#that's such a good bookshop name oh my god

[cevansbrat0007]

New In Town

Summary: Introducing Chapter One of my Sweet Renegades Series. Sparks fly when you accidentally find yourself sitting next to Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Mentions of Death and Grief, Mentions of Book Boyfriends, Allusions to Disordered Eating, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Major thanks to @curls-and-eyeliner for helping me plot out this chapter. This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It was happening again. You could feel him doing it. You knew without turning your head that the bastard had gone back to staring.

At you.

Gritting your teeth, you make a point of adjusting the skirt of your dress before returning your focus to Reverend Turner at the pulpit. Trying your best to ignore the hum of electricity in your veins, you find yourself wishing that you’d opted to stay home today. After all, you hadn’t been to church in ages. 

So what on earth possessed you to return today?

It’s not like you were concerned for your immortal soul or anything. On the contrary, you and God were good. You were even on speaking terms again – now that you’d finally forgiven him for calling your Uncle Leon home before you were ready to let him go.

That had been nearly three years ago.

These days, your grief has taken a backseat in favor of running the town’s only bookshop, Baubles & Quills. Once owned by your Uncle, the store had become your sanctuary as you’d struggled to cope with the loss of the only family you’d ever had. 

And now that you’d deemed life worth living again you’d apparently decided that attending Calvary Baptist Church’s Sunday morning service was a good idea. But the one thing you hadn’t counted on when you’d politely – and strategically – taken a seat in the pew closest to the door was that you’d end up sharing it with the likes of him.    

That bounty hunter fella that you’d been hearing about for the last week. His arrival had practically sent your little town into a regular feeding frenzy. Word on the street was that he was investigating something that had to do with your old high school pal, Martin Westbrook.

At least that’s what Charline Marshall had said when she’d stopped by your shop to return a book she’d purchased because she didn’t care for the ending. While you weren’t usually one for gossip, you’d been intrigued by her, ah, description of the handsome stranger that had taken up residence just a few blocks south of where you lived.

Two Days Ago…

“His name is Ari Levinson. Kinda strange, right?” She’d whispered conspiratorially, running a hand through her copper colored tresses . “But he’s a tall drink of water with the prettiest blue eyes I‘ve ever seen.”

“Oh really?” You’d mumbled, frowning at the crease that adorned the spine of the paperback book in your hands. Another one for the discount rack.

“Mhm. He’s handsome all over.” Charline had continued, picking up one of your more elaborate looking bookmarks and pretending to study it before using it to fan herself. “And not only that, but…” She’d leaned in then, allowing her freshly manicured nails lightly graze your arm. “I think he likes me.”

“Oh? Has he come out and said that?” Your eyes had gone wide with feigned interest. Because of course the man would be into Charline Anne Marshall. Who wouldn’t be? The woman was beautiful and, what’s more, she knew it.  

“Well, I mean…not yet.” The woman had let out a disappointed little sigh. “But I’m almost certain he will. I’m just giving him time to get settled in, you know?” She’d said, her perfectly painted lips curving into a smile as she held out a hand for her change. 

“How kind of you.” Good Lord how you wished you could hurry things along so you could go back to enjoying your peace and quiet. 

“Ari has already interviewed me twice. He even gave me his number, just in case I happen to remember anything else.” She’d tucked the cash from her return into her purse. “I think I might call him up and tell him that my memory works best after a couple of drinks. Think that’ll work?”

“I guess you’ll never know if you don’t try.” Even though you were annoyed, you’d pasted on a fake smile and closed the register, hoping that might be enough to convince her to end the conversation and move on already.

“Why, I think you just might be right.” Your unwanted guest held up the bookmark that was still in her grasp, her unspoken question left hanging in the air. “And this?”

“It’s on the house, Charline.” You’d patiently replied, bracing your elbows on the counter. “Best of luck landing your bounty hunter beau.”

“Well, aren’t you just a gem?” She’d all but squealed, sounding positively giddy as she took a step back. “You know, I bet if you spent a little more time out in the real world instead of holed-up in here with all these books, you’d probably be able to land a man too. You’d be awful pretty if you’d just put in a little bit of effort into it. I mean –” 

“No thanks.” You’d simply shrugged, unable to summon up enough energy to be outraged by the dig. 

It wasn’t worth the breath you would've wasted trying to explain why you were better off keeping the company of your book boyfriends. A real man required too much care and feeding for your tastes. 

“If you say so, sugar. But–” She’d responded as she strode towards the door. “Oh! You should come to my next party. We’ll let Mary Kay sponsor your makeover.”   

'No offense, Charline, but I’d rather put a campfire out with my face than attend your next Mary Kay get-together featuring you and ten of your mother’s closest friends.' You'd thought to yourself.

“Uh, maybe. We’ll see.” You’d hedged before turning on your heel and heading in the direction of the stockroom. “Enjoy the bookmark!” God, you’d never been so happy to hear someone exit your shop than you were at that moment.

Which brought you back to the present. You’re startled out of your reverie when the congregation erupts into thunderous applause, signaling the end of Reverend Turner’s sermon.  You knew you were going to have to move quickly if you wanted to avoid any unwanted attention from other members of the flock. 

Or worse yet: be forced into making small talk with Ari Levinson. Assuming that beast of a man actually possessed enough brain cells to actually string together a sentence or two. Which was a shame because he really was easy on the eyes. 

Unfortunately for you, you don’t realize that now you’re the one who’s staring until you notice the corner of his mouth tilt up in a smirk. Shit. The cocky lawman nods his head in your direction before having the audacity to mouth the word: “howdy”. It almost makes you wonder what his voice would sound like. 

Would his southern drawl be thick and rough, or smooth and easygoing? Assuming he was southern, that is.

Feeling your cheeks heat, you make fast work of grabbing your things before scooting out of the pew, doing your best to sneak out of the service before everyone is formally dismissed. The absolute last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were like every other woman in this town who was willing to practically trip over herself just to get a good look at him. 

On your way out you brush past Sister Mary Jo Winans, who is all too eager to follow you out the door and halfway down the front stairs.

So much for making a clean getaway.

“You’re not staying for the potluck?” She wheezes, gripping the railing as she struggles to catch her breath. 

“Afraid not, Sister Winans.” You tell her while digging through your purse for your keys. “I’ve gotta go home and change so I can head over to the shop.”

“But it’s Sunday, honey.” The matronly woman huffs, adjusting the angle of her wide-brim church hat. “This is the day that the Lord has made. We are to rejoice and be glad in it. It’s all right there in the good Book.”

“Be that as it may, Sister, I’m afraid I can’t stay. Plus I wouldn’t feel right about eating when I didn’t bring a dish to contribute, so…” You offer up a one-armed shrug. “Next time.” 

You also weren’t a fan of eating in front of people. You were always self-conscious about whatever you put on your plate, convinced that you were being judged for your choices. Your stomach growls at the mention of food, reminding you that you’d left some cottage cheese and fruit behind at the shop. That would just have to do until you found the wherewithal to make it to the grocery store.   

“But–”

“Next time. I promise.” You kindly interrupt, hoping that she would just let the issue drop. “By the way, I set aside a copy of Joyce Meyer’s latest book for you.”

“You did?”

“Yep.” You confirm as you begin walking backwards towards the nearby parking lot. “Stop by anytime. We’ll consider it an early birthday present, alright?” Smiling when she nods, you toss her a little wave before speed walking the rest of the way to your car. 

Unlocking it, you climb in the driver’s seat and slam the door before gunning the engine. Finally free, you peel out of the lot and turn onto the empty street. Needing to focus on something other than your thoughts about a certain bounty hunter, you decide to turn up the radio, praying for your traitorous brain to cooperate. 

Yeah, no such luck. 

“Fuck you, Levinson.” You spit, wishing that he was close enough to hear you right then. Because the way you saw it, the sooner he packed his shit and moved on, the better off you and everyone else in this godforsaken town would be. And if he knew what was good for him, he’d stay far away from you.

He’d have more luck getting information out of a drunk Charline than he would trying to get you to spill your guts. And the moment he threatened you, you were planning to call Bell’s Creek PD to let them deal with it. Until then, you had some empty shelves to stock. But first…

You were gonna need to find someone to cut you out of these damned spanx.

END 

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[bettysupremacy]

HI oh my goodness i just flashed through ur entire page (its LOVELY writing) and i desperately need more!! I noticed the lack of Remus request so here i am B)

OKAY could I request plot for before remus and the reader are together? Like how they came to be ^^ mm maybe like "coincidentally" him running into her at her favorite bookstore or coffee shop (ITS CLICHE IM SORRY BUT I LOVE THESE LOCATIONS) until he finally asks her on a date !! (and maybe his friends spying on him just becuase hehe)

thank uu

HELLO I appreciate the support and there definitely is a lack of Remus. It’s cliche BUT CUTE! thank you for the request babe!!

“But I can’t just.. talk to her.”

“Why not?” James deflates. “Girls love that!”

They sit at a tiny table, in a tiny bookshop, in an even tinier cafe built in. The air crackles with cedar wood and vanilla, swirling around his hazy mind. It’s cozy and intimate but he has no place to put his legs, he sits awkwardly, leg bouncing anxiously. It accidentally hits the table. Sirius flinches from his mug.

“I’ll scare her.”

“Well then,” Sirius stirs his coffee. “don’t be weird.”

They came to study- or rather Remus came to study and his shadows came along. It’d been fine at first, computer out, a quiet Sirius. But Sirius has never had the patience to play quiet for long, especially when James is near.

“Maybe I’ll just leave it..” Remus murmurs.

Two voices shout at him. “No!”

Remus flinches mouthing sorry to the people around him. Sorry students he’d burdened with his rowdy friends. Hands to a sticky table, he pushes up. “M’Kay, I’m going.”

His feet feel heavy. He wants to do this, he wants your number, but god he doesn’t want to do this. Rejection is enough, but rejection in front of his two best friends? Looking back at his table, James encourages him. Two thumbs up and a hopeful face.

“Oh, shit!”

He’s crashed into you.

“Oh,” you startle, stumbling.

James and Sirius sink into their seats behind you. “Wow.”

Remus stabilizes you. “M’so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off.

“No seriously, shit, I’m sorry.”

You laugh, high and sweet. “I’m fine. At least there wasn’t coffee.”

“Has that happened?”

“Yes,” you breathe a laugh, dusting off your pants nervously. “before an interview.”

“That’s awful.” He’s genuine.

“It was kinda,” you ease. “they weren’t nearly as nice or attractive as you.”

He swallows. He thinks your pretty, very pretty. His eyes catch on your lips, your eyelashes. That’s a weird thing to notice, right? Eyelashes? He’s usually smoother than this, he wishes he was smoother than this. He’s embarrassed.

You flatten over his doubts like you can read his mind. “I’m clumsy, we can say this was my fault.”

“Noble.”

You shrug. “It’s not far from the truth.”

“Not very chivalrous of me.” He laughs a little.

“It’s okay,” you’re comforting, he likes that. “Did you need something over here?”

He scratches his neck, speaking before he can himself.

“Do you wanna,” he doesn’t know what to say. He started the sentence and backed out too late, but you stand there with patient eyes. He swallows a whine. “I’m usually a lot smoother than this, yanno?”

You laugh unabashed. “It’s okay.”

“Falling on you like a building threw me off, I’m sorry.”

“Let’s start over?” You ask. “What’s your name?”

“Remus.” He sounds a little more confident. “I was over there,” he points to James and Sirius who wave. “and I thought you were pretty, would you wanna get drinks sometime?”

You hold back a laugh at the formality of it all. “Yes, do you have a cell?”

“Yes.” He breathes, pulling out his small phone decidedly. He doesn’t rarely use it, ‘cept for plans. Skipping past texts from James, Sirius, Lily.. etc, he opens the little contacts icon. He doesn’t ignore them purposely, he just prefers to call.

“Here,” you smile, taking the phone from him gently. “this is where you can reach me if you want to buy me another cookie.”

He looks down, he hadn’t noticed the fallen treat.

“Don’t” you start firmly with an easy smile. “say sorry.”

He laughs, holding back another sorry. “I’m free tomorrow.”

“Perfect.” you reach down to point at the pen in his pocket. “Can I see that?”

He nods, pulling out the pen for you. It’d been abandoned at the same time he’d realized studying was no hope. His fingers brush against yours as he gives it to you, but you don’t let his hand far. Gently grabbing it, you look up at his confused eyebrows for a confirmation. A gentle can I?

“Oh,” he breathes, nodding. “go ahead.”

You take the pen to his skin and work the ballpoint over the rough surface. The ink bleeds into him as you write the address. You notice his scars, jagged deep tissue, and ignore them. His ears heat up. “Really good drinks here,” you explain “and next to a bakery.”

A laugh stumbles out of his lips before he can stop it and you look up to grin. “Noted.”

Letting his hand go, you watch him bring the scribble up to his eyes to read it. It’s messy but he thinks that has something to do with his scars rather than you.

“Time?” Remus asks, and you grab his hand again, writing a messy 8PM under your other ink marks. “I’ll uh see you there.”

“Perfect.”

He turns to walk, almost immediately turning back and grabbing your arm quickly. “Wait, what’s your name.”

“Y/N.”

“Remus.”

“I know.” You laugh.

He knows you’re not laughing at him, but he cringes anyway as he walks back, heavy with embarrassment, triumphant with the thrill of a date. the boys pat his back when he sits down.

“Poor thing.” Sirius consoles.

James scoffs. “He got the date!”

“But still,” Sirius sulks. “that was embarrassing.”

Remus glares. “Thanks.”

“Well go on,” James starts. “show us the writing.”

Remus sticks out his hand for the boys to see. They hum mildly, looking at him with approval. “Nice bar.” Sirius nods.

“Next to a bakery.” James affirms.

“I, uh,” Remus scratches the back of his neck. “made her drop her cookie.”

“You dickhead.” Sirius laughs.

“I didn’t mean to!”

He slumps in his chair as James hits Sirius. They argue, petulantly and boyish, and Remus looks away. You stand at the register buying a book he doesn’t remember you holding when he’d knocked into you. Smiling at the cashier you grab your change and the bag of goods you bought. He feels weird watching. This has got to be weird, right? But as you walk out, you glance to him, lifting your hand up to your ear during the doorbell chime.

Call me.

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Coy Messages & New Love (Daddy Dom!John Price on Tumblr Headcanons)

Or: More headcanons for a story I might write someday.

CoD Masterlist

Username: CaptainBear

He’s a soft Daddy Dom but with a rough edge. So is it any surprise John is very possessive yet also genuinely caring?

And kinda heartbroken you don’t live in England despite coming across as British.

Is always the first to like your posts.

And despite the rules you set, especially the DNI if you’re 40+ (in my mind, John is about 42), you allow him to interact with your content.

Because there’s something drawing you to him, something inexplicable that craves his attention. Something that keeps you hoping there’s a chance.

Your heart almost leaps out of your chest when you receive a notification.

CaptainBear sent you a message.

CaptainBear: Hey, I just wanted to say I thoroughly enjoy your blog and you seem like a very darling girl. And pretty to boot! You probably won’t respond to this and that’s fine, but I thought I’d finally gather the courage to pop in and tell you.

CaptainBear: Also, if I may be blunt, seeing you wear that choker in combination with that bunny shirt makes it very difficult to think. If you were at base with me, I don’t think I’d be of any use. Mission planning would be nigh on impossible.

(your_username): Base? What do you do for a living?

CaptainBear: I’m in the military. Captain.

(your_username): Wow, seriously?! That’s incredible! But, with all due respect, what is a man like you doing in a place like this?

CaptainBear: Satisfying my curiosity. Maybe on a mission to find something.

(your_username): Which is?

CaptainBear: Companionship. With luck, yours.

(your_username): What’s your name, soldier? If you tell me, I’ll see what I can do.

CaptainBear: It’s John. Sorry, should’ve mentioned that. Quite a generic name too, I know.

(your_username): It’s alright, John. Is it short for anything or just John?

CaptainBear: It’s short for Jonathan, but only my Mum calls me that.

(your_username): But what if I did?

CaptainBear: God, you’ve got no idea how much I now want to hear you say it.

(your_username): Maybe someday you will.

He regularly checks up on you, even multiple times a day. Look, John just wants to make sure you ate, stay hydrated, and are healthy.

When he's on leave, it's not uncommon to get a message from him accompanied by a picture of a pint with the context he's at a pub with his pals. More often than not, it's followed by a confession he'd rather spend the evening with you.

Loves it when you send him photos, especially to show off new lingerie you bought.

Thrives on the knowledge he gets to see more of you than anyone else and loves the thought you’re showing others what they can’t have.

Because it’s all his.

Has confessed to jerking off to them… a lot.

Shares little bits of his day with you. He’d be at a bookshop and ask you to pick something for him to read or your recommendations. Or he’ll be cooking and be struck with curiosity because what is your favourite food? What do you like to eat?

CaptainBear: Y/N, I made a brownie.

(your_username): Oh, is it any good?

The photo he sends you answers the question. Nevertheless, just to be sure and give him the chance to give context, you send a follow-up question. (your_username): Did you use 90% cocoa chocolate or is it…

CaptainBear: It’s burnt… so now you know I can’t bake. I’m a man of many talents, but baking isn’t one.

(your_username): I’m sure you more than make up for it otherwise, sir.

CaptainBear: You’ll find out when we meet, my dear.

Assures you that when he’s away on deployment he’s not making up a lie to be with another. And in order to prove that, John will sneak in photos to show you he’s really in Iraq or wherever else.

Drives the task force up the wall because he gets quite lovey dovey in private.

Leaves compliments on your posts which are laced with possessiveness and his obsession with you (my pretty Dollie, sweet little thing, etc.) on your posts. He tags you in photos and reblogs too to let you know what he's into, thinks you like, and hopes for your relationship and possible future.

Furthermore, he also shows you claimed him via reblogs and by stating he’s ‘taken and proudly devoted to (your_username)’ in his blog’s bio (even before he's asked for your submission, which he is pretty sure you'll give him. Until then, it's a way to stave off unwanted attention).

Gets especially gooey with lust and affection when you show him the plushies you’ve crocheted (totally not saying this because I crochet, haha). Like, he’ll immediately brighten when he sees a '(your_username): John (and occasionally sir or even Daddy later down the line), look at this!' followed by a photo of you snuggling with your new animal buddy.

As time passes by and you two get to know each other in more ways than one, you finally decide to meet. The moment you tell John you booked a train to London during the time he’s on leave he’s overjoyed. Ecstatic even.

The moment you enter King’s Cross, he spots you and practically runs over to wrap you up in a warm bear hug before you can get so much as a greeting out. The only sound you make is a surprised squeal as he lifts you up and twirls you around. “My little lady, finally home.”

At last, you regain your voice. “Hello to you too, Jonathan.”

Though he loathes hearing anyone else use his full name, he melts on the spot when you do. Moreover, he’s flattered you remembered the promise he thought was an empty one, a fleeting wish.

Turned into a dream come true.

Takes you out for coffee and Build-A-Bear as a first date the day after because your first day together gets lost to unpacking and settling into the Hackney townhouse he calls ‘home’. Lost to getting the messages (holding hands all the while), learning how each of you likes their coffee, what his favourite cigars are, what your favourite food is.

Lost to the feeling of what it’ll be like to live together.

It’s surprisingly much easier for John to tune into you than he expected. Henceforth, he picks up on the hesitation that underlines your movements, the slight shudder in your lips while he tries his best not to get completely lost in you.

“We don’t have to do this,” he hastily says between kisses, needing to get the words out before you start something you won’t want to finish.

“No, I want to, John. I want you.” You told him you’re a virgin and have given off clues that the concept of actually having sex is, to be honest, quite frightening. Nevertheless, you’ve put your trust in him and feel secure in his touch, his embrace.

“I know, love, but I mean that we don’t, shouldn’t even, have sex if you don’t want to.” His features soften. “Don’t do it if you feel like you need to to please me because you don’t. I’ll wait for when you’re ready. I told you before, this isn’t about sex or the dynamic. I love you. Love who you, you as a person, are and I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything you don’t want.”

After reassuring him and giving him your consent explicitly multiple times, he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom.

Tries to be gentle the first time, but ends up being rough anyway. He’s utterly enchanted, nay, enthralled by how you look, unraveling over and over again.

All because of him.

Nonetheless, John refuses to cum inside you until you’re on birth control and he has bought a box of proper condoms.

“It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you or cum inside. Believe me, I do, every minute of the day. Drives me fucking mad, but,” he caresses your hair as he pries your legs away from his waist, ”I have to think about your health as well.”

You don’t protest, don’t want to after a soft kiss on the forehead and a husky “I’m sorry, love”. In response, you lightly squeeze his arm and shake your head. “Don’t apologise. I also won’t force you to do things you don’t want to do. Though it’s nice.”

“What is?”

“You looking out for me.”

“‘Course I do,” John snaps into you, picking up the pace again that has you seeing stars, “I’m your captain. Your man. Your bear.”

Those very words, combined with his warm presence, tips you over the edge.

A content echo of his name fills the room, rings in his ears as a satisfied sigh falls from your lips and tears stain your cheeks. It’s this image of chaotic beauty, of gorgeous ruination, which almost makes him break his promise. Nonetheless, after a few more sharp thrusts, he pulls out. Thick creamy white spurts draw an intricate pattern on your skin.

His mark.

John rests his forehead against yours, basking in the afterglow. “I love you.”

Today and the many days he hopes are ahead of you.

[itscherrylipsforme]

The missing piece: Oliver Quick x fem!reader

Part 2 here

Summary: A few months after Saltburn becomes completely his, Oliver still feels like something is missing. Without being able to put a finger on it he decides to pay a visit to Oxford, where all started, trying to find the answer between his old memories. Fate believes that a pretty and sweet student he meets in a bookstore is the piece of the puzzle he needs right now. After all everyone wants to be showered with love, don’t they?

Warnings: Post Saltburn fic, a little bit dark (it’s Oliver, what you expected?), age gap (he is around 15-17 years older), slightly innocent kin? (nothing sexual)

Words: Around 1700

Author's rambles: Okay, I feel in love with him the movie and I am kind of embarrassed about it (It’s not my fault hat the actor has pretty eyes and a gorgeous accent, fine?) For your own good, don’t aspire to have a boyfriend as toxic as him in real life. Also this is my fic on Tumblr, please be nice

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

There is a psychological phenomenon that claims that after achieving something we have been longing for some time instead of the sense of satisfaction we were expecting we feel incomplete, hopeless and already looking forward to our next success. After having the Saltburn's keys just for himself, Oliver experienced that piercing emotion for the first time in his life. If he was painfully unaware of it or simply decided to ignore it remains as an open question until today. The only thing that was certain for him at that time is that he needed some action, a new goal, maybe some entertainment, and specially he needed answers. That’s why he decided to go back to the place it all started nearly sixteen years ago

Oxford hadn’t changed a lot since he graduated, as he had the chance to notice it. Different names, different faces, different decades… But still the same social scheme it was back them. Groups of rich daddy’s and mommy’s children swarming around the campus, pubs where you had to drink to be accepted, and poor little nobodies who had to adapt or die in the process

He rented a large flat not so far away from the university, and in the café just below it he rediscovered a hobby he had always had, but which have been almost forgotten on those last months on the mansion. Looking at the students, being able to read through their facades while accompanied by a cup of coffee, became his new pastime. But people always talk and after some weeks spending the afternoon in the café terrace just lost in his thoughts he realized the odd glances the staff shot towards him, so he decided to hide his true interest behind a less complex and unique one. The next day he went to the closest bookstore to buy any novel that would help him with his purpose, after all, people just ask fewer questions when you are reading on your own. That was when he found you sitting on a couch, legs crossed with a book between your small and soft hands

Pretty, beautiful, gorgeous even. Young, probably still studying at Oxford. On the shy aspect, lovely and smart as he guessed correctly. Sweet smile. Bright eyes. Oh, and some soft curves he was able to peep while he seemed to be looking at the shelves by your side. Wait, was that a blush, what he saw on your cheeks? Another scholarship student as he was back then. The fact that your clothes weren’t from big and expensive brands and that you spent your afternoons in the bookshop without really buying anything was the clue he needed to be sure about it. God, you were adorable, perfect, just what he needed right now and he decided to start working on it

Time had shown him that patience and a good plan could take you far away, this is the reason why, although he was eager to come to you and straight-forward mesmerize you with his tricks, he waited. He spent the next five weeks going to the library more or less daily hoping to see you, and luckily (since he was used to building his own luck) your schedules always matched. He always sat on an armchair to read next to yours, close but not enough to be suspicious. Just after he had made sure you have not so subtly looked at him a few times, he decided to make the move

“The Secret History” a deep silky voice said from behind your seat. His face slightly near to your face which made the words linger in the air for some honey-like seconds “You have a good taste”

“Thanks… Thank you” you manged to say in sweet and shy whisper

“First time you read it?” he asked and a shake of your head was the response he got

“No, I have already read it a couple of times in pdf. But I have never owned the physical book”

“We can have that keep happening, can’t we?” he grinned, and you couldn’t remember if he was the first man who had smiled and looked at you in that way “May I have a look at it?” his large and firm hands came to hold the cover as he stood up and went straight to the cashier “Follow me, darling” the nickname rolled in his tongue, sweet as candy, and before you thought about it, you did as he said. You were obedient, good thing, he thought to himself. He pulled the money out of his wallet in merely seconds, paid for it and hand it back to you

“Thanks, but I can’t accept it” you said slightly embarrassed

“Of course, you can! It truly is an amazing novel, you deserve it” he smirked. His words have had just the reaction he had expected from you, cheeks covered with a tiny hint of pink “I have always found myself relating to Henry Winter, I just need my Camila now”

You were taken back, was that an attempt to flirt? Because if it was, he had your attention. While you tried to make any sense out of your thought, he spoke again

“I am usually on a café nearby, if you are interested you could come sometime” Another smirk, and at that moment you knew that this man was going to be the death to you. Things like this only happened to the main characters in romance movies

“I don’t even know your name”

“ You can call me Oliver, darling”

“I am y/n”

“Beautiful, beautiful y/n, it was a pleasure to meet you. Hope we see each other again”

And you did. Between coffees, books, conversations and more, he had you wrapped around his finger by the time your classes ended. Oliver was sweet, devoted, intelligent… all you could ever ask for in a man. He was straight out of your dreams, and damn he felt you were straight out of his. Innocent, easy to make blush, could keep with his ramblings and most important, you were eager to love, and he was eager to be loved

Yesterday it had been your graduation, when you left the ceremony in that beautiful dress he had insisted on buying you and wrapped your arms around him, he felt like his plan has almost completely succeeded. Almost, you wanted a fairy tale romance, and he was going to give you one. Keeping things slowly and delicate. But when he woke up and felt you laying on his chest sleeping peacefully, he couldn’t help but want to make you his. That had been the only night you had spent in his apartment in your months together. He had sworn to himself that he wouldn't rush, so he didn't. At least he was glad you were coming with him to Saltburn for a few weeks in the summer and you could bet he wouldn’t let you leave the mansion again if he could. After all, you were all that he wanted. His missing piece

Part 2 here

[whatwouldsylwrite]

At least I got you in my head (4)

(3)

Summary: Abby is straight. And then you move in with her.

Tags: modern au, fem!reader, straight!abby (she is doing some comphet bullshit), pining, idiot in love and it's abby, reader is gay and tired.

Notes: Happy pride month, guys! I feel like I committed a hate crime with this chapter, so I'm sorry. It's also longer than previous chapters by 2k. And um, the "hate crime" part (not literal hate crime, just some angst) is rushed because I really didn't enjoy writing it :/

Black haired girl is Yoon Jiwoo from My Name, and she is a badass, if you want to see some female violence go watch some edits of her.

Taglist: @abbyily @lillysbigwilly @gravygranules @blairfox04 @frogtits1 @ccinnamongrl @ninazenuk @urmomsgirlfriend1 @sunkissedbibi @couchgarbage @nil-eena (if you want me to tag/untag you for the whole series dm me please)

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Caitlyn was again looking like a zombie, sipping her bitter coffee slowly. You were sitting in the coffee shop on the campus, and Caitlyn looked at you like a grumpy cat. Or a very pissed off cat. 

Caitlyn wasn't happy you distracted her (saved from exhaustion) from her studies (staring at her paper for an hour). But you didn't care as long as she sat with you and decompressed with her disgusting bitter 3-shots-of-espresso coffee. 

"You look like shit." You told Caitlyn and she glared at you. "You need to spend your weekend just sleeping for 30 hours. You can't do this to yourself."

"I'm fine." Caitlyn scoffed, but accepted the doughnut you slipped to her. "Thanks."

"I swear I will stay at your place for the weekend."

"I don't think you can be separated from Abby for so long, (y/n). Quite frankly, it makes me worried." 

Oh god, Cait had her detective face on, like she was solving a puzzle right now, and it made you nervous. 

"Why?"

"Well." Cait sipped her coffee. "You have the gay yearning in your eyes. Are you, perhaps, falling in love with her?"

"No." You cut sternly, surprising yourself. You didn't expect yourself to have such a strong reaction. "I'm not falling for a straight girl."

"Maybe falling was a strong word. You're crushing on her." The word crushing sounded so alien from Cait.

"It's manageable." You shrugged, not wanting to discuss your own weakness, but not wanting to lie to Caitlyn either. "I know I don't have a chance."

"This is quite upsetting." Caitlyn said and squeezed your hand. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't, I promise. I'm not stupid." You winked and drank your coffee. "Do you want to come to her fight on Friday?"

"I have to finish that paper." Caitlyn groaned. She noticed how you narrowed your eyes on her. "I swear, I won't study during the weekend. But if I push myself I can finish it."

"I'll be at your door at 12pm on Saturday. We will go outside, have a walk in the park, go to the bookshop or whatever nerdy place you want to visit. We both can use some downtime."

Caitlyn sighed but didn't protest.

"I'll text you when I go to sleep. Count 8 hours and then show up."

You nodded, proud of Caitlyn compromising on this topic. She didn't like "wasting time" but if you said it was for your benefit too she usually agreed. You trapped her in taking care of herself by thinking she was taking care of you, and it worked well. 

"Ask Ellie to come with you to Abby's fight. I'm sure she is going to be there anyway."

"You're right." You smiled and took your phone out. You still had Ellie's number from months ago. "Have you talked to her?"

"Yes. We study together from time to time, and sometimes I invite her to play chess." 

"Good. I'm happy you found your nerdmate." You smiled at Caitlyn and she smiled back. "Or is there something else?"

"No, we're friends. Not the kind you are with Abby." Cait looked pointedly at you. "I may be speculating, but I have a feeling she is not as straight as she thinks she is."

"Well, what do you want me to do? 'Hey, Abby, I know you're so deep in the closet you met fucking Aslan but how about you change your entire worldview because I have a crush on you that I totally can get over?'" You scrunched your nose, irritated at nothing in particular. 

"Obviously not that." Caitlyn frowned like she usually did when she was stategising, as if she could find a way to get you and Abby together because she was just that smart. "Well, I think you should start dating again."

You shrugged and looked down at your phone. 

to: Ellie Williams

Hi, it's (y/n)

Are you going to Abby's fight on Friday?

from: Ellie Williams

Hi

Yeah

Wanna go together?

to: Ellie Williams

Yes

from: Ellie Williams

cool 

I'll meet you there

"I'm not going to use other people in order to get over Abby. I'm not fighting fire with fire." You said, continuing your conversation with Cait. 

"You could use a distraction." Caitlyn shrugged in return. 

"I'll just find someone to tutor." 

"And I'm a workaholic with bad habits?" Cait muttered under her breath and bit down on her second doughnut. 

Thursday nights were usually booked for the time to unwind for both of you: you'd come home late, tired and hungry after classes and lessons on campus, Abby would be already home, studying in the living room for her usual seminar on Friday, also tired. 

Abby heard the keys as you opened the door and in a few minutes you appeared in the living room.

"Hi." Abby's chest tightened at your small, quiet voice and she looked at you. 

"Hey." She said gently and panicked, not really understanding why. "You look like shit." Nice save, Anderson.

"I feel like shit." You shrugged and went to your room to take your change of clothes. 

Abby took a deep breath, trying to get her panic under control - what was that? What, she wasn't allowed to be gentle with her friends anymore? What the fuck her brain was playing at? That was concerning. For some reason she kept creating excuses why it was okay to touch you, and that wasn't even the weird, selfish part. The weird part was - why did she even need to create excuses? She was touchy with her friends, and you were touchy too, it wasn't any different from her friendship with Ellie.

But somehow it was, and Abby was confused. She tried to act chill and normal around you, sometimes getting a little more sarcastic than usual. It didn't seem to bother you, but Abby got embarrassed every time she'd suddenly treat you a little rougher because she'd get this weird panic. Honestly, it was pissing her off - you were nice to her, gentle even, and she was acting like a school boy, tugging on your pigtails. 

Just like now. You didn't look like shit, you looked lovely despite being tired, and Abby had a fucking knee jerk reaction to god knows what. 

You came back from the shower, smelling like you, and you sat next to Abby, putting your head on her shoulder. Abby stopped typing, her heart doing a micro somersault: you were so close so suddenly it scared her. Or whatever she kept telling herself, really. 

"I wanna die."

"You're just hungry." Abby murmured and pretended to be concentrating on her studies. "There's leftovers from yesterday or I can order something for you."

You made a tired sound and Abby chuckled. 

"What do you want? Thai? Indian?" 

"Nah, don't waste money, I'll cook something."

"I'm not 'wasting money'. You're tired as fuck." I want to take care of you, she wanted to say, but she was being weird again, so she didn't. "Just pick."

"Let's do rock paper scissors."

Abby won and ordered your usual while you went through the endless list of tv shows for both of you to watch. Now, when you weren't that close, Abby got back to studying - her weird panic could wait until she was done. In Abby's mind her gpa was way harder to fix than whatever emotional things she had going on. 

"Cait really likes Ellie." You said offhandedly, and Abby perked up. "In a friendly way."

"Really?" 

Abby was surprised for two reasons: Ellie had a temper and was only likeable when she was interested in someone sexually, and Cait was so out of her league it was ridiculous. 

"Yeah. They play chess and study together. Cait doesn't study with people, so I guess Ellie is special in that way."

"Wow." Abby chuckled. "I mean, Ellie is extremely smart. Is it your type?" Abby teased, continuing the bit about you crushing on Ellie. However something in her grew anxious at the thought of learning what your type was.

"It's more about her arms, you know." You laughed, looking a little embarrassed at the admission. 

Something felt hot in Abby’s chest as she looked down at her own arms. She looked back at you and flexed her bicep to see your reaction, and it was worth it: you looked dazed for a second before quickly looking away, flustered. Abby laughed at you and you hit her on her arm, embarrassed. 

“Fuck you.” You laughed too, and Abby felt too good in this moment, just laughing and teasing you; she never wanted it to end. "What is your type?"

Abby blinked. Her type? She never gave it a thought before: relationships weren’t something she was too invested in, it never seemed to be worth the effort. She never experienced this head over heels love everyone was talking about, so she never cared to run after boys.

"I don't really have a type." Abby said, thinking back to her not-so-long list of exes. "You know, with men if he is not an asshole it's already a win."

You laughed and Abby smiled, her confusion about not having a type going away.

"Great, we're definitely going to have a perfect love life with these standards." You chuckled and laid back on the sofa, letting Abby get back to her study. 

Abby's favourite part of Thursdays was happening around 10pm, when you'd finish washing the dishes - today it was putting everything in the bin - and Abby'd get her excessive amount of pillows and blankets so you two could cuddle and watch the next episode of the ridiculous show you both were too invested in. 

"Come on, come here." Abby said a little impatiently while you were putting some pillows away. 

"I'm not the one who made a fucking fort out of pillows." You grumped but soon enough you put your head on Abby's shoulder, your hands tucked in front of your chest. Abby always expected you to hug her around her middle, but you never did, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. 

Sometimes, very rarely, when you'd get too tired, you'd fall asleep on Abby's chest, and Abby never had the heart to wake you up. You already showered, everything was clean and you didn't have any tasks to do, so why would she wake you up? Just so you could walk to your bedroom, your sleep interrupted? No. 

Abby looked down where your head was, curious if you were asleep after the episode ended, but you looked up just as she lowered her head, and fuck you were too close. So close Abby's heart fucking malfunctioned and started beating five times faster. She could feel your breath on her face and something was demolishing under her ribcage - it happened in a matter of seconds and you moved away, creating the distance between you, but Abby was so scared in that moment she didn't breathe. 

"Do you need to study?" You asked as you moved away and sat next to her. Abby tried not to feel disappointed at losing your warmth. 

"I'm done, actually. I feel kinda confident about tomorrow, you know?"

Abby stood up and started tidying up the living room, putting everything in its place.

"You're smart, Abby. You'd nail that seminar, I promise." 

"Thanks, (y/n). You're coming tomorrow to my fight, right?"

"Yeah. I even cleared my schedule for it." You said, pleased with yourself and Abby smiled. "But I'll kill you if you get hurt, you hear me? No missing punches."

Abby laughed and came closer to you, refusing to feel weird about being affectionate with you. It was fine. 

"I will be careful, I promise." Abby murmured as she leaned down and kissed your forehead. "Don't want to get in trouble with a woman who feeds me."

"Damn right." You said sternly. "Good night, Abby."

"Night, (y/n)."

You only had a vague idea about MMA fights: you were never really interested in sports, let alone violent sports, but well, Abby invited you so you decided to give it a shot. You weren't sure you'd like it (seeing Abby being punched? No thank you), but Abby wouldn't have invited you if it wasn't important to her, right?

Or were you fantasising again? Making a big deal out of nothing? Fuck, it was getting harder and harder to keep yourself in check with these things. Abby was sweet, and you were weak for sweet girls. 

You tried not to get delusional when your suspicion got too strong - was it intuition or wishful thinking? Were you seeing things that weren't there or were you ignoring what was? You didn't know, and yeah, it was manageable, but also - it drove you crazy. You couldn’t live like this, questioning Abby’s every move and every word.

Maybe you should have talked to her about the possibility of her not being straight, but her best friend was a lesbian, surely Abby had a moment to reflect on her own sexuality like some straight girls did when they found out their friend was gay. Abby was smart, she’d have figured it out already. 

God you thought you weren’t that stupid, but you were failing not to fall for Abby for a month and a half already. Hubris is a bitch, huh.

Ellie met you outside the place where the fight would take place fifteen minutes before the start. She looked good, as attractive as always - yes, (y/n), you needed to look at women you actually had a chance with, good job, keep it up - and the look she gave you suggested she thought the same about you. She even took your hand in hers as she led you to your seats, and you didn’t protest - somehow Ellie being touchy felt natural, and her cool hand felt nice on your skin. You sat together and you looked around.

“There’s supposed to be medics around, right?” 

“Yeah, but Abby doesn’t get super injured, she’ll be fine.”

“Have you seen her face? I almost went into cardiac arrest when I saw her.” 

“That’s her usual day at practice.” Ellie shrugged, her thigh warm against yours as she moved closer to hear you better. “Don’t worry, she can take a lot more than that. She is tough and intimidating, and she actually knows how to duck. But if you tell her I said it - your ass is grass.”

You laughed at Ellie's words and she smiled back. She explained to you how the fight was going to happen, and you felt a little hopeful - how much damage can happen in a five minute round? Not a lot, right? Right?

There were other fights too, and you had time to adjust to the overall violence of it all. You didn't know the girls who were fighting, but even then when a stranger got hit you couldn't help but flinch. Ellie noticed how stressed you were getting, so she took your hand in hers to ground you. The touch was definitely easy between the two of you, and it was comforting, so you squeezed her hand back. 

"I don't know if I'd survive this." You laughed and Ellie squeezed your hand back. 

"Look, they're all fine. No blood, no bruises." 

"The standards are too low, Ellie. You're in sports too, right?"

"If you call skateboarding a sport then yeah. I'm a hell of an athlete." Ellie snorted. 

"You should've taken Abby with you." 

"Babe, she has been in martial arts since she was four. I'm pretty sure she'd have kicked my ass if I asked her to leave MMA."

You laughed at this, a little bit confused: Ellie was behaving like Ellie you knew, not Ellie that was studying with Cait three times a week. The difference was intriguing. 

Finally Abby's name was announced and you got tense, bracing yourself. But when she walked to the cage, you forgot how to breathe for a totally different reason: she was so intimidating and confident, her defined shoulders rolled back in a threat, and you just couldn't help yourself. She was hot. She was so hot you pressed your thighs together as your eyes roamed over her trained body that screamed power and dominance, her top and shorts letting you see her abs and thighs that could crush your head if Abby wanted to. Fuck. 

Mark you as scared and horny. 

Her opponent was similar to her in size, and you watched with wide eyes as they approached each other after the bell rang. Abby was light on her feet, not too fast as previous fighters, but she timed her punches well, immediately cornering her opponent. But the girl was quick to recover as she landed some punches on Abby's side with her legs and you gasped, terrified.

"Abby's okay." Ellie said to you and you finally exhaled, not looking away from the cage. 

It was the most stressful eighteen minutes of your life, and the relief you felt when Abby was getting the upper hand and she was punching instead of getting punched, was immeasurable. Abby didn't really let her opponent corner her, her face had that calculated expression as if she knew every way this fight could go. That was comforting, but not as comforting as hearing the last bell and seeing Abby's black glove raised in the air to show her win. 

"That was so intense." You admitted as you relaxed in your seat and Ellie laughed, her hands stroking your thigh. 

"Believe me, it wasn't. You need to watch Abby's previous fights, there's some intense shit."

"No thank you." You said. "Do we wait for her or? What the fuck we are supposed to do, actually?"

"She told me to meet her at the party, so we can head out. Are you going to the party?"

"I dunno." You admitted sheepishly. "I have plans tomorrow."

"Come on, it will be fun. You can leave early and still get your beauty sleep. I can even set an alarm for you, Cinderella."

"Okay-okay. I'll leave at midnight." 

Abby arrived at the party a little later than she planned, but at least everyone was already having fun and not yet wasted. She quickly grabbed a beer and went through people to find Ellie and then find you - in Abby's head you were supposed to be with her. Ellie, however, was talking to her other friends - that was how Abby referred to anyone Ellie befriended in university - she was laughing and you were nowhere in sight. 

Ellie noticed her and went for a hug, patting her back.

"(Y/n) said your fight was 'so intense'." Ellie laughed and Abby laughed too, because they both knew Abby had way worse fights. "Congrats on not having your ribs broken."

"You're so sweet." Abby said mockingly. "What did I do to have such a supportive, caring best friend?"

"Nothing you should be proud of." 

"Have you seen (y/n)? I kinda thought she'd be with you."

"Yeah, she was talking to some girl." Oh. "Close to the bar." 

Something not really pleasant filled Abby's chest after Ellie's words, something like disappointment. She expected to see you there, but you were somewhere else, talking to someone else. 

Abby took a sip of her beer and went in the direction Ellie told her to find you. And yes, there you were, talking to a black haired girl Abby didn't know. It looked like the conversation was friendly, and the other girl didn't stand too close to you, which brought Abby relief - what the fuck was wrong with her? Why was she so uncomfortable with seeing you with someone else? What the fuck?

She walked through people to get closer to you, and when you turned your head you saw her and smiled. Abby smiled back and watched you touch the other girl's forearm, saying your goodbyes. The girl smiled at you and motioned at her phone as you nodded before she started to walk away. When Abby came to you, the girl wasn't there anymore and your smile was only directed at Abby, and it calmed her down, the normalcy of your life getting back. 

"Congratulations!" You hugged Abby tightly and she hugged back, stroking your back on instinct. 

"Did you like it?" Abby already knew the answer, but she really wanted to tease you. 

"Liked seeing people getting punched? No."

"But what about all those arms, hm?" 

"I swear to god, Abby." You elbowed her and Abby laughed. 

"Was it your friend?" Abby asked cautiously, trying to pass her curiosity as something casual. 

"Hm?"

"The girl you were talking to. I didn't want to interrupt, sorry." Was she really sorry? Maybe. 

"Oh, don't worry." You said, not answering Abby's question, and it made her feel not good. "Are you feeling okay though?"

"You're such a mother hen." Abby rolled her eyes. "My side is bruised, and she got my lip, but otherwise I'm fine."

"Great."

Abby spent the next hour glued to your side, talking to you: it was fun to be with you outside your shared apartment. Yeah, you spent time together on weekends, but being around a lot of people Abby knew and showing who she was friends with (yup, people knew you because you were a tutor on campus and a lot of them swore they got their credits thanks to you) was a cool feeling. Abby felt cool because she was friends with you. 

"I have plans tomorrow with Caitlyn." You said as you checked the time on your phone. "I'll head out."

"Already?"

"Yeah. But you have fun, okay? Call me if you need me." 

"Need you?" Abby raised her eyebrow.

"What if you get so drunk you'd need assistance?" You teased and hugged Abby. "Have fun! See you at home."

"Okay, mom." Abby laughed and watched you leave, just a bit sad. 

She found Ellie and hung out with her friends until she needed a refill of her beer. And while she was waiting for her beer, someone scooted closer to her and coughed, catching her attention. 

Abby turned her head to see a guy her age with a stubble. He smiled at her and Abby smiled back, a little confused.

"I was at your fight today." He said as he looked her over, and Abby got thrills from his attention. "You know how to throw a punch."

"Thanks." Abby said, pleased. Guys rarely liked the fact she could fuck them up, and hearing a guy saying she was good was ego boosting. 

"I'm Owen." He stretched his hand for a handshake, and Abby took it.

"Abby." 

The vibration of notifications woke you up and you expected to see Caitlyn’s message saying she finally went to sleep. You checked the time - 3am - and looked at your notifications. Indeed, Caitlyn messaged you half an hour ago with “if i see you earlier than 12pm ill kill you”, but there were other notifications. 

from: Abby

Hi im with a boy

sorry

promise we won’t be loud 

Your heart sank, but you didn’t even have time to process your emotions as you heard the front door open and people talking in hushed voices. Of fucking course you woke up just in time to hear Abby come home with a guy. They quickly made their way to Abby’s bedroom, trying to be quiet, but you got hyper aware of every noise. Fuck.

It hurt, and it hurt even more because you were so fucking stupid. You knew from the beginning Abby would never be interested in you because you were a girl, but the safety of your apartment where the two of you existed in your small little bubble made you delusional. 

Abby was just affectionate and touchy, and you were stupid and read it the way you wanted to read it, getting your hopes up. Stupidstupidstupid

You heard the bed creak on the other side of the wall and your throat tightened. Abby liked guys and she was having sex with a guy right now while you felt your heart crush, because you overestimated yourself and thought you could easily manage your feelings. 

The problem was that you forgot that feelings were not manageable and not something you could compromise with. You couldn’t just decide not to feel something and then actually stop feeling it. This mindset trapped you into repression and repression could only go so far, and now the fucking dam was broken. 

You were in love with Abby, and you had no chance and Caitlyn was right: you were hurting yourself. 

You didn’t cry, keeping your composure and snickering at the lack of the noise from the other side: either Abby was very quiet in bed or the sex wasn’t good. That thought made you feel better, not for any noble reason: you were hurt and you wanted Abby to not feel good too, and you didn’t really care at that moment that it wasn’t her fault.

Somehow you fell asleep, not bothered by any noise - that made you smile cruelly again - and you tried not to think about this situation and your own feelings.

Caitlyn was right, you needed a distraction. 

Abby woke up with a pleasant ache in her body and her head hurting just a little. Her bed was empty and she was relieved - she didn’t like to wake up next to someone she barely knew. 

Well, knew enough to have sex with him, but not enough to wake up next to him. Abby genuinely liked Owen - he was easy going and polite, and honestly? Maybe you were right when you said you didn’t really need to know someone to hook up with them. And hey, Abby was so touch-starved she was too touchy with you, so it seemed like a great idea yesterday. It felt like it worked - she was probably too lonely the whole time and now she was relaxed and there was no pull to go and cuddle you. It made her feel guilty - if she stopped wanting to be close to you after she hooked up then it meant she was just selfish this whole time, substituting what she actually needed with whatever she could get from you.

Yeah, she didn’t feel like a good person right now. 

Abby stood up from her bed and assessed the damage: two bruises on her inner thighs and a hickey on her collarbone, not that bad. She didn’t like when guys left marks on her - it mostly caused problems with covering up, but Owen was kinda good with not leaving marks everywhere. 

Abby put her clothes on and made her way to the bathroom when she felt her chest tighten with anxiety: not only Owen was still here, but he was talking to you. Shit. 

Abby felt bad for bringing someone home without actually discussing it with you beforehand and now you were making small talk at 11am with a guy who was supposed to leave a long time ago. 

Owen noticed Abby and smiled at her, and she smiled back. 

“Morning.” He looked down at her neck and Abby blushed a little. 

“Morning.” Abby responded and waited for Owen to come closer to her.

He put his hands on her waist and kissed her on the cheek and Abby melted a little.

“Sorry, I have to go already, but text me anytime.” Owen murmured before leaving a small peck on her lips and Abby nodded. 

Owen left and Abby went to the kitchen where you were drinking tea and looking ready for the day while Abby felt like a mess. The guilt overpowered her and she sat on the chair opposite of you.

“Sorry for yesterday, I know we haven’t discussed bringing people over.” Abby said, but you smiled at her.

“Hey, we are young and horny, can’t blame you for getting your stress relief.” You chuckled kindly, and Abby felt relieved. “He didn't seem like a total asshole.”

Abby laughed, knowing it was a pick at her standards.

“Well, just as you said, don’t really have to know him to hook up with him.”

“See, you’re learning.” You nodded your head approvingly and Abby laughed again. “Actually, while we’re still on the topic, can I bring girls over?”

“I mean, yeah, I think as long as we don’t disturb each other, everything is a fair game.” Who was Abby to deny your own needs when she literally brought a guy over?

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” You didn't look too happy right now, and it confused Abby to a degree, but she didn't ask.

What Abby didn’t know in that moment, that by giving you permission to bring girls over, she started the end of it all.

--------

To: Yoon Jiwoo

Hi! 

Would you like to grab a coffee with me?

[lineffability]

For the sharing a bed prompt list...2 and 8? As well as any others you want to include because they're all delightful XD

"Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

"I- what?" Crowley, drowsy, blinked against the light coming from above. For a moment he thought it was Aziraphale, but it was just the lamp on the ceiling. He sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Right. Bookshop. Lots of alcohol. Late, probably.

Wait. Did you know you talk in your sleep? Oh fuck. Oh Satan. Oh hell. Oh no. Slowly, carefully, Crowley turned his head towards Aziraphale, making sure to avoid his eyes.

"Ah? What'd I sa- I mean. Sure, I guess. I mean I didn't know. How would I?"

"How would you," Aziraphale repeated, suddenly looking a little sad, and Crowley wondered if the angel was still drunk. How long had he been out?

What had he said?

He forced himself to look at Aziraphale. The angel looked normal. Not devastated, or embarassed, or ready to flee and deny and forgive. So maybe it hadn't been so bad. He tried to remember his dream. He coudn't. It was unfair - shouldn't he be able to recall his dreams at will, as a demon? But the realm of dreaming seemed as off limits to him as that of Heaven. (Even the nightmares. Maybe that was a mercy.) Well - he remembered dreams like the humans did, anyway. In shambles.

He wondered if Aziraphale could remember his dreams: access them, rewind them, play them back and forth like a video - then again, the angel rarely slept, he was quite sure. Maybe that was better.

"Do you dream?"

"Me?" Aziraphale looked surprised, and considered the question alongside his wineglass. There was a little bit of liquid left in it. So he had been drinking, alone, while Crowley had drifted off. Oh dear. Maybe he was drowning his sorrows in alcohol, the things Crowley had said. "I prefer not to dream."

"Huh." Crowley sat up. "Why? It's fun."

"It's dangerous." Aziraphale studied his glass more intently, downing the last little gulp and abandoning the empty vessel on the desk.

"Right." Crowley swallowed. Well, he was right about that. "What... what did I..." He looked away. "...say?"

"Huh?"

"You said I talked. In my sleep. So."

"Ah."

"Anything I oughta know?"

"Oh, it was only... you seemed to be in an argument."

"An argument?"

"Yes. Yes - with me, I think."

"With you." Crowley's voice thinned. He miracled his hangover back, the light pressure on his head, as if it might take responsibility for the words that had been uttered. "Makes sense. Who else would I argue with. You're very... arguable."

"You mean I am a worthy opponent. A great interlocutor. A beacon of goodness against your vile--"

"Yeah. Sure. So we just argued, huh." His shoulders relaxed a little.

"It was about pigeons, I think. You said something about no, no pigeon pie, no eating, and rats with wings and God's ugly angels and protection and-" he added a rather dramatic little whine to his voice, not like Crowley at all: "misunderstood."

"Oh." Crowley thought he remembered, now, with Aziraphale's help, a slice of the pigeon pie dream. Aziraphale chasing after the poor pigeons with cutlery in bis hands and a napkin tucked into his shirt collar. Good. Excellent. A harmless dream. Pigeons. Wings. White-ish grey wings, everywhere, he remembered that, and then when the wings had cleared there had suddenly been no more pigeons or pies - only another misunderstood messenger of peace. His angel. So beautiful, amongst all the wings. And then he had--" Oh no. Oh, oh. Then the dream had shifted. He remembered now, and wished he hadn't.

"And that was it, right. Nothing else. Yeah. Pigeons."

"Well, then you said my name."

"Mgphm."

"You said Aziraphale." Aziraphale spoke his name neutrally, without much intonation, and Crowley was glad, because he knew that was not the way he had said it.

"Sure. We were debating pigeons. In my dream. So of course I said it."

"Yes..." Aziraphale was looking at his hands. He seemed to be debating something other than pigeons. "Only it was... ah. Nevermind."

Crowley almost asked. He didn't want to: he knew he had only said Aziraphale's name, and nothing else. He had sighed it against his lips, softly, tenderly, again and again, as he had kissed him, and the wings enveloping them were grey and safe, pigeons and peace. Old messengers, dreams.

He didn't ask.

The moment passed. Aziraphale smiled, congenially, and Crowley couldn't quite parse it.

(Much as Aziraphale couldn't quite parse the way Crowley had spoken his name, in his sleep, the soft tone and the pained, peaceful expression on his face. Much as he didn't want to ask, either. It had been too... It had been too much, too nice. Too good to be able to hold on to it. It was only a dream: it would be forgotten soon enough.)

"It was only my name."

"Yeah. Only your name."

[greenthena]

Metatron is the Murder Hornet

Hear me out. The Metatron is a bitch no matter what. Way back before the bookshop burned, he was a manipulative twat to Aziraphale, but we only ever saw him as a Wizard of Oz style giant floating head. So when we meet The Metatron's corporation is S2 E6, we assume that this is the man behind the curtain, yes? This is the "heavenly" authority who stands between God and the rest of the angels. Are you with me so far? So tell me, why is he wearing Hell's color palette? Black topcoat over a black (or at least very dark gray) sport jacket. Even his shirt has black stripes. His tie is black with his signature sapphire blue sigil design. You know why? Because The Metatron is a demon. Now that I've probably pissed off about half of the fandom, let's dive in.

I'm going to accept that the corporeal form of The Metatron that we meet in S2 E6 is the man behind the curtain. But I'm wondering if, in the same way that the Wizard of Oz floating head spectacle is just a projection the actual wizard (a two-penny magician from Kansas), the Floating Head Monstrosity (FHM) is a projection The Metatron has rigged up rather than The Metatron himself. Essentially, the FHM is the projected "essence" of the asshat with whom Aziraphale spoke before the bookshop fire, the same one who wanted to discipline Gabriel and strip him of his memories. And if it is merely a projection, like the Wizard of Oz floating head, the man behind the curtain is likely in a different physical space.

If The Metatron can control the FHM remotely that suggests that he (the corporeal form or spiritual essence of the Metatron) isn't necessarily stationed in Heaven. Perhaps he can't even get into Heaven, but has managed to project his presence there to manipulate the Heavenly Host throughout the course of history.

Sidestep along with me while I take a quick detour. I promise it's relevant and necessary to understand the implications of The Metatron's arrival in Soho. (But I'm a demon. I might be lying.) Good Omens relies heavily on mirroring* as a narrative technique. One of the most obvious places we see this structure is in character sets: Crowley and Aziraphale, Newt and Anathema, Shadwell and Tracy, Nina and Maggie, Gabriel and Beelzebub. The character sets function as mirrors of one another (angel and demon, witch and witchfinder), while simultaneously reflecting other character sets in the story (Nina and Maggie reflect Crowley and Aziraphale, etc.) But we also see it repeatedly through plot structure--the pair of 1941 flashbacks in S1 and S2; the way S2 begins with Azirphale moving toward Crowley and ends with him pulling away. My personal favorite reflected imagery in the whole damn show is when Aziraphale shields Crowley from the first rain in Eden and Crowley shields Aziraphale from the celestial hailstorm Before the Beginning.

Alright, let's re-route back to Soho, to The Metatron's introduction in S2 E6 and how it embodies mirrored structure. The first shot we get of The Metatron in Soho in S2 E6 is when he's buying a cup of coffee from Nina. He's not actually identified as The Metatron in this scene, and Nina just views him as a regular customer. Next, we see him enter the bookshop and approach the Archangels, none of whom seem to know who he is. In fact Michael just assumes he's a human, tries to shoo him away, and even asks him, "And who are you?" The Metatron never gives his name; instead he presses the angels, "You don't know me?" He then addresses Crowley, "What about you, demon? Do you know me?" It's at this juncture that Crowley identifies him as the big giant floating head, and Aziraphale, in a rush of comprehension shouts, "Oh, The Metatron!"

This scene's other half is the introduction of Bildad the Shuhite in the Job flashback sequence. Crowley presents himself to Job and Sitis, who do not recognize him. When questioned about who he is, he says to Sitis, "You tell me." Sitis proceeds to identify as him Bildad the Shuhite. Crowley shrugs and agrees to the suggestion. This mirroring of dialog shows us that in both scenarios, there's deception in the presented identity. Just as we can't trust that Bildad the Shuhite is who is says he is, we similarly can't trust The Metatron's identity at face value.

When it comes right down to it, The Metatron is a pretty sketchy character. During his S1 interaction with Aziraphale, our angel doesn't even know who he is. The Metatron has to introduce himself as the Voice of God, a go-between, if you will, whom Aziraphale, in all his ageless time in the universe, has never even met or heard of. Dodgy? You betcha. When we see him in the Gabriel trial sequence during S2, he's just one of the several floating heads overseeing the progress of Armageddon Round Two. We're able to gloss over the fact that he's presented as a floating head fairy, because all the angels appear as floating heads in this sequence. However, unlike Uriel, Michael, Saraquel, and Gabriel, we never see The Metatron interact with the other angels in anything resembling a corporeal form.

So with this evidence, let's return to mirroring structure as a narrative device: a Clue to point us to the crux of the deception that The Metatron is performing. But to get there, we'll need to look at the reflected plot beat for context.

At the end of S2 E5, Crowley needs to get into Heaven to access information about Gabriel. Problem is, since he's a demon, he can't just waltz into the Heaven-Hell-evator and go to the up. He needs an angel to escort him, so he tricks our beloved Inspector Constable Muriel into arresting him: "I'm a demon with knowledge of a crime against Heaven. I demand that you arrest me!" Crowley uses the art of deception to sneak his way into the Heavenly hive.

Once in Heaven, when Muriel starts to fret that she's been tricked and will get in trouble for bringing a demon into Heaven, Crowley tells her, "Angels are like bees, fiercely protective of their hive if you're trying to get inside. Once you're in....I mean....is it even faintly possible that an unauthorized demon might be just wandering around in Heaven unescorted? Bees." Muriel then worries over Crowley's outfit, telling him he looks like a murder hornet, so Crowley changes into his most wonderful and excellent angel disguise.

Still with me? Have a gold star to match Crowley's nail polish.

Crowley's gambit to get into Heaven is a clever tactic, no doubt, and necessary for the final beats of the narrative. But I believe it's also there as the first half of a mirrored plot point that we will see play out in S3. Ya see, Crowley's not a murder hornet. He doesn't infiltrate Heaven to plunder their proverbial food stores or to destroy the hive. He does his quick bit of reconnaissance and is on his way. I think Crowley's ploy ultimately functions as foreshadowing for the real murder hornet: The Metatron.

To get his full essence into Heaven, his spiritual body and not just his projection, The Metatron needs an angelic escort. That's why he's so insistent that Aziraphale joins him on his journey up to Heaven. He needs an angel--one he perceives as an easy target--to break him into the hive. And Aziraphale fits the bill. He's vulnerable, having been implicated in the business with Gabriel, which could earn both him and Crowley extreme sanctions, being struck from the Book of Life. So The Metatron coaxes and manipulates Aziraphale to accompany him to Heaven, implicitly reflecting the way in which Crowley manipulated Muriel into arresting him and accompanying him as his Heavenly escort.

Do I still believe that The Metatron manipulates Aziraphale in order to divide the angel and the demon who, when working together, can produce miracles of un-paralleled power. Oh, hell yes! But that's not something only Heaven would want to mitigate. The sheer miracle force Crowley and Aziraphale manifest when working together is a threat to any oppressive structure that wants to consolidate power, and that certainly includes Hell. The fact that The Metatron realizes he can separate the angel and the demon in the same stroke as infiltrating Heaven is icing on the cake.

So there ya go. That's all I've got for today. Is The Metatron a Demon? Honestly, I don't know. But it's too interesting a theory for me to leave it alone.

*Please note, I'm intentionally using the term mirroring rather than chiastic structure to make this analysis. I deliberated for a while, but decided that it'd be a little loosey-goosey in this situation. So, yes, I am aware of chiastic structure and it's use in Good Omens, I just don't think this quite matches up.**

[i-am-a-l0st-gh0st]

All the stars aligned- Alhaitham X Gn!Reader

"And what name should I put?"

"Alhaitham"

T/w- Bookshop au

Summary- What happens when a pretty man like him walks into a bookshop?

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Working in a bookshop was lots of fun, when you weren’t serving customers or packing shelves you were able to take a moment to enjoy your book. The best part though was seeing the people who walked in. You were able to see their tastes in books, there styles of clothing and how at peace they looked. For most people book are an escape of sorts, they replace the life you have with a new one every time you pick up a book.

Today was one of your best days in the months you’d worked here so far. You hardly had any people walk in which meant you had time to sit and relax. You picked up a book you had been meaning to read for so long. Finally I have time to read. Well that was until he walked in.

He looked perfect. Perfect was probably an understatement, but no other words could describe him. A tight turtleneck, a lovely tricorn black coat, and his pants were an oxford grey. He had a black pair of headphones perfectly placed over the top of his smoky grey hair which had green tips. The male walked into the bookstore without so much as a glance in your direction, which you were glad he didn’t, he would have certainly noticed the colour of your face. You could feel your face growing hotter with each second he was in there. God what was he doing to you.

“I’d like this one, please.” His facial expression showed barely any at all.

“S-sure.” Archons why were you stuttering? “Have you read any of her other books?”

He only nodded, still keeping that same expression. Was he always this cold towards people? You nodded, not sure how to respond even though you asked the question. You weren’t always like this with people who walked in. It just seemed to be this man in particular.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome to enjoy the book.” You flashed him a warm smile, which he did not return.

A few week later the same guy returned to the book but this time looked at you when you walked in. Had you forgotten about him? Of course not! This time he came up to the counter with a book by another one of your favourite authors.

“Guess we have similar tastes.” You added a little chuckle for good measure. You were just trying to be polite. He was sort of on the verge of being rude, but also not.

“I guess so.”

This continued for months, he came in, bought a book you made small talk, then he left. That was until you decided to break the loop and ask for his number.

“Y-you want my number?” Yes! You’d broken his stone face.

"Yes I do." You might have seemed confident but in reality you were a mess.

"Oh alright then." He quickly looks around like he's looking for something. "You got any paper?"

"Ah yes here."

He hands you the bit of paper and you can feel yourself sweating with anxiety.

Oh my god oh my god. He gave me his number!

"And what name should I put."

He smiled for the first time since you'd seen him, god it made him look even more beautiful. "Alhaitham."

[writings-of-a-demigod]

Crowley heard the door open and the bell ring. You came into his sight dragging your feet, back hunched forwards.

“You don’t look good.” He pointed out.

“I don’t feel that good either.” Your voice was rough.

You groaned and laid on the floor of the bookshop “I just want to die.” Your face was flat on the floor.

“Oh don’t be that dramatic you’re gonna be fine.” He took his seat on the couch.

“I don’t feel fine bitch. I’m on the verge of death.” You told him.

“Well then don’t walk into the light.” He smirked.

“I don’t see the light but I do feel the heat. Wait does that mean I’m going to hell?” you raised your head his way and asked “Well it seems right with literally everything I did in my long slash short life.”

You took a deep breath “Goodbye you cruel world. You were always an asshole but I don’t blame you.”

“What in heaven’s name is going on in here?” the angel walked into the room seeing you laying on the ground and Crowley sitting on the couch with his feet up on the table.

“I’m dying Aziraphale.” You reached your hand up in his direction. Crowley rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses.

Aziraphale glanced at the demon and saw the smirk on his face, he just knew it was one of your dramatic breakdowns and sadly he’s the one who’s usually having to deal with you while Crowley was enjoying the show you put on.

“Don’t worry dear I’ll make it better.” He retreated to his backroom to make you your favorite hot coco with marshmallows and cinnamon.

“Did he just leave me here?” you turn your head towards Crowley who’s holding his laugh.

“Well what did you want him to do? drag your ass up?” he asked.

“Mmm yes?” you raised your eyebrow “or at least take pity, I am dying you know?”

The demon huffed “If it was up to me I would’ve dragged you outside and left you in the street.” He smiled.

“Thank God it’s not up to you.” You got up and dusted your clothes “You psycho.”

He just laughed at you. You took a seat next to him and sat crisscross then turned to look at him, he was watching your every move.

“Are you done with your dramatic mental breakdown?” he asked you.

You squinted at him “Shut up.” You told him and he laughed.

Aziraphale came back with more than just a cup of hot coco. He brought a basket that was filled with all the goodies that you liked.

“Here you go my dear enjoy.” He gave you a soft smile.

“Aziraphale you’re an angel.” You told him before digging in.

“Do you feel better?” the angel asked you.

“Much better.” You say with a mouth full.

a/n: Not my best but I needed to write something. The next one will take place out of the bookshop.

*gif not mine*

[youryurigoddess]

A. Z. Fell & Co. bookshop and its statues, part 2

Welcome to the second part of my insane deep dive into Aziraphale’s world of slightly outdated decor, golden-colored trinkets, and their ostentatiously Greek (especially for a representative of an originally Judeo-Christian mythology) symbolism. As a short recap, the last installment covered six pieces in the northern and central sections of the bookshop plus a plot-important medal previously displayed on one of them, but currently left with the other bibelots on the bookseller’s desk. We’ll start right there, where we previously left off.

While a lot of the bookshop action plays out in the circle between the formerly discussed statues, its office part is especially close to Aziraphale himself. As the titular Guardian of the Eastern Gate, the angel consciously spends most of his time in this small space in the Eastern part of the bookshop, confined to his desk or reading stand. This means that the decorations of this area have more personal significance and are most probably used as daily reminders for him to keep his thoughts and priorities on track as much as provide pleasant distraction from the weary eyes.

The two windowsill figures of the Art Deco dancers from S1 were replaced by a somewhat similar set of twin statues by Ernest Rancoulet called Retour des Bois (Return from the Woods). Depicting a young woman accompanied by a putto, Aphrodite and Eros, frolicking in a dance through the woods and meadows. This bucolic fantasy with Aphrodite makes some sense when we consider how Aziraphale’s personal love story started (and will presumably end) in a garden, but let’s deep deeper into its protagonists. Or protagonist, actually, because what else can be told about Love itself?

Eros as the god of Desire is usually presented in art as a handsome young man, though in some appearances he is a boy full of mischief, ever in the company of his mother. It is usually under the guidance of Aphrodite when he employs his signature bow and arrows to make mortals and immortals alike to fall in love. His role in myths is mostly complementary, as a catalyst for other mythological figures and their stories, with the notable exception being the myth of Eros and Psyche, the story of how he met and fell in love with his wife.

In short, they are the original star-crossed lovers from entirely separate worlds who meet and fall in love by divine happenstance, only to be separated by Psyche’s family. Convinced by her sisters that her husband is, in fact, a vile winged serpent, Psyche breaks his one rule and the attempt to kill the monster leads her to falling in passionate love with him. Eros flees and Psyche wanders the Earth searching for him and succumbing to a series of impossible tasks reminding of those from the Scarborough Fair ballad or the more modern fairytale about Cinderella. She ultimately fails, but is saved by the healed Eros, granted immortality and the status of his equal, after which they can properly marry with a huge wedding banquet, a real feast of the gods.

In the Christian Middle Ages, the union of Eros and Psyche started to symbolize the temptation and fall of the human soul, driven by the sexual curiosity and lust from the Love’s domain, mirroring the original sin and the expulsion from Eden.

Oh, and their Latin names? Cupid and Anima. C+A.

We’ll get back to them in a minute.

According to unnecessary but extensive research, the two mid-century table lamps standing over the desk were most probably produced in France after another unspecified 19th century sculptor like the example above, although this particular putti design can be also found in the so called Hollywood regency style of the same time period. The putto is holding onto a cornucopia, a classical antiquity symbol of plenty, which then continues to the bulb section.

The cornucopia is an easily recognizable symbol of abundance, fertility and, to lesser extant, peace and good fortune. Since the horn is phallic-shaped, but hollow at the same time, it combines intimate imagery of both male and female character at the same time, which further ties into notions of fertility. In its role as a fertility symbol, the cornucopia is also usually associated with Demeter, whose small statue is also standing on the bookshop’s counter. Which seems like a recurring theme.

I saw multiple theories about Aziraphale’s centerpiece, but somehow the truth proved to be much less significant than previously thought. This roman soldier, possibly a centurion, driving his two horses in a highly decorated chariot is made from a marble powder resin composite and takes the most visible place in the Eastern part of the bookshop even though it’s seemingly one of the newest additions to Aziraphale’s collection — its author, Lorenzo Toni, was born in 1938 and became a sculpture master by the 1970s. 

At first glance, the parallel to the Marly Horses seems obvious and we could leave it basically at what was written recently on Crowley and Aziraphale’s dynamics. But here is where instead of commenting on the antique sculpture that seems to be the inspiration behind this piece or the many intricacies of Roman chariot racing I’ll do something completely unhinged — i.e., play my Greek philosophy card.

In the dialogue "Phaedrus ”, Plato presents the allegory of the chariot to explain the tripartite nature of the human soul or — you guessed it — psyche. The charioteer is the man’s Reason, the rational part that loves truth and knowledge, which should rule over the other parts of the soul through the use of logic. One of the horses, the white one, is man’s Spirit, a motivated part which seeks glory, honor, recognition and victory. The second horse, the black one, represents man’s Appetite — an ever so hungry part which desires food, drink, material wealth and physical intimacy.

And the fun part? This triad is established to analyze the madness of love. In a classical Greek context, that is not between a man and a woman, but erastes and eromenos:

The charioteer is filled with warmth and desire as he gazes into the eyes of the one he loves. The good horse is controlled by its sense of shame, but the bad horse, overcome with desire, does everything it can to go up to the boy and suggest to it the pleasures of sex. The bad horse eventually wears out its charioteer and partner, and drags them towards the boy; yet when the charioteer looks into the boy's face, his memory is carried back to the sight of the forms of beauty and self-control he had with the gods, and pulls back violently on the reins. As this occurs over and over, the bad horse eventually becomes obedient and finally dies of fright when seeing the boy's face, allowing the lover's soul to follow the boy in reverence and awe. The lover now pursues the boy. As he gets closer to his quarry, and the love is reciprocated, the opportunity for sexual contact again presents itself. If the lover and beloved surpass this desire they have won the "true Olympic Contests"; it is the perfect combination of human self-control and divine madness, and after death, their souls return to heaven.

And such a perfect combination of the motifs already introduced to us by the two Eros statues and the Head of the Victorious Athlete.

Aziraphale might be a titular Companion to Owls (or, to be precise, the companion to one particular Nite Owl), but he had also made sure to have at least one owl keeping him company. And of course, the owl of Athena (who was interestingly both a bird and a snake goddess) is an absolutely conclusion here as the universal symbol of wisdom and knowledge in the Western culture, but it can’t be that easy, right?

In the Bible, you'll find that owls often symbolize something unclean and forbidden, as well as desolation, loneliness, and destruction. This symbolic significance is pointed out in Leviticus 11:16-17 and Deuteronomy 14:11-17 where owls are mentioned among the birds not to be eaten. Owls were considered unclean most likely because they are predatory creatures who eat raw flesh with the blood still in it, and that was an even bigger food safety concern for the biblical nomads than to us today.

Owls are also among the wild predators that have long dwelled in the desert lands and abandoned ruins of Egypt and the Holy Land. Both Isaiah and Zephaniah speak of owls nesting in ruined wastelands to paint symbolic images of barrenness, emptiness, and utter desolation. In Psalm 102:3–6, the owl symbolizes the loneliness of the psalmist’s tortured heart:

For my days vanish like smoke; my bones burn like glowing embers. My heart is blighted and withered like grass; I forget to eat my food. In my distress I groan aloud and am reduced to skin and bones. I am like a desert owl, like an owl among the ruins. I lie awake; I have become like a bird alone on a roof. All day long my enemies taunt me; those who rail against me use my name as a curse. For I eat ashes as my food and mingle my drink with tears because of your great wrath, for you have taken me up and thrown me aside. My days are like the evening shadow; I wither away like grass. But you, Lord, sit enthroned forever; your renown endures through all generations.

It’s a devastating, but still beautiful piece that deals with the feeling of utter rejection, the ultimate bad breakup of the relationship between a human and their God. And this… simply didn’t happen between God and Aziraphale, not even during his Job job. The angel had always considered Her love and ineffability as a given, even when the whole Heavenly Host was against him during the Non-Apocalypse. His allegiance stayed with God, not necessarily Her angels. Which brings us yet again to the motion of Crowley as the owl.

The angel and the demon are the companions to each other's loneliness, but Aziraphale’s needs seem significantly bigger than their Arrangement that he even considered a wooden substitute protectively hovering over him 24/7. He seems to be the one who is the loneliest and most rejected.

Oh, and if you think that putting a small bronze statue of a putto with a bronze putto-shaped candleholder right behind it (visible on the filing cabinet in the bottom right corner) is already a stretch, let me show you what��s on the other side of that wall.

Just like before the bookshop fire, the famous sink in the small backroom is adorned with a perfectly kitschy white plaster sculpture of The Two Cherubs, a small part of a larger painting by Raphael (the painter, not the Archangel) titled Sistine Madonna. In the painting the Madonna, holding Christ Child and flanked by Saint Sixtus and Saint Barbara, stands on clouds before dozens of obscured putti, while two distinctive winged putti rest on their elbows beneath her. with bombastic side eyes and clearly unspoken, but very controversial thoughts about the whole scene and their role in it.

With an attitude like that, there’s no wonder that the putti have inspired some legends. According to one, the original cherubs were children of one of his models they would come in to watch. Struck by their posture, he added them to the painting exactly as he saw them. Another story says that Raphael was inspired by two street urchins looking wistfully into the window of a baker's shop.

The Germans implicitly tied this painting into a legend of their own, "Raphael's Dream." Arising in the last decades of the 18th century, the legend — which made its way into a number of stories and even a play — presents Raphael as receiving a heavenly vision that enabled him to present his divine Madonna. It is claimed the painting has stirred many viewers, and that at the sight of the canvas some were transfixed to a state of religious ecstasy akin to Stendhal Syndrome (including one of Freud's patients).

Their big, seemingly cherubic companion doesn’t seem to have a specific provenance, but what’s left of his limbs might suggest that it could be an infant Jesus as well as another putto. But honestly who knows at this point.

On the other side of the same room, right at the door leading to the big backroom, there are two lamps with Auguste Moreau’s Young Lovers, a bronze sculpture depicting a courting couple on the verge of a physical embrace, holding garlands of roses and hiding under some old vines. Which aligns perfectly with the beloved romcom trope of a rain shelter leading to sudden love realizations, as well as Crowley choosing this part of the bookshop to have a word with his angel in private and then offering his advice on anything related to human love. No wonder that the angel looked at him like that.

This statue carries with it more than one allegorical interpretation, intentional or not. Arguably the most obvious one is the myth of Eros and Psyche, one we already covered in this post. But similarly to his earlier sculpture, Eros also serves here as an allegory for nature and the return to the natural state itself. Like Adam in Eden, he's unclothed and symbolically crowned as a ruler of his domain. Psyche, enamored with his confidence, is about to take her own leap of faith as her fabric restraints fall away. One could say that she's tempted to follow him into nature, deep into the garden of love.

And with that exact thought I will leave you today, dear reader. Through this analysis we learnt many things, among them two significant facts about Aziraphale: firstly, he’s an utter and incorrigible romantic, and secondly, a hoarder. Forget Crowley’s souvenirs — the amount of this angel’s statues is something else. And it isn’t even his hyperfixation!

[justanamesstuff]

The intimacy of being understood

Chapter 1

Matty Healy x f!reader

A/N: I'm so excited and SO terrified about posting this fic. I've fallen for this concept since the first moment I thought about it, I've been having so many feelings writing this sooooo I really hope you guys like it! Let me know what you think, feedback is ALWAYS welcomed!! Happy reading, guys :))

Warnings: breakups, fame, hurt feelings, typos.

Word count: 2 k

Blog Masterlist Series Masterlist

After a quick lunch, eaten at the back surrounded by boxes full of books ready to be sorted out, Kate stumbled in. She was Y/n's friend since kindergarten: one day she pushed some kid –Y/n didn’t remember him– who made her cried and Kate pushed him out of a little chair. Small Kate turned around, offering her tiny hand, and Y/n stopped crying. Nothing came between them since, maintaining a very strong friendship. 

Kate didn’t work at the bookshop with Y/n, she didn’t have the money to pay someone else to help her. She did good money enough to maintain the place and rent a small flat not far away from the shop. Even though, Kate constantly showed up wanting to spend time with her, sharing the latest gossip of her office or ramble about one of her ex-girlfriends she bumped into while helping her with the books.

“She looked amazing- Holly fuck!” Kate’s tone drifted from a normal one to a gasped whisper, interrupting herself. 

Y/n looked firstly to the front door, leaving the spreadsheet on the counter; checking if someone was happening outside. She couldn’t see anything through the window. 

She decided to ask Kate, “What?” 

“Look.” it was very rare hearing Kate whisper, she was all out, a true extrovert. Her friend’s finger pointed to the other side from the door.

Y/n turned her head, still hearing the sound of the angel caller she hanged in the entrance as a bell for when a new customer entered the shop. Her eyes finally fell on a very familiar man. 

“I’m looking, but I don’t see anything weird.” Y/n copied her tone, looking how Matty roamed through the different categories. She felt strange about him not greeting her as usual. Y/n reassured herself, ‘it must be a reason’. Her eyer returned to Kate.

“Shhh.” Kate startled her best friend with the sound when nothing really happened. Y/n glanced at her as if a new eye showed up in the middle of her forehead. 

“What’s wrong with you today?” Y/n inquired. “Sorry, but I’m not following you.” she sentenced.

Kate checked Matty was turned to point a finger in his direction. “That one…” she turned her head like a mad woman. “That’s Matty Healy!” Y/n’s friend said with a hissing voice.

Y/n was so confused, “Do you know him?” maybe he was a coworker, that happened many times before. 

“Oh my god!” Kate let his arm fell, rubbing her face dramatically. “I forget how out of this world you are.” she glanced towards the floor as if she was trying to look for answers.

“Still not having a clue over this.” Y/n let eyes returned to the paper work she needed to get done.

“Matty Healy doesn’t ring a bell inside this mind of yours?” Kate tapped her left temple. 

Y/n brushed her off, trying to think about it, even when the full name didn’t bring a bell. 

“Name plus surname no. Matty comes here all the time.” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Kate stared, trying to decide if she was messing with her or not. “You’re full of shit.”

“No, I’m not. He’s really nice.” Y/n turned the page, writing numbers here and there. 

Matty was indeed a very regular, he had been for more than a month by that moment. Y/n fell quickly into conversations with him when he dropped by. She didn’t give the casual friendship too much thought until that moment.

“Oh, really?” Kate folded her arms, smirking with Y/n’s words. “How nice?”

Y/n couldn’t believe what she was implying, so her sight flew to her friend's face, being the one to search signals that told her she was kidding. Kate wasn’t, she really wanted to know.

“No like that!” the bookshop owner moved forward and beyond Kate’s body to check he wasn’t hearing their conversation. Y/n sighed loud watching him so far from them. 

“Mmm…don’t believe you.” Kate kept pushing her to talk, only gaining a red tint showing on Y/n’s cheeks.

“He started coming here like a few months ago. He looked stressed as fuck…he excused himself saying someone was following him, I’d thought he was talking about a mugger not- whatever he has…fans? I don’t even know.“ Y/n explained.

Kate nodded. “Crazy fans.”

“Well, he stayed a lot over the back of the shop and after- I don’t remember how long… he came back carrying a children's book. I think it was ‘The very hungry caterpillar’, and I got excited over it.” Y/n tried to avoid her friend’s eyes at all cost.

“Of course…” Kate’s voice full of irony. 

“He was buying it for his godson and since then he started showing up here and there…he never explained what he does for a living, I don’t even care.” Y/n admitted.

Kate let her hands fell on top of her chest. “Such a cute story”

“I can’t believe he’s famous.” 

“Yeah, you live under a rock.”

“No, I live inside the real world.”

“Liar.” Kate accused her. “You have your nose inside a book every time I open that door.” she pointed to the front door. 

Y/n gasped and turned, saying, “Aren’t you supposed to help me arrange the new saga?” 

Kate groaned loud. Y/n felt Matty looking their way, but didn’t dare to make eye contact. 

“Why I offered my free time again?” her friend asked.

“You own me! Remember how I had to pick your ass at 4 am at that Soho party you chose to tried to get in and got kicked out?” Y/n felt good teasing her back for once. 

“Thanks for reminding me that.” Kate eyes’ returned to Matty, who moved to sit at the big sofas adoring the centre of the shop. “I’ll go to the back. Shout when he comes over here.” she begged.

Y/n boobed her head up and down in a dramatic way, pursing her lips at the same time. 

“Mhm, definitely going to do that. Be sure I’ll do exactly that.” Y/n spoke to Kate’s back walking away. 

“I need to see if he’s really handsome indeed.” she whispered from the door leading to the storage room. 

“He is.” Y/n added just to mock her.

“Agh, you’re so mean!”

“Work, now!”

Y/n waited until Grace was far away to focus on Matty. He was still sitting on the sofa, now with a book on his lap but looking at the ceiling. She decided it was a good moment to approach him.

“Hey.” 

Matty got startled a little, too deep into his thoughts to acknowledge the sound of her feet approaching him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to…” Y/n felt sorry to scare him.

A big smile showed up in his face, changing all his demeanour. “Hey there. Don’t worry.”

“I couldn’t stop to notice- I mean, maybe you want a moment of quiet, and I’m disturbing you but…sorry.” Y/n grew self-conscious under his attentive eyes. “What I’m trying to ask is, are you alright?” 

Matty felt his heart skip a bit, “You’re the first person to ask me today.”

Y/n frowned, checking her clock. “It’s 3 pm.” she stated.

“I know.”

“So I assume this is not your best day.”

“Not at all.” he said, still smiling, contradicting his own words somehow.

 Y/n decided to change the subject.“What book you chose?” she pointed to the book resting unread. 

“Everything quiet at the front.” Matty read the title. 

“Uplifting I see..” she joked, and Matty laughed. The sound reached her ears and warmed her heart. 

“‘m sorry I didn’t say hello earlier.” Matty apologized. “Didn’t want to interrupt your conversation with the other girl.” his hand pointed towards the front desk.

“She’s my best friend and personal nightmare…Kate.” 

“Where’s she now?”

“At the back, she owns me a few favors so…”

“Mhm.”

“Well, I’m going to stop bothering-“ Y/n started excusing herself.

Matty interrupted, clarifying, “You never bother me, Y/n.” Her name coming from his lips felt different. 

“Good to know.” her cheeks were burning. Y/n turned around towards her desk but desist in the middle of the action. “Can I suggest you changing the book?” she asked, looking inside her tired eyes.

Matty gave her a signal, adding, “Which one you say is better?” 

“It’s a play in fact…’The Seagull’ by Chéjov. It’s also sad but easier to read, I think.” 

“Interesting.” Y/n felt maybe she should’ve kept her mouth shut. “I have to go now, sadly, but I’ll be back soon to read it.” Matty told her.

“I can pack it for you. Have one over he-“ Y/n’s mood lifted a little with the last part, proposing packeting it for him, although she interrupted her again. 

“No, I prefer reading it here the next time I come.” 

“Okay, suit yourself, Matty.” Y/n looked down, not really knowing what to do now. 

“I’ll see you soon, thanks. Say hi to Kate for me.” Matty scratched the back of his head. 

“Oh, that nice…for sure, I’m going to retransmit that.”

“Bye.” Matty lift his hand, waving at her from a few meters far from her.

Y/n followed his form, walked towards the door, and once outside get lost between the people coming and going. 

Kate showed up from behind the storage door, smiling wide at her friend. 

“If I wasn’t so stoked about one of my favourite singer of all times knowing… remotely… who I am, I’ll say that man is sad but down bad for the library girl.” she wiggled her eyebrows. 

“Stop bluffing and celebrate a little.” Y/n tried to distract Kate. 

“Y/n…”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

They had that conversations for months, almost a fucking year, and Y/n knew it as if was a play she wrote. Kate would insist about her dating again, she would say she’s not ready –which was the truth– and her best friend would be sympathetic about it even though she would keep insisting. 

“I saw pictures of that man in love…I know, a bit, how he is.” Kate tried to persuade Y/n. 

“Kate, you really don’t know him. I don’t know him far from Matty, the guy that comes here from time to time.”

“Do you want to know more about him?” she took her phone out.

“No.I don’t. I respect his privacy.” Y/n was pushing her away, closing herself. Both friends knew that. 

“You can’t wound me with this.”

“Fine.”

“Come on! Forget he's fucking famous…he's fucking hot, and he wants you-“ 

Y/n closed her eyes tight, “You don’t-“

“He does. I feel it.”

“Why you have to sexualize this?”

“Because it what he exudes, my love.” Kate placed herself at the other side of the front desk, where Y/n was trying to look busy with books and papers. 

“I don’t want to hear anything else, okay?” Y/n stared at her eyes briefly. 

“Y/n…I know that what you’ve been through is a lot to recover your heart from, but you know he’d want-“ the mention of his wishes angered Y/n, who pushed a book down with too much force. 

“No, I don’t. He never spoked about it because we were meant to spend the rest of our lives together, and then…” Y/n felt tears pooling in the corner of her eyes.

“Oh, my love…” Kate ran around the counter. “Come here.” she hugged her friend. “I’m here, I’m here. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t do it.” Y/n said into her shoulder.

“Okay, okay. I understand. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s too soon.”

“Mmm…it’s never too soon to have a new, famous and hot friend.” Kate tried to lift her mood.

Y/n snorted, “He’s hot.” there was no reason to deny it. 

“Right?! That’s a start! Baby steps…come on, girl! You can do this.” Kate took Y/n’s face between her hands, staring into her red eyes.

“Let’s get back to work, please.”

“Would you take me as an employee if I quit my job?”

Y/n titled her head, “You love your job.”

“But I’d love to see Matty's butt flying around.” 

“Could you stop sexualizing my customers, please?”

“No when they’re Matty fucking Healy!” she shouted while returning to the back.

*****************

Taglist (let me know if you want to be included): @indierockgirrl

[beebopboom]

A Bookshop in Soho Eden

This is not a new idea and after reading these wonderful post by @the-apology-dance here and @queerfables here my brain just got hooked on it. I wanted to see though, if I could take this idea one step further and oh boy can you - so if you want to join me down this rabbit hole I went down strap in for this rollercoaster - I broke it down to three parts that I will post separately

This is technically season 3 speculation as I bring up some points connected to the Second Coming for further down the line

Also I'm just going to lay out the information then connect in all in the end so just stay with me - it will all connect

But without further ado

Aziraphale's Jobs over the years

Let's start at the beginning or just after - the Garden of Eden

Angel of the Eastern Gate and donned with a flaming sword - technically on apple tree duty according to him but we only see him after the whole eating the apple business. What we do see is him doing is opening his “gate” for them to leave, closing it, and then getting questioned by God - specifically about his flaming sword. The next time we see him he is back at his post on the wall - Adam and Eve are quite a bit away by now - and this is when Crowley comes up to him.

The thing I find interesting about this is that he is still there after the apple business is done and over with - and he is still in guarding position, looking out towards the humans

So let's take a look into the actual bible for maybe an answer as to why -

Genesis 3:24 - “He drove out the man, and at the east of the garden of Eden he placed the cherubim and a flaming sword that turn every way to guard the way to the Tree of Life”

Now the Tree of Life is an interesting mention with it's connection to the Second Coming

So let’s take a quick look into what the Tree of life is

The Tree of Life is mentioned in two particular stories in the bible - Genesis and Revelations - or in other words the Beginning and the End

Adam and Eve had access to this tree and were only warned against the Tree of Knowledge because they couldn’t have both - eternal life or knowledge of good and evil

So once they had taken a bite from the apple God then revoked their access to the Tree of Life by banishing them from the garden and placing a guard - no humans were to have access anymore

Until the Second Coming comes around where all the humans who have passed judgement(all the names written down in the book of life) and get to live in Gods’s paradise again - with the Tree of Life in the center and fully accessible. People are able to consume the fruits from the tree once again

The point I'm trying to make is yes technically he was on apple tree duty then but now he is on Tree of Life duty - it’s the purpose of him remaining in Eden, and on Earth among humans. Protection for and against humans

Now Aziraphale had one more job that I wanted to bring up, courtesy of the Demon’s Guide to Angelic Beings who Walk the Earth, and that is Garden Designer. We don't know exactly when he did this so we can only guess - I’m going to out on a limb and say the 16th - 17th century French Gardens

Developed from Italian renaissance gardens, this style of gardening used symmetry, parterres, and geometrical shapes. I’m just going to touch on some key features but if you want to learn more here are some links (here and here)

These gardens tended to start at the house and were meant to be view from above on the terraces. There would be a main path way that would lead away from the house and would come to a circular center that was often just lawn or water sometimes surrounded by trees, it was from here that the garden was broken down into sections. Through the use of geometry they created perspective and optics with rows and designs of the plants placement. Closer to the house these designs were more complex with them getting less complex the further away. Symmetry and control over the plants was a big part as it was a way show a man's mastery over nature. Water was also a key feature mainly through the use of still water ponds that served as mirrors. On top of all these interesting designs the gardens were often decorated with statues. These gardens were meant to tell a story whether viewed from above or walking within - it would seem as though you were going through different rooms

Some of these these design elements might sound familiar and they should - it's only reflected in one of the most visited places in the show

The Bookshop - A.Z. Fell and Co.

Aziraphale opened up the bookshop in 1800, but had been working on it for years as we learn from Crowley in 1793, all due to his love of books. Not that the actually wants to sell his books and actively makes it unpleasant to a customer.

The bookshop also serves another purpose though - it's a safe place. I've theorized before in this post about how something happened before 1793 but after 1601 that made Crowley get in trouble with Hell due to their arrangement - a fear that Aziraphale has had from the start. So Aziraphale took this chance to combine the things he loved and the need for a safe place so he could hang out with the one he loved - all wrapped up in the explanation that he was just doing his job and was able to make it a Heaven’s embassy - unable to enter without permission and easy ways to sneak out. But I’m not here to really talk about the emotional connections -

So let’s look at the actual layout of the bookshop - the bare bones at least

As soon as you go through the door you are hit with a second circular doorway - pointed out to be the omega symbol. In this front little area there are three tables but then we lead into the center of the bookshop with a big circle rug lit up by the skylight and surrounded by four pillars. It is from here that the bookshop opens up into different pathways and sections all directed by the actual bookshelves. Towards the back of the shop is a staircase that leads up to the second floor where you can still look down and around the lower floor. There are statues placed all around the shop with extra tables and chairs throughout and quite a few rugs with some French influenced designs on them laying about.

(credit to whoever made this - you are a godsend)

Rings some bells doesn’t it?

Now you may be asking why these specific gardens instead something more like Eden to commemorate their first meeting on Earth. I mean this is Aziraphale we are talking about - the angel who got himself arrested because he wanted to go on a french date and who decided to learn french, or in other words one of the more romantic languages, the human way. For designing a bookshop that would be their safe space picking a french design is not too far out there.

But what if I told you there was more to his bookshop and the of Whickber Street as a whole.

If you remember the whole Tree of Life rant I went on earlier let me add one more piece of information - the geometry symbol

so is that bookshop is not only meant to represent their Eden but particularly the paradise that is the reward of the Second Coming? Is he actually really doing his job in protecting the Tree of Life from humans? Even if it was a subconscious choice on Aziraphale’s part - could it explain the concept art of the cut dream?

Technically on Tree of Life duty guarding his books/fruit of eternal life from humans in their modern day Eden.

Now I’ll admit it doesn’t line up perfectly but I wanted to include it because my next point can still stand either way - and I’m going to go more into this idea in the other parts.

Rivers of Time

In Eden there is one big river that when it reaches out of Eden it splits into four rivers that water the garden and reach to the ends of the Earth - Pishon(full flowing), Gihon(bursting forth), Hiddekel(swift or darting), and Euphrates(fruitful). The Tree of Life it is said to have a river on both sides.

Now I’m sure we have all noticed the some weird instances of time being messed with in the show - particularly in the streets of Soho. They are sped up, slowed down, and normal speed. Often these roads are also depicted as wet.

So let me throw in the idea of Timestreams

It’d probably be easier to go read that but basically it’s -

The concept that time is always flowing forward or backwards, and meeting in the middle - always on the move always connected - never quite knowing where you step in. Just like the flow of water.

And wouldn’t it be ironic that Crowley, our time stopping demon, and his car are now constantly in this stream of time darting around only to finally stop and slow down in the bookshop

So we can take the four streets of our little spot in Soho connect it to the four rivers and apply some time fuckery - you get a place that is full and bursting with life, people darting all around looking and buying things that make their life more fruitful. But time is a bit wibbly wobbly for the residents, always flowing and connected - past, present, and future - so we get characters that are parallel’s to the past, that may have existed in a different time or universe, and that repeat often.

So if the Bookshop is their version of Eden it would make these streets representative of the rest of the world - what with a street that lead to chinatown and have various French and Italian restaurants along another - this idea is not too far out there

But also if you take the Bookshop as a little more representative of the Tree of Life in particular with the two streets surrounding it - Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death can very easily be equated with the Tree of Knowledge. The whole of Whickber Street is their Eden.

This is what happens when you have an Angel and Demon with too much affect on the world around them living in one spot for hundreds of years

So to wrap this all up please remember this is just a theory and for fun - take it as you will

But if you have followed along this long and I’ve somehow managed to get you entertain this idea of the Bookshop being their slice of Eden - whether Eden itself or just a single part of Eden (Tree of Life) with the whole street being Eden - wait and see for the next part

After all the apple (coffee) did come from within the Garden and then they lost access to the Tree of Life (bookshop)

This was Part 1

In Part 1.5 it just a couple theories concerning the Book of Life and more, like an intermission

And finally Part 2 we discuss the second place the Tree of Life is mentioned, the Book of Revelations, and how we have already seen a version of the Second Coming

[phantomram-b00]

So I saw this meme and it perfectly capsulate how I feel with what I gotta talk about because my love language is talking about my special interest and this brainrot is still strong even if we’re in 2024.

So I know I haven’t done a meta-analysis in a hot minute. I think the last I did was the Coffee theory. And imma be for real, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep going (more on that later) but then I saw this and I said “oh yeah, this is for me to talk about”. As it about Aziraphale. More specifically about people claiming he’s a villain or wrong. Which is hilariously wrong in so many ways.

Mostly because, name one thing about that that automatically made him a villain? Especially with after everything he have done. But also do people not remember the fact that he did deny it at first. After what happen technically five years ago, he want zero parts with Heaven. The last thing he ever wants to do is go back to his former side that tried to kill him just because he saved earth, God’s creation. The only reason he wanted to join was 1) Metatron said he can appoint Crowley. 2) Aziraphale believe if he an archangel he can fix the broken system if it means sacrificing his own happiness. And this is just me personally, 3) Metatron threaten him and even after as he walk with Aziraphale gave him no choice at all. Then again he never really did but I’ll get to that later. None of those reason scream villainous, did he choice heaven? Yeah, but that shouldn’t automatically deem him as a villain. If that was the case, he could’ve been considered “villain” in season 1 when he tried to back out from trying to save the world; but even if he was considered that back in season 1, that still doesn’t doesn’t make sense.

The reason he tried to back out at first is because he was stressed and was scared. Imagine being in his shoes, your whole life you were taught and molded to obey without questioning the righteousness of God/Archangels with a chance that if you do to either fall or get destroyed. So you’re made to believe you are on the “good side” and expected to do “the right thing” in their eyes because it “what God wanted” so you do the right thing so you can get approval and not get ridiculed or worse punished. That’s how Aziraphale was raised to believe, regardless that he heavily disagrees with armageddon as much as Crowley does he scared to revert the apocalypse not to mention stressed given how many days they have left on this earth. But one thing also about Aziraphale is that he’s trying to hold onto hope that maybe he can try stopping it by talking with God, and when that doesn’t work he did try to reach out to Crowley before being inconveniently discorporated and even so he still try to go back to earth to revert it. Was there thing Azirapahle could’ve done better? Ofc, I don’t think he should’ve said “I don’t even like you” to Crowley or said “I forgive you” the first time and many others but that still doesn’t make him a villain. He’s just a flawed grey character, even in the blitz episode in season 2, they talk about how they’re a shade of grey.

As for if he’s wrong for the choices? Ahhhh see this is where it’s tricky because many people have commented their beliefs. So it truly up to your opinion regardless. But since I’m making this post, I’ll say, no. He’s not wrong. Going back to what I said, he wants to make Heaven a better place. You can’t blame him for wanting to fix something. Crowley is absolutely right that Heaven and Hell for that matter is toxic but Aziraphale wanting to make it better isn’t inherently wrong. It just Aziraphale gonna have to see that Heaven is beyond repair and it isn’t his responsibility to fix the system that been damaged but to Aziraphale he wants to. He wants to make it better even if it means leaving everything he loves and care about. Even if it hurts to leave Crowley, his bookshop, or everything but if he wants to fix it, I don’t think you can blame him.

And I said this in past post but I think regarding him wanting to appoint Crowley, I think he just want Crowley along his side because he want him to fix it with him. But Aziraphale I’ll admit should’ve considered how Crowley already feels about heaven. He was casted out and wants no part with Heaven at all. So even if there a chance to fix it in his eyes, Heaven is damaged. Far too damage to repair but also that the source of his trauma. So why should he come back? So I’ll give it that, and I think deep down Aziraphale knew this outcome might’ve played out but I think Aziraphale thought if he suggested maybe fixing it might spark something. How Azirpahale is thinking is that, just because something is damaged doesn’t mean it unfixable and there’s hope for salvaging it. However, Crowley’s thinking is that there no fixing that’s dead in the water. In this case neither are wrong.

And look I’ll say this, Crowley’s plan to running away, even though it sounds good. I mean, if Beelzebub and Gabriel can do it (which they deserve their flowers like say what you will about this couple I love it.) why couldn’t they? But the thing is that even back in Episode 1 of season 2, Aziraphale told Crowley when he was an angel that everything was going to be shut down. Which would also include Alpha Centauri or any other dimensions he wants to runaway with Aziraphale. Granted it not guarantee that maybe Alpha Centauri or any other galaxy aren’t save maybe they will and I’m reading it wrong. However if Earth is to be destroyed because of this Great War that going to happen, who to say the other galaxies would be safe too? It too risky to just run away I mean granted it not safe to stay neither if the world might end but running away won’t solve anything.

And now with the season coming happening, I think even though yes, Aziraphale did chose Heaven over Crowley which yes that fucking hurts. I’m not going to deny that. It hurts on both sides with Crowley being rejected and losing the one thing that made sense in the world and Aziraphale having to give up everything and realizing he made a mistake. It a tear jerking mess. But at the same time, with season 3 coming and confirmed, now he has to save the world and Crowley on his end without talking to Crowley. Which is gonna hurt like hell (or heaven who knows they’re both toxic atp) but Aziraphale will do anything to save and protect Crowley and Earth. And I’m pretty sure he would do anything to get Crowley back or the bookshop back

Now just a disclaimer, as much as I relate to this character and he’s my favorite and my comfort character, I’m not going to say Aziraphale perfect. He’s a bastard worth knowing for a reason right? But all I’m just saying is that villainizing him is throwing away all his characteristic and progress he making or made out the window just this one decision, we can’t villainized him for this one instant especially as it really out of character for him to ever be a villain to begin with. I’m not saying you have to like him but again don’t villainize him for this one choice where there more nuance into it.

But that’s really my two since, I just don’t see why people would think Aziraphale’s a villain or wrong imo. Might be controversial but hey, it was fun to talk about it. If you guys have any opinions are this, that cool let me know, if you agree or disagree hey valid but plz be respectful and don’t call Aziraphale the villain. Honestly how do you feel about people calling aziraphale a villain or wrong for what he did?

Now onto what I was talking about before (you don’t have to read if you don’t have to, this is just me explaining it. If you wanna read, that’s cool too. ^v^)

So, before anything, uh I’m not leaving tumblr or good omens fandom. No, I love the fandom and tumblr enough to leave. Good omens fandom have been very lovely and I met people on here so I like to shoutout to that but also Good omens is my comfort and I don’t wanna leave that.

But what I’m getting that is that, without getting too personal, I’ve been having posting anxiety. What I mean is that I’ve been having low confidence over what to post and if this post will be good enough. And it doesn’t help that I haven’t been feeling the best for the past couple of months or so. I thought 2024 would be different and I mean I have faith that it is, just things haven’t been easy I’ll just say. And haven’t been feeling or doing the best. No I’m not going on a hiatus, i hope not, i just need to think things over.

However, I think I have some thoughts, like I do wanna post more art but I do also wanna continue talking about stuff. Maybe both too? I mean there many drawing idea I have so much idea off, I just need to not have this anxiety weighting over me. Or not overthink things.

If you have read this far, thanks for listening ghost pal! I guess TLDR: I’m not going anywhere; I just want to improve and post stuff I like. Again good omens is my favorite show and I love it to bits and I have so much to say and/or draw. Just ahh, gotta work on it. But thanks for listening and hope you enjoy this ghostly rambles on their favorite character. And stay tune for another post I’ll do. And uh, boo!

[oh-surprise-its-me]

I just had a thought: Librarian!Roy owning this cozy bookshop which is the best. Gay friendly, cool spaces to read, etc. He's often just reading a book at the counter or fixing books around the store.

And here comes Tattoo Artist!Jamie who moves into the neighborhood with his cool shop just across the way from Roy's shop.

Jamie loves having his own business. He worked hard to learn all the things and ends up with a great clientele.

Roy looks up from his book one day and notices Jamie watering a plant or something, he's talking to it and smiling so beautifully and Roy just stares because he never noticed him and now all he can do is notice.

Obviously Jamie has noticed the fit librarian across the way. He wondered if he had any ink and decides to come introduce himself and offer him a discount or maybe a free tattoo of whatever he wants....

It's a pretty good thought, don't you think? 😉

OH MY GOD LISSIE BRAIN ROT ALL DAY FOR THIS-

-

Jamie can’t help it. He knows there’s better ways to do this but fuck him that man’s sweaters should be illegal. He takes a breath. He spins the coffees again. Soy milk. One iced one hot. No nut flavorings. All his bases should be covered.

He pushes the door to the shop open. He gasps. The shop looks incredible. There’s leather couches and soft looking chairs everywhere in between the shelves of books.

“Can I help you?”

Jamie spins. He The man is standing at the top of stairs Jamie missed. “Oh! Uh. I wanted to give you coffee? Maybe talk some? I own the tattoo shop across the street.”

Roy blinks down at him. “I know.”

Jamie ducks his head. “I know. Pretty obvious with all my arms covered huh?” Roy gives him a small smile. “No pretty obvious because I’ve watched you move things outside to catch rain. Cute plants.”

Jake can’t help but let his mouth drop open. He goes to offer the coffee but the man cuts him off. “I can’t have dairy. Also my name is Roy.” Jamie grins, and offers the hot drink. “Soy milk. Wanted to cover all my bases. I’m Jamie.”

They go and sit down the one couch pushed to the side.

-

By the end it’s dark outside. Jamie stretches his legs out. He sighs. Long walk home. “I should go before it gets darker this was great though.” Roy gives him a small smile. Jamie’s learned those are the real ones. “Or you could come up and stay for dinner?” Roy winces. “Unless I read this wrong.”

Jamie can’t believe it. He shoves the pillow he was holding to the floor and grabs Roy’s hand. “Not at all. Desperately want to kiss you.” Roy grins he brushes the hair out of Jamie’s eyes. “Then why haven’t you?” Jamie lunges forward.

It’s a good first kiss. Roy tastes like the peppermint candies he likes eating. Jamie knows he probably tastes like the nicotine gum he chews. Apparently Roy doesn’t mind though because he moans and leans into the kiss.

They pull apart breathless, “dinner?” Jamie laughs, “gonna make me wait?” Roy pulls Jamie up and takes him to the stairs, “at least until after dinner. I’m a girl with class you know.” Jamie laughs again, he can’t believe Roy likes him. Roy likes him!

“Come on pretty boy stop staring at my ass get a move on.” Jamie jolts in place, he takes the rest of the stairs two at a time. Roy catches him around his waist and pulls him in for another kiss before unlocking the door.

Jamie can’t wait to see where this goes.

[jayden-killer]

ARIADNE.

part two of Book Emergency.

A/N: omg last part was requested so uh let's GET STARTED I'm so happy "book emergency part 1" was appreciated, GUYS I LOVE YOU SM.

Paring: Steven Grant × f! Reader.

☁︎ ꧁ ꧂ ☁︎

It was impossible not to think about that night meeting a week ago. My mind was filled only with the image of him, his shy smile, the marks that the razor had left on him, the tired but kind eyes ... the slightly open shirt ... everywhere I went, I saw the image of him . And whatever I did to distract myself, he always came out. Jeez, it looked like I had a crush. A crush that I could not control. The book was beautiful, maybe he was right. I absolutely had to go back to the bookstore and get the other two volumes. However, would I have been intrusive if I had? Would it have seemed obvious if I'd come back just for him? Even though, at the same time, I thought nothing was going to happen: I was just a customer. Nothing more. It was enough to take the book, leaf through it a bit, go to the cash desk, pay and say hello. Don't stammer. And don't try to make him understand that an interest was born in me, for him.

Then, one spring morning, I walked the streets of London, and the air was humid, but scented with flowers. Of sweet. And it seemed that this morning was just the right one.

♡

The bookshop was open, evidenced by a sign placed on the window: "We are open :) we invite you to enter". Like in a film, I adjusted the long coat I was wearing, cleaning it from the invisible traces of dust that were on my shoulders. My fingers quivered, palms perspired. And so I took a deep breath. And opened the door.

the smell of the old book and the new one mixed together, and I felt like I was in my happy little place, smiling to myself. There was no sign of him anywhere, yet the library wasn't huge, quite the contrary. I glanced at the checkout. The handsome clerk was not there either. Then I breathed a sigh of relief, trying to recover from the thought that had invaded my mind in the last week. It would have been better to start looking for the book.

My fingers searched for the title I needed. And I wandered through those shelves full, happy with anything: Nonfiction. Biographies. Foreign literature. Myths.

Here it is, well exposed, as if it was waiting for me, to be taken. I smiled, pleased to have found the second book, and turned it over in my hands.

``Did you like the first book?´´

I jumped up in fright and turned to face the speaker. I expected someone to annoy me, to harass me, yet there was the person I'd been looking for since I entered the store: the cute, smiling clerk. This time he had his hands clasped together, shy in his bearing, and his eyes kind as always, waiting for my answer.

Looking at him, I felt my heart pounding with embarrassment. Oh god, he looked good even today. He shone in that shop, as if it were made just for him. This time he was wearing a shirt with colorful geometric motifs, ranging in brown, blue and light blue, and around his neck he wore a card with his name on it.

``Steven...´´

``It's my name, darling´´

Apparently I read the name aloud, because he answered me, but he didn't seem embarrassed, unlike me. Or... he hid it well. He flashed a second smile, and I looked away so as not to meet his gaze. I was thrilled with joy. So, he also worked during the day here!

``Sorry, I-I shouldn't have said it out loud..´´ I tried to justify myself, and then he took the book gently in my hands and said, ``No need to justify yourself. Rather, darling, may I know the name of the pretty customer who visited me today?´´

Oh.

Oh.

Darling. Pretty.

I realized too late that he had used the term pretty. My brain seemed caught up in a moment of panic, anxiety, and a thousand other emotions combined. So I told him my name, softly, shy like him, and he repeated it, as if he wanted to savor it, trying to taste it. Did he like him? Did he find it cute?

I didn't even realize that his lips were moving, and my ears were ringing.

``Sorry, what?´´ I asked.

``Do you... want to pay?´´

I nodded, letting my lips curl up in a half smile. Not because I didn't want to. Not because he made me uncomfortable. But he was just too good to be true. It was a dream. A fairy tale.

So he accompanied me to the cash register and scanned the book, while in my head there was only one question: should I have invited him out?

I seemed rushed, and I would have come across as a creep. However, I could always say that we could hang out like friends do, and to get to know each other better. Not to get straight to the point... right?

Then he handed me the bag with the book inside and I held it close to me, only the words died in my mouth and there was an all too awkward silence.

``There's a beautiful spring air outside, huh, darlin'? It's not usual in London to have these beautiful days´´ he chuckled ``The weather is always so uncertain, and dressing in layers is the best solution, isn't it?´´

``Absolutely,´´ I replied, ``have you worked here long?´´

``To be honest, not long ago. I lost my job. At the British Museum. And, uh, I used to work as a cashier then too. No, well, I was more of a gift shoppist.´´

``You liked it?´´ I ventured.

``No.´´ his was a quick answer, convinced of what he was saying, ``My dream was to work as a tour guide. You know, I have a passion for Egypt. The myths of that civilization in particular. But hey, I don't mind surely the others!´´ He added quickly. In his sentence, I could sense a bit of sadness. Like a dream now too far away to reach.

``I like them too, although ancient Greece will always hold a special place in my heart.´´ I smiled to myself, and he smiled back, as if he understood my passion. His eyes warmed me once again. He really did have beautiful hazel eyes, reminiscent of autumn.

``Who doesn't like Ancient Greece? You must be just a red flag after all!´´ We burst into laughter together, as if he had told the funniest joke in the world.

And then, other customers entered the bookshop, and Steven followed them inside with the eyes, then landed them on me again, giving me an apologetic smile.

``Oh, darlin', I'd love to chat a bit more with you, but y'know, my job...´´

``It's fine, Steven!´´ It was my first time using his name. It sounded like a melody.

``Yeah, I'm looking forward to meeting you again.´´ He moved away from the cash register, awkwardly, and smiled another time, waving, whispering a bye-bye. He turned around and welcomed the new customers, who seemed curious about that man by them. There was no other choice left for me, so I passed by him and muttered a quick "bye-bye, Steven" to leave and go home.

▪︎☆°

Tossing around my keys and coat, I instantly reached for the bag and ripped it open to find not only one book but another one. One that I had not imagined would be in the bag, nor thought. The cover was shining in bright orange colours, and the drawing showed a beautiful figure of a girl, with long air, tinned by the cover's colours.

``Ariadne´´ I read out loud. Could have Steven given that to me by mistake? I paid just for the book I was looking for. It was a mistake. Curiosity took the best of me. So I opened the first book page and found some notes on the inside, written in a stylish handwriting. The ink was red, and had no spots around it. I could read:

«To the Ariadne of my dreams,

I hope you enjoy this little present of my mine. The golden princess haunting my dreams.

With love, your Theseus.»

«P.S. You can find my number written on a Post-it inside the book. I would love to give you a proper princess treatment. Go out on a date with me? :D»

No. Fucking. Way. At all.

[emimayooo]

Emi in Japan (2024) - Day 4

(Link to Day 1 and link to Day 2/3).

Hey guys,

OH MY GOSH I HAD SO MUCH FUN MEETING MY FANDOM FRIEND IRL😍❤️❤️❤️

R was just as easy to talk to IRL as she is over discord! At first we had that moment of "oh my god you're real" weirdness but it melted away like ice cream on a hot summer's day as we explored Shimokitazawa, a boujee district known for its thrift stores and cafés.

First off, we went to Bear Pond Espresso, a super cozy and cute café. Here, I HAD MY FIRST CUP OF COFFEE. Yes, you read that right: the first of my life! Ya'll, I took one whiff of coffee when I was ten and promptly decided "nah not for me". But omg I've been missing out! I had the sweet ice milk latte and I looooved how it tasted. I fear I may have unlocked something new in me lol...

I asked the barista recommendations for lunch, so we followed their rec and ended up at a soba place! It was very yum. Afterwards, we went ✨shopping✨. I bought a cute cat tote bag and some cat earrings hehe.

We still had some time on our hands before I had to go home, so by my recommendation, we went to Jimbocho, the book district of Tokyo😍❤️

Truly, I recommend Jimbocho to any book lover, even if you can’t read Japanese! There’s a lot of secondhand places that sell vintage/classic Western books. I’ve found gorgeous editions here that I treasure to this day.

R and I entered a very stylish bookstore that sold a lot of children’s books. I myself bought the second book in the Kiki’s Delivery Service series (fun fact: it was a book series before it was a movie!).

Then we went to Nyankodo, a cat themed bookshop that is a MUST VISIT for any cat lover😍❤️!!! They only sell cat related goods, whether that be books, tote bags, water bottles, pins, postcards, etc. It’s, like, my personal heaven.

On my recommendation, R bought a graphic novel about an old lady and her cat that made me ugly cry when I read it lol, while I bought a badge and two books. One was a photography collection about an old lady and her cat (I’m seeing a theme here lol). The second was a beautifully illustrated picture book about a teeny tiny black kitty named Toto. I’m so excited to dig into these.

We were feeling pretty tired at this point, because boy, was it humid! So we stopped by a bookstore/café I'd been to before and had a rest. I ordered an ice cream and hot chocolate. Oh my god was the ice cream heavenly. Like. So so good. The hot chocolate too was very yum.

Here, my friend and I talked about what brought us together: Sylvgrid 🤣❤️! We talked about our WIPs, what we love about our ship, and inspired each other to get back into it! After our chat, I felt sooo motivated to get back to my Sylvgrid longfic, Ludus/Eros/Storge. So galeheart folks, if you don't see me around in bg3land, you know what's up…

After our café break, it was time to say our goodbyes. We went to the station together and rode our respective trains, but not before giving each other a big old hug, of course!

During the train ride back, I was soooo giddy, and when I got home, I told my grandpa all about my day! He was very happy for me hehe.

I hope I get to see R again before she leaves Japan...today was the bestest day EVER🥰❤️❤️❤️

Thanks for reading my journal. Tomorrow will be a quiet day, cause I have to study, ugh. But see you next time🤗❤️

With love,

Emi xoxo

P.S mutuals pls come to Japan I wanna hang out so bad

P.P.S pls look at my new favourite hat (yes ofc I bought it🤣❤️)