#they deserve a little cottage in the south downs

[a-love-like-yours]

So if I don’t get an ending to season three with a cottage in the South Downs I will never ever recover.

I need a small little unassuming cottage surrounded by the most beautiful and well tended gardens with plants that grow unbelievably well, almost by some miracle maybe? But just rows and rows of the most beautiful and most verdant plants in all of England.

Stepping inside it will be just full of beautiful golds and yellows and greys and greens and reds.

There’s a small closet just down the hall that appears to be a coat closet, but when opened is a large library full of rows and rows of books. Whatever book you could ever possibly want can be found in this room. Collections of classics, the rarest books of prophecy, hand written poems seem to have a place on the shelves as well. And drawings. So many sketches and portraits of all the mundane and perfect moments of domestic life. Maybe of a certain demon tending the garden, or drinking wine by candlelight (maybe real, maybe battery operated), or sleeping curled up seemingly in the most uncomfortable position in the armchair, with his legs thrown over the armrests and his hair all flattened to one side (this is the angel’s favorite, though Crowley pretends to hate it).

And in the sitting room there is a large desk, maybe like the one that could be seen at one bookshop in Soho, with a seemingly out of place Magic for Dummies book half opened and a notepad full of notes laying out.

And across, nestled just past the armchair with the demon lazed across it, is the (infamous) love seat definitively from the bookshop in Soho. There are small comfortable windows with a beautiful fireplace nestled between them, though it does not get much regular use, and of course, not very far away and nestled into a corner, is a fire extinguisher always at the ready.

Then as you move further down the hall you’ll see beautiful art along the walls. And places for Crowleys beloved statues.

At the end of the short hallway you’ll find a beautiful kitchen. There is always delicious food and it never goes bad. Always fresh baked bread and tea at the ready, always small sweets and a home cooked meal waiting for friends.

Then down the stairs to the cellar, where is somehow never gets musty, or full of cobwebs, but always has cases of delicious wine and bottles of single malt scotch at the ready.

Then is you travel back up the stairs and to the other end of the small cottage you get to the bedroom.

A beautiful mix of gold and grey, seemingly something that might not go together, but works miraculously for the space. A small cozy and private place.

There are shelves of books and plants all throughout the home, with comfortable rugs and seating as well.

It is a retreat, a Heaven, a home.

And shared by an Angel and Demon who have pined and pained for over 6000 years and deserve the best of it all.

And I want it for them.

[buckyalpine]

Call Me

18+ minors dni

College Buck x you (brothers best friend/ Steve’s sister)

Untouched AU: Back with these two babies who are learning so much together Warnings: SMUT (phone sex, m & f masturbation) FLUFFF  Word count: 1.9k

More with these two:

Tongue Twister 

Date Night 

Tipsy 

“Do you have to go?” You pouted, sitting on Bucky’s bed as he packed his bag for a guy’s weekend away at the cottage.

“You’re the one who told me to go y/n” Bucky snorted, recalling you telling him he deserved his guy time and that you’d be fine spending the long weekend at home having some alone time.

“Ugh, I know. I’ll miss you though” You stole a hoodie he packed away, cuddling it to your chest while Bucky packed a few more things, cocking his head seeing his sweater in your arms.

“I was wondering where that went”

“Mine” You hugged it tighter, while he chuckled, kissing the top of your head. Just when he thought he couldn’t be more in love with you.

“Mhm, and you’re mine princess”

A few days later

You huffed, spending the better part of your night wrapped up in Bucky’s hoodie. You had the house to yourself and at first it was great. You’d slept in, done some shopping, gone on walks, gone to the bookstore, grabbed some coffee, watched some movies.

But.

You missed your boyfriend. He’d sent a hundred adorable selfies, pictures with the guys and he called you every night but it wasn’t the same as having him in your arms. Giving you cuddles. Kissing your lips. Sneaking his hands everywhere. Pressing his bare skin against yours. Whispering. Moaning. Fuck.

Your phone ringing broke you away from your thoughts, smiling when you saw your Bucky’s name flash across the screen.

“Hey my babygirl” You felt your skin heat up at the name, no matter how many times he called you that, it still made you feel butterflies. “What you up to?”

“Missing you bub” You sighed, curling up on your bed, your thighs squeezing together hearing his voice.

“I miss you too doll, so much” So much, he’d taking a number of extra “showers”, with his cock in his hand, craving your warmth. He craved every bit of you. Your laugh, your smile, the way you’d cling to him like a koala bear. “Been thinking about you a lot my princess”

His princess. You squealed on the inside, your stomach clenching, slick starting to dampen your panties.

“What are you guys up to tonight?”

“They set up a bon fire by the lake. Came back to grab some stuff, thought I’d call you while I got some time alone…” You could hear the smirk in his voice, his mind wandering.

“Why would you need alone time Buck” You giggled teasingly, but your heart started to race in anticipation.  

“Just missed you so much baby…I miss all of you…” His voice deepened, as he made his way to his room, flopping onto the mattress, sitting up against the bed.

“Exactly how much do you miss me baby?” Your sweet voice wasn’t helping a damn thing, and not a single coherent thought was formulating in his brain, all his blood rushing south.

“Been touching myself everyday sweetheart, thinking about sucking that pretty little clit, stuffing my cock in you” Bucky groaned, slipping his hand down his sweats to palm at his hardening length. He gave his cock a squeeze before pulling his hand out, he’d never felt frustrated like this before.

“Bucky…” You whined out, squeezing your thighs together wasn’t working anymore. You squirmed against the sheets, the hoodie suddenly feeling too warm. You tossed it off before falling back against the pillows, biting your lip, your panties were soaked.

“Babygirl, I want to stroke my cock so bad” He almost sounded in pain, his voice coming out a whimper. He’d never done this before, his muscles tensed, his length straining against his sweats. “I need it y/n”

You whined at his words, slick further drenching your thighs. Your hand gripped onto the sheet,

“Do it baby” Your heart raced further, imaging Bucky stroking his cock, his head thrown back as he worked his length. Your clit was practically screaming, begging for attention when you heard him moan.

“It’s so fucking hard right now princess, sh-shit” His breaths came out in rasps as he tugged at his cock, his fist working in long fast strokes, twisting his wrist when his hand wrapped over the sensitive head. You moaned listening to the way he already sounded so gone; just knowing you could hear him made his balls tighten. He let go of his cock, letting it rest against his stomach, his arousal making a mess all over his abs. He needed more. He needed to hear your sweet moans, he wanted you to feel good with him.

“Baby?”  Bucky whispered, his cheeks blushing. He didn’t want you doing something you were not comfortable with.

“What is it bub” You could sense the hesitation in his voice, itching to ask you something.

“Will-will you touch yourself for me?”

“O-okay” You whimpered, moaning as soon as your fingertips dipped into your arousal, gathering your slick. You rubbed slow circles onto your clit, biting your lip, trying to keep your voice down. Your body felt like live wire, you knew he couldn’t see you but you still felt vulnerable, knowing he could hear you touch yourself.

“Does it feel good baby?” Bucky rasped, stroking his cock again, using his precum as lube. He let his hand trail down to roll his balls in his hand, cupping and squeezing them, arousal dribbling out his cock each time. “Can’t stop thinking about your mouth, miss having your lips and tongue all over me, cocks too sensitive right now baby”

You moaned in response, but he could tell you were holding back, he’d heard your real moans before, and this wasn’t it. You panted, rubbing yourself faster, your high building up quicker than you expected.

“Don’t hold back babygirl, use those pretty fingers on your clit, rub that sweet clit for me baby, just like if I was there”

Your hips nearly lifted off the bed, you could hear the wet slick sounds of him stroking his cock, you could imagine how gorgeous he looked with his cock pulled out of his sweats, pleasuring himself. What you wouldn’t give to take the sensitive head of his cock in your mouth and lick up his arousal, just to hear his soft little whimpers.

And to feel him fill you. You pressed onto your clit harder, fuck you felt empty, you wanted his thick cock inside you so badly.

“I want your cock Bucky” Your hesitation started melting away as you started to chase the warmth that was already starting to build in your belly.

“Tell me more y/n, tell me, how do you want me”

“Want it in my mouth James, want to taste you”

Bucky’s eyes rolled back, moaning loudly, thinking about how you’d look up at him with those sweet doe eyes, while your tongue worked around his cock, swallowing every drop of his precum like such a good girl.

“I-I want you to fuck me, want your cock in me James, fill me-OH FUCK YES” You plunged two fingers into yourself, spreading your thighs apart, your slick drenching the sheets. “Need more, fuck, I want more” You were nearly thrashing on the bed, trying to fuck yourself as fast as you could while Bucky moaned his hand focused on the tip of his cock.

“That’s it princess, think about me fucking you, your fingers are not the same huh? You miss my cock in that tight pussy don’t you baby?”

“Need your cock James! Want it baby, want you to stretch me!” Bucky could hear the squelch of your juices splashing against your fingers, his cock rock hard in his hand, squeezing tightly at the base to keep from cumming.

“C’mon doll, you can do it, fuck yourself faster for me baby, m’squeezing my cock so hard baby, there’s too much fucking cum”  

“I-I-fuckfuck-JamesJamesJAMES” A thin sheen of sweat covered your skin as you sped up your fingers, your vision going white. You could feel your clit throb and pulse as your orgasm crashed over you, your body pulled taught, letting out a silent scream.

“I know you’re home alone baby, you can be as loud as you want, let me hear you doll”

“I’M CUMMING, FUCK JAMES”

“Oh God, scream for me baby, m’gonna cum princess, gonna make such a mess all over myself y/n- AH FUCKKKK” Bucky’s body jolted as cum shot out of the pink tip of his cock, his hand stroking every drop of cum out. It felt endless, spurts of cum bursting from his cock repeatedly, as if he hadn’t felt a proper release for ages.

Your eyes rolled back, hearing his cries, thinking about how delicious your boyfriend would look covered in his cum, thick ropes of his arousal covering his abs and chest.

“Do you wish I was there to clean you up baby” You slurred out as you continued to lazily play with your throbbing clit,

“Fuck yes, please princess, run your tongue all over me baby, you’re such a good girl” Bucky moaned, trailing his hands down to palm his balls, rubbing and caressing them before bringing his hand back to trace over his shaft.

“M’your good girl” You giggled, letting out a yawn, sleep starting to wash over you. You pulled the sheets to over your body, closing your eyes, keeping your phone on the pillow. Bucky chuckled, knowing how tired you always felt after, knowing damn well you were probably curled up in a ball in your bed already half asleep.

“Go to sleep princess, I’ll call you in the morning”

“Goodnight bubba” I love you Bucky you mumbled, keeping the second part to yourself as sweet dreams quickly started to take over. Dreams of him. His eyes. His nose. His smile. The way he’d rock you when you were upset. The way he’d reassure you when you felt scared. The way he’d listen to you ramble. The way he’d hold you when you had cramps. The way he’d carry you. Fuck you loved him.

“Can’t wait to see you soon babygirl” I love you y/n he thought to himself, giving you a kiss through the phone before putting it down. He loved you. And while he wanted to scream it from the rooftops, he didn’t want to blurt it out too soon.

At the bon fire

“That fucker is on the phone with y/n, isn’t he” Sam snorted, waiting for Bucky to come back with marshmallow and a few beers.

“Yup” Steve shook his head, cocking an eyebrow seeing the light turned on in Bucky’s room. “There are no damn beers or marshmallows in there”

Bucky sheepishly made his way back to the lake, avoiding the way Sam and Steve were staring at him with playful narrow eyes.

“What took so long” Tony sasses, wiggling his eyebrows, enjoying Bucky’s flustered face.

“Couldn’t find the stuff” He mumbled, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the group.

“Could be cause you looked in your room” Sam cackled, while Bucky covered his face. “Did you call y/n to ask for help?”

Bucky sat up wide eyes, stuffing a marshmallow into his mouth, refusing to answer. Steve stared at his best friend, noting how dishevelled he looked, as if he’d ran a marathon. Unbelievable. Even on a guy’s weekend. If he could have Bucky temporarily neutered….

“Worse. Than. Rabbits”

-

More with these two:

Tongue Twister

Date Night

Tipsy

Tags: @glxwingrxse​ @hungryyeyes​ @sebsgirl71479​ @beabutterfly987​ @teambarnes72​ @witchy-whore​ @jamesbuckybarneswify​ @slutforsexyseabass​ @chrisdrysdale​ @littlemarvelmenfan​ @buggy14​ @whimsyplaty92​ @sergntbarnes​ @inkedaztec​ @pono-pura-vida​ @moonlightreader649​ @brooklynscherry-z​  @elle14-blog1​ @littlelightnings​ @psychomanniac-blog​ @happyt0exist​ @emmabarnes​ @bethyruth​   @matchat3a​ @cjand10​ @getwellsoontana​ @cherryschaos​ @lokisasgardianvampirequeen​   @ashenc-blog​   @buckybarnessimpp​  @potatothots​ @goldylions​   @high-functioning-lokipath​  @morganemorgane​ @peaches1958​ @kingfleury​ @spiderman-stilinski​ @peaceinourtime82​   @gublur​ @wintersmelodie​ @geeky-politics-46​ @lolawassad​ @almosttoopizza​ @a-poor-gryffindork​ @alternativeprincess

[actual-changeling]

I dunno if you've talked about this but I'm just curious, what's some of your favorite head cannons or theories for good omens?

I don't think I have ever made a headcanons post, usually everything I like shows up in my writing, but I definitely have a few favourites.

Crowley deserves to have his shoulder-length/bun hair in season 3, so iconic and yet so little screen time

they both have no idea what gender is supposed to be, they're just vibing on two different ends of the expression spectrum

both are autistic and Crowley has adhd on top of that (plus cptsd but that's a given)

I also imagine Crowley with bpd whenever I write him because I am a) projecting and b) it fits

Supreme Archangel Aziraphale with purple eyes my beloved. It makes for amazing angst and the mental image is delicious.

they will kiss again. they have to. and a hug, like the longest hug in existence with faces buried in shoulders and everything

Michael betraying heaven and Dagon betraying hell (and falling in love and I'd call it wishful thinking but we got Beez and Gabe so. everything is possible)

not really a headcanon since Neil has been talking about this for ages: they get a cottage in the South Downs 💚

[thewomanwhoboughttheworld]

Last night I finished watching Barry and, after having slept on it, I want to say something.

WHAT.

A.

SHOW.

I mean, if you haven't already seen it go and catch up because wow. It's only four seasons, eight episodes each, about 30 minutes each episode. I promise it's worth it.

Little shitty recap if you haven't seen the series: Barry Berkman is an ex-marine who comes back from Afghanistan and becomes a hitman. When he discovers theatre and meets Sally (a girl he falls for) and Gene (acting teacher), Barry decides he wants to change his life. Shit happens, the Chechen mafia is involved, he can't leave his life behind so he always finds himself in the darkest place.

Don't keep on reading if you haven't seen the show because I'm about to go and spoil it for y'all as I will talk about the last season and the last episode.

I get it, alright? I get why people don't like the ending. It's because it doesn't have a build-up or a build-down, it doesn't resolve anything, it's just... An ending. Just like in Bojack Horseman, when Bojack is sitting on the roof with Diane and she tells him it's just an ending. That's exactly what Barry's last minutes are. Just an ending.

We don't need something big, some action-packed gran finale with whatever you can think of. We already had that. We already had an adrenaline-filled last episode in past seasons, but it always meant that something else was going to happen, that the story wasn't finished. And you know what they had in common?

Barry.

Those endings all had to do with Barry. Barry killed Janice. Barry went on a shooting spree. Barry wanted to seek revenge. But Barry's not there anymore, so who else is going to keep on the violence and the blood thirst? Nobody. Not NoHo Hank, who is dead. Not Gene, who's in prison. Not Sally, who wants to get away from all of this and care for her son.

This simple and bitter ending is just perfect for the tone set by all of the series. It's a satire, it's sad, and it makes you want to shout at John not to believe in what he's seeing. But it's real and raw. It is upsetting, that's true, just as the whole series is because Barry's point isn't to comfort you. It's never been.

Furthermore, what else could we have more? Every character got their own ending, in a way. That's it, there was nothing more to say.

Fuches (my God, Stephen Root you excellent actor, how I hated your character throughout the seasons) served his time in prison and got what he deserved. He still couldn't leave his criminal life behind, but we see that he understood his mistakes. We can see it in his eyes when he brings John back to Barry. Don't fuck it up, kiddo, don't fuck him up. Will he keep on leading a criminal life? Of course, he doesn't know anything else. Will he manipulate another kid like he did with Barry since he was a child? Not likely.

NoHo Hank... Listen, I still had my heart in pieces from the Ineffable Divorce (my babies deserve so much more, I believe in the South Downs cottage) and now THIS?! I WANTED TO SCREAM, OKAY? Nohobal was so precious and the healthiest couple on the show (I can't believe I just said that about two criminals but whatever) and this is what they pulled? Bill Hader, I love you with all my heart but I'm never going to forgive you. But it's so incredibly in character for Hank because even if we see him as this sweet and polite guy, he always chooses violence. Ever since the first season, his answer was always violence, even if it was to protect Cristobal and their future together. We just see him in a darker place and I just-- That last scene with Hank dying and holding Cristobal's statue's hand is *chef's kiss*. Give Anthony Carrigan his fucking deserved Emmy Award.

OH. MY. GOD. GENE. Even though I thought he was slightly off the entire season, I think it's fine. We've always seen him composed and rational, but this season he just let emotions take hold of him. He was so scared and angry and just didn't know what else to do. I was so worried he was going to unalive himself with that gun but boy. He did it. He really killed Barry. I couldn't believe it at first but wow. And Henry Winkler, my friends, is the reason why NOBODY should be typecasted. He was so good and believable and overall GLORIOUS in this series that I can't believe the industry didn't see his talent back then and just wanted him to play different versions of the Fonz. But Henry darling, I love you so much but I can't look at that hair and that beard.

Sally's such a complex character it is really hard to break down. I love how we can still see her trauma, her abused and abusive nature. She's always true to herself, even if she grows and changes for the better. I love that she found a passion for teaching and decided to be what Cousineau was for her. I really think she will be a great mentor if she can let her ego go. I love how she understood what John would have done at his (boy)friend's house and accepted it. I think that, while in the car, she was choosing what to do next. Do I tell my son the truth, that that movie is bullshit and his father was a killer, or do I play along so that I won't fuck him up? That's what her eyes told me, but I may be wrong. But wow. Sarah Goldberg is perfect. Just perfect.

And now Barry... Barry, who I loved so much, who I believed in, who I rooted for. Barry who can't stop being violent, is a killer at heart, who can't be redeemed. He's unforgivable, he can't make it right. We've seen it in the past seasons when he couldn't escape from Fuches and the mafia and all of that, we see it now as he dies before turning himself in. It's mindblowing. Bill Hader is such a fucking genius and such a good actor that I don't even know what to say. I could talk all day about this series and this character, but I think this post would be too long.

In the end, great series. One of the best I've seen in recent years, one of my favourites. Thank you, Bill, for making this show come to light and being so freaking good at writing, directing and playing in it.

[aziraphales-library]

HEYO! Someone asked for GO game recommendations?

Look no further (jk, please do)! I'm begging you to give Transient by Oemuff a chance! It's beyond brilliant and absolutely heart warming. I played it multiple times and think the developer deserves all the appreciation in 💫the world💫.

Hope this link works: https://transient-a-good-omens-fangame.en.softonic.com/

There are so many little insiders hidden in their South Downs cottage and the story is everything from hilarious to touching. Please do yourself a favour and play it. No idea why the developer isn't a fandom legend yet.

Thank so much for letting us know!...

Transient

Interactive RPG fangame

Transient - A Good Omen's Fangame is a free role-playing fan fiction game developed by Oemuff for PC. The story of this interactive fiction game will revolve around the life of Crowley and Aziraphale after the ruined apocalypse. You can expect a mix of bizarre but cute humor, an established relationship, and a few obscure hints of NSFW content.

- Mod D

[hekate1308]

Do I Look Like I Knew That

Prompt: Do I Look Like I Knew That?

Fandom: Good Omens

Pairing: Ineffable Husbands

Crowley still can’t believe that they’ve made it here. After everything, after six thousand years, they have finally managed to set things straight and buy a cottage – although they are of course keeping the book shop because anything else would be unthinkable.

Still, here they are. He would thank God every day for that if the subject weren’t still a little touchy with him, and he has an idea that she wouldn’t answer anyway, because she never does.

Currently, Aziraphale is reading and Crowley is lying on the couch, being very content with just staring at his angel because he can.

Now and then, one of them will say something or other, but mostly they are happy to be silent together.

Until Aziraphale raises his head and says, “I have to say, dear, I am still surprised that you had no idea that Jane Austen wrote books.”

“Do I look like I knew that?” he asks lazily, not caring one bit. He and good old Jane had a lot of fun together back in the day, if she wanted to write books in her spare time, that’s fine by him.

“Still… next thing you’ll see you know nothing about Edith Wharton.”

“As if anyone would forget her” Crowley says immediately. “The good angel of Paris. The kind of charity she undertook in World War I was really something…” While he was technically supposed to delight in wars and the Inquisition and other things the humans came up with, Crowley has always held to having principles, and sometimes… To this day he can’t really visit Spain without shuddering.

Another moment of silence, but this was is startled and Crowley groans when he realizes what that means. “Oh don’t tell me. She wrote something too?”

“She was the first woman to win the Pulitzer Prize for Age of Innocence…”

Oh. Good for her. Remembering all she did, she most definitely deserved it, and if Aziraphale likes it, it must be rather good, too. “Glad to hear it” he therefore says.

Aziraphale looks at him with that fondness in his eyes he never bothers to hide anymore, and Crowley couldn’t be happier, no matter how many other people who wrote books are unknown to him.

They are taking a walk, holding hands because they can. The inhabitants of South Downs quickly grew used to them so nobody blinks an eye these days.

It’s a beautiful October day, the kind that makes not even Crowley sorry to be a snake, because the sun is out.

Aziraphale waves at Mrs. Folly, the kind old lady who is their closest neighbour and was the first to approach them with cookies and greetings, one of which his angel appreciated more than the other, although he would never openly show that, naturally.

“So where do you want to have lunch, dear?” Aziraphale asks and he shrugs because as long as they are together, it doesn’t matter to him one bit.

“Wherever you want, Angel.”

Aziraphale beams and Crowley thinks he’ll let him choose forever if this is the reaction he gets.

They are spending an evening home, and it feels so homely and wonderful that Crowley has actually curled up into a snake and slid unto Aziraphale’s lap. Now and then, he will pat him, causing him to hiss in contentment. It’s alright, Aziraphale knows the difference between that and his annoyed hisses when he gets woken up from his nap.

He eventually glances upwards because he really wants to know what Aziraphale is reading – he doesn’t have to know – and it’s –

Of course it would be the one they talked about. He doesn’t roll his eyes. Barely. He can’t imagine that Aziraphale hasn’t already read that particular work several hundred times, like so many other things…

His thoughts drift off as his angel continues to read, and he finds himself wondering if there are any other authors he doesn’t know about – no, that’s not what he means – if there are other people he knew and thought he knew well who wrote books. When it comes to Jane Austen, she’s apparently even primarily known for her novels, or that’s what the angel said, which he can’t help but feel she would have laughed at. A good sense of humour was one of her best characteristics, after all…

Edith Wharton wasn’t as quick to laugh, but she was always quick to help, and that counted for something, back then, Crowley actually spent quite a bit of time in France in World War I – and might have sometimes supported her charities while being very careful that Hell didn’t hear. They were always very touchy when it comes to this.

All of this is now behind them, though, and he relaxes into a comfortable nap as Aziraphale pats him once more.

[thebarefootcajun]

GeneMar, Owner of the Melody Mourning Palace

GeneMar, pronounced, jawn - mar, lived in a tiny village on the south side of the region known as Grosse Mousse, pronounced, graws - moose, big moss. It was a tiny village nestled among the most gorgeous two hundred years old oak trees. Their bottom limbs touched the ground and each huge branch was laden with hefty gray moss that hung like huge icicles. An eerie, but very southern feeling. The moss area was a respite for the south Louisiana Cajun prairie summer heat and humidity. Nestled within that clump of trees was a very deep lake made when the Louisiana government decided to pave a two lane highway leading to a gravel road that led to Gross Mousse.

GeneMar was an anomaly, not your typical southern gentlemen. Some even questioned whether he was a man, but of course those questioning were just being homophobic. Definitely before the Stonewall riots of New York City when gay rights began to gain momentum. GeneMar, a flamboyant young man, had grown up with his grandmother. His parents had abandoned him when they just couldn’t take his feminine mannerisms anymore. One day at dawn they dropped him off on his grandma’s steps; she being a single lady really didn’t have the resources to take care of GeneMar, but she loved him and would die trying to raise him. That’s a grandma’s love.

This gay author knows a grandma’s love and the love of a mom who embraced him as a little boy, one who was different. Of course, my mom has always been a woman ahead of her own time. I’m alive today and thriving because those two amazing women embraced me just as I was. MawMaw Aline let me wear her high heel shoes. I stretched them out and felt bad when I saw her struggling to walk in church on Sunday with shoes too big for her tiny feet. And Mom, Joyce, made sure Santa would bring me a doll when I asked for one. Readers this is the 1958. Those women were trailblazers, and I can only hope I can one day learn to love as they did; to love the outliers, because everyone deserves to be loved.

Okay, now back to GeneMar. He cared for his grandma until the day she died at age ninety-nine. Before cremation was a thing, they cremated her and buried her beneath a big old oak tree in her front yard under some beautiful pink azaleas, grandma’s favorite color and flowers. Those beauties bloomed year round. GeneMar wanted to be able to see her as he sat on the front porch. She was his greatest love as she had cared for him with such a loving spirit. The strangest thing about those azaleas, after grandma was buried they bloomed year round. Even during rare freezes on the Cajun prairie those azaleas were in bloom with the most beautiful pink fluffy flowers. Grandma was alive, her spirit dwelled on the prairie. GeneMar knew for sure that those azaleas were grandma and that she was near watching over him.

GeneMar had begun working at a very young age at a funeral parlor in the tiny village of Grande Mousse. His gentle, feminine spirit had a heart for people in crisis and those with hurting hearts after the death of a loved one. The funeral director decided to retire at the young age of sixty nine and asked GeneMar to become the director. Of course GeneMar was ecstatic to take over the helm of the Melody Mourning Palace located in an old quaint Cajun cottage with a steady stream of water running in a bayou right behind it.

GeneMar just had a way with dead people as he did with living people. And since he had played with makeup all his life, he was perfect for making people look beautiful with just the right amount of applied makeup. Usually, the first words out of family and friends were, “Il a l’air si naturel.” Translated as he looks so natural.

And GrandMar had decided that funeral costs were escalating at an alarming rate. Living in a rural community he cared for his people. He began to make coffins out of cedar wood that he had shipped down the bayou behind the Melody Mourning Palace. Behind the funeral parlor there was a tiny shop where he fashioned the most tasteful, simple, creative coffins. And they were the lowest price around. GrandMar donated many a coffin for people who couldn’t pay. GrandMar saw this as his ministry to people and a way to show them respectful love.

GrandMar was also an excellent hair dresser. He had done his grandma’s and her friends’ hair for years, just because he loved being with and around women. He loved the art of hairdressing, another important skill for a funeral parlor director. And if coffin builder, hairdresser weren’t enough, he was also an excellent seamstress specializing in house dresses. Many older women wore those around the house all day because they were beautiful, comfortable and breathed well in the South Louisiana heat.

And then just when all was well with the Melody Mourning Palace disaster struck. A fire happened one night while no one was there. Thank goodness for that blessing that the place was empty. The Melody Mourning Palace burned down to the ground. The only policeman in town established that it was arson and he vowed to find the culprit. Established as a hate crime against GrandMar because he was GrandMar, different.

GrandMar had such a gentle forgiving spirit that he asked to see the culprit, Will Brown, a young teenager. Together after many sessions in the jail cell, Will told GrandMar how sorry he was to have ruined his business. See, Will Brown had come from a similar situation where he had been abandoned as a child. No one wanted him.

GrandMar eventually adopted Will Brown and together they rebuilt the Melody Mourning Palace. GrandMar knew the secret to life. It’s all about love and forgiveness.

[cinnamokittykat]

Chapter 1: The Forest

Hey guys, I'm going to start cross-posting my fanfic text here as well! I may not get to posting it all in one day, so if you want to see more, it's called "Puppy Love" by PillowKitty on AO3! TW: Mentions of violence/abuse

"I swear to Gott, he deserved it!"

König thrashed against the officers who tried to restrain him. His claws stuck out, and his fangs were bared to the world.

"Let me go! I can explain!" He pleaded.

König struck one of the officer's faces with his claws before howling as he felt a sharp pain in his neck. Soon, everything faded to black.

A few hours later, he awoke in a chair, muzzled and handcuffed. A stern-looking man sat behind a desk before König.

"Sir... I did not..." König mutters groggily.

"You've been dishonorably discharged for physically assaulting that officer."

"But... he..." König tries to continue, to no avail.

"Your belongings are packed. You will be escorted off base once you collect them." The man sighed.

Later that night, König found himself in a field near a forest with just his bags and a case of beer.

Lilith stood in front of her mirror, deciding what to wear on her walk. Her bakery re-opened for business in a little over a week, and she wanted to get outside after spending all of her time in the office making preparations. The past few days for her consisted of being hunched over a desk, scribbling formulas, and making calls.

Her most prominent source of stress? The fact that she would have to handle most of it with no help. This means redecorating, baking, and moving heavy things without nearly enough assistance.

She sighed and untucked her curtain bangs from her behind her ears. Nothing could be done about it, so she might as well relax and pick some apples from the forest. She pulled on a white dress with a small purple flower pattern over her head, and because of the cool fall air, she also donned a thin light pink sweater.

Lilith grabbed her wicker basket and stepped out her back door. The crisp air hit her face, and a slight breeze blew through her blonde hair. She walked through the fence gate, taking the time to observe the scenery around her.

Lilith started down on the path that led to a patch of apple trees she would tend to whenever possible. She loved the fall. It was the perfect mix between winter and summer. Not cold, but also not burning hot. The trees were painted shades of red, orange, yellow, and brown, and the ground was littered with leaves and acorns.

The only sounds in the forest were the crunching of leaves below her feet. Lilith was excited to pick apples; she planned to use some to bake, some to turn into apple sauce, and if there were any leftover apples, she would make something good to sell at the bakery. Lilith had a passion for baking. She loved the artistry of it all.

The cottage she lived in and the bakery she owned used to be her grandmother's. Lilith would spend summers with her, helping at the bakery when she could. She thought about those times with her grandmother.

"I wish I could have spent more time with her before she passed..." She reminisced.

Before she moved to the Austrian countryside, she lived with her mother in the American South. To say she stuck out like a sore thumb when she first moved would be an understatement.

Lilith walked into the small cluster of apple trees and started picking as many as her basket could fit. But, as her basket filled up, she couldn't ignore a strange... whimpering? She knew there weren't wolves near the property; maybe it was one of the neighbor's dogs. She walked closer to the sound and crouched down.

"Here boy, here boy!" She called out, continuing to walk towards the whimpering.

"H-help..." A low voice groaned.

Lilith froze. It wasn't a dog. Not in the traditional sense, at least. She was unfazed by the concept of hybrids, but hearing a strange man's voice in the woods is bound to make any woman of a short stature freeze. As she got closer, the outline of the man came into view.

The scent of blood and a bit of alcohol was in the air around him. "Him" being a tall, muscular man lying on his side with a pretty large gash. Lilith couldn't exactly make out every detail, but he was wearing a bike helmet and a t-shirt over his head. Two large brown and black ears and a matted tail of the same color stuck out.

"Are you okay? Sir?"

He rolled over to face her, only to howl and clutch the wound on his side in agony. Lilith got next to him and kneeled. The mystery man looked to be in pretty bad shape.

"Let me help you, please."

Lilith took out her water bottle and poured it over the wound to remove dirt. At this, the dog-man yelped loudly and dug his claws into her arm. While it didn't break the skin, Lilith still backed off.

"I am sorry! I am sorry, I'm sorry..." He pulls out a little card with vaccination proof. "I was just scared, please, I need help."

The woman breathed a sigh of relief. An encounter with a rabid man of his size would not be survivable. But still, bringing him into her house was an objectively stupid decision. She surveyed his form, which looked even more intimidating up close. He had to be at least 6'10", and his muscles were nothing to sneeze at; he could end anyone if he chose to.

But on the other hand, she couldn't just leave him out here alone. There was no hospital around for miles. And if not treated, that wound would harbor a nasty infection. She decided to take the risk. He seemed like he was genuinely in distress.

"Come with me, let me help you get cleaned up at least. Can you walk?"

The man nodded and groaned once again as he got up. He was almost comically tall. It was like encountering a monster. The mask didn't help, either. His piercing blue eyes stared down at her in a daze.

"Where... am... I... verdammt..." He asks weakly.

"A ways away from the city, if that's where you came from."

His ears drooped, and he hung his head in shame.

"Nein... I... had a long few nights."

They walked back to the cottage together in silence. Lilith opened the back door, hoping that if he turned out to be dangerous, at least he couldn't recognize the front of the property. He took off the combat boots he was wearing before stepping inside. At least he was polite.

Lilith lead him up to a spare bathroom. She didn't have clean clothes for him, so she waited outside while he changed and handed her his clothes to be washed while he took a shower.

"When you're done, I'll see if I can bandage that wound, just don't claw me this time, okay big guy?"

"Ja, danke." His voice carries remorse within it.

Lilith went back downstairs. Dinner was already in the oven, so she got to processing the apples. She put on a frilly pink apron and got to work. There was a recipe her grandmother always made in the fall that she wanted to recreate. It was a spiced apple cake with caramel sauce over it. The cake itself was made with roasted apple pieces, which added extra moisture to the cake itself. Lilith had fond memories of when her grandmother let her have a small bowl of roasted apples as a snack.

Soon, the entire cottage smelled of cinnamon and apples. Lilith had just finished putting the cake in the oven when the mystery man peaked his head out from the staircase. He must have had a spare piece of cloth in one of his cargo pants pockets because his face was still covered, just a tuft of auburn hair poking out of the top.

"Uhm... are my clothes dry?"

"Oh, yes, I'll go get them. You go get fully dried off."

Lilith took off her apron, sprinted to the dryer, removed his clothes, and walked upstairs. She handed him his clothes through a crack in the door and waited until he permitted her to come in. She opened the door, and her jaw almost dropped.

Sitting on the bath ledge was the man without his shirt. His entire torso was littered with scars and the still raw gash that was even bigger than it initially seemed. And then there was his physique. Lilith knew she should've expected this from earlier, but to put it into simple terms: He was hot. He had the stereotypical six-pack abs, pecs, and powerful arms.

Lilith felt a blush creeping up on her face and shook her head, hoping to refocus her mind. His ears and tail were now fluffy and mostly dry. She couldn't be sure, but it seemed like his tail was wagging just a tiny bit.

"Sorry, I thought it would be easier to treat me without the shirt." His voice was surprisingly high for a man of his size. He sounded happier than earlier.

"No, no, it's fine. You were right, just, I spaced out for a second."

Lilith took some gauze and began to wrap it around his torso.

"By the way, what's your name?" Lilith asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

He cleared his throat before speaking.

"König. My name ist König."

She looked up at him.

"That's a very fitting name for a... German Shepherd, right?"

"I suppose, ja." He agreed, a bit confused.

"Well, it just sounds like something someone would name a German Shepherd, that's all."

"Well, there is a bit of wolf as well."

Lilith chuckled slightly.

"Was? What did I say?"

"Never mind. My name's Lilith. You can probably tell I'm not from here, huh?"

"A bit. You are Amerikanisch, yes? And from, uhhhhh... the... south?"

"You've got me. I'm straight from the Texas panhandle."

Lilith finished wrapping his wound and secures the gauze. König stayed silent while he put on his shirt.

"Thank you, for helping me."

"It's the least I could do. Would you like to stay for dinner?"

His ears perked up, and his tail started wagging a bit. He nodded excitedly.

"It smells so good in your house, I would love that."

"Well, you're more than welcome."

They walked downstairs, and Lilith insisted that he sat down while she plated both of them. She was glad he was there in a way, she made way too much food, and her freezer space was suffering for it. She also pulled out the cake and set it on a rack to cool.

Lilith joined König at the table and handed him his plate. He began eating quickly; it was obvious he had been out in those woods for a while.

"It was nice meeting you, König."

"It was nice to meet you too, Lilith. And again, thank you for helping me."

Lilith beamed.

"So, where do you live?" Lilith inquired.

At this, König's ears started drooping again, and he went silent.

"König?"

"Well, it...um, is complicated. I used to be military, but, not anymore. I was discharged because of..." He seemed nervous. "Uh, health issues."

Lilith was a bit confused, as he seemed to be in pretty great shape, but decided it must be personal.

"Do you need a place to stay for a bit? I have a spare room."

König's ears perked up again.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. At least, until you can get back up on your feet."

"Bitte, let me repay you somehow, Lilith. You've been so kind to me."

Lilith thought back to her dilemma from earlier. Someone like König would solve that pretty quickly.

"Well, if you insist. I can think of one way. I own a bakery, and it's re-opening soon. I think I need some help with moving heavy things and redecorating. Think you could manage once your wound is healed?"

"Absolutely."

"Then it's settled."

They began to talk more casually with each other. Lilith shared stories about her life in the south, and König relayed the army tales he's experienced.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what do you do?"

"I was a guard dog for a sniper, to put it simply. While he was focused on his task, my job was to be alert and also keep the area clear of enemies. And if you think my name is strange, my sniper buddy was a tiger. His name translated to 'tiger' in his native language. Imagine that!"

"Really? Imagine if we were all just called 'human' or 'dog' as names."

They shared a laugh. By then, both were finished with their food. Lilith went upstairs to the spare room, throwing sheets and a comforter on the bed. It was supposed to be cold that night; he would need it. She got back downstairs to see the wolf-man finishing washing the plates.

"Oh, you really didn't need to!"

"It is the least I could do, Lilith."

"Thank you. You should get some rest, I need to finish assembling this cake."

König obliged and heads upstairs with a glass of water. Lilith put her apron back on and started the caramel frosting for the apple cake. She thought about the conversations with König. He was around 34 in age, loved old video games from his childhood, and used to sleep with a teddy bear until he was 13. Lilith giggled a bit. He was an adorable guy, in all honesty.

Lilith finished frosting the cake and headed up to bed. On the way to the bathroom to brush her teeth, she noticed the door to König's room was cracked. His phone was on a charger, and he lay in bed, playing with a Gameboy color. Lilith smiled and went in to start her nightly routine.

He recollected the day's events as he lay on the comfortable bed. He thanked his lucky stars that she had found him; he wasn't sure what would have happened if she didn't. And her kindness was unbridled towards him. He made a vow to repay her in any way possible.

And then he thought more about the whole thing. Lilith was a beautiful woman, he had to admit. And, maybe even single-

He snapped out of it and forced himself to think logically. Why would she be interested in him? They just met! He nearly clawed her arm! She probably sees him as more of an unexpected house guest at best. Eventually, he decided to just focus on getting some sleep.

[arsenicxarcana]

m5(4?) helping you rehabilitate banished lucio

or rather reacting to “hey i brought this hobo home can we keep him”

(tending towards nadia’s/THD)

NADIA:

oh you poor sweet summer child, what have you done

may lock him up in the dungeons at first, to make sure he can’t try anything

hope you like loud goat wailing that can be heard across the palace because the absolute LAST thing he wants is to be isolated again

you have to convince her he’s in no state to answer for his crimes like this, not yet, let him recover a little first - all he wants right now is a warm bed and someone to care about him, not taking over vesuvia

(and if this changes you can put him right back in jail)

this does not change, he’s mostly interested in staying close to you

for the most part she remains hands-off, just authorizing various acquisitions for him like any other guest

he will sometimes try to give her little gifts, usually food/wine or little trinkets left outside her door like a cat bringing dead mice

she takes them when no one is around

she may catch him at this one day, and they have a little talk through the crack in the door because he’ll bolt if she opens it

“i’m sorry” “i know. i can’t forgive you” “i know”

this becomes a thing, usually late at night, sitting by her door and telling her things, bringing her more specific gifts based on any troubles she might have had, asking her for advice about making you happy

eventually, maybe, you might even be able to convince them to take lunch together, with you sitting between them as a trusted shield

JULIAN:

he WANTS to say absolutely not, not in a million years, he doesn’t deserve the kindness, especially not yours

he WANTS to send him right back to the realms himself, or call the guards, anything to keep him away from you

but he is a doctor, and helping is in his nature

and it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that this poor bastard needs help

and he knows what it’s like to be alone and uncertain of your future

lucio treats him as if they were already old friends, something that seems to endear and rankle him

at first he says he’ll only check him over to make sure he’s not hurt or sick, then you’re on your own, he washes his hands of this nonsense

then he says maybe bring him back around later for another check-up, just in case he missed something the first time

then he says that maybe you two could stick around for a little while, it looks like there’s a storm on the horizon

then he says the room above the clinic is open, most of the time, he’s much too busy to sleep as much as he should, if lucio needs somewhere to lie low for a bit

then he says actually there’s my place in south end, a bit more accommodating but no less abandoned, that might be a little more your speed

and then you find yourself all three coming back from a night on the town, crashing higgledy-piggledy in and around julian’s bedroom, a tangle of limbs and drunken laughter

julian attempts to cook breakfast for you afterwards, with mixed results

(just because lucio will eat it doesn’t mean it’s edible)

ASRA:

he trusts your judgment

usually

not this time, please put that thing back where it came from or so help me

i don’t care if he doesn’t want to go back he can’t stay here, not in this house, not after everything he’s done

there MAY be a fight and it MAY get ugly

either asra storms tf out or they kick both of you out for the night before he can do something stupid

they feel bad as hell, at least for you

if you’ve been kicked out, you take lucio down to the rowdy raven and set up together in the spare room above the bar (and he’s probably crying bc he’s about 75% sure you’re going to get rid of him for Causing Problems)

if asra left, you let lucio have the couch but you’re not about to sleep until asra comes back (crying less, still awkward as hell)

finally, either way, he comes to apologize

but he really, really doesn’t want you to keep the goat and pls think of an alternative? why does it have to be you?

“i’m the one that put him there in the first place”

you don’t! have to feel bad for that!! look at him he’s fine

(lucio currently all but hiding behind you and holding your hand tight, making the saddest little face)

“i can’t just abandon him again, asra. i couldn’t bear it”

oh, curse your good nature

they love that about you but right now it’s the bane of his existence

you tell asra he doesn’t have to forgive him, or even like him - just help me get him back on his feet, pls, just trust me

god. fine. but he sleeps on the couch. and the minute he’s no longer pathetic his ass is out the door

faust stop chilling on his shoulders i swear to god--

PORTIA:

she doesn’t have the old history, but she remembers the recent history (stealing your body and being a dick), so she’s still gonna be hostile

there will probably be at least one physical brawl

will probably definitely make him cry

feels bad about it

pepi seems to trust him for some reason (bc fuck you n*h) and she trusts pepi so it can’t be all bad??

gonna put his ass to work in the vegetable garden if he’s expected to stay in her cottage, which he might because it’s close to the palace (but far from people)

he might complain but honestly this is nothing compared to the realms

in return he gets good food, a warm bath, and a pillow pile shared with you, portia and pepi

portia will definitely help you socialize him, especially if you’re not that extroverted yourself, taking him on trips into the city

once he feels more comfortable around her they feed off each other’s energy until they’re one big mass of chaos

you regret your life choices

her cuddly, affectionate nature lines up nicely with his touch starvation and they often become inseparable at the bed time or other soft, quiet moments where you’re just in each other’s company

MURIEL:

lmao nah

unless this man finds the hobo first AND feels bad enough to not just leave his ass alone in the forest, good luck with getting him to help you with this

your memory privileges are absolutely revoked goodbye

[shintorikhazumi]

(Diakko week) There’s no way she- (5) ““There’s no way she would ever lose her again.””

A/N: I’m late because. I’m dying in school. Thank you. Dw, I’ll finish the story regardless.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

Day 5: Afterlife/Reincarnation

“There’s no way she would ever lose her again.”

[“I will be with you in our next life, and into forever... Diana.”]

“-ness. Your highness, please wake up.”

Akko stirred from her slumber, feeling the silken sheets slip from her shoulders as she was aided into a sitting position.

Yesterday’s meeting must have really worn her out if her body felt this heavy the following morning.

“Ugh- Thank you, Anna. May I have a glass of water?” She requested, holding a hand out in waiting while the other cradled her throbbing head.

“Of course, your excellency.”

Having been handed the drink, Akko took large gulps until she cleared the cup of its contents, handing it back to her attendant. “Thank you.”

“I am glad to be of service.”

Akko continued to massage her throbbing temples, trying to think of all she had to attend to today. It was proving difficult however as she felt strange emotions swirl deep within her. Somehow, she felt as though she had dreamt of something important last night. However, she could not- for the life of her- seem to remember.

“Could you call Finnelan for me?” She moaned through the steadily intensifying pain.

“Right away.”

Akko nodded her gratefulness to Anna who quickly went to fetch the person she needed to see. Not a minute later, Akko’s court adviser had walked into the room, some papers in hand.

“You rang, Empress?”

Kagari Atsuko, empress of the continent of Solis, raised her head to greet her subject, trying her best to put on a presentable face.

“Yes. I apologize for my current state, but I’m feeling a little unwell. I’d like to ask if I had anything important that I needed to accomplish today? Anything that needs immediate regard?”

Finnelan gave her a sympathetic smile, leafing through the papers she had brought with her. “Not that I know of, Empress. You are fairly ahead of schedule for most of your work, and anything scheduled for today can be moved to at least three days later with nothing affecting any ongoing or future work.”

Akko sighed in relief, allowing herself to fall back into her covers. “Thank goodness. Would it be alright if I take the day off? I’m feeling a little unwell.”

Finellan laughed at the question. The young empress sure could be considerate.

“You literally own the entire empire, your Majesty. People’s time revolves around you. I mean this in a positive way. You are allowed to take breaks. No one could ever tell you no.”

Akko laughed along lightly with her, glad that she could take a much deserved rest.

“I will take up the opportunity then.”

“Please do. We can’t have our Empress functioning at any capacity less than her best.”

“Understood~” Akko lazily saluted as her subjects shook their heads in fondness.

“We shall be taking our leave then.” Finnelan said for both of them, taking a bow as she did.

“If you need anything, your majesty, feel free to call for me.” Anna reminded before they both finally left the empress to her own devices.

At the sound of the door clicking shut, Akko sighed, draping her arm across her eyes as she thought of what she should do with her free time now. Clearly, resting was at the top of her priority list, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to just keep still and laze around all day.

She decided she’d nap and grab a bite to eat before doing some exploring- something she hadn’t been able to do lately. The forests to the south of the palace sounded like the ideal place to adventure in today.

With her plan in mind, she laid herself to sleep and succumbed to the temptations of her sheets.

//

Akko felt significantly better once mid-afternoon came around. She had satisfyingly filled her stomach and had acquired her much needed rest. Refreshed, she decided to go for a ride into the southern woods, as planned.

Akko walked through the palace halls, first searching for Anna to let her know she was heading out. With the castle staff aware of her whereabouts, she made her way out the back doors and hiked far enough that she’d be hidden from anyone’s immediate sight.

She scanned her surroundings for any presence or unwanted eyes. Finding none, she sighed in relief, reaching into the pocket of her coat and pulling out a small locket- an oddly shaped one. One that looked uncannily like...

A briefcase.

This odd artifact had been with her since the day she was born, apparently. Her parents hadn’t given it to her, that’s for sure. They just said that one moment she was born, and the next they’d seen her, she already had the necklace laid next to her in her crib. She had never parted with it since then.

It wasn’t something they could explain. Maybe a cleric or a mysterious nurse had gifted it to her, who knew. All Akko knew was that one day, she suddenly had many creatures to call family, and somehow, she knew each one by heart.

Whispering a few words against the locket, and planting a gentle kiss on it, the case grew and she was able to open it.

Biting her lip, she weighed a few options in her mind. Who should she call today...

Ah, of course. If she wanted to brave the woods and look for adventure, who better to call on than-

“Florence.”

Immediately, a gentle glow of light filled her area, and a regal-looking creature emerged, basking in the light for a few moments before nuzzling Akko’s side.

The empress giggled, petting her creature before returning the briefcase to its former state and hanging it around her neck.

“Hello, my friend.”

Without her having to say another word, Florence took her up on his own back before quickly ascending to the heavens and flying quickly across the vast lands, giving Akko a gorgeous bird’s eye view of the landscape.

As they sword above the heights of trees, Akko spotted an open area. She was sure that if she had walked the woods, she’d never spot this peculiar looking shack as it seemed cloaked in some sort of... magic.

Carefully, she had Florence glide about the air before silently landing nearby, but not quite in the area. Her intuition had proved right as she struggled for a few minutes to see what she had found from above. Using her general instinct and memory of where she vaguely assumed that place to be, she eventually stumbled through an odd-feeling magical barrier that allowed her to stumble upon a cottage that looked nothing like what she had seen mid-air.

It looked cozy, quite homely.

Akko looked around, hoping to see any signs of a person as clearly someone resided here- what with the well-kept grass and the lively waving by the window.

She followed the dotted stony path leading to the door, reading the sign left there.

[Apothecary Cavendish is closed. Return tomorrow.]

Akko frowned slightly for two reasons. One beint that that odd name caused her head to throb once more. Was she getting sick again? Maybe not. The other reason Akko felt disheartened was due to the fact that she wouldn’t exactly be having a tomorrow to check this place out as she would have to get back to work. She wasn’t quite sure if she’d have any time this week either. Or this month. Or... ever.

She weighed her options.

She could sneak out of the castle at some point in the future. Or maybe she could quench her curious thirst right now and try opening the door- have a little peek, that’s all. She could say that it was an inspection since she was sure this place wasn’t on the empire’s map, nor was it registered in any city or town hall.

She was simply investigating, yes. Investigating. For the safety of her country and men.

Akko nodded, knowing she hadn’t really convinced herself of anything. Reaching for the knob, she felt her hands sweat and tremble, throat drying. She really was justifying her actions that could very well be a crime. Empress or not, this was really wrong. But... She just had to know... She just had to reach and turn the knob and take one small look and all would be fine. She’d leave without a trace, and no one would kno-

“Who are you.”

Akko felt her body go rigid in fright, slowly turning around to spot a woman with basket of what seemed to be herbs. Had she just returned from collecting them-

“Ugh-”

“Hey! Are you okay?”

Again. It was back again. The pain in her head.

Akko crouched down, cradling her head in her hands with her eyes squeezed shut as the world spun round and round until she hit the ground. She barely heard the panicked yelling of her companion as all went to black.

//

“You’re awake.”

Akko blinked once, twice. Her visage was filled with soft light and wooden framing across a tall roof. Turning to her side she watched the woman she’d met only moments ago squeezing a towel over a basin before gently laying it over her forehead.

“A high fever, and you had the gall to go exploring in these dangerous woods.” She scolded Akko who couldn’t help but stare, not processing anything she’d just said.

Akko didn’t know why, but something spoke familiarity in just about everything this woman had been showing her. Her manner of speech, of action, the way she was currently scolding Akko with a stern and frank voice that still held a gentle warmth to it- everything about her told Akko that couldn’t possibly be the first time they’d met.

At least... not in this lifetime...?

Akko did a double-take at her thought process. This lifetime? What did that mean? Had she ever been one to believe in something like reincarnation and multiple lives? Well, she didn’t necessarily doubt it either. She simply never thought of it until now.

So… what did she think of it now?

“Um, pardon me? Are you alright? Are you still with me?”

Akko realized her mind had wandered so far that she forgot her manners.

“Ah, my apologies. I just...just…” She had looked up to meet the eyes of her savior to show her sincerity, but so quickly got lost in them. Sparkling blue gems that were framed with long lashes above the gentle slope of a tall nose and healthy pink lips distracted her.

Holy shit. This lady was-

“Absolutely stunning.”

Miss Stunning blinked. As did Akko.

“Thank...you…?”

It was only then that Akko came to her senses, immediately rising from the bed, only to smack her head straight into her companion’s nose.

“CR- CRUMPETS AND SHIITAKE MUSHROOMS-… WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” She groaned, nursing her nose and checking for any possible signs of bleeding.

Fortunately for her, their were none. Unfortunately for Akko she was now rather cross.

Akko reached out to assist her, but the woman promptly created distance between them, not trusting Akko anymore in case of any more surprise attacks.

“Miss, I-”

“Just-! If you’re feeling better, please leave. Please. I beg you.”

Akko really, truly felt terrible for causing her so much trouble that she silently complied. With a bow, she gathered her coat that had been hanging off a dining room chair, wore it and said her farewells.

“I’m sorry to have bothered you. And trespassed.” She apologized, head hung low. “I-if it’s alright…” Still, something deep within her told her she still needed to come back. She needed to know of this woman and the strong pull she seemed to have over her. “May I come back?”

Akko could see the woman’s hesitance in her eyes. She watched her deliberate over the decision, before sighing and agreeing, much too Akko’s surprise.

“Fine. I guess I do need a few more customers. Wouldn’t mind that.” She reluctantly gave Akko a smile… and a piece of paper with a few things written on it.

Akko cocked her head to the side, scrutinizing the item. “What’s this?” She inquired, confused.

She watched the other woman crack a grin, finding it somehow incredibly endearing. “The bill.” She stated factually. “For the services I’ve provided you, good miss.”

Akko’s jaw dropped at the words. She couldn’t even tell if she was being teased or-

“I’m dead serious.” She was told. “My ingredients don’t really grow on tre-… okay, some do. But this forest doesn’t exactly grow me any money. Only resources.”

That drew a fit of laughs from Akko who was incredibly amused by this stranger’s straightforwardness.

“Alright, alright.” She was never really short on money anyway. “I’ll come back with your compensation. That, I promise.”

And she swore she died a little at the smile she received just then. Her brain ceased to function and her feet would no longer move.

“Miss?”

“O-Oh! Sorry, just… uh. Got lost in the moment there. Um…” Awkwardly scratching the back of her head, she bid her farewells. “Well, I’ll see you around um…” Oh. She didn’t quite know the woman’s name.

“Hmm?” Akko was given a questioning look before the apothecary caught on. “Oh, right. We forgot to introduce ourselves to one another. Hello there.”

“H-hello.”

“I go by Cavendish…

Diana Cavendish.”

And at those words it felt like puzzles of a piece Akko didn’t know she was solving, suddenly fit. Sparks connected, and her mind ran miles and miles per hour over memories, thoughts, emotions, and a past Akko now fully remembered.

A past where she had love. A past where she had… Diana Cavendish.

She hadn’t even realized when it was she started crying, but Diana had reacted faster than she did, dabbing Akko’s face with a handkerchief while awkwardly consoling her.

“May I… embrace you?” Akko suddenly blurted out.

Diana, already surprised from Akko’s sudden crying, became all the more shocked. Her being a little weirded out by what Akko had requested was also not something she particularly hid from showing on her face.

“May I... Could I possibly embrace you?” Akko repeated to her, well aware of how odd it was to ask that of someone who clearly thought her to be a stranger.

“I don’t even know who you are, sorry.” Diana eventually admitted, the words breaking Akko’s heart just a bit.

Akko couldn’t remember the last time words had hurt her this much, but Diana not remembering the things they’d been through and Akko knowing the things she knew… it was just a bit much.

Maybe… this wasn’t something that was meant to be. Akko decided to plaster on a smile. Maybe she could try again tomorrow? Would Diana be able to remember her as well? Should Akko just tell her? Would she even believe her?

Akko didn’t have much time to think about it any longer as the sun began to set. It was time for her to leave.

“My apologies.” Akko sighed, giving Diana a respectful bow. “That was rather rude of me, wasn’t it?”

Diana gave her a small, suspicious nod.

“I must be on my way, but… um…” Akko felt her palms sweat and she quickly wiped it off on her garments before holding a hand out. “Let us start over again.” She smiled. She could do this much at least. Right?

Diana took her hand incredibly slowly and carefully. Akko kept up her smile despite all the salt continuously being added to a fresh wound.

“Hello, Miss Diana.” She greeted. “I am a simple noblewoman in this country and I go by the name..,” Maybe if she said her name, Diana would remember just as she had.

Or maybe not and Akko would continue to wallow in sadness for a few days more.

Only one way to find out.

“Kagari Atsuko”

Nothing.

There was nothing.

Diana neither flinched, nor blinked, nor spoke a word.

Akko could now actually hear her heart start to crack, ready to shatter. The universe sure could be cruel sometime-

The sunset sky sure looked lovely from where Akko was laying on the ground, tackled by a Diana who now sobbed heavily into her robe.

“B-by gods, Akko… Akko. Akko.” Diana chanted, over and over and over again. “Akko. Akko. Akko. Atsuko. Kagari Atsuko. My Akko.” She cried into the crook of Akko’s neck, placing kisses along that curve and up to her cheek,

Adjusting herself so that she was comfortably atop Akko, she cupped both the brunette’s cheeks, looking into her eyes as if she were confirming this to not be a dream.

Akko felt her eyes water again, the shock of the sudden attack fading away as it all begun to sink.

That Diana remembered.

That they both did.

As though she had found it, Diana’s face lit up into the biggest smile as she leaned down to plant a kiss on Akko’s lips for as long as she could, like she was afraid Akko would disappear again at any minute.

They both laughed through the tears and the kisses, Akko carefully sitting them up with Diana situated on her lap.

Having run out of air, they parted, Akko immediately grabbing both of Diana’s hands and planted kissed on them,

Diana felt her stomach flutter at the familiar gesture, bringing her hands up to brush the sides of Akko’s face, her bangs and hair, and play with her eats that were warm at the tips.

“I’ve missed you.” Diana whispered.

The floodgates opened once more and Akko cried the most she had in this lifetime.

Cradling Diana close to her chest. Showering her lover with her own affections and completely forgetting about her home, Akko just reveled in the miracle that they had acquired, happy beyong measure.

“I’ve finally found you again.” She told Diana, tightening her arms around her as she felt Diana do the same.

Akko smiled even wider-if it was possible as she continued her statement.

“I love you.” She whispered with Diana whispering it back. “And this time, I’ll never lose you. Ever again.” Akko promised, and Diana nodded, wrapped in euphoria and Akko’s arms.

“Never again.”

A/N: I rushed this already, I’m sorry. ;-;. See you last 2 chaps!

~Shintori Khazumi

[cultofbeatles]

parts of pattie boyd’s book wonderful tonight that involved george that stuck out to me:

pattie didn't have any of the beatles records at first and only bought please please me since she was going to be in their film 

“on first impressions, john seemed more cynical and brash than the others, ringo the most endearing, paul was cute, and george, with velvet brown eyes and dark chestnut hair, was the best looking man i’d ever seen.”

during a lunch break pattie and george sat next to each other and were both very shy 

george asked pattie “will you marry me?” and after she laughed he said, “well, if you won't marry me, will you have dinner with me tonight?” and she turned him down.

she deadass invited george to hang out with her and her boyfriend at the time.

pattie and george are both pisces.

once reshoots for the film were happening george asked pattie about her boyfriend, she said she had dumped him, and george once again asked her for dinner. she accepted this time.

brian epstein joined them for their first date.

they sat side by side and were too scared to even hold the others hand.

george got along great with pattie’s family.

pattie liked cynthia lennon but found her difficult to make friends with. 

“she wasn't like my friends, who enjoyed a giggle and some fun: she was rather serious, and often, i thought, behaved more like john’s mother than wife.”

there was a rumor that john and pattie were having an affair and pattie worried cynthia believed it. it wasn't true.

maureen cox (ringo’s girlfriend) was another beatles girl that pattie had a hard time being friends with. but said that she was “jolly and friendly, more relaxed than cynthia.”

pattie got along best with jane asher but saw her the least.

“i felt there was definitely a north-south divide among the wives and girlfriends. and i had the definite impressions that the girls from the north (maureen and cynthia) felt they has a prior clam to the boys.” okay shade, we see you. 

(talking about going on holiday with john, cynthia, and george) “it was a good way to split the group. john and paul were the closest in some ways and immensely creative together, but they clashed if they were in each other’s pockets for too long.”

george asked pattie to cut his hair while on holiday and one of the cleaners found his hair and kept it. 

(talking about george) “he was so beautiful and so funny.”

once a “weird looking man” tried to force his way into pattie and george’s house. pattie thought he was either a salesman or a jehovahs witness. it turns out it was paul in disguise. 

george said the only place he got peace was in the bathroom of his hotel suite.

pattie got a lot of letters saying that if she didn't leave george there would be a curse put on her.

 pattie’s cleaner was a male ballet dancer and “a terrific duster.”

pattie would count the days till george came back. once he jumped into the bed early in the morning to wake her up. 

those two would deadass not lock their doors and were surprised that clothes were going missing...what is with older generations and not locking their doors i -

george would be in the studio from 11 am - 11 pm. sometimes midnight. 

george’s mom loved when john would visit and would always ask him for an “upper.”

when john lennon is your drug dealer.

pattie wasn't a good cook but was optimistic.

“i loved listening to him (play guitar), loved the sound of the guitar in the house. sometimes i would start to talk and he'd be so deep in thought about the lyrics or the melody he was writing that he wouldn't answer. we’d be the same room but he wasn't really with me: he was in his head.”

pattie developed a kidney disorder.

(talking about the beatles dynamic) “in many aspects they were still children. they had few real friends apart from each other, and when they were asked questions they could answer as one - they were so much on each other’s wavelength. if one went to a gallery opening, they all went; if one bought a new car or new house, they all did. if one seemed in danger of taking himself too seriously, the others knocked it out of him.”

one evening george stopped the car and said, “let’s get married. i'll speak to brian.” they went to brian’s house, george went inside, and when he came back in the car he said, “brian says it’s okay. will you marry me? we can get married in january.”

briannnnnnn, is it my turn to get married yet pleaseeeee

pattie invited her absent father to their wedding but he did not come.

at the train station everyone left cynthia behind as she was carrying the suitcases and john was carrying nothing. peter brown had to go back and get her. 

pattie’s quote from the lsd in the coffee moment is hilarious to me. “you've just had lsd. it was in the coffee.” john lennon: “how dare you fucking do this to us?”

pattie and george didn't go to brian’s funeral in liverpool but george sent one single sunflower.

pattie stopped modeling because george didnt like it. and she felt like she lost a part of herself.

maureen was afraid of flies.

during the India trip, mia farrow told john that maharishi was inappropriate with her and john wanted everyone leave after that.

after India george and pattie’s relationship changed.

(talking about george) “some days he would be all right, but on others he seemed withdrawn and depressed. this was new: he had never been depressed before, but there was nothing i could do. it wasn't about me, but i found that my moods started to mirror his...so bad indeed, that at times i felt almost suicidal. i don't think i was ever in any real danger of killing myself, but i got as far as working out how i would do it: i would put on a diaphanous ossie clark dress and jump off beachy head.”

george became more obvious about his cheating. it hurt pattie.

george was gaslighting her.

cilla black was staying at george and pattie’s house and was uncomfortably close to george so pattie left. six days latter george called to tell her the girl was gone and she could come home.

“..but my ego was too fragile and i couldn't see it as anything other than betrayal. i felt unloved and miserable.”

“jane asher came home unexpectedly from new york and found another woman in the house, an american girl - and did what i should probably have done with george...”

george would start to talk about his feelings about paul or john but would stop bc he never wanted to admit that he felt left out. 

“we had once been so close, so honest and open with each other. now a distance had developed between us..”

(about yoko contributing to the beatles break up) “the four had never allowed anyone into the recording studios with them, but yoko not only sat by john throughout every session, he consulted her about the music they were making, which upset paul.”

during the let it be sessions there was a time with george and paul got in a fist fight and george left.

the same day john told George he was leaving the beatles, george’s mom told him she was ill and in critical condition.

i love that she vibe checked george. “he was bringing home bad vibes.”

george continued cheating and they continued arguing.

“my diary is full of entries about my unhappiness and the disintegration of our relationship.”

john came to visit george and pattie’s new mansion and said that it was so dark he didn't know how they could live in it, and george recommended that he took of his sunglasses.

eric clapton being a piece of shit and saying “if you won't be with me pattie i will become addicted to heroin.”

pattie said the only thing she had left was cooking and george took that away.

the couple was suppose to go on holiday together but george cancelled last minute bc he didn't want to go with her. he ended up going to spain.

“when i challenged him, he denied it and tried once again to make me feel as though i was paranoid.”

i'm not even...the whole fucking story of the george and maureen affair PISSES ME OFF more than i can describe. maybe i’ll make a whole other post but omfg i'm fuming. fuck them bothhhh. they deserve no rights.

george harrison, mere days before their wedding anniversary: “let’s get a divorce this year.” what an amazing new years resolution jerk.

ringo offered pattie a job.

when george told ringo about the affair pattie was so mad she dyed her hair red. 

george loved pattie’s little brother and was his role model but he wouldn't come to the man’s wedding even though he was invited.

the night pattie told george she was leaving him george came to bed in sadness and said, “don't go.”

“i'm going.”

george invited pattie to dhani’s eighteenth birthday party bc she “had to be there. she was family.”

george had become more of an older brother to her now.

pattie had learned about john’s death from eric clapton and immediately went to the beatles office in london to hang out with everyone there.

(after finding out about george’s death) “i couldn't bare the thought of a world without george. when i left him for eric, he had said that if things didn't work out, ever, i could always come to him and he would look after me. it was such a selfless, loving, generous thing to say and it had always been tucked away at the back of my mind. now that sense of security had gone.”

the last time they saw each other was when george called saying he wanted to visit her new cottage and see her.

pattie didn't go to his funeral nor did she go to the memorial concert that took place a year later. but she spent that day high on the mountains thinking of george. “i was happy to mourn him alone and in my own way.”

she would have dreams of george after his death. “oh george, it’s so wonderful that you are alive after all, this is so fabulous; i knew they had all made a mistake.”

and then she’d wake up.

[blankdblank]

Ash Pt 12

Side to side in front of the floor length mirror in the Seamstress’ tailoring room you twisted and eyed the deep silver over the torso and bright yellow resembling the leaves in fall in the leaf shaped scales that coated your arms, shoulders and upper chest and back. “What do you think?” Glorfindel asked from the doorway behind you adjusting the glove on his hand in your turn around to look the ruby red and grey armored robe he was donning underneath and additional chest plate and arm braces. “Outside of our forests the trees of the wild are still brightly colored for those that still have their leaves. New buds should be sprouting on each of the flowering trees we pass as well. If you were puzzled about the color.”

“I was curious, I would stick out in seas of green and brown.” You said in a brush of your long braid over your back while the feathered decoration hung freely opposite the chin length side swept portion of curls tucked behind your left ear decorated with small braids and gem beads to help keep them from your face the whole ride. “It is a beautiful color.”

“Yes it is,” he said and gestured his hand to the side that signaled your reach for your bag that was shouldered on the way to the door in a hopping trot off the platform to cross the floor and join the noisy hall with what seemed to be hundreds readying to depart. “Quite stunning on you and I do not doubt that you will certainly stand out at King Thranduil’s side. Nolwe is being dressed by him and will await you at the gates. Are you nervous?” he asked to the fidget of your fingers on the strap of your bag draped across your chest.

“How could I not be. Last time I was out of the forest a dragon came for Dale. No telling what my luck will draw out on a two week trek.”

“You are quite safe with your luck, which is very much the more pleasurable alternative to ours in our old age we have encountered many more foes than a dragon and always when we are in small numbers. Today we are departing with hundreds. Pay no mind to threats. Pathways to Imladris are quite protected.”

“So who are you bunking with?” You asked to try and calm yourself down and had him chuckle at the odd question. “Four beds in my tent apparently.”

“I am sharing with Elrond’s children as usual. The tents are quite spacious if you are concerned on space.”

“I tend to roll,” you said and he chuckled again.

“We all do. Pay no mind to that. And there are rest sights along the way set up for relief and also bathing quite often so there will be little discomfort there and no threat of an audience while cleaning. We always divide for privacy. Though I cannot promise the waters will be very warm, it is still the cups of spring yet.”

“I am accustomed to cold water.”

“I imagine another memory of your childhood home.” That had you giggle as he chuckled along to the clear humorous note on your slightly grim past of which Legolas had clearly shared more of what he had learned off your ride alone. While in each step your hands smoothed over the mid thigh length flaps that hung over your black pants and matched the grey of your tall boots you had chosen for the travel. Surrounded fully by more and more brightly colored bodies in various states of armored layers they felt comfortable to travel in.

“Good news,” you heard upon reach of the field of readied horses and covered wagons where Thranduil approached with letter in hand in a step from Nolwe’s side a few feet from Tuo who was speaking to his son about his first trip from the forest. “You have received a response from King Thror.”

“Oh, that’s good. I mean we’re leaving, but that’s good so quick a response?”

Lowly he chuckled and broke the seal to your agreeing nod and stepped to your side in Glorfindel’s smirk laced path away to his own waiting steed while you took notice of the yellow and silver robe that matched yours the King was wearing underneath his deep silver cloak contrasting the polished mithril chest plate and arm braces. “King Thror thanks you for the offer of aid in cleansing Moria but wishes to inform you this is a matter he must consult the remainder of his clans in other lands and their Lords who would also profit from the reclamation. Which will take time, however he is writing to warn the matter could take some months in deliberation to weigh the differences in sway to either decision. He hopes, should it take long, that your kind offer, on top of what you have already gifted to them in aid against the Fire Drake that strove to take their home, that time may not encourage a revocation of said offer. And that the offer is not imagined to be anything less than remarkably selfless and one of a foundation of steadfast friendship they will never forget.”

“Is this about that stone? They need permission?”

To himself he chuckled as he folded the letter he placed into his pocket under the end of his robe and offered you a hand to guide you to Nolwe. “Not permission, reinforcements and time to ready his people and kin who would wish to return and to whom he would grant regency to rule in his stead once it is reclaimed.”

Up onto the knot he shifted your hand and helped you up onto Nolwe’s saddle, once secured there his hands rose to ensure the reins were folded safely in your hands and around Nolwe’s head he strolled to her other side awaiting Tuo’s step closer. Gently his hand patted your knee after a check that the stirrups were at a proper length for your comfort, “It is a good sign. Surely by month’s end they will have all agreed and be locked in deliberations as for how to plan who will travel and what jobs they will return to. There will be ample need of the month that mint will have charge of the mines.”

Legolas in burnt orange and golden scaled armor strolled past to his own white steed while saying, “I cannot imagine they will be able to find for a suitable window of time to settle upon a worthy gift for the Dragon let alone this offer.”

“I don’t need a gift.” That had him simply chuckle along with his father who stroked Tuo’s cheek in his approach ready to let the King on his back. “I don’t, Dew Drop when we get to Rivendell you have to write them and say I don’t need a gift.”

In a glance back at you he said in a playful retort to take up the chance to try his own nickname now you have publicly given named his, “Well my Darling Starlight, that is not how the world works. They will decide and send a gift once possible.” Into the stirrup his foot moved and you simply huffed for another chuckle worthy moment in his climb up onto the saddle he settled into. Once in the moment possible his hands were on the reins and he guided Tuo closer to Nolwe, a move aided by the nearly half a foot the Elk had on her to alleviate his antlers being in the way, “You may not need gifts but you however do deserve them. Dwarves give fine gifts, including furs, perhaps several blankets or a fur shawl could be hinted if that would be suitable?”

“You are determined to make this difficult aren’t you?”

Again he chuckled and in a reach over raised your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles, “I was about to ask you the same thing. For now, I believe you are ready for an adventure.” Easing your hand back to the other to take hold of the reins under the momentary pat his hands gave yours through an adoring smile that ended in a head nod and his turn forward for Tuo’s advance to his verbal utterance that had you glance down to Nolwe in her step forward knowing full well you hadn’t learned the verbal cues just yet.

Trees for miles stretched and in a stagger beside Tuo, Nolwe trotted in a steady pace with head forward in your glance back to the wagon and rider packed trail behind you. Radagast bubbling with animated chuckles caught up to your side on his rabbit pulled sled and said, “Have a fine journey Queen Jaqiearae. Once you are through feel free to visit my forest of Fangorn anytime, you are always welcome!” Forward his sled raced in your thanks. And then your eyes widened to what you saw as a vast field open and faintly lit to the rising colors of a misty dawn under a hidden archway you passed into an unknown open.

“Whoa,” you muttered to yourself and drew Thranduil’s eye to your glance around.

Once there was room Legolas rode forward to your side and pointed off in the distance to where Radagast was headed, “Fangorn Forest is farther South, beyond Lothlorien which you will catch a hint of once we cross Anduin River.”

“There’s a river out here?”

Thranduil chuckled and said, “We won’t reach that until morning after our breakfast.”

“If it takes a day to get to the river how long to cross it?”

Legolas chuckled out in response, “Just an hour there is a bridge.”

“An hour,” it already took hours to leave the forest after having left after midnight.

Thranduil said, “Just beyond those hills we will reach near midday is a rest area where we will stop for lunch. If you grow tired at all we can move you to the nearest wagon to rest.”

“I should be fine. I could probably outlast you on lack of sleep.”

That had him chuckle and state, “We shall not be testing that theory.”

.

True enough the hills came. With sight of empty stables hours past a lonely looking cottage and carefully down you were helped to the ground to join others to the doorway in the side of the hill. Through which you smirked in inspecting the internal woven halls to toilets and baths that thanks to Hobbit connections through the years are now safer and hidden under hills along the way between kingdoms.

Back out again once through you stepped and with a look around followed the glint of white blonde hair to find where Thranduil had set up a stool for you beside his at the chosen lunch spot for a cool lunch of fruits and prepped sandwiches and jams on scones for the in between meals.

Eager shifts of the horses and Elk lured the lot of you to clean up and a second chance to help you up was stolen in a brief press of lips to the side of your temple. “I bet by the time we reach the city you’ll be tired of helping me up.”

“Bold lie, who might have given you that impression?” Lord Celeborn asked on his way to his own wagon where he rode with his wife and children on this first leg of the trip.

Elrond answered in a smirk on his own way past, “It is an honor to assist our Ones onto their steeds each and every time. No matter how frequent. A much approved form of affection to tend to the simplest of matters.”

Into the saddle you settled and watched Estel being carried back to the wagons to ride with the twins muttering about the day he could be big enough to ride his own pony with everyone else. You glanced to Thranduil who said through a smirk, “The final distance he rides with one of us out of the wagon. Do not let him fool you. We grant him ample freedoms. Each of our youths are the same. Legolas mastered his own fair share of guilt trips in his time as did I.” That had you giggle to yourself in his climb onto his own saddle to ready the path ahead for the brightly adorned riders.

.

“Get some rest Nolwe,” you said in a stroke of her head once she was undressed. And softer you added, “I’m sure Dew Drop’s mom misses you very much.” Softly she leaned into another stroke of her face while the eyes of the King and Prince flinched off of you once their stunned stare at the comment ended to your adding, “Such strong legs, ran all day without slowing down, even with me on your back.”

To which Thranduil cut in, “You are nowhere near as heavy as you imagine yourself to be. I could carry you all day and in a few years I would imagine Estel could as well.”

“He’s barely to my knee,” you retorted stirring up chuckles from the men around you in Nolwe’s stroll off for her dinner that left you to take up the stool Thranduil settled out for you beside his again. Fires were lit by the cooks as groups of guards set up watch while the other chosen people in each sleeping group began to assemble the tents. “Should I-,?” you pointed to Legolas in the process of unfolding the supplies of the tent you would share and Thranduil shook his head and settled on the stool beside yours with a scoop of his hand around yours resting atop your knee.

“No, even I have tried to intervene before and have been cast off. Little leaf and Tauriel have a longstanding race for this task.”

Estel however popped up in front of you and with his hands on your knees asked, “Queen Pear? Can we have another story?” His eyes grew wider and before you knew it all the other children had crowded around you for a chuckle worthy reach into your bag to bring out the book that Thranduil released your hand to allow you to open and flip through the book to the tale you had left off at.

.

Just one story and the meal was served out in dishes that once cleared Thranduil took hold of your bowl and stated, “I will wash these, to grant you time to change.”

You nodded then stood as he did only to ask, “What do you wear? Should it be a just pop your boots on ready to go in the morning? Or..?”

Adoringly his smile bled out and he answered, “Sleep however you are comfortable. Though I sleep in my pants and a tunic when on travels.”

“Simply astonishing,” you teased on your way to the tent drawing a chuckle from him that had him shake his head to his confused but smirking friends around him as to what the joke could mean between you.

Out of your outer robe and boots you sat atop the fainting couch molded cot closest to you to remove your socks as well then stand again. Both socks were tucked back into your bag and near the trunk along the outer wall to keep from stealing someone else’s chosen spot. Barefoot with your comfy tunic and the same pants on display out again you stepped through the front flap where you spotted your sleeping group all in line in wait for a sign that it was safe for them to enter. “Comfortable?” Thranduil asked and you nodded, “Good, were you to change your mind later simply inform us and we will step out. We shall remove our traveling layers and boots as well.”

Legolas said, “You are welcome inside, we will not remove much else beyond our socks.”

Through the flap that Thranduil opened for you again you stepped in and to the side for them to enter. Estel hurried to his favorite spot and Legolas smirked to himself in a move to take up the spot beside him to grant you and his father the other two side by side cots.

Atop your newly designated cot just beyond the wash basin but before a tall chair that was an apparent travel version of Thranduil’s Throne you lowered to sit. Slightly intrigued by the difference of the feel of this cot. The original you had sat on opposite his father’s was now claimed by Legolas was less giving while this one seemed to have an added layer of cushioning and a spare fur blanket folded across the foot of this traveling bed. Clearly it was meant to wean you into long traveling trips and by the trio of pillows Thranduil pulled from the trunk now you had two pillows and he chose the smallest of the three and began to lay his outer layers atop the trunk.

Between the two sets of cots Estel hopped out of his boots and left a line of dropped things in his ready for bed while Legolas opposite the entrance flap wall of tarps from the table there poured himself a glass of water and took a sip mid unbutton of his outer robe. Once through with his drink he passed the remainder to Estel in his trot over to claim a drink himself that enabled the elder Prince to pick up the abandoned clothes the boy returned in a thunk of the empty cup back onto the table to help him gather to plop at the foot of his own cot. Promptly the boy hurried to clamber himself into sleep, with Legolas in his own cot right behind once the boy was properly covered and cuddled up with a pillow.

“Do you require another pillow?” Thranduil asked and your eyes flinched to him in his lower of the chest plate he’d just removed.

“No,” you said and shifted on the cot to unfold the fur to stretch out across the lounge framed cot.

Your eyes however shifted to Estel in his wiggle onto his side to say, “Don’t forget your dogs,”

With a grin you said, “I don’t really need them here,” then added to his reluctant nod from your cut off of his try to ask for one you said, “But you can borrow one if you like.” You said in a rise to your feet to head to the trunk with your things, into the bag you reached and brought out the one he had cuddled with before and took it over to the boy who smiled and hugged it to his chest in your smooth of the blanket over him again. “Sweet dreams.”

A yawn was your response, Legolas however chuckled in asking, “Are you certain we cannot fetch you something.”

“No thank you. If I drink anything else I’ll wake up halfway through the night and no doubt get lost.”

Thranduil, “There are guards on watch who would not allow that.” His eyes followed you back to your cot where you again stretched out and laid back covering the fur that once his robe was removed he moved to help you straighten to your shoulders. All the same still for a moment he lingered there above you and just ever so gently brushed a stray bit of curls behind your ear that had folded up to lay across your brow then simply stepped back to lower and stretch out across his own cot.

His fumble with the folded blanket however was not so graceful, as it had a fold in the middle he ended up kicking apart on its tangle around his foot. The whole thing a telling common place routine and irritant to him. At least until he heard your hushed giggle you tried to muffle in a dip of your lips underneath the fur bunched under your chin, then he simply relented and gave the blanket a good fling upwards to let it fall across his body and right the tangle on its own in his own low chuckle to himself.

Hours was what you could have guessed you lay there unable to sleep, while Thranduil amusingly timed you at just a hair under ten minutes until he heard the clear sign that he could turn his head and see that you had indeed fallen asleep.

Legolas did this on purpose. It was shared and well known you slept alone for over a thousand years. But one day if the momentous wedding was ever to come that would have to change. And his son surely planned to have you on the cot just five inches from his. So close yet with an invisible barrier of honor he would not cross it. No matter how badly he wished to be able to roll over and drape his arms around you and nestle you into his chest again to let you know even in sleep he would shield you with himself if he had to for protection. Even just to fix that same stubborn strand of curls that had seemed to use your sleep to bunch up and cover part of your face again he would wait and endure the taunt of that one zigzag of your face that he couldn’t adore and etch into his mind of this first chance to sleep beside you. Legolas had to have known he wouldn’t be able to sleep had you been placed anywhere else, he would be up all night pacing across the rug coated floor of this tent just to see that you were sleeping soundly.

Sharply however in the blur of time his eyes clenched shut in the deep inhale and turn of your body as if to evade being caught staring should your eyes open. Yet the tap by his foot had his eyes open. And to a grin inducing sight he lifted his head to find you now mostly on your belly with arms tucked around the largest pillow and in a lower of his gaze to find what touched his foot he saw your leg out of your blanket and foot now settled beside his lower leg. Somehow in the turn you went from center of your cot to the very edge and that five inch gap was nothing to your new comfy position now partially across his cot as well. Straight up he sat and in timid glances your way took hold of your leg to lift it just enough to ease the slide of his blanket from underneath it that he settled atop the intruder to ensure at least that even if it kicked him later the barefoot now bridging the gap between you would be warm come morning.

It was just simple contact. Exactly what he seemed to need as in the bend of toes against his leg his eyes shut to your content sigh that your slumbering move had stretched you as far as possible underneath his warm fur he drifted off to sleep and hoped that come morning his slumbering self wouldn’t have pulled your cot closer to enhance the chance of snuggling even more. The very last thought in his head however was one of debate on his lack of a kiss goodnight and if he should try to mend that with a tender kiss good morning.

.

An unexpected push on his leg however had his eyes blink open to find that to the sound of the first woken to ready the meal from the silent dawn had lured a grumble of a plea for more hours of sleep from the disheveled and comfy fur coated heap on the cot beside him. Unable to help it he chuckled to the sight of the nose and flash of forehead that your same unruly curls, while still tucked back into a braid had loosened and pooled across the face it would appear he was not allowed to wake up to.

Another grumble came, though this time from Estel in his knee top rise with blanket sliding off his back to the rub of his eyes. Again you nestled more into the pillow as the boy seemed to spring to life and with stuffed dog in hand raced over towards the foot of your cots where he froze in stare at the leg blocking his way. Smalls hands patted the leg that stirred a deep inhale from the body attached to it and in a quick dip under the leg from having seen the pale blue eyes on him the boy dipped and hurried to crawl then climb onto the cot with the smiling father of his best friend. Right on top of his chest Estel moved to sit and he said, “You have lost room on your cot.”

“It would appear I have. Not much however. Sleep well?”

Estel nodded his head to Legolas’ literal stretch and collapse off of his cot that woke him and stirred his rise to come and join the younger Prince on his father’s cot. Seated right on his free side with a lean into the chest accustomed to supporting the weight of both bodies for the usual morning chat until given the all clear the meal was underway and the other Lords’ families were awake, as they usually woke the earliest and got earfuls for not having woken the others who begrudgingly took such awakenings. “Perhaps we should get you a bigger cot, Ada. It would appear you are now supporting four.”

Thranduil simply chuckled and said, “Plenty of room.”

Legolas, “Well, one thing for certain, at least our Queen will be well rested for today’s ride. Just beginning the rougher rides.”

“What about muffin pies?” you mumbled through a waking sigh that lured out grins from the men who got to watch your rise from your warm nest to blink the trio into focus. Conversation came to bridge the time from waking to when the food would be ready. And upon notice of what exactly your foot kept pressing against from his cot to yours your leg tucked and you sat up with legs crossed to continue the talk until you could apologize.

The call to eat did come and after the men respectfully stepped behind the diagonally hung tapestry in the back of the tent you now saw as a changing spot for them the each swap out their tunics then tugged on new socks and their boots you were alone with Thranduil.

Across the tent he moved to your side and when you rose he was at your side and right away stole his chance. Just as he had imagined it, a bit more than he had dared before, with palm to your cheek and arm draped around your back into his chest for the rather romantic kiss. As if he hadn’t seen you for days his lips and body melted around yours, perhaps a bit too much for just a few moments behind a tapestry to count for a parting. But the curl of fingers into the tunic at his sides in the break for air gave warning to the slight shift of your head to claim a second kiss of your own. Warning murmurs from outside found him in a shift back with arm loosening its hold to prevent others from finding the pair of you alone in such a state of embrace that would surely rush things along.

Sweetly in a low hum a breath from your lips he spoke, “Take up as much room on my cot as you require.”

“I,” you cracked out only to have the rest of your sentence die in the next kiss he used to break it.

“As much. I will let you change,” the continued hold on his tunic however lured him back again only to freeze in his try to pull back when the fingertips once locked in his tunic rose to glide along his neck towards his ears.

Barely above a whisper he gasped and his hands rose to cradle yours in their pull away, “Sorry,”

“No, no,” he said and drew the cradled hands into his chest with a press of his lips to each. Again he stepped forward to calm you in another kiss and hum, “I will let you change,” he repeated and as if you had pouted or pled again he leaned in for a final chuckle laced kiss he broke in a whisper, “They will come looking if I don’t leave now.” He said more in a plea to himself to release your hands in a reluctant glide of freed fingers and stepped away with kind grin while he coaxed himself out or the tent before he could ruin things.

Not to his waiting friends but towards the hidden baths he went to lock himself in a stall to simply breathe and refocus upon the plan. He had to focus on patience. The plan that now had him burning with lightning coursing underneath his skin to each touch and every kiss. One good morning kiss, one. That was what he promised himself and now he had gone and drawn you flush up against himself and now that his heartbeat had felt yours his chest had begun to ache since his step away. That look in your eyes however once you had touched him, that had him gasp, that silent question if you could be so bold and be allowed to touch him back. Painfully he had to stop, they would have come in, surely they would have seen what he had started at this impossible time. Everyone would wait for you, no matter how long you wished to have been alone but you didn’t deserve that gossip, those stares once you did leave the tent to restart the trek onwards. And possibly never dare to steal a moment again. No, he would wait for Rivendell, there you could drag him about to your whims and keep him wherever you wished for however long and spend the whole time in his arms if you so desired.

Cold and clear the water from the wash basin was used to wet your face to calm you down. The temperature not helping the tingle of those fingers that had you shake them once done with the towel used to dab your face and chin dry left back on its stand. This was madness. “It was just a kiss.” You muttered to yourself, “Then another, then another,” you didn’t get it. “Why couldn’t I stop?” you asked in the path to your bag to fetch a new shirt as it dawned on you. The proof having been from so many epics with great romances laced within them, lust. “Oh no,” you said tugging off your tunic that to the bumps rising across your skin had a second pulled on over your neck with an arm rapidly pushed through to the end of the sleeve, “I’m lusting after Dew Drop.”

The other arm was next and to your pitifully withheld groan outside Arwen and her brothers paused to hear you mutter, “And he knows! He has to know! He’s got a kid, full grown kid for Merlin’s sake.” Now you were pacing and the audience outside your tent had their parents and grandparents watching from near the fire wondering for what they were listening in on. “We’re sharing a tent with his kid and another kid and I’m just over here lusting away-!” Sharp and clear what sounded to be half of a squeak and a gasp reminiscent of a pained yelp from a small animal had everyone, including the now returned Thranduil along with the two Princes who’d followed him and brought him back from the hidden baths, now frozen to look at the tent.

Arwen asked, “Queen Jaqiearae? Are you alright?”

Through a pained tuck of your leg to your chest to grip the throbbing toes in question you replied, “I’m fine. Just my foot.”

Elladan, “Do you require a Healer?”

“No, just walked into the trunk. I’m fine.”

Ellohrir, “Should you change your mind we are a shriek away,” his sister patted the back of her hand on his chest to silence his internal chuckle of amusement and the trio walked to the waiting group where his chuckles could no longer be contained.

Arwen rolled her eyes and Celeborn asked, “You were listening to the Queen’s tent?”

Arwen answered, “She was speaking to herself, softly in a language we couldn’t understand.”

Elladan, “Then she ran into her trunk it seems.”

Legolas, “Perhaps a morning itinerary, or a debate on clothes. This is her first trek.”

Thranduil sighed and said, “Either way perhaps we should think up a travel game for when boredom might strike.”

Right away Ellohrir’s mouth shut to his parents and grandparents saying at once, “No copper petal.” That had the twin huff and take his seat for the game that always ended up near to fist fight level arguments over the detail heightened game of scavenging the oldest quotes possible from tales mentioned.

Thranduil, “Perhaps her second trip we will then entertain a brawl worthy game to not frighten the young Queen from traveling again amongst us.”

Promptly once your foot stopped throbbing socks and boots were added again and once a vest was added over your loose low dipping tunic with the last button and tie secured out you went to sneak a trip through the crowd that pretended it hadn’t heard your mystery of a conversation towards the hidden baths. Though by the time you joined them the group had all seated themselves and watched you step over your designated stool to settle down beside the King who chuckled as you said, “Apparently trunks don’t have to move for me to run into them.”

Pt 13

All –

@sherala007​, @mariannetora​​, @jesgisborne​, @knitastically​, @catthefearless​​, @theincaprincess​, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000​,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​

Ash - @devilishminx328, @fandomsstolemylife00​, @lilith15000

[tenmillionwhumperflies]

Cloudwalker Series Part 16

You can meet Blue a little bit now and hear why he’s a baby we need to protect at all costs.

Warnings: Contains a fight, deaths ( unnamed enemies), healing/treating wounds, and descriptions of previous and extreme cloudwalker whump.

Master-list Here

Approx WC: 3000

Orrien sent Avizon into a deep sleep before he could try to make a new argument. This was a bad wound, and it would need to be treated quickly. He was already losing a lot of blood. Orrien removed his hand from his forehead, frowning at how it had felt. Fever was already settling in, hidden by the coldness the weather plagued him with.

“I think you’ll be here a little more than one night,” he sighed, He took out his knife and mumbled a spell over it. The blade shone bright white for a moment and then faded back off. Now purified and clean, he set to work on carefully cutting it out of Avizon’s leg.

Avizon managed a groan, to clench his fists and whimper, which made Orrien pause and look up, he put his hand on his head and demanded him to sleep, which silenced him once again, making him go limp. “Stop fighting it, or it’s the frying pan next. Stubborn ox,” he mumbled, focusing on the wound again. He was quick but careful as he extracted the arrowhead. He grimaced at the sight of the agonising barbs. It was a good thing Avizon had had the sense not to just pull it out. Orrien put pressure on it for now, stopping the blood flow.

Orrien was surprised when Blue walked into the cottage. “Did the two cloudwalkers not find you? Are you alright?” “Yes, sir, they found me, and I’m alright, but they haven’t eaten. Ihuka is getting nervous, thinking he’s done something wrong. I… I thought it would be alright to feed them?”

Orrien frowned, hearing how Ihuka was. He hoped Avizon hadn’t been hurting them. Such beautiful creatures, so kind and loyal to those who deserved it. “Of course you can.”

“If you don’t wish to care for them, you don’t have to, mind you. I understand why it might be difficult for you,” Orrien added. “It’s… actually nice, being able to see more of my kind, to be able to talk to them, Dyan is even missing a little bit of his horn. I’d like to stay with them tonight, to be able to talk to them. I’ve never met a cloudwalker from here before, only from the south,” he said. Orrien sighed softly, watching Blue nervously scratching at his head where his horns once had been. 

“Then as I’ve told you before, you’re welcome to do whatever you wish. Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked softly. Blue nodded and dropped his hand, realising what he was doing. “Yes, sir, sorry, I got lost in my thoughts- I.I’ll go and get that food.”

“Stay alert,” he advised. “I do not know if their attackers will return. You call for me immediately if you feel endangered, you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Orrien nodded and Blue left.

Orrien sighed, his mind filled with tender memories of Blue, how he’d first found him, barely alive, how long of a road to recovery it had been… Orrien had never intended to have a cloudwalker living in the house, but now he couldn’t imagine life without him. He cared for him with all his might and loved him like a son.

Not unlike another man he knew. With the arrowhead removed, he eased some healing magic into Avizon’s leg. It wasn’t easy, it was a complicated area with plenty of nerves but he had plenty of experience. He’d limp for a few days, but then hopefully, it would be able to fully heal.

Orrien finished bandaging up his leg for the sake of support, left his clothes to dry near the fire and carried him to his own bed to rest with his powers when he heard footsteps, followed by a loud squeak. Blue.

Orrien rushed outside and saw Blue standing at the barn doors, terrified and shaking. He'd dropped the bowls on the floor. Three men were in front of him, no doubt some of the men who’d attacked Avizon.

“Blue, inside!” he ordered.  The men jumped and two of them turned around. “Back off, old man, once we get what we came for we’ll be on our way.” Orrien’s magic sprung to life in his hands. “Last chance.”

Blue hid in the barn, kicking away the man who tried to follow him. Orrien hurled an orb of magic at the man. No! No one got to even scare that boy. The orb wrapped around him and froze him into place. Break. He willed. With a hoarse scream, there was a loud crack, and the man dropped down dead.

Orrien glared at the other two. One drew their bow and tried to fire at him. Orrien glared at the arrow, and redirected it back to the man. It hit its mark, and he too fell dead.

That left one, and he was stupid enough to have gone into the barn. He dared even get near Blue.

Orrien rushed forward, only to find Ihuka on top of the attacker, pinning him on the ground, teeth snapping as he tried to get at his throat. Orrien quickly used his magic to drag Ihuka off, which drew a squeak from him. Orrien held onto the third attacker. Stop.

The man convulsed, and then he too was dead. His heart stopped immediately. Orrien did not like to kill, but he was not going to let anyone hurt those under his protection. He permitted quick deaths.

Orrien released Ihuka from his hold and watched him curl up in fear. Orrien approached him carefully, but the other Cloudwalker, Dyan was there first, comforting him. Orrien looked at Blue, who was breathing heavily, leaning against the wall. He seemed unhurt.

Orrien ushered him closer and held him close, giving him the reassurance he needed. “It’s alright, lad, you’re safe.” Orrien wiped the tears from his eyes with his thumb. “You’re so brave… has the horse been tended to?” Blue nodded with a sniffle.

“Then you three can stay in the house, where it’s safe.” Orrien paused when Ihuka shyly came over to them both, head down in submission. He was shaking. Orrien patted his head as Avizon had before. “You’re not in trouble, little one. You protected Blue… thank you.”

It quickly became clear Ihuka’s speaking wasn’t as good, but Blue translated it for him and Ihuka smiled. Orrien frowned when he saw a piece of root in Ihuka’s hand, offering it out to Blue. Who looked at it with confusion.

“It’s liquorice… He wants to make Blue feel better,” Dyan explained.

Blue took it nervously, he wasn’t sure what to do with it, but once he smelled it, he had an urge to eat it. He started chewing on it with his back teeth. He let out a happy meeping noise and chewed away.

Orrien patted Ihuka’s head again. “Good bird."

The three of them were soon sat at the kitchen table, with Ihuka and Dyan on stools. Orrien had fed them in between checking on Avizon. Blue was happy talking to Dyan and Ihuka, and Orrien was overjoyed to see him happy. He might have to start visiting Avizon more if they befriended each other.

He heard a thump and a groan. Ihuka’s wings immediately fluffed up and he growled. Orrien hushed him gently. He knew that sound.

“You tried to walk, didn’t you?” Orrien called as he went into his room, finding Avizon clutching his leg on the floor. “I’m fine, thank you for rushing to my aid,” Avizon grunted sarcastically, trying to lift himself up with a deep wince.

“Well for one thing, I know you’re not fine so there's no point asking, and second, it doesn’t matter how fast I pick you up, it’s still going to hurt,” Orrien said, reaching down to help him up to his feet despite how he choked out a torn cry of pain.

“My word, lad… Come on, I’ll help you to the kitchen, I’d like to know what’s going on and you need to eat.”

Orrien helped him into the kitchen and Dyan chirruped happily. Ihuka tilted his head in concern. "I'm fine, good birds," he winced as he sat down. Orrien got him a mug of herb water and some stew.

"The water will help the pain… What in seven realms happened out there? Who have you pissed off this time?" "What makes you think I've annoyed someone?" he shrugged.

Orrien rolled his eyes. "Because I've known you since you were knee high- and more men showed up once you slept- dealt with, rest assured. But this is clearly a hunt, Avizon. So who is it?"

"Erix…" Dyan whimpered. Orrien turned to look at him quickly, then to Avizon. "We don't know that for sure, Dyan. I’ve annoyed far more than him." "B.but he said he wasn't done…" Dyan whispered, dipping his head down. "Erix?!" Orrien exclaimed. "Explain. Now."

"Dyan, you can leave the table if you like?" Avizon said but Dyan remained sitting. "I.it's okay..."

Avizon looked up to Orrien. "Dyan once belonged to Erix. You know the disgusting things the man is into. He used to hurt Dyan until he escaped. I bought Dyan, when he was recaptured. Erix wants him back and I won't give him back."

Orrien eyed Ihuka who was sitting with Blue. He was confused. Orrien had to force himself not to stare at the back of his shoulder, where he’d been branded. Blue quietly explained to Ihuka what was being said. But Orrien didn't want anyone understanding what he said next.

Orrien spoke to Avizon again, this time using a different language, one he'd taught Avizon in the castle when he was younger. "And yet here you are hurting your own birds."

Avizon's expression turned to one of dread. "I know… that was before, in the first few days. I haven't hurt them since, I've changed."

That much was a relief to hear but he hoped he could prove a point. "Yes and we both know why. It's that damned power of yours! Your dark magic. I told you it corrupts its carrier. The Avizon I knew would never have hurt a hair on their head. You wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself."

"Then why am I changing?" Avizon retorted. "Could it not just be I've found something to care about? That I have my conscience again?" "No, because they carry light magic. It's drawing your light magic nearer the surface. Avizon, what will it take for you to give up this evil power?!"

Avizon shook his head. This was a conversation they'd had so many times. "If I gave it up I'd be vulnerable to attack-" "Your light magic is incredibly strong. It wouldn't be like that." "It wasn't enough last time," he snapped, but then his face immediately softened. "I'm sorry, but I… I can't take that risk again…"

"Last time was completely different. You know that," Orrien said softly. "Maybe, but I still have to protect those I care about."

Blue, Ihuka, and Dyan all looked nervous and on edge after their more heated discussion. Avizon smiled softly at his two. "It's alright. Good birds." Dyan nodded and held Ihuka's hand for a moment, but they looked tired.

"You two have had a long day, maybe you should go to bed?" Avizon suggested. Ihuka yawned and smacked his lips. "Bed..." “Yes, clever bird.“ Avizon smiled at him and waited as Blue led them both upstairs.

"Blue seems a nice lad," Avizon said quietly, changing the topic. "Heart of gold and the courage of a lion really… He's actually a cloudwalker." Avizon raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think you would buy one-"

"Oh, I didn't," he reassured him. "I rescued him. It's because of him I found out about Cloudwalkers' magic." Avizon frowned. "How did you find out?"

"As you can see… the bastards that took him took everything that they could that made him a cloudwalker, his wings, his horns, his claws- they even filed his fangs. I tried to nurse him back to health but I found that he was dying of starvation- of magic. He stays with me and helps around the farm so that I can give him magic when he needs it. The tattoos he has help him store magic better, but healing has been a long journey…"

"Was he a tawny? Or were the men just cruel bastards?" he wondered.

"He's from the south. A tropical cloudwalker. He eats fish and fruits for the most part. He had blue wings, but the royals… well, they wanted them." Avizon sighed softly. "I had no idea there were cloudwalkers in tropics… Being able to step back… now I see, Orrien, this has to stop. These creatures don't deserve this at all…"

Orrien shrugged sadly. "There's nothing we can do." "Don't be too sure. I'm known for changing the unchangeable," Avizon said. Orrien smiled sadly. "Aye, that's true… you know, I've heard talk of a resistance- a particularly brutish group of cloudwalkers. They go around freeing birds and taking and often killing humans."

"Well I certainly won't be stopping them," Avizon mumbled. "Nor I."

"Orrien," Avizon sighed. "There's something else I discovered… Cloudwalkers don't just carry magic. They can wield it… Do you know what this means?..." Orrien frowned, "How do you know?" "Dyan saw me when I was reading his dream. He saw me and called out to me."

Orrien raised an eyebrow. "Interesting… Well, there's no harm in teaching him a few easy, harmless spells to confirm your theory. Perhaps teach him to speak in the mirror to me, then he could speak to Blue more."

Avizon pulled a face. “You’re the better teacher.” “I’m sure you can teach him something as simple as that, lad, don’t be dramatic. But for now, you need to stay here, rest, and we can speak in greater detail about our discoveries.” Avizon sighed and nodded. But he paused. “Wait, I was meaning to check on Ihuka.”

“Why?” “One of the stall owners was kicking him in the ribs when he took something. He wouldn’t let me see if they were broken.” Orrien grimaced, “I thought I’d saw him wincing. I’ll go and get him, if he isn’t in bed yet.”

Avizon nodded and waited a few moments until Ihuka came downstairs with him. He looked so very nervous, but Avizon tried to smile softly. “It’s alright. Please let me see your ribs.” Ihuka stepped back and whimpered, but Avizon held out his hand, inviting him to step forward and take it, as one might to usher a child along. “Come on, little bird, please.”

Ihuka took a deep breath, winced, and came closer. Avizon praised him softly and raised his shirt, revealing deep bruises. Ihuka had his hands ready to push him off. “What do you think?” Avizon grimaced.

Orrien knelt down in front of Ihuka, very lightly tracing his fingers across the dark purple skin, letting his magic painlessly assess the damage. He paused at a certain point. “There, I can sense it. One crack, but it’s a simple one. I can treat it, if Ihuka will let me?” “He won’t understand, you’d have to ask one of the others to translate… Blue might be better if he knows how healing feels?" "You're right," Orrien said. He paused, knowing Blue was lingering in the hallway. "Blue, come here, lad.”

Blue came into the room rubbing his arm. “Yes, sir? Sorry for creeping, I just… my pillow…” “Of course you can get it. Before you do, could you ask Ihuka if I can heal him. Tell him how it works if he wants to know. It's his choice, or I can just keep giving him something for the pain."

So Blue explained, seeming to explain in detail, but Ihuka looked reassured by it. He hesitantly nodded, but then looked down at his hands. He admitted something, and Orrien saw the look of worry on his face."

"You can, but he's scared he'll lash out," Blue finally translated.

Orrien smiled softly. "That's alright. Sit down, Ihuka, back on your stool." He patted it to emphasise what he needed him to do. Ihuka reached a hand out, considering patting it too.

"Sit?" he repeated with confusion, trying to work out what the word meant. "Yes, sit," Orrien smiled and Ihuka did so. "Good job, you don't need to be scared."

Avizon offered to help but Orrien refused. He wanted Ihuka to be able to do this on his own. He has his precautions ready anyway, casting a small shield around his head and neck.

Ihuka sat on his hands and screwed up his face tight. Orrien patted his shoulder.

"You can do it. Don't be scared." He gently put his hand on his ribs and Ihuka's breath hitched. His body tried to act but he caught himself in time and stayed still. Orrien kept an eye on him, gently hushing his whimpers as he focused on healing the wound, encouraging the bone to come back together.

He soon finished, and Ihuka rubbed at his head tiredly. Orrien lowered the shield. "Well done, Ihuka. You were very brave. The pain will die down in a few minutes. Go get some sleep."

"Bed…" Ihuka mumbled again, rubbing his eyes. "I'll get my pillow and take him up," Blue offered nervously. Orrien thanked him.

Alone once more, Orrien looked at Avizon and sighed, seeing the lost expression.

"Not only did he not lash out, but he even stopped himself… When I first got him he’d have ripped your head off… I’m really a monster, I’ve broken him…” Avizon lowered his head in shame.

"The broken can be repaired. He’s not completely broken, I can see the light in him still. He fears you, and it will take a long time to undo that but with patience and kindness, it can be done… If that’s everything I’ll leave you here while I go and dispose of our less welcome guests.”

“You killed them?” Avizon said, surprised. “They were going after the birds. No one goes after those poor creatures under my protection. If Erix organised for these bandits to attack you, to get Dyan… Avizon, you must be careful. You know how dangerous he is, even if you are stronger.”

“He’s a coward… but I do understand. I’ve learned better than underestimating someone. I didn't want to say it in front of Dyan, but he's right. It only makes sense for this to be his doing. He tried to attack me in the market,” he sighed.

"I doubt Erix will stop until he has another cloudwalker then." “Go, get rid of them, I’ll stay here until you return. I need to think.”

Orrien nodded, refilled his cup, and left him to reflect on everything.

[aziraphales-library]

Looking for Christmas fics!!! Or winter fics!! Preferably both!! Happy or sad, smutty or not, but this year I’m starting to celebrate early (I deserve it) and I would love to do so with some good omens!! Thank u so much for all the work u do here btw, I’m pretty new to the fandom and ur blog has helped me discover so many amazing fics! Would also like to thank all the good omens writers! Never have I been in a fandom with such good and creative writing! I’m constantly surprised and amazed at the wonderful stuff u all come up with!

Hello!

Here’s a few Christmas human aus:

Snow Angel by Vagabond (T)

Human!AU. Aziraphale needs a date to his brother's Christmas party to avoid getting set up with someone. Anathema suggests Crowley, the office bad boy. They go, get snowed in, and have a heart-to-heart that ends in a Happy Christmas.

From a prompt: Human!AU: Aziraphale needs a date for family Christmas. He invites the office rebel/bad boy, Crowley.

muddle through somehow by curtaincall (T)

Aziraphale Fell runs a successful food blog, Celestial Comestibles, where he shares mouthwatering recipes and heartwarming stories about his happy domestic life in a cottage with his husband and son. As promotion for his upcoming cookbook, his publishers run a contest: one lucky winner will get to spend Christmas with Aziraphale and his family.

What the publishers don't know is that the real Aziraphale Fell is a single city-dweller. And if he wants to keep up his happily married persona, he'll have to acquire a cottage, husband, and son before Christmas.

As it happens, his friend and neighbor Anthony Crowley has his nephew staying with him for the holidays. One fake marriage proposal later, and everything seems tickety-boo--as long as Aziraphale can keep from developing inconveniently real feelings for his pretend husband...

Taking the Cake by Caedmon (T)

Aziraphale has noticed his handsome neighbor, but hasn't had an excuse (or the nerve) to talk to him. He gets his chance, though, when a bakery delivers a package to the wrong door a few days before Christmas and his neighbor comes knocking.

The Grinch Who Sold Christmas by darcylindbergh (T)

Anthony J. Crowley, a big-time attorney from London, is sent to small-town Tadfield to close a deal before Christmas that would sell out half of high street to a fancy developer and put him up for partner at his firm. The deal will run the local businesses out and change the landscape of the town forever, but that’s none of Crowley’s business; he’s just doing a job.

But as the town invites him to share in their lives, their hopes, and their holiday celebrations, and as the enigmatic Aziraphale invites him to share in something more, Crowley starts to wonder: if everything has its price, is he still willing to pay what this deal will cost?

And here’s some canon-verse fics!

Holidays in the South Downs by TurnipTitaness (G)

After stopping the apocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley have retired to a little cottage in the South Downs. This is their first holiday season together. It's fluffy.

Deck the Bookshop with Decorations by Elphen (G)

Not one to decorate the bookshop for Christmas, Aziraphale nevertheless finds ornaments, baubles and other decorations hidden among the medley of items, not clutter, of the shop. What's more, he discovers that more is added over the course of December. There can only be one culprit, but why? Of all the things to Aziraphale is going to find out, one way or the other. Even if it means he has to actually ask outright. Set post-canon. 

Christmas Gifts by Amaranthology (E)

Crowley has plans for Christmas this year.

It's posted so that you can read Chapter 1 and get no smut or continue with Chapter 2 for the full experience.

A Christmas Miracle (A Very Smutty Christmas) by IneffableScript (E)

After the Non-Apocalypse, Aziraphale feels he can finally enjoy Christmas. He thinks the only thing to make it perfect, would be to spend it with Crowley. But Crowley has a secret that might ruin Aziraphale's plans! Lots of fluff and smut, only a dab of angst.

Hungry for more? Here’s a link to the Christmas tag on AO3!

As always, if any of our follower have any recs, feel free to leave them in the notes!

~ Mod G

[iprefertheterminsane]

What I should be doing; Updating my current BFU/GoMens fanfic

What I am doing instead; drafting an entirely NEW BFU/GOMens fanfic

Here it is;

Story Idea:

BFU*Good Omens, but make it scary.

The Unsolved Crew are trying to return to the airport after a successful hunt in London. Shane suggests they follow a scenic route of no discernible town. They somehow find themselves in a town that is not on the GPS maps with weird vibes and, surprise surprise, their rental breaks down. They have all watched enough horror thrillers to know all the cliché-est plot points. What lives in Devil's Dyke? Are the Them serial killers? Is Warlock going to betray them? Shane and TJ are probably going to die. But most importantly; What does it all have to do with Ryan?

-This is Shyan centric. On their way back to the airport, Shane suggests the crew take a scenic route down South Downs on their way back from London with the promise of a beautiful lake. The London shoots had been rife with sexual tension, and Shane does not want the moment to end.

-They find themselves driving into a town instead, suburbania and quaint. The townsfolk frown at them as they pass by. RP Tyler straddles his barking poodle. They obviously don't like newcomers.

-The rental breaks down. The cliche Ness starts to dawn on them

-"Hahaha, next we'll find out this place doesn't have line!"

-There is no line. They all glare at Mark.

-In a fit of nervousness, Ryan starts offline vlogging. Shane suggests they go into town to ask for someone to call the two service and find someplace with line. Surely SOMEONE will recognize them.

-But strangers look away and walk faster away when they approach. Whoever they manage to start scowling or fidgeting, and none of them seems to recognize the duo. Some even claim to know only faintly of YouTube. It's getting unreal. They do not seem to be joking, and get only more upset whenever the Crew tries to convince or tell them otherwise. It is finally pushing dusk. The Crew stops by a beautiful park. There is no one around, but a young boy, who has a look in his eyes they find relief in: recognition.

-His name is Warlock Dowling, and he showed them a copy of his birth certificate to prove it, claiming that it happens often enough that he has to resort doing so. It's so fucking cliche it hurts. Ryan hates this movie already.

-But Warlock is the son of an American Ambassador who lives in the UK, and thus, likely the only child who seems to recognize them and their YouTube Channel. He is not a big fan, but it's a whole site better than literally everyone else. South Downs is a bedtime story, he claims. It's perfect in the way all the towns in children storybooks are perfect. Nobody plays the internet in a storybook town. It is not a prank. Devon is skeptical.

-Warlock invites them to go to the Ambassador's house a little ways down the airbase near the back of the town, (what kind of horror path will they take? Thought Ryan. Both feel like equally bad ideas.) but they decide to go tomorrow. He directs them to a bed and breakfast instead. All the rooms look the same. The lady barely looks up as she hands them their keys. There is electricity in the rooms, meaning they could charge their appliances. For naught of anything better to do, they are filming this entire experience. They somehow convince themselves that Shane is going to die because Ryan is evidently the Protagonist, and since Shane is his Best Friend, he is either going to betray them or die in a heroic act sacrificing himself for Ryan. In a fit of panic, Ryan tells Shane he has a crush on him. Which is great and sweet and all, but now REALLY seals the deal in because now Shane is a love interest instead. Hasnt Ryan heard of the bury your Gays trope?

-"I knew you guys were gonna end up gay" "what why." "they have to kill SOMEONE off and none of us are black and Ryan s the protagonist."

-They don't find Warlock in the park the next day, and are forced to look for him themselves. Walking of course. They find out about the satanic nunnery that caught on fire on a cafe because the waitress explains that they have to pass through that and the abandoned airbase in the back of the town to get to the villa on foot. They all sigh in exhausted manner, not much in the mood for dying.

-Trudge they do anyway. Nowhere out but through.

-The old satanic nunnery is....not abandoned

-They rush inside and find that it is a company teamwork support organization, and they give out paintball sessions. There is electricity. There is a line, even if the company wasnt currently in season. They try to find a worker.

-They find her. Sister Mary is haggard and busy running an entire company and booking sessions all by herself. She is in turns dismissive and annoyed to moderately tolerant....up until she learns of Ryan's name

-She suddenly wants nothing to do with any of them, practically shoving them out her door and face sheet white, mumbling about being busy and how it wasn't personal. The door slams in their faces. Ryan looks like he is about to cry. Shane snaps.

-He breaks the door down, to the shouts of surprise from the rest of the crew, and announces, with the loud, arrogant nonchalance of a white man, that he is not going to budge until she tells them everything they want to know about Lower Tadfield, the South Downs and yknow the fuck what? Neither will Ryan. The rest of the Crew follow his example and dig their heels in, pretending to film her for good measure. They are counting on the fact that she does not have security, and that even if she calls the cops on them, the building is far too suburbania to find very quickly. Mary looks absolutely terrified, and refuses to look Ryan in the eye. She eventually gives in, on the account that they will soon leave immediately.

-The find out that she was an ex convent of the Chattering Order of St. Berryl's, a satanic nunnery. She came back because she had been born here, and oddly enough, the convent meant something to her. A good dozen of the Satanists died due to a lightning storm catching the nunnery on fire the night two babies had been born, and three left through the gates. She's never been afraid of Lower Tadfield. Nothing ever happens here. They don't buy it, but it's apparent she believes what she is saying.

-They demand to use the present line to call for another rental, cancel their airport tickets, etcetera etcetera, emphasizing that they are excited about leaving just as much as she does. With this promise, she allows them to do so.

--They manage to get their raw footage to Cloud and cancel their tickets but just as they are about to call for a new car, the lights start flickering. The building rumbles. Mary looks straight at Ryan and tells them to run. They grab each other s hands and does so.

-There halfway down the road when TJ yelps, and Devon announces they are being chased by something. They decide to run into the woods down further down south to lose it.

-It is dusk. Nobody is happy. At least everyone is alive though, which is something. Ryan remarks that the chase scenes in the movies are exactly as tiring as they make it out to be.

-Mark hears running water, and the Crew finds an occupied cottage on the shoreline of the sea. Their sighs are loud; both relieved and annoyed. Mark starts chanting/praying that they are not serial killers. Shane announces that everyone must be ready to leave at a moments notice, and sleep in the woods of they must, to everyone's agreement.

-The man who opens the door wears glasses and low slung jeans, eyebrow raised rudely. His husband, blonde and plump, tells him to let them come in, and that it is nearly dinner. They are gracious hosts-old enough to be someone's grandparents. Cute and domestic as well. Shane goes strangely quiet when the couple dances in the living room, and Ryan chalks it up to their romantic relationship, for which they share talks. There are unoccupied rooms they could bunk in-five; each of them reserved for the couple's godkids. Despite getting their own rooms, Ryan cuddles with Shane. He is oddly tense, at least until they start making out.

-Ryan wakes at night to voices in his ear, and decides to get a glass of something to drink. Shane is out cold. He finds TJ in the kitchen, looking at his phone. It is a picture of his family-Kate and their daughter. This is hugely concerning, as it is a surefire telltale that TJ might not make it. Ryan promises him they'll get back home. TJ clasps him on the back and tells him not to make promises he can't keep.

-Shane wakes the crew at 4 am and tells them, quietly, to pack up and leave for town. He had found a map, and determined the way to navigate. They are confused but obliging. They do not wake their hosts-in fact, Shane seems to want to make sure they leave without their knowledge. They find their way back into Tadfield by 8.30 am, and it is only as they are having bfast that Shane tells them that there is no tech but the radio-which isn't plugged in. The water runs, but the pipes underneath the sink are not attached to anything. Crowley does not eat, and his eyes were....weird. Too many red flags. And as he searched the room for maps before Ryan came into his room the night before, he had found a crumpled poker card of the Antichrist, and Devon admits to finding one of War, a horseman of the Apocalypse, in hers. Mark taps his fork anxiously, and his eyes spell out what they all could tell. The climax is soon.

- It is not until Ryan walks and spots a bespectacled child of Warlocks age that he realizes he has barely seen any children in this town, and suggests that they follow him to ask whether he knew Warlock. The rest of the crew return to the BnB for some well deserved rest, but Shane and Ryan pursues the kid....into the forest.

-They lose him until HE found THEM. He immediately recognizes Ryan, who had to introduce his best friend Shane. Two other kids appear from between the trees. One of them, a girl, has a large wooden sword. They are surrounded. Shane grips Ryans hand, and asks, half jokingly, is they are serial killers, and if they are intending to kill him.

-The Them claims that it happened like, one time, and they do not plan to kill Shane, but their smile looks too wide to be genuine, like they are sharing a personal joke. The boys start walking away. The Them follows. Ryan asks if they know Warlock. They stop, sharing looks. Brian asks how they met Warlock. Ryan refuses to tell them . The kids get defensive, the way 13 year olds tend to get when they are about to justify doing a notable offense, like staying awake past bedtime The wind picks up, and the kids get visibly relieved. Brian tells them that Adam is coming, in a way that makes them feel like they definitely do not want to meet Adam. They scram it.

-They are being chased again. This time, when Ryan looks back, he sees what looks like a dog but isn't-like something is badly wearing the skin of a dog, like it has too many limbs to fit into four legs, a slobbering maw and hellfire eyes.

-They manage to leave the woods, and almost get hit by a three wheeled blue car. Shane bangs on the door and it opens for them, and Ryan shouts at them to step on it. It is only when they get to a quaint little cottage at the other end of the town do they acknowledge their saviours-a bespectacled, brown skinned woman and a jittery boyfriend.

-The woman is American. She recognizes them immediately, and says that she is a huge fan of True Crime. It is the most mundane , normal conversation they have for all of 2 days. They enter Jasmine Cottage. Shane slumps.

-there is a horseshoe above the door, and runes etched into the wood. The smell of incense burns strongly, and a redlined conspiracy board in a corner of the kitchen.

-The woman calls herself a professional occultist. A witch, basically. Which is...fine. She is at least honest and blasè about it, which made someone in this godforsaken town at least. Shane spots a picture of the Antichrist on her pinup board, the same one as seen in the poker card he's found in AziCrow's cottage. Anathema notices, and admits that it's complicated. They are confused, angry and terrified, and mentions their encounter with Adam, and everything else they'd had to suffer through as they are stuck in the village. Her facial emotions change from shock, to calculating, to confused, to skeptical, before finally ending In blank. She claims that it is very unlike Adam, as he usually does not go about scaring people from out of the village. He had welcomed her in just fine, and the town had followed short after. Shane asks about the Antichrist and Horsepeople symbolism. She waves that one away, claiming how it wasn't important and that 'They wouldn't believe her anyway.' She offers Meet to drive them back to their Inn, and they accept.

-They get back to the village; as they open the door to their rooms, knowing that the rest of the Crew is waiting for them, Warlock is also there. He takes a single look at them, and raises an eyebrow. They tell him what happened. Warlock frowns. Tells them the only reason they'd been hounded In such a way if Adam wants something from them, and TJ puts his face into their hands.

-They ask if they should lock the door. Warlock tells them not to bother-it won't stop him anyway. Devon asks the possibility of leaving this very night. Warlock shakes his head, but looks contemplating.

-That night, Shane gets kidnapped.

-Ryan doesn't see the culprit, but something tells him it's the Them, and the Hound, and Adam. He runs into the woods. The night is cold and still, but the trees shake like they could be alive. Ryan yells angrily into the void, asking Adam what is it that he wanted, that it's him they actually want, to let Ryan go. He faces the Hound, a slobbering, monstrous nightmare. Ryan thinks he is going to die. There is a boy sitting in a dilipidated throne above a chalk pit with blood red eyes.

-Two headlights pierce through the gloom. The trees still. The hound sits, and Crowley steps out if the Bentley.

-Aziraphale is in the car. Warlock peers over his shoulder. Crowley stomps over and tells Adam to come down-that his game is over, and it stopped being funny for quite some time. Shane stumbles out of the woods, dazed and terrified, and Ryan traps him into an embrace.

-After some chastising Adam admits that he's made a bet with Greasy Johnson in school that Demons and Ghosts are real, and that the Them had managed to convince him that it lives in the woods. He had not believed them, and made them bet that if it was really haunted, Paranormal Investigators would come and make a whole documentary about it. Warlock had showed him a few episodes of BFU, and Adam thought it perfect.

-Crowley scolds him, telling him against manipulating and keeping the Crew here against their will, and Adam looks appropriately chastened. Dawn breaks. The crew emerges from the Inn in a state of panic. Crowley pat's the van twice and it comes to life.

-Someone asked Crowley if the kids really HAD killed people. Crowley waves it away, claiming that it isn't important. In the light of morning, the kids and the dog almost looks normal.

- They decide not to prod any further. Aziraphale apologizes one last time, and tells the that they are welcome in Tadfield if they choose to come again. Ryan and Shane emphasizes that they absolutely will not, ever. Aziraphale nods like he understands. They pack the equipment and leaves the town, possibly England, forever.

-In a few days time, Adam gets an email- a video titled The Horrors of Hogsback Woods, and he grins cheekily to himself.

[sirrwritesalots]

Resurrection ~ Sherlock Holmes (angsty)

Pairing: (BBC) Sherlock x Y/N Warnings: Some cursing, angsty, anger Word Count: 2074 Summary: You have known Sherlock and John for years, but when he comes back from the dead, will you accept him so easily? A/N: This is out of my element, I usually write romance and stuff, but I’m trying out the depressing/Sherlock type of mystery and crime out a bit, though there isn’t much of that crime stuff happening lol hope you enjoy!

The reconnection between John and Sherlock was eventful, to say the least, but in comparison to the reunion between Sherlock and Y/N still did not go as he had originally planned or hoped for.

In the years he had been away - or as everyone thought: supposedly ‘dead’ - you had taken up residence at a cottage in Dorset your family had owned for a long time. You took the death of your close friend, and someone whom you loved very dearly, in the romantic sense as well as the platonic sense, rather difficult, so as a means of coping you spent some time away for yourself from the busy capital of the UK. You needed to reconnect with yourself and handle your grief, come to terms with what had happened in order to move on, and in doing so you found the lowland hills of South Wessex comforting and appealing as you creating your new life there. You’d become accustomed to your routine, to the - what some would call - mundaneness of it all, though your blood seemed to itch for some action every now and again, which you appeased by composing or writing, possibly taking up a new hobby, anything of the sort. 

So one day when there was a knock on your door, you simply expected it to be your neighbor down the road asking to borrow a cup of sugar or asking for a small favor. It came as somewhat of a surprise when you opened the front door and came face-to-face with none other than your old friend John Watson and his girlfriend Mary, who you met only a handful of times but really liked. She was good for him, you thought, after everything he had been though.

You welcomed them with a smile, “John! I didn’t know you were coming around! Mary, it’s lovely to see you again!” You were about to kiss both of her cheeks after letting the two inside when a third person appeared where they were standing a second ago.

“I didn’t know your family owned a cottage outside of London,” said the familiar deep baratome voice.

You could have sworn your heart stopped in that moment. Body completely froze with a hand closed around the door handle like a vice, a white-knuckle grip so tight the edges of the lock were almost piercing your skin. Although you always hoped you would be wrong in the back of your mind, you thought you’d never see him again. A wave of emotions crashed over you in a matter of seconds: shock, relief, joy. But the last of them all, white hot rage, washed through you like it never had before. Without saying a single word, you slammed the door in his face and turned to make your way into the kitchen.

You vaguely heard John and Mary’s mumbled comments. “Well, it could have been worse,” you imagined John shrugging to his girlfriend as he weighed some of the possible outcomes in his head. “She could have punched him in the face like I did.”

“John,” Mary said wearily, “Y/n’s not happy, and I wouldn’t expect her to be. What, with us just showing up out of the blue with him.”

“Give her some time... she’ll come around,” John attempted to give you the benefit of the doubt.

In the kitchen, your hands were splayed across the countertop to steady yourself as you felt like you were quite literally spinning from the thoughts running around in your head and your eyes slid out of focus. How was this even possible? Did John know this whole time? No, he couldn’t have. He was genuinely grief stricken, just like you had been. Mycroft must have known, that cheeky bastard knew practically everything. Why couldn’t he tell you, though? Of all people, why didn’t he let you and John in on his not-so-little secret for all these years? Your mind was running a thousand miles a minute attempting to answer all these rising questions on your own, wondering how you could have missed this simple fact: Sherlock was not dead.

After no reaction or response for me for a long time - you were unaware of how much time had passed - John entered the kitchen, calling your name. “How long have you known?” was the only thing you said, eyes now fixated on one particular spot on the counter so as to control your emotions in the moment.

“Only a few days. He wanted to tell you in person, not over the phone.”

You scoffed, shaking your head and relaxing your tense muscles for the first time since you slammed the front door shut. “That’s a shock.” Usually Sherlock preferred technological means of communication to human interaction, typically choosing to send a quick text over speaking on the phone or bothering to get off his ass and into a cab.

“Nothing about this is normal,” stated John. He was right; it wasn’t an everyday occurrence that a friend comes back to life, or rather fakes his own death. John tried to reason with you, “If you could just hear him out.”

“Is that what you did? Immediately wait and listen to what he had to say.”

“Well, um, no. It took a bit. I may have hit him once or twice. We relocated a few times.” You gave John a look that screamed the words ‘exactly’ without having to vocalize your point. “What I was trying to say is, that its Sherlock, Y/N. And we’ve been a mess since he left, no matter what we’ve done to be happy in that time.” Your mind immediately went to Mary and the cottage you were standing in; yours and John’s means of coping. 

“Yeah, John, that’s my point; he left! Without a word. He went along with Moriarty and let us go on believing he offed himself. How can you forgive him so easily?” Your blood was beginning to boil again.

“So, what are you planning on doing? Leave him outside in the rain until he learns his lesson?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, your chin lifting a fraction in affirmation. “Yes.” At the very least, you believed Sherlock deserved that, after all he put the two of your through, to sit soggy and cold for the next hour.

John relented and dropped his arms at his sides, realizing it was useless to argue with you as your stubbornness had clearly not disappeared in your time apart, and made his way back to Mary in the sitting room. You made the three of you some cups of tea, bringing the tray with you and setting it onto the table. Noticing the fire was lit, which must have been Mary’s doing while you were having your little tiff with John in the kitchen earlier, you smiled softly at her. She and John took residence on the couch while you sat in the chair closest to the fire, leaving a single chair adjacent to you unoccupied as the room warmed up.

You could hear Sherlock’s shoes tapping the porch as he paced back and forth in a meek effort to stay warm in the rain. A part of you - the one that reached out to Sherlock, that was glad to have him back despite everything - wanted to let him in, hand him a cup of tea, wrap a blanket around his shoulders, and talk as though no time had passed. But the other part that inhabited a majority of your consciousness was annoyed at his patience. He wasn’t complaining about the weather or temperature on the other side of the door. In fact, he was more quiet than you remember him ever being, aside from then he was sleeping or preoccupied in his Mind Palace. After his eventful encounter with John, he must have come to the understanding that he wouldn’t be welcomed with open arms and it would take a bit of an adjustment for everybody to acclimate him into their lives again.

After sitting in silence for thirty or so minutes, John abruptly stood to his feet, causing Mary to quickly look at him on alert. Luckily her cup was empty, or else he would be responsible for the stain on your rug. “For Christ’s sake! This is enough, Y/N! You’re acting like a damn child,” John said as he walked to the front door. “I’ve let you have your moment, now I am going to let Sherlock in and you are going to have it out. Right here, right now. Not later when its dark and he’s caught hypothermia.”

Against your protests, John opened the door and nodded at his friend to come inside your home. Sherlock stepped through the threshold after shaking his hair outside, lifting his head to meet my gaze as John locked the door behind him.

It felt like a hole had been rammed through your chest again, the power of it almost knocking you back into the chair you were seated in. You took a deep, unsteady breath and clenched your fists to hide your shaking hands. Part of it was anger, but most of it was fear, anxiety. You tried to control your breathing, deep inhale followed by a deep exhale, like you had practiced when you began having panic attacks after his death.

“Please, let me explain,” Sherlock pleaded with a soft look in his eyes you’d never seen before as he gingerly took a step forward.

“I don’t want to hear from you. I don’t want to see you. I don’t even want to speak to you.” It took everything in you not to burst into tears, out of anger or frustration or sadness you didn’t know which, as you took a step back to maintain the distance between the two of you.

“Y/n, l-”

“No! Fuck! You were gone. You were dead, Sherlock! And you didn’t so much as tell me or John!” Your voice began to crack as it raised in volume. “Dead! Do you even understand that? We grieved your loss. We have borne that pain for two years now, and you think that I’m suddenly going to forgive that and let you back into my life just because you’re standing here in front of me now? That’s extremely arrogant and selfish, even for you.”

Sherlock chose his words wisely as he spoke, “Yes, I do understand.”

“No, see, I don’t think you do. Because you are incapable of feeling human emotions; you’ve said so yourself, right? They are pesky little beggars that get in the way of more important things in life, yeah?” You raised your eyebrows in expectation, waiting for him to confirm your statement to be true, since he had expressed his distaste for allowing emotions to rule him and his life many times before, and yet he remained silent. “You couldn’t possibly understand, because you thrive on suspense and mystery. On having the upper hand of knowing what others don’t, having the power to withhold information and telling others what you want them to know and when you want them to know it. You like being the know-it-all genius. What would you be without it?”

The question was rhetorical, but he answered nonetheless, “Nothing.” Your eyes widened at his response, shaken by his omission. “You’re right, I’d be nothing without my knowledge. I’m not Sherlock Holmes without my deductive skills, if I couldn’t easily figure out what others cannot. But I’m also not me without John Watson. Without you.”

His vulnerability disarmed you, and your shoulders sagged a fraction as your demeanor began to involuntarily soften up to him despite your set mind. You were taken aback by his calm and collected expression, as if admitting what he has was somewhat of a regular occupancy for him. It wasn’t, though, and you knew that it took a lot of effort for him to speak that truth aloud. You were torn between the anger of what he had done and missing him after all this time. Your heart yearned for him, and now he was standing before you - flesh and blood, alive - begging in his own reserved way for you to take him back. You knew you couldn’t forgive him on the spot, not yet anyway. But you did know that, despite all the pain he had caused you in his absence, you could accept him into your life once again.