#We are entering in a new season Church

[wecanbeperfect]

GOD'S MARVELLOUS CREATION

Psalm 104:19 He appointed the moon for seasons: the sun knoweth his going down.

[weemsfreak]

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Happy October, loves! In honour of my favourite time of year, here is a short spooky Larissa Weems x f!reader where Laurel Gates lives on...but as does Larissa.

It is based around a quote from the 1991 Addams family, and follows Season 1 of Wednesday where Joseph Crackstone is no longer. Season 2 calls for more mystery and gore? I say add Larissa's revenge. ~3.6k words

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"So I was thinking, since last Outreach day ended in disaster with the statue and all, perhaps we could do without an unveiling. Perhaps we could plan something sincere, something that may bring normies and outcasts together in a…"

You picked up your Weathervane hot chocolate, taking a sip.

"Darling?"

Recently, you have been feeling uneasy, if that was the correct word for it.

Uneasy when out in the town of Jericho, but also within the walls of Nevermore.

"Yoo-hoo? Darling?"

Last outreach day had been a disaster, and there had been numerous disasters that followed.

Still, she insisted on organizing another.

Why you agreed to help? You could never wrap your head around it.

You hoped November would never come.

Your gaze shot to blue as a hand softly landed on yours.

"What do you think?"

Blinking, you looked out the window, and then around the coffee shop.

"I think, um- maybe we shouldn't have an Outreach day this year, Larissa."

Her smile dropped to a frown, confusion evident on her face.

"Why not?"

You shook your head. You'd never want to disappoint her, but you had a feeling, a horrible feeling; a feeling of dread and death.

You only had this feeling few times before,

but you weren't about to tell her that.

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The new mayor of the town was…nice.

He was always smiling.

He was always helpful.

He was always weary.

Him, along with the students and residents of Jericho, were weary of the outcasts; as if they hadn't been before.

It was worse now, due to that night. Which was ironic, considering it wasn't the outcasts who were responsible.

Still, Larissa insisted on getting to know the new mayor, insisted on forming a cooperation with him.

He had rejected the idea of a cooperation.

He had rejected the idea of outcast and normie relations.

He had rejected the idea of an Outreach day; until he agreed.

You found yourself in the town, picking something up from the mayors office to deliver to the oh so busy Principal Weems.

As you walked down the decorated streets eager to return to Nevermore, you caught sight of red hair entering an alley way.

Crossing the road and making your way past Uriah's heap, you were about to turn down the alley when a boy brushed past, making you stumble back.

He walked slowly down the sidewalk, as if he had nowhere to be, yet determined to be somewhere at the same time.

Something within you knew that he was...familiar.

Trailing behind, you followed to the town square, to the church, and then, he stood.

Confused, you hid behind a close building, peeking around the corner.

Your brows furrowed as you realized that he seemed just as confused as you were, until he gazed directly at you and you faltered.

His face was crazed, he was foaming at the mouth. He looked sweaty and wild, uncontrollable.

Your heart skipped a beat as you concluded that he was standing exactly where the statue of Joseph Crackstone had stood last outreach day, and he gave you a wide smile.

Hiding around the corner of the building again, you closed your eyes as you breathed deeply.

Jericho was no longer the town that you knew; although it was the town that it always had been.

Secretive, unaccepting, and murderous.

Peeking around the corner once more, you were relieved to find nobody staring back at you.

As you high tailed it for Nevermore, you couldn't help but think few things:

One - Larissa could NOT hold an Outreach day.

Two - You were beginning to believe that you were losing your mind; not nearly as fun as you had anticipated.

And Three - That boy you saw, was dead.

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Pushing open the doors to her office, you walked straight up to her desk.

"How was your trip into town?"

You let the papers fall onto her desk, trying not to lose your composure.

"We cannot hold an Outreach day."

With the tilt of her head and twitch of her lip, she furrowed her brows.

"You keep saying this, yet you're helping me plan it."

Taking a deep breath, you tried your best to convince her.

"I just, I have a very bad feeling, and I can't-I can't-"

Your best right now was not very good, at all.

Tears fell as you thought about why you shouldn't, why you couldn't.

Long legs carried the woman around her desk as she reached for you, sitting you on the couch in front of the fireplace.

"You can't what, love?"

She would never understand, because she wasn't there to witness it.

She wasn't there to see the fire, blazing in front of her as the dead came back for the living.

She wasn't there to see her students in danger, eyes wide as they feared for their lives.

She wasn't there to see how helpless the outcasts felt, how helpless they were; how helpless you were.

She wasn't there to see Joseph Crackstone and Laurel Gates before her very eyes.

She wasn’t there…

She wasn't there because,

"You almost died, Larissa."

Your words swirled around in the air, heard but not seen.

"But I didn't, and I haven't a clue what this has to do with Outreach day."

Closing your eyes, visions of people came back to you, visions of the dead.

Tears fell from your eyes in frustration, wishing that you could make her understand.

She saw Nevermore in shambles, she had built it back up.

She saw the fear of the aftermath, she had built it back up.

She saw her life flash before her eyes, and so had you.

"It’s just too soon. Students of Jericho high will not stand beside our students, people of Jericho will not stand beside us, and…"

And I will not stand beside you.

That was a lie.

You let your head fall into your hands as you let out a sob.

She gripped your body with all her strength and pulled you to her chest.

"The events of that night are still fresh in your mind, darling" she whispered.

"Joseph Crackstone is gone, we have nothing to fear."

Gripping onto her shoulders, you couldn't help but have fear.

She had almost lost the school.

You had almost lost her.

And you had seen Garrett Gates today,

but you weren't about to tell her that.

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"Ah Nevermore, we love you so."

Gomez and Morticia Addams sat in front of her desk, Gomez kissing his wife's hand as they did.

"Larissa, it is so wonderful to see you thriving. I don't know what we would've done if you had left us."

Larissa quirked a brow at Morticia's words, looking her up and down.

"Perhaps you would've held a party?" she quipped.

Morticia snickered as she looked to Gomez, "There's the sense of humour that I always adored."

Larissa smirked their way, and silence overtook them as they stared at one another.

"But seriously, we feel awful for what happened."

"The Gates family, all dead" Gomez said.

"Poor Laurel, I can’t help but feel as though we hold some responsibility" Morticia added.

Larissa looked between the two with disdain, but she did feel bad.

"Well, it's done with now, yes?"

She wished they would just get to the matter of Wednesday Addams, yet again.

"Joseph Crackstone shall suffer irreparable consequences. They all shall."

Larissa couldn't help but think that death was enough.

"For what they did to our ancestors? Death will never be enough" Gomez added.

Larissa nodded, clasping her hands together on her desk.

"Well, I believe that we must put the past behind us, and thrive for a better future."

She watched as Morticia stood, approached her, and placed cold hands onto hers, lowering her voice.

"Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc. We gladly feast on those who would subdue us."

Blue eyes met brown as Larissa felt a cold spell cast around her.

Morticia waited a moment, then raised a brow as she released her hands from Larissa's warmth.

"Not just pretty words."

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You accompanied Larissa to Pilgrim world, the new mayor insisted that she attend a pre Halloween 'Sinister Soirée' that he was holding.

She had agreed in hopes of pleasing the mayor, in hopes of getting closer to him for the better of Nevermore.

You knew what had happened 400 years ago, well, to an extent; and so did she.

You couldn't help but despise Jericho in some way, due to its brutal history.

Centuries ago, the pilgrims had hunted and executed those they deemed outcasts: anyone who didn’t fit their strict vision of purity.

You agreed that things weren't always black and white, there were shades of grey.

You agreed that the future didn't have to reflect the past.

But sometimes, you cannot let go of what happened, sometimes you cannot forgive and forget.

“I feel like we shouldn’t be here."

Larissa's grip tightened around yours as you made your way through the entrance.

You thought about her, and how she thrived for the better of Nevermore, the better of outcasts; you admired that.

But all the same, you were conflicted.

How had she been to hell and back, knowing of the injustice, experiencing it first hand; yet keeping the same outlook.

She knew deep down that the outcasts weren't safe.

She knew deep down that she wasn't safe.

"We can leave, Larissa."

She peered down at you through cold lashes as the new mayor approached.

"Principal Weems, so good to see you."

Larissa clasped her hands together in that innocent way that you knew so well.

It was odd, to see her as not Principal Weems, not Larissa, but dressed up in a costume so ethereal and otherworldly, like a ghost from a forgotten era.

"Mayor Winslow, thank you for hosting tonight. Such a fun event!"

You rolled your eyes as you adjusted your outfit, draped in layers of shadows.

"Thank you for coming. I hope you enjoy the haunted crypt walk, and perhaps try some fudge."

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Strolling down the Cobblestone streets of Pilgrim world, you couldn't help but feel uneasy, so deeply unsettled.

Maybe Larissa should've brought someone who, specifically, had any ability besides the ability to see the dead. Alas, that thought made you jealous.

You had avoided Pilgrim world for so long, and everything in Jericho the like.

Already feeling the cold presence of the dead, it lingered in the air, watching from the shadows of the ancient trees.

You needed a distraction, and you needed it now.

"Oh, the tavern! Can we go in?"

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You entered the dimly lit tavern, spotting one open table as you sat across from the Principal.

"Pilgrims of the night, what can I get for you?" A voice thick with faux historical enthusiasm.

Your gaze lifted from the pale woman to…a religious fanatic.

The very symbol of zealotry and hatred, Joseph Crackstone himself.

Your eyes widened, hands moving quickly to grip the woman's arm across from you.

Looking down at you, she took your hand in hers, rubbing her thumbs over it soothingly.

"We're alright, love."

Right. It wasn't really him, because Larissa could see him too.

"We're hardly Pilgrims," you managed, gesturing vaguely at yourself.

Larissa eyed you down, a smirk appearing on her face. "No, we certainly aren't" she said, turning her attention to the waiter.

You took in the ambiance of Pilgrim world, shooting her a look as you were, after a short time, fed up with the pilgrim's that surrounded you; those alive and dead.

"It takes a special kind of stupid to devote and entire theme park to zealots responsible for mass genocide."

The waiter then reached your table and set down the drinks, his grin faltering as he raised an eyebrow.

"Who you calling stupid?"

You held his gaze, unflinching, "If the buckled shoe fits."

The principal chuckled softly, shaking her head as she lifted her drink.

"Do behave, darling," she teased, her eyes hinting at your shared disdain for the charade around you.

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"Line up for the haunted crypt walk!"

You moved outside and stood in line, dragging Larissa with you hand in hand.

Walking through the partially lit up streets, you tried to enjoy your time envisioning the good old days.

Well, they were not good, you supposed; but they were old.

As you strolled, you tried your hardest to forget about your ability, but your ability would never forget about you.

"And here is the old barn, a place where they stored crops, grain, and livestock."

You looked to the right to find the old barn standing strong.

"Unfortunately, it was set ablaze one night containing the livestock, but it has been rebuilt since. Pilgrim world has remarkably been rebuilt to 30% of it's original structure."

Larissa listened to the haunted walk tour guide, before gazing down at your apprehensive, perhaps terrified demeanour.

The barn transformed to a burnt structure, only the frame, floor, and partial walls remaining.

Out of nowhere it was up in flames; hay, crops, animals, and people littered the floor.

The animals looked at you with fear, the smoke clouded your vision, and Larissa, Larissa watched you with tears in her eyes.

You gasped as you kneeled down in front of her.

"There is no time, child."

Taking her hands into yours, you attempted to help her up.

"Leave me, save yourself. He's chained us all to the floor."

People where chained to the floor, outcasts were chained to the floor; with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

You pulled with all of your force at the chains before attempting to break them from her wrists.

"I shant leave without you."

Your gaze focused on hers, but it wasn't what you knew.

Her accent filled your ears, but it was old.

Her hair flowed freely, her clothing in tatters.

She had the same sad eyes, but they didn't glisten, they didn't speak to you in the same way.

"Run, avenge us. Find the others and save our future."

You stood as she disappeared from your vision, backing away slowly.

"You are our only hope."

Coughing, you attempted to wave away the smoke as the barn in front of you reverted back to it's present state.

You had thought that the meeting house was the only place where outcasts were burned; of course that wasn't enough.

Turning in fright, you looked for those on the haunted crypt walk, met with only the dark of the night.

Everyone was gone, including Larissa.

"Larissa?"

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Strolling throughout the streets alone, you couldn't help but think about how lonely it would've been.

But the reality was, you weren't alone.

You could see only them; pale figures standing just beyond the veil of mist, their faces gaunt, hollow-eyed, staring.

They weren’t just ghosts. These were the spirits of pilgrims and outcasts, the ones who had been hunted, burned, and hanged for their abilities.

They were you, and you were them.

Making your way past the ol' haberdashery and fudge shop, you found an old house, one you hoped would be free of the dead and horror.

Entering through the front door, you passed through the keeping room, until you found an open passageway.

It was dark, far too dark for you to see anything; besides the figure of a tall white haired woman.

“Larissa!” you shouted in fear and relief.

You saw her, Larissa, standing in the darkness of a dimly candlelit room, her back turned.

Relief flooded your veins.

“Larissa, thank God” you breathed, running toward her.

“What happened?"

As you neared, something stopped you cold.

Larissa’s body was still, too still; you froze.

The figure turned slowly, and your blood ran empty.

It wore Larissa’s face, her exact face, but her hopeful eyes were wrong.

They were hollow, dead. Her smile was cruel, a twisted mockery of Larissa’s usual painted grin.

“You're just in time for the feast,” the figure said, its voice a low rasp.

You stumbled back, this was not Larissa.

It was something else, something ancient, and it had stolen her form.

“Where is she?” you demanded, voice shaking.

The figure smiled wider. “She is with us now. She is where she belongs.”

Your pulse quickened, you couldn’t lose Larissa again. Not to this place, not to whatever dark force lingered here.

The figure’s form began to shimmer, its edges blurring, and in an instant, it transformed; morphing into the twisted face of an old woman, a pilgrim, her eyes burning with malice.

“You outcasts were always ours” she hissed. “And tonight, we feast.”

The darkness suddenly lit up, your view of pilgrims evident as you watched them feast.

An old dinner table, wood and bone carved forks and knives.

They were eating meat; they were eating outcasts.

“I can see you�� you whispered, hoping to keep your voice steady. “I see all of you.”

The dead paused, their hands retreating.

“You think you can subdue us?!”

It was loud, fueled by your anger, you could feel it radiating from the outcasts, radiating from the loss of Larissa.

“You think you can keep us chained here?”

The pilgrim spirit hissed at you, her face contorting with fury.

“You are nothing but prey.”

Your lips twisted into a sinister smile as you backed away.

“We gladly feast upon those who would subdue us.”

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You awoke outside, feeling the cold hands of the dead that had brushed against your skin.

They pulled you, drug you toward the church.

Your head pounding from the insufferable onslaught, you couldn't remember exactly how or why you had ended up here.

Muffled screams caught your attention as you stumbled toward ancient wood doors.

The church stood as a grim reminder of the village’s past, its stone walls blackened by centuries of dark history.

"Let me out of here!"

There was banging from the inside, but the doors wouldn’t budge.

“Larissa?” you shouted, fear clutching at you.

You would recognize her voice anywhere, even in panic, even when she sounded ghostly.

"Please help" she pleaded, tugging at the doors.

Even in times like these, you couldn't find a way.

You couldn't find a rock, you couldn't find a spell, you were no professional at teleportation; and you learned the meaning of dread.

Even the outcasts couldn't face the fury of those who lived to wrong them.

As you hauled on the wooden doors in hopes of freeing Larissa, they suddenly flew open and sent you back to the ground.

You quickly ran inside, watching in terror as Larissa was summoned; gliding helplessly across the floor and up to the altar of the church.

“I’ve been waiting for you” a voice, low yet warm.

“You are of my blood, and the time has come.”

Larissa was still and wide eyed, held in place as she spoke nervously.

"I can hear you, but I cannot see."

You took a breath, watching as Larissa, the version of her you had earlier spoken to in the old barn, moved until she was inches before the principal.

You swallowed deeply and whispered. "She's right in front of you, Larissa. She looks like you, perhaps your ancestor."

Larissa’s eyes darkened, her body tensing as if something had woken inside her.

She spoke in a way that you have never learned before; she was timid, confused.

“Time for what?” she asked, though you could hear the answer in the dead woman’s silence.

“Revenge,” her ancestor whispered.

Suddenly, the doors of the church slammed shut.

You could feel the dead rising all around. The spirits of the outcasts, those who had been wronged were no longer content to stay in the shadows. They wanted justice, and they had waited long enough.

"Joseph Crackstone may be gone, but Laurel Gates lives on."

Larissa took a shallow breath, retrieving the ability to close her eyes.

"I believe in a better future for outcasts. I'm working to bring outcasts and normies together in…in harmony."

You panicked as she started choking out her words, her breath becoming less as she spoke.

As you placed a hand in hers, her ancestor glided away as a disappointed mother would from her child; just to be peering down at her within a second.

She cupped her cheek with her dead hand, and you wondered if Larissa could feel it.

"It is up to you, my child, but this is a warning. They do not rest, they killed us all, and they now come for you."

Larissa's ancestor faded into the ether, dissolving into nothingness as Larissa herself began to rise, lifted slowly and steadily towards the towering ceiling of the ancient church.

You felt panic welling up inside as you gripped her hand tightly, but it was no use.

Fingers slipped away from hers, powerless to stop her from being pulled higher and higher into the eerie shadows above.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched Larissa suspended midair, her eyes wide with fear as a faint whisper sounded.

"Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc."

Suddenly, as if responding to some unseen command, Larissa was hurled back down to the stone floor and the heavy wooden doors of the church flew open.

You rushed to the woman's side as she sat up in shock.

Kneeling, you watched the weight of the revelation settle over her like a cold fog.

"Laurel Gates lives on."

You placed a hand on her shoulder, gazing into blue as she turned to look at you.

Your voice was soft, and you prayed that she finally understood.

"The normies will reject outcasts, a rift sealed by fate itself. Eternal, unyielding, haunting us with the certainty that acceptance will remain beyond our grasp, evermore."

You cupped her cheek as tears threatened to fall. "We gladly feast."

Larissa’s lips pursed, her gaze narrowing as she stood and pulled you up with her.

She took your hands firmly, her eyes gleaming with a dark, unspoken truth.

"And Laurel," she said commanding, her voice full of dangerous promise as a smile played on her lips, "is just in time for the feast."

[heathersdesk]

My grandfather was killed in a hit and run accident in 1978.

His mother and sister struggled with life after that. They decided to go on a trip across the United States together to get away from things for a while.

I discovered this trip when I was going through photo albums and suddenly saw a place I recognized.

The Salt Lake Temple.

They went to many places during that trip. But there was something truly special to me that, in one of the worst seasons of their lives, they ended up at the temple.

I served part of my mission at Temple Square. I was waiting for a visa to Brazil that I began to think was never coming. I had a truly horrendous time in the MTC babysitting a district of Elders who spent weeks on end bullying me and tearing down my self-esteem. I was told directly by someone, I forget who now, that I was being sent there to recover. And when I realized that the mission had no young Elders in it at all, that it was only Sisters and senior couples, I came to appreciate what that meant.

I had so many wild interactions there with so many people. Some of them were strange, like the guy who viewed the Book of Mormon as proof of alien interactions with humans. There were moments of heartbreak, like the woman who was in tears at the Christus statue who attacked us when we checked in on her. There were moments of pure delight, like when an LDS family with two young daughters came to that same Christus statue. The oldest girl, no older than 4 or 5, squealed "JESUS" and ran to the Savior's feet, little sister in tow. Whenever I hear someone mention the teaching to become as a little child, she is exactly who I think of.

There were also moments that were meant solely for me, like when I met the first Sister to ever be called to the Boston mission I had hoped to go to to wait for my visa. Boston has a large Brazilian population, many of whom are members of the Church. I had begged in prayer to be sent there and was told by other people it wouldn't happen because "Sisters don't go there." I had an entire conversation with the woman who was going to be that change. It seemed cruel to me at the time, dangling the carrot of something I wanted right in front of my face. In time, I've realized it was so I would remember that God does miracles and is aware of the desires of my heart, even if it means I don't get what I want. Someone needed to exercise enough faith to push that door open for women. I put my full weight behind it, and I can be just as proud that it opened for someone else.

But some of my favorite people I met there were people who just made me laugh. I met a Jewish convert from New York who told us his conversion story, how what drew him in was the Plan of Salvation. He summarized it in a New York accent in a voice I can still hear in my mind: "So you're a god, eventually. But can you pay RENT?!"

One of my favorite people I met was a Scottish convert named Agnes who was doing the Mormon trail across the US, beginning in New England and ending in Utah. She was a much older woman and told us all about her pilgrimage, and how she had cuddled with the oxen at the baptismal font in the Manhattan New York Temple. (I've been there. You enter into the baptistry on face level with them, or did the last time I was there.) She shared her testimony with us, and I'll never forget what she said.

She explained that the story of Joseph Smith was really hard to get her mind around. It truly is an insane set of asks: angels, gold plates, polygamy, and all the rest. She talked about how she came to accept it—not through any kind of empirical evidence or proof, but through faith and what that looked like.

For her, it was the recognition that being LDS was the best way she had ever encountered to live an excellent life. She said that the worst case scenario she could imagine is one where God would say to her, "You know that whole business with Joseph Smith was a load of crock, right? But you lived such a good life, I have to let you in anyway."

That has always stayed with me. Agnes was one of many people who came to the Square looking for something. I saw people come there looking for faith, or a fight, and truly everything in between. And it's only now that I'm older and wiser that I see something clearly now that I couldn't see then.

Agnes didn't need to come to Temple Square to find faith. She already had a tremendous amount of faith. She, and many others, were looking for conviction. I was at Temple Square long enough to learn you don't get that from a place. While a place like Temple Square can illuminate the possibilities for conviction through the lens of history, it doesn't bestow that conviction through contact or proximity alone. Conviction is made from the materials of your own life and your own choices. Your will, how firmly you place yourself into an immovable and unyielding position, is the measure of your convictions. It comes from within.

Faith is the decision to believe in what you cannot see, and what cannot be proven objectively. That never goes away. Nothing we experience in life, no place we ever visit, will create a shortcut under, over, or around that decision to believe, to trust in God. Faith, at its core, is a decision. The ability to continue making that decision over and over again, under all species of hardship and opposition, is conviction.

Where Jesus walked is nowhere near as important as how Jesus walked, and with whom. The same is true for all of us. Our walk with God might never take us anywhere near a temple because of where God has called us to go. But we are the holiest dwelling places of God on earth—not any of the buildings we've made.

Be a holy place of living faith wherever you are, whatever your circumstances may be. Worship God, no matter what places you can or cannot enter. There is more than one way to access a temple. One way is to enter a place that people invite God to dwell. The other is to become that place. There can be no separation from God where communion never ceases. It is the refuge that is unassailable by others for as long as the person wills it so. The torch within will not go out.

The temple is not special because it has some holy essence that springs forth out of nothing, to passively be absorbed by others. The temple is special because it directs people to Jesus Christ, who is the giver of healing and peace. The temple is just a building. It's Jesus Christ that is the true power behind it all, whose objective is to make you, me, and every person you know the holiest creature you've ever beheld. You are the end goal.

[veninorchid]

Bridgerton S3 Review

Dearest gentle reader, I am disappointed, sadly.

And as I respect your opinion, so too, shall you respect mine. I'm not here to bash on #Polin fans and the fact that they enjoyed it, but what -was- season 3 of Bridgerton truly?

I love the Mondriches, but do they really need so much screen-time? What did their own ball add to the story exactly? Had the same feeling about the Dankworth-Finch ball at the end, but at least that one proved its necessity as -the reveal all- ball. Because there was of course no Duke of Hastings (Simon) to host it, so they improvised.

This season had too many stories going on at the same time which were all fighting for the spotlight when it should've focused on #Polin, cause that is what was advertised/hyped. It did not deliver…

Season 1 - Daphne and Simon They had the most screen-time and all other stories got a little bit of shine. But even then some of those had either Daphne or Simon in the picture/background. (Marina-Colin, with Daphne as chaperone is one of the examples) None of the other stories distracted from the main focus.

Season 2 - Kanthony Same here. While there was a lot going on in this season with Anthony courting Edwina and going all the way to the alter with her (creative license, since it didn't happen in the book) and then on the other hand we were seeing the other side with his having the thickest desire and longing for Kate. You could cut that shit with a knife, I tell you. But no side stories were overpowering. It was 90% lead character -stuff. Season 3 - Benedict---, I mean #Polin -minus the actual #Polin Were their (the directors/screenwriters) initial thoughts that we've been seeing them for 2 seasons, so we don't have to pay that much attention to the leads? Wrong! That was friendship, this is love, longing and passion. So much new ground to explore for these two. Little scenes like dancing in the church, stealing loving glances is cute and all, but we got nothing more than that. Nothing memorable.

No wait, we got carriage frolicking in part 1 and a mirror first time in part 2. You're right, I apologize. Anything else? Name any other thing you remember from this whole season. I'll wait, seriously.

Did maybe the night scene come up in your memories? Where they had an angry make out and he once again let his hand venture below? I felt the anger/passion in the coming together and pushing her against the shop, sure. The quick flash of him reaching between her thighs was more of a recycled scene from episode 4 or even from S03 Kanthony. I mean honestly. Was there really even a chance he'd take her in the streets? It felt unnecessary and forced. The dialogue was good and would've been better at their home where it's believable they could enter an intimate scene that -could- be finished if they so wanted it. Or not if his anger won over his desire. Did I mention they were both drinking before they met? I didn't say drunk, I said drinking.

I guess they improvised the whole Mme Delacroix scene (before the angry make out) with her offering advice and booze just to give Pen a reason to drink and coincidentally be in Colin's path for the scene? Wasted screen-time. Do I also need a drink to feel the -love- this season?

First part, Colin helping and chasing Pen. Second part, let's ignore and distance myself from her. They really stretched out Colin's pulling back from her because of the whole Whistledown thing, when they could've done fast forwards, saying things like 'Colin, it's been weeks. Or it's been so long, can we get passed this' just to show the time frame. But instead we get long minutes of silence and ignoring each other. Filming Colin from the back, zooming in. Then from the front zooming in. Then him watching her leave the house, slowly getting up from sleeping on the sofa, walking towards his desk. Lifting and opening and reading her old letters. Do you have any idea how long that feels? When she exited the bedroom and delivered her dialogue he could've already been behind his desk. Did we see Simon (S01E02) walk into the room, open his father's desk, take out the unopened letters etc.? No, the flashback ends with him already seated and holding the letters. Same thing could've been done here.

Oh, let's not forget side character-stuff. Let's talk more about that.

Again, I cannot stress it enough. Mondriches. Duke of Kent stuff and moving up, is fine. Seeing them struggle constantly onscreen is not. Wasted screen-time. You can easily have us hear about that in conversation. How miserable and sad he is because he had to close the bar when he became part of the ton. So many ways to handle that. Moving to part 2. Why did we have to get the whole preparation for their ball? What did it add to the story exactly? Just let everyone arrive at the ball and let that be the first we all see of the decorations. Did we see Lady Danbury prepare for the huge conservatory ball in S2? Lady Trowbridge's ball in S1? All of Her Majesty's balls? No, so it was wasted screen-time.

Francesca's story was sweet, bless her, but also unnecessary detailed. Was it the autism angle they were trying to push forward? I'm all for it, but only when you have a series with more than 8 episodes. (God, I miss 22 episode series) Because she is still a side character in #Polin's book, no matter which way you turn it. At Francesca's wedding we had the whole vows scene and everything and the two LEADS!!!! were stealing glances at each other while standing behind the whole ass family. You're the leads, act like it! It felt like S1 and S2 with them being in the background.

We all know Bridgerton's known for taking liberties with the wardrobe. The tailored waists for Pen enhance her body beautifully, but Cressida's wardrobe is bordering… scratch that! has taken a 250 MPH free-fall, into ridiculousness. I also absolutely did not care for -seeing- the reasons behind Cressida claiming to be Whistledown. Should've just kept her as a bitch. That's what we enjoyed about her. Fine, you decided on that development for her character, so here's an idea. She was so chummy with Eloise. Could've just had her tell Eloise that she was being pressured by her parents to marry and then being send to the country to live with a horrid aunt. Wasted screen-time. You only have 8 episodes to work with for crying out loud.

And then there's the side character of all side-characters. Benedict. Didn't they make the very -deliberate- decision to push back Benedict and Sophie's story in favor of #Polin as S3? To then give me so much useless Bentilly sexy time; Time that could've easily been given to #Polin things. If you can make up stories about him being confused as to his sexuality, you can just as easily come up with new, none book, stories for the actual leads. Could've left everything they forced on us about Benedict for his actual season. What's gonna be left for his own season? Wasted screen-time. Should've made him absent, continue the art-school in the background, anything. I mean, an extended honeymoon for Kanthony instead of a forced story to have them onscreen. Do the bloody same for Benedict and focus on #Polin. Every time we saw Benedict, he was playing twister with Tilly and later with what's his name (don't even care) It's not relevant, it's wasted screen-time.

I'm gonna end my review (rant!) with one last thing.

Shallow kisses. Heck it's acting, so you don't have to shove your tongue down your co-actor's throat, but keep your lips open and hollow out your mouth to at least make us think you're playing tongue-twister. As soon as their lips touched, they closed their mouths and it became a fervent peck-fest. Like kissing air and practicing in front of a mirror. Yes, they look good kissing each other, but the kissing itself was bleh.

First kiss in part 1 was going the right direction and was pretty believable, but after that… shallow as f*ck. And to think they were supposed to be increasing in passion after that first kiss. All of them were closed-mouth pecks, I'm sorry. Was it the height-difference that didn't allow them to actually suck each other's face off? ---------------

I will not do a TL;DR, because if you skip this review/rant, you will not have missed anything. Have a great day people.

Yours truly, Venin Orchid (aka Lady Regency-nerd) PS: did anyone notice the nice touch at the end? The Whistledown Silhouetted lady on the top of the page had been changed to look more like Penelope. You're welcome <3

[p1n-p0int]

Ship: Alejandro Vargas x F!reader

Lenght: 914 words

Potential triggers: incorrect use of prayers, religious guilt if you squint hard enough, too much of the "he" word, boner in the house of the god.

A/N: for @gothghostiie the main culprit of this nonsense, we both shall repent in hell hehe

Enjoy muahh!!!

The darkness doesn't prevail. The ever-burning star comes out from under the long line of the horizon, shining down at the land that begged for its warm touch.

_____________________________________________

The slumbering animals awaken again from the hibernation they succumbed to in late fall. Conducted by the light breeze of spring in the air, they come out of their lairs with a light body and mind. They might have starved during the dark days of winter, yet they prevailed and awoke at last, greeted by the warmth of the first day of a new season.

The drought makes way for the blessing of the rainy season, bringing relief to the scorched plains and gauging their thirst with the miracle of a cold shower from the greying skies.

That's what Alejandro thinks of you. You're his spring after the cold of winter, the sun that shines down on him even during the darkest hours, the long-awaited rain that soothes his dried-out sinner's soul.

Alejandro was a man of God, but even his solemn grace could not compare to the blessings you brought into his life.

It all started innocently. You were the great-niece of one of the old patrons who religiously attended Alejandro's masses. A girl in her twenties, visiting her family for the summer to help your aunt with the chores around the property.

Your aunt bragged about you to her Sunday mass friends, complimenting you to heavens and back, which piqued Alejandro's interest. It's a rare sight for a young lady like yourself to waste summer heat in a small town in the middle of nowhere.

Such querida like yourself should be busy surrounded by her friends, not hundreds if not thousands of miles away from home. That's what Alejandro thought, at least.

But nothing would have prepared him for the sweet sight of your innocence when you stepped through the archway of his church during one of the warm Sundays. A cotton-made dress hugged your body in just the right places, hugging your breasts and accenting the sensual curve of your hips, flowing around your waist with every step that you took.

Your aunt introduced you to the friendly young priest who moved into the town a while ago. A delicate smile that adorned your face with softness Alejandro had never seen before was directed at him.

He was a man gone.

His cock, which he had sworn off the use of when he entered the priesthood, rose to life for the first time since his late teens when it was the last he recalled feeling such primal want.

Persisting and surviving through the service was his way of the cross. Finally, the bell rang, and people began spilling out the main gate, some wishing Alejandro a good Sunday.

He barely made it to his private quarters, the urgency to relieve his body ache almost too overwhelming to hide the sin he was about to commit in his own four walls. Alejandro couldn't help but slam the doors shut behind his back. He threw himself on the bed, unzipping his suit pants that barely contained his erect pride in place. He hissed out a curse as his cold palm made contact with the too-hot-to-touch skin of his cock.

Twisting his wrist, he began pumping up and down, occasionally brushing his thumb against the tip, which was a poor imitation of what your tongue would feel like when you tasted him for the first time. "Ha pasado mucho tiempo desde, ah, mi última confesión..." His head lolled to the side, and he shivered at the electrifying spasm that went down his cock and up his spine.

"Perdóname, Padre," Alejandro grunted out, squeezing the base of his member, "porque he pecado..." He groaned, running his free hand across his face and hair. He spread his muscular thighs apart, sinfully imagining that it's you between them, with your delicate hands wrapped around his leaking cock.

His tongue lashed out from between his lips to lick at the dried-up skin, a filthy moan escaping his throat. He would not last long, not with your angelic face wired hot behind his shut eyelids, smiling down at Alejandro, coaxing him to let go.

And Alejandro did just as you asked him to; with the last rough tug to his weeping dick, he came hard, temporarily blinded by the feeling of climax you eased his weary soul into. His warm seed shot up and landed on his satin stole. The priestly shawl Alejandro didn't care enough to take off his shoulders beforehand, leaving a prominent contrast of his creamy white come against the rich purple of the material.

His breath calming, Alejandro pried his eyes open and looked down upon himself. As if possessed, he raised his arm that was previously squeezing his dick in a near-perfect picture of what your tiny pussy would do to him. With a hand still covered in his juices, he dipped his fingers into the pool of sperm sploshed on his shirt and stole. He brought it to his face to examine the stickiness, rubbing it between his thumb and pointing fingers.

No hell seemed scary when creatures like yourself existed in this world. Alejandro will get you sweaty and moaning between his arms soon enough, and the both of you will reach an absolution together. Him spilling his seed deep inside of you, and you on his cock, hitting and prodding all the right spots that make prayers spill from between your lips.

_____________________________________________

Spanish vocabulary:

Querida - Dear

Perdóname, Padre, porque he pecado - Forgive me, father, for I have sinned

Ha pasado mucho tiempo desde mi última confesión - It's been a long time since my last confession

[polyhexian]

I'm not entirely sure why, but everyone seems convinced that this:

Is Doll. Or her body at least. and I suppose the arguments for that is that she has a dress or skirt and a shiny hat. It's not just hair up there but some kind of hat. She also has red eyes and doll is the only red one. But doll died in the church and there are lockers here. A big pro is that dolls head was still attacked to her body when she died, but in the epilogue she is just a head. And we know they can regrow heads. So theoretically this could be her body, possessed and regrown.

But I just don't believe it. I think doll is just dead, the end. And having two eyes just. I don't buy it. It doesn't feel right. BUT-

What about Nori! She wears a dress and has a shiny hat! Or a headband or something whatever. She is ALSO a host to the solver. We don't KNOW how she died other than Khan supposedly put her out of her misery after a murder drone got her. But we know she's just a core now- but we don't know what happened to her body! And the location is filled with lockers so it COULD be the home of the worker drones- but it could ALSO be the building where Yeva was tied up in a locker. Also filled with lockers!

I think it's nori. Unless there is some other thing I don't know or remember, I think it's Nori's body.

EDIT//

ITS YEVA ITS FUCKING YEVA

YEVA has red eyes. She also wears a shiny hat and a dress! She fits the silhouette, she has the red eyes, she's a host, her body is in the worker drones place and there's lockers there, AND she has a surprisingly unremarkable death. If there HAD been a season 2, it would be totally on point for her to re enter the narrative as being reanimated by the solver as a new host, that by dying her patch is no longer relevant.

[ms-m-astrologer]

2024 Capricorn Solstice

Saturday, December 21, 09:21 UTC

Chart erected for Washington, DC

The second thing I saw in this chart was the Capricorn Sun at the midpoint of the square between Venus/Aquarius and Juno/Scorpio. Women remain pissed off, and we have a lot of relationship toxicity to purge. (Juno enters her pre-retrograde shadow on Sunday, 12/22 - work to do.)

The first thing I saw was the Mutable sign grand cross: Jupiter Rx/Gemini, the Virgo Moon, Mercury/Sagittarius, and Saturn/Pisces. Note that the Saturn-Jupiter-Moon piece is very, very tight. ‘Tis the season to be adaptable and flexible, to have more than one plan to work on (and be able to switch between them when necessary), and to recognize/acknowledge endings when we find them.

The lunar phase is Disseminating: “teach, share, communicate.” Both the Lights are in Earth signs, so practicality is important, being grounded and realistic is important. Maybe shop our skills around? Get to know the neighbors a little better?

+=*=+=*=+=*=+

Not much is growing at this time of year, where I live - although climate change is messing with that quite a bit. But there is seasonal foliage to enjoy anyway: poinsettias, Christmas cacti, and holly:

As a girl, in my family Christmas was always a Very Big Deal. My mom and grandma - whose culinary prowess I did not inherit, alas - baked at least a dozen different kinds of cookies every December. Not to mention pies, pecan and pumpkin. And the huge feast on the 25th, turkey and everything else. In addition to the pies, we always had peppermint stick ice cream for Christmas dessert.

(My daughter and I have modified this by having pecan pie for breakfast, with our coffee - and adding chocolate sauce to the peppermint ice cream.)

I remember Mom staying up late every Christmas Eve, watching a telecast of the Christmas mass by the Pope at Vatican City, as she shredded stale bread for stuffing. We sometimes went to Christmas Eve service at our church. My grandmother always sewed new dresses for my little sister and me to wear. (Blue velvet one year, but my sister spilled orange juice all over herself, and we never had anything remotely that luxurious again.)

Mom never liked to put the Christmas tree up (or decorate) too early; she said it ruined the specialness if decorations went up right after Thanksgiving. Even as a tiny girl I always tried to find quiet time, on Christmas Eve, to sit by the tree - all the presents underneath - and feel.

[discord-lurking]

Dungeons and Daddies Wiki Drama: A Greek Tragedy Told through the Medium of Forum Posts (Part 2)

Act 2: The Wax Melts, The Sea Beckons

In which the wings begin to fall apart.

Despite the drama unfolding over the November admin discussion post, wiki life continued. User posts showed cracks in the foundation. Something was rotten in the state of Wikia.

November 6th, 2023:

November 9th, 2023:

It seems that the administrators were deleting pages, instituting rigid new rules about how long a post could stay unfinished (and, apparently, what qualified as unfinished).

Enter anonymous wiki user Chekovsnakess.

November 23rd, 2023:

Chekovsnakess pointed out the issue inherent in the deletions- moderators wanted more people to engage with the wiki, but what's the point, when the page will get nuked?

Chekovsnakess: "The wiki feels more of the admins' wiki rather than a community wiki."

The admins didn't take well to this critique.

TwoRatner: "In no way have we, the admins, been hostile."

TheOneTrueGod41: "It can't be unprofessional if we absolutely mean it."

PawnSum: "Uh, you can't type fast or something? I can, so that shouldn't be a problem."

Also, iconic quote from PawnSum: "I literally broke my ankle and couldn't get home, so I understand what pain is."

PawnSum makes a good point- only they, a wiki editor experiencing mild criticism and a broken ankle, could ever understand true pain.

Opening a paragraph with "you also don't seem to understand that your opinions aren't facts" and closing it with "Please stop leaving and just stay!"

A masterpiece of salesmanship. Glenn and his high Persuasion rolls could only hope to reach the levels of charisma displayed by wiki administrator TwoRatner.

Other iconic TwoRatner quotes:

"Admins are like princiPALS after all, or a nice janitor."

"You want me to quick my job? I can't! I already paid for the funeral and now I need more money to feed my family."

After this, Chekovsnakess remained silent, perhaps choosing to disengage from fandom wiki drama and move on with their life. An unthinkable choice, to be sure.

More users turned to the forums to express frustrations with the wiki, falling on the administrator's deaf ears.

November 29th, 2023:

December 3rd, 2023:

With this, we segue to the moderator response to wiki user critiques: splitting the wiki into two websites with separate mod teams, one for season 1 of the podcast and one for season 2.

In haunting Anakin-like fashion, TwoRatner says "I promise to bring about a satisfying future to this wiki." A promise they would be unable to live up to.

December 2nd, 2023:

TwoRatner's attempt to bring peace to their new empire wiki would first involve mysterious user Largeo and a separation on par with the Great Church Schism of 1054. Equally important decisions with equally worldwide consequences.

TwoRatner made the generous decision to put this up for a community vote, with only one dissenter: Zilstreet.

Zilstreet pointed out the obvious criticism: wouldn't splitting a wiki for a single show between two different places make it confusing for casual browsers? What about characters that appear in both seasons? Was there a specific game plan?

This was met with a measured, thoughtful response from the administrators.

"When life gives you grapefruit, you make grapefruit pellets to shoot at your friends, because plastic pellets hurt." -HungerBunger, December 5th 2023

How dare Zilstreet not take into account HungerBunger's trauma and exercises in extending trust???

"It's very obvious. We clearly thought about this."

Indeed.

More users with suspiciously similar speech patterns chime in to support TwoRatner's proposal.

Interestingly, MotPot brings up jazz unprompted. Where have we seen that before? Honic Washington and The One True God 41, in Part 1.

Clearly, there must be a lot of overlap between jazz fans and D&D podcast wiki editors.

Marth8204 came out swinging, telling Zilstreet that they should be ashamed for having the audacity to ask questions about a drastic site change, but seemed pacified by TwoRatner's warning to "tone it down a bit."

TwoRatner imposed a deadline for users to vote on the change.

FunderStun also came out swinging- this time, against Gaycowboyrats (featured in Part 1) and... Amber Heard? Then they delivered this line: "There is no savior, so we have to be."

Again, poetry.

And again, I'd like to put a pin in the Gaycowboyrats reference.

Thus ended the split discussion thread, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Nicoh Watonshing seems to be referring to wiki security breaches. Was this an ongoing issue? Were admins getting hacked? If so, by whom? What could hackers possibly want from the wiki?

What happened between Brazil86 and TwoMarshall? What did Brazil86 do wrong? Are there any words in the English language that can strike as much fear in one's heart as "abnormally long Discord call"?

Note the TwoMarshall brother reference: this is very similar to references made by TwoRatner to a brother that died. How coincidental.

This period of forum volatility closely follows the themes established in Act 1: a strict, opaque sense of wiki justice, wiki moderator power as a status more important than wiki functionality, calling for more community engagement while largely ignoring community engagement when it happened, and making drastic changes in response to real or perceived wiki problems.

Here, we see more new administrator names pop up in the forums with similar styles of speech and occasional non-sequiturs, even after Honic Washington's (apparent) departure.

Here, we see new discontent in the moderator ranks- some apparent failure by Brazil86, and its severe consequences with TwoMarshall.

Here, we see two moderators (TwoRatner and TwoMarshall) with similar brother-related situations. Did TwoRatner switch accounts? Was this related to the alleged security breaches in the wiki?

Despite being active in the forums and wiki at large before this, Gaycowboyrats is now conspicuously absent except for the reference by FunderStun, who wants to remove Gaycowboyrats from his position of influence and "free" the fandom.

Has the Dungeons and Daddies wiki been subject to some kind of administrator security breach and subsequent overthrow, resulting in a schism?

Life seems to be giving this wiki a lot of grapefruit.

And when life gives you grapefuit, you make grapefruit pellets to shoot your friends.

Chorus:

A statement from Zil Street.

Interim attempts at community engagement by the administrators.

Stay tuned for part 3 tomorrow with the thrilling conclusion of the wiki split saga!

[isephierreo]

3H's UI Design

The title screen shows Sothis throne, in the game, Byleth sees Sothis throne between their dream of the War of the Heroes and their awakening by Jeralt. Which may symbolize that the scene of a throne is the first thing you will see before and after entering the game. The throne is also the place where the most important things happen, such as meeting Sothis, merging with her, and the events of Chapter 11.

After beating the game, Sothis is shown sleeping on a throne, this is similar to Final Fantasy XV, so spoilers for FFXV.

In FFXV, after beating the game, Noctis is shown sleeping with Luna/Oracle in a logo, mirroring the end of the game. It was the end of the game where Noctis sacrifices himself to save his world, and then sleeps in peace on his throne in the afterlife. This is similar to how we know in end of the game about Sothis sacrifices herself to save Fodlan and then went to rest on her throne in the holy tomb.

Player menus is a notebook Byleth carries with charms on it. Pages feature the country logo of chosen house, with the Church of Seiros logo on a page before choosing a house.

Besides a feather pen as a cursor, many ui are in the form of a set of papers; A plain papers, a papers with a Church of Seiros pattern and Sothis tiara, and a papers with a heart pattern in a corners cover.

The design of the options box is similar to a bookmark cards and the ribbon at the top left as a bookmark ribbon that is placed between pages.

With many ui somewhat similar to the sticky notes.

Roster's design is like a campus card, where characters stand on the ground outside a classroom when see roster.

Although the background varies depending on the floor it is on.

The cards and MVP also feature a unique frame for each house or story chapter you are in.

The lower and upper design of a banner that appears upon raising a professor level or passing a certification exam may look similar to a mosaic above a door, which may symbolize the opening of a door to new knowledge and experience gained.

The same theme is present in the banner when begin exploring or lesson plan, symbolizing the beginning of your journey of exploration and teaching others. However, there is no single for Battle, and this may symbolize that there is no benefit to be gained from battles and conflict, and this fits with the FE franchise's message that war is bad. Besides, each one has a color that distinguishes it.

The design of the Crest of Seiros and its various styles is present in most of the UI with the same, if not more, than the Crest of Flames, which is a constant reminder that Officers Academy is the same as the Church of Seiros.

There are many plant patterns that decorate the UI, which is a reference to the passing of the seasons, the meaning of the game's Japanese title. And you can see a branch of leaves on the right of the notebook, which indicates that the notebook has become more like your diary of your life in a monastery.

During a tea party, a screen is decorated with plant patterns with blue roses, giving the ambiance of a garden in which you are sitting. Along with a dialog box in the color of natural hot tea.

The date circle at the top left features four shapes for each season, rose for spring, morning glory for summer, grape vines for fall, and poinsettia for winter. However, during a period of war, the circles loses its colors and becomes grey.

In the background of the chapter title of within White Clouds, the same plants are present, with the background design as a white paper with the Church of Seiros logo. However, like the date circle, during a period of war the background becomes dark with sparks of war flames, plants change to holly and thistle, the Church of Seiros logo to the country logo of the chosen house.

The CF's background differs from the SS's in a red double-headed eagle with two additional black stripes.

And this brings me to the background title before the start of each battle. Unlike the background title in each new chapter, which looks like a new page being turned to record daily events, the background title of a battle is literally the cover of notebook, and this may symbolize something similar to the Battle theme above. Like the chapter title background, it features the Church of Seiros logo during White Clouds and changes to the country logo for the chosen house, with SS and CF sharing the same background.

Speaking of battle, before any start, Fodlan map will appear on a plank of wood. This is similar to what Claude did in cutscene The Academy, where he placed a map on a table and started discussing it.

Battle Prep looks like a clock + glass mosaic, and if you notice, it is surrounded by a magic circle that appears between roles of units. It looks somewhat similar to Mila's Turnwheel, and I know Divine Pulse sounds like shattering glass, but it can be interpreted as follows; A clock is set before the start of a battle, and the magic circle is used to set units' movement points, and when the time comes to use Divine Pulse, the clock glass is shattered, which appears as a portal to an almost parallel world to return to a specific point. Furthermore, the design where the Crest of Flames is located in the middle and surrounded by the rest of the crests is very similar to the Goddess mural. There is also a crescent inside which looks like a star chart, and this corresponds to the cutscene At Death's Door, where the use of Divine Pulse shows what looks like space.

Because we don't use a battle notebook, we use a key ring memo pad instead.

Despite all the praise I gave for the game's UI design, there were some things that disappointed me. Most notable is the Adrestian empire logo for Silver Snow.

I know that the developers called Silver Snow the empire route, but they had to design the UI to fit the Crest of Flames flag, which represents the route as a whole. They don't even reuse the MVP frame from prologue, even though it's very convenient for the route. Why do they design loungewear in line with the Crest of Flames flag but not with the UI?

again they using the Adrestian empire logo for the unique classes poster. Why didn't they design a unique poster for each route? Or make it neutral?

I wish they would change the plant patterns during the tea party in Byleth's room to match the ambiance like a garden.

After all, 3H's UI design is not as perfect or innovative and iconic as Persona 5. However, in this post I wanted to share what I found fun about designing it, and you can summarize it as follows: 3H's UI design represents Sothis, the goddess of the Fodlan world, and the core foundation of the Church of Seiros, which in turn built the Officers Academy where you begin your new life as a instructor to your students through the passing seasons of the year.

Of course, I did not include all the UI designs, perhaps because I forgot them or failed to know its meaning, such as magic circle when raising the level. So, feel free to add to this post if you have any ideas.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Dark Dynasty: Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: Rowena and Charlie work tirelessly to decode Nadia's codex to get the cure for the Mark. Meanwhile, you've stopped looking for your kids because you have a new agenda. Sam and Dean can't decode the book without Charlie. Kill their nerd kills all chance of getting that cure.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

Sam and Dean still have a case to do which involves a killer who jumped three stories out a window, leaving behind a victim with the eyes cut out. The office manager allowed Sam and Dean to come in and look around once he saw their FBI badges.

"Police told me no one was allowed in. That didn't mean the FBI, right?"

"The janitor came in right after the killing?"

"Yeah, he heard screaming. The janitor saw a man jump out the window and run down the alley."

"Running? After falling three stories?

"That's what he said."

"Is there security footage?"

"Yeah, sure. Only one of them caught any action out in the alley. That's the guy who rented the office."

The manager shows Sam and Dean the footage of the man landing on his feet like fucking Superman.

"That's pretty slick for a three-story drop."

"Wait a second. Can you play it again?" Sam asks. The manager plays it again until Sam directs him to stop. "Zoom in on his wrist." He does. There is a tattoo that looks just like the one Jacob had. "It's the same ink as the Stynes."

"How long was he renting here?" Dean asks.

"Just a month. I only saw him for a day or so."

"Alright, if you remember anything else, give us a call."

Dean hands over his car before both of them leave. He thinks about Rowena and Charlie and hopes that either of them is getting something done. Charlie is working hard on her iPad while Rowena is sitting at her table tossing chicken bones onto it. Cas is out getting something to munch on so it's just the two women alone.

"Damn it," Charlie sighs.

"That miraculous machine of yours hasn't solved everything by now?" Rowena fake coughs. "Overrated, I'd say."

"I'm using the computer to find some pattern in the book's coding or any synchronicity with the symbols in Nadya's codex."

"I'm more old-school. I read the signs nature shows me, the forces that ruled before there was man."

"Wow. Why didn't I think of that?" Charlie says sarcastically.

Cas enters carrying a white plastic bag with snacks inside.

"Okay, it sounds like blood sugar is dipping in here. I got snacks. When I was human, I grew very fond of these pork rinds."

"What do you know about the chick who wrote The Book of the Damned?" Charlie asks Rowena.

"Agnes was a hermit nun and as mad as a hatter. She made it her business to undo curses like the one that caused the Mark of Cain. As in any struggle between good and evil, balance is required. To cure one curse, Agnes had to know how to inflict another. They live side-by-side in the magic world. One cannot be without the other."

"Sure, sure. Like, uh, a binary system. So, I got to think like a hermit nun," Charlie nods.

"Did I mention they burned her alive?"

"They?"

"A cornucopia of curses and satanic visions did not go unnoticed by the church hierarchy. These men would not abide a rogue nun."

"Poor Agnes. Ahead of her time."

"Much like you and I," Rowena shrugs.

Charlie is shocked Rowena would say something like that and Cas walks away to put the snacks somewhere.

"I actually don't see our similarities all that much."

"Because you're young and good and I'm ancient and evil? Is that it?" Rowena glares. "Let me tell you about you. You've had a difficult and lonely childhood--Tragedy. Absent parents. Always outside the mainstream. Sexually progressive. Living in your own head for solace and direction."

"Yeah, but still, we are pretty different."

"I read you the minute I saw you. I'm sure you're learning that the line between good and evil is quite flexible, but we part company when it comes to blind devotion. Case in point the Winchesters. You've made them the family you don't have. Foolish."

"Sam and Dean are like my brothers. I love them. Y/N... She saved me. She made me own up to my own fears and saved me. She's more than just a sister to me... I'm not giving up on her. On either of them."

"This is it, the boss battle. Come on, we gotta save the patients," Charlie says, getting her gun ready.

"Charlie, you have to stop. You said we're stuck in a loop, and that loop is only going to continue. However, you're dying out there in the real world, and I might be too. Dean is alone trying to bring us back so you need to break the loop."

"Okay. How?"

"You gotta stop playing."

"What?! No, no. We gotta save them. Nut up, Winchester." A vampire punches through the door, but you use your magic to kill him. "See? You can't stop either."

"Charlie, listen to me. This poison is designed to put your mind into an endless cycle while your insides turn to mush, okay? Its fuel is fear. Now call me crazy, but I think the only way to break the cycle is to let go of the fear and stop playing the game."

"You don't know that."

She shoots another vampire trying to get in, but you take her shoulders in your hands and make her face you.

"Your fear is not to stop playing the game. It's not of the vampire soldiers. It's not of this game. You're afraid of losing her, Charlie. She's already gone."

Charlie doesn't want to believe that her mother is gone, but you have to convince her to let go of her fear.

"I didn't want to believe my dad was gone, either. I know you don't want to live in a world where your mom is gone, but by keeping her in this hospital, you're only hurting her. It's time for her to move on. It's the only way she can start to heal because it's the only way for you to start to heal."

"I can't," she whispers as tears fall from her eyes.

"My dad should have never gotten shot. I was the one who killed Dick's friends, and then I used the last of my Borax on Dick. He killed my dad because of what I did. Sometimes I feel like it was my fault that he got shot, but you did not kill your mom."

"No, you don't understand. You don't understand!" she cries. "I was at a sleepover, and I got scared. I called my parents to come and get me. They should never have been driving that night."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I just wanna tell her that I'm sorry and that I love her," she sobs. "I just need her to hear it again. I just need her to hear that one more time, but she can't. She can't."

"She knows, Charlie. Parents always know," you say, letting your tears fall. You hope Robert knows how much you love him, whenever he may be. "You have to let her go."

You let your arms fall at your sides, and Charlie looks at the door. The vampires continue to get in, but the minute Charlie drops her shotgun, they disappear; the hallway is empty. Charlie walks over to the bed where her mom is, and when she slides the curtains open, her mom is gone. Even your son is gone, but you know you're not ready to let him go just yet.

This is not your nightmare, it's hers.

Charlie knows the kind of person you are and she will not stop until you're back to who you were before.

"I know, and that steadfast loyalty will be your undoing, my girl."

The tension between the two girls only goes up from there and before Cas knows it, both of them are yelling at each other. Nothing is getting done because they don't know how to work with each other. Cas takes out his phone and calls Sam who answers on the first ring. Sam picks up his phone as he watches Dean try and fails to turn the chair into a desk.

"Cas?"

"Yeah, listen, we have a problem here."

Charlie storms away from Rowena and approaches Cas with an angry look on her face.

"Okay, I am doing my best, but with her criticizing, breathing down my neck, and trying to sign me up for Team Witch, I am going crazy."

"I know," Cas sighs.

"No, she is evil."

"She is a wicked witch by definition--"

"No, I mean something bad is going to happen here. Please, give me two hours or even one hour in any place that's quiet. Y/N and Dean are counting on me to get this one and I can't screw it up."

"Do not let her go off, Cas. Do you hear me?"

Cas looks at his phone and sees his call to Sam is still connected.

"Let me talk to Sam real fast." Charlie huffs out and goes back to Rowena. The bickering continues louder if possible. "I don't think I'm making myself clear. I've got a situation here."

"There's no way Charlie can go off by herself. Cas, there are dangerous people looking for her."

"Fine, I'll go with her."

"No, you can't leave Rowena there alone, either."

"Nothing is getting done, Sam. What do I do?"

Sam looks at Dean who slams his hand against the table in frustration.

"Why don't we trade places? I'll go there and you come here. Dean really needs you right now. He's trying to use magic but it's not going right. Do you want to switch?"

"Yes. I'd like that."

"Good, I'll be there shortly." Sam hangs up. "Hey, man, I'm going to switch places with Cas. He's gonna come here. He might be able to help you get in touch with Y/N... the real Y/N."

"Yeah, please."

"Okay."

Cas enters the Bunker an hour later to see Dean sitting at one of the library tables with his head in his hands.

"Dean?"

"Cas?" He looks up at the angel with tears in his eyes. "You gotta help me. I need to talk to Y/N... the real Y/N. She's in my head. Please, help me talk to her. I can't do this without her. I wasn't meant to do something like this. Please."

"Of course," the angel nods.

Cas walks around to Dean and places both hands on his head. His eyes shine blue as his grace pours into Dean's head.

The room you're in is almost completely white. Except for a few dark spots, you can see everything. There is not a damn thing in this room to entertain you with, and Dean hasn't stopped pacing outside the room. You can't escape so what's there left to do but sit here and wait for something... anything to happen. You're sitting on the back wall with a ball of blue magic in your hands. You throw it to the other side of the room only to have it bounce back to you.

That's what you've been doing. Playing catch by yourself.

You catch the ball and let it mist away with a sigh. You lean your head against the wall and look at Dean who suddenly has stopped pacing. He turns to look at you with tears in his eyes.

"Y/N?"

"Dean!" You get up and run to the door but the invisible wall stops you. "I can't leave here." Dean steps into the room and you fling yourself at him, wrapping your legs and arms around his body. You shove your face in his neck and cry happily. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you."

Dean lets you go and he looks down at you while tears are streaming down his cheeks. The love you just showed him is overwhelming. The damage you have done to him is evident in the way a simple hug makes him burst into tears.

"Y/N, you're here," he cries.

"What is going on? I've been stuck in this room for weeks."

"Try almost a year."

You step back with a gasp. "What? What's going on?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"We were going to fight Metatron. We tried but he was too powerful. Did we beat him?"

"No. He killed me," tears well in your eyes, "and because of that, I sucked your soul out of your body. You're inside my head right now. Your body is out there right now walking around without a soul. You have red magic and it's all very, very bad."

"What about our kids?" you panic. You grip his shirt and cry softly. "Tell me our kids are safe."

"For now but she wants them. Y/N, the things she has done. She--"

"I don't want to know," you shake your head and wipe your tears. "Dean, what are you doing here?"

"Your soul is locked inside my body. I've been purifying it for you because I turned into a demon when Metatron killed me. The Mark made me into that. I turned your soul completely black, but because I have your soul, I have access to your magic. I need help harnessing all that power."

"It makes sense," you nod. "She's chaos magic and I'm order magic. We cancel each other out. The only way to beat her is with my magic."

"How? I'm at a crossroads, sweetheart. I don't know what to do. I don't know how you did this."

"I did it because I had you, Dean. My love for you made it so." You walk over to him and grab the sides of his face. He closes his eyes and lets two tears fall down from your gentle touch. "When I use my magic, I don't use this," you point to his head, "I use this," you point to his heart. "I think about our kids and the love I have for them. I think about you and how happy you make me. I use love to fuel my power. All you need to do is clear your mind and let your heart do the talking. Once you do that, you can do anything you desire, and that includes taking her down. You're the love of my life, Dean," you sniffle, "and I believe in you."

Dean breaks down crying right in front of you. He grips your shoulders so make sure you're real and right in front of him. You reach up and wipe his tears away, and he leans into your touch.

"She's hurt you, hasn't she?"

"Yeah, she has," his voice cracks. "It's bad, Y/N."

"I want you to know something, Dean." You grab his cheeks and make him look at you. "No matter what she says or what she does, just remember I love you so much. You are my best friend, my husband, the love of my life, and the father of my children. There is nothing that I wouldn't do for you. I'd trade the whole world for a minute of your time. You are strong and brave and caring. I don't know what she said to you but just know my love for you is stronger than her magic. Please don't forget that."

You pull him down and kiss him with every bit of love you have for him. His tears mix in with the kiss but you don't care. He needs this. You need this. Now that you know what is going on out there, you're going to do whatever you can to help him.

"Do me a favor, Dean."

"Anything."

"Kick her ass and bring me home."

Dean is transported out of his mind and he rests his head on the table while he cries. Cas gets tears just seeing how broken Dean is right now. He puts a hand on his shoulder but Dean jumps up, eager to get this moving along.

"Dean, are you okay?"

"I will be." His face hardens and his eyes shine blue. "I can do this."

x

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[fundielicious-simblr]

Narrator: Claire also loves a good family round up, with the year she's had she must tell everyone all about it. The lady has finally married off her on-the-shelf daughter AND has 5 grandbabies about to join the family in the coming new year - the world must know.

Text under the cut!

Hi all, Claire here!

This past year has been full of examples of the Lord’s everlasting goodness, and we are so undeserving but nevertheless grateful! The Lord has seen it fit to bless us in so many ways! If I sit here and start writing them down this might be hundreds of pages long, so I’m going to tell you about a few.

This year has been filled with homeschooling, homemaking, and music - lots and lots of music. Conner and Jarrett graduate high school this spring, bringing an end to 27 years of homeschooling for me. How time has flown! They’ve grown into such wonderful young men and it makes this mama’s heart proud to see the men they’re going to continue to grow into! 27 years ago little Carter was my only student, with the rest of the kids following suit as they grew. At it’s peak I had 8/10 kids actively being taught, that season of life was organised chaos, but leaning on the Lord brought us all out the other side to praise him for his goodness.

This year has also been full of babies! This summer Kristyn gave birth to her second child, a boy she and Gregory named Wyatt. Wyatt joins older sister Kayla (2) and the happy parents at their home in Oasis Springs where they all joyfully serve the Lord as a family.

On the heels of her sister’s birth announcement, Sabrina and Tucker announced to to us that they’re expecting another blessing next spring! This baby shall join older brother Campbell (1) and is already so loved!

Almost a few weeks after the above announcement, Alan and his wife Tessa announced that they’re expecting and that its twins! These babies will be joining the family in the spring, soon after their cousin.

Not to be outdone by his siblings, Jarrod and Madison also announced that they’re expecting twins! I could’ve fainted right then and there! This makes 5 new grandbabies on the way in the new year!

The Lord has blessed the music ministry at Newcrest Baptist, we’ve had the pleasure to host music camps yearly where we’ve helped many to learn how to use music to praise the Lord. Our church choir has a travelling sector that will be invited to sing at various revivals, camp meetings, and hymn sings, so it’s been such an enriching time travelling with them and getting to sing the Lord’s praises.

Our family has been growing in more ways than one! Earlier this year Celeste met a young man named Reid Robbins. Reid comes from a Godly family in Northbury that we’ve had the pleasure of getting to know. Their relationship has been written by the Lord from the very beginning, they grew their friendship by challenging each other in their individual walks with the Lord, where soon after they started praying about each other. Soon after Reid was at our door asking to court our daughter! They’ve been such wonderful examples of respecting your parents and glorifying the Lord. Parents, let this be an example to show that raising your children in the way of the Lord is always the right way! We closed out the year celebrating their union in marriage with the Lord’s blessings, how great it is to see our children be joined in holy matrimony with the one that the Lord has for them! As we enter this new year, my the Lord bless and keep you all in his eternal memory!

Love,

Claire for the Paulsons

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Spawns Of The Lords In Black Chapter one

[We enter on the Honey Queen pageant coming to an end Christine the newely crowned Honey Queen. Bowing to the audience. Her blond hair matching perfectly with her crown. She wore a long pink dress holding a bouquet of flowers, waving to the applauding audience]

Christine: Thank you thank you!

[the curtains fall and in seconds, Nelson runs over to her and hugs his mom tightly]

Nelson: You won Momma! Your the honey queen!! I can't believe it my vision was real!!

Christine: Yes Nelson, we won't have to bet on Honey Queen contestants to get by anymore! Our lives are gonna change for the better and its all thanks to you!

[she kisses Nelsons forehead and ruffles his hair, Nelson laughs as one of the judges from before walks over to the small family.]

Roman Murray: I am very glad to see you win! Christine I've always had a good feeling about you! Now come with me, there's a ceremony you must attend the Honey Queen is the guest of honor!

[Later Nelson and Christine sit across from Roman, in the back of his Rolls Royce. The car drifts down an empty road they've left downtown far behind outside the night is pitch black, the Royce pulls off the main street and onto a dirt path.]

Nelson: Are we almost there?

Christine: Why is this ceremony in the woods?!

Roman Murray: Its tradition! One that dates back to the very foundation of the church!

Nelson: What church?

Roman Murray: The church of the Starry Children!

[Nelson gets an uncanny feeling of familiarity from that name. Like he's been there before.]

Roman Murray: They may be gone but through us they live on. You see the honey festival is more about an overblown street fair, and a silly talent show! It's about ringing in the season! The season of Nibblenephim!

Christine: What are you talking about!?

Roman Murray: You'll know soon enough,

[the car comes to a stop]

Roman Murray: just in time here we are!

[they step out of the car, Nelson stays close to his mom. As they walk outside standing around the car are a dozen figures they wear black robes, and silver masks. They bow to Christine and Nelson, who step back in confusion.]

Christine: What the hell is going on here?!

Roman Murray: It is said that when the Honey Queen is crowned she leaves Hatchetfeild forever. Onto bigger and better things, that's true in a way...She comes here for the offering!

[the cloaked figures part, beyond them is a clearing lit by a ring of torches. Illuminated by the firelight is a mound of mutilated pig carcasses.]

Christine: GOD THAT'S DISGUSTING WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU FREAKS WORSHIPING?! AND WHY WOULD YOU OFFER IT DEAD PIGS?!

Roman Murray: Oh no! Those pigs aren't the sacrifice, you are!

[Nelson stares in shock, his blood runs cold he grabs his moms hand and looks up to his mother she puts her arm Infront of Nelson, trying to defend her son.]

Christine: Nelson Were Leaving!

Roman Murray: Oh we can't have that! You see Nibblenephim the lord in black may walk upon the earth if he is given the flesh to inhabit! he's a creature of hunger desire and passion also the real father of this young boy!

Nelson: What is he talking about mom?!

Christine: I have no idea!

Roman Murray: Come boy, surely you know this woman isn't your real mother! Hell you two don't even look alike. Nibblenephim is your real parent. And he's scheduled to come any minute! And once when he arrives he must feast! Young man, your mother didn't win the competition because of her depressing ukulele act. She won because of everything else she was willing to do! She wanted it the most she was the hungriest!

Nelson: IF YOU LAY A FINGER ON MY MOM I'LL KILL YOU!

[Roman snaps his fingers, and Christine is grabbed by the cloaked figures they yank her arms behind her back and secure her writs with a zip tie.]

Nelson: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO MY MOM!?

Roman Murray: You stupid boy that's not your mother! Your merely a spawn of Nibblenephim!

[the cultists drag her towards the pile of gore]

Christine: NELSON!!

Roman Murray: Don't worry about your son! We'll raise him to be a worthy spawn of Nibblenephim!

[Roman grabs Nelson by the arm as he sobs]

Roman Murray: Boy stop crying! You'll embarrass yourself Infront of your father!

Nelson: LET ME GO!!

[He tries to pull away from Romans grip to no avail.]

Roman Murray: Farewell Honey Queen! Blessed she be thank you for this wonderful harvest!

[the cloaked maniacs throw her onto the ground, onto the mound of corpses. They chant words in a language long forgotten, Nelson watches in horror as the dead pigs writhe the skin bubbles and finally collapse. The corpses take a new form of a fury pink nightmare. Hundreds of pig teeth it forms a grotesque smile it grabs Christine, Nelson runs over and the cultists grab him. He manages to brake free from them, he rushes over to his mom he grabs the zip tie around her arms. He tries desperately to undo it, Nibbly scowls and claws Nelson across the face. He falls to the floor bleeding heavily, he hears a ringing in his ear he's about to pass out he hears his mom scream then a bone braking crunch.]

Roman Murray: Now look at the mess you made! Julia, take him in the church and clean him up!

[Roman then snaps towards a tall woman. With blood red hair waring a plane black tank top, and a long black skirt, she glares at him, as she reluctantly walks over.]

Julia: In the name of Pokotho! You don't have to fucking snap at me like I'm a dog! I'm right here, come on kid!

[she pulls Nelson on his feet and walks him over into the church]

Nelson: Where...Where's my mom?!

Julia: Your mom's dead! Hell she's not even your real mom! Those psychos adopted you out to that woman, cause they thought Nibbly was gonna devour you as an infant!

Nelson: So....So that pink monster is my father?!

Julia: 'fraid so kid!

[she then pulls out a first aid kit, and starts to bandage the wounds on Nelsons face. Nelsons shaking, sobbing and muttering incoherent words.]

Julia: You feel any better kid?

Nelson: Its stinging!

[Pain surges through Nelsons body as tears drip from his eyes.]

Julia: I know kid, it will go away soon come on there's some people who I gotta introduce you to!

[the two walk down the hall of the church, in the main room. There's horrifying stain glass windows which depict eldritch horrors like Nelson has never seen before. In the front were about five other figures sitting in the pews of the church.]

Julia: Hey, guys the sets finally complete! This is Nelson he's Nibblys kid you get acquainted with your cousins, I gotta go!

Nelson: Wait don't leave!

[Nelson calls out for Julia to stay, but she doesn't hear him. He nervously walks past the pews trying hard not to look at the cursed stain glassed windows. He considers making a run for it through the forest, then a short girl dressed in blue ran over from the pew, she was sitting at and up to him.]

Paulina: HI! I'm Paulina! Or you can call me Lina if you want! I'm Pokothos daughter! Wow are you really the spawn of Nibbly!?

[she excitedly asks, Nelson nervously nods his head.]

Paulina: WOW! That's SO cool I always thought Nibbly ate you as a baby!

[a tall person dressed in purple, and waring sunglasses walked passed the pair scrolling violently through their phone.]

Paulina: Iris! Nibbley's spawn is alive!

[they shoot up their middle finger up at Paulina, without even looking up from their phone.]

Iris: Fuck off Paulina! I don't care about some newbie bitch!         

[they storm away, looking as if they've been greatly inconvenienced] 

Paulina: don’t worry about them! They’re dad abandoned them here when they were ten now they hate everyone!

Nelson: Oh that’s terrible, are all our dads such deadbeats?!

[Out of no where a taller girl who looks to be about 17 walks up behind them.]

Wanda: So your the new guy huh? Hey I'm Wanda!

[She's dressed in all green, waring an expensive looking tank top. And a varsity jacket with a W sowed onto it, she had short curly green hair waring a crown on top of her head.]

Nelson: I'm Nelson

[Nelson feels timid around her, but he doesn't know why. She scans him up and down like she's looking for something.]

Wanda: Damn for Nibbly's kid you surely are a skinny bastard! Also to answer your question from earlier, yes all our dads are shit! They all just kinda dumped us off here one day, and only visit when it's convenient for them!

Paulina *laughing nervously*: Don’t listen to Wanda, she lies about this all the time! My dads not like that, he loves me!

Wanda: (leaning over whispering to Nelson) Poor Lina's, convinced her dad cares about her!

Paulina: HE DOES!

Wanda: He left you for that random guy who doesn’t even like musicals!

Paulina: HE DID NOT LEAVE ME! HE LOVES ME!!

Wanda: Name the last time he came to visit!

Paulina: HE’S JUST BUSY

 Wanda: Yeah busy fucking Paul Matthews! 

[Paulina starts sobbing but instead of tears a weird gooey blue liquid drips from her eyes. Nelson is about to ask why Paulinas crying blue slime but is automatically cut off, by two figures dressed all in yellow running around and laughing hysterically disappearing in and out of reality]

Nelson: WHO THE FUCK ARE THEY?!

Wanda: Oh don’t worry about them their, Tinkys kids Gadget and Gizmo. They mainly follow their dad around we don’t see much of them.

Nelson: Why are they disappearing!?

Wanda: They can go back in time! They like to make major historical inconsistency's to fuck with the minds of historians they seem insane but their harmless!

Paulina *still crying*: But didn’t they start World War 3

Wanda: Oh yeah.

Nelson: They did what?!   

Wanda: Yeah they’re very proud of that, you’ll hear a lot of bragging from them about that! 

Nelson: And you guys are just okay with that?

Wanda [shrugging]: Yeah!

Julia: Alright guys Roman Just told me that ya'll need to head to your rooms!

Paulina: But-but its the honey festival!

Julia: I mentioned that, but he said that he didn't care. Ya'll need to go to your rooms or he's gonna be pissed!

Paulina: aww....

Julia: Come on Lina,

[Paulina reluctantly takes Julia's hand, Nelson nervously follows the two as they walk down a long hallway. With six different colored doors.]

Paulina *sleepily*: But Julia! I'm not sleepy

[she passes out Julia picks her up and turns to Nelson.]

Julia: Let me tuck her in, then I'll show you your room okay?

[Nelson slowly nods as Paulina quietly sleeps in Julia's arms. Julia opens the blue colored door and softly laid Lina down in her bed. quietly closing the door behind her.]

Julia: Okay kid follow me!

[They walk further down the hall to a bright pink door.]

Julia: Okay here's your room!

[Julia noticed that Nelsons shaking, he's barely standing she looks down at him and goes down to his level.]

Julia: Listen kid, i know that today is probably the most traumatic day of your life...But it's gonna be alright just hang in there okay?

[she smiles at him, Nelson looks like he's on the verge of crying. He tightly hugs Julia as he sobs. She hugs him back while his cries grow louder. They stay there for what felt like twenty minutes, when Nelson pulled away his eyes were red, and Julia's shirt was tear stained.]

Julia: You feeling any better?

[Nelson sniffs, and wipes a tear off his face.]

Nelson: Yeah..

Julia: Good, the church probably moved all your stuff into your new room so you don't have to worry about your possessions . Good night kid I'll see you in the morning!

Nelson: Good night!

[Nelson looks at the door he notices the pink lollypops and swirls carved into the door. He nervously turns the handle and steps in the room. In there is a twin sized bed, with pink bedding topped with a bright pink fuzzy blanket. Nelson crashed on the bed and stared at the pink celling trying to not cry again. He couldn't believe he had lost everything he ever cared about. He wanted to wake up, he whished he could turn back time, to stop himself from ever even telling his mom about his vision. So everything can go back to normal, then he remembered what Wanda told him about the twins. Nelson then started formulating a plan, in his head he'd borrow whatever the twins used to go back in time, and stop his mom from ever entering the contest.]

[pxrplebxtterfly]

Yes Father (1/2)

gifs belong to me

18+

Pairing: Sam Winchester’s alias Father Frehley x fem reader

Warnings: SMUT, (d)ubcon, priest kink?, innocence ruined kink?, mentions of God and religion, mentions of death and murder, handjob, fingering. (Sorry if I didn’t identify the warnings correctly. I tend to just write without thinking of what things are called.)

Summary: Two junior priests visit your church and you’re tasked with giving them a tour of the chapel. You take a liking to one and meet him later that night at the church.

Word count: 3.3k

Notes: This fic was written in a FIRST PERSON POV!!! This is the first part of a two-part fic about Sam’s alias Father Frehley. This first part takes place during season 1, episode 14: Nightmare. Anyways, thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy!

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

I’ve always been a believer. Always. I go to mass every Sunday and always help out where I’m needed.  

I have a myriad of jobs to do at the Church. Sometimes I hand out book bags for the kids to look through, or other weekends, the coffee and doughnuts for the parents, just devoting my time to the Church.

One Sunday, I’m handing out said coffee and doughnuts after the final service of the day, when two new priests walk into the lobby of the church. They’re dressed in black suits with white roman collars, marking their priesthood. 

They’re listening to Father Padrick; one of the priests at my church, and asking him questions. They follow him in through the doors and make their way closer to my little table.

They’re handsome. Probably the most handsome men I’ve ever seen in my life. I almost choke on my breath when I see them. One in particular is a mountain of a man; broad shoulders, chestnut hair, and misty hazel eyes. He looks pensive as Father Padrick speaks to him.

Approaching me, Father Padrick says, “Hi dearie, this is Father Simmons and Father Frehley”

The blonde one nods first, and then the brown haired one. His eyes stay on mine for a moment too long. 

“Gentlemen,” Father Padrick continues, “This is y/n. She goes to the university in town and volunteers here every Sunday.”

“Nice to meet you” I say timidly and stick out my hand to shake theirs. Father Frehley quickly grabs a hold of mine and squeezes it gently. His bear paw of a hand envelopes mine and the dry warmth sends a shiver down my spine.

“It’s always good to see fellow young people helping out the church” Father Frehley says to me, kind eyes making me smile.

“Fellow?” I ask him. He doesn’t necessarily look old at all, it’s mostly just his frame that makes me think so. 

He smiles and says, “Yes, I’m only twenty-three, still new to the parish”

Father Simmons must have seen my enchantment with Father Frehley and interrupts my thoughts saying, “I’m also new, and young, just for the record.” He chuckles awkwardly and I nod my head in slow agreement.

“Anyways, would you please take these two on a tour around the church?” Father Padrick asks.

“Of course, follow me” I say softly.

I walk in front of the men, leading them towards the large wooden doors that lead into the chapel. 

“So, have both of you come to join the clergy here?” I ask, dipping both my fingers in the small dish of holy water as I enter.

“Uhm no, we’re actually junior priests over at St. Augustine’s, however we were close with Father O’Malley and are in town for the weekend for his funeral” Father Frehley says mournfully.

When I hear him mention Father O’Malley I quickly turn around to watch them both make the sign of the cross. 

Father O’Malley was another priest at my church, who was murdered in a sadistic and bizarre way a week ago outside his home.

“Oh gosh, I didn’t even think to connect the dots. I’m so sorry for your loss. I didn’t know him as well as I know Father Padrick, he mostly did services during the weekdays” I say and hang my head in sorrow.

“It’s okay, we just wanted to come take a look at where he devoted his time and talk to others that knew him” Father Simmons adds.

I nod, “I wish I could tell you all about him, but unfortunately I don’t know what to say, he was a very secluded man”

Father Frehley smiles warmly, understanding what I mean and continues, “Did Father O’Malley pick up any strange habits or behaviors recently?” 

“Not that I can think of. I’m sorry, was something wrong before his death?” I ask, wondering why such a strange question was asked at random.

“Well that’s what we’re trying to figure out” He responds. 

I hum and fidget with the hem of my cardigan as we make eye contact. Father Frehley licks his lips subconsciously and they glisten just like his eyes.

A rumble of heat echoes from my private parts and I look down at my shoes, struggling to figure out what that sensation was.

“Everything okay?” Father Frehley asks.

I shoot my head up and realize he’s closer to me now, leaning in with concern. “Oh yeah,” I laugh, “just feeling a little sick or something”

I don’t know why my heart has started to beat fast, or why my mouth is suddenly dry. Was I afraid of him? Did he excite me?

“Well, we’ll let you get home, but if you remember anything about Father O’Malley and his death, or you even just feel strange, call us, okay?” Father Frehley says.

I bite my lip as our fingers touch when he hands me a small card with his number on it. 

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

I’m pacing back and forth in the living room of my small apartment, trying to calm the panic inside of me. My stomach is churning and my body racked with anxiety as images of Father O’Malley through my mind. The uncomfortable adrenaline from thinking about the death of a person I knew, was eating away at me.

I’m cursing at my own brain and decide to walk to the next block and pray at the church. 

I grab the keys to the church and head out.

I approach the doors of the building and stick the key in. I fidget with the key but realize that the doors are already unlocked. I open the door quietly, assuming it’s Father Padrick completing future sermon plans. 

As soon as I’m inside I realize the doors to the chapel are open and see the flickering of prayer candles lighting up the room. Dark shadows bounce off the walls and it’s eerily silent. 

I continue further into the chapel and see someone sitting on the steps of the altar. Moonlight shines through the ceiling of glass and windows of stained glass, to illuminate the brooding figure.

I squint and quickly recognize exactly who it is.

“Father Frehley?” I ask, and walk towards him. 

His head shoots up in surprise.

“How’d you get in here?” I continue.

His face beams as he recognizes it’s me. He sighs as I approach him. “Promise you won’t tell Father Padrick?”

“That depends on how you got in,” I say teasingly.

He scoffs with a grin, claps his hands together and says, “I picked the lock”

My eyes widen and a smile spreads across my face as I laugh about his entrance strategy. This giant of a priest, broke into a church and didn’t even seem to be repenting.

“You could have just asked me for a spare key” I grin.

“Oh yeah? And what are you doing here?” he asks.

I blush at his interest, “I just came here for a moment away from life’s anxieties” 

“Sounds like we both could use a break” 

I look down at him inquisitively. His eyes are sparkling up at me. I watch him stand up and take a step towards me.

My stomach flutters and that strange rush returns to my privates. I let in a sharp breath, shocked at the sensation.

“What do you mean?” I ask eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“I’ve just been stressed lately, and could use a stress reliever. You’d be surprised at how interesting and hectic my life is. All that chaos can really do a number on you, you know? Stress takes on all sorts of physical forms in your body” he elaborates. 

“Like what?” I ask and tilt my head, curious to see if he continues.

“Well, for instance, pain,” he pauses, looks at me and bites his lip. I can tell there’s thoughts and ideas brewing in his head. “I’m actually experiencing some pretty bad pain right now” he sighs.

“Where? What happened?” I immediately scan his body, looking for any signs of pain.

“Earlier today I was on a date, and my date had a job that she didn’t finish… Which has left me with a tremendous amount of tension and soreness” he says, and places his hand on his crotch.

My eyes go big yet again at the sight of a large bulge in his pants.

“A date? I thought priests weren’t allowed to date” I step back.

“I mean a date as friends silly,” he explains. 

“Oh, I see” I nod and feel stupid for jumping to conclusions. 

He squeezes the rod in his pants and closes his eyes for a second, as if he’s trying to imagine something.  

“Is that where it hurts?” 

“Yeah, it’s really sore and hurts real bad”

“Is there anything I can do to help Father?” 

He lets out a shaky breath when I say his title. His hand begins to rub over the bulge, back and forth. “There is something,” he says, “you could give me a special massage”

“Of course Father, anything to help” I say and reach for the bulge. He grabs my wrist before I’m able to place my hand on him.

“Hold on a sec, let me get comfortable” he whispers.

I nod, agreeingly; the perfect massage requires the perfect position. He leads me by the wrist to a pew in the first row and sits me down right next to him. 

As soon as we’re sat, I reach over and place my hand on his large bulge and rub my hand back and forth just like he was.

“I’ve never given anyone a special massage before, so will you tell me if I’m doing it right?” I ask, looking into his darkening eyes.

“Of course baby, let me pull my pants down so you can get a better grip” he says.

The pet name ‘baby’ sends another odd wave to my privates.

Father Frehley pulls his pants down and something large springs up.

“This is my cock baby, it hurts really bad. The only thing that’ll make me feel better is if you touch it” he begs into my ear.

I nod and he places his huge hand over mine, and brings it to what he calls his cock. 

“Yeah just like that” he praises, wrapping my hand around him. “Now move your hand up and down and don’t stop until I tell you to.”

I follow his instructions and begin to move my hand up and down. He’s moaning and huffing while he looks into my eyes, watching me work.

“Fuck honey, you’re making my dick feel so good” he seethes.

Before I can even think, he reaches for my face and kisses me. I know that kissing is wrong but I don’t pull back because I don’t want him to be mad at me for disobeying him, and because it makes my privates flutter again.

I continue to pump at his dick and his hips begin to thrust into my hand harder and faster, so I apply more pressure and quicken my pace. My hand and arm are sore but he hasn’t told me to stop so I continue. I just want to take his pain away.

As we kiss, his hands pull slightly at parts of my hair and push at parts of my face. One of his hands finds my neck and wraps around it gently. Warmth spreads through every vein in me.

His kisses become sloppy and his tongue is exploring my mouth. I traverse his mouth with my own tongue as well and the heat between us increases. His tongue circles mine, leaving me breathless. His moans become louder the faster I pump my hand. His cock is throbbing, and his hips are stuttering into my fist. 

With a sudden “Fuck” from his lips, I feel something warm splatter on my hand while I jerk at his dick. His whole body tenses and then relaxes with the release of the fluid. He wraps his hand around mine and slows my pumps, eventually making them come to a stop.

“Fuck baby, you’re amazing, look at what you did to me” he smiles intoxicatingly as his lips pull away from mine. 

“Did that- did that make you feel better?” I ask shyly. 

“So much better, you have no idea” he shakes his head and laughs.

His laugh and the weird warmth and sensations in my privates causes my hips to roll forward uncontrollably. 

“Sorry,” I apologize for the spasm.

“Oh don’t be sorry, is everything okay?” he asks, his face scrunched with worry.

“Well, I don’t know, I think so, but I feel funny,” I confess.

“Where?” he asks, and doesn’t break eye contact with me.

The funny feeling only increases, “Somewhere embarrassing?”

“Embarrassing? What do you mean?” he asks.

“Well, I’m not supposed to talk about it. It’s impolite and crude” 

“Oh, I see what you mean…” he smiles and nods, understandingly. “Does it feel all fluttery and hot?”

My face grows bright red, and I whisper, “How do you know that?”

He laughs softly and says, “I wasn’t always a priest”

I don’t really understand what he means but I bunch my hands into fists as I catch him biting his lip, and his eyes scanning down my body.

“It’s only growing worse isn’t it?” he asks.

I suck in a deep breath and nod.

“Do you want me to help you with it? I can make you feel all better” he breathes out so tenderly. 

He’s so close to me, for the first time I can really smell his cologne and hear his breathing.

“H-how? A special massage?” 

He nods; traces a finger up and down my arm as he asks, “Will you let me touch you?”

“You mean, down there, where it feels funny?” 

He nods again and looks like he’s about to devour me. I’m shocked at his request. Nobody has ever wanted to help me feel better by touching me. 

“And if I let you, it’ll make me feel better?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. If you let me, I can make you feel really good” his fingers ghosting my waist.

“Are you sure?” I whimper. The heat from his body and touch fuel the sensation in my privates.

“Mhm” he says and kisses me softly. 

Something in me ignites as he pulls me against him and slips his tongue in my mouth. His hands run up my back and hold the sides of my face as he plunges his tongue into my mouth. His kisses slow and he lets out a low moan as he pulls away.

“Sit on my lap” he commands.

I don’t question this for a second and immediately sit on his lap, my back pushing against his torso. He places his hands on my stomach and begins to run them up and down my torso. Father Frehley is right, this does feel good.

With caution, he moves his hands up to my breasts and I moan. I didn’t think that a touch on my chest could stir such a feeling in me.

“Let me help you baby” he coos against my neck. He begins to kiss, and suck, and lick at my neck, making me dizzy. His hands have somehow undone my bra and taken my sweater off. He's massaging my breasts, running his fingers over my nipples, tweaking them occasionally. I can’t help but whimper and moan from his touch. My hips begin to buck, like they have a mind of their own.

“God look at how needy you are” he groans into my neck.

His hands finally find my privates and he rubs his hand over my mound. My hips continue to move, grinding against his hand.

“How can someone so beautiful never have been touched?” he mumbles.

Continuing his kisses on my neck, he pulls my skirt up and rips my tights. I squeal from his impressive action and watch as his large fingers pull my panties to the side and touch my hole. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet” he melts into my ear.

His fingers gather the slick that drips out of me and brings it up to the most sensitive part of my privates. 

I moan as he circles that spot slowly and he says “This is your clit. When I touch this, it makes you feel better doesn’t it?”

“Yes Father” I mumble, already addicted to whatever this feeling was.

Father Frehley groans at my obedience and applies more pressure. He’s skillfully rubbing at my clit and I feel a strange tightness increase in me. It’s like a balloon of pleasure slowly blowing up inside of me. 

As soon as it feels like it’s going to pop, he pulls his fingers off of me. My hips stutter in the air, aching at the loss. I whine at the stop of the sensation.

“Shhhhh, I know honey, you’re doing so well for me. But now I’m going to put my finger inside of you” he whispers.

He does exactly what he says. I feel one of his thick and long fingers slide into my hole. I immediately clench around it and moan from both pleasure and discomfort. 

“God you’re so fucking tight” he whines. I don’t even recognize he’s taken the lord’s name in vain.

He lets me take a second to adjust to his finger inside of me, but then begins to slowly drag it out and back in. Each time he plunges his finger back in, I moan. He begins to pick up the pace and also starts to move his finger while it’s inside of me, hitting a sweet spot against my walls. I feel a tear roll down my cheek as his finger curls and continuously brushes that sensitive spot. 

“Look at your tight, virgin cunt, trying to push my finger out,” he hisses.

His finger feels so good, prodding that perfect spot in me again and again and again and again. 

With time he adds another finger to me and picks up his pace. The palm of his hand rubs against what he calls my clit, and it feels so, so wonderful. His fingers are flicking back and forth in me, vibrating against that tart spot, making my eyes water.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl, taking what I give to you. Want you to make a mess all over my hand baby” he moans.

His words kick my hips into action and I begin to grind up against his hand even more. 

With one hand pinching my nipple and the other slamming into me, the balloon of pleasure that had been building, bursts. A wave of fluttering and blinding sensations hits me and I’m thrown into a different universe. I think I see God and hear angels singing.

As the tide of this sensation goes out, I’m once again back in the church on Father Frehley's lap. His fingers have slowed and so have his kisses on my neck. 

“Look at the pretty mess you made” he whispers and slowly drags his long fingers out of me. I moan at feeling and at the sight of his glistening hand. 

He cups my mound gently and kisses me on the shoulder. He brings his fingers up to my mouth and says “Taste yourself sweetheart”

I obey and open my mouth to let his fingers slide in. I suck and taste the nectar I’ve made. With a pop, he takes his fingers out of my mouth and says “Good girl”

I lay in his lap just catching my breath, looking up through the glass ceiling at the stars, trying to rationalize what I just experienced. Almost as if he can read my mind he wraps his arms around me comfortingly, and kisses my shoulder gently. 

“You did so well baby” he whispers.

[ferdieinceladoncity]

I have two million circling thoughts about 'milagro' and no confidence that I can get them out of my head, but it was so intensely interesting I feel like I have to try.

First of all, the most "this was quite obviously written by a man with little to no care or understanding of Not being a man" episode that I have seen so far. To the point that it smacks me over the head. No woman would act like this: you would run, so so far, the second a guy like that entered an elevator with you.

The scene in the church is incredible in terms of how it was acted. The resigned realisation of "god, he's that kind of creep. That's the kind of man he is. He's infatuated with me." the way she starts to cry, overwhelmed with the emotion of it all- the fear, knowing she's in very real danger. It hit me right in the gut.

I do understand what they were aiming with in terms of her character and her infatuation with Padgett. It's not news that Scully is a little bit fucked in the head (as kind as I can put it) and morbid curiosity drew her to his apartment (and, putting her possibly in the running for Stupidest Person ever, self destructive tendencies or not, drinks something he makes her) but the whole scene is almost *too* much. Like. Scully. You cannot be doing this. Possibly the actual scariest/most infuriating scene in the x-files that I've seen.

Then again, I keep yelling that there's no way any woman would be foolish enough to act like this, but she's not a very normal woman. Sorry, it's true. She runs headfirst into these moments of possible self-destruction stemming from her own severe insecurities over whatever her relationship is with Mulder, the circumstances and uncertainty and longevity of which would probably drive *me* a little crazy, especially off the tail end of all the drama of season 6, Diana and all that. I'll do this, I'll get myself into this awful situation, and maybe you'll have something to say about it.

To that end, I'm at odds with wether this is really so 'out of character' or not. I hate to see it. But it makes sense. We can't all be perfect and we certainly can't all make good choices.

Mulder in this episode (because I feel like I should dedicate a paragraph to him even though he's not front and centre) disappoints me a bit. I have at this point read a lot of other reviews of this episode on Tumblr and reddit and heard people praise how "protective" he was, "jealous" was a word used, and generally a lot of focus on the shippiness of this episode, to which I can't agree. He infuriated me just a little. I appreciate that he was down to slap Padgett in the cell and I appreciate that he went to the effort of stealing letters to find his name and all, yet when Scully first talks to him about Padgett after the church scene, telling him he's the one who gave her the milagro and he was frightening, all he has to ask is "do you think he's the killer?" not "are you okay" or anything of the sort. Yes, I know Scully's not the kind of person to really appreciate that. She can hold her own, or she'd like him to think so. Still. From *my* perspective, and this is *my* write-up, and *my* Tumblr blog. And I think it's a bothersome thing to say. Also, I roll my eyes at mulder referring to sex as "the naked pretzel." What's with this guy and censoring himself like he's writing a tiktok comment? Actually, between this and "the wild thing" back in genderbender, maybe he just has some crazy hang-up about referring to scully having a sexual encounter (real or imagined) in a serious context. Interesting.

...That paragraph ended up being longer than my other ones. Loss for feminism on the post that I specifically started because I was fuelled by feminism.

"Agent Scully is already in love" should be for all the world a gleeful revelation and I was quite excited to see it, as I'd heard about this scene long before (MSR gifsets was what drew me here in the first place. I'm shallow like that.) But scully has been so kicked around this episode, stripped of privacy and dignity in every sense and this has been exposed to Mulder and everybody else, that it only makes me sad, because I do wish that Padgett would stop talking to her completely and stop getting around in her head like this.

The end scene just kills me, where the killer breaks in and grabs at her heart. She claws at Mulder's back when he embraces her with such fierce desperation and what I can only assume is a very, very deep well of regret. She doesn't shy away from him caring for her: she needs it.

[mimisempai]

I want it to be an "us"

Summary

As Metatron prepares to take him back to paradise, Aziraphale bids farewell to the quiet, precious life he had built for himself. But can he really leave when everything around him reminds him of the one he's about to leave behind?

Notes

I was destroyed in a thousand pieces by the end of season 2, but I've rebuilt myself with this fix-it story. Opening of a new series that will revolve around Crowley and Aziraphale and the people we've just gotten to know. See you on the other side.

On Ao3

Rating T -  2230 words

"You idiot. We could have been... us."

What?

Crowley.

He was walking away.

Aziraphale turned away when suddenly two hands grabbed the lapels of his jacket and Crowley's lips pressed against his.

Aziraphale no longer knew anything.

Or what was happening.

Or where he was.

He wanted to pull his hands down, but at the same time, he didn't.

Suddenly, Crowley's lips parted from his and the demon stepped back. As Aziraphale tried to catch his breath, Crowley stared at him blankly.

What was he going to say?

What had he said the last time?

Oh, yes.

"I... I forgive you."

Crowley sighed and started to turn around before heading for the door, whispering as he opened it, "Don't bother."

Throat tight and gasping for breath, Aziraphale wanted to call out to the demon, but couldn't get a word out. He raised his trembling hand to his lip in shock at what had just happened.

He dropped his hand and tried to control himself. 

He took several deep breaths when suddenly the sound of the door opening made him turn his head to see Metatron enter. He turned to hide his face.

Metatron asked, "How did he take it?"

Aziraphale turned and replied, "Um, not well," and giggled to set the tone. But there was nothing joyful about that little laugh.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Muriel watching them through the window as Metatron walked toward him, adding, "Ah, well, always wanted to go his own way. Always asking damn stupid questions, too."

As Metatron spoke about Crowley, Aziraphale's eyes couldn't help but drift back to the chair where he and Crowley had sat across from Muriel a few days ago.

Metatron was close to him now and continued, "So, ready to start?"

What? Already?

Aziraphale, his throat tightening even more, looked around and began to stammer, "I... But, um... my bookshop." 

Metatron replied, "Yes, well, for now I've entrusted it to Muriel, so it should be in good hands."

Muriel.

He watched as they waved their hand through the window.

But Muriel knew nothing about books.

Aziraphale replied weakly, "But..." 

Metatron interrupted and asked, "Anything you need to take with you?"

Aziraphale looked around once more, and as he turned his head, his gaze fell on a particular spot on his beige jacket, just below his shoulder.

"Look at the state of this coat. I've kept this in tip-top condition for over 180 years now."

Crowley turned and looked at the stain as Aziraphale continued to grumble, "I'll never get this stain out."

Stopping in front of him, Crowley said, "You could miracle it away. Hmm..."

Aziraphale said in an unconvinced voice, "Yes, but...well, I would always know the stain was there." He turned his shoulder to Crowley and continued, "Underneath, I mean."

Crowley approached him quietly, leaned slightly to the side, and blew gently on the blue stain, which disappeared at the same time as the red stain on the demon's chest.

Aziraphale, touched, smiled and replied softly, "Oh, thank you," meeting the demon's gaze, which returned the smile.

As Metatron waited for his answer, Aziraphale's gaze drifted to his bookshelves. His precious books.

Aziraphale stood amidst the rubble of the church, with the sound of people screaming and sirens in the distance.

He took off his hat and held it to his chest before saying, "That was very kind of you."

The demon replied in a dry voice as he put his glasses back on, "Shut up.

Aziraphale insisted, "Well, it was. No paperwork, for a start." then suddenly gasped before exclaiming, "Oh, the books. Oh, I forgot all the books! Oh, they'll all be blown to..."

He didn't immediately notice Crowley, who bent down and snatched a bag from the hand of one of the Nazis emerging from the rubble.

The demon handed him what he recognized as his book bag and said gently, "Little demonic miracle of my own. Lift home?" before continuing forward under Aziraphale's amazed gaze.

Aziraphale's gaze continued to wander, coming to rest on the bottle of scotch and the two glasses on the small table at the back of the shop. 

The waiter poured champagne into Aziraphale's glass in the elegant manner inherent to the Ritz, then thanked him as the waiter poured for Crowley and, taking his glass, the angel said gently, looking at the demon, "I like to think none of this would have worked out if you weren't, at heart, just a little bit a good person."

Crowley picked up his glass and continued, returning his gaze, "And if you weren't, deep down, just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing."

Aziraphale smiled shyly, looked down as the demon clinked his glass against his own, and said softly, "Cheers. To the world."

Aziraphale clinked his glass against Crowley's and replied, "To the world."

The angel and the demon exchanged a lingering look and smiled before taking sips from their glasses as the pianist beside them played softly A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square.

That certain night

The night we met 

There was magic abroad in the air 

There were angels dining at the Ritz 

And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square

"Well?"

Metatron's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Aziraphale shook his head.

"I heard it."

Metatron raised an eyebrow, "Heard what?"

Aziraphale's eyes slid to the window, through which he saw Nina crossing the street with a coffee, probably on her way to Maggie's shop. 

Then he saw him.

Crowley, leaning against the Bentley.

Aziraphale, heart pounding, replied, "The nightingale in Berkeley Square."

The angel saw Metatron for the first time wearing a confused look on his face as he asked, "What?"

This being would never understand music, the soothing smell of books, the softness of a sweet crepe on the palate, so Aziraphale did not answer him, but simply said, "I have decided to decline your offer. Crowley -if he is willing to forgive me- and I are on our own now. Here. With humanity. With all those beings you consider inferior."

Metatron's face hardened.

He said coldly, "Very well, let's see if you and Crowley will be able to protect mankind from what's about to happen."

But Aziraphale no longer listened to him and made his way to the front door of the store. In his haste to cross the street, he was nearly hit by a cyclist coming from the left, forcing him to step back.

"Angel! Watch out!"

Crowley.

His voice.

Always watching over him.

Even after the way Aziraphale had just hurt him.

So he motioned for him to join him.

He saw Crowley hesitate, so he just gave him a little smile, his throat tightening and his heart pounding.

Crowley nodded and walked toward him.

Aziraphale opened the door and they entered the shop. After a few seconds, Aziraphale took a few steps and hummed, "You were right, you were right..."

He hadn't seen Crowley come forward.

The demon raised his hand and said in a hoarse voice, "No, angel, not this time. It's going to take more than a little dance."

The distance between them had narrowed. Aziraphale was suddenly aware of Crowley's physical presence before him. The kiss came back to him, but he pushed it out of his mind. 

Not now.

Not yet.

He took a step toward the demon.

Stopped.

Raised his hand and let it fall.

Reached out again until they were almost touching.

Aziraphale gently raised his hand again and moved it to the demon's face, which didn't move. He grabbed the glasses and gently removed them. He was so close that it was impossible not to see the unshed tears that made the yellow eyes glisten.

Aziraphale murmured, "Oh... Crowley... I am so, so sorry. It... It... it was just now, as I was leaving, that I realized. When Metatron asked me if I wanted to take anything. I looked around, and... all I saw was you. And... I think I finally understood. Or... or starting to understand... that I... that I... damn it! Why is it so hard!"

Aziraphale sighed in frustration. Why couldn't he say what was in his heart, now that he knew? He had to. For Crowley. For himself.

He tried to go on, "Forgive me. All these years... not seeing what you wanted me to see. But I did. Just now, and I... I..."

He gasped, for Crowley had just dropped his head on his shoulder. Aziraphale froze again, not knowing what to do.

Crowley murmured against him, "It's all right, Angel, I understand."

But Aziraphale shook his head, he couldn't let Crowley take all the responsibility again. All of it. Otherwise they would do it all over again. 

And Aziraphale didn't want that.

"No, Crowley. I have something I want you to hear. I may not be able to say it well. I... It may take me a long time, but I want you to hear it.

Crowley murmured, "Okay... "

Aziraphale felt the tears well up again, and this time he didn't try to hold them back, wiping his eyes, once, twice. 

Suddenly he felt hands on his shoulders and Crowley said softly, "Angel, it's okay. I'm listening. I'm really listening."

"Ear... earlier, when you told me how you felt, when I rejected you like that, it was terrible and... and I knew it wasn't right and... but... but it was just that I was afraid, as always, afraid to move. And also that I was protecting myself, but I didn't have to..."

Aziraphale felt like his words had no shape or form, but he wanted so badly to convey things properly to Crowley that the words jostled each other on his lips. They were not well-chosen words, not even a nice confession. 

"Crowley, I... I want there to be an us, too. I do. Us. I want you to be the most important person to me. I want to be the most important person to you. Call you for no reason. Eat crepes with you looking at me and me eating a lot, like always. I want to do all the things that I don't know yet that people do when they're together and I want it to be the most natural thing in the world. I... I..." Tears choked him and he could no longer speak, " Us... Us..."

Suddenly, he found himself pressed against Crowley's chest, and the demon whispered into his hair, "I get it, Angel. I get it."

Aziraphale had his hands in the air and whispered against Crowley's chest, "I want..."

"Yes?"

"I want to hug you back, may I?"

Crowley murmured, "Go ahead."

Aziraphale put his hands on Crowley's back and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed. And Crowley squeezed him back and whispered, "Yeah, Angel... yeah..."

Aziraphale squeezed harder.

Crowley whispered into his hair, "It's endless, isn't it?"

Aziraphale nodded against Crowley's chest. 

The demon whispered into his hair, "Let's become us. Us." 

Aziraphale, unable to speak, nodded again, and they remained entwined in the middle of the bookshop for long minutes.

When they finally let go, they couldn't take their eyes off each other. Aziraphale said softly, "I... about... you know... what... happened earlier, I... I don't think I'm ready to finally... you know?"

Crowley smiled softly and placed his finger on the Angel's lips, "It's okay, Angel, as always. At your own pace."

Of course, as always. 

Aziraphale hoped that one day he would be able to walk at Crowley's pace. Not yet. Not now. But one day he would.

He nodded and asked, his voice still hoarse with emotion, "What do we do now?"

Crowley leaned forward and brought his lips to the Angel's forehead before asking, "Is that okay?"

"Go... go ahead."

Crowley pressed his lips gently to the angel's forehead. Not for long. But long enough for Aziraphale to feel the loss the moment he stepped back.

Crowley said softly, "I'm sure you've got a nice bottle of champagne somewhere. And since I'm not sure I can go to the Ritz in this state, let's celebrate here. He took the angel's hand, and Aziraphale tightened his fingers on Crowley's, hesitantly at first, then more firmly, as he led him to the table where they usually shared a drink. He made the angel sit down and, after planting another quick kiss on his forehead, went to rummage through the bottle stash. Aziraphale couldn't help but bring his fingers to the spot where Crowley had pressed his lips and, blushing slightly, withdrew them sharply when the demon returned.

Crowley conjured up two flutes and filled them with the sparkling golden liquid before sitting down beside Aziraphale. He took his glass and clinked it against Aziraphale's, murmuring, "Cheers. To us."

Us.

Aziraphale, smiling softly, replied, "To us."

The angel's eyes came to rest on the gramophone. He smiled, raised his hand slightly, and suddenly the warm voice of Tori Amos filled the room.

Crowley gasped slightly as Aziraphale asked, "Do you hear it?"

Crowley nodded, "Yes, I do, Angel."

The Angel's hand slid across the table and came to rest on the Demon's as he said in a clear voice, "I hear it too, Crowley."

I may be right, I may be wrong

But I'm perfectly willing to swear

That when you turned and smiled at me

A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here

[all4yourupertgrint]

Season 3 Part 2 Rant

So I've been ruminating on how I feel about the second half of the new season. I felt very underwhelmed and disappointed with the writing and editing. Similar to the first half of the season there was sooooo many sideplots that detracted from Polin's love story.

My real issue though is sparked by a lot of comments online saying that they didn't think Colin and Pen had chemistry. Rewatching episode 6 is struck me that yes, it might appear that way... because they never have any scenes together after the beginning of episode 6!!!! We don't get to see them in love, we don't get to hear their flirty banter, see their intimate touches and stares. We dont get to enjoy them being engaged. Episode 6 we have Colin giving Pen an engagement ring. We have them in the church (two BEAUTIFUL moments) and then there is zero Polin until the Mondriches ball.

This is where the directing and writing and editing screwed them over.

1) We have Penelope enter and Portia asking where her groom is. Cut to Colin, instead of dashing to her side, kissing her hand, telling her he's been waiting to see her- Colin's off complimenting Will on his party 🥲 Later we see them dancing but they didn't show how they got together. They are the main couple, why this wasn't a priority and we get MORE Francesca I do not understand.

2) Again dancing, they have a cute moment, they talk but they are both distracted by Cressida entering. The writers failed to build up this rising tension in either of them so it feels flat. Why didn't they have a scene prior to this of them promenading or Colin calling and him discussing how Eloise has promised to put a stop to Whistledown? Something to point to the fact that Pen AND Colin are both super invested in LW drama.

3) WTF happened when they handed out the pamphlets for WD? Colin and Pen were dancing together and suddenly they are on opposite sides of the room... Pen has all this time for a convo with El and apparently leaves to go to her printers and is like ✌️out. Why couldn't they have put a scene with her making lame excuses to Colin about leaving, make him suspicious that something is going on. Have a shot of him deciding to follow her in the carriage. (The I thought you'd been abducted by your driver's was such a weak story line to throw out there). The writing just feels very lazy.

Idk if they had included these few small moments leading up to the Whistledown confrontation at the end of 6 there would have been way more chances for romance and rising drama.

The last 3 episodes seem to follow the same pattern of just missed opportunities for scenes that would have fleshed out their love and chemistry a little more and help drive their plots. It makes you wonder what ended up on editing floor or if it was just a bunch of idiots who hated Polin that wrote the scripts.

I'm just annoyed.