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kailash-parikrama · 4 months

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Halesi Mahadev Yatra by Kailash Parikrama

Among the most ancient and holiest places of Nepal, The Haleshi is one of them. It is very popular as The Pashupatinath of the eastern Nepal. It is situated at the hilly region of the country in between the holy rivers Dudh Koshi to the right and Sunkoshi to the left. The temple is situated at the top of a small hill inside a beautiful cave. There lie other numerous small beautiful caves too. Everybody, who reaches there, can’t resist themselves without appreciating its location, beauty as well as its natural inheritance. This is the place, which is famous for its historical, religious, cultural and tourism importance. Here, the image of the god is inside the cave, which is full of natural beauty. Inside the cave is dark and there are bats flying here and there. It is also a kind of pride for the people living there, as it is as famous as other temples like the Pashupatinath, the Lumbini etc. even internationally. It is the natural cave, which lies in 4the remote hilly region and is believed to be in existence since 6000 years. It is the place full of natural beauty and cultural inheritance. It is popular among the Hindus as well as the Buddhists all over the world.

The place is perhaps not an artificial creation but a gift of nature. There are three mysterious caves, which are believed to be the three eyes of lord Shiva. as we see in the first cave, we see an image of lord Shiva which is called as Haleshwar Mahadev. In the second cave there is an image of Nandi. So, the cave is know Basaha Gupha. And there is an image of bhairav an in the third cave. Among these three mysterious caves the first one with the image of lord Shiva is the main part of the temple. After marching down 25 to 30 steps down the stairs at the walls of the cliff there is a big red stone which is worshiped as Gaura Parbata. It is believed to be a joint image of Gauri and Parbati. This cave is in the depth of about 300ft. At the bottom of the cave there is the image of Mahadev made of stone. It is about two and half feet long. One can reach to the end or to the image of the god after walking 102 stairs made of the stones arranged well in the stairs.The stairs are wide enough to walk for a 4/5 people at a time. It is said that the base of the statue ‘Linga’ of Mahadev which is nearly two and half feet high up from the ground but the base of the statue leads to the next cave through a small hole.It is called Basaha Gupha. The base of the statue is full of water. even under the ground. The main statue of the temple is fenced with the cement pillars It is situated in a square at the middle. Above the statue in the cliff there is an image of cows’ udder from which white drops fall on to the statue. It is believed that Kamadhenu (Cow in the heaven who can fulfills the desires wishes if asked ) is worshiping the god by offering her milk.

People perform various religious Pujas. (Rudri, Laghu Rudri, Maha Rudri, Aati Rudri) in the temple during different festivals. Some people do such performances to get peace, spiritual happiness and prosperity. The whole temple flutters with the Vedic Mantras at the time of Puja. Those who are poor, have no children and are suffering from sarrow come here and promise to offer something if their wishes and expectation are fulfilled. After their wishes are fulfilled they get back again and offer the god what they have promised to offer. They offer the god one hundred thousand holy threads and leaves of wood apple or by performing prayer and puja.

This is the famous religious destination not only of the district but of the whole Eastern Development Region along with god mahadeva there are other god and goddess such as parbati The cave is full of various entrances and images of different gods. Each and every stone of the cave is full of natural artistic images and the holes in the different corner. An angel stands as attractive doors of the cave. The whole cave is like a big stone which is beautifully carved by the hands of a good artist who worked hard to make it so beautiful. This is one of the most beautiful creations of nature more artistic and pure than the artificial creations. Different images and the different doors in the cave carry their own significance. Among them there are five doors, which are more important than the other doors. They are believed to do judgement whether the people coming here are religious or not. The doors are The Haleshi temple is situated in the Khotang district of eastern Nepal . This is a small hilly area full of natural beauty. The location of the place itself is beautiful. One the other hand, the beautiful and mysterious natural caves; full of different natural images, look as if the stone carving artist have donelt carefully taking a lot of time. Here, the images are all inside the caves which themselves are mysterious.

Ghoptay Dwar: This door is named after its location. Ghoptay Dwar is a nepali word which means downward facing door. It is located to the Northwest of the image of the god. People enter here from the South and come out of the North. It is about 9 feet long.

Janma Dwar: A little further the Ghoptay Dwar to the east after walking 6 feet sliding way we can get to another door where one is allowed to enter first by putting one leg and the head carefully. It is Janma Dwar which means the birth door

To the East-South of the image of the god, there is an another door called Pap Dwar. In this door people enter from the east and come out hardly from the West.

Dharma Dwar: After praying the Haleshwar Mahadev when we move forward in the West-North there are two 9/9 feet square shaped stones with a small gap between them. There is a tradition of going in and coming out from that gap. This gap is called Dharma Dwar.

Swarga Dwar: There is another famous door called as Swarga Dwar. Ii looks really amazing if it is viewed from Yagya Shala , close to pap dwar. People can’t reach there, as it is located really in a difficult place where there is no way to get through. It may have been named Swarga Dwar as Swarga in Nepali Means heaven where no people can reach and live in.

There is a legend that people who are really religious can easily enter the four dwars. But those who are not cannot enter any of these dwars.

Nature is really beautiful, mysterious and amazing as there are different things that look like artificial stones finished after a long hard work by a stone-carving artist. So not only religious people but also the people who believe only in scientific evidences also can’t resist themselves without praising the beauty of the cave after watching its mechanism as well as the surrounding.

Basahasthan is the second cave of the place.It is also called as Basaha Dulo(hole). It is to the west of the temple of Shiva. The breadth of this cave is 45 to 50 feet and the length is about 220 feet. As we enter the cave from the west and reach 220 feet, we may find a hole there from where we can see the sky. Close to the hole there is about 80-85 feet wide jungle called ‘Kailash’. People spend whole night inside this cave during festivals.

Another important and amazing thing about the cave is that inside the Basaha hole one can see the sky from there, if people stand facing towards the sky open handed asking for milk to ‘Kamdhenu’ shouting ‘Dudh Dau Mai’ milk like white drops fall in some people’s hands and water drops in some other’s. According to the legend People who get milk like white drops are believed to be lucky and religious and in the same way those who get water drops are believed to be unlucky and not religious. So people who get white drops like milk thinks themselves lucky and get proud but the people with water drops think they are unlucky and get shy in sorrow.

People believe that the big stone, which is at the entrance of the Basahasthan, is Basaha (Sandhey) and some say it as the bones of Brikashur. In the same way in front of it, there is a stone shaped conch which is believed to be the Gauri Sankha that Vishnu blowed after killing Bhashmashur and the stone near the Gauri Sankha is believed to be the head of Bhashmashur. There is a small place near the door where one can hide himself is believed to be the same place where lord Vishnu had hidden himself with the aim to kill Brikashur.

4 Days Tour

DAY 1: Arrival Kathmandu, Transfer to Hotel, Evening Leisure, Overnight

DAY 2: AM breakfast, transfer to Airport for fly to Halesi Mahadev by Helicopter , After have Darshan / worship ( Puja), Visit to Cave and look around fly back to Kathmandu transfer to Hotel. Overnight.

DAY 3: After breakfast Kathmandu city Sight Seeing place to visit Pashupatinath, Bouddha Nath, Budhanilkantha, Swayambhu Nath stupa (Monkey’s temple), Patan durbar squar and Krishna temple and back to hotel overnight

DAY 4: Departure to your onward Destination

#kailash mansarovar yatra #kailash yatra #mount kailash

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clvrissackrmn · 7 years

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TASK 001 — DESENVOLVIMENTO DE PERSONAGEM

WELCOME TO GOSSIP GIRL BLOG

QUOTE

❛ She liked messy beds and movie nights without any lights on. She liked the quiet company of a few good friends. Her idea of love was gentle and silent, like a whisper of a touch. Some things are magical and magic, contrary to popular opinion, is often found in the most ordinary of places. ❜

CADASTRO

NOME COMPLETO: Clarissa Orion Ackerman

DATA DE NASCIMENTO: 13/11/1992

GÊNERO: Cis-feminino

IDADE: 25 anos

CLASSE: Alta

PRONOMES: Ela/Dela

ORIENTAÇÃO SEXUAL: Pansexual

SITUAÇÃO ROMÂNTICA: Solteira

SIGNO: Escorpião

FAMÍLIA

PAI: Frederick William Ackerman

MÃE: Alina-Jannet Topaz-Ackerman

IRMÃO/S: Não possuí

IRMÃ/S: Até onde sabe, não possuí. Uma, perdida. (plot drop futuro)

FILHA/S: Não possuí

FILHO/S: Não possuí

PARENTES DISTANTES: Apenas os avós paternos vivos, uma tia por parte de pai, dois tios por parte de mãe e diversos primos.

ASPECTOS FÍSICOS

COR DOS OLHOS: Castanho esverdeado

COR DOS CABELOS: Castanho médio-claro

ALTURA: 1,76

PELE: Caucasiana

MARCAS DE NASCENÇA: Não possuí.

CICATRIZES: Tem uma na sola do pé, que cortou com um prego, onde precisou levar ponto e por isso tem a marca.

TATUAGEM: Parou de contar quando realizou a 6ª, e ainda pretende fazer mais algumas.

PIERCINGS: Na orelha, vários.

ESTILO DE SE VESTIR: Costuma usar jeans e camiseta, básico, por conta do trabalho. Complementa com alguns acessórios, nada muito chamativo, apenas porque gosta. Se está mais frio, prefere usar suéter do que casacos grandes, a não ser se vai sair na rua.

MÃO DOMINANTE: Esquerda

ALERGIAS: Frutos do mar.

PESSOAL

MANIAS: Se está lendo alguma coisa, fica batendo com o pé direito no chão, como se estivesse ditando o ritmo da leitura.

FOBIAS: Os seus maiores medos são palhaços e escorpiões/aranhas

ASPIRAÇÕES: Quer ser reconhecida profissionalmente, apesar de que sabe que sua carreira não é desse tipo, pretende deixar uma marca no D.P

HOBBYS: Como seus gatos são suas paixões, Clari afora brincar com eles. Também gasta seu tempo lendo ou aprendendo alguma coisa nova, convida os amigos para fazer alguma coisa, mas nunca quer ficar parada.

CRENÇAS: Foi criada no catolicismo, mas se considera agnóstica, atualmente.

LUGARES ONDE MOROU: Apenas morou em Nova York, também não pretende se mudar.

VIRGINDADE: Perdeu aos 19 anos

RELAÇÕES COM O SEXO OPOSTO DA OPÇÃO SEXUAL: Como Clari não tem preferência pelo sexo da pessoa, ela se dá bem com tudo.

COSTUMES

FUMA: Nunca.

BEBE: É abstêmia.

USA DROGAS: Raramente.

FAZ DIETA: Come de tudo, mas segue uma regra de comer moderadamente, dando um bom intervalo entre as refeições.

FAVORITOS

LUGAR: Palmengarten - Frankfurt, Alemanha.

TIME: Buffalo Sobers (Hockey), Los Angeles Lakers (Basquete).

JOGOS: Não tem mania de jogar.

MÚSICA: Yellowcard - Telescope.

COMIDA: Schnitzel (comida alemã).

BEBIDA: Suco de abacaxi com hortelã.

COR: Cinza/prata.

FILMES: The Breakfast Club, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Back to the Future (1, 2, 3)

SÉRIES: Friends, That 70′s Show, Full House

LIVROS: O Mundo de Sofia, Alice no País das Maravilhas, Harry Potter

AUTORES: Jostein Gaarder, J.K Rowling

ATORES: Anne Hathaway, Meryl Streep, Laura Prepon, Dominic Cooper, Drew Barrymore

BANDAS: Telescope, The Neighbourhood, The Maine, Cage The Elephant, Blackbear.

#siderstask #∴ ˙ ┊ ❛ 「 — the most beautiful of angels are destined to fall. ┊ development 」#∴ ˙ ┊ ❛ 「 — when someone shows her their true colours; she tries to paint a different picture. ┊ extras 」#a social midia vem daqui a pouco #saiu porr aeeee

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euterpessi · 3 years

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Romance Manhwa/Manga Recommendations:

Historical Manhwa/Manga:

Death Is The Only Ending For The Villainess

I’ve reincarnated as the reverse harem game’s villainess, the one and only adopted daughter of the ducal Eckart family.

But the difficulty just has to be the worst!

Everything I do will only lead me to death.

I must be paired with one of the main male characters from the heroine’s harem before the ‘real daughter’ of the duke family appears!

Two older brothers who always pick a fight with me on every little thing.

The insane crown prince whose route will always lead to my death.

‘I only see the heroine and no one else’s wizard, and also her loyal slave knight, too!

‘First, let’s take some of them which I see no hope in, out of the list!’

“I didn’t know my place up until now. From now on, I’ll live as quiet as a mouse so you wouldn’t care the slightest bit!

But why do their interests in me keep on rising every time I draw the line?!

The Villainess is a Marionette

Cayena, the Imperial Princess, was known as the most beautiful woman in the Empire. She was a woman who knew nothing but evil and luxury.

However, she was destined for ruin: she would be used as a chess piece by her younger brother to secure his throne and killed by her crazy husband.

“I’ll make you the Emperor.”

“… Sister, are you referring to me?”

“In exchange, give me freedom.”

She had to change things before she became that Cayena.

The Reason Why Raeliana Ended Up At The Duke’S Mansion

Poisoned to death by her own betrothed?! Eunha didn’t wake up in a novel’s story just to get killed off again as an unfortunate extra! To change her story she needs a cover… 6 months pretending to be the fake fiancée of the novel’s male protagonist, Duke Noah Wynknight. But will this cold-hearted, angel-faced demon of a man really help her avoid another ill-fated ending?!

Your Throne / I Want to Be You, Just For A Day

The story follows main characters Medea Solon and Psyche Callista, who become archenemies after competing for the position of crown princess of the Vasilios Empire. On the day of the Yearly Prayer, Medea and Psyche accidentally switch bodies.

The Remarried Empress

Navier was the perfect empress, however, the Emperor wanted a wife, not a colleague. And so, the Emperor abandoned Empress Navier and placed an enslaved girl beside him. That was fine until Navier heard the Emperor promise the slave the Empress’ position. After many ups and downs, Navier decided she would accept being the Queen of the neighbouring country and remarry.

Kill The Villainess

Eris Mizerian was the villainess of a novel. The only daughter of a marquis, she got executed after scheming against the pure and lovely protagonist, Helena. My only goal, after possessing her, is simply to leave this world and go home. I am prepared to face even death, but the laws of this world keep stopping me.

A changed Eris begins to draw the attention of three men who once loathed her; the Crown Prince, the High Priest, and the Knight.

"It doesn't matter. I will never be able to love this world."

Even if the only way out is death,

even if the only way out is make a deal with a witch...

I will absolutely leave this world!

This is the story of the villainess who defies fate, Eris, and her escape from this world!

The Way To Protect The Female Lead's Older Brother

I accidentally took possession of someone in a 19+ reverse harem novel.

The problem is that I became Roxana Agriche, the older sister of the sub-villain. My damn father kidnapped the heroine’s brother. Now, is the only thing left to meet a terrible end from the vengeance of the heroine?

But what if I can avoid that horrible development?

“I’m also interested in this toy.”

“I’ll protect you until you can get out of here safely.”

The heroine’s brother, Cassis Pedalian, will definitely be able to pay me back later.

Shadow Queen

“Can you be my daughter for me?”

By his offer, Elena became Duke of Franceschi’s fake daughter.

She became the queen and gave birth to Crown Prince’s son.

Then suddenly, Princess Veronica who was assumed dead came back.

She was only just a toy.

But eventually, Elena gets her son taken and is murdered.

However, she went back to the past.

“I’ll destroy all of you.”

I’ll never live as a toy again.

Elena decides to seeks revenge.

Under the Oak Tree

The daughter of a duke, the stuttering Maximilian, married a knight of lowly status at her father’s coercion.

After their first night, her husband departed for an expedition without another word.

He comes back three years later, this time as a famous knight in the whole continent.

How would Maximilian face him on his return?

"The more I think of you, the more lonely and lonely I become. I don't know why I can't quit even though it's so painful."

I'm Stanning The Prince

Angela’s fanfic became such a sensation that it even reached the Imperial Family, leading her to get arrested on charges of treason. Nevertheless, her fanfic improved the First Prince’s image, and his sister, the Princess, decides to take political advantage of this and keep Angela by their side.

The heroine who can now fangirl to her heart’s content, and the Prince who doesn’t know how to act around her. As they bicker back and forth, they start growing closer…

Miss Not-So Sidekick

Hyejung loved to read to escape her daily stress. But that’s before she woke up inside the bizarre world of her favorite novel! Instead of the main heroine who courts three eligible men, she is now Latte Ectrie – a minor villain that everyone hates?! One way or another, it’s a chance to live out her most beloved storyline, with popcorn in hand to watch all the drama! Taking charge of the narrative takes on a whole new meaning!

Even Though I’M The Villainess, I’ll Become The Heroine!

I wasn’t able to overcome the harassment and took my life, but I was reincarnated with the perpetrator? The perpetrator is the heroine, Florre, and I am the villainess, Dahlia, who’s going to die horribly.

“They said you are a villain with neither blood nor tears, but unlike the rumors, you often shed tears.”

“Your Highness must believe all the nonsense the idiots are talking about, huh?”

Grand Duke of Cervian, the half brother of the Male lead and who will be punished for treason afterwards. He approached me. I can’t lose the man who will be my greatest ally.

“Your Highness, would you marry me?”

“Now…… what did you say?”

“And take revenge together.”

A similar situation, a fixed ending. The heroine is not the only one who knows the ending of the novel. I took a long and arduous path of revenge.

Who Made Me A Princess

The beautiful Athanasia was killed at the hands of her own biological father, Claude de Alger Obelia, the cold-blooded emperor! It’s just a silly bedtime story… until one woman wakes up to suddenly find she’s become that unfortunate princess! She needs a plan to survive her doomed fate, and time is running out. Will she go with Plan A, live as quietly as possible without being noticed by the infamous emperor? Plan B, collect enough money to escape the palace? Or will she be stuck with Plan C, sweet-talking her way into her father’s good graces?!

The Villainess Reverses the Hourglass

With the marriage of her prostitute mother to the Count, Aria’s status in society skyrocketed immediately. After leading a life of luxury, Aria unfairly meets death because of her sister Mielle’s schemes. And right before she dies, she sees an hourglass fall as if it were a fantasy. And just like that, she was miraculously brought back to the past.

“I want to become a very elegant person, just like my sister, Mielle.”

In order to face the villainess, she must become an even more wicked villainess. This was the new path Aria chose to take revenge on Mielle who murdered both her and her mother.

The Evil Lady's Hero

Junipe Magnolia, a villainess friend of the heroine in this novel called Rael Cania.

The Junipe inside the novel has always loved the male lead, Iseed. To the point where she harassed Rael out of jealousy because she's loved by Iseed.

And thus, Junipe is destinied to die in the hands of the male lead of this novel.

But one day.

"Why did I become Junipe?!"

But let's think about it, it's still one year away from the time Junipe is going to get killed by Iseed. So, I have to meet Iseed and Rael first, I'll be able to find a way out of my death if I do so.

Yeah, let's meet them first!

But, this man is just so tender-hearted and kind. Would Junipe be able to escape from this man?!

I Tamed a Tyrant and Ran Away

God gave me a chance to relive my life. Before the rebirth, I had been used for the past 400 years as the empire's sword. And so, I swore to destroy the empire. I found the young prince of the country and became his teacher. I taught him how to become a tyrant and asked for the country.

"I will do the lady's will."

He conquered the whole empire for me, and I ran away.

"I came to take you, Charlize Ronan." Dylan became a perfect tyrant and searched the entire empire for me.

"You tamed me, so why did you run away?"

Untouchable Lady

“Please, Hilise. Please die in place of Gabrielle.” My always dignified brother begged me for the first time. He wants me to die for our stepsister, whom we don't even share a drop of blood with. “For the first and last time, I ask you this.” I've always been miserable, and there is no exception this time. The seventh time that I was betrayed and killed, I was completely free of lingering feelings. “I'm glad that you're a scumbag until the end.” I won't be swayed by love anymore. It's my turn to abandon them first.

I’ll Live On As A Villainess

I reincarnated as the villainess in a book!

The one who dared to commit attempted murder on the heroine is the owner of this body?

Let's just live in a quiet place where we have fun and eat! That's what I thought for a while.

It was so, so, so cold here in the north, where I was kicked out as a punishment.

Before I froze to death, I called the Great Demon of Fire and set fire to the fireplace but...

Why isn't he going back? If you've done the job, shouldn't you go back?!

I was flustered to find out that I had signed a life contract with a demon just to start a fire but to think that I'd be responsible for relieving his desires!

The bickering romance between a big puppy demon and a small villainess lady!

It Looks Like I’Ve Fallen Into The World Of A Reverse Harem Game

When I opened my eyes, I was in a different world. I had become the game’s villainous princess who was feared by all. Not to mention… Completely naked men I didn’t even know were approaching me left and right! “Are you cold? Shall I warm you up with a hug?” “Oh? Have you not had enough yet?” Seriously, what’s up with this situation? And just how the hell am I going to get out of this freaking game?!

Father, I Don't Want to Get Married!

I’m Jubelian? The daughter of the duke and the villainess of this novel?

I managed to avoid my death with some previous knowledge about my life, as this was my second time at it. Now, I should be able to live a peaceful life!

“I’m not going to marry a man unless he has everything. I want the most wealthy, famous, and competent man there is.”

I dreamt of a glamorous life as the daughter of the duke, but my father tells me the Crown Prince who is known to be a lunatic is to be my husband! As an extraordinary measure, I couldn’t help but start a contract relationship. That is, with a handsome side character that looks better than the main one.

“Why are you trying to avoid being engaged to the prince?”

“He’s scary. I heard that he even kills his own entourage if he doesn’t like them.”

A few days later, the prince sent a terrible letter to me.

“I will not kill you.”

Oh no, did I set up another death trap for myself?

Like A Wind On A Dry Branch

"Hi, You."

Count Casarius fell victim to a plague and died suddenly, leaving behind a will stating that Rietta, his beautiful young widow of the manor, whom he tried to use as a concubine, be buried alive alongside him. Just before Rietta is buried, Archduke Axias, rumored to be a cruel tyrant, arrives at the funeral to collect the enormous debt Count Casarius still owes him.

“Everyone here seems to feel sorry for her, and I still have a debt to collect from Casarius… If I take her instead of debt, I think all of you here should be happy," he smiled.

"Hello, Temptress."

Everything was a Mistake

Roa Valrose reincarnated as villainess in the book. In order to avoid the fate of being burned at the stake, she approaches the hero, Nocton Edgar.

It hurts every time she gets closer to him. Nevertheless, for her survival, she does everything he wants her to do.

“Come again, Valrose.”

The mysterious Nocton unexpectedly sought her out every day.

Then one day, her friend for 10 years says something unknown to her.

“Actually, I have a dream. The Duke of Edgar is a terrible villain!”

He is not the hero, but the villain?

As soon as she realized that she had misinterpreted the role, she decided to get away from Nocton.

“Let’s not meet anymore.”

But the villain’s reaction was strange.

“Don’t go. You’ve always been special to me.”

She was suspicious of his sudden change of attitude.

Will she able to get rid of Nocton safely?

I Became the Tyrant's Secretary

I became the secretary of a tyrant in place of my clumsy brother to survive.

But I have so much potential for it. I’m so darn good at my job. Because I served the tyrant so well, ‘Everyone has a happy ending’.

Well then, shall I quit being a secretary and live a leisurely life now?

“Rosaline, tell me what you want.” He asked as he stepped down from his chair.

“I want to quit.”

His eyebrows twitched slightly.

“Do you want to die?”

Your highness, you never hold on to people who want to leave, so why’re you being like this to me?

Seduce the Villainess Father

After being in a bus crash, I woke up to the world of my favourite web novel.

Not only that, It was before the protagonists were born, to their parents’ world!

To stop the incoming multiple bad events.

I tried to prevent the kidnapping of the sister who is pregnant with the female lead!

But I got kidnapped instead?!

It's depressing to be kidnapped, but my body couldn't handle the mana and became a sunfish-like state

But... if I am next to the emperor who kidnapped me, my body becomes normal!

Right! The way to save that man from marrying a witch and getting killed by his son, and for someone who is vulnerable to mana such as myself to live, is for us to get married!

The Villains Savior

Set on a path to tragedy and misfortune from a young age, Aseph Randell is doomed to die a villain. That is, until the mysterious Elzay Tiathe appears in his life with a promise: "I can save you." After having vivid visions of him for so long, can Elzay untangle the twisted fate tied to Aseph... or will they both be dragged down together?

Contemporary Manhwa/Manga:

Night Crying Crow

This woman; who is she?

If something was action, it'd be action. If something was romance, it’d be romance. The A-list actor Cheon Woo Kang, who's great at every (genre), had his heart stolen away by an unknown woman who’d broken into his house!

“We'll meet again.~"

Woo Kang contracted an over imaginative illness as he drew the woman, whose name he didn't even know. In front of Woo Kang, she reappeared as the police officer Park Tae... Could the shadow of the crisis that appeared in front of them be a coincidence?

Raise wa Tanin ga Ii

Yoshino Somei would have been a normal high-schooler if not for the fact that she is the granddaughter of the leader of the Osaka-based Somei Group, the Kansai region's largest yakuza organization. One day, Yoshino hurries home after hearing of the news about the unification of Kansai and Kanto's biggest syndicates, the Somei and the Miyama groups. This, according to the article, will result in a marriage of the leaders' grandchildren—one of whom is Yoshino herself! Despite her best efforts to annul the arrangement, Yoshino has to go to Tokyo to visit her fiancé, Kirishima Miyama, who is unexpectedly nice and charming.

During their first meeting, Yoshino is swept up in various events and becomes unable to refuse moving to Tokyo, which is why, half a year later, she now lives with the Miyama group. At school, she soon realizes that Kirishima is very popular, so her relationship with him garners the hate of his fangirls and subsequently results in bullying. To make matters worse, Kirishima could not be further away from her prince charming since he, after all, was born to be a yakuza member.

Raise wa Tanin ga Ii follows Yoshino and her new life in Tokyo that is filled with nothing but troubles connected to the underworld. However, though she wishes to be as far from it as possible, this isn't Yoshino's first time dealing with the world of the Yakuza...

Positively Yours

To Hee-won’s dismay, the BFF she crushed on and her other BFF are now dating! Seriously bummed, Hee-won decides to go wild just one time, and find solace with a handsome stranger. A very satisfying one night affair has now turned into more — she’s pregnant! Fate brings them together again, and now the regimented Doo-joon is determined to do the right thing and marry her. But they’re basically strangers! Except... their bodies have been very intimately acquainted. What’s this mother-to-be to do?

True Beauty

After binge-watching beauty videos online, a shy comic book fan masters the art of makeup and sees her social standing skyrocket as she becomes her school’s prettiest pretty girl overnight. But will her elite status be short-lived? How long can she keep her real self a secret? And what about that cute boy who knows her secret?

Cheese In the Trap

Hong Sul is a ordinary college student. Yoo Jung is the school's most popular upperclass man. He's good looking, rich, smart, and even nice. However, Hong Sul thinks there's more to Yoo Jung than what meets the eye…

SPY x FAMILY

The master spy codenamed has spent his days on undercover missions, all for the dream of a better world. But one day, he receives a particularly difficult new order from command. For his mission, he must form a temporary family and start a new life?! A Spy/Action/Comedy about a one-of-a-kind family!

Doppio Senso (18+)

“What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about a guy.”

KyungHyun stopped in the middle of a deep kiss and sighed. His lips began to form a smile, but his fierce glare said otherwise. Possessiveness and jealousy spread across his sculpted face.

“Will you tell me his name?”

His easygoing and languid voice reached her ears.

“Why?”

“So that I can shoot him down.”

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aziraphales-library · 3 years

Note

hi,not sure if anyone asked this before but are there any fics that only one of aziraphale or crowley is celestial being and the other is human?preferably with some fluff(my heart can't take angst rn),maybe the human finding out their partner is celestial?

With demon Crowley and human Aziraphale:

Obliviously Haunted [T] by catiegeekgirl

There wasn’t much for a demon to do in an empty cottage in Tadfield. After some exploration, Crowley concluded that he was tied to the house. He also concluded that any of his miscreant doings in said house were going completely unnoticed. After only two months, Crowley was ready to pull his metaphysical hair out.

And then came the angel.

He wasn’t a real angel, of course. A real angel would have stepped into the cottage, immediately sensed the presence of a demon, and gone straight to taking advantage of his unfortunate situation. The stout man in tartan was not, technically, ethereal, but something about his soft cheeks and light blond curls gave him the air of being everything heaven was supposed to be.

And Crowley wanted nothing more than to haunt him.

Other Services As Required [T] by Atalan

As the saying goes, you don't always get what you want, but sometimes you get what you need.

How to Catch a Demon [E] by HolyCatsAndRabbits

Written for the Trickety-Boo Event prompt by OldBeginningNewEnding: "Aziraphale is a skeptic in all things supernatural. His (demon) boyfriend Crowley prefers it that way. If only the meddling witch would stop trying to expose him and the rest of the supernatural forces."

The Star Stone [T] by AppleSeeds

Heaven punished Aziraphale by making him human and taking away his memories. Hell figured this was punishment enough for Crowley and just crossed the job off the list.

Now Crowley is searching for an occult (originally ethereal) artefact that could restore Aziraphale’s angelic nature, but the only man who can help him doesn’t remember who he is.

Aziraphale quickly becomes much more than just intrigued with the enigmatic scholar seeking his assistance, eagerly joining him on a modern-day quest to unravel mysteries and solve riddles to find the artefact. As they spend time together, Aziraphale's feelings develop and he struggles with the fact that his new acquaintance’s heart quite evidently belongs to someone else... or so he believes.

With human Crowley and angel Aziraphale:

Unlucky Omens [M] by HolyCatsAndRabbits

When Anthony Crowley finally gets a Guardian Angel at the age of 48, he thinks perhaps that his lifelong streak of bad luck is ending. Until he learns that in three months, he’s destined to either save the world or die trying. It doesn’t help that the angel Aziraphale is the most beautiful person Crowley has ever seen, as well as a ridiculous, fussy, rebellious hedonist. Crowley’s not surprised to find himself falling for him. After all, it’s just one more bit of bad luck to fancy your Guardian Angel.

Take me to Church [T] by Santillatron

Crowley is a thief, tagging along on a burglary. He’s not thrilled to find out it’s a church.

He’s even less thrilled to find out it’s not a burglary at all, but he should have known better with Hastur and Ligur.

And on top of all that, there’s something about the priest that just doesn’t add up.

He won’t stop smiling, for one.

~Mod N

#demon Crowley #human Aziraphale #human Crowley #angel aziraphale #good omens #ineffable husbands #mod n

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princesscas · 4 years

Note

hey again mandy!! i was wondering if you could rec some fluffy destiel fics? just your favorite ones if you’ve got some, either fluffy or angsty! i’d love to add some diversity to my bookmark list ☺️💕

Ooohh yeah! You sent this right as an anon sent the same request :3

Anon: I have seen your answer to an anon and now I want you to do a list of your favorite destiel fics please!! I just need to read fluffy fics but I also want some that have very good plot and also good portray of the characters but with a happy ending i can’t stomach more sadness. Thanks!! By the way for these who haven’t read it I want to recommend a very good fic call I don’t care where you been.

So I’m not too big on angst, like yes I do love angst, it can be good for the plot/character development/etc, but sometimes too much angst is well, too much for me to handle lol. Fluff is my bread and butter when it comes to not only writing, but reading. It can do me no harm, besides making my cheeks hurt from smiling so dang much!

So here is my list of fluffy, plotty, longfics! These are pretty old, because I haven’t been in the market for any destiel longfic in the recent years, besides oneshots and a few WIPs here and there. (i’m still neck deep into the stucky dumpster lol) 6 canon fics and 6 AU’s :D

CANON

Professional Couple Only by saltyfeathers (Fake/Pretend Relationship) - There's a haunted apartment building in Vermont, and the ad says "Professional couple only". Dean and Cas rise to the occasion.

The Silence Between Heartbeats by yesmsmoran (elliedew) (2x20 AU) - "Fic that replaces Carmen with Cas. And then, when Dean wakes up and he meets Cas for the first time he freaks out because it's the only man he's ever loved and he's so confused as to how he can be real when he obviously had to be something the djinn created."

i wanna see your animal side by microcomets (Animal Transformation) - Dean gets attached to a dark-haired, blue-eyed kitten. He hates cats, so he can't really say why.

Just To Make You See by youaresunlight (Mutual Pining) - “I’ve been reading,” Cas explains, lifting his coat to reach for something inside. It’s another magazine but not one about nature or economics. It’s a GQ with a suave male celebrity gracing the cover. “There’s an article in here that gives advice to those who are ‘seeking to escape the friend zone.’”

And I Will Walk On Water by tracy_loo_who (Post-S4) - This fic is set after season 4 and totals ~122,600 words. It's a story about friendship and love, recovery and trust, free will, and Dean and Castiel's journey through it all. It's also about chocolate and hugs. If you read it, I really hope you enjoy it. ♥

Broadway Musical by Griftings (HILLARIOUS GO READ IT) - This is the day that marked the Holy and Blessed Union of Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle.The merging of prominent bloodlines is always a grand occurrence, but breeding pedigree hunter families like Winchester and Harvelle is something to be rejoiced. It is also something to be meticulously planned, which thankfully the Host is very good at.Or, the romantic comedy where Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle are destined to get married, Castiel is given the task of playing matchmaker and fails terribly, the entire Heavenly Host becomes a sitcom audience, God warns against male pregnancy, and Jimmy Novak is incredibly unimpressed with angels in general.

a world above water by museaway (Fairy Tale AU) - Castiel’s hope for freedom is threatened by a chance encounter with the Crowned Prince of Lawrence, who is trying to avoid an arranged marriage

To Find a Family by linasane (Kid Fic, Domestic) - When Dean's little brother gets taken away, he's expecting the fight that ensues. He's expecting the stress that comes from separation, expecting to do all he can to get Sammy back from whatever awful foster family he's been placed with. He's not expecting Castiel Novak. (Castiel, in turn, isn't expecting his first foster child - five years old and angry - to be the one that leads him to the family he's always wanted, but life has a funny way of working itself out).

Shorten the Distance by GhostGarrison (Online/Long Distance Relationship) - "Nerdytr3nchcoat" and "Impala67" weren't looking for romance on the dating website called 'dateangels.com'. Castiel was looking for friends and Dean was just looking to get his nagging brother off his back. What they didn't expect to find was each other. [a long distance, online relationship fic]

Cooking with Gas by WinJennster (Food Network/Chef!Cas) - Castiel Novak has it all. He's rich, famous, has a top rated cooking show and restaurant, drives an expensive car and wears Armani. His producer throws a contest to spend a day with Chef Novak, cooking and learning techniques. Castiel wants no part of it, but Balthazar insists and Castiel will do as expected. What Castiel wasn't expecting was to fall head over heels for the winner. Dean Winchester hasn't had a successful relationship in his 34 years on Earth. He's got a past he'd like to keep hidden, and his life rotates around his family and his business. Winning a contest to spend a day with his favorite TV chef is a shock, but a welcome diversion from his day to day life...until he meets the guy, and he turns out to be a big jerk. Dean figures he should have expected that. What he wasn't expecting was that same gorgeous blue-eyed man to sweep in and shake up his entire world.

Life In Pink by youaresunlight (Kid Fic - SO FLUFF) - At just 33 years old, Dean Winchester is one of the most sought-after wedding planners in the city. He’s chased his dream ever since he was a kid and is now on the brink of making partner at his firm. But the wedding that’ll make or break his promotion? Is his best friend Dr. Castiel Novak’s. It’s going to be the event of the season - unlimited budget, no expense spared - and it’s the kind of task that Dean has been waiting for… except he’s hopelessly in love with Cas.

Kiss the Baker by Ltleflrt (Bakery AU) - Jo is pregnant and craving something a little bit unusual. When she sends Dean on a mission to find her some chocolate cake donuts with bacon sprinkles, he's sure that he'll fail. Luckily his partner Benny comes to his rescue and introduces him to a quirky little bakery that sells all kinds of weird (and delicious!) baked goods. And they do special orders!Dean finds excuses to keep going back, and Castiel finds excuses to keep giving him special treats.

And I believe this is the fic Anon was referring to: don't care where you've been by thanks_tacos (A/B/O) Dean's life is finally changing. After years of enduring Alastair's abuse, the alpha dies and Dean's married off to the next alpha the system pairs him with - Castiel. The man is strange and distant, but not exactly bad, and Dean's determined to be on his best behavior and not mess up the chance he was given. Soon enough, though, he fucks up anyway and has to call the alpha for help.Castiel's lived his entire life without an omega by his side, and he was fine with that. He doesn't know how to proceed once he's suddenly married to a beautiful man who's obviously been through a lot. Omegas were always a confusing subject to him, so he tries not to interfere much - neither of them is there by their choice. But when Dean calls for help, he understands he's going to have to set some things straight and engage more.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic rec #my ficrec #mandy answers stuffs #hbalbat

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foxychaosstarlight · 2 years

Text

Beauty and the Beast

Vampire!Silco x Fem!Original character - NSFW! | MDN

Warnings: relationship development, age gap, attempted rape, virginity loss, peeping, gentle sex, blow job, hand job, bloodplay, bites kink, daddy kink, loud sex, unprotected sex, sex with a pregnant woman, alcohol, smoking, death of animals.

Sub-chapters 1, 2

Gina was sitting on the bed, hugging her knees with her thin arms and staring into space. The girl woke up very early from a sudden panic attack and now, when the first rays of the sun are about to paint the tops of green giant fir trees outside the window, trying to fall asleep again was a bad idea. Today she will have a meeting with her stepmother's new boyfriend. Gina knew by heart how this "most pleasant" acquaintance would go – in the morning, this b!tch will wake her up at the crack of dawn, put a rag and a mop in her hands and make her scrub the house like a last cabin boy, so that everything glitters when she returns from another expensive shopping this week. "How wonderful it must be to spend my father's money," - the girl thought sadly, furrowing her eyebrows angrily. Her father died many years ago when little Ginny was at school – the amount of alcohol consumed with his sick heart killed a seemingly healthy man, and her stepmother didn't interfere with his daily libations in any way. The girl painfully pushed away these memories – the thought that then she had lost the only person who loved her even a little bit, burned worse than hot iron. Her thoughts returned to the scenario of the upcoming unpleasant meeting: she knew that Rose would definitely yell at her when she returned and checked the whole house for cleanliness, and if she found at least one speck of dust (and she would, you can be sure, and even if she didn't, she would pretend), Gina will have to get into a scandal with her again, but this will not save her from repeated cleaning. The girl sighed and shivered when she thought of something much more unpleasant – a meeting with another lover of Rose. These oiled beauties (and Rose was greedy only for such) stared at Gina all evening like hyenas at a piece of fresh meat, tried to touch her knees under the table, while the stepmother, decorated in the style of Pennywise, chirped something that they clearly cared much less than the hips of a young girl.

Comparing her stepmother to Pennywise the clown, the girl smiled. Rose really was a hellish creature with the appearance of an angel, banished from Heaven, but before that she flew through all the heavenly weather troubles that were possible. In her early 40s, she looked quite worn out by life (numerous lovers who abandoned her with amazing speed – as soon as they got her money – didn’t add to her beauty), but still attractive, it couldn’t be denied: a tall slender cold blonde with brown, almost black big eyes and plump lips definitely attracted attention. How she also attracted the attention of Gina's father, whom Rose met at another conference.

The girl thoughtfully passed through her fingers a strand of her fiery red long hair. "The same color as dad's..." - Gina thought sadly, but she wasn’t destined to indulge in painfully happy memories of her father - a hurricane named Rose flew into her small room without even knocking.

"It's not even dawn yet, and she's already here, she's breaking records!" - the girl was mentally indignant, but aloud with feigned mirth she only said: - Oh, hello to the sleepless! Are you already carrying a mop?

- No, honey. You'll take it yourself. - the blonde hissed angrily.

- Pfft, stop playing the viper. Maybe you should have knocked first? – Gina, still sitting on the bed, looked straight at her stepmother, who was swollen with indignation.

- I'm in my house and I have the right to do what I want! I didn't ask a little b!tch! - Rose spat. - Well, who knows, maybe I'm here just having fun with your previous... what was his name? Henry? And then you burst in. - having said that, Gina watched with obvious pleasure as the blonde rolled her eyes, ready to scream so that her ultrasound would be heard in the neighboring city.

The girl didn’t wait for the slap, which was obviously promised by the outraged Rose's upraised hand, jumped out of bed and darted past the evil fury through the doorway, slipped into the bathroom and locked herself there, leaning her back against the cool door and exhaling.

Cheeks, chest and back were burning as if Gina was burning from the inside. Another quarrel in the early morning will not add calmness. Of course, Gina wasn’t going to have sex with any of Rose's vile fans, but it was masochistically pleasant to annoy her stepmother, who was already burning with anger and envy, although the girl knew that with this statement she hadn’t added points to herself in her eyes and now she would have to scrub the house almost all day.

Gina slipped out of a white short nightshirt, revealing the light peach skin of narrow girlish hips, a thin waist and elastic small breasts. Long wavy reddish-copper hair fell on her hips, enveloping her back with a pleasant warmth, warming in the coolness of the dark bathroom. Gina didn't turn on the light, not wanting to give away her location to the enraged stepmother, who was now rushing around the house in search of the daring stepdaughter, clearly wanting to lower a punishing hand on her cheek. And now she, stomping loudly, ran past the door, shouting "Where is this nasty little snake?!". Gina knew that she would soon calm down by going down to the first floor, counting a crisp (dad's...) bills and preoccupying her thoughts with the upcoming shopping trip. The girl didn't want to stay naked in the cool bathroom for a long time, so she threw her long leg over the high side of the ivory bath, stood in it, trying not to slip in the dark, carefully turned on the shower and with pleasure substituted her body with warm water jets. There was nothing more to fear, Gina had clearly heard that the fury had gone downstairs and was probably salivating there, counting dad's money. What a pity my father didn't take care of the will…Now both his money and his house belong entirely to his wife, who, even on the day of the funeral, was barely persuaded to wear black and she didn’t look upset at all, collecting a disapproving glances of neighbors and elderly distant relatives. Gina clearly remembered that day…She, the little tearful girl with red pigtails, stood at her father's grave and realized – that's all, there is no longer a single close person, only his body is here, not his soul. She won't hear his cheeky laughter anymore, he won't throw her up to the ceiling with his strong arms, laughing with her…

Gina didn’t notice of tears poured down her cheeks, she was so deeply immersed in memories that she realized that she was crying only when her eyes stung. Exposing her face to a relaxing jets of water, she washed away her tears, took a deep breath and turned off the shower. She had to pull herself together. Now is not the time to indulge in bitter memories, there is still a whole life ahead, and Gina hoped that it wouldn’t be as shitty as it is now.

The girl turned 18 two days ago (Rose, of course, ignored Gina's birthday, however, did she remember it at all? Gina was more than sure that she didn't), she had recently graduated from school with exceptionally good grades, which Rose also didn't care about. But the question about a university remained open. The evil blonde never had money for Gina, so it was useless for her to even stutter about paid training. From the age of 14, the girl worked part-time wherever she had to, she wasn’t afraid of work and wasn’t a sissy. But a money was obviously small. And now... for university, she will need a lot more than Gina has earned in her still short life. Well, she would think about it later, but for now…It's time to finish with the shower and start cleaning, the girl thought fatally. Anyway, this vixen will not let her live in peace if the house is not licked to shine before the arrival of her new precious boy.

#silco fic #vampire silco #silco x oc #silco #arcane

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fanfics-of-marvel · 3 years

Note

Tony dies and Natasha is devastating by her boyfriend’s death until he comes back as an angel with beautiful wings. I keep things simple so your creativity isn’t withheld. Love your work!

Hello @chuckshurleyfucks

Remember me? You sent me this really great prompt so long ago and I am really sorry this comes after so much time! :( I don’t have much time to write and often I’m away from tumblr for some time. But I told myself that I’ll finish each and every request in my inbox NO MATTER WHAT and I fianlly had the chance to write yours. :)

I really hope it resembles what you desired to read and I can only hope it was worth the wait!

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

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

Release date: 21/04/21

Pairing: Tony Stark x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Tony dies in an accident and Natasha is devastated. After the funeral, however, she has an unexpected meeting with him.

Words count: 3 139

A/N: I guess I could call it a magical AU :)

Warnings: None, maybe a little bit of angst

Requests | Masterlist

I’m not a native English speaker, so there might be spelling or grammatical mistakes.

This fic is my own work, it is not to be re-posted on this site or posted anywhere else without my knowledge and consent!

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

“Tony Stark was a great man,” Rhody’s voice echoed in the capacious room in the Avengers Headquarters. “Despite being Tony Stark”.

Laughter rose among the attendants. Natasha smiled, too. For the first smile since the accident.

A picture of Tony himself filled the giant screen behind Rhody. He turned around and looked at his best friend. Nobody could see but his eyes were watery. Rhody turned back to the crowd.

“Is it me or was his head actually this size?” he said as he pointed at the enormous photo of Tony projected on the wall.

Everyone laughed again. Even louder than before. Natasha’s smile was even bigger.

‘Oh, it was,’ she thought to herself.

After the ceremony was over Natasha retired to their room. She closed the door behind her and leaned upon its massive structure. She stared at the empty bed with an even emptier gaze. It looked bigger now.

Natasha waddled to the wardrobe. She pushed the door and walked inside an even bigger room. The lights turned on automatically. It was Tony and Natasha’s private wardrobe. She walked to the hangers holding Tony’s suits. Natasha slowly slid her hand upon one of them and closed her eyes. She pictured her loved one in it on Wanda and Vision’s wedding. He was smiling, he was laughing, life was flowing through his veins.

‘Congratulations,’ he had said hugging the newlywed couple.

‘Thank you, Mr. Stark’, Vision had replied. ‘Perhaps, sir, now it is your turn,’ he had added nodding towards Natasha.

Tony had looked at his girlfriend across the garden with twinkling eyes. ‘Perhaps, it is,’ he had whispered heard only by the bride and groom.

Natasha opened her eyes and a tear slid down her face. Her skin was still moist from all the preceding crying. She let the tear flow down freely. Its final destination was on her bosoms.

Natasha walked towards another suit. She held it with both her hands and shove her face at it. She took a deep breath and breathed in the leftover aroma from Tony’s perfume. He wore this suit just a week ago. As Natasha sniffed the fabrics she could hear Tony speaking.

“All just for you, my love,” he said while unfolding the blindfold upon Natasha’s eyes.

“Tony,” she gasped at the view of the beautifully decorated gazebo in the garden surrounded by flowers and burning candles.

It was a hot summer night. The air was filled with the sweet scent of the flowers. The discreet light of the candles provided perfect view of the stars above them. Crickets played a lovely concerto.

“Tonight it’s just you and me,” Tony said with tenderness and he literally meant it for the waiters were a few droids from his Iron Legion.

The night was going as planned and Tony knew there was only one final thing missing to make it perfect.

“Nat,” he said holding Natasha’s hands. “There is something I want to ask you. But you need to close your eyes.”

Natasha curved her lips in a smile and closed her eyes. She suspected what was to follow but it still took her by surprise.

“You can open them now,” Tony said with noticeable nervousness in his voice.

Natasha opened her eyes and a specific reflected light crossed her eyes. She looked down and saw the most beautiful diamond upon a ring. Her eyes met with Tony’s. They were sparkling even brighter than the diamond.

“Nat, will you marry me?”

Natasha sobbed. She had taken the ring box out of the internal pocket of the suit jacket. She opened it and looked at the ring. It seemed even more beautiful now. Out of fear not to lose it she kept it there safe during their final mission.

Natasha let it all out. The most gruesome sound exited her. Tears were falling down her face. She leaned towards the wall and slowly slid down. She was panting. The memory was too strong, too vibrant. She laid down completely squeezing the ring box at her chest. She closed her eyes and heard the bombarding again.

Two days ago Tony and Natasha were on what seemed to be nothing more than a routine mission. There was a minor terrorist attack just outside the city in which a small group of people threw grenades and shot at the nearby houses, stores, and cars. Agents of Tony and Natasha’s class weren’t needed at all but Tony had a thing against terrorists, so he couldn’t miss destroying some more. Natasha had joined him in the last moment. She always said he needed her back up, especially on the ground. Besides, she loved watching her future husband kicking ass in his latest Iron Man suit.

Natasha was smiling playfully as she observed Tony far up in the sky threatening the puny terrorists on the ground. His voice could be heard loud and clear even down there thanks to a special technology which he had recently developed. The three men seemed terrified and were yelling some words in Arabic, their arms were in the air and they dropped their weapons.

‘Easy peasy’, everyone thought at this view. The S.H.E.I.L.D. agents were looking at Tony with admiration wishing they had what he had and hoping that someday they’d possess at least half of Tony’s authority.

Natasha was smiling smugly and was already packing her ‘toys’ which she obviously wouldn’t need during this mission when she heard it. Loud thundering sounds coming from very near. She quickly looked around trying to figure out where did the sound come from. But before she managed to make a full turn the wave from the explosions threw her few meters behind. For a moment sand and dirt fell all over her face. A high-pitched noise rang in her ears. Her head felt heavy and dizzy, the world around her was spinning.

An impenetrable fog of sand and dust surrounded Natasha. The only thing she could perceive was the distant thunders of bombing and shooting. Except that it wasn’t distant. It was right there, so very close to her but her hearing was impaired. So when she heard that raw gruesome sound of metal hitting the ground hard she hadn’t whatsoever realized it was Tony himself. Natasha closed her eyes and felt completely senseless.

When she finally opened her eyes the world was still spinning but the high-pitched sound was getting weaker. Natasha couldn’t know how long she’d been on the ground unconscious.

‘Ambush,’ she thought to herself as she groaned trying to get up. Her legs were really unstable but somehow she managed to remain standing.

“Tony,” she tried to speak but barely any sound came out of her lips.

The sound of the bombing had seized. Now she could hear some distant noise of people screaming and could distinguish silhouettes running around.

“Tony!” Natasha shouted as loud as she could. The sound was still very quiet but she started to regain her senses.

The more Natasha walked towards those people, the better she could hear and see. The fog was clearing up and everything hitherto shapeless started to fall into pieces.

“Agent Romanoff, are you alright?” Natasha noticed a fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. agent in front of her.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. What happened? Where’s Tony?”

“There was an ambush, ma’am,” the man continued speaking. “After those three terrorists seemed to be surrendering there was whole artillery that appeared out of the blue hiding underneath enormous canvases that had perfectly blended with the landscape. They hit us unexpectedly, ma’am. They threw bombs, grenades and every hellish explosive you can think of,” the man stopped talking as if there was something more which he just didn’t want to say.

“Well, where’s Tony, then?” Natasha was persistent. There was no getting out of this.

The man sighed. The dust had almost completely settled, so Natasha could see his face quite clearly. There was something bad written in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, agent Romanoff,” the man finally said pointing away in a direction to her right.

Natasha followed his finger and with terror noticed the Iron Man suit lying on the ground in a little crater.

“Tony!” Natasha shouted and ran towards him.

Due to the shock from the explosions her legs and balance were still compromised, so she tripped and fell two times until she managed to get to Tony. He was lying on his back but from the traces of the impact it was clear that he hadn’t fallen that way and had been moved from the agents.

A paramedic was examining him as Natasha walked near. Her facial expression and eyes showed fear. The strongest fear she had ever felt in her entire life. Abruptly, her whole body started trembling, she couldn’t catch breath and tears flew down her face.

Tony was lying in his forcefully opened Iron Man suit covered in blood and bruises. She could barely recognize his face which seemed twisted now. The suit had absorbed part of the impact but he had fallen from a great height.

The paramedic was looking down shaking his head. A defibrillator lied near him obviously recently used. His colleague took a deep breath and then Natasha heard the worst words in her entire life.

“Time of death,” said the second paramedic and looked at his watch. “1:03 p.m.”

“No!” Natasha screeched so loudly that the two paramedics jumped startled. They hadn’t noticed her presence beforehand.

She gathered a whole lot of looks from other agents, as well. Some of which were also still unaware of the tragedy.

“Tony,” Natasha barely made a sound as she fell on her knees next to his dead body. Tears were falling down her face and she could barely breathe.

The two paramedics discreetly recoiled. They had to take care of the body but also knew they had to give Natasha a moment.

She gently placed her hands upon his distorted face. His blood was already drying but his skin was still warm. So warm as if he was still alive. Could it be that the paramedics were wrong? Natasha slowly slid her right hand and felt his carotid. No pulse.

Why had they given up? Natasha examined more of Tony’s body. There were noticeable fractures on his chest and abdomen. He definitely had broken ribs and most likely suffered from a punctured lung for his chest was purple and bloody. Some of the blood upon his face had surely flowed from his mouth.

There was no doubt. Tony Stark was dead and the tries of the paramedics had been unsuccessful.

“Agent Romanoff,” the paramedic spoke. “I’m really sorry but we need to take the body. It’s the protocol,” he paused for a moment. “You can see his body again at the mortuary.”

Natasha knew the protocol very well. She had followed it a little too many times with fellow agents. And she always kept in mind she might have to follow it with Tony, as well. Or he with her. She had always hoped for the latter one. As cruel as it sounded to prefer to cause Tony such pain she hoped she’d never have to live it herself because she would be the dead one.

“Goodbye, Tony,” Natasha quietly said and kissed his forehead.

Then she got up and walked away. She heard the team preparing to take his body. She kept on walking and never looked back.

Natasha looked at the ring. It dispersed the light from the ceiling so beautifully that the entire wardrobe was shining bright. She hadn’t put it on ever since she took it off for their final mission together.

With trembling hands Natasha took the ring out of the box and put it on her finger. She was much calmer now. The tears upon her face had started drying. She remembered about the dinner on which he proposed to her. A smile appeared on her face. It was sad that Tony was gone but it was a virtue to have had him in her life.

“Natasha,” a barely perceptible sound.

Natasha looked up and around her. She thought she heard a noise but assumed it was nothing.

“Natasha,” there was it again. This time a little louder.

“Who’s in there?” she asked confused and a little concerned. Nobody else had access to their bedroom. “Rhody, is that you?” she got up and walked towards the wardrobe’s door. The sound seemed to be coming from the bedroom.

“Natasha,” this time she heard it more clearly.

She stopped sharply right at the door. The voice sounded like Tony’s. Her eyes got watery and her breathing stopped for a moment. Could it be?

“Nat,” he said again this time very clearly. “It’s me.”

There was a very bright white light coming from the bedroom. Natasha slowly walked out of the wardrobe. She gasped and dropped the ring box.

Tony was floating in the air just above their bed bathed with beautiful heavenly light. He was dressed in all white and behind him there were big beautiful angel wings. Even though Tony was being Tony Natasha had always known that he was just like this on the inside – a beautiful angel.

“Tony?” she said with trembling voice.

“Hello, my love.” Tony spoke with a tender and soothing voice.

Natasha’s lower lip trembled. She never thought she’d see him again.

“Tony? Is that really you?” she asked with a hoarse voice.

“Yes, my love. It’s me,” Tony replied with a gentle smile.

Natasha shook her head. This all must have been an illusion. She assumed it was the shock and all of the emotions from the past week which were playing with her mind. Or perhaps she had fallen asleep in the wardrobe.

“Come here,” Tony said as he floated down and stepped on the floor facing her. He outstretched his hands and gently placed them at the sides of her face.

Natasha shuddered at the touch. It felt so real. She lifted her hands as well. Tony’s face was warm again.

He leaned down and gently kissed her lips. Natasha’s knees felt weaker.

“How is this possible?” Natasha asked after Tony moved away.

“The ring,” Tony said as he took her hand in his. “It’s a very special stone. It’s connected to my soul.”

Natasha gasped. How?

“More magical things than Doctor Strange exist on this world,” Tony said wittily. “And I got my hands on this,” he pointed at the stone upon the ring. “As long as you wear it I will always know where you are, I will always feel you, and I will always be your guardian angel.”

“I want you back, Tony,” Natasha said with hope.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Nat,” a bitter smile.

Not the reply she wanted to hear.

“But I will always be with you,” Tony said gently fondling her cheek. “I will be a barely perceptible presence. Always there next to you, just one breath away. You might sometimes spot me with the corner of your eye. But you will never be able to see me,” tears fell down Natasha’s face. “You will always be showered in my heavenly light. And you will always be protected by my angel wings,” Tony held her left hand. “As long as you wear the ring,” he smiled softly.

Natasha looked down at her hand gently placed in Tony’s. His skin was so warm, so alive. She had to check. Her right hand slid upon his wrist. Her fingers found the spot.

Nothing.

Tony had no pulse.

“Oh, my love,” Tony whispered softly.

Natasha’s whole body was trembling. Her hand did another check-up.

Strong lively heart rate. Slightly accelerated.

“If I take my pulse away will I be able to be with you?” she stammered in tears.

“Oh, Nat,” Tony sighed. “Great things await you. The world needs your protection.”

“The world needs your protection.”

Tony fondled her face again. “The only one who needs my protection is you.”

“But I want you here with me,” Natasha burst into tears. “Next to me, all of the time. Fighting beside me, kissing me, loving me,” she was falling apart. “Please, Tony,” Natasha wrapped her arms around him and shove her face at his chest weeping.

Tony placed his hands on Natasha’s head as his wings surrounded her. Natasha calmed down in an instant. She felt completely relaxed and balanced. There was warmness and peace.

Natasha placed her ear next to Tony’s chest. But it was an empty chest. There was no treasure for her in there.

“Nat, stop searching for my heart here,” Tony said. “You know it’s there,” he placed his fingers upon her chest. “I gave it to you long time ago. And it’s where it will always be.”

Natasha felt warmness in her chest. For a moment it seemed like there were two hearts beating as one. She smiled gazing into Tony’s eyes. She didn’t want this moment to end.

“Now you need some sleep,” Tony said and holding Natasha’s hand he pulled her towards the bed.

“I don’t want to go to sleep. That means time not spent with you,” Natasha objected.

“Shhh, my love,” Tony gently placed his finger upon her lips. “I’ll be right next to you.”

He laid down on one side and his angel wing was spread on the bed. Natasha joined him and lied upon it. He embraced her with his arms and then with his wings. It took her seconds to fall asleep perfectly calm and relaxed feeling completely protected for the first time in her life.

When Natasha woke up the next morning she was alone on the bed. There was no trace of Tony. She looked at her left hand. The ring was there reflecting the light just as beautifully. She wondered about last night. Did it all happen or was it a dream? She assumed it was the latter and got out of bed. She had fallen asleep with clothes on and smutched make-up. She needed a shower.

Just as Natasha was about to walk in the bathroom she spotted a barely perceptible presence with the corner of her eye. She turned around startled but didn’t see anybody. Her breathing quickened. She rubbed her eyes assuming it was sleepiness and tiredness.

When Natasha calmed down she could swore she felt somebody else’s breath at the side of her face. She felt calm and relaxed. There was a warm feeling surrounding her. She slid her hands at the sides of her arms sinking in the feeling and closed her eyes. Her right hand touched her chest. Two hearts beating as one.

Natasha smiled. She opened her eyes and stared into the nothingness in front of her. There was something she could spot with the corner of her eye. A barely perceptible presence watching over her as her guardian angel.

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thepointoftheneedle · 4 years

Text

Fragment

I’m really enjoying the fragments (and I freaked myself out with that word count thing so I’m taking some time off from writing....note to self -NEVER look at the stats page.). Anyway I keep trying to write this little soulmate thing but, without me intending it, it always becomes an academic paper on the philosophy of colour perception. And I can’t imagine anybody but me is interested in that!

Below the cut anyway....(I guess this should have been for Friday but what the heck...)

His eyes fluttered open as he awakened but, feeling the warmth of the sleeping girl by his side, he closed them tightly. He wanted them to have this experience together. Nothing would ever be the same for them again. It was a special moment for a couple and he wanted it to be perfect. He had installed the app on his phone so he fumbled for it, knocking some loose papers from the nightstand and cursing gently. She mumbled and stirred so he put his hand over her eyes. “What the hell J? What’re you doing?”

“I’m opening up ‘Soul Truth.’ We can look together.”

“Oh J, no, don’t do that,” she moaned softly, beseechingly.

“Ssh, don’t worry. It’ll be great.” He kissed her gently, voice-activated the app and removed his hand from her eyes. She was looking at him, not the screen so he gently turned her head and looked down as she did. The screen was a uniform blue. His stomach lurched. It must be a glitch. “Wait, wait a second,” he muttered, clicking the app closed and reopening it. Solid blue. He looked at her and saw the sadness in her beautiful dark eyes. Sadness but not surprise.

She reached out a hand and stroked his cheek softly, “Hey, I’m sorry J. I didn’t want to disappoint you but I already knew. I just didn’t feel it last night.”

“Jeez Rox, I’m so sorry. I can do better, you just have to tell me what I did wrong. I know I can be what you want. I thought you’d…I thought I felt you...”

“I did, Jughead, of course I did. Listen. It was great. You were great. So tender and kind. It was beautiful and I really had a good time but it wasn’t…I don’t know. It wasn’t whatever soul mates have. You’ve heard Fangs talk about it. It’s next level. Transcendent. What we had was great sex, but it was just great sex. No angelic chorus. You had to feel that?” She was normally tough and streetwise but now her voice was gentle, trying not to hurt him. There was a painful lump in his throat.

“I thought it was transcendent, you were anyway. I think I’m falling in love with you Roxie.” His voice was quavering. He was ashamed of his weakness. “It has to be a mistake. It’s the app. It has to be.” Abruptly he was up and heading down the hallway before she could say another word. “Fangs, “ he yelled. “You in there?” He stood waiting, shivering, in his boxers, while disgruntled groaning emanated from the room, until eventually the door opened a crack and Fangs peered out at him.

“Jones, the building better be on fire. We didn’t get in til four. What time is it?”

“Just after eight. Look, is this broken?”

Fangs looked at the proffered screen blearily then a small smile appeared on his face. “Aww cute bunny.” Jughead snatched the screen back and swiped up. An image appeared in his visible spectrum of a cartoon bunny rabbit holding out a carrot. The legend underneath read “I wuv you.”

“Uggh, why don’t they have something with a bit of gravitas? Shit. Fuck it!” Jug turned around just as Fangs understood the situation.

“Oh my god Jughead! Did you and Rosaline finally do the do? Oh shit…you can’t see that can you? Oh Christ man, I’m so sorry.”

Jug swallowed down his disappointment, just like he had been swallowing down his anger and sorrow and guilt and sadness for most of his life and shrugged at Fangs. “No biggie. Apparently I’m destined to die alone. Whatever.” He stalked off back to his own room only to find Roxie already getting dressed. “Roz, shit, can’t we talk about this? Don’t go. Maybe it’ll happen later, perhaps it’s not always instant?”

Her voice was low and mournful when she spoke. “J I really care about you, you’re my good friend, but we’re both searching for something that we’re never going to be able to give each other. Let’s just take some time apart. Maybe in a few months we’ll be able to go back to being pals again. I’m really sorry that you’re disappointed.” With that she was gone in a whisk of magenta hair and Cabotine perfume.

He sat on his bed and stared into space. He’d been so sure. She was a dear friend, she understood him, laughing at the same things, enjoying the same movies. There was never any stress or conflict with her. It was easy. She indulged his bad moods and cajoled him out of sulks with food and silly jokes. He knew enough to leave her well alone when she was getting into one of her rages. Then gradually, as they worked together on the documentary project, he found himself wanting to touch her hair, wanting to hold her tiny body against his in a protective embrace, wanting to make her feel good with his touches. She’d seemed uncertain but he’d persevered, wooed her really. Then finally, excited and giddy after the showcase where their documentary project had taken first place she’d kissed him and whispered, “Do you want to go back to your place?” He’d been so happy as they’d crunched back to his apartment through the first snow of the winter. He’d wondered if it might happen when they finished the film. While sex tended to be the main way that a soul bond was revealed, a lot of soul mates actually bonded on completion of some other kind of shared project. It hadn’t happened then but he’d been so sure that, if they made love, it would click and the missing shade would be revealed to them. And then it hadn’t happened.

The app was pretty new. Before the advent of the smart phone, folks would have a painting or a poster in their homes. To those who were not matched it would look like an ordinary scene but once a soul bond was formed, the missing colour in the spectrum was revealed, and the soul mates could read the message in the image. It was a little like a magic eye poster. You looked at it for a moment or two and then the missing colour reconciled itself into words or an image. Originally they had some gnomic inspirational quotation. The one in the trailer he grew up in had, his mom said, had the Rolling Stone’s lyric, “You can't always get what you want but if you try sometime you find you get what you need.” Ironically FP and Gladys had been neither what the other wanted nor what they needed. Later it would turn out that FP had lied when he stood in front of that poster and told the innocent, love-struck young girl, wrapped in the sheet from his bed, that he saw it for the first time too. Actually he’d already bonded with someone else, someone who had no intention of getting tied up with a guy in a gang from the wrong side of the tracks. He must have thought it was his lucky day, a second chance for happiness, when the beautiful girl he’d been romancing excitedly admitted that she could see the colour for the first time. He’d nodded enthusiastically, said, “Yeah, me too,” and whisked her away to a world of damp trailers, drunken arguments and angry guys repossessing their truck, or the tv, or the kids’ toys. She’d stayed because she believed he was her soul mate. She thought she had no other options until, in a drunken rage, he’d revealed that it had always been a lie. She snatched up her daughter and left him. And left the boy too, unwilling to take a kid who looked so much like the man she had been fool enough to trust and who had ruined her life with his lies.

The fact that scumbags with no moral scruples lied about this shit had led to the development of checking apps like Soul Truth, “the truth, the soul truth and nothing but the truth” according to the tag line. You both looked at the screen and noted down what you saw, then swiped up and the image was revealed in ordinary unbonded colours. It made it harder for predators and perverts to take advantage of young innocents while their good sense was overwhelmed by romantic dreams. It also revealed that about ten percent of bonds were unreciprocated like Jughead’s parents, one of the couple bonded and the other didn’t. Those couples had to decide if they would make that work, aware that one was more invested than the other, or if it was better to simply part, the bonded still feeling that desperate pull to their mate even decades later. Jug guessed he should be relieved that he hadn’t seen the colour that morning since, clearly, Roz was just not that into him.

He’d been sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the rug like that for thirty minutes when Fangs tapped softly on the door. “Not now,” he snapped but Fangs ignored him and pushed open the door.

“Ok Jug. I know you’re upset but it just means you haven’t found her yet. She’s still out there and if you go into one of your epic sulks you’ve got less chance of meeting her. What classes have you got today?”

“Nothing I can’t cancel. Everyone’s cramming for Finals. I was supposed to meet the princess to go over the final layout for the literary magazine. She can do it on her own. She’ll like that better anyway.”

Now Kevin joined his boyfriend in the room, both of them making him feel self indulgent and guilty with their solicitousness. “You shouldn’t shut yourself away and mope, Jughead. Go and edit like a champ and then come by the theatre for us and we’ll go for burgers. We’re striking the set but we can take a break. Our treat. What do you say?”

Jughead pondered for a moment. Nothing was going to change if he sat here, the princess would be unbearable if he blew her off, and burgers on someone else’s tab were his favourite kind of burgers, so he grudgingly allowed himself to be persuaded.

An hour later he was in the midst of a heated argument with the princess about his perfectly legitimate decision to kill a terrible poem about the fall which she, inexplicably, had marked for an already overcrowded page four. “You can’t just take things out without consultation Forsythe. We’re an editorial committee, we make decisions together. It’s supposed to be a collaboration.”

“What, you want to keep this pile of third grade horseshit do you? And you’re just calling me that to make me mad. Don’t think I don’t know.”

“I didn’t say that. It’s terrible. It obviously has to go. But you can’t just do it unilaterally. And you can’t call me Princess and not expect me to retaliate. You know my name.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake Princess... sorry, my humblest apologies, for fuck’s sake Betty. What the hell are we arguing about if we both think it’s bad and needs to go? And why is it even in here in the first place?”

“It’s in there because we were waiting on your egregiously late piece of sub Lovecraftian geek porn. I was filling space. Since you finally got your ass in gear we don’t need it anymore. So spike it.” She had this way of making him feel like he lost, even when he won an argument. It was infuriating.

They worked on pagination for another couple of hours with surprisingly little conflict, and then he wrote kickers for a few of the longer submissions, hoping to tempt the reader to give a story a chance. She made sure the submissions were correctly attributed and that the running heads and page numbers and folios were in place. Finally it seemed that they were done. He clicked back to the front page, checked the position of the artwork and the masthead and looked over at her with a questioning expression to see if she was satisfied. She nodded her approval and, at last, under the words “Joint Editors”, he typed "Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones.” As he clicked ‘save’ something shifted in his field of vision. He was alarmed, pushing back from the desk and looking around, meeting her startled eyes. Her green eyes, which weren’t green anymore. He couldn’t describe what colour they were, there were no words.

“What just happened?” she whispered, obviously badly frightened.

“Does…does anything look different to you?” he replied, hesitantly, reaching for his phone.

“Yes, everything. What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure. Look at this.” He pulled up the app. On the screen he could see, without difficulty, a cartoon cat, Pusheen maybe, its paws deep in some dough. The caption read “I knead you.” As he read the words in his head, she said them aloud. “Fuuuuck,” he murmured. “I think we’re soulmates, Princess.”

#fragment #bughead fan fiction #bughead fan fic #colour perception is way interesting #pink is nearly always the last colour word in a language

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 5 years

Text

The Whore || John Shelby x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested: “11&19 with John boy? cause I miss him “ (I miss him too, my poor heart aches)

Summary: n.11 & 19 from prompt list: “Please, please, please” + “I’ll burn this fucking place down” Warnings: swearing, a lot of angst, prostitution, nudity, violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of rape, misogynistic talk, graphic description of signs of physical abuse

Author’s notes:

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

So, this request’s been in my mind for ages, and even though I’m not happy with its final part ‘cause it sucks, I’m literally obsessed with this idea, I love it so much that I’ll probably write a long fic about it, right after Contagio, but it will depend on you babes, because, first and froemost, I need to know what you think about this piece. ⤟ IMPORTANT

Please, if you’re a victim of any kind of abuse, talk to someone who can help you, nobody should go through something like that alone.⤟ IMPORTANT

I edited the gif and added the text, it’s not an actual scene from the show, but I thought it could be a good idea, a small detail that could be added to my works. What do you think about it? Pls, let me hear your opinions babeees ⤟

I’m sorry for being this late, but I’ve been really busy in the past days and writing is never just easy, it demands concentration and effort, plus I don’t want you to be disappointed, so I’m always extra accurate while working. I hope this is worth the wait!

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Birmingham was somehow silent that night, John noticed the unusually empty streets around him, as his feisty pace easily led him towards a well-known destination, his confident steps resounding in between the damp walls of those sordid blocks made of innumerable overcrowded flats. The unmistakable stench of stagnant urine viciously permeated his nostrils, soon causing a disgusted expression to taint his angelic face, while he avidly took the umpteenth drag of smoke from his Cuban cigar and finally stopped his unceasing walk in front of the most renowned brothel in the entire city. For about three years by then, day after day, his life had been perilously circling the drain: things had got totally out of hand, fate had pitilessly thrown him into profound despair, giving life to an apparently endless spiral of darkness and desolation, which was gradually corroding his fragile self, brutally strangling him, rapaciously plundering each of his already strained vital breaths. And, nevertheless, it was beyond hard to blame him for such catastrophic outcomes, after all, he’d scarcely survived the battlefield, only to find himself with a handful of nothing, left alone to deal with a dead wife and four children to raise on his own, while his guts crawled with excruciating grief and ravenous acrimony for the whole world, having him develop a tendency to self-destruction that was just as concerning as it was well concealed. As a matter of fact, in spite of his private hell, he still remained a Shelby, and a Shelby wasn’t meant to be soft, nor weak, none of them could afford to succumb to their affliction, never, not for a moment. They had to be invulnerable.

Or, at least, they had to look invulnerable, for truth was that John was scared, utterly frightened by all those unmerciful changes. Deep inside he felt like a hopeless, undefended child, forsaken by God and discarded to wander that grim world without any destination other than death and misery, thus his blood boiled with virulence and venom, having his heart clench with blind wrath and his devastated young soul desperately long for sort of any distorted kind of unattached affection. That was basically the main reason why his bed was incessantly warm, or more accurately, warmer than it had always been before, because, needless to say, John Shelby had actually been an authentic ladies’ man since his first cry. His stunning beauty constantly teemed on everyone’s lips in Birmingham, there was not a single woman in the whole town who hadn’t dreamt of sleeping with him at least once in her life. Therefore, John was more than happy to please them all, literally, welcoming them with wide open arms, even during his past marriage; and, on those rare times when no girl went to knock on his door, he had now grown accustomed to seek relief into whorehouses, rather than sleep alone and become an easy prey for his ferocious demons.

So he eventually ended up dropping his smouldering cigar on the uneven asphalt of the most rundown place in Small Heath, “Le Belle Donne”, an Italian house of tolerance, quite dilapidated and about to fall to pieces, but which often happened to have his favourite prostitutes. Indeed, ever since the Peaky Blinders had defeated and subjugated Sabini’s clan, they’d occupied a prominent position among the country, to the point that several other Italian gangs on their territory, including the Changrettas who owned that brothel in particular, had finally given in to the Shelbys. As a direct consequence, to put it simply, John and all his brothers had, in a very real sense, earned the full right to abuse of whatever business the wops held.

“Hey, man!” Johnny resonantly barked as he entered the hall, maintaining a pretty intimidating attitude and a menacing look on purpose, in order to strike even greater fear in his newest flunky. “C’mon, show me what you got” That rough order cunningly glided onto his lower lip, immediately followed by his hot tongue, while his famished gaze travelled around the room, examining the face of each harlot standing there with meticulous attention, without however finding something that could come anywhere close to seriously rapture him. Robert Turrini, the whoremaster, was a bizarre bloke, for his physical appearance could be probably described as both disturbing and amusing: his revortingly corpulent stomach wobbled and his short legs dangerously stumbled, when he made haste to stand up and accommodate his toughest client. “Mr. Shelby, what an honour and a pleasure to have you back!” Those sycophant words fled his moist and malodorous mouth, and nonetheless, his stubby fingers inexorably betrayed his true thoughts, since they were either nervously torturing each other or, as only alternative, convulsively running through his greasy, mangy bangs. “Please, sir, follow me, these are for yokels and boozers, nothing to do with gentlemen like yourself” Once again, Turrini’s shrill fawning tone relentlessly grated his ears, making clear reference to the bunch of second-rate whores who could be found at the entrance; thus the lame pimp quickly moved, his hand anxiously beckoning John to tread upon his heels, then headed towards an eerily narrow corridor, so scanty that it was almost impossible to cross, if not walking on the bias. The secret lounge was illuminated only in part by a squalid red light creating a gruesome atmosphere, a dull silence tyrannically reigned into that small space, although you were not alone, but practically glued to another girl; both sitting on a minuscle sofa, your elbows touching, still none of you dared emit a single sound. Everything felt like lead upon your papier-mâché ribcage, that horrible sensation forcing your traumatized brain to involuntarily keep counting the seconds until that heinous burden would’ve potentially staved in your sternum, definitively annihilating your splintered heart. As a result, when the ramshackle door opened and a high-pitched squeak scraped your skin, you really thought to be about to die. Your torturer made his entrance, and right after him, another man came in, yet you couldn’t spot his face, since the peak of his cap designedly casted a mysterious shadow on it. “These two right here, they're real young, real fresh” Robert flaunted his goods along with a nefarious grin, rubbing his soiled paws with evident greed. “Behold the finest offering of flesh and bone on the market” A sadistic snicker repugnantly accompanied his speech, instantly causing John to frown, visibly disgruntled with the way that man deliberately talked about human beings. Luckily, it was a known fact that the middle Shelby was used to treating his women with all due respect: whether he paid them or not, he always made sure they were comfortable with him and never shrank from giving them some good time as well; therefore, a vexed glare was shot in the direction of his gross interlocutor, before his crystalline eyes briefly fluttered around the place, then bumping into your elegant figure almost at once.

Your bloodstream seemed to benumb on the spot as the stranger’s confident stare entangled yours, his rawboned features being now fully displayed, for he had lifted his chin a little in order to properly look at you, and you only, despite Clarissa’s desperate and petulant attempts to get his attention with malicious smiles and ridiculous pet names. Even though your dazed mind had just been ruthlessly brutalized by the sudden, ablaze assault of his glacial irises, a few moments were enough for you to realize how profoundly different he was from all the low-down rats who usually came through that horrible place.

Each sharp, still somehow delicate, trait of his face was brimming with delicious youthfulness, a less keen eye might have even confounded his freshness with actual naivety, but not yours; you were far too clever to make such a coarse mistake. Furthermore, the midnight-blue posh fabric of the classy suit, remarkably folding his majestic body, left gaunt doubt that he was, in all likelihood, a considerably rich man, which was beyond disorientating you, since the price to pay for some tawdry delight in that brothel was outrageously derisory, to say the least. And ultimately, as much as it killed you to conceive it, he was without question one of the most enchanting men you had ever seen, to the point that you found yourself subconsciously wondering the possible reason why a heavenly creature of his kind would’ve needed to buy a miserable hour of dissembled love.

“There she is” That malleable murmur, filled with longing and gratification, furtively sidled past John’s roseate mouth, as its corners seductively bent upwards and his gaze persevered in its praiseworthy commitment to scrupulously linger your finest shape in sheer adoration. Lace and organdy sublimely merged on the light crimson negligee you were wearing, your immaculate form appeared as a beguiling paradox into his dilated pupils, being your long legs lecherously left exposed, while every inch of your porcelain skin, from your lean neck to your groin, was painstakingly disguised by that unholy material, dark and inscrutable, albeit thin enough to allow him to glimpse the inviting turgidity of your nipples. His breath shuddered in awe when he went back to contemplate your aphrodisiac facial features, flushed cheeks and plump lips having him ache with desire, and then your doe eyes flooded by melancholy, strangling his soul with no mercy, entrenching into his brains the treacherous conviction that, at the end of the day, he would’ve gladly dilapidated his fortune, if only to venerate you from afar. “Oi, sweetheart!” His low voice finally rumbled within the walls of that small space, overwhelmingly vibrating into your abdomen, while you forced yourself to swallow the painful lump obstructing your throat and stand up, promptly responding to his command, aware as you had become that rebelling against your pitiable destiny would’ve served no purpose at all. Holding your client’s hand behind your back, but keeping your head down during the whole route, you silently guided him up the spiral staircase to the best room in the house, like you had previously been instructed by your pimp. His jacket and hat were quickly hung on the apposite coat-rack, leaving his muscular top covered with just his white shirt and blue vest, an alluring grin was flashed in your direction and you detected a libidinous sparkle in his irises, as he healed the rift between you at a slow pace. “What should I call you, sweetheart?” He knowingly used the same flattering pet name once more, whispering that barely audible question into your ear, for he was now behind you: his large hands laid around your waist, gently making your back and his vigorous chest fit together, while his skilled mouth brushed forthwith against your nape, drawing an ardent contrail of ephemeral pecks up until your jaw. “Just y/n” You gasped in response, the marked contrast between his warmth and your bitter cold body, along with crippling dread eating you alive, caused your scrambled stomach to squirm and your eyelids to distressingly shut into a frown. “Well, that’s a pretty good one, I’m John, by the way” A lovely, yet hinted giggle fleetingly filled your ears together with that little compliment; there was no record of mockery in his tone, though, it simply sounded like he wanted to be nice to you, without any aspiration of personal gain, and you almost blushed, caught off guard and no longer used to any form of kindness. Nevertheless, it was a matter of instants before another wet, long kiss was pressed on your jawline, making you startle with evident apprehension and, at a later time, definitively back away from him, as soon as you sensed his touch abandoning your hips only to climb your sides, till he reached for your nightgown’s collar and his fingers began to fiddle with its round buttons. “No, I’ll do it!” You curtly gave notice, as you temporarily lost control of both your speech and actions, placing your hands above his in order to shrug them off, then turning to face him with short breath, your open palms shielding you. “I got it” A noticeably softer voice supplanted your preceding rudeness once you gradually metabolised how much damage your incautious reaction could’ve done.

“Aye, aye, darling, as you wish” But John just chuckled, tenderly humouring you, while his forearms jokingly lift in surrender to your commands, although, truth be told, your strange behaviour had left him a bit bewildered, well-nigh confused. Carefully moving backwards, he cockily made himself comfortable on the edge of the double bed, sitting right in front of you with splayed legs, his yearning stare never deflecting from you, and started to unbutton his waistcoat along with his shirt and undershirt, until his statuesque torso was completely nude, in all its glory, as the moon transpired through the curtains and shed its faint rays on his every contour, superbly enhancing all of his muscles.

Without reprieve, he ogled up at you in pure adoration, devastatingly astonished afresh by your dazzling beauty, eager to feel your afire flesh around his, literally hanging on your every word or move, while a provocative smirk steadily rippled his lips. Still, he kept questioning why a seraphic vision like you was slowly withering away in that authentic hell on heart, adamantly squandering your blush of youth amidst that rabble of unrestrained putridity. It made absolutely no sense, and he couldn’t get rid of that pernicious thought haunting his mind ever since he had first seen you: you looked nervous, extremely defensive, almost paralyzed with fear; you seemed so different from all the whores he’d had before, hence his instincts, however obfuscated with cupidity, were screaming that something was wrong. And when he watched you turn your back on him again, so to avoid his penetrating gaze as you reluctantly got undressed, it was enough for him to understand that his execrable hunch was right. Nevertheless, by the time his head managed to eventually reconnect to his mouth, it was already too late, the soft textile of your nightdress ineluctably fell to your feet, leaving you naked under his starving leer.

John choked on his own breath; for the very first time, he felt like a fledgling kid at his earliest experience, no matter if nothing could be further form the truth, in some turbid, cryptic way, you were able to make him vulnerable. His craw went hellishly dry while he continued to gape at you in awe, the sinuous curves of your flawless glutes, the meandering line of your superlatively arched back covered in part by your soft hair, your tensed shoulders and your refined legs, everything about you caused his mind to go entirely black, words stifling in his throat. Yet, as soon as you moved to face him and his sight was blessed with the full view of your voluptuous figure, something altered the light in his cerulean eyes, suddenly making it dark and gloomy. His jaw slightly dropped under the weight of that violent dismay: in conjunction, an obnoxious sense of nausea cruelly shot him in the gut and blind anger virulently assailed him, for your front bust was completely martyrized.

“What the hell...” That unmeant babble died in the gelid air, his shocked orbs demarcating the strokes of your damaged silhouette: your neck and collarbone were horridly plastered with several violet fingerprints, as if someone had mercilessly strangled you over and over, greenish bruises with the shape of full palms circled both your arms, there were conspicuous signs of ligature around your tiny wrists. Worse still, his eyelids had to squeeze a little in order to bring into focus the multiple oxblood dots stigmatizing your soft breasts, until he noticed in horror how those round specks were effectively cigarettes burns; all of the oxygen bluntly withdrew from his lungs, when he dwelled on the multiple blue and black marks barbarically desecrating the protuberances of your ribs. But what irremediably drove him over the edge were the two ghastly scars digging stretched grooves in your lower stomach, in parallel with your bulging pelvic bones and down almost to your livid groin.

Prey of that deleterious humiliation, you observed raw disgust contaminating his features and, with no apparent reason, the dormant hatred you had for yourself began to ferment inside your belly. “I-I’m sorry” you forced yourself to swallow your imminent tears, unexpectedly, the awareness of not being able to please him somehow inflicted more suffering on your mangled soul “If I’m not to your taste, y-you can...” The young man quickly stood up and, before you had the chance to finish your nonsensical sentence, he readily grabbed his shirt, approaching you with dispatch, his cold irises burning with an implausible mixture of fury and concern. “I don’t fucking care right now” His voice was unsteady, rolling down his tongue in fatigued panting, as his hands hastened to wrap his shirt around your shoulders, his trembling fingers struggling to put the buttons through the eyelets “Who did this to you?” In truth, he was talking to himself rather than with you, noticeable impatience worsening his mad tone, yet you persistently steered clear of his inquiring look, more than determined to keep your mouth shut, forasmuch as your dizzy head was already helplessly spinning, along with your heart rabidly hammering against your sore ribcage. You were having a hard time figuring out what was going on, everything around you was so confused, you didn’t even know whether to trust him or not, you only wanted to close your eyes and forget about that lucid nightmare. “I’m not asking you, for fuck’s sake! Tell me who it was!” That searing order tersely brought you back to reality and cleared how easily his rash temper could reemerge; indeed, all of a sudden, no trace was left of that kind, cheerful boy who earlier that night had succeeded in making you genuinely blush, on the contrary, when he cupped your cheeks and vehemently shook you, in a desperate effort to get your attention, his rough, authoritative command unbendingly hit you, and the sweet child within him ended up being thoroughly smothered by the scary, ruthless gangster that he truly was. That unforeseen contact had your feet automatically stagger backwards, your eyes fell to your tiptoes and your teeth started skewering your lower lip, while your exhausted brain resorted to its last ounce of strength, thereby obligating you to spit out a bit of your sorrow. “Three months ago, the man I once called father sold me to settle one of his debts with the Italians” Your thorax seemed to shrink to the point of absurdity once you became aware that it was essentially the first time you allowed yourself to say it all out loud. However, the presence of that compassionate stranger still represented for you a substantial barrier to surmount, leading your unquiet glance to franticly move from the grime on the floor, to the broken window on your left, anywhere, but never daring to meet his. “ I tried to run away, I swear I did, but they always caught me and-”

A large knot callously plugged the bottom of your palate, causing you to hesitate for a minute, gently rubbing your own arms, in attempt to comfort yourself . “Robert has a short fuse, he g-gets pretty brutal when you don’t cooperate” Those disenchanted considerations carried an involuntary grin, it was nothing more than a spasm, but hid the unmistakable sign of an imminent cry, and John’s attentive irises certainly did not let it go unnoticed, yet he chose to stay quiet, because the last thing he would’ve wanted in that crucial moment was to scare you even more. “He beat me to death, each time harder than the time before, and then he let those men-... He-e kept me tied to that bed for days to teach me a lesson” Copious tears were now unremittingly streaming down your flushed face, your heart aching with raw affliction, preventing you from breathing properly, one of your palms instinctively went to cover the space between your breasts, in a vain whirl to ease that excruciating grief. “Oh, God” John simply sighed, he was precariously theetering on the verge of tears as well, thick veins untamedly pumped in the proximity of his temples, till his solid shape ruinously keeled over the longest side of the bed, his elbows piercing his own thighs, as he hid behind his clenched fists and finally permitted himself to indulge a couple of muffled sobs. Innumerable atrocities had clouded his eyes and soul during his brief life, he himself was capable of unspeakable acts of cruelty, still, that was absolutely intolerable, hearing your story was taking a terrible toll on him. Try as he might, he couldn’t conceive how somebody could have been so hopelessly evil, to abuse in such a heinous way a defenseless creature as pure as you were. That thought was irretrievably disturbing him, rancorously eroding his bowels, almost depriving him of his sanity.

“U-until I stopped fighting them” Your last, indescribably anguished whisper struck the fatal blow, it unrelentingly plunged into his chest, sending an unbearable jolt of pain through his poisoned veins. For a brief instant, his expression, together with yours, harshly turned into a mask made of neat despair, as if your synapsis had been ravelled and both of you were enduring the exact same ache, at the exact same moment.

“I’ll fucking kill him!” Then, all at once, something apopletic inside him violently detonated, he berserkly stood up, roughly tripping over the beside table and everything placed on it. “Fucking kill that filthy bastard with my own two hands, bloody hell!” His hoarse yells made your bruised skin cringe and his furious steps covered the whole length of the room in the space of a scant minute; he was literally seething with murderous fits of rage, teeth grinding with irrepressible choler. “No!” your desperate voice erupted afresh and you hurried to reach for him, your hands unconsciously enveloping his cheekbones “Please, please, John, please, stop!” For the first time, his name slipped out of your aching throat in between those pathetic pleads, your wrists forced him to look at you, in attempt to dissuade him from his homicidal purposes; the mere thought of the potential disastrous consequences to his calamitous ire totally asphyxiated you, rampant panic assaulted your frail mind and, soon after, you found yourself hyperventilating and simultaneously rambling a bunch of incoherent words, your fingers gradually tightening their grip on him. “He’s gonna get so angry at me, he’s gonna- he-he’s...” “I’m a fucking Shelby, he does not draw a damn breath unless I say so” He firmly grabbed your chin with just two of his fingers, guiding your depleted pupils to entirely focus on his confident stare, and he growled that undisputable fact a span away from your nose. Petrified by that new awareness, you fell utterly silent, only gawking in his direction, while he put his undershirt back on with ease and rapidly grasped his cap. “Just stay here, do you hear me? Don’t move until I come back” An incandescent kiss was impulsively pressed to your forehead, no other words were spent, before he disappeared behind the door of your private hell. When your persecutor saw his special guest unyieldingly storming towards his desk with a truculent expression exuding fervent disappointment, he jumped on his feet, ready to find a solution to whatever problem had possibly arisen; one thing was sure, he never would’ve guessed what was about to happen. “Mr. Shelby, what’s wron-” John’s fist savagely collided with his jaw, nipping his cloying speech in the bud, without giving Turrini a second to process what was going on, another punch pitilessly smote him, and then another one, and then another, until hot, plenteous blood gushed from his multiple wounds. “You son of a bitch” Animalistic groans left his rabid maws, sheer hate rushing through his brains, as he violently tossed him to the ground, immediately beginning to kick his torso with all of his brute force. “Mercy! I beg of you, sir, have mercy!” His victim’s prayers and harrowing screams barely titillated his ears, everything he could think about was your tragically marred body, hence an unbridled desire to give him a taste of his own medicine completely took over. “Where was your mercy when you were torturing her?” Expertely holding his hat in the most efficient way, in a fury, John went down on his sacrificial lamb, promptly disfiguring just one side of his face, in order to take a quite theatrical pause from his wicked work.

“When she was imploring you to stop?” Robert was now crying out loud, overwhelmed by that merciless agony, reduced to just invoke the glacial scynt of death, since nothing in his entire miserable existence had ever caused him more intense pain, than the coarse perception of a finely sharpened razorblade brutishly lacerating his flesh once more, inch by inch.

“Now bend your ear to this” despite his wrenching laments, John rudely lift him up by seizing the blood stained collar of his jacket “if anyone else but me goes near her fucking room again, I’ll burn this fucking place down!” And with that first, deadly threat the pimp’s head was brutally slammed into the wall, an umpteenth whine of contrition escaping his mouth filled with blood, nevertheless, no time was left for redemption.

“You lay a finger on her again” his skull was doggedly crashed into the bricks once again, a crimson spatter smeared the pale plaster covering them “I will break your neck” John’s knuckles clasped, having his red right hand effectively strenghten its hold on his neck, nearly killing him on the spot. However, fortunately for the whoremaster, Johnny would’ve not put an end to his sufferings, nor he could've simply taken you away, deep inside, he knew he needed to discuss it with his family, first and foremost, with Thomas, for the unstable equilibrium reached by the Peaky Blinder was far too fragile to start a new war against the Italians. Thus, with great difficulty, he forced himself to keep his mind clear and put a lid on his beastly instinct. “From now on, no one of you dirty swines is allowed to even look at her” Throwing him to the floor, the middle Shelby delivered one last kick straight to his fat abdomen, and disrespectfully spit on him, marking with his salt slaver the end of his brutalized prey’s calvary. “By order of the Peaky Blinders” As soon as the crackling door snapped open, your heart seemed to explode, your eyelids bolted with pure fear, whilst you pulled your knees closer to your clavicles, an ancient prayer lingering your lips together with heavy breaths, as you prepared for the worst. But the worst never came. “Y/n, hey, calm down. It’s all right” John’s husky voice echoed in your ears, and, you could’ve sworn it, that was, without the slightest doubt, the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Your head abruptly tilted in his direction, an oxymoric mixture of fear and hope twinkling into your watery irises, deep pants still rocking your tiny self. “It’s me, it’s just me” Keeping his arms up to indicate his innocuous purpose, he carefully approached you. Almost immediately, you noticed the several scarlet handprints staining his pale top, eloquent sign that he had tried to wipe his palms on that ivory material as best as he could. Yet, you were so profoundly relieved to see his friendly face, that, to be honest, the sight of fresh blood didn’t upset you at all. It was like you had fallen into a fugue state, every single thing around you was so distant, your numb senses were only able to concentrate on John’s lean silhouette kneeling in front of you. “ No one will hurt you anymore, darling” his hands gently went to caress your thighs, while his worried gaze tirelessly sought yours and he spoke those soft, reassuring words “You need to trust me”. And you did want to put all of your faith in that young man. His delicate flair easily awakened you from that ostensible slumber, building a rousing fire inside your belly; without a thought about your unforeseen actions, you threw your arms around his strong neck, your knees producing a dry sound as they collided with the wooden pavement, still you didn’t care and you held him tight, letting out loud cries and drowning into his muscular chest, finally revelling in the feeling of that warm embrace. Soon, he entangled his callous fingers with your velvety locks, subconsciously narrowing his solid shoulders, as to shield your frangible figure from the outside world. “I'll get you out of here soon, I promise”

tag list: @spidey-pal, @shadow-of-wonder, @stassaurus, @peachlle, @livvtheangel, @myjbphase, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest, @vxxn128, @keithseabrook27, @spaghettirogers, @writingstudent, @hp-hogwartsexpress

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sugar-petals · 4 years

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Good day, Caro! ☺️ I just want to ask the significance of tarot birth cards to a person, and if possible, can you elaborate on BTS tarot birth cards? Thank you!

the two birth cards (calculator | definitions) describe one’s unchangeable identity and life theme. people who are from the same ‘distiny tribe’ with similar goals will share cards.

yoongi and hoseok: TOWER + CHARIOT

Extremely powerful cards far from mediocrity. The rise and fall, the chaos and the success. Yoongi and Hobi know about the cycle and that only great disaster and crisis (THE TOWER) can breed a real winner. They like struggle and ambition, star allure, and have been destined for fame since day one. Because THE CHARIOT indicates a glamorous superstar who will ‘shake the world’ as G-Dragon’s signature song famously goes. GD himself shares the same birth cards so you can imagine the level of massive renown such a person can reach. Yoongi and Hoseok love the grind and will be the most publically recognized down the line, all while living through the most strife. Heavy is the crown, that’s the motto here. Pretty interesting that they share birth cards.

jimin: JUDGEMENT + HIGH PRIESTESS

Damn son... This is something else. These two cards reach far in terms of self-development. This feels like the type of idea you read that will blow your mind. The spread speaks of ambiversion, androgyny. The pillars on the THE PRIESTESS card are yin and yang, Jimin will unite these qualities. The quiet HIGH PRIESTESS knows the secrets of existence and loud JUDGEMENT represents the hailing of a great message to many people. This is also a fame indicator: Jimin was destined to be popular, though he’s also very private. As a duo, what those two cards mean is, and don’t fall off your chair: Jimin will attain enlightenment during this lifetime and develop psychic gifts. Now we also know why he is so angelic, Archangel Gabriel is pictured on the JUDGMENT card. Look at the trumpet, too: At one point, he will receive an unequivocal calling and life change.

namjoon: STAR + STRENGTH

Born a competent leader with a big and bold presense and a sublime man at once, Namjoon both has the guts — STRENGTH — and the bright and innocent mind. The tarot knows the stars are in his favor, sweet moonchild he is. He is soft in his personality but a lot stronger than he knows. He can shoulder things for others and speak the unspeakable in an uplifting way. All while being good and righteous, because THE STAR is about purity which he possesses, on top of a developed spiritual slant. Namjoon is here to push for inspiration and fostering morality, peace, beauty, love, artistic ideas. He is wholesome. The cards combine very neatly to show us just how charismatic, capable, and good-natured our president is.

jungkook: MOON + HERMIT

Two extremely introverted cards. And it goes pretty deep, everyone wondering what’s on JK’s mind will find that he in fact has a whole existential crisis 24/7. The monk-like HERMIT is all about one’s identity search and finding intangible insights, while the MOON is about the murky waters of life. The things we never understand and that make us unsure, where we are gullible or tempted by fantasy. JK being a loner type with a lot of idealism comes as no surprise to the Tarot. He will receive important dreams over his lifetime and spend a lot of periods in chosen isolation. His intuition and sensitivity is the most developed in the group and he thinks the most seriously about human life. A very mature spread for the maknae, he was born to complete his soul’s development and become very wise. The cards connect to Joonie (moon + tall intelligent man, rings a bell), he will be like him some day.

taehyung: WORLD + EMPRESS

Very upbeat, warm-hearted and groovy combination, with great sex appeal on top of that. This guy is born to be hella hot and confident. Same as Yoongi/Hobi, another card that speaks of vast and glorious worldly accomplishments, and the other — we’ve seen it in many of his readings: THE EMPRESS hails from maternity and marriage so you can tell how much of a big deal Taehyung’s wive will be to him and literally the whole planet as the left card shows. Taehyung is here for the fine things in life for sure, and most certainly family, and attracts a lot of feminine energy into his surroundings. He is gifted with the most creativity in the group and everybody (THE WORLD) is meant to know. Like Namjoon’s cards, this is a spread of a lifelong artist.

seokjin: SUN + WHEEL OF FORTUNE + MAGICIAN

Surprise surprise everyone! Of course, the oldest hyung is blessed with the rare case of not two birth cards but three. Because he’s Kim Seokjin, that’s why 😎 THE SUN speaks of his humorous nature and fearless presence, the WHEEL OF FORTUNE the luck and fortune that will toss him back and forth, and THE MAGICIAN shows a compelling character with a whole bag of tricks, who can make everything work his way. Yep, that’s him in a nutshell. He keeps the whole shitshow that is existence running (hence the wheel). Jin’s life will always be interesting and never dull, and he has a great and bright personality that others will see shine. He’ll be happy and will be remembered as a great entertainer: THE SUN is widely seen.

tarot mlist

#bts tarot #tarot #bts #bangtan #bts tarot reading #birth cards #anon #cub mail 🐅#long post

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stupid-damn-harp · 3 years

Text

Notes for “Rural Boys Watch the Apocalypse”

“Your hand’s in mine”

This poem doesn’t explicitly state the relationship between the two boys, and this adds to it. The two characters could be in a romantic relationship, and this choice comes with a variety of implications given the traditional christian liturgy that’s repeated throughout the poem. If this is the end of the world, where will these two gay boys end up? Are they thinking about their afterlife? Are they wondering if they can stay together? Whether they’ll be with their family? There’s so many questions that these boys might be thinking of if they’re in this sort of relationship. They could also just be very close neighbors. Later in the poem he specifies his “doomsday neighbors,” which might be a sign that the other boy and his family might be the other neighbors, or it might have just been explaining the neighbor’s behavior. Another option could be that they’re best friends that are so comfortable with each other that holding hands feels comforting, but not completely natural because the narrator thought it was important to point it out.

“waters turnin' to blood”

The two boys obviously share the same or similar religious views, and are probably at least somewhat learned or devout in their faith. I grew up reading the scriptures and I can’t say off the top of my head what a biblical apocalypse looks like - but this boy can, and relates it to the other boy, expecting him to also understand.

“But there are only the fallin’ stars”

I’m struck that the “only” thing is the falling stars. It’s almost as if he’s saying that the rest of the world has already ended, already vanished from his view and his mind. All he can see is the stars falling, and it doesn’t matter anymore if the rest of the world or the people around him still exist. He’s somehow writing himself and the other boy off as unimportant in the face of this global catastrophe. This line also stands outside of any stanza, forcing us to pay attention to the entire phrase and inviting a degree of separation from the stanzas before and after. There are only the falling stars, and that’s important. More important than what this boy thought would happen, more important than telling where the initial warning came from. The present events hold more weight.

"'Least the weather channel warned us about it,"

I wonder why the weather channel is the one that predicted this apocalypse? He mentions falling stars, which might be under their jurisdiction, but I feel like higher-up governmental agencies would be in charge of announcing and predicting the literal end of the world.

“are loadin' the back”

If the stars are falling, and this is the end of the world, where do these neighbors think they’re going? Where do they think that they’ll be safe?

“under large whitewashed crosses”

This line is especially striking given the religious imagery throughout the entire poem. Jesus was a middle eastern Jewish man, and that’s something that many Christians in America conveniently forget. Many people in this religion spread around views that those with darker skin are children of ham (as we see in the Poisonwood Bible) or suggest that the native american people are really the descendants of the Lamanites, so their darker skin was a curse from God. These crosses that the neighbors are taking with them embody all of these harmful beliefs. The religion itself is whitewashed. The crosses are described as large, and I’m having trouble modulating that size within my own thoughts. On one hand, they have to be small enough to fit within the back of a pickup truck. But, are these crosses large as in “human sized and could be used for their original purpose”? Large as in “larger than handheld so they seem giant, but they’re best suited for yard decorations”? Either way, I’m taking it as a symbol of how contemporary christians take up the most space in religious discussions in America and quite often interpret anything different from their blatantly obvious beliefs as an attack on their faith. Think Boomers yelling about the “war on christmas” type. These crosses are not only whitewashed but they’re large too, visibly screaming to anyone looking in their direction that the drivers of the truck belong to the Christian faith and that they’re going to be confrontational about it. Everything else is stacked under the crosses, giving them the most significance and the most visibility.

“I wanna see ‘em”

Honestly, this line slightly confused me. These women seem quite knowledgeable about the events foretold in the bible. But it’s also stated in the bible that human beings never see angels or God’s true form because we wouldn’t be able to handle it. Surely they must know that? Do they think that these rules will be lifted simply because the world is ending? Are they hoping to see these wonders even though it would have untold consequences on her own mortal form? Don’t get me wrong, I would also love to see an angel in their full and confusing glory, but I don’t have enough of a death wish to actually follow through with that.

“their calloused hands”

Interesting imagery here. Typically angels are described using delicate and ethereal words, or sometimes words that just remind us that angels are spirits and don’t have physical bodies. But the word “calloused.” Calluses imply hard work. Calluses mean rough hands, dirty feet, and tough love. Calluses mean a physical body that is growing stronger. There’s nothing delicate about calluses. There’s nothing inherently holy about calluses. The working class has calluses, and the so-called “perfect” bodies of models and influencersnever have calluses. But here these heavenly beings are, rough hands and all. Perhaps he’s envisioning someone he knows as an angel, and thus opted for the more human-feeling approach. Perhaps he’s hoping that the people of earth are fighting to stay here, fighting to continue living, and the mere act of carrying these writhing and fiery people causes so much work for the angels that they develop these human characteristics of calluses. Perhaps he’s hoping that he’ll become an angel over some darker fate. I’m not sure what implications were intended with this line, but it feels beautiful and wholly human to me, and I love it for that.

“stupid damn harp”

This is the first of two instances where the narrator uses the phrase “stupid dumb” to describe something of the archangel Gabriel’s. Both times he isn’t describing Gabriel himself, just things that he possesses in traditional stories. This could be a nervous boy making jokes in an unsure time as a coping mechanism, but it also could be the author showing his own disillusionment with the traditional christian stories and traditions.

Additionally, the combination of “stupid” and “damn” here is pretty interesting. In Christian mythology, any deity in heaven (e.g. God, angels, Jesus, etc) possesses all the knowledge in the universe. This boy referring to the archangel’s belongings as “stupid” doesn’t reflect this. It almost feels like he wants to criticize the angel himself but he knows there might be consequences, so he settles for calling his iconic harp and tunic the words he wants to call the angel himself. He’s also using the word “damn,” which in biblical contexts typically has hellish connotations. If someone is damned, then they’ve been condemned to hell. The archangel Gabriel is the literal antithesis of that idea, so it’s interesting to see this word applied to anything involving him at all.

“moanin’ like a sinner in hell”

This comparison continues the interesting dichotomy between heaven/hell that we find throughout the poem. The doomsday neighbors’ truck not only holds large whitewashed crosses, but also sounds like someone suffering in hell. Weirdly enough, it seems to give us a view at the sort of Christians that think they’re doing God’s work (holding the whitewashed crosses), but once they get started towards their destination, it becomes more and more obvious that they’re not being entirely truthful (sounding like a sinner in hell).

I’m also struck by the mildness and neutrality in this sentence. Usually when someone’s talking about those in hell, the verb used is “screaming,” not “moaning.” Is this wishful thinking on the narrator’s part, or just a description of the truck’s engine using terminology he already knows? The narrator doesn’t seem to be passing judgement with this comparison either, it comes across as an observation rather than a condemnation of the neighbors’ actions. His family chose not to leave, their family is leaving right now, and those two actions aren’t compared or judged here.

This poem was chosen for the anthology because of the twisted biblical themes tempered by a slight homoerotic vibe. From the beginning of the Abrahamic religions to today, LGBt+ individuals have been left out of religious contexts at best and damned to hell at worst. Given the author’s experience as a gay trans man, I’m reading the narrator and the other “rural boy” as lovers. The poem contains many instances where the narrator invokes sacred and profane imagery in reference to the same objects or beings, and gives a new sort of “hot take’ on the biblical apocalypse - contributing perfectly to the theme of altered religion.

Bibliographical Information:

This poem was posted on Tumblr, and the original source is reblogged below.

#boykeats #rural boys watch the apocalypse #poetry analysis

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a-girl-who-believes-in-magic · 4 years

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Saving People, Hunting Things

After Chuck is finally defeated and all the humans are back where they belong, Sam and Dean go back to the bunker. They just stand there for a while, right next to the door, and look at each other. It’s quiet now that everyone is gone. Cas, Jack, even Michael isn’t around anymore. It’s just the two of them again. Neither of them likes it. Dean is the first one to break the silence. “Come on!” he says, smiling. “I’m gonna make us some food. I’m starving.” Sam slowly follows him to the kitchen. Dean is not fine. They both know it. And they both ignore it. For now.

They have burgers and beer and Dean laughs, a bit too loud and a bit too long, but that’s just what it is. And one day it will stop hurting. He still has Sam left. His baby brother, the person he loves most in this world. And he is free. Free from Chuck and his twisted games, free to do whatever he likes. He needs to remember that when it gets worse. Later, Sam leaves. And it does get worse.

Sam doesn’t like to leave Dean, it’s easy enough to see that, but Dean smiles and tells him to fuck off and check on Eileen because he knows that Sam has been itching to do that pretty much since Jack brought everyone back including her and finally the door closes behind the younger Winchester and Dean is alone.

He walks back to his room, sits down on his bed and just stares at the wall. He doesn’t move for hours. Eventually, the tears start to fall, one after one. And he keeps staring, and for the first time he allows himself to think about Cas again. About what Cas said and about what Dean didn’t say and the things they will never say to each other and it hurts. But it is okay. They decide to go on one last hunt, to celebrate the good old times. It’s just the two of them again and Baby of course. Dean is driving, they listen to Led Zeppelin and Sam talks about finishing law school. And then he talks about moving in with Eileen. And Dean is happy for him, he really is, but the bunker is going to be even quieter with Sam gone as well. But there’s nowhere Dean wants to go, nothing he wants to do, so he will stay anyway and wait for the day when it gets better.

The job is easy enough. A couple of vamps terrorising a small town just outside of Lawrence. Returning there is bittersweet. Dean would have expected it to be harder. But he has made his peace, and so has Sam.

They follow the vamps to a remote barn. Dean parks the Impala at a close field and they get their blades. They smile at each other as they walk up to the front door. This is how it was always meant to be. Saving people, hunting things, the family business. No god involved.

When they find out, it’s a small pack, Dean is almost disappointed. They have agreed that this is they’re last hunt. And he knows it’s for the best. But a part of him wishes it would go on a little longer. Maybe he just doesn’t want to face the empty that is waiting for him back home and in his head.

They kill the two vampires that are the closest to the door in mere seconds. One sets of through a back door and Sam follows him, leaving Dean with the last two. He grins. He has faced demons and angels and God himself. They don’t stand a chance.

A couple of minutes later his phone rings. He is cleaning his blade while waiting for Sam to return from his little jog, but when he sees his brother’s name on the display, he frowns and picks up. Sam is panting heavily. “Dean! Get out of there. The pack is bigger than we expected.” He gets on his feet. “What?” “They’re driving right up to the barn. It’s like ten of them in that car.” Sam says and Dean can hear that he is running. “I’m getting the Impala but they will reach you first.” Deans smile doesn’t fade. “Don’t hurry on my account.” he says. “It’ll be fun.” Then he hangs up.

A minute later Dean hears a car pulling up. Doors open and close, people get out. Somebody screams. There’s a loud bang. And then quiet. Somebody is walking up to the barn. Dean raises his blade. The doors swing open and Dean gets ready to strike the first vampire to walk in. Except that there is no vampire left. Just an angel with blue eyes and black hair and a smile on his lips. “Hello Dean.” Dean drops his blade. “Cas?”

There is a part of him that doesn’t believe it. Doesn’t dare to. But Lucifer is gone and Chuck is gone and there is no one left to play tricks like that on him anymore. “Are you really here?” he asks. Cas nods. “Jack brought me to heaven first, but then I heard Sam praying and came down.” And Dean rushes over to him and pulls him into a hug. He doesn’t let go, not for a while. When he finally does his eyes are teary. He doesn’t care. “What was Sam praying for?” he asks. “For someone to save your stupid ass from the vampires.”

Dean turns around. Sam is walking up to them. He hugs Cas as well. But not quite as long. “I knew you wouldn’t get out of here.” he scolds Dean after he has stepped back again. Dean shrugs. “What can I say man, I’m not running from fucking vamps.” They share a look, knowing that’s not all. But it doesn't matter any more. Cas is back. And Dean Winchester is saved.

They don’t talk about that one night, not for a very long time. But Cas doesn’t seem to mind. He just keeps being Cas, always smiling when Dean looks at him, always being there for him. Dean expects him to return to heaven again, but when they reach the bunker Cas is still there. He walks in with them, he has dinner with them, they watch a film and when Dean leaves to go to bed Cas is there to say goodnight. And he is there to say good morning the next day. And the following day. And all the days that come afterwards. He is there when Sam moves out, when Dean gets a job as a car engineer, when Charlie comes over, when Sam and Dean have dinner with Jody and Donna. Sometimes Dean wonders if it gets boring for Cas, living with him. After all, he is an angel and Dean nothing more but a human, a mortal. But then he remembers what Cas has told him, before the empty took him. He wants to say it back. Wants to tell Cas that he can have what he wants. But it’s the one thing he can’t get himself to do. Not yet. And he doesn’t need to. Cas already knows.

Sam marries Eileen two years later. Their first kid is on the way. Dean has proposed to name it after him when it is born. For some reason Sam has reclined. He still gets to be the godfather though, so he doesn’t complain too much about it.

Dean and Cas go there together. It’s a nice, small ceremony, no church and just a couple of friends. Family. Dean doesn’t cry. At all. But there was wind, and it blew him right in the face and that’s why they are red afterwards.

People start dancing later and eventually it’s just Dean and Cas who are left at the tables. Dean has a beer. He watches his little brother. Sam is smiling. He looks happy. And for once in their life, it will stay that way.

Than Dean looks over to Cas. The angel is watching Sam as well. Then he realises that Dean is watching him and looks over. Their eyes meet. Suddenly Dean feels like he is sixteen again. He clears his throat. “Uhm, you wanna dance?” he asks. Cas grins. “I thought you’d never ask.” he says. They get up. Dean doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. Cas takes position opposite of him. “I’m afraid you’re gonna have to teach me how to do this.” he says. “I should have done that a long time ago.” Dean says. And then he does teach him. Cas is good at dancing.

It past midnight when Dean proposes to take a walk. Cas agrees instantly. They’re pretty far from the next town and it’s a clear night. The stars are beautiful. They both look up to them while they walk down the path, next to each other, no destination in mind. And without really thinking about it, Dean takes Cas hand. “You can have it, by the way.” he says. He doesn’t quite know why, but it is okay to say it now. This is good. It’s safe. “If you still want it.” Cas knows what he’s talking about right away. He squeezes Dean’s hand. “Always.” he says. And he means it.

Dean dies first, after many years. Sam has become a lawyer, he has two kids, none of them called Dean, but the girl still develops an almost worrying obsession with pie and classic rock and her uncle. She seems to share that with her godfather, Castiel. Both of the kids stay with Dean and Cas sometimes. Dean is the one to teach them how to drive. Neither of them hunt for a day in their life. They still both get pentagram tattoos when they’re older, though. It’s the family symbol, after all.

When Dean reaches heaven Bobby is there, waiting for him. Dean hugs him. Bobby smiles. “I missed you, idjit.” They share a beer. Then Dean goes to visit the others. They all live around and Baby is there waiting for him, taking him to their houses. First, he makes a stop at his parent’s. They have dinner. But eventually Dean moves on. There are so many more he needs to see. Charlie, the one from this world, Jo and Ellen, Rufus, it takes him a while.

When he’s done, he stops at a bridge in the middle of nowhere. It’s beautiful here, he’s just realising that. He knows that Sam is there before he seems him. A smile appears on his face as he turns around to hug his brother. Sam hugs him back, so tight that it almost hurts. It has been longer for him than it has for Dean. Cas and Jack appear at their side. Jack looks older, wiser, but when he hugs them it’s just like it always was. Cas takes Dean’s hand as they all walk to the railing and watch the sun set in the distance.

#supernatural 15x20 #spoiler #alternative 15x20 #destiel #I'm dissapointed so this happened #eileen leahy #sam winchester #dean winchest #castiel #The Angel does appeare because he just does #mutual pining #fluff #fanfiction

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ryqoshay · 4 years

Text

How to Handle a Nico - Dinner at the Nishikino’s

Primary Pairing: NicoMaki Words: ~4.1k Rating: K Time Frame: Late in Maki’s 1st year and Nico’s 3rd year in college. Story Arc: Stand Alone

Author’s Note: This chapter was assembled from a patchwork of about a dozen instances I wanted to include and thus wrote each separately. And somewhere along the lines, MS Word decided not to sync between my PC and mobile devices, so I ended up with two, slightly differently edited versions. Thus, here’s hoping my self-purported prowess with prose was successful in stitching this scene into a sensible structure. Please forgive any unsightly seams.

Nico couldn’t remember the last time she had been this nervous. No, wait, just a few days ago, her first date with Maki. Well, first official date, not counting all of the not-actually-date-but-technically-were-dates from years prior. Unfortunately, that was quickly falling into second place as she approached the gate to the Nishikino home.

Perhaps the date had been easier because she knew Maki, knew Maki liked her, knew Maki liked spending time with her, knew Maki wanted to date her, and was fairly confident Maki was attracted to her. She had known all of these things even before they started dating officially. As such, looking back, she wasn’t sure why she had been so nervous for their first date, because with the exception of one little hiccup named Etsuko, it had all gone splendidly.

But the parental Nishikinos were more of an unknown. Nico had met both of Maki’s parents a handful of times throughout the years, but had never really gotten to know either. She was all but certain she would have little problems with Maki’s mother as she had apparently been talking behind the scenes with her mother about her and Maki’s developing relationship. And she had been quite supportive of Maki’s time as a school idol, so Nico didn’t think she would object to her intended career choice.

Maki’s father on the other hand… Nico remembered quite vividly when he almost made Maki quit being a school idol after her grades slipped the tiniest of bits; not even enough for her to drop from her position as top of her class. Umi had been the one to stand up to him, which made sense insofar as she understood having parents with high expectations. Still, looking back, Nico couldn’t help feeling a bit of regret that she hadn’t been the one to protect Maki. Sure, she had offered her support, but…

“Good evening, Yazawa-san.” A voice came over the speaker.

Nico jumped. Had she even pushed the button to announce her presence?

“Yes, good evening.” She replied as she recognized the voice of the Nishikino estate manager.

“Ojou-sama has informed me of pending arrival, though as always, you are most welcome here.”

“Thanks.” Nico replied as the buzzer sounded to indicate the gate was unlocked.

One gate down, literally. Nico thought as she made her way toward the front door. Though part of her wished Maki had been the one to answer the intercom, she was nonetheless thankful that it had been a member of the house staff with whom she got along well. At least it hadn’t been…

“D-Dr. Nishikino?” Nico sputtered as the door suddenly swung open to reveal a towering, bespectacled man who immediately fixed her with a cool and calculating gaze.

Damn. Why had she stuttered? This wasn’t the first time she had met Maki’s father, and if all went well tonight, it wouldn’t be the last. You can do this Nico! Sure it wasn’t the man she expected and she was caught a bit unaware, but… Gah! Stop being intimidated. You’re here for a reason! And that reason is Maki-chan!

“Yazawa-san.” Maki’s father stated flatly.

“Hi…” Nico cutoff by clearing her throat. “Good evening.” She corrected, offering a polite bow. “I’m…”

“I’m afraid my daughter will be unable to entertain your visit tonight.” Dr. Nishikino interrupted. “We are expecting an important guest who should be arriving presently.”

I’m an important guest? No, wait, of course I am! I’m Maki’s girlfriend now. So, buck up and tell him that.

“Yes, sir, that guest is me.” For emphasis, Nico indicated the stylish dress she had picked out specifically for the occasion. “I’m Maki’s date.”

“…” Dr. Nishikino raised an eyebrow but remained steadfast in his position.

“Nico-chan!” the voice of an angelic savior came from behind the barrier of the paternal Nishikino. “Papa, let her in.”

Dr. Nishikino stepped aside and…

Holy… Nico had to make a conscious effort to avoid letting her jaw hit the floor. Not that Nico, at any point, had forgotten that Maki was beautiful, but when the redhead went all out, it was all she could do not to stare. Though elegantly modest, the deep purple dress still managed to highlight Maki’s best features.

“You’re early.” Maki said, bringing Nico back to reality.

“I’m sorry, did I take you away from your precious piano?” Nico couldn’t help teasing a bit, figuring the younger girl had wanted to arrive at her parents’ home earlier for a few moments of nostalgia with the instrument she grew up playing.

“Yeah, actually.” Maki admitted as she glanced away sheepishly.

“Well maybe after dinner, you can continue your concert, but with an audience?” Nico pointed herself as if it wasn’t already obvious who she meant.

“I’d like that.”

“You look lovely, by the way. Purple always looks good on you, Maki-chan.”

“Thanks.” Maki replied as pink dusted her cheeks. “You look good too. I like when you leave your hair down. It makes you look more…” She trailed off.

“More?”

“Sorry, I meant…”

“More mature?” Nico completed what she believed to be her girlfriend’s thought.

“Uhm… yeah…”

“I’ll have you know Nico is always mature.” She squared her shoulders and placed her hands on her hips pridefully.

Maki raised an eyebrow in a way that left no question as to her linage.

“Anyway, I haven’t seen that dress before, is it new?”

Maki nodded. “Mama and I just got back a little while ago from picking it out.”

Huh… Mama and I were also just out shopping for my dress. Nico thought to herself. And, wait a minute… “We match.” Or at least they matched in the way their old idol costumes matched in overall theme and enough details to be an obvious set while maintaining enough individuality to be unique as well.

“We do?” Maki glanced down at herself before back at Nico. After half a second, she smiled. “Yeah, we do. What a nice coincidence.”

Nico found herself wondering if the coincidence was perchance planned by a pair of meddling mothers who meant well. She made a mental note to ask her mother about the issue later, if for no other reason than to thank her for the cute gesture.

“So, dinner isn’t for a little while yet” Maki continued “but they might have appetizers ready already so why don’t we head to the dining room and I’ll quick check?”

“Lead the way.” Nico decided not to bring up how she still got lost in the huge house, even after visiting frequently over the last few years.

“You coming, Papa?”

Nico realized she had all but forgotten the paternal Nishikino was still there. Stealing a quick side glance, she found him quietly observing the couple. If she was reading things correctly, his aura had warmed somewhat, though was no less calculating than before; gears were obviously grinding behind his stoic expression.

“Your mother and I will meet you at the table.” Dr. Nishikino stated. “I’ll go find her.”

As Maki took her hand to lead her through the house, Nico noticed her grip was tighter than normal. A lot tighter. Maki was more nervous than she was letting on. Just how worried was she about her father’s approval of their relationship? Nico already knew Maki’s mother was wholly supportive, as was her own, but the only things she really knew about Maki’s father were that he had high expectations for his daughter and was not particularly fond of idols.

“Wait, Maki-chan,” Nico said, stopping in the hallway before they reached their destination “hold up a moment.”

“Eh?” Maki uttered, not seeming to notice the change and almost yanking Nico’s arm out of the socket before being held to a halt. “Nico-chan?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Maki.” Nico fixed her girlfriend with a steady stare. The redhead returned the gaze, though was far more furtive, and when she began to fidget with her hair, Nico reached out and gently touched her hand. “What’s wrong?” She repeated.

Maki released a puff of air. “I’m nervous, alright? I… I just really want Papa to like you.”

“I’m nervous too.” Nico admitted, her thoughts racing through things she could say to calm them both down. “But you know, he didn’t turn me away at the door, so that’s gotta count for something, right?” She paused for a moment. “Well, technically, he did, but that was before he realized why I was here, but he still let me in, so that has to mean he’s willing to give me a chance, right?”

“I just… I know he’ll bring up idols, and…”

“Maki-chan.” Nico took a step in to close some of the distance between them. “Nico didn’t become the No. 1 Idol in the Universe without learning a thing or two about reading her audience.”

“…” Maki’s expression wasn’t one of disbelief but of continued concern.

“Look, I’m not going to lie to your father about my career of choice, but I’m also not going to try to convert him into a fan or convince him that idols are the most amazing thing ever, even if I believe that myself.”

“I know…”

“And I am attending college and aim to get a degree.” Nico continued. “Sure it won’t be a fancy medical degree like yours, but I’m getting it while still being an idol. So that’s also gotta count for something, right?”

“Papa does respect hard work.”

“And Nico is a hard worker.”

“I know.” Maki affirmed, dropping her hand before leaning her head into Nico’s hand. “Nico-chan is one of the hardest workers I know when it comes to working toward her goals. It’s always admired, and envied, about you.”

Nico scoffed. “You say that as if you don’t work hard as well, Maki-chan.”

“Mmm…” Maki hummed in a tone that implied she was paying attention to something other than the conversation at hand.

Hand… Maki closed her eyes and nuzzled her cheek against Nico’s hand, causing her to open her fingers to increase contact. It should be fine here, right? Nico moved in the rest of the way and tilted her chin up. Maki followed her hand as Nico guided her down. Their lips touched and…

“Oh dear…” A startled voice uttered, causing the couple to jolt away from each other. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, Ojou-sama.”

“I-It’s f-fine…” A blushing Maki stumbled through.

Nico recognized the woman one of the newer members of the Nishikino house staff. She was responsible for general assistance wherever needed.

“Welcome, Yazawa-san.” The woman said with a polite bow, but when she righted herself, her expression was thoughtful. “Although, now that you’re dating Ojou-sama, perhaps Yazawa-sama is more appropriate?”

“Just Nico is fine.” Nico assured.

“Right, anyway, I’m on my away to retrieve some bottles of Cloudy Bay at the behest of the master.”

“White?” Maki inquired.

The woman nodded. “We’ve prepared a delightful shrimp pasta for the main course.” She turned to Nico. “Ojou-sama has informed us of your talent in the kitchen, so we hope to meet your standards, Yazawa-sama.”

Guess the new title is going to stick. Nico thought to herself. “I’m sure it will be great.”

“The caprese salads should be ready if you wish to head to the dining room now.”

“Tomatoes, of course.” Nico couldn’t help commenting.

“Yes.” The staff member confirmed. “We have also been informed of one of your preferences, so for dessert, we will be serving traditional crepes with lemon and sugar.”

“Sounds delicious.”

The woman smiled before bowing again to excuse herself and hurrying down the hall.

“Is there anything wrong with your father requesting white wine?” Nico asked, trying to gauge her girlfriend’s reaction.

“I don’t believe so.” Maki shook her head. “White is better paired with seafood, after all.”

“Yes, but…?”

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” Maki shook her head again. “Cloudy Bay is actually one of Papa’s favorites. He’s quite fond of the New Zealand area in general.”

“One of his favorites? That’s gotta be a good sign, right?”

“I hope so.”

Nico took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then released it slowly. “Well, the salad is apparently ready, so we may as well get to it.”

Maki nodded before taking Nico’s hand once more to complete their journey to the dining room. Nico noted, thankfully, that her girlfriend’s grip was far more relaxed this time around.

Upon arrival, the couple was greeted by the Nishikino estate manager who showed them to their seats. Shortly thereafter, Maki’s parents arrived and took their own seats. Next the chef and her assistant from before arrived with the first course. Finally, the first bottle of wine was uncorked and the meal was underway.

“So, Yazawa-san,” Dr. Nishikino stated, drawing Nico’s attention “you’ve known Maki since high school, am I correct?”

“Yes.” Nico affirmed. “It was Maki-chan’s first year and my third.”

“I see. And were you one of the girls who helped convince her to become an idol?”

Well, that didn’t take long for the subject to come up. Nico thought to herself. Straight to the point, I guess, unlike a certain dishonest daughter of his…

“Actually, it was the other way around.” Nico replied.

“Oh?”

“I was in a disillusioned and jaded state back then, after my first attempt at forming a group fell through.” Nico admitted. “And it was Honoka and Maki-chan and the others that pulled me out of my funk and helped me remember why I adored idols so much and wanted so desperately to be one.” She couldn’t help smiling as fond memories flooded her mind. “I really do owe them all a debt of gratitude for that.”

“I see. And you are still an idol now?”

“Part time.” Nico nodded. “I was able to find a small production company that was willing to work around my classes. It fills up my schedule and keeps me busy, but also lets me keep my foot in the door.”

“Because you intend to go full time even once you’ve earned a degree?”

Nico wasn’t particularly fond of the wording of the question and had to resist the urge to call it out; had it been Maki and they were in a more casual setting, she likely would have done so.

“I do.” She said aloud instead. “And once I retire from being an idol, the degree will help me find other employment.”

“And what type of employment might that be?”

“Something still in the industry, if possible.” Out of the corner of her eye, Nico caught a suppressed expression of surprise on her girlfriend’s face. Understandable, as it was news to Maki as well. “Choreographer, trainer, costume design, heck maybe even a producer, someday. Basically, I’d like to pay forward my debt by helping the next generations of idols.”

“And one is able to earn a living in such an industry?”

“Others have before me; I believe I can as well.” Nico gave another glance to the redhead beside her. “I may not have the skills to become a life-saving doctor like Maki, but I can still do my part to make the world a better place; one smile at a time.”

“Medicine, law, business, engineering,” Maki’s mother suddenly spoke up “these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.” She smiled at Nico. “I believe Mr. Keating’s words hold true for many things. Music, painting, writing, really the arts as a whole are what make life worth living.”

“Mr. Keating?” Nico inquired.

“The lead character of Dead Poets Society.” Maki responded. “We should watch it sometime, Nico-chan; it’s really good.”

“And it is because the arts are so important” Dr. Nishikino continued “that my husband and I strive to support them as much as possible. In fact, we will be attending a performance of The Barber of Seville late next month and have not even started sending out invites to fill our box. You two are more than welcome to join us.”

At this, Maki’s eyes lit up. “Next month? When?”

“I’ll message you the dates later, but it’s a weekend so you should be able to work it into your study schedule.”

Maki turned to Nico with an expression rivaling the one she wore when December started. “Do you want to come with me?”

Nico smiled at her girlfriend’s excitement and word choice. “I’d love to. But where have I heard that title before?”

“From my playlist.”

“Tchaikovsky?” Nico made sure to pronounce the name as correctly as she could.

Maki shook her head. “Rossini.”

Nico racked her memory. “Cinderella?”

“Yes, different opera, same composer.”

“One smile at a time, you said?” Maki’s father suddenly stated.

“Oh, yeah.” Nico recalled her words from a few minutes ago.

The barest hint of something tugged at the edges of Dr. Nishikino’s lips. “Well, if nothing else, you have succeeded in making my daughter smile.” He nodded toward Maki, directing Nico’s attention back to the mentioned reaction. “And as my wife and I can attest, that is not always the easiest of tasks.”

“… P-Papa…” Maki offered a mild protest as pink dusted her cheeks and her mother chuckled.

Nico couldn’t help a smile of her own as she turned back to Maki’s father. “I think I’m up to the challenge.”

“Indeed.”

Wait… wasn’t this a bit hypocritical? Nico suddenly thought. Why claim to be a patron of the arts while simultaneously disallowing one’s daughter from being an artist?

On occasion, Maki had bemoaned being railroaded into the medical career while her dreams of being a professional pianist were dismissed as a passing fancy. Yet she hadn’t acknowledged the contradiction. Was she even aware of it? With the level of reverence Maki held for her parents, Nico could easily imagine her remaining oblivious; well, that and Maki’s overall naivete in many aspects of life.

Should she tell her? Was it even Nico’s place say such a thing? Nico was no stranger to speaking her mind when it came to her own interests, or those of her siblings. And she was dating Maki now, which meant defending her girlfriend’s best interests also shouldn’t surprise anyone. Or at least what she believed to be Maki’s best interests, as her parents obviously felt differently.

“On a related topic, Yazawa-san, Maki has told us much about your shared love of music.” Dr. Nishikino continued.

Nico derailed her own train of thought and refocused her attention on the conversation at hand. “It is one of our favorite subjects to discuss… or argue over.”

“And you often listen together while studying.”

“I believe music helps keep us in a good mood, which then helps us study.” Nico explained.

“I think we can all attest to the positive effects of music.” The Nishikino matriarch said.

“Indeed.” Her husband agreed.

“And Maki-chan has helped expand my appreciation of other genres of music.” Nico turned to her girlfriend. “And I’d like to think I’ve expanded hers as well.”

Maki nodded an affirmation with a smile.

“Maki also has told us that she often helps you study.”

“She does.” Nico confirmed. “Maki is incredibly smart. Even if she doesn’t know the answer to a problem, she is often able to logic things through and help guide me in the right direction. Honestly, if I didn’t already know she was going to be a doctor, I’d’ve suggested she become a teacher.”

“Now that would be an interesting career choice.” Maki’s mother said thoughtfully.

“Hrm…” Her father seemed less than convinced. “So, do you help her study in return?”

“Well…” Nico started.

“Nico-chan helps in other ways, Papa.” Maki offered. “Even if she isn’t able to help me with a given topic, she helps ensure I take regular breaks so I can come back with better focus. She makes sure I’m hydrated and helps track my nutrition and is quite insistent on keeping a decent sleep schedule. Honestly, she’s better at taking care of me than I am.” Her eyes widened as her admission registered in her mind.

“That’s right,” Her mother continued with the thoughtfulness from earlier, though Nico was sure she detected some teasing undertones “wasn’t it Nico that saved Maki from herself back on her birthday?”

“Mama…” Maki was losing a battle in trying to keep down another blush.

“Maki is very diligent in her studies.” Nico stated. “And I’m happy to help where I can.”

“Hmm… sounds like another couple we know, right Dear?” Dr. Nishikino sent a sly smile toward her husband, the teasing more obvious now.

“… Perhaps.” Maki’s father conceded.

Was it Nico’s imagination or did she just catch another glimpse into the source of some of Maki’s behavior? The Nishikino patriarch wasn’t the easiest to read behind his stoic mask, but his daughter wasn’t always straightforward with her emotions either and Nico had figured her out fairly well by this point.

As far as Nico was concerned, the rest of dinner went quite smoothly. Once Maki’s father got past his initial questions, he remained mostly quite. It ended up being Nico and Maki’s mother carrying the bulk of the conversations, which honestly didn’t really surprise Nico all that much. Maki’s mother inquired about Nico’s family, though Nico suspected she already knew most of the things anyway and it was more for Maki’s father’s sake. Still, Nico wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to brag about her amazing siblings and about how proud of them she was in taking care of the household and themselves in her absence.

After dinner, Maki’s parents excused themselves to finish up the day’s emails and paperwork. Nico couldn’t help but wonder if that would be something Maki would end up doing once she became more involved with the hospital administrative duties.

As for Nico herself, she joined Maki in the Nishikino music room for the previously promised private concert. There, she had happily settled into the best seat in the house, next her girlfriend on the bench. All in all, it was a wonderful conclusion to what she believed to be a wonderful night. However, as confident as she was, she still wanted to be sure, so she made a mental note to ask the one she believed would know best, or at least better than herself.

“So, how did I do?” Nico asked, once she was sure they were well beyond earshot of anyone even remotely associated with the Nishikino residence.

“You were perfect, Nico-chan.” Maki responded with a smile that sent a warm feeling through Nico’s chest. “I think Papa likes you and is fine with us dating, and we already know how Mama feels.”

Thank the gods… Nico thought with relief. And with that load off her mind, “Of course I was perfect,” she decided to get in some teasing of her own, after spending the evening watching Dr. Nishikino do so “Nico is always perfect.” She grinned and held up her signature gesture.

“Id…” Maki’s typical retort was interrupted by a yawn.

Nico laughed before continuing the tradition. “You love it.”

“… Maybe…” Maki managed to get out as her energy seemed to be leaving her rapidly.

Nico leaned her shoulder into her girlfriend. “Steady there, Maki-chan, you going to be alright getting back to your dormroom?”

“Eh? But, I thought…”

“You thought…?”

“I thought I was going to your place?”

“Well you can, obviously you’re always welcome, but…” Nico motioned to Maki’s outfit, taking the moment to enjoy the view as well “I figured since you don’t have a change of clothes, you wouldn’t want to put this back on in the morning.”

“It’s fine…” Maki stifled another yawn. “I just want to go home…” She blinked and shook her head. “I mean your home… Yours… yours and Nozomi’s, I mean… ueeehhh…”

Nico chuckled. “It’s your home too, Maki-chan.” By the gods did she want to kiss the redhead whose cheeks were now matching her hair, but even this late at night, there was a risk of being seen. Later. She promised herself. “Nozomi and my names may be on the lease,” she said instead “but that doesn’t make it any less home to you or Eli.”

“T-thank you…”

“You don’t have to thank me for that; that much is normal for couples, right? But you know, Eli does leave a lot of stuff in Nozomi’s room…” Nico thought aloud “perhaps I should clear out a drawer and make some room in the closet for you.”

“I’d like that.” Maki smiled. “I’ll be sure to bring some stuff over soon.”

“Good. For tonight, you can borrow your usual sleep shirt and we’ll figure out something else in the morning. I think the outfit I lent you the other day is clean, but if not, maybe Nozomi has something that will fit you.”

Maki nodded.

“Then it’s settled.” Nico took Maki’s hand as they boarded the train together. “Let’s go home.”

Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post

#NicoMaki #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #How to Handle a Nico #Love Live #fanfic

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cecilspeaks · 5 years

Text

160 - The Weather

No man is an island. Some men are fjords. Most men are oxbows. All men are ravines. Welcome to Night Vale.

The news coming up. But first, let’s go to the weather.

[nature noises, birds cawing]

There’s a cold front moving through Night Vale. Temperature at City Hall is currently 63 degrees and sunny with wind gusts later this afternoon of up to 40 miles per hour. These winds are expected to bring cold air as low as 20 degrees this evening, and possibly dropping to below zero overnight. It’s unknown what’s causing this weather, is a statement I make every day, looking out into the sky. Is it God? P-perhaps it is the government. Perhaps Earth itself is, is it out of boredom that the weather exists? Maybe it is out of care. That would suggest the existence of a God who wishes us well, but it does not explain the fierce destructiveness of a blizzard, or a heat wave, or a tornado, or a tsunami. Is a tsunami weather? That is a question best left to oceanographers, meteorologists, or a Tarot deck. But why would God make a thing, then mar it? What mood change is this? what care can this god have for humanity? Ahhhh. And maybe that’s the point. Ah, that does make me feel better, to think that it all doesn’t matter. It really takes a lot of pressure off, doesn’t it?

Let’s have a look at agriculture. John Peters – you know, the farmer – says his orange crop this year is massive. He says the quantity of product has not deviated, only the quality. “Them oranges are huuuu-uuge!” John said, holding an orange the size of the 2002 iMac computer. “I can’t fit this thing into one of them orange crushers (what that) I make the juice with!” he said, struggling to keep his back straight under the weight of the abnormally sized citrus fruit. But John says he’s excited for his orange grove, which has been doing great ever since he genetically modified his crop to no longer cause teleportation across existential dimensions when consumed. Despite his excitement for orange sales, John says he’s worried about next year’s crop of invisible corn. He said he looked up summer 2020 in his farmer’s almanac and all it said was, “Wellll crap. Good luck.” John plans to diversify his farm investment by raising cattle for slaughter. He’s vegan these days, so he does not want to sell the cattle for meat or dairy. He’ll just raise the cattle until they’re old enough to kill. Best of luck in all your endeavours, John! Hope you finally win that coveted Best Orange at the Citrus Festival this year.

Many of our listeners have written concerned emails about the temperature possibly falling below zero. Bob Sturm of Old Town said: “Zero is the lowest number, Cecil. I’m a big stats guy and I can tell you that you cannot have less than nothing, that’s impossible.” Well listen Bob, I’m a journalist, not a numerologist, so I don’t know what to tell you. Apparently there are many unknown numbers below zero, and as they are discovered, rest assured I will be here to report on them. (Reina Guerrero) from the west side asked if there’s anything we can do to better prepare ourselves for this weather. Well (Reina), here are some tips I just looked up online. One: bundle up. Yeah, your heater can only do so much. Two: bring your pets indoors, and if you have an agent from a Vague, yet Menacing Government Agency outside your home assigned to record your every movement, invite them in as well. You don’t want them freezing alone out there in their black sedan. Three: light a fire, if you have a fireplace. If you do not have a fireplace of pellet stove, try using a refrigerator or sink. Four: if you should lose power at any time, do not panic. Just curl into a ball breathing heavily and repeating: “Oh God no, oh God no, oh God no, oh God no”, through loudly chattering teeth.

Now, we’re not expecting precipitation tonight, but should it snow, I recommend making a snow angel. Yeaaah, that’s always fun. All you have to do is lie flat on your back, arms and legs outstretched, until you are called into celestial service to whatever greater authority rules these beautiful creatures. Thank you for your questions and comments. I’ll do my best to keep our town up to date on the latest weather.

But first, this Saturday is Night Vale’s annual Holiday Fireworks Extravaganza at the Night Vale Harbor and Waterfront Recreation Area. There will be live music by local bands, including a new band by Dark Owl Records owner Michelle Nguyen and her girlfriend Maureen. [quietly] Ah, my old intern Maureen. Their band is called The Funtastics, and it’s a folk country slash (trans) tribute band performing the acappella covers of Philip Glass scores. According to Michelle’s press release: “Please do not watch our show. I’m very angry you even know about it. I hate that our secret concert at the annual Holiday Fireworks Extravaganza, Night Vale’s most anticipated and attended annual event, was leaked to the press.” Following the concert, there will be a collective prayer to the [gong, echoing] Great! Golden! Hand! And then the fireworks will begin. Event organizers say they have a special fireworks display in store for attendees this year. Traditionally, the biggest explosions are reserved for the end of a half-hour long buildup of lesser explosions, but focus groups have indicated that people are tired of having to wait for the best part. So instead of normal boring fireworks, they will be blowing up old cars using the 18,000 tons of solid fuel they found at an abandoned missile silo on the edge of the Sand Wastes. The Holiday Fireworks Extravaganza would like to thank the Sheriff’s Secret Police for the vehicle donations, which are mostly cars impounded this past week for overdue state inspection stickers. Can’t wait to see everybody this Saturday at the Fireworks Extravaganzaa!

Brrrr! It’s getting pretty bad out there, Night Vale! The temperature has fallen dramatically to 20 degrees outside the radio station. I can hear the creak and groan of our antenna straining under the 40 mile per hour winds. I’ve seen three different minor accidents outside my window as drivers lost control of their vehicles. I’ve got my little space heater under my desk. Huh, but I can still barely feel my feet. [chuckles] I regret choosing today of all days to bike to work. [sighs]

Oh, I’m getting word that power is out in the Barista District, and dozens of leather apron wearing people have been forced to make torches out of Irish cream soaked biscotti stuffed into (-) [0:09:16]. And the only thing available coffee wise right now is cold brew. Gross.

Employees at the Night Vale power plant are working to restore power to that area of town, but they have run into some difficulties. The blustery winds and extreme cold have kept some of the workers from being able to drive to the plant, and the ones already on site re perplexed by how any of this works. “We are not sure if this is a nuclear plant or electric or coal or what,” said Mike Reiner, director of operations for the power plant. “We tried turning the whole thing off and back on like a computer, but the switch didn’t really do anything. Nobody labels anything around here, for crying out loud.” Reiner then began to cry out loud, as dozens of workers rushed to put their arms around the sobbing man. “We’re sorry, boss, we’re sorry,” the frantic workers all repeated. In the chaos of the consoling, a single worker was heard whimpering: “Oh god! Someone do something before he changes back into…” But that voice was quickly and fearfully shushed by the others.

More on the power outage and weather conditions soon.

But let’s get to some good news. Our population is booming, Night Vale! We have more people than houses. But thankfully, the good folks of the private land development industry are helping out. Ah, the altruistic hand of capitalism! A new housing development named The Final Destination is going up in Radon Canyon. New homes start in the 130’s for 2 bedroom semi-detached townhouses, all the way to expensive 10 bedroom estates with beautiful views of the blue..ish mist that settles every morning along the canyon bottom. Representatives from the EPA have warned against building residences in an area known for producing toxic gases, but the developers said they will equip each home with a large exhaust fan and provide a lifetime supply of rebreathers for the first 15 home buyers. The EPA has tried repeatedly to stop this development, stating that excavation of the canyon floor could lead to the release of more gases, which would catastrophically imperil not only the lives of those in the canyon, but the Earth’s atmosphere for hundreds, if not thousands of miles in all directions. “Who knows what’s beneath the shale in that canyon?” one EPA representative said. The representative was wearing a sports coat too large for his frame and comically out of date glasses. He continued: “We have been trying to declare Radon Canyon a Superfund site for years, but Night Vale doesn’t show up in any government database and so it cannot receive its projection. Didn’t you ever see the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark, how everybody’s faces melted off, it’d be just like that.” When it was pointed out that the end of that movie was good because it was Nazi faces melting, the EPA representative said: “Yeah yeah you’re right, that was pretty cool but still, get what I’m trying to say right?” Nobody did, because it was a weird thing to bring up a 40-year-old movie about Nazis and museum artefacts. So, now we will have new housing in the heart of Night Vale’s most beautiful scenic attraction, beginning spring next year.

I’m getting word that the power is out now in Old Town Night Vale and at the library, and on the south end. The temperature has dropped to 5 degrees and I think it will continue to plummet throughout the night. People are doing everything they can to prepare. Before the stores close, I recommend driving out and picking up some water as well as canned goods, even some fresh produce and raw meat while it’s still there. I mean, people worked hard to grow that food ten states away and then drive it across the country right here to you and you haven’t bought it yet? Even if your refrigerator’s not working because of the power outages, it’ll be cold enough in your house to keep it all fresh. So get out there and spend your money on food! We have so much of it. Let’s use it, Night Vale.

But above all: stay warm! If you’re alone, visit a neighbor. Body heat and company can help a lot in weather like this. And if you have room in your home, welcome your neighbors in! There’s no reason to be alone at a time likes. Plus it’s the holiday season, why not keep each other warm with stories, with camaraderie, with good fellowship? [shivering noises] Yet, if you can’t be with others tonight, [groans] then I will do my best to keep you company through this brutal cold.

Ah, I’d like to tell you a story of my childhood. It’s a very personal story, one I‘ve never shared on the air before. [shivering noises] I’m a bit nervous to tell it to you all, but if ever there was time for a story to bring us closer together, now is that time. I will tell you that story in a moment, but first, let’s have a look at sports.

[“Suspension of Disbelief” by Victory Soul Orchestra https://victorysoulorchestra.com]

[beeps] Computer: The National Weather Service has issued a severe weather warning for the greater Night Vale area. Temperatures as low as -10 degrees are predicted with high winds gusting up to 16 miles per hour. Wind chills overnight may reach -30 degrees. Residents of Night Vale and the surrounding towns of Pine Cliff, Red Mesa, and Desert Bluffs too should seek shelter. They should band together around fireplaces with heaters at their highest settings. In cases where heat sources are not accessible or operating, residents should huddle in the vacant lot out back of the Ralphs. Come huddle with us. Come huddle with us. There is a barrel here. It is filled with trash and we have lit it on fire. It is so warm, the trash. The trash is mostly paper and cardboard, but it is also something greater than that. It is a symbol of progress of the great tower of industry (and need) [0:19:51], a ruined towel like Babyl, which just toppled down of the weight of its hubris, and in the language of flame it tells us things. It tells us so much, not through words but through visions.

Here is a list of visions the fire has revealed to us. One: two spools of coaxial cable. Two: a single white bulb atop of an anthill. Three: an empty keg around squat cylinder of frosting, beneath which lies nothing, not even air. A void (cake). “Happy birthday,” echoes the choir from a good distance away. Four: a great black bird whose white wings brush along the castle turret. Five: a snake spiraled and asleep inside a leather boot. Six: a wheelless tractor in a vast wasteland of cracked earth. Seven: your brother. Not a brother you know, but a brother you once had. He looks like you and he repeats your name, but backwards. Eight: smoke clouds shaped like vice grips. These are the visions of the flames in the barrel in the vacant lot out back of the Ralphs.

Beneath our gaze and across our minds, beyond our consciousness, these are the remains of the great tower of humanity. Come huddle with us. You without heat. You without home. You without hope. Come huddle with us.

This severe weather warning is in effect (through) 8 PM tomorrow, when the warm front is expected to move through the region bringing sunny skies and high temperatures in the mid-80’s, and everyone will return to their normal lives, satisfied that they have (-) [0:21:51] death once again, confusing accidental survival with competence and immortality. What doesn’t kill you only makes you more complacent. The National Weather Service knows this is but a night together with you, not a whole life. For what we have in this moment is (truer) than rain, but deeper than thunder. Parting is such sweet sorrow. Blah, blah, blah. I’m not saying the morning will not hurt. I’m only saying the joy of memory is stronger than the prick of any (plate) upon my heart. This has been a severe weather warning from the national weather service. Stay tuned to the station for further updates.

I love you. I have always loved you. And now back to your regularly scheduled programming.

[beeps]

Cecil: And that is what I saw in the mirror that day. And why I do not like to go near mirrors. Ever.

[sighs] I never told that story to anyone before. I hope it has kept you company throughout this treacherous night. I hope it has kept you warm. Just knowing you’re listening somewhere out there in the cold dark has kept me warm. Stay safe, wherever you are. Good night, Night Vale… [shivers] Good night.

Today’s proverb: Who called it Snowpiercer instead of Chris Evans’s Polar Express?

#welcome to night vale #wtnv transcripts #episode 160 #the weather #i had lots of trouble with this transcript #so i would appreciate it if you could help me out #my boyfriend helped me already but #even he wasn't sure of some of it

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erideights · 5 years

Text

Through history to get to you. (2)

Summary: Reader's an angel casted out of heaven because, well, she's weird. She's in love with Crowley and, of course Crowley is in love with her. Our poor Aziraphale is just fucking tired of seeing how neither of them realize the feelings of the other.

Part one: here

Pairing: Crowley x Angel!Reader (Good Omens)

Word Count: 3219

Warnings: None, I think.

A/N: Okay so I actually have to wipe out some details because tumblr said it was too long to post it. Bitch, wtf? I've seen fics with 8K but yeah, you do you. For the record, I could (and I would love to) write a 3rd part if you guys like this so, let's go!

What for any human being were seconds, for him seemed like hours.

The hours days, and the days weeks.

How could such a vain human feeling as that one destroy his world piece by piece and rebuild it upside down?

His heart was beating so hard inside his chest he truthfully believed it would come out of it at any moment.

But yeah, often, —from time to time—, Crowley also remembered past times, crucial moments in his life.

Crucial moments with her.

How each interaction by her side throughout history had achieved the impossible: to fall in love with her a bit more, a bit deeper, every-single-fucking-day.

41 AD, we find ourselves again in the large and great Rome, its taverns still full and its people enjoying the wealth of their lives, but this time, the perspective of the universe will turn 180 degrees and will present us his point of view.

Just nipped in for a quick temptation, he thought, a simple job, going in and out, enjoying the best concoction he could buy and leaving as he had come; without friends, without insubstantial talks of any kind with drinking companions or beautiful ladies to enjoy a night of pleasure.

He would leave the same way he came there; alone.

Having clear his priorities and how events would develop, he should add that the presence of Aziraphale didn’t surprise him. Not at all. They had the strange tendency to meet once every certain number of years and exchange a couple words, like two old friends who meet in the darkness of the night to become a distant memory when the sun rises.

However, he saw her.

A young woman with long hair, smooth and immaculate skin and so bright, Crowley could confuse her with one of the many stars that he, before falling into darkness and the shelter from Hell, helped to build.

Not only did she stand out for her colorful choice of attire, which he no doubt saw reflected in him, but for her presence; It gave the impression that she could change the world if she wanted with a single smile of hers.

But Crowley didn’t see her smile, not yet.

She nipped her bottom lip nervously, eyes fixed on Aziraphale’s, who after inviting the demon to eat, had excused himself for a second without giving reasons. Without saying why.

She was the why, or so Crowley guessed, taking a long sip of the drink in his hand to hide a small, amused grin behind his pottery; what could it be that would hysterise so much the nerves of that beautiful woman?

He was dying to know it, and long before he had even known her name, he was already thinking of her with more interest than, perhaps, he should.

1538, oh, the beautiful Venice during the heyday of the Renaissance in Italy, what a joyful time for artists, aristocrats, noble European families with their ornate clothes and eccentric homes.

Its intricate canals were full of life, of gondolas with lanterns as companions and lovers enjoying the calm offered by the night while the musician, unknown to his people but key to the romantic atmosphere that reigned there, dedicated his poems and songs to the most beautiful of the ladies, the one who lived in his memory, who stole his heart and prevented his rest when trying to sleep.

Oh, Venice, cruel your final sentence, the destruction that awaited you behind the darkest corner, because a demon without bad intentions but with a job to fulfill walked for your cobbled streets and through your low buildings, the smell of salt flooding his nostrils and filling his lungs until exhale a deep sigh that would be lost in the night air.

He couldn’t help but think that scenario would have been to the liking of his friend, the book-loving angel, because if he wasn’t misinformed, the magnificent city housed the first public library in all Europe. He could already hear Aziraphale eager about all the books he could read during his stay, or see reflected in his eyes the affection that the celestial being professed towards all the knowledge of the universe stored in those leather covers full of sheets of paper.

He’d thought of her, too. Crowley always thought about Y/N when visiting a new city, how he would enjoy walking hand in hand with her when discovering the hidden beauty in its streets or hearing her melodious voice, probably excited to discover a new artist to idolize; she loved art.

The problem was that each and every time he was thinking about her in that way, he felt disgusted with himself. He hated it. He hated that warm feeling that spread from his heart to every one of his nerves when he thought of her, when he met her soft gaze or, when by chance, he felt the brush of her fingers on his skin.

He hated love.

He was a demon, for fuck’s sake! He shouldn’t be able to feel love. He shouldn’t want to feel love. He shouldn’t even think about love.

But there he was, making a fool of himself whenever he could be with her.

He hated it, but at the same time, He needed it. He needed her.

Melody of soft, sweet violins then slid through the air and between the voices of those who walked down the avenue to reach the demon, who with slow but sure steps was heading towards his destination, ready to start the mission assigned to him and be able to move quickly to another place. Or enjoy the experiences Venice could give him, whatever first seemed to crave his exquisite persona.

A huge mansion stood out among all the houses at the end of the road, its eccentric facade screaming loudly that it belonged to Italian nobility that little wanted to leave to the imagination of others; showing off was a luxury that not everyone could enjoy. And so, its tall and ornate doors, wide open so that everyone could look inside, let the light escape from it to illuminate the street, successfully attracting the gazes of children, families, onlookers and other spectators who, by chance, passed by.

Two vast guards, whose clothes gave the impression of imitating the fates of The Death, made sure that no one who didn’t have an invitation could go inside.

Crowley, for example, was one of those people not invited to the party, but bold of anyone to assume something like that could stop him, because with a small, subtle and smug smirk adorning his lips and a snap of his fingers, both guards nodded at once and stepped aside, imitating for him a small corridor to get to the inside.

But that smile? Vanished from the moment he put a single foot in that place, feeling his whole body assaulted by a violent shiver that ran from head to toe and held his breath for more seconds than he would have wished.

He knew by heart that feeling, and from the moment he felt it ruffling his skin, he knew he was fucked up and that, most likely, he wouldn’t accomplish his mission. It couldn’t be that easy, right?

A deep and heavy sigh, followed by a shake of his head, accompanied him to the true interior of the luxurious home, crowded to the unthinkable by hundreds of people of high social status in the Italian community, their faces hidden behind masks of thousands of colors and different forms, their bodies, at the same time, wrapped in clothes, jackets and dresses of an exquisite quality that of course, matched the theme of each of their costumes.

A venetian masquerade wasn’t exactly the best scenario to search and identify someone from among all of its guests, but soon his slitted eyes scanned the huge room with hysteria running his veins and an iron pressure tightening his mischievous heart.

The positive side of all that? His mask —black, with golden and red details; what an unexpected surprise— fitted perfectly to a large part of his face, making unnecessary the use of sunglasses so that his peculiar eyes didn’t draw attention to him and, therefore, helping being able to see perfectly normal in the dim light of the hundreds of candles that illuminated the ballroom.

Couples dancing to the tune of the tender melody were gathered in the center of this one, the rest occupied by groups that chatted lively, young men waiting their turn to dance with the lady of their dreams and some more… unfortunate, who only dreamed from their corner with a glass of champagne between his fingers and his sad expression hidden behind a venetian mask.

Some collide against him, too absorbed in his search to bother to dodge people or find a safer route to move, but would he apologize? Never. Not only because Crowley hadn’t apologized in his entire life, but because he didn’t see it necessary to do so. After all, the reason for his hasty movements was far more important than anything that those idiots could ever imagine.

However, when he saw her, everything stopped.

Even his heart.

She had her back to him, her beautiful silky hair pulled back in a high bun that left a pair of curls falling down her shoulders, one on each side, towards her chest.

She wore an apple-green dress with white and gold details here and there, the tight corset making it inevitable to notice right away her beautiful body and the huge skirt attached to it, giving her the look of a gorgeous european princess.

No, from his perspective he couldn’t get to see her whole face, —he barely reached part of it thanks to a couple movements of her head—, but he knew it was Y/N.

There was no doubt.

She laughed, chatting with those she supposed were acquaintances of the angel and the cause and reason why she was there, that among all the times, among the hundreds of masked dances that Venice was witnessing, she was there, the same day, in the same place as him.

Oh, destiny was some capricious bitch and he ended up being a mere puppet that would dance to its tune.

Clearing his throat by positioning himself just behind her —so close that he would only have to put his hands on her waist and turn her around to finally kiss her— he successfully attracted the attention of those around them, who gave away strange glances at the demon; some confused, others suspicious, others distrustful.

The one Y/N gave him when she turned around and their eyes met for the first time in some years was the only one that really mattered.

Her hypnotic eyes, behind that mask that so gracefully embraced her sweet features from the middle of her forehead to below her eyes, opened wide recognizing the gold ones of Crowley, who without thinking twice, took the left hand of the girl, lifted it to his lips and left a kiss right on its back.

"May I have this dance?" He asked, more like a mockery for those presumptuous around him than as a formal request to the angel in front of him. It was easy to appreciate how his eyebrows were raised upwards in the slightest in a subtle grin and how that small and mischievous smirk that she loved so much was partially hidden only by the back of her hand that he still held against himself, and before she could prevent it, that same expression was drawn in her own features, hopelessly excited to find him in that kind of situation.

‘’I’ll be damned.’’ she answered in an incredulous, playful whisper, the demon the only being that could get to clearly hear her and, therefore, tearing a low and attractive chuckle from his throat as a result. She thought she was gonna melt in that very moment.

Saying that, Crowley rose from his bow and, pulling her hand, he led the girl —who didn’t have time to say goodbye to her company— to the center of the room, avoiding the rest of the guests as much as possible and when they arrived, the demon separated the angel from him, throwing her gently in the opposite direction to attract her to his body just a second later in graceful and elegant move thanks to the grip he had in her hand, making the chest of Y/N softly collide with his own.

In the blink of an eye, Crowley's free hand was at her waist and hers, on his shoulder, an amused expression adorning her face. ''I thought demons didn’t know how to dance.'' She teased, raising an eyebrow, her eyes fixed on his at absolutely every moment.

''I thought angels didn’t dance at all.'' he remarked in a flash, as arrogant as always, rocking the girl to the sound of the music that echoed between the walls of the room.

‘’Touché.’’

Not that much passed in silence between them until Crowley raised his voice again, trying to relieve the tension that was gradually forming inside his chest because, of course, she didn’t feel the same. Or so he thought.

Also, not looking at her lips having her so close to him and without his sunglasses that could conceal such act became more difficult each passing second. ''Are you going to tell me what are you doing here or will I have to take a guess myself?'’

''The question is not what I’m doing here,'' she said firmly, twirling in the demon's arms as the rest of the ladies swiveled in the ones of their partners as if that were a choreography with hundreds of dancers in perfect synchrony, only that in her case, when she resumed her position, her voice became just an audible whisper that went straight to the ear of the ginger, the soft velvet of his ornate jacket caressing the palm of her hand when gently pulling it towards herself to bring him closer to her. ''but what are you up to, Crowley. Nothing good, I assume.''

The hit of her breath against his skin and the seductive tone the woman used made every hair on his body stand up and his breath trapped at the beginning of his throat, unable to fight her words with some intelligent and sarcastic comment for his part.

He could only watch, in silence, as Y/N parted a couple inches to be face to face with him again, a smirk on her lips as she knew, she’d won that round.

‘’Touché.’’

Nowadays. Again. Almost 500 years later.

''Crowley?'' Her voice echoed through the walls of the luxurious flat while the front door —its white glass showing a dim light inside— opened wide, braking just before reaching the back wall. ''I just saw your message, is everything okay?''

Not too many minutes ago she’d received a "strange" message from the demon asking her to go to his apartment as soon as possible, making the angel inevitably frown, worried, and teleport there with a simple snap of her fingers.

The strange thing definitely wasn’t him sending her a message, but everything else. It was 2 o'clock in the morning on a Tuesday night, there hadn’t been any serious event that required her attention —or so she thought— and in general, it was Crowley who always, no matter what time, was looking for an excuse to drive his beloved car through the streets of London to the destination he wanted.

That it was she who should move this time was... odd.

The only source of light in the room was a small lamp placed on the huge red marble table that occupied the center of it, which barely came to illuminate enough to know if she was or not alone there.

She didn’t have to raise her voice again, anyway, because the ornate throne next to the table slid back carefully and the demon could be perfectly made out from the rest of the shadows in the room.

‘’I’m sorry.’’ It was the first and only thing Crowley said once he turned around and fixed his gaze —which seemed to shine with its own light— on Y/N, who astonished, raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips in a thin and incredulous expression; it was the first time in her life that she’d listened him ask for forgiveness, no matter what or whom.

''What are you sorry for, hm? What have you done now?'' She asked in her usual playful tone, waiting for the most elaborate and mind blowing response ever from the redhead.

But it never came.

He moved quickly to erase the distance between them and without stopping to reconsider his next step, —although she could swear, she saw a glimpse of doubt and fear in his eyes—, Crowley took her face with both hands to caress her cheeks and kissed her right away, giving her all he got.

No, it wasn’t tender, romantic or typical for the first kiss you give to your first love. It was hungry, animal, passionate, needy and desperate, as if he’d waited his entire life to be able to taste her lips and lose himself in them while his heart hammered his chest and deafened his ears.

In fact, that was exactly what happened.

And he didn’t expect Y/N to kiss him back in that very moment, because an act as impulsive as that should have shocked her to say the least, but she did, and before they could really think about what was happening, the demon had his angel cornered against the wall, her hands lost in his reddish hair and his, squeezing and pressing her hips against his own body with such force he suspected, could leave bruises on her skin.

But she didn’t mind.

His kisses were all she ever dreamed of and more, a slight taste of whiskey and coffee lingering in his mouth while doing everything possible to steal her breath and make her addicted to him; she was intoxicated, she couldn’t think of anything else.

She didn’t have time to be shocked or to ask herself the most obvious question: why now.

And that's why, when he parted just enough to lean his forehead against hers and breathe on her lips, a heavy sigh left her without any oxygen in her lungs, displaying her annoyance at the lack of his wet touch.

''Am I going too fast for you?'' He asked, the same fear she saw in his eyes minutes ago now in his voice; it was, again, the first time in his life that he looked so worried about messing something up.

His slitted, golden, demon eyes scanned her face for any sign that would make him stop, so close that the image faded irretrievably, and when in his place he found the same craving he felt in his veins, he dampened his parted lips, knowing there was no going back.

‘’If anything, you’re being too slow.’’

#good omens #crowley #crowley x reader #good omens one shots #crowley x fem!reader #good omens prime #crowley x angel!reader #good omens crowley #ineffable

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