonged. He shut the door on the world behind them with a sense of conclusiveness. The hum of the streets melted away, and then it was just them, left in silence.

◥|⧗|◤

They were six bottles of wine down, and Aziraphale was clumsily opening a seventh, when the elephant in the room finally trumpeted its unwelcome presence. Crowley had only drunk one, maybe one-and-a-half, of the bottles. The edges of the room were just beginning to spin a little at the corner of his vision. Aziraphale, on the other hand, was so far beyond plastered that he was heading towards a decorative stucco with crown moulding.

“An-angel, I think you’vhad enough,” drawled Crowley, and then frowned at himself, surprised at how drunk he already sounded.

Aziraphale made a face like a petulant toddler. “Jus’ one more,” he muttered. He finished wrestling with the cork and tipped the bottle unsteadily, managing to get at least half of the liquid into the glass instead of onto the carpet. “Can’t… can’t do any harm.”

Crowley’s face creased in disagreement, but he said nothing.

Aziraphale grasped the glass and then necked the contents back in one gulp like a parched man in the desert. Crowley watched, slightly dumbfounded. Under the veil of inebriation, the worry bit again at his stomach.

“Hey, you r’member that thing at that wedding in Cana?” he asked abruptly. “Wine into water - no, wait-” He made a spinning motion with his hand. “-other way ‘round. You know what I mean.”

Aziraphale looked morosely up at him, cradling the glass close. “Bloody awful evening.”

“You’re just sssaying that ‘cos you weren’t allowed any,” said Crowley. The angel pouted.

“Anyway…” continued Crowley, feeling increasingly talkative as the alcohol permeated its way into his system. “Point is, you’re not s’pposed to drink it like it’s still water.” He jutted out his chin. “So s-stop drinking like a… a…” What was the phrase? Some kind of animal. Something aquatic?

“…a dolphin,” he finished, with a confidence he didn’t feel.

Aziraphale spluttered with laughter, making Crowley blink in surprise. “ ‘s fish, dear,” the angel slurred, and then collapsed into another giggle. “You and your dolphins!” He suddenly fell about laughing, bending double on the sofa, and inadvertently sloshing wine everywhere.

Crowley smirked uneasily. His unease built as the angel’s laughter grew gradually louder and louder, until it was almost hysterical. It hadn’t been that funny, he thought to himself. The noise sounded wrong to his ears, discordant and unsettling, as though the bottom had fallen out of reality. It actually made him feel a bit sick.

Aziraphale raised his glass-free hand to cover his face. Beneath it, Crowley heard the hysterical laughter slowly transmute into hysterical sobbing.

Aaand there it is, thought Crowley with pained resignation. The angel had finally reached his breaking point. Immediately, he miracled the alcohol out of his body and back into one of the bottles. “Angel?” He stepped closer and knelt down in front of Aziraphale, trying to peer up through the angel’s fingers at his face. Aziraphale’s hunched shoulders jerked fitfully up and down, muffled sobs and hiccups escaping from underneath his hand. Crowley gently removed the wine glass from his other hand, and then took hold of his wrist and rubbed soothingly at his pulse-point.

“Talk to me, angel,” Crowley said softly. “Please.”

He waited while Aziraphale continued to gasp for breath, eventually managed to stop sobbing, and swallowed heavily. Slowly, the angel peeped out at Crowley like a frightened child from underneath the hood of his hand. Half of his face remained hidden, but what Crowley could make out was contorted with anguish.

“How do you make it stop, Crowley?” he asked wretchedly, sniffling. “It just-… I just want it to stop hurting. I don’t know what to do.” He stared into Crowley’s eyes, looking desperately lost.

“Help me,” he pleaded.

And there was that terrible, stabbing ache in Crowley’s chest again. “Oh…c’mere,” Crowley replied with a sympathetic sigh. He clambered onto the sofa beside Aziraphale and drew him close. Aziraphale lent into his touch, burying his face into Crowley’s shoulder as another distressed whine escaped him.

“I can’t help you if you keep shutting me out,” Crowley explained gently, rocking him from side to side. Aziraphale nodded mutely against him. “C’mon,” he rubbed the angel’s back. “Sober up and let’s talk. It’ll help. I promise.”

Aziraphale nodded again and, gradually, he pulled away from Crowley and straightened up. A quick squint of exertion crossed his face, and the empty bottles on the table were suddenly filled again (well, all but one, Crowley noted, but that was forgivable given the circumstances). The angel wiped messily at his eyes with the back of his hand and took a deep, shuddering breath, and then turned to look uncertainly at Crowley.

“Just tell me what you’re feeling,” Crowley whispered. “Don’t keep bottling it all up.”

Resignation settled on Aziraphale’s tear-stained face and he sighed. He looked away at the floor, hugging at his own arms.

“I feel...” he began, his voice strained like it was a struggle to get the words out. “…humiliated.” He rocked back and forth on the sofa, digging his fingernails into the flesh of his upper arms. “…violated.” He shuddered. “A-And I know I shouldn’t but…” He glanced sideways at Crowley and then back down at the floor, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “…ashamed,” he finished, voice almost a whisper. He covered his face again as another pained whimper slipped from his throat.

Crowley rubbed at Aziraphale’s knee. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” he said. “What they did to you, it was barbaric, a-and senseless, and cruel” - the litany of bastards bastards bastards returned to his head, but he tried not to let the rage carry him away - “and it was not your fault.” He punctuated each word with a gentle pat of the angel’s leg. “Not one bit of it.”

Aziraphale nodded quickly. “I know, I know. It’s not that.” He sniffled again.

Then what? Crowley raised an expectant eyebrow, and waited as Aziraphale gathered himself together again and shuffled on the sofa until he was facing towards him.

“You know, I really thought-” the angel began, and actually chuckled bitterly through the tears. “I really thought that we were the good guys.” He shook his head. “How naïve of me. All those years of loyalty to Heaven, and this is what I get for it. It seems I’ve been well and truly ‘played for a sucker’.”

He looked up at Crowley. “You could always see it, of course.” He sighed ruefully. “I just can’t believe I was ever so foolish as to have-…to have trusted them. I’m just a soft old idiot.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley sighed with a hint of exasperation, squeezing the angel’s hand. “That’s not your fault either. You’re a good person.” He cracked a slight smile. “You are soft, and I love that about you. You see the best in people” - he lifted Aziraphale’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss into the tops of his knuckles - “like you did in me. Shame on them for taking advantage of your trust.”

Aziraphale looked unconvinced.

“Can you say it with me? ‘None of this was my fault’?” Crowley pressed.

The angel gulped and stared into Crowley’s eyes, a look on his face like he truly wanted to believe him. “…None of this was my fault,” he repeated quietly.

“And you believe that, yeah?”

Aziraphale nodded silently.

“Then…the shame will go away,” Crowley said. “You just gotta give it time.” It would always hurt, of course, but Crowley knew from his own experience that the pain did fade, eventually. He wasn’t about to remind Aziraphale right now that some of this would doubtlessly stay with him forever.

Aziraphale sighed again, deeply and wearily. He glanced over at the once-again-full bottles of wine on the table, but a hint of a frown from Crowley and he stopped reaching for one. “I just want to move on. Forget this ever happened,” he mumbled, waving a hand dismissively.

“…you can’t do that, angel,” Crowley responded, as patiently as he could manage. “It won’t work. We’ll just keep going round the same miserable circle.”

He shuffled closer to the angel again and pulled him into a hug. Aziraphale let him, and curled up close with his head resting heavily against Crowley’s chest. Crowley stroked a hand through his soft curls as he spoke.

“Look, I understand,” said Crowley. “You turn the pain inwards on yourself, because you don’t know how else to survive it. Trust me, I get it.” Aziraphale looked up at him in surprise. “But you have to stop trying to escape all this by suppressing it, angel,” Crowley continued. “If you don’t let yourself feel it, you’ll never be able to move past it.”

The angel looked down and sighed once more. “You’re quite right, of course,” he said quietly. Then his face twisted and another half-sniffle, half-sob left him.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said, “for hurting you too. For shutting you out.” He pressed closer into Crowley’s embrace. “I’m a mess.”

“For Satan’s sake, angel, don’t worry about me,” Crowley scoffed softly. A pang of love and fondness joined the ache in his heart as he looked down at the angel. “In fact, don’t you worry about anything right now. I’m here, I’ll look after you.”

He brushed Aziraphale’s hair gently aside, and planted a tender kiss on his temple.

“We’ll get through this. Together.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, and he smiled - weakly, but, this time, genuinely.

[pacegerld1989]

Save With Relationship Stupefying Ideas

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How Can A Child Prevent Divorce

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[scurvgirl]

Ash

Ashokara - Qunlat, noun; seeker of rebellion

All aboard the pain train. Warning for character death (lots) and suicidal thoughts.

Melarue belongs to @justanartsysideblog

Aili belongs to @lillotte17

Uthvir belongs to @feynites as well as taken lots of references from the first chapter of Looking Glass <3

Inquisitor!Kass Bad Ending, not canon

“I was a fool.”

“That is the kindest word for what you are,” she snarls, spear aimed high.

He is bloody and beaten, almost as much as she is. And while all sense of purpose has left him in a fit of existential anguish at having ruined everything, she is fresh and angry. Bloodied and burning. Her armor is tattered and old, parts of it scrapped from the people the dearest to her.

All gone. They’re all…gone.

Because of him.

She remembers when he was taller than she was, when she had looked up to him and he had sat down next to her. He taught her. Befriended her mother.

She angles the tip of the spear under his chin and his eyes fall closed.

“You are strong, Ashokara. Your mother is –

She angles the tip to cut him, he stops speaking and she shakes.

“You don’t get to talk about her, Fen’Harel.” She spits his name, his title, the curse dripping from her teeth like the blood as she watched her mother die.

He flinches at the name, still.

“No! There is nowhere left to run from who you are, what you have done. You killed them, destroyed the world. You don’t get solace, you don’t get peace, or forgiveness.”

“I know.”

She shakes, blinking through the tears, “Shut up!” He lies, always lies. He lied to her mother when he came and said he was there to help. He lied when he bent down and smiled at her. All lies when he said he wanted to speak her nanae. He had lied when he said he didn’t want to hurt what remained of her family.

Lies.

Her nanae may have lied to live, but they did not live their life in constant denial of who they were, of what they were doing. He had refused to see her world as more than a husk of what had been. He did not see her as a person, only now does he see her true strength because she has forced him.

She did not defeat him. He killed himself, destroyed the world and everything good she had ever known. Any person she has ever loved, gone.

And now here she stands, doomed to death, blessed to hopefully see her mama again. Her nanae. Uthvir. Aili. So many others that had fallen, telling her to run, to keep running. But eventually she ran out of road and she turned to face the wolf at her back.

She blinks away the tears and stares him down. His eyes are open again, swollen and lifeless. Ready to die, anguish staining part of his being. What pain does he know? All he does is inflict it – this is his fault.

“I did not want this to happen.”

“It did, what you wanted doesn’t matter now,” she growls. He blinks slowly and looks into her eyes. She hates him. It is a visceral thing, hating him. Knowing that all of her suffering, all the death, all the trials she has gone through is because of him. Her childhood ripped from her because of him. A loving mother, nanae, Uthvir and Aili who were practically family to her. The scars on her body.

The world burns in hues of orange and red, too large and great to be tamed by her. She tried. She tried so hard to stop it.

But smoke fills the air and her lungs. It stings her eyes, prickles at the back of her throat.

Kill him, da’len, Nanae’s voice whispers in her ear.

Kill him and be done with it, Uthvir’s voice says.

I don’t want you to die alone, sweetheart, Mama’s voice echoes. Her hands tremble, cursing internally.

She gives a great cry and drops the spear, falling to her knees, sobbing.

“I hate you, I hate you,” she cries, arms coming around herself. Her body aches and trembles and she almost hopes he drives the knife down, but instead she hears his own sobs. He doesn’t deserve it. The tears. He did this, he destroyed everything, whatever sadness he feels is nothing compared to hers.

“Stop…it,” she cries, “you did this.”

“I know,” he sobs.

“And for what? Why did you do this? Did you hate us that much?” She demands, looking up from her prone position. Her skin is cold despite the heat all around her and she longs for death at this point. To see her mama, her nanae. Her family.

He shakes his head, “No. I never hated you.”

“Stop lying, there’s no use in it.”

“I did not think you consequential enough to hate you,” he clarifies and she laughs bitterly. A terrible truth, not a lie. He didn’t care enough to even hate her, hate them.

“If this isn’t what you wanted – what did you want?”

“What does it matter now?”

“Because I want to know what my mother died for.” Her tone is cold and she wishes pain with every word. She should kill him.

A large flare crackles in the distance and she frowns at it. The flames reach up towards the roiling sky and grows into a full blaze. That is what will kill her, she thinks. Or the smoke. Maybe Fen’Harel will finally slay her too.

He looks towards her, face streaked with tears, blood, and dirt.

“Ashokara….”

“My nanae. My friends. My family. Why did you kill them?” She asks, this time more softly. It is the softness that hurts him most. That he forgets that she is only eighteen, still capable of softness despite the world burning around them.

“I planned to revert the world to the state it had been in before Mythal died,” his voice is thin as the smoke begins to fill the air.

“Melarue and Uthvir were alive then,” he tells her and her brow furrows.

“Why are they worth more than my mother? Than Aili? Than…everyone?” She asks and he shakes his head.

“I hoped it would be some consolation.”

“My mother is dead, I am about to be dead. There are no consolations in that,” she coughs and blood spurts up with it. It comes for her soon then, good, she is weary of this world. He doesn’t get solace in any life, whatever he has remaining whatever he may have ever again. But Ash will get some, she’ll see her mama again, she’ll not feel the crushing weight of the dead. Suffocating as she tries to soldier on.

Survive, da’len! Nanae had shouted, sending her running down the escape tunnel. She had tried, but now…now it is time to not.

Let go, Aili had whispered.

But she can’t.

Not now, not ever, she thinks. The only grip that is slipping is the one she has on life. Fen’Harel will die, his blood sinking into the ash beneath them.

She lets her head fall back and exhales. Smoke drifts up from her mouth, a flame dancing in her mouth, sputtering and dying quickly. With the Veil down, her magic feels wild and unrestrained, an untenable burning that had swept away many of his soldiers. She helped burn the world too.

“We were always people,” she tells him.

“I know.”

“Stop saying that! Because if you knew, then this wouldn’t have happened!” She spits. He lets out a long sigh and she is filled with the urge to hit him. Only her fatigue keeps her down.

Fen’Harel falls back, clutching at a wound on his stomach. All they do now is wait until they are overcome by their injuries or the fire gets them.

“Your soul will never sleep,” she tells him, “but I will see my mother again.” It should hurt him, she wants it to hurt him, but he leans forward toward the sky, a light in his eyes. No, no. She knows that look, that spark of hope. She reaches for her spear, ready to strike.

“What are you looking at, wolf?” She demands, following his line of sight.

“It’s a fold…” he murmurs. Ash narrows her eyes. Him and his damn Fade. “Maybe not all is lost…”

“Just…die, be done with it,” she begs, hauling herself to her feet. She raises her spear once more, aimed for his heart. He looks over to her and lets out a breath.

“Focus, Ashokara, one more time. Do you feel that pulsing? The shifting of magic?” He pleads. She scowls but she does feel it, the swirling, pulling strands of magic.

“What does it mean?”

His breathing becomes labored but he smiles, the sort of sick smile a dying man smiles when he realizes he hasn’t died for naught….

“No…no, you couldn’t win – it didn’t work!” She fights but he shakes his head.

“You can change it. Pull on the magic, think of when you’d want to go back to, a memory will work.”

“I have never been good at that magic, you know that,” she says. He nods, and looks back over her shoulder at the green light.

“I know.”

Fen’Harel looks back at her, eyes no longer hopeful but determined. In a flash he reaches over her hand and pulls her spear down into him. Magic blooms from him and from where his hand touches hers, a pain so brilliant springs forth. She is thrust back from him into the churning sky, screaming. She watches as his body falls to the ground and the smoke finally engulfs him.

Dead.

She tumbles into the sky, the magic pulling her forward, and back, pushing at her, asking her, demanding her. Chaos envelopes her and she only has one thought to guide it all.

She wants to go back to before this all began.