#Anyone who has ever wanted to read Crowley with grey hair this is for you

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

eternal youth is overrated - a good omens one shot

Summary: Heartbreak and loneliness have left Crowley marked in more ways than one. Aziraphale helps him see that this isn’t such a bad thing.

NOTES: I’ve always had a bit of a bittersweet fascination with aging (David Tennant’s crows’ feet make me emo in ways I cannot hope to describe), with the sadness but also the beauty inherent in it, and I thought it could be interesting to bring this idea to good omens. The concept was “what if Crowley started getting grey hairs after Aziraphale leaves, if, over time, his physical appearance subconsciously changed to reflect his mental state?” The fact that I wrote this as a 19 year old honestly just shows how much I need therapy, but it was honestly incredibly cathartic to work through some of my own mental struggles via Crowley in this fic. Aziraphale’s pov was equally fun to write, as I basically just got to write how he feels about Crowley based on what I feel about David (lol). Hope you enjoy my first Good Omens one shot- I may or may not make an A03 account if it gets enough engagement, I’m honestly pretty proud of it! Special thanks to my wonderful partner in crime @flyingfluse for providing some much needed inspiration!

PS: The title is actually from a song I wrote called Grow Old With Me (hopefully will be available someday fingers crossed)

——————

It had been a year.

Nothing to a demon, really. In the vast expanse of six thousand years on earth, not to mention the innumerable eons Before The Beginning, a year didn’t count for much more than a blip. But heartbreak is a funny thing. Time, for Crowley, now seemed to pass in a much more human fashion- the year that had elapsed since Aziraphale’s return to heaven, a year devoid of anything resembling laughter or joy, a year spent largely either sleeping or stewing in self-loathing, had seemed longer than the past hundred combined.

Crowley’s gaze blearily wandered to the rearview mirror of the Bentley. His reflection, as everything seemed to these days, mocked him.

Those sickly yellow eyes, reminding him of all he was and all that he could never be, like the sulfur he had been cast into all those millenia ago. On his worst days, it was like he could still feel it, eating away at him from the inside out, decaying his soul and with it, his body. It carved shadows into his cheeks and circles beneath his eyes, deep and dark as caverns. It rose in his throat until he choked on it, leaving his voice hoarse and acrid. It spewed out of him onto everything and everyone, every time he opened his mouth, an acidic bile of rage and bitterness.

He had been destroyed and rebuilt over and over through the millenia, and the product was a rough, hardened callus of a being, like a patch of skin that had been picked at too many times. He felt grotesque, untouchable, damaged- there would be no point to pursuing any new connections when no one would understand, nor why would they want to, when he seemed to turn everything he held to ashes? 

A ray of sunlight leaked through the window of the Bentley, catching upon Crowley’s hair, revealing it to be littered with strands of grey, collecting dust-like in his copper mane. How the mighty have fallen, he thought bitterly. Falling, always falling, like leaves in autumn, their color draining as their forms grow brittle and they become one with the earth. From dust they were made, and to dust, they shall return.

Perhaps in a year, he would be dust too. What would he care?

Demons didn’t naturally age, or so he had thought. But loneliness seemed to have made a mortal out of Crowley, centuries of it crashing down upon his corporation, wearing it to the bones, etching his torment into his skin. He could always just miracle any part of himself back to the way it was, reverse all this damned erosion… but what would it matter? Why even try to keep his hair from losing its color when all the color had drained from his life the second his angel had left it?

He felt so, so old.

A single, desperate sob escaped Crowley’s mouth, cracking out of him like splintering firewood.

As he weeped against the steering wheel, the Bentley switched on its radio in sympathy. 

I’ve walked too long in this lonely lane,

I’ve had enough of this same old game.

I’m a man of the world, they say that I’m strong,

But my heart is heavy and my hope is gone.

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

    The demon lay curled in Aziraphale’s lap, clinging to his chest as a snake might in search of warmth. It clutched at Aziraphale’s soul to see Crowley this vulnerable, the swaggering and smirking stripped away to reveal a heart in desperate need of care and healing- a task Aziraphale considered his greatest duty and greatest pleasure, for he knew Crowley would do the same for him. 

    Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair, earning a deep sigh from his beloved, whose brows turned up in fragile, stirring comfort. He loved doing this, both to see how much his touch moved Crowley and because he simply loved his hair itself. Bold, striking, an instant head-turner, just like everything else about him. It was now the longest it had been since biblical times, falling in elegant waves past his shoulders. But oh, something else was different… it was streaked now with rivers of silver, gathering in deltas at his temples. It lit a familiar flame in Aziraphale’s chest; that bittersweet blend of desire and sympathy.

    “You’ve changed your hair, I see”, he said softly. 

     Crowley takes a labored swallow, strain and self consciousness seeping into his face. Whatever he says next, it’s clear that the admission is going to cost him.

     “When you left, I suppose I… let myself wither away.” His voice is lodged deep in his throat, thick and murky, leaking out of him like tar, a sound from the depths of his own personal hell. “Oh, Aziraphale…” he exhales, and it’s one of the most poignant Aziraphale has ever heard.  “I’m so tired. So worn down. So bloody ancient.”

      “So am I, my dear,” he says, trying to come across more soothing than concerned.

     “Yes, but you still shine in the same way you did all those millenia ago… still so bright, so soft.  I’m all tarnished and rusted up… I don’t know how you still want to touch me.”

     Aziraphale gazed down into Crowley’s eyes, piercing and pleading and fragile, like shattered stained glass. At his craggy, rough-hewn cheeks, all bones and edges he’d happily cut himself on to caress. At the deep, deep lines around his eyes, carved there by every grin and grimace and longing and ache. And oh, the silver in his hair… it suited him so, both rejecting and combining black and white with a color all his own. It wasn’t normal for immortal bodies, ethereal or occult, to bear the marks of time and experience as Crowley’s has. But then, Crowley was never an ordinary demon, or angel, was he? No, he was something far more exquisite. 

    “Oh, but I do… I  do…” Affection surges through Aziraphale as he kisses every crease and wrinkle, every scar and every glorious grey, every sign that his dear Crowley has lived. He feels Crowley’s hands winding through his hair in response and kisses those too, those eloquent, spindly fingers and calloused palms…

   “Crowley, my most cherished books… the covers are peeling, the pages are torn or yellowed with age… so why would you be any different?” His heart seizes up, his voice breaking a bit. “I have seen the fire and rain rage within you for so long, and I have seen the marks they have left upon you, and each one is precious to me. You know how I love to read… Why would I not want to see the story of my beloved written upon their face? My 

dear old serpent, my survivor…you don’t have to fight anymore…”

     He pulls Crowley tightly to his chest, drawing the tension from his shoulders and back before cupping the sides of his face as Crowley stares back, looking overwhelmed and old and so, so beautiful. “I want you exactly as you are. Rough and hard and frayed at the edges… you will never be too much of any of these things for me. In fact…” A slightly wicked twinkle forms in his eye as he smiles pointedly at Crowley: “They make you more tempting to me than ever.”

    Crowley processes this for a moment. “Well…” he croaks out, that hint of playful snark finding its way back into his throaty timbre, “I suppose there is something to be said for… shades of grey.” Aziraphale laughs, remembering the words he himself said to Crowley all those years ago, on the same night he realized just how much he adored him.

   Crowley smiles, that crooked, twisted, perfectly imperfect smile that Aziraphale missed, his eyes crinkling magnificently at the corners. “Kiss me,” he whispers, and Aziraphale is happy to oblige. Happy that Crowley, bold, fierce, independent Crowley, could finally let his guard down, could finally embrace that all of his scars and imperfections, every mark of time upon his face, everything he ever thought made him damaged and ugly only made him more beautiful in his sight.

[aquz]

do opposites really attract?

dorm leaders with an s/o who's the complete opposite of them! yikes, maybe?

warnings: some dorm leaders might not like reader as much as you're probably hoping ^^;; also, yes, slightly ooc!!

how did the dorm leaders manage to take a liking to someone who's the complete opposite of them? we may never know... but why not focus on how things are currently going, rather than how they started out?

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

where do i begin. riddle has no clue how to handle you, so you're probably collared at least 90% of the time. he loves you, he really does, but he doesn't know how to scold you without coming off too harshly so he instead finds a way to limit your chaos. if you can't use magic, the collar is useless, but it's pretty annoying to walk around with a huge heart-shaped collar, no?

after cater and trey give him the best dating advice they can, he slowly learns to treat you as a partner rather than a dorm member. he doesn't collar you (read: tries not to..), instead choosing to talk out his frustrations with you and telling you when you become too much. he scolds you gently while holding your hands in his, running his slim fingers across your knuckles. he also yells at the adeuce duo to not rope you into their dangerously reckless business. though, they probably don't listen.

how could someone break so many rules at once!? not only the queen's rules, but every other rule out there!? do you not care? he is growing grey hairs as we speak, on his way to bail you out of trouble again. if you were playing croquet again at night, he would've just reminded you of the rules and lets you off with a warning, but this time you were in crowley's office for a "time-out" after breaking a window on accident while fighting ace with magic. somebody check his blood pressure, please.

he won't mind you eating a lot of sweets, though. as much as a tyrant he acts like for every other offense, if you bring a chestnut tart to an unbirthday party. . . he will turn a blind eye. everyone else is alerting him of the broken rule and he just sips his tea. he doesn't want to control you all the way down to your diet, he's not your mom, so he let's you get away with that much. (later, though, he'll probably ask why you brought a chestnut tart specifically for yourself when trey had made tons of other ones)

oh, finally, if you're failing multiple classes, expect him to give you the longest lecture on education possible. he will make you study with him, and he will help as much as he can, but he's still a little disappointed that you seem to care so little for your education. of course, he knows that it's not always a lack of effort, and it could be something deeper like a mental condition or that you don't understand the topics... but still. if you need his help, just ask. he'll be available for most the time, and he wants you to pass.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

another case of 'how the fuck did y'all actually get along'. leona, the lazy lion, and (name), the most energetic person ever. leona absolutely hates the energetic losers of nrc, but he kinda finds you tolerable. sure, he'll probably yell at you occasionally to calm down before you give him a headache, but it's like those romance troupes with the laidback person and their little ball of sunshine... thats the cringiest thing ive written today, i am so sorry for wording it that way.

you aren't the best with strategy, and while leona loves to play chess with you just to watch you lose and immediately get upset; he won't pick on you too much. he realizes how much it actually upsets you that he's picking on someone nowhere near his skill level, and he stops. that goes for most games too. if you manage to catch him awake, even as his s/o, he'll decline any invites to play games with you because he knows he's better and doesn't want to pick on someone like you. that's as nice as he gets when it comes to that. be lucky, because he would've made fun of you so much if you were anyone else.

kinda tying into the last one, he'll probably get annoyed with you if you happen to actually be a sore loser. takes a while for him to understand your point of view, and he just decides to not hurt you to begin with if he doesn't wanna hear you whine. he gets annoyed easily and tries so hard not to say anything too harsh to you, but don't expect to last long with leona if you haven't got thick skin. he gets mean sometimes, but it's all the better if you can snap back.

as leona's opposite, you do well in your classes! homework is turned in on time, attendance is reasonable, and all that good stuff. leona will tease you for being such a goody-two-shoes only to have ruggie tell him to take notes. leona then growls, walking away to take a nap... assuming hes not laying down already. speaking of nap, do you ever sleep? he notices how you're always awake, even when he forces you to nap with him. close ya damn eyes and sleep, please, before leona gets mad.

you talk a lot, and some of the things you say sound absolutely stupid, but it's alright. leona actually kinda doesn't mind it. he'll listen to you talk while pretending to sleep, but he hears you. he makes sure to bring something up in conversation that you said when you thought he was asleep and watch your face drop. he is so smug about it. also likes your somewhat dumb conversations, if you're asking if the sea is a soup, he'll growl in annoyance but can't help his smile when you start defending your point. you're so passionate about that, huh?

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

azul is a little more open to the idea of getting with someone who's the opposite of him. as long as you aren't as... well... as long as you don't act like floyd, he's great. you act way less classy than azul, which scares him sometimes, but that's okay. he thinks the sudden change of pace when he sees you is really nice.

you have no clue how businesses work, so let him teach you. he'll even tell you the best ways to manage your money, free of charge. no contract involved for his input. he noticed your incredibly bad money habits and felt the worse urge ever to stop you and discuss the value of it. oh, let floyd and jade bring you some tea, he has the best advice for a lot of things as well.

with the idea you probably don't care much about how you look/dress, azul might take issue with it? he's a charmer, seeing someone as fine as him in public, holding the hand of someone like YOU? he loves you but his reputation is so, so important. he also worries that people will say awful things about your appearance. he takes you to go outfit shopping and tells you what he thinks would look nice. he.. is a little afraid to admit that he feels some sort of embarrassment when you walk around dressed the way you are... because he doesn't want to come off rude, but it actually bothers him. he's doing this for his sanity, reputation, and your safety, ok?!

you don't do well in school? he'll help. he knows a lot of things, so he'll most likely be very useful! he gives you the best study guides (no sea anemones involved...) and will even ask crewel to use the potionology room to tutor you. of course crewel said yes, after all, azul is a charmer. he can teach you some slick talking tricks in exchange for a kiss..aha..wait no, azuls too shy for that.

i didn't talk much about this, but azul might take a while to anger. he's a pretty patient man, and likes to keep his cool, but sometimes he stresses over you. he can't always be there to help with your homework- he runs a lounge. he sometimes sees you walking around with a minor wardrobe malfunction and he's suddenly got his octo-panties in a twist over it. please, try your hardest to not stress him out or he might actually bang his head into a wall. he loves you but man, there's only so much he can take.

KALIM AL-ASIM

he absolutely loves you. he likes anyone really. is he a little pressuring? yeah sure, but he has good intentions. he always finds a way to get along with you, his opposite! you are the quiet, introverted kind and he thinks its quite cute! if anything, he's stressing YOU out.

he always talks about you to others, embarrassing you in the process. you pull him aside and ask him to calm down before he ends up leaking your social security number and he gives you the best puppy eyes he can and asks if you're mad. of course not, but lord. can you maybe not describe the first kiss in such... great detail? to the dorm members?

doesn't know when to stop, he's buying you all these gifts and suddenly you have no room to store anything. you tell him that you don't need another jewel bracelet and he takes if that you want jewel earrings next, or something of the sort. you complain you were full from lunch and he still tries to feed you grapes that he begged jamil for. you don't want to go to a huge party full of people you don't know and he instead invites more people that you DO know to hopefully make it a little more welcoming. he just doesn't understand the word "no", ok?

he drags you everywhere without your permission. jamil has also taken the job of protecting you from kalim. if he spots you after class one day while walking with kalim, he will try his absolute hardest to make sure kalim DOESNT NOTICE YOU. he's doing it for you, and you're grateful. thank the lord for viper. you're the one yelling at kalim to stop, instead of the other way around. he stresses you out, and you love him but you can't handle another "surprise date". he still doesn't understand, and gets sad that you told him to stop. eventually, you talk some sense into him with the help of jamil and he tries to tone it down for you.

he tries to accommodate to your lifestyle and preferences. even if that means he can't keep dragging you to parties. when you tell him to stop buying ruby jewelry for you, instead of buying sapphire jewelry (assuming you didn't like the color..), he stops. be careful though. he will take any excuse to buy you something. don't stare too long at the really expensive clothing item in the window or it'll show up in your room randomly.

VIL SHOENHEIT

gah, you are so stressful. i'll be deadass, this might be a little toxic. he will try so hard to change you for his satisfaction. he will be kinda mean too, outright insulting your fashion sense if it's nothing like his. he will diss you so hard you might shed a tear.

he really will consider taking it down a notch, but he literally can't help himself. how are you two even a thing. you share nothing in common?? your outfits are not his ideal choices, you can't model or act for shit, and your too carefree in your appearance. if it gets too much, he'll probably dump you into the hands of rook and make him dress you up and do your makeup and whatever.

ill be honest again, i don't know the first thing about vil other than fashion and being strict, i've only seen him in the fairy gala event and in rook's ceremonial outfit vignette. maybe, if he was nicer, he would actually try and talk to you about his standards and try to convince you to let him make you magazine-cover-worthy, but maybe he won't be that nice. idk.

sorry for the short section vil fans 😓 one day ill serve yall an actual full meal once i understand this man more..??

IDIA SHROUD

this plays out like an anime troupe. the quiet, shy, loner with his extremely extroverted "friend" who's always excited and drags him out and flusters him so badly he hides his face in his coat whenever you're around- ah. sorry. to be honest, who knew idia had a thing for people who are much different than him? i don't think he even knew that.

he might take advantage of your outgoing and energetic nature to get something if he wants it, sorry not sorry. it's a way to give himself a short break from all your energy and to get something. oh, you're getting antsy just sitting in his room? he'll give you a few madol and you can go get yourself something from sams and if you see any new manga releases, get him one. oh! while you're out, can you check if his package arrived? he loves to make you do things for him, but it's not like you mind. and if you do? he'll feel slightly guilty but he'll keep doing it.

he might snap at you, be careful. he loves you a lot, even though your personalities clash. he isn't one to get angry too easily, but he does get snappy and kinda mean when aggravated. please don't annoy him too much, or you might leave crying..or leave normally. you'll get a text (probably from ortho using idias phone) to come back to his room to watch a movie. what an apology.

he will try to play video games with you. his patience seems somewhat unlimited if he's teaching you a new game, he might get sour if you end up being better than him though. if you're someone who sucks at puzzle games, he will help. if you can't stop talking during longer story games? he will shove a potato chip in your mouth to hush you as he listens to the story. same goes for anime. can't stop talking? he will shut you up, kindly with a snack or rudely with a plush he has laying around.

though, ortho likes you! it's a nice little break from idia's bitterness. ortho loves to play with you whenever he can, and will follow you around to hear you talk! tell him stories! teach him how to play tic tac toe! take him out to the courtyard to play tag! he will loves every minute of it, and idia might be a little jealous that his brother gets more attention from you. not that he would admit that, though. hehe.

MALLEUS DRACONIA

what... an odd couple. not too weird this time though. malleus is fancy and calm, quite knowledgeable too! you are rather messy and hyper... not the best with remembering things. malleus thinks it's adorable and has the absolute best patience with you! he tries his absolute hardest to adapt to your life style, like kalim.

he will tell you the longest stories ever, even if you can't sit still to listen. he will try his absolute hardest to make it interesting. you have a story? he will listen to it fully, paying full attention. even give his own feedback. malleus loves it when you talk to him! having you ramble on about your interests definitely makes studying gargoyles a little less lonely!

malleus doesn't care too much for the way you dress. if its rather miscellaneous or thrown together then his outfit, he'll just shrug it off. being as old as he is, he has come to the conclusion that you should do whatever you want. as long as you're happy! even if that means dressing like a 5-year-old in the dark. who is he to judge? bro still has a tomogachi.

oh. if you have a tomogachi, he will gladly take care of it for you if you forget to feed it or something. he hooks the chain on his to the chain on yours so he doesn't lose it. this kinda ties in to a lot of other things. he truly has a soft spot for you, he is absolutely going to take care of anything for you if you forget. not just digital pets.

malleus will sit down drinking tea as you bounce off the walls of his room, with lillia watching you both secretly. suddenly, malleus will stop you with a soft "(name)..." and remind you to go take your medicine, check on your laundry, or to take a break from being so hyper. he is a walking reminders app. live laugh malleus amirite!?

[palimpsessed]

✨❄️✨ Carry On Countdown 2020 ✨❄️✨

Day 10: Crossover

@carryon-countdown

No fic chapter today, loves, because instead I give you the next pop culture sensation!

Coming this winter, if you love Queer Eye, good for you! Here’s another show that is absolutely not a complete ripoff!

Critics are raving:

“A gift!” - O. Henry

“Please, please, please, I beg you, whatever you do, do NOT take life advice from these people!” - R. Rowell

All episodes streaming Dec 24, only on Notflix!

Read more for season one highlights!

(Don’t get too excited. These are just the quotes that were my basis for casting the roles. All quotes by Rainbow Rowell, obvs.)

Agatha (grooming):

“She’s got her hair pulled back in a giant frizzy ponytail that would probably be nice and wavy if she’d put any product in it at all. Anything. Hand lotion. Shaving cream.”

“The sun is setting, and it’s making his grey skin look almost warm. I know it’s setting my hair on fire.”

“...she’s got the brightest eyes and rosiest cheeks of anyone I’ve ever met. Maybe it’s the beetroot.”

Baz (fashion):

“Aunt Fiona stomped out in her heavy black Doc Martens boots (clichéd)”

“Simon looks stunning in a grey suit.”

“(Simon Snow in America: jeans and a white T-shirt”

“Bunce tends to look a bit absurd, even at her freshest. She dresses like she’s still in Watford uniform, or wishes she was. Short, tartan skirts. Knee socks. Mary Janes or brogues. The only concession she’s made to civilian life is a series of oversized T-shirts. I wonder if she even realizes she still wears so much purple and green.”

“I buy myself a few more suits. Plus clothes for the drive. A few changes for Simon. I see a dress that would look lovely on Bunce, but they don’t carry her size. I buy it anyway. We can alter it with a spell.”

“Lamb is waiting in the lobby, wearing sunglasses and a three-piece suit. Tiffany blue. Which sounds vulgar, but very much isn’t. He looks trim and fresh.”

“Go ahead and shoot me. This isn’t my favourite shirt.”

Simon (Food and wine):

“I just can’t pass the scones up if they’re there. They’re soft and light and a little bit salty. Sometimes I dream about them.”

“I didn’t care if magic was real at that moment. Because roast beef and Yorkshire pudding are fucking real as rain.”

“I’d eat butter with a spoon if it were acceptable. (I did it anyway, my first year, whenever I was the first one down to breakfast.)”

“A Unicorn Frappuccino. It tastes like strawberry Dip Dab.”

“This menu’s staggering. There’s a whole page of taco salads. They’ve got macaroni and cheese, regular or fried. And every kind of chicken—look, orange chicken.”

“Crowley, this burger is gorgeous. It has hash browns on it.”

“It’s not French stuff. It’s just really sad pastries and bad tea. Oh and you missed Baz eating a squirrel.”

“I’ve found a way around the sandwich problem. Beef jerky! This place sells at least thirty different kinds.”

Penelope (design):

“I’m disappointed that we didn’t get to see more of his house—or even dig into the library. I went to the bathroom a few times, but it’s just down the hall, and it seems like a modern addition. (There’s a Japanese toilet in there with comforting music and a seat warmer.)”

“The vibe here is very, Let’s kill a virgin and write a great Led Zeppelin album. (Though the library is lovely, and Baz’s stepmum seems very nice.)”

“I step into their house. I love this house. I stayed in the spare bedroom when I came to see Micah two summers ago. All the rooms are huge, and only the bedrooms and bathrooms (there are four bathrooms) have doors. And everything—all the walls and furniture and the two dozen kitchen cabinets—is in peaceful shades of cream and tan. There are at least three tan leather sofas. There are two beige sitting rooms. There’s wall-to-wall carpeting exactly the shade of porridge. Ugh, it’s so comforting. My house is every colour, none of them planned. And our furniture is whatever colour it was when my father spotted it at a yard sale. Also, our house has stuff everywhere. Micah’s family must have stuff somewhere, but you never see it. The only things on the coffee tables (how many coffee tables are there? easily nine) are cream-coloured vases with cream-coloured flowers and tan, marble lamps.”

“(For a cheap hotel, this shower is massive.)”

Shepard (culture):

“You’re something new. Or maybe something old. I’m hoping you’ll tell me over a hot cup of coffee.”

“My strategy is simple: I tell the truth. I always use my real name (even though fairy tales tell you not to). I always say exactly what I want from a situation and exactly what I mean.”

“Brought you some good news. I liked this [book]. Kind of sad. Good jokes though. This one takes itself too seriously, but I know you’re a sucker for Westerns. I would have brought more, but I didn’t know I was coming. I did get this [radio], though, on the way. Waterproof.”

“Who else will listen? Who else wants to hear their stories? There are trolls who’ve spent the last two hundred years sitting alone under a bridge. If you can get past the bluster and the wooden clubs, if you bring them a little bone broth, they’re just grateful to have a sympathetic ear. If you tell them that you mean no harm, and then you never do any harm … They start to like you. They start to look forward to you coming around.”

“Well, I told you, he doesn’t carry a backpack. He’s got this pouch, and all that’s in it is a comb and a carving knife. I gave him my toothbrush, and he was pleased as punch with it. I need to get back up there, get him another toothbrush.…”

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

¤°~Driving With The Stars~°¤

It was a simple Saturday in Twisted Wonderland. No school, no friends over. Just a relaxing day with nothing to do. (Y/N) lays on a couch in the lounge room. Mindlessly scrolling through Magicam, looking at posts her friends or classmates post.

A knock was heard on the Ramschakle door. (Y/N) had a gut feeling it was Crowley at the door. "I'm not gonna get up..." She drawls out lazily as her head snuggles into the pillows. "Really?"

"Well, I am glad I let myself in then." Mr. Crowley says as he stood in the middle of lounge room. "Gah!" The female screamed as she falls off the couch. "Ow..." She mumbles out in pain.

(Y/N) fixes her spot on the floor so she could be sitting crossed legged.

"Hi, Headmaster Crowley..." (Y/N) said with a lackluster tone. "What brings you here?" The female asked, waiting for him to give her and Yuu a task that he didn't want to do himself. "Well, you see (Y/N), there seems to be a problem out on the Ramshackle lawn," Crowley said with a aggressive tone.

"Wha-! Hold on, I need to check this out." Hurriedly getting up from her spot, she speed walks to the door. Opening the door, she takes a few cautious steps outside. Looking around to see if anything looked suspicious.

"Headmaster... There's nothing here- *gasp*!"

Right in front of Ramshackle was a car. A. Car. Didn't those only exist in her and Yuu's world?! (Y/N) runs up to the machine and starts to look at it up close.

"No way!! How is this even! When! How, what?!" The dorm leader screams loudly, her eyes practically turning into stars.

Mr. Crowley appears next to the star-struck girl. "You see, (Y/N). I've had this old car for a long time. I never really used it often, but I got a new car a few days back. So I decided to let you and Yuu to have my old one."

"How gracious am I!" The old crow states loudly. (Y/N) slowly turns her body to face Crowley. They run to the Headmaster, before Crowley could react. (Y/N) engulfed him into a tight hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." (Y/N) says softly, not wanting to yell in his ear drums. Headmaster Crowley gently pats her back. The female student realased Mr. Crowley from her bear hug. Turning her attention to car once more. "So, do me or Yuu need a licence to use this thing or- and he's gone..."

(Y/N) gives a tired sigh and look at the cars. "Does this thing use keys?"

Stuffing her hands in her pocket, she felt something odd. Taking the small item out with confusion. Her previous questioning face turns into a fond look. A simple grey key was attached to keychain, along with a little tag attached to it. Spelling out Ramshackle in pretty hand writing.

Taking yet another look at the vehicle, (Y/N) sees that it looked rather similar to some of the cars in her world. It wasn't fancy or high tech, it was just a plain white, medium sized car. It was ordinary, simple, clean looking too. Maybe a little used, but (Y/N) could care less.

"Hmm, welp. I guess Headmaster Crowley wouldn't mind if I test this bad boy out!"

"Okay, let's see inside... Oh, it's just like the cars back home! Thank God!" Breathing out a sigh of relief, she puts the key in the ignition. The car roared as it started to turn on.

"Okay, hands on the wheel. Foot on the pedals and breaks. Alright, I should take a few test drives!"

______________________________________________

(Y/N) steps out of the car, shaking a bit. She couldn't tell if it was out of fear or excitement. Either way, she had to hold on to the roof of the car for support. The phone buzzed from her pocket. Taking it out with a wobbly hand, she clicks the notification.

Cater had posted something about a race that would be held tonight outside of school and how he was gonna record everything. (Y/N) reads over the post and takes a screen-cap on where the race was gonna be held. "Maybe I can test out my skills," she jokes dryly to herself. Thanking who-ever-above for not crashing into stuff and getting into a accident.

(Y/N) stiffly walks back to Ramshackle after parking the car inside the Ramschakle gates. Once inside her dorm, the ghosts start to question where she was. "Take a look outside, there's your answer." The three ghosts poke their heads outside and see the piece of machinery.

"It's me and Yuu's first car, so if you guys posses it or let Grim near it. Things are not gonna be pretty." (Y/N) said as her voice turned from joyful to serious. The three ghosts fearfully agree and congratulate her on the new car. Even if it was probably older than their dead souls.

She heads upstairs to her/Yuu and Grims room. The little furball slept on the covers while Yuu was reading a book, "I am the king of magic..zzz." Grim says in his sleep as he snores a bit. (Y/N) snickers at her animal friend and goes through her closet.

Only a few items of clothing would be good to wear outside. The clothes she had on were for lazy time, not outing wear. 'I gotta get a little more clothes, most of these outfits are for school.' (Y/N) held back a wince when she saw the outfit she wore for her "wedding day" yet smiled at her old fairy gala clothes. Beans day, dang, so much paint to wash out, it was pretty fun though!

'Where.. Wait, I think this would look nice..? Maybe.' (Y/N) was not a fashionista when it came to clothes. But, she could try today. "Hmm, ah-ha! This should be good enough." She picks up her items to wear, then remembers Yuu and Grim. Hoping that fire cat was still asleep, (Y/N) whispers to Yuu about what happened earlier this morning. Yuu gets up from his spot on the bed and goes over to the window to see the car, while (Y/N) quickly dashes to bathroom.

_____________________________________________

A young man steps out of his car. It looked nice and sleek, only with a few bits of dirt on the wheels. The car was definitely new looking. This driver of the car could be said the same. He wore nice clothes that looked like they couldn't be affordable.

His eyes were narrow and he had a cunning smirk.

He laughs once his opponent cries out in frustration. Cussing out few words as they bang their head against the drivers wheel. The male teen leans against his car and asks if anyone wanted to challenge him. Know one stepped up. The guys tsks and decided to take a break from driving, he'd rather wait until someone had enough guts to face him.

A simple white car drives up to the area. Parking against some of the other vehicles, teens look up from their phones and conversations to see the newcomer. A young male steps out, he bore red hair and had a dumb smirk on his face. While another boy stepped out the car after him, he had dark blue hair and started to argue quietly with the light red head. Soon other males get out of the car.

It almost looked like a clown car at how many people could fit in it. The "ring leaders", were the last one's to get out of the car.

(Y/N) stares at everything with subtle excitement as she and her friends group together. "(Y/N), I'm still surprised you've drove us here. I didn't think vehicles existed in your world." Deuce tells the female with a curious look. Unaware of her uneasy smile she had after he said that.

"Yeah, there are cars and motorbikes in my world. But.. They are a little different I guess, and I learned to drive in my old world once I got older." (Y/N) explained as she and her friends find a good spot to stand in. "Deuce, I think you should be more surprised that the Headmaster gave her a car."

"I never thought the cheapskate would just give you his car," Ace says with a sigh. "His old, used car." Epel clarified. "Right. What Epel said, or anything related to vehicles in general."

"Headmaster Crowley gave it to us. So until we find our way home. We can use it to travel besides mirrors." Yuu said softly, remembering that when Crowley finds a way for them to return home. There not gonna have these moments anymore.

The group of first years went quiet after his words. Jack decideds to lighten up the mood by pointing out that one of the party guests were getting ready to race. They all look up at the big hill as the race started. The nice looking car was in the lead, while the other was behind. The race ended and the nice car won.

Murmers from other party members were heard. Saying, "dang, Bryan is such a jerk." Or, "he always gloats about his driving skill." Sebek overhears this and looks at the winning driver.

They were a young human teen, male. He reeked of arrogance and pride. Someone not even worthy of his time, he was nothing like Lord Mallues and his elegance! (Y/N) sees Sebek turn his nose slightly at the winner. She couldn't blame him though, the winner was a real jerk about winning.

Deuce and Epel walk over to the winners car with amazement written all over their faces.

Not caring about the loud owner of the vehicle. "So cool.." Epel whispers as the car seemed to shine a bit. "It looks really new, how did this guy afford it?" Epel was so caught up in sleekness of the car that he was about to lean on it.

"HEY! Get your grubby hands away from my car!"

"Eh!" The two first years say in sync, startled from the outburst. Epel and Deuce straighten up as the winner of the race approached them. "What makes you think you guys can just go up and touch my ride?!!" "We didn't me too!"

Deuce said, trying to defend himself and Epel. (Y/N) takes notice of the situation and steps in front of her friends. "Woah, wait a second. They just apologized, there's no need for you to yell at them." The female says, trying to control the situation.

The once angry male was now looking up and down (Y/N), his frown turns into a suave smile. "Look hon, I'm just saying that those weirdos shouldn't have touched what they probably would never own." Bryan chuckles out, placing a hand on his hip. "Besides, it's not like they can even enter the race without a car. So why are they even here, their practically useless."

(Y/N) could feel her two friends seething from behind her. The female felt Yuu hold her wrist to calm her, she was just as ticked off as Deuce and Epel were. "I'll race you!" The female said without thinking at all. Not that she could give a damn at this moment.

A few gasps and "oh's" were heard after she challenged. Bryan smirks wickedly, "alright. The first one who makes it down the mountain wins. Though, I doubt your going to." (Y/N) scoffed at Bryan, he then gets in his car and drives up the hill.

Dirt and dust fills the air once he left. Coughing up dirt, (Y/N) burps and glares at the spot where the car was. "That guy is going down." The dorm leader said, not seeing Yuu their head.

Both cars had their engines on, parked side by side on the road on top of the hill. The sound of crickets was drowned out by the cars purring as a few fireflies flew about. The moon gleaming brightly in the dark sky. (Y/N) grips her driving wheel in agitation.

A scowl on her lips as she clenched her teeth. Bryan looks over at her from his car window. He grins, "maybe once this race is over. Why don't you and I go for a little cruising down the street. How's that~"

(Y/N) stomach turns as this dude was trying to mess with her. "You wish..!" (Y/N) barks at him, her anger rising like a volcano. A timer rings out in the air, and Bryan immediately revs his car engine and takes off. "Shoot!"

(Y/N) clamps down her foot on the pedal because of her late start. Rushes of white and blue could be seen going down the mountain. (Y/N)'s fellow first years watch from below. "Do you think she's gonna be okay?" Ace said, Jack hesitantly nods.

"She should be fine as long as she doesn't crash.." The six first years could only worry for (Y/N)'s safety. Said girl on the other hand could care less. Turning her wheel to the side, she pulls her shift gear and sloppily turns left and right. The two drivers were neck and neck yet (Y/N) passed him.

She smirks and keeps her eyes on the road. But a little squirrel scurried on to the road. (Y/N) gasps in shock and tries to avoid hitting the furry creature. Though at the cost of swiveling out of control.

"AAHHH!!"

(Y/N) hits the brakes as a loud shriek of the tires stop on the road. The car stops on the left side of the road as Bryans car drives past her. (Y/N) catches her breath, sweat and a few tears trickle down her skin. "Shit, I need to catch up!" (Y/N) was about to step on the pedals but sees herself in the review mirror.

The female lets her hands drop from the steering wheel, along with moving her foot from the pedals. (Y/N) opens the car door and steps out. Leaning her back against the car, trying the calm her beating heart. (Y/N) closes her eyes and turns her head up at the sky. "It's okay.."

(Y/N) says to herself, "I'm okay."

Sucking in a deep breath, she breaths out. "The stars look nice tonight." (Y/N) utters quietly, a determined look crossing her face. (Y/N) stops leaning on the door and opens it. "I can still cross the finish the line."

*Extra*

When she makes it down the hills road. Bryan stands by his car, a smug look on his features. (Y/N) parks her car and steps out. Bryan mocks her, yet she gives him a strained smiles. "Good race," and then walks over to her friend group. They glomp her in a hug, yelling at her and asking if she was alright.

(Y/N) just grins proudly, asking them if they wanted to drive up the hill with her. Not to race, but to see the stars.

The End.

(Good god this took forever, I had no ideas on how write about driving. Mostly music about driving and T.V shows kept my motivation flowing. Sorry if this isn't great, but I did my best. Thanks for reading!)

[29-pieces]

Whumptober day 27 - Good Omens

Day 27: Extreme Weather Fandom/setting: Good Omens, Pompeii ca 79 AD Read on AO3 Read on FF.net

~*~

Crowley hacked and coughed, face covered with his arm in a pointless attempt to protect himself from the ash. Stones rained down all around him; it was the only sound now that most of the screams had gone silent. Tears dripped down Crowley's face, carving lines through the ash that had already settled on him. What was he even doing here? It was useless... any human still in Pompeii was dead by now, or long past his ability to heal. And he wasn't supposed to be healing anyone, anyway. In fact, Crowley didn't know what his assignment here even was, but the crippling horror he felt at the scene around him wouldn't have allowed for him to function anyway.

"Anybody!" Crowley croaked out, desperation driving his sandaled feet a little further into the city. "Hello! Is- is anyone left...?"

One person. One wretched person to save, that was all he asked, but he couldn't stay here much longer himself, not without succumbing to the volcano and discorporating. At this point, it didn't seem like a terrible idea. A huge rock glanced off his shoulder, knocking Crowley off balance so that he tripped into the rapidly growing layer of hot ash coating the streets. Even if fire wasn't likely to do much damage to a demon (did lava count? He'd never tested this and wasn't eager to) it still hurt. Another stone crashed down beside him, so Crowley growled and drew his wings out into the physical plane, hoping to shield his head.

It wasn't the best idea he'd ever had, the hot, cloying ash immediately starting to stick to his feathers. It weighed him down, cumbersome and unwieldy. Crowley tried to stand back up but this time a falling rock did knock him over the head. The demon toppled the rest of the way to the ground, almost totally immersing himself in a hot casing of the volcanic brume.

With a strangled cry, Crowley forced himself up onto one trembling arm and called again,

"H-hello! Anyone, is anyone left alive?"

Shouting made him cough and choke and there was no reply. It was time to go; he was doing no good- er, well, he never did good, but he wasn't any use here. Shuffling around in the ash, Crowley staggered to his feet and tried to point himself out of the city, away from the cruel fires of Vesuvius. He blinked, shielding his eyes, and glanced around. His heart pounded faster; which way was out? Everything was covered in a thick, dark cloud and he had no idea which direction he was pointed now...

Maybe he should just lay down and discorporate there after all, but it was a terrifying prospect to die there alone in the volcano's wrath.

Panic overcame him, making the demon start to hyperventilate, which—given the debris in the air—only made things worse. Crowley sat heavily back down, about to go into a full-blown panic attack when a sudden light permeated the gaseous cloud around him.

"Hello!" a voice shouted. "Is someone there?"

"Over here!" Crowley immediately choked back, forgetting for a second the point had been for him to find someone else to save, not to require rescuing himself. At the moment, he didn't even care, nor did it occur to him that his wings—which he couldn't put away now even if he wanted, thanks to the layer of ash and dust bogging them down—might be a bit of a shock to whoever it was.

But when the light got closer, Crowley nearly sagged with relief to see the someone was the angel Aziraphale. They hadn't crossed paths since that day at Golgotha, but so far all of their meetings had been more or less on friendly terms, or at least neutral ones. So even though now would be the ideal time for Aziraphale to finish him off if he wanted, Crowley didn't think twice before reaching out desperately for the angel.

He saw Aziraphale's eyes widen before he hurried forward to take Crowley's hand and haul him back up to his feet.

"Can you fly?" Aziraphale asked urgently.

Crowley, who could barely move his wings now, shook his head.

Without another word, Aziraphale turned them both in the direction he'd come from, starting to run, still gripping Crowley's hand tightly. As bogged down as Crowley was, he couldn't go quite as fast, gasping raggedly for breath.

"Hurry!" Aziraphale urged over his shoulder. "The flow is about to hit the city!"

Crowley didn't answer, saving his breath for running. He didn't know how long or far they ran, but finally they broke free of the heavy cloud. Ash still drifted down like snowflakes, but Aziraphale didn't stop or let go of his hand until they had outrun even that. Not until they had splashed across a stream and Pompeii was far behind them did the angel slow to a stop, leaning over and panting hard.

Crowley fell to his knees at the stream to greedily gulp the cool water. It mixed with the ash coating his mouth, making him hack and spit out gobs of gunk. Crowley had never felt so miserable.

"Took too long gloating, did you?" Aziraphale wheezed, shooting a glower at the demon.

The implication froze Crowley in his tracks. He stared at Aziraphale, the accusation burning into his heart. "You think- that wasn't me," he gasped. Crowley's frame shuddered as he slowly shook his head and looked back towards the volcano—hidden in the cloud of its own eruption—with pain filled eyes. "There- there were kids in there," he whispered, voice breaking. "I thought I could get them out, but... They're all dead. All of 'em. I- Just get out of here and leave me then, if that's what you think! Stupid angel! I didn't do this!" He crumpled again. "There were kids..."

Aziraphale didn't leave, kneeling down next to him with an expression of sorrow. "I'm sorry, Crowley," he said contritely. "That was foolish of me to assume- I'm sorry, dear boy, please forgive me."

Crowley hung his head and nodded wordlessly. The angel had saved his life, after all, even while assuming the whole thing had been Crowley's doing.

"Oh, your wings are in such a state," Aziraphale fussed then, looking over the normally black feathers that were now streaked grey and white from the ash. "Let me get you cleaned up a bit, alright? Penance for my ugly assumption. And because I don't believe you'd have much luck on your own."

Well, he was right about that. Too exhausted to refuse and wanting nothing more than to be clean, Crowley nodded again.

Permission given, Aziraphale miracled a clean cloth out of nowhere and wet it in the stream. Then he sat behind Crowley and started to gently wipe away the layer of grime. While he did that, Crowley tiredly splashed water over his face and neck, rinsing so much ash away between the two of them that the stream ran cloudy where they were sitting. He finished before Aziraphale did; Crowley closed his eyes and sank into the comfort of having his feathers carefully cleaned, all the way from the tip of his primaries to the joint where the wings met his back and then back down over the other one.

His hurt at Aziraphale's accusation melted away along with the debris on his wings. To Crowley's surprise, the angel didn't stop even once he'd gone through several rags and the feathers were pristine again.

"Close your eyes," Aziraphale warned him, miracling a bucket now and trickling the water over Crowley's head to rinse out his long hair. Somehow the water was soapy and warm as the angel massaged it diligently into Crowley's scalp. It nearly put the demon to sleep, his throat closing up a bit at the gentle touch. He couldn't remember the last time someone had washed his hair. Had anyone ever? He didn't say a word, not trusting himself to speak, as the angel continued his careful ministrations.

"There we are," Aziraphale murmured, tipping one last bucket of warm water through his hair to wash everything away. "Now one last miracle—I doubt anyone on my side will notice, after all there's plenty that needs doing here—and you should feel like a new demon."

With a snap of his fingers, Crowley's ashy, dirty tunic was suddenly clean and shining white. Apparently the angel forgot that Crowley wore black, but it had been nearly white from the ash so he could be forgiven the mistake. Crowley would fix it later. Maybe. At any rate, it left him fully clean and fresh at last. Aziraphale crouched down beside him, a warm hand on Crowley's shoulder and a worried light in his eyes.

"Are you alright?" the angel asked softly. "I imagine this has... not been a good day."

"To say the least," Crowley replied, trying for flippant but sounding more downtrodden than anything. He cleared his throat. "But, uh, I guess I should thank you."

"Nonsense, you would have done the same-" Aziraphale cut off, turning an interesting shade of pink as though he'd said something he shouldn't have and wanted to have not said it.

Crowley wanted to tease him for it, but honestly he was too tired, so he nodded instead with all seriousness. "Yeah. Still," he said, shrugging. "Thanks." It was true, of course, he would have saved the angel if necessary. Crowley hated to be in anyone's debt, so maybe they should just make some sort of standing Arrangement, when the other needed help, they'd give it. Then it wasn't a favor, it was just... what they did. He'd mention it to Aziraphale sometime, see what the angel made of it. An Arrangement could come in really handy, the more he thought about it.

But that, he decided, soaking in the feeling of being clean and safe at last, was a thought for another day.

[tardis-stowaway]

Ten years after the Not-pocalypse, Adam Young, age 21 and recently graduated from university:

-Works in a crappy retail job and lives in a tiny, crappy flat in London

-The crappy flat has no sound insulation, so he’s always hearing the absurd amount of movement from the people in the flat above and the really loud but not quite intelligible conversations from the people in the flat next door. It’s a long way to the nearest public park, and he misses the green of home.

-Is not all that good at his customer service job, with the exception that if a customer is irrationally angry about something, he says he wants to make sure he understands the problem and repeats their complaint back to them with this look in his eyes, and they universally back down and often apologize. His coworkers love him for it. Everything else is just drudgery.

-Single, despite his best efforts. Okay, maybe not his best efforts, but some efforts.

-Knows that his childhood was uncommonly idyllic at least partly due to his powers. He’s not entirely sure how his life went quite so off the rails lately.

-Maybe his powers have faded gradually since he rejected his destiny, or maybe it’s just that on some level he absorbed the expectation that being in one’s early 20’s means being broke and a little lost, and the expectation made it happen whether he wanted it or not.

-Or maybe he just should’ve chosen a more employable course of study at uni instead of comparative religion. In his defense, it seemed relevant to his life.

-Spends much of his free time on climate crisis activism. He’ll be damned (ha) if he stood against the forces of Heaven and Hell, the Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse, and his own birthright to preserve the continuing existence of humanity on the Earth only for humans to blunder into destroying themselves unintentionally through greed and shortsighted decisions.

-He’s been doing this since he was twelve, when Brian sent the Them’s group text an article about the group Extinction Rebellion with the caption “named for us?? :)” Adam had laughed, then actually read the article. Within a week he’d convinced the Them and a dozen of their classmates to show up at the next town council meeting with a list of sustainability demands.

-No matter how many civil disobedience events he takes part in, he never seems to get arrested. Adam suspects it’s his supernatural entity privilege. Pepper says it’s probably mostly that he’s white and great at charming his way out of trouble.

-He’s still friends with all of the Them, but they don’t live especially close together. He does have a flatmate, an American who Adam met at uni.

-At this point you, a genre-savvy reader of much Good Omens fic and meta, are probably seeing the word “American” and thinking that Adam is flatmates with Warlock Dowling. For once, you are wrong. 

-Adam’s flatmate is Jesus.

-Not Jesus Christ, but a young man named Jesus Dominguez, pronounced the Spanish way (like hay-soos).

-Jesus is from Southern California, and he talks more than a little bit like a surfer stereotype. He’s got warm brown skin, shoulder-length dark hair in perpetually-mussed waves, and a little beard. He’s kinda leaning into the look  to mess with people, but it’s also the same style found on at least a third of the other male-presenting hipsters in London.

-When he learned that he was going to share a flat with someone named Jesus, Adam called Crowley and Aziraphale. He’s never been gladder that he stayed in touch with them, because he NEEDED someone who understood how the Antichrist and Jesus sharing a flat sounded like the setup for a joke or a sitcom. Crowley did indeed laugh out loud, then told Adam that as a fellow lapsed member of the forces of Hell, he could personally recommend sharing quarters with a heavenly adversary. Aziraphale just muttered “oh, stop” at Crowley.

-Adam moved to London because it was easier to get to the important protests there, and because he was curious. He spent the first six months desperately homesick for Tadfield. The city was so crowded but somehow he still felt so alone, other than Jesus.

-Then a midnight fire-alarm in their building sent him and Jesus into the streets along with dozens of their neighbors. Adam finally met the people in the flat above theirs who made all that moving around noise. They were an older couple who took ballroom dancing lessons at the senior center and liked to practice at home. Mrs. Kapoor tried to teach Adam how to foxtrot right there on the pavement in the middle of the night. He stepped on her feet, but since he was in bare feet and she’d actually taken the time to find shoes it wasn’t a big deal.

-Meanwhile Jesus was finally talking to the loud young men from next door. By the time Adam wandered over, Jesus had learned their names (Leon, Seamus, and Nazim) and secured an invitation for the two of them to come over to watch Saturday’s football match, and to join their next D&D campaign (“just no more  paladins,” said Nazim). Adam looked forward to finding out whether it was the D&D or the football that was the cause of more yelling.

-As the evacuation stretched on with no hint of either actual fire or clearance to go back inside, the building’s children began to get fussy. Adam found a coin on the ground (successfully picking it up, because Crowley didn’t make it to this neighborhood very often) and proceeded to distract them with stage magic.

-He initially learned stage magic from Aziraphale, but he’s better at it than the angel ever was. He hardly cheats physical reality at all. The kids love it.

-When the fire department finally gives them the clearance to go back inside, Adam’s stomach rumbles. “Is anyone else hungry?,” he asks, to a chorus of agreement. It’s too late for any nearby takeout, but Jesus chats with their neighbors about options.

-Jesus enlists Adam’s help in going from flat to flat gathering ingredients from everyone, and before long they’re serving fish tacos and grilled cheese sandwiches to a small crowd of pajama-clad people. It’s 2 am, but everyone is smiling, or at least has contentment at the edge of their yawns.

-The next day, Mrs. Kapoor brings Adam and Jesus a spider plant cutting, because she thought their flat looked too bare. Adam texts a picture of it to Crowley and receives back lengthy instructions on watering, pot size, soil, and the most effective threats for the species.

-Five months later, the local planning council has an intense debate about why crime rates in one neighborhood have dropped by 75% since their last meeting. They each try to claim credit for their pet civic projects. Actually, it’s because Adam Young has started to love London, or at least his nook of it.

-Buskers soon realize that certain tube stops are generating far more tips than they ever have before, with no obvious demographic shift accounting for the change. The common ground is that these are the stops on Adam’s commutes to work and his activist meetings. He can only occasionally spare a tip himself, but his enjoyment of the music is contagious.

-Even after the breakthrough, not every day is good. On a late summer day that just happens to be the anniversary of the day the world didn’t end, Adam comes home from a protest fuming.

-“Dude, you okay?” asks Jesus, looking up from his guitar. (Jesus sometimes goes to protests with Adam, but not usually the ones where they’re planning on breaking laws. “I’m a brown-skinned foreigner, man. Do you think I’ll get away with what you get away with? I’m not ready for that yet,” he says, and Adam can’t argue.)

-“The media barely showed up at our event, probably because it was about a million degrees and even though that’s exactly what we’re protesting, nobody wants to be out in it. Six of our people passed out from the heat and three got arrested. They still didn’t arrest me, but I got pushed over and cracked my phone screen. On my way home, some drunk on the tube vomited on my shoes. Our green jobs bill still doesn’t have the votes in Parliament, and have you seen the latest news on the Antarctic ice sheets?” Adam kicks off his shoes, then collapses dramatically onto the futon and groans.

-“Sounds rough,” says Jesus.

-“I should’ve just ended the damn world when I was eleven and I had the chance. Would’ve been quicker,” Adam mutters.

-Jesus gets up and goes to the kitchen. He brings Adam a beer. “You don’t mean that, bro,” he says.

-Adam sighs, accepting the beer. “I suppose not.”

-He drinks his beer. Dog, now grey-muzzled and slow, shuffles over to curl up at his feet. Adam pulls out his phone, which is cracked but still seems functional. He’s got a text from Aziraphale.

-“Dear Adam,” the text begins, because Aziraphale might have finally deigned to learn to text but he steadfastly refused to adopt its stylistic conventions, “I hope that you have returned safely from today’s protest. I’m very proud of your continuing efforts, and though he won’t admit it I know that Crowley feels the same. Please write back at your earliest convenience. Fondly, Aziraphale”

-Adam texts back to reassure the angel, who will doubtless pass it on to Crowley, then he texts similar reassurances to his parents and to Mrs. Kapoor upstairs. He’s still figuring out this adulthood thing, but he’s got a lot of parental figures looking out for him. His Infernal Bio-Dad isn’t one of them, and that’s the way Adam likes it.

-Through the open window comes the sound of music blasting from a car stuck in traffic below. Freddie Mercury and David Bowie are singing:

And love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night, And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves.

-He turned down the chance to rule the world, and he’d make the same choice again, but he still feels a certain proprietary responsibility towards the planet and its inhabitants. His father—his real, earthly father—didn’t raise him to shirk responsibility, and he’s not one to cave under pressure.

-Life is hard, people are mostly idiots, and the world is coming apart at the seams, but it’s his messed up life and his idiotic people and his beautiful, half-broken world.

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - “Plot Twist” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Embroiled in the aftermath of two very messy break-ups, Crowley and Aziraphale are preparing to film their first love scene together. But how do you pretend to be in love when your love life is falling apart?

It probably doesn't hurt to be in love with your co-star. (2318 words)

Notes: So I made the chauffeur young Shadwell, but patterned after young Michael McKean, who I was desperately in love with back in the day XD Human au, ineffable wives, mention of past Aziraphale/Gabriel, mostly just fluff

Read on AO3.

“Ooo, I get a limo this time. Fancy, fancy,” Crowley mumbles, not nearly as impressed as she’s pretending to be. She’d much rather drive herself in her own Bentley and in her own sweet arse time. But she needs to keep up appearances. 

There are always two eyes and a camera lens on her at any given moment.

Even though it’s the literal buttcrack of dawn, she’s not alone. There are about thirty asshats, armed with cameras, camped out on her doorstep, climbing over each other to snap a candid of her for the gossip sites. A photo of her emerging from her rented townhouse fresh-faced and ready for another day on set will fetch an easy hundred pounds.

But if she looks like she rolled out of bed, drank a bottle of whiskey for breakfast, then fell down a flight of stairs, landing face-first onto a mountain of cocaine? Those pictures would fetch considerably more.

That’s what she gets for going through a horrendous break-up while having the nerve to be rich and famous.

She thought that when the production moved filming away from London and out to California, the buzz surrounding her personal affairs would die down. On the contrary. It seemed to get worse, in part because the states don’t have the same paparazzi laws the UK does.

She can’t sit down to take a proper shit without seeing a flash pop off.

Despite how she feels about her life at the moment, she went for class over crass. She shies away from hard drugs, and she can't justify looking less than her best, especially in public. 

She refuses to let anyone see her sweat.

“Antonia! Antonia! Over here!” the pariahs beckon, some of them whistling for her attention like she’s a dog. “Antonia! Hey, Crowley!”

Crowley.

That’s the one that gets to her - burrows into the roots of her teeth and makes her head pulsate with rage. It keeps her feet moving when she might have stopped to exchange a polite hello, given out an autograph. And the sick thing is these vultures probably realize that. 

That’s why they keep doing it. 

Who talks to people like that? When did it become acceptable to bellow out someone’s last name as a means of getting their attention? Is it too much to ask for them to shove a ‘Mrs.’ in front of it? Have these glorified stalkers forgotten that, if it weren’t for her and stars like her, the only jobs they could get would be snapping photos of families at Legoland for minimum wage?

Ugh. 

Too much thinking too early in the morning.

She could write an entire essay on how much she loathes pap culture, but today, she can’t be bothered caring.

She’s filming one of the most anticipated scenes of her whole career on one of the worst days of her life. 

That’s the hurdle she needs to focus on.

She slaps on a smile and waves, sliding her glasses down her nose only far enough so they can’t see how red her eyes have gotten from crying.

“Oh, ‘ello, loves! I didn’t see you all here! So nice of you to greet me at 5:30 on this fine winter morning! Oh, careful there. You spilled your coffee. And I think you just kicked that poor lad in the face. You wanna give him a hand up there? He’s bleedin’ all over the pavement.”

Crowley greets her guests this way every morning, killing them with kindness, as subtle an eff you as she can come up with when her brain cells have yet to kick in for the day.

Coffee. She needs coffee. About a gallon-and-a-half of it.

And a shot of bourbon might be nice.

Crowley glides through the crowd, an angelfish among sharks, and comes out unscathed.

A man with brown hair, pale skin, and striking blue eyes, wearing a fitted, black uniform tailored to within an inch of its life, opens the car door for her as she approaches.

"Good morning, Mrs. Crowley."

“Good morning, Mr. Shadwell. It's nice to see you.” Crowley slides into the car, thankful when the chauffeur shuts the door. She sinks into the leather seat and tosses her sunglasses aside. “God!" she moans, burying her face in her hands. "I don't want to do this! I want to stay home, eat ice cream, and drink tremendous amounts of alcohol! I definitely don’t want to be snogging anyone today!”

Aziraphale, who had been waiting patiently with a small box of assorted cookies and wearing a sympathetic smile, frowns. “Wow. Thank you, my dear.”

Crowley's head snaps up, her face splotchy, and red enough to rival her hair in seconds. “Aziraphale! I am so sorry! I didn’t know you were …! That’s not what I meant!" She takes a deep breath in, lets it out slowly. "It's not you, angel. I swear it isn’t. I just don’t feel particularly romantic today.”

“It’s all right. I know what you mean. I feel the same way.”

Crowley squares Aziraphale with a stern look. “Wow. Thank you.”

Aziraphale ducks her eyes, her cheeks turning pink as she offers Crowley a cookie from the box. She wonders if Aziraphale made them herself. She often does bake to pass the time. So much so that she's become quite good at it.

Life hasn’t been treating her too kindly, either.

The cookies are delicate little things, intricately frosted in red, green, and white, decorated as bells and angels and snowflakes in honor of Christmas. 

Because it’s Christmas. 

Crowley is having the worst day of her life a week before Christmas.

Sigh.

There is usually champagne, no matter what vehicle the studio sends to pick them up. She wonders where it’s gone, searching about for it. Crowley and Aziraphale rarely avail themselves to it, preferring to wait till after the shooting day is done to have a nightcap.

But today, it feels like a necessity.

Leave it to the studio to not provide them a bottle of bubbly on the one day Crowley longs to drown in it.

“I didn’t know Shadwell was picking you up first,” Crowley says, starting small talk to ease the tension. Crowley and Aziraphale don’t usually have trouble making small talk.

Today is an exception.

“Well ...” Aziraphale clears embarrassment from her throat “... I was just … you know … a few blocks down the way.”

Crowley sits up further, leans forward with interest. “So you did it. You left him. You left Gabriel.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale replies quietly. “I couldn’t stay. Not after …” She stops and sniffles, turning her head to hide eyes that must be as red as Crowley’s. Crowley doesn’t know.

She only ever notices how incredible they are.

Crowley rests a comforting hand on Aziraphale’s knee. “I know.” 

“Yeah,” Aziraphale says with a slightly bitter laugh. “So does the whole world. In fact, the photogs knew I was leaving before I knew. You should have seen it. I could barely get past them.”

Crowley pulls a box of tissues out of the side panel and offers her co-star one. “They’re bottom feeders. The lot of them. Try to ignore them.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know,” Crowley repeats, feeling exceptionally useless. She’s in the exact same boat, but her heart hurts more for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale doesn’t deserve what she's going through. She doesn’t deserve such a public break-up.

She doesn’t deserve having her name drug all over social media by an emotionally manipulative bastard who thinks he's God's gift.

Crowley gazes out the window at the sky above. The forecast said it would be clear and sunny today, but it’s cloudy and grey. It matches Crowley's mood. Everything is cloudy and grey.

Well, maybe not everything.

The cookie she's eating isn’t. It’s sweet and crisp and melts in her mouth. It puts a smile on her face.

That helps.

Aziraphale helps, too.

Even gloomy, melancholy Aziraphale helps.

Just being in Aziraphale's presence helps.

“Living in the public eye isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it, my dear?” Aziraphale asks, though it sounds as much like a statement to herself as a question for Crowley.

“Not on days like today. But that’s the trade-off for being a star, I suppose.” 

“Would you ever give it up?” Aziraphale asks, taking a nibble of her Madeleine.

“I can’t say I would. You?”

“Nnnn ... no."

"There isn't anything else you wanted to do?" Crowley asks, latching on to her hesitation. "Not even when you were younger?"

"Well ..." Aziraphale bobs her head back and forth. "To be honest, I have always wanted to own my own bookshop. Or perhaps work in a library. But that's only if acting didn't work out. Acting has given me so many opportunities I could never have dreamed of. And all the great people I've met? I mean, this is what? The fifth film we’ve starred in together?”

“It is." 

Aziraphale chuckles. "Some of them have been real winners."

"I know! The roles you get offered when you're just starting out are criminal! Let’s see, we’ve been rogue enemy agents from different factions …”

“High school frenemies …”

“Alien co-conspirators …”

“Jealous rivals …”

“And now … lovers.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale says bashfully. “And today …”

Crowley smiles. “We get together for the first time.”

Hearing Crowley say it makes Aziraphale’s heart race, her pulse thrumming so fast it disappears.

The day Aziraphale found out she’d gotten the role of Crowley’s love interest and not the ‘jealous ex’ (the role her agent originally pitched for her since they play adversaries so well) was a dream come true. The studio felt the two of them could take their insane sexual tension (the studio's words, not Aziraphale's, although she doesn't disagree) and use it to fuel the plot of their latest 'friends-to-lovers' rom-com.

Aziraphale has always wanted to be a leading lady. Deep down, she prayed that her first time, she'd play opposite Crowley. Now that it has finally happened, the role of her dreams comes with the greatest perk in the universe - an intimate moment with Antonia.

In front of about three dozen crew members, but still. 

It's Aziraphale's chance to indulge her crush, which she plans to savor since it may not come around again. 

Not in the way Aziraphale wants.

As friendly as Crowley is to her, as flirty as she can be, Aziraphale doesn't know for sure whether Crowley shares her feelings.

“If you don't mind my asking, when did she tell you?” Aziraphale asks.

“She didn’t." Crowley snorts humorlessly. "I woke up, and she was gone. I thought she had left for work. She had a table reading at six that morning, so I wasn’t immediately suspicious. Not until I started noticing important things were missing - clothes, toiletries, her contact lenses, her laptop …” 

"Did she tell you why she was leaving?"

Crowley chews her lower lip at the question she'd known was coming ... the answer she's debating whether or not to give. "Eventually." She glances up at Aziraphale, flashes a sly grin, and decides to go for broke. “She left because she thought I was falling in love with my co-star.”

"Really?" And just like that, Aziraphale dies, her heart shrinking into nothing and blowing away on the wind. "W-which one?" she asks, solely for conversation's sake.

This time, when Crowley snorts, clamping a hand over her mouth to keep from spraying crumbs all over the interior of the limo, it's genuine. "You, you gumball!"

"Oh. Oh!" Aziraphale’s expression of shock is so endearing, Crowley can’t look at it too long. There's a glow about her. It's like staring into the sun. “That's ... that’s funny. Gabriel broke up with me for the same reason. Because of ... you. At least, that's the excuse he gave on Twitter ... and Instagram ... and Facebook.” Aziraphale's glow dims as she talks about her ex. Their relationship, and separation, weren’t as civil as Crowley’s. In reality, trouble had been brewing behind the scenes for a while. 

She’s glad they finally went their separate ways, but it stings just the same, finding out that someone you once loved, who you thought loved you back, just wanted someone to push around. To control.

"That is funny. Not funny ha-ha. Just ... funny. Who would have thunk?" Crowley goes back to her cookie, taking small bites while keeping an eye on Aziraphale.

Aziraphale glances out the window as the limo slows, approaching the gates to the studio lot. Crowley doesn't follow Aziraphale's gaze.

She doesn't need to. 

She knows what Aziraphale sees by the way her face falls.

Aziraphale had hoped they could slip in quietly, but there's already a mob three feet deep waiting for them. The photographers and fans won't be able to see a thing through the car's windows. The tint on them is darker than dark. Still, the whole lot will be on high alert with them here. 

Inevitably, a handful will slip in. 

They may even find their way on set.

Aziraphale doesn't have the energy to deal with that.

Not today.

“How are we going to get through it?" Aziraphale asks. "Filming this scene? The timing is ... uncanny, to say the least.”

“Think of it this way …” Crowley slides across to Aziraphale’s side, sits as close as they're both comfortable with. Crooking a finger beneath her chin, Crowley draws Aziraphale's attention away from the gathering crowd and over to her eyes instead “… we get to spend the entire afternoon making each other feel better. That's how we're going to get through this. Agreed?”

Aziraphale’s eyes lower, flicker to Crowley's lips unintentionally. When they travel back up, she notices Crowley's eyes do the same. She swallows hard. At this distance from Crowley, from her mouth, Aziraphale only has the wherewithal to say one word. She makes it count. "Agreed."

[one-with-the-floor]

Love Thy Neighbor (or at Least Give Him a Chance)

Day 2 of @ineffablehusbandsweek

Today’s meet cute: Aziraphale has just moved in and desperately needs a favor--and if babysitting his godson is what it takes for Crowley to get his number, heck, that’s just what he’ll do. Also on AO3 right here!

Crowley was watching nothing on the TV when his doorbell rang. He blinked and squinted towards the window. It was still absolutely pissing down rain. Even though it was barely half six, it was dark enough to be the middle of the night. Whoever was out ringing doorbells in this weather was either extremely lost or extremely young and troublesome. But if it was one of the village kids, Crowley reasoned, they wouldn’t ring twice if he didn’t answer. He could continue his mindless evening and not get pulled into something ridiculous and probably detrimental to his reputation as a man who did not walk around the village covered in mud. Crowley stared at the front door, willing it to reveal its secrets without him having to get up. The door acquiesced. The doorbell rang twice in quick succession this time, and Crowley finally groaned and flopped off the sofa.

“Village is down the road to the right, mate, probably drove right through it and didn’t even notice…” Crowley trailed off, staring. There was a man standing on his doorstep, and he was possibly the most bedraggled, incongruous, and gorgeous man he’d ever seen. His pale hair was plastered to his face, looking weirdly Roman-soldier-esque the way it curled on his skin, and somehow his soft grey eyes only added to the image. His face was soft, though, nothing chiseled or severe about it. It was the sort of face that could really carry a smile, and make anyone else want to smile, too. The man didn’t have an umbrella, or a raincoat, or even a normal coat to keep the wet from seeping through to his clothes, and his blue shirt was soaked through. Crowley noticed that the buttons weren’t all lined up right.

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” the man was saying, twisting a ring around his pinky finger. “I’m having a minor crisis, I promise I wouldn’t be here without warning if it weren’t an emergency, but Dierdre Young said you sometimes watch her son Adam for her? And the other kids?”

Fucksake, Crowley thought. Those eyes should not be able to get bigger. “Er, yeah. I’ve watched them a few times.” A few times was an understatement. He’d been babysitting The Them since they were crawling.

“I hate to ask this,” the man said, and Crowley was a little bit shocked to find he sounded sincere. “I know it’s horribly last minute, and if you have other plans or—or if you just don’t want to, whatever it is it’s fine, really, but… my godson is with me for a few weeks, and something’s come up for work and I really can’t afford not to go, and that’s terrible of me I know it but I’ve just moved and I’m not quite on my feet yet and I’m already going to have to drive in this damn rain and…” The man yanked on the hem of his shirt. He looked close to tears. Crowley could see it even through the pounding rain.

Crowley didn’t babysit kids he didn’t know. Too many variables, too many parents who ignored issues and then left him to figure out what to do when their kid started having an allergic reaction or a totally preventable meltdown on his watch. Normally, he’d have pointed the man toward Ms. Tracy, the village’s collective odd grandmother and the other usual babysitter.

But the man in front of him was standing out in the rain asking him a little desperately for help, and somewhere in Crowley’s decidedly cold black heart something gave in.

“How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

“Oh—oh! I’ll be back by tonight. I hope before his bedtime, there shouldn’t be traffic this time of night but the rain might slow me down… but I should be here to pick him up before ten, I promise I’ll do my absolute best for that.”

Something else in Crowley’s heart wiggled and squirmed. “How old is he?”

“Five. He’s the same age as Deirdre’s boy, I’ve been hoping to set them up for a playdate but there just hasn’t been time… ”

“Give me two minutes,” Crowley said suddenly, and closed the door in the man’s face. That was probably rude, he mused, but there were more pressing issues. Namely that his heartbeat seemed to have decided it wanted to try its hand at percussion music, and Crowley’s ears were going to be the drums. He stood with his back against the door and stared in the direction of a wall while he tried to get his mutinous heart to understand that he should not be having palpitations over a man he’d just met, regardless of how pretty his eyes were.

He’s also very considerate and seems to care about this kid a lot, his heart rebutted. All that on top of the eyes. And he looks incredibly soft and huggable, did you notice that?

Crowley had noticed that, thank you very much, and had deliberately decided to not go there. He didn’t need any additional sources of embarrassment.

When exactly two minutes were up, Crowley sucked in a steadying breath and swung the door open again. The man was still standing there, looking half worried and half bemused.

“I can keep an eye on the kid till ten,” Crowley said. The man gasped and pressed a hand to his mouth in relief. Crowley’s heart did an uncomfortable flopping thing. “Does he have any allergies?” he continued, telling himself there wasn’t a squeak in his voice.

“No, nothing.”

“Anything medical at all? Anything I might need to know in an emergency?”

“No, no he’s perfectly healthy.”

“And his bedtime is?”

The man’s face went red. “Well, it really should be half eight. But I’ll admit I usually let him stay up till half nine or ten when he’s with me.”

Crowley shrugged. “No problem with me. He’s your kid. Or, well…”

“Close enough, really. I really can’t thank you enough for this. I promise I’ll pay you as soon as I can, I’m not asking for a favor here—”

“Nope, nope,” Crowley interrupted, shaking his head. “I don’t do pay. I’m alright as is, save it and buy the kid an ice cream next time you’re out.”

The man stared at him. His eyes had gone very big again. “Oh.”

Crowley’s face heated, and he felt a sudden urge to pull his own shirt hem. “Just, er, just call me if you’re gonna be late, yeah?”

“Of course! Of course, absolutely, I’ll call as soon as I’m on my way home. Here.” He clumsily passed Crowley his phone, trying to keep it out of the rain. They exchanged contact info, and Crowley tried to tell his idiot of a heart that he wasn’t being given his number, just an emergency contact. His heart, as ever, ignored him.

Crowley snuck a look at his phone while the man ran back to his car to collect his godson. ‘Aziraphale Fell’ the contact page read. “Aziraphale,” he murmured, trying it out. It fit, he decided. An odd, nice sounding name for an odd, nice man.

Fucksake, this was gonna be a thing now.

Aziraphale returned a moment later, leading a little boy in a bright yellow raincoat by the hand. Crowley noticed with amusement that the kid’s hood was made to look like a duck, with eyes stitched on and a little bill sticking out. His boots were orange duck feet. Cute. The kid looked up at Crowley curiously. Crowley gave him a wide, silly grin, and the boy giggled.

When they got inside, Aziraphale immediately crouched down to speak to his godson. Ding! Another point for him! Crowley’s brain yelled. Crowley decidedly ignored it.

“You’ll be good for Mr. Crowley, won’t you, Warlock?” Aziraphale was saying. The little boy nodded solemnly. “Thank you, dear.” He kissed Warlock on the forehead, then stood up again. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise. I really can’t thank you enough—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Crowley waved him away. “Really. If I didn’t want to I’d say no.”

Aziraphale gave him a hesitant smile. “You’ll call me if anything—?”

“Long as you call if anything goes wrong your end.”

“I will. I promise, I will.” Aziraphale crouched down to give Warlock another hug. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Mhm,” Warlock said. Crowley choked down a laugh.

Aziraphale tried to thank him twice more on his way out the door, and Crowley shooed him away both times. Normally he would have found that kind of dawdling irritating beyond belief, but from Aziraphale it was just… it was sweet, he admitted to himself. He thought Aziraphale was sweet. As he stood by the front window with Warlock and waved at Aziraphale’s departing car, he gave himself a moment to sit in the excitement of meeting someone new. Someone who lived close, no less, and would likely come to Crowley to babysit in the future, too. Maybe Crowley could show him around the village, help him get settled. He could unpack boxes or paint bedrooms, if Aziraphale hadn’t quite finished moving in yet. Or he could introduce Warlock to the other kids, and Aziraphale to the other parents—godparents, guardians, all the same to the kids—and maybe… maybe somewhere in there they could go out for dinner. Get to know each other. Just maybe, this might be someone he could build something with.

Then Aziraphale’s tail lights faded into the pounding rain, and Crowley snapped himself out of it.

“Right!” he cried. “So, Warlock. Have you had your dinner yet?”

Warlock nodded. He seemed like a quiet kid. Would probably be a great balance to the rambunctiousness of The Them.

Crowley grinned at him. “Well, if you’ve already had your dinner, then there’s only one thing left to do.” Warlock stared up at him, wide eyed. Crowley leaned down to whisper conspiratorially. “I’ve got ice cream in the freezer. What do you say to early dessert?”

Warlock said yes, very enthusiastically, and they spent the next few hours eating ice cream and watching movies. Crowley had figured he’d have to pull out some games later, or find a book to read him, but by the time movies were getting old Warlock was falling asleep on the sofa. It was an easy night. Warlock was an easy kid. Crowley was already looking forward to babysitting him again.

At 9:57 on the dot, Aziraphale rang the doorbell. Warlock didn’t stir, so Crowley picked him up and brought him to the door. Aziraphale was just as thankful as he had been earlier, and Crowley brushed him off just the same. Aziraphale roused Warlock enough to get him into his raincoat and boots, then let the little boy fall back asleep on his shoulder.

“I… I hope I’ll see you again?” Aziraphale asked softly as he headed out the door. The rain had finally slowed to a drizzle.

“Yeah,” Crowley answered, trying to hide the fact that his heart was trying to pound its way out of his chest. “And, uh. Doesn’t just have to be with the kid, if—I mean—I mean he’s a great kid, loved having him, was great, but, uh…”

He stammered to a stop, because Aziraphale was smiling at him. “I think I’d like that,” he said.

“Oh. Er… good. Me too.”

“I’ll see you soon, then.” Aziraphale shifted Warlock in his arms and turned towards his car. “Goodnight, Anthony.”

“Ngk,” Crowley said. “G’night. Night, Warlock.” He was immensely grateful for the nighttime shadows covering his blush.

Crowley stayed in the doorway as Aziraphale drove away. Then he fell back onto his sofa and scrubbed his hands over his face. Leave it to him to fall head over heels for a soft man with a kind voice and a sweet kid on the first meeting. This was going to be excruciating.

Well. At least he knew he’d be seeing Aziraphale again. And he had his number. Wriggling around to get access to his pocket, Crowley pulled out his phone.

hey he texted. was really nice to meet you. think we could get coffee sometime?

As soon as the messages were sent he flung his phone onto the farthest chair in the room and pressed his hands over his eyes, pushing the anxiety back with a force. But it was only a minute before the mobile buzzed, and he was lunging across the room to get it back.

I’d like that :) he read. Crowley felt an uncontrollable grin spread across his face. He was just about to whoop and go finish off the ice cream in celebration when the phone buzzed again.

You’ll have to wait for me to find another babysitter, though

Crowley laughed, his grin never fading. np, one sec he texted back, then swapped over to another conversation.

Only a moment later—Ms. Tracy was going to be absolutely insufferable about all this—Aziraphale messaged him again.

Okaaaaay, never mind the waiting then. How does this weekend sound?

It was Thursday. Crowley practically bounced on his feet at the thought of seeing Aziraphale again so soon. sounds perfect he replied. Aziraphale sent him another smiley face emoji, and Crowley really did whoop then. He had a date. He had a date, with a guy he really liked, and who seemed to really like him. And who was really good with his kid, to boot.

Crowley got ready for bed in a happy daze that night. And when he slept, he dreamed of pale blond hair and a rain-dark blue shirt, and of a sleepy little duckling in a raincoat.

[thenightling]

What might have Been (Sandman fan fiction)

What might have Been...

Someone out there really does not want me to write Sandman fan fiction so naturally I must write more.  

This story was inspired by the fact that over on his Tumblr Neil Gaiman was asked on at least two occasions that if Alexander Burgess had freed Morpheus, would he still have been condemned to eternal waking or if he would have shown mercy? Both times Neil Gaiman answered that Morpheus would have shown mercy.  And yes, Neil Gaiman has a Tumblr.   So this is a story of what may have happened of Alexander Burgess had freed Morpheus back when he probably should have.

Note: This story does contain a depiction of early twentieth century homophobia and some period accurate slurs.  Based on my own personal experiences as a non-straight person I understand if the scene might make some readers uncomfortable.  However you might find the end result of what happens to the abuser somewhat cathartic.  

             What might have Been…

            The boy stared intently at the glass cage in front of him.  It was domed and rather egg-like in shape and tall enough to hold a man or something very man-like.  The leadened quartz-crystal was as clear as any well-made window.  Alexander Burgess watched the creature with the fascination of a child watching a pet lizard in a terrarium.  

           The naked being in the cage stared back at him with cold intensity and a proud contempt as well.  The creature was pale as chalk, and his eyes were like back pools of water with twin stars serving as pupils floating in the darkness.  Later Alex would be able to compare this vision to the claimed “Grey” alien encounters he would read about in grocery store tabloid magazines.   One stark difference from those creatures though was that this creature had a shock of wild, black, hair that reminded Alex of a disorderly pile of raven feathers, thick and heavy hair that framed the pale face staring out at him from behind the glass.  The creature was improbably thin.  It was clearly intelligent and generally humanoid.              If Alex hadn’t seen the summoning for himself, if he had not detached himself so thoroughly from the alienness of this entity, he might have even found him beautiful or attractive. But all potential for that had been lost to fear and the unavoidable and frightening knowledge that this was not a human being.

           Alex did not know why he found The Creature so fascinating.  He had discovered who and what the creature was in the Paginarum Fulvarum.  The King of Dreams.  That revelation had somehow not resolved his sense of curiosity. This was the being accountable for everyone’s dreams, all of humanity’s secret fantasies and all those shameful imaginings that come late at night when people are at their most vulnerable.  For Alex there was a secret shame in his own dreams…

           “I hate you.” Alex whispered.  It was a childish proclamation but there was some hidden pain there.              The bony, wraith-like, creature moved his head slightly, acknowledging Alex’s words without responding verbally.  He never spoke to them.    

Alex wasn’t even twenty-years-old yet but he knew he was not like other men.  He was not “manly” by the usual definition of the term.  And he believed that if his father knew about his secret yearnings, his Desires… He would be disowned…

It was this thing’s fault, wasn’t it? The cruel bastard there in the box.  He was the one who gave him those dreams.  The dreams that Alex dared not describe to anyone.  Dreams of other young men.  The feel of their lips against his face.   The tingle through his scalp as the lips vibrate against his earlobe as something gentle and inviting was whispered into his ear.  Their affection, their touch, their love…              How Alex dreamt of that love, that sweet, terrible, sinful love.  And why?  Why was this such a taboo?  His father had used magick for so many cruelties.  He had even killed with it.  So why were his desires, ones that could never hurt anyone, considered to be so much worse?  …And who decided that a form of love could be deemed evil anyway?  Wasn’t love supposed to be ultimate redeemer?  The ultimate absolution?  As far as young Alex was concerned humans and the powerful beings that governed the universe- they were all hypocrites.  All of them!  Hypocrites who took pleasure in the befuddlement of others by tempting them with …with deviant dreams…

 Alex had enough of staring at the alien-like boogeyman there in the cellar.  He got up off the cold, damp, floor where he had been seated, eye level with the crouching, naked thing.   Almost staring each other down, as if in a contest of wills neither was entirely sure about.   Alex stood up.  Unlike the pale creature imprisoned there, Alex could leave.  He could leave at any time.   …Then why did he feel just as trapped as if he was the one in the glass bubble?

The months passed and not much had changed.  Alex had grown a bit, but that was normal.  He had read somewhere that some men grow until they’re twenty-five. He was taller, leaner.  He discovered he needed spectacles, which wasn’t too surprising.  He had squinted often when reading father’s dusty old books.        

One thing was different though.   Father had hired a new gardener.  A pretty, red-haired boy, barely Alex’s own age.  And Alex had the distinct feeling that perhaps this young man was also… different.  Different in his capacity to feel for men what most men usually only feel for women (or so Alex believed).

It was a warm summer afternoon when Father finally took notice of Alex and the peculiar way he watched the gardener.  Alex, whom he often ignored.  Roderick Burgess found it distasteful and rather Crowley-esque that his own son should look at another man in that way.   He watched as Alex observed the gardener.  Roderick hoped what he was seeing here wasn’t what it appeared.   But it seemed so.   Alex was as infatuated with the near androgynous gardener boy in a way that he should only feel toward women.  Well, something must be done about that!  

 “Father, please!”  Alex tried to shield himself with his arm as his father’s heavy, old, walking stick came crashing down on him again.            “You are an EMBARRASSMENT!   The heir to the Order of Ancient Mysteries, my ONLY son… a worthless, useless… Mary!”  There was another crack from the gentleman’s cane being used in a very ungentlemanly fashion.            “No, Father, I…  Magus. Magus, Please, I-“            “It’s that boy, isn’t it?  That Elliot? Well, he doesn’t work here anymore!  I sent him away.  You’re lucky I don’t just stop his heart to rid myself of this shame!”            He was one to talk of Shame.  His father, the infamous occultist, rival to Aleister Crowley, head of The Order of Ancient Mysteries, and source of scandal after scandal. The papers always had something to say about Father.  They never spoke about Alex.  Alex knew how to keep a low profile, to keep to himself, to go virtually unnoticed in his father’s shadow.              The threat to stop Elliot’s heart was very real.  Alex knew his father had enough magick to do such a thing to someone without the occult means to defend himself.            “No!  He’s innocent!”            “Innocent?!”  What did that matter to someone like Roderick?  Alex had always been too damn soft and now he had gone over to fairyland as far as Roderick was concerned.   Well, at least he knew his son hadn’t soiled his bed with his deviance yet- he had not acted out his profanity in the house, at least there was that.  “Look at you!  You’re a disgrace!”            Alex was cowering and crouched in the corner of his room, which was in disarray from his father’s attack.  He knew he couldn’t hide what he was from him.  His father was just too powerful…  

It also didn’t help that Alex had kept those old novels under his bed.   The picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, Carmilla by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, a few selected Greek myths carefully bookmarked in a thick, leather-bound, volume, and the closet drama Goethe’s Faust parts 1 and 2 translated perfectly from German into English.  Anyone with the ability to read between the lines, as they say, could tell what Mephisto’s relationship with Faust was really all about…            Alex couldn’t tell what was worse, the words his father said or the cane coming down again and again.  He was too afraid to fight back.  There was no telling what his father or his father’s minion might do if he tried.  Sometimes he had nightmares of his father’s darker wrath, much more extreme than this.            “You dress like a fairy!  Look at you! Growing your hair out like a girl, walking around in long velvet jackets like they’re frocks!  You think you look like Henry Irving or something?  No, you look like a little girl!  No woman will ever find you attractive.   I should have realized, the way you bury yourself in those books, like a little wanna-be priest.”            Alex saw nothing wrong with dandy fashion and as for his hair, plenty of respectable men had hair longer than his. His hair wasn’t even really shaggy. Oscar Wilde’s hair had been longer than this at the time of his death.  Though he knew that was, as far as his father was concerned, an awful example.             He whimpered and tried to wait out the pain and dared not argue the accusations.              “They stare at you, you know.”  Roderick continued in his tirade to shame him.             Alex knew the only person who actually scrutinized what he wore was his own father. He kept to himself too much to be the focus of anyone else’s attention.  “You think I don’t see it?  How they turn and look at you and whisper on the street what a pansy you are.  Maybe if you dressed normal you wouldn’t forget you’re supposed to be a man!”            No one was actually saying he was a pansy. That was clearly Father’s own insecurity about his masculinity talking.

           “Clean yourself up.”  Roderick said, finally too exhausted to beat him anymore.  And in an after-thought “If anyone asks, you fell off a horse like the clumsy idiot you are.”

            Roderick walked from the room, gentleman’s cane (if you could call it that) still clutched in his hand.

           Alex slowly pulled himself to his feet.   He was trembling yet, and sniffling, trying to choke back the threatening sobs.              Alex had long ago abandoned the childish (as he saw it) hope that a parent’s love was truly unconditional. The child in him still insisted it was supposed to be unconditional, that parents are supposed to love you and accept no matter what, and Alex still craved his father’s approval and acceptance.  It had been some naïve governess from Alex’s childhood who had taught him that foolish notion he could not shake, that a parent should love you without condition. And he never could quite let go of that belief even if all of his life experiences insisted that no parent (at least his parent) could not love in that way…              Could Roderick Burgess love at all?

Alex finally left his badly disheveled room once he was certain his father was no longer nearby. There were papers and books scattered, along with a knocked over chair and some random knickknacks.  Some ceramic and glass items were broken, fragments of childhood playthings lay on the carpet.              Something had broken tonight and it was not merely some old toys…            Alex walked …or more precisely he stumbled, down the hall.  Alex’s back ached where he had gotten the brunt of the caning.  He knew the marks were going to scar.  Everything ached.  His shoulders, his legs, especially his back.  One eye was blackened and his cheeks were red from the heat of crying.  He wiped furiously at his own tears.  It was foolish to cry.  And it was dangerous to dream…

He would never really be free. He was as much his father’s prisoner as the creature down in the cellar…  If he tried to run away he knew his father and his magick would find him.  And… he had nowhere to go anyway…              Even if his situation was “Normal” and there was no fear of magical ramifications for his defiance, to whom could he turn?   Where could he run?  There was no sanctuary for someone like him…

           Alex made his way to the secret passage, to the stone staircase that spiraled its way down to the windowless chamber.  He knocked on the heavy wooden door and announced himself for the two guards his father had watching the prisoner.  One of the guards opened the door for him.  They knew better than to question the boy’s condition but there was a slight trace of pity in at least one of them, a softening to the man’s usually unreadable expression.                          Alex managed to steadily walk to the glass cage, hiding that he was in pain.  He slowly laid his hand against the cool glass.  “Please leave us.”            “But the Magus says-“  One of the men started to protest.            “My... Father,” Alex practically spat the word, “is the one who pays you.  And I speak on his behalf.  Now go!”            The men exchanged looks and then shrugged, deciding not to argue with the young man.  They both were eager to have a tea and coffee break anyway.                        Alex lowered his hand and stood outside the cage. He looked at the pale, emaciated figure behind the glass.  He had never changed.  Not since the day they had captured him.  He had not aged, nor had he grown a beard.  And yet Alex felt as if he, himself, had changed so very much in that time. Changed in such a way that he saw now that he was in no better of a situation than this creature here.                 Trapped in darkness, trapped behind the glass, unable to touch or be touched. Alone…  Naked, exposed.  Everyone could see everything about him.  And yet he- The King of Dreams- was unashamed.  Proud.  Not trembling or cowering from a brute of a father. Alex’s contempt for the creature mingled with long, distant fear, was now being replaced by a different emotion.   Something not unlike empathy and maybe even envy.  Envy at the defiance of will, envy at the hidden power that such a fragile, delicate looking thing could have…            Almost beautiful.  The King of Dreams was almost beautiful…    

            Alexander Burgess saw this weakened, helpless wretch, and he saw himself.  A prisoner locked away from light.  A prisoner stripped of dignity. Utterly at his father’s mercy until he said or did what his father wanted…  Would this proud creature eventually cower and break as Alex felt like he had broken.                Alex bit his lip.  If he freed this creature it… he might kill him… or worse…            But maybe… Whatever his fate might be, it was better than this.  Right now, as it stood, they were both prisoners. But if he freed him, this so-called King of Dreams… At least one of them would be free.  And Alex would have some small revenge on his father, the Magus of The Order of Ancient Mysteries…                          Maybe it was some half-hearted attempt at self-destruction, a suicide without noose or razor- that Alex felt he would either die by this creature’s hand or by his father’s but he wanted this thing to end and let it end tonight.  This felt like the only true way to end it.              Alex had gotten a hold of the heavy brass key and placed it into the lock at the base of the crystalline cage.  He was really doing it.  The key fit easily into the hole of the metal base just within the binding circle’s confines.   Alex dragged his foot over the old, chalk, binding circle, deliberately breaching it, as he turned the key.  The crystalline cage opened at a discrete seam.            The pale figure stood up slowly, cautiously, moving like an uncertain animal. He blinked those wide, black eyes, like doe reacting to being offered food by a human.  

           The King of Dreams stepped out of the cage and toward Alex.  He tentatively moved beyond the binding circle as if worried that Alex might change his mind and try to stop him, or perhaps that someone else might.              Alex stepped back but only slightly.              Alex waited for whatever was to come next.              The pale figure moved to him, the glassy black eyes stared at him, stared deep into his own and for a brief moment Alex felt… understood... maybe even accepted.  And most importantly he felt… forgiven.  Not for the sin of what he was- this creature saw that as no crime, but for how he had treated him.  For taking part in the summoning spell, for being complacent in his father’s abuses and humiliation of this proud entity.              “I’m sorry…” Alexander said, swallowing back fresh tears.  “I’m sorry… It was my father, he…”            The pale figure put a finger to his own lips.* “Shhh.”            Alex was trembling, afraid of what he might do next. And for a second, there was such a softness to the usually cold creature and a slender hand touched Alex’s cheek but only for a brief moment.              Alex had never heard him speak and he was startled by the soft sound of an audible voice coming from him.  He didn’t say anything really other than the “Shhh.”           Alex blinked several times.  The King of Dreams moved past Alex, toward the stairs.              Alex went to bed shortly after that as if nothing had happened.  He had just felt so very tired.  He tried to behave as if he had not just released his father’s prisoner.  The next morning though things were different.   Alex had slept peacefully and felt quite well rested.   Even his black eye had seemed to have mostly healed and his back didn’t hurt anymore. There would be no scars after all.  But something was wrong in the house of Fawny Rig. The servants were in a tither.              Roderick Burgess would not wake form his sleep. He was alive.  And he seemed to be dreaming.  He would moan and mutter, and occasionally whimper or beg for it to stop, crying out in his sleep, but he would not waken.            Alex stood to the side of the bed. “Father!  Father, please!  It’s me, Alex!  Please wake up!  …Please.”   But the situation was hopeless.

            And despite everything he had suffered at his father’s hands Alex still grieved.  He wept as if his father was dead and he knew his father’s fate was worse than death.  Alex still mourned. Alex still pined for what might have been, still longed for a father that would love him unconditionally and accept him for who and what he was without question.   If the world’s most infamous sorcerer couldn’t even do that… who could?   Who could… love him?  

            Alex was scared.  He had been in his father’s shadow so long he did not know how to function without him and he had been so isolated, he had so few friends.  All he could do was rely on the servants, the lawyers, and his father’s money to support himself.              His father was moved to the hospital and eventually diagnosed with some sort of Encephalitis Lethargica.  A sort of brain swelling related sleeping sickness but Alexander Burgess knew better…  Somehow he knew…      

           His father would never wake up…            The years passed and everything that was Roderick’s passed into Alex’s hands.  His father died years later in that hospital bed but Alex was not sure of his father’s nightmares were truly over.   He imagined his father’s soul was still trapped somewhere, still suffering an endless nightmare leading into another nightmare, and each time he thought he was waking he would just find himself in yet another new nightmare.  Somehow Alex knew this.   Where his father was now condemned to eternal waking did he know his body had died or did he have a futile hope that he would one day wake up?  

             The estate, Roderick’s fortune, everything was now Alex’s.   No one was there to be critical or to tell Alex what to wear, how to speak, or… who he could love.   And Alex eventually met a beautiful young man named Paul.  Oh, how he loved Paul.   They would travel to such places together.   London, France, Berlin…   They traveled together on a private yacht and drank Champaign on the deck as they watched the sunset over the Mediterranean Sea. There was no secret prisoner to worry about, nothing to shackle them to Fawny Rig like Dorian Gray shackled to his painting.  They could go anywhere. They could do anything. They were free.                And Alexander Burgess lived Happily Ever After…                  It was a pleasant dream.   Too pleasant…

Elderly Alexander Burgess woke in a cold sweat. There were fresh tears in his eyes.   He sat up in bed and Paul was there beside him.  At least there was that…  At least Paul was there.  Paul was real.  

But that’s not how the story played out, not really.   Alex had never been brave enough to defy his father.  He had not slipped down to the cellar the night that he should have.  He had never freed the prisoner.  Even when his father had died he had never freed the prisoner that he both resented and related to.  And he had been the one punished with six years locked in a nightmare that would seem to end only to reveal a new nightmare was starting, and on and on it had gone.   He had woken from that “eternal” curse to his beloved Paul waiting for him.  He had been forgiven.  He was relieved that Paul was here.            Paul looked at him now. “What is it, love? Did you have a bad dream?”            Alex nodded.  “I don’t know what’s worse… that nightmare that I was trapped in or…” He bit his lip before choosing the words. “…knowing I could have saved us all… saved myself…if I had just done the right thing at the right time…”

           “Hush now, darling.  You’re still half-asleep. I’ll get you some tea.”              Alex was soothed and sighed.  There was no use dwelling on what might have been.  But sometimes those dreams of what he could have done- what he should have done, if he had just been brave enough… Sometimes that felt so much worse than the actual punishment the Lord of Dreams had subjected him to before finally forgiving him…

           But at least he was safe now.  At least he had Paul. And at least he had been forgiven. And he was loved and accepted for who and what he truly was.  And his cruel, old father, was very much dead. A loveless old man was gone.  But Alex was alive.  Paul was alive.  And they were in love.  And no one could take that away from them.  And Alex and The King of Dreams were both free from the shadow of Roderick Burgess forever.

           There was no point on dwelling on what might have been.  That did not matter now.  What mattered was the love that Alex had finally found and the freedom that he and The King of Dreams both had gained.

The End

[madquerade]

In Questo Paradiso ne Scopra il Nuovo Dì (4/10)

Rating: m Ineffable Wives (female Crowley x Aziraphale) Major Character Death, tw: illness, blood Human AU, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, just a lil fluff but like… You can read it on Ao3 @ sherwhotreksings Chapter: one two three four five six seven eight nine ten

Paris. 1851. She’s not sure if she’s real or imaginary, the girl sitting on a chair across from her bed. She sees her though: dark hair, golden brown eyes, dressed in white, Azira’s sister. She can’t be sure anything is real at this point. The only thing she knows for sure is that she’s home now and she’s dying. ~ This is just La Traviata but with the wives. I’m sorry. Antonia is a Parisian courtesan caught up in the intricacies of French society until a young madame, Azira, disrupts her whole world.

Chapter 2

Antonia is dozing in Azira’s arms, and it’s everything she’s ever wanted. She fades in and out of consciousness, comforted by the feeling of Azira’s fingers tangled in her hair and the stroke of her hand on her neck. She can tell Azira is speaking to her, but just quiet enough that she has to really concentrate in order to hear. It’s probably just idle talking, but Antonia listens anyway, eyes closed and breaths as even as possible so she doesn’t give herself away.

“This is my Eden. You are my paradise, Antonia.” Azira plants a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

Antonia’s heart constricts in fear. They’re thousands of francs in debt. It took so much to get away from her past life and their luxurious countryside estate isn’t cheap. She couldn’t deny Azira when she promised her she’d make sure she had the finest things. But, she has a plan to fix it all. If she sells everything from her past life, her evening clothes, furniture, Paris estate, she’ll have just enough to pay off their debt and keep their countryside home for a few months more. She can discuss with Azira what to do after the debt is gone.

Antonia stretches and yawns feigning her normal behavior after waking up from a nap.

“Mon Amour,” Antonia starts, “I have to speak with Marceline, but I’ll be back soon.” She heads off towards the kitchen in search of her maid.

“Marceline! Are we settled with our arrangement? It seems things are more urgent than I thought originally. The Baronne is getting impatient.”

Marceline picks up letters from the nearby table and holds them out to Antonia. “We’ve gotten a few inquiries. It’s not what you were hoping for, but sufficient enough.”

“Then please, go to Paris quickly.”

Antonia shuffles through the papers reading the offered amounts and the letters from that day. Among the offers is an invitation to Flora’s latest party in a week’s time. She hasn’t been out in proper high society since the night she intimately joined with Azira for the first time. Letting herself be free of her work was the best decision she’s ever made. She loves Flora, but she won’t ever go back.

A sharp pain shoots through her chest knocking what little air her lungs contain out of her. She tears at her bodice to try and allow more room for breathing, but the strong material and her stays don’t budge. The pain recedes and she sucks in air in short shallow breaths. Anything more than that and she’ll throw herself into a fit. The doctor says it’s important she keeps her coughing down. Her handkerchiefs say the same.

She hurries to the washroom to splash some water on her face, taking some time to compose herself, and then to their sitting room where their desk is. She puts the sensitive information in her desk drawer, but leaves the rest on top, hoping Azira won’t go snooping. As she sets down the invitation she notices a note from Azira.

Mon Amour,

I called for Marceline and a yard boy told me

she left for Paris on an errand.

I have gone to Paris to stop her and

I will be back soon.

You should not have-

A strong rap on the door echoes through the quiet house. She puts the note down to answer it, now the only one here to do so. She wasn’t expecting any visitors, but that doesn’t mean much. As a courtesan she regularly had uninvited guests appear at her door.

A tall man is staring at her from the other side, his dark greying hair ruffled from the hat he holds in his hand, his outfit accented with purple.

“You must be Mademoiselle Crowley,” the man says, voice tinged with displeasure.

She tightens her grip on the door, bolstering herself for what is to come.

“My name is Gabriel Donadieu, Azira’s father.” He pushes past her through the entryway, shoes clacking ominously on the brick.

Antonia follows behind him at a safe distance to the receiving room. She can feel the anger radiating off him. Her skillset says be cautious, but courteous. She has no idea why he’s here, but the reason can’t be good if this is how he chooses to meet Antonia for the first time.

“Antonia, Azira will be ruined if the two of you continue on like this.” He sets his hat down on the side table next to the settee, insinuating his intention of not leaving anytime soon. “She wrote to me asking for help with what you owe. You must give this up. This is no way to live. Especially for two women.”

“Excuse me, but you are in my residence and you have no right to talk to me like that. I ask you to leave now, Monsieur.” She gathers her skirts in her left hand, prepared to show him out herself if she must.

Gabriel advances towards her. “Mademoiselle-” Antonia scoffs at the honorific. “-I advise you to watch your words. It is you who has no right to talk like that to me considering what you do and that you’re une gouine[1].”

It’s not often that Antonia is shaken by something, but she visibly recoils at the insult. Instead of giving this man what he wants, she tips her chin up and sets her face into a stony mask. Hatred over who someone loves isn’t as common as it once was and isn’t a problem in her circles of society anyway. No one cares if their prized courtesan sleeps with a man one day and woman the next.

Gabriel glares at her, accenting each word with a step towards Antonia. “I refuse to let Azira give you everything she has and throw her life away.”

Antonia doesn’t let her mask fall, but is pushed backwards by Gabriel’s ever approaching steps until she bumps into the settee, which startles her enough to feel the fluttering of a coughing fit in her lungs. She scrambles for her handkerchief as she doubles over coughing. She doesn’t dare look at it once her cough has subsided, and balls it into her fist instead.

She straightens up, resolve unwavering. “And I would refuse if she offered. I have a plan as well.” She crosses to the desk, pulling out the letters and holding them out. “I’m selling all my things in Paris. My maid is going as we speak.”

Gabriel rejects the letters with a gesture, waving her off. “It’s not just that. Your past is a stain on your reputation.”

She clenches her jaw. Her past doesn’t matter to anyone she cares about. “My past was forgiven when Azira chose to love me and I chose to love her. Everything that came before doesn’t matter.”

“You and I both know that’s not what God sees. In order to be truly forgiven you’ll need to make a great sacrifice. Please, for the sake of both my children, give her up.” Gabriel reaches into his pocket and pulls out a picture, holding it close to his chest until Antonia is looking. “I have another daughter. Her betrothed has refused to marry her unless you leave and their wedding is soon. Would you take my daughter’s chance at happiness away from her?”

Antonia steps closer. The young girl in the picture has long dark hair, curled, but hanging loosely around her shoulders. A soft smile graces her lips. She’s about the same age Antonia was when she started her work as a courtesan. Her flowing light dress pools gently at her feet and she clutches the arm of a young gentleman staring ahead unsmiling.

“My family will be disgraced unless you give up Azira. We’ll be ruined.”

She looks away from the picture, unable to hold the gaze of the young girl. She can’t rip this love from the couple. She can’t let another person live the way she has for so many years.

Antonia dabs at her chest and face as she contemplates what Gabriel is saying. “Azira and I will separate then. Your daughter will be free to get married. Then after the affair is finished Azira and I will join once again.” She nods slowly, satisfied with her choice. She can give up her love for a week or two in order to protect the dreams of another. It’ll be precious time wasted when she has so little left, but the guilt…

“You don’t understand. That is not a sacrifice. You must give her up completely.” Gabriel returns the picture to his pocket and holds out his empty hand to her palm up.

Antonia inhales sharply, coughing into her handkerchief, the dark blood a reminder of everything. “I refuse. I love Azira and I won’t. She’s the only thing I have in the world. You can’t ask me to give her up completely.”

He steps closer to her from the other side of the settee, grabbing her elbow. “Only a sacrifice of this scale will allow you to have all the happiness you could ever desire. You will be made pure again in the eyes of God.”

She shakes her head. Giving up Azira would be the end. “I’m dying,” Antonia sobs, “If I lose Azira it’ll kill me faster. I can’t have my last moments be without Azira. I’ll never love another person.” She pulls her arm from Gabriel’s grasp, doubling over to catch her breath.

“You are young and beautiful, you’ll find another to love. Besides, you homosexuals are notoriously unfaithful. One day time will erase your youth and beauty and she will become bored and restless. You won’t have her lasting affection because heaven won’t bless a union such as this.”

Antonia shakes her head. “I don’t believe you.” She says one thing, but she can’t stop the sneaking doubt creeping into her mind. Who’s to say Azira wouldn’t tire and leave her? After all, she declared her everlasting love to her after their first introduction. Staying with Azira could lead to her heartbreak anyway. Will Azira stay with her through her death or abandon her like everyone else before?

“Gouine!” Gabriel spits. “Abandon this dream. Put aside your illusions. Be an angel of mercy to my family! God herself inspires my plea!”

How could she think there would be a happy ending for her and Azira? Her fate stacks against her.

Tears fall silently from her cheek onto her chest making her pale skin seem to sparkle in the afternoon light. She thanks whoever is left watching over her that it was a calm cry until now. A sob is ripped from her burning chest as she falls to the settee. Her legs and illness betray her and she crumples to the floor instead.

“So this is the miserable fate of a fallen woman,” Antonia cries to the sky, letting the cough she’s been holding back come roaring out of her throat. Little droplets of spit go flying as she continues her lament. “Never again will I have any hope in my life. Even if God forgives me, man will not.” She can see the droplets that landed on her skirt are staining it red.

She lets her thoughts flit through her mind as if on a spring breeze that she doesn’t have the energy to capture. She was stupid and reckless for thinking she could have everything she wanted and now she’s getting her punishment. Her crying is ugly. And sloppy. And everything a courtesan isn’t. Gabriel gives her the time she needs to cry, but his menacing presence isn’t a comfort.

Antonia tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice, tries to remain poised, but she’s long past that point. “If I do this, you must speak with your other daughter and tell her what I did for her. I had one ray of light left in my life and I’m sacrificing it for her before I die.”

Gabriel uncrosses his arms, but keeps his feet planted firmly in front of her. “You’ll be treated well in life because of your suffering. God will bless your noble act.”

She scoffs, but she’s too tired to fight his insistence. She’ll die before she gets any blessings. Perhaps her blessing will be a swift and painless death.

Calming, she dabs at her face and lips. She can taste the metallic tang on her lips and can tell the blood has stained their center darker. “Tell me how... How do I leave her?” She pushes herself to her feet with the help of the settee, matching her stance with Gabriel’s though he’s a head taller than her.

“Tell her you’ve come to your senses and you no longer love her.” Gabriel cocks his head, waiting for a response, like a hawk looking at a mouse.

Antonia lets another sob escape. “She won’t believe me.” She presses a hand to her face, feeling the warmth instead of the ice she’s used to. “And if I leave she’ll follow me.”

Gabriel crosses his arms once more, displeased by her lack of a solution. The devotion of the lovers runs deep.

No, in order to say goodbye to Azira, she’ll have to break her heart completely. It’s the only way Azira will let her go. Antonia glances around the room, arms wrapped around her stomach in despair. There isn’t anything she could do or say to convince Azira she’s not completely in love with her- Her eyes settle on the invitation resting on the desk, Flora’s party. If she goes back to her old life after everything they’ve done, after Azira rescued her from it, after Azira saved what was left of her soul, it might just convince her.  If she wants her plan to work, she’ll have to move fast.

“I’ll do it, but you must promise me two things.”

Gabriel considers her for a moment and Antonia can’t help but feel like the mouse again. A shiver runs down her spine.

“Once I’m dead, don’t let her curse my memory.” Even as they speak, she can feel her death rushing faster and faster towards her. It seems so real now. She wasn’t ignoring it before, but it seemed so distant when Azira held her. Now she can feel how weak she actually is; how the cold isn’t coming from the open window, but rather from inside her. “And tell her of my sacrifice. Make sure she knows my last heartbeat is for her.”

Gabriel nods his acceptance, picking up his hat from the side table. “Au revoir[2], mademoiselle Crowley.

“Oh Dieu[3].” Antonia’s tears flow freely again. “We won’t see each other again. Make sure Azira is happy.”

“Au revoir,” Gabriel repeats, stepping towards the door.

“Adieu[4],” Antonia replies, watching as Gabriel shows himself out.

How can she tell Azira of what she’s doing in a way she’ll accept without question. Antonia will have to be gone when Azira gets back. There’s no way she’ll be able to do this in person. One look into her eyes and it’ll be over. One look at her lips, her hair, her body, how she smiles at her when she’s in love, hears the hearty laugh she gives when she gets home, sees the look of concern once she notices something is wrong, and it’ll be all over.

Antonia curses, “Ah Dieu, give me the courage,” and moves to the desk, pulling out her pen and paper. The chair feels harsh and unforgiving as she settles in, much like her own mind.

Azira,

Antonia stops and scratches it out. She has no right to use her name like that anymore.

Madame Azira Donadieu,

I have made a mistake. The affection I previously expressed to you was false, and I now feel that my indifference towards you grows stronger every day. I’m afraid your opinion of love was wrong. I miss my old life and have come to view you as a figure of contempt. If we were united, it would only cause a great hatred to blossom inside me. I do not have a faithful heart to offer you, nor do you have one to offer me.

She collapses onto the table, bawling. Every word is a lie. Her sobs shake her body as the table digs uncomfortably into her ribs. She loves Azira with every remaining breath she has. Her hand cramps from writing in this position, but she doesn’t have the will power to sit up.

Baronne Beelze has graciously offered me his guidance and patronage.

Not a complete lie. The Baronne did offer his patronage. She turned it down at the time, but he made sure she knew it was outstanding.

I think sincerely, and you will do me the greatest pleasure in avoiding me. I’ll excuse any lack of response with your compliance to my request.

Adieu, Madame Antonia Crowley

She finishes the letter with her signature, sloppy from the angle, and lets her head fall down onto her arm.

“What are you doing, Antonia?” A familiar voice asks.

“Nothing.” She bolts up, letter in hand, folding it quickly and holding it behind her back to conceal it from Azira.

“You’re upset. Who are you writing to?” Azira takes a step closer, holding out a hand for Antonia to take, which she ignores though it breaks her heart.

“To you.”

“Let me see!” Azira reaches towards her hand holding the letter, but she extends her arm out of Azira’s reach, hopping away.

“It’s nothing.” Antonia holds her breath, waiting for Azira to back away. She can’t do it like this.

Azira does what Antonia expects and turns away, “Forgive me. I’m worried.”

Antonia takes the few extra seconds away from Azira’s eyes to tuck the letter into her bodice, shifting her handkerchief over so they’ll both fit, and wipes at her face with her hands, desperately trying to rid any evidence of distress from her face.

Azira paces the receiving room floor. “I left to stop Marceline from selling your things and I returned to my father’s carriage waiting outside.”

Antonia takes a few hurried steps towards her. “Did you see him?” Her adrenaline is keeping most thoughts of her illness at bay and allowing her to stay on her feet though she wishes to do anything but.

“No, not yet. He wrote me a harsh letter, but I know once he meets you, he’ll love you.” She offers Antonia a reassuring smile and tries to cup Antonia’s face.

Antonia’s hand hovers above Azira’s, almost lost in the fantasy once again, but then she’s dodging her. Ah, how much misplaced faith she puts in Antonia. It’ll hurt that much more once she’s gone. Her skirt swirls around her as she lunges out of Azira’s reach.

Antonia says urgently, “You go first and calm him. Your presence will reassure him and then we can meet him together.” Her eyes light up with her internal hysterics. “I’ll fall at his feet and he won’t deny us our happiness. We can live together forever.” She holds out her hands, grasping at the air. “I love you, Azira, I love you.” Her breathing speeds up as her head starts to spin. “You love me, you do love me.”

Azira holds out her arms for Antonia, brow furrowed in concern, tears in her own eyes threatening to release.

And Antonia can’t resist. She falls into her, legs threatening to give out. Repeating, “Love me, Azira, love me,” and “I love you,” over and over as Azira frantically comforts her. This will be the last time she’ll hear it.

“I adore you!”

The emotion behind Azira’s voice shreds her. She sobs into Azira’s shoulder, jacket sleeves clutched and wrinkling in her fists.

“Why are you crying?” She kisses Antonia’s cheek like an arrow to her heart.

There’s no way Azira will believe her if she continues to act like this.

She straightens up and lets go of Azira’s jacket, letting her arms float down to her sides. Her head and her chest ache, and her lungs feel like they might explode, but she does her best to hide it all. She does her best to hide her fear and sorrow and grief.

“I was just overcome. I’m better now.” She fakes a smile, knowing Azira can see right through her. “See I’m smiling.”

Azira strokes her hair, but Antonia puts her hands on her chest and pushes her back. It doesn’t work. She doesn’t have the strength, and Azira just reaches for her again. Antonia steps back, knowing the only way to escape is by putting distance between them.

Slowly she backs towards the door, pushing down all her feelings. “I’ll be outside among the flowers, always near you.”

She turns and hurries to the door, throwing it open, but stopping in the doorway, one hand placed on either side of the frame. It hits her then that if all goes to plan this’ll be the last time she’ll see Azira, the last time she speaks to Azira, the last time she tells her how much she loves her. It’s overwhelming and she feels pulled as if tethered back to Azira’s side.

Antonia pivots to face Azira, letting all her frustration and heartbreak out. “Love me, Azira!” She stumbles closer towards her outstretched arms. “Love me as I love you!”

She throws herself into Azira’s waiting arms, ready to memorize exactly how they feel. The press of their chests together does nothing to calm her like it normally does. She wraps her arms around Azira’s neck and laces her fingers into her golden hair.

“Please love me as I adore you,” Antonia whispers into Azira’s ear.

Azira peppers heavy kisses everywhere she can reach. It makes leaving her that much harder.

Placing a hand on each of Azira’s cheeks and resting her forehead on her’s, she closes her eyes to say, “Adieu.”

Azira’s hands skate over her hips and back and shoulders, grabbing at her needily. Antonia gives her one last kiss, hoping to convey how desperately she loves Azira, before backing up and using what’s left of her energy to run out the front door.

She pulls the door shut behind her, slumping against it. She only has a few seconds to catch her breath before Azira comes out to find her father. Pushing through her pain, lungs on fire, she hurries to the nearest person she can find, a gardener.

She retrieves the letter from where it was tucked in her bodice and holds it out. “Please find Marceline and tell her to meet me in Paris, and then give this to Azira.” Her heart pounds in her chest, repeating over and over ‘go back, go back,’ practically pleading with her. Luckily she’s had enough practice ignoring the sorry begging of affected souls.

-

[1] A homophobic slur for lesbian

[2] An informal goodbye, equivalent to see you later

[3] “Oh God”

[4] A formal goodbye meant to be final

[sushiandstarlight]

Cookies: Chapter 15

This chapter contains today’s prompt “expectation,” sort of, if you squint. lol

Previous Story: Of All The Beds In All The Hotels In All The World

Chapters 1-3 / Chapter 4 / Chapters 5 & 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14

Read this chapter on AO3

Rated G, Light Teen for suggestions but nothing explicit

Personal note: I’m somewhere in the realm beyond tired from working over night.  What day is it? What year is it?  Here, have some fluffy husbands.

That afternoon it began to snow in earnest, flurries turning to flakes that worked together to blot out the grey landscape. They traveled in the whirling winds, sticking to the trees and the garden and the walls. Inside the inn it was still cozy and warm, perhaps more so than before. Edie and Gladys spent the afternoon in the kitchen doing prep work for the inn's Christmas feast. Two days away, there were already foods they could prepare ahead to be popped in the oven in time for dinner. Crowley was given reprieve from this, though he offered to help.

“You should spend some time with that boyfriend of yours, dear,” Gladys was being particularly nice to him and it was making him even more nervous than he had been- and he'd been getting pretty keyed up as Christmas approached anyway.

“It's allllllmost time,” Edie was absolutely no help as far as anxiety went, but she only giggled when he glared at her.

So, they wiled away the snowy afternoon playing with a chess set Aziraphale had found on a bookshelf in the sun room. The pieces and the board itself were wooden and old, polished to a shine by decades of games. Crowley cheated which made him happy. Aziraphale noticed, and let him with a small amount of squawking, but still managed to win which made him happy, too.

Edie brought in a tray of coffee, pastries, and sandwiches later in the day. The two of them were curled under a blanket on the love seat, lights out but for the tree, watching the snow swirl outside the window as the sun set. Edie winked at Crowley before she left, earning her a tongue stuck out in response and then she was gone back to the kitchen.

“Really, the pair of you.”

“She's riling me up on purpose.”

“She wouldn't do that.”

“Oh, she would. She is!”

“Over what?”

Crowley shut his mouth with an audible click and looked back out at the snow.

Aziraphale's hand crept up his thigh, just a tickle of fingers.

“Getting handsy with me, Angel?”

“I have ways of making you talk.”

“Do you really want to spoil Christmas?”

“Is that what has you so tense?” He was gently stroking Crowley's thigh now and even Crowley could feel one kind of tension trading spaces for another in his body as he leaned towards Aziraphale, “Darling, I'm sure whatever you've picked out of me, I'll love it. It's from you.”

“That's what Gladys said on the phone when we first talked,” Crowley chuckled.

“Well, it's true.”

“Are you nervous about what you're giving me?” Crowley could play this game, too, and he moved his hand to rest near the angel's knee, barely tracing it with a finger. He delighted in watching a small shiver quiver through Aziraphale's shoulders.

“The thing itself, no. Not really. The presentation, maybe.”

“Gonna put on a show for me,” Crowley leered at him, leaning in closer and squeezing his thigh right above the knee, “Might scandalize the ladies of the house.”

Aziraphale laughed and it was a high and precious thing, shot through mostly with joy but a little bit of nervousness of his own.

“Hardly. I doubt there's anything that could truly offend them at this poi-int,” Crowley's hand had crept higher, “Except maybe the thoughts I'm having right now.”

“Having randy thoughts? Pssh, naughty angel,” Crowley's fingers were most definitely teasing him through his trousers, “I think we'll have to put you to bed early for those kinds of thoughts.”

“I think I'll need supervision,” Aziraphale was staring at him with rapt attention now, color rising to his cheeks and ears, down his throat, a lovely shade of pink, “To be sure I behave myself, stay put.”

“Oh, I would be the wrong one of that,” Crowley pressed into his side, slithered into it, really, “I'll only encourage misbehavior.” He stood, offering his hand and Aziraphale took it, following him to the hall and up the stairs.

-

The first thing Crowley noticed the next morning was that Aziraphale was wrapped so completely around him, he couldn't possibly escape even if he wanted to. He didn't want to, though. For anyone else, it might have been uncomfortable warm under the blankets so wrapped up in a radiating angel, but for Crowley it was just right. He was perpetually cold, it was the snake in him, but especially so in the winter. The snow was beautiful to look at it, but the very vision of it made his body shiver and lock up. Some part of him wanted to find a burrow and sleep until it was over. His current situation was a perfect burrow.

The next thing he noticed, and he felt stirring in the arms around him as he did, was the smell of cinnamon and fruit.

“Someone's baking pies,” the words were slurred against the back of his neck and the lips moving there sent a delightful jolt down Crowley's spine.

“You're not even awake yet,” he stifled a laugh so as not to jostle his angel and possibly make him move.

“I know things.” The words were slightly more coherent.

“You can sense baked goods at 50 paces.”

“Damn right I can,” Aziraphale's arms closed in more around him, his legs, too. The angel hummed happily. Crowley echoed back with a happy little noise.

“Alright, smarty pants, what do you smell?” He felt Aziraphale take a deep breath behind him, let it out, then take another.

“Apple pie, surely. Crumble topping. Oh, that'll be divine.”

“Blasphemy!”

“Cherry,” Aziraphale ignored him, sniffing some more, “Mince? That might be mince. It's been ages since I had a decent mince pie. Maybe I should go have a look.” He made to release Crowley, but Crowley wanted none of that. He rolled over and pinned him down, hugging him around his chest.

“Nope, no can do. Sorry.”

“Why not?”

“Because you've been tempted to the burrow of a demon snake and you're not going to be used as a warm body for the rest of eternity,” his words, he knew, were muffled into the skin of Aziraphale's chest, but the angel would get the jist of it.

“Is that so? No way to vanquish the demon? Save the day? Be rewarded with tasty treats in compensation for my good deeds?”

“Afraid not. I don't make the rules. You're just stuck here now.”

“Well, the pies aren't done yet anyway.”

“I see where I stand.”

“Yes, on a timer,” Aziraphale chuckled, combing his fingers through Crowley's hair, “I'll know when they're done.”

“Because of your special magic sense?”

“Sure, my sense of smell. They'll smell even better when they're done.”

“What ever will you do to while away the minutes?” Crowley placed a kiss on his chest and then another before smiling up at him.

“I think I'll have a snack.”

“You did not just call me a snack.”

Aziraphale laughed and Crowley felt it in his whole upper body, splayed as he was across him.

“Where on earth did you learn that?”

“I talk to people!”

“When? Who? Who explained snacks to you?”

“Gladys' grandson,” Aziraphale sniffed, “He helped me find the Christmas lights the other day. Oh, you really should come outside and see them tonight.”

Crowley shivered at the thought.

“I'll warm you back up when we come inside,” Aziraphale wheedled, “It's Christmas eve, you should see how pretty the inn is with the lights. Besides, I want to see what it all looks like in the snow. We won't be long.” Puppy eyes, his angel was giving him puppy eyes.

“Yeah, alright,” he grumbled, “but you are responsible if I wind up sleeping in a hole somewhere until spring.”

Chapter 16 is now up!

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Ectotherm

I’ve known exactly what I was doing for this prompt for a while, though it went in a bit of a different direction. Here’s day 22 of @drawlight‘s advent calendar, and yet another knife to the heart. Shout out to my cousin the herpetologist who has put up with some really weird questions from me the past few months.

22 - Warmth (3,170 words)

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

In twenty-four hours he had been subjected to the inferno of a burning bookshop; the hell-born flames of the dread sigil Odegra enveloping his Bentley; the terrifying freezing-hot-burning-cold presence of Satan himself; and a column of Hellfire intended not for him but for Aziraphale, because the Archangels were determined to destroy the best thing that had ever walked the floor of Heaven.

Well, forget them.

And so, they sat at the Ritz raising their glasses to the world, ready to share a meal and start their life together.

Only Crowley suddenly realized he couldn’t eat. He’d thought he was hungry, but the food just sat in his stomach, heavy and cold. Even the wine seemed to sour, once it was past his tongue.

Just nerves, he thought, and did it really matter? He’d always preferred to watch Aziraphale eat, see the joy bubble across his features. It was enough to know that they could do this every day for eternity if they wished, and right now he certainly wished it.

He felt a little better when the coffee arrived, almost-painful heat radiating out from his stomach.

“My dear, that’s your fourth cup!” Aziraphale protested, as he downed another.

“It’s good! And I didn’t complain when you ordered a second piece of cake.”

“Well, I…I was rather thinking you might like some, too.”

With a rush of giddy emotions, Crowley realized he liked the sound of that very much. He picked up his fork and sliced off a bite of red cake with thick white icing. “What is it?”

“I thought I’d try something different, something a little modern. This is red velvet cake.”

Only Aziraphale would think that a flavor that had been popular for over sixty years was a little modern. Crowley smiled as he tasted it – rich and sweet and strangely light on his tongue. “You know, it’s not bad,” he said, reaching for another bite.

And a little heat rose to his face as he realized that Aziraphale was sitting there with hands folded, smile on his face – watching Crowley eat.

--

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

They went for a walk after the Ritz, but he found he was very tired. He tried to shrug it off.

“I’ve had a busy week, and I missed my sleeping day,” he explained. “I don’t – I don’t need to sleep, you know, but I still get exhausted. I’ll be fine.”

“You should sleep, then,” Aziraphale said, tone slightly scolding. The angel seemed determined to make sure Crowley took care of himself, as if he hadn’t learned to do that long before the Garden. It turned out, being fussed over wasn’t so bad. “I can walk you back to your place. Or. Er. You can come to the bookshop. I don’t have much to offer, but there’s the sofa, and perhaps we can have a drink…”

“Bookshop sounds lovely.” He always had to fight back a smile when he remembered the many nights they’d sat in the back corner together, sharing wine, sharing stories, complaining about work, just being themselves. Actually, he didn’t have to fight back that smile at all anymore – he could wear it for anyone to see. For Aziraphale to see.

None of that today, though. Crowley was rather embarrassed to find that the moment he stretched out on the sofa, he started falling asleep, and there was nothing he could do to fight it off.

He was dead to the world before Aziraphale had even settled into his armchair, and didn’t wake up until the shop was filled with bright Monday sunlight. A fleecy tartan blanket covered him from shoulder to toe, but he still shivered, and his stomach felt strangely heavy. Too much cake, probably.

Crowley sat up stiffly, running a hand through his hair and blinking around the shop. His eyes landed on a customer, who jumped in surprise, then quickly walked out.

“Ah, you’re awake!” Aziraphale hurried over. “How are you feeling? Better, I trust?”

“A bit.” Crowley rubbed at his face. “Didn’t I have glasses?”

“You took them off before falling asleep.” Aziraphale pulled them out of his pocket. “I was worried you might roll over them in the night. You slept very heavily. Is that normal?”

He shrugged, pushing the dark lenses back onto his face. “Probably. Didn’t wake up, didn’t dream much, seems like a good sleep. Does it have to be so blasted cold, though?”

Aziraphale glanced at the old-fashioned thermostat. “I do keep it a little cool to discourage customers. You scared away three different people just by sleeping there, you know. Perhaps I should get you a permanent bed right in the middle of the floor.”

“Only if you promise to turn the heat up.” Crowley wandered closer to the window, feeling the warmth of the sun on his shoulders. That was better. “I’m…” It wasn’t a word he used often.  “I’m sorry, by the way.”

“About the customers? Don’t be, they were trying to touch my first edition Verne novels and I was running out of ways to be inconspicuously rude.”

“No about…falling asleep. I know you had…” Plans? Expectations? They’d never really talked about what Our Side would mean. “…you had hopes, for our first day, you know, free.”

“And every one of them is being fulfilled right now,” Aziraphale said, with such sincerity that Crowley started to smile. “Ah, I lied. Now all of them are being fulfilled.” He took Crowley’s hands in his. “Just standing here, talking to you, not worrying about who might see us, it’s more than I ever thought would be possible. I am perfectly content as we are.” He frowned suddenly. “Except that your hands are freezing.”

Crowley laughed as Aziraphale wrapped his hands around the demon’s, rubbing them, trying to warm them up. It certainly did make him feel better, and not just because his fingers had been a little numb from the way he’d slept.

“I was actually worried…” Aziraphale started again, still staring at their hands. “Oh, I assume you have your own, er, hopes. Since you’ve been thinking about this so much longer than I. We should probably discuss that, but, well, just to warn you, I haven’t thought much about…that is, I’m not sure that I want…ohhh…”

Crowley lifted one hand to tilt Aziraphale’s face up, to look into his eyes. The heat of it was almost unbearable. “I haven’t really thought about it either,” he confessed. “Never thought we’d make it this far. Everything from this point on is just a pleasant surprise.” With his other hand, he squeezed the angel’s fingers gently. “I don’t think I’d say no to more of this, though.”

Aziraphale blushed, the heat of it rushing to fill every space inside Crowley, and his eyes dropped briefly. “Your hand is still freezing,” he finally said, pulling away with a smile. He bustled across the shop to pick up his coat. “I know, let’s go for a walk. It’s a nice, warm day. We can feed the ducks in St. James’s Park…No. Let’s do something different. Something daring.” There was a wild gleam in his eyes as he turned back. “Let’s feed the ducks in Regent’s Park.”

It was indeed a gloriously warm day, and they spent over five hours exploring every path in London’s third-largest park while a small sign sat in the bookshop window reading Out to Lunch – Back in a Jiffy.

Every once in a while, Aziraphale’s hot hand found its way into Crowley’s cold one. Again and again, until it felt completely natural.

--

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

It had been three weeks since the world had ended and begun again, everything ticking along nicely as Aziraphale liked to stay. Crowley caught himself thinking more like Aziraphale these days, which was both worrying and wonderful.

Except that any time Crowley was indoors, he felt lethargic, cold, a little cranky. Aziraphale had miracled up a thick scarf in grey tartan. It was hideous and embarrassing and he wore it all the time even though it didn’t really help. He knew what the tartan gifts meant.

He turned up the heat in his flat as high as it would go, until even his most tropical plants were struggling to meet his exacting expectations. He took more hot baths than he ever had in his life, including the years he’d spent living in Bath. He tried to sit up and engage his mind, especially at night, when his body screamed to just stretch out and rest. He got angry when he discovered he couldn’t concentrate on a game of chess, or even draughts, and said some things to Aziraphale he really shouldn’t have.

Later, when the angel tried to embrace him and make up…he said some even worse things.

He tried wearing more layers. He tried wearing fewer layers. Eating hot food. Lying under a tree. Lying in direct sunlight.

Finally, there was only one conclusion he could reach.

“I’m cold-blooded.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Aziraphale sniffed. His ego was still somewhat bruised from their last argument, but he was clearly making an effort.

They sat facing each other across the café table, opposite sides. Aziraphale had ordered a slice of warm pie with ice cream melting down the sides. A second fork sat, waiting for Crowley, and the angel kept giving it significant looks, but the demon wouldn’t unwrap his hands from the enormous cup of coffee he’d ordered, the largest they served.

Aziraphale sighed and folded his hands. “Crowley, dear. I know the…transition to our new life hasn’t been as smooth as we hoped, and we’ve both said things we regret, but I’ve never felt that you were –”

“No, Aziraphale.” He took a sip of coffee. It was something American-style, hot and bitter and lacking any particular flavor. He didn’t care. He just needed absurd quantities of near-boiling liquid. “I mean it literally. Somehow, after the Apocalypse, I became cold-blooded. I can’t get warm no matter what I do.”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed, as if waiting for the punchline of an unfunny joke. “That’s simply impossible. How many times have you told me off for making those assumptions, just because you used to be a snake? You have a mammal body, and it does…mammal things,” he waved his hands to indicate that he still wasn’t completely caught up on modern science classifications, “including being warm…”

He trailed off as Crowley reached across the table, taking his hand. Even after being wrapped around the hot ceramic mug, it still wouldn’t feel right. “What are you always saying these days?”

“That your hands are freezing.” Aziraphale shook his head. “It can’t be true. That’s not proof…”

Crowley gestured to the plate. “I can’t eat because my stomach is too cold to work. When I do eat, I have to lay down because any extra movement takes away energy I need for digestion.” He tugged at the scarf he always wore. “Extra layers don’t help, because they just insulate me from the warm air. Blankets don’t help because I’m not creating enough heat on my own. Even turning up the heat doesn’t help because this blessed body is made to shed heat, not retain it.” He stared into his mug of coffee. “I can’t move when I’m cold. I can’t move when I’m hot. Sunlight helps for a little while, but the days are getting shorter.” He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, worried what he was about to say would make the angel pull away. “I…I don’t even know if I like being touched anymore.”

He didn’t fight it when the hand vanished, taking its warmth with it. Crowley just slumped, closing his eyes in defeat.

The squeal of chair legs against hard floor made him glance up. Aziraphale had moved to sit beside him, pulling his chair as close as he could.

Carefully, Crowley leaned his head to the side, resting it on Aziraphale’s shoulder, letting their bodies press together. It was easier this way, a sort of passive contact, unrestrained, letting the heat flow between them.

“Are you…” He could hear the way the breath caught in Aziraphale’s throat. “You seem so certain. Is there any chance you’re wrong? Any other explanation?”

Crowley gently shook his head, letting it wobble back and forth on the angel’s shoulder. “This is how it felt when I was a snake. You don’t forget something like that.”

“At least now you know. Surely what you learned from being a snake can help you navigate…”

“I looked it up,” Crowley muttered. “A snake can handle a range of fifteen, twenty degrees easily. Human body…a little more than one degree. At 35 I’m freezing to death, at 38 I’m burning up from the inside. I don’t even know how I’ve lasted this long.” He pressed himself even closer into Aziraphale’s side. Half of him was still cold, even as his shoulder and his thigh screamed in the heat. It wouldn’t balance properly. “It’s going to kill me.”

He felt the tension all through Aziraphale’s body. “Crowley, no!”

“Fine, it’s going to get me discorporated, and I’ll wake up in Hell, and they’ll kill me.”

“There must be something we can do.”

“Maybe. It’s getting harder to concentrate every day.”

“Then I’ll look for a solution.” He offered his hand and Crowley grabbed it, grateful for the almost-too-hot touch. “I might as well, since I’m responsible.”

“What are you talking about, Angel?”

“Your body was fine, then I used it and…it must be something I did.”

“Don’t say that.” He pulled away enough to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. “This isn’t your fault. I agreed to switch bodies, I knew there was some risk. And I don’t think you could have caused this. Somehow this is Heaven or Hell, still interfering with our lives.”

Aziraphale bit his lip, nodding. Crowley wasn’t sure if he really believed it or not. “Still. If this was done to you, there must be some way to undo it. And if there’s a way, I will find it.” He swallowed, turning to look at their linked hands. “But, in the meantime…It’s probably best if you turn back into a snake.”

“No,” Crowley all but shouted, anger mixing with fear. “No, Aziraphale I won’t. That’s not who I am anymore.”

“Isn’t it better than dying?”

He clenched his jaw, biting back his reply. He honestly wasn’t sure it was. An eternity as a serpent, no driving, no music, no wines, no gardening, no feeding ducks, no holding hands…

Crowley twined his fingers through Aziraphale’s, lifting up the hand clasp between them. “I fought…We fought…so long for this. I can’t just…I won’t give this up. I won’t, Angel.”

“You’re not giving anything up,” Aziraphale insisted. He brushed his lips across Crowley’s fingers and, oh, add something else to the list of things he wasn’t willing to lose. “I will still be here. My feelings for you won’t change at all.”

“They’ll probably change a little,” Crowley pointed out.

“I want to spend every day with you, talk with you, see you happy. And it doesn’t matter if you’re scaled or human or turn into a fish, that’s not going to change.”

“I won’t be happy.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But please. Give me the time I need to save you.”

He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale, letting the angel do the same back, even though part of his mind screamed and squirmed to escape the heat of contact. He told himself this wouldn’t be the last time.

--

Crowley was warm.

He stretched out in his favorite basking spot by the window, feeling the winter sunlight play across his scales, heating him up. Every now and again, the door would open, a customer hoping to browse for a Christmas gift. The rumble of footsteps through his belly woke him, and he reared up his head, tongue flicking out to catch the scent of the blurry shape by the entryway.

Almost every time, the visitor took one look at the enormous red-bellied black snake and vanished soon after.

The hours ticked by, slow and sweet, like drops of honey. Crowley was aware that he should be filling them with fast-paced reckless activities of some form, but he couldn’t quite recall what…just a general sense of dissatisfaction.

Still, whatever he had lost, the best was still here.

When he’d drunk his fill of warmth, he twisted his way through the shop, sliding around stacks of books and potted plants (hissing at the ones that didn’t seem to be growing well enough). There, at the desk, sat the angel.

Aziraphale was rarely anywhere else these days. Bent over old grimoires, reading glasses balanced on his nose, pile of notes beside him. He hadn’t glanced up for any of the customers. Three cups full of cold tea sat beside him. He hadn’t even risen to get a new one in a while.

A pair of folded-up sunglasses sat in one corner of the desk. He never picked them up, but sometimes touched them as he worked.

Crowley twisted around his leg, climbing, finding his way along the chair and across the shoulders until he was draped across Aziraphale, watching him work.

“Hello, my dear. How was your day?”

Crowley hissed dismissively. One day was the same as another for a snake. “Progressss?”

“I’m close. I really think I’m close.” His voice was just a rumble, rising from his chest through Crowley’s belly, distorted, missing half the notes. He couldn’t pick up on the nuance, couldn’t tell if it was a lie or not. Just like he couldn’t see all of Aziraphale’s face at once, just the jaw, the little smile, the rest curving away in the distance.

“Dinner time,” Crowley reminded him. The angel needed lots of reminders.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. I really want to keep at this a bit longer.”

“Resssst.”

He held up his hands before him, letting Crowley slither from one to the next without trying to grasp. There was something about hands, something important. It was just on the edge of his memory, but snakes don’t have hands. It slipped away.

“No, I can’t rest yet. Not until…no.”

“Pleassssssse.”

“I can take a small break, but no dinner. I’m not hungry, anyway.”

When Crowley was coiled back around his shoulders, Aziraphale stood up, walking across to the little secluded corner of the shop. This was another important area, though Crowley couldn’t exactly remember why. He thought it involved a lot of sitting, drinking…water? Not water. He forgot what he used to drink.

The angel fiddled with his collection of round discs. “How about some Vivaldi, since it’s almost Christmas? You always liked his Seasons.” Crowley nodded.

He couldn’t really hear the music. Noises on the air meant nothing to a snake.

But once Aziraphale was stretched out on the sofa, Crowley made himself comfortable on his chest, and felt the deep thrum of the music as the angel sang along.

Warmth rose from Aziraphale, too, just like from the sun. It was a different kind of heat. Purer. Better.

Whatever else he had lost, Crowley still had that. And he was content.

[eveningstarcatcher]

Ineffable Valentines Day 16: Flowers

In Eden it was a single blue blossom left on the wall, almost the same shade as his eyes.

After the flood receded and the earth became green again, it was a bouquet of fragrant jasmine.

In Golgotha, a single white lily lay conspicuously on the table in his room, in mourning.

After oysters in Rome, once the other had departed, a pale pink rose lay on the table beside his hand.

Upon his return to the table round, a small pot of clematis with its soft white petals striped in red and pink was waiting for him.

Rosemary and pansies were found after a visit to the Globe.

He could almost hear that sly laugh when he found white rose fringed with red after the Bastille.

The Blitz brought a bundle of purple hyacinth, wrapped in a black ribbon and tucked into a bag of books.

A vase full of hydrangeas was sitting on his desk when he returned home after delivering a thermos.

The years brought many flowers in all shades and varieties and Aziraphale treasured every one. He had a book, tucked away in his desk drawer, where he pressed them. Around each bloom he wrote the date and location as well as notes about what they had done or what they had eaten. He brought out the book every time he felt lonely, leafing through the pages and smiling at the memories. He remembered the flashes of smiles, the warm laughter, the biting comments, and the questions. There were always questions.

And as he stood in Crowley’s flat, he found he had one of his own.

“Why don’t you have any flowers?”

“What do you mean? Got a whole room full of plants right here!” Crowley’s head had fallen to one side as he spread his arms out, gesturing to the greenery around them. They were lush and beautiful and seemed to turn a brighter shade of green when the angel was around.

“Plants, yes, but no flowers,” Aziraphale pointed out, circling the room slowly, giving each plant a smile and a bit of praise.

“Your point?” Crowley watched as Aziraphale admired the plants.

“No point, really, just an observation.” Aziraphale replied distantly, running his fingers lightly over the leaves of a very strong fern. “Seems strange.”

“Strange how?” Crowley pressed gently.

“You always gave me flowers, yet you have none.” Aziraphale turned and looked at Crowley. The dark glasses were missing, allowing the angel to meet his eyes. “Why?”

“Dunno, never thought about it.” Crowley shrugged and picked up the mister, turning back to the plants and away from Aziraphale.

“Are you sure there’s no reason?” Aziraphale’s hand settled over Crowley’s pausing his work.

“No reason,” Crowley repeated with conviction.

“My dear,” Aziraphale took the mister and set it down, taking Crowley’s hand in his. “May I show you something?”

Crowley nodded. Aziraphale snapped his fingers and with a wave of his hand a book appeared. It was very old, with thick parchment pages. The cover was a charcoal grey with edges worn from years of use.

“I saved them. All of them. Every flower you gave me, or at least one from each bouquet. I pressed them all here.” Aziraphale ran a hand lovingly over the book’s cover, then held it out to Crowley.

The demon took it and opened it to the first page. Eden the heading read in Aziraphale’s sweeping script, followed by After temptation, meeting, first rain . Can demons be kind?

He slowly turned each page, his long fingers running over the dried flowers and ink, the memories playing out in his mind. He felt the same overwhelming rush he felt when they first met, when they first dined together, when they created the Arrangement, when they agreed to influence the antichrist together, when he thought he’d lost the angel, and when he had him back again.

Aziraphale placed his hand against Crowley’s cheek.

“Why are you crying?” There was concern lining his eyes, his brows furrowed.

“You saved them. Every single one. Why?” Crowley asked.

“Because they were important to me. You’re important to me,” Aziraphale whispered.

“What about opposite sides?” Crowley closed the book so he wouldn’t spoil it with his tears. “I couldn’t have been important to you all the way back in Eden.”

“I didn’t know then what you would come to mean to me, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t know you were special. A demon who was kind, clever, and beautiful. You were everything I was told demons were not.” Aziraphale shifted towards Crowley, twining his arms around his thin waist, setting his head against Crowley’s shoulder. “Any other demon would have destroyed me on the spot, but not you. You started a conversation, shared a bit of yourself with me, and I was drawn to you.”

“ Angel ,” Crowley murmured into the halo of soft curls. “I didn’t know.”

“I hid it. I didn’t want anyone to know. I wanted to keep it safe from Heaven. It was my private journal. All the important moments of my life are in there and they all involve you.” Aziraphale shifted back to press a kiss to Crowley’s tear-stained cheek. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Why don’t you have any flowers?”

“I - you - dunno.” Crowley stammered, eyes dropping away from Aziraphale’s.

“Darling, is it because you think I deserve them and you don’t?” His blue eyes were rimmed with pain and mourning.

“Maybe,” Crowley mumbled. “You’re so good and you like nice things. I just wanted to make you happy.”

“But it never occurred to you that you deserve happiness, too?” Aziraphale inquired.

“Seeing you happy makes me happy. I don’t need flowers,” Crowley shrugged.

“Crowley, you deserve them, too. The beauty, the fragrance, the lovely memories, you deserve all the beautiful things that earth has to offer.” Aziraphale leaned in and kissed Crowley, slow and sweet, showing him exactly what he meant. “If I may, I’d like to add to your collection.”

Aziraphale snapped and waved his hand again, producing a black pot filled with deep red tulips.

“You make my life beautiful, you fill it with color, and love, and now I do the same for you.” He placed the pot into Crowley’s hands, curling his fingers around it.

“You already do, angel. You have, ever since Eden.” Crowley’s eyes were focused on the flowers in his hands.

“Well, now you have a very small token to remind you of my very great love for you.”

He watched as Crowley nestled the tulips in with the other plants, a jolt of red smiling out from among the greenery. Crowley stared at it for a few moments, then, without warning, he turned on his heel and kissed Aziraphale deeply. The angel gasped and hummed against warm lips as his fingertips brushed along the skin of Crowley’s jaw and tangled into his hair.

for @mielpetite‘s @ineffable-valentines Also on A03

[fight-surrender]

Chapter 2: By the Light of the Silvery Moon

Rating: teen and up

Word count: 1276

Summary: “Fuck off, Baz.” Simon hisses. “I’m not transforming into anything. This whole thing is bollocks.” Um, actually, Simon- you are, in fact, transforming into something.

Chapter 2 of “Howlin’ Forever (The One Where Simon Gets Bitten By That Werewolf) Read it on AO3. 

Baz:

Google is a magical thing. Thank Merlin there is at least rudimentary computer access in the Watford library. Granted, it’s dial-up. How does that even still exist?

I admit, aside from basic astrology and vague musings regarding American moon landing conspiracy theories, I really haven’t given much thought to the moon. The phases. How long it’s actually “full.” It’s not like the moon has any effect on my condition. Simon’s impending “condition” is altogether different.

I can’t remember ever feeling this happy. I mean, Simon isn’t happy, he’s positively miserable. He’s off his food, just picks at his plate. Even his beloved scones aren’t piquing his interest. But I, on the other hand, am practically giddy at the thought of not being the only monster around here anymore. I’m finding it hard to maintain my facade of constant disdain for Snow, when all I really want to do is commiserate about the ups and downs of being a dark creature. Granted, he isn’t a dark creature yet, now is he?

As the date of the full moon approaches, I’m finding myself obsessing about Snow even more than usual. Is his patchy facial hair thickening up a little? Is he shaving more often? Do his cheeks look fuller? I should counsel him about the onset of fangs. The first few times are a bitch. I’ve never met a werewolf, is the transformation painful? Where does his human mind go when he’s a wolf?

Simon is growing more irritable and frazzled as the big night approaches. He’s not sleeping much. When he does it’s all sweat and shouting and fear.  Tonight, he jolts up panting, after a particularly violent nightmare. He rakes a hand through his hair, lit with the blue glow of the waxing gibbous moon. (I’m an expert at moon phases now.)

“I’ll help you.” I murmur, so softly, only a werewolf or vampire could hear.

“Help me what?” Simon responds. Irritably.

“With your transformation.”  The moon goes full tomorrow.

“Fuck off, Baz.” Simon hisses. “I’m not transforming into anything. This whole thing is bollocks.” Simon flings his sheets aside and stalks out the door. He slams it so hard a picture falls off the wall by my bed—my mother, at her leavers ceremony. In her cap and gown, face shining with pride and a rosy future. A fine crack slivers across the glass.

I cast off my blankets, put on my cloak, and go after Snow.

 ***

I find Simon at the ramparts, silhouetted against the rising moon. He’s got his chin out, shoulders back, arms flexed, and hands balled into fists. Like he’s going to pull the glowering orb from the sky and pound it to rubble. Like he’s going to grab fate by its hairy shoulders and tear it limb from limb. Simon Snow, always ready to go down fighting.

I leave him there, staring down the moon, and go back to our room.

 ***

 The next day Snow doesn’t get up for class.

Bunce flits into my face in the dining hall at afternoon tea.

“What have you done with Simon?” She buzzes, face pinched, hair billowing in an intimidating purple halo around her face.

“I’m not his keeper, Bunce. I thought that was your job?”

“Simon isn’t eating, he’s skipping class and looks a disaster. You’re looking both dodgy and smug. Spill.” Bunce retorts.

“The misadventures of your dumber half are none of my concern.” I turn on my heel and stomp out of the dining hall.

Why hasn’t he told Bunce? I ponder, hands in my pockets as I make my way back to Mummer’s house. I make sure to glare at anyone who dares look my way, it’s a form of stress relief. She’s his best friend. His only friend. A problem shared is a problem halved and whatnot.

My mind stops its spinning on as soon as I step into our room. The curtains are drawn and the space is stuffy. The heaving mountain of blankets (my blankets, wtf?) on his bed belie Snow’s location. “Get up you loaf; your sidekick is looking for you.” I sneer.

No response.

“Get up, I’m not having Bunce yapping at my heels over –” I stride to the bed and lift the sheet. Simon’s face is wrong. It’s pale, blotchy with a hint of grey. His hair is soaked in sweat and matted to his head. He’s shivering.

“‘M freezing, Baz. Fuck off.” Simon moans.

I place a hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up, Snow.” My heart is pounding in my chest as I feel a traitorous prickling in my eyes. This is no time to cry, but Crowley, this is happening.

Oh Simon. I allow myself to gently push his damp curls from his forehead. He doesn’t notice. 

I get up and begin pacing the room. How does this even work? Will it hurt? I searched the Watford library for all the Werewolf information I could find, but the world of Mages frowns on lycanthropy much as it does on vampirism. Beyond the Werewolf Code of Conduct of 1637 (which nobody signed), tomes of accounts of how to kill them (apparently, they’re flammable too, go figure), and lists of famous werewolves in history (Thoreau, Einstein, Twain, among others), reliable information is scarce. Just a few anecdotes on failed attempts at countercurses and some balderdash about premenstrual talismans using their fur. Nothing useful.

It occurs to me that there is a good chance I’m about to be trapped in a tower with a werewolf. I’m not sure how I feel about this. Is this how Simon finishes me off? The final battle? Death by werewolf? Will he even know what he did? Will he care?

Crowley, what if he bites me? Can I be a vampire and a werewolf? What a nightmare. 

Darkness has settled on the room. I haven’t bothered to turn on the lights. I don’t need them. In the gloaming, Simon’s breathing has settled, he seems almost calm.

I settle onto my bed to await the moonrise. My mind uneasy and thoughts swirling. Anxiety crawling like worms under my skin.

A moment or hours later, the night air is pierced by a sound I never want to hear again. Simon screams and curls into himself. He tries to get up but falls to the floor. Without a thought I go to him, but I don’t believe he knows I’m there. I’ve got an arm around his shoulder, steadying him. He’s on his knees, face in my chest. My other hand is carding through his hair. “It’s ok.” I whisper, “I’ve got you.” He doesn’t hear me. He won’t stop screaming.

His voice is going hoarse, sobbing as he shakes me off and falls to his hands and knees. There is a wet creak of bones breaking and flesh tearing. His back arches as his scream melts to a long howl, drenched in sorrow. I’m crouched on the floor, breathing in gasps, tears streaming down my face. I think I’m going to throw up.

I look up into a huge pair of ice-blue eyes. A long, dark muzzle, teeth like knives. Moonlit bronze fur with a bit of a curl. He lets out a low, menacing snarl, his eyes locked on mine. I feel the hair on my neck rise and my fangs pop. He growls again, like thunder, then leaps over my head and out the window in one fluid movement.  Disappearing into the waiting night, leaving me alone. The only sound in the room, the tumbled beating of my heart.

[danvssomethingorother]

Love is Blind

Summary: A reverse Omens AU, Crowley is the angel and Aziraphale is the demon with my little twists.

So I know this isn’t like amazing and is more bare bones AU summary then anything but i had all these details in my head this morning and threw this together, I’ll post it on A03 later and will probably edit it better and add more details when I post there.

---

Aziraphale was the only demon worth trusting, for that matter he was more trustworthy then any angel in heaven. He was the only one who would give him a straight answer and that’s what Crowley needed. Give him confirmation of the end times coming and how they could go about this.

He shot through the streets of London, Aziraphale wasn’t always easy to find. Right bastard he was, didn’t have a place to live, crashed with Crowley when he got tired of roaming. When those gluttonous instincts kicked in and he allowed Crowley to care for him. Crowley grit his teeth, like he deserved to be cared for.

Of course, just of course, it was Crowley’s rotten luck when he needed his beautiful blind bastard, he was on his stubborn streak.

:

Long before rumored Antichrists and the end nearing, there was a garden and an angel named Aziraphale.

He had seen humanity through its infancy and given away his sacred sword, no one the wiser of his crime.

He looked over humanity with wonder and love, despite the evils he had witnessed and felt on a personal level, he felt like a doting parent watching over them. Or maybe, more appropriately, an older sibling their mother had tasked with looking over them until they could be returned to her and her kingdom.

Humanity and his love for them would be the reason for his fall but he never gave up hope he too would be allowed to return home to his mother one day.

Her one true son had walked through the halls of hell as well and been allowed to return to her arms, he often prayed that same fate would be for him too.

She forgave all and that was the only thing that kept him going.

;

Crowley swerved to a halt in front of a rundown old church in the run down and dying part of Soho. He slammed the door shut of the Bentley and blessed the bum a crisp bill to keep sinful thoughts of touching his car while he attended to business. His demon was in here, he sensed him.

He stepped through the doors and heard him begging, praying like mortals do.

Crowley cringed, covering his scarf to his nose at the scent of searing flesh, Aziraphale must have been at this awhile. He got into these moods every hundred years or so and the result was always destructive, he would kneel on hollow grounds until it burned through his flesh leaving scars that would never heal. He would pray to their mother who never listened, he would beg to ears unwilling to listen, trying desperately to finally be forsaken. To finally be worthy for Crowley, who in his eyes would always be above him as a servant of the lord, what a laugh that was. Or it would be a laugh if it wasn’t hurting the only thing in these cosmos he loved.

Gently he took Aziraphale by the shoulders and forced him up, he smelt the blood and he smelled the burned flesh, it gagged him. It happened every single time Aziraphale was called back to Hell, Crowley would guide him into a better view of himself and just as swiftly, Hell would shatter it.

“My angel,” he whispered in his ears getting to stop mumbling in Latin, “We have much to discuss, leave this place with me?”

“My darling,” he sighed grasping Crowley’s hand tightly, “Please don’t lie in her presence.”

Crowley didn’t have the heart to tell him she barely existed in Heaven; it was unlikely she existed in a place such as this.

;

The flood was the first time Aziraphale had ever questioned, had ever felt doubt. Not in Her, never in Her, but in Heaven.  

He roamed the plains as the rain began to get stronger, it blurred his vision, but he would be fine. Even if his body died, he would be back. He couldn’t say the same for those not permitted in Noah’s Ark.

He looked upon families loading carts down, gathering belongings and coming together in a comradery he had never witnessed before. They weren’t just accepting fate as Heaven expected and they weren’t looting and murdering one another as the demon Ligur had snickered they would.

They were helping one another, helping each other pack, each using the others resources to leave this place and get everyone to safety.

Children and elderly and the sick loaded in carts drawn by livestock, supplies packed, and none of them seemed willing to even let their enemies stay behind to die, they were working together.

“It’s all pointless,” Ligur snickered once more taking a bite into an apple, stealing the precious little the humans had gathered, “Fruitless effort. All these souls will be in Hell before the morning sun that will never come.”

Aziraphale ignored the demon who had been following him, his one constant companion, helping an elderly woman back into the cart and giving the humans a safe route to the mountains.

He didn’t believe that. Even if they were going to die, he had to believe they were going home. Going home to their mother, going into her embrace. These weren’t evil souls; these were poor people who tried the best they could and only needed a helping hand.  

He would later ask Gabriel about the humans who fought so hard to survive and what became of their souls. He felt something crack hearing the archangels felt they weren’t pure enough to enter their kingdom, Ligur had been right.

;

“I had heard about the antichrist,” Aziraphale confirmed allowing Crowley to lead him into his record shop and up the stairs to his apartment they shared where all of Aziraphale’s books were cluttered.

“Who was assigned it?” Crowley pressed helping the demon sit down in his favorite sitting chair and easing his sunglasses from his pale face, revealing the empty sockets where eyes had once been.

His smoky black hair with grey peppered through it was in quite a state, it looked like he hadn’t bothered to brush the tangles out. His nails weren’t in their perfectly manicured state as they had been when he had last seen him, they were bitten down to nothing with dirt coating around them. Crowley held his hands, not minding the grime sitting down in front of his love, pressing his concern into him. Aziraphale would get better and then he would just stop caring and do this to himself.

His stomach was no longer round and soft, his clothes no longer pressed and clean, he was deathly thin and his clothing nothing more than beggars’ rags. He did this as some sort of punishment Crowley would never understand. Punishing himself for falling.

“Hastur was but he gave the duty of delivering the child to Ligur and Ligur, never a fan of child rearing, has asked me to lead the child down the dark path and finally prove myself as a demon.”

There was a lot unspoken in the silence, this was Aziraphale’s last chance to prove himself, if not for the arrangement he would have likely been disposed of by now and Gabriel would have likely found reason to call for Crowley’s falling.

“Do you mind running a bath darling? I am afraid I am getting you quite filthy.”

Crowley laughed but did what was asked of him. He had never known anything but serving others and had always hated it but taking care of Aziraphale had never felt like a chore.

;

After the rebellion, things had changed much for the worse in Heaven.

Unfortunately for Crowley, he had been in a group that it had hit the worse. He had been low level before but had been treated fairly before Lucifer began praising his gospel. Telling angels like him it could be better, but Crowley had been too cowardly in the end to give everything to his rebellion and after seeing the burning flesh and the severed wings and what became of the losers in this battle, how they were tortured before being thrown into the pits of darkness, he wasn’t about to step out of line again.

After the rebellion, he was reduced to nothing more then Heaven’s slave labor. Kept in line like the rest of the fear of falling and being disgraced. If that fear wasn’t enough, it wasn’t too uncommon for the likes of Sandalphon to lash those who spoke out of place, making it a public spectacle for anyone else who wanted to question Heaven’s Will.

If Crowley had a name before, he didn’t after the rebellion, he was referred to like the less of the lower angels as ‘Guardians’. And they were tasked with whatever the other angels wouldn’t take care of and treated as those bellow them.

He wouldn’t have a name until he met the former disgraced Principality. He would take over for in Rome who had taken to playfully calling him ‘Crawly’, the treacherous snake of Heaven who talked of the angels sinfully when they weren’t around to hear. He would later change that to Crowley, it was less demon like and as Aziraphale fell in love with him, he liked to distance him as much as he could from Hell.

;

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

Aziraphale was curled against Crowley in the bathtub, both soaking and neither up to rising to go back to business just yet. Crowley was carding his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair, shimmering black as night once more now that the curls were clean.

“Hell makes me feel my failures and sins,” he admitted, eyelids closed hiding the cruel fate Heaven itself had given him before tossing him out of their kingdom, “I never wanted to fall. I love her and I believe in Heaven still, I want to believe in good.”

“Hurting yerself isn’t going to do anyone any good, angel,” he chastised again, afraid to look down at the scars and burns on his legs and thighs from kneeling on hollow ground like he did.  

“A rational part of me knows that but there is something in me that feels like I must do something. I must prove my worth, show I have learned and am sorry.”

They didn’t say anything else; Crowley began reciting him one of his favorite Wilde stories, he knew it by heart he had read it to his love so often. It helped when he got like this, it helped Crowley concentrate on something else other then this.

;

“You must love my presence.”

Aziraphale ignored the demon, he didn’t even look in his direction as he helped a young mother load her cart and put the baby gently inside a basket, kissing it on the cheek blessing it with luck.

“They will damn you for this.”

Aziraphale still didn’t respond, checking the position of the sun, they had no time to waste. It would happen within days and they all needed to leave. He yelled to the crowd of the poor to take what they had loaded now and just leave with their lives.

They listened to him for they trusted him, he always had that effect on people, they trusted him despite the fact he was betraying Heaven.

Ligur sneered at him, tired of being ignored, knocking Aziraphale from the large rock he was standing upon as the last of the people in the neighborhood left, leaving their home of Sodom behind.

“Why do you save them?”

Aziraphale thought a moment, he could have said nothing he supposed, but he knew he would be seeing much much more of the demon soon for his actions.

“It is just. They are innocents. I can’t let them die like this, being smited for just existing. I couldn’t let the first borns die either in Egypt, I couldn’t let Adam and Eve be defenseless. They won’t understand, I know they won’t and maybe they are right, and I am wrong, but I cannot look on to suffering any longer, Ligur.”

Looking back, Aziraphale should have chose his words more appropriately, the other angels had a strange sense of justice when he repeated these words. He would never look onto suffering again, he would never look on to anything again.

;

Crowley had been chosen to take the Principality’s place after his fall, someone needed to walk among the mortals and bring in reports. Everyone else felt too good for such a role, so it fell on the shoulders of the Guardians, like everything else did.

Crowley tried to hide his utter pleasure at this, he was done living under the archangel’s feet and being worked to the bone doing things they didn’t wish to do. He was often forced to do these tasks as mortals did anyway just for the angels’ amusements, so it wouldn’t make much of a difference.

The corporal form took time to get used to, but he found he liked the concept of sleeping, of being allowed rest and time to just shut down.

He even got to take residence in a lovely villa in the Roman capital, not too different from the archangels’ quarters he often served.

He found himself quite liking alcohol, he even became a regular patron at a little tavern. He liked to play strange games he always lost and barely understood with the annoyed regulars.

It was on a day such as this he met Aziraphale, dressed in rags and filthy, walking into the tavern. He fumbled around, arms stretched forward, guiding him clumsily to the counter. He had an accent, not used to the language, inquiring about the nearest hotel.

Crowley took in his aura, it was demonic, he knew he should be afraid but he was more curious. He had to know if the rebellion was worth it, had to know if it was all better then this.

He grabbed the man by the shoulders and forced him to sit down with him.

“What’s it like being a demon?”

Aziraphale had given him a frown at that but shrugged as Crowley sat a glass of wine before him, he greedily took it, chugging it down.

“I will only tell you of that if you do me a favor.”

Crowley had nothing better to do for the day and agreed to it.

“Describe to me the sunset, it has been so long since I have taken it in and I miss it dearly.”

They became nearly inseparable after that.

;

“Heaven will win you know; it was always meant to be that way.”

Crowley curled tighter around Aziraphale, kissing his neck, trailing kisses down his poor deprived body. It had gotten so thin and deteriorated since he had left Crowley, he had worried he would be this way when he finally came back.  

“That would mean an eternity without you and I don’t think I could take it.”

Aziraphale chuckled, “You may call me angel but I haven’t been one in a very long time my love nor do I deserve the title.”

“You deserve it more then every bastard in Heaven,” Crowley growled pulling his love closer.

Aziraphale chuckled but didn’t argue, settling into sleep while Crowley held him and planned. He wasn’t losing this and going back to the way things were, they would stop the end or die trying.

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

CHATS: All The ‘New Anna’ You Could Ever Handle

---

August 12 2012 - New Anna Appears For First Time

<Jo> *Jo’d spent the last day or so stuck in her old room at the bar. Dr. Roberts had come up with his creepy goth nurse late in the morning and decided that there wasn’t so much damage that she’d require any pins after the rather painful process of twisting and matching the breaks up against one another again. Her foot was already booted - quicker than the normal process but he didn’t want to have to come back up in two weeks and figured Jo wouldn’t rest long enough for it to do any help with the soft plasters first - and she had a full cast on her left hand, the right getting away with just a half covering her thumb and finger. As much as Jo wanted to just get up and go home, Harry, Lily and Sophie had practically shoved her back into bed one way or another after each time she got up for more than the bathroom. Sighing, she takes her next round of painkillers and waits for the numbed feeling to take over the sore areas in boredom*

<Anna> *Anna had been picked up by Harry, he took  her to an apartment she was told was hers that’s not not far from the bar, a clean one bedroom place that had pictures of her and her parents on the wall and her clothes in the closet. Finally back at work she was on light duty till all the stitches come out and she’s not in danger of popping open the cuts. One duty now inclues taking lunch to the owner that’s been laid up on a hunt that didn’t end well. Taking the basket of food Sophie made up stairs she knocks on the bedroom door waiting to be told she can enter.*

<Jo> “If that you Harry comin’ to turn me to the dark side that is Star Trek again you can forget about it!” *Jo calls out on hearing the knock, instinctively throwing her arm across her face to cover her eyes in an attempt to block out the memory of the last time before yeling at the hard cast instead, laughing to herself. A second knock makes her frown through it, giving a quiet sigh* “Yeah, alright, come in whoever..”

<Anna> *Anna’s laughing to herself at the comment about Harry, she’s coming to love the little nerd and he makes her feel at home, definately he felt familiar and she was glad for that. It was unnerving to go into place after place and not know anything but have clear evidence that she had been there and had a life there. It felt like looking at someone elses life but not hers. Pausing when she see’s Jo, the blond woman feels really familiar and she has to stop herself from staring.* “I brought you lunch. Sophie made you a hamburger and she cut it up where you can eat it better. She said to tell you that you can’t have a beer, to not ask.”

<Jo> *When she hears someone laughing, Jo immediately rolls over and groans before the voice catches her off guard. Trying to spring up and reach towards where she stores her gun at home, she hits her cast again but doesn’t react other than to stare hatefully at Anna. The words and the smile and the stare seem all wrong but she’s not taking much notice of that* “Wha- what the fuck are you doing here?!”

<Anna> *Anna stops in the door way with her eyes wide in shock. She hasn’t met anyone yet that had hostility towards her and she just blinks several time before finding her voice again.* “I..I’m sorry. I..don’t know what I’ve done but I’m sorry.” *Anna walks over and she places the basket on the table next to the bed, not looking at Jo as she sets the food out for her.*

<Jo> *She just stares at the other, blinking in confusion as Anna apologises to her and shuffles about the room, setting things out. Jo swallows after a seconde, reaching over for the pill bottle the doctor had given her, fumbling to hold it up so she could read it* “Goddamn Doc, if you gave me something experimental again or with delusional aspects..” *Jo can’t quite get around what was seemingly happening before giving up and setting the bottle down again as she turns her attention back to Anna* “What the hell are you doing here, Anna?”

<Anna> “M..my job. I work at the bar but since I can’t lift anything heavy because of all the stitches from the wreck I’m just on serving duty and it’s a light lunch crowd so Sophie said for me to come up where and bring you lunch and maybe keep you company for a bit but I guess that wasn’t such a good idea. I’m sorry I don’t remember what I’ve done to upset you but I’m really sorry and I just don't remember it.” *Anna’s speaking at a mile a minute with nerves. She’s just not sure why Jo would be this angry, she’s not the type that normally makes people mad or she didn’t think she was and she nearly knocks over the bottle of water she just opened as her hand shakes, suddenly feeling afraid of this memory loss because no one said there was any bad history between her and Jo before sending up.*

<Jo> *The words ‘I just don’t remember it’ are what gets to Jo, shooting the other a sharp, quizical look* “What… what do you mean you don’t remember it? …What wreck? The wreck was months ago. What the hell are you on about, Anna?” *There’s a bad taste in her mouth as Anna fumbles and seems to freak out, the words and actions not sitting right with the hunter*

<Anna> *Anna nods to Jo as she places the basket on the dresser, moving away from the bed. She’s wearing light pants and a t-shirt, a bandage poking out from it on her neck and a fading cut on her face still visible.* “It was a couple of months back. I swerved to miss a deer I was told, the deer made it but I waosn’t s lucky. Spent some time in a coma and then in a lot of rehab for my leg and to get my other skills back from the head injury. I’ve only just been released. I was lucky that Sophie and I guess you since you own the bar let me keep my job. Thanks for that..” *She’s looking at Jo, the feeling that she knows the other woman growing but she get clear memory.*

<Jo> *Jo just stares at the other blankly as she explains 'what happened’. Blinking slowly, the blonde shifts to sit normally rather than alertly, brows furrowed as she gazes carefully* “So.. that’s what you think happened.. you had an accident and have been recovering ever since then. And.. I just own the bar that you happen to work at..” *She’s speaking like she’s talking to a child, or maybe that she’s the child, slowly and making sure to get everything correct before shaking her head and asking carefully* “You just got released from the hospital? Why did it take that long? Wha- who told you that’s what happened?

<Anna> *The confusion is clear in Anna’s expression as Jo talks and she bites her lip, reaching up to run her hand through her hair as she feels like she’s done something wrong but she doesn’t know what it is.* "T..took..” *Anna stops and takes a breath starting over.* “It took a long time to wake up from the head injury and to get my speech back. M..My leg was also pinned and I was told that I’m lucky to be able to walk without an aid besides a brace.” *Anna pulls up the leg of her pants to show the plastic piece that wraps around her leg where Ruby cut her up.* “And Sophie and Harry along with the doctors and nurses all say this is what happened.”

<Jo> *Jo’s eyes flick between the brace around Anna’s leg, a small twist when she knows what happened but Anna doesn’t seem to, and the other’s confused face. Not really knowing what’s happenign herself, the blonde tries to push herself off the bed, slipping her legs around to touch the floor before stealing herself to press her hands back and push upwards* “Okay.. okay this is too much. This isn't funny, Anna. I need to get out of here.”

<Anna> *Anna steps forward watching Jo trying to get up and she reaches out to help the other woman.* “I don’t think you’re supposed to be up just yet.” *Anna notices the collar but she doesn’t say anything just dropping her eyes down from it as she tries to lift Jo up to keep her from pushing on her hands and she feels the stitches pull.* “Sophie will kill us both if she comes in.”

<Jo> “Sophie can take my pistol up her ass if she tries it.” *Jo growls back, pulling her arm free from the other and knocking the plaster against her hip hard in her haste. Groaning, she tests the boot around her foot cast before shuff lifting her hands up to stretch. First thing was first - getting home and working this all out. Scratching at the top of the borrowed boxers she was using as shorts from Harry, she looks up at the seemingly all accommodating Anna, not sure how to take the other woman’s seemingly dramatic change* “Um, do you know where my clothes are? And my phone? I need to call Grey to come get me.”

<Anna> “I don’t know where your things are..I’m sorry.” *Anna’s voice is dropping as she feels Jo pull back in haste from her and she steps back towards the door.* “Please..I didn’t mean to upset you, I won’t come back because it’s clear something happened and I don’t want to upset you while you recover. I..I’ll ask Sophie or Harry for your stuff.”

<Jo> *The way Anna was just backing off makes Jo stop, sighing as she twists and bends now that she’s actually getting to stand up for longer than the few feet to the bathroom. Tugging the bottom of her tank up to sniff, see how bad she’s smelling, Jo looks back at the other and the guilt she’d been feeling over the other’s injuries bubbles up again - more so as she spots the bandage poking out of Anna’s shirt* “No, no, it’s… it’s fine. What’s forgot is forgot, right? I… guess you’re not the same person I thought you were if you’re not swearin’ or trying to snap at me. Or making a nasty comment about Grey, too.. Just.. I’m sorry for what did happen, if you ever get your memories back, Anna, you.. don’t have to run off.” *She’s not sure what’s making her say it, other than the guilt at going so hard at Anna the last they saw was dulling the betrayal she’d felt, and the sharp jolts from her breaks were giving her a reason to play nice should Crowley pop in. Though that thought makes her eyes grow wide, staring at the other as she exclaims* “Crowley!”

<Anna> *Anna listens to what Jo says and she’s trying to think about herself swearing, she can, she has but she’s not been really known too and it must have been something bad if she had been doing it a lot at Jo. She didn’t know who Grey was but it’s who Jo was wanting to call and she again couldn’t see herself making nasty comments to someone about someone else. She really isn’t sure she wants to remember this part of her past.* “I..clean slate? For all of us? I don’t remember Grey either, is he your boyfriend?” *Anna jumps as Jo screams a name out and she blinks not knowing that name either.*

<Jo> *The looks on Anna’s face and the way she jumps at Jo’s shout makes the blonde laugh, finding the change amusing as she shifts her weight more onto her uninjured foot as the other starts to ache. Shaking her head and shrugging a shoulder, she offers out a hand before dropping it back to her side* “Um, I’d shake on it, but.. So yeah, clean slate - if you want. Though it might take me a bit longer than you to get used to it.” *Jo’s mouth twists up into a small grin, shaking her head again before giving up and sitting back down on the side of the bed* “Grey’s my.. he’s my lover, we live together not far from here, though he’s been a little busy so I stayed here. It’s going to take a while to explain whatever has happened to him 'bout you - you guys weren’t exactly on the best of terms before…whatever happened.”

<Anna> *Anna steps back as Jo seems to calm down and makes the comment about shaking but not being able too and she smiles almost shyly glad to not be on the hostile side of the hunter now.* “We could pinky shake, like kids used too and Grey, if I don’t see him tell him I’m sorry for whatever happened between us? I don’t want to start back on the bad side of people.” *She’s glad to see Jo sit back down afraid they would have to call the doctor back if Jo tried to do too much.* “And my mother said people with differences aren’t bad, just makes life interesting..” *Anna smiles at Jo her eyes drifting down to the collar thinking it’s more than just lovers going on between them.*

<Jo> “Just don’t ask me to do a blood-brother’s pact, because who knows what that could bring.” *Jo mumbles out the joke, lifting a hand to touch her hair before bringing it straight back down as the weight of the cast reminds her she can’t really just yet. Sighing, she smiles back at the other - finding the change to not be all that bad as of yet, the mother comment making her determined to figure out what was going on as Anna seems to remember her human life and childhood well enough* “Your mother sounds like mine, though she’s probably a lot less snappy..” *Swallowing when she notices what Anna’s looking at, Jo flushes slightly feeling as if the collar was getting tighter before reaching out for the food Anna brought* “Well, whatever, welcome back to work, Anna, I guess..”

<Anna> *Anna clears her throat and she see’s Jo blush and she looks around trying to not focus on the collar.* “If you need any help with anything, let me know. Can’t be easy for you to brush your hair with those casts, you know don’t go back to stay with Grey. and..thank you Jo.”

<Jo> *Jo nods, trying to swallow but having just taken a bite just decides to talk through* “Nuh, it isuhn’t. Could use the hulp with ha..ir.” *Finishing the bite, she smiles more freely even as the blush darkens slightly - neither the doctor or his assistant having thought anything of the metal and after Grey’s freak out, Jo kind of wasn’t prepared for a normal persons reaction - or that person to be Anna* “Is.. is everything treating you well? Hunters not giving too many problems?”

<Anna> “Everyone is fine, you’ve been the first person to be angry with me.” *Anna stops as she says that and tries to backpeddle quickly.* “But it sounds like I did some things so it’s not that you’re mad at me without reason..” *Anna blushes picking up the hair brush on the dresser, walking around behind Jo and she brushes it out gently to get the tangles out.*

<Jo> *Jo laughs the second Anna starts back pedalling, finding the change and lack of subsequent comment that Jo did stuff as well amusing as all hell. It was very different to her from how Anna usually was* “Well, we all did some things, you’re just the lucky one who gets to forget the guilt and problems.” *Shes not sure why but it’s different but familiar to be sitting where she was with the redhead as the other brushes through her hair, wishing she could do it herself and pick up burgers not cut into little wedges and just get out and run*

<Anna> “I guess. It’s weird, everything and everyone seems familiar but I can’t tell you who you are and I end up staring a lot and it’s somehow got me three numbers already and now I’m not sure if I’ve went out with any of these people or not..” *Anna relaxes more as she gets Jo hair free of snarls and she picks up a hair band placing it around her wrist as she starts to braid it thinking it would be easier to keep back while Jo can’t brush it herself.*

<Jo> “I wouldn’t take any of them up - from what I know you’ve got a pretty possessive boyfriend out there, and I of all people should know that.” *When Anna mentions going out with people it makes Jo flush again, feeling her skin heat up awkwardly as she lets out a cough and reaches for the soft drink Sophie was supposedly allowing her* “Whoever they are it’s a no, you’ve only …gone out… with two people really, and I doubt any of them gave you their number.”

<Anna> *Anna pauses in the middle of the braid as Jo said she’s got a boyfriend.* “I..don’t remember him or the other person I dated. Awkward..” *She can’t see Jo blushing as she finishes the braid, snapping the band around the end.* “There, that shouldn’t snag while you’re in bed…it’s not Harry is it? I mean he seemed pretty laid back around me and sweet and he doesn’t look like he’s possessive except for his nerd stuff.”

<Jo> “Yeah.. awkward.” *Jo ducks her head forward, reaching to touch the end of the braid and run the tips of her uninjured fingers over the braid when Anna declares it finished, laughing at her comment about Harry* “I’m pretty sure Harry is still hung up on his ex-girlfriend from ages ago, the little dork. I’ll see if I can’t get in contact with your guy, work out what was going on - the both of you.. seem to have gone through a lot of changes recently.” *Turning, she picks up another bit of burger as she gives Anna a small grin* “As for the other one, I have it on good authority they are well past things and happy enough just to forget and be friends again, if they can, so you’ll be fine.”

<Anna> *Anna nods and she moves back to lean against the dresser.* “I’ve got a lot of people upset with me it sounds like.. and thank you again for talking to people for me Jo and for letting us start on a clean slate. I don’t remember you really but this feels nice.”

<Jo> “Not really, just three people really.” *Jo twitches her mouth up again after polishing off the wedge of burger, washing it down with a sip of her soda* “And you and I start fresh, I’ll see what I can do about Grey.. And I’ll give Mr Tall and Dark a call.” *As she speaks Jo’s hand goes up to her collar again, not thinking of mentioning Crowley just yet, before twisting to turn the words away*

<Anna> “Mr. Tall and Dark?” *Anna tilts her head curiously at Jo now. She knew her parents were probably rolling in their grave with her working in a bar but this sounds totally out of character for her to date.* “Have we been together long?”

<Jo> “Tall and dark and a bi-” *Jo cuts herself off with a laugh at the innocent curiosity on Anna’s face, not thinking she’d appreciate the crude joking at the moment - trying to stiffle it when it threatens to get too loud* “Ever since you broke up with your last partner, so just… just before the wreck.” *Jo alters the explanation as she doubts Anna would remember or buy the true details if she shared them*

<Anna> “Bi?? He’s..into guys as well??” *Anna’s eyes have grown wide again, seriously never thinking she would be dating anyone like that and he must have done something special to convince her to go out and keep going out.* “So he’s also a rebound? No wonder we have problems.. Poor guy..I owe him if he’s stuck around through all that..”

<Jo> “Er, no. I was going… I was saying something else. Course, he’s the less bi one out of the two of you.. Was a bit of a womanizer before you guys got together.” *Jo’s amusement is skyrocketing, watching Anna react to things was starting to make her not feel so bad any more. Taking a sip of her drink, she shakes her head* “Not so much a rebound as you were… well… he was a factor in why your other relationship flopped. But yeah, he’s stuck through a lot - and so did you honestly.. You.. you’re good for each other in your own peculiar way.”

<Anna> *Anna turns red as her hair as Jo says that he’s the less bi one and that means that..she doesn’t remember this and just how drunk was she??* “I.. he’s..okay..wait..I cheated on my other boyfriend?? What kind of person am I??” *She’s stammering all over the place, she’s glad that it seems her and her current bf are really good for each other but she’s sort of trying to wrap her brain around the rest of it.*

<Jo> *Biting down on her lip to stop from outright laughing at Anna, Jo shakes her head, setting her can down and reaching up to rub at her neck, unhurt fingers rubbing over the side of her collar and pausing at the odd feeling of it before replying* “Actually, you cheated on me - kind of. We were sort of on a break, though honestly it’s hazy as to the details given all the suggestion and then the wreck.” *Anna’s stammering and worried question about what kind of person she was makes Jo actually take it seriously now, letting out a small sigh* “You’re a good person, mostly. Sometimes you were a little selfish, but we all are really. Things.. got better, some things weren’t meant to be and some things just had to happen. Course some things were bad, but, that’s life right?”

<Anna> *Anna’s horrified as Jo says it was her, no wonder the other woman was pissed when she came in and she felt so familir and then she realizes that they were together in /that/ way and she’s red from head to toe as she looks at Jo.* “Oh my God. No wonder..I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know and no one told me and no wonder you were so mad if ..Oh God..I’m going to hell..”

<Jo> “I’m going to hazard a guess that… well, nobody else is going to really know. We, um, kept it quiet?” *Jo lies easily, not quite sure what Crowley must have done or what some may or may not remember about the bar, but figures it’s easy enough to cover in case no one else recalls the time. Shaking her head at Anna’s apologies though, Jo holds up a hand to gesture for her to quiet* “It’s fine though, that was a long while ago. We’re good, Anna. And there is no /way/ that you’re goin’ to Hell - God doesn’t really give a fuck about sexuality, you know..”

<Anna> “No..not about that..I’m fricken Hester Prynne and I don’t even remember it..” *Anna takes a breath and she swallows trying to calm down, this wasn’t what she expected to find out about her life and she’s more than a bit horrified.* “I..don’t..what is my current boyfriend’s name?”

<Jo> *Anna’s comparrison makes Jo’s control on her laughter slip, letting out a loud giggle as she shakes her head* “Don’t worry Anna, if anyone was Hester it was him - like I said, womanizer.. Course I know that first hand so lets just say the lot of us were a bit of a clusterfuck?” *She smiles encouragingly across at Anna as she grabs up another bit of food before continuing, a wicked smirk appearing as she realises she can have a bit of fun with this* “His name is Gray..”

<Anna> *Jo’s enjoying her reaction and she’s not sure if she should be mad or not or if this is normal for them so she bites her tongue but then Jo says she knows first hand about her bf and she’s so confused and just as she’s about to get a handle on her thoughts Jo says his name is Gray but that’s who Jo said is her lover and the womanizer and ..“Is..he..you?? Are we dating a polygamist??”

<Jo> *The horror in Anna’s shriek is all it takes to make Jo scream with laughter, falling to the side as she gets a stitch as she tries to gasp for air, tumbling to the floor and laughing through the pain from catching her fall with her hands sharply. It’s too much, especially when she catches another look at Anna’s deer in headlights look, choking as she tries to speak.* “N- no! It… Oh my god…” *She takes another minute to catch her breath and stop laughing, tryin to blink away the tears that had formed from the gasping, the laughter and the pain, before shaking her head and trying to sit up* “No, we’re not.. Long story short, your boyfriend and I used to fuck, we stopped, you and I got together, then you and he got close and stuff happened, you and I broke up and then you and he got together.. And his name is… well he and his brother go by the same name, just different spelling and, well, inflection.”

<Anna> *Anna rushes to Jo’s side as she falls and she’s not sure how to help or if she should get the doctor as Jo just lays there laughing and she’s suddenly thinking that Jo’s making all of this up and she glares at the blond on the floor.* “Very funny. None of this could be true, it’s too wild. I hope that you’ve had a good laugh at my expense. I’ll tell Sophie that she can bring you dinner.” *Anna stands up stalking towards the door.*

<Jo> “I’m not lying!” *Jo calls out after her, trying to pull herself back up onto the bed. Sighing and finally getting her breath back, she adds quickly* “You’ve got a birth mark on your right butt cheek, it’s not big at all, but you get weird about it.”

<Anna> *Anna turns with her hand on the door and she’s still red and she just looks at Jo and she isn’t sure how to take all of this and it’s too much so she just leaves with this indignant sound coming from the back of her throat about Jo talking about her birthmark.*

<Jo> *When Anna almost squeaks and storms out, Jo cracks again, crawling atop the bed and curling up onto her side, feeling a lot less stressed than she had in a while right up until her hands start throbbing and she reaches over for another painkiller, figuring she’ll just sleep off the weirdness and wake up from whatever strange dream she was having.*

August 20th 2012 - Anna Butting Into Jo’s Relationships Again

<Anna> hows Jo?

<Jo> Jo’s okay… She got to go outside, she’s getting a little spoilt for her own good, and she’s mostly trying to ignore the never ending threat looming over head - kind of amused/looking forward to laughing at Gray’s expense whe n he figures out things

<Anna> she’s so mean and such a troll

<Jo> She really really is.

<Jo> “I call it taking joy out of the small things”

<Anna> “I call it being a bitch”

<Jo> “Not saying I’m not.”

<Anna> “I don’t like you.”

<Jo> “I’m getting that. You didn’t like me much first time around til we got drunk a lot.”

<Anna> “You..just you seem like your punishing me for things that I don’t remember and enjoying the fact that I don’t remember it and in general being mean spirited about the whole thing. If we were friends, this isn’t how friends act or at least how I was taught how friends act.”

<Jo> “Well, I’m sorry if it seems that way - that’s honestly not what I’m intending. I’m just… playing around, Anna. It’s what I do, and most of the time you wouldn’t get upset by it - give it back or smack me upside the head. I’m not exactly from the same background as you,especially not now..”

<Anna> “I don’t know you now! And you know this, this is why you come across as enjoing it because you keep doing it on purpose! I don’t know if you enjoy seeing me upset or angry but it’s just mean.”

<Jo> “Well I’m /sorry/! It’s a little hard for me to wrap my head around that this person I’ve known for over a year is /suddenly/ someone completely different. And no, I don’t. I would have a week ago, but right now? I don’t.”

<Anna> “How do you think it feels for me? To wrap my head around the idea that for a year I’ve just been bar tending and trying to find myself again after my parents were killed and now I’m hearing that I’m this total other person who is supposed to be me!”

<Jo> “…right. …… ….I shouldn’t play around like that should I? I was just pranking you Anna, I get bored cooped up in a room - especially when I really don’t want to be. I was kidding around - the only things that, yeah, are true are about the guy you’ve sort of been with. I was just mucking about, too much day time television.”

<Anna> “It’s okay..I just..I’m frustrated and confused and I was sort of glad to hear that I had a friend and then you just turn out like this and sad.”

<Jo> “…Sorry. I didn’t think you’d take me seriously, was a little farfetched on my part. …I didn’t mean to upset you; I’m not exactly good at the people thing and we are friends, Anna. Usually you just see through my joking around..”

<Anna> “Give me some time to get to know you and I will again..probably..maybe..”

<Jo> “Probably..  Still, I didn’t mean to upset you and I apologise for that..”

<Anna> “It’s alright..and I’m sorry for calling you a bitch…repeatedly”

<Jo> “Don’t worry, that’s pretty accurate most of the time.”

<Anna> “Do you need anything? I don’t mind bringing stuff by to you.”

<Jo> “I, uh…I get pretty well taken care of - stuff wise. Though, I wouldn’t mind getting to get out sometimes actually. The, uh, um… my company is a bit of a homebody, so if you wanted to swing by, go out and do something would be better, maybe.”

<Anna> “Are you able to walk like that?”

<Jo> “A little ways. If it weren’t for the hands I’d be trying to drive myself honestly.”

<Anna> “I could drive if you have a car.”

<Jo> “…you don’t know how amusing that is.”

<Anna> “Um..right..wreck ..you probably don’t want me driving.”

<Jo> “Nah, it’s more amusing you were unsure if I had one. …hunter. Car is kind of a necessecity.”

<Anna> “Oh..right..well just let me know when you want to go out and I can walk to your place if you give me a addy.”

<Jo> “I do-.. um, I, uh… …yeah, I.. think I could, um, do that… The address, yes, I can, um.. I think Harry knows it, I don’t really …know it know it… And I will. I will definitely.”

<Anna> “You..don’t know where you live? I’m the one with the head injury here.”

<Jo> “It.. it’s not that. It’s a little more complicated than that.. I.. can’t really give out my address much. Because, um… you can’t tell any of the other hunter’s about the place. I come to them, not the other way around. They’re… Grey doesn’t really.. well, I don’t give out my address often so I- the end of West 5th street.”

<Anna> “Okay. I’ll be over there as soon as I go scribble that down on the walls of the men’s restroom. ‘Hunters, if you are looking for Jo or a good time, come to the end of West 5th street.’”

<Jo> “Oh god, don’t even..! And how would you know if I were a good time?!”

<Anna> “You said that we were together and it was more than once so it must have been something good about it.”

<Jo> “And I said I watched too many soapies. Unless you’re wanting to have walked on the wild side with me… in which cause I’ll have you know I’ve got nothing but rave reviews.”

<Anna> *Anna coughs*

<Jo> “…but still, I doubt anyone looking for a good time would be dumb enough anyway. Have to go through Grey first.”

<Anna> “Possessive bf I’m guess..”

<Jo> “Not so much possessive as…. uh…”

<Anna> “So the collar isn’t a sign of that at all?”

<Jo> “Well, that wasn’t put on by him. It’s a long story.”

<Anna> “Okay…”

<Jo> “It’s a… challenge. By someone else. How long I can keep it on without freaking out… Grey isn’t so possessive as to..yeah. He’s not /that/ possessive.”

<Anna> “Mmmk.. So besides killing monsters what do you like to get out and do?”

<Jo> “Movies… running, pool.. I like target practice or just.. Mostly I’d say pool.  What do you remember that you like doing?”

<Anna> “Coffee shops, books, I like the water, botanical gardens. Pool is fun, I remember watching friends in college play. I guess you can’t really do that with the casts. What happened? I’m assuming a hunt went wrong?”

<Jo> “Coffee is good - there’s a nice one just outside of the city centre. And the docks - I’m down there a lot usually myself. I can’t with the casts though, no - should be off next weekend though which is good. Yeah..yeah you could say that. I just wasn’t expecting it, not as alert as I should have been and things went a little pearshaped.”

<Anna> “That sucks. I’m sorry. Still could have been worse I suppose.”

<Jo> “Oh, I’ve had worse, it’s no biggie really. Just kind of sucks - but I’ve never had someone arounf who’ll really..help out during before so it’s not so bad.

<Anna> "Well I guess that’s good. Grey loves you by the sounds of it.”

<Jo> *Jo laughs loudly*

<Anna> “He doesn’t?”

<Jo> “Just never thought I’d hear someone say that without it being mocking or concerned or with some sort of malicious intent behind it..”

<Anna> “I’m guessing that by someone you mean me?”

<Jo> “A little, but not specifically. There are a lot of people with opinions.”

<Anna> “Why, what’s so bad about him?”

<Jo> “It, uh… it’s complicated. He and you haven’t really ever gotten along, his family are… eccentric, I’m fairly certain my mom doesn’t like him because of it and there are some other…well.. people he knows who have some pretty interesting takes on our..relationship, is all… It’s not something he can change but I wouldn’t say its… bad…”

<Anna> “Wow. Well..I can’t wait to meet him..again and maybe this time we can get off to a better start be friends.”

<Jo> “I doubt that, but he might be persuaded not to try and set your hair on fire. ..That’s probably as good as it could get. He.. holds grudges.”

<Anna> *Anna blinks*

<Jo> “What can I say… we both have very voilate personalities?”

<Anna> “I..What did I do to him?”

<Jo> “I don’t actually know, honestly, or at least originally. …He’s very.. you both have very clashing personalities. Or had. And then something, which would make absolutely no sense to you now, happened which got him really hurt that could be tracked back to you so… it hasn’t really helped my few attempts to mend bridges.”

<Anna> *Anna just nods*

<Jo> “Plus, you were with his twin and they kind of hate one another.”

<Anna> “So..is his brother..does he have the same issues that Grey has? That no one likes him..and were? We aren’t together?”

<Jo> “Grey’s more on the outs with his family than on the outs with other people - he and Harry are really good friends actually, Harry is a little more dubious of /me/ than of Grey. While his brother… gets along every well with their relatives but.. he’s a bit of a dick sometimes - charming. But a dick.  I honestly don’t know, I don’t really believe anything about your relationship unless it comes from you.”

<Anna> “So..I’m dating the dick? and You’re dating the estranged grudge holder?”

<Jo> “I..wouldn’t say dating myself, but yeah that.. works. Pretty much that.”

<Anna> *Anna nods again*

<Jo> “…Any thing else?”

<Anna> “Not sure..I’ll pick you up this afternoon after shift?”

<Jo> “Sure, sure.. Works for me.”

<Anna> “Alright..see ya then”

August 24th 2012 - ‘New’ ‘Nice’ Anna Leaves Jo Stranded At The Mall

<Jo> *Though they’d agreed a few days before, neither were able to actually agree on a proper time until now that they were both free for enough time or could - Jo’s foot had been acting up after storming up and down the stairs and the bar had got an unexpected influx, so when Anna’d sent a text asking if Jo was free it was a no brainer to reply and agree. Took longer than she meant to to get her

<Jo> things and get outside, leaning against the passenger door of her car as she waits for the redhead to arrive - not sure what Anna’d had planned but not really caring as it got her out of the house for a bit.*

<Anna> *Anna walked up the street, looking at the condition of the houses around her, she frowned a bit at condition of the neighborhood. It wasn’t what she pictured and she finally found the one Jo said, she went up to the door knocking  but when no one answerered she walked around the driveway to find Jo waiting by the car. She wasn’t happy with the woman but there would be time for that later and plastered a smile on her face as she walks up to her.* “Hello. Ready to go?”

<Jo> “Hey, yeah..” *Jo smiles slightly, shooting the windows facing towards them a dubious glance before turning her attention back to Anna, tossing her keys towards the other as she fumbles with the door handle* “What’d you have in mind?”

<Anna> *Anna catches the keys easily unlocking the car and getting in, going about getting the seats and mirrors adjusted.* “How are you feeling. Think you are up for a shopping trip to the mall?” *She smiles as she cranks the car.* “How is Grey doing?”

<Jo> *Getting herself comfortable, not used to not having the wheel in front of her, Jo shoots Anna a slightly jealous look before looking out the window towards the house at Anna’s question as they pull out of the drive and head off* “I’m good, and if I’m not the Doc left me enough stuff that I’ll feel right as rain regardless.” *Scratching at the top of a cast, she can’t wait to get them off* “He's alright, he’s him - never really know what’s goin’ on but I think we’ve both got a dose of cabin fever.”

<Anna> “I can understand that, would it be nice to just ..I don’t know, poof and be somewhere else?” *Anna smiles sweetly as she drives towards the mall.* “So I guess that you could probably use some now clothes, and I’ve checked the mall has some wheelchairs we can borrow so you don’t have to walk around on that foot.”

<Jo> “Why do you think I jumped at the chance of someone actually knowing how to drive?” *Jo lets out a small huff of a laugh, twisting a bit in her seat* “I.. can’t actually argue with you on that, living in tight jeans isn’t the best with the foot out and wrapped up. I can walk on it just fine though, Anna.”

<Anna> “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to be hurt or anything by not taking care of yourself. You never know whats going to happen unexpected and it would be bad if you fall and try to catch yourself on your hands.” *Anna keeps smiling sweetly at Jo.* “Just thinking about what’s best you know.”

<Jo> “I will be fine, Anna. I’m not an invalid and Roberts said it’d do me good.” *Jo lies through her teeth, frowning slightly at Anna’s smile as they pull into the mall carpark*

<Anna> *Shutting off teh engine she’s parked close as she could to the door.* “Alright but don’t say I didn’t warn you if you start to hurt.” *Getting out she waits for Jo not offering her hand as she stands near by.*  "It’ll be nice to get something to eat other than bar burgers. They don’t really keep up your engery and I could kill for something with taste.“

<Jo> "Hey, those things are pretty damn alright..” *Jo grumbles, pushing the door open and shut with her other foot before heading towards the building, smiling to herself at how little Anna’s arguments about food have changed* “Like I say, I have the magic pills. I’ll be fine.”

<Anna> *Walking inside she smiles and nods.* “Good, wouldn’t want you going through an unnecessary  pain or anything.” *Going over to the directory she looks at Jo.* “I don’t remember being here before, do you know where to go? Or should we just hope for the best going in blindly.”

<Jo> “Food courts’ down that way, so I figure clothes or what not would be along the other.” *Jo shrugs, jerking her hand towards one side once they get in before looking at the other* “You’re the one doing me a favor, you can pick what we’re doing. Honestly, I’m just here to get out of the house and stretch my legs.”

<Anna> “Well lets get the most of the walking out of the way.” *Anna heads off towards the clothing stores, walking along window shopping.* “So how did you and Grey meet?” *She asks casually curious as to what Jo would say.*

<Jo> *She’s able to keep pace relatively easily at the moment, following along and keeping an eye out for anything which strikes her fancy - glad she’d just gotten new cards for herself and for Grey a week ago. The question stumps her just like always, shrugging as she frowns at a few mannequins they pass* “I don’t actually remember.. We just did. Became friends after he helped me out on a few cases.”

<Anna> “And you and Gray?” *Anna slows looking at some casual sleepware that could be good for laying around the house in and some joggers.* “These look comfortable, don’t you think?”

<Jo> “A bar. I didn’t even know they were related when we first spoke.” *Jo gives the items a look, shrugging her shoulder as she tries to work out the easiest, yet truthful explanations as she could.* “They look alright, yeah. So long as the word ‘Juicy’ isn’t on the ass.” *She jokes, turning a pair over, laughing to herself quietly.*

<Anna> “Oh they don’t look alike? So I couldn’t meet Grey and get an idea of what Gray is?” *Anna finds a pair of plain pants and she hands them over to Jo, watching her expression carefully.* “I think these are good. No writing or anything telling.”

<Jo> *Taking the pair and folding them over her arm, Jo shakes her head at Anna’s question - though the second one makes her pause, curious at the phrasing* “No, they look nothing alike. One’s tall, one’s not. Both have dark hair though, but completely different other than the hair colour.”

<Anna> “Ah, they must have taken after different parents then.” *Anna moves away looking at some jogging shoes, she missed running and even though it wasn’t clear when she walked there wasn’t that much wrong with her leg, jogging wouldn’t be possible without it being totally noticable.* “How are you holding up Jo?”

<Jo> “You could say that..” *Jo moves after Anna, not looking down at the joggers at all - though the look the other was giving them would have been amusing if it weren’t for the small stab of guilt she felt knowing exactly why Anna wouldn’t be running any time soon* “Im fine, honestly. I think I can get the casts on my hands off next week sometime, though it’ll be a few more before the boot comes off”

<Anna> “That’s good and soon you’ll be off hunting again, protecting the poor people that don’t know anything about what’s really out there. You’re like a guardian angel of sorts, just with guns.” *Anna smiles to the blond woman as she heads out the door to wait outside the store while Jo makes her purchase.*

<Jo> *Jo bites her lip tightly to stop the laugh from coming out, moving toward the register and grumpily going through the motions and exchange before meeting Anna outside* “Yeah, that’s really not it but I will be off hunting again. I prefer using my knives though - guns are surprisingly not as useful to know how to use for what I tend to go after.”

<Anna> “So food now?” *Anna starts walking towards the food court, looking at all the different places before settling on chinese food for herself, noodles with honey garlic chicken.* “Still you keep things from hurting people, when they don’t know what’s out there. You do good in the world, even if you don’t tell people about it.”

<Jo> “Sure..” *Jo follows along, buying herself a rather large plate of nachos with guacamole and salsa as the pair sit at a free table* “Or I’m just out there wanting some vaguely ethical way to get away with killing things - so some people say.”

<Anna> *Where they are sitting is quiet, being a slow evening at the mall so there’s no one around them to hear Anna’s next question she has for Jo.* “So..I’ve got to wonder why then you wouldn’t wan me that my boyfriend is a murdering monster or that I should protect myself against other things?”

<Jo> *Somehow it doesn’t surprise Jo that Gray would have gone by so quickly, and picking up a few of the corn chips before answering she looks blankly at the other woman* “I honestly thought you’d know how to do that - you’ve got memories of being at the bar, I figured you might remember about why the salt lines were so important. As for Gray… you weren’t believing me about the rest of the truth - how was I to think you’d believe me about that as well?”

<Anna> “So, then it’s my fault for not believing you.” *Anna takes a bite of her food chewing and eating in silence for a while before she decides to speak again. “It doesn’t explain why you didn’t warn Gray what to expect since you told him to come see me. I’m trying to understand your logic and motivation for these actions Jo.” *Anna takes another bite as she waits for an explanation.*

<Jo> “He wasn’t goin’ to hurt you - if it were anyone else then yeah, but not  you.” *Jo scoops up a few more mouthfuls of her food as Anna talks, raising an eyebrow at her tone and choice of words* “God, you’re sounding like some prissy school teacher or a mother right now.. I didn’t warn him because I didn’t feel like it. It’s just the way things are, he and I don’t /like/ one another, so..”

<Anna> *Anna nods eating the last few bites of her food before getting up and taking her tray and returning to sit down looking at Jo.* “So because you don’t like him, I end up the one in tears. I appreciate that, I really do.” *Anna takes the car keys and throws them on the table.* “You should probably call Grey to come and get you. Good luck getting the casts off.” *Standing up Anna turns walking off.*

<Jo> *Jo blinks a few times, before letting out a sigh passing the keys between either hand as she tries not to laugh at the ease of the other’s bringing up whatever must have happened. Instead of following like she might have if she felt more inclined, Jo just finishes off her food, throws back a few pills and decides to look for a few more items before thinking about how to get home*

September 9th 2012 - Anna Gets Punched In The Face

<Anna> *Anna having spent several days by herself, calling in sick to the bar after Crowley. She finally after nearly a week pulled herself out of the slump she was in and showered and dressed going out to the store and to do her laundry. She hadn’t tried to contact anyone and she still felt sore from not moving and Crowley’s rough treatment as she walked down the street carrying a bag of her clothes.*

<Jo> *Jo was getting the itch again - to get out, to do something - and as the fridge started getting to the bare bones of supplies, she decides to take advantage of her ability to drive given her hands were free and it was her non-driving foot still hurt to go to the stores. The weather was too cold for her jean cut offs but that didn’t stop her as Jo moves along the street towards the store, spotting the redhead entering the laundromat and stopping outside - trying to work out whether to go in and give her a piece of her mind or not*

<Anna> *Anna picked the machines furthest away from the rest of the people in there, putting her clothes into two machines. She wondered if maybe she should start looking for a new job or even the idea of just moving from the city, try and leave everyone alone and make a fresh start for herself. Putting the coins in the machines she heads out to the store across the street as the loads wash only to stop when she see’s Jo sitting in her car staring at her. Anna quickly looks away and heads across the street.*

<Jo> *The reaction was strange, especially after the passive aggression the last time Jo saw her. Stepping out and locking the door behind her, the blonde heads along the path towards the store instead figuring that would be where the other was going. Cutting across the road when she gets closer, Jo steps into Anna’s path without a thought, glaring at the other* “So.. get any more answers or opinions about things you don’t understand yet?”

<Anna> *Anna stops short as Jo steps infront of her and starts off hostile. Shaking her head she tries to step around Jo and other people on the street look at them causing Anna to blush. Deciding that she isn’t going to get into the store without making a scene Anna turns around to go wait for her clothes.*

<Jo> “Jesus fucking christ.” *Jo mutters when Anna turns around, stepping as quickly as possible to cut off the other’s path again as they get near one of the alleys between shops, pushing the redhead back into it and stepping her cast lightly onto the other’s foot to keep her from running again.* “Never knew you to step back from a fight. Always seemed to like starting them more.”

<Anna> *Anna stumbles as Jo shoves her away the main street and she looks around at the alley before giving a surprised yelp as Jo steps on her foot with the hard plaster.* “That was before, it’s not who I am now. I’m sorry about what I did before, please just let me go and I won’t bother you again.” *Blushing as she thinks about what Crowley said about her being a problem for everyone.*

<Jo> “I really doubt that, though maybe I should change that. You don’t start fights - you say your bit and walk away before you can be proven wrong.” *Jo glares back at her, feeling her hackles up and the excess energy and itch making her a lot more agressive than she’d normally be. Stamping down on it, she crosses her arms tightly and doesn’t move her foot to lift /or/ grind down, staring at Anna*

<Anna> “I’m sorry..what do you want to me to do?” *Anna looks at Jo uncomfortably trying to pull her foot back wondering if the alley came out on the other side of the block.* “I get it, I was a problem before, more than that, what I did made everything harder on everyone else and I’m trying to not be like that again.”

<Jo> “Actually, I’ve got an issue with what you did recently, not before.” *Jo raises an eyebrow at the other, sighing at her continued attempts to move away*

<Anna> “Fine, just yell at me, whatever get it over with for leaving you at the mall..” *Anna stops moving back and stands there with hands beside her, shoulders slumped. How Crowley could say she enjoyed punishment was beyond her, she wanted nothing more than to be left alone right now.*

<Jo> “You really don’t know me any more, do you?” *Looking curiously at the other for a second, Jo reconsiders before lifting her foot at the same time as she throws a fist right at the other’s nose once. If she’d still had her plasters on, Jo knows she never would have - but having her hands free again and getting to actually punch someone to get a bit of anger out was almost what she’d needed. She pulls her hand back and takes two steps back, shaking out her hand and letting out a laugh to herself* “Oh that feels better. Much better.”

<Anna> *Anna falls back as the punch hits her in the face, her eyes are watering as her nose burns from the hit and she sits there looking dazed never having made move to defend herself. Reaching up she can feel something warm running down ehr face and she wipes away the blood.* “Should I stand up..so you can hit me again or would you rather kick me now?”

<Jo> *Jo continues to flex her hand a bit, smiling slightly as the tension falls out of her shoulders and stance. Looking down at Anna she shakes her head, stepping forward and holding out the same hand to help her up* “Nope, I’m good. Even Stevens now, at least for what’s happened since you’ve..changed.”

<Anna> *Anna pushes herself up, ignoring Jo’s hand she wipes her nose again before looking away from Jo.* “Fine, then whatever do you want to get even Steven’s for that I can’t remember? Now that’s I’m easier to handle..”

<Jo> *Jo shakes her head, crossing her arms when Anna gets herself up instead* “Nah, I’ll take that up with the other Anna whenever she shows up. Can’t say the same for anyone else though.”

<Anna> *Anna nods and steps around Jo.* “I get it. Grey was informtive, Crowley even more so. I don’t think that Anna will ever show back up because this one is much more desirable for everyone. So go for it, say whatever you want to, do whatever you want too, this is your free shot at it.”

<Anna> *Anna nods and steps around Jo.* “I get it. Grey was informtive, Crowley even more so. I don’t think that Anna will ever show back up because this one is much more desirable for everyone. So go for it, say whatever you want to, do whatever you want too, this is your free shot at it.”

<Jo> “And I said I’ll take it up with that one.” *Jo shakes her head again, shifting to give Anna the space she was obviously after* “I don’t forgive her for anything she’s done, but you’re not going to be able to apologise for her because she would never have apologised.”

<Anna> *Anna snorts and Jo says this and she shrugs.* “Whatever Jo..”

<Jo> *Jo stares for a second before throwing another punch straight to the side of Anna’s jaw, growling under her breath as she steps back again, breathing heavily and glaring at the other* “Fucking Hell, I hate that.”

<Anna> *The second punch is more unexpected than the first and she falls against the side of the building feeling her jaw ache as she reaches up to cup her face* “Whatever Jo. I don’t remember that you hate it, that was a cheap shot.”

<Jo> *Shaking her fist and hitting against her own hip instead, Jo shakes her head before changing to nod* “Yeah, though I’m sure you didn’t know just how much I hated it back then either. Me taking a cheap shot..there’s a joke in there somewhere.”

<Anna> “Fine, what.. you said I walked off, I’m not walking off. You want to tell me off, go for it. I’ll wait right here till you’re done.” *Anna leans back against the wall shifting so her back is to it as she looks at Jo. Maybe Crowley is right, maybe she does enjoy the punishment.*

<Jo> “I don’t want to …” *Jo cuts herself off, shaking her head and running her hand through her hair anxiusly* “I’m good, we’re good. You pissed me off, I punched you, all done I don’t have anything else to say about what /you/ have done.”

<Anna> “Just..whatever, I don’t care how bad you hate that saying. If you don’t have anything else to say to me, which I’m still the same person even if I can’t remember it then I won’t bother you or Grey and you can forget about me and everyone is happy as they can be with what’s going on.” *She’s trying to not get frustrated it but she’s failing and she beats the back of her head against the wall*

<Jo> “What did you want me to say? Go into an angry tirade about the things I remember you doing that you don’t any more? Fling back stuff you’ve said to me at you? I said it before - I’m happy to have a clean slate, fresh start, forget what happened before; or at least between me and that other version of yourself.”

<Anna> “Fine you are but it’s great you know to have things thrown back at you in snippets but no real idea of what you have done. You’ve been the least helpful of everyone. The monsters told me more and the demon than you. You infact for your own amusement let me walk into all of it blind knowing it! I don’t understand why you feel the need to punish me and then say you aren’t.” *Anna huffs, sulking*

<Jo> “That was more just fucking with Gray than you, Anna. You’ll… realise soon enough the kind of relationship we have - it involves a lot of ‘because I can’ and 'it amuses me’ kind of things, and I am actually sorry that you got on the bad end of that joke. I apologise.” *Jo shrugs, not quite sure who Anna must have talked to or about what but figuring it was a mix of the truth and lies from what she’d believe of the other’s and their connection to Anna*

<Anna> “And not telling me about Crowley? Was that just part of your 'because I can’ fun?” *Anna runs a hand through her hair, she sniffing, more from the blood that’s starting to dry in her nose she tells herself as she tries to not think about the demons visit in detail.*

<Jo> “That…was for hopefully your own protection. He doesn’t see the amusement in playing with things that don’t know whats going on. Or he never has before.” *Jo’s hand unconciously moves to rub at the collar around her neck hidden beneath a thin scarf she’d picked up, frowning at the sniffling*

<Anna> “Right..Well he did this to me so he knows full in well whats going on. Just like I know now that he put that on you and you aren’t some deviant freak with a fetish to show off..” *Anna sighs as she shrugs* “I know that I was a bitch to Gray and that’s why he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

<Jo> *Jo scoffs, shaking her head* “Not likely - Gray’s more like his brother than that.  …and no, I’m not some 'deviant freak’, just a bit of a slut sometimes but I’m not into that kind of thing. Most of what Crowley would have said would be bullshit though, demon’s lie.”

<Anna> *She shrugs as she walks past Jo back to the laundry.* “Need to finish before someone steals it. I don’t know who lies and who doesn’t but it doesn’t matter. Sorry, I know that you don’t count it because I don’t remember but it’s the best you’re going to get and the old me from the sounds of it would never say that to you.” *Leaving before Jo can say anything else she ignores the looks of people as she goes back in, putting her clothes into dry and sitting there with them till they are done.*

September 13th 2012 - Anna Knows More Than She Should Again

<Anna> so no other snark from her other than bitching about Anna’s perspective of her?

<Jo> Oh no, she’s snickering at the fact “I guess there are times porn and reality /do/ blend. Anna’s really going for that naughty catholic school girl thing.”

<Anna> *dies*

<Anna> Anna is huffing

<Anna> “I am not”

<Anna> “I’m allowed to feel..things.”

<Jo> “Are too, Saint Milton.  Really? God’s not going to send a lightening bolt down and strike you for wanting to engage in some highly energetic animalistic fucking with a mass murdering psychopathic monster?  …course, it probably would be worth the zap.”

<Anna> She’s doing her best impression of a fish out of water..

<Jo> Jo’s snickering her head off now.

<Anna> opening and closing hermouth while making noises as she tries to argue

<Jo> LOL Jo is getting a kick out of this

<Anna> “You..are not very nice”

<Jo> “I believe you’ve said that before.”

<Anna> “I….”

<Anna> *Anna huffs*

<Jo> “Can’t deny you want to fuck his brains out? It happens.”

<Anna> *Anna turns red* “I..I..Do you have to use such crude language!”

<Jo> “Well…can’t really call what he does ‘making love’, and I kind of do.”

<Anna> “No one asked you!”

<Jo> “No one ever asks anyone.”

<Anna> “You..are..I don’t know what you are..”

<Jo> “..a crude country bumpkin? Impossible? Radiant and fantastic?”

<Anna> “A bitch!”

<Jo> “…That works too.”

<Anna> *Anna huffs and crosses her arms*

<Jo> “Just telling the truth. It’s completely normal to want to break the bed, and the couch, and whatever paintings are on the walls…” *Jo smirks, trying not to laugh*

<Anna> *Anna just stares at Jo open mouthed* “No wonder you and Grey live in a run down house! You can’t have nice things!”

<Jo> *Jo gapes and squeaks offendedly* “Hey! We live there cause.. shut up, it’s perfectly fine! Who wants nice things when you can have fun?”

<Anna> “Obviously people who aren’t you! I mean would it kill you to paint the place? And cut the grass, it looks like an abandoned house. Have some pride of owner ship”

<Jo> “That’s the flipping point, Anna.. Hunter’s don’t really leave paper trails or have steady incomes, and neither do monsters.”

<Anna> “You own a bar!”

<Jo> “Technically it was my great aunt and uncle’s. And I /did/ live there with the other’s right up until your accident, so honestly - I’ll have pride in a home when I want to put down /actual/ roots.”

<Anna> “You have an answer for everything don’t you..”

<Jo> “…it’s easier than not.  I moved in with Grey, it’s his house and even then it’s technically no one’s, so…why make it look nice when it’s not even ours?”

<Anna> “Oh my God..you’re squatting there…that answers so many things about you..”

<Jo> “That’s… kind of what hunters do. Squatting or motels; I mean, I could /buy/ somewhere, sure but… ….what do you mean 'that answers so many things about you’?!”

<Anna> “You’re hiding behind this whole "this is what hunters do” line you keep using. Lack of roots, lack of relationship, would rather have random sex, you  have serious commitment issues.“

<Jo> ”….dah. Daddy issues, commitment issues, intimacy issues, a lifestlye that only appeals to the insane, self destructive or psychopathic… Hi I’m Jo Harvelle, and I’m a fucking mess.“

<Anna> "You know they make pills that help that.”

<Jo> “I don’t need medicating.”

<Anna> “Sure..most people with your issues think they don’t without medication.”

<Jo> “I don’t need medication, Anna..”

<Anna> “Sure you don’t.”

<Jo> “I just have the same problems your run of the mill stripper have, but I combat it with killin’ not exposing myself for cash. I don’t need a little pil to make it all better.”

<Anna> “Right…and how much do you drink and self medicate because you realize that is what you are doing, passing off hunting as coping instead of dealing with your issues. You know there’s numbers you can call and people you can talk too.”

<Jo> “…I grew up in a bar, how much do you think I drink? And I don’t self medicate..I treat wounds, sure, but nothing more than pain killers and other first aid shit really. ….Numbers I can call, right…I can’t get through a single conversation with a civillian without having to lie at least six times, Anna, so that’s bullshit.”

<Anna> “Whatever you say Jo.”

<Jo> “I dont want and I don’t need help. You’re just trying to avoid talking about how awkward you feel about wanting to run your tongue along those scars of Gray’s and everything else that goes with it.”

<Anna> “At least that’s a normal human reaction..unlike hiding behind "oh I’m fine I’ll just go kill something to get rid of the anxiety I’m feeling.”“

<Jo> "I said I don’t want help, I don’t want to change that okay? And I’m not sue how normal it is when you know everything you do about him but whatever helps you sleep at night.”

<Anna> “He doesn’t seem any worse than the rest of the people I’ve been talking too.”

<Jo> “Right. …I’m sure that’s totally the truth.”

<Anna> “And maybe there’s a reason I met him. Who knows, besides according to everyone I’m not much better than him.”

<Jo> “You met him because he was trying to control me and my behaviour. And if you meant that in a destiny type way, sorry to burst your bubble but fate doesn’t exist anymore.”

<Anna> “Oh good God you do have an answer to everything..”

<Jo> “Maybe I do, but thats actually the truth these days…”

<Anna> “Gee I’d forgotten that..”

<Jo> “Ha ha, funny.”

<Anna> “I thought so.”

<Jo> “Glad to see somehow you found a sense of humor.”

<Anna> “Hmph”

<Jo> “…Sooo… back to you and your feeling awkward about wanting to jump Gray. You know I think you still have that school uniform at the bar.”

<Jo> “I never did get asked to return it”

<Anna> “Why are you so interested in what I want, are you and Grey not having enough sex?”

<Jo> “I’m just amused that that hasn’t changed at all.”

<Anna> “I don’t think a lot of things have changed..”

<Jo> “You’re nicer. Not that you werent before…you just… got very focussed.”

<Anna> “Right..”

<Jo> “…when none of us were trying to kill the other’s partner things were pretty nice..”

<Anna> “So then explain now.”

<Jo> “Explain what? You and I were friends, Anna… when you weren’t trying to kill Grey and he wasn’t trying to kill you; and when Gray and I weren’t anywhere near one another. We actually were friends ya know.”

<Anna> “So..if how you’ve acted towards me is friends..I’m glad I don’t remember what were like as not friends.”

<Jo> “….those scars aren’t from the car crash. That might give you an idea…”

<Anna> “What part of I’m glad I don’t remember didn’t you get.”

<Jo> “Fine.”

<Anna> “I just..I don’t know..I don’t get why I want to punch you or choke you half the time..and then you start talking and if I remember you or not it’s like this slowly growing urge..”

<Jo> “…that’s kind of a normal reaction, Anna. Pretty much everyone wants to do that to me outside of my family…and even then. I mean, half the time yeah, even when we’re friends its like that..”

<Anna> “So why didn’t you make an effort to be friends again, that’s what I want to know.”

<Jo> “Because this is how we’re friends! We rib and teast and poke fun at one another, and then we get drunk or eat frosting and actually talk about proper issues, and then I feel uncomfortable with serious conversation and turn whatever we were talking about into a sex joke. That’s..just how it’s always been, Anna.”

<Anna> “Well thanks for letting me know AFTER the fact I already went through our 'friends’ way of hazing each other.”

<Jo> “I… I.. I didn’t… I thought you knew that, I mean I thought that’s how friends just /are/. I’m not good at the friends thing - I end up hopelessly pining after them for a few months or fucking them, so I really don’t think I have a good grasp on what a friendship /is/, Anna!”

<Anna> “Gee what gave you that idea. The fact that everyone ends up pissed at you or the fact everyone ends up pissed at you.”

<Jo> “Ha ha.”

<Anna> “I’m serious”

<Jo> “Well I dont exactly have that many friends so not everyone does.”

<Anna> “Again..I wonder why..”

<Jo> “Oh just fuck you.”

<Anna> “From what I understand we already did that and it didn’t work.”

<Jo> “It really didn’t.”

<Anna> “So is this being friends enough for you?”

<Jo> “Hardy hardy har har, you’re catching on well enough.”

<Anna> “Huh, now you seem pissy when I’m simply returning the affection you claim we share..”

<Jo> “Actually I’m more amused you’re playing along. Figured you would be more stickish than before.”

<Anna> *Anna rolls her eyes*

September 14th 2012 - Anna Takes Being Pissed At Grey And Gray Ad Crowley Out On Jo Like It’s Her Responsibility Or Something

<Jo> *Jo had just given up and hacked her cast off early, but until that morning if she spent too long upright it would start to throb and hurt enough to send her back to the couch. So when making breakfast and then wandering upstairs and taking her first real shower in weeks wasn’t making her foot hurt any more than a few day old sprain would, she decides to try going out - pulling on her gym shoes and shorts, starting to walk towards the beach before breaking into a run when she gets there with a laugh*

<Anna> *Anna enjoyed the beach even though it was just a lake beach, she couldn’t see the other side of the shore so it gave the illusion of not ending like the ocean. Walking along the firmer sand where the waves came up on the beach was easier for her and the other runners. She normally walked as fast as she could but today she was out here more to clear her mind so she was enjoying the first signs of fall that were starting to show when she noticed someone running towards her and she groans wondering who hates her as she realize there’s no where to go to avoid Jo.*

<Jo> *Jo’s hardly looking where she’s going when she hears a groan up ahead from one of the other few people passing along the lake shore. Actually looking up, she lets out another laugh seeing that it was Anna before slowing her pace for a second and then speeding up to catch the other around the shoulders* “Hey, Anna! Nice day for a run isn’t it? Fuck, its just a nice day in general don’t you think?” *She lets go of the other stepping back and bouncing from foot to foot lightly*

<Anna> *Anna steps back stumbling as the sand shifts when Jo grabs her around the shoulder and visibly relaxes when Jo lets go to stand there and fidget. The woman has all her casts off now and Anna feels a twinge of jealousy as Jo runs easily now.* “It was a nice day and I’m not really the running type.”

<Jo> “Yeah, I guess that’s true. Fuckin’ Ruby.” *Jo curses easily, sounding far too happy about it unintentionally as she keeps shifting her weight to keep her heart rate up - not caring if she’d hate herself for it when she got home and inevitably would need to lie down for the rest of the day* “If the was is ‘cause of me, don’t worry, I’m not going to punch you again.”

<Anna> “Oh well that’s a relief.” *Anna can’t help the sarcasm that comes from her as she hears the name Ruby again and she runs her hand through her hair.* “Who is Ruby? That is twice I’ve heard that name now in association to me.”

<Jo> “Demon bitch, though not really. Well, I dunno - she’s helping us get rid of Crowley but you two aren’t exactly the biggest fans of one another.” *Jo shrugs her shoulder, not sure what to tell Anna*

<Anna> “Yea I get the idea with the whole idea that I used to torture her. And Crowley..” *Anna starts walking away from the running path, chewing on her lip not sure about how to ask anyone else about what she’s been told. She feels comfortable around Gray for some reason and somewhat around Jo with the exception of the constant feeling of annoyance.* “What do you know about me and Crowley?”

<Jo> *Jo follows after Anna, swiping her hand across her forehead when she feels the sticky sweaty feeling, wiping her hand off on her ponytail as she looks curiously at the other. There was obviously something interesting Anna more than it should about the not-demon* “Um.. he’s a giant fucking dick whose trying to ruin and break all our lives? What do /you/ know about the two of you, Anna?”

<Anna> *Anna shifts from foot to foot as she looks back, watching some people run by down the beach, trying to not turn red as she tells Jo what Grey said.* “I..was told that I was ..having sex with Crowley and Crowley..acts like we have history. Gray says that I never slept with the demon. What do you know Jo?”

<Jo> “What? Who the hell told you that?” *Jo starts laughing the second Anna says it, bending over and holding herself up with her hands on her knees as she has to stop moving. Panting through the laughs, she shakes her head as she looks up at the other* “No way in hell is that the case. I know you made a deal agreeing that he could but.. he wouldn’t have been able to hold in the braggin’ if that was true”

<Anna> *Anna blinks at the laughing feeling herself getting angry as Jo seems to be having a good time at her discomfort..again.* “Grey told me and then Crowley said that he has to retrain me, but go ahead, keep laughing, I’m sure you already knew since you live with Grey.” *Anna turns starting to walk off angry at the fact she even tried to reach out to Jo again.

<Jo> *Jo gets her laughter under control and starts off after Anna again over the less solid sand, catching her arm* “Jesus, you really get stickish without your memories, don’t ya.” *Letting go of the other, she keeps shifting her weight but no where near as energetically as before* “I didn’t know, you’re kind of a no-talk-zone between me and Grey. So no, you didn’t fuck Crowley, not that I’m aware of and definitely not of what Grey’d be aware of.”

<Anna> “Great..so I’ve just been told that and for a few weeks thinking that I did and now expected too. God, this must be so entertaining for all you really. Take the resident bitch and erase her memories because it’s just easier for you all and then fuck with her for your amusement and because I’m more docile and easier to control and less trouble for you all. Why didn’t you just fucking kill me, would wouldn’t that have been easier? Oh but not as much fun right? Not as many laughs..” *Anna keeps walking as she talks fast enoug that her words start to run together. She’s angry for the first time at all of this and she’s breathing hard as if she has been running.*

<Jo> *Jo takes after her as Anna keeps walking, jogging along beside her until she gets in front of the other and moving to walk backwards before her. The words clip together, making it hard to understand quite thoroughly though she shakes her head* “I laugh at everything, so I’d have probably found myself laughing if someone had killed you too - honestly. You’d have to take up why your memories are gone with Crowley, not that anyone in their right mind would actively call him. Explains why I did, but not the point. And there is no way in this world you’re ever really going to be docile or easy to control so shut up.”

<Anna> *Anna bites her lip hard enough to taste blood as Jo brushes it off by saying she’d laugh if she was dead. How was this person her friend, how was she friends with anyone and Anna reaches out shoving Jo hard as she walks backwards in the deep sand.* “Go to hell Jo. Just screw you!” *She’s thinking about Crowley and the fact she’s terrified of him and then Grey lied, she knows she did him wrong but did she do that badly that he would tell her something like that and it’s just too much.*

<Jo> *Jo laughs again as she falls back, letting out a groan when she hits the ground as she looks back up at Anna before reaching out and yanking the other down into the sand as well moving to pin her. The way the redhead was obviously struggling with something was as evident as it always was on her face and Jo means to help with it like always* “Been there, done that, probably will go there soon enough. Now - talk, properly, and I swear I’ll take it serious and not laugh.”

<Anna> *Anna lets up a yelp when a hand reaches out and grabs her bad leg throwing her off and she’s struggling as Jo climbs onto of her pinning her down.* “Properly? I I’ve been talking properly the only person giving me any straight answers if Gray and Crowley mostly! Do you know how frustrating that is to be told that the people who are supposed to be your friends are the ones jerking you around the most right now! I keep messing up and I don’t even know why or how..” *Anna tries to shove Jo off again as she continues to go off.*

<Jo> *When Anna struggles, Jo grabs her hands by the wrist and pins them down as well above Anna’s head with one hand, shooing off the few curious looks they got with the other before putting it with the other* “Well, I’m sorry for that - I tried telling you the truth originally and you thought I was pulling your pigtails, which I wasn’t. And since then you’ve been takin’ anything I say as bein’ bitchy or mean spirited, when really I’m just playin’ with you, Anna, okay? So now? Now I’ll be serious - we’re friends, though we’ve both done some horrible things to one another which neither of us will apologise for without the other also doing it first; so we’re at bit of a stale mate. But we are friends, or we were, and I’ll quit jerkin’ you around for now then if you ask what you wanna know.”

<Anna> “I just..I’m supposed to go to college, be normal, have a boyfriend, eventually get married, give my parents grandkids. Not any of this, this is why I didn’t believe you because selling my soul to a demon isn’t me, it’s not who I am and I’m more comfortable with a monster than people, what does that say about me? And you are mean spirited.” *Anna doesn’t struggle now and she’s trying hard to not cry.*

<Jo> “That’s what I was supposed to do, at least accordin’ to my mom, so I get it Anna. This isn’t what you expected life to be,  and you… certainly were different to how you were before everything really changed for you, so you were different to how you are now. But that you’re more..comfortable with a …” *Jo starts off speaking normally until she struggles over the words, gritting her teeth as she continues* “With a.. monster who admittedly treats you well when you’re together and is seriously protective and…caring, fuck that sounds so wrong to say, well that just says you’re like what you are supposed to be Anna. Just happens the boyfriend is more monsterfriend.  The soul sellin’..you were just trying to protect people you love, can’t tell me you wouldn’t have tried to do that before.” *Jo shrugs her shoulder at Anna’s comment about her being mean spirited, letting out a quiet laugh as she hangs her head forward, shaking it*

<Anna> *Anna lays there snifflng as she listens to Jo and she tries to pull her hands away from Jo so she can sit up.* “I get it, I deserve the punishment I’m getting but it’s frustrating, I’m trying to atone for my sins. You said it doesn’t count because I don’t remember but alcoholics and drug users have to apologize for hurting people and they don’t always remember but they know they did it. I tried to good but the road to hell is paved with good intentions and that’s where it’s led me.”

<Jo> *Jo grips tighter onto Anna’s wrists when she tries to pull away, shifting instead so she can sit up but get no further as she rests her weight over Anna’s legs. Sighing at the sniffling, she barely contains an eyeroll before smiling faintly at Anna’s comments* “Trust me, there is no way you’re going to go to Hell, ever. And I never said you - the you right now - deserves to be punished, and the fact of the matter is you’re not an alcoholic or a drug user…actually, maybe the alcohol thing, but I’m not in a position I could talk. But whatever you did do, in my book, is forgot until you can remember - the same as what I did to you, alright?”

<Anna> “No it’s not alright. I know I did these things, I see how it’s affected people. I just want to make things right to people. I don’t understand how I could have strayed so far from myself but I did, so I should do what I can.” *Anna looks around and then back down at her lap and Jo’s legs as people are walking by staring and talking about them.*

<Jo> “Yeah, well, you don’t need to make things right with me. We’re…sorta equal in different ways, so we’re fine. I swear. ….you were angry and then you were in love, it makes sense, Anna.” *Jo raises an eyebrow at Anna looking almost embarrassed before looking up to notice the few people staring, shouting back at them* “Quit your gawkin’, or we’ll give you a real show to gawk at!”

<Anna> *Anna turns red as Jo says she’ll give them a show and she tries harder to pull her hands free from Jo’s grip.* “Oh my God do you have to do that?” *She wonders what she was angry about and she can guess it was Gray Jo is talking about with being in love with or was in love.* “You love Grey?”

<Jo> “You’re as red as your hair, Anna. And I sort of have to, yeah.” *Jo smirks as Anna tugs and pulls, pushing her back onto the sand with a small snicker and a flick of her head back to check if people were still watching - smiling when they hurry on before turning her attention back to Anna* “That’s not relevant to any of this..”

<Anna> *Anna is sure she’s as red as her hair as Jo makes the scene look even worse to anyone around and she groans again looking up at the blond woman.* “You said you would answer me seriously. I’m still trying to figure out Gray and you are the only other person that I know who has a relationship with someone not human. So do you love him? Is Grey like Gray?”

<Jo> *Jo’s smirk widens for a second, letting go of Anna’s wrists but not leaning back up as she tries to work out a response she wouldn’t stumble over and would feel comfortable saying. When Anna asks if Grey was like the other, the blonde lets out a relieved sigh, shrugging* “No and yes, theyre the same but not really. It’s complicated. But you can ask me about Gray, I know a lot 'bout him.”

<Anna> *Anna pushes herself up a bit as Jo finally lets go of her wrists, running a hand through her hair to shake the sand out as she looks at Jo and listens. Jo says a lot and says nothing at the same time she decides as she stares and tilts her head to the side.* “You didn’t answer about Grey. Do you love him? Are you happy being with him? Why a monster?”

<Jo> “I’m happy with my life how it is and he’s a big part of it, yeah.. I didn’t pick a monster, there’s no 'why a monster’ involved - he’s a nice guy who I’ve been friends with almost ever since I came back and who treats me well, what he is or isn’t doesn’t..really factor in these days.” *Fisting her hands in the sand above Anna’s head, Jo flushes slightly before pushing herself upright*

<Anna> “So he’s never hurt you?” *Anna thinks about Gray saying he had hurt her as she sits on up when Jo finally does even though the other woman is still sitting on her legs* “Gray has been open about the fact he hurt me before but he doesn’t anymore he says. Is Grey like that? Is it a monster thing?”

<Jo> “Are you going to storm off in a huff if I get off of you?” *Jo asks quietly, shifting her weight onto her knees as she looks about. Anna’s questions make her stop before shaking her head rapidly, moving off of the other and onto the sand next to her regardless* “Never. Even though he’s had plenty of times when he really should have. Grey’s not like that at all. It’s an anger thing, I mean.. Gray and I are very simillar, Anna, and when we’re angry we tend to talk with our fists or our weapons. …Grey fights with his words.”

<Anna> *Anna nods as she sits up  more in the sand rubbing her legs where Jo was sitting.* “Fists or nails it seems. Does Grey kill people too? I know Gray does, he said he used to wear his dinner home..”

<Jo> “Fire and razors are actually his forte..” *Jo smiles back at Anna, lifting the hem of her shirt slightly where there’s a mix of faint burns from the bar and the thin white lines from months ago still visible alongside her other scars* “Grey doesn’t kill people, no. He feeds off of monsters and demons, he doesn’t want to hurt people or be a monster so..he doesn’t act like one with humans.”

<Anna> *Anna looks at the scars on Jo and nods having her own that she doesn’t exactly like to show off.* “Were you and Gray together? I mean you keep saying you two are alike and I guess it doesn’t matter since we aren’t and Gray and I aren’t, I’m just curious.”

<Jo> *Jo gives Anna a sharp look at that question, smoothing her shirt back down and wondering whether the other really wanted to hear the answer. Before just shrugging that thought off, if she asked it then she should be prepared for the answer* “We used to fuck, yeah. Alongside the trying to kill one another stuff, yeah.”

<Anna> *Anna doesn’t seem upset by the news of the past and she nods sort of relieved.* “So I’m not the only town bicycle then, it puts up about even if I never slept with the demon..” *It sounds stupid but she seems relieved that she’s not the town slut.*

<Jo> *At Anna’s comment and the look on her face Jo can’t actually stop the laughter coming out, letting out a cackle as she shakes her head and slaps a hand on Anna’s back. Wiping her eyes with her shirt sleeve, the blond woman tries to stop from giggling* “Oh god, Anna, you’re one of the most virginal people I know… You’ve only slept with two people in the last year - hardly a bicycle. I’m on… er … a lot more than that. Bout three guys on the road after I got back before I settled, Gray, you, your br- Gabriel, Grey and..that um. Yeah. So you are /definitely/ not the bicycle, Anna. Though one of those doesn’t /really count/.” *She adds quickly, still laughing*

<Anna> *Anna can’t help as Jo starts naming names off that she turns red and stands up, brushing teh sand off her before reaching down and offering a hand out to Jo.* “Fine..I’m and you seem um..proud of your notches in the bed post. Would it be wrong to ask if Gray is good? I mean, we were like that but I’m..no never mind I shouldn’t be asking such things it doesn’t matter now anyway.”

<Jo> “I just like sex and figured you’d feel better knowing your around…four times less of a slut than me.” *Jo smiles back at her, taking the hand offered out and standing up, rolling her foot a few times to warm it up again before reaching out and tugging at a stray strand of Anna’s hair* “You’re like a tomato, you know? And…its not wrong to ask and I can say with certainty we both probably had more fun and enjoyed ourselves more with him than with eachother. …You can never tell him, but yeah, he’s very sure of himself and he’s got good reason to be.”

<Anna> *Anna is sure she can’t turn anymore red thanks to Jo pointing it out again and she just nods trying to not smile.* “I..well have a nice run, I should get going too, still have things to do.” *She looks at Jo shrugs as she starts heading back to her apartment.* “I’m sorry..and thanks.”

<Jo> “Good seein’ you, Anna. I’ll probably swing by the bar sometime early this week if you’re workin’.” *Jo smiles back before turning on her heel and starting to jog back along the beach, hoping to get back up to sprinting before she has to turn up towards home*

October 4th 2012 - The Scene You Know Where Anna Talks About Bill So You Can Technically Skip This One

<Jo> http://www.geekologie.com/2012/08/another-day-another-zombie-themed-engage.php        Its sad when  I find these things and the train of thought goes:

<Jo> 1. I can see Jo agreeing to things just because its ‘adorable’ when really its not

<Jo> 2. And then she’d be killed by Ellen

<Anna> lolol

<Jo> 3. At least its not a salt-n-burn fire side romantic comment

<Anna> Anna..*smacks*

<Jo> …what?

<Anna> she’s..missing having girl company..and she’s debating which is better for it..Ruby or Jo and she’s leaning more towards Ruby

<Jo> LOL  …/why/ is the question streaming from both Ruby and Jo right now

<Anna> “Jo’s sorta mannish…and Ruby..at least looks girly..”

<Jo> They are both laughing at her - loudly. Though Jo’s sort of offended which is just making Ruby laugh more

<Anna> lol

<Anna> Anna’s just sorta pouting..“it’s not my fault that they are the only choice I have for female friends..”

<Jo> “Ruby isn’t even a female.” “……………………….” “…”

<Anna> looooooool

<Anna> “she���s less butch than you”

<Jo> “/Gray/ is less butch than me. Doesn’t make him more of a female.”

<Anna> “So you’re the man in relationship?”

<Jo> “No! Well with you I guess I was, but no, I’m not….”

<Anna> “Guess that’s why I’m looking more towards Ruby..why do I want a second man in my life.”

<Jo> “If you can call what you do have a man.”

<Anna> “After the other night..He’s definately all man”

<Jo> “Good for you.”

<Anna> “Yes..he was..”

<Jo> “If you say so.  …How was it after though? Did he stick around for breakfast?”

<Anna> “He didn’t stay for breakfast but he did stay till I woke up the next day.”

<Jo> “Aw how cute. So how long did the honeymoon last before whatever sent him packing without even grabbing a bit of you for snacking on the go?”

<Anna> “The threat of Crowley I guess”

<Jo> “Strange that such a 'manly’ guy as him would be run off by the overgrown demon.”

<Anna> “How come I’ve never ran into Grey outside of his house?”

<Jo> “Because. And he’s not being run off by anyone, especially if he’s staying in the one place, wouldrn you say?”

<Anna> “Right..surrounded by traps and iron..which wouldn’t stop Crowley..I guess that means that he’s simply afraid of normal demons. You really wish to throw stones at Gray for being afraid of Crowley when yours won’t even come outside?”

<Jo> “Actually its traps and salt, theres no iron in our house.  And most of those are there because of the fact that, oh hey, I’m a hunter and he’s a monster and it’s second nature to protect ones home. As for throwing stones, I said that your’s is afraid to be with you because of Crowley not that he’s afraid of Crowley - theres a difference. Grey isn’t.”

<Anna> “Gray doesn’t strike me as being happy domestic housewife..he’s never said anything to make me believe that we lived together all the time. So why should I expect it now?”

<Jo> “I never said he had to be, I was just musing on the fact you say he’s leaving because of the threat of another man coming in to take his turn.”

<Anna> “there..no one else has a turn!”

<Jo> “And yet he had to leave in case Crowley showed up. Unless thats not why he left, so either you’re waiting for the wannabe god-demon to show up to see how his little /pet/ is going, or Gray left because he didn’t want to be around you after getting what he wanted. Or some other reason.”

<Anna> “Why are you making it sound so bad that he didn’t want to be around if Crowley did show up? He couldn’t stop him, Gray would have been killed and Crowley has no interest in killing me. So why are you trying to twist it to make it sound bad.”

<Jo> “I’m just intruiged is all - doesnt really sound like a typical Gray-like response. ..his kind are really quite territorial you know.”

<Anna> “Tell you what, if you want to know so bad, ask him.”

<Jo> “…Nah.”

<Anna> “Well if you don’t want to ask him then stop being a bitch.”

<Jo> “But you’re fun when you puff up and get red.”

<Anna> “You are such a bitch..”

<Jo> “Think you already said that. And I prefer bitch to butch, so I’m cool with it.”

<Anna> “Maybe you’re a bastard then being you’’ve been the man in all your relationships.”

<Jo> “I am not the man in my relationship at present, so there.”

<Anna> “Right…”

<Jo> “It’s true.”

<Anna> “Whatever.”

<Jo> “… …………do you have any idea how much I hate that word…”

<Anna> “yes.”

<Anna> “but whatever”

<Jo> “Fuck you.”

<Anna> “But you’re fun when you puff and get red. So whatever Jo..”

<Jo> “Oh God, you’re horrid, you know that right?”

<Anna> “Whatever..your hate of this word is interesting.”

<Jo> “…. Why do you say that..”

<Anna> “I’m seeing what you get out of making someone upset. Trying to understand why you feel this is proper entertainment at the expense of others.”

<Jo> “I dont try to upset people, I play with them. Theres a difference.”

<Anna> “oh so you play..with no reguard to how that playing effects them. Does your interest if Gray leaving me relate to the fact you were abandoned by your father?”

<Jo> “…Excuse you? I am not the one between us who was abandoned by their father!”

<Anna> “My father loved me, raised me, encouraged me to be whatever I could be in life. Your father put hunting above you and was killed by it. Isn’t that why you have such a problem committing to people?”

<Jo> “Oh you think that if you want to about your own father, but don’t you talk 'bout my dad like that. He was a good man. ….I…shut up, I don’t have problems commiting to people..”

<Anna> “Is that why you keep everyone at a distance? Playing with them? Keeping us at both a physical arms length and an even further emotional one? How did Grey slip past your defenses or can you just leave him at anytime, abandoning him too?”

<Jo> “My father has nothing to do with it.. You can’t be too open in this lifestyle.. …/I/ don’t abandon people, shut up.”

<Anna> “Please, you turned to hunting instead of taking of your clothes. You’re surrounded by men who could be old enough to be your dad and you’re constantly working to prove yourself to them. Do you seek out their praise when you do a hunt well?”

<Jo> “…I wou-..I dont even…  …Maybe normal men my age bore me? They don’t know anything about the world and what’s really out there, and regardless of your suggestion - if a hunter lives long enough to get to that age they’re usually pretty decent men. It’s a /shame/ my father had what happened to him happen so young is all. There are plenty of hunters I talk to my own age, or close enough to, Anna. And I don’t need /anyone’s/ approval, god dammit..”

<Anna> “I see. And you’re wall of not being to open in this life? How does that hold up to the fact your father and your mother were open enough to get married, have you? Even after his death you’re mother stayed in the life, helped other hunters. She even gave them beds to sleep on at the roadhouse, tended them when they were hurt. I’ve heard hunters talk about it. Why do you have to be so guarded?”

<Jo> “There’s a difference between being on the road and being in the life the way Mom and hell, even Bobby a lot these days, are. ….And they were in love, people do things like get married and have babies when they’re in love. They were younger than I am too, so hey, maybe I’m just jaded like the other guys my age or near enough..”

<Anna> “But not you? You can’t be open to that because of the fact you’re a hunter? And how is being a hunter on the road and at a bar different? You still put yourself in danger. Why do you have so many walls? Open, playing, your stubbornness, why don’t you think you should have friendships and relationships that are closer than the arms distence that you keep everyone at?”

<Jo> “I… could get married and have babies one day, maybe. It’s not completely out of the realm of possibility.. On the road you can’t let your emotions get to you, at a bar.. you can be nicer and more open. Though you’re more likely to get hurt from friends never showing up again too.  I do too have closer friends than that! And maybe I have a lot of walls to keep other people better off, hmm.”

<Anna> “Who are these closer friends? Are you not here as much as on the road? You have a home with someone, you aren’t living a nomads life. And would you say that "protecting” others by not letting them get close to you is for their own good out of your concern for them or from your need to control things?“

<Jo> "Dean.. Sam.. Grey.. …you. I didn’t mean to, it wasn’t my idea and then things got that I needed to be researching more than hunting at present but when that’s taken care of I’ll be on the road more than no again, sure..  I am not a control freak, if either of us were that would be you. I don’t like..I don’t want to hurt people so I’m not going to let them close enough to be, dah.”

<Anna> “You would call us close? Interesting because to me, from my perspective we are hardly anything but close. And it’s nice and controlling that you want to take away my choice at what risk to take being your friend, if we were that close to begin with. And you are going to abandon Grey by taking off and only stopping in on occassion. Isn’t that what you remember of your dad? The random visits?”

<Jo> “We /were/ close, maybe not now but we were before..things happened.  …you know nothing about my dad, Anna, nothing at all.”

<Anna> “I don’t have to know anything about your dad. You present as your typical 'little girl lost’ case. But whatever Jo, you keep playing with people and spending all that energy into keeping them away instead of building healthy relationships.”

<Jo> “Excuse fucking you, I am nothing of the sort. You and your psychobabble, which I really haven’t missed, really only sees what you think you see. I’m not like that and my dad was not like what you think. I’m not going to abandon Grey if I’m off hunting, /he/ understands my life and doesn’t want to force me to change it like you used to. I have plenty of very healthy friendships, maybe just not the same sort /you/ think people should have.”

<Anna> “No you see, you dont get to decide for me what’s something I’m sensative about and what I’m allowed to get upset about when you decide to use it for your ammunition. You don’t get to decide what hurts me and what doesn’t. If you don’t care to respect my feelings then screw you and your feelings about certain subjects. Keep playing these games Jo and next time we’ll have a nice long chat about how it’s your mother’s fault for not leaving the hunting life and taking you away from it.”

<Jo> “You know what, fine. You tell me plain and clearly 'Jo, you’re upsetting me with what you’re saying’ next time and I will back the fuck off. Your verbal and facial cues are kind of all off from what I’m used to, Anna, so I’m sorry if my mucking around upset you - maybe not calling me a bitch, which really doesn’t seem to be getting your point across if that’s what you’re using FYI, and telling me to stop would work better for your female sensetivities. As for blaming my mother, I get the feeling you two would /really/ get along these days, given she tried her best to take me from it regardless of not moving.”

<Anna> “Always someone else’s issue and fault isn’t it. It’s my fault for not expressing the fact your hurting my feelings even though a blind person in a dark room could see that you are. It’s my fault for thinking that calling you a bitch wasn’t clear enough and that I have to resort to a long drawn out way of explaining to you. I’m sorry Jo that my physical expressions weren’t enough of a clue to you and your insensative 'playing’ to tell you to stop. Next time I’ll be sure to maybe cry with going all red and puffing up since obviously none of those things are enough for you.”

<Jo> “You know what? They’re not. Because before they didn’t mean you were hurt, just getting pissed off! So sorry that when you got your hard drive wiped and replaced with the catholic school girl persona the self righteous hard ass left with it and the cues got rewired. Calling me a bitch was generally common place for all variety of things, so no, not very clear. Just fucking spit it out in future or just say /stop/. Jesus fucking christ!”

<Anna> “That’s it, keep blaming me. Even when you’ve known now for how many conversations that I’m not that other Anna..it’s still my fault that you can’t rememeber it. How do you hunt if you can’t keep that simple bit of information straight? Isn’t that the sort of thing you would have to be able to spot? Personality shifts in people? It’s okay though, I accept the fact that it’s all my fault and never yours. I’m sorry for making things so hard on you Jo.”

<Jo> “Well it would make a fucking change for once - it being you to blame and not me, but then again you can’t remember /that/ either, so there goes that little victory over blameless Anna.   There is a big difference between noticing things in strangers and noticing the same cues on someone you know but them being /completely inverted/ on themselves. And you say you’re not that other Anna but the more we talk, the more obvious it is it wasn’t just her Her Royal Fucking Grace-fulness side that was like this.”

<Anna> “Whatever..I’m so over taking the blame for this other person who I don’t know. I’m so sick of hearing what a horrible person I was but then hearing about other things and turning hte other cheek to them, all while I’m being punished for being something I’m not.”

<Jo> “You weren’t a horrible person, you were as horrible as I am. So that’s up to you to decide what that means.”

<Anna> “Well then according to Ruby I must have been a really horrible person.”

<Jo> “…Excuse me?”

<Anna> “I mean..I didn’t drug anyone did I? That was only you correct?”

<Jo> “…I didn’t want to..”

<Anna> “It doesn’t matter. That happened to the other Anna..not me.”

<Jo> “Right, because you’ll forgive what anyone else did to the other Anna. I totally believe that.  …Though that..had been cleared up, before you start to think otherwise.”

<Anna> “No I don’t forgive, it just didn’t happen to me. It happened to her.”

<Jo> “…right.”

<Anna> “I don’t remember you. I don’t remember Gray. But whatever she felt for you, I feel and I trust that  because I feel like I should be able to trust you with my life and that I should be your friend but then you do these things that make me want to scream.”

<Jo> “I think this is the point where I point out that’s kind of what my and..her friendship was like. We hunted together, trusted one another to watch our backs, and while some stuff happened and it was…really not good between the two of us for a while, I was going to be willing to put that stuff behind us after this whole..Crowley thing. Same as she was probably, hopefully. Things are different in war time, you know the saying.  But yeah..made y-her want to scream a lot of the time too. It’s not really that strange.”

<Anna> *Anna shrugs and heads for her apartment.* “Just remember I’m not her. I don’t know our history. It’s weird to look at a total stranger and feel something close to love for that person and you dont know why.”

October 17th 2012 - Anna Talks About Jo Needing To Go Back To Grey???

Following on from Anna telling Jo to get over it, Jo making a comment about how Anna had her changed by someone who hates her while Jo was changed by someone who claimed to love her.

<Anna> *Anna rolls her eyes* “Right because doing something out of hate is teh same as doing it out of love.”

<Jo> “It’s /better/ than doing it out of love with the amount of damage that happens.”

<Anna> “So should I be screaming at you for what you did to me?”

<Jo> “I always thought you should have. Though really it was out of love for my mother, not you, that I did what I did.”

<Anna> *Anna shrugs* “I don’t even know what you did, just heard in passing something about crazy pills and you. It just seems like everyone hurts everyone else for their own good is part of teh normal. Why are you so upset?”

<Jo> “I got given the option of drugging you like you had been in past, or my mother would be facing the same wrath that the rest of us have from Crowley. It wasn’t for your own good, or at least not mostly.” *Jo shakes her head, not quite sure how to explain it* “I’m upset because.. because this is completely against what I’ve been told in past from hi- it.”

<Anna> “Do you love him?”

<Jo> “I… ….I don’t even know if what I’m feeling right now is what I feel or what I’ve been made to feel any more…”

<Anna> “What did he do to you?”

<Jo> “It-He changed the way I think, about how I view myself when it comes to hunting and stuff. Made me more careful and cautious and less likely to be selfless in situations. But I don’t actually know if that’s /all/ he’s done - given he made me forget he did it before. Could have done it before with something else without my knowing.”

<Anna> *Anna tries to not smile* “Gee can’t imagine how that feels at all.”

<Jo> “And you’re not upset about it..?” *Jo frowns back at her, not liking the almost amused tone*

<Anna> “I don’t know. Should I be?” *Anna run her hand through her hair* “If Grey had asked you to not do something dangerous would you have not done it?”

<Jo> “I would be if I were you and everything had been tweaked. Though maybe not remembering that it has other than what people say is a bit easier..  Of course I wouldn’t, I told him that when he asked. It’s not the way I am, and he’s known that for months. He’s never tried to actually stop me doing what I thought was necessary before.”

<Anna> “You kind of strike me as the type that tells her mom she’s not eating a cookie from the jar and then walks out of the kitchen with them in her pocket.”

<Jo> “Well in that circumstance - so long as I didn’t have a cookie in my mouth - I’d be telling the truth..”

<Anna> “but then as soon as you get in the other room you eat them.”

<Jo> “But then they’d be from my pocket, not the jar. It’s a simple matter of getting the words right… Really important, sometimes.”

<Anna> “Being told to not eat cookies before dinner and saying your not, only to turn around a min later to do it is still wrong. Splitting hairs doesn’t make a real difference. I just think that for Grey to do something that drastic there must have been a good reason behind it.”

<Jo> “Always was a little worthless telling me not to eat before dinner - I eat far too much.” *Jo sighs and glares at the other making a reasonable argument* “The good reason being that he could? Or that he didn’t trust me? Or he had some crazy feeling that I was going to do something crazy? He did it because he was paranoid and he could.”

<Anna> “Rightttt….”

<Jo> “What would /you/ think a good reason for altering a part of someone you claim to care abouts personality would be? Completely and against their will, and then making them forget that you did until such a time as you see fit to change them /back/?”

<Anna> “I think if it was a matter of life and death it would be different. But running out infront of a car to get to the other side of the street because it gets you to your objective faster is a bit different than waiting to cross at the light when it really doesn’t change anything.”

<Jo> “Do I really seem the type whose stupid enough to run infront of a car to get across the street? Maybe if there was only a distinct amount of time I had to cross the road, but otherwise..”

<Anna> “You seem that impatient, yes.”

<Jo> “Well, I wouldn’t. Usually. And that just pisses me off if that’s what he thin-thought.”

<Anna> “Well you can always take up my answer to everything, icecream. It’s kind of hard to be angry with brain freeze.”

<Jo> “I mostly hit the bars, hit or kill something, bake something or go curl up on the couch wit- …”

<Anna> “With?”

<Jo> “With someone who calms me down.”

<Anna> “Talk to him about it, if you two love each other then it’s worth putting aside your anger and forgiving him Jo.”

<Jo> “You don’t make the people you love change, Anna.”

<Anna> “No you change because you love them.”

<Jo> “By that logic then neither of us love the other.”

<Anna> “And maybe that’s why he felt the need to do what he did.”

<Jo> “…I’m not following.”

<Anna> “You wouldn’t change or meet him in the middle..I mean I don’t know Grey that well but he just doesn’t seem like the one that do that on whim.”

<Jo> “…I wouldn’t have thought so either, but honestly, what do I even know. Can’t remember how we became friends, seen him acting more and more out of character - or at least more like his siblings. I don’t even know any more.  …I didn’t need to meet him in the middle or change though! I wasn’t doing anything that would have prompted me to need to.”

<Anna> “Because you’re just so great at understanding people right?”

<Jo> “… point.”

<Anna> “Just talk to him. You don’t want to end up alone. It sucks and from what I’ve seen you’re still you.”

<Jo> “I don’t /want/ to talk to him! I’m furious at him and I don’t want to blow up or shoot or burn hi- things. He did something..really really wrong, you might not get it but our entire friendship has been based on mutual /trust/ and he obviously doesn’t trust me and now I don’t trust him.   …I am fine on my own. You on the other hand…”

Anna> “So you’re friendship is different to any other friendship? I thought they were all based on mutual trust.”

Jo> “Not always. I’ve got friends I know I can’t trust and they know they can’t trust me and it works out just fine..”

Anna> “That’s called having an acquaintance not a friend.”

Jo> “…You don’t get it. And I don’t want to talk to him right now.”

Anna> “How do I not get it? Because you have an idea that isn’t the same as the rest of the world? I do get it. You don’t bend to anyone or anything. You have a totally different idea of what a friend, you haven’t acted like one since I started talking to you and you just get mad and defensive. I never said go right now and talk to him, I just said talk to him.”

Jo> “You don’t get how damn stupid this entire thing makes me! I thought that we trusted one another, when obviously we don’t, and I’ve just…  I apologise then, seriously.  ..I don’t want to.”

Anna> “God, everyone here so fucking prideful. You know what, stay pissed. Don’t talk to him, save your fucking pride and everything that makes you a special snowflake and live alone. I don’t care. I don’t know why I even talk to any of you. Being an adult means doing things you don’t want too.” *Anna storms off*

I know for sure the ones after this are all where Anna learns how to ‘hunt’ again and fucks up constantly and that I’ve already posted those