#they call it pharmacists monologue

[randomositycat]

That's my apothecary dose for the day sigh

Time to be a Person

[geographer746]

I like spikes with Joris be it Joris/Goltdart or Joris/Adamai (who ships them besides me??)

BUT I also really like Joris/Lilott

so I imagined what their child

would look like I present to your attention Luka/Lu introduces himself to strangers as Ben (how hard it is to come up with names, ehh help, maybe you have ideas on what to call him))

A little about him:

Huppermag

slightly taller than Atcha, long nose, blue eyes, fair skin and white, I would even say long curly hair (all like my grandfather🤭) Yes, he wears a fur jacket and shorts like his dad

random facts or something

Darndakal wants him to be his guardian when mom is not around, swear through the word

draws on stickers for tags (is that what they call it??, (photo 4))in short, he draws cats, these stickers are on EVERYTHING, be it Joris’s log or a random place in Bonta

sometimes I imagine him as a chibi cat like Mao Mao from The Pharmacist's Monologue wears high-soled shoes to appear taller

I found a tie in Kerubim's trash and drew eyes there

seems very aloof and not talkative but is actually very chatty and friendly

hates Usha🤬🤬🤬

likes to tease Joris about the fact that he is taller and generally cool in magic

I also came up with a fem version of it, but that’s later

I don't know what else to add maybe there will be more posts about him later

and forgive the clumsy translation, it's all Google

////

мне нравится шипы с Йорисом

будь то Йорис/Голтдарт или Йорис/Адамай(их кто то кроме меня шипирет??)

НО мне так же очень нравится Йорис/Лилотт

так что я представила как бы выглядел их ребёнок

представляю ваше вниманию Лука/Лу для чужих представляется как Бэн (как тяжело придумывать имена, эхх помогите может у вас есть идеи как назвать его))

Немного про него:

Хуппермаг

чуть выше Атча,длинный нос, голубый глазки, светлая кожа и белый я бы даже сказала длинный вьющийся волосы(весь в деда🤭)

да он ходит в куртке с мехом и в шортах как батя

рандом факты или чо

Дарндакал хочет чтобы он был его хранителем

когда мамы нет рядом мат через слово

рисует на наклейках для тэгов(это так называется?? , (фото 4)) короч рисует котов, эти наклейки есть на ВСЁМ будь то бревно Йориса или рандом место в Бонте

иногда я представляю его как чиби-кота как Мао Мао из Монолога фармоцевта

носит обувь на высокой подошве что бы казаться выше

нашёл в хламе Керубима галстук и нарисовал там глазки

кажется очень отстранёным и не разговорчивым но на само деле очень болтлив и дружелюбный

ненавидит Эша🤬🤬🤬

любит подкалывать Йориса тем что он выше и вообще крут в магии

я так же придумала его  fem-версию но это уже потом

хз чо еще добавить

может потом будет ещё посты про него

и простите корявый перевод, это все Гугл

[nomunamuinmybrain]

Unbecoming

Pairing: Vampire Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut, supernatural

Word Count: 1.6 k

Disclaimer: if you are under the age of 18 please know that this contains heavy sexual themes and mature language.

Author's note: This story was penned two months ago for Junkgook's birthday but such is life that I never really got around to posting it. Halloween presents an excellent opportunity for me to introduce this indulging vampiric treat. I hope you enjoy it. Also, please excuse any syntax or grammar errors because this gal was too lazy to proofread once more before posting, oops...

“What a beautiful, good girl you are” the last thing I can remember from last night, fading, drifting away from memory. The vibrato of his voice still ripples all over my skin. A warning, a farewell, an invitation.

The maknae was not one to mess around for too long. Maybe him saving me, if salvation is as such, is the universe buying me some time. Escaping though seems impossible.

“…and it is sweetness” his voice but a breathy whisper haunting the corners of my mind. He can hear me. I forgot about that. I feel so weak. I am not even sure where speech wavers and thought takes over.

His wicked lips on my neck and then my thigh, the juiciest veins of his vessel, his plaything, his nourishment, all wrapped up in the frame of me. I think I should mind and try fighting but nothing seems to be in my control not even my own limbs and skin.

“I overdid it once again precious. I can’t let you drift away now. What will become of me, depraved of your sweetness?” his monologue, a selfish reminder of what has become of me. It’s the second time now where we’ve almost reached the point of no return and truly I wish he’d drain me out already but it doesn’t seem that his intentions of keeping me are in vain.

The maknae ruled upon his own word. When the whole town was slaughtered in just one week, we all knew the careless acts of hunger were his. We waited like sheep to the knife, trapped. I wonder if the people who thought of his existence to be a mere piece of lore died of shock before his brilliant sharp teeth had a chance to tear their flesh.

How long ago was the great massacre? How long have I been here? Where is here?

I get tucked in once again, feeling the blood, my blood all dried up on my skin mixed with his saliva. If beasts cruel like him got to look so angelic then what was hell actually like. Gazing upon him you’d think that God was true and just and that his angels walked indeed amongst our tragic existence. The red betrayed him. Those bright red ruby eyes, sparkling murder.

-

Rump and ruff around the edges. That is how the town, my town, knew me. Good enough to hold a house and probably marry off someday. Nothing special. I was appointed assistant to the head pharmacist of the dominion, my father. As brilliant as he, that’s what they’d say. Although, I was mostly out gathering ingredients for our salves and medicines and potions, I felt valuable in our community in contrary to the other women my age. My parents did not wish to force me into any arrangements that I would not enjoy or approve of, therefore life, my life was sweet.

The high families, as we called them, ruled in underground means. We all knew of them without having much to do with them. I didn’t want anything to do with them.

“...Yet, here you are…” he raises his head from where it is buried in my thighs. His tongue chasing after the trail of blood that weakly escapes the bite marks.

“You were meant to be here you know. Here with me. It’s been 5 weeks and though I expected you to cry yourself to death, here you are. Persevering.”

“If crying really could push me to the edge of death, I am sure you’d yank me back to you with a vengeance.”

“I would.”

“Why?”

He looks at you for a moment. Contorting his features, in an effort to honestly seek an answer himself. Why would he? He didn’t know how or when but somewhere along those few weeks of being with you, feasting on you, a different hunger grew. It planted a spark of need at the pit of his belly, torching his loins. Desire. He would do anything for you. He would do anything to keep you. For your delicious plumpness was the only reason he chose to feed off of the damned nook that nestled the warmth between your thighs. The plush redness of your lips as you drank his own blood at the end of every visit.

He would, of course he would, for when he lays to rest and wraps his hand around his cock it is your velvet touch that he imagines to bring himself to bliss. Day in and day out. Like poison you slowly but surely gained your ground in his head. He made sure to take care of you without making it seem too obvious. He knew from the beginning, that damned day his hyung dared to lay his eyes on you boasting about how he’d drain you not to the point of death but close enough so he could bring you back again and make you one of them. An immortal. A monster.

He couldn’t bear the thought and that’s when his anger took the best of him. He killed them all. His hyungs, the townspeople, everyone in his vicinity but not you. Never you. He wanted, for the first time in thousands of years, to preserve something and it happened to be you. He almost turned you, twice but he couldn’t go through with it. What if your luscious peachy scent were to faint as you transformed? He couldn’t live with himself. Of all the crimes he has committed that would be the greatest one. It seemed like a joke.

His head tilts. There is an unmistakable playfulness in his eyes.

“I wish to try something… It has been gnawing on my brain for a while.”

“What is it?” you sheepishly ask, intrigued by what is to follow. You’d deem anything intriguing after weeks of nothingness and utter darkness.

“Close your eyes” he commands.

Death is finally here, you think. He’s putting an end to this miserable story of yours. You close your eyes awaiting the sharp teeth of the beast to tear you limb by limb.

He creeps closer instead. His breath, warm, fans your face. His lips ghosting over yours, stealing away your weak breath. Tracing softly from one edge to the other, teasing.

“You smell like peaches.” he deftly whispered. He kissed you. Reverently. Carefully. As if he held the most precious rose blossoms.

“I was curious to see if you tasted like so. Your blood does carry a floral, fruity tone but maybe I thought tasting you in other ways might be more effective.”

With your eyes still closed and with him now laying fully on top of you, the kiss deepens. It escalates into something more. His strong hands roamed your curves in adoration as he devoured your lips. You couldn’t help your moans as they escaped you. Of all that his done there was none you could forgive, but you could not deny him. You hated that part of you that lusted after the beast. Every time he drank from between your thighs you’d fantasize about his kisses trailing off to the place you needed him the most.

“Look at me… You precious thing. You crave me, of course you crave me. It is how I am made. It is all that lures you in. The camouflage. This is the skin of a killer.”

He languidly thrusts your thigh as his lips wonder away. His actions contradicting his words entirely. As his lips marked your neck in ways he’d never dared before, his hands seek for your softness under your skirts. Bunching the fabric barrier as done so many times in your previous meetings, only this time he’d go one step further and leave you entirely bear. His ruby eyes pierce through yours as a wicked grin appears. Softly his fingers find your clit. Circling ever so skillfully to draw out a moan. He started mercilessly fucking you with his fingers and as you was about to reach another type of sweet death he draws them out. Sucking on them one by one as if he dipped them in the most decadent honey.

You couldn’t understand how everything happened so fast. No more than a second later his face was buried in your cunt, licking and sucking your juices out of you. The vibrations from each grunt that escaped him send shivers of pleasure throughout your body and by the time you reached your fifth peak of the day you grew sensitive unable to take anything more.

“I can’t” you weakly protest as your fingers unclench from his locks and brush them off his face.

He molds over you as he steals your kiss once more. Only this time his tenderness comes up to the surface.

“I can’t let go. I can’t let you go. How could I leave without you?”

“I’m not going anywhere…”

“Maybe not now. At some point, down the line, you’ll leave me forever. You’ll pass away to the one place I cannot meet you.”

Speechless. This sudden surge of emotion has left you more confused than ever. Words seemed of little to no substance as his grasp on you was seconds away from breaking you. There was nothing left for you. Nothing but him.

“Then let me walk this path with you forever. If that is something you’d want, I wouldn’t oppose as I have nothing but my own life to lose.”

Cradling your face he looks into your soul as if searching for something to prove you wrong. He found nothing of the sort.

“I have crossed eons to find you. Today Peach we’ll become one, as it is your wish as well.”

His lips kissed yours one last time. His fangs pierced the tender flesh of your neck, fully set on finishing the deed this time around. You held onto each other as blood married you into one. From his, you were reborn, from yours he rejoiced for finally, he had found that one missing piece. A soulmate.

[awlumii]

"can i hold your face?"

kazuha opens an eye after your sudden request, eyebrows irked upwards in mock surprise.

the two of you are sitting down a tree, your face mushed against his chest as his bandaged hand rubs random shapes on your waist out of habit. he had been quiet the whole afternoon.

this "date" was neither of you's idea: qiqi requested to be taken to the playground, but since she was so little (at least physically) two adults were requested to watch over her. and now here you are.

you had mixed feelings about this whole fake dating situation. you would have never thought that kazuha of all people would be the one to smoother you in affections whenever you made a public appearance. all his fault, really: he jokingly told qiqi that you were dating on their very first meeting and for some reason it became one of the very few things she remembered.

"why do you call them little dove?" she had asked with furrowed eyebrows "they're not a bird". kazuha grinned innocently, ignoring your hard stare: "well, because i love your big sibling a lot. and when you really love someone-" you smacked his arm before he could continue.

qiqi had hummed. "you love them?" she asked.

kazuha let his eyes meet yours, feeling a fire rise inside him at the pleading gaze you showed him. leave her out of this, your eyes said. but he smirked, sneaking a hand around your waist to tug you closer, making you fall into his arms. "yes," he answered, "i love them so much."

at first, a part of you was glad that qiqi no longer expected you to get lovey-dovey with baizhu, but you soon realised in horror that she had replaced the pharmacist with kazuha. out of everyone, it had to be kazuha.

you don't think you're one of the gods' favorites.

(when zhongli heard you mutter it under your breath, he started a monologue about the relationship between archons and mortals.)

back to the present. you headbutt kazuha's shoulder when he stays quiet: "are you gonna answer or not?". he exhales loudly in response. "why the sudden request?"

"one of the very few qualities you have is soft skin. you're squishy."

"and what are the others?"

"you're good with qiqi. and a decent kisser."

he tilts his head to the side, lips turning in a smirk: "decent?" he repeats, amused, "if a decent kisser can make you sing like i do, then perhaps your skin is much more sensitive than i thought. i'll keep that in mind."

it's your turn to huff, heat already rising to your face. kazuha notices it immediately. he tightens his hold on your waist, tugging you closer.

"aw," he taunts in your ear, "is the little bunny getting teased by evil, mean kazuha?" he fakes sympathy, caressing your cheek gently, almost as if you could break - ironically enough, it seems like breaking you is his goal.

he doesn't stop there, not even when you squirm in discomfort: his hold gets even tighter. "oh, such a poor little thing you are, all trapped in my arms. who would you run to if you could, hmm? who would save you?"

you stay quiet, reluctant to start a fight you'll most likely lose when qiqi is a few meters away from you. just stay calm, you tell yourself.

kazuha doesn't like it. or maybe he does: you have no idea. he pecks your forehead lightly and tucks your head under his chin. the only thing you hear is your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

"did 'zuha went too far?" comes a whisper from above you, accompanied by a kiss on your head, "is the crux's sweet softie going to cry?"

ah. so that was the reason of today's taunts. you wonder if one of the reason he's obsessed with making you snap is your general attitude with pretty much everyone.

you're kind, you are warmth embodied. always willing to lend a hand yet careful of who to trust. your friends always bask in your comfortable embrace whenever they have the chance, qiqi deems you as the only one who can hug and squish her without her getting uncomfortable. you're not too naïve, but you are sickeningly sweet. you tried to be sweet with him too, only to be met with violence. and when you realised he's not as innocent as others think things got even worse.

you're not going to cry today. you're not a bunny - even if you were, he doesn't deserve you fluffiness. where the hell did he get that nickname from, by the way? little one was terrible enough (simply because he saw you as weaker and more fragile than him, and didn't call you such out of adoration). what else is he going to use? fucking kitten?

"off to your own world again, it seems," kazuha muses, bandaged fingers sneaking under your shirt to touch your bare skin: you jump at the contact. he moves his head and decides to nudge your nose with his in an almost affectionate gesture,

"you can't run away physically so you-" 

"run away mentally, yes. i don't like listening to you when you're like that."

"i thought you didn't like me in general."

"your behaviour changes every single day."

"and your favorite is when i just hug you and stay quiet, isn't it? you act tough but you're just a cuddlebug."

you sigh: "you're fucking weird, dude."

usually he chuckles whenever you curse, but today he bites your nose to shut you up. when you yelp a "gah!" in surprise he licks the red spot, making you squirm even more. so much, that you somehow free yourself from his grasp and fall on the grass. he wastes no time and starts a insufferable assault on your sides, pinning your arms on the ground with a hand.

qiqi hears your laughter and turns her head to you two, hands still patting the sandcastle she made for you (only you, she decided during the construction, because the leaf guy steals qiqi's place during cuddles.)

something weird tugs qiqi's frozen heart. you're laughing. leaf guy is smiling the way that doctor baizhu describes as fondly. and yet something in qiqi tells her to step in and tell kazuha to leave you alone. at the same time, she wishes for you two to keep being together and be the parents she never had. she decides whatever she's thinking is wrong, but still runs to you two to save him from his mischievous' hands.

oh, if only she knew how right she actually is.

- hide and seek back with meanzuha brainrot. PARTICULARLY with a soft reader who really just wants to get along with him.

AAAAAAAAAAA 💗💕💗💕💗💕💗💕💗💕

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

WTNV quick rundown - 88 - Things Fall Apart

Featuring the voice of Maureen Johnson as (Ex)-Intern Maureen, Kate Jones as Michelle Nyugen, Emma Frankland as Emma Frankland as Sheriff Sam, Erica Livingston as Maggie Penebaker, Christoper Loar as Donald Penebaker and Dylan Marron as Carlos the Scientist.

[sound of phone ringing in earpiece] Citywide utility failures continue to haunt us, but not as much as the strangers who do not appear to move. Welcome to the Night Vale Public Utilities phone line.

Night Vale is experiencing city wide power outages, polluted water supplies and several gas leaks (hinted to be due to the Strangers in some way). Cecil is desperately trying to get through to NV Utilities Department but it's proving difficult due to the snippy attitude in Maggie Penebakers recorded lines (this is the first time she says her name, I believe, previously just being heard as the female voice on the phone line).

Carlos calls Cecil to see if he's alright and to ask him to come home, since he doesn't have power to run his show right now. Cecil says he has to do his job and find a way to report what is going on. Carlos wishes him good luck and to stay safe.

Apparently Maggie and Carlos are friends (or at least, she used to assist him in the lab) and she has a backup generator they can use.

Cecil calls Sheriff Sam to see if they know anything about the Strangers and to ask whether the Strangers are also targetting the previous citziens of Desert Bluffs. When Sam is derogatory towards the ex-DB citizens, Cecil stands up for them. Sam reports that some of the DB citizens have 'gone somewheere that feels more like home'. They also say that two sinkholes have opened up on route 800 and the dam along the NV lake (a dusty hole) broke.

Cecil calls Michelle to help him locate Maureen. Michelle reveals that Maureen is the leader of the army of strangers, and that Chad and his 'evil dog' are Maureen's boss. She also gives him Maureen's number. Michelle says that Maureen let her get up close to a Stranger. The Strangers can devour your soul, which starts a long and permenant process of transforming into a Stranger yourself. They only stand and breathe because they are in eternal torment and that's all they can do.

Maureen's phone goes straight to voicemail. Cecil leaves a message saying that he's proud of her and what's she's doing (and that he's finally worked out that it's former intern Chad Boenger behind this) but that he's worried he won't see Carlos again and didn't even say 'I love you' before hanging up when they last talked. He asks Maureen if he'll be able to see Carlos again, implying but not saying that he hopes she won't lead the Strangers to kill everyone.

Cecil gets a call from a Stranger, who of course only breathes slowly down the phone. A dog barks. The episode ends.

Weather: "Palestine" by Sam Baker, featuring Carrie Elkin.

Carlos called Cecil 'poot' and Cecil called Carlos 'bunny'.

There is a John Peter in NV who is a pharmacist. Cecil gets his prescription (whatever that is) from him.

Cards In Favour Of Humanity is a game in NV.

Michelle claims her previous monologue was 'private' but she also sent the tape in to Cecil with a label asking it to be played. She expresses her secret insecurities against this episode by questioning whether Cecil would think badly for her for actually liking something.

Proverb: Wanna feel old? People born in 2014 have already graduated college, don't know what a trombone is, are are all named after gourds.

[taperwolf]

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I miss how voicemail was before voice recognition.

Like, my pharmacy's phone used to work so if you needed to talk to a person at the pharmacy — because why on earth would you call for any other reason? — you could dial the number, and then once you heard the message start, hit "7", because it'd always been 7 to get a human, and then just wait on hold. Now, well —

Dial the number

Wait for the message telling you to hit "2" for Spanish to finish

Say or dial your birthdate; dialing is still more reliable

Wait for the voice to finish listing the prescriptions that are ready for pickup and the ones still in processing

Hear the machine start to offer suggestions of prompt phrases

Say "Speak to a Pharmacist"

Hope the computer recognizes that

Repeat yourself if needed

"Okay, pharmacy", it says

Wait for the 20 second recording about vaccine availability to finish

Hear the machine start to offer suggestions of prompt phrases

Say "Speak to a Pharmacist" again

Hope the computer et c.

Finally arrive at the hold music

It's such an unnecessary amount of runaround, and multiple uninterruptible monologues, and for what? So the elderly can avoid using the pharmacy web site or app and youngsters don't have to use their keypad?

[knyplotrewrite]

hii, not sure if you still check asks on this blog🤡 but I was reading your outline for your rewrite and holy SHIT!

it's so good!! I just got to the party where it's revealed that nakime is/was zenitsu's biological mom (which is so *chefs kiss* btw).

the main reason I'm here tho, is because of this:

She’s only holding his head, and does a whole literal Shakespearean monologue, inspired by Hamlet and the scene with the Prince holding the Skull of Yorick to further emphasize how she triumphed despite her shortcomings. It’s pretty cool, feel free to ask me about it.

So here I am.. asking about it. How did you come up with the idea of a Shakespearean monologue? (unless this is done in the manga which I didn't read) Do you have any drafts of the monologue? 👀

I got you lol. This should be a part of the folder called "part 2", but here's the draft:

[ID: A written passage. Transcript: “So, everyone died except for Hamlet’s friend, Horatio. The foreign prince of Fortinbras would then swoop in and claim the kingdom of Denmark for themselves. The end.” “That’s... quite a story.” Douma comments. “I heard you mention a poison-tipped blade? That part reminds me of you, my dear.” Then he gasps. “Oh, ooh! Are you trying to say you’re Prince Hamlet, and I’m King Claudius?” “Well, you only wanted me to tell you about it, nothing else.” She smiles widely. “But, if you insist on drawing comparisons, I’ll happily draw my own. “I am the prince, but I am also his wit. His mask. His cup with the poisonous union. His calculated thirst for revenge. But I am also Laertes with his poisoned sword, unabated and envenomed. “Do you see the difference now? My blade has never turned itself on me. I was not defeated by my hesitance. I was not killed by my own treachery. I believed in no gods with qualms against self-slaughter. I knew my faults and made them my strengths. I have won in every way.” Shinobu chuckles. “I apologize if I sound like I’m rubbing my victory in your face. Really, you’re lucky I even stuck around; all the other souls you’ve tricked and lied to moved on without a second thought, without a care for their poor, heartless jester who’s rotten flesh would become earth, and earth to loam, then loam for stopping a cheap beer barrel. You’re not as high and mighty as you think.” Douma gives her a strange, unreadable look as his face slowly rots away. His rainbow eyes scan her expression, but Shinobu knows there’s nothing for him there. Not with the porcelain mask covering her face. End ID.]

I wanted to give Shinobu a unique interest to help her connect more with the world of KNY, especially when the Taisho period is very famous for marking the rapid industrialization and westernization of Japan (apart from the Meiji Restoration period), particularly in the spreading of European literature and arts. She's incredibly intelligent and I knew her family would try to make their kids get into these subjects since they were doctors/pharmacists and probably had money to do so.

Shinobu should also be allowed to be quirky. I headcanon her as autistic and I wanted to show her neurodivergency in a way that integrates well with her arc. Love her so much.

[aziraphales-library]

Have you any long, angsty, fluffy human AUs? E rated content isn't ideal, but it can be there.

Or any long regency or Victorian era fics, preferably human?

Thank you!

Regency:

Only Ever Yours [E] by Caedmon

Aziraphale Fell, Ninth Duke of Tadfield, is quite happy with his life. He has his books, his friends, and no need for more. His sister, Michael, disagrees. She feels most strongly that Aziraphale should have a wife, and has determined to see him married with an heir on the way by the end of the Season. So she installs her husband's valet, Crowley, to spy on him and help her find him a wife.

Nobody is expecting the Duke and the valet to fall in love...

The Lord of Tadfield Manor [E], WIP by Cousin Serena

Brooding Lord Anthony Crowley must find a wealthy wife or risk financial ruin. But then, the rakish Baron finds love and passion where he least expects it, and it is not with his intended bride-to-be. Now that he has found his heart, will he have the courage to follow it?

An Inducement to Marry [T] by angelsnuffbox (MrsCaulfield)

Aziraphale Fell did not dream of much beyond his contented life as the owner of a small bookshop in Tadfield. In contrast, all his neighbours seemed to be under the impression that the famously rakish Mr Anthony Crowley, who had for the past couple of years been a repeated visitor of his shop, quite fancied him. Preposterous, of course. People like Crowley did not enter into relations with people like Aziraphale.

But when news breaks out that Crowley is being pressured into marriage by his mother, Crowley comes to him with a peculiar request, leaving Aziraphale to reconsider all the notions he'd previously believed regarding the nature of Crowley's feelings, as well as those of his own.

Victorian:

Reprise [M] by Cardinal_Daughter

Ezra Fell ventures to a molly-house in search of companionship. What he finds there will change his life forever.

Human AU in the Victorian Era.

Devotion [T] by AnnaTheHank

Gabriel married Aziraphale, not that anyone in their circle was excited about it. They moved away to a new town to escape the 'shame', yet the rumors of their sorted past followed them. Things get interesting when painter Crowley comes into the scene, eager to steal Aziraphale away. But Aziraphale's strong devotion to Gabriel is a problem, one that Crowley can't seem to overcome as the truth of Aziraphale's past starts to reveal itself.

The Best of Both Worlds [M] by AppleSeeds

It’s 1895, and Aziraphale runs an old-fashioned apothecary shop with his brother Gabriel. Crowley is a pharmacist secretly planning to take over their business. But after he meets Aziraphale, the most adorable and trusting person ever to walk the Earth, what starts as an semi-innocent flirtation rapidly turns Crowley into a pining mess. This calls for a change of plans...

Basically lots of flirting, Crowley's ridiculous internal monologue and a close encounter in a very small shed, followed by rather a lot of angst and misunderstanding (but I promise it’ll all be lovely and fluffy in the end).

There is a Historical AUmens fic collection with lots of both of those eras included.

Also tag searches respectively for Regency and Victorian!

~Mod N

[onewfantaesy]

Crime Baby AU

“I’m not gonna be some drug runner!” Taemin shrieks, moving back, stumbling, and falling on his ass just before reaching the couch. Then he scrambles to pull himself up onto the couch and sit as gracefully and as dignified as possible when he has several people smirking st him and looking oh-so-amused at his outburst. Shit-heads.

“I’m not asking you to be a drug runner,” his father - Heechul, he’s learned his name is in the last six months they’ve gotten to know each other - says, an amused glint in his eyes. “All you’ve gotta do is take these packets to rehearsal one day, say how energetic they made you feel, and tell your manager-”

“Euisoo’s my manager,” Taemin interrupts him. He’s gotten much more comfortable around his newfound family, even if they do still scare the shit out of him. He’s realized they won’t put a bullet through his head for something as menial as interrupting their over-long monologues.

“A different manager,” his father clarifies, his eyes moving to glance at Euisoo, who’s standing behind the couch with a comforting hand on Taemin’s shoulder. “And you tell him how amazing they are. Say you think they’d help some others beat the fatigue. And the stuff will sell itself. It will give us an instant in inside the idol market.”

“You want me to drug my members?” Taemin asks, his voice cracking. “I don’t wanna do that!”

His father sighs, but looks like he expected this sort of pushback.

“Can you ever sit in on other practices?” Heechul asks.

“Sometimes,” Taemin mumbles. “Not usually.”

“What about backstage at recordings?” he asks, going to sit next to Taemin. To hold his hands. To smile at him. “You ever run into idols from other companies?”

“Yeah, all the time,” Taemin admits, not quite understanding. He won’t admit it, but the hand-holding is a teensy bit comforting. Less intimidating than everyone just staring at him.

“Then when you’re backstage one day, and you run into another idol, all you gotta do is say, ‘Hey, I got these cool energy boosters’ or something to that effect, and ‘do you wanna try one?’ Then you let them take a couple, he tries one, he lets his members try one, and then they start making their managers buy our product. Understand?”

Taemin is quiet for a moment, his eyes darting around the room, before he finally nods his head and mumbles, “I understand.”

But then his forehead crinkles and he looks at Heechul and asks, “You’re not gonna make me take it, are you?”

“Have my son take this crap? Not a chance,” Heechul says quickly.

Taemin thinks that says a lot. And he knows for damn sure he’s never going to let anyone in SHINee get their hands on it, never let his friends even so much as try it.

“Now here’s your first bag,” his father says, one of his men handing over a duffel bag. “And when they start coming back and asking you where you got it from, you know what to tell them, right?”

Taemin nods his head and answers, “The Suju online pharmacy.”

“Good boy.”

It’s his father’s company: Suju Pharmaceuticals. All completely legitimate with actual pharmacists and doctors and everything. Except it’s ridiculously easy to get a prescription for almost anything without ever seeing a doctor in person, it’s easy to say you’re a legal adult without actually being one, and it’s easy to find the items that are actually fronts for exteremely illegal drugs. Taemin has no clue how his father has never been caught by the police. He doesn’t really want to think about it.

So he leaves with Euisoo that night, the duffel bag coming with them, and the next day, he’s at Music Bank giving two, three, four samples to unsuspecting idols who think it’s just some sort of energy drink or vitamin supplement in capsule form.

“My friend at school gave it to me,” he tells a boy group member who’s name escapes him. “I think it says on the packet where it’s from. Suju-something.”

“Cool,” the boy - older than him actually, so maybe a man - says, eyeing the packet. “You just need two?”

“Uh-huh,” Taemin says, nodding. “Keeps you awake for like twelve hours or something. Which is cool ‘cause like I hate coffee. We had rehearsal all last night and I took it before class and I’ve been fine all day!”

“Thanks!” the man says, smiling. “If they work I’ll have to get my manager to buy us some. Hey, good luck performing!”

“Thank you! You too!”

And he’s power walking away as fast as he can to add this group to the list of who he’s given samples to. That’s the third group that night. He and Euisoo decided that was the limit per venue, otherwise it might start looking suspicious.

After two weeks, he’s out of samples and has a list that seems like a mile long. He and Euisoo go back to see his father, deliver the results, and are given a refill of samples.

“You wouldn’t believe the sales we had last weekend,” Heechul tells him, grinning. “Total spike. Well done.”

“Thank you,” Taemin mumbles, fidgeting and feeling entirely uncomfortable.

After a couple months, sales have completely skyrockets. Taemin has at least half the industry hooked on these things, but he’s managed to keep it entirely out of SM. That was the deal he ended up making with his father: if he got enough idols from other companies, he wouldn’t be persuaded to give them to his friends. And Taemin has practically an entire rival company buying them in bulk for each group, he thinks he’s done more than enough. Besides, he can tell their performances are getting sloppy. He doesn’t want that happening to people he works with, people he’s friends with.

“You’re rivaling your sister with how well you’re doing,” his father praises him, his hands on Taemin’s shoulders, a smirk on his face. “She was quite persuasive at your age as well. And look at her now - you could be just like her one day.”

His oldest sister is just one rank below their father in the company. She has a lot of power, a lot of influence, and she’s mildly terrifying. Taemin wants to be nothing like her when he grows up.

“You said I could stay an idol if I did what you said,” Taemin says, his voice soft, his eyes fixed on his shoes.

“Of course you can,” his father says, patting Taemin’s shoulders. “But one day, when you’re older and want to do something other than the idol life, I think you could have a bright future here. Who knows, you might even take over as my right hand.”

His sister doesn’t look happy about that, since that’s currently her role, but Taemin just nods his head. He doesn’t want to cause an argument. He doesn’t want to get in the way. He swallows the lump in his throat and lets out a shaky breath, his eyes moving to see Euisoo wink at him.

“You said,” Taemin stammers, finally wanting to ask the question he’s been talking with Euisoo about for weeks now. “You said no one would have to find out I was your son.”

“I did say that,” Heechul says, moving to sit next to Taemin. “Truthfully, I think it would hinder the little business we have going on right now.”

“Then,” Taemin starts, his voice shaking, “Then is it okay if I go home this weekend? To see - to see my other family?”

How many months has Taemin gone without seeing his real family? Without seeing his brother or his dad? To try and keep them safe?

It’s been too long, and he misses them desperately. And finally, after months of distancing himself, his brother called and asked him to come home. Just for the weekend. Just to say hi. Because they miss him too.

“You go see them,” Heechul tells him, patting Taemin’s shoulder again. “You see them and you assure them nothing’s wrong. Nothing’s out of the ordinary. You’ve just been busy with being an idol.”

“Thank you,” Taemin breathes out, his voice barely above a whisper.

When he gets home that Friday night, he hugs his dad tighter than he has in a long, long time. He doesn’t tell them anything, doesn’t say anything about his newfound biological family or their business or how he knows they’re the ones who killed his mother. He keeps it all a secret, stays quiet about it, and instead just tries to pretend that he’s happy for the first time in months.

[ao3feed-goodomens]

The Best of Both Worlds

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3ica0CS

by AppleSeeds

It’s 1895, and Aziraphale runs an old-fashioned apothecary shop with his brother Gabriel. Crowley is a pharmacist secretly planning to take over their business. But after he meets Aziraphale, the most adorable and trusting person ever to walk the Earth, what starts as an semi-innocent flirtation rapidly turns Crowley into a pining mess. This calls for a change of plans...

Basically lots of flirting, Crowley's ridiculous internal monologue and a close encounter in a very small shed, followed by rather a lot of angst and misunderstanding (but I promise it’ll all be lovely and fluffy in the end).

Words: 1597, Chapters: 1/12, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Gabriel (Good Omens), Michael (Good Omens), Hastur (Good Omens)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Historical, Victorian, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, 19th Century, Flirting, Period-Typical Homophobia, Misunderstandings, Pining, A pine forest so extensive it could reverse climate change, Sickness, Caring, First Kiss, Mild Smut, Gabriel is a bit of an arse but he gets better, Michael is sweet, You can trust her she's an angel, Herbalism, Gardens & Gardening, Victorian Flower Language, Angst, Even in an AU God ships them, Friends to Lovers, Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), My First Fanfic

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3ica0CS

[runswith]

Notes on a Friday night spent in an Emergency Room, Entry 2 - Feb. 19, 2002

A doctor sat waiting in the exam room -- an attractive, tired-looking Spanish woman, mid- to late-30s. Slender, my height, typically Spanish-featured including dark, moderately-heavy eyebrows, dark hair streaked lighter blonde. She sat at one side of a small writing table, I sat at the other. "Tell me," she said. I did so, as best I could through bleariness. She listened, asked questions, examined me, told me I'd need X-rays and a blood analysis, I quickly found myself back out in a waiting room. One of the more comfortable ones this time.

By that point, Madrid was well into Friday night. E.R. traffic had increased, every available seat had been taken, people milled about. Family members and sweethearts hovered around patients. Three or four older, heavy-set men lounged unhappily about, wearing oxygen masks. Folks of all ages and social types waited. At one point the scene became so crowded, so noisy and unexpectedly festive that staff members cleared out all non-patients. Uniformed security guards stood conspicuously in the hallway until all intruders were gone and peace had been restored.

With relative tranquility re-established, I became aware that I could hear the elderly woman in the wheelchair from my first holding pen. Having apparently changed ethnic allegiance, she now exclaimed "Oyyy!" every few seconds.

After a while, a young woman came along, took a blood sample from me. A sizeable blood sample. Back in the days when I did ambulance work -- a madcap stretch of time that provided strange, indelible memories -- I used to be able to watch that kind of thing with no problem. Hell, I could come upon fairly serious carnage without blinking too much. These days I find I don't especially want to watch a needle going into my arm or my blood filling up a vial. So I don't. I watched the other inmates, the medical worker finished up and took off, I found myself waiting more.

A bit later someone ushered me to radiography (radiografía) for two quick X-rays, then ushered me back to my chair. People came and went. A young, thin woman appeared, flung herself down in a chair down at the other end of that waiting enclosure, not happy. She clutched a large plastic bag of stuff, occasionally slipping an inhaler in her mouth and taking a shot, scowling, stressed, complaining loudly that she wasn't getting the attention she wanted. If another inmate listened, she'd talk at them. If everyone ignored her, she'd complain via monologue. She had no intention of keeping her feelings to herself. After a while, disgusted by the lack of medical attention, she took out half a submarine sandwich, started in on it. A passing nurse said something to her about food not being allowed in the emergency area, she replied that no one had told her that and if she had to sit and wait for hours she was going to eat, goddammit! The nurse wisely moved along.

By this time, friends and family of patients had begun filtering back in, the level of noise and activity rising to a more entertaining level. And before too long, the sound of a body hitting the floor could be heard from the neighboring waiting area, followed immediately by an alarmed voice calling, "¡Qué alguien venga!" ("Someone please come!") Medical personnel appeared, running from all directions -- a gurney showed up a minute or two after.  A middle-aged woman already in a hospital gown was gently lifted onto it and taken away. Things quieted down once more.

After a while I got up to stretch my legs, found a more comfortable chair with a view of the hallway. Two hours later (!!), a medical worker approached calling my name. I raised my hand, she came over, immediately started getting out medical equipment, the kind that suggests further blood loss. It looked like she had some papers that might be the results of my blood test, I asked about that. She told me the result of the first test was that they wanted to take another one, then hoovered a tubeful from my other arm and disappeared. That was near midnight. I'd arrived around 7:15.

Two hours later, the doctor I originally dealt with retrieved me and gave me the lowdown. I had a serious lung infection, she said, serious enough that it had impacted my whole system, flu-like. She handed me several pieces of paper, including test reports and one page filled with unreadable scribbling that I was to bring to a pharmacist. She gave me two X-rays as my very own souvenirs and sent me home.

When I stepped outside, I found that the night had turned cold during my 7+ hours indoors. Genuinely cold, the kind you don't often get in Madrid. Two passing empty taxis ignored my waving arm, I found myself starting to shake. The third taxi pulled over. I fell into it, saying, "Chueca," he immediately started off. Turned out to be a long ride 'cause the police had cut off access to a number of places and were siphoning all Saturday night traffic through a constructed system of thoroughfares, my taxi driver becoming more upset each time we were turned away from a street that led in a direction he wanted to go. He finally made it a few blocks from my flat via narrow back streets, we found ourselves trapped in a line of cars behind a garbage truck that worked its slow, halting way up the block. My taxi driver, by this time, was practically foaming with impatience. I paid up, got out, walked the last few blocks home.

Got up Saturday morning, hit a pharmacy for medications, took care of myself. Existence has been easier since then. Yesterday, Monday, I returned to the hospital to pay for Friday night's fun. At an information desk in the main lobby of the hospital, a woman directed me to a neighboring building. Over there, I followed signs to Facturación (billing/invoicing). A woman there directed me to yet another office. It began to feel like no one knew what to do with someone who actually wanted to give the hospital money. At the next stop, a man in a jacket and tie asked if he could help me, I told him I wanted to pay for a visit to urgencias, explained my situation. I handed him the piece of paper I'd been given on my entry to the hospital, he scanned it, asked me to wait, disappeared off through rows of desks and workers into a small office. A couple of minutes later, he reappeared with another jacket-and-tie type, they headed in my direction, looking mighty serious. On arrival, he told me that because the City of Madrid was in the process of changing the departments that were responsible for hospital billing, they were going to keep it simple and give me the medical care free. My eyebrows shot up in amazement, he smiled. I said, "¿Seguro?" He affirmed it, we shook hands and I bolted, practically skipping down hallways and stairs.

Outside, a beautiful afternoon was underway. Sunny, chilly, lots of people about. It felt real damn good to be alive and making my way through it all.  (With more money in my pocket than I’d expected to have.)

Alive -- it sure as hell beats some of the alternatives.

[sterling-starlight]

No Texting During Drama Club

Me: Alright! Week two of Vesuvian pride is all about the modern day AUs, I can do this!

*Eight pages later*

What happened? (Pen pals/online friends meeting in person for the first time. Not quite as adherent to the prompt, but I think it works well enough)

Unknown Sender

3:30 PM.  

“-heard u have a&p with prof valdemar. If you let me copy ur notes, I will owe u pizza for the rest of our lives.

-this is Julian, btw. from the theater club.

-in case u thought this was some, u know, random creep.”

You

3:35 PM

“-Fine. But only because no one deserves to be failed by Valdemar.  

-I’ll drop them off at the dressing room tomorrow. I like pineapple and olive pizza.”

Unknown Sender

3:37 PM

“-pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza, u monster!

-sigh. but I'll let it slide since you’re saving my ass.”

You

3:41 PM

“-Did you really just type out ‘sigh’?”

Unknown Sender

3:43 PM

“-….

-Yes.”

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

You

6:30 PM

“-So, hey. Congrats on getting to play Hamlet.”

Julian

6:34 PM

“-not the most original production we’ve done, but a role’s a role. seeing Lucio’s face when he realized he wasn’t the star was worth it.”

You

6:40 PM

“-Remind me who that is.

I’m seriously drawing a blank here.”

Julian

6:43 PM

“-blonde. rich. Insufferable. loud.

-he has that fancy prosthetic arm that somehow makes him better than everyone.”

You

6:50 PM

“-Oooooooooh. Him.

-He doesn’t really come to bother us production people unless he wants to bitch about costuming or the sets. Which is a lot.”

Julian

6:55 PM

“-i think I've heard you chew him out a few times. Ur the girl with the venterran accent, right?”

You

7:01 PM

“-Aye.

-Surprised you could even understand me. Not a lot of people can when I get PO’d.”

Julian

7:10 PM

“-i understood enough to know you called him a prick.  

-my mom and dad took me to venterre once. it was almost as pretty as you.”

You  

7:20

“-Wow.

-That was horrible and you should feel horrible.”

Julian

7:12

“-I have no shame, and never will, my dear.”  

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

Julian

3:00 AM

“-natalia

“-hey, natalia.”

“-tali”

Julian 3:05 AM

“-how did people in the middle ages first think to start using leeches?

“-like, did they stick leeches on themselves and realize that pain and blood loss and disease was the medicine?”

You

3:06 AM

“Jules, it is 3 in the goddamn morning. Go to bed.”

Julian

3:07 AM

“I work the graveyard shift at supermarket.  it’s my lunchtime.”

You

3:08 AM

“-Then fuckin eat your lunch and let normal people sleep before I cram it up your ass.”

Julian

3:10 AM

“- I can think of much more fun things we can do.”

You

3:15 AM

“-Fuck you, I’m going back to sleep.”

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

Jules

2:30 PM

“-So you really had a pet ram as a kid?”

You

2:31 PM

“-Technically, I still do. I just couldn’t bring him with me.

“-my flat allows large dogs, but won’t allow rams? It’s bullshit.”

Jules

2:32 PM

“-rams aren’t really normal pets tho.”

You

2:33 PM

“-Says the guy who has a pet crow.”

Jules

2:34 PM

“-malak is a raven, number 1.  

-number 2, he is an absolute delight. how dare you say otherwise?

You

2:40

“-Rufus is better.

“-Behold the glory”

Jules

2:50 PM

“-oh, so it’s a pet off then? Fine! May the cutest animal win!”

You

3:00 PM

“-Fine!”

Jules

3:05 PM

“-Have at you!”  

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

When Natalia’s phone rang, she was actually shocked to see Julian’s caller id flash on the screen.   They had never actually... talked on the phone before.  

The worst-case scenarios instantly popped into her head. Was he hurt? Did something happen? What if this was the hospital calling her to say he was in critical condition. Why would he put her as an emergency medical contact without telling her?!

Her phone buzzed again, more insistently, and she pressed the answer button with a trembling finger.  

“Hello?”

“Oh, hi~” The feminine voice from the other line was definitely not Julian, not even at his most dramatic falsetto. And she sounded too chipper to be the bearer of doom and death. Natalia let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding. “This is... Tali? Right?”

“It’s Natalia, actually. Who is this?”

“My name is Portia! I’m Ilya’s- oh, sorry. One sec,” Portia put a hand over the speaker, muffling the commotion on her side of the line. There was thumping, shuffling, and her shouting “You have her listed as ‘My Dearest Tali’, Ilya! Come on!”  

A voice that sounded somewhat like Julian’s shouted back something, but Natalia couldn’t hear it clearly.  There was a sound like static or rushing wind, before a door slammed and Portia let out a triumphant laugh. Portia’s voice fully came back on the line. “Sorry. But, yeah. I’m Ilya’s little sister. I would have liked to meet you in person, but my brother is completely hopeless.”  Someone thumped against the door, and Portia lowered the phone again. “You know I’m right!”  She yelled at the door.

Back to normal. “Aaaanyway. He’s been lamenting, and sighing, and wallowing over whether or not he should ask you out. So! You wanna go on a date with him?”  

Natalia opened and closed her mouth a few times, wordless sounds escaping. She was sure her face was burning pink. She could feel the heat spreading from her cheeks to her neck.  “Take your time. I can be in here all day.” Portia said casually. Natalia could almost picture her reclining back casually on whatever it was she was sitting on.  

“Ah- Ah,” Natalia finally managed to choke out. She took in a deep breath, and let it out in a slow whistle.  “...if he really wants tae.” She finally said.  

“Oh, he does. Trust me, I know him better than anyone.” Natalia could hear Portia’s smile through the phone. Distantly, a lock clicked and a door swung open. “She said yes, Ilyushka. You can thank me later.”

“That wasn’t- you’re missing the-!” Julian stammered. He took a breath and lifted the phone to his ear. “Listen, whatever Pasha said, you can just forget it. Really. It’s nothing.”

For a moment, Natalia found herself stunned by the sound of his voice. It wasn’t anything new to her. She had heard it from behind thick velvet curtains and up on catwalks. She had heard him bellow for lost love mournfully, monologue passionately, and condemn his enemies. But those were all characters. Hamlet, and Romeo, and Othello. None of them had been Julian Devorak. Not really.  

“Natalia?” His voice broke her out of her stupor, and sent a shiver down her spine. The way his tongue curled around the syllables of her name, like he had never spoken anything more sacred, sent her heart aflame in the best possible way.  

“Julian.” She spoke his name barely above whisper.  Natalia leaned against her desk for support, head spinning. When had- how did- why didn’t he- she- they-? She took in a breath through her nose, just as Julian heaved a resigned sigh.

“Good night, Tali.”  

“No, wait, Julian! Don’t-!” The dial tone droning in her ear was all she got.  And when she tried calling him, all she got was his voice mail.  

Try again. Voice mail.

Try again. Voice mail.  

You

8:00 PM

“-Julian, you asshole! Pick up your phone!”

*Last Read by Jules at 8:05 PM.  

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

Natalia Valeth was not a quitter.

She hadn’t given up when she left her home country to become a pharmacist. She hadn’t lost hope when she didn’t make the cut to be on the acting team. She didn’t back down even as Professor Valdemar verbally tore the first draft of her thesis to shreds. So, when she drove to the community theater the very next weekend, she was a woman on a mission.  

She was hours early for once, but not so early that the doors to the theater weren’t already unlocked. The only person who would wake up at the ass crack of dawn for theater was Julian, and that was exactly what Natalia was betting on.  She threw open the auditorium doors with a resounding bang that echoed resoundingly all throughout the room. Sitting on the edge of the stage was Julian, who looked up at her when she made her entrance. The script he had been looking over listlessly fell from his grip, scattering like leaves in the wind. In such a quiet room, Natalia could hear him curse as if she were right at his side.  She steeled herself and marched down the steps of the auditorium, stopping less than an arm’s length away from were Julian sat on his haunches collecting the papers.  

“We need tae talk. Face tae face this time.”  

“Do we?” Julian finally collected the script and rose to his full height. Despite having a good foot on Natalia, he had never looked smaller gunmetal gray eyes looking everywhere but at her. He turned his back on her to tap the pages crisply against the stage.  

“You bet yer ass we dae! Whit th’ hell urr ye thinking’s? Whit, did ye think ignoring this wid mak’ it go away?”  

“...Maybe a little.”

“Och! Yer impossible!” Natalia threw her hands up with the exclamation. “Did ye think Ah juist said ‘aye’ tae fuck wi’ ye? A’m waantin’ tae gang oan a date wi’ ye! Mibbie even twa! If we feel really crazy, we’ll mak’ it three.”

It might not have been the three magical worlds that would have been most dramatic. If this were a stage production, this would be the part where the lights would dim, and the spotlight would narrow over the two lovers, giving the illusion that they were the only two people in the world.   With the theater as empty as it was, they might as well have been.  

“Do you... Do you mean that?”

Such vulnerability didn't seem like Julian.  Julian could throw out innuendos as easily as breathing. Julian was overly dramatic in everything he did, even when he wasn’t in front of an adoring audience. But it was the Julian who wanted to be a doctor. It was the Julian who looked at all the pandemics of the past, and wondered why so many people had to die.  The Julian who was wound up so tightly like he was bracing himself for ejection like it would come as a physical blow.  

Sarcasm felt like it would just add fuel to the fire, so Natalia opted for compassion instead. When she brushed her hand against Julian’s cheek, he leaned into it like he needed her touch the same way needed air.

“I’m willin tae huv a go at this.” She said gently, like everything would shatter around them if she was too abrasive. “Ye in?”  

“Absolutely.” Julian placed a hand over hers and tilted his head enough to plant a shy, fleeting kiss to her palm.  

Maybe this would end in a romance for the ages. Maybe this would end in tragedy. Whatever happened, it was better than not pursing it at all.  

[ao3feed-ineffablehusbandz]

The Best of Both Worlds

by AppleSeeds

It’s 1895, and Aziraphale runs an old-fashioned apothecary shop with his brother Gabriel. Crowley is a pharmacist secretly planning to take over their business. But after he meets Aziraphale, the most adorable and trusting person ever to walk the Earth, what starts as an semi-innocent flirtation rapidly turns Crowley into a pining mess. This calls for a change of plans...

Basically lots of flirting, Crowley's ridiculous internal monologue and a close encounter in a very small shed, followed by rather a lot of angst and misunderstanding (but I promise it’ll all be lovely and fluffy in the end).

Words: 1597, Chapters: 1/12, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Gabriel (Good Omens), Michael (Good Omens), Hastur (Good Omens)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Historical, Victorian, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, 19th Century, Flirting, Period-Typical Homophobia, Misunderstandings, Pining, A pine forest so extensive it could reverse climate change, Sickness, Caring, First Kiss, Mild Smut, Gabriel is a bit of an arse but he gets better, Michael is sweet, You can trust her she's an angel, Herbalism, Gardens & Gardening, Victorian Flower Language, Angst, Even in an AU God ships them, Friends to Lovers, Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), My First Fanfic

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/25771429

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 3x08-- The One Where Kurt Saves Diane

I wrote this over the span of, like, a full year and it is not very interesting. I am posting it simply because I am committed to the idea of writing something about every episode of this series. I recommend that you go check out Evil instead of reading this.

I’m just not intrigued by the clips of news footage about some sort of “Unredacted Unspecified Report” that open this episode.

Diane doesn’t seem to be that interested either: she’s not watching and talks over it. 

More interesting (but, tbh, not actually that interesting to me either, because I’m losing interest in this season) is that Diane gets a letter of warning from a ~mysterious source~. 

Most interesting of all: Diane and Kurt have a normal morning together.

Kurt spots the letter first and opens it. STOP DIANE. THEY KNOW ABOUT THE HACK. So maybe it’s directed at Kurt. Or maybe it’s supposed to say, “Stop, Diane.”

I still haven’t warmed to Diane’s bedroom set, especially because it still feels like Diane lives in her bedroom and her home has no other rooms. 

Joy, Felix Staples has returned. All I have to say about this case is that the day this ep aired, basically what’s happening in this case happened in real life, because… Kings. 

Hello, it’s October now and I suddenly felt like returning to The Good Universe and writing. It’s been a while. 

My memory of this episode/arc is that Diane and Liz just did something uncharacteristically dumb and illegal, and this is the episode where Kurt secretly puts an end to the shenanigans without Diane even knowing. I remember this episode being satisfying, if only because it got rid of the aforementioned dumb and illegal plot. Let’s see how good my memory is. 

Wait why don’t I remember Roger Bart being on this show and why didn’t I note it earlier?! How could I let George The Killer Pharmacist go unmentioned?! 

On that note, how did I not use the opening scene of the season (Diane saying “I’m happy” as an excuse to ramble about how weird it is to experience happiness on a personal level in today’s world?) (I was just watching 3x01.)

I’m actively not watching the case scenes so they don’t kill my drive to actually write this. 

Oh God, I’m going to have to deal with Blum again at some point. I had blocked out his bloviating. I think this is the last of the Blum/Maia free eps? 

The weird Lucca/British actor plot is still happening!!!! I didn’t miss it during all those months in which I wasn’t reminded of it. 

The joke about how these TV lawyers aren’t like other TV lawyers, except they are, was funny the first time. 

Always great to see how Lucca, who is the head of a department at this point, gets called into other cases frequently. Definitely how things work. 

Is it bad that I’m more interested in making a mental list of all the times TGF/TGW have filmed in this little park than this Marissa/Alan Alda scene? 

I can see why this is the episode that made me stop writing these for a bit. So far, this ep is all case and a subplot I don’t care for.

You know what else was funny the first time and has hit a point of diminishing returns? The thing where a main character’s love interest shows up in court and then they get thrown off their game and it’s CUTE FLIRTING!!! Find a new, unique way to signal interest, writers! 

This gag now involves literal gagging. I’m overjoyed. 

Lucca’s monologuing at a toilet about her crush. This plot is cute. It isn’t bad. It is watchable. BUT! I know it’s a novelty, so I’m just not that excited by it or invested in it. It’s not really deepening my understanding of Lucca. 

Lucca picturing everyone in court in their underwear is just unnecessary and honestly not funny??? 

Kurt leaves the warning note out for Diane to see. He confronts her about it and she asks for a drink.

The credits are at 19 minutes in. I do love them. Have any of you watched Evil yet? I watched part of the first episode (I intend to go back to it, I’ve just been busy) and the credits resemble the TGF credits. (Update as of March 2020: I watched all of Evil and you should too.)

Diane tells Kurt about Book Club or #Resistance or whatever I was calling it. Even though Diane doesn’t tell him the full story (mostly for his own protection, and she makes it clear she’s omitting stuff), I do appreciate that Diane and Kurt don’t keep secrets from each other, and if/when they do, they talk about it openly and calmly. I love them. 

(I have blocked out Kurt/Holly almost entirely. I know it’s canon, but I still don’t believe it was anything other than a plot device to motivate some unnecessary drama in the TGW finale. God, that finale was bad. Ghost Will? Kurt cheating? GENEVA and Peter? GHOST WILL? Even the slap, which is one of my favorite parts, is more powerful as a symbol than as an actual plot development, since (1) Alicia betraying Diane is something Pilot!Alicia would’ve done to any friend to protect her family and (2) it stems from the nonsense about Kurt cheating and Peter tampering with evidence. What a letdown of a finale. The Kings are lucky they got to redeem themselves with TGF.)

(As anyone who’s had a one-on-one convo with me about the TGW finale at any point in the last three years will tell you, I will NEVER tire of discussing it, even if it means rehashing the same points over and over and over.)

I forgot about the thing where it wouldn’t stop storming in season 3. 

Don’t have much to say about Kurt devising a plan to help Diane get out of trouble, but I do find it very fun! 

OOOOH this is the episode about censorship that got censored!!! If you haven’t already, do read Emily Nussbaum’s piece about the behind-the-scenes drama of this episode. I thought the “this content has been censored” screen where the short would have been was a joke… but it was actually censored. That may be the most interesting thing about this episode.

I want more character-driven plots. I want more Liz and Lucca. I have nothing to say. 

Book Club still believes the con artist who brought them together is something other than a con artist. Book Club is not that smart for being a collection of very smart people. 

“So the whole group is bullshit?” Liz asks when Diane loops her in. Yes. But also, like, this is what happens when you do illegal shit with a group formed by a literal con artist. Liz may have an excuse for trusting the group (Diane brought her in), but why does DIANE trust them? 

“My life is simple, Diane. I have a son. I have a mortgage. I have my job. And I go from home to work and work to home. So this stuff is, this bullshit intrigue… I’m done. Too much drama,” Liz laments, about a week too late. Where was this last week when Liz was like YES LET’S DO CRIMES? 

One of my problems with the whole Book Club arc is that it makes very little sense that Liz would get involved in the first place. I understand why she would be sympathetic to their cause and willing to look the other way on their methods… if she were watching a news report about them on TV. She’s too practical, and has too much to lose, to get involved with a group like this. 

An NSA nerd is back!! He’s the one warning Diane! 

Okay, picking this back up in March 2020 because *gestures at the world* I have time. Like, I have so much free time I’ve finished 9 books in the last 14 days AND finally made it to the episodes of The Sopranos with JMargs. I began watching The Sopranos in 2017.

As I write this, I have no idea if TGF is coming back on April 9th as planned or not. Unless there’s something in the works for season 4 that can’t possibly be left unfinished or air today, I think they should air whatever they have now. TGF is always timely, and while scenes set in an office are suddenly feeling weird and implausible, they’ll probably play better now than in six months. And we’d all forgive the writers if they had to wrap up the arcs through an animated recap song. 

It’s been a while since I’ve seen the TGF credits so I rewound to watch the credits. I went to 2 minutes into the episode, then remembered… they’re 20 minutes in.

Y’all. They blow up a purse with hand sanitizer in it. Did they predict this?! 

I wrote that preamble and then stopped writing. But now we know that TGF is really coming back on April 9th, which means I have to stop watching The Sopranos and write these things! 

Ah, Felix Staples. I haven’t missed you! 

Case stuff happens. Really riveting episode, this one. (It is an interesting case, though.)

Kurt saving Diane is pretty fun. But I don’t have anything to say about it and to write about it would just to be to give a half-assed play by play… and why?

Oh WOW, Lucca and Downton Abbey guy is still happening?! 

Getting to see Kurt be really competent and caring is the best thing, by far, about the Book Club arc.

Wait, I take that back, Liz’s speech about voter suppression is also pretty high up there-- as long as you ignore the context. 

V excited (!!) to get back to Maia’s bullshit in the next few episodes, not because I want to watch it but because if there’s one thing I’m actually motivated to write about, it’s how the show has handled Maia Rindell. Also, they handle the next few episodes well for her. 

Oh RIGHT Liz tells ChumHum about her dad’s sexual harassment issues! And Adrian and Liz are finally going to tell the press! It may mean losing Neil Gross, though. 

Book Club is over! Wooooooooooooooooooooo! On to more interesting things!!!

Also gone? Downton Abbey guy, who gave an interview about something new and exciting in his life. Lucca thought he was talking about her, and he was talking about some...personality test that sounds like a cult from the way he describes it? AAAAAND I Googled it and yup. It is. What a goofy ending to this arc I didn’t care about. Reminds me of the way the Marilyn arc ended (with a cameo from a celebrity who she was supposedly sleeping with). Glad the actor was so game to poke fun at himself, but is this the best we can do for Lucca? 

Diane thinks she took care of the hack and made it go away. Kurt lets her take the credit. 

The end! 

[bauchief]

what  about the  annoying shit .   without  making  it  some  sort  of  spectacle .   some  things  just  are .   like  the  little  things  noticed  by  coworkers  or  clients  or  the  barista  at  the  coffee  shop  on  the  way  to  work .   

       he  probably  talks  with  his  mouth  open  at  times .   snags  the  last  of  the  coffee  without  brewing  a  fresh  pot .   leaves  the  toilet  seat  up  repeatedly .   pulls  the   “i’m  the  boss  and  you  do  have  to  follow  my  orders  whether  or  not  you  like  them”   card  when  called  out .   is  notoriously  bad  at  leaving  coffee  mugs  on  the  counter ,   unwashed .   judges  based  on  appearances .   has  exaggerated  while  reprimanding  his  agents  to  reinforce  the  idea  that  he’s  in  charge .   makes  everyone  come  to  his  office  to  make  a  point  instead  of  approaching  someone  in  the  hall  or  bullpen .   thrives  on  being  in  control  of  his  team  and  gets  personally  offended   ( also  professionally )   and  pulls  some   “we’re  supposed  to  be  a  team ,   you  can’t  keep  secrets”   shit  while  simultaneously  keeping  secrets  of  his  own  on  the  basis  of   “we’re  supposed  to  be  a  team ,   i  can’t  let  you  know  this  shit  about  me”   like  the  rules  don’t  apply  to  him  and  avoids  calls  or  texts  or  emails  from  someone  he’s  arguing  with .   his  tantrum  in  s5ep2  when  morgan  has  to  apologize  to  the  pharmacist  on  his  behalf  is  legitimately  his  internal  monologue  when  interviewing  witnesses .   believes  his  team  is  more  efficient(TM)  than  local  authorities  and  subtly  treats  them  as  the  bureau’s  younger  siblings  while  saying   “we’re  just  here  to  help .”   

[amlovelies]

Today I went to see one of my good friends in a production of "the vagina monologues" One of the monologues she read was about rape. And now I'm lying here thinking about all the ways that I have been assaulted. About the fact that I have never consent to any mans hands on me. How I lived with a man for 5 years. How every time he would touch me I would find myself lost in vivid memories. How it took me years to realize that was me running away. That was me trying to hide from him. From his touch. How even after we'd broke up but shared the same bed waiting for the lease to run out. How I'd wake up to his hands on my body. His fingers inside me. How it didn't matter what I wanted. How when visiting my grandma he came into the bathroom as I was getting out of the shower. I could see my grandma and little sister outside. At least he was quick How I felt guilt like I had to stay with him. Because no one else would want me. How I had tainted him. How I owed it to now since I'd passed on my disease. How I told him the night we met that I didn't want to have sex. How it happened anyway. And everything that happened before that. Crying in the bathroom at prom. In so much pain that I can't breath. Biting into my hand to keep from screaming as I try to use the bathroom. My mother slapping me across the face when I told her I had to go to the doctor. The look on the pharmacists face when I went to pick up my prescription. A week spent in bed. Unable to move without it hurting. Lying in a bathtub after downing a handful of pills. A thin red line on my left wrist. A phone call that they were coming home early. Nothing terrifying me more than the thought of getting caught with the job half finished. All the whispers at school. The jokes and the bad names. The speculation. "Exactly how many guys did you fuck this weekend" The phone call from a "friend" laughing about the video someone had of me. The video someone had of me drugged. The video of me and one of my rapists. And I feel like I've come a long way since then. But it's still there. The line is faint but there is still a scar on my wrist. And honestly I have no idea how to be intimate with another human being. Hell I couldn't even bring myself to touch an artist I have loved for over ten years as we took a meet and greet photo. I just stood there with my hand awkwardly hoving as he placed his arm around my waist. I just don't know where I go from here. I'm almost 27. I want so desperately to feel that wild breathless burning love. I want to feel the way certain songs do just be being around another person. I want to share my soul with someone. I have so much passion inside me. But I feel like it's all going to burn away. Because I am so afraid. So afraid of it happening again. Of me letting it happen again. Of just going along with some guys wishes because I'm terrified of how he will hurt me if I say no. If I say stop. If I try to leave. I'm terrified of tainting someone the way it was done to me. I know it's not life threatening. But it is a life sentence. And I remember that pain. Nothing can ever make me forget the pain of that first flare up. How could I do that to someone? I just wish I could go back. I wish I could keep it from happening to me. I wish I was whole. I'm so tired of being broken