#I’m glad I’m being treated for the correct thing now but holy hell | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

forthehpfanboys · 4 years ago

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could you do some blaise zabini x male! reader and reader is a sibling of one of he golden trio?

Fuck yes, the tensssiiooonnnn!!! I seperate it into each one because I couldn't decide-

§×§×§ §×§×§ §×§×§

-Being A Weasley-

So, evenyone is shocked that your even near a Slytherin, especially your brothers and sister.

They know you can protect yourself. They know your strong and independent.

But they're all ready to rock Zabini on his ass if he even thinks of hurting you.

Fred and George will ask if your under some sort of spell or love potion.

Ginny is interrogating Blaise and Ron is probably shunning you.

Once Ginny finds out how much Blaise really likes you and that this isn't some booty call that'll break you emotionally, she relays the info to your brothers, who back off.

They learn to actually like the idiot, which is shocking to many members of Gryffindor AND Slytherin.

Anyway, so if you ever sneak him into the Gryffindor Common Room, expect teasing.

Like Ginny is singing a love song, Fred and George are making kissing noises and Ron is just gagging.

And constant teasing-

"Oh, Blaise~ I'll love you until the sun goes down~" "Fred, I will castrate you." "We can skip into the sunset together while holding hands~" ".. For fucks sake, George."

But in the end, Blaise kinda asked for this. He should've know, honestly.

Blaise learns to love the big family dynamic though.

Like if he gets harassed by McLaggen for his quidditch skills, the twins are there for back him off.

He is now an honorary Weasley and it comes with perks.

He bonds with Ginny through quidditch, helps Ron with his potions and actually buys stuff from the Twins shop, but then he's like "I wanna meet the rest of your family"

So of course your nervous, but he gets along with the 5 of you just fine, so what's 5 MORE people?

Like when he comes over to meet Molly and Arthur and he's treated with love and respect, even if he's a Slytherin, and even if everyone's worried he's gonna be a little snobby about the Burrow's shape and condition.

But when he says he loves it and he's touching the brick walls and going up the stairs very carefully to enjoy the creaking, everyone kinda just goes soft, especially you.

He has to hide his tears when Molly hugs him goodbye. And after that he's constantly asking to come back.

Basically, you soften him up, everyone loves him and he stays at the Burrow so often he calls it home.

But he meets Charlie, Bill and Percy and they manage to hit it off and their just proud their younger brother found someone who makes him happy and they love Blaise.

-Being A Potter-

Harry is thanking Merlin it isn't Malfoy.

He couldn't even describe how pissed he would've been if it was Malfoy.

Even the idea of seeing the smug ferret every day made him gag.

However, he still wasn't very happy that you were dating a Slytherin. He probably ignored you for like a day or two until finally confronting Blaise.

Yes, he used Ron and Hermione as backup to try to seem strong and powerful.

He wanted to make sure Blaise actually felt something for you and he wasn't just using you to pass time by.

Once Harry realizes Blaise isn't as bad as the Slytherins he hangs out with and kinda realise they have some things in common.

Like how they both had experienced loss of at least one parent.

I don't wanna say they bond over it-

But it kinda gets them on track to like actually talking.

You know what I mean.

Oh, and of course they talk about Quidditch and that's his bonding point with Ron. So now you just have three quidditch fans basically yelling over eachother for who supports the better team.

Hermione's is potions but this isn't about them.

But it's really weird when you walk into the dining hall on that second day and see your brother and boyfriend joking with each other at the Gryffindor Table.

So you scurry over and check Harry's tempurature like "Holy fuck, my brothers sick" and he bats your hand away like "No, I'm fine dumby."

And you see Ron and Hermione actually talking to him and you it feels like your stuck in an ulternate reality or something.

So you just sit down between Harry and Blaise and he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer and everyone can't help but chuckle at your shocked/confused expression.

You were glad Blaise got along with your friends, and even happier he got along with Harry

But I know your brother sets up fucking rules about what you can and can not do.

"No sneaking out, no sneaking unto Slytherin's common room, no sex, no kissing in public, no laying in the same bed as him, no-" "Jeez, Potter, wanna leave something for us to do?" "... No calling me 'Potter'-"

We all know he isn't meeting the Dursleys, but he will come over to scare them, just for the hell of it.

Like if he goes with the Weasley's to go get Harry and Blaise doesn't hesitate to sass Vernon and drag Dudley through the mud.

Vernon blinking when he sees Blaise wrap an arm around your waist and he goes to say something but then he counds wizards vs muggle and shuts his trap for once.

Harry is so happy

He's now just like "YESYESYES MARRY BLAISE DO IT-"

But if Harry isn't the best man, he will hex Blaise.

-Being A Granger-

Hermione is, of course, protective of you. You're her brother, she loves you and wants you to be safe, happy and healthy and she knows who Blaise hangs out with.

Like Harry, she's just greatful it isn't Malfoy.

Or Crabbe.

Or Goyle.

She is constantly, CONSTANTLY asking if your ok and just overall checking if your actually happy.

She reminds you it's ok to put him in his place, if he needs to be.

In the end, she's just worried it's some ploy to drag you down.

Probably corners him with Harry and Ron and threatens the shit out of him if even thinks about laying a hand on you.

Like everyone around her is nervous and she's starting to raise her voice and go into full detail about how she'd like hex him into next Tuesday.

And he's just like "yes ma'am"

Blaise is a respectable man.

He's just sitting straight up and trying not to sweat as she yells and threatens him and Ron's just like "babe, ya good?"

"And I swear to Godric AND Merlin, if he ever comes to me saying you hurt his feelings, I will not hesitate to use the unforgivable curses, do you hear me?" "Yes, ma'am." "I'm serious, Blaise. I will not let you live this down. I will go into the Ministry just to make you cry!" "Yes, ma'am."

I love protective Hermione

But imagine Hermione using a word wrong and Blaise corrects her and they just argue over it for twenty minutes while you and Ron look at each other like "the fu CK"

So, I've said it before, but yes. Blaise and Hermione bond over potions.

Blaise talks about how he hates that Snape basically hands out good grades to Slytherins instead of making them work for it and that's kinda when Hermione realizes he's different.

They start bonding and become awkward friends. Of course, they argue occasionally. They do have some different views since Blaise is a Pure-blood and Hermione is a muggle born.

It's mostly about S.P.E.W.

She basically chaperones for all of your dates.

You guys could be going to Hogsmead and she'd make it a double date with her and Ron and it'll be dorky and weird, but at some point you two duck and run and avoid her and spend the day sneaking around and you guys have so much fun.

She let's up, of course, after Ron convinces her too.

You and Blaise keep sneaking around tho because it's so funny to see her turn red and start shouting about staying a specific distance apart and only holding hands and it's so funny.

But then Ron calls her a hypocrite and she starts going off on him and he just mouths 'run, quickly, go' and ya'll are sneakin' again.

Gosh, but Hermione honestly loves you two being together and just wants to keep you safe and everything.

And he's really, really awkward when he meets your parents, which is kinda funny because he's usually so calm and collected.

Long story short

Good luck with this one.

#blaise zabini #blaise zabini x male reader #blaise zabini headcanon #blaise zabini imagine #weasley!reader #potter!reader #granger!reader #hp x male reader #x male reader #male reader #hp imagine #hp headcanon #not a story

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aquariusshadow · 3 years ago

Text

Live!Blogging HSMTMTS s2x5

okay i expect proper gina treatment this episode

lesss goooooo

are...are we at sebs farm??

yep okay

i cant focus with the sheep baaa'ing in the background hahaha

aye they addressed the 4th wall thing

happy birthday carlos!!!

"my love language is riddles" oh boy...

omfg i forgot about this dude...i guess we are continuing miss jenn's love-story arc?

omg lily

forgot about her too

i just...hmmm ideally i would think her character will get really good development but honestly i kinda doubt it?

idk i guess we'll see

i hate how long it took me to figure out this scene is where the wolves attack the beast in the OG movie

GINA YOU DESERVE BETTER

RICKY ISNT WORTH IT

and we snuck in an 'ok boomer' reference

man i miss good pizza

pizza hut my beloved :(

ricky...it really wouldnt be fair if they shoved nini into the show now

those lollipops look amazing

RICKY YOU IDIOT

why would you ask gina about getting nini on the show

good lord

RICKY NO

gina you better put him in his place

YOU GO GIRL

YOU TELL HIM

gina porter you are amazing

bless ricky's young and immature highschool mind

but good lord

oblivious soul

im so glad gina was blunt

is it just me or is ricky really...clinging onto nini

it seems a bit much?

im really glad theyre not putting nini in the show

that really wouldnt be fair to everyone else

omg are we really doing a love triangle with miss jenn

or a love quartet thing with zack too

i mean i knew this from last season

but

idk i dont have much of an opinion on this tbh

EJ PLOT EJ PLOT EJ PLOT

finally

awwwww he's making carlos a bday tribute thats so cute

i love carlos' and gina's friendship

"sebby" awwww

get you a friend like gina

awwwwwwwwww this is so precious

no thoughts only gina

beautiful

dancing

singing

yea ricky you better be in awe after all the shit you pulled

i really hope this song is gonna go on spotify cuz holy shit its so good

oooooooooooooo

ej and gina scene

after so long

awww those smiles

...........oh

i see

i see it now

i get the ej/gina ship

if ej treats her right then im all for it at this point

SEBS GONNA PLAY A SONG

YES

OMGGGGGGGGGGGGG THIS SOOOOOOOOONG

nostalgia trip oh my god

that riff tho

his voice is so pretty

that talent

i want him and gina to sing a duet

precious

absolutely precious

ej's looking longingly at gina

awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

okay

i wasnt vibing with them last season

but

given all the heartache gina's been dealing with

this is gonna be cute if they write this properly

oh ffs

are we really doing a rival beauty and the beast show

also, correct me if im wrong, arent most broadway shows more likely to not use real animals during performances due to health and safety stuff

so if anything

its more impressive that the east high kids are doing both animals and characters

ah and nini is gonna be apart of this afte rall

gina noooooooo dont leave

Alright so, I still really like the potential of Rina but at this point, until Ricky figures stuff out, and dare I say, matures a little bit more (just a little bit--he needs to learn communication skills overall bless his soul), Gina really needs to find someone who will put her first. If that’s E.J. then hell yea, I’m all for it!

I don’t hate Ricky. In fact, I like the writing for his character overall because it makes sense given everything he’s been through while in high school.

That being said, I don’t think I’ll ever really vibe well with Rini. They’re cute at times, but there’s nothing really substantial with them that is showing me legitimate character growth from both parties.

Seblos rights. Gina/Carlos friendship rights.

I need Gina’s song on spotify.

The talent this episode was astounding.

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts s2x5 #rina #portwell #seblos #ricky bowen #gina porter #ej caswell #nini salazar roberts #seb matthew smith #carlos rodriguez #the TALENT this episode #i adored all the music #gina deserves the world #gina/carlos friendship rights #finally saw more of ej

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whenisitenoughtrees · 4 years ago

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to be honest, capable (of holding you) (part 3/3)

He walks forward, crouching over the snake, and when it doesn’t stir at all, he works up his courage and pokes it, just a little. Its scales are warm and smooth under his fingertip, and he resists the urge to stroke them. He doubts he could get away with that.

“Janus?” he asks, trying to keep the somewhat hysterical laughter from his voice. “That you?”

Thomas didn’t know that Janus could turn into an actual snake, but he’s glad to hang out with him regardless. More than glad; ecstatic, even, because he’s been trying to figure out how to befriend him for ages, and this seems like a good first step. What he can’t figure out is why human-Janus is being so weird about it.

(Alternatively: Janus doesn’t trust easily. He wishes he could stop trusting Thomas— it would be so much less terrifying.)

Chapter Warnings: swearing

Chapter Word Count: 6,292

Pairing: platonic Thomceit

(part 1) (part 2)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

They still don’t talk about it. Thomas is beginning to suspect that this is causing a lot more problems than it solves. And by now, enough time has passed that it almost feels wrong to address it, any of it, feels like it’s too late, like he’s let the opportunity slip through his fingers.

So, he decides to try a different approach.

“Really?” Logan asks, raising an eyebrow. He appears entirely unimpressed, like a teacher about to explain for the millionth time that he’s not going to give out the answers to the homework.

“Yes, really,” Thomas says. “I just can’t figure him out, and I thought maybe you could help me with that.”

Logan sighs, taking a seat across from him at the dining table. He clasps his hands in front of him, folding his fingers delicately. “Very well,” he says, “if only because the matter will continue to distract you if you don’t resolve it sufficiently. Where would you like to begin?”

He frowns, tilting his chair back until the two front legs lift off the floor. “I don’t really know,” he says. “I guess I just want to know why he acts the way he does. ‘Cause he seems to have no problem approaching me as a snake, but he’s so standoffish as a human, and I can never figure out exactly what he wants from me, like, ever. He’s just… confusing, and I don’t know what to do about it, or how to talk to him.”

Logan inclines his head. “In that case, it may be prudent to reflect on how this conundrum began in the first place,” he prompts, and Thomas thinks on it, casts his mind back to that day, and the snake in the sunshine.

“That’s the first question,” he agrees. “He started coming up here for the sun, right? To be warm?”

“It is rather fascinating that he possesses so many traits of a creature that is truly cold-blooded,” Logan says. He leans forward. “It does seem to me that acquiring warmth was a primary motivation for him, at least at first. However, there is another question to be considered, which is that of why he felt the need to do so here, rather than anywhere in the mindscape. Though it is true that there are some circumstances in which it is difficult to find a simulation of sunlight, such as when the twins insist on rainy weather in the Imagination, it is by no means impossible, and he should have the capability to summon a heat source for himself. A heat lamp, for instance.”

“But instead he came up here,” he says slowly. “So, you’re saying he wanted to be here. That he wanted to be… what, near me?” The idea sounds preposterous, though all the evidence points to it being the correct conclusion. Because if Janus didn’t want to, he wouldn’t. It’s that simple.

Logan nods. “Remember, the first time he was faced with a lack of warmth both inside the mindscape and out, he immediately accepted your offer of sharing body heat. Somehow, I find it difficult to believe that he would have behaved in such a manner if no part of his motivation involved being close to you, in some way.”

“Okay, maybe,” he says. “But I still don’t get why he’s doing it like this. He always seems so embarrassed when I try to bring it up to him, like he doesn’t want to talk about it at all.”

“Oh, come on, Thomas,” Virgil says. “You can’t possibly be that oblivious.”

Thomas starts violently, a yelp escaping his throat. He nearly overbalances, nearly sends himself and the chair crashing to the floor, but he corrects himself in time, clutching at his chest as he wrests his heart rate back down to something approaching normal levels.

“Holy smokes, Virge,” he says. “A little warning, next time?”

From where he is perched on the chair between them, Virgil shrugs, looking vaguely apologetic.

“Ah, Virgil,” Logan says. “I was wondering when you were going to arrive.”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Sorry I’m late,” he snipes, not sounding sorry at all. “I was just making sure that, you know, Janus wasn’t listening to you guys talking about him behind his back. You can’t honestly think he’d be happy that you guys are having this conversation, can you?” Thomas blinks, and Virgil must sense his sudden increase in nerves, because he shakes his head. “He’s busy with Remus right now, so you don’t actually have to worry about it yet, but a little bit of caution wouldn’t kill you.”

He sounds annoyed, but not overly angry, so Thomas relaxes a bit. “Right,” he says, “sorry, Virgil. Wasn’t really thinking about that.” He pauses. “I have been wondering where you’ve been, actually. I really thought that you’d, uh, have a little bit more to say about the whole letting-Janus-basically-cuddle-with-me thing. But you’ve been kinda quiet.”

Virgil exchanges a glance with Logan, shifting in place. “Yeah, uh, you’ve got Logan to thank for that,” he says. “Look, I don’t like the guy. I probably never will. But—” He pauses, hunching his shoulders— “even I’ve got to admit that he’s not gonna hurt you, so honestly? I have a lot more problems with the things he says and tries to get you to do than the, uh. Whatever the hell this has been.”

He gestures broadly, leaning back. Despite his typical disaffected tone, there is an odd gravity to his words, and Thomas knows that there’s something he isn’t saying. But he won’t press the issue; not yet anyway. Virgil is entitled to his secrets, and though he has long speculated on what, exactly, his relationship to Janus is and was, he is content to leave it alone for now.

“Fair enough,” he says. “So, what do you mean about me being oblivious?”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “Really? You can’t figure it out?” he asks. “Janus is the embodiment of lies and deceit, Thomas. He’s the opposite of trustworthiness.” Thomas opens his mouth to interject, since he really doesn’t see how this is relevant, or even remotely helpful, but Virgil holds up a finger, forestalling him. “And I’m not just saying that in the context of him not being trustworthy. Which he’s not, by the way, just to make that clear.”

“Yeah, no, I know exactly where you stand on this,” he mutters, and Virgil glares at him. “Sorry, sorry, please continue.”

“All I’m trying to say is that he’s got some fucking trust issues, alright?” Virgil snaps. “He’s—” He breaks off, looking away and reddening slightly. He seems to struggle with himself briefly, his face twisting into some undefinable expression: a heavy reluctance, mixed with something Thomas can’t put a name to. “He’s kinda like me, in that way. You remember how long it took me to believe you when you started telling me you actually wanted me around?”

Guilt floods him, then, the memories of how he used to treat Virgil rushing back. These past couple of years have been good, so much so that he rarely thinks back on where they started. He knows Virgil so well that it is easy to forget that he feared him, once, pushed him down and tried to ignore him rather than working with him or trying to help him.

“Virgil—”

“No, listen.” His words come insistently, once again verging on frustration, so Thomas shuts up. “I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty, or whatever. We’re past that now. We’re good. And god knows I fucking hate comparing myself to him in literally any way. But what I’m trying to say is that being a, a ‘dark side’ or whatever you want to call them, it’s not exactly conducive to believing that you care, or that you value our opinions. So even though you’ve accepted him, and you’ve started actively listening to his contributions, he probably doesn’t trust you not to, like, reverse positions, or some shit like that.”

“But Thomas hasn’t shown any desire to do so,” Logan interjects, “nor any indication that his stance will change in the future.”

“Maybe,” Virgil returns, “but Janus is self-preservation, not logic. He likes to pretend that he’s all cool and confident and rational, but he’s not. So he’s gonna act out of self-defense, no matter how stupid a move that might be.”

“You’re saying he thinks I might hurt him,” Thomas says. A strange sort of horrified numbness settles into his chest at the very thought, because that is the last thing he wants. It has always been the last thing he wants. And now, so much time has passed, and they haven’t addressed it at all, and maybe it really is too late. Because Virgil is right; it only makes sense that Deceit himself would be hesitant to trust, and he’s not sure there’s anything he can say or do to convince him otherwise. If he doesn’t trust him at this point, who’s to say he’ll ever trust him at all?

Would he be right not to?

“I’m saying he’s scared you might hurt him,” Virgil says bluntly, breaking him from his thoughts, and that’s even worse. He finds it hard to picture Janus being scared, but Janus lies as easily as breathing. What’s one more emotion to mask?

He doesn’t want Janus to be scared of him.

“I’m not sure how much sense that makes,” Logan says. “If Janus truly has the trust issues that you are describing, it wouldn’t be rational for him to seek out Thomas as much as he has. If he fears being hurt, it would be more logical to stay away, rather than actively searching for his company.”

Virgil shrugs. “Exactly.”

There is a beat of silence. Thomas looks at Logan, and has the gratification of seeing that he appears as confused as he feels.

“What?” Logan asks.

“Oh my god,” Virgil says. “Do I have to be the one to spell this out? Janus has trust issues, yeah? He’s afraid of getting close to you, because he thinks you might hurt him. But he’s been spending time with you anyway. What does that tell you?”

He furrows his brow, trying to sort through the words. There is something there, a conclusion that Virgil is attempting to lead him, to, but it’s not quite—

Oh. Wait.

“That doesn’t follow,” Logan says. “You’re saying he doesn’t trust Thomas, but now you’re trying to imply that he does?”

Virgil shrugs again, this time looking remarkably self-satisfied, a smug smile forming on his lips. “I guess,” he says. “I’m not saying it has to make sense. Trust… isn’t always based on logic. Sometimes it’s just emotions, or even just a gut feeling. Intuition. And like I said, Janus pretends not to be emotional, but at heart, he’s just as much of a dramatic theater kid as Roman is, if that tells you anything. He’ll be snarky and prickly and dickish all day long, but just because he pushes you away doesn’t mean that’s actually what he wants.”

His voice lowers at the end, becoming something soft and bitter and laced with experience. Thomas exchanges another glance with Logan, but once again decides not to force the issue. Virgil will come to him when he’s ready and not a moment before.

“So, you think that he does trust me, on some level at least,” he says, working through the information as he goes. “But not enough to approach me openly, or to talk to me about it, so maybe he doesn’t trust me not to take advantage of that trust? Or maybe he doesn’t trust me to trust him, or maybe he doesn’t trust me not to reject his trust.” He pauses, considering. “Hey, do you ever say a word so many times that it starts to lose its meaning? Trust. Trust, trust, trust. Truuuust. See? Gibberish.”

Logan exhales through his nose, sharp and pointed. “Focus, Thomas,” he says wearily, and Thomas forcibly brings his head back down to earth. “Have you come to a conclusion as to what your next step should be?”

Thomas looks at him, and then looks at Virgil. They are both staring at him, twin expressions of expectation on their faces, and his heart warms to see them like this, working together so easily, united in their purposes. Logic and Anxiety, Logan and Virgil. They really do make a good team. He doesn’t know where he would be without them.

He hopes they know that.

“Yeah, I have,” he says, and laughs. “I guess I should’ve been doing it all along. I need to talk to him.”

Logan’s face relaxes, and he nods. “There you have it,” he says. “Working through this with us is fine and good, but you’ll never be satisfied until you can figuratively ‘clear the air’ with him.” He unfolds his hands, bracing them against the table as he stands, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back. “If that is all you need from me, I believe I will be on my way.”

Thomas smiles at him, helpless to do anything but. He really does love his sides. “Sure thing,” he says. “Thanks a lot, Logan.”

Logan sinks out, but Thomas is sure that a matching smile plays about his lips.

And then, he looks to Virgil, still crouched in the other chair, shoulders hunched and fingers fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. His brow is creased, his eyes narrow, and it is a far cry from the open posture of moments before.

“You good?” he asks, and then stops to reconsider. Virgil is rarely completely good, so to speak, and clearly, there is something else on his mind now. “With all of this, I mean,” he clarifies. “I know you said that you were okay with me and Janus hanging out, but I know that there’s some kind of past between the two of you, and I. Uh. I mean, I want all of you to be happy, and that includes Janus, but that includes you, too. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable if there’s anything I can do to help with that.”

Virgil sighs, gaze shifting to meet his eyes. He looks tired all of a sudden, drained.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot, lately,” he admits. “And yeah, when he first showed up and started doing this? I was freaked. I’m sure you felt that. Logan’s had to talk me down a lot. But I—” He hesitates, sucking in a deep breath. “I’ve realized something recently, and that’s the fact that a lot of my problems with Janus are pretty personal. Not all of them, but more than I really thought. And I don’t think it’s fair to you to push my view of him onto you when really, I’ve just been projecting my own feelings.” He shakes his head ruefully. “My private issues with him don’t necessarily mean that he never makes any good points. Maybe if I hadn’t been so against hearing him out in the first place, we could’ve avoided a lot of bullshit. So, I’m sorry. From here on out, I’m gonna try to be better about that.”

Thomas blinks. And then blinks again. He feels as though a weight has been lifted from his chest, a weight that he didn’t know was there at all. It’s only now that it’s gone that he realizes how worried he has been about this, about Virgil and Janus and the relationship between them and how he is supposed to keep them both close when their enmity is so strong.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, wow, uh. That’s really good to hear.” His words stumble over each other, but the smile that softens his tone is completely genuine, and he hopes that Virgil picks up on that. “I’m proud of you.”

Virgil jerks, his eyes widening. Under his foundation, his cheeks flush red.

“Cool,” he says. “Um, thanks. Whatever.” He salutes, his typical two-fingered motion landing just shy of casual, and he sinks out from the chair, leaving Thomas alone at the table.

Well. Not truly alone. When is he ever? Just because he can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t present, doesn’t make them any less a part of him.

He breathes deeply, in and out, and feels more balanced than he has for a long time.

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

He gives it a day. A day to rest, a day to formulate a vague plan of how to go about this, of what to say. Though he now feels secure in this course of action, knows that this conversation needs to happen, he is still nervous about stepping wrongly. Janus has a temper, and more defenses than a temple from Indiana Jones, and if this meeting goes off the rails, he isn’t sure how to salvage it. Better to try to keep it running smoothly from the very beginning.

He wishes he were more confident in his ability to do that.

He sits on the couch, tries to get comfortable. His heart is beating quickly, though just as much from anticipation as from nervousness. He inhales deeply, and then stretches out his arm, motioning like he’s trying to raise someone from the floor.

“Janus?” he calls out, and stops to wait.

And then, he is there, stepping smoothly from the shadows. It’s totally unlike the way the others rise up, but it’s not like how Virgil does it, either. Virgil appears suddenly, like every jump scare in every horror movie, quick and forceful and undeniable. But Janus strides forward as if he was there all along, and something in Thomas’ mind insists that he was, that he has been there this whole time, even though he knows very well that he only just arrived.

“Thomas,” he says, voice level and collected. Looking at him now, it is difficult to believe that he was ever injured, that Thomas has seen him bleeding and shaking, that Thomas has felt him cling to him in his sleep. He appears nothing less than completely put together, gloves immaculate and hat perfectly balanced, and just for a moment, Thomas loses his nerve.

But just for a moment, and that is all.

“Hey, Janus,” he says, projecting as much confidence as he can muster. “Do you have a minute?”

Janus lifts an eyebrow, and the set of his eyes shifts, just slightly. He wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t watching, but there is a flash of— something. Dread, perhaps, though he can’t be sure, and whatever it is, it doesn’t show in his voice.

“I suppose,” he says, somehow managing to sound both agreeable and incredibly put upon, “though I am terribly busy, you know. I can’t imagine why you would assume I’d make time for you.”

As always, it takes mental gymnastics to figure out which parts he means and which parts are sarcasm, but Thomas tries not to dwell too much. He pats the couch next to him, gesturing for him to sit, and after a second of hesitation, Janus does, sinking into the cushion with a fluid, graceful motion, crossing one leg over the other. For all the world, he appears completely at ease, but Thomas isn’t convinced that’s the case. There is something in the tilt of his head, the tension in his hands, that suggests discomfort.

He hopes it’s just discomfort, and not anything stronger than that.

“Okay, well,” he says. “I’m glad you could.” He pauses, trying to figure out if there’s a delicate way to start this, but he thinks that Janus would see right through any attempt at prevarication on his part. So he soldiers ahead, bracing for the fallout, whatever that may be. “I’d like to talk to you about the snake thing that you do.”

Janus blinks, lifting his chin slightly, and Thomas can’t help but wonder if it’s a conscious decision for him. Blinking, that is. Snakes don’t blink, after all, so does that translate to his human form? Does he choose to blink? Does he have to think about it?

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more specific than that,” Janus says coolly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m at least partially a snake at all times, so you’ll have to tell me which ‘snake thing,’ exactly, you’re referring to.”

He sighs. “I think you know,” he says.

Janus’ shoulders stiffen minutely.

“And what about it?” he asks. “I don’t see what there is to discuss. Unless this is you asking me to stop.”

He sounds defensive, far more so than Thomas would like him to be so early in the conversation, and he struggles to quash his alarm.

“No, I’m not asking you to stop. Definitely not,” he says, meeting Janus’ eyes squarely. “I’m happy to spend time with you, Janus. And if you’re a snake during that time, then that’s completely fine. But I wanted to ask you why, I guess.” He hesitates, but Janus doesn’t interrupt, just continues to study him with wary eyes. “I mean, at first I just thought you wanted to get warm. And that’s cool! I’m one hundred percent cool with that! But the thing is, I’m pretty sure that there are other ways you could do that, if you wanted. So, I wanted to see if maybe there was another reason.”

Janus looks away at that, a scowl twisting his lips.

“Snakes are cold-blooded,” he says, his words short and clipped. “You’re a convenient source of heat, that’s all.”

Thomas has never been so sure that Janus is lying in all his life.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m not gonna push you to tell me. Not if you don’t want to. But if you do want to, you can. I really would like to know.”

And because the moment seems to call for it, he gently reaches out and places a hand on Janus’ arm. Janus’ eyes widen, and he tenses, but makes no move to pull away, so after a moment of indecision, wondering whether this touch is welcome or not, Thomas maintains the contact. After a second or two, Janus turns his head toward him again, eyes flitting back and forth between his hand and his face, and his expression is unreadable, but Thomas is fairly sure that some kind of emotion is trying to make itself known, though he can’t be sure exactly what it is. Shock, perhaps, but he doesn’t think he’s said anything too shocking, unless—

He remembers that day, Janus bleeding all over his bathroom sink, and the fading look of surprise on his face when Thomas told him that he wanted to take care of him.

And he wonders: does Janus know he can have this?

He tries to recall whether he’s ever touched Janus as a human. Besides that one incident, he doesn’t think he has. Even when he placed Janus in his own bed and sat next to him, he put distance between them, a gap that was only closed after they both fell asleep. And in the morning, Janus was gone, almost as if he was fleeing the scene, and Thomas thought it was because he was embarrassed, but what if that’s not all of it?

What if he was worried about how Thomas would react?

“Janus,” he says slowly, “you do know that I enjoy your company, right? And not just when you’re a snake. When you’re human-shaped, too.”

“Of course,” Janus says, but it’s too quick, too shaky for Thomas to even begin to believe him.

“I’m serious,” he presses. “Is that… is that why you only hang out with me when you’re a snake? Did you think I wouldn’t want to otherwise?”

Janus glances away again. “Right, because you’d definitely understand,” he mutters, and Thomas makes a negating gesture with his free hand.

“Then why don’t you help me understand?” he asks, somewhat desperately.

Janus stays quiet for a long minute, and as the silence stretches on, he fears that he’s messed it all up, somehow, that he had this one chance to connect and he blew it, made a mistake somewhere without realizing, and Janus is about to reject him and sink out and he will never have this opportunity again—

“You do realize what you’re asking of me?” Janus says softly. He still doesn’t look at Thomas. Thomas wishes he would. “An honest conversation isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

“That’s okay,” Thomas says, and Janus closes his eyes and nods. Once, sharply, almost as if to himself.

“It is about warmth,” he says. “At least partially. I’m not sure why your mind decided to assign me scientifically accurate snake traits, but—” He shrugs— “I’m more than used to it by now. I… never really needed to come up here, though. I have heating lamps of my own, and if that doesn’t suit, I can usually find a warm spot in the Imagination. But, that first day, the mindscape seemed so crowded, like I couldn’t find a moment’s peace. So I decided to try up here instead. I told myself that if you spotted me, I would leave.”

“But I did,” Thomas says. “And you didn’t.”

“I was dozing. You caught me off guard, and then… to be frank, I didn’t expect you to let me stay,” Janus admits, and Thomas feels a pang at the confirmation. “But then you did, so I kept doing it, and it became a routine.”

He nods. So far, there have been no surprises. He remembers all of this very well.

“And then there was that rainy day,” he prompts, and Janus winces slightly, his eyes sliding back open, staring out into the living room, unfocused.

“Yes,” he agrees, whisper-soft, and Thomas leans forward to hear him better. “I knew it was foolish of me to stay here when I could have just as easily gone to my room and been warm there. But I didn’t want to.”

The last sentence carries the weight of a confession.

“Why is that?” Thomas asks. He barely dares to let the words pass his lips. Even now, when Janus is clearly trying to open up to him, he is still scared of saying the wrong thing, of making him clam up again, pull away.

Slowly, Janus uncrosses his legs, letting his hands splay out against his legs. For a moment, Thomas’ eyes are drawn to the contrast, yellow on black.

“I—” Janus pauses, his expression pinched. He shakes his head. “In the mindscape, it’s somewhat difficult to ensure a moment of solitude. It’s quieter up here, and even besides, that, I—” He cuts off suddenly, a violent shiver running through him, so intense that it almost seems like a convulsion.

“You?” Thomas prompts, trying not to show his worry. But Janus refuses to reply, and as Thomas watches, he slowly brings a hand up to cover his own mouth, an unsettling parody of when he silenced the others. And something in Thomas’ heart breaks to see it, to see this, to see the way Janus retreats into himself, the way he presses his hand against his face as if trying to hold back a flood.

The posture reminds him of something. The posture reminds him of Virgil. Of Virgil, anxious and afraid of judgment, and Thomas never really expected that from Janus, but he remembers thinking, way back when this first started, about how Janus and Virgil are alike. And that thought gives him the courage to continue, because he knows how to get through to Virgil when he gets lost in his head, so maybe he can get through to Janus, too.

So, he reaches out. One hand still rests on Janus’ arm, but he gently curls the other around Janus’ wrist, though he doesn’t try to pull his hand from his face, not yet.

“You don’t need to do that,” he says. “You can tell me. I swear, I won’t betray your trust.”

Janus’ face spasms, and gently, Thomas guides the hand down from his jaw. The skin around his mouth is red from the force of his grip, except for where the scales glitter, and his lips are drawn into a thin line, pressed together tightly. But there is something shining in his eyes, something that Thomas can’t interpret.

“Won’t you?” Janus asks. It should be a challenge, but it isn’t, not quite, because it’s not nearly aggressive enough for that, not nearly as aggressive as it was probably intended to be. There is a quietness in the words, a sort of defeat, and all of that is mixed with an odd desperation, like Janus thinks he knows the answer but wants to hear it anyway. “You hardly have a reason not to.”

Thomas is beginning to wonder if they’re having the same conversation here.

“No,” he says. “I know this isn’t easy for you. But I do have a reason not to, and that reason is that I care about you.” He wants to scrub a hand down his face, to let a bit of his frustration show, but doing so would mean letting go of Janus, either his arm or his hand, and he doesn’t want to do that yet. “Look, I get that trust is hard. And I’m not asking for anything that I haven’t earned. But what I do earn, I’m not going to abuse. I promise you, Janus.”

Janus shudders at the sound of his name.

“Can you promise that?” he asks.

And Thomas does the only thing he can think to do and draws him in for a hug.

“Yes,” he says, resting his chin on Janus’ shoulder. “Yes, I can promise that.”

Janus freezes up, and for a moment, it’s like hugging a stone statue. But Thomas holds him close, so close that he can feel his heartbeat beneath all his layers, beating rabbit-quick and scared, and he doesn’t let him go, and incrementally slowly, Janus melts into his embrace, inch by inch, as if he’s fighting it, fighting himself.

“It’s about safety,” he murmurs, and Thomas has to strain to hear him. “I feel safe, with you.”

“I’m glad,” he replies, and hopes that Janus can hear just how much he means it. “I’m really glad. But why do you feel like you have to hide that?”

Janus doesn’t answer, but Thomas thinks he can guess. Virgil’s voice still rings in his ears, reminding him of how long he’s pushed the dark sides away, how long it has taken for him to acknowledge them as parts of him at all, much less important parts, parts deserving of respect in their own right. Really, what reason does Janus have to assume that Thomas won’t hurt him, won’t shove him to the side, back down into the dark? Why would Janus discard his caution in favor of trust when it has taken so very long for Thomas to be receptive to him at all?

Janus conceals so much, all the time. It’s a part of his function. So how can Thomas possibly expect him to admit what he truly wants?

“It frightens me,” Janus whispers suddenly, and Thomas pulls his attention back to the present, startled. “I never allow myself to trust anyone, and yet… I want to be close to you. I always have, I suppose, but I never really expected it to be possible. I never expected it to be a problem—”

“Whoa, hey, no,” Thomas says, because he definitely needs to cut off that line of thinking right away. He pulls away from Janus, gripping him by both shoulders and holding him in front of him so he can make eye contact. “Your feelings aren’t a problem. You feeling safe isn’t a problem, and it never will be, you hear? The only thing that’s a problem is that I refused to accept you for so long, and I’m trying to fix that now. But that’s not your fault.”

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. When he speaks again, he keeps his voice low and measured and as sincere as possible, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of Janus’ face.

“I know we don’t know each other that well,” he says. “I know there’s a lot about you that I don’t understand. But I’ve really liked spending time with you these past couple months, and not because you’re a snake. You don’t need to be a snake to spend time with me. You’re not intruding, or, or bothering me, or whatever. I want to hang out with you, no matter what shape you’re in.” He smiles wryly. “Really, the only reason I didn’t say so sooner was because I wasn’t sure what was going on, or if maybe you actually didn’t want to be around when you’re, uh, human-shaped. But, Janus, I really mean it. I want to get to know you better. I want to be friends. There’s no conditions attached to that.”

He pauses.

“You’re always welcome to be close to me,” he says. “Always.”

They stay like that for a moment, like time has frozen around them, frozen this moment, and Thomas scarcely dares to breathe. Either this was the right thing to say, or it wasn’t, and he can only hope for the former and not the latter, because there is no taking it back. He’s spoken his mind and his heart with nothing less than complete sincerity, and he couldn’t renege on that even if he wanted to.

Janus makes a choked noise, and then, with one gloved hand, reaches out and snags Thomas’ shirt. And he pulls himself close, tucking himself against Thomas’ chest, burying his face into his shirt. His hat slides off his head and to the ground, but he doesn’t seem to notice, or care if he does. His shoulders are shaking, and Thomas can feel the growing dampness of the fabric against his skin, but he doesn’t say anything, because he’s said all that needs to be said. He knows it, and he thinks that Janus knows it, and he hopes that now, Janus will finally, finally be able to believe him.

So Thomas just wraps his arms around him, and holds him steady.

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

It’s movie night. It’s movie night, and Thomas is feeling good, great, even, because there are no pressing deadlines or moral crises, and he’s making popcorn in the kitchen, a soft blanket draped over his shoulders while he listens to everyone affably bicker in the living room. And that’s what it is: bickering, not arguing, not fighting. Roman is advocating for Disney, surprise surprise, while Virgil is groaning about how “that’s literally all you ever want to watch,” and Patton is chiming in with a desire to watch something with animals, anything really, he’s not all that picky, and Thomas can’t help but smile as he walks in to join them.

Logan is the only one not particularly invested in the conversation, and he greets him with a nod. Thomas hands him the popcorn bowl, trusting him not to make a mess of it, and settles against his side. The others pile in in short order, Patton on the floor and leaning against his legs, Virgil tucked into his other side, and Roman dramatically splaying himself out along the rest of the couch and putting his head in Virgil’s lap.

Remus is here too, behind the couch. Thomas has told him that he’s free to join in if he puts some clothes on, and though Remus swiftly turned him down, there was an odd gleam in his eye that told Thomas to expect a change in the future.

“Was Janus going to join us?” Logan asks, voice barely audible over the sound of the others’ discussion, which has continued uninterrupted, entirely too intense for something as simple as picking a movie to watch.

Thomas grins at him, and lifts the blanket so he can see Janus, draped across his shoulders. Janus lifts his head and flickers his tongue out at Logan, but makes no move to leave or hide. Virgil glances over briefly and frowns, but doesn’t comment, giving Thomas a short nod.

“The Lion King it is!” Roman bursts out, and Thomas settles in.

They watch The Lion King, and when that’s done, Virgil insists on Hocus Pocus, and it’s getting late after that, but Patton quietly asks for Princess and the Frog, and even though Thomas can tell that everyone is close to nodding off, he puts the disk in and lets it play. His own eyelids are drooping before Tiana even meets Naveen, and he is close to falling asleep before Janus begins to shift in place, rousing him a bit.

And suddenly, Janus is in his lap, human-shaped, snuggling up against his chest with a sigh of contentment. Thomas adjusts automatically, shuffling so that everyone can stay comfortable. Virgil mutters something along the lines of, “Get your damn snaky elbow out of my face,” but his sleepiness undercuts any venom the words might have.

“You good, buddy?” Thomas murmurs, too tired to say much of anything else.

Janus hums, taking off his hat and casting it to the ground before tucking his head under Thomas’ chin.

“Shhhhut up and go to ssssleep,” he slurs, and Thomas smiles.

Besides the movie still playing on-screen, the living room is dark. But before Thomas closes his eyes, he thinks he sees Remus staring at him, thinks he inclines his head in… what, approval? And then he is gone, and Thomas doesn’t think too much more about it.

Because he has Janus, and he has all the rest of his sides here, gathered around him, at peace, and all is well with the world.

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

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#sanders sides #ts sides #platonic thomceit #character!thomas #janus sanders #ts janus #logan sanders #ts logan #virgil sanders #ts virgil #my fic #long post #that's a wrap folks!

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dooptown · 4 years ago

Text

S2 Finale

for once i’m actually going to watch the episode again and get my thoughts down as i do cuz holy hell was this well done, i think

“Comet” playing first instead of the OP was brilliant. Also, as a note, the full music video of that came out, along with some killer animation inspired by the manga.

youtube

A detail i love about this music video is Ibuki spotting Free’s motorcycle light in the side mirror before he stops the car and, well, yeah

They actually show Louis reaching for his gun pretty early on into Ibuki’s monologue. I don’t think the manga showed that, but I could be wrong. He definitely has it pointed to him when it’s pitch black same at the anime, but the fact he reaches for it so early means he obviously knows what’s going on, even if he couldn’t pull the trigger.

predictably, the anime does the “darkness” as it always has, with the dark-blue background and bright lines for the characters. The Comet music video does this part of the scene better imo, but it’s not too much of an issue. Free’s whole bit is obviously rushed, and I think the anime suffers for that, but i understand that they couldn’t fit it in. We do miss him escorting Louis out of the BAM though, and also saying he’ll eat Louis if he comes back. That said, I don’t know how Louis gets back...I guess Free drives him back still but we just don’t see it

The Riz and Legosi fight has Riz getting the idea of eating Legosi in his head now that was seemingly missing before. In the manga he was thinking about how he’d become friends with Legosi by eating him, and that never came up in the anime until kinda now. Like I said before it’s an interesting part of Riz’s character so i’m glad it’s touched on a bit at least.

The moth scene is just as confusing here as it was in the manga...and without explanation or confirmation that it’s imaginary chimera (a part of the manga plot that was completely dropped), it just seems like...something. We don’t have Moth-san talking to Riz here or him questioning what he’s seeing so...it could be seen as purely metaphorical but it still remains a mystery (and just like in the manga it accomplishes nothing here cuz Riz just gets up and wails on Legosi) It looks fucking cool though! Word of Power: Respect for Life! It’s all one shot here, so we see every wound inflicted on Legosi, which is only a few slams. In the manga it’s implied he endured way more. That just follows the pattern of the anime, though, where violence is toned way the hell down. I’m not complaining, though. I don’t want to see Legosi hurt...

I knew what i was seeing when it was in motion, but damn does it look fucking good! Orange really is showing how to do CG right by properly stretching models for intense movements and actions! They’ve done this subtly before but here it’s very clear, but not distractedly so (unless you pause frame by frame) However, I still do think the models look a bit stiff when just...like...walking normally sometimes. Like we have this great fight animation but then Riz picks Legosi up and drags him a bit and he looks...off. Ah well

The whole bit about Legosi exposing his stomach doesn’t have the subtleties explained here...and really the anime leaves out a lot of character thinking but i think if they left it in it’d be a bit too hammy and crowded, so it’s fine that they cut it out. But still...tell me more pose isn’t as funny here :(

Legosi’s voice acting shines again here. He sounds really fucking hurt...

The moon cut and then them laying together is nice. Also i do like how there hasn’t been music up until this point at all. Riz talking about everything is nice too...I don’t remember him saying he feels like he could cry in the manga, due to him not remembering anything about Tem but his taste.

Legosi says: “I almost went through the same thing Riz did. If someone hadn’t snapped me out of it, my love for Haru might have made me eat her.” I recall he says something similar in the manga too...but like the only time he ever got close to eating her is when he didn’t know who she was. It really doesn’t seem like the same thing at all...it ties back into Legosi really seeming to have a really firm grasp on everything, all things considered, and he’s just selling himself short. I guess he could also be talking generally but really, he never had a moment where he wanted to eat her again after that first night. And the “someone” who snapped him out of it...Zoe???? Like, I’m just a bit puzzled on this part. I think what it really is is a reference to what he says to Louis later, how he’s the one that guided him and ensured that he is the way he is. Ensured that he did so well to begin with. Like, writing it out like that makes sense, but I guess I’m taking the words too literally.

Anyway, was typing my thoughts out there. I don’t think it’s entirely clear that Louis’s influence is what caused Legosi not to eat Haru after they started spending time together, but if Legosi says that’s what it was, that’s what it was. I felt that Louis’s guidance for Legosi was more about him accepting himself as a carnivore and using his abilities for what he believes in instead of thinking he can only do harm with them...not about controlling his meat eating instincts. I guess it kinda goes hand in hand. Anyway

The hand touch is, well, touching like it was in the manga, however Riz firmly regrasping Legosi’s hand to hoist him up and continue fighting and Legosi sounding surprised isn’t what i pictured. In the manga i saw it more as Riz slowly doing it and Legosi just being too weak to do anything about it. Riz has the advantage, so he can afford to make the action slow and deliberate

Ok here’s where things get interesting. Louis’s appearance is entirely different in the anime, whereas in the manga he appears behind Riz while Legosi is talking to him, with Legosi spotting him and using a distraction to escape with him. HERE!!! Louis actively stops Riz from attacking Legosi again, clearly out of breath as he ran all the way there, but he still has the mind to appear cool and collected and make a lil quip that pisses Riz off. And then when Riz charges him Louis is just walking calmly toward him like!

Like yeah, he does stop and react a bit, but he sees Legosi coming up to stop him so I suppose that’s why he stands his ground (honestly though was he gonna pull his gun? Did he have a plan? I feel like he just got there without one, which makes sense. He just had to stop what was happening no matter what)

And Legosi ragdolls Riz aside to protect Louis. Love wins

Pina scene is the same here. Although previously we didn’t get his thoughts about how he never wanted to get involved with carnivores ever again cuz of these two, but that ties into the whole “anime doesn’t say every single thought that’s in a character’s head like in the manga” thing. I think it’s interesting that they even bother showing him retrieving his phone from the trash bin, since he could have easily just got it from his pocket but it shows that Riz was smart enough to take it away from him (but not smart enough to destroy it or chuck it somewhere or hide it where Pina couldn’t see)

The next scene with Legosi and Louis up on the outcropping..Legosi mentions how this is his last New Year’s. He’s more convinced he’s gonna die than it seems in the manga (although depends on the subs i guess) The part where Riz is looking up while Legosi is talking about their fight to Louis...i never knew if he was supposed to be hearing that or not, here or in the manga. I guess it’s up to interpretation.

Legosi delivering this line in the manga: determined, stoic

Legosi delivering this line in the anime: clearly in love

we finally get one of these scenes for Louis! Season 1 had a few of these for Legosi and Haru when they had moments where they were deep in thought about the other. I thought that Louis’s would have been in his initial meetup with Legosi in the manga, but that scene got cut. It’s cool that they put his here, though! Also correct me if I’m wrong but I think this is the only shot like this in season 2

When Louis’s theme starts here when he’s acting strong, trying not to cry, I thought it’d slowly start to break down as he did and transition into a new track but it just kinda...keeps going. It sounds like a more somber, shaky version at the very least but I think the music at this part is a bit lacking...thankfully the animation and Louis’s voice acting more than make up for it

Boy, does Louis really cry. I’m glad they let him let loose like that but the bad thing about seeing it animated is...they don’t hug! I always wanted a hug here...one that Louis fully embraces unlike the earlier one on the balcony. It makes sense the Legosi doesn’t try to do anything and is taken aback, of course, but damn...and considering how Louis is treated later and at the end of the series...it stings a lot

Idk what to say about this scene...it’s done so well. Louis having his internal monologue, talking to Legosi...Legosi looking so damn guilty that he wants to go back and fight...the transition to the foot reveal...it’s all so good

A change here in the anime...Louis is a lot more steadfast. He offers his foot and is like, completely at peace with it. In the manga he’s still shaking and his expressions are like, more unsure, but here he seems a lot more convinced that it’s what he has to do

jeez

Legosi’s thoughts about how eating his leg feels almost ritualistic and it actually makes him desire and hunger for it is gone...which like, idk why it is. We just hear Legosi say that he wants to but we don’t feel it (we do see his lips pull back and reveal his teeth tho)

Enter: Buffgosi. This happens in the manga but since Legosi’s model is so much smaller in the anime it seems like a much more drastic difference.

intimate...

Legosi doesn’t apologize for not being able to stop growling, but it seems like they did a lot to remove any humor Paru put into these scenes. I guess it doesn’t work that well in one continuous scene vs. chapters broken up by weeks

Louis’s funny deadpool moment is changed with him just...telling Legosi to be a hero again. Guess he really likes that line. The way it’s delivered really feels like a video game, like Legosi is recovering from a hit and Louis pops in to heal him with some words

Seriously, Louis just keeps making this face...after an entire season of being super serious and stone faced he’s looking softer

the Riz and Tem story isn’t changed at all, and can still be read as either romantic or platonic. Seeing it in motion makes it hit harder though, for sure

Legosi still wishes Riz a happy new year here. He seems a lot happier here than in the manga. Also Louis doesn’t berate him for it, instead opting to speak up and talk to Riz here after hearing about his heartbreak. He does it without the pressure of the cops being there, and it truly shows that he really does like carnivores and sympathizes with their struggles now.

Yeah, so the cop scene is gone, which kinda condenses and cuts out a lot (including Pina’s small appearance) but I kinda like it better. It allows all the characters to breathe. Legosi thanks Louis naturally for the meal, and Louis telling Legosi to wipe his face is done in a friendly, joking manner...it just all feels a lot softer and friendlier without the cops being there making it all fucked. Just like in real life

THERE IT IS THERE IT FUCKING IS THEY EVEN GAVE LOUIS HIS LIL SMIRK AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

god i keep tearing up around these parts IT’S BEEN ALMOST 2 HOURS SINCE I STARTED MAKING THIS POST GOOD FUCKING LORD

I kinda thought they might put the aftermath in a sort of credits scene, and i think it works, even if it does pave over some important stuff

god it’s just so validating to see Legosi care for Louis and Haru equally. Like we all know it’s the case but they’re both dear to him

Now this is a far departure from his thoughts in the manga. I suppose it only fits with the ending of the season to make it more optimistic, but we skip the while “you can’t marry an herbivore cuz of your record” thing...but here he still cherishes it in a way. Very interesting. Wonder if they’ll backpedal on it in season 3

Legosi actually tells Haru he’s dropping out here too! He still does in the manga but it seems more abrupt there, like he already did drop out and then goes to tell her instead of telling her before he does. He’s also not suffering through his meat withdrawal here like he was in the manga at this scene (or at least the manga’s counterpart at Haru’s house)

The ending convo mirrors what Haru says to him in that scene too. It’s a funny way to leave off on the season without a stinger or anything. It just kinda makes the audience question their relationship (and now that Lougosi is pumping through everyone’s veins...hehehhehehe)

uh, well, anyway, i kinda wasted all of my time off after work writing this so...i hope you enjoyed it? Not gonna get one of these for a while...i know at least some of you like them

Also...what the hell was the extra “broadcast only” scene??????

Well, anyway, I hope you all have a good day, night, whatever, wherever you are. And remember: Legosi and Louis are in love

#ok this is long #this is kind of my love letter to the series too almost #this is the definite high point of the story and it delivered #lougosi always and forever

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nyctolovian · 4 years ago

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Summary: What if Jon was a Witch and Martin was a Runaway Royalty? Funnily enough, it doesn't make their first meeting any less unfortunate and terrible.

Warning: Since this might be something people are sensitive about, Martin is described as "fat" and "plump" in this fic. But not in a derogatory way? (Please tell me if it comes off as such oh dear.)

"Who the hell gave you the right to eat all my cookies?" Jon hissed, brandishing his broom at the intruder.

The man gulped visibly as his round chocolate eyes wobbled. The crumbs still dusted between the freckles of his pale cheeks irked Jon to no end.

He had been saving those butter cookies, savoring only a couple every few days. So you can imagine the shock and fury that coursed through Jon's veins when he returned to his cottage after a frankly needless travel, and found a large man sitting in his living room with an empty tin on his lap. Before the man could even react, Jon had shoved him to the floor and whipped his broom forward threateningly, demanding an explanation for the cookie thievery. If Jon had given the situation more thought, he might have realised his priorities were slightly out of order, but it was the only tin he had procured from when he last set foot amongst human civilization. And he abhorred the thought of going into a town after just three months for a mere tin of cookies.

"I-I-I'm really sorry… I…" the intruder stammered out. "I, um, stumbled upon this cottage… and no one came back for the past two days so… I thought it was abandoned and, well, stayed…"

"Abandoned?!" Jon shouted. "What part of this–" he gestured towards his numerous possessions with his broom "–looks abandoned to you?"

Sure, the cottage didn't have much furniture, but there was plenty of belongings that served to prove its occupancy. Most obvious was how it was filled wall-to-wall with towering mahogany shelves of well-kept books. No one in their right mind would simply desert such an extensive collection of ancient knowledge. This house was admittedly more library than home, but Jon's point still stood.

"Well," muttered the man, "it is quite messy and dirty to be honest."

Jon narrowed his eyes at the intruder, who hastily muttered an apology. It wasn't as though he was wrong though. If one were to believe Sasha James (whom, in Jon's experience, had never been categorically wrong), his living conditions were dreadful. It was as though a hurricane had swept through the house, throwing his belongings about, but deliberately left the dust and dirt alone. Books were scattered across all surfaces, couch and floor included, as several layers of dirt settled on the floor, shelves and table. Even some articles of clothing strewn on the floor and chairs have gotten jealous, and begun their own collection of dust as well. And maybe the air in this house was… a fair bit mustier than it should be.

Jon had never been much of a cleaner.

"I'm sorry. I really am," the man began again. "You're… not going to kill me, are you?"

"What? No!" Jon scrunched his nose in horror. "Of course not."

"Oh, uh, good." He let out a nervous chuckle. "To be honest, when I first came in and saw all the books and crockery, I thought the owner of the house might be some kind of witch. I'm glad you aren't one. They can be quite creepy, and I frankly don't like the idea of being cursed by one."

Thunk! Jon hit the butt of his broom against the wooden floor, eyes narrowed. Drily, he corrected, "I am a witch."

"Oh." The fat man pursed his lips as he shrunk into himself. "That would explain some stuff."

With a huff, Jon rolled his eyes. It was tiring to constantly have people doubt or assume he wasn't a witch just because of the way he looked. Admittedly, most people in the witchery profession were women. He had only known three men who were witches, only one of whom he had actually met, and maybe one other non-binary witch. At least this time he hadn't been accused of lying. "Don't worry. I won't put a curse on you or anything absurd," he told the now deathly pale intruder.

The man let out a sigh. "Right. Thank you. Sorry," he said nervously as he stood up, hunching into himself apologetically. “ I'll… let myself out now.”

Jon wielded his broom once more and the man yelped pathetically. "Now, hold on. I'm not letting you go after you've treated my house like a hostel for two days and eaten all my cookies."

"I'm really sorry," he muttered. "I don't have a single coin on me…" He pointed at an unfamiliar bag beside the table. "I… I do have some parchment and quill though."

"Parchment and quill?"

"It… has a certain vintage feel to it."

"No need. I can subsist on pen and paper just fine." He jerked his head towards the overflowing mess of a study table.

The man winced. "I'm sorry… I really don't have much else with me."

"Right," Jon said, narrowing his eyes. He couldn't help but doubt those words. The fabric of the man's clothes looked rather expensive, and the garment was skilfully crafted to fit his stocky build. It was unusual to see a man this well-dressed without a single coin in his possession. But an actually well-to-do man wouldn't be stumbling into cottages in a forest and polishing opened cookie tins off, Jon would presume. "What's your name?" he asked.

The man's already big eyes widened further. "Uh, what?"

Impatiently, Jon groaned. "Your name. Do you have one?" he asked, acid practically dripping from his voice.

"Ah, um, yes," the man stammered out. "I'm Martin K- Blackwood."

"Martin K. Blackwood?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Are you answering or asking a question?" Jon snapped.

"Answering! Answering."

He huffed in annoyance, his eyes sliding across his kitchen. When he had left, unwashed crockery and cutlery were piled up into haphazard towers in the sink and on his tables. However, they were now properly washed, dried, and placed into his cabinets. So this home intrusion hadn't been an entirely unprofitable one.

With a glint in his eyes, Jon said, "I have a proposition."

***

Stupid Martin, he cursed himself. Why are you constantly making things worse for yourself?

First, it was the whole running away from home thing. He didn't regret that in particular, but he probably should have brought along more than 10 silver pieces. It was no wonder how after a mere week, all his money was spent or given to a group of famished scrawny children. Then, he had decided to cut through the woods in hopes that he could sustain himself on wild berries, none of which, he later found, looked convincingly edible. Then, he had stumbled upon a curious cottage in the middle of a dense forest and, upon finding it abandoned, let himself settle in. As was typical of his luck, it wasn't actually abandoned, and its owner was none other than a witch. Thinking back, he should have taken note of the tinge of change in the air when he first stepped foot, evidence of its steady pool of magic, and its otherworldly still-resident.

Most mortifyingly, however, Martin had flushed to a ridiculous shade of pink when the witch smirked and said he had a "proposition" because, holy crap, did Martin have an imagination. The puzzlement on the witch's face at his reaction before clarifying what aforementioned proposition actually was might have been the finishing blow to his dignity.

"You're not in some romantic comedy," he muttered angrily to himself as he scrubbed the study table with all his might.

"Did you say something?"

Martin looked up at the witch, who had retreated to the floor while Martin cleaned his study table. He had built a fortress of books around himself and had to straighten himself to look over its walls. There was genuine confusion on his features as he asked the question.

"Uh, no," Martin said, shooting him a smile and adjusting his spectacles nervously. "Just a rather nasty stain here."

The witch–"Jon, Jonathan Sims," he had been told–shrugged and returned to burying his nose in some spell book, his tousled hair cascading gently with the movement to frame his handsome face with a wavy shoulder-length curtain. His slender fingers flipped the page gently before curling thoughtfully over his stubbly chin.

With a sigh of resignation, Martin got back to removing the stubborn stain on the dining table.

It always were the prickly men that had the prettiest faces, weren't they? So Martin really couldn't be faulted for consistently developing unwise infatuations for them.

The image was still imprinted in his mind's eye, like an afterimage of too-bright light. Falling to the floor had kicked up a cloud of dust and the poet in Martin felt the air tremble with ethereality. And the sight before him was nothing short of divine.

Jon's lustrous greying locks tangled gently with the sunset glow from the ajar front door, and his silhouette was outlined with light. It highlighted how well the black pinstripe suit fit his slender figure and gave him a sort of cool sharpness. His thick eyebrows were tightly knitted in a rather adorable frown on confusion. His eyes were beautiful obsidian that reflected every shimmer of emotions upon its surface. Martin found his gaze slowly trickle down from those eyes to his thin parted lips as though guided by the sureness of gravity. Then, Jon brandished his broomstick and–bloody hell–Martin would be lying if he said that didn't spark an embarrassing warmth in his gut.

Being in close proximity with someone this hot was going to be detrimental to his health. Martin was pretty sure if he spent a second longer around this man, he would have fainted like an anaemic lady in a poorly fitted corset. That or lock himself in the washroom, preferably with the shower on, for a suspiciously long period of time.

Thank god, however, Jon had the fashion sense of a grandmother. When he emerged from his bedroom, he had changed out of his suit, into a dark green cardigan, overstretched beige shirt, and grey tartan trousers. (Tartan? Really?) Every single article of clothing was baggy and oversized beyond what was sensible for someone as small and angular as Jon. Martin had never seen anyone more swallowed up by clothing than Jon was. That was saying a lot since Martin had seen more jesters than the average person in their entire lifetime.

At least, he supposed, the colours of his apparel complemented his dark earthy skin, bringing out the richness in its tone. Martin might go as far as to say that what Jon was wearing now made sense. When Jon first appeared, he was posh and brooding dark colours, oozing with cruelty–a foreboding shadow that obtruded the autumn palette of forest and cottage. However, in his indoor clothes, he was an easy fit in the puzzle that was this house, with its quaint exterior and cosy interior.

There might also be something endearing about seeing such a slight person swaddled in soft fabric. And the smallness of the man as he sat criss-crossed on the floor did no favours for Martin’s sensibilities either.

Martin shook his head, physically objecting to his own train of thought. He couldn't afford to let his imagination run wild like letting loose a golden retriever with cabin fever. After all, if he actually had to clean up the house to compensate for his intrusion, he was going to be staying in this cottage for a long while. Because, despite his unquestionable familiarity with his broom, Jon had clearly not used it (or any cleaning tool for that matter) in the house for at least 4 months, and Martin was now left to deal with the aftermath of such a decision.

With a soft sigh, he went to change the water in the pail before moving on to cleaning the kitchen table, which was honestly worse off than the study table. That was a major understatement given the amounts of stains and bits left on the kitchen table. Martin rolled up his sleeves and began to scrub the stubborn stains.

As he got rid of the last grime on the table, he stood upright and stretched his back, hearing it crack softly. His eyes settled upon the clock above the bookshelves. It was 8.45pm already. Concernedly, he asked Jon, "What time do you usually have dinner?"

The witch looked up from his volume, his dark hooded eyes blinking owlishly. As though just realising what Martin had said, he let out a quiet noise and glanced towards the clock. "Oh," he muttered. "I forgot."

Like a disappointed parent, Martin pursed his lips.

"Now." Jon nodded to himself as he rose from the floor. "Now would be good."

"I could cook."

Jon jerked to a halt, midway to standing upright. "Ah, yes." He plopped to the wooden floor like a stuffed doll before crossing his legs once more. "I should have some potatoes…"

Sheepishly, Martin said, "Actually, um, I ate them. But, uh, I can cook rice."

Jon jutted his chin out. Exasperatedly, he waved his hand and grumbled, "Fine. Do whatever." Grumpily, he returned to reading again.

After clearing the dining table as best as he could, Martin went to work with cooking. After examining the contents of the fridge, he decided on a simple meal with baked beans and some veggies and sausages since there wasn't enough time to defrost any meat.

While Martin was scooping out the uncooked rice, Jon suddenly spoke, "Do you really know how to cook rice? None of that white-people rice-boiling nonsense. I have a rice cooker." Then, in the most condescending voice, he asked, "You do know how to use a rice cooker, right?"

"If it assures you, I've worked in the kitchen of a Mexican restaurant before."

Jon, whom Martin was fairly certain by now had quite the dramatic streak, visibly relaxed with a loud sigh of relief. "That's good." Then, he burrowed into his books again.

Turning around, Martin rolled his eyes and flipped on the tap to wash the rice. After filling the rice cooker with rice and water, he plugged the cooker to a socket and hummed with curiosity. "I wonder where the electricity comes from?"

"Magic."

Martin startled.

Jon's head was peeking out from behind his ever-growing book fort, which now reached just below his chin. There was a proud quirk in his eyebrow as he continued, "I decided living this deep in the forest doesn't mean I have to give up the conveniences of technology. So I've imbued this cottage with magic to keep the electricity running."

"Well, that would explain the lone WiFi network my phone detected."

"It's password protected," Jon said, as he wriggled a smartphone out of his pocket. "Do you need it?"

"No thanks," Martin responded immediately. Then, realising how strange he must sound, he added, "Uh. I have unlimited data."

Despite how ridiculous this must have sounded, Jon didn't seem to pay the blatant lie much attention. Instead, his attention had shifted to his own mobile phone. He typed furiously into the device for a few minutes before his phone began to ring. His expression soured and he muttered under his breath, "God damn it, Tim."

"What?" Martin blurted even though he had heard Jon loud and clear.

"Just a… troublesome friend. It's none of your business." Jon picked up the phone and began the call with the most peeved "Yes, Tim?"

"Right. Yes… Of course." Still, Martin couldn't help but perk his ears.

"Before you begin, the answer is a resounding no," Jon said. "No, I don't. ... It doesn't matter to me what the rewards are. … You can't– Ugh…" He squeezed his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I really couldn't care less. … I'm not your personal sniffer dog. Or the state's for that matter.” The perpetual small frown on his face deepened with bewilderment. “What do you mean you’re not…?” Then, with a huff, he muttered, “Shocking.” His lips however quirked up by an almost indiscernible centimetre.

Martin felt a pang of curiosity. This might have been the first trace of a smile that he had seen on the crotchety man. Noticing that he was staring, Martin ducked his head and busied himself with cooking the sausages.

Suddenly, Jon shot to his feet. "Don't you dare!" he hissed. "Tim, I'm warning you. … Fine." His tense shoulders relaxed as he folded his arms in front of his chest. "I'll… I'll see what I can do." To Martin's disappointment, Jon stepped over his fort of books and headed into his bedroom, where the conversation continued without eavesdropping ears. Pursing his lips,

Worry was a hungry hound nestled under Martin’s sternum. Perhaps his ribs were particularly sweet in its canine teeth because it frequently gnawed and chewed at his chest. But this might be the biggest and hungriest hound yet, though this time it spared him and merely nibbled.

Stop overthinking things, he told himself. Not every Tim in the world is going to be Tim Stoker.

***

Tim Stoker was unrelenting when he wanted something.

Jon had realised this long before when he had helped search for his brother but this was ridiculous. Threatening to reveal a hermit’s address, much more one that practiced the occult, was to strip a hermit crab of its shell. And revealing it to the Royal Guards of all people was to smash the shell with a massive hammer while the crab was still in it—needlessly cruel and most probably going to get him killed.

But Jon supposed simply helping Tim out would be much less inconvenient than moving house and cutting ties with the man. Besides, he wasn’t entirely a nuisance.

With a grunt, he knelt beside his bag, still unpacked from his previous trip, and grabbed his journal and a pen. "Alright," he said, setting the book on his lap and pinning his phone between his head and shoulder. "Tell me about this prince. Age? Birthday? Height? Weight? Something?"

"Um… 28, I believe? Not sure about his birthday… Height is between 180 and 190, I think? Uh… He's on the fat side… He's got curly brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, wears glasses, dimples handsomely when he smiles…"

A long-suppressed groan finally escaped Jon. After his draining trip to the Witch's Conference, he really didn't have the energy to listen to Tim describe what was clearly a small crush of sorts. "This is going nowhere. Just send me a photo."

There was a brief sheepish silence. "Haven't got one, actually."

"Alright, hold up," Jon cut him off. "How on earth do you have nothing on this man? He's a prince for god's sake. In fact, I've only been hearing about this whole missing prince debacle from you. How is this not on the news yet? It's as if you people don't even want him back."

"Well," Tim mumbled over the phone, "it's… a tad bit complicated. You know, how I said I'm not doing this for the state?"

"Mm."

"It's 'cause he ran away to avoid getting married off to another kingdom," Tim said. "Specifically the Nebula Kingdom."

Jon raised an eyebrow. The political ties of the Nebula Kingdom and the Kinsley Royal Family would put even the most volatile stock markets to shame. That was to say, they were mercurial at best. Having a marriage between the two nations would likely stabilise their relations, but if the groom scampered off, it wouldn't just look bad. There would have to be either war (fortunately, a non-militaristic one since neither country was physically confrontational), or massive compensations of the monetary sort. And the Kinsley Royal Family was not quite as wealthy as Nebula, so their best bet at the moment would be keep this runaway business on the down-low for now.

From the other end of the phone, Tim sucked in a hiss of breath through his teeth. "Yeah… So, honestly, only the most high ranking officials are aware of his disappearance. To everyone else, he's just caught a bad case of flu."

Curious, Jon pressed, "And how is a mere royal alchemist such as yourself privy to such confidential information?"

"Actually, he's a friend of mine," Tim said. "So you can imagine how worried I am for him right now."

"I take it you're not carting him off to the palace the moment I find him?"

"Of course not," Tim said with an affronted tone.

Jon let out a hum. "And why the lack of photographs?"

"Well," Tim said. "There's the fact that he's pretty camera-shy. But, also, he's sort of… an illegitimate child of the prince. So things were kept on the very down-low when it came to him."

"Good lord." Jon squeezed his nose bridge with a loud sigh. He could imagine it already: keeping the illegitimate child a secret, ensuring no one could recognise him, and then using him as a marriage pawn when the time was ripe. With how notoriously prolific the prince was, no one could ever tell the difference between an illegitimate child and a regular concubine's offspring.

How a man could sustain such a virile lifestyle perplexed Jon, to be honest. But there were a great many things of the sexual nature that had that effect on the witch so he'd much rather think about actually decipherable things such as spells and potions.

Mentally shoving his distaste aside, Jon continued, "So how do you suppose I find this man without any useful information?"

Jon could practically hear the sunshine in Tim's voice. "Not sure to be honest! I was kind of hoping you'd have an idea."

"I'm a witch. Not a… private detective or sniffer dog or whatever you're taking me to be!" Jon grumbled. "Tim, it's not that I don't want to help you, but you have to give me something better than just a general description of the man."

"Right…" Tim sounded genuinely disappointed. "What about his stuff? I'm not sure about witchcraft but you guys use possessions and stuff for curses and such, right? If I manage to find something he left behind… would that work?"

Jon hummed in thought. "Wait a moment."

He scavenged through the books in his bedroom and found a leather-bound journal that was practically falling apart. Gently, he flipped through the pages and finally came across the section he was looking for.

"Well, if we are to use an object, I'd cast a searching spell on the seeker, which I suppose would likely be yourself," he explained, running his forefinger over the squiggles of the page. "There are then several criteria that the object has to fulfill. First, we need it to be of emotional importance. Then, it has to have a connection between the target and the seeker, meaning you should try to find a gift from this man. Not something you took without his permission or something that is borrowed. And even then, there is a chance of it being a dud."

"That's… not ideal," Tim winced out. "I'll see what I can find." His voice was warm and sincere. "Hey, thanks a bunch, dude. You helped me find Danny, and now Martin as well… I was lying about exposing your house address by the way. I'd never do that. "

"Yes, Tim, I know."

Tim bounced back into his cheeky disposition. "Love you too, Jon! Bye!"

Jon rolled his eyes and ended the call.

Martin… The prince had the same name as his unexpected intruder…

A frown settled upon his brow. What if…

There was a quick rap against his bedroom door. Jon got to his feet and opened it.

"Oh!" Martin–the intruder–gasped. "I thought you were… still on your phone… or something. Um, I was just… Dinner's ready?"

"Ah," Jon said with a nod. The two of them sat at the dining table. The food looked good actually, much to Jon's relief. Still, with some frankly warranted skepticism, he fluffed the rice with a scoop, and when he saw that it was nice and soft. He placed it in his bowl and began to eat.

Sitting opposite, the cook took a sigh of relief at the silent approval and dug in as well. Then, his phone began to ring and he swiped the screen absently. "I saw some tea in the cabinets so…" he muttered as he got up and carried two mugs from the kitchen counter to the table.

Jon took a sniff from the cup. Chamomile. Carefully, he took a sip, and his eyebrows yanked upwards with delight.

Martin's plump cheeks dimpled deeply with pride as he hummed and drank from his own mug as well.

Jon supposed he earned that. When he brought the rim of the mug to his lips again, his eyes fluttered half-closed as the fragrance of the tea surrounded his senses like an old but well-kept blanket, warm and soothing.

Wouldn't it be great to keep him around? His mind sponsored. Jon had to beat the thought down with a stick. He was a hermit and he planned to stay as such. Besides, Jon had a niggling feeling about this man's identity...

But this Martin couldn't possibly be a Prince Martin, Jon convinced himself Imagine such excellent tea-brewing skills squandered on royalty.

#magpod #the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #witch au #royalty au #fantasy au #ace jon #nb jon #tma fanfic #my writing

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twrites1 · 5 years ago

Text

“Wait”

Time Frame: Sunday Afternoon, May 10, 2020

Location: Oklahoma City, Oklahoma // Tulsa, Oklahoma

Summary: Based on Maroon 5’s Wait, sequel to Love In The Dark.

Sam squinted as he rubbed his eyes slightly, trying to see if what he was seeing was correct. This couldn’t be the way they were teaching these kids in second grade now. Equations? She was only in the second grade. What in the hell?

“It’s fine if you don’t know, I’ll ask my Daddy when he calls on FaceTime.”

“Just..wait a minute.” He hushed the girl as he use the palm of his hand to gently push her away, her giggles running out loudly just as her mother entered the room.

“What’s with all the laughing?”

“I’m helping little squirt with her homework.” He cut his eyes when he heard her scoff, watching as she gave him a knowing look before getting off the couch.

“Yeah right, Uncle Sam.” Virginia giggled as she grabbed her book and headed upstairs to her room.

Sam rolled his eyes at her before he grabbed the mail that he sat down earlier and scanned it, mumbling incoherently as he tossed out all of the junk mail for his cousin before he abruptly stopped, everything falling to the floor except the one thing he was holding.

Quinn turned around when he fell silent, eyebrow raising as she watched as he stared at something, “Why are you going through my mail anyways?” She walked over to the side of him when he didn’t answer, eyes going to the invitation. She sighed before grabbing ahold of it.

“She’s getting married tomorrow?” Even though he knew the answer because it was obvious, just hoping this was some kind of joke. He turned to look at the woman, watching as she sat down on the couch.

“Yes.” She raised her eyes to look at him just in time to see the hurt, incredulous look on his face, “She broke things off with you, not me.”

“But you’re my blood. You’re suppose to be on my side.”

“It’s your fault.” Quinn quipped back as she stared at him, pointing out his misplaced anger, “If you would’ve stood up for yourself and told her the truth, you would be the one at the alter. You’re also so damn stupid sometimes. The help? Really?”

“Don’t keep reminding me and I didn’t call her that, my mother phrase it that way, I just said that she helped around the house.”

“That’s even worse. Again, stand up to them pieces of shit of parents you got. I’m not sorry but I have never, ever had love for them from how they treat my parents.” She started as she shook her head. Quinn’s mother was Sam’s mother sister and they were nothing alike and she was criticized for it. It still amazed her sometimes how they were kin.

Sam stayed quiet for a moment before tossing the invite back on the table, emotions and feelings that he thought he had buried down were bubbling back up to the surface. Sighing a bit, he turned his eyes back over to his cousin, “Were you going to tell me?”

“No.” Quinn said honestly as she looked at him and shrugged, “You didn’t even fight for her.”

Sam nodded solemnly as he stood up from the couch, moving past her and going upstairs to say goodbye to his little cousin. Once he came back down, he put shoes on.

“Where are you going, Sam?”

“Home.” He replied shortly as he stood back to his full height, going over to grab his keys from the kitchen counter. Once he made sure he had all his things, he headed for the door but not without the last words, still not facing his cousin as he opened the door, “And I did fight...more than you would ever know.”

The chatter around the room flowed freely as the bride was helped getting prepared to walk down the aisle. Her mother placing the floral headband on her head that pushed the flowing, curly hair back. This was it, she was finally getting married and she couldn’t for one believe it. She was introduce to her fiancé, Carter, by her mother at the end of 2017 at a Christmas party. She had no plans of getting back into the dating for awhile but her mother insisted. One date, led to ten before the two started dating in August of 2018 and he proposed a year later, leaving Mercedes pressured to say yes because both of their families were there. Carter wasn’t a bad catch either. He was a lawyer, had his own house, no criminal record, handsome, and to Mercedes’ mother...he was just perfect with no flaws.

They haven’t been intimate yet, Mercedes wanting save herself until marriage....which was a lie because her and Sam had sex all the time and they were just boyfriend and girlfriend. Sam. She shrugged off the thought of him, what she had been unsuccessfully doing since that faithful night. No matter how she tried to forget it, she couldn’t but she pushed it down enough to get to the point where she was right now. She came out of her thoughts when she heard someone say it was time. She looked at herself in the mirror and took a deep breath. She could stop this if she wanted to but what was the point? Carter was a good enough man, conceded sometimes, but he’s what her mother wanted. It should be what she wanted....right? After coming from the back, she saw her father and gave him a small smile as she looped her arm with his.

Quinn crossed her legs as she wrapped her arm around her daughter, watching as Mercedes walked down the aisle. She had to admit, after the conversation with her cousin yesterday, she was feeling extremely guilty for even showing up. She knew how much he loved this woman yet he made some stupid decisions. She wished they could’ve worked it out, but Mercedes didn’t deserve the situation that she was in. She was happy for her, even if the man she was marrying wasn’t her cousin but as the vows were being read, she couldn’t help but feel like Mercedes was mechanically going through the motions.

Dirty looks from your mother

Never seen you in a dress that color, no

It's a special occasion

Not invited, but I'm glad I made it, oh

“If there’s anyone who doesn’t wish to see this couple together, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Mercedes smiled a smile as she looked up at the man in front of her, one that didn’t reach her father nor Quinn’s eyes but apparently everyone’s else. It slowly begin to falter when she felt a tug at her heartstrings, all of sudden becoming hot and weak in the knees when she heard clear as day that one voice that she hasn’t heard from in years.

“I object.”

Quinn eyes went wide as her mouth dropped, turning her head around at the entrance door, “No, no, no.” She stood up from where she was sitting, making her way to him. There stood her idiot cousin at the entrance of the church, “Sam, I swear on everything holy...”

Let me apologize

I'll make up, make up, make up, make up for all those times (all those times)

Your love, I don't wanna lose

I'm beggin', beggin', beggin', beggin', I'm beggin' you

“Not now, I have something to do.” He told his cousin as he looked at her seriously before gently moving her aside and continuing to walk down the aisle, ignoring the mixed looks of the people.

“HELL NO!” Mercedes’ mother exclaimed, asking for the Lord to forgive her for cursing up in his house. She stood up from her seat and made her way to the man, “You need to leave, right now.”

Sam looked at the scolding brown eyes that was about to kill him right then and there, “No.”

Carter, Mercedes’ soon to be husband....or was he, looked at her then to the dirty blonde then back to her, “You know him?”

Mercedes couldn’t speak. It was like she lost all ability in doing so. The only thing she could muster up the strength was to turn around away from the crowd, head down as she closed her eyes.

Virginia looked wide eyed between the adults, having no clue what was going on but by the looks of it, Ms. Cedes’ mama did not like her cousin. What is objecting and why was he doing it?

Wait, can you turn around, can you turn around?

Just wait, can we work this out, can we work this out?

Just wait, could you come here please? 'Cause I wanna be with you

“Will you turn around.....please?” He asked her, eyes watching on curiously at the two and the outcry of gasps when they heard his next words, “I need you to know how sorry I am and how much I love you.”

Mercedes closed her eyes tightly, the tears cascading down her cheeks as she stared completely at the ground. This was not suppose to happen. She was not suppose to ever see him again yet here he was.

“You’re not going to ruin this day or any parts of her life ever again. Leave, now. I won’t hesitate to call the police.”

Sam ignored her mother’s words and overpowered her with his own strength as he walked forward, forcing her to let loose of his shirt. He moved even closer to where she was, only to be blocked by this asshole who was standing at the alter with her, “Mercedes.”

“Look man, I don’t know who you but you need to leave. I’m sure whatever past you and Mercedes had, it’s over with. She’s about to be my wife. Let it go.” Carter glared at him, balling up his fist. How dare this man come and ruin his day.

Sam ignored him. He wasn’t relevant. He looked at Mercedes, whose back was still turned, her mother’s nagging long absent to his ears as he continued on his plea, “Mercedes, please turn around and please talk to me.”

“For the love of God, please talk to Sam.” Mercedes’ Dad whispered, or so he thought, when the gasp escaped the people around him once again. There. He admitted it. He did not like this kid his daughter was about to marry. Not that he wasn’t a respectful guy, he just wasn’t fond of him. While he was beyond upset about the situation and was pissed for awhile, he liked Sam. His daughter has never been happier than when she was with him. Sam was far from like his parents and if he went through so much to keep Mercedes hidden, it had to be for a good reason. He had to admit, he should’ve reached out a long time ago to the man, but his wife was adamant that he just needed to disappear from their lives for good. It sounded good, but he wasn’t for it. No matter how much his daughter pretended she was okay, she wasn’t and he knew for a fact that she wasn’t happy.

Mercedes eyes finally met his, tears spilled as she looked at him then at Carter, words that left everyone in shock, “I can’t do this, I’m sorry.” She dropped the bouquet and lifted up her dress, running out and past Sam as well, her mother hot on her trails.

“Go get your cousin.” Quinn told her daughter, hoping that the presence of a child would stop any fight that would break out.

Carter was livid and pissed at his day being ruined. He stepped to Sam, only to stop when he saw the little blonde headed girl come up and grab his hand, tugging him away.

Sam let himself be guided out the church and led outside, down the steps and onto the sidewalk, his cousin words bringing him out of his thoughts.

“I honestly can’t say I’m surprised but damn Sam, really?”

Sam didn’t have time to listen to his cousin ridicule him. He was thinking with his heart and not his mind, so the thought of rationality was out the window when he saw the invite in her mail yesterday, “I have to find her.”

“Sam...Sam, come back here.” Quinn could barely get out before the man was running down the street. Sighing, she looked at her daughter, who was looking back at her curiously.

“Cousin Sam really loves Ms. Cedes, huh?”

Quinn just smiled at her seven year old, grabbing ahold of her hand as she nodded her head as she lead them to her car, “Yes, he really does.”

Can we talk for a moment?

Got these feelings that I'm tired of holdin' on

Wasn't tryna get wasted

I needed more than three or four to say this, oh

Mercedes was missing and no one was able to find her. Well, that’s not true. Sam did. When Sam first came to Tulsa to meet her family, she showed him one of her favorite getaways from her overbearing mother. It was a bar, about fifteen minutes away from the church. As he opened the door, he found her almost immediately, the bartender pouring her a glass as she sat on the stool. Contrary to what people may think, Sam did fight, eight straight months to be exact but gave up once she made it clear that they were done.

Mercedes felt his presence as soon as the door opened. She knew he would eventually find her and majority of her was hoping he did, while a tiny part of her didn’t. She was on her second glass of whiskey when he took a seat beside her, hearing the bartender greet him and ask if he wanted something. After shaking his head, he left the two alone.

They sat in silence for a good ten minutes, Mercedes focused on the cup in front of her, Sam observing her. Neither one not wanting to speak first, but both deep down not knowing exactly how to start. What exactly do you say to a person you haven’t spoke to in almost four straight years? Sam was the first to try.

“I’m not sorry for ruining this day...not until I know for sure that you’re no longer in love with me.” When she didn’t respond, he continued, figuring that he was going to be doing all the talking, “I told my parents the truth about us and in return they told me I was dead to them. I don’t care though, because as long as you’re okay, I am. They were going to ruin your reputation, tarnish your name and make it impossible for anything you did. I couldn’t let that happen to you. I know it’s not an excuse and I should have told you instead doing what I did, but I wasn’t thinking rationally. To prevent them from doing anything, I recorded the threats, turn them in to my lawyer and got a restraining order. They won’t be getting to you or me, regardless if we’re together or not.” Sam felt himself getting emotional as he looked down at his hands, tears welling up in his eyes, “I just wasn’t thinking.”

You say I'm just another bad guy

You say I've done a lot of things I can't undo

Before you tell me for the last time, yeah

I'm beggin', beggin', beggin', beggin', beggin' you

“I may have implied it but I never called you the help. Not that it makes it any better and now that I’m here, I really see how selfish I am and once again, I’m ruining your life.” Sam sniffled as he wiped the tears away, trying his best not cry anymore, “I love you so much, Mercedes. So much. If nothing else comes from this, I just want you to know that I truly do love you and I’m so, so sorry for hurting you the way I did.”

Mercedes watched as he leaned forward but stopped himself, shaking his head as he probably figured he had no right. She watched as he got off the couch and started to walk away, “Sam.”

Sam immediately turned around when he heard the faint whisper of his name rolling off her tongue for the first time since he has been here, her eyes meeting his with a solemn expression, “Yes?”

Mercedes nibbled at the corner of her mouth before she got up from where she was sitting. She cleared her throat as she looked at him, “I believe you, I do and I should’ve given you a chance to explain but I was hurt. Four years ago, all I saw was red and I was hurt. I wanted to forget you and although it look like did...” Mercedes gestured to the dress she was still in, shaking her head, “I didn’t. I tried to force this relationship into being something more, but it was something my mom wanted. In a way, I have to thank you for showing up because I was really about to pull the dumbest thing I have ever done and that was marrying someone who I wasn’t in love with and knew I would never, ever truly be in love with. And for what? All because I never stopped loving you despite everything. I want nothing more than to jump in your arms and kiss you until the sun comes up but I can’t. At least....I won’t right now. I need to go properly dump my ex-fiancé and I just need a night by myself to take in everything.”

Sam nodded his head understandably, watching as she did the same while a tiny smile appeared on her lips before she grabbed her phone and keys. She started to make her way pass him but ultimately stopped when she got back in front of him, space now limited. Sam was about to move to the side to let her through but she had surprised him when she leaned up and placed her lips on his. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, which led to her wrapping her arms around his neck.

Mercedes instantly melted comfortably in his arms, tilting her head upward to deepen the kiss. This was the only man she loved. The only man she wanted to marry. Although she was disappointed from the past, she was willing to forgive him in the present, so they could have a future. She wanted that with him.

Feeling himself having trouble breathing, he pulled back breathlessly, leaning his forehead against hers as he tried to regain composure. His eyes met hers, a smile taking over his lips as he leaned forward and lazily pressed a kiss to her lips, “I’m never letting you go ever again. That’s a promise I intend to keep.”

“I’m counting on it.” She whispered as she kissed him once more before stepping back, clearing her throat once she realized that they had made a scene in the bar that was full and the people had been watching on curiously. Her eyes met his again with a smile, “Meet back here tomorrow at three.”

“Yes ma’am.” Sam watched as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, hearing her whisper those three little words back made him the happiest man alive.

“I love you too.”

And with that, she left out the bar, smiling a true real smile that has been in hiding for four years. Truth was, so many lessons were learned. A lesson of being honest, a lesson of listening, a lesson of communication and a lesson of never giving up on someone you truly love no matter how long it takes.

Wait, can you turn around, can you turn around?

Just wait, can we work this out, can we work this out?

Just wait, could you come here please? 'Cause I wanna be with you

#samcedes #samcedes fanfiction #samcedes one shot

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fairie-gothmother · 4 years ago

Text

In The Shadow of Starlight, Part 6: Gut Instincts

First part: The Fall

Previous: The Sheep Will Flock

How long had it been? Days, weeks? Troy lost track of time while he’d been slowly starving to death. Since his excommunication, each moment blurred into the next as whatever he possessed of the leech power fed off of his own body. Finally, he had some relief. He couldn’t help but be grateful for the scientist’s carelessness during the lab experiments. That was the first time he’d taken from any siren apart from his twin. It felt very different. This energy was more restless than he was used to. Maybe this what Ty meant by saying she could taste what she leeched.

Now that Troy had some extra juice, he felt incredible. Even after Lilith dumped him in Sanctuary’s garage on the bottom deck, he was amped. And what did Troy do when he was hyped up and left to his own devices? He beatboxed. The Calypso bobbed his head and swayed to the groove, bustling around the room and inspecting the equipment. He had to admit, it wasn’t a bad setup. He knew everyone was talking about him, probably deciding where to eject him into space, but he wished they’d hurry it up already.

He paused when a noise from nearby threw off his rhythm. A beep came again from a cluttered desk. With no regard to the desk owner’s privacy, he opened one of the drawers to find an Echo device inside. It was an older model, but obviously still in working condition. Troy glanced over his shoulder and scanned the room for cameras before putting the Echo on silent mode and slipping it into his pocket.

“Hey.”

Troy reeled around, startled from the voice and saw the blue haired siren descending the stairs into the workshop.

“Relax,” the sapphire siren said. She wiped the dust off a tool box and casually leaned against it. “Don't look so guilty. I, uh… Sorry for phase-chucking you across Tannis’s lab. You alright?”

Oh. He wasn't busted after all. Still, Troy couldn’t help but be suspicious. No way she cared to chat. Probably cared even less about hurting him. A golden canine glinted through his lopsided smile. “I did ask for it, didn’t I? But yeah, I’m good. No hard feelings, Meg.”

“It’s Maya,” she said, obviously annoyed. “Get it right next time. Okay, Trent?”

Excuse me? Troy furrowed his brow and glared at her. She wore a playful smirk and raised her eyebrows as if daring him to correct her. Interesting. She was messing with him.

“Alright then, Maya. Let’s hear it already,” he folded his arms across his chest. “Are you guys gonna launch me into the nearest sun? Or does the scientist want me as a lab rat for unethical tests? Whatever it is, please don’t tell me it’s life in prison. That’s boring. I deserve something creative.”

Maya shook her head. “Oh, no. You don’t get off that easy. You’re still helping us fight the COV.”

Troy cocked his to one side, analyzing the siren in a skeptical stare. As hard he looked for the smallest hint that she was full of shit, her body language suggested she was telling the truth. He huffed, “So what, no punishment then? I figured the Firehawk would want this handsome mug served on a silver platter.”

Maya gave a one shouldered shrug. “You said you didn’t leech Tannis on purpose. Sometimes powers are weird like that. With some training, you might be able to control it.”

Easy for her to say. If only it was as simple as meditating on a mountain to master his broken siren powers. “Ah, right. You’re from Athenas. I’m sure those monks taught you all about control and restraint, great power is great responsibility, blah-blah-blah. But it’s pretty safe to say that I’m a special case. Clearing my chakras isn’t gonna do it for me.”

“It would at least help with that attitude of yours.”

Troy began pacing and brought his flesh hand to his chin. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t be considered very zen if I accidentally ended up leeching you. Then again, you might taste like chamomile tea.” He cast a half-hearted sideways glance in Maya’s direction.

Maya rapidly drummed her fingernails on the tool box and said, “I take it back. I’m not sorry to phaselocking you.”

“That’s what I thought,” Troy snickered. “Be honest. How many times a day do you phaselock stuff just because you can?”

Maya closed her eyes and clasped her hands in front of her, mimicking a monk’s prayer pose. “I take a great amount of pride in my self discipline so if you must know-” She raised her left hand, and her fingers sparked. A ball peen hammer levitated from a workbench and hovered across the room into Maya’s hand. “I do it all the time.”

Troy scoffed. “Show off.”

The two were locked in a stare down. It wasn’t clear who cracked first, but neither of them could keep a straight face for long. A gentle blue glow emitted from Maya’s siren marks. Troy’s smile dropped as he looked down to his left hand, noting the harsh red light of his own marks.

“You really didn’t know that would happen to Tannis, did you?” the blue haired woman asked softly.

“No,” he answered honestly. “I’m still trying to get a grip on everything myself.” All his life he’d been broken. His parents treated him as a burden, although they never said it outright. He was constantly sick and needed extra help when he struggled with the use of only one arm. And Tyreen never considered him an equal. Even as one of the twin gods, he wasn’t seen in the same light as the God Queen. And now that he knew he possessed siren power without knowing it, his whole outlook was in question. What did it mean? What other parts of himself remained untapped?

Maya said, “Even if it’s only half, you’re still a siren. It’s not an easy life. Sirens have always been feared, hunted, extorted… worshipped.” Troy met her blue-gray eyes for a moment, then redirected his gaze to the wall. “We’re just trying to find our place.”

Troy’s heart skipped a beat. We?

“Yeah,” he said in a voice just above a whisper. He snapped out of it and quipped, “But, you gotta admit. Life would sure be a lot easier if I could phaselock grapes into my mouth all day.”

Maya scrunched up her face and flung an empty can at Troy, who reflexively caught it in his mechanical hand with a metallic clang. He waved it, shook his head, and grinned at her.

“Nice catch, wise-ass. Now, get in the drop pod,” Maya teased.

That tiny thing? Troy had used porta-potties with more legroom than that. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Troy groaned. The siren smiled wickedly as she held the hatch open and ushered him inside. He sighed knowing the ride back to Pandora would not be a comfortable one.

~~~

On a normal day, Ellie was a delight. Today was not a normal day considering her garage was used as solitary confinement for one of the most hated influencers in the galaxy. Maya recalled her saying, “He’s about as welcome as an outhouse breeze.” It took a while to convince the mechanic that her garage was just as she left it. Eventually, she cooled her boiling blood down to a simmer.

If Maya was being honest, she didn’t actually believe that Troy hadn’t messed with something. Call it a gut feeling. The same gut feeling that knew Ava would be a siren someday. The same gut feeling that told her to go talk to Troy just now. Her gut hadn’t lied to her yet so she didn’t question it. The ex-God King was absolutely still on thin ice, but she was willing to give him a chance. Maybe he just needed some guidance. Either that or he was a hopeless, cocky little shit.

Hydraulics hissed from the rising door as Maya entered the ship’s bridge. The orbital view of Pandora loomed outside the windows of Sanctuary’s observation deck. Crew members clacked away on keyboards at their posts. Lilith and Tannis stopped mid-conversation when they noticed Maya approaching.

“Troy’s on his way back to base,” Maya announced, slightly out of breath from rushing up three flights of stairs. “Cramer should be waiting for him when he lands. What did I miss?” she asked when she noticed neither of them would look her in the eye.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you about Tannis sooner. I decided the fewer people that knew about it, the better. These days, being a siren puts a target on your back,” Lilith apologized.

The revelation that the two of them were keeping Tannis’s siren powers a secret was shocking to say the least, but Maya wasn’t upset. She understood. Her own siren powers had been used by others to threaten an entire planet’s population. “I get it. I’m glad to have another siren on our side.” Maya smiled at the scientist, who awkwardly returned the gesture. It was cute when she made an effort.

“How are you, Tannis?” Maya asked.

“I'm fine. No need to fuss,” Tannis said. “It was actually interesting to experience the leech power first hand.”

Lilith knitted her brows. “Troy could have killed you. We still don’t know his intentions. Who knows what other abilities he’s hiding.”

Maya recalled the look of shock on Troy’s face while he held Tannis’s wrist, and the way he kept his distance from the two sirens afterwards as they processed what the hell just happened. After the conversation she’d just had with the Calypso, Maya felt the need to voice her opinion. “It seems like he doesn't understand his abilities either. I really don’t think he leeched Tannis on purpose.”

The commander was unconvinced. “Even if that’s true, we can’t underestimate what he’s capable of. This is still Troy Calypso.” Lilith stared out of the window at Pandora below. “For now, he’s useful to us. We’re going to need all the power we can get. It’s about time to make our move on the Holy Broadcast Center. There’s been a lot of activity lately. I’ve got a feeling something big is about to go down.”

Claptrap’s eardrum piercing voice called from the command console, “Incoming transmission!”

Speak of the devil. Maya’s heart sank as Tyreen’s smug face appeared on the overhead monitors. She was beginning to wonder if the COV had tapped their coms. Their timing was unusually coincidental.

“Hey, Lil!” the cult leader said in a singsong voice. “How’s life been as a non-siren normie human? Does it suck? I bet it sucks. Not gonna lie, these powers of yours are pretty sweet.” Lilith was seething. Tyreen had a knack for getting under her skin. The Calypso continued, “But hey, you don’t have to take my word for it. You know someone who knows all about my Firehawk upgrade. Just ask my brother.”

Damn. Word had finally reached her. Now Tyreen knew the Crimson Raiders were harboring her disowned twin.

“By the way, did that traitorous freak happen to mention the fact that he stole something from me? Can you believe it? Yoinked it right out from under me. I don’t want your grubby normie fingerprints on my stuff so if he shared it with you, I’m gonna need it back.”

Lilith calmly replied, “I assumed you’d know better since you were the one who dumped him in the middle of nowhere. He wasn’t exactly in any condition to exchange gifts when we found him. He’d been stripped and unarmed.”

Tyreen paused before shrieking with laughter. “She said unarmed! Please tell me you meant to make that pun.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “I needed that. No big deal. It’s a matter of time until I find it anyway. Well, I’ve got places to be. Big milestone event coming up. You’re gonna love it. Oh, and tell Troy I said hi before he runs outta juice and shrivels up. 'Kay? Laterz!” The Calypso winked before the feed was cut.

Maya’s fists tingled with the urge to meet that punchable face. She hollered back at the empty screen, “Troy will be the one kicking your door in, you cocky bitch!”

Claptrap said something about the video transmission’s crappy production value, but no one was listening. Lilith grit her teeth. “Using Troy was the plan, but that’s only if we can keep him alive long enough to get there.”

Maya squeezed her fists tighter, causing her fingernails to dig into her palms. Tyreen was always one step ahead of them. She couldn’t care less that her brother was in the Raider’s custody. Because of Troy’s dependence on her, she never even saw him as a threat.

Tannis chimed, “I have a theory, but you aren’t going to like it, Lilith.” All eyes turned to the scientist. “It is apparent that Troy cannot absorb the life force from living things through touch alone, with the exception of sirens. According to my experiments, it’s highly plausible that he can gain the same effect by ingesting it directly via anthropophagy or hematophagy.”

The room was silent apart from the humming of the spaceship. Maya blinked and said, “Tannis, no one understands you when you talk like that. In layman’s terms, please?”

Tannis sighed in disappointment but explained, “Troy should be able to regain energy from cannibalism or drinking blood.”

~~~

Sorry it took so long for an update. I’ve been working through a serious creative block. Showing my girl Maya some love in this part. This was a little shorter than usual, but I hope it was still entertaining. As always, thanks for reading my garbage! <3

#troy calypso #borderlands 3 #redemption #fanfic #fanfiction #Troy #calypso #au #in the shadow of starlight

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new-endings · 5 years ago

Text

The Nice and Accurate Guide to Courting

Chapter Summary: In which Crowley tries his hand in poetry and Aziraphale is swept off his feet (literally)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3; ao3

It wasn’t that Aziraphale disliked his former mentor. It wasn’t that at all. He respected Gabriel as a trainer, a warrior, and to an extent, a leader. The Archangel had taken his less-than-adequate swordsmanship as a young trainee and with…questionable methods, primed him to become a Principality with his own platoon.

“Aziraphale!” a voiced boomed out from the lobby, causing the rest of the patrons to scurry to the auditorium.

That being said, he still found the Archangel all sorts of terrifying.

Aziraphale stilled and felt an oncoming dread creep into the very marrow of his bones. “Oh bugger,” he almost whimpered, preparing to cake on a delighted façade. He turned, facing the handsome, immaculately dressed Archangel with a tentative grin. “Gabriel! How nice to see you again—” only to be drawn into a rough handshake and given a rougher clap on the back.

It wasn’t that Aziraphale disliked his former mentor.

It was just that Gabriel had always been too much.

“It certainly has been a while, hasn’t it? Good thing too—Sandalphon couldn’t make it and though I definitely have no qualms about seeing the musical myself, I’m glad to have run into you!” He beamed cordially, a stark contrast to the iron grip he currently had on Aziraphale’s aching shoulder. Violet eyes widened as he took in his former subordinate. “By the Queen herself—look at you!” A frown marred his face and Gabriel shook his head in displeasure. “Our time apart has not been kind to you, sunshine.”

Aziraphale let out a nervous laugh, hands drawing together behind him in a practiced, self-soothing manner. “I-is that so? Things have been all right on my end,” he offered hesitantly before his peripheral view caught sight of a redhead with a deep-set scowl. “Oh, err—where are my manners…” He stepped aside, hoping, wishing, praying that Crowley would at least make a single effort to mingle this time. “Prince Crowley has been—ah, looking forward to this…” He stumbled for the words, “…fine production.”

“Our theater’s best!” Gabriel boasted with pride, extending an arm. “And my personal favorite.” He gave a tight handshake as the prince reluctantly reached back, making Crowley wince with more annoyance than pain. “Good to formally meet you, Prince Crow, I’m sure our Kingdom’s been treating you well.”

“That’s Crowley,” the prince corrected with narrowed eyes, lips tugged downwards. “And sure. No complaints so far.” Somehow, his scowl deepened. “Gabe.”

Aziraphale felt his dread multiply malignantly.

Oh dear…this would not do. This would not do at all.

Thankfully, Gabriel was unruffled by the retort. “Excellent!” He turned, placing his hand back on Aziraphale and startling the Principality out of his anxieties, “Say, Azi—why don’t you and your friend join me this evening! Catch up on good times!” while making room for new ones.

(Meanwhile Crowley absolutely bristled at the unbidden contact between the two. Also, “Azi—?!”)

“We’d be happy to join you Gabriel,” Aziraphale replied brightly, with a nervous energy and wide, pleading eyes that begged the prince, Please. Play nice. “Isn’t that right, Prince Crowley?”

Begrudgingly, Crowley would.

“Good! You rarely disappoint, sunshine.”

If this damned chicken would let go of his mate.

As if sensing Crowley’s mounting irritation, those violet eyes landed on the prince with faux civility. “Oh, where are my manners—Azi and I used to go way back!” And yes, Crowley did know, and Crowley also knew that he didn’t like the slimy look in the Archangel’s eyes. “He used to be my Principality, you know.”

“Oh, I’ve heard,” Crowley replied evenly, though he was seconds away from grinding his teeth.

But then that look was gone, making Crowley wonder if that eerie gleam was actually there to begin with. “My little passion-project,” Gabriel declared with an infuriating tone of arrogance. “Turned this powderpuff into a lean, mean fighting machine!”

The Angel beside him nodded hesitantly. “Erm, uh, yes. Good times.” Crowley frowned at the evident unease Aziraphale was exhibiting.

But then Gabriel started opening his blasted mouth again and Crowley swore he’d rip the Archangel’s arm off if he kept pulling at his mate like that. “And you know, Azi, it breaks my heart to see you getting all—soft,” he said, pouting as he gestured to the Angel’s entirety. “All our training, all that blood, sweat, and tears— gone to waste!”

There was a wounded look on Aziraphale’s face. “Well, I…” And Crowley immediately wanted to take that look away, whatever it took.

Including disposing of the damned chicken continuing to cluck about. “I know it’s a time of peace and prosperity for our Kingdom now, a time of indulgence in life’s simpler pleasures…” He gave pause, sending a pointed look to Aziraphale’s rounded middle. “But that’s no excuse to overdo it, right?”

“There’s hardly anything wrong with enjoying oneself,” Crowley defended, stepping in between the two. Like hell he was letting that smarmy prick trail his disgusting eyes over his Angel’s perfectly plump form.

And had Crowley not been distracted with fuming rage, he might have noticed the flash of malevolent delight glinting in the Archangel’s smile. “Quite right, Prince,” he amended, yet made no further attempts at apology. “I suppose I just have a hard time letting go. Decades of fighting in the frontlines will do that to you, isn’t that right, Azi?” But before the Principality could reply, the Archangel gave a hapless shrug and a casual glance at Crowley. “But of course, when one’s born with a silver spoon in his mouth—”

Crowley could practically feel the desperation behind his placating voice as the Principality spoke, stepping out from behind him. “But we’re here now, out on this—lovely night to enjoy ourselves! So, why don’t we carry on and do just that?” He gave a pleading look to the both of them and Crowley could barely keep himself from calling the night off altogether, Aziraphale’s hard work and planning be damned.

Because even if Crowley didn’t find himself stupidly head-over-ass for his Angel, there was no way in all the Kingdoms of Heaven and Hell he’d be tying the knot with this disgrace of a chicken.

Especially not with how said chicken drew his mate into a discomfiting half-embrace. “Hah! That’s what I like about you, Azi. Forever an optimist.” Crowley was nearly hissing at the way Aziraphale flinched under the Archangel’s attention. It was still unclear whether the Archangel took any notice or if he simply chose to ignore it all. “And I do see your point. Never thought I’d be here, enjoying one of my favorite productions with one of Hell’s royalty.” And then that jovial demeanor was gone, snuffed out like a light. “And one of my own, currently…servicing him.”

This time, Crowley didn’t miss the implication. “Assigned to me by the Queen herself, by my stroke of fortune.” He held his gaze steadily to the Archangel’s, daring him to comment any further. “No doubt She gave me her very best.”

Gabriel’s smile widened but it held no warmth. “Is that so?” He gave a cold chuckle, slipping on the mask of pleasantries once more. “Excellent to hear!” Another rough clap to Aziraphale’s back and the tension dissipated for at a moment as the Archangel drew away and walked towards the auditorium. “Keep up the good work, Azi—you’re doing your Kingdom proud. Now let’s get to our seats, shall we?”

Crowley had half a mind (okay, perhaps almost 9/10ths of a mind) to take the by the Angel arm and leave dear old Gabe there alone with his showtunes, but from one, imploring look on Aziraphale’s face for him to Please, please at least give it a chance, the prince relented in his escape.

Crowley, decidedly, did not torch the whole place down, Archangel and all, while leaving off into the night with his Angel in tow.

Damn.

It went…

No bad. But not good.

Crowley never particularly understood why box seats were among the favorites of the rich and elite when it offered such a poor view, but if he had to garner a guess, it probably had more to do with the social aspect rather than the practical one. It was just his luck he had little interest in the show, otherwise he would have ended up with a crick in his neck by the end of it. No, instead Crowley was preoccupied with his thoughts—something he’d spent many an hour ruminating upon as of late.

Thoughts of how to wriggle out of this inconvenient marriage business, thoughts on how to get his bloody Angel to recognize damn, fine courting when he sees one, and after tonight, thoughts on how to seek petty vengeance on a loudmouthed chicken.

And sure, he might have spent the majority (all) of the time present (like hell he was leaving Aziraphale alone with the likes of him), but he’d be damned if he made any efforts to be attentive to anything Gabriel had to say. Thankfully, Gabriel was too focused on the production, the earworm-inducing music, and—though he’d deny it and rain Holy Water and Sacred Fire on those who would vouch on it—singing along to the scores.

Aziraphale was, unfortunately and quite literally, trapped between the two. A glance to his right found his former mentor in rapt attention to the stage below, unearthing…rather unsavory memories of many nights similar he spent under the Archangel’s tutelage. A look to his left found Crowley, quiet and emphatically not enjoying himself.

The Principality gave a sigh at the tense and brooding look on Crowley’s face and a twang of sympathy reverberated in his heart. Poor dear. He must be losing hope… First Uriel, and now Gabriel? Slim pickings indeed… Still, they can’t give up hope now! ...Even if it does all seem so hopeless.

At the very least, he can offer Crowley some comfort.

Tentatively, he reached over to where the prince’s hand gripped the armrest and covered it with his own. He gave a reassuring squeeze and a small smile as Crowley turned to his side questioningly.

And unbeknownst to him, making Cowley damn-near combust on the spot.

There was perhaps one, awkward moment where it completely slipped Aziraphale’s mind that he could have and very well should have removed his hand at any second now, and one, tense moment where Crowley almost felt brave enough to turn over his palm so he could entwine his fingers with his Angel’s—

But then Gabriel started bawling in pure joy at the scene below and the moment slipped from Crowley’s grasp as Aziraphale withdrew and turned away, his eyes suddenly trained to the dancing and swell of the orchestra below.

And Crowley remained, silently cursing and fuming in silence.

Maybe the place will go down in flames after all.

“Now wasn’t that just the finest piece of art you’ve ever feasted your eyes on!”

Aziraphale gave another practiced smile, absentminded and pacifying. “I suppose it was quite enjoyable, yes. Just like every other time I’ve seen it.”

And for once in Gabriel’s long history with Aziraphale, he finally commented on the doubt in his ex-subordinate’s tone. “Yes, well…you’ve always had different taste, eh?” That gave Aziraphale pause as Gabriel chattered on. “Still sticking your nose in those tomes? Getting lost in fairytales and the like?” He gave another booming laugh. “You and your quirky little hobbies! I’ve always told you they’d go straight to your head—and now they’ve gone straight to your stomach!”

He gave a self-satisfied chuckle at his wordplay while Aziraphale had to physically restrain Crowley from getting himself eviscerated by an Archangel.

Then, as though sudden inspiration struck down from the higher heavens themselves, “Say, instead of just lazing about, why don’t you two join me for a little training session some time? That ought to get your blood pumping!”

“Oh, there will be blood—” Crowley growled out while Aziraphale sank his manicured nails into the prince’s arm in warning.

Crowley did not yelp. Such a reaction was absolutely beneath him. Even if his Angel left marks.

Aziraphale gave a wide, harried smile. “Ah! You know, that’s a good idea—always good to try something new, a break from the old routine! But I, err, certainly don’t want intrude upon your time with Prince Crowley—”

The Angel thoroughly ignored the noise of immediate protest from said prince. Sorry, Crowley. You’re on your own with this one.

Hopefully he’d forgive Aziraphale of his imminent betrayal.

Gabriel was undeterred, a charming, intimidating grin breaking across his face. “It’s not a problem on my end, sunshine! In fact, I’d love it if you’d join in. Besides,” he leaned in, smile somehow more hostile than before. “You really ought to lose the gut,” And then the smile was gone, wiped clean off along with the bright, jovial veneer. There was nothing but with sheer displeasure in those cold, violet eyes. “It’s unbecoming of a warrior trained by my hand.”

Aziraphale gave a hard swallow, an echo of a different time burning in his memory. This was not guilt. Guilt was the acrid bite one tasted at the back of their tongues when they did something wrong. This hit like the nausea of shame. He was what was wrong.1

Gabriel, content to disregard the split-second slip in his spirited, genial mask, continued with blithe encouragement. “Aw, come on! It’ll be just like old times! What d’ya say, sunshine?” And with that, he gave a painful playful punch to Aziraphale’s shoulder, drawing a pained whine from him—

And at that, Crowley snapped.

He was quick to pull Aziraphale away, putting distance and himself between his Angel and Gabriel. His blood boiled in his veins, judgment quickly clouding with fury. A part of him knew that he wouldn’t fare well in an actual clash against an Archangel, but he’ll be damned if he allowed anyone to treat Aziraphale like that. If he had been a lesser Demon, he would have gone for the Archangel’s throat for touching his mate alone.

But the snarl he let out was already enough to get the Archangel to back down.

Infuriatingly unruffled as always, Gabriel just grinned, an eerie glow of self-satisfaction in his eyes as he made a gesture of surrender. “Alrighty then. Maybe I’ll catch you two some other time.”

Aziraphale was—rightly—furious. “What was that?!”

“That was me being pissed right off, that’s what.” But for all Aziraphale’s ire, he still made no efforts of removing the Demon attached to his arm.

The Angel took a deep, calming breathing; it wouldn’t do him any good to raise his voice. Not when the coachmen were already sending them strange looks as they exited the theater, the prince looking ready to murder and clutching onto Aziraphale tightly. “Crowley, you had no right to—”

“He had no right to speak to you that way—” Crowley stifled a growl, tightening his hold. “Angel, was that what you had to put up with all this time?!”

Aziraphale hesitated and that was enough of an answer for Crowley. “Gabriel can be—abrasive and a bit boorish—”

“He’s a bleeding wanker is what he is—”

“And my former superior! An Archangel—Crowley, we can’t forget what we’re here for!” He felt the prince beside him stiffen, but that did little to appease Aziraphale’s panic and frustration. “You have to get along with at least one of them and we’re running out of options!”

Crowley stared him down in outrage. “I WOULDN’T CHOOSE THAT OBNOXIOUS CHICKEN IF THEY HAD ROASTED HIM IN HELLFIRE AND SERVED HIM WITH A SIDE OF CHIPS!”

“Bah!” Aziraphale had half a mind to shake the Demon off and cross his arms. Instead, he heaved a deep, bone-weary sigh. “You’re being impossible.” The other half was simply too exhausted to do anything but bicker.

Fortunately, Crowley didn’t seem to be in the mood to argue any longer on that matter. “He shouldn’t have touched you,” he murmured, head resting on the curve of Aziraphale’s shoulder, wisps of red locks tickling the Angel’s chin. “You didn’t like it and he knew.”

“He’s…” Always like that didn’t sound like a very good excuse. “Really not that bad,” Aziraphale ended mildly.

Crowley snorted. “Really not that good, either.”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale started, but looking at the debilitated Demon beside him, felt a reluctant warmth starting to bloom. Right. Crowley nearly attacked an Archangel on his behalf. And here Aziraphale was, berating him. “I do thank you for trying to get me out of that…situation,” he said, softly, gently. “It was very…kind of you.”

“Ngk.” Well. Aziraphale held back a snort of laughter. That was an interesting noise. “Keep it to yourself. I have a reputation to uphold, after all.”

A rueful grin made its way to Aziraphale’s lips. “Right. Of being a nuisance?”

“The very best out there,” the prince crowed, grip loosening on Aziraphale’s arm. Oh good; he can almost feel the circulation returning. “Can’t have the rest of the Birds letting their guard down around me.”

“Oh, I can assure you. After tonight, that won’t be a problem,” Aziraphale muttered, rolling his eyes at the gleeful little chuckle that got out of Crowley. Word would likely spread of his actions tonight and while humor wasn’t Aziraphale’s preferred coping mechanism for the onslaught of disaster, if it made Crowley feel better, then he’d go along with it.

Aziraphale nodded patiently, needing to remind himself of Crowley’s position. While Crowley didn’t have the luxury of marrying out of love, it didn’t necessarily mean that he couldn’t fall in love with one of his set suitors. The process might be far more arduous given…certain personality differences, but there was still a fighting chance! And if the thought of tying his life to Gabriel was out of the question—

It was up to Michael, then.

Or Uriel if she was feeling particularly forgiving. Which was highly unlikely. So, Michael it was.

My, what a headache.

“You know, it’s been a rather long few weeks, hasn’t it?” Crowley gave a sleepy noise of assent, relaxing himself comfortably against the Angel. “The night might not have gone as…planned.” That earned him a snort from the prince beside him. “But I think things will be much better in the morning.”

Crowley made another soft noise of skepticism and Aziraphale decided to ignore it.

Instead, the Angel gave a hum of contentment, already picturing his cozy little reading nook and picking up where he left off from that small collection of novellas Crowley had gifted him earlier. “It’s good to get away from it all every once in a while, right? You know, a little rest and relaxation does the body an immense amount of good. Gabriel never saw the benefits of course, but—”

And unbeknownst to Aziraphale, that’s where Crowley stopped listening.

Crowley was usually more than content to let his Angel prattle on, his sweet voice lulling the prince’s frazzled senses and melting the day’s stresses away. While his Angel had his books and flickering firelight to settle down for during the night, Crowley preferred down-stuffed pillows, silk sheets, and pleasant dreams about cherubic cheeks and sea-storm eyes.

But, oh. That’s quite the idea.

A vacation?

That he can do.

It had become a regular occurrence to find something amiss in his room after Crowley was shortly introduced to his quarters. Even more so after Aziraphale regrettably acquiesced the prince to Come whenever you’d like.

Usually they were small, delightful surprises: fresh fruits and pastries, first editions of his most cherished poems and prose, and bouquets of his favorite flowers. Being a Guide to royalty certainly had their perks and Aziraphale could hardly let such lovely gifts of gratitude go unused and underappreciated.

Sometimes, they were more of Crowley’s clutter that the forgetful Demon had left behind after a nightcap, to which Aziraphale dutifully stowed away for safekeeping. That, or more of his feathers that Aziraphale outfitted to quills.

But this was the first time he’d found a letter, sitting innocuously by his desk.

“Oh? What’s this…” Aziraphale inspected the bruise-red of the wax seal, immediately recognizing the outlines of the royal serpent and its winged adversary locked into battle.

Crowley. Hardly surprising.

“How in Heaven does he manage to sneak in here every night…” he murmured, perhaps a bit more unconcerned than he ought to be at the thought of his nightly intruder. He turned the note over, finding Angel penned at the back. Obviously for him, then. Aziraphale broke the seal cleanly down the middle and unfurled the message inside.

It was written in Crowley’s elegant script and, to Aziraphale’s delight, appeared to contain a poem.

To the Angel I hold so dear

Where our two horizons begin,

My heart lays in wait for you here

A kiss in rose, pleasure in white

A crown, a ring, a mark within

To the Angel I hold so dear

Stars scatter athwart my night—

A heart’s fall, a lover’s flight,

My heart lays in wait for you here

I lay in worship at your light

That psalms and hymns can only sing

To the Angel I hold so dear

My soul rests at our haven’s height

Where lines of skies and earth shall thin,

My heart lays in wait for you here

Detest not my grievous plight

That I should love with tender sin

To the Angel I hold so dear

My heart lays in wait for you here

Aziraphale brought a hand to his lips, finding a smitten smile forming there against himself. “Ohhh…” It was…lovely. Aziraphale couldn’t help the quiver in his heart at the villanelle, the longing and ardor painted so beseechingly in its words. The pure exaltation for his dearest Angel Crowley was able to put into words was enough to make any Angel swoon—

Was this all part of Crowley’s practice in courting? Perhaps he wanted Aziraphale’s opinion on the matter? Sure, the stresses were off, a few syllables were miscounted and don’t quite line up, but it was honestly a rather sweet attempt.

Perhaps Crowley wanted to send this to assuage Aziraphale’s fears and anxieties—to let the Angel know that he was still taking his duties seriously. Still…why a villanelle? Sonnets were preferred by most Angels, though Aziraphale could hardly fault Crowley for his choice. The incentives to write in villanelle were to draw attention to a certain theme through its refrains. The repetition to enforce and enhance an idea, to highlight and emphasize an important…

Hm? Stormy eyes read through the stanzas again. “My heart lays in wait for you here…He’s waiting for his lover…he’s—waiting somewhere?” Aziraphale pulled out his chair and studied the note. “Oh, of course! Why else would he choose that refrain!” Aziraphale let out a pleased laugh. He’s disguising a designated meeting time and place in a love letter! How clever!

The Prince was an imaginative one, indeed!

A grin stole across Aziraphale’s face. He did love a good puzzle. “Let’s see…the first has the imagery of horizons… perhaps the sky? Is this referring to time? Where two horizons begin—oh! Sunset! And here again, the reference night and stars!”

Aziraphale was feeling quite giddy now. Brilliant! He had a time…now all he needed was a location.

“Let’s see…Where lines of skies and earth shall thin…” Aziraphale hummed. He couldn’t think of any place he took Crowley that contained anything like that. But… “Could he mean the cliffsides?” It certainly fit the description of where the sky and earth meet. The Angel scratched his head. “But where? A fall, a flight…it certainly would make sense. Perhaps the peak of the bluffs?”

A memory suddenly sparked in his mind.

A heart’s fall, a lover’s flight—the falls! Over at one of the cliff’s faces! Of course!

Aziraphale felt his insides flutter with anticipation. “This is rather exciting!” A code written in poem; a covert scheme designed for lovers—

It was all very romantic.

But one thought niggled at the back of his mind. What could Crowley need a fifth secret rendezvous point for? A recent memory of Crowley’s footmen bubbled in his mind and Aziraphale could only hope their other locations haven’t been compromised. He also hoped this lovely poem wasn’t just another step-down for Crowley and his paranoia. He’d been really worrying Aziraphale as of late…

Aziraphale still hadn’t worked out the entirety of the poem either. Especially the second, fourth, and final stanza, the one made out to Crowley’s Angel. Those seem entirely devoted to…well displaying devotion. In such a lovely way too…

The second stanza seemed to depict methods of ownership; the fourth, a statement of adoration; the final, an…apology. But for what? What aggrieved Crowley that he’d think his affections wouldn’t be accepted by the future Archangel he has his heart set on?

His chest tightened and a sliver of sadness snaked its way down his gut.

Maybe he can ask Crowley about its meaning later.

Turning the page over, a few verses written on the back gave Aziraphale pause before he broke out into another smile. “Oh, a limerick? How delightful!”

Or, at least it was. Until Aziraphale took a good, long gander at it.

While your coy conduct enchants and enthralls me

I dream of revering and ruining your entirety—

To the Angel of my doomed desire

My body hungers in salacious fire

While I lay frustrated and unfulfilled in plea

Aziraphale dropped the letter as if it burned. Well. It might as well have with the way the apple of each cheek flushed a lovely red, a hot rush of blood tingling underneath his skin. What in Hell—

Just who did Crowley intend to send this to?!

The Angel brought his hands to his face. That’s right. It was his moniker on the page, wasn’t it? Of course. This was Crowley, after all. Exasperation extraordinaire. Annoyance Aficionado. Prince of perturbance.

“That little—” He can imagine it now—Crowley throwing his head back in peals of laughter at the thought of Aziraphale blustering and blushing at the read of such lascivious imagery—

Oh no. Aziraphale will not be played for a sucker this time!

It had taken him an embarrassingly long amount of time to come up with that blasted poem and Crowley could only hope that—at the very least—Aziraphale enjoyed it. But if all were to go according to plan, Aziraphale would get the intended message of their now official, fifth rendezvous point.

The falls roared loudly in the distance, and Crowley drew himself up tighter. He had debated all into the earliest hours of dusk whether or not it had been a good idea to send the poem rather than a more… overt invitation to meet him at the borders of the capital, but something told Crowley that the fastest way to Aziraphale’s heart would be through some fanciful, written word.

Not through his stomach, apparently. He already tried that.

And if all were to go according to plan, not only would Aziraphale find this place, but he…might not even mind the fact that Crowley had essentially and humiliatingly bared his heart and soul to the blasted Bird that had captured both so effortlessly and entirely.

Even if the villanelle didn’t paint a vivid enough imagery, he was sure the limerick got his point across.

And if all were to go according to plan and Aziraphale didn’t run for the hills at the very thought of his charge professing his undying love and searing lust for him, then perhaps this little vacation had means of becoming so much more than just a proposal for rest and relaxation.

In fact, if Crowley got his way and if Aziraphale was enthusiastically amendable to it, there wouldn’t be a whole lot of resting to be had…

In his pleasant reverie, Crowley almost missed the flurry of white at the periphery of his vision. “Oh?” He turned, just as Aziraphale tucked away those lovely, snowy wings. A shy smile greeted him, and Crowley felt his heart and hopes soar. At the very least—Aziraphale wasn’t running for the hills. “Clever Bird—you made it!”

“Yes, well,” Gracious, his Angel looked lovely painted in streaks of setting suns. “It was quite clever of you to hide the coordinates in the guise of a poem.” He looked to Crowley with an air of admiration and— a crippling lack of adulation (or even abhorrence, Crowley could take that) and Crowley knew then and there the double entendre of his poem probably flew right over those cloud-fluff curls. “Well done,” he chirped, plopping down beside the prince.

Crowley, rather valiantly, tried not to be too stung by the crushing defeat. “Haha…yeah. In the guise of a—right.” There goes two hours of honest work.

Maybe next time I should just stick with I LOVE YOU, YOU DAFT, BLOODY BIRD.

“So why was it that you wanted to meet here of all places?” The Angel peered over at the falls, admiring the shimmer of droplets absorbing the melding colors of fire and settling dusk. Crowley, in turn, couldn’t help but admire the romantic glow that basked the Angel in colors of eventide. Still, Crowley couldn’t just go ahead and say something positively stupid like I always imagined taking your hand and asking you to run away with me by the setting of the sun, now could he? “And how did you know about this place to begin with?”

But that question, Crowley can safely answer. “Oh, just listening on strategy meetings and all. May not have participated, but the king loved his planning.” He gestured to beyond the edge. “This was regarded as one of the least-defended sectors of your capital. Not that I blame your lot— you’ve always had the advantage of the skies, whereas we had to make do with slithering on our bellies on the ground, furthest from God’s light.” He gave a bitter smile. “No, this place wouldn’t have been a good strategic point of invasion at all, not with the unforgiving seas below; the jagged rocks jutting out beneath the waves are a good deterrent, and the faces are too slippery after being molded by the waves for as long as they have.”

A tilt of his head and a question in his Angel’s voice: “What of it, Crowley?”

And Crowley, ever a flair for the dramatics, merely gave his darling, dearest Angel a smirk, “Well, let’s just say that it’s a good thing the war didn’t progress any more than it did. Because your lot definitely wouldn’t have seen this coming,” and a snap of his fingers.

Several things happened at once.

There was a sharp splash of something monstrously big cresting over the waves, a bellow of a mighty beast muting the rush of the falls. Then, a flood of winds suddenly halted as a mass of midnight-black scales, leathery wings, and razor-sharp claws blocked the stunning view of the sunset. And finally, golden, slitted eyes greeted Aziraphale’s vision, sending a none-too-friendly bolt of primordial fear racing down his spine.

Oh bugger.

But Aziraphale was first and foremost a warrior and, much to his chagrin, Gabriel did train him well. “CROWLEY!” He grabbed the prince, putting himself between him and the beast. “Get behind me—” And then the creature roared.

It was the stuff of horror and magic and after seeing all the individual pieces assembled neatly into the picture before him, Aziraphale couldn’t help but shudder at the beast gazing down at him. The beast being a bloody dragon with oh-so-sharp teeth and plumes of smoke ebbing from its nostrils, and ohhh Aziraphale did not like the low rumble it emitted from the back of its throat.

It sure beat the prospect of fire razing the lands from its gaping maw, however.

“Angel, Angel, wait!” But then panic truly flared when Crowley approached the beast with frantic cry of, “Woah, steady, steady!” before Aziraphale could grab him by the scruff of the neck and fly them far, far away from here.

But then the other pieces started to fall into place as well as he stood, frozen as Crowley ran up to the creature.

One particularly helpful piece of evidence being how the bloody dragon lowered its massive snout to receive a few pets and strokes from the prince as he spewed soothing croons and praises with practiced ease. “There, there…calm down.”

There was a thunderclap of realization and Aziraphale felt the oncoming of a very large, very painful headache. “Crowley, you idiot—!”

“She’s just—excited, that’s all!” he defended.

“She—”

Crowley gave a nervous laugh, arms ready to gesticulate a grand old introduction. “Angel, this is—”

May the Queen herself help him— “YOU HAVE A PET DRAGON?!”

The little bastard had the gall to grin at him. “Cute, innit? Her name’s Bentley!” In true, tamed fashion, the bloody dragon nosed the side of Crowley’s fire-red hair with a soft, affectionate snort. “Oh, don’t worry, she’s harmle—”

And in true untrained fashion, roared, mightily and proud, right at Aziraphale’s face.

Dragon breath and dragon spittle aside, Aziraphale was tired and teetering between sheer terror and exhaustion and somehow met in the middle with “decidedly unimpressed”; if he were to die by this idiot prince’s frivolity, then so be it. It would make for an interesting epitaph, after all. “My dear, that’s quite rude,” he chided; he deftly ignored the grumble of disbelief from the reptile. His ire was instead trained on the grinning serpent before him anyways. “Crowley, you can’t just bring a dragon to Heaven, we—”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, that’s why we’re not staying here.” He rounded to the dragon’s back where—oh dear Lord is that a saddle?! The prince gave an expectant look at him as he patted the leather. “C’mon—up you get!”

What.

Aziraphale blinked.

Then Aziraphale sputtered. “W-what?!”

“Yeah! Don’t worry, I trained her myself!” Which meant that this bloody dragon was little more than a glorified deathtrap. Crowley frowned, sensing Aziraphale’s lingering unease. “I said don’t worry.”

Aziraphale shot him a pointed look. “Your previous statement makes that quite impossible.”

Crowley gave a dramatic sigh, irritation ticking at his brow. “Fine. You can fly yourself to Old-End, then.”

For all Aziraphale’s intellect and vast vocabulary borne of collecting his books, poring over literature, and a lifelong dedication to the written word, one of his favorite playwrights did say that Brevity is the soul of wit. So, to sum Aziraphale’s current feelings with a hearty and shrill “What?!” seemed only appropriate. “Why are you going to Old-End?”

That was a cause for concern—even more than the bloody dragon.

The island sat at the very edge of their current maps, the furthest point where any Angel—or Demon for that matter—ever dared travel. Well…traveled and returned home to tell the tale, anyways. Beyond its shores, the seemingly infinite rest of the word was left unexplored behind a veil of endless seas and dense fogs. And, if legends were to be believed, if one was to venture far enough, they’d reach The Other Side, where sky meets the sea, the two becoming intertwined and inseparable.

To tack onto that, there were also innumerous tales of terrible monsters lurking in the depths of the skies and seas as well.

But Crowley didn’t seem deterred at all. “We,” he corrected and Aziraphale startled. Crowley sighed. “It was your suggestion!”

Aziraphale balked at the insinuation—since when did he opt into this?!

God help him, the Demon was pouting. “Didn’t you say you wanted a vacation?”

“I never said that!” he blurted. Sure…it might have been implied last night—and oh bugger— was this what it was all about? “Besides, it’s been abandoned for decades!" he countered. It was hardly a luxury resort fit for a prince and Aziraphale had every reason to be concerned. Old-End had small post before, but it’s been abandoned since the wars between Heaven and Hell began. After all, it was hardly wise to expend resources for exploration while the rest of the kingdom went up in flames.

“Not in those exact words,” Crowley admitted and, right, Aziraphale should really watch what he says in front of the prince from now on. “And that’s exactly why! C’mon, it’ll be great! No need to pack, I have everything we need.” Lest he pull another stunt like this one. “Just get on and we’ll—"

And Bentley let out an ear-splitting shriek.

It wasn’t the worst of Aziraphale’s fears being actualized. No, what occurred next was merely the penultimate of those horrors: of the massive, bloody dragon shaking the prince off her before propelling herself into the air, swooping down, and snatching the Angel before he could decide between ducking for cover or taking Crowley by the hand to safety.

In all honesty, he probably should have let Crowley fend for himself this time.

But then that would have been the worst of Aziraphale’s horrors coming to light.

Just like that—in a blink of an eye, a bat of a lash, a beat of a wing, and a howl into the winds, the dragon made off into the clouds, a shrieking Angel between her claws.

For Crowley, it took him a moment to fully realize that one second ago, he was bickering with the love of his life (who was currently berating him on his choice of exotic pets and his choice of exotic vacation spots), and then the very next, said love of his life was being stolen away from him with a panicked cry of, “CROWLEEEEEEY!” echoing through the skies.

And it took perhaps a few more seconds for the sheer terror to set in at the very uncomfortable realization that there was really no way for him to ensure Aziraphale’s safe return from the hands of his rather spoilt and rather unruly dragon.

“BENTLEY,” he screamed off into the distance, the flapping figure growing smaller and smaller as they sped off into the horizon. “GET BACK HERE YOU USELESS REPTILE!”2

=-=-=-=

My Bonnie lies over the ocean

My Bonnie lies over the sea

My Bonnie lies over the ocean

Oh bring back my Bonnie to me

-=-=-=-=-

1 Atul Gawande’s Complications: A Surgeon’s Notes on an Imperfect Science: “This was not guilt: guilt is what you feel when you have done something wrong. What I felt was shame: I was what was wrong.”

2 This chapter was heavily inspired by How to Train Your Dragon, can you tell? Also, a smidge of Kingdom Hearts.

Also, that monstrosity of a villanelle was written by yours truly. And a special thank you to @valnine (on tumblr and ao3) for making sure it was sappy enough. And in my defense (even though I’m technically the one roasting it), villanelles have no set meter or syllable count. I’m looking at you Aziraphale—not everything has to be in a structured form!

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #top crowley #bottom aziraphale

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bionicdragonguardian1 · 5 years ago

Text

Ranma 2/4

Part 3; Final: chapter 26-38

After this it’s on to good and proper timeline deliberation

These two are honest-to-God morons and I want to punch them in the face

*sigh* Ranma…

Y’know I almost had hope that this differed in the manga

Guess not

I DO NOT approve of alienation

However, getting emotional character development out of Ranma is like pulling teeth

So alienate away

Emotional Oof

THANK YOU!

*chuckles* Ryoga, you’re great

BREATHE

He’s dying don’t kill him early

FINALLY!

Ooo

didn’t see that coming

*tightly* I’m fine

okay, Ranma, you know what to do

*heaves giant ass sigh* RANMA!

*screams*

Look I know no chill, kay, shut up

RIP my shipping heart

*sighs* FUCK!

Not gonna lie, I’m Ranma

Careful, Akane might kill you

And with the way Hinako’s acting she deserves it

I’m actually with Nabiki on this one

I love how Ranma is rolling with this

Ooo that’s gonna sting

Those 3 are terrifying, honestly

Hinako, your timing is awful

STOP USING RANMA AS YOUR LANDING PAD SHAMPOO!

Ranma blubbering hurts WAY more than I thought it would

Ranma, you’re digging your own grave here

Someone call me when he learns his lesson FINALLY

*cringes* Yikes, tbh I can’t tell if she’s playing him

Ranma you shit

WHY

Why is it always Kuno?!

Oof this gonna hurt w Kuno’s understanding of Ranma’s curse

Expect all Ranma and Kuno- especially Ranko- interactions to hurt really bad

Ukyo, you’re an idiot

You too Ryoga

Honestly

Alright, that’s funny

Ukyo, you’re lucky they’re dumb

Oh God, you two are SO wrong, but I love it

Aaand what does that say about you two Akane?

Ooo I could make this really mean

It’s SO tempting

Well, that went nowhere

Poor Ranma

So many trans vibes, honestly

*screams* HOW? Who? WHY?!

Wha-wha-what?!?!

Ouch, that’s gonna sting SO bad

heheh

Ouch, that hurt surprisingly more than I thought it would

Further proof that Genma SUCKS

Just this once, gimme soft

PLEASE

Close enough…

Okay, this fight was AWESOME!!

*sigh* Why am I even surprised by Genma’s reasoning anymore?

If Ranma cries, Imma cry

Excuse me while I go scream

I literally don’t even know what to do with this

Chuck it in the fuck it bucket and move on, I guess

okay, the end was funny though

Soun, is that bird didn’t look out of it’s gourd I’d believe you

*Chucks whole birdhouse* “fair”

A+ pic of Ranma

In his defense, he can argue something else, they just won’t listen cuz Shampoo won’t go with the truth

Alright, so Shampoo is smart, but with Ranma she’s an idiot

Wouldn’t the smart idea be to send Ranma AND Akane in with all 4 objects at the start?

Ok, Shampoo Sleep-Fighting is funny

Ranma is so underwhelmed that he’s just not even caring anymore

How Kasumi the scariest one to be possessed

Alright, anything with Nabiki on the cover worries me

Holy Shit he played Nabiki

I’d be impressed if I wasn’t annoyed to hell

Let’s all be glad right now that Genma never mastered this

Where do you think he would’ve sent it?

My inclination’s the Tendos

If nothing else I’m impressed by Nabiki

Now play this man like a kazoo PLEASE

When Ranma lectures you on how you’re acting like kids, you done fucked up

I’m with Ranma

Are you sure Akane?

Cuz I’m not

Heheheheh

Thems the breaks Ranma

You deserve it

Holy Shit Ryoga, nice

Now, I understand that Pigs are your life, but you might be dead

And honestly, I don’t blame him

Okay, that one’s gonna hurt

No matter how you slice it

Morality, Ranma, I know you have it

I hate this

Ok, that was uncalled for

Ranma he’s gonna kill you

Also WTF are you thinking?!?

Oof

Wait… what?

I’m officially concerned

Ok, I actually kinda like this interlude

Akane… seriously, trust is a thing you need to learn

One would think she’d learn…

Okay, that is actually creepy

I would too Ranma, I would too

Jesus fucking Christ, you suck Happosai

LetRanmaMeetHisMomCOVID19!

Gemma you shit

Happosai, go fuck yourself

Nevermind, don’t let him meet her, this is ridiculous

“Where’s the fridge?” “Akane wanted it”

I shouldn’t’ve laughed as hard as I did

*sigh* I just want Ranma to have ONE normal parental figure in his life, is that too much to ask?!

I already hate this idea

He comes back Imma scream

Since when?

On what planet does penpal = boyfriend/girlfriend?

Ryoga, PICK ONE!

I’m getting annoyed with you Ryoga, which sucks cuz you’re one of my faves

Ryoga, how are you this gullible?

You deserved that Ranma

I would wish the fate of being Kuno’s wife on no one

Ever

Congrats Ukyo you’ve actually made me freak out

I don’t appreciate it

At all

*shudders*

Oh this is SO weird

Of y’all keep making comments like this WHY do you keep trying?!

Nevermind it’s Hiroshi and Daisuke, they’re in the know

I’m going to say it again

AKANE LEARNS TO SWIM LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!

This is why you don’t buy cheap food people

I can’t lie, I’ve been waiting for Akane to get possessed

That moment when the ghost is honestly being a bit too sensitive

Actually, he didn’t, so shut up

I could make the Hawaiian thing so Explicit

But I won’t, cuz y’know consequences and stuff

I’m not going to ask how Ashura drowned at Josenkyo

Taro, quit being a dick, you turn into a Minatour-like thing

God he’s dumb

When Crazy and Crazy wanna duke it out, Ranma’s got the right idea

Excuse me, what?!

Ooo, now you’ve made Akane mad, run

Wtf is wrong with you, Kodachi, he’s literally unconscious!

I think that was almost character development?

I can’t tell

Ranma should not look that good in a suit

Whoa, she actually like… said it

Damn

Everyone’s got 4 sec to start treating Ranma like a person

Oof, right in his pride

Akane, I need you to stop being cute for 3 sec so I can focus

Yeah, I ain’t making it dormant

Ranma, I can’t tell if this is sexism or jealousy, either way it looks ugly on you

“At least he’s scaring the cats” harsh Kasumi

Okay, so I’m 90% sure it’s just jealousy, which better but still ugh

Ranma, you can be kickass when Akane is too

Ya goddamn moron

I’m going to beat that into him

There will probs be some angst about that

Not gonna lie

Look I’m good at it

Sorry

Ranma, if you want to get MURDERED that’s the way to do it

Smooth one, idiot

Called out

You better do this right or I swear, I’ll kill you myself, Ranma

I believe that is a fail

Of epic proportions, congrats

You NEED to learn to keep your mouth shut Soun

Awww

But he’s not lying!

Ranma, just run, she’s actually pissed this time

FUCKING RUN!

Alright, Akane, NO

You’re playing into the patriarchy

Oh, right… 80’s...

I’m changing that!!

Oh My God PLEASE tell me Ranma gets deaged!! Please!

Ranma’s got more patience for assholes than I do

Jesus

Hah

He deserved that

Part of me wants to see Kasumi actually get pissed off

YES!!

I LOVE degaging plots!

Ranma, I want you to math that one out, just a little

YES!

I am LIVING for this!

There is so much wrong with that sentence Kodachi

Ok, that was a little too cruel Akane

Someone either get Mousse recognized as Legally Blind

Or someone get him glasses that work!

Either one, but PLEASE

I just got a “draw me like one of your french girls” joke from a horse

Even though the widespread joke is LITERALLY at least 30 years later than this image

OOF

Ice Cold

We’re running out of chapters for her to find out

She better have a canon way of doing it otherwise I’m gonna be really mean with it…

Bean… Gun… Plant…

Eh Seen weirder

Aww Valentine’s Day chapter!

Yes!

Poor Ranma

These two are blind to each other

Heheh

Aww

I love these dorks

Heheh oops, busted

I still just find the principal an honest annoyance

Wait… when did Ranma start wearing a school uniform?

Congrats Miss Hinako!

I just now realized that I’m going to have write someone who is ok with having a female chest

Gag me with a spoon

Bleh

I’m bad at that

I really do want to give Ranma clothes that do actually fit his female form

Ranma needs to look at the terms and conditions of good curse

Cuz this is getting creative

Uh oh

Ranma you have a brain, please use it

Hehe, she’s doing her body laundry

Oh shit

THANK YOU SOUN!

Fucking Happosai

Why are you the actual worst!

Oh shit

Goddammit Nodoka

That one was ALL on you

I expected this from Nabiki, but wtf Nodoka?!

Happosai you twisted fuck

Heheheh alright that’s funny

If nothing else Shampoo is sneaky

WHY is that the only way to undo it?!

Poor Akane she is so lost

Aw, poor Ryoga

Definitely not, Akane, but thank you for posing that question

Thank you for calling him out on his ego

This would be hilarious to see this before anyone had any bit of a clue about Ranma’s two forms

Also, Ranma, you need to keep her safe from the Kunos

*sigh* Akane, you’re wrong

Ooo, not good

And that is what no self control looks like folks

What is with that ending?

And this is what manipulation look like folks

Also, y’know, robbing someone blind

I’m assuming this is Konatsu and I love them already

I’m using they/them cuz I’m unsure of what pronouns to use

Y’know I thought the Cinderella thing was a joke, turns out I was wrong

I do not understand Konatsu’s thought process w Ukyo at all

Also, can you not knock them out?

I am forgetting the name of that one Hero from Supergirl but if my understanding Konatsu is correct I’m DEFINITELY going to do that

Yeah, that’s NOT how that’s gonna go over

Okay, can we all agree that the trick Kuno used on Ranma is HORRIBLE, right?

Wholeass mood for Ranma

Like you two need to shut up

I just want Ranma to wear a sun shirt and trunks to the beach ONCE

Ryoga… how are you so lost that you came up through the ground?

Ranma, how are you both a dick and a good friend at the same time?

Just tell me How on Earth did Akari justify the hot water for Ryoga with revealing that he’s Pchan

I’d like to think that’d be something they wouldn’t skip over

No questions, just punches a grave

Why does that grave hit back?

Honestly Nodoka almost finding is stressing me out

I could be SO angsty with the Neko-ken Fear thing

Someone tell me not to I’m that much of an asshole

So glad that she’s apparently gonna learn bc I would’ve been SO mean

God, Genma you actually suck

Oh, thank God she’s not too smart

The fact that he’s 300% ready to die is actually depressing

That was actually quite touching

If we ignore the way Ranma phrasing that is just plain wrong

Uhm… what?

C-can she do that?

I hope not

God, you two are so dumb!

Is her definition of “manly” emotionless?!

Bitch, have a heart!

Oh God make them ALL leave! ALL OF THEM!

You feel? You said “you’re leaving”

Ranma, the fact that you didn’t put that together I can’t help you Like my dad says “I can’t fix stupid”

The fact that he feels the need to run screaming from his own house…

Nabiki, WHY

I’m convinced at this point that there is something Nabiki HATES about Ranma and that’s why she’s making his life a living hell

Cuz you do realize at least ⅓ of his problems are because she told someone something that was private

I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a backhanded comment

Either way, RUDE

I can’t tell, is that Konatsu or is that Tsubasa?

Must go back and check cuz Akane’s comment about “trasvestite and a homosexual” confused me since Ranma mentioned being “the first male kunoichi”But then who HAS TO BE Tsubasa says they’re a straight guy

*sigh*

Yep, nope, that’s Konatsu

My understanding was that Konatsu was like actually trans in canon

Apparently I mixed that up

I’m making it canon

MtF Konatsu

Bisexual Konatsu

One of these days someone is going to teach people to cook before assuming they know what they’re doing

Seriously It’s not that hard

Did they seriously just try to marry an unconscious Akane to Ranma?!

What The Fuck?!

Aww, she’s cute

Ryoga has a bad sense of direction, but he’s never missed before…

Okay, that’s a little strange

Why is she hatching?

Poor Mousse

Lol, that was so sweet until Ranma was dumb

It’s still sweet, who am I kidding

��Do I look like I wear Totoro underwear” oh that’s GOLDEN

Le shit

Firstly, Genma is still and idiot

Second, how is he already in Moscow?!

Third, why do I find this hilarious

Oh fuck

YES Kick her ass Akane!

I’m confused

Ok, was heralding back to the first chapter intentional?

Why does he have the staff in the bath?

Ok, I THINK I know what’s happening here…

Oof Can you two leave?

Ok, I was DEAD wrong

Wait…

If she…

If the DROWNED AKANE Imma commit murder

Damn, if you wanna piss off Ranma that’s how you do it

I don’t know why anyone would think pissing him off is smart

Oh, thank God, she’s okay

What is with this kid?

Why is he such a pain in the ASS?!

So I know she’s not dead

Unless SEVERAL DOZEN Fanfics have lied to me

Which is entirely possible since they were all listed as AUs

Uhm… Ranma… you okay?

Good, get him out cuz he’s clearly in shock

This hurts

Okay, hate to be the one who complains that Akane’s not dead, but that doesn’t track

At all

Can I rescience this?

Please?

Am I going to be an ass about it, probably, but it’s me no one should be surprised by that in any way

“Honored and crazy guest” I mean, accurate

Alright, Shampoo you’ve got exactly 1 chance

Then I’ll maybe apologize for calling you names constantly

Oh I am gonna be such an asshole in this scene

Also extend it some

Oh, God I could be such a dick

I’ll restrain

I’ll just write one-shots instead

Mousse do the right thing

You have a Moral Compass I know that!

“Anytime THIS YEAR!” Damn the witty quips

Yeah, but you won morally

That’s what’s important

Why the Scooby-Doo line?

Go Ranma!

Ok, so that comment about Ranma basically fighting a God is NOT an overstatement

Noted

Congrats Ranma you made me Google a word

Turns out it is a word that had its height of use in the 80s

Neat

Explains why I had no clue what it meant

Someone shoot those damn chicken brains OUT OF THE SKY!

“Only rocks”, rocks Ryoga just confirmed are 3 Tons

*sigh* I’m gonna have to physics the shit out of that

Joy

I cannot tell you the amount my heart dropped when I saw a full color double spread

Jesus Christ

DAMN

You’re gonna make me cry, dammit

Aww

YAY!

Heheh poor Ranma

Chill, hun, you’re good

Aww he’s tiny!

WHAT IS WITH YOU 2?!

STOP trying to marry your kids while they’re unconscious!

I’m not crying you are!

*tightly* I’m fine

Kodachi LET IT GO

Literally everyone else too! I hate you all

Just so it’s on the record I’m pissed

Ok, so “back to the start” is definitely an oversimplification because Akane knows Ranma loves her Ranma knows she knows

Akane! Your turn!

Ooo, IDEA!

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kyluxtrashpit · 6 years ago

Text

Hello naughty children, it’s 1 am rant time

So! My brain is slightly more together now than after the trailer first dropped and I’ve had some time to process all my Feels. I’ve settled on cautiously hopeful, with a hint of apprehension and a strong dose of ‘oh my god, this is really the end’. But overall, I think I feel pretty good about it, though it really raises more questions than answers. They meant it when they said ‘teaser’ lmao

(Rant is mostly positive, includes explicit discussion of what we’ve learned from the panel and the trailer. Some reservations and negative thoughts, plus a lot of speculation and touching on such controversial subjects as Reysky, Kylo redemption, and Hux in TLJ. Cut for length because I have no idea how to just use fewer words lmao)

I especially liked that it was so focused on Rey and that it’s a very clear torch-passing. Which, tbh, probably should’ve happened before now and did a little bit, but this really felt like the true moment of it. She’s the hero. She’s going to be a legend. I love that. Also that flip? Holy fuck. Slammed in the face by the reminder of how gay I am lmao. I have some Thoughts about it I’ll get into below, but from a visual point of view, it’s RAD AS HELL. I also love Finn and Poe featuring heavily and that the trio really does seem to be together for most of the movie. Which is nice. I think we need that. JJ said something in the panel about it being an ‘adventure’ and I think that feeling was captured well in the trailer. That part really excites me

Also! My boy! Kylo’s looking like a right hot mess and tbh I’m here for it lmao. I still have a strong urge to bathe him and kinda hope he doesn’t look like a depressed wreck of a human being for the entire movie, but still. I love my big messy boy. Also him just yeeting that dude into the ground? DAMN. I sometimes forget that Kylo is like… b i g. It’s a nice reminder. I also LOVE that the broken helmet rumour was real. That’s my fucking boy. I frequently tag him as ‘my precious disaster boy’ for a reason and I’m glad to see more of that. I would honestly probably lose interest in Kylo completely if he was ever like, calm and composed and not a complete fucking mess lmao. I kind of wish we’d seen just a touch more of him, but I know there’s more info to come and I still like that it focused heavily on the heroes for the first one. I imagine we’ll see more of him later

I’m… not really sure what to think of the Palpatine reveal. If he’s going to show up as a cameo of some sort, say as a Force ghost or something, then that’s pretty dang cool. If he’s going to show up as a ‘hello naughty children, it’s Force lightning time’ and take over as the main threat, I’d admittedly be disappointed. As much as I think a Kylo redemption is likely (and whether people like that or not, I’m indifferent and have made my peace with it as long as it’s done in an okay way) in no small part because Disney likes money, I still feel like replacing him with Palpatine is just… it feels derivative. We’ve had Palpatine before. A lot. 6 movies of him plus his appearances in the side materials. Do we really need more?

Now, there’s been heavy suggestion that there is some unknown threat that comes into this one and if that’s Palpatine, it would match up with the rumours. But I’d much rather it be something from his legacy with him only having a cameo. Because the really terrifying part about Palpatine is he had a plan for the continued survival of the Empire even in the case of his death. The Aftermath novels are really well done that way and tbh, especially with Chuck Wendig’s hinting on twitter, I wouldn’t be surprised if we see something from there come up. I mean, technically the entire First Order is Palpatine’s legacy. Something from his legacy could truly be anything and I like that possibility a lot more than just ‘oh damn, time to kill this asshole again’. Idk. We’ll have to see how that plays out

The title is also curious because it really confirms one of 2 possibilities: either Reysky, Kylo redemption, or both. Which, again, both of those are huge spoilers, so it’s an interesting choice to play for a title. That said, we don’t know which, so it doesn’t tell us definitively, I suppose, but still. And no, I don’t buy the theories about it referring to Luke or Anakin somehow returning; that would be stupid. We have new characters for a reason and they need to be the central focus. This is the same reason I’m not fond of Palpatine being the big bad; let the new villains shine. I also don’t believe it’s Leia because I doubt they had enough left over footage of Carrie to make that work

Of course, I would’ve enjoyed having a nice 0.2 seconds of the back of Hux’s head lmao, or even any info on the dark side characters at all because I’m a filthy villain fucker, but I’m not super upset about it. I’m kinda sad that Phasma is confirmed as dead, but I also expected that. My biggest hope for Hux is really that he gets to be scary and not treated as a joke, so I hope JJ really leans in to that. Let him have his moment. Let him be a credible threat because, really, he is. Tbh, I’d be more afraid of him as my nemesis than the vast majority of Star Wars villains. He’s got a higher kill count than anyone in all of Star Wars except maybe Palpatine himself (exact number of deaths due to the Clone Wars, the Empire’s rule, and the rebellion combined are unknown, but are probably in the billions, which would put him and Hux, terrifyingly, on the same level). It still throws me for a loop how often that’s forgotten, both by fandom and, sometimes, the official material. Hux is what happens when ambition, intelligence, ruthlessness, and fervent belief in a cause converge. I know he’s going to fail and he’s going to die in this one but, fuck, please let him die as the Starkiller instead of a ‘miscast tinkerer’. He deserves that much and, more importantly, so do I lmao. And Domhnall does too, tbh, because he’s a great actor who deserves better than being sidelined completely

(Another reason not to like Palpatine coming back: basically guarantees Hux has no role and gets completely forgotten because there’s a new big bad in town. I might actually cry if that happens)

I also know we will get more on the villains later, so we’ll just have to see how that pans out. As for other new stuff, Naomi Ackie’s character looks rad as fuck and I love her already. I’m also ECSTATIC to see Lando back. I fucking love Lando. And he finally got the Falcon back! Tbh I hope his role is rather significant and it’s kinda in line with Han’s role in TFA. I’m excited by that possibility. Also the Leia scenes… fuck. That hug with Rey fucked me up hard. I can’t believe we’re doing this without Carrie and it breaks my heart tbh

Another curious note: so we see a tie fighter that looks like a modified Silencer flying at Rey. We also see Kylo in a cockpit that definitely does not match the Silencer’s from TLJ. So it’s possible that was not actually Kylo flying at her, which raises some interesting questions. I saw some people saying they could see Poe’s jacket in the window but I think they’re full of shit and just seeing something they want to lmao. It remains to be seen who is actually flying it. The context of that scene is also odd: in what fucking universe does it make sense to use a SPACE craft with GUNS capable of atmospheric flight to run someone ON FOOT over from like 3 feet off the ground? It doesn’t. That’s stupid. That does make me think it’s possible it’s some sort of really risky training exercise, no matter who is behind the controls. I suppose it is possible that perhaps the guns were disabled somehow and the pilot is just going for broke, but the ship looks undamaged and that strategy still doesn’t make a lot of sense. The correct thing to do would be to come from above and crash it into the person while ejecting moments before impact, not chasing them like you’re driving a car. It’s dumb. I really hope that’s not real combat because it makes no damn sense to me lmao. Another reason lending to the training exercise idea: if I were Rey, I would’ve gone below, not above. She’s small. A tie fighter hovers. She would’ve fit under it easily and been able to slash from below without having to jump into the damn sky. Though, counterpoint: she has her lightsaber ignited and is turning to slash at the cockpit. Not really a nice thing to do to an ally of yours helping you train, hm? Idk. The scene looks cool as fuck, but the more I think about it, the more it bugs me tbh lmao

As a last thing… it’s really hitting me that this is it. This is the end of the Skywalker saga. Even though I know they have other stories planned with new characters at some point, imo, this is really the end of the true part of the franchise. How much am I really going to care about Star Wars without the familiar faces? After decades… this is really it. That’s… very bittersweet. I have loved these movies, always, but especially so in recent years (as evidenced by the existence of this blog lmao) and they’ve been a big part of my life. Yet here we are. And I just… I’m feeling melancholy about that in and of itself, but I also really, really want this to be a satisfying ending. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but I want it to fit. I want it to feel right. I want closure and I want this ending to do justice to these characters, including the main ones, the side ones, and the ones who came before but aren’t featured in this trilogy. That’s really what I’m aching for here. And I am cautiously hopeful, but I am also nervous. This is a very tall order and, while JJ is probably the person best qualified to give that to us, it doesn’t change how much of a challenge that is. It’s a lot. And… I am definitely sad about this being the end. Even if I love the movie and it’s amazing and lives up to all of my dreams, it will still end and this will be it. I honestly don’t know how I’m going to feel when that actually comes and it kinda scares me a little. But a satisfying ending would help soften the blow, so we shall see. Idk. I’m sad and a little scared just because of that, all other reservations aside

I think that’s all I’ve got for now? I’m excited for more and I don’t know if we’ll get much over the rest of celebration, but there might be snippets. I’d still like to see the Knights of Ren too, given that we’re pretty sure they’re in the movie but like… where? Lmao I want to know. Anyway. This is mostly word vomit, so don’t take it too seriously. My predictions could be way off base and we won’t know for a while so yeah. If you read this far, congrats and thanks for reading my rambling!

#so like I guess overall I'm hopeful but I still have reservations #and no matter what this being really truly over is... a lot to take tbh #so idk. mixed feelings I guess #but there was definitely some good stuff and I feel more excited about star wars than I have in a long time #even if it's not at the same level as it has been #positive is still positive so we shall see #I still want more info lmao #like just someone leak the entire plot already please I want to read it XD #shut up nerd #text #meta

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astarryon · 7 years ago

Text

Hard Feelings Part 2

Pairings: Bucky x reader

Warnings: None

A/N: inspiration hit me heavy for this update, and I think I’ve finally decided on the direction I wanna take this series. I hope you like this one! A bit angsty toward the end, but I promise the fluff will be rolling in soon Until then, enjoy!

Part 1

Aside from the very specific case of Bucky Barnes, you seemed to be excelling at making friends in the tower. Steve had taken the initiative to call a group meeting among all of the people residing in the tower for the time being in order to introduce you, which pretty much meant that you were now acquainted with all of the Avengers. And to think you’d been star struck when you had met Steve just a little earlier that morning.

“So which one of us are you here to babysit?” Clint, who was reclining against Natasha’s side, lightheartedly questioned you. “It’s not me, is it? I’d hate to be on Fury’s shortlist of ‘misbehaved individuals’.”

“Sorry to say, but I think everyone in this tower is on that list,” Tony Stark quipped, walking over from the counter he’d been standing at for several moments and depositing a glass of water into your hands. You smiled at him in thanks, sipped from it for a moment, and then set it down on the coffee table in front of where you and Steve were sat.

Sam Wilson, who was perched on the arm of the sofa beside you, scoffed. “Speak for yourself, tin man. My behavioral reputation is spotless.”

In an effort to put a stop to the bickering, Steve raised his voice above all of the chatter. You smirked a bit, unable to keep from chuckling at the fact he seemed like a father chastising his misbehaved children. “Y/n isn’t here to babysit anyone, guys, come on. She’s been assigned to Bucky’s, uh, therapy detail.” Conveniently, Bucky happened to be the only person missing from the room; you got the sense that hadn’t been an accident on his part.

At the sound of Steve’s words, a hush had fallen over the large group before you. Wanda, her wide eyes glancing at you in sympathy, sheepishly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear; the main emotion you were currently getting from her seemed to be one of sympathetic surprise. Bruce Banner’s predominant emotion was one of outright panic, and the rest of the group’s feelings seemed to complement the tone.

Well, everyone’s emotions aside from Tony’s.

“Rest in fucking pieces, you poor soul,” he muttered from under his breath, unable to help the guffaw which escaped him directly after. “Fury seriously didn’t get the memo after the last one?” That earned a couple of snickers from the group around you, and you found your interest piqued in a morbid fashion.

As an agent of SHIELD, you had obviously heard some details about what happened to those who were assigned to Winter Soldier duty; it was why you’d been so hesitant to agree to this so called promotion in the first place. Nobody would say so out in the open, but everyone regarded being given this particular assignment as a form of quiet punishment from Nick Fury. There had been many days when you and your colleagues had sat and laughed together at your lunch time, discussing the small tidbits of gossip and knowledge you had all managed to glean from your superior officers. Lena Vasquez, your closest friend, had been the one who always managed to gain the most information, and somehow always won the bets you and the rest of your group would place on how long the next psychologist who was sent to stay at the tower would last. As hard as you tried, though, you couldn’t seem to place who the last assignment had been, or what had become of them.

“Oh my god,” Natasha laughed. That was a little weird to see; each time you’d pictured Natasha Romanov, you thought of her has someone to be feared. Of course, she was definitely intimidating, even if she was currently casually cuddling Clint. It was just, on the list of things you had expected to witness in your life, seeing Black Widow in blue jeans and a messy ponytail hadn’t been something you’d deigned to pencil on. “Morgan was here for like what, three days?”

“Yeah, and then Farrah Fawcett Hairspray threw the biggest tantrum this side of the country,” Tony muttered. The irritation which must have been tied to the memory bubbled up to the surface, extending out from Tony’s words and seeping into your skin. “Took me three weeks to get that glass replaced. Insurance doesn’t exactly cover somebody getting thrown from a 93rd story picture window; that shit came out of my pocket.”

“Your name is plastered on buildings all over the city, Stark,” Sam quipped. “I’m sure you can afford a damn window.” You might’ve laughed at all of the chuckling and grumbling going on by everyone around you if you weren’t suddenly so concerned for your own survival, and at the casual mention of an attempted murder.

“He… he threw someone out of a window?” What had you done? What had you done to make the universe become this dead set against you? Scratch that, actually; who the hell had outed you to Fury and when was going to be your next available chance to sock them in the jaw?

“It was fine,” Clint offered, the fact that he was attempting to do damage control coming across as mildly insulting, considering the fact that he was still laughing. “The guy only fell one story, okay? The balcony broke his fall; Buck knew it would.”

“Great,” you muttered, blinking and raising your eyebrows. “Glad to know I’m safe, at least.”

“I mean,” Wanda chimed, staring off thoughtfully. “No matter what, it could never be as bad as the time that Bucky blew up—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Steve interjected, his embarrassment rising, punctuated with a spike of stress. The flavor of it left a sour taste in your mouth. “You guys are gonna scare her off, and that’s the exact last thing I need.” Offering you a tentative glance, Steve placed a hand on your shoulder to provide you with some sense of comfort. “I know it sounds bad, but you’re the first agent with a superpower to be assigned. And I promise I’m not gonna let Bucky throw you out of a window, if that helps at all.”

Confusion suddenly took over as the predominant emotion in the room, in addition to wonder and curiosity. You would need to tune out of your gift soon, if the emotions of the others kept swaying back and forth so drastically. That was something you had learned to do at a young age, and it was a skill necessary to maintaining your sanity. Your emotions were something you could easily get into check, but the heightened sympathy your power forced you to hold for others and their feelings possessed the ability to send you over a mental cliff, which was something you weren’t interested in in the slightest.

“Whoa, wait,” Bruce began, “you’re a super?” When you nodded, he looked around at the others in the room, pleasant surprise etched onto his features. “I mean, Bucky hasn’t had anyone with powers try to treat him since Wanda.”

“Because powers that can manipulate mental aspects are hard to come by,” Steve agreed. “Yeah, trust me, I know. That’s why I’m hoping Bucky won’t be so quick to turn y/n away, like he did with all the others.”

You shook your head, a humorless laugh escaping you. When Steve glanced at where you sat beside him, you said, “You remember what he said this morning, right? Said he didn’t care who I was or what my powers were, then called me a mood ring, and pretty much told me to go fuck myself after that. Guy definitely already wants me gone, Steve.”

“That’s kind of just how Bucky is with new people?” Sam tossed out.

“Correction,” Tony quipped, taking a swig from the glass of scotch he’d acquired while pouring your water. “That’s how he is with everybody.”

“No, I’m pretty sure he just… doesn’t like you,” Wanda chuckled. Maybe it was because Wanda was the closest to you in age, but you liked her. She seemed like someone you’d be able to hang out with, maybe watch stupid movies and stay up entirely too late with.

Tony waved his hand, flippantly dismissing the words. “Semantics, Maximoff. What I wanna know is what this kick ass power is. What do you have, y/n? Mind reading? Super guilt tripping? Or, wait, you said Barnes called you a mood ring? Holy shit, do you change color?”

You laughed, shaking your head in pure amusement. You got the feeling you would at least be able to enjoy your time in Avengers Tower, no matter how long or short a period that was fated to be. “No, I don’t, but I…” You were suddenly very conscious of the many eyes focused on you, and you involuntarily blushed. God, why were you embarrassed? You’d never spoken about your power out loud or so casually before, sure, but this was ridiculous. “I can read emotions, and I can also influence them. It works better if I’m able to touch the person who I’m working with, but it’s not actually necessary. Like, uh…” You allowed yourself to tune into the emotional climate of the room a bit more thoroughly, latching on to the first set that caught your attention.

Tony.

“What’s the project you’re working on right now, Tony?” you asked him, tilting your head to the side. “You’ve got a lot of excitement going on in your head, and it feels like it’s linked to creativity. You feel annoyed about it too, though, so I’m assuming it failed a test of some kind? But, then, it’s like… oh, okay I see. Your prototype failed, so you built a new one. That one failed too, but you’re pretty sure you have a workaround. Is that why you were all annoyed and uppity when you walked in here? Steve called the meeting and it interrupted you fixing the prototype of whatever you’re working on?”

Tony’s jaw dropped, genuinely caught off guard and impressed. “Did you just read my mind? You’re sure you aren’t actually a mind reader? Rogers, am I being punk’d?”

You’d spent the rest of the afternoon entertaining everyone, reading their emotions separately and announcing to the group what was on each individual’s mind. They all seemed to be getting a kick out of it, and for that you were grateful. Part of the reason you’d never been willing to share your power with anyone was because you’d been deathly afraid of judgement, of being called a freak of nature. That was less likely while working in a place like SHIELD, of course, but you found it difficult to let go of your worries.

If anything, you were just happy to know that you had friends in Avengers Tower, even if the one person who was your entire reason for being there seemed to want absolutely nothing to do with you.

Whatever. You would deal with it later.

—

It was about your third night in the tower that you’d begun taking part in some pretty risky business, and you were sure that your well being now depended on your ability to keep said risky business a secret.

Because if Bucky found out what you were getting up to, if he even suspected you in the slightest, you were pretty sure he would do a lot worse than throw you out of the 93rd story window.

It had started that morning, when you’d walked over to Bucky’s door and rapped a decisive knock againt the wood. You knew he was awake, because you had heard him come and go from his room several times while taking your morning shower, and you knew he was in his room now because you could sense his familiar emotions, only becoming more and more potent as he neared the door to open it. Annoyance, irritation, and the tiniest drop of fear which had been present the very first time you had met him. That was, perhaps, the part about Bucky which perplexed you the most. The man could probably bench twice your bodyweight without a second thought; what reason did her have to be frightened of you?

The door was wrenched open before you could ponder about it much further, revealing Bucky’s scowling face. He was clad in sweats and a plain black tee, but the simplicity of the clothing did nothing to disservice his physical attributes, but that wasn’t really surprising. Everyone in the tower seemed to be unfairly blessed in the looks department, though Bucky was especially. Everything about him was sharp angles and muscle, topped off with a voice that would probably make you weak in the knees if it weren’t constantly being used to insult your character.

“What are you staring at?” Bucky demanded, voice breaking you from your reverie. The metal of his left arm gleamed in the light of the hallway, whirring quietly as he shifted to lean his weight against it, and you blinked several times. You couldn’t even defend yourself against him because you had, in fact, been staring.

“Um, s-sorry,” you stuttered. Oh, damn it all. You’d been so confident when you’d strode over to his door, so sure of what you wanted to say. Why were your words failing you now? “Good morning, by the way.”

“Not anymore,” he muttered under his breath.

You let it go, not really having the wherewithal to be witty at the moment. “Listen, I was wondering if maybe we could try, like, an emotion reading today? It won’t take long, and I’m gonna have to start sending Fury updates any day now, so I just figured—”

“No,” Bucky told you plainly.

Not one to give up easily, you tried again. “Look, I know it’s sort of an uncomfortable situation for you, and believe me, I get it, but I really need to—”

He cut you off, and you wondered if Bucky ever let anyone finish a sentence before going completely postal on them, or if this behavior was specifically for you. “You don’t understand shit,” he barked at you, looking for all the world like there was no one he hated more. “You think just because you can tell if someone’s happy or sad that you somehow understand what I’ve been through? Uh uh. No dice, sweetheart. I already told you we weren’t playing this fucking game. Stay in this tower for as long as you like, but you’re wasting your time if you’re hoping to get anything out of me.”

Overwhelmed and unsure of what to do, you dropped your eyes to the floor and tried to ignore the embarrassment in your chest. That was something Bucky was good at, it seemed. Making you feel embarrassed. “I’m just… trying to help you,” you offered lamely. “I’m only here to help you.”

“And I didn’t ask for it,” Bucky shot back. “I don’t want it. So why don’t you do the both of us a favor and stop trying to make yourself useful, okay? Because it’s not working.”

The hostility rolling off of Bucky was so thick and potent that you could’ve choked on it. He meant what he was saying about not wanting help; he was being sincere. This assignment really was just the most impossible one, wasn’t it?

You shook your head, unsure of what to say. You glanced up at Bucky, decided that was a mistake, then began to turn your back to him, content to walk back to your room. “Guess I’ll just go fuck myself then,” you muttered sarcastically, still in shock at the sheer hostility rolling off the man behind you.

“Yeah, why don’t you?” he egged you on. “Least that way one of us gets to be a little less than miserable.” The slamming of his bedroom door let you know that he’d removed himself from the situation.

For Christ’s sake. How were you meant to help someone who clearly didn’t want your help and couldn’t manage to be civil to you for more than five seconds?

“Give it time,” Wanda had advised you later on in the day as the two of you ate lunch together. “Bucky will come around to you eventually. He wasn’t thrilled about me rooting around in his head at first either, for the few weeks that we tried to go that route.”

“Yeah, but you’re his friend,” you’d told her, shrugging a shoulder. “Even if he wasn’t happy about it, he didn’t hate your guts.”

“He doesn’t hate you, y/n,” she repeated. It was sweet of her to say, but she couldn’t feel what you did. She might have a guess at Bucky’s emotions, but you had a concrete handle on them, and they weren’t pleasant.

You’d gone about the rest of your day normally. Or, as normally as you could, having to adjust to living in the tower with a number of new roommates. They were all lovely people, save for one very stubborn super soldier with a disregard for your feelings, but you were beginning to feel disenchanted. Was the field agent position really worth all of this? Fury had basically said you would be staying in this tower as long as it took to correct Bucky’s emotional issues, and it was a testament to how awful you were doing that you weren’t even sure what exactly those issues were. Bucky had declared more than once that you really shouldn’t bother to hold your breath, because he wasn’t going to entertain you.

Caught between a rock and a hard place, it seemed.

You had retired to your room early that night, not very inclined to people please for the time being. Distantly you felt everyone’s individual emotions from the few floors separating you, but eventually you tuned them all out, ignoring reality in favor of reading a few chapters in the book you’d picked up last week. Only, a few chapters had quickly become many, minutes had turned to hours, and suddenly you had read the ending sentence of the last page and all you could see when you looked out the window of your bedroom was the inky blackness of the night sky.

“Hey Jarvis?” you called out, yawning and stretching your arms toward the ceiling. “What time is it?” Had to be late; you could feel the sleep dust forming in your eyes.

“Half past one, ma’am,” Jarvis answered immediately.

“Thanks,” you murmured. Okay, so a little later for you than usual, but it wasn’t like you had any plans tomorrow morning. You stood, stripping off the clothing you’d been wearing and switching them out for pajamas. You’d been just about ready to ask Jarvis to switch the lights off as you crawled into bed when something gave you pause.

Reading your book had been a good way to tune out everyone else in the tower and their emotions, but now that you were no longer distracted you were feeling… agony. Terror. Desperation. And just as you were about to write it off as you simply being tired, as your mind and ability playing tricks on you, you heard it. Plain as day, you heard it.

Someone was screaming.

Without thinking practically or having the sense to grab a weapon in the event that you would need to defend yourself, you raced to your bedroom door and threw it open, the strength of the complete and utter pain growing tenfold as you did so. Listening intently, you concentrated, trying to pinpoint the location of the screams and bristling as your body and mind recognized the direction in which both the noise and the pain extended from.

Bucky’s room. It was all coming from Bucky’s room.

You ran to his door, unsure of what exactly you should expect but completely unwilling to let Bucky fend off whatever was causing him this amount of harm by himself. The quality of emotions, the taste and tang staining your tongue, the essence of what Bucky was projecting? It felt like he was being murdered. It felt like he was dying. Bucky might not have been the nicest to you and you might have had only the most basic form of self defense training, but you’d be damned if you condemned him to suffer through whatever was trying to kill him alone. You could at least assess the situation and have Jarvis call for backup. Ruching to throw the door open without having time to work up the courage to do it, you burst into Bucky’s room with shaking hands and a heart full of anxiety, unsure of what to expect. Only… what you could see made no sense whatsoever.

Bucky was still screaming, still in enough agony to prompt your emotion sensors to believe that he was on the verge of death, but he wasn’t being attacked or physically harmed at all. He was laying in his bed shirtless, entangled in the comforter and thrashing wildly, the dim illumination from the window casting just enough light into the room to allow you to see the pure fright and pain contorting his face. Bucky wasn’t being attacked. Bucky wasn’t dying.

Bucky was dreaming.

Unsure of what to do and unable to help yourself, you walked forward until you stood just a step from the edge of his bed, the volume of his screams growing louder and the intensity of his pain becoming almost unbearable. He was moving, struggling, fighting whatever it was that terrified him so. This wasn’t… no, this wasn’t okay. In all your time as an emotional telepath, you hadn’t ever felt anything this specific or concentrated. It was like each of your nerves was being individually electrocuted at the highest wattage possible, your mouth running dry and your hands beginning to shake. Nobody should have had the capacity to feel this much grief and hurt. It was debilitating; it was life ending.

You weren’t able to stop yourself as you reached forward, pressing a palm to Bucky’s chest as gently as you could. His muscles had tensed at the contact, but you’d subconsciously been prepared for it. You weren’t sure what it was you were doing, but you were sure that he couldn’t be left to feel that way anymore. Not if he wanted to survive. The anger had to be pushed out, the hurt and the shock and the discomforting presence of cold, all of it needed to go. Bucky needed happiness, not pain. He needed compassion, not torture. He needed warmth, not iciness. He needed love, not terror.

And so, you gave him what he needed and took what he didn’t.

It took a few moments, but it had worked nonetheless. His thrashing had been first to cease, and his screaming followed quickly after. That heartbreakingly expressive face had smoothed into content, and the blue tone which had been corrupting all of Bucky’s unconscious emotions had faded out, a bright pinkish red now coloring them. He was still and calm now, and you weren’t sure where he was in his dream now, but you hoped with all your might that it was somewhere sunshine filled and comforting.

Cautiously removing your hand from Bucky and waiting a moment to make sure he wouldn’t need you to influence him again, you marveled at what you had just done. You didn’t believe in making people feel what you wanted them to against their will, not unless it was an emergency of some kind. You figured it had to be some form of immoral. But, what Bucky had just been feeling, the very miniscule amount of what you’d picked up from it? That seemed like a pretty intense emergency.

Fuck, did he always feel those things while he was sleeping?

Once it became clear that Bucky’s dreams would hold nothing but serenity for the rest of the night, you slowly turned, exited his room, and returned to yours, unable to shake the magnitude of what you had just been made to feel. You crawled into bed, asked Jarvis to turn the lights off for you, and laid there, hugging yourself as you continued to play over what you had just felt and done.

“Jarvis?” you whispered after a few moments of laying in the dark.

“Yes, Miss?”

You were beginning to hiccup, and you wondered if Jarvis understood what crying was and what it meant. “Will you… will you let me know if Bucky starts having a nightmare again, please?”

��Yes, Miss,” came his simple reply.

“Will you let me know every night, if he has a nightmare?” you clarified, eyes burning with the tears brimming in them. “You, um, you can’t let him know.”

A pause.

Then, “Yes, Miss.”

“Thanks,” you choked out.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you were sure you’d done it sobbing.

—

Part 3

Tag List: @ayyomizzy @frost-11 @abswritesmarvel @wantingtobekorra @lordemjay @elleatrixlestrange @ly--canthrope @little-bit-of-your-heart

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #mcu #marvel #fanfiction #x reader

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theearlymorningmist · 7 years ago

Text

Don’t Judge A Book: Chpt. One

lTONY STARK X READER

Plot: Your mother always told you never to judge a book by its cover…But can you remember that when it comes to Mr. Stark, the one person you can’t stand? In order to see what kind of man the great Tony Stark really is, you decide to become his personal assistant…

Warnings: None.

Chapter One, Chapter two , Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten

Word Count: 1500

(Y/N) = your name, (Y/F/N) = your full name,

You were stood outside Stark Tower, or was it the Avengers Tower now- they hadn’t finished rebuilding the sign, and all you could think was Why the hell am I here again? I hate this guy.

Oh, that’s right. You were here for an interview to be Stark’s personal assistant. Your friends, who knew your distaste for Stark all too well, questioned why you wanted to be his assistant if you couldn’t stand the man. And the simple answer to that question was: To see if he really was the arrogant asshole you believe him to be.

You always tried to follow the examples set by your late mother; never to judge someone before you truly knew them. But as the Avengers, and specifically Tony, grew more and more famous...you just needed to know.

Was it all a charade? The pageantry, the cars, the fame. Or was Tony really interested in saving the world for the sake of good, and not to give himself an ego boost. By becoming his assistant, you hoped to figure it out.

But now, as you stood on the cusp of possibly finding out the answer to these burning questions, your mothers words seemed to hum a lot more quietly. Your stomach felt like it was going to turn just by being in the same building as this guy.

You took a deep breath and shook your head. You didn’t even know if you’d get the job yet. This was just an interview. You probably wouldn’t even see Stark. Right…?

Wrong.

You sat in an uncomfortable modernly styled chair that looked like it was taken straight from a NASA lab, going over your interview answers in your head. A voice interrupted your inner monologue about who your personal hero was, and you were shocked to look up and see the man himself: Tony Stark.

“Hi, I’m Tony.” He smiled, holding out his hand.

You stood up quickly, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible. “Hello Sir.” You replied, politely, if not slightly cold. You made note of the way his lips pursed slightly when you called him ‘Sir’, and then continued on. “My name is (Y/F/N).”

“Alrighty, follow me.” He nodded, taking off at a brusque pace. You had to struggle a little in your heels to keep up with the man. Eventually you made it to an office, which had all the usual office furniture but didn’t look like it was ever really used. You figured it was Tony Stark’s ‘show office’ where he appeared like he did any actual work for the company and not just playful tinkering in a garage somewhere.

“You okay?” The man asked, catching you off guard as you settled yourself in a slightly less uncomfortable chair.

“Yes, of course.” You replied quickly. Had you shown your cards, and started making what your friends called your ‘disapproving sour face’?

“You just seem a little…thrown.” He chuckled.

You cleared your thought, sitting up more in your seat. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting to be meeting with you, Sir.” Another twitch. “Someone from the human resources department perhaps, but not…”

“Me.” He finished your sentence. “I can tell from your pantsuit.” He grinned.

“Excuse me?” You asked, glancing down at your navy blue suit.

The man swivelled around in his chair once, before facing you again. “I’ve lost count of how many women I’ve interviewed over the years…”

Yeah, I’ll bet you “interviewed” a lot of women…You thought.

“…And the one thing that’s always the same is how they dress. They think, Tony-” The man emphasized his name, likely for your benefit. “—is a playboy. So wear a short skirt and tight top, and I’ve got the job.” He sat up suddenly. “But you’re not!

You couldn’t help but feel incredibly offended by this, and offended for the other women too. “Well, Sir…My mother always told me that you teach people how to treat you. So perhaps how those women dressed wasn’t a reflection on their morals, but a reflection of how you present yourself.” You took a quick breath, trying to remain calm. “And for the record, I would have worn this regardless of if I knew I was meeting with you or not, Sir.”

This time Tony couldn’t help but correct you. “How about we stick with Tony.” He smiled, unaffected by your clipped comment.

You gave the man a tight lipped smile, and nodded. But this only seemed to amuse him further.

“Right, well let’s get down to business shall we?” He grinned, a flicker of something devious flashing behind his eyes. “Why do you want to work for me?”

You had prepared for this. You bet that a narcissist like Tony would ask about himself. “Well, I believe in what your company is doing…” Or supposedly doing. “Green energy, innovations in medical technology, funding peace and welfare operations internationally…” You trailed off. “It’s something to be proud of. And I’d like to be a part of that.”

Tony nodded along, grinning to himself. You hated that self-satisfied grin. “Very well-rehearsed.” He replied, picking up a pencil to play with. You swallowed, starting to feel a bit nervous. You weren’t sure you could make it through this interview without letting your real feelings show.

“So! I can be an extremely stubborn…well, a stubborn ass sometimes.” It took all your self-control not to laugh and agree profusely. “How would you deal with my stubbornness, to make sure what needs to get done, gets done?”

You thought for a moment before smiling. “Well. Stubbornness is the product of childishness. And the best way to deal with childish behavior is to simply have zero tolerance for it. I would be your personal assistant, not your mother. I can only remind you and urge you, anything you don’t do after that is your own fault.”

Tony seemed to like this answer, and you weren’t sure if you were glad about that or not. You waved the thought from your mind as you readied yourself for the next question.

“Why do you hate me?” Tony asked, while balancing the pencil on his nose.

You nearly choked on your own breath when the question finally registered. “I…” You faltered, swallowing heavily. “Sir, I do not hate you.”

“Tony.” He corrected again. “And trust me, I can tell when someone hates me.” He chuckled. “Don’t’ worry, I’m not mad. Just…curious.”

Once again that sly, annoying, smirk worked its way onto the man’s face as he watched your squirm, struggling to think of a way to reply. Finally, your true feelings got the best of you and you decided to just lay everything out plainly.

“Fine. I dislike you, Mr. Stark. I dislike you because I don’t trust your motives for some of the things you do, and I don’t agree with how you treat other people. I think you have a god-complex and I think you’re spoiled brat.”

“So why are you here then?” Tony asked, his attention now fully on you. Again, he seemed more intrigued than offended.

“Because my mother always told me not to just a book by its cover.” You explained, with a sigh. “You’re all over the news, every single day, it’s unavoidable to hear about you or have a conversation about you. I decided that instead of hating you based on suspicion, I’d come see for myself just what kind of a man you were.”

By this time you were sure you weren’t getting the job, so you decided to be as honest as possible, and try to gauge the man based on how he acted during this conversation

“An interesting little game…” Tony murmured to himself. He suddenly clapped his hands together and made intense eye contact with you. “Okay. Let’s play.”

“I’m sorry what?” You questioned, lost and uneasy.

“You’re little game of Tony: good or evil. Let’s play. You’re hired.”

“I’m…”

“Hired. Approved. On the pay roll.” He repeated, smirking. That damn smirk…

“But I—“

“Hate me? Exactly.” He nodded, standing up. “Having a PA who hates me will ensure you don’t put up with any of my bullshit, pardon my French. And I like the idea of this little moral test. Sounds fun. So you’ll start tomorrow.”

The man walked around to your side of the table, taking your hand and helping you to your feet, and then shaking the same hand. “Truly a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N).” He smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He added in a chipper voice, before walking away.

You stayed where you were for a good moment contemplating everything that had just occurred. “Holy shit…” You breathed. “I’m actually working for Tony Stark.”

What had you gotten yourself into….?

@captainsherlockwinchester110283, @lilylovelyxo

#tony stark #tony #iron man #tony stark x reader #tony stark has a heart #tony stark imagine #avengers #avengers imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #avengers x reader #tony x reader #iron man x reader #tony stark fluff #tony stark angst #tony stark fanfiction #iron man fanfiction

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surveys-at-your-service · 6 years ago

Text

Survey #167

“everything he sees is just blue like him, inside and outside.”

Did the house you grew up in have a big yard? It was fairly decent. Have you ever worked over 50 hours in one week? No. What has been the most difficult class you’ve ever taken? Latin. Do you think teenagers should focus more on their education rather than on relationships? Well, yeah. I mean that as in you should pursue knowledge more than love, but it can of course happen and should be taken seriously. What’s your opinion on couples ‘staying together for the kids?’ Awful idea. Your children don't need to grow up on the sidelines of a dead relationship. It can give them such negative expectations. Did any of the classes you took in high school count towards uni credit? No. Do you think being born was a mistake? No. Have you ever been arrested? No. Has a relative ever been arrested? Don't believe so. Do you think the Fountain of Youth exists? No. How about in a parallel dimension? Maybe, idk. Do you believe humans are part of a giant alien experiment? Not necessarily aliens, but I'm *open* to the possibility that we're just a simulation of a future civilization to learn how their ancestors lived, like we're literally Sims. I lean towards that being false, but. There's astonishing evidence for the possibility we're not "real," though regardless, I stand by the "I think, therefore I am" quote, so I really don't care either way. Do you think your blood is sacred? Uh... no? Have you ever been suicidal? Yeah. Was it a passing phase or is it something controlled by medication? It was something corrected with the help of medication, LOTS of therapy, and a closure conversation with Jason. Do you hold any holiday special in your heart? Halloween and Christmas, particularly. Is there a holiday you wish no one celebrated? Which is it? Why do you feel that way? Eh, I don't feel like flipping through the list of holidays right now. What’s your favorite book? Why is that? Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo because it is a masterpiece of the needlessness for war, as well as The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton, though by this point I don't even recall most of the story... I just know I adored it. Who is your all-time favorite author? Don't have one. What do you like about them? N/A Who’s your favorite poet? Poe, of course. What’s your all-time favorite band? How about all-time fave singer? I have too many favorite bands. Singers, Freddie Mercury and Brendon Urie. Do you think most mythological creatures exist? No. Have you ever had lice? No. What brand of dish soap do you use? Uhhhh idk, I don't wanna go look lol. Do any of your neighbors have dogs? Idk. Growing up, did you listen to country music? Yup, believe it or not. Have you ever dated someone on the football team? No. Do you like tomatoes? I'm not a fan. I can enjoy fresh ones in a small amount in a sandwich/burger, but that's it. What’s your favorite brand of bottled water? Essentia. Do you have any ceramic animals in your house or outside? No. What brand of makeup do you wear? I don’t wear a specific brand. What type of waffles do you like? (Plain, blueberry etc..) Plain or chocolate chip, depending on mood. Do you brush your tongue? Holy shit brush your tongue, dude. What kind of laugh do you have? It's loud and obnoxious as hell. What kind of cell phone do you have? (ex. flip, slider, or traditional.) Touch screen. Have you ever gotten searched by the cops? No. Have you ever been enrolled in private school? No. Do you know how to grill a steak? No. Would you ever use an online dating service? No, was on one v briefly and it was. Very much not my thing. I felt like I was hunting for a relationship when I'm way more for it just finding you. Do you like Gushers? YES. Do you have a large dog? No, Teddy and Bentley are both medium-sized. If not, are you afraid of them? Not at all. I love big dogs. What is more annoying: A sore throat or a headache? Headaches. Have you ever sent an X-Rated picture to someone? No. Have you ever gone out of state for a concert? No. When is the last time you went on a date? March. ;____; Do your parents know that/if you smoke? I don't. What is your favorite board game from your childhood? I hated shopping, so I haven't a clue how it was Mall Madness lmao. I also loved that carnival Cranium game, whatever it was. Have you ever gotten rid of something you shouldn’t have and then really regretted it later? Yeah, senior prom pics. There were some where I actually looked pretty fuck Do you beat yourself up when you make mistakes? Usually. Have you ever tried anything off the Starbucks secret menu? No. Do you have string lights in your bedroom? No, but I'd like them. What is your favorite flavor of tea? Tea is disgusting. Do you have an inspiration board? I have a Pinterest board of hair colors and styles I like. What is your favorite magnet on your fridge? Never paid attention to the ones we have. Do you like to sit in the grass? No. Are there popsicles in your freezer right now? Yeah, we got 'em for when I got my tongue pierced. Is there a lamp in your bedroom? No. Would you prefer eating jello or pudding? Pudding. After washing your hair, do you put any products in it? No. Have you ever crawled through a vent? No. Last time you rode a bike? Years ago. What is something you used to always do but don’t anymore? Uhhhh. Idk. Well actually, I used to always have soda like multiple times a day, but now I go some days without touching it. What is the last thing you broke and how did you break it? Idr. What is the best thing you have received when trick or treating? Reese's, ha ha. What is the worst thing you have received when trick or treating? I hate(d) tootsie rolls. What word do you hate the absolute most? Probably "the 'n' word" or the derogatory term for gays... idk. How many seasons is your favorite TV show in so far? Eight for That '70s Show, but both FMAs don't have seasons. Do you remember getting sung to when you were little? No. Have you ever felt a temperature below 0? No. When was the last time you had blood drawn? Couple days back for more tests. What color eyes does/did your father have? Brown. What do you daydream most about? The future. What names do you like? Alessandra, Damien, Josephine, Luther, Chloe, Evelyn, Evangeline, Vincent, Victor... At what age do you want to start working or at what age did you start? My first job was when I was about 19, I think. Where’s the best place to eat a romantic dinner? Olive Garden omlllllll. Who was the last person to piss you off? I don't know about pissed. Probably Mom. Has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you didn’t say it back? Yeah. What’s your favorite hairstyle on the opposite sex? I like scene/emo hair too much fuck Has anyone ever played a prank on you? What happened? Probably. Which parent are you more similar to? Idk. I'm a pretty even mix of them both. Do you have a lot of self-discipline? Eh, depends. Have you ever been to another country’s capital city? No. What are some of your favorite qualities for another person to have? Compassion, kindness, an open mind, considerate, creative, difficult to anger, understanding... What smell reminds you of your childhood? Chlorine, gingerbread, rain in the air... Have you ever dated someone who had a child from a previous relationship? No, and I wouldn't. When was the last time you spoke to the first person you ever kissed? Second week of February '17. What’s a political issue you have a strong opinion on? Gay rights. Stopping that "oh if (s)he was raped ten years ago, why come out now?" bullshit that's been popular lately. What was the last fruit or vegetable you chopped/sliced up? Romaine lettuce for Kaiju. When you take a nap, do you nap in bed or on the couch? My bed. Have you ever done a Mason jar craft? No, but most of those that I see are so cute. What are you going to be for Halloween this year? Idk if I'm even dressing up. Do you decorate your front door for holidays? Mom puts up a wreath. What are all the costumes you remember wearing for past Halloweens? I literally remember none. Who is your favorite photographer? Check out mothmeister on Instagram. Cool as fuck. Don't know who takes the pictures exactly, but. Jovana Rikalo/thefirebomb on deviantART is also incredible. Were you shy in high school? Not very. Do you wish karma were real, or are you glad that it isn’t? I wish it was. What was your favorite Nick Jr. show? Rugrats. What school subjects are/were you the best at? English and science. What comes naturally to you? Spelling, usually. Bonding with animals. Do you prefer to call life a journey, a battle, a dance, or an adventure? Journey. Do you believe in the power of dreamcatchers or do you just like them as a decoration? They're just pretty decor to me. Who are the cutest babies in your Facebook newsfeed? I have two friends with young babies and neither are cute tbh. One's face looks like a grown man's with elephant ears, while the girl is just like, a month old, and I almost never find babies that young cute. What were your favorite mall stores when you were in high school? HotTopic. What time of day do you normally feel the most awake and alert? A while after I wake up. Have you ever searched for your house on Google Earth? Yeah. How old do you look? I guess my age? Do you like movie nights? Only if it's with someone. What would be number one on your bucket list? Pet a wild (well, habituated) meerkat. How old do you think you’ll be when you make your will? *shrugs* where is the fanciest place you have ever visited? Idk. Do you wear earrings on a normal basis? Ugh, I wish. Two reasons I don't. 1.) My first holes are stretched badly from wearing heavy earrings to much. Put one in the left especially and it almost looks like it's not even attached to my ear. Looks gross. 2.) I'm allergic to silver and like all my earrings are silver. Are your ears pierced more than once, if at all? Yeah. If you wear skirts, are you more likely to wear leggings, or go bare? If I was to wear them, I'd probably wear leggings. Ever stayed up all night on the phone? Jason and I did that (or almost did?) once early in our relationship. If you could move somewhere else, would you? Uh yeah. The one and only reason I won't move too far is because I'm unwilling to leave my psychiatrist; he's one of the biggest reasons I recovered and also gives me free samples of the medicine that saved my damn life, which costs over $1,000. No exaggeration. He knows that's absolutely outrageous. So it's like if I moved somewhere else, would my new psychiatrist do the same? Did the last guy/girl you kissed have any piercings? No. Do you actually love your parents? Yes. Have you ever had a school picture turn out absolutely dreadful? Like, all of them. I look high when I smile. What is the name of the last band you discovered? That I actually got into, Powerwolf. What happened last time you got drunk? Never been drunk, but on the occasion I got the closest, I was more outgoing and giggly. Do you know anyone autistic? I don't believe so. How about someone bipolar? Me. What do you want your job to be when you’re older? A photographer and also an out-on-the-field zoologist. I could bring my camera out with me, combine the two. Have you ever made your parents cry? Mom on sadly multiple occasions, and I could hear that Dad was tearing up when I called him wanting to make up. Do you always lock your door? Not my room door, but the front and back door pretty much always are. If I'm home alone, without a doubt. Have you ever been to Hooters? No. Do you snore in your sleep? No. Do you have a brother? What’s his name? A half-brother, Robert/Bobby. Do you believe in celebrating anniversaries? Year ones, yes. Have you ever driven without a license? I don't have mine yet, but I don't believe I've ever done so without my permit. What was your very first pet like? I'm pretty sure my first personal one was a long-haired guinea pig named Squeak. He was a total sweetie that loved attention and would do one of those high-pitched, four squeaks back at me if I did it lol. What kind of an old person do you think you’ll become? I hope I become a wise, more loving than ever, content person that does all she can for humanity and doesn't isolate like I do so much. I want to be out there with people, making memories and always maintaining a young heart. Which well-known person’s death shocked you the most, if any? Steve Irwin's above anyone else, but Chester Bennington was a close second. What’s the craziest color you’d dye your hair? I seriously want to bleach my hair to snow white and have it fade to a blood-red tip, but that'd probably destroy my hair. What’s the coolest hobby one of your friends has? Hm. I'm not sure. What’s the silliest thing you’ve believed, that turned out to be untrue? LOOK I stg I learned in school that thunder was clouds rubbing against each other and I only learned the truth THIS YEAR. Have you ever pet a cow, a sheep or a pig? A pig. Who’s the last person to make you laugh? GameGrumps. Ever been in a race? No. Favorite brand of color pencils? Crayola, I'm a basic bitch. Do you like the smell of peppermint? Omgggggggg yes. How many pieces did the last puzzle you completed have? Idr, maybe 150? It was at the hospital with my peers. In the end we were missing exactly o n e piece. What is missing from your wardrobe that you need to buy? I want a studded leather jacket pls I've wanted one since high school. When was the last time you witnessed a sunshower? A month back, maybe? Maybe sooner? Who was the last person to kiss your cheek? Mom, I believe. What temperature do you consider “too cold” to be outside? Comfortably, 40 F. Did anything bad happen to you in September? My knees became quite a problem. Had some rough streaks of depression. In your phone’s contacts, who is the first person listed under the letter ‘R’? When did you last see that person? No one under "r." If someone is sticking their nose into your business where it isn’t wanted, how would you deal with that? Would you say something to them? I'd like to think I'd say something. When your last relationship ended, how long was it before you felt ready to think about being with someone else? I realized I wanted to be with Sara while I was with him. It was one of the reasons I broke up with him. Think about your Facebook profile photo. What kind of assumptions do you think a stranger might make about you, from seeing that photograph? Would any of these assumptions be correct? (It's the same picture as here.) I obviously like a darker style, and it'd also be an understandable assumption I'm a bitch by my expression lmao. That one's not true, I hope. If you aren’t an only child, do you wish you were? Noooo. What is your birth order? I'm the middle child between my immediate siblings. What is your eye color? What would you want it to be? Blue/green/gray. I wish they were more sapphire. Do you like Victoria’s Secret, or PINK? I like their bras and undies, super cute, but other products, nah. What color highlighter do you prefer? Pink. What is the wallpaper on your best friends cell phone? Dunno. Do you like using big words when you talk? Don't hate it, but I avoid it when I can with most people. I wanna make sure they understand what I'm saying, no need to make it all fancy. What’s your favorite thing to do in the summer? Stay the fuck inside and wish it was fall. Eh, swimming. Do you like being tickled? NO. Are you loud when you’re having sex? I'd always try to be quiet even when home alone because I was worried about someone coming home and us not hearing or something. But it took effort to keep quiet sometimes, and even then I was a moaner. Are you a very open or private person? Depends on who I'm with and whether it's on or offline, but generally, private. What is your favorite Christmas movie? Jim Carrey's How the Grinch Stole Christmas. What do you get complimented on the most? My hair. When was the last time you were in a public setting and a stranger annoyed you? I'm not sure. Scariest storm you’ve ever had in your town? Um idk. Skill you wish you had? Drawing exactly what I see in my head ugh. How do you feel about raising minimum wage? FUCK-ING DO IT. NC's is $7.25 an hour, and you can't live off that shit. Humor me. What physical ideal do you imagine in a boyfriend/girlfriend/partner? It really doesn't matter to me, but I'd say I'm more quickly attracted to people with a dark style. What type of personality traits do you look for in a boyfriend/girlfriend/partner? Calm, open-minded, friendly, I like a bit more outgoing than me, compassionate, very passionate like myself, artistic, considerate... Any other essential quirks/interests/other you look for in a boyfriend/girlfriend/partner? The only thing I can think of as essential are some common interests to bond over. I don't think I could date someone totally different from me. Or someone heavily religious. Any romantic gestures you really like? Small, simple efforts just for the purpose of showing you care, more than anything. I appreciate the cliche of opening doors. What were you like when you were a kid? Outgoing, talkative as hell, pretty odd, big time creative. What is your definition of cheating? Flirting in a clearly non-joking manner. Have you ever been to a psychiatrist/therapist? Both since the 6th grade. Are looks important in a relationship? For me personally, no, but I don't shame people who feel it's at least a smaller factor for them. Sure, it'd be more difficult to be more sexually attracted to you, but not romantically, which is what I care about. What were you doing right before you started this survey? Another survey. I combine them into longer ones. Ever get mad at something that happened years ago? Rarely, and if ever, briefly. What do you order on your pizza? Jalapenos. I miss meat lovers. What the kind of soda you drink most often? Mountain Dew Voltage. Do you freak out if a bee/wasp flies near you? Wasp, I'm fuckin' outie. I'm uncomfortable with any bee, but won't spaz over most. If Facebook started making you pay, would you still use it? No. If you were dying and had to tell the last person you texted one thing, what would it be? Lmao we actually had a convo about this once, and it'd totally be, "I love you, and I'll see you on the other side." If you could have sex to one song, what song would it be? We playin' "Death of a Bachelor" by P!atD on our wedding night 100% 100% 100% 100%. Are you a forgiving person? Too forgiving. Who is the last person you told you loved them? Sara Jaaaane. <3 Do you have a specific gas station you usually go to? Or do you stop wherever? Mom tends to go to Sheetz or Shell. She gets bad mileage at Sheetz, but it's super close to our house. Do you have a place you go to a lot that you may be considered “a regular” at? The people at New Addiction (tat and piercing parlor I go to) are starting to recognize me lmao. I'll be there tonight again. Think of the last person you kissed, have you ever kissed them on a bed? Yeah. Do you like your girlfriend's/boyfriend's parents? YEAH. Why aren’t you with the person you first fell in love with? He couldn't stand my depression anymore. What’s worse, knowing you still love them, or pretending you hate them? THE FORMER. Do you own any television series box sets? All seasons of Meerkat Manor. What is your favorite band of all time? Ozzy Osbourne. Would you consider getting a tattoo any time soon? I'm getting one T O N I G H T B O Y S. Do you like candles? Yeah, but I prefer incense. Have you ever been diagnosed with a mental illness? More like seven lmao. And I'm 99% sure I have ADD, but I haven't been officially diagnosed. If you had to choose to have a different accent than the one you have now, what accent would you choose and why? British, 'cuz I love it. Have you ever or do you currently live in a Gated Community? No. Do you know how to use a DSLR camera? Yeah. Do you know anyone who is named after a state? Jason's mom. Miss that woman, she sincerely cared for me. I owe her so much for staying on the phone with me for legit like two hours a couple nights before my attempt. It was dead in the middle of the night, yet she was happy to be there. Have you ever had a “bad trip”? If yes, what happened? N/A. Do you enjoy learning about conspiracy theories? Y E S. Shane Dawson got me so into them omg. If you had a baby boy, what would you name him? Damien Alexander, maybe.

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