#me as i draw this: why the hell did i make her wear a bird mask with beak this shit is so hard

[gomzdrawfr]

hands off

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

More Lodgers! I think Mosley is my favorite of this batch, both pose and design-wise. I'm drawing them in order of introduction, and it's almost like a cool little Easter egg hunt looking for different angles and full-body panels of characters that don't show up a ton.

(Edit! I updated the drawings, it not matching the other set was bothering me)

Thoughts under the cut again

Back at it again with the goggles and gloves! Except for Mr. Griffin which is interesting. Could be for lots of reasons, like pulling descriptions from The Invisible Man, or maybe his work doesn't require a lot of physical risk, or maybe they just didn't want all the Lodgers to feel too samey. He's still aligned with the Lodgers aesthetically through the apron, which Bird also wears. Neat! I'm very entertained by the different types of eyewear too. Some have goggles, some have binoculars, and some have layers of magnifiers like jeweler's glasses (of course I always think of the Toy Story 2 scene). I'm sure some of them have super specialized equipment too, like Maijabi probably has some sort of spectral filter lens or something.

God what I would give to pick Sage Cotugno's brain about some of these designs because I am fascinated by Mosley. They technically didn't have to go through and give each lodger such a strong sense of personality but I adore that they did! Mosley in particular reminds me of Mole from Atlantis, with the scarf and the multi-layered goggles and the digging. And Helsby wouldn't be out of place at the Benbow Inn! Know that I mean this as incredibly high praise, I could talk about the designs in Treasure Planet for days. Point is that both those movies have an incredibly strong visual identity, primarily through the character designs and architecture, and this comic feels the same way to me.

My personal favorite rogue scientist is next up! I love her design so much and I'm so excited to draw her. Also, how in the hell do you end up with "make spy bugs" as your job?? And where can I sign up?? Miss Flowers please

Mosley has my favorite pose but Griffin has my favorite face. Look at him. Grouchy bastard

I realize that I've been labeling all the Lodgers as "doctor" but it's entirely possible that some of them probably don't have doctorates. Y'know. The thing that makes you a doctor. Then again Frankenstein dropped out of college and we all call him "Dr" so I don't see why these fine people shouldn't get the same respect! Dunno if this applies to Victoria Frankenstein though. She's crazy enough to have also finished college while all the other shit was happening.

(yes I know that Frankenstein technically had all the knowledge and the expertise and was miles ahead of literally everybody else and only dropped out because he was busy proving that death is merely a temporary state and God means nothing in the face of human ingenuity and all that, but the bastard still didn't graduate and also he's an asshole so I'm gonna pick on him)

[deathmetalunicorn1]

I think it would be really cute if someone calls Eri is ‘Apple Blossom’ because those are the flowers that turn into the yummy apples she loves (Lucifer or Charlie from Hazbin Hotel)

-You were considered an…usual citizen of Hell, mainly because you didn’t belong there. You belonged in Heaven, but someone was able to kidnap you from Heaven and spirited you away to Hell, hiding you there.

-You managed to slip away one day, running, trying to do whatever it took to hide away from this scary man who had a bird like head, who was torturing you for your unique abilities to rewind things, a healing ability to put it simply.

-It was Charlie who found you, thinking you were adorable, and Vaggie immediately knew that you had been taken from Heaven, telling her girlfriend and the two agreed to hide you at the hotel.

-Needless to say, the other residents of the hotel were quite shocked to meet you, as you were such a sweet and gentle child, despite the pain and torture you endured.

-Angel immediately took you out shopping and when you came back you were wearing matching outfits, as he said you had to always look fabulous!

-Husk did his best to avoid you, not wanting to taint you by accident, but he was surprised when Angel didn’t. Husk always makes sure you have juice, never letting you have any booze, and he will sit there and let you pet his wings, trying to ignore your sweet words on how fluffy he is!

-Niffty adores you, finding you to be the cutest, most adorable thing in existence and she loves when you ask if you can help her in the kitchen. You can always help her, but she makes sure you stay away from the knives.

-Charlie became like a big sister to you, doting on you, teaching you everything she can, which also includes musical numbers, much to Vaggie’s ‘amusement’ but she’s very protective of you.

-Vaggie is like a guard dog with you, she knows that the one hunting for you is still out there, and she isn’t willing to risk your life or safety in the slightest. Vaggie lets you play with her with hair all the time, as Charlie has been teaching you how to braid.

-Alastor was very apprehensive about being around you, he would always send you to one of the others, not willing to deal with you, mainly because he had no idea what to do with a child. He wasn’t mean to you or anything, he would just pat your head softly and tell you to go find Charlie or whoever was in the area.

-You were peeking around the corner, holding something to your chest, looking for the Radio Demon himself, wandering the hotel’s public areas where you’ve seen him before.

-You spotted Alastor up ahead and your eyes lit up, a little smile coming to your lips as you trotted after him.

-Alastor heard your little footsteps, “I thought I heard someone following me. Are you looking for Charlie?”

-You shook your head, “I was looking for you Alastor.” He seemed surprised by your words, bending at the waist, looking a bit menacing but you weren’t bothered, “Oh and why is that my little apple blossom?”

-Your eyes went wide at his words, sparkling lightly before you held up what you were carrying, a crayon drawing of Alastor, holding it out to him, “I wanted to give you this since you’re always so nice to me!”

-He was a little confused, not remembering being nice to you, as he would always send you away, but such is the innocence of a child as he took the drawing, seeing that you did your best to capture his essence.

-His wide smile never left his face as he leaned over and patted your head again, “Thank you Y/N.” you beamed up at him before you scurried off, going back to your drawing supplies so you could make one of Angel next.

-Alastor couldn’t help but look down at the drawing, feeling something, he wasn’t sure what it was, in his chest, as he returned to his tower, pinning the picture on the back of his door before moving to the window.

-What an odd child you were.

[funky-sea-cryptid]

ough okay hi everyone i'm finally fucking posting callakirsch for lyra's 1k halloween event @blackclover-emc

interactions are welcome but don't feel pressured :3c

word count: 704 words

pairing: kirsch x oc (calla m. eucidot)

summary: calla and kirsch go to a halloween ball, and calla is nervous about it.

“For the last time, it’s not a costume party,” Calla said, getting out of the carriage. “There’s no need to dress like that, you know. You’re going to embarrass me in front of God and everyone at this god-damned ball.” 

“I look fabulous,” Kirsch said, delicately lifting his cloak as he followed his husband out into the snow. He was wearing a peacock themed mask, which would’ve been fine if he hadn’t themed the entire rest of his outfit around the bird. Calla took a deep breath in, and counted to ten, silently begging whatever God had informed his husband that it would be a good idea to dress like that would bless the rest of the party with that opinion. He tugged at his blue-green suit. The necktie had too much pattern. 

How the hell had Calla gotten roped into this?

It was a sort of crisp night, making the little magical lights outside the venue sparkle. Calla felt distinctly uncomfortable. He was nervous about noble venues, and the last time he’d been to one of these, it had been before Sherry was born, and he’d been too nervous with anticipation that someone would start talking or mention him, that he’d had no fun at all. 

Speaking of Sherry -

“Are you coming out, Sher?” Calla asked, and then his child stuck her head out of the carriage, grinning. Their copper-gold hair had been pulled into a low braid, threaded with peacock feathers and he had managed a very fancy suit-dress combination. 

“You look very nice,” he said, and kissed his child on the cheek. She giggled. “Very fancy.” 

“Thanks, Dad. Why are we dressed as peacocks again?” Sherry asked, and Kirsch lit up. 

“Well, I’m the squad captain,” Kirsch said. “We have to represent the Squad, of course!” 

“Dad was a Praying Mantis,” Sherry said. “Why don’t we dress like bugs?” 

“Hey, yeah,” Calla said. “Why didn't we dress as bugs? You wouldn't have had to dress up.” Kirsch gasped so loud that half the arrivals turned to look at them. 

Great start. Calla adjusted his bow tie. 

“I’m gonna go see if anyone cool’s in attendance,” Sherry said. “I’ll see you guys inside!” With that, they bustled off, lifting his skirts. Calla swallowed. 

“Are you nervous?” Kirsch whispered. 

“Now you gain emotional intelligence?” Calla whispered back. Kirsch sniffed and pulled his cape tighter around himself. “Well. None of my friends go here. It’s all a bunch of high society - and y’know, Sherry -”

“Sherry’s going to be fine,” Kirsch said, and offered an arm. Calla took it, clinging to his husband like a lifeline as they headed toward the venue. “And you’re with me, so you shouldn’t worry.” Kirsch tossed his hair. 

“God, right, I’m with you,” Calla bemoaned. “And you’re dressed like a bird. Nozel Silva is calling, he wants his aesthetic back.” 

“You are so cruel to me!” Kirsch gasped, and Calla laughed at the comical expression on his face. 

“You’ll survive my cruelty, y’know,” he said, and Kirsch huffed. 

“Nobles and royals are crossing the class divide more,” Kirsch said, and Calla bit his lip. “You’re not going to be out of place.” 

“I guess,” Calla said. “But y’know, I’m-” 

“You look like you fit in,” Kirsch said. “Because we match.” They did. Matching set. Plus, Calla loved teal and he didn't have to wear pink. “You’re going to do great. And if we make it through,” they made it to the top of the stairs, to the door. “We’ll go to one of the common realm’s parties next year.” 

“Deal,” Calla said, and leaned up for a kiss. Kirsch delivered, whipping a cocoon of blossoms around them - meant for privacy but just drawing more attention to the both of them. The gesture was nice. 

“Mr. and Mr. Vermillion?” the poor doorman said, and Kirsch dissolved the cocoon, holding out their invitations with his free hand. 

“Sorry about him,” Calla said. “It’s Kirsch-” Kirsch gasped again, and Calla squeezed his husband’s arm. 

“Our child’s inside,” he finished. 

“Welcome to the party,” the doorman said, and held open the door. Kirsch smiled at him, and Calla swallowed, took a deep breath, and smiled back. 

I’m going to have a good time.

[djsherriff-responses]

Could you explain why idolomantises’s designs fall flat like vivs designs? Just wondering because I love hearing anything character design related lmfao

Oh me too! I could talk about character designs all day!

I think while having very different styles, idolomantises and viviziepop’s designs both suffer from characters who don’t communicate what the character is or reflect the given world building (sometimes they’d just don’t fit at all?)

Vivziepop overcompensates this by having characters with ridiculous amounts of details that usually muddys whatever the concept is, not helped by her preference for thin body types and colour scheme of “red, red and MORE RED”

idolomantises meanwhile just, goes with the most obvious and generic direction without considering any visual symbolism that one can do with more finer details, or if there is detail it doesn’t actually add anything

Sera and the angels are a good starting point here in that Sera is the one with the most obvious Angel design with rings floating (I personally think the bird and cat look more Egyptian than anything else, though that’s not an actual design issue here)

Now I will say having Sera’s eyes being in her rings while her actual face is blank is clever but besides that? They’re all just wearing very thigh revealing dresses/robes with random golden bands , the ones on their thighs has got to be painful. Sera has the worst in that her skin and clothing are the same shade of white , so her skin just blends into her outfit

Which seems very conflicting with the fact that 1) Angels/Heaven’s views are so very anti sex that they place kissing and cuddling next to kink acts

And 2) Sera is so awkward and inexperienced with sex as a concept that Lili , her wife, laughs at her for being awkward about kissing her (I also do not like Lili but I’m sticking with design criticisms for now)

“Skin tight , flowy and thigh revealing robe with thigh bracelets” does not at all communicate that about Sera’s character or her environment. I don’t think you have to dress the angels as nuns to properly communicate their anti sex views, and a little fan service isn’t entirely wrong either . I think one could easily write out the conflicting thigh lore with an excuse that angels don’t see the naked body as sinful, and thus only a sinful pervert would think exposed thighs was sexual! But from what I’ve seen that isn’t the direction idolomantises is doing

But taking inspiration from both classical paintings and modern fashion, there was more that can be done with Sera and other angels besides “put a chalk white character who is very awkward with sex in a chalk white robe that high lights her thighs!”

Giving the angels revealing designs also makes the contrast between heaven and hell weaker as both angels and demons end up having similar design elements wow that sounds kinda familiar

Ignoring my own personal feelings about her, Lili’s a decent design in that you look at her and immediately go “ah yes, sexy demon lady”, she is straight to the point

maybe too straight to the point

See, Lili’s design isn’t an issue until you compare her to how idolomantises draws environments in hell and how he designs other demons

You know , for someone who’s well know to be critical of Vivziepop, you’d think he realise how much he is also guilty of over using red

”well , demons are from hell what did you expect?”

Idk, maybe some better values?

Oh, notice how the pink demon actually sticks out more than the main character?

I unironically prefer Mara over Lili and it’s weird she (or least her pink design/palette) wasn’t (used for) the main character considering her pinkness and Sera’s white and gold palette make the lesbian flag

Which is literally the logo of the comic these characters are from

[this-isnt-how-you-play-the-game]

I LOVE MOTHER 3 and i love the main three villain bads so i figured i might be using this blog mor. why not post a piece from a small while bacck. im probs doing better now but i dont think this sketch is SO Bad. i mainly did this one to practice eyes, a grueling task but it turned out that the interpreter's eyestyle is the one that began to stick to me. ill probably figure out how the hell to draw new fassad in the future... im stil learning...

some design(headcanon(?)) stuff id like to elab on for fassad:

fassad wears the vest n clothes hes known for when blending in with the villager,s, but when he is out doing more nasty work for master king p he uses a more army-fit uniform. i also like to think he has a cape similar to the colonels but capes and jetpacks dont go good together

big nose

i coulda probably made his horns bigger here. or maybe theyre better off a little smaller? big horns adds to the menace ngl

i didnt realize how many people DONT do the pigsnout hat button thing but apparently most?? i started doing it at some point and now it just feels right

chimera fassad no longer needs to appeal to the villagers because as far as they know he is missing, so being a chimera means he gets to go harder with the evil villain look. serpent-like robo eye included.

chimera fassad also has a more scruffy screwed up stache

hes a short fat fuck. that doesnt change much here

has a pretty feminine looking face. hes a magypsy. maybe he also still has magypsy habits? ionia says they need makeup to use psi so maybe fassasshole secretly wears some very hard to see lipstick

^^or maybe its more a thing about how the makeup makes them feel and the horns make him feel beautiful which is why he can use psi??? lore

thick bushy eyebrow(s) that look scary when hes mad just like the funny angry bird

and as a bonus, some headcans for ms interpreter:

has that 60s woman hair

overall mood: nerd

would do the anime glasses flash

the weird lamp thing on her head lights up and dims down depending on how tired she is and she is often a very tired robot

anyway, this art was actually a little while ago so im really just dropping it to dump a bunch of fassad/interpreter headcanons here. mother 3 is my favorite game. fassad is a super underrated villain for carrying the first five chapters and his dorky interpreter's design i always really found endearing. who knows??? maybe ill redraw?...

no one nose

[quicksilverdrabbles]

In the Dead of Night...

Azazel: *gasps, sitting upright in her bedroll*

Gore: *snoring quietly, still tucked into his*

Azazel: ...

Thalmor Justiciar: Over here, this way.

Azazel: ...? Elven.. Altmeri?

Thalmor Wizard: You're sure? This looks like an average vagrant camp.

Thalmor Justiciar: Positive. Our tip seemed very insistent that these were Talos worshippers.

Azazel: Talos worshippers..?

Thalmor Wizard: Summon the others, then. Leave no survivors.

Azazel: *gasps* Gore! *backs away from the tent opening, feeling around for where he is on the ground and shaking him frantically* Gore! Get up!

Gore: Hmn- Nn- Wha-

Azazel: Get up, you oaf! We need to get out of here!

Gore: Az-? Wha-What's going- OW! Mmf! *gets slapped in the face by Azazel's hand, a quiet 'sorry!', and then silenced by the same hand covering his mouth*

Azazel: Shh!! *points behind her towards the rising sounds of the Thalmor*

Thalmor Wizard: What was that?

...

Thalmor Justiciar: Probably a pair of lovers. It is that time of night.

Thalmor Wizard: Ill-fated lovers.

Justiciar/Wizard: *snickers*

Gore: *eyes widen, grabbing Azazel's wrist and pulling her hand away from him* We need to go.

Azazel: Where??

Gore: Across the border. We're close enough to slip through into Falkreath if we can avoid them here.

Thalmor Justiciar: Ugh, but I don't want to have to kill half-naked humans. Phynaster forbid they are fully undressed.

Thalmor Wizard: Leave that tent for last then, you prude.

Azazel: ...! Wait, I might have some invisibility potion-

Gore: You just had those the whole time??

Azazel: Lass like me kind of needs multiple options, just take the stupid potion!

Gore: Wait hang on- *grabs his sword, tearing a hole in the back of the tent and peeking out to make sure no one was around* We go out here. Come on. *takes the potion from Azazel and drinks it, disappearing*

Azazel: I have no idea what you just did, I hope you know. *drinks her potion and disappears*

Gore: Just- Come on! *grabs her hand and pulls her out of the tent. Cries rise up all around the camp, and smoke begins to rise from the tents closest to the edge*

Azazel: Oh Gods, I smell smoke-

Gore: Keep going. We gotta head north.

Azazel: Right.

Gore: *takes the lead, pulling her through the forest thicket towards Skyrim*

Azazel: *trips, stepping on a branch, the invisibility potion wearing off just as the loud crack echoes through the forest*

Thalmor: Hm? Did you hear something?

Gore: Shit. *grabs Azazel by the shoulders and redirects her in a certain direction* Keep running this way and you'll get across the border to Falkreath. Keep going, and don't stop until you feel the sun rise. I'll find you.

Azazel: Wait what are you doing-

Gore: I'm gonna buy you some time.

Azazel: That's ridiculous! Gore, you can't-

Gore: I can, and will. Hurry and go!

Azazel: Wait-

Gore: *shoves her forward, pivoting on his heel and drawing his sword at the three Thalmor that step out from the shadows* Go!

Azazel: *gasps, hearing the Thalmor's laughter*

Thalmor Wizard: Found the lovers.

Thalmor Justiciar: Gross. Just kill them and be done with it.

Azazel: Gods- just don't die! *turns and runs in the direction Gore pointed her towards*

Gore: Hah. What do you take me for?

~

Azazel: *hunched over with her hands on her knees, panting. Feels the warmth of the sun on her face* Sun's up... *swallows, wiping her forehead and standing straight* ... And I have no idea where I am. Lovely.

...

Azazel: I hope I'm at least in Skyrim. Don't think I went the wrong way, at least... *sighs, trying to listen for anything unusual* ... Why is it so quiet? Where are the birds?

Thalmor Justiciar: *from afar* Come on now, that mutt couldn't have gotten far!

Azazel: !? How the hell do they keep doing that??? *turns and runs, her feet catching against roots and branches against the ground* Son of a- I've got to find Gore.. *lifts her hands in front of her, conjuring a small blue orb between them, casting Detect Life in one hand and Clairvoyance in the other* If he's alive, lead me to him.

~

Gore: *laying on the ground with his leg caught in a bear trap* ... Y'know, I can't honestly say I'm surprised anymore.

snap!

Gore: ...! Who's there? *raises his head and glares into the woods* ... Whoever you are, better come out now, s'wit, or else I'll-

Azazel: S'wit? That's rich coming from the man I presume to be laying on the floor.

Gore: Azazel!

Azazel: What are you doing down there? You weren't sleeping, were you?

Gore: ... I'm stuck.

Azazel: Stuck?

Gore: Stuck.

Azazel: .. On what, exactly?

Gore: A bear trap.

Azazel: So.. you tripped over it?

Gore: No you idiot, it caught my leg!

Azazel: ...

Gore: ...

Azazel: *snorts* And you call me the idiot?? How did that even happen?

Gore: Would you just shut up and help me-

Azazel: Fine, fine. Bite down on something, this is gonna hurt. *kneels down and feels for his leg, her touch light as she skirts over the metal and takes a hold of it* Ready? One.. Two..

Gore: Three. *grunts, wincing when Azazel pries the trap open* Ow.

Azazel: Quit being such a baby. Here. *helps him stand up, leaning him against a fallen log* Take a rest for a sec while I heal this.

Thalmor Wizard: This way, hurry!

Azazel: ... *sighs* Or not. Guess we gotta do this the hard way. Stay here.

Gore: Are you crazy?! I can fight, just-

Azazel: Sit. *a streak of magic forces him to the ground* I'll handle it.

Thalmor Wizard: I found them!

Azazel: *turns towards the sound of the three Thalmor, dark green scales bloom across her face and neck as she activates Dragonskin and flames gather at her fingers* You'll really wish you hadn't in a moment.

[thelightningthatjumpsbetween]

Forty Eight

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

The surprises didn’t stop coming after Ethan’s ‘conversation’ with the BSAA agent.  

Heisenberg steered him into a large bank branch, where amid all of the Romanian words, Ethan picked up on some of what was transpiring.  A land development fund allocation.  Not the bank’s funds.  The funds left by Miranda.  It was a vast amount.  He knew part of it was for the power restoration in the valley, but wasn’t the government handling most of that?  

The bank teller seemed to catch on that Ethan couldn’t keep up, and amid paperwork signing, asked Karl, in English, “So, what are the plans-a business, as it is a commercial account?  Will you need assistance finding contractors?” 

“We’ll draw plans up by spring, let you know,” Karl replied amiably.  His very American accent startled the banker.  The engineer stroked his beard and added nonchalantly, “Plans’re up to the wife.”  

Ethan turned sharply, wondering what in the hell Heisenberg was referring to, but the man thumbed at him cheekily.  “That’s the wife.” 

The banker laughed, confused, as Ethan’s face burned.  

—---------

Evie had her first ice cream with Ethan, Rose, and Donna in attendance.  As Ethan dug enthusiastically into his milkshake, Evie said in a deadpan, “The lady behind us in line was wondering why you weren’t holding Donna’s hand.  She thinks you two are our mom and dad,” and caused the blond to almost choke.  Donna turned red, an exceptionally rare feat, and Rose laughed.  So it appeared that his earlier ‘reading’ of Redfield was accurate…those infected, with enough power, could pick up on thoughts of others, even humans who weren’t infected.  

After the ritual of ice cream, Ethan said amid a racing heart, “Evie, if you want to call me your Dad…I’m okay with that.” 

“Really?  Even after…all the bad stuff…?”

“Sure.”  Why did that make him so nervous?  But then, he’d been nervous about taking care of Rose as well.  Ethan just supposed he took the title of ‘Dad’ seriously.  Which made sense, as his own had disappeared in his youth.  “You don’t have to, but you can.” 

“I think you’re a good dad.” Was she responding to his statement, or to what he was thinking?  

—---------

His next surprise was at the group meeting spot; Ethan and his small entourage approached the fountain at 6pm, the agreed time.  The blond’s gaze turned to tunnel vision when he saw a hunched figure, wrapped in multiple black shawls, tossing something onto the cobblestones for the birds.  But they were…crows.  

Time slowed; the grain leaving her hands cascaded in slow motion.  He heard the crackles as it landed, saw the black glinting eyes of the corvids as they pecked.  Ethan stared back at the figure, willing it to turn around.  He knew that when it did, it would be the hag…Miranda.  She straightened, her back still to him, and a familiar musical laugh soared toward him.  It was the same laugh he’d heard in January, in the Potter’s field-the mass unmarked grave of the village.   He moved to  stand in front of Donna.  Rose was in her stroller, Evie was holding his other hand.  Ethan pivoted so he was in front of Evie as well.  Donna pulled the stroller back and peered where it was that Ethan stared, but she seemed to miss the figure shrouded in black.  

Crows littered the entire area.  Most people walked by them without seeming bothered.  When he heard cawing, Ethan realized they were on the nearby statues and building ledges as well.  His gaze again went back to the hag.  She turned and he prepared for the pale eyes. 

And yet when she turned, it was a different woman.  She wasn’t wearing black, she had on a bright red and yellow shawl.  She smiled a toothless smile at Ethan before turning back and pouring more grain out.  To pigeons.  Pigeons were in the square.  He blinked rapidly.  

“Ethan, are you all right?”

“Did any of you see that?”  He half turned, his voice low.  He looked at Evie hopefully.  Even she shook her head in confusion.  “The pigeons were….crows.  That woman…she looked like Miranda.  Only for a second.” 

“I believe you,” Donna said simply, “But we didn’t see it.”  She gazed at the woman, and then back to the blond.  “But your eyes, Ethan…they were…”

“Dark,” the child finished.  

—------------------

It happened again after the train ride home.  

The regional train out of the city was old, creaky, rusty.   The combination of metal and motion lulled Heisenberg into a peaceful nap, and he sprawled out on a long window seat with Donna under his head, Moreau under his feet.  Ethan felt nervous, as if he were being watched the entire time.  He was trying to busy himself with anything other than what was on his mind; the strange encounters of the day.  He now had a phone, and only knew two phone numbers to put into his contact list. 

So he put them both in, hoping they were right, and sent the same text. 

Hey, it’s Ethan.  This is my number. 

He looked around at his makeshift family, wondering why he felt so uneasy…the morning train ride had been uneventful.  The buzz from his phone startled him.  

Hey Ethan! You finally got a phone! Welcome to the future.  Zoe. 

Copy that.  You sure your boyfriend wants you texting me?  Chris.  

He rolled his eyes at that and began a response.  Soon he was chatting with both, avoiding the topic of Eveline to Zoe, and feeling far more normal than he had in awhile.  

Eventually they reached their stop, a rural station that had no amenities and a dirt lot.  The pair of vehicles they’d driven out here were in the lot, waiting on them under a lone streetlight.  Ethan should have felt relief at seeing the old reliable vehicles, but he couldn’t shake the feeling.  As he stepped onto the platform and gazed down the row of doors opening, he saw a familiar face floating past all of the unaware passengers.  

It was Miranda.  She smiled at him, a nasty smile, and time seemed to slow around Ethan again as he watched her.  

Time’s almost up, he heard in his mind.  Was it her voice?  

“Papa,” Heisenberg said idly, putting a hand on the small of Ethan’s back.  “Let’s go.” 

“I-I saw-”

“I believe you,” Heisenberg said without a pause, “Don’t give it any attention.  Let’s get home.”  His soft voice did nothing to console the father, who scowled at Miranda one last time before leaving.  

—--------------------------

Ethan’s Journal

September 24

I have a phone!  It even gets service at the house, which has already annoyed Heisenberg.  

We had a great day in town.  I saw Chris, or rather, Chris dragged me into some diner to yell at me about bringing the lords back, I guess.  It ended better than it could have.  Not only did I get to finally tell him how I felt, but he understood, I think.  

We got a lot of what we need to start bringing this place back onto the grid.  Plus Evie got her first ice cream…on a cloudy day in September.  I guess it’s perfect.  

Heisenberg and Moreau are going to try their hand at this ritual/surgery to get the crystal fragment out of Donna’s body tomorrow.  I know they’re not saying it, but they’re nervous.  Well, Moreau is always nervous, but he’s the only one who ever saw it done and he knows what to do.  I don’t even want to know how many surgeries Karl has done but since it’s Donna, he’s scared.  

Eva is going to stay with them in case something goes wrong.  I don’t know how it works, but apparently, our bodies will calcify or crystallize as a defense mechanism.  Kind of like dying, temporarily (which happened to me after I lost my heart).  Or, they hope it’ll be temporary.  Eva has the best chance to be the mold ER doc. 

While they do the surgery, I’m going to take Alcina to meet Godric.  I am a little stressed about bringing the girls, but Eva says it’ll be fine.  And I guess both of them sneak off and see him sometimes.  I’d be mad about it but I understand why they do.  

Assuming all goes well with Donna’s fragment, that will only leave Moreau’s.  It feels like we’re finally gaining ground, but I can’t help being scared of whatever this void is I feel…it feels like something is coming, like a storm.  I felt it today before I saw the hag as well as when we got off the train.  I can also hear a voice sometimes, not the regular voices from the Mold (they don’t show up unless I talk to them, usually) but a voice that seems like my own.  It wanted me to out-power Chris today when he was pulling me.  

I’m going to sleep on the couch again tonight…I’m worried.  Alcina did say she would slit my throat if I ‘went feral’......is that her way of being nice to me? I can’t really tell.  

[darkhangels]

14. lullaby

enjoy the silence masterlist

morpheus x f!reader

warnings: smut, minors DNI

words: 4831

When you arrived in the dreaming that night you very foolishly thought that Morpheus would somehow have covered the hickies for you. He had done similar things before after all, if you went to bed wearing a little less than normal you would end up in the dreaming with the outfit you had worn that day or the pyjamas you would normally wear to bed. So surely he would’ve covered them, made them disappear to avoid embarrassment.

You had already dealt with the mocking from Lorna and Veronica early on in the night, as they both practically bombarded you with intrusive questions and making your face flush. You did not need it from Matthew and Mervyn as well. Lucienne would surely notice but keep to herself about it. It’s not like they would’ve known it was their Lord Morpheus who had in fact attacked your neck so deliciously but still the point stood.

So when you arrived in the dreaming only for Matthew to let out an extremely alarmed croak before letting out a strangled, “Jeez kid!” at the sight of you, you were more than embarrassed. You turned to one of the windows in the library, looking at your small reflection and yep they were still there. You had hung your head in shame and covered your inflamed face with your hands.

“Someone's had fun” Matthew croaked with a sly tone to his voice.

“I thought they wouldn’t have shown in the dreaming” You groaned and Matthew let out a huff.

“Oh they’re showing alright!” He cackled. “So, who’s the lucky guy or girl?” He asked in a mocking tone sidling up to you.

You scowled at him ignoring his question, making your way over to Lucienne. “Oh come on! Tell me!” Matthew croaked and you rolled your eyes, biting back a smile before rather nervously greeting Lucienne.

She studied you over the top of her glasses with her usual tight but warm smile before her gaze turned to your neck only for a second, her eyes widened before she cleared her throat and plastered a smile back on turning to your eyes with a look that screamed ‘I’m minding my business but what the fuck?’.

And then of course Merv walked in, immediately drawing attention to you. “Holy hell! What the fuck happened to you, kid?”

Matthew sighed. “Don’t bother, Merv, She won’t budge”

“I fell down the stairs” You muttered.

“Fell down the stairs?” Merv repeated with a scoff. “And what did the stairs have a pair of lips as well?”

You blushed and groaned again, wishing to explode right then and there.

“Merv,” Lucienne warned, studying the pumpkin over her glasses.

“What? I’m just saying what everyone was thinking!” Mervyn exclaimed.

Matthew fluttered his wings “And she still won’t tell me who did it!”

You turned to the bird with a glare, “And I won’t”

Matthew's head cocked to the side. “Besides I thought you liked the b-”

“Matthew!” You shouted through grit teeth, eyes widening at the raven beside you, your blush simply growing by the second.

Merv started lighting his cigar. “Whoever it is had a hell of a time”

“Yes, thank you” You deadpanned to the pumpkin

“Usually the boss gets rid of anything like that in the dreaming, so I don’t know why you still have them” Matthew croaked.

You scoffed, “Probably to embarrass me, that’s why”

Merv cackled. “Well someone tell him, it’s working”

You winced your eyes shut and squeaked something about going to find a book in a rather high pitched voice.

You turned on your heel and quickly strode into the forest of bookshelves, hiding away from everyone as you let embarrassment wash over you. You let out a sigh of relief as you fled from everyone's eyes, your gaze fluttering to the bookshelf beside you as you ran your hands over the fingertips of the spines of books that were so ancient you couldn’t even comprehend their age.

You reached out for one of the books, a bright sapphire, the words written in Latin, of course you didn’t understand it but you could simply feel the history radiating off of it, off of so many of these books. You had quickly become accustomed to the dreaming and the many wonders it brought alongside with it. But when you were alone, able to marvel at the most mundane things you realised just how fantastical this realm was.

The only way to describe it is that it truly was the realm of dreams and surrealness. Nightmares too, though you hadn’t ventured those parts yet and hoped you would never have to, you had quite your fill of nightmares, enough to last a lifetime.

The nightmares still managed to wove your way into your everyday life, still when you were about to fall asleep a small part of your mind wonders, fears, that you would wake up in a dingy dark cell surrounded by cult members watching a raven be brutally murdered.

Still the croaks of ravens makes a cold chill drip down your spine with dread, of course the irony wasn’t lost on you. You feared the sounds of Ravens and yet one of your closest friends was a literal talking Raven.

But you couldn’t help but wonder if it was just irony, just a coincidence, maybe it was a sign, an omen?

Now you on longer had the nightmares you had begun deeper research into what they had symbolised. Freud, witchcraft, you name it. You had researched it.

The typical contender was that dreaming of Ravens meant misfortune was on the way.

But that doesn’t matter does it?

The dreams had stopped after all now, the reasoning behind them was simply a rogue demon.

Nothing else.

Surely?

“What are you looking for?”

You jumped out of your skin causing the book to fall from your hands before Morpheus quickly caught it without so much of a struggle. “Sorry, you scared me”

“My apologies” He said, watching you curiously before his eyes darted to your neck, his gaze darkening as his lips twitched up in amusement.

You followed his gaze down to your neck and you huffed. “Yeah I have you to thank for this”

“It rather suits you” He muttered darkly and you swallowed harshly at his tone.

You scowled at him as your mouth twisted into a reluctant but unavoidable smile before his lips gently brushed against yours.

He pulled away and you tried to hide your grin. “So, what were you looking for?” He asked again, looking down at the book he caught in his hands.

Your gaze turned down to the book he held. “Nothing in particular, just admiring how old some of these books are”

You gently took the book from his hands. “Ancient words, forgotten by time” You muttered under your breath, fingertips dragging along the hardcover before returning it back to the bookshelf.

Morpheus peered at your admiration, his heart growing soft at the concentrated look on your face.

You turned back up to him with a warm smile. He grabbed your hand motioning for him to follow you, intertwining your fingers with his, a glowing expression on your face you followed closely behind him as he swept through the library out into the rest of the dreaming.

You felt the warm sun hit your face and graciously enjoyed it, it was always the perfect temperature here, no matter what. Unlike the waking world's cold and unforgiving winds.

You smiled at random dreamers and dreams who meandered around and Morpheus watched all too proudly.

You had met many of his creations, he was very proud of his realm and what was his. Though there were a few names that Lucienne or Matthew would mention that you would never hear Morpheus talk about, one was a creation called The Corinthian, apparently he was one of the best nightmares created. Created all too well and skyrocketing into madness and humanity.

You shuddered at the thought of the nightmares, your earlier thoughts coming to haunt you. “Morpheus?” You bit your lip turning slightly to him.

He hummed in acknowledgement.

“Do dreams have meanings?” You asked hesitantly.

His eyebrows furrowed. “You’re asking the King of Dreams if Dreams have meanings?”

You huffed slightly, a loose laugh falling from your lips. “Like if I dreamt of a snake, would that snake symbolise something in my life?”

Morpheus looked upon the dreaming, taking in his realm with his pale eyes. “Sometimes, sometimes not”

You sighed slightly. “What does that even mean?”

Morpheus thought slowly, considering his words carefully. “Dreams are a manifestation of the subconscious and unconscious, if there is something persistently on your mind then it will more often than not appear in your dreams” He turned to you. “Whether it manifests itself as exactly how it is seen or symbolised behind metaphors it is still the subject”

Your eyebrows furrowed trying to make sense of what he was saying, Morpheus took in your reaction before licking his lips trying to explain further. “If you were to dream of a snake, it could simply be a snake or it could be something subconsciously growing on your mind manifesting itself as the snake”

You nodded slowly. “So there’s no definitive answer?”

“No, though I can usually tell in others dreams whether something simply is, or whether there is more behind it”

You bit your lip. “Ok and the snake would signify different things to other people, not just one whole meaning for everyone, right?”

Morpheus turned to you now with a curious glint in your eyes. “Yes though they can often be similar, dreams are far too subjective to be generalised” He huffed ever so slightly. “Despite how determined humanity is on finding meanings to their dreams instead of simply letting them be”

You swallowed harshly, there was truly no definitive way of finding out what the nightmare meant without asking the demon, and you were not going to hell.

Just because it may not have meant anything to you currently doesn’t mean it couldn’t have been an omen for the future.

“What about omens, can dreams be omens?”

Morpheus stopped walking beside you and slowly turned to face you instead, regarding you with both curiosity and slight concern. “Why do you ask?”

You let out a breath of air, your gaze dropping to the stony path to the palace you were both standing on as you nervously fiddled with your fingers. “The nightmares” You weakly responded.

Morpheus' eyes softened in realisation.

“I know that they are gone,” You shook your head ever slightly. “But that doesn’t mean I can just forget about them, what if there was a reason?” You looked up at Morpheus again. “There had to be a reason, the same nightmare every night for almost forty days” You whispered.

“If not a meaning then a sign, an omen” You muttered.

Morpheus stepped closer. “The reason,” He spoke slowly and gently. “was a rogue demon who preyed on you, because you were vulnerable”

You nodded though unconvinced. “But can they?”

His forehead creased in confusion. “Can they what?”

“Be omens”

Morpheus sighed slowly regarding you before answering. “It is known that from time to time the fates may interfere in dreams, as they do with all of the endless’ realms”

You let out a shuddery breath. Lucienne had mentioned them before and of course you knew from your limited knowledge of greek mythology about the fates.

“But that is beyond rare and would not happen if your nightmares were being influenced by an outside force which they were” He explained, seeing the fear in your eyes.

You let out a shaky sigh of relief and smiled weakly at him. He stepped closer, “Why do you fear them only now? They are gone” He whispered, taking your hand in his.

You looked down at his pale hands, how much bigger they were than yours as his thumb slowly stroked a circle into your skin, looking up back to his face you gave him a sad smile. “I have more to lose now, I guess”

Morpheus knew he should’ve returned you back to the way you had dreamt before right then and there.

Severed the connection between the two of you in one devastating swoop.

And yet the King of Dreams was not yet ready to face the truth.

He was simply not strong enough to let you go.

He regarded you with a kind expression before leaning down and kissing you so softly you were almost unsure you had felt his lips against yours at all. A rush of butterflies fluttered through your stomach at the feeling and you smiled helplessly against his lips. His lips travelled down your jawline to your neck, before you pulled away. “Nope, not again, this is humiliating” You said pointing to the abundance of hickies on your neck.

A smirk grew on his face. “I’ll just have to mark you elsewhere then”

He went back to your neck, “Uh Morpheus, we are kind of in public” You nervously laughed.

You blinked and you were suddenly back in the palace, in one of the many corridors. You stumbled back at the strange feeling and looked around you before looking back at him. He gently pushed you against the wall, kissing you as you gripped onto his neck, pulling him into you, hungrily nipping at his lips tugging with your teeth making a low groan come from the Dream King. He threw his head back as you made your way to his neck before he gently closed a hand around your throat pushing you back against the wall slowly. “And what do you think you are doing?” He rasped.

You shrugged innocently. “Marking you”

He raised his eyebrows. “Marking me?” He repeated.

You looked up at him through your lashes in a sultry manner. “Well it hardly seems fair I have all these marks and you have none” You went back to his throat, “My king” You hissed against his skin.

Morpheus’ head rolled back as you worked your magic along his neck before he grabbed your chin, crashing his lips against yours messily. You groaned into the kiss trying to pull away, “Stop trying to distract me”, your eyes flitted back to his neck before Morpheus grip on your chin stopped you from doing so.

“I’m afraid I far prefer marking you” He said in an all too cool tone.

“You keep telling yourself that” You hummed before kissing him again, his tongue this time infiltrating your mouth making you fall into a million pieces as you leant against the wall, your knees becoming jelly as one of Morpheus’ hand gripped your waist, pinning you against the wall yet also keeping you up right.

“You were saying?” He darkly whispered in your ear.

You felt weak against him as his tongue roamed around your mouth and he pinned you against the wall, as he infiltrated every one of your senses. He removed himself from your lips moving to your cheek as his other hand left the grip on your waist and swiftly cupped around your core, his other hand reaching for the waistband to the shorts you had worn to bed, You jumped at the electric jolts sent through you, raising one hand to your mouth to muffle any kind of moans or shrieks that would leave your lips.

“Not here” You squeaked looking around anxiously at the empty corridor that any of his subjects could’ve walked down any second.

“Very well” He muttered against your ear.

Another blink and you were in a monochrome room. With a black chair and an accompanying black bed littered with silk sheets. His quarters. You soon realised.

You looked up at Morpheus beside you, your eyebrows furrowing. “I thought you said you don’t sleep-”

You answered your own question as realisation rippled through you staring into his eyes. Before you looked down blushing, “Oh”.

He gently took your chin, moving so he could kiss you again, his other hand reaching down past your stomach entering your shorts, his finger sweeping over your clit making you softly whimper into the kiss as he stroked gently against you. Your breathing quickened as he oh so slowly teased you before you bucked your hips behind you feeling his hardened member against you, he let out a groan before he removed his hands from you, sitting down on the edge of the bed. You took your shorts off before you threw your legs over him, straddling him. You were unsure how and when but he had taken his coat and shirt off leaving him with just his trousers on. Allowing you to admire his god-like body. Slowly he landed down onto the sheets, you following him down, leaving a trail of kisses on his neck.

“Come here” He muttered, underneath you

Your eyes flew over to him and your forehead creased before letting out a huff. “What do you mean, I’m right he-”

“No” Morpheus growled and he softly yet firmly grabbed you thighs pulling you down so that your entrance was aligned with his lips.

You let out a nervous chuckle. “Morpheus this i-”

“Relax” Morpheus spoke, his words vibrating between your thighs. “Let me pleasure you”

You let out a yelp, his hands gripped around your thighs pulling you down before he hungrily started lapping you up. You almost lost your balance as your hands threaded through his hair at the shocks rippling through you, his tongue slowly tasting every part of you. Your thighs started to shake under the pressure and you let out some whispery moans.

His tongue started to speed up and you grip on his hair tightened as you hips bucked against his mouth, all previous shyness nowhere to be seen. The soft ache in your stomach tightened and tightened, setting you aflame with every touch Morpheus pressed to you. High pitched, shuddering moans falling from your lips.

Morpheus was beginning to understand your body better than anyone ever had, better than maybe even yourself. He started to memorise every part of your body that was your weakness, every bit of skin that made you moan so prettily for him. It made teasing you, if he must, all that much easier.

He wished to keep you in his quarters forever, hearing every single illicit sound that he could possibly make you scream.

Your cheeks flushed and you threw your head back. “Morpheus!”

You arrived at your climax and slowly crawled off of him, your thighs shaking ever so slightly as you breathed heavily trying to get your head back on. Morpheus sat up and made his way over to you as he softly kissed you, feeling your aftershock tremors tremble through your lips.

You gazed at him from under your lashes. The dark desire rooted deep in his eyes yet so gentle. His lips, soft and plump. The way his face was so perfectly sculptured, how smooth his white silk skin was.

And butterflies rippled through you.

How lucky were you that it was him.

Him.

With the gorgeous starry eyes.

And you were in his bed.

“You are gorgeous” You rasped out.

You didn’t get to measure his reaction because his lips were already on yours practically the second the words even so much as left your mouth.

He slowly moved your thighs apart as he shrugged his trousers down before he slowly entered you. You doubted you would ever quite get used to just how big he was but you welcomed it. Your head rolled back onto the silky black pillows as he slowly thrust into you whilst leaving soft kisses on your mouth, jaw and neck. His hands intertwined with yours as you both rocked to the steady rhythm as Morpheus’ low grunts slowly turned into moans echoed around the room.

He started to speed up and more moans reverberated through the room from the both of you and you hoped that the palace walls were soundproof, though you couldn't bring yourself to care so much, not when you were literally in Lord Morpheus’ bed, underneath him.

His raven hair stuck to his sweaty forehead as his jaw tightened and flexed with every move as if he was restraining himself, he threw his head back showing off his neck as his lips shuddered open letting deep moans fall through the air. And just like this with him on top of you, colliding into you did you realise just how powerful he was. This was not just the King of Dreams and Nightmares, he was the dreams and nightmares.

More than a god.

The Prince of Stories.

The Oneiromancer.

The fucking Sandman.

And he was Endless.

And your moans became louder at the thoughts and you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him into you, making a dark hiss come from his teeth.

He was becoming close you realised as his deep moans became higher in octave with each thrust, you clenched him into you and he released himself as his forehead fell on yours making the two of you writhe in ecstasy as your orgasms rippled through the air.

A few seconds of heavy breathing later and he placed a kiss on your cheek. “You always take me so well”

You could have orgasmed again at the words as you clenched against him again, silently praying he hadn’t felt that but of course a small smirk grew on his face. “I will bear that in mind for the future, rogue dreamer”

You blushed and let out a huff before playfully swatting at his shoulder, he exited you and pulled his trousers up before laying beside you. You let your head rest against his arm and he stiffened only for a second before opening his arm up wider so you could rest against your chest.

His skin was warm and yet it always surprised you, you had thought surely considering his cold exterior his touch would be Icey, but he was always so warm. The kind of warmth that lulls you into a comforting sleep.

“You’re always warm” You muttered against him.

He hummed absentmindedly, the vibrations from his chest humming softly against you.

“Thought you would be cold like a vampire” You continued.

“A vampire?” He repeated with amusement.

It was your time to hum then, “Well you did mark up my neck pretty well” You laughed to yourself, “Don’t tell me you sparkle in the sun too”

You rolled your head back to look at his face as he stared at you like you had grown two heads before you chuckled again, “I’m afraid someone may have taken your appearance for inspiration”

Morpheus raised his eyebrows. “I believe many humans have”

You scoffed at that. “Yeah, you’re telling me I think your style practically started the Goth subculture”

His lips twitched at your words as he stared off into the distance, a comfortable silence ensuing.

You enjoyed the pure serenity of the moment, as you felt his chest moving up and down with every breath he took. The soft whispers of his breath were so peaceful that had you not already been asleep you would’ve fallen asleep into a soft slumber

Morpheus’ voice croaked seemingly out of nowhere. “If the nightmares ever start again, you come straight to me” He hoarsely whispered.

Your forehead creased in confusion as you looked back up at him. His face was etched deep in something. “I will” You nodded.

His eyes flew down to yours, gleaming like stars only for a second before returning to the Icey blue. “Swear it”

You were taken aback by his sincerity and you swallowed slightly as your lips parted taking in his face. “I swear it” You softly answered.

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

A week and a half passed.

And life?

Life was the best it had ever been.

You’d spend your days in the waking world as happy as can be but counting down the minutes till you fell asleep and would be reunited with your life in the dreaming.

Morpheus would visit occasionally in the waking world but it was rare as he did not want to depart from his realm for too long, understandably so.

You would spent your time in the dreaming helping Lucienne with books, speaking to Matthew about whatever crossed the birds mind and ‘annoying’ the shit out of Mervyn though you knew the pumpkin secretly liked his time with you.

And the best part of it was when you were with Morpheus (which was most of the time). When you were not exploring the endless sights of the dreaming with him, he’d whisk you away to a remote corner of the palace and whisper sweet nothings into your ears.

He was past the point of seducing you.

He was romancing you.

In every way possible.

In soft and gentle touches, exchanged glances when you were in company with others, the way he held you when you were alone.

And you were completely and utterly infatuated to a point of no return.

Morpheus too, hell, ask Matthew, he hadn’t seen his boss in such a good mood before.

So much so he was starting to catch on, so was Lucienne, and so was the rest of his subjects. It wasn’t particularly hard to see.

When the two of you would stare at each other, both momentarily forgetting the rest of the world. Or when a soft rosy blush would creep on your cheeks by something he simply says or does. When they would see how their Lord looked at you when you weren’t noticing.

Oh yeah, they knew.

But especially Lucienne and Matthew.

If it wasn’t the sometimes strange noises they would hear it was definitely the way the Dreaming's weather had been. Lucienne knew it the second you had arrived in the dreaming the second time for seemingly no reason whatsoever.

She knew how much of a romantic fool her Lord was. They all did.

And Lucienne couldn't help but be happy for her king and you, her friend.

But as your friend she couldn’t help but worry.

She had seen it all.

Nada, Calliope, Thessaly. All of them.

And she couldn’t stand to see you be heartbroken.

Nor her King.

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

You were working besides Lorna, the coffee shop was always busier this time of year, more people wanting hot drinks after stalking the cold weather of course.

So when your phone repeatedly kept ringing because you would not pick up due to the mass line of people, you were more than annoyed. Finally the people dwindled down and you picked up the phone with an angry huff.

“Hello” You asked through gritted teeth, your annoyance evident.

“Well, well, well look who decided to pick up” A familiar voice rang through the phone and you felt your blood boil.

You hadn’t spoken to her since the night of the reception.

“What do you want, Mum?” You sighed, placing one hand on the counter tiredly leaning against it, Lorna sending you an apologetic and worried glance.

“I just thought I’d let you know that despite what happened, I’m willing to forgive you and invite you round for Christmas”

You let out a huff as you stared at the ground. “Forgive me?”

“Yes, well you know Christmas spirit and all that” A tight voice replied.

You shook your head. “No, I’m not the one in need of forgiving”

“I beg your pardon”

You took a deep breath, “You heard me, you treat me like I’m just some burdensome piece of shit on your life and I’ve had enough, I’m done”

“How dar-”

“If you want to apologise, I’d be happy to hear it, but if not don’t call this number again”

“Excuse me?” She practically squeaked through the phone.

“Merry fucking Christmas, Mum”

And you hung up, slowly turning to Lorna at her shocked face before she started slow clapping. “That was so cool”

You grinned. “I think I did a bit much at the end though”

Lorna shrugged. “She’s had it coming for a long time”

You nodded in agreement, before the two of you closed the shop down for the night. Before you both stepped out into the cold winter night, streets bustled with crowds of people getting their Christmas shopping. As festive lights hung from the building lighting up your way.

Lorna turned to you. “Y’know you seem really different recently”

Your lips parted in confusion. “How so?”

“You’re so much more confident and yourself, self-assured” She smiled.

You blushed at her words. “I hadn’t noticed”

Lorna nodded slowly. “Whoever this Murphy guy is I think he’s really good for you”

You started to beam at her before she pulled you into a hug. “See ya tomorrow!”

You waved her goodbye and skipped to the bus stop, ready to finally go to sleep.

To go to the dreaming.

To go to Morpheus.

[sepublic]

Through the Looking Glass Ruins!!!!!

         …

         SO! Onto other things first…

         WRATH IS BRAXAS’ FATHER!??!!? HOLY SHIT, Wrath is a canonical dad, I’d always expressed my… OH MY GOD WRATH IS DAD! And of BRAXAS, that sweetie… How is Braxas such a sweetie with a father like HIM, also-

         Wrath was in casual wear? Either he has a day off, or he got fired by Belos/Kikimora after drawing Luz a map to Eda in Young Blood, Old Souls! Either way this guy has a sudden new level of NUANCE that I am reeling from, and yes I checked, that really is Wrath according to the credits! Dang this puts everything in a WHOLE new light…!

         AMITY HAIR OHMIGOD IT LOOKS SO ADORABLE SHE’S SELF-ACTUALIZING I AM FUCKING SCREAMING HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD!!! OH MY GOD OH MY GOD, it’s PINK and not green… They acknowledged it, Emira did! And they CHANGED IT I AM LOSING MY FUCKING MIND OVER THIS-

         She looks so BEAUTIFUL and I love the kind of foreshadowing with the bookends of our first shot of Amity having her hair down, and now it’s changed! And she looks adorable and EMIRA AND EDRIC BEING GREAT SIBLINGS I LOVE IT SO MUCH! This… THIS is everything I wanted! I was resigned to not much of them but HELL YEAH they’re being good siblings and we get a look at their rooms, we see them doing MAKEOVERS together this is everything from my favorite fanon content and MORE,

         Also Edric has a date?! Emira says ‘their’ mom… Unless the Golden Guard has a mom, DARN! Not gonna lie, I half-expected a big twist at the end that Edric was dating the Golden Guard, who was doing some sort of reconnaissance as his unrecognized normal self and/or screwing around with the Blights even further, but in a GENUINE sense… But then who knows Kikimora could be posing as GG’s ‘mom’, this is a stretch anyhow-

         JUST HELL YEAH Blight Twins! Blight Twins being sweet and mischievous and supportive of each other, Blight SIBLINGS being siblings, Emira being an older sister and giving advice! And AMITY, Amity mentioning how much Luz has changed stuff, I love that they acknowledge it openly how her life has completely shifted, and now… NOW…!

         No necklace! Red leggings! PINK HAIR?! Is this why Amity in the intro hasn’t been updated yet… She was getting TWO updates, so the animators decided to only animate a change after this final update?!

         King and Gus are also friends it seems, and they even recorded some fun together! I’m surprised at how much Bria and the others mock Gus’ illusion skills… Obviously Belos is kinda terrible but like; I don’t think he’d set aside an entire subset of magic into Illusions without reason! Also that nightmare trip… I LOVE IT, I love Gus applying the creativity of illusions in their ability to completely warp and distort someone’s sense of reality! And I called that dragon-thing being an illusion!

         A graveyard… I wonder if the Gallderstones (is that how it’s spelled) have any relevance or if they’re just neat? I hope Mattholomule and Gus help hide the Looking Glass Graveyard… Damn, that’s another Death reference with Gus, huh! Is it culminating in his respect for the dead, or will it continue further with Gus being a necromancer, or an Oracle who can commune with the deceased, and he has their respect as someone who treats them properly?!

         Also not to get dark but… What if all those Illusionists are dead because of Belos? I’m JUST SAYING…! And not gonna lie, every time someone insulted Illusions, I kept imagining the Illusion Head just suddenly waking up and feeling like there’s a disturbance in the force, as well as a weird compulsion to beat up some Glandus kids. It’d be even funnier if he had beef with the Construction, Plant, and Abomination Heads as well!

         Speaking of which, more confirmation on Construction Magic being related to earth! Glad to see Bria give us a look into that, which furthers my idea of Belos using construction magic… Also dang, Bria and the Glandus Kids really are the parallels/foils to the Detention kids! You’ve got the short ‘nice’ girl, the tall lanky kid, the furry… But the Glandus Kids start off looking nice and cool, but turn out to be rather nasty!

         Meanwhile the Detention Kids seem like bad news and delinquents, but no! They’re just demonized and actually very kind and chill! The Detention Kids are looked down upon, the Glandus Kids are appraised… The Detention Kids are dual-track, the Glandus Kids are singular; Glandus Kids from, well, GLANDUS, Detention Kids from Hexside… One’s ‘mischief’ is actually very neat and cool, the other’s is literal grave robbing.

         I guess that’s how the bleeding statues got past the censors- It’s technically just an illusion! Also more insight into how Glandus works with its Survival of the Fittest mentality, I wonder if we’ll get confirmation on which coven heads came from there, how that might influence them as adults…

         What is Glandus like, is it more whole-heartedly accepting of Belos’ rule, hence its harsh ideals? Was it made after Hexside? Does Bump hate it for being so cruel like that, or is it just school bias? And dang poor Mattholomule, I always had a feeling he sort of felt and knew that he wasn’t much, so he accepted and compensated by deliberately doing whatever he can for power…

         They confirmed he’s from Glandus, and I appreciate this new look at him! This new leaf turned… Hot take but he’s honestly not as bad as Boscha, his stint with Gus was a one-time thing that Gus was able to live with! And that seems pretty good to set them up as friends! Speaking of Boscha, Willow was injured by pixies? And the last time we heard of pixies, they belonged to Boscha and caused the school to get shut down… Did BOSCHA DO THIS I SWEAR SHE IS DEAD TO ME-

         (Also she’s mentioned in the credits for this episode but I don’t remember hearing her? I might’ve gotten distracted with so much other things.)

         Gus! I like the insight into his relationship with Illusions, and I appreciate how he’s considering other forms of magic… But this hesitation might just serve to reaffirm his believe in Illusions, which is okay! It’s all about choice… And yeah, it seems Gus also has a case of impostor syndrome like King, no wonder they get along so well! I love the glimpses into Gus’ house and the confirmation that he has a library card, no Perry though alas…!

         I appreciate how Gus feels overlooked, like he has no real substance, which is how his Illusions reflect a desire to draw attention, but also the idea that there’s nothing real beneath them… Again, very much like King! And Gus, he’s not a powerhouse like the rest, he’s SKILLED and smart, but strength isn’t his forte, it’s not brute force he operates on, but cleverness! Trickery, I like it…! It’s a nice callback to his last A-plot episode, SVSF, where instead of fighting Mattholomule physically, Gus’ solution is to think outside the box and pull the alarm!

         You go kid, not relying on brute strength but showing that some clever tricks and thinking are just as valid! Kinda wonder if this episode is lowkey a discussion on masculinity for young boys, especially with Gus growing older with puberty, though the latter is mostly because his actual VA grew… But maybe the writers rolled with that and incorporated it, or it’s just a very neat coincidence! Also, it is me or did Mattholomule’s voice change? And the gag that Gavin’s dad looks identical to him, even moreso because he’s NOT supposed to have a moustache… That’s great!

         Malphas! Love this reference to a classic demon, I wasn’t sure if Malphas was the librarian with glasses whom I’ve always headcanoned as a father figure to Amity… But maybe it’s actually this bird dude! He seems adept in Bard magic, and I love the reveal of his true crow appearance… Guess those theorists were right that the one-eyed figure is from the Forbidden Stacks! Also Malphas NOT COOL with Amity, but I’m glad Luz changed his mind, and I wonder how that adventure looked…

         Which- DAMN, the RSD with Luz! She looks so UTTERLY BROKEN when Amity mentions doing stupid things, and she didn’t mean it like that, but Luz just looks so completely shattered and you can tell she wants to cry but instead she bottles it up and tries to take it in stride, and that plays into her trying to overcompensate for her mistakes AGAIN… SOMEONE GET IT TO HER HEAD that she doesn’t need to! I’m scared for Luz, and I was SO scared this episode would end on a bad note…

         BUT DOAHLDdFAEONDKFHN LUMITY KISS LUMITY KISS! ONE-SIDED BUT THEY FINALLY FUCKING KNOW AND AMITY IS LIKE WHAAAAT AND I WAS WAITING FOR IT AND I COULD FEEL IT HAPPEN AND GAY KISS! GAY KISS ON-SCREEN!!! And the way Luz just FLOPS to the ground on her knees AAHJJFFKHGGK and no Alador nor Odalia to ruin this, UTTERLY PERFECT and the twins WATCHING OOOHHHHGGGG YYYEEAAAAHHH-

         This is EVERYTHING I ever wanted!

         What an AMAZING episode with wonderful characer beats and reveals! Again, Amity’s growth as a character, that brief insight into how Luz as a person is very chaotic and sometimes frustrating for Amity and forces her to reevaluate, but ultimately it’s good and Luz DOES try her best, and Amity clearly wanted to make things up for Luz and apologize, they’re BOTH doing things, just the little moments!

         Also, Alex Lawther voices Philip Wittebane! He has long hair and a vaguely british accent, he’s… He’s Belos isn’t he? And they got a new VA because having him voiced by Matthew Rhys would be really spoiler-y right? He’s got the long hair and he’s a nerd… And with how he talks of finding a way back home, maybe Belos really DOES just want to return home, after all? He talks of making a way back home…

         And we see a glimpse of the Portal, so it might’ve brought him there? Or did Philip succeed in making it, and that was his blueprint designs? Did he arrive by Titan’s Blood? What happened to the portal if it brought him there, or if he made it? Why the scar, why near Eda’s house, partially buried?

         Was it lost before he could finish his work, and Philip got side-tracked into something else… Perhaps going on a crusade, on behalf of a curse/demon that possessed him? A demon that killed King’s father…? Was the portal broken and he had to discard it, but then it naturally healed- Or did it just need to recharge, maybe Philip DID make it back home, WHAT IS THE ANSWER?! Is there some sort of doppelganger for Philip, is BELOS his doppelganger?! What is THIS WHAT-

         WHAT AN EPISODE!

[owl-with-a-pen]

brainy or nia try on karas glasses one day and kara realizes that they were brenda/brandon?

- Oh my god, yes! Thank you for the prompt. x

“No, no,” Alex said decisively. “It’s been years and I still don’t get it. How the hell do glasses make it impossible for people to recognise you? I’d know you from anywhere.”

Nia grinned from across the table, lifting her drink to her lips as Alex pinched Kara’s cheek, only to be batted away by her little sister a second later.

“Okay,” Kara said with a snort. “Your next round is gonna be water shots.” She turned her head from the table, making a show of searching the bar. “Where’s Al?”

“Oh, you know he heads out back the second this party rolls in,” Kelly said with an impish smile, raising her own glass. She took Alex’s hand before she could pester Kara any further, winding their fingers firmly together. “Although, I have to agree with the water.”

“Hydration would appear useful at this stage,” Brainy added with a sage nod. “She may also benefit from lining her stomach with something a little more substantial.”

Nia grinned, leaning back against Brainy’s chest. “Is that your not-so-subtle hint that you want more onion rings?”

She’d perched herself on the edge of Brainy’s stool some time into the evening; her smile widened when she felt his hands link around her front in response. “Sometimes, multiple issues can call for a single solution,” Brainy pointed out, tucking his face into her hair. “What is the saying? Two birds, one stone?” Nia's face warmed when Brainy’s lips traced idly along the side of her jaw.

Kara grinned. “Well, hey, I’m not gonna say no to more onion rings.”

It was fair to say that they’d all had a few drinks between them by now, although Kelly and Alex were strictly drinking from the human menu. Things always got a little whacky with alien grade alcohol, and despite her half-Naltorian genetics, Nia had barely been able to stomach a single sip of Brainy’s drink of choice. It suited his tolerance level far better, and made for a slower automatic response for his body to factor out the alcohol and sober him up. If his sudden confidence with intimacy in a public environment was anything to go by, Nia figured it was definitely working.

Nia knew Kara was drinking something similar to Brainy, although her Kryptonian biology made her far more resilient against its contents. She wasn’t even slurring.

Meanwhile, Nia was feeling all kinds of warm inside. Although, Brainy’s hold on her was probably a major factor in that.

It had felt like forever since they’d last gone out like this, and from the recent stress they’d all been under, it wasn’t exactly surprising that they’d found their way to Al’s bar. Plus, after the number of times they’d saved this place from one catastrophe or another, they got some incredibly generous discounts even on some of the rarer beverages. It was just unfortunate that Alex’s human tolerance really wasn’t matching up. And, considering Kelly was still on her first drink, she was currently the only person everyone was sorely worried about getting home safely that night.

With that in mind, Nia was just about to suggest heading up to the bar to go order, when Alex made her move, whipping her hand out quick enough to snatch Kara’s glasses straight from her face, balancing them across her nose.

She turned to Kelly immediately, staring at her levelly. “Well?” she asked expectantly. "How do I look?”

“It’s like looking at a total stranger,” Kelly deadpanned. She smirked, leaning in closer. “Although, they do make you kinda mysterious.”

Alex’s smile broadened. “Oh really?”

“My turn!” Nia chirped, plucking the glasses from Alex’s face. She rested her elbows on the table, propping her chin up with her hands the moment she had the glasses on. She narrowed her eyes, testing out her new perspective. As anticlimactic as it was, nothing really changed. It was just like staring through two pieces of clear glass. Nia pouted. She supposed it wasn't unexpected - that was exactly what she was doing, after all.

“It’s weird being able to see clearly while wearing someone’s else’s glasses,” Nia mused, playing around with the glasses’ temples, wiggling them up and down in front of her face. “Has anyone who didn’t know your secret ever done this before?” She jerked her head up, snapping her fingers. “Ooh, I know, I bet you just tell them you both need the same prescriptions. Am I right, or am I right?”

Kara didn’t answer.

“...Kara?”

When Nia turned, she realised that Kara was staring directly at her, a half-stunned daze in her eyes.

“What, did the alcohol finally kick in?” Nia prodded good-naturedly, only for Kara to reach out suddenly, taking the glasses away from her. “Hey! I was using those!”

Kara remained silent. Instead, with unnerving intensity, she came forward, slipping the glasses onto Brainy’s face. Brainy jerked from the unexpected contact, lifting them away from his nose as though they'd burned. He blinked quickly in affront, eyeing Kara suspiciously. “What was that for?” he asked.

“It was you two,” Kara said mildly; her voice sounded far too calm for comfort, like she was on the verge of a full-blown freak out. “All those years ago, in Midvale. It was you.”

Nia spluttered at the exact same moment as Brainy. She snapped her head towards him desperately. “What?” she asked, registering the panic in Brainy’s eyes that she knew was reflected identically in her own. “No—what—no?” She dug her hand into her boyfriend’s shoulder, squeezing tight. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

“I have no idea what you are- what she’s talking about-” Brainy snorted defensively. “Do-do you?”

Nia nudged him nervously, eyes wide. “I just said I didn’t, genius.”

“...Right,” Brainy said quickly, clearing his throat. He raised his voice, turning back to Kara. “Two admissions though! Thus further proving that we have no idea what you are talking—”

But, Kara was still staring, a cold glare of certainty in her eyes. “I’d know that scrambling for an excuse anywhere,” she said, taking Brainy’s hands and guiding the glasses back into place over the bridge of his nose. She met no resistance this time, Brainy was far too busy gaping at her. “Brendan.” She turned to Nia accusingly. “Brenda.” Her lips split into a pained smile. “Rao- I thought you two were hiding something, but I was willing to accept it, because... I thought you were lost.”

“In our defence, we sorta were,” Nia admitted sheepishly. “The crash wasn’t part of the plan.”

It was Brainy’s turn to nudge her. “Nia.”

“Give it up, Brainy.” Nia cringed. “We’re caught.”

Kara ran her hands through her hair, shaking her head in bewilderment. “What were you guys even doing there? When did this even happen for you?”

“When you were in the Phantom Zone,” Nia said slowly, ducking her head.

“We needed your DNA,” Alex said softly. It sounded as though the recent commotion had done a good job at sobering her up. “To track you down.”

“It was thanks to these two that we were able to save you at all,” Kelly added.

Something crossed Kara’s expression then, but it was so quick that Nia barely caught it. All she knew was that in that moment, Kara looked entirely vulnerable. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked weakly.

Brainy swallowed hastily. “Had you known our true identities in 2009, it would have caused ramifications in the timeline that could have irrevocably changed the future.”

“I don’t mean then,” Kara said sharply, attention snapping to Brainy. Her expression fell. “Why not when I came back?”

“It didn’t seem… necessary,” Brainy said uncomfortably. Nia felt his grip tighten back around her and ran her hand across his arm, squeezing gently.

Kara scoffed, folding her arms. “Not necessary? You guys were in my past—you saved my life, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“So much happened,” Nia said carefully. “Kara, we didn’t want to stress you out any more than you already had been.”

“Come here,” Kara said suddenly.

Nia blinked her surprise, catching Brainy’s eyes quickly for confirmation. Hesitantly, Brainy nodded, unlocking his arms from around Nia’s waist. Nia slipped from the stool, stepping towards her alongside Brainy.

They stared at her unsurely for all of two seconds before Kara came forward, swooping them both into the most intense super hug Nia thought either of them had ever experienced.

Nia gasped for breath, wrapping her free arm automatically around Kara’s back. The brush of Brainy’s fingers confirmed to her that he had done just the same.

“I never thought I’d get a chance to say this,” Kara murmured into the space between them. “But, thank you. Both of you, for everything that you did.”

“For... saving your life?” Brainy asked, voice muffled with confusion. “You’re... very welcome?”

Kara laughed, pressing her face into his hair. “Not that. Okay, well, of course that. But,” She sighed, drawing away again, her hands still locked tightly against each of their arms, “you both came to me at a time where I was questioning so much. My future, my identity, my place on Earth. I was hurting, in more ways I ever let on. And without you two—I don’t know what I might have done differently.”

Nia smirked. “Wait…” She turned her head towards Brainy. “Does that mean we were always meant to travel back to 2009?”

“Pre-destined time travel.” Brainy pondered on that thought for a long moment, his lips twitching into a smile of his own. He shrugged. “I suppose stranger things have happened.”

“You did crash, though,” Alex pointed out from across the table.

Brainy shot her a glare.

“Destiny,” Kelly cut in, sighing dreamily. “I like that, though.”

Nia knocked Brainy’s arm playfully. “Just like how you coming to this time gave you the chance to live freely. With us.” Nia squeezed her boyfriend's hand secretively before she turned back to Kara, smile softening. “Maybe we gave that same chance to you, too.”

“Thank you,” Kara said again. She blinked, wiping quickly at her face where tears were near approaching. “I- I don’t even think just saying that cuts it.”

Nia's smile widened mischievously. “Hey, does that mean the next round isn’t on us?”

Brainy raised a finger in consideration. “I believe tap water is on the house, anyway.”

“Hey, no water,” Alex shot back. “And you guys are not getting out of shots that easily.”

They all laughed at that. And, just like that, Nia felt as though an invisible tension that had been tethering them together had finally loosened.

She smiled as she re-joined her family back at the table, hand-in-hand with Brainy.

For the first time in a long time, it really felt like everything was going to be okay.

[spidernerdsblog]

Match made in Hell : Chapter Three

A/N : Chapter three is here. Survival of the fittest this is how life evolved on earth. And to survive you have to learn to adapt even if you have to make truce with people you hate. Hope you like this chapter. Let me know what you think.

A Happy New year to all of you lovely peeps! 💖💖

Pairing : Mob! Tom Holland x Reader

Summary : you always wanted a simple life but to be born as the daughter of a dangerous mobster turned out to be a curse for you. Everything changes when your father gets your lover killed and forcefully marries you off to another mobster as a part of a deal. You hate your father and your husband the only thing you seek is now revenge. Will you ever be able to fall in love again or this burning hatred inside you will consume you?

Warnings : 18+,mature content, a little PMS drama, language, flashbacks in italics, slight nudity, suggestive themes.

Mini Playlist : Bad Things by Meiko

SERIES MASTERLIST

Complying to the note you take a quick scan of the room ensuring that you’re not being followed by anyone before making your way to the restrooms but instead of going inside you sidetracked to your left and stride your way to the staff exit door across the hall and sneaked outside continuing to walk down the dark alley. You stop when you see a large figure standing in the dark a few feet away from you.

"Y/N" the man speaks with a deep voice.

"Who are you?" You demand. The man walks out of the shadow and your face lit up as you saw his face illuminated by the street light. 

"William? Oh my god!" You rush to embrace him. William Marshal, your father's most trusted wing man and your mentor. All the knowledge you have raptured be it hand to hand to combat or gun fight he taught you all. 

"How are you my little tigress?" 

"Surviving" You say with a small smile. "But what are you doing here?" You were so surprised as well as happy to see him.

"Your father sent me here."

Your brows draw into a frown ''Daddy sent you?...But why?"

"You are alone and boss thinks it's a little dangerous to leave you in the enemy territory on your own" 

You scoff. "Huh, since when did he start worrying about my safety?" 

"He wants me to help you with your task, so how much progress have you made?" He asks.

"Actually William there has been some changes in the plan” You say. “I’m no more playing daddy’s little killing puppet" 

William gives you shocked look. "What, are you planning to backstab your father?" 

''Not literally stab him though I wish I could heh. But I'm gonna make him pay for his crimes by turning him in and then let the law decide his punishment."

"You want to go on a legal battle with the king of illegal trades?” He chuckles lightly at your childish idea. “You're bluffing right?"

"I'm not bluffing Will. I just want to deliver justice to all the people who have suffered for him without anymore bloodshed. And I’m not ruthless like him and at the end of the day he's still my daddy so even if I want I will never be able to kill him" You sigh with remorse. 

"It's a suicide mission Y/N, you can't win against him, not alone"

"Well Rome wasn't built in one day, Will. Plus I have you."

His face went stoic. "I can't betray your father Y/N." 

"Will, how could you forget that this man killed your whole family? He didn't even spare your five year old daughter. Don't you want revenge?" You tried your best to persuade him. 

"That man died when he accepted his allegiance."

"Then here's your another chance to avenge your family. Are you going to help me or not?" You ask him firmly.

"You know I have always seen you no less than my daughter" He reaches out a hand cupping the side of your face "so what does my daughter want me to do?" 

The corner of lips turn up into a smile. "Nothing much for now I just want you to pose as a double agent, provide me all the information and report back to daddy whatever I exactly say to you" You explained. 

William nods in agreement to your plan. "So have the Holland's agreed to this?"

"Holland's?" You frown. "Why on earth would I involve them? They are no less evil."

"You are plotting against your dad the mafia kingpin and you need allies Y/N."

"I don't need any allies…" You pause mid sentence as it finally hits you what Will was actually trying to imply. You narrowed your eyes with a sly smirk "Unless I rat them out against each other and they end up destroying each other in the process without anyone suspecting it was me behind all this. Like this I can hit two birds with one stone"

"Well now you're getting it." William says proudly. 

"By the way boss told me to give you this." He holds out a revolver, you stiffen at it’s sight.

"That's my gun" You swallow hard.

"Yes indeed it is." 

"I can't take it Will and you know why" You say anxiously.

"I know that the past haunts you Y/N but that phase is over. You have to let go" He takes your hand and places the gun. "Keep it, you'll need it" Your palms were sweaty as you gripped on to the gun and looked at it intently. 

"I think you should go back now before your husband gets suspicious and remember.." 

You cut him off before he could finish. 

"To be nice and call in a truce. Trust me I got this." You winked with a sly grin and rushed back to the hall through the backdoor but you are met with an obstacle. Tom was standing right in front of the restrooms, you quickly retreated behind the wall.

"Shit! Why are men so clingy?!" You groan with slight irritation when your phone lights up

T : Hey you okay? You're in for too long. 

T : Y/N???!! 

You roll your eyes as you text him back. 

Y : No I'm not okay!!! 

Concern clouded his features whilst he texted you back.

T : Hey what's wrong? 

T : Darling, you alright? 

You couldn't think of any valid reason to get past him so you had to swallow your pride and texted back with the most safest and believable excuse for a woman. 

Y : I'm PMSing!!!  T : ….OK. 

You peered to see his reaction and you swear you would have burst out laughing if you weren’t in such a sophisticated place, the look on his face clearly showed how weirded out he was. 

Tom on the other hand was clueless about what to reply next, since a young age he has been dealing with the most dangerous people from the underworld but never in his life he had to deal with someone pmsing specifically he never had to deal with you. Though he had a little knowledge about these things thanks to sex ed at high school. You saw him take a deep breath before typing. 

T: You need something? 

Y: Yeah, will a tampon be too much to ask? 

Y: It's kind of urgent. 

T: Right on it. Just stay there. It will be fine, love. 

T: Do you need a change of dress? 

To be honest you were quite taken aback seeing this concerned and understanding side of his. 

Y: No, I'm fine. And please don't come barging in the ladies room. 

T: Yeah I know that. 

As soon as Tom moves away you quickly slip inside the restroom and heaved a sigh of relief. After a few minutes a middle aged woman walks in the restroom.

"You must be Y/N?" She asks with a smile.

"Yeah." You nod.

"Here you go, love." She hands you a tampon. You take it and go inside a stall. You wait for a few minutes before throwing the tampon in the dustbin and emerging out of the stall with a smile.

"Thank you so much." You say smoothening the slight creases on your dress.

"Oh don't be but I must say your husband really loves you. You should have looked at his face how freaked out he was."

"I really doubt the love part.'' You snicker, turning on the faucet in the basin to wash your hands.

"Well darling, here’s an advice from a lady to a lady keep your man happy and satisfied and then not only will he be showering you with all his love as well as—"  She coils her thick glimmering diamond necklace around her slim finger "might get these too."

"Well thank you for your advice but not a fan of leashes you see." You quip drying your hands with the paper towels.

"Trust me sweetie one day you will just want to wear these leashes only for your man." She steps closer putting a hand on your shoulder.

"Will see." You give a tight lipped smile.

After sometime you step out and find Tom patiently waiting for you.

"All good?" He asks, you nod in affirmation.

"It was lovely talking to you sweetheart. See you again." The woman chirps, you smiled waving at her.

Bad Things starts playing……. I know what I want And I'll get what I need I'll come over and I'll show you how Don't you wish that you can have me now?

"Shall we have this dance?" Tom held out his hand. You take it with a smile as he leads you to the center of the room. Your hands go to his shoulders while his hands rest on your hips. You slowly begin to sway your bodies to the music going back and forth, your eyes looking around to the other couples dancing. 

You say that you want all of my love But let's be honest we don't need all that I like it better with no strings attached

"You're welcome." Tom says, drawing your attention back to him.

"Uhh..." You look at him in confusion.

"I guess the words that you are looking for are thank you."

"To be fair it was kind of your duty to help your wife from an embarrassing situation." You quip.

"Oh now I'm your husband, huh?" He raises his eyebrows amused.

Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it

"Well you have been rubbing the fact on my face since day one so—" You half shrug. 

"So what was Mrs. Sinclaire saying?" He asks looking around the room.

"Nothing of my interest just how I should get one of those shining collars around my neck." You roll your eyes dramatically.

"Those are gifts from their husbands who love them dearly, love" He corrects you, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

How much more can you take if I give you a taste I've been waiting for you all night long I come around and then I'm gone

"But for me those are glittering leashes" You retort.

"Darling, how much ever you pretend but under this tough shell you're just a hopeless romantic, you crave love and I can give you all of it only if you allow me." Tom laces his hand with yours another hand stays at the small of your back, waltzing to the music. 

You'll get yours, I'll get mine Then we run out of time You're the only one that I desire 'Cause I love to play with fire

"Maybe I'm that's why I still dream of a beautiful life away from all this from you" you say looking deep into his brown orbs.

He leans down to your ear and whispers. "I can assure you one thing princess the farther you want to go away from me the more I will pull you back towards me"

A shiver runs down your spine as his smile turns into a wide grin.

Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it

His hand moved from your back to your lower waist and he dipped you low, taking you by surprise. You bent on your back as he pulled you back up with a force, throwing you against his body sending your body right into his broad frame.

Ooh (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) Ooh (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) When I'm down I let you know (ooh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) When I'm down I let you go (ooh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)

You stayed like that for a while, inhaling deeply but the only thing you could smell was him, his expensive cologne intoxicating your senses and then he pushed you back again, spinning you around twice and settling back for the previous slow pace. 

Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)

The night ends and you are now back at home sitting on your bed busy with your night routine rubbing on some body lotion on your hands as Tom walks in.

"What are you doing in my room?" You frown.

"Technically this is my room" He reminds you rummaging through his closet.

"Not anymore." You state haughtily. He plainly ignores you and goes inside the bathroom. 

After a while he comes out with a towel wrapped lowly around his waist, his wet curls sticking to his forehead. You couldn’t help but admire his chiseled upper body, muscles rippling and glistening in the soft golden light of the room.

"You’re staring" He sing-songs, smirking cockily.

"No-no, I'm not'' You fumble. 

"It's ok, darling I'm all yours to look at" You roll your eyes meanwhile he takes off his towel and throws it in the hamper before getting on the empty side of the bed just in his black calvin klein boxers.

"Whoa, you are gonna just wear that?" You ask in surprise. 

"Why you gotta problem?" He smirks while getting inside the covers. 

"No seriously, you’re either fully covered or almost naked. Nothing in between." You remark giving him an annoyed look.

"Why does it turn you on babygirl?" He says with a sultry voice. 

"Shut up and stop with these weirdass names, will ya" You grimace as he chuckles.

"And what about you? You are going to sleep in that?" He points out looking at your sleep shorts and a loose shirt. 

"Well you may think of yourself as a calvin klein's model but I ain't a Victoria’s secret angel. So yes I’m gonna sleep in these" 

"But your Instagram says something else" He quips, making you smile mischievously.

"Aww did someone get all riled up at work?” You click your tongue pouting “so sad." 

Tom all of a sudden grabs your arm pulling you down to him as you jolt down surprised.

"And for that you deserve a nice spanking" His voice low, a cocky grin plastered on his face.

"If you touch me I'll chop off your hands." You threaten with a cold stare and pull out your arm from his grip. You lay down turning to your side and snatched away the covers from him.

"Oi! blanket hogger!" He protests, pulling the blanket back.

"Get out of here!" You kicked his leg playfully snatching the cover again.

"Y/N I swear to God I’ll push you off the bed!" He says laughing.

"Shut up you whiny baby." You retort laughing as well.

He moves closer to you bringing his hands to tickle you on the side of your hips. You squealed trying to push him away but he tightened his hold around you both laughing like kids when suddenly you realized how close you were the heat from his bare body felt like burning against your skin. 

What are you doing? You hate this guy, he is the reason Ethan is dead. You remind yourself gaining back your composure and stopped laughing. You went silent closing your eyes as Tom got the hint and backed off.

You soon fell asleep breathing softly but Tom was still awake staring at the ceiling thinking about all the meetings and deals he has to make tomorrow when you shifted on the bed and turned to Tom’s side in your sleep. You subconsciously hiked a leg above his placing your hand over his chest snuggling close to him. 

Tom found it really amusing chuckling softly as he took his time to admire how beautiful and innocent you looked. He went to wrap his arm around you just then he heard you mumbling in your sleep. 

"I'm sorry - I'm so sorry Ethan." His expression goes hard. He retracts his hand away placing it under his head and lets out an exasperated sigh before closing his eyes to sleep.

Next morning you squint your eyes open to find yourself practically laying over Tom's chest, you sit up hastily waking him up in the process. 

"Good morning, princess." He says with a groggy voice. You look at him timidly. 

"By the drool I’m assuming you slept well." You frown rubbing the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. 

"So much for chopping my hands eh?" He snickers. "But what about you taking advantage of me while sleeping." you felt your face heat up in embarrassment.

"Sorry I used to have a side pillow when I slept."

"Oh it's ok, love. I'm honored to be your human side pillow.'' he says cockily before getting off the bed to get ready for the day. 

"Dickhead" You mutter under your breath.

****

 You went to punch his chest, but William blocked it

"As a devout feminist, I refuse to say that you hit like a girl." William quipped letting go of you, and you spin around in frustration

"Let's try this again, shall we?" 

"Tell me again why I have to learn self defense this early in the morning." 

William began to roll up his sleeves to better move around "You are my  responsibility." 

You smiled "...says the feminist." William chuckled. 

"Fighting is rhythm. There is a music, there is a meter, there is a pattern. Let that rhythm beat within you." He stood defensively and nods at you. 

"Again." you put up your fists and start to fight him, but he easily blocks your blows. You two spin and continued practicing. You struck him again but he blocks it. 

"Legato" You strike again with increased force,

"Ostinato" You strike back with all your force. 

"Crescendo" You managed to hit him, but he blocked the majority of it and held you by your neck. 

"And then, once you've established your cadence--" You spun out of his grip, kicking him, and pressed him against the wall while he's distracted. 

" --You change the key." you said smiling proudly. 

 "Very nice." He said a little out of breath. "But none of this matters if you cannot make the kill." 

"But I don't want to kill anyone." 

"You will. To survive" He said.

You stepped back to catch your breath from the intense workout.

"Now c’mon we will learn something new today." He brought two wooden staff and throws one at you out of the blue which you barely catch.

"Hey! I wasn't ready!" You protested. 

"First lesson-- always be on your guard." He instructed. You took note of the weight of the staff in your hands for a moment.

"It's heavy." 

"I was half your age the first time my father gave me the staff. I would have torn every muscle rather than let him see me strain. And, had I--" He attacked you, you barely blocked his blow "-- he would have corrected me." 

"No offense, but your dad sounds like a jerkwad" You panted. 

"Mothers love their children. Fathers make them strong" He attacked you again, and though you struggle to keep up, you manage to continue blocking him.

"Well in my case my daddy doesn't care 'cause he already kind of bidded me off in a stupid deal--" You started to fight back  "-- and my mother is quite ardent to make me strong enough to face anything what is to come my way" You grunt while attacking but William easily dodges your strikes.

"You're anticipating. Do not let me see your move before you make it." He strikes at your staff, knocking you off-balance and causing you to twist your ankle as you fall and whimper in pain

"Get up." He commanded.

"I can't, my ankle hurts." You groaned.

"The ability to end your pain is a warrior's true weapon. Master that, and nothing holds power over you." You glared at him. 

"Now, on your feet." You winced. 

"I said, On. Your. Feet." He barked.

You continued to glare at him, but do grab your staff to use it to help you to pull yourself up on your feet. You leaned against the staff for support. William looked mildly impressed.

"Good. Perhaps you've actually learned something today." 

It’s been almost two weeks since the gala night William has been in contact with you providing you with valuable information. You were lost in your thoughts when your phone buzzed and you were broken out of your daze. It was William, you received the call. 

"Hey Will!" 

"Got some news." 

"Seems like Victor has grabbed quite a hold in the European drug cartel. He has been making quite some big deals." 

"Daddy is making deals with the European drug mafias?" You were surprised at this news. "But how is that possible? As much I know he planned to oust the Hollands off their turf first before taking over their business." 

"Working with your dad I have learnt one thing about him, ‘compartmentalization’ nobody gets to know about his real plans. And that is the reason behind his success." 

"I think I know someone who might give me more info on that. But the most important question is who is doing all the dirty work for him while he is sitting in NY." 

"A new gang has emerged in the city ‘the vipers’ but I’m surprised that the Holland’s didn’t happen to come across them yet." He says before ending the call.

Meanwhile Tom was at the docks of the London port accompanied by his brother Harry for a meeting with an old time ally.

"Gomez, after a long time mate." 

"Yeah Holland business has been a little rough these days"

"So my brother tells me that you wanted some negotiations to be done with the current revenue arrangement of the port area"

"Yes Holland about that you see you're charging an outrageously high protection money and for that I am having very little profit from my drug trafficking business" 

"Well mate protecting you from the cops and allowing you to smuggle through my port comes with a high price I told you at the beginning only." Tom says.

"Then I might have to rethink our alliance, Holland."

"You mean you want to call off the deal?" Tom raises his eyebrows.

"Yes you guessed it right" 

"That's really brave of you given that the narcotics are already suspicious about your activities" Tom mocks with a sinister look in his eyes.

"I'll take my chances and there's this new gang who are ready to provide protection at a much cheaper rate plus they are going to help me expand my trade to the States. And profit has always been my first priority mate." Gomez states.

"Well whatever suits you mate but the port is still under my control if I may remind you so perhaps you should start watching your back" Tom advises, malice in his voice and then he storms out of the place.

****

You have finally decided to have a night out and blow off some steam. You dressed up in a slip dress and put on your matching stilettos. Booking yourself an uber you were just about to go down the stairs when you heard some heated argument coming from the office though it was mostly Tom’s voice you heard and by the tone you deduced he was very angry. 

You slowly made your way towards the room to see Tom standing in the middle of the room with Harrison and Harry beside him, his men surrounding him as he yells at them. They were so engrossed into the meeting that nobody bothered to notice you standing so you quietly lean against the doorframe and listened to their conversation.

"I'm paying a bunch of assholes for nothing!" Tom barks. 

"Tom, calm down." Harry goes to tone down his brother.

"How can I calm down?! Some bloody newbie gang has been operating right under my nose! on my turf! and I have no news about that." He snaps.

You couldn’t help but the whole conversation made you chuckle a little too loudly drawing everyone’s attention present in the room. Tom was already seeing red with his business going into jeopardy and seeing you laugh like that he went ballistic. 

"Does something here appear funny to you?" He glares at you.

"Well funny things do." You retort.

"And may I have the pleasure of knowing what you found so funny?"

"Well seeing you guys all worked up about this whole new emerging gang snatching away your territory. I really feel pity for you."

"Thank you for your pity now you may leave, anyways women are not allowed here. I should not see you snooping around in the future near this room." He orders.

"Your loss I might know something that could have helped you in solving your little problem." You shrug and turn to leave. 

"Wait! What do you mean?" 

"Well I guess women don’t do business here so I better keep my mouth shut." You taunt agitating him even more.

"Stop fucking with me Y/N! If you know something then tell me." You pucker your face pretending to think. 

"Please" he adds softening down a bit, you sigh audibly.

"Ok then let me give you a heads up. The viper gang which is hampering your business deals is owned by none other than Victor Martinez aka my daddy dearest." Tom's eyes went wide as well as Harrison's and Harry's. 

"What! You’re kidding right?" You scrunch your nose shaking your head sideways dismissively.

"But-but we had a deal!" He was still in disbelief.

"Honey you made a deal with the devil. What did you expect?" Tom crosses the room in three strides and grabs hold your arm with a death grip anger raging in his eyes.

"Leave my hand, Tom! You’re hurting me!" You struggle twisting your arm. He slightly loosens his grip but still holds on to you. 

"What more do you know? What have you father-daughter planned behind this whole wedding facade?!" He spat gritting through his teeth.

"Hey don't go all out on me! I myself didn't know about this until today. He never told me about this secret gang." 

He scoffs, raising his eyebrows. "And you want me to believe that?" 

"It’s up to you if you want to believe or not but if I would be plotting against you why would I even care to tell you all this?" You pull your hand away "--and this growing hatred inside you I have thousands of times more of that hatred inside me for him" you seethe.

"Then what was the meaning of the whole deal?" 

"Well he wanted me to lure you and trick you into writing everything you own including your business to my name and then kill you." Tom is left speechless with your revelation.

"What? Feel the bitter taste of betrayal?" You smirk. "Now you’ll understand what I felt." 

"Okay then you guys have fun working out your plan on going against your new enemy while I enjoy my night with some music and drinks." You chirp enthusiastically.

"Now where are you going so late?" Tom sounded tired.

"None of your business" 

"Anthony, Michael go with her" He orders two of his men.

"No need, my uber is already waiting outside" saying so you left.

Reaching the club you order some drinks for yourself. You sit on the seat near the counter enjoying the ambience as the bartender hands you a martini. Though it wasn’t like the rave parties you had in NY but you really felt relaxed finally out by yourself after being trapped in that house for two weeks after your wedding which felt like ages. 

"You're Y/N right?" You look up to your side to find the red head girl from yesterday.

"And you're the hooker" You quip and she chuckles.

"Yeah I am, it's Sandy by the way." She takes seat beside you. "So where’s your husband?" 

"Probably still shouting at his men." You shrug, taking a sip of your drink.

"Not to be prying but what's the deal between you two? It looks like you hate each other's guts"

"Don’t know about him but I definitely do, perhaps after tonight he might start hating me too." 

"Then why the hell did you get married?" 

"Well honey things don't work like that in the mob. A wedding is just a strategic alliance between two families for their own mutual benefits. We just serve as scapegoats, our fates were sealed together the day we were born" You explain. 

"Well that’s some really messed up shit" She sympathizes. 

"I know." 

"But you can still work it out. You know he isn’t that bad, at least not in bed" She grins cheekily. 

"Okay I didn’t need to know that" You chuckle sarcastically. 

"You’re really missing a good dick girl, that you can have any time you want and all your life." 

"Do I look like a nymphomaniac?’’ You laugh ‘‘-and no doubt he is a dick. He is the reason my innocent boyfriend is dead, I’m stuck here in this stupid marriage and instead of apologizing what does he do? He brings in girls, acting like a slut" You rant.

"You're bothered aren't you?" 

"No, why would I be bothered with whom he sleeps?" You stand up from your seat stumbling a little already feeling tipsy.

"-- you know what I'm gonna enjoy today, get drunk and dance my sorrows away." "Everyone in the house tonight’s drinks are on me! Enjoy the free booze!" You screamed. The whole crowd whooped and whistled.

"To my fucked up life!" You shouted, downing a shot. 

You made your way to the center of the dance floor and started dancing without any worry about tomorrow. Within seconds you felt two hands around your hips, you turn your head to find a cute boy probably of your age as you continued to dance and grind against him. After a couple of songs you went back to the counter and had some more drinks. You were totally wasted as your vision went blurry and pretty soon everything blacked out.

It feels like a struggle for you to open your eyes as you stir inside the covers. Huh? You squint your eyes open and realize you were actually lying in a bed. You slowly sat up, your head was pounding with last night’s hangover as you groaned holding your head. Your eyes slowly adjusts to your surroundings and you realize that you were indeed back home and in your bedroom. You look down at your body and were shocked to find yourself in just your black strapless bra and underwear.

"You’re up at last." You hurriedly pull the covers up to your chest hearing Tom’s voice. 

He walks in a pair of grey sweatpants and a tightly fitted black t-shirt, his biceps bulging out of it. It was really odd to see him in such an informal attire but he looks good, you slapped yourself internally for the last thought.

"What happened last night? How did I get here? And where are my clothes?!" You badgered him with questions.

"Woah slow down, that's a lot of questions at one go and you should be the first one explaining about your reckless behavior last night."

"Why, what did I do?" You frown.

"Oh you really went wild last night. For starters you danced with random blokes and then you drank more and got wasted. And then you took off your dress whilst those drunk bastards did body shots." Your mouth falls agape in shock.

"Wait what? I took off my dress in public?!" You were still in disbelief.

"Yeah and that’s not all” He says with a scoff “You let those twats lick salt and lemon off your body while they did shots. Thanks to Sandy who informed me on time." You rolled your eyes looking away. 

"After seeing you being used for body shots things got a little nasty out there and they had to close early."

"What did you do?" You ask anxiously. 

"That any man would do seeing his wife being touched by other men." He growls the last bit.

"What do you mean?" 

"I made sure they will be in the hospital for a good couple of months." He states rather proudly. 

You slap your forehead shaking your head in annoyance. You didn't realize that you had let go off the sheets covering your body giving Tom quite a view which he had missed the other day. 

He slowly leans forward, eyeing you up and down lustfully prompting you to back off until your back touched the head board. He crawls towards you further hovering over you reaching his hand out to cup your face.

"You really upset me yesterday Y/N." His voice low as his hand brushes your hair from your shoulder and travels downs to your chest fingertips gently brushing over your rib cage down to the valley of your breasts slightly tugging to the soft material of your bra. You caught hold of his hand to stop him from going down further, he smirks. 

"Funny how you allow strangers to touch you, but not me, your husband who has the only right to do it." You kicked his crotch but not too hard. 

"Bloody hell!!" He groaned as you tackled him down bringing yourself on top straddling him. You were far gone from feeling self conscious, sitting on top of him in just your undergarments. 

"Well the thing is I don't take you as my husband." You sneer narrowing your eyes. "And the last time I checked, you don't trust me." 

"Well I never trusted you on the first place and you proved it last night quite nicely for the reason why” He says. “but honey I'm not letting you go so easily."

"After a lot of thought I actually think you could be a perfect leverage for me" He then goes to press his hand to your lower stomach "Moreover if you were with my child I guess grandpa Victor will certainly agree to some negotiations" He ticked his jaw with a devilish grin. You flare your nostrils fuming at his audacity. 

"I would rather be barren than let you father my child and give him/her this cursed life." You seeth. Tom seemed a little hurt by your words of how you think he's going to be a terrible father but he masked it with his usual cocky self. 

"Truth be told princess I love to be on top and in control but for a change you really look so pretty on top, can't imagine how beautiful you'll look while you ride my dick" He says tracing your jawline with his fingers. You swat his hand away. 

"You're such a piece of shit!" You snap getting off him. He gets up chuckling and leaves the room as you quickly get off the bed and run to the bathroom. 

Undressing yourself from the leftover clothes you ran a warm shower, the warm water quickly relaxing your muscles. You smelt of sweat, alcohol and cigarettes which made you feel dirty. You squirted some body wash and lathered your body with it before washing it off. Then you washed your hair with shampoo. 

You take your time before drying yourself off and walk out of the bathroom busy fixing your towel and bumped into Tom. His large hands held your arms steadying you meanwhile your towel loosens and falls off your body. You both looked at each other in shock. 

Tom stands there like a statue gaping at you, eyes lingering from top to bottom of your exposed body; ‘man you have a goddess like body’ he thought as beads of water trickled down your wet hair. You finally come back to your senses then it suddenly hit you that you were standing completely naked. 

"What the fuck!! Tom close your eyes!!!" You shriek out quickly bending down to grab the towel and cover yourself. Hearing you scream Harrison came barging in your room. 

"What happened mate?" Out of instinct Tom lunges forward and embraces you tightly blocking you from anyone's view.

"Harrison! Get the fuck out of here!" 

"Oh I'm sorry bruh. Didn't know you were busy." He cackles turning around. Some of his other men also came rushing in thinking something happened, leading to a total chaotic situation in the room. 

"Yes, who else is left to join the party you are cordially invited!" You yell frustrated. 

Tom is still guarding you as he yells sharply. "Get out of here you bloody morons!" 

When everyone is finally out of the room Tom steps back as you stand at your place clutching on to your towel, both of you looking away from each other. After a few awkward moments of silence Tom finally speaks up. 

"That was quite a spectacular view, you have kept things quite perked up I see." He says playfully. And that was enough to get on your nerves. 

"You!!!" You glower taking the vase you found near you in your hand to hurl it at him. He steps back a little, raising his hands defensively. 

"Careful love! That cost me thousands of dollars, though I don't have any shortage of money but still don't want a lovely art to go to waste just to appease your anger on your piece of shit husband" He snickers breaking into a laugh and runs out of the room leaving you fuming. 

"Son of a bitch! Uggh!!" You stomp your feet keeping back the vase at its place. Your phone dinged and you went to check, it was a message from William. 

W : Good news

..................................................................

Taglist in bio or send an ask/dm I’ll add you

[write-like-wright]

since you did the prosecutors before can we get exes headcanons for them (like what they would be like if they were ur ex LMAO)? if this is too broad u can pick ur favorite aspect of it (u dumping them, them dumping u, seeing them in public one month later 🥰 etc)

skjdksfnfjnf this is so funny yes!

Being their ex: Ace Attorney rival prosecutor edition

Miles Edgeworth

if you thought he was awkward while you were dating, wait until you see him after your breakup

he does NOT know how to behave around you at all anymore

mostly attempts to avoid you

may or may not pull another one of his "prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death" stunts

goes to Europe for a few months to compose himself and figure out how to proceed

he's especially stumped if you are somehow obligated to interact, either through work or maybe if you live nearby

tries his best to be civil and gentlemanly, but it's painfully obvious he'd rather be anywhere else in the world at that moment

I imagine you'd have mutual friends, so before every group outing he asks if you're going to be there

something may suddenly come up if the answer is yes

*cough, cough* "I can't, I'm sick"

"boo you, Edgeworth"

I'm assuming you broke up either because of how much he works or because he fears for your safety because of your relationship

maybe it was just a heated steel samurai discussion taken too far

Franziska von Karma

oh boy, this is not gonna go well

so cold to you in the public

throws around a "foolish fool" or two your way

grips her whip so tight her knuckles turn white

cries when she gets home

absolutely cannot forgive herself for allowing someone to know her so intimately and see her in her vulnerable moments and then they're just... gone

probably puts her off dating for a while

if I had to guess why you broke up, I'd assume it was due to her intensity or competitive nature

Diego Armando/Godot

this man has many, many exes

not much changes in his demeanour towards you

he's as cool and as smooth as ever, but is careful not to cross over into the flirty territory

you're either addicted to caffeine or absolutely repulsed by it at this point

walking by a coffee shop makes you uncomfortable

don't know why you broke up, but you get back together at least twice before separating for good

Klavier Gavin

Klav remains his good old, friendly self

will drop an album about your breakup

expect a lot of hate from his stans

the media hounds you

you get invited to participate in a few reality shows probably

he feels bad and tries to defend you

offers to make it up to you by taking you out for dinner

you hook up

you break up again because you can't stand the constant scrutiny and him being away for long periods of time

rinse and repeat

Simon Blackquill

there are so many potential reasons why you could've broken up

too intense? scary at times?? manipulative without even realizing it??? spends half his life savings on a fancy katana???? who knows with him

goes full emo

do you guys know that canonically those marks on his face are from crying so much in prison? yeah (they're apparently starting to heal too, good for him)

acts all tough at work, goes home and cries to HIM - Gone With The Sin blasting at full volume

flip-flops between being a gentleman and a jerk should you meet in public

makes a few snarky comments about you and your relationship to hurt you, then has a minor freakout when realization.exe kicks in and he notices you actually are hurt

apologises by sending you cute bird pics

"Look at what Taka did today."

"He's wearing the bandana you bought him :)"

"Please respond I'm so sorry don't block me"

You eventually remain friends so you can get bird visitation rights

Nahyuta Sahdmadhi

acts polite and smiles sweetly, but occasionally ends the conversation with "I will pray for you", not unlike a hostile southern lady

you miss him and his expensive haircare and skincare products

you can definitely live without the 8-hour sermons

perhaps the cultural differences were too hard to overcome? or maybe it was the constant travelling? in either case, you mutually decide that ending your relationship would be for the best

I imagine dating literal royalty would be exhausting

Barok van Zieks

make no mistake, this WILL cause a scandal

no matter the reason for your separation, get ready to deal with some serious gossip

everywhere you go, you notice people whispering about you

"I hear they ended their betrothal with Lord van Zieks."

"Well, I say! Can't imagine dealing with the Reaper myself."

everyone wants to hear your side of the story and any potential dirt you may have on him

Barok acts as gentlemanly as ever, as befits a man of his standing

he's a solitary man, but his solitude soon leads to loneliness and resentment

his consumption of fine vintages increases by tenfold

whatever it is that happened between the two of you must have been major

betrothals are not lightly ended, especially with the heir of a powerful noble family

might not even be your doing, perhaps family got involved

perhaps, his family reputation has been besmirched? ahem

Bonus: Kazuma Asogi

poor Kazuma can't catch a break

Ryu gets a tear-stained letter written on 18 sheets of paper, front and back

"Oh, dear," Susato sighs. "I suppose this means the wedding is off."

while he's no lord, he is a prosecutor in the service of Her Majesty and the news of a courtship ending would be scandalous

perhaps, for that reason, and fearing how the public would react to your relationship (it is Victorian England we're talking about after all, Van Zieks' views are far from unique), you chose to keep it a secret

at first exciting, your secret meetings and whispered words soon become tiresome

the fear of being caught is always gnawing at you

he may lash out initially when you leave him

offers to make your relationship public, to hell with the society

you both know it's a bad idea

"This is all your fault." he sighs as he pours himself another chalice of Van Ziek's fine vintage.

"My fault? How is your poor performance today in court my fault, my Nipponese friend?" Barok spits out. "You have been distraught for days now, man! Pull yourself together!"

"Not you specifically," Kazuma brushes off. "Your kind."

"My kind?"

"Stuck up posh twats."

Gina walks in just as they're about to draw their blades

listen babes I'm a Kazuma simp this is the only way i could envision dumping his ass

[rainbowtransform]

@ethereal-deadly-clover @melancholycatastrophe

:) (def would consider checking out this post before for a little more context!!)

Here’s the thing: Dream loves his server. He enjoys playing with it, growing flowers and managing to coax dogs and cats out from the undergrowth of trees. He looks at the stars above him, big and bright and beautiful. When he decided to settle, Dream puts away his shoes.

He walks barefoot through the grass, feels the wind, and feels the earth beneath him. The word he has inhabited, the world that holds him close and murmurs words of love is huge. It’s awaiting his exploration, and hums a song that he doesn’t quite understand.

His feet are bruised by the time he finishes his walk. Bad scolds him for it, but he sees the faraway look in Dream’s eye, and remembers the first time he’d gotten his own server. “Be more careful,” he says quietly while wrapping them. “Shoes are important, and you’re not going to help yourself without them.”

Dream shrugs. He wriggles his toes, and smiles.

“I like going barefoot.” He says. “It makes me feel closer to the World.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Pandora’s Vault burns his feet almost instantly. Dream spends the first week hopping from foot to foot, settling them into his respawn hole, and wondering why it never hurt this much before.

Sam looks at him with no expression, and only raises an eyebrow at his hopping. There were shoes in Dream’s changing bag, but he’s hasn’t worn shoes in forever. The only time was when he’d enter the Nether, but he’d take them right off afterwards.

“They’re uncomfortable.” Dream tells Sam. “I’m wearing them.”

A sigh.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

He’s in the trees, feet dangling. Sam’s underneath him, shoes in one hand and a half-smile flitting across his face. “It’s almost winter,” he says. “You’ll get cold. You’ve got to wear shoes.”

Dream shrugs. “I’ll wear socks.” He counters.

“They’ll get wet,” Sam says back. Dream crosses his arms. No one likes wet socks, but Dream doesn’t want to wear shoes anymore. He hasn’t been for a while.

“What if I only walk on the Path? Or I only leave when it’s warm enough or I just go outside the community house.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You’re not going to do that.” He says bluntly. “You can barely sit there for this world, you’re always exploring. Now you’re going to dust inside for a whole season?”

Dream sighs. He climbs down the tree, and Sam smiles at him. He gives Dream the shoes, and then tightens his own laces when Dream’s tying his. “I’ll be back before this season’s over.” Sam tells him, brushes aside Dream’s hair.

Dream feels uncomfortable. Sam says his goodbyes, and once he’s out, Dream takes off the shoes.

(The others look away. They’ve gotten used to not trying; Sam’s the only one who still does. Callahan even took his shoes off for a week or two, trying to connect to the world like Dream.)

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The thing about Techno joining him is that he’s calm and collected. He’s bored, but he hasn’t been through the things that Dream has been.

“So,” Techno says, looking at the shoes Dream has on. “Why are you wearing Velcro shoes? Can’t tie your laces?”

Dream shrugs. “The Warden put them on me.” He said. “He usually does before Quackity comes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s like a punishment inside another punishment. He knows I don’t like shoes.”

“You can take them off right?”

“With permission.”

Techno shrugs. “Well… I’m giving you permission.”

Dream shrugs. “The Warden’s supposed to.”.

Techno hums. He drops his cape around Dream’s shoulders, and leans against a wall. “Well,” he says. “I’m going to sleep.”

(And if Dream leans next to him, far away enough to not touch him but close enough to grab Techno just in case, that’s enough. And if Dream wakes up tomorrow with no shoes, Techno looking like he hasn’t moved, there’s no one’s business except his own.)

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Dream writes and writes. His hand shakes, cramps, but he taps bare feet against chests and dips them into the respawn pool. Techno takes the books, and flips through them, and sometimes he’ll make Dream laugh. He also just watched Dream and the difference between shoeless and having them.

It’s done, Dream thinks. He signs his name off, writes it in a flourish. It’s like signing his death warrant. Dream finished the last sentence, and hands off the book to Techno. He doesn’t read this one, but he does give a hard look in the camera’s direction.

“Listen, Dream,” he says softly. “I’m going to go away for a while. I promise, I promise, I’ll come back. But you’ve got to stay strong okay?”

Dream stares at him. “You’re leaving?” He says.

Techno takes the cape from the floor and drapes it over Dream’s shoulders. “I am. I’ll come back for you. Team Chaos, remember?”

“Team Chaos,” Dream echoes.

And then he’s alone.

(Quackity hates that Techno got away. Sam hates that Techno got away, and burned the shoes. Dream cowers in the corner, begging forgiveness even though he did nothing.)

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Drowsy, Dream opens his eyes to see the Warden putting Velcro shoes on him. Dream hates them. It means that Quackity’s going to do something and Dream doesn’t know what. Sam doesn’t look at him, but he does make sure the straps are tight on him before leaving.

Quackity comes in minutes later. Dream curls in a corner, trying to get away, trying to get them off, ect are they on him what is he planning sometime sometime sometime—

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

He’s lead outside, with a bunch of people on the entrance. He tries to reconnect with the earth again, tries to feel the world underneath his feet, but there’s—it’s nothing.

He can’t feel anything except the socks and the shoes that feel dead, dead, dead. He would have fallen, trying to grab something in his hands—grass, dirt, the shoes—if the Warden’s hand didn’t tighten on his arm.

The warning is clear: stop.

“See?” Quackity says. “He’s fine. Sam hasn’t done anything to him.”

Dream looks up at the sky, and tilts his head. It’s dark, almost like it’s about to rain. Dream hasn’t seen rain in a long time. He wonders what season it is, before his attention is snapped toward Antfrost, who looks him up and down.

“Why is he wearing shoes?” Antfrost asks. “Dream never does.”

“Pandora’s Vault is hot,” the Warden says. “His feet will burn otherwise.”

They ask the Warden a bunch of questions. They don’t ask Dream, but Ant kept giving him weird looks when he reached for the grass beneath his feet. He just wants to connect again.

Dream feels wind against his face, and he looks to where it’s coming from. There’s a shadow, flying low with the wind. Dream almost looks up, but doesn’t. It’s probably a bird.

The Warden’s hand tightens again, and Dream could feel tears building. Dream looks up and then suddenly everyone is staring at him.

“Dream,” Puffy says. There’s something in her expression that he can’t quite place. “Are you okay?”

Dream turns away and tries to grab some grass again.

“Prisoner,” the Warden says. “Answer the question.”

Dream catches Quackity’s eye, and watches how his expression changes from one of pleased to angry. The Warden’s hand is getting tighter, almost digging into him. Dream nods once, and the Warden lets go.

“Well, that’s a lie.” Technoblade says from above, and then all hell breaks lose.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Dream loves the night sky and the stars that come with it. When Dream first settled, they could see millions of stars above them and Dream made his own constellations. The stars glowed bright.

(Later on, it became too light to see some of them. But Dream remembered where they used to be. He’d sit on the roof of the Community House for hours, tracing where they were.)

But in the Arctic, they are unfamiliar. “Make new ones,” Techno told him. But Dream misses the old stars, he misses his fri—

He misses when there was no wars.

When it was just Dream in the world, he managed to bring a star down from above. He held it in his hands, hot and cold at the same time; and he watched it. It fizzled and spit and didn’t burn out for a long time.

Dream thinks he was a star, intimidating and untouchable. But he’s also at the end, his fizzle had sparked out. He’s not who he used to be.

He doesn’t know who he is.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

He tries to be barefoot in the snow, tries to feel the earth underneath his feet. There’s nothing except the stinging bite of cold and the dogs’ breathing.

Techno finds him, shoeless, sitting on his porch edge. He’s holding onto two pairs shoes, one Velcro and the other with laces. “It’s pretty cold,” he says.

Dream doesn’t reply. Techno sits down next to him, “Listen,” he says. “You lose the most heat out of feet and your head. I’m okay with you being shoeless in the houses, or the porch. But once you step off, you’ve got to wear shoes. Choose one.”

Dream looks at them. “Laces,” he says. “I can wear laces.”

“Sure, nerd,” he says. Techno leaves the shoes on the porch, and then gets up to go inside. “Phil’s making hot chocolate,” he says. “If you want.”

Dream nods. He lays down on the porch, and looks at the stars above him. A million, waiting for constellations.

So, Dream begins drawing.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Dream used to coax flowers into blooming early before the Wars began. Iris and Ivy, lilacs, and Lilies, asters and carnations. Roses and willows, and everything underneath the sun.

In the Arctic, they don’t grow. They shrivel because the Arctic is cold, and flowers are used to warm weathers. And Dream almost cries, when he manages to have a flower grow.

It’s a daffodil.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The Syndicate come back from a mission, gunpowder staining hands and wither residue left on Techno’s cape. They’ve also got Redstone dust on them, but Dream doesn’t ask.

Dream watched them walk up, and Techno glanced down at his bare feet. “We can go on a training mission,” Techno tells him. “Somewhere warmer.”

There’s a break, and Dream looks down at his feet, and the flower that he’s grown. Niki and Phil are already inside, discussing what they should bake for dessert tonight and Boo’s already gone and writing something in his Book.

Dream looks up at Techno, and smiles. “Sure,” he says quietly. “I’d like that.”

(There’s something almost beautiful when he reconnects to the server. When his feet dig into soft soil, and he can feel everything.

Dream lays down, and watches the sky. Techno lays next to him. They’ve got weeks to spend here.)

[nochiquinn]

exandria unlimited: kymal: part 2: I planned for this

not adele dazeem

h a t s

"I feel like critical role's so serious" "WHAT"

sends that clip to all the "critical role was never this crass" tlovm critics

they got her

erica seems so much more comfortable tonight

pick-me casino

"I got fiddle-fingers!"

POODLE PIP

oh, oxboxtra does that one sometimes

see, bell's hells, THEY get it

I'm love him

mor: brumestone dorian: [rapid blinking]

spaceship

"and hide his dumb ass"

BOOP ACTION

matt teaching aimee and erica how to hit dice

rip aabria's voice

the chroma conclave getting turned into a tacky theme spa is the BEST

"no ringworm for dorian"

"he's not little, he's 6''6'!"

the way opal's face dropped at "thordak"

orym would probably also have had...some reaction

dariax

"it's kinda disrespectful but. y'know."

"I've always wanted to see the top of your head!" "👀" "NO"

"you can't get pregnant in a hot tub - you COULD get chlamydia!"

(edit from the future: I can't believe I spelled that right the first time)

jinoir :(

I need them to adopt and protect this child

"dorian's a taurus for sure" can we not call me out personally in this moment

ouchie check

for the record laying on pokey things is my absolute nightmare

"please draw it. and tag me."

dream check DREAM CHECK

comment cards

I love opal so goddamn much

everybody trying so fucking hard not to laugh over aimee

stop dating the episode

("no one who hasn't watched shortonegaming will get that" well maybe they should watch shortonegaming then)

(watch shortonegaming)

matt telling erica "it's fine, it's gonna be fine"

awakened vestige!!!

this is the dai character editor mirror

opal and the power of friendship

where is dariax. where is the back-to-back

"what should I do next" stop being a fucking dipshit

diligent, intelligent

they got the mother gothel treatment didn't they

GO AWAY AND THEN COME BACK SOON

"thank you for letting me do that, it was so disrespectful"

"she's wearing this, because we did the art"

cognitive psience

"sometimes cuddle buddies"

ted 2 again

"that is a man who let a pet rock die"

....birds of a feather

"will this be a pun list? YES."

PIERODIN

"I'm just gonna make eye contact with you, Matt"

LIFE NEEDS WINE TO LIVE

how long until the svg goes up for the vinyl cutters and their wine glass wraps

"she grew up in this buffet"

fantasy ostrich

big farm-a

"the exact same" gay

"we've moved a few couches together" GAY

"you gave me the power!"

innuendo as spellcasting flavor

apparently we are two hours into a five hour stream, help me

the early break is going to be my downfall

orym where are you

oh BOY

"you heard an eldritch language" that's how I hear all math

I don't like how much this guy smirks

dariax is a GOOD BOY

"I made her yeet a dice :D"

for a hot second I thought she threw it AT him

someone loan her a new d20

awww

what in the gravira

his mean little brainhole

don't love that!

"should have given him lair actions"

"look at the flowchart!!"

exCUSE

thrall? girl got a thrall?

poska-senpai noticed me

"doors are mysterious"

"the biggest boss I can offer: a mean door"

"do you think we care about money more than you?"

"as long as the money is out of this vault, I did my job"

I love one (1) himbo dwarf

"do you have some - it's just me, stop screaming - do you have some paper"

cyrus did one (1) useful thing

it's free gratis

this means in their future sessions - and there better goddamn be future sessions - they will have not one but two bags of holding

unless something really stupid happens

hello??

raven? matron of ravens?

(I'm sorry, I know why they had to change it, but "matron of ravens" will never be as smooth to say as "raven queen")

Dariax Is A Good Boy

even if this is a stupid idea (I have no idea) it is Hurting His Friend and now it has to Die

matt control your face

GO AWAY PIKACHU

aimee stop metagaming

"just smashing stuff?" "....yeah" "hell yeah"

anjali: wait I have the thing

there's an hourish left and I am in suffering

MAP

gaola mvp

dick around

"we're all impossibly stupid!"

"have you ever kicked a building to death?"

is fantasy c4 the only explosive you've heard of

"I'm really good at breaking things!"

"I had...a thought" "no!"

lmao the dice roller

"it's not that good a plan"

"I love you and I like you, and if this is not airtight I will FUCK you up"

!!!

QUEEN SHIT

god I want an exu animated miniseries

KING SHIT

did I compare the nameless ones to the dollars from durarara last time we did this

!!!

god I am TENSE

please don't everybody go splat

"roll good" "I'M TRYING"

I love her SO MUCH

"everyone turn into a simple machine!"

but they didn't HAVE machines in the middle ages

(this is more salt at tlovm critics, ignore me)

YIP YIP

the world's craziest poodle

wall effect!

smoke? clouds? probably clouds

here at the end I would like to state that every time they mentioned morrighan's songbird I pictured Songbird from bioshock

HEY

HEY WAIT A MINUTE

HER name? as is Mor is using someone else's name?

AS IN AN OLD WOMAN IN THE FEYWILD NAMED MORRIG(H)AN?

that was a sequel hook aabria you can't fool me

"we got 50k and a floating balcony!"

"did you forget their relationship started with peeing off a wall?!"

[shakes tin cup] spare a stinger?

no stinger :(

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Visibility (Good Omens Fic)

Written for Lesbian Visibility Day, 2021

(26 April, 1972)

“What did you szzay?”

Beelzebub glared at the empty space before zir throne, listening to a pair of feet shuffle awkwardly.

“I just…woke up like this,” Crowley explained, in what was probably supposed to be a casual voice. “At first, I thought I was coming down with something. Flu. Hangover. Allergies. All very contagious this time of year. Really, if you haven’t been to Earth before, April is – just wait at least another month. But then I realized, s’not going away, and I thought: curse. Definitely a curse. Probably one of those angels, thwarting and all, you know how they are.”

“An angel.” The Prince of Hell tapped one finger on the arm of the throne, swarm of flies flitting around, trying to make sense of what zir own eyes weren’t telling zir. “Iszzn’t that hideouszz pieczze of real esztate you live in warded?”

“Probably. You know how it is. Get home late, really tired, swear you locked the door, but…” The footsteps – echoing as those ridiculous heeled boots struck the ground – began to circle the room. Beelzebub didn’t keep many possessions – at least, not the material sort – but Crowley seemed determined to touch them all. “Anyway, you know angels. Clever bastards.” An ornate dagger on the far table began to spin. “Or witches. Not quite as bastardly, but they cause trouble. Oh, or a cursed artifact.” Papers began rearranging themselves. “I just…I haven’t been thrift shopping in years, you know, not really my scene, not anyone’s scene anymore, but I saw this really spectacular jacket, I thought, what the Heaven? Might have some age-old horrific curse, or bedbugs, but it’s going to look stunning on the dance floor.”

Pinching zir nose, Beelzebub tried not to imagine the foolish way she was probably grinning. “And by complete coinczzidenzze,this angel, witch or…garment, juszzt happened to make you completely inviszzible on the day of your department budget review?”

“Yup.” A selection of goblets toppled to the floor with a clatter, bouncing and spinning across the floor. One rolled as if kicked, but not even Beelzebub’s cleverest flies could locate the blasted demon who had caused the mess. “I mean, not just a coincidence. Plenty of reasons. Er. The angel. Just last week, that – uh, that Aziraphale, I foiled one of her plans. Thoroughly. Foiled like…like leftover chicken. So. This could be revenge. Very unfortunately timed, but you know.”

“Indeed.” Beelzebub rose, stalking from zir throne across the floor to the spot that most strongly radiated incompetence. “And the curszze breakerszz haven’t been able to turn you back?”

“I mean, they tried.” More footsteps, hastier now, so that the echoes made them harder to track. “Course they tried. But,” she clicked her tongue, “couldn’t do it. Said they’d never seen anything like it before.” Ze would have to speak with them. No, too much trouble. Beelzebub would send the Hellhounds to take care of those idiots. “But, they did say it should wear off in…twenty-four to forty-eight hours. You know. With bed rest. Pity about the budgetary review.”

“How szzo?” Ze asked, lip curling. Every twenty-five years, like clockwork, like the courses of the blessed stars, the day of Crowley’s review, something – something highly improbably – tried to disrupt things.

“Well. I mean. Bed rest. Suggested by your curse breakers. And anyway. Can’t go like this, can I?” One of the goblets floated up from the floor, spinning in an unseen hand. “Might be disruptive.Wouldn’t want to draw attention away from Dagon – I heard, she has some fantastic charts this year. Pie graphs. One of those ones with the dots and the lines. Look at this!” From behind Beelzebub’s throne floated a ceramic pot filled with tall green plants, three dozen flies happily flitting around the attractively scented leaves. “Is this dill? Excellent choice. I’ve been doing some gardening lately, too, and let me tell you—”

“I cannot imagine anything” Beelzebub snapped, snatching the plant out of her invisible hands, “that could make you more diszzzruptive than you already are. But it appearszz you can szztill szzee, hear, and – unfortunately – szzpeak.”

“Just lucky I guess.” More pacing.

“Szzo. Dagon will be exzzpecting you in…four and a half minuteszz. I’m czzertain everyone iszz eagerly awaiting your planszz for the coming quarter-czzentury. Dagon, at leaszzt, could probably uszze the…amuszzement.”

“Course. Right. Perfect.” The footsteps began to lead towards the door. “I’ll just—”

“Szztop.” Beelzebub’s hand flew out, snapping tight around the demon’s wrist exactly as she walked past. “The otherszz will need to szzee where you are.”

“I could whistle,” she volunteered, launching into something that sounded like a tortured bird.

The Prince considered ripping her arm off and stuffing it down her throat, but the last time ze did that, the satisfaction hadn’t been worth the days of cleanup.

“Juszzt put on a hat or szzomething.”

A snap of fingers, and a band of glittering silver cloth appeared around where her waist should be. “Better? Can I go now? I’m…extremely eager to start my presentation. Ngk. Everyone is going to be impressed. This – this decade is going to put me on the map.”

“Go.”

The silver band of cloth sauntered out of the room, echoing the moronic way the demon walked. Checking the dill plant for damage, Beelzebub lowered zirself back onto the throne.

Which had, inexplicably, moved several inches back, causing zir to fall onto the floor, the potted plant shattering. “Crowley!”

--

“Brilliant, just brilliant,” Crowley muttered, stalking down the hall towards the meeting room. She’d spent a week putting this curse together, combining ones from six of Aziraphale’s most obscure grimoires, and yet she still had to make her bloody presentation. “Next time, I’ll just give myself the plague.” That had almost worked in the fourteenth century. Just needed a more impressive plague.

Ahead on the right, a door with a piece of paper taped on it reading Temptation Department Budget Group Lambda. She hesitated, fingers hovering just short of pushing it the rest of the way open. Had Beelzebub warned everyone she was invisible? More often, ze expected demons to take care of such things themselves, on pain of pain. Two minutes to spare; might as well try.

Crowley dropped the silver belt on the floor outside and slipped through the partially-open door, transforming her extremely cool boots into a pair of quieter slippers. That, at least, she could do without being sensed; shifting the shape of her feet didn’t alert the other demons the way a real miracle would.

A dozen of them sat in chairs around the conference table, grumbling about their project proposals, miracle allotments, and soul quotas. An overhead projector sat at the front of the room. It was the one with the cracked glass, projecting a broken circle of light onto a white wall. Dagon stood beside it, shuffling papers.

Crowley could try writing dirty words on a couple of the pre-made transparencies, but that didn’t seem properly demonic. Scanning the room, she spotted the wheeled coffee cart tucked in the corner, laden with a coffee pot, Styrofoam cups, plate of pastries and various flavorings. Horrid stuff. All demons were required to drink three cups of it per meeting, and to eat one of the scones, which this time appeared to be…pickled herring flavored? With orange marmalade?

There wasn’t much she could do to make that worse. She grabbed a few anyway, tucking them down the front of her shirt, and dumped the marmalade into the molten coffee, turning the temperature up as high as it would go. She’d managed to grab a fistful of wet soil and some dill from Beelzebub’s plant. Most of that went into the coffee pot, a little into the sour creamer, and the rest into the alleged sugar – probably an artificial sweetener, those were all the rage lately.

What else? She stole all the spoons, then pulled off an earring and started poking holes in the bottom of the cups with it.

With the perfect sense of timing honed from millennia of avoiding one more second in the company of her coworkers than necessary, Crowley managed to slip out the door, put on the belt, and waltz back in exactly as Dagon demanded, “Where is the demon Crowley?”

“Sorry, sorry. Feeling a bit under the weather today.” Only about three demons glanced her way with some level of surprise; the rest just got up and headed over to get their first requisite cup of coffee. “You wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve had. And the traffic! The roads just get worse every year. Anyway, here now. Ready and eager. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She snagged an empty seat and dropped into it, crossing her boots on the table with a heavy thud.

Dagon sighed. “Do I even want to know what happened this time?”

“Pissed off an angel. Utterly ruined her plans. Cursed me out in the most unbelievable language, and then, well, you see. Or don’t see.”

It was certainly true enough. Aziraphale had been very upset when the “fine dining establishment” Crowley had selected for their meet-up turned out to be the hottest disco in the city. And the way she managed to express her disappointment while technically not swearing certainly strained credulity.

“Did you kill her?” Ligur asked. So unimaginative.

“No, I did something much worse.” She’d dragged Aziraphale onto the dance floor and managed almost twenty-three seconds of enthusiastic disco next to her before the angel – now bright red and flustered – had stormed out entirely. “But, we’re not here to talk about me. Let’s have it. Numbers. Spreadsheets. I heard a rumor we might see that climate change graph.”

A general groan ran around the table.

“Shut up,” Dagon snapped. “Listen up, you lot – all you idiots, and Crowley in particular. Every one of you worthless wastes of matter needs to explain what you’re going to do in the next quarter-century, how that’s going to secure souls for our Master, and why we should waste any number of miracles on your pathetic hides. Until then—”

With an icy shiver, Crowley felt her miracles vanish.

“Now. Let’s start on the success rate of last quarter-century, and if I hear one word of complaint, you can scream it from the bottom of a sulfur pool. And don’t forget your blessed coffee.”

As Dagon started her presentation, Crowley watched the coffee cart. Someone had helpfully wheeled it next to the conference table, so the demons could more easily torture themselves. Seven managed to soak their shirts and trousers from leaking cups before the marmalade clogged the pot entirely. That, however, would never be enough to cancel the meeting. Heaven, a few of them even said it tasted better than usual. Should have seen that coming.

Still. It was a start.

Crowley played with her earring, then grinned, thinking of a possibility.

“Ow!” she shouted dramatically. “Something bit me!”

“Wasn’t me,” Hastur said sullenly.

“W—no, I mean. Some kind of insect.”

“Don’t see one,” grunted another demon called Krang, sitting right beside Crowley.

“It’s right there!” Silence. Oh, right, no one could see her pointing. “There! On the coffee pot!”

Eyes narrowing, Krang leaned forward, glaring across the table at the pot, which was rattling slightly. Crowley jabbed them in the back of the neck with her earring.

“Arg! It got me!” Krang slapped at the spot, leaping out of their chair. “Did you see where it went?”

“There! On Hastur’s head!”

“Where—?” Hastur managed before Ligur swatted him so hard he fell out of his chair.

“Ah, shit!” Crowley shouted. “It got me again! No, wait, I think it’s a different one.” The demons anxiously glanced at each other, but no one else stood up. Not enough. “Oh, no! My…my hand!” Crowley tried to think of something suitable “It’s burning! Like Holy Water!” She jabbed the earring into the arm of the demon on her other side.

“Bloody—It got me too!” He was on his feet in an instant. “I can feel it burning already!”

“And me!” That demon wasn’t even near Crowley. She grinned. It was working.

“What are these things?”

“I can feel it crawling on my leg.”

“My neck is swelling up!”

“Sit down!” Dagon snapped, baring her teeth. “I don’t want to hear another word about bloody insects. You’re demons. Act like it! Or I’ll make it four cups.”

The room froze – silent, apart from the now-continuous rattle of the coffee pot – as a dozen demons weighed the fear of some sort of terrifying unseen holy insect versus drinking more of the vile brew.

So Crowley ripped a handful of scone out of her top and crumbled it. “What – my hair!” She tossed the crumbs across the table. “Are – are those larvae?”

Everyone shuffled back a few steps.

“I don’t think you heard me—” Dagon started, in a tone that suggested Crowley was about to lose the room. So she went all in.

“Oh, Satan!” She shouted, falling dramatically from her chair. “They’re – they’re crawling into my ears!” That earned a few nervous glances, so she took a deep breath and gave her best horror-movie scream. “That angel! She did something to me!”

“Crowley!” Dagon shouted. “Stop acting out right now,or I swear to Satan, I’ll—”

She never found out what Dagon wanted to do to her, though, because at that moment the coffee pot exploded, lid flying off, scalding brown liquid splashing in every direction, along with blobs of now-runny marmalade.

Never one to let an opportunity go by, no matter how unexpected, Crowley cried, “Eggs! They’re nesting in the coffee! Who drank that?”

A perfect panic set in, and there was nothing Dagon could do to stop all the demons – including Crowley – from evacuating the room.

--

In the confusion that followed, everyone lost track of a certain invisible demon. How sad. And totally unexpected, Crowley thought, climbing into the Bentley. Too bad I kept the radio off and didn’t go to the cinema. Otherwise, they could summon me back. If she were careful, she could have days to finish coming up with her proposal.

But first, a little fun. Grinning, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, wondering what kind of trouble she could get into next.

Well. One way to find out.

The London police were extremely disappointing that morning. It took nearly eight minutes of driving around at top speed, running red lights, and blaring her horn outside rich-looking homes before one finally started chasing her.

Slamming into top gear, she raced down the busiest streets, whipping around corners, weaving through traffic, making sure not to get too far ahead. The second patrol car joined in somewhere near Oxford Street, the third during a quick jaunt up towards Regent’s Park. When she’d collected four, sirens blaring as they struggled to keep up with her flawless driving, she spotted a side street and lurched into it with a complicated 270-degree-spin finished with the nose of the Bentley facing the approaching cars.

Then she settled back in her seat and waited.

--

The black monstrosity finally slid to a stop. Officer Mills kept her eyes on it while her partner slowed their own car to a stop.

“We sure he’s not just going to run?” She asked, trying to spot the driver. The glare off the windshield must be playing tricks on her eyes; she couldn’t see a thing.

“We surround it,” Harmon said. “Got to be enough of us, even if they try to make trouble.”

Six officers eased out of their cars, silently trying to decide who should approach the window. Mills won – or lost – and took the lead, Harmon close behind her. He was the only one armed; she felt a little better for that, in case the driver turned out to be dangerous, though most likely she figured he would try to plow through the police cars to get away. They couldn’t do much in that case apart from try to kick the tires in passing.

“Think it’s stolen?” Harmon asked as a few others moved to try and block the street beyond the idling nightmare. “Teenagers messing around?”

“Could be,” Mills said doubtfully. “It’s vintage, though. Really old. And whoever was driving knows what they’re doing.”

Anderson waved from the far side of the vehicle. Everyone was in position. Mills nodded and walked up to the window, prepared for a lunatic – or a drunk – or someone on an awful lot of drugs.

Instead, it was completely empty.

“What…” She glanced back at Harmon. “No one. Did he bail out?”

“We’d have seen. Check the back seat.”

“Nothing. Wait. There’s…a tin of biscuits. That’s all.”

Down the street, Anderson crouched, checking underneath. Nothing there, apparently. Slowly, the police approached, one by one relaxing as they confirmed that yes – the car was empty.

The driver side window was open. Mills stuck her head in, glancing up and down. Nothing. No sign of what had happened to the driver. The engine still gently rumbled, and the door was locked. She definitely would have noticed if someone had stayed there long enough to lock it through the window.

“I’ll call to have it towed,” Harmon said, stepping back. She could hear the confused frown in his voice. “Maybe we’ll find…something…when we search it.”

By this point, even the officers who had waited in the patrol cars had joined them, crowded along the sides of the black vintage monster, testing doors and peering through windows. Mills leaned in to unlock the driver side door. “But where could he have gone?”

“She,” a soft voice said near Mills’s ear, and something tapped against her nose. “And I haven’t gone anywhere.”

Mills stumbled back as the radio burst to life.

You know the day destroys the night Night divides the day…

Everyone spun in place, looking for the source of the music from a nearby window or door, shouting at shadows, so only Mills was watching as the pedals and gear stick moved themselves.

Tried to run Tried to hide Break on through to the other side Break on through to the other side…

The ghost car – what else could she be? – shot backwards up the street, faster than should have been possible, spun a full 360-degree turn, then straightened up and drove away, blending into traffic with a cheerful toot of the horn.

Mills finally blinked.

“Harmon?” She called. “You do the paperwork on this one. I need a drink.”

--

Crowley danced in her seat far more than she usually would, but for once no one could see her.

Made the scene Week to week Day to day Hour to – Crowley!

She nearly slammed on the brakes as Jim Morrison began to sound an awful lot like Dagon. Shit. Forgot about that.

“Ahhhh…speaking?”

“Who, exactly, gave you permission to leave?”

“Oh. Ahhh.” She glanced out the window at a row of businesses and pulled over in front of some kind of barber shop. “I thought, what with all the insects—”

“There were no insects!”

“There weren’t?” Crowley really needed to work on her innocent voice. “I must be hallucinating. Better go home and lie down until it passes.”

“Crowley. Your budget proposal is due by the end of the day. Do you want to be stranded up there without miracles? Do you know what we do to demons who fail to meet their quotas?”

She knew that. She’d been told, several times, exactly what to expect. “Nnnnnh…I’ve got – it’s going to be a big project. Very big. More souls than…than wasps have larvae. Just need to work on my proposal in a secure, bug-free location.”

“Crowley! Do you think for one second—”

“Ah! They’re coming out of the radio!” Crowley cut the sound.

She sat in the Bentley, tapping her fingers on the wheel.

I just hung up on Dagon. They’re going to kill me. Worse, they’re going to send me down to file in the archives for a thousand years.

Then again, they’d have to find her first.

And, she was finding, her current state presented the kind of temptations even a demon couldn’t ignore…

--

Graham Palmer had been trying to get into the barber shop for twenty minutes.

The door was stuck fast. No matter how he rattled and pulled, it wouldn’t budge, as if something enormous had pinned it shut. And yet, every time he stepped back to let other patrons try, the door opened easily, but slammed as if pulled shut whenever he approached. He even tried slipping through behind another customer, but then it stayed shut until Graham stepped back. There was just no way in.

Now he hammered on the window, trying to get his barber’s attention. “Stuart! Stuart! What the hell are you trying to pull?”

The barber looked up from his current customer, blinking in confusion, and jerked his head towards the door.

“I tried that, it doesn’t bloody work!” A young man half his age walked past, giving Graham a funny look, and pulled open the shop door. Graham dove to follow him, but again it snapped shut, almost catching his nose. He pounded the door with his fist, glaring at the customers inside. “I’m going to be late!”

Across the shop, Stuart put down his scissors and shouted something. All Graham caught was “…break my glass…”

There was an idea.

He crossed the pavement to where an ancient black car was parked, removing his jacket. Wrapping it around his arm for protection, he charged forward, bracing himself for impact.

The door swung open in front of him and before he could stop himself, Graham tripped over – something – there didn’t appear to be anything – and sprawled on his face, sliding across the linoleum floor.

“Watch yourself, dearie,” a cheerful woman’s voice said, but when he looked up, no one was there.

--

Crowley strolled around the park, her new domain, another time.

Over there, at the edge of the path, was the Strange Chill area. Anyone who paused there, perhaps studying the slightly askew sign that seemed to indicate the exit was in the fountain, would feel a touch on their shoulder, a tickle on the back of their neck, or hear heavy breathing with no source.

Over here, near the ice cream cart, was the Creepy Bush. Originally just generic ghost noises, Crowley eventually discovered what really freaked humans out was a disembodied voice whispering their name, or something they’d said in private a few minutes before. She followed strolling couples around, listening in on anything good, and when one stopped to by the other ice cream, just really let loose on the one standing by the bushes. They usually started clinging much more closely to their partner after that, so really, Crowley was doing them a favor. Instant relationship counseling.

Across from the fountain sat the Haunted Bench. Crowley really went wild with that one. Children’s songs in a creepy voice. Branches shaking with no wind. Possessions floating away from wherever they’d been set down. Really, anything was allowed.

The narrow path leading through the tulips was the Asshole Road. Anyone Crowley caught being an asshole in her park was subtly sent that direction, pickpocketed, and then beset by bees, or at least a very convincing humming and a few pricks from an invisible earring.

The fountain itself was Rare Coins and Lost Items. Her third pickpocket victim had been carrying a tube of very powerful epoxy, and it turns out the coin-stuck-to-the-sidewalk trick was even better when you glued it underwater. A few pieces of jewelry at the bottom were also glued in place, but most of the valuables were simply tossed in or – if they weren’t waterproof – hung from the sculpture of frolicking animals in an amusing way. Crowley mostly just kept the cash, and even then only if the Assholes had been particularly cruel. So far, she’d accumulated almost five hundred pounds.

It was either the best park in London, or the worst.

She leaned against the clock – now set forty-eight and a half minutes slow – and surveyed the chaos. Two teenagers were frantically trying to get something out of the fountain, while the Asshole who’d sworn at that lovely gay couple was now soaked through, desperately trying to get his watch back from the ear of a sculpted rabbit seven feet high. That had been hard to get into place, but certainly worth it. The couple, meanwhile, were hand-in-hand, clutching ice creams and hurrying away from what had been for them the Creepy but Oddly Affirming Bush. The lady with the dog that had made a mess by the roses was trying to report the Haunted Bench to a cop, who tiredly insisted it was her lunch break and that the lady would not believe the morning she’d had.

Crowley grinned up at the sky. This – this was what it was all about. Forget budget meetings and presentations. Who did that make miserable, apart from the demons themselves? This park had everything: temptation, fear, frustration, justice, ice cream, and perfect weather.

“Hey. Hey you feathered wankers,” someone shouted, followed by the sound of rattling pebbles and angry quacking.

Tipping down her invisible shades, Crowley spotted some young idiot chucking handfuls of rocks at the ducks. Most were fleeing, but one flapped her wings, panicked and possessive, over a nest. One of the eggs had already been broken.

Looks like another volunteer for Asshole Road. Crowley was already eying their watch.

--

Every bakery has that one customer. Probably every place that sold food.

The one that demands impossible standards, not because of any particular love of fine cuisine, but just because they can.

The one that counts the blueberries in their muffin and lets you know if there aren’t enough.

The one who spends five minutes shouting, “No, not that one, that one,” while providing no other information, until their server had touched everything in the display case.

The one who complains that their brownie is too chocolatey.

The customer who somehow gets away with murder on account of being someone’s spouse, or sibling, or old school friend.

Victoria Lockwood was that customer, and as Riley watched her approach, they held their breath in trepidation.

“This scone,” she snapped, dropping her plate onto the counter, “is not right.” Then she glared at Bailey, waiting for a response.

“Is it…” Bailey’s mind raced, trying to work out what might be wrong. “The wrong flavor?” Victoria’s face only darkened. “Um. Is – is it dry?” But most of that batch had sold without a single complaint. “Did you want…more lemon curd? Or—”

“It is not hot enough.”

“Ah.” Of course. They’d taken that batch out nearly an hour ago; the next was ready to go in. “If you’re willing to wait, um…twenty minutes? I can give you the first—”

“Twenty minutes? What kind of service is that? I want my scone now.” She glanced at the tray coming out of the oven. “Why are you making me wait? What are those?”

Bailey glanced back and relaxed for a moment. “Oh – yes, I can get you one right now. They’re Raspberry Almond Butterm—”

“Disgusting!” Victoria rapped her hand against the counter. “That is not what I ordered! I demand you warm this one up, immediately.”

“I…” Bailey glanced at their coworkers, but everyone was avoiding eye contact. “That’s…I can put it back in the oven but that would probably dry—”

“Fine.” She shoved the plate towards them. “Be quick about it, young lady, I don’t like to wait.” She clearly noticed the way Bailey flinched. “If you don’t want to be mistaken for a girl, I suggest you get a proper haircut. And not that hideous shade of pink.”

“Y’s ma’am,” Bailey muttered, because some arguments would never be worth it. They took back the scone and put it on a baking tray. Maybe if it was only in the oven for a minute or two—

“Victoria Lockwood!” Bailey spun around, searching for who had called out. Not anyone else behind the counter, they all had their heads ducked, concentrating on some other tasks. But there – on the counter – a scone sat on Victoria’s plate.

She looked up from her makeup compact, smiled triumphantly, and took a bite out of it.

Her face immediately went green, and she dropped plate and pastry, running out of the bakery faster than Bailey had ever seen anyone move. They rushed forward, ready to call after her, but very much not wanting to, and picked up the discarded scone – it smelled awful, like vinegar and fish.

There was also an enormous wad of banknotes on the counter, wrapped up in a scrap of paper with a note: Kid – Don’t take that shit from anyone. Flip off your boss when you quit. <3 C

The bakery door opened and shut on its own.

--

Well, there was an entire day’s pickpocketing gone in a moment, but it wasn’t like Crowley had a better use for it. She still had a few rare coins, but after the fountain, sticking them to the ground seemed an anticlimax. She’d had some fun modifying the haunting routine for the bus or Underground, but both would be filled with commuters now a ghost that swears when you elbow her in the ribs on a crowded train is…not as impressive.

Still. Not a bad day overall. The most expensive foods in the corner marked had all been re-priced, several examples of hostile architecture had been mysteriously destroyed, enough people would be sharing stories of “hauntings” that the whole city would need to be exorcised, and – just for the Heaven of it – she’d followed a particularly annoying human for almost an hour, up and down the streets, buzzing in his ear.

Really, it was the simple pleasures that made the world so enjoyable.

And speaking of simple pleasures, Crowley had left one particular part of the city for last.

Strolling down the streets of Soho, which was just waking up while more respectable – but far less fun – parts of the city were winding down, she kept her eyes open for anyone who might make a good target. A few possibilities presented themselves, but in the end her destination proved the stronger draw.

A. Z. Fell’s Bookshop.

It was just the right time of day, when the customers would still be bothering Aziraphale, and she would be running short of patient ways to refuse them and start turning to biting sarcasm and, on occasion, outright threats. She’d probably appreciate a little haunting to help chase them off, once Crowley had finished stealing her cocoa, moving her bookmarks, and changing the record in the gramophone.

But, glancing in the window, Crowley saw something that poured cold water all over her brilliant day.

Gabriel.

Michael and Uriel, too. Probably Sandalphon lurking around.

Aziraphale stood before her bosses, hands clutched anxiously, that eager, ready-to-please face that made Crowley’s chest ache. Some, when faced with the beings who had hurt them so many times, became afraid, or angry, or distressed. But Aziraphale…just wanted approval. A kind word.

Crowley glared at Gabriel. The Heaven are you up to this time?

For once, she would be able to find out.

--

“And, I really think,” Aziraphale said, hands twisting like captured rodents as she rambled, “that this past decade in particular,I’ve – I’ve accomplished many things. Um. I – I prepared a list…somewhere…” her eyes darted to the disaster she called a desk, and she started shifting material objects around, smiling nervously. Guiltily.

“Is this going to take long?” Gabriel asked with a pointed sigh.

“No! I just…one moment…”

“We’re already running late,” Uriel commented. “We’d expected you to be better prepared.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale snatched up a book and began flipping through it frantically, as if it might contain the answers she needed. “Only, ah, you didn’t actually say when you would be coming…”

“We did say between the 3rd of January and 28th of October,” Michael pointed out reasonably.

“Oh. Um. I…”

“Something doesn’t seem…right,” Sandalphon said, stepping close to Aziraphale, putting a hand on her shoulder. The book she held tumbled from her fingers. “This whole place has a…smell about it.”

The door slammed behind them. Gabriel glanced back, but couldn’t see it from where he stood. Sandalphon gave Aziraphale’s shoulder another squeeze, then headed over to check on it.

“I thought,” Gabriel said slowly, making sure the slow-witted Principality heard every word, “I told you to lock the door.”

“It was.” Aziraphale’s eyes had gone wide. “I – I mean I did.”

Gabriel pursed his lips and shook his head. This had been a particularly disappointing review. Disappointing in the sense that their agent had once again conclusively failed to present evidence of meaningful victories towards Heaven’s cause. Less disappointing in that, whether she knew it or not, Aziraphale had already given him what he needed to take the arrogant fool down a few pegs.

In six thousand years, she’d barely managed to do a single thing right, yet somehow always came to him simpering and smiling like she deserved all the accolades of Heaven. Well, he’d been patient, as suited an Archangel, as patient as he could. But once per century, he had the opportunity to make his opinion perfectly clear.

Take away her miracles for a start, he thought. Though that didn’t seem to work nearly as well as it had a few centuries ago. Maybe recall her to Heaven for a year or two, re-educate her on the basics of her duty. There might be enough for a period of isolation. With restraints. They’d done that once, about three thousand years before, after a particularly poor review. Seven years chained up in an empty corner of Heaven, and Aziraphale had been wonderfully pliable for centuries after. Perhaps it was time to revisit.

“Look – look here, I have a list of…oh.” Aziraphale held out her book again, which seemed to be filled with irregular scrawl instead of the usual neatly printed words. “I started a list of accomplishments, but ah…I became busy the last few years. Um. Quite a lot has happened since…”

Uriel took the book and studied it, face impressively calm. “Interesting,” they said, not giving anything away as they turned the pages over. Gabriel trusted them to spot anything useful.

As the Archangels waited in pointed silence, Michael walked her fingers across a table. She pressed a thumb against a book, sliding it to the edge. Aziraphale stared as it teetered, then found its balance again. Michael watched it, disinterested, then moved on to another book, sliding that forward as well.

Sandalphon stepped back beside Gabriel, shrugging his shoulders. No sign of anything. Well. More questions for later.

Uriel reached the final page.

“What happened in 1967?”

“Nothing!” At the panic in Aziraphale’s tone, all four Archangels raised their eyebrows. “I – I – I mean, yes, lots, many – many—” One of the books beside Michael fell to the floor with a slap. The Principality winced. “I – I’m terribly sorry, could you be more specific?”

“Your final entry,” Uriel held the book out to Aziraphale, “says 1967 – Prevented… Prevented what?”

“Ahhhhhh.” Aziraphale squirmed. “Well, I…I…there was…ummm…”

“As I recall,” Michael said slowly, “you briefly visited Heaven that year, but didn’t officially report to any of us. And then didn’t return for at least…six months? Very unusual.”

“You haven’t been hiding something, have you?” Gabriel smiled, his heart rising. More than isolation. He could probably take away this shop, for a start, give it to a more trustworthy angel.

“Nnnnno.” Aziraphale gave that particular smile, the one that meant she thought she was about to get away with something. The one she thought Gabriel didn’t know about. “But, ahhh, if you could, um, quite a lot happened in the world in the…the last ten years or so.”

Something crashed on the other side of the building. No, he’d have the place demolished. It was falling apart already. Aziraphale could watch. Maybe he could order her to help. An eminently suitable punishment for wasting his time. “As I understand it,” he said, taking a step forward, “the last decade saw…war, riots, assassinations…”

“Well, well, yes, I…but, if you look at progress with, um, civil rights, ahh…anticolonialism…”

More made-up human terms. Gabriel and Michael shared a pained glance. “Look. Aziraphale.” Gabriel pressed his hands together. “It’s not that we don’t appreciate you taking the initiative, but…what does any of this have to do with your orders?”

“Or, for that matter, with your visit to Heaven?” Michael moved her fingers across the table again, coming to rest on one of those stupid little figurines Aziraphale had accumulated. Like a packrat. A human depiction of an angel, as some kind of soft, happy baby with wings. Not a warrior at all. Michael’s finger tapped against it. “What were you trying to prevent?”

“Did it have something to do with…Holy Water?” Sandalphon suddenly asked.

“That’s right,” Gabriel said. Something clicking in his mind. “There was that storage jar that went missing.” Did Aziraphale look more guilty than usual? “What year was that?”

“1967,” Uriel said.

He couldn’t hold back the smile. If he could prove Aziraphale had taken Holy Water for some sort of personal use, well.

He’d pretty much be justified whatever he decided to do.

“I – I – I can explain.” The Principality tried to back away, but was stopped by her own desk. “There – there was this demon, an – an especially, ah, wily, cunning, um, crafty demon—”

“Was there?” Michael’s finger twitched, sending the false angel off the table. It fell—

Then hovered, halfway to the floor.

Slowly, it lifted, rightening itself in the air before them. There was no trace of a miracle, no power of any kind. It simply…floated. Drifting through the air to land on the desk beside Aziraphale.

“Clever,” said Gabriel, watching the Principality’s face for any sign of deception. “How did you do that?”

“I…”

The pages of a book, laid out on the stand behind her, began to turn, flipping faster and faster, slamming shut.

“This…isn’t me.” Aziraphale said.

Behind her, books began to float off their shelves. One rocketed across the room towards Gabriel. He dodged it easily, but it was followed by another, and another. The lights flickered overhead.

“If it isn’t you,” Gabriel began, but a small table by the door to the next room began to rattle. Atop it lay a black-and-white board covered with formless carvings, which lifted into the air, then exploded, pieces flying at the Archangels. Gabriel easily batted them aside, but now one of the armchairs began to shift.

Without a word, the four prepared for battle, Gabriel stepping back, Michael and Sandalphon moving to the front. At least, that was the plan – the moment he tried to move, Gabriel fell, his feet somehow tightly bound together. The same happened to Sandalphon and Uriel, and even Michael stumbled, knocking over a table in her haste to stay upright.

Glass rattled in the back of the shop.

“It’s…” Aziraphale cleared her throat. “It’s that same demon again! I thought I’d banished her!”

“What?” Banishing wasn’t exactly something angels did.

“The – the Holy Water!” A bottle of something hovered out from the back room, moving slowly but threateningly. “Did you bring any? It’s the only thing that can stop her.”

“What are you talking about?” Michael’s sword manifested in her hand. “What demon?”

“Crowley! She – she seems to have grown even more powerful!”

“Crowley?” Not that worthless snake again. How many times had he been assured – through Michael’s secret back-channel sources – that Crowley was the most useless, incompetent, lazy demon in Hell? And yet somehow, not a single angel had ever successfully dealt with her – except Aziraphale.

“I thought I smelled a demon,” Sandalphon said, pulling his shoes off and tossing them aside. “But I can’t sense demonic power.”

“Obviously not!” Aziraphale’s wings burst from her back, and she held out a hand towards the hovering bottle. It slowly lowered itself to the ground. “Why do you think she’s so difficult to defeat? The power she uses – it’s not of Heaven or Hell! I – I can barely counter it!”

“Let me, then,” Michael said, predatory gleam in her eyes. Like Sandalphon, she’d removed her shoes; Gabriel was working on his own, but somehow the laces had become wound together like snakes, something sticky sealing the knot shut.

Sandalphon and Michael stepped forward, swords at the ready. “No!” Aziraphale turned to block them, and immediately the rattling started up again – this time from the metal stairs to the upper floor. “You – you don’t understand! Wh – when she gets like this – the fires would only make her stronger.”

Something – horrible, screeching noises – began emanating from the back room, like some animal being torn apart.

“That’s – that’s why I need the Holy Water! In the proper ritual, it – it – it’s too complicated to explain!”

A cupboard burst open, revealing a display of holy items – consecrated Bibles, holy symbols, sticks of incense and jars of oil. “No!” Aziraphale shouted, genuine panic in her voice.

The largest, heaviest of the Bibles lifted and shot across the room. It didn’t reach the Archangels, but Gabriel could see smoke rising from its cover.

Next came a crucifix, spinning end over end, which Michael caught out of the air. The wood was burned all along one side.

“Don’t you see?” Aziraphale said, eyes round. “Nothing I have in there can stop her! What could a flaming sword even do? I need more Holy Water.” A jar of oil fell to the ground and immediately began to boil, bubbling and steaming. “I’ll try to hold her back as long as I can.” Aziraphale’s face furrowed in concentration as she walked across the shop. “Please, it – it’s far too dangerous for you here…”

“Right.” Gabriel glanced at the other Archangels. Something wasn’t right. But they couldn’t risk themselves against an unknown force. “We’ll…we’ll get some Holy Water. You do what you can.”

With a thought, the ascended to Heaven.

Gabriel quickly stood up, brushing down his clothing and trying to school his expression. “Well. I think the best course of action is to wait a day or two, then go see what the damage is.”

“And Aziraphale’s review?” Uriel asked, face somehow still calm, despite everything that had happened.

“I just hope we don’t have to give her a damn commendation again.”

--

The Arch-Wankers vanished in a shimmer of blue light.

“Ow, ow, fuck that hurts!” Crowley gasped, stumbling away from the spilled oil and shaking her hands. “What kind of stuff do you keep in there?”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale started to rush forward, then froze. “Where are you? Can’t you – reveal yourself, or whatever?”

“Nnnnnnnnope. Rrrrrgh, how does this hurt more than walking in a church?”

“I…I’m sorry, my dear girl,” Aziraphale said. “I’ve been worried lately that if – if your side realized what was happening…I thought it best to have a little insurance of my own.”

“Well it works.” Crowley managed to reach one of the shop chairs and sank into it. “Over here…no, here! Where’s…” She nudged the rug with her least-burnt toe, folding a bit of it up. Aziraphale immediately ran over.

“That was – well, that was clever, Crowley, but highly unnecessary. I – I was only having my performance review. I thought I was doing quite well.” Her soft hands found one of Crowley’s and picked it up, fingers tracing across the palm.

“I…” Crowley had seen the way Gabriel’s eyes lit up at the mention of Holy Water, while she was on the ground gluing his shoelaces together, and she counted it among the most terrifying things she’d ever seen. “I’m sure you were, but vanquishing some super-powerful demon? Saving the Archangels? Well, that’s only going to help, right?”

“Hmmm.” Another brush of her fingers, and the sting started to go out of Crowley’s palms. “And, I’m sure, spark a few rumors that might help you?”

“Oh.” Crowley grimaced, looking out the windows. “Unless those rumors spread really fast, I doubt I’m going to get much benefit.”

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale sank to the ground, patting around until she found one of Crowley’s feet. She gently lifted it, stroking from ankle to toe and giving it the same healing treatment. “And why are you like this?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

“Crowley.”

“Right. Um. I…may have…borrowed a few of your books and…designed a curse to get out of my quarter-century budget review. But in my defense – it’s so boring.”

Aziraphale sighed – or possibly blew a healing breath across Crowley’s feet. No, probably the sigh, but at least they felt a bit better. “My dear, it’s only a meeting. There’s no need for these – these histrionics.”

“Histri—Angel, that is – I am not – can you grab a dictionary? I need to know how upset I should be.”

“Extremely.”

“Right. I am. And…I thought it would only last a few hours. Have a bit of fun. But…I need my miracles for, you know, ambient healing, and…look, they cut off our miracles during the review, and only give them back once you’ve wowed them with your project idea.”

“And you don’t have one, do you?”

“Not…as such.” Crowley hung her head. “I…I thought I could get an extension. Just long enough to think of something.”

“So you cursed yourself.” That pained look, the I-hate-to-tell-you-how-much-you-failed-but-also-I-love-it look. Only slightly ruined by the fact that it was aimed somewhere over the demon’s left shoulder. “Crowley, did it never occur to you that in the time it took you create such a thing, you could just as easily have come up with a project?”

“Nh.”

“And did you come up with your brilliant idea during your delay?”

“Nnnh.”

“Well. At least you’re sorry now, I assume?”

“Nope.” If she hadn’t skipped out, Crowley wouldn’t have been here to help Aziraphale. She’d saved her friend countless times over six thousand years, but sometimes…she was quite happy the angel didn’t notice. “No, demons don’t get sorry. We get…” she grunted. “We get annoyed at ourselves for…ngk…for hanginupndagonnpissinheroff.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“For hanging up on Dagon and pissing her off.” Crowley rubbed her face. “Unless I can think of the greatest project any demon ever came up with…” Her stomach dropped as the reality of it hit. A thousand years in filing meant a thousand years without Aziraphale’s bastard looks and gentle touches. “I’m…probably going to be gone for a while.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale stroked her fingers across Crowley’s foot one more time. “No, that won’t do at all.” She looked up with that icy, determined look. The let-me-speak-to-your-manager expression that made Crowley go completely light-headed. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to do something about all this.”

“Like what?”

“How are your feet?”

“F—hmm? Oh, fine.” They were – Aziraphale seemed to have removed all the pain. Or at least, she’d removed some of the pain, and the fluttery feeling in Crowley’s chest allowed her to ignore the rest. “So. Um. What did you have in mind? Oh!” A grin stretched across her face. “Dagon and Beelzebub already think you cursed me. Maybe we can stage a second fight where they see it. I’ll definitely get an extension that way.”

“Or.” Aziraphale found Crowley’s hands again and laced their fingers together, pulling her to her feet. “We can go for a drive in that beastly car of yours and actually come up with a proper idea. Something convoluted, demonic, and with that…Crowley style.”

“I have a style now?”

“Hmmm. Yes. Not as refined as mine, but I think we can make it work.” Her right hand squeezed Crowley’s, and her left slid up the demon’s arm to her shoulder. “You know, I had a little over a century apart from you. And I have absolutely no desire to repeat that. In fact I…I rather think I prefer your company to, well. Anyone’s.”

“Nnnnh.” Crowley shuffled her feet and clutched Aziraphale’s hand back, guiding the angel to stand just a little closer. Needing to say something. Afraid to say too much. “Ssssss. Mmmm. Yeah. I, uh. I like it better up here, too. Y’know. Where you are.”

“Yes, I know.” Aziraphale’s left hand slid further up, coming to rest on the back of her neck. “I can see right through you. My dear Crowley.” With the lightest pressure, she tipped the demon’s head down.

And kissed her, soft lips covering Crowley’s shocked mouth.

“Oh…” Aziraphale gasped, pulling back slightly, hardly at all. “I, ah…I meant to…” Her breath still tickled Crowley’s lips. “I…forehead…”

“Nrrh.” Crowley’s free hand drifted forward, finding Aziraphale’s hip, resting on it, barely a touch. It was all she dared. “Ah…?”

Neither of them moved. Or both did. Or they stood still and the world around them shifted. Whichever way it was, their lips touched again, and held this time. Slowly, they drifted closer, caught in each other’s gravity, a decaying orbit. Crowley would surely burn up on approach, but it was worth every moment.

Eventually they parted, once more just enough to breathe, to speak, to remember that they were two beings and not a single, burning soul.

“Not…” Crowley swallowed. “Not too fast?”

“I…” Aziraphale bit her lip. “I don’t know. But…Crowley…I know…where I want to go. Eventually.”

Their foreheads pressed together. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Aziraphale nodded, dropping left hand falling away, right thumb rubbing the back of Crowley’s hand. Her eyes fluttered open and she gasped. “Oh, my word!”

“What?” Crowley glanced at herself, black cloth trousers flared wide at the legs, tight red sleeveless shirt cut scandalously low in the front and back, boots with heels that made her even taller than usual—

She was visible again.

“I…I suppose I was still healing you when we…oh…oh, Crowley…what are you wearing?”

“Angel, it’s – I look fashionable, you look – have you changed anything in the last century?”

“I…a few things! Were you honestly planning to give a presentation like that?”

“I was going to be invisible, yeah!”

“You…are…” Aziraphale pressed her eyes shut. “I am going to get my jacket. And then I’m going to get you a jacket, because it’s cold at night, and you are cold-blooded.”

“M’not,” Crowley muttered.

“And then we will go for our ride and determine what evil, dastardly plan I will spend the next twenty-five years thwarting. Is that clear?”

“Yes.” After a moment, Crowley said, “Ah, Aziraphale?”

“What is it now?”

“At some point, are you going to let go of my hand?”

Aziraphale glanced down. “Oh. Hmm. I suppose we’ll find out.”

--

(Fifty Years Later)

Crowley sat beneath the apple tree, her hand clutched tightly in Aziraphale’s, leaning back against her angel’s chest. “And that,” she concluded, “is why we call the 26th of April Lesbian Visibility Day.”

The Them stared at the two supernatural beings, mouths slightly open.

“You…” Pepper started, “are full of so much shit.”

“Oi!”

“Actually,” Wensley said, “that’s…one of the worst stories I’ve ever heard. How are you supposed to budget miracles?”

“If they could cut you off that easy,” Brian jumped in, “why didn’t they do it when you left Hell?”

“Oh, ummm,” she glanced up at Aziraphale.

“Tactics,” the angel said enigmatically.

Pepper didn’t even seem to be listening. “How did you know what all those people were thinking?”

“That’s right,” Wensley nodded. “Particularly Gabriel.”

“He…he has a very expressive face,” Crowley argued.

“How’d you actually move around like that, without anyone hearing you? The whole day?”

“Shouldn’t you’ve been, you know, way more worried about getting killed?”

“At least one of those bookshop attacks wasn’t even possible, unless you were in two places at once.”

“And how d’you accidentally leave your healing on?”

“How could you possibly mistake her lips for her forehead?”

“This was rubbish.”

“What do you think, Adam?”

The former Antichrist looked up from where he was playing with Dog. “I think…” He gave the angel and demon a penetrating look, then shook his head, smiling as if he’d just seen the joke at the center of the universe, and it had turned out to be a truly terrible pun. “I think you should just tell us the next story.”

“Which one’s that?” Crowley asked, settling back into the curve of her angel’s arm, fingers still twined together.

“The one with the greatest project any demon ever came up with.”

“Oh.” Grinning, Crowley tipped her head to meet Aziraphale’s shining eyes. “Wahoo.”

--

The song is "Break on Through (To the Other Side)" by the Doors, because Queen had not yet put out their first album, though there was a lot of pressure in the Discord to have Crowley dancing to Abba instead.

Final scene set next year because we'll all be sitting together under apple trees with our loved ones and telling BS stories to kids before we know it.

For everyone who contributed non-anonymous suggestions:

@amidst-innumerable-stars @tangle5ancer @fenrislorsrai @feuerkindjana @bowser14456 @taksez @yeahhiyellow @infinitevariety @gargelyfloof118 @lourek @soft-forest-rain @undertaker991 @jules-al-c @lov-lyness2 @thisleadstohollyhocks @marianrios33 @aux-barricades @lostmemimi @joybones @derederest @myusernameispie @mothmans-favorite-lamp and @n0nb1narydemon (yes I did find a way to level up the coin gluing!) and of course @5ftjewishcactus who encouraged me when you really shouldn't. Sorry I couldn't fit in everyone's suggestions!