#my god do they give me NOTHING to be optimistic about

[sidmalkin]

the efforts the pens go to just to earn 1 point jfc

[lulu-fic]

𝚂𝚄𝙻𝚃𝚁𝚈 𝚂𝙴𝙳𝚄𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽

Synopsis: Your boyfriend just cheated on you. But you can't just let him get away with that, can you?

Warnings: Cheating ( not by y/n), swearing, sfw, mdni

Wc: 2.1k

An: My first published work. Genuinely nothing too crazy just dipping my toes in water but dw next chapter will be something 👀 also the ending is a bit rushed because I was sleepy 😛

Aggressive typing sound echoed through the walls of a dingy restroom, accompanied by someone's sobbing hiccups. That certain someone was you. Who would have thought your so-called lovely evening would end up with you crying in a stall of a dirty restroom? When you thought your life was finally rainbows and sunshine, god had to give you a reality check.

Flashback

"Here's your order, sir! That'll be $6.80." You said with your fake polite voice to the customer. The said customer took his coffee and fished in his pocket for cash. He finally handed you the required amount and exited the cafe. "Huff god today is draining me." You say. You check the cafe's clock and see it's 2:00 pm. "*Sigh* Still couple of hours to go." You think. But you did not let that bother you.

You are in your most optimistic energy today. Well, today is your most awaited date with Nick, your boyfriend of one year. Your experience with dating him has been nothing but nice. And you believe he's the one. You're finally going to propose him today.

"Y/n! Give me a hand here!" You're pulled out of your day dreaming when your co-worker calls for you. "Yeah, coming right away." You yell back. "*Sigh* life is good." You thought and smiled, resuming with your day.

Time skip

It's 5:13 pm. Your shift is almost over. God, was it a busy day today? You never had such a hectic shift. "Well, my shift is finally finished." You think. You were about to start packing up for the day when the bell jingles, indicating someone had entered the cafe. It was a man.

He was intimidatingly tall and it kind of scared you. His jet black styled hair fell on his face, covering some of his features. He wore a overcoat over a three-piece suit. Perfect attire for the chilly weather. Even though he looked like a gangster. When he finally looked up, it seemed like the time has stopped.

He looked enthernal. He had sharp features- somewhat neck-to-shoulder length hair, strong jawline, siren eyes straight nose, high cheekbones- everything about him was breathtaking. He also had light eyebags, giving signs of late night work. And his lips, god his lips. He had thin, soft looking lips, like rose petals. As if the Adonis himself craved his face. If you weren't so much of a loyal partner, you would have definitely shoot your shot. But he seemed oddly familiar to you.

"What would you like to order, sir?" You ask with your most professional voice, making sure there is no tinge of emotion. "A black coffee and a chocolate muffin, please." He said. And god if you already didn't thought he was attractive, now you definitely do. His voice sounded mature, rich and gravelly. His voice was a little rough too, it felt like he spent years smoking through his stressed moments.

"Y-yeah, right away, sir." You nervously replied. Yep, now you're definitely cursing your whole existence for stumbling in words just because you thought a guy's voice was hot. Seriously, what's wrong with you?

You turned around to make his order, which wasn't some rocket science. It's just a plain black coffee. But it actually felt like that. The man just kept watching you, observing your every move. How you ground the roasted coffee beans, how you brew the coffee, how you pour the coffee into the cup. No matter how much you tried to ignore the staring, it felt like he was boring into your soul. God damn, you didn't feel this nervous even on your first day of work. Ugh!

But you forgot to ask him a crucial question, will he takeaway the coffee or drink the coffee in here? You turned around to see him...still staring at you. "Will you takeaway or drink it here, sir?" You ask. He didn't reply at first. He just kept looking at you. Okay, now you're creeped out. "Sir?" You call out again. This time he's finally out of his whatever dreamland he was in.

"Will you takeaway or drink it here?" You ask again. "Um, takeaway." He replied. You nod your head and kneel down to take out the chocolate muffin from the freezer. Genuinely, he didn't seem like a guy who would like sweets. But oh well who are you to judge someone's taste bud? You take out a white cupcake box and put the sugary treat in it. When you're finally ready with his order, you extend it to him on the counter.

"That'll will $9 dollars. Also I'll be needing your name for the bill." You say. He still just kept looking at you. Okay, now he's starting to annoy you. Why he's looking at you like you're some kind of piece of meat? "Sir?" You call out again. He still didn't reply. "Hello, Earth to sir?" You wave your hand in front of him to grab his attention, which you finally did.

"Oh, yes?" He politely ask, while blinking twice. "Your name?" You ask back with a irritated voice. He chuckles at something.

"Colter Hunt."

God, Even his name was hot. You quickly write down his name, to make it seem like you weren't just fangirling on his name. Suddenly a black card comes in front of your vision. You look up to see him holding it out with his index and middle fingers. Your attention averts to his wrist which is adorned with a silver Cartier bracelet and Rolex watch. "Damn," you think, "so he's rich rich." You add after.

You take his card and inserting it quickly in the card swip machine, telling him to punch in his passcode. He type in his passcode and takes out his card after the transaction was completed.

"Have a good day, sir!" You say, back with your professional voice. He takes his order and was just about to exit the shop when he turned around to look one last time at you, and then finally leaves.

Huff, a hectic day it was.

At the Restaurant...

You are finally at your most awaited destination for the night. You open the gate to the restaurant and are greeted by the receptionist. "Good evening, sir. How can I help you?" She asked. "Uh I have a table reserved for two under my name. Hong it is." She checks her computer real quick and give you your table number with a polite smile. You thank her and go inside.

You see Nick already seated and waiting for you. You quickly take your seat. "Sorry for being late. I had a customer last minute who was taking some time." You quickly apologize for being late. "So, what should we order, huh?" You ask while picking up the menu. "Well I wanted to try the main course of here for long time. I saw the review online and they said it's very good, even the customer service. Oh and the dessert choices are also-" You stop with your rambling in the midway when you notice Nate not responding to any of your babble. He seemed to zone out. "Hey, Nick? What happened baby?" You ask. He breaks out of whatever dreamland and finally looks at. "Huh? What did you say?" Ugh why's everyone seemed to zone out today?

"I asked did something happened. You seemed lost." You repeat. "Oh um no- I mean yes- uh I don't know." He babbles. You make a puzzled face. "What do you mean?" You ask. "Did something happened at work?" You ask again. "Uh yes- I mean no but it was someone from so technically yes but no." He again keeps puzzling his word. "Nick what are you even talking about? I don't get it." You say in a baffled voice.

"Ugh, y/n I don't know how to say this but I have been wanting to say this, but it's just I never got a chance." He explains a bit. "It's okay. You can say now." You say. "Maybe he will be the one who's going to propose me." You think with a happy voice.

"I-I...I sleptwithsomeoneonemonthagoatHalloweenparty."

"What? What did you say?" You ask not understanding his "explanation".

"I-I...y/n I slept with someone. A month ago. And I-I just feel more attracted to her." He finally says it.

"What." You depanned. "Y/n, I'm sorry! I tried to tell you this multiple time but never got a chance and-" he tries to explain but you raise a hand to make him stop. "When was it?" You ask trying to keep your temper at bay.

"At halloween party of my office." He nervously admits. "So someone from office then, huh?" You interjected. "Yes." He confirms, not trying to make eye contact with you. "Who is it?" You finally ask. "Huh?" He looks up at you baffled. "Who. Is. It." You grit your teeth.

"Rachel." He breathes out. You exhale a breath of air you didn't know you were holding. The chair makes a screeching sound as you slowly get up. "Y/n I-" He tries to utter something but you beat him to it by splashing a glass water on his face.

"Do. Not. Tell. Me. Your. Filthy. Excuses!" You yell grabbing the attention of other customer. You finally leave that place, ignoring the calls of your name from behind. You stop at your pace and take a turn and make your way towards the the restroom door that had "Staff Only" written with bold letters.

End of flashback

Tears are flowing down your face as you type out the message to your bestfriend, basically explaining the situation. You're not hurt about the fact he cheated, you're just angry on the fact that he cheated on you? Hong Y/N. You remember thinking how guys used beg for a chance to even let them take you on a date. And when you finally decide to settle down, this happens?

No, you cannot let a man control your emotions like this. Nope. You reject the fact that you are crying over a man.

You get up from the toilet seat and go outside to quickly wash your hands. You make a quick text to your bestfriend saying that you'll be late and call for a uber.

You go outside the restaurant and breath in the cold air of the chilly weather, finally feeling at peace a little. Your uber quickly arrives at your destination. "Square Town Club, please." You quickly inform the driver as you take a seat. Tonight it'll be all about you. Not someone cheating asshole.

The uber driver reaches at your said address after 10 minutes and you pay him the amount required as you get out of the taxi.

When you enter the club, it seemed like you stepped into another world. Neon red and green lights blinding your sights, party music booming through speakers, people making out or even having sex in the middle of the dance floor. "Ew, disgusting." You think. But that's main goal of tonight, only stuff like these can take your mind off that bitch.

You go over to the bar counter. You knew the bartender , Ricky, through social media. Also the reason how you got to know about this place. He looks over at you and asks, "The usual?" "No." You answer back. "Give me anything. But 10x stronger." You add. He raises his eyebrows but says nothing. As he was preparing your drink, you felt a little uncomfortable. It felt like someone was boring their eyes into you. Yes it's a club, of course you will grab attention.

But this one seemed a little off. A little familiar.

As you looked around to catch the supposed person, you attention is caught by a person sitting at the most secluded place of the club. It was a very dark corner. You try your best to ignore him. Keyword: Try.

Because the moment you look away a scary looking bodygaurd comes up to you with a drink and says, "Sir, this drink is offered by our master with the small note." Turns out the said master is none other than the guy you tried to take a good look at before.

This time you trun around and squint your eyes to take a good look at him. And this time, by some miracle, you're finally able to get a good look of him. But Oh. My. God.

It's the cafe guy.

© lulu-fic, 2024. All rights reserved. Don't copy, translate or modify my work. And Do not post my work on any other platform.

[jasongracesenthusiast]

PRINCESS OF THE GODS !

PARING(s), percy jackson x daughter of HERA reader

WARNING(s), basically just marriage

AUTHOR’S NOTE, yeah i listened to juno while doing this, what about it

౨ৎ percy met you a little while after he arrived at camp. you were the only demigod child of hera, the queen of the gods. he was surprised at the thought that zeus would even allow you to live, but in fairness, he wasn’t dead yet either

౨ৎ you two didn’t actually consider yourselves friends until after ttc, when you were kidnapped (yes you’re taking annie’s place IM SORRYYY)

౨ৎ after the events of all that, percy found himself…drifting towards you, in a way

౨ৎ like, before everything happened, even if you weren’t necessarily friends, he did know you, like your existence mattered so much to him, he just didn’t know why at the time

౨ৎ but you, on the other hand, somehow did

౨ৎ when you were saved by percy and friends, you were very optimistic that it was him saving you and not somebody else, cause that just wouldn’t be as fun

౨ৎ anyways from the moment you met him, you were like “oh yeah that’s my future boyfriend right there”

౨ৎ and yeah calm down just a little bit, but you also just knew, and you thanked your mother everyday for giving you this knowledge

౨ৎ but you were also pissed because holy shit, it took percy a while to come to terms with how he felt about you, even after saving you and becoming friends

౨ৎ but when i tell you how many times you made a move until he realized

౨ৎ you were very clear about your feelings, like you genuinely had nothing to hide

౨ৎ percy was extremely confused about the fact that you never dated anybody at all

౨ৎ and loads of people at camp clearly find you attractive and percy does, too, so when you were like “oh yeah i’ve never had a boyfriend before” he was as shocked as possible

౨ৎ because like, it’s you

౨ৎ and you’d think that would make it click that he had feelings for you

౨ৎ unfortunately. it did the opposite.

౨ৎ and that was kind of your last straw. you literally sat him down and explained your feelings to him and how you liked him ever since he saved you

౨ৎ THAT’S when he fully realized it

౨ৎ and it’s not cause he’s stupid (mischaracterized percy jackson they could never make me like you), it’s because it’s YOU. the pretty daughter of hera who a lot of people crushed on

౨ৎ you were practically a princess and percy took that so seriously, he found it so hard to believe that you liked him

౨ৎ after insisting that you really did like him, yippie that’s when y’all started dating !!

౨ৎ and when i tell you how much of a power couple you are. you two just radiate that kind of energy, even if someone didn’t know you were together

౨ৎ like you didn’t even need to tell anyone, everybody just. knew, and percy was stunned and he was like, they knew??? did you tell everyone???

౨ৎ and you were like no that’s just the power couple energy

౨ৎ when i tell you he worships the very ground you walk on I FUCKING MEAN IT. you know that one thing where a girl is singing on stage and her boyfriend is sobbing? that’s you two

౨ৎ if i or anyone else had to describe your relationship, it would be that

౨ৎ since your mother is the goddess of marriage, you were very clear about the fact that percy was the man you were to marry, and everybody just like. accepted it

౨ৎ even people who had current or previous crushes on you accepted that, mostly because you often referred to him as your husband like it was a regular thing

౨ৎ percy lets you do it every time and never corrects you, even calling you his wife sometimes.

౨ৎ listen you had your entire future with him planned. from the proposal (if he didn’t do it by age 22, you fucking would), to the wedding, to having kids, all that. he knew he could not stop you like he knew you were prepared

౨ৎ but percy still loved every minute of it, because the thought of marrying you, the love of his life, was just astonishing. he loves you just as much as he loves the thought of making you his wife, because it was you he would be marrying.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Kiss It Better Pt: 5

Curly x Reader

SUM: You had been sleeping in the med bay when Daisuke came to find you. Nearly stabbed him, but despite the scare he shared with you some good news! Jimmy managed to open the shipment bay. Now you all can finally get more resources to survive. Right…..?

Warnings: Jimmy, and uh. Actually that’s it. Hmph! Chapter breather again! No real trigger I can tell. Just ya know “it’s a mouthwashing fic” awareness stuff!

Your sleep was miserable. You swore you didn’t even sleep at all. You had just laid there all night, listening to Curly’s painful breathing and flinching at whatever noise the ship caused. No real rest. Only restlessness.

You even heard someone coming down the hallway. Your heart raced, as you gripped your knife tighter under the pillow. There was someone coming, and you had to be prepared. Sure it could be Anya, since she is the nurse.

But what if it’s not?

You would hear the door open, and you tried to look relaxed. Look like you were still fast asleep, and not waiting. Waiting for any sign of proof that it wasn’t Jimmy. Just praying it’s Anya.

So far it didn’t seem so. The foot steps were heavy, like wearing boots. There was also the fact Anya would speak to herself often. Just saying the quietest of things. Just whatever she was thinking. Didn’t hear a an expected ‘oh my-‘ that was gentle and soothing. None of that.

Just heavy foot steps that stood infront of you. Could even feel the body heat coming closer. Made you sweat in fear. The hell was Jimmy going to do? Did he think you were too tired to notice a touch?

Like hell you’ll be next.

You swung the blade right out of the pillow, and was quick to sit up. Panting in a blend of anger and fear.

To your horror it was not Jimmy.

It was Daisuke.

He had managed to fall on his ass just in time. You had been so terrifyingly close to nailing him. You had ghosted his cheek so close you nicked some of his hair right off his head. The small strands now on the floor.

“Oh god, I am so sorry-! I thought you were Jimmy. Fuck, Suke I am so sorry-“ You left the knife on your pillow, as you looked at your hands in disgust. How you were so close to almost seriously hurting your friend.

Typical Daisuke fashion, he laughed it off.

“Don’t worry about it Nakama! I totally get it. You are Curly’s Koibito! Course you were get defensive. I don’t blame you a lick! Pretty impressive, gotta admit. I would even say cool if I wasn’t on the other end of it.” He would laugh away, as he understood the situation.

Strange….He didn’t question you on why you said Jimmy…..

“Oh-! I came in here to tell you something! I figured you were in here, since I knocked on your bedroom door and nothing was responded back. So here’s the deal, Jimmy managed to unlock the shipment door. He told me to round everyone up so we can meet there and enter together.” He explained to you, as he would help you stand up.

He managed to open the door? Finally. His ass was finally being useful. Maybe there was finally something to make these remaining days less terrifying, and maybe extra in case of delays. It was to ideal to expect them to arrive exactly 28 days from now. Never hurts to have extra. Maybe there were better medical supplies! Yeah, also over optimistic but what else did you have left?

“Thanks. I’ll be out in a minute. Need to check over Curly first and all-“ You explain, as Daisuke gave a nod of understanding. Was also going to be used to help collect your thoughts. Damn you needed some proper sleep, but you were too worried for Curly and Anya. Suppose as the spouse of the captain you felt some kind of responsibility.

You don’t even have a role and you still had more respect and nerve to take care of everyone over the new captain.

How peculier.

“I’ll wait outside the door. Give ya privacy and all that.” He said, before stepping out of the door. He even was whistling to make some noise to give you two somewhat of privacy. Damn that guy was such a sweetheart. Even after so much.

Such a ray of sunshine.

You would run through his routine, and used it to help ground yourself. Just things that were familiar and automatic. Just had to get your brain in the game. Wake up a little bit more.

“I’ll be back soon. I promise. I love you, and remember. Just a few more weeks. You can do this. We can return back to those snowy mountains together. You and me. Have your siblings join us even, and watch them face plant over and over from their shitty balance.” You tried to give him hope, and his broken laugh said it worked.

You would kiss his forehead, before tucking away the knife into your robe pocket. Your card ID was in the other, so you didn’t risk damaging it or losing it when pulling the blade out. You also would lay Curly’s head on your pillow, in some kind of hope it could help him get some sleep.

For once he actually seemed to finally rest his eye. Suppose knowing it was your pillow, and having the faintest scent of you, was soothing something in his brain. That special little button to over run certain factors.

Some rest.

With one more Love You, you would now join Daisuke with heading over to the shipment bay. There with Anya and Swansea. Luckily Anya was standing next to Swansea, so that gave you some relief. Did feel a little guilty you didn’t hurry over sooner.

“About damn time you two. What took you so long? Actually, I don’t care. Let’s just get these doors open and finally see what the hell was so important for us to ship over a year’s time frame.” You glared at the nerve he had to talk to you, AND Daisuke, like that.

Even Swansea was shooting him an annoyed look.

“Just open the damn door, kid-“ The eldest of the group warned. “You got it unlocked, go on and open it already! No point in waiting any longer. Let’s see what the hell was so important they had to have it locked down so hard.” He added on.

Jimmy would give an eye roll, before listening to him. With the scanner triggering the override, the doors would finally click themselves to unlock. Sounded like they haven’t opened in years compared to months. Had you a bit worried.

The doors would slide themselves open, and you all were greater to a massive hall. Was just endless boxes. All about the same size, but it was looking into a sky full of stars. Felt like it went on forever. Was so high you swore you could catch a wisp of a cloud.

“Damn….” Swansea muttered, as you all would walk into the shortage volt. A strong stench of mint was quick to hit you all as well. Good to make the eyes water. Had you cough a bit by such an intense flavor overload.

“Smells like someone threw like a mint bomb in here. Phew-!” Daisuke would wave at his face, as Anya seemed to be the only one not really bothered. Suppose years of disinfect use makes you kinda nose blind.

“Wonder why it’s so minty in here.” You pondered, as Jimmy went to grab one of the boxes. Seemed to have some heft, given the weight lifter had to put in some effort to get it down.

Everyone was soon surrounding the box. Just wondering whatever could be inside. What could have been so important to ship, why there is so many, and why the hell the shipment was taking so long to get. Maybe it’s something important so no matter what people would have come for them? That would be nice.

Seems like thank god you found that transmitter.

“Is….is this-?”

“Mouthwash-?!”

Everyone was left kinda speechless. Just there infront of you was a box stuffed with mouthwashing bottles. Just simple, easy to make, mouthwash. Nothing special at all. Just dental hygiene.

Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of mouth wash bottles.

Left you all rather speechless. The hell does someone say? It’s just a bottle of liquid you are meant to spit out. It’s not even useful! And this ship was stuffed with it!

Anya would pick up a bottle, and read off the ingredients. Just trying to find some kinda of use for it. Meanwhile the rest of you were kinda having a crisis.

You on the fact Curly went through all this abuse for something that is not worth dying for. Made your ears ring, and nothing could really get through your head. You just had to process this insanity before you. That this was what would have been your final mission call, and what Curly lost his limbs for.

What pulled you away from the cocktail of mixed emotions was Anya panicking.

You quickly looked over, and say Swansea uncorking a bottle. Just out right drinking it.

“Hey hey-! Stop that-!” You ran over, and managed to get him to stop. Half the bottle was empty though. Was it dangerous to drink that stuff? You knew he had been sober for years, but was he really going to be that desperate for a fix?

People were falling apart fast. You needed to bring everyone back into control again. You wish it could be as easy as telling them the truth, but if Jimmy caught scent that help will come he might do something drastic. Maybe go on a killing spree and say he was the last survivor. Maybe something worse? What could be worse?

You didn’t want to know.

“Swansea, please. We still have plenty of rations, right? We aren’t empty on supplies just yet-“ You would take on the position of leader, since Jimmy sure was doing a shit job of it. Didnt say a damn thing when poor Swansea started chugging.

You would jump up on one of the crates, and used it as a stand to get everyone’s attention. Get everyone to focus on you and listen closely. You had to make a plan. Get gears turning in the right directions.

“We are going to be ok. Like I said, we still have supplies left. Curly can afford to stay in his bandages a little longer than normal with how we keep the med bay clean. He can afford to slow down his pain killer usage. We can stretch the food out longer if we make sure to not waste our energy on things that aren’t absolutely needed. We can afford to wait. We can wait. We will wait. At the very least try and give this another month before you guys all go crazy and say mutiny. Ok? We will be ok. Trust me. Curly and I had been victims of a crashed ship before. We will be ok.”

That was a lie.

Curly never crashed a ship in all his years. Never even crashed a damn bike, but sometimes you need to create fake hope to keep people from eating each other alive. That’s what a captain does. You try and take care of your crew by all means possible. You try, at least.

Something Jimmy hasn’t done at all.

“You are right-“ Anya said, before joining you on the box. She was anxious to speak up, because it made Jimmy focus on her, but she wanted to take care of everyone the best she could as well. She wanted to become a doctor for a reason. To help people. Now was her time to shine.

“We just need to remain calm. Panicking and doing things like chugging mouthwash isn’t going to do any of us good. We are still stable right now. Maybe there IS something useful here. We will look through here, while Swansea and Daisuke keep working on trying to repair what they can.”

You were proud of Anya. Having two calm voices was going to have a heavier impact than just one. Seemed to work on Swansea at least. To see you two up there, holding each other for support.

Just like his girls.

“Fine fine. But ONE month. That’s all you’ll get out of me-“ He warned, before whistling for Daisuke to follow him back to the lower decks. Suke didn’t really want to. Not with the fact Jimmy remained so silent during all this, and just glared at the two on the box.

“Jimmy? Your thoughts-?” Daisuke tried to get him to speak. Everyone now looked to the ‘Captain’ now. All he had to do was scoff.

“You heard them. Not like we have any better shit to do.” He narrowed his eyes at you, being suspicious on how you seemed so damn calm about this realization. You hope he thinks you are just good at playing it cool.

“I’m going to see if I can dig my way through some of the foam in the rooms to find any more supplies we can use.” Finally. Something actually useful from him.

That was when the team split up, and you would join Anya in trying to hunt down possible supplies through the thousands of boxes of mouthwash. Maybe something an employee left behind, or other materials stuffed away.

Once you were damn near the back of the storage vault, and any possible sounds of extra footsteps could be heard miles away, you finally pulled her aside.

You told her everything.

She sobbed into your shoulder in pure relief. Things were going to actually be ok indeed. She just had to let it all out. Probably some mixture of that crying was about Curly as well. You had to tell her that part. She’s a nurse. She needed to know for medical purposes. Such as infection risks and what wounds were reopened.

Didn’t know how long she cried, but it was long enough for Jimmy to get suspicious. Ended up hunting you two down in the vault. Fortunately his foot steps were easy to hear from so far away.

You couldn’t help but feel such a heavy dread come your way. That maybe it was better to hide. You didn’t know why. Something just sounded so off about his foot steps. They were heavier…and faster.

“Shhhh-“ You hushed, and she would wipe her eyes clean. Now she heard it to, and it was making her anxious as well. The two of you looked at each other, before to the shelves.

Time to put that ice mountain training with curly to use.

You climbed up the shelves, and tried to get as high as you could. Anya did her best to follow after you. She would directly follow the path you took, but her foot ended up slipping. She managed to grab your robe, and now you were holding on to dear life to the top shelf, while she tried to get her grip again.

“I swear I heard her crying back here. I know I did. I know her crying better than anyone-“ Jimmy muttered, as he was just under you both. Oh how you were trying so hard to keep your grip. You needed to move so bad, but if you did you risked making noise. You just had to hang on. Hang on long enough for him to leave.

Felt like an eternity, but you could hear him walking. That was until Anya’s sandal slipped off from her trying to get her footing.

The echo it made froze your blood.

You could feel him turning around, and you swore it was all over.

“JIMMY! SWANSEA AND I FOUND SOMETHING!” You could hear Daisuke call.

Thank you Ray of sunshine.

You would hear his footsteps fade away, and now you were finally able to help her up to the top shelf. The two of you just hiding there for a while. Catching your breaths, and shaking.

“Will Curly be ok stationed out in our bedroom?” You asked her, when you two were able to breathe.

“Yes….Yes he should. Just need to make sure he remains on clean fabric, a place to hang his IV, and things like that.” She swallowed, as you would stroke her hair.

“And a standby nurse?” You asked, as her eyes stared up at you with such a relief. A real place to hide. To finally get real sleep.

“Never hurts to have extra help.” She consented, as you two kept holding each other. Deep breaths of that painful mint, and the sounds of the ever creaking ship.

You couldn’t help but swear you could hear your husbands groans from the medbay. Maybe it was your imagination or maybe……

Jimmy was taking his anger out on someone.

You closed your eyes, and prayed it wasn’t the latter.

Just twenty eight more days.

Just…….

28 more days until rescue…..

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Like I say, it depends on when you ask and the fact tumblr doesn’t like me tagging certain usernames. Like they don’t even register. So do a solid and reblog to help people I’m unable to tag to see this post! Thank you!

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[earlgreylatte]

Three Lifeforms

(Hal Jordan x Blue Lantern Reader) Where Hal is the one that grounds you after a big reveal and the Justice League is always in everyone’s business.

“Three life forms detected.”

Hearing the status from the ring, you and Hal exchanged glances, finding that the abandoned planet you two often visited in between missions wasn’t as vacant as you initially thought.

“Hello—!” Cupping your hands around your mouth you began to shout out, only for Hal to immediately envelop more than half your face with his stupidity big hand, as he pulls your back into his chest.

“What are you doing?” He hisses, looking around worriedly, as you try to shove him off you.

“No one is ever here but us, someone might have gotten stranded here,” you explain, trying to look up at him.

“That doesn’t mean you should go announcing yourself to a possible hostile!” Hal retorts, tightening his grip on you.

You’re sure Barry or Batman would have felt vindicated amusement in how your usually reckless, highball partner was forced to take up a certain level of caution when paired with you. While Hal Jordan was an optimist, even he had nothing against a wielder of the hope ring.

“So what? No one can stand a chance against a Blue Lantern and Green Lantern, you’ve said that way too many times to count,” you finally escape his grasp before turning around to face him, “Besides, if they need help, it’s my duty to provide it.”

The man before you sighs tiredly, shooting you a wry grin. “Maybe you should have been the Green Lantern with how stubborn you can be, berryblue.”

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

*

“Come on, there’s no one here! We’ve been here for hours—“

“Less than a hour.”

“Let’s head home, order some takeout, watch watch whatever tv show you’re obsessed with right now, maybe fool around a bit-“

“Hal.”

He groans, before splaying himself against you, relying on you to keep him upright.

“It’s been so long since we’ve been alone, don’t you want me to take care of you?” His hand travels lower, giving your bottom a generous squeeze, eliciting a strangled yelp and punch from you, which he only laughs at.

For a second, you think he somehow flustered you enough that your knees felt weak enough to buckle, but with how your head felt like it was being drilled from the inside, you conclude that this goes beyond Hal Jordan’s charm.

“Babe,” he starts, but stops when he sees you bring up a hand to massage your temple. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a headache. I’m fine, Hal,” You assure him, gently pushing him off.

You can already tell he’s furrowing his eyebrows beneath his mask before he brings his hands to grasp your arms, pulling you closer to inspect your face properly.

“Your ring should have negated anything like that. God knows how many migraines—“

“Hangovers.”

“—you’ve cured for me. Something’s going on.” He frowns.

“Just tired. We haven’t been home in months, it’s probably just taking a bit of a toll,” you reply, ignoring the way your vision becomes blurred.

“More the reason we should go, then.” He declares, his face hardening into the determined expression you’re more than familiar with.

“Not until we find whoever else is here.”

He groans out your name in exasperation.

You’re sure that he’s giving you a lecture about self-care, probably adding a salacious remark or two. But you’re unable to register him when the world around you begins to tilt.

*

He’s calling your name. Not ‘babe’ or some other embarrassingly gushy pet name . He’s definitely worried. So when your eyes flutter open, you’re not surprised to see the distress on his face as he cradles you to his chest.

“How long was I out?”

“You…only a couple minutes,” he answers, his grip on you tightening for a moment, “Come on, we’re going home.”

Scowling, you squirm in arms, but his hold remains steadfast, much to your fond irritation. “It was just a dizzy spell—“

“That was not—!”

“I’m fine. Besides, we still haven’t found whoever else is here!”

“They could be the Pope, and I still wouldn’t give a shit!” He bites back, his hand flexing on the meat of your thigh, mindful enough to not strengthen his grip on any further.

You furrow your brows, I mean, yeah, you’re literally Jewish.

“Give me a boost, will you? I’ll have us back in the watchtower before it’s Spooky’s feeding time.”

When you remain still, he jostles you lightly, but you avoid meeting his gaze.

He growls out your name impatiently, before softening.

“I’ll have Guy or Kyle do a scope here as soon as we get you checked out,” he promises.

“It’s probably nothing,” you grumble, before acquiescing, focusing on his ring and augmenting its output, “Gently, Hal.”

“Only because you asked so sweetly.”

*

Powered down and tucked into a med bay bed, you toyed with the ring on your finger as Hal finished off the leftovers of the meal J’ohn brought you.

“Sure you don’t want me to get you anything else?” Hal asks leaning forward on his chair.

“I’m fine,” you reply absentmindedly. You’re sure he’s looking at you with that dumb, loving expression he gets around you, when his brown eyes soften enough to resemble melted chocolate, so you avoid looking at him lest you break.

He places his hand over yours, giving it a light squeeze, “You were just overworked, don’t worry, Nurse Jordan will you have up and running in no time.”

“Liar. You were the one saying something has to be really wrong for my ring to not cancel everything out,” you scoff, trying to fight back a smile when he winces guiltily. “Well, your bedside manner isn’t too bad, though.”

With a soft grin he climbs onto your bed, nestling one of his arms behind you so it’s wrapped around your shoulders, moving around until you’re settled against his chest, as he uses his free hand to lock fingers with yours.

“You’ll be just fine,” he quietly assures, thumb rubbing against your hand soothingly, “After all, there isn’t anything we can’t figure out together.”

“Because of our rings?” You mumble as best you can with your cheek smushed against him.

“Because I’d literally tear reality apart for you and you’re my stubborn, intelligent, gorgeous girl that’s going to outlast everyone.” he responds casually. You really can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “But yeah, the whole ‘strongest weapons in the universe’ thing too.”

You let out a breathy laugh, nuzzling against him, only straightening up when J’ohn returns, expression as enigmatic as ever.

“One of the functions of the hope ring is to keep its wielder in peak condition, especially since its speciality is regeneration, correct?” He asks.

“Always wakes up without an ache or creak in her back, her ring surpasses mine in that regard,” Hal comments, squeezing your hand.

“Yes, I think its effect on your physiology is more proactive than anyone could have anticipated.”

“Just spit it out,” you sigh, wanting to rip the bandaid off.

The Martian clears his throat, suddenly look awkward, “There really was no way for you to realize, with the ring working to negate any symptoms and attempting to keep your body in optimal condition, that you are…with child. Second trimester, I would guess.”

You’re very sure that you’re brain just blue screened for a second, jolting back into reality when a tension you didn’t notice in your partner immediately faded, “Oh thank god.”

You look at him incredulously as he grins sheepishly.

“Sorry, sorry, but I was really worried it was something terminal or some galactic virus!”

“Weren’t you telling me not to worry earlier?”

“Yeah, you’re a Blue Lantern, worrying is my job between the two of us.”

J’ohn clears his throat again, pausing your debate, “We can have our on-staff medical team oversee your…condition, or we can refer you to trusted OB-GYN on Earth. While rare, a ‘cryptid pregnancy’ is still completely safe. It’s just good we were able to catch it so early.”

“Yeah, imagine if you randomly went into labour in the middle of space,” Hal states, visibly shuddering at the thought.

You groan, burying your face in your hands.

“I’ll leave you two to discuss this privately,” The Martian excuses himself.

You feel two large hands wrap around your waist, and in an instant Hal has manhandled you in his lap, his back hitting the pillows you were just propped up on. He buries his face into your neck, humming contentedly.

“What are you thinking?”

“What are you thinking? You’re awfully calm when this is probably the last thing you’d want, flyboy.” You retort with a bit more venom than you wanted, but he only nuzzles his nose near your pulse point.

“I’ll admit that when I got this ring, I figured I wouldn’t do the whole family man thing. I mean there was a point where my feet wouldn’t even touch the ground, between sector shit and the airfield,” Hal starts, “but being with you, I realized that I wouldn’t have to ever tie myself down because it would never feel that way with you. Not that I would mind you tying me up.”

Despite your best efforts you laugh, and you feel him smile against your skin.

“Whether we’re on Earth or on the other side of the sector, I’d be happy as long as you’re the one holding my reigns. Lantern or not, I know we’ll be okay. So being married to you and raising a kid…what’s not to want?” You remain silent for a moment before relaxing against him.

“I won’t say I’ve never thought about this before and the ring is definitely going to make the process unfairly easy,” you begin quietly.

“Oh, yeah, bet there are a lot of ladies that just hate your guts for that alone.”

“So, I—,” you pause for a moment, Hal patiently waiting, “I want to do this. With you. I mean, I’m scared but overcoming fear is kind of our thing.”

Hal’s hand comes up to tilt your head back to press his lips against yours. The angle is a bit awkward, but Hal leaves you breathless nonetheless, and even now, he’s smiling.

You pull away with a shriek, when his other hand reaches up to grope your breast. “No, just like I thought, it’s definitely bigger. More sensitive too.”

“You’re the worst,” you complain without any real heat.

“Hey, just checking!” Hal grins deviously, giving you another squeeze before you’re interrupted by the sound of a certain bat clearing his throat. You would have jumped out of Hal’s arms if not for his grip on you, clearly unashamed of cuddling you even in Bruce’s presence.

“Hey, Spooky, here to congratulate us?” Hal asks and you resist the urge to elbow him for being so obvious, but the other man only hums in affirmation and you realize you should have known nothing goes unknown to the bat.

“And to assist in anyway you two would need.” He approaches you and hands you a pile of—

“Brochures?” Hal observes. “‘How to handle your super bundle’, ‘How to go from Superhero to Super Parent’—who the hell made these?”

“Not like we’re having a super baby that could try to claw out of me ‘Alien’ style,” you note.

“While you two are both normal humans, that doesn’t mean you won’t have our support in having a new responsibility added to your already busy lives,” Batman affirms, “We will also set up a college fund when your child is born and cover medical expenses and the like. And—“

“Wait, too much info,” you massage your temple, “Since when did we have all these resources? Oh, Clark wasn’t kidding when he said you paid his rent!”

Bruce only smirks in response. Rich people.

“Alright, alright, we get it, maybe don’t try to send the love of my life into an existential crisis?” Hal interjects. Softie.

“We can talk more later. Some of the parents in our community have monthly meetings. I’m sure Barry will be sending you invites and reminders as soon as he finds out,” Bruce says, looking vaguely amused.

“Hold on, how many people know? How did you even find out? Did J’ohn tell you?” You question, furrowing your brows.

“As soon as you two arrived, Clark heard a third heartbeat, and we all know he can’t contain himself on these matters.” Bruce explains already heading for the door, deeming the conversation done. You have no doubt he’ll be popping around Coast City in the coming months though.

“He’s such a gossip, or more like everyone here is,” you complain, “Better tell Barry and Ollie while you can. They’ll be mad if they find out from the grapevine.”

“Guess we got a lot to do when we get back home,” Hal muses with a stupid grin, probably already planning out a green, space themed nursery.

You hum, leaning back into his hold before jolting. “Third life force!”

“Huh?”

“The—ring—third life force! It knew!” You sputter out, glaring at your finger accusingly.

Hal stares at you for a moment before bursting out in laughter as his shoulders shook, once again burying his face into your neck, which did very little to muffle him.

“Hal!”

Low key my worst fear, but it’s Hal and I think he should acquire a child if dc isn’t going to write him being a big bro to air wave. Also I want his dick LMAO

Masterlist

[mistywaves98]

Hii! Its my first time asking on here but could you do top!servant!scara with sub!noblelady!reader, also i dont know if you’re fine with writing corruption k!nks but if you are pls include that too ^-^ if not then completely disregard this part AHAHAH.

Also not related to the req but i love your works 😅 i

Aww thank youuu 🫶🫶

✧･ﾟ:* ->Servant! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Corruption kink, Praise, lots of praise!

How you ran the estate inherited from your parents was beyond Scaramouche, with your weirdly optimistic views and naive tendency to try and see good in everything despite the cruel ways of society. It was so clear that you were overly sheltered as a child. Still, it was always a pleasure to work under you. And over you as well.

Your hands clawed at the sheets beneath you, hair splayed out around your face as Scaramouche absolutely ravaged your pussy. The slick sound of his cock sliding in and out of the gummy walls of your pussy reverberated throughout the space of your chambers. "Mmnh... Mistress, you've no idea how I've longed to do this to you... Fuck, you feel so good—" He barely manages to groan out as his hands rest on either side of your head.

It's felt like hours now since he finally caved into his desires, thrusting into your aching pussy with rhythmic jerks of his hips. It's truly not Scaramouche's fault, you know. Your innocence was just absolutely endearing, the fact you knew almost nothing about intimacy just making you all that much more corruptible. The soft expression that always adorned your face never failed to make his cock painfully hard. Oh, how he yearned to make those pretty eyes roll to the back of your head as he made himself at home within the confines of your tight cunt.

You look even better than he imagined, the needy noises slipping out of your throat as your plump lips part in pure pleasure are like music to his ears. The sight of you, splayed out under him and completely bare for his eyes alone sends Scaramouche into a frenzy as he fixates on the way your perky tits move each time he sinks his length back into you.

He suddenly grabs the back of your thighs and maneuvers them to rest over his shoulders. The sweet sound you let out as the blunt head of his cock meets your g-spot sends a shiver down his spine and he swears he just got hard all over again. You feel like you're seeing stars at this point, incoherent babbles and pleas leaving you as your hands reach up to cling to his back, manicured nails leaving crescent marks on the skin.

"Hn... You're so cute, y'know that? Taking my dick like a good girl...—Hngh— God, look at you..so cock drunk you can't even respond properly... You gonna cum? Yeah, that's it..make a mess for me.." He smirks as he feels you clench around him even more, practically suffocating him as he reaches between you both to rub gentle circles against your swollen clit, coaxing you towards orgasm.

His encouragement and extra stimulation makes the knot in your stomach tighten ever so slightly. You're so close... Release feels like it's right there, just getting closer, closer... You jolt as he suddenly delivers a sharp pinch to the sensitive bundle of nerves and that's all it takes to have you screaming his name for the nth time that night as your walls spasm around his cock. Scaramouche delights in the feeling of your cum coating his length as he buries himself inside you over and over again.

Your servant doesn't stop, simply slowing his pace a bit to help you ride out your high. He leans in and captures your lips in a tender yet possessive kiss, swallowing up your noises as his tongue slithers past your lips to explore the wet cavern that is your mouth,"Hmm.. Good girl, you're just as good at following orders as you are dishing them out... You looked so beautiful as you came, I want to see that expression of pure bliss again. Think you can give me just one more?"

[rimunagenius]

Only Angel — K.M

❝ words : 1.5k ❞

❝ warnings : RPF!! , suggestive , body worship , jealous!Kate , fwb theme ❞ (dk if i forgot anything, if i did lmk!)

❝ rimunagenius speaks : sorry this took a literal fortnite to complete LMAO (pls idek if this good :// )…anyways i have summer school bc o my fuck ass chem teacher soooo lowk might take a while to put other stuff out but i’ll try i promise!! ❞

| Women’s Basketball Masterlist |

I saw this angel

I really saw an angel

Kate noticed you on the baseline at every single one of your home games. Your black and gold cheer uniform fitting you insanely perfect. Your short skirt and your form fitting top. You looked so pretty, so beautiful, so angelic, you were truly a distraction sometimes. The way you moved hypnotizing her whenever she wasn't focused on her team. 

Open up your eyes, shut your mouth and see

That I'm still the only one who's been in love with me

I'm just happy getting you stuck in between my teeth

And there's nothing I can do about it

It took about five months of dancing around the physical attraction you both had towards the other before making what was happening between you two something. You both had amazing futures set out for you, establishing yourselves in your sports. You were on track to become a professional cheerleader, NFL cheerteams already inviting you to camps. 

Kate was optimistic that she'd become a prospect in the upcoming draft. Deciding to continue to put all he focus into basketball. So why on earth were you both suddenly trying to pursue something that could be nuclear to your careers. 

Kate had been buried between your legs for the better part of an hour. "Oh my god, Kate. I love you." The initial shock in the declaration immediately set a new tone in the atmosphere that you two had spent months building up. 

Her lips paused the attack on you, eliciting a small sigh from your lips, now accepting the consequences of your own actions. "Im sorry, what?" There was no denying the cultivation of feelings you two began to nurse. There was no point in lying to herself that she didn't feel the same way. 

"Forget it, just please, don't stop." You squirmed under her gaze. Now growing increasingly uncomfortable with the look she seemed to be giving you, and now uncomfortable with the abrupt confession. 

"You know that I can't just drop basketball." She sighed, her forefingers pinching the bridge of her nose. The frustration that immediately began to build within your chest, at her action of dismissing your confession. 

"Alright, whatever. Forget about it, didn't mean it anyways." You sighed heavily, suggestively spreading your legs, signalling her to continue, foregoing any act of bashfullness and self preservation you had to give. 

"No, because we had this conversation. I need to focus on basketball right now. Not to sound rude but you're not in the picture yet. I'm pretty sure I'm not even in the picture for you're life right now." The short tone she took with you was something almost foreign. 

You didn't like the tone, rolling your eyes at her. Suddenly the small smirk you grew accustomed to in this scene, inching it's way onto her face. So over the awkwardness but totally enthralled by the way she manages to manipulate the situation to make  it seem less harsh than it really is, annoys you. She’s so good at making you forget about why you were mad at her when she has that look on her face. Chuckling softly, looking away to your left, you grabbed her blonde hair at the back of her head and shoved her head back down where you both were needing. 

The slight aggression and dominance you took elicited a gravel moan from the depths of her throat. The reverberation could be felt everywhere. You guys just couldn't help but feel the way you felt for each other. 

Broke a finger knocking on your bedroom door

I got splinters in my knuckles crawling across the floor

Couldn't you take home to mother in a skirt that short

But I think that's what I like about it

Kate didn't know what it was but the feeling brewing in her chest from the sight of you with another girl had her on a whole new level. You guys never put a label on what it was between the both of you. You guys just had a common ground.

Thats why she didn't know why she was pounding the living shit our of your door at two in the morning. Team outing at a local bar in Iowa City, invite extended to you from your mutual friends, turned into you leaving with another girl. She was your friend, deciding you were tired of your shoes, opting to go home and drink your own beer without people bothering you and asking if you two were single. Seemed like the most optimal solution. Until you realized that the pounding on your door signaled you forgot to tell Kate. 

Kate had felt the anger and anxiety build up in her the longer her fist repeatedly connected with the wooden door of your apartment. The dread of finding another girl in the apartment where she thought only you two seemed to find yourself in more often then not was unsettling. Mainly because she thought this was going somewhere but you just called it casual. She had you. 

"Jesus Christ, Kate. It's two in the morning, what the fuck are you doing?" You looked at her perplexed, the cold breeze hitting you from the hallway. You wrapped your arms around yourself, the crop top and the short sleep shorts you made yourself comfortable in now suddenly sounding like the worst idea. 

"Who did you leave with?" Is she fucking serious right now? You looked at her like she had suddenly grown two more heads. 

"Are you serious? That's why you came banging on my door at two in the fucking morning? Because you wanted to know who I left the bar with?" The animosity in your voice growing as she continued to keep the straight face she had since you opened the door, but moved on her feet in anticipation. 

"Yeah. Was she a friend or...?" You genuinely laughed at the way she was acting. Two nights ago you had confessed that you loved her accidentally, but truthfully, and all she could say was you weren't what she envisioned herself with in the future. Atleast not yet. So you both decided to continue doing what you have been for the last two months. 

"Like you care?" You scoffed, walking away from the door, letting her in. She closed the door behind her, kicking her shoes off, and hanging her jacket up on the hook next to yours. You walked through the whole apartment, knowing she’d follow. She did. You didn't say a single thing but just look at her while she saw no girl had been in your apartment. 

"She was my friend, Kate. She was in one of my classes and we came here for and she only stayed for like twenty minutes before she walked to her floor." You now stood in the middle of your room, a room Kate had been all too familiar with. 

"That's it?" Kate's brows raised, her body inching closer to yours. 

"Yes. I'm not easy you know." You rolled her eyes, unintentionally getting a rise out of Kate. For some reason she seemed to like when you had an attitude with her. "Don't even think about it, Kate." You looked at her, the knowing gaze her eyes held that your eyes were trained to remember. 

"Why not? You’re always easy for me." Her voice dropping and becoming faint as she slowly reached one hand to your waist. She knew you’d let her have her way. You always did. You were just equally as dirty and needy for Kate as she was for you. She couldn’t take you anywhere…she loved it. She got to have you in private any way she wanted.

"You're seriously asking that after you just stormed into my apartment thinking I was sleeping with another woman when that wasn't the deal we made. The lack of boundaries you seem to have." You sighed as her other hand connected with your waist, pulling you into her chest while her lips started their attack on your neck. 

"Mhm." She hummed softly, planting an open mouthed kiss right below your ear. 

"Kate, are you serious?" You were genuinely shocked that she just forewent her previous accusation against you, and suddenly thinks she'll get lucky tonight. It was slowly working, dammit.

"Why are you still talking, baby?" Her hands on your waist slipped underneath the hem of your crop top, her cold, ringclad fingers, slowly traveling the familiar path that brought her so much pleasure. Her eyes now looking into yours, she smiled before looking at your lips. 

Who were you to resist her when she looked this good? You probably should have but there was no going back after you connected your lips. It didn't take more than two seconds to have her slowly backing you up against the side of your bed, making you fall onto your back. 

You inched your way towards the headboard, you resting neatly on the pillows as you watched her discard her shirt. She got onto the bed, working her way from you bare legs, all the way up your stomach. The way she crawled slowly above you, ravishing you before she intended to tear you apart was so sultry and almost cinematic that you couldn't even breathe. 

Later on, the talk needed to be had. You both would have to unanimously decide to commit to one another. There was nothing casual about the way her lips traveled to every part of your body, with small chants of appraisal leaving her lips, ghosting your skin with goosebumps in their wake...nothing casual about it. 

"You're like an actual angel, baby. Can't get enough of you." Her lips barely articulated the words that she desperately needed to get off her chest, as they tried to kiss you everywhere all at once. You almost didn't catch it when she kissed up the apex of your thighs, mumbling 'mine' over and over again. 

In her eyes, you were literally an angel, needing to be worshipped.

She's an angel

My only angel

[igotanidea]

Hero: Damian Wayne x reader

(family rules finale)

A/N: Family rules finale, ladies and gentleman! Forgive me, if I got a litlte rusty during hiatus, hope you'll still enjoy <3

Family rules masterlist

***

„Let go of me, Nightwing! She needs my help, can’t you see that-“

“Hush.”

“She is being-“

“Shut up Damian!”

Now, this, this was surprising.

Dick Grayson, the forever cool, positive and optimistic seemed to be losing his cool, clenching fists and jaw. He was not blind, duh! He saw what this asshole was doing to his daughter.

Dick was always very sensitive when it came to any type of violence and the fact that Y/N was the girl of whom Damian took a liking to was intensifying his fury tenfold.

Damn, he himself was hanging by a thread, forcing himself to not barge inside and take matters in his own, gloved hands.

But there were so many things and variables to consider. From what Dick knew about Y/N (cause Damian was not talking about her at all) she was rather withdrawn (reasons in the form of the scene unfolding in their eyes), with no friends, who would care for her. The only person who stalked her in wanting to talk was – Damian. Therefore technically, if anyone were to wander by her house at his hour would be him. And at the moment he was about to barge inside in his Robin suit.

And since Dick also knew Y/N was smart and good at connecting the dots there was a heavy risk of her figuring out that Damian=Robin. And then all the rest, getting up the hill to the identity of Batman himself.

And despite the attitude Dick had to many of Bruce’s rules, the secret identity one was a priority and the one he was not going to break.

Yet.

Lost in thoughts, he didn’t even notice Damian taking off and rushing over the lawn to her window.

“Damn! Robin, come back here!”

As if that could stop him.

If the situation wasn’t so dramatic, it would be truly hilarious.

If Y/N and/or her father were to look outside the window they would notice Nightwing and Robin struggling against one another on their estate, pulling at the cape, standing on feet, throwing batons and waving katana around.

 Like freaking comic characters in a kids’ show that intends to be funny but gives the adult a heavy cringe from embarrassment.

“I’m going in!” Damian yelled.

“You are not-“

“AGGHG!”

“Stop it!” Dick did a few backflips, miraculously escaping the blade. Damn, this was so much easier a few years ago, but now his older body was a little less agile even if Grayson refused to admit it. Meanwhile, 17 year old Damian seemed to be at the peak of his abilities. Cutting Dick’s opportunity to grab Robin’s cape and hold him midair with his feet dangling furiously.

“She needs my help!”

“Actually the help would be really helpful here. “ third voice, mocking, cut into the discussion, making both Dick and Damian stop.

Y/N was leaning on the doorframe, arms folded on her chest, look of pure contempt in her eyes as he observed the two vigilantes doing only what could be described as fooling around with each other. Her cheek was reddened and there was a faint stream of blood running down her arms.

So much for Dick’s masterplan.

“Thanks for nothing, you two.” She mocked, raising an eyebrow.

“Um…” Damian stuttered, suddenly feeling awfully called out on his behavior.

“Hm? You were saying?”

“Nothing…” he looked down like a schoolboy, while Dick was standing a little behind, biting the inside of his cheek to not burst out laughing at him.

“I’m sorry, Nightwing, is this funny to you?” Y/N was too perceptive for their own good. “Please, so share the positives you see in the situation.”

“Um…” this time Dick was the one blushing like a kindergartener, caught stealing sweets from the top shelf.

“I actually thought you were supposed to help people?”

“Um…”

“Wow, how do you help anyone if you can’t even make one sentence?”

“Ok, enough.” Finally Damian managed to get his tongue back “this is enough.”

“Is it?”

God, she was infuriating even now. He was trying to help her (again) and she was pushing him away (again).

“Stop it.”

“Or what?”

“Or- or-“

“Or what?” she repeated, her eyes fixed on him, almost drilling a hole into his masked face.

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“You’re the one playing catch on my lawn!”

“I’m trying to free you from the abuser your father is!”

“Well look how it worked!”

“It would be much better if you try to be a little more appreciative!”

“Screw you!”

“What?!”

This girl never made any sense. How was it possible that he fell for this chaotic mess of a human being. She was making him crazy. Crazy! And not in a good sense.

“How long have you been sitting on that tree?”

“Well, um-“

“This is my fault-“ Dick tried to interject but she sent him a look so full of fury he had to take a step back with hands raised in surrender.

“I’m not talking to you.” She growled to Dick, turning back to Damian.  “I am so done! I’m done! Men are just completely useless!”

“But-“

“You know what, heroes are useless!”

Now this hurt.

“This is not fair-“ Damian started, but it was too late. Months of abuse, fear and holding her emotions back for the sake of everyone else found a way out in the wave of white fury, blinding her rational thinking. She was so tired of waiting for someone to help her. Exhausted from hoping for a prince on a white horse to come and take her away from this place.

She was not helpless.

And this line of thinking got her into the crazy decision of taking matters in her own hands.

“Y/N! Y/N, where are you going!? Wait! Wait, what are you going to do?! Stop!”

As she turned on her heel, blind and deaf to any external stimuli, walking back towards the house like  a mad woman Damian immediately took after her. And Dick did too.

If Y/N was a supernatural being this would be the moment for her to go into a magical change in the cloud of white light.

This would be the moment for her to get a silly, fairy-like outfit, a cape and/or ability to fly and beam lasers from her eyes.  

But this was reality and not a manga show.

And she was a hero even without a latex costume.

Or maybe – that was what made her more of a hero.

***

“Please remind me to never make that girl angry.”

Damian scoffed, but there was a hint of smugness in his voice as he responded.

“That was something, wasn’t it?”

Half an hour later, Dick and Damian were leaning over the same tree by her house, watching her father being taken by the police.

Shockingly (or maybe not so much), pushed to the very edge of her endurance, Y/N had walked inside the house, and with zero second guessing or doubts, had called the police, reporting the abuse she had been experiencing from her parent.

Damian had never been more proud of anyone in his entire life.

And she did it without his help.

Which under any other circumstances would probably make him mad, cause he was supposed to be the savior, but hey – having a girl who could hold her own was even better.

“You know anyone else would probably call her mental—”

“Hey! Hold your tongue Grayson!”

“Hm? Why?” Dick smirked “getting territorial?”

“Shut up!”

“She’s not even your girl, you know.”

“I said shut up!”

“Please don’t start again-“

***

“Hey Y/N, can we talk?”

She was talking to the policeman, giving her explanations on the situation, looking a little fatigued from everything that happened, but upon hearing his voice turned around.

“I don’t know, I am a little busy here-”

“I’ll take it from here, officer.” Damian cut off not only her words but any possible objection from the policeman, gently grabbing her forearm and leading her away from the crime scene.

“Where’s your babysitter?” she teased, seeing as Nightwing was nowhere to be found.

“He was getting a little too fearless for his own good so I bound him to the tree.”

“You’re joking.” She chuckled, “wait. You are joking right? Please tell me, you didn’t actually trap Nightwing on my tree.”

“Relax. He’s not in immediate danger. At least not at the moment.”

“The hell does that-?”

“How are you feeling?” he interrupted her again, studying her face from behind the mask, taking in the pale face, tired eyes and relief mixed with worry, etched on her face. “And do not try to put on a brave face.”

“How do you think I feel?”

“I’m not a mind reader.”

“Too bad. Cause that’s not something I could explain in a few words. At the moment I am mostly exhausted. But also a bit of fear.”

“Of what?”

“Future. Now that my dad would probably end up locked up… what will happen to me?”

“Y/N…”

“You know I never asked you how you know my name.”

“Y/N…”

“Do you learn the names of everyone in Gotham? Didn’t take you for the considerate type.”

“How is it possible that you switch between acting vulnerable and mean so swiftly?” he mocked, hiding the fact that her words actually did hit a nerve.

“Maybe it’s my superpower.” She sighed.

“Y/N…”

“Hm?” she kept her eyes on the ground, her mind suddenly starting to spin as she only now started considering the consequences of her actions.

Damian cupped her cheek, softly, unable to stop himself from the gesture of affection, guiding her eyes on him.

“You did the right thing.” He whispered

“Did I?” her voice shook a little “then why does it feel like I’m –”

“No. No, don’t even finish that sentence.” He rubbed her skin, shocking not only her but also himself. “You were the victim here and he deserves everything that is going to happen to him now. He had it coming. Forcing you to get information on Waynes? Using you to get to me and –“

They both froze.

Shit.

Shit, he said “to me”. And there was no way she wouldn’t catch up on that, even with her tiredness and distraction.

“Are you—”

“Y/N.”

“Damian?”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I know, but- but why-? How-? When-?”

“Not now.”

“But-“

“Not now, Y/N.” he cupped both her cheeks, keeping eyes on her “Not with so many people around. Later, I promise.”

“You promise, huh? And I’m just supposed to trust you? How long have you known about-“

“A few days, I swear. If I knew earlier than-“ he clenched his jaw, his hold on her becoming a little tighter. “then I wouldn’t hold myself responsible for my own actions towards your father. Bastard.”

“Well it’s done now…”

“I’m not leaving you alone, you know that?”

“I didn’t.”

“Ouch.”

“Oh, don’t act like that actually did hurt you.”

“And if I told you it did, would you kiss it better?”

“Robin!” she teased “are you flirting?”

Damian blushed in response, feeling like a total idiot and completely out-of-character.  Damn Grayson and damn trying to copy his stupid smug way of talking to girls. Clearly it wasn’t working for him.

“I- I mean, I-“

She only smiled softly, standing on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek, letting her lips linger on the skin a little longer than necessary.

“That’s all you get for now.”

“But-“

“You got some heavy explaining to do. But on the good side? I won’t be used a snitch since now, so who knows where this goes…” she turned to walk away but he grabbed her hand and spun her around to him

“Y/N…”

“Hm?”

Screw his attitude. Screw copying Grayson and keeping his distance. Screw the pretenses. Screw everything.

He pulled her into his chest, softly, almost shyly pressing her lips to his, feeling the tips of his ears burning. He was kissing her. She was kissing him. And it felt…

Good.

So good.

Not like that first kiss at the Wayne’s gala when they simply got lost in the moment.

No.

This one was more deliberate, more mature and definitely wanted by both of them. As if everything that happened in the short span of a few months made them more aware of their own emotions and needs. 

And even though it did not clear all the misunderstandings and understatements, it was a good way forward, with his lips moving against hers, and her nose brushing affectionately over his.

Soft, sweet and seemingly innocent, but filled with so many feelings simmering under the surface. 

“I’ll take care of you…” he whispered, pulling back after a moment, connecting their foreheads.

“I don’t need you to take care of me…”

“I hate you. You’re ruining the moment, Y/L/N. I am going to take care of you, whether you like it or not.”

She chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“If this thing between us is going to work, I seriously hope you are never going to change.”

Damian groaned internally.

She was going to make him go crazy in the foreseeable future.

But he was not going to let go.

@6000-fandoms @beyond-your-stars @mikyapixie

Not all heroes wear capes...

@heartz4miz @crookedmakerfury @mariam12344 @celestair

@faimmm @hornyslasher @urdarlingali @emmalove1111 @crookedmakerfury @herondale-lightworm @itzjustj-1000 @ginger24880 @anonymousmuffinbear @adharawitch @jasons-little-princess @sharkybabydoll @cupids-diner @whydoyoucare866 @ladychibirae @amber-content @atadoddinnit @mouse-face1 @m3ntally-unstable @jinviktor @idonthaveanameforthisacc @no-lessthan3 @simp-simp-no-mi

@thotsofadepravedwoman @lookingforsyd @13shewhomustnotbenamed @bloodyboi @kore-of-the-underworld @girlblogger-04 @cloudserenity @lolalunamarvel

[little-diable]

Carnal Sin - Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

I desperately needed to get this out of my system, I ain't sorry for that. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader's mother had begged Priest Riddle to let the reader join his bible study, a bratty woman who wanted to make his life a living hell. Now it was time to finally teach her a lesson.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (m), face fucking, man handling, spanking, religious connotations, Tom being Tom

Pairing: Priest!Tom Riddle x fem!reader (2k words)

“How can you possibly believe that?” Her laughter echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls as if demons were carrying the sound. All eyes were focused on her, wide eyes that trembled with fear because of the blasphemous words she kept on speaking. But she didn’t care about them, didn’t even remember their names, no, all she cared about was the pair of dark pupils staring her down. 

“Excuse me?” His voice was sharp, urged on by the need to put her in her place. All other eyes snapped back to him, lowering their gazes in fear of the priest who was known for punishing those who didn’t dare listen. But she didn’t fear him, taunting him whenever their paths crossed. 

“Oh, don’t give me that. You and I both know you don’t believe in any of that yourself. Turning water into wine? That’s witchcraft, and witches should be burned, according to your little storybook at least.” Gasps followed her words, sounds that left (y/n) grinning as if she was the Devil herself, joining the bible study to make it a living hell for those who desperately clung to their belief. For a few seconds, he didn’t speak up, holding eye contact with her from his spot, but as she parted her lips to speak, once again set on laughing words she shouldn’t pronounce, he cleared his throat. 

“We’ll end our session here, I need to have a word with (y/n), alone.” She tried not to pay the heat his words shot through her any attention, trying not to squeeze her thighs together as she watched him rise to her feet. Neither of them spoke a word as the others hurriedly left the room, closing the door to give the two some privacy. Her eyes didn’t leave his frame once, the tall figure she’d imagine whenever she let her hands wander, chasing that high she was desperate for. Priest Riddle was dangerously handsome, fooling anybody whenever he wasn’t wearing his collar.

And yet she knew it was nothing more than a game, a game whose rules he was making. But she had never been good at following rules, set on breaking them like branches snapping beneath her shoes. 

“I wasn’t optimistic when your mother begged me to let you join, you know? I knew you’d only cause me more problems. But I promised your mother to try, to give you a chance. Well let me tell you, (y/n), I’ve never been a patient man. I think it’s time you learn a lesson.” The chuckle rumbling through her left him smirking, something she clearly didn’t understand fully to anticipate what he’d do to her tonight. 

“A lesson? What, should I fall to my knees and pray ten Hail Mary’s?” He crossed the room towards (y/n) with fast steps, hand shooting out to grasp her throat before she could flinch away. A shaky gasp left her at the touch, feeling his cold rings burn into her skin. Priest Riddle stared her down as if she was now living through her last judgment, set on taking her down to hell with him.

“A prayer won’t help you no more, God doesn’t answer the calls of sinners like you. The only one you’ll pray to will be me.” She was forced to her feet for a second, lips parted to let an excited sigh leave her. This is what she had been working for, knowing that he would eventually give in, eventually cross that line he had sworn to stay away from. But even a priest had his enemies, the carnal sin calling his name in quiet hours. 

“Let's hope your mouth knows what it’s doing. Onto your knees, let me fuck those bratty words out of you.” She could have sworn that his eyes grew darker as he spoke the words, watching her drop to her knees without a single protest leaving her. “I should have known, you’ll enjoy whatever I’m doing to you. It’s all about the power you think you have, forcing me to do something I promise I never would. Let me tell you, (y/n), even priests can beg for forgiveness, and forgiveness He shall always grant me.”

For the first time since meeting Priest Riddle, she felt some fear swapping through her, wondering if she was finally burning from the reckless play with fire. It was an unfamiliar sensation, yet so awfully exciting, she could only stare up at him with a smirk. 

He did quick work of his trousers, freeing his hard cock from the confines of his clothes. He was beautiful, a man crafted by God, what a shame he was destined to hide away beneath the black suits he wore. (Y/n) followed his ringed fingers, how he grasped his cock to push himself closer to (y/n). 

“Open that mouth of yours, let’s see how much you can take.” It was a dangerous game, and yet (y/n) had always lived for the thrill. She parted her lips, tongue exposed to his dark eyes. Within seconds he had forced his cock into her mouth, to the back of her throat. She gagged around him, had her vision instantly blurred by tears. 

Without waiting for any commands, she hallowed her cheeks, letting her tongue explore his cock for a moment before he began to move. Priest Riddle’s ringed hand found the back of her head, holding her in place as he fucked her mouth, high on the sound of her gasps, chokes, sounds he’d forever remember. She was a pretty sacrifice, worth the trouble she had forced him through, that much he was certain of. 

“How can there be no God when we get to experience something like this?” His raspy voice left her shuddering, words she could barely focus on, too concentrated on the feeling of his cock fucking her mouth. No other man had ever been this rough with her, and yet she knew that she had been addicted to Priest Riddle from the first day, hoping that they’d eventually end up like this. 

“Such pretty sounds for a woman this dangerous, it’s amazing how you try to fool those around you.” He spat his words as he used more speed for his thrusts, enjoying her gasps a tad bit too much, wanting to force his cock down her throat. But he wouldn’t give in, no, he’d only give in when he was buried inside of her, fucking her into oblivion. Perhaps she’d find her way back to God when he showed her the entry to the pearly gates, torn between two worlds as he fucked her breathless. 

Spit dripped from her chin, making a mess on the dark carpet she was kneeling on. She was desperate for some friction, trying to shuffle closer, and yet he didn’t allow her to go far, held in place by his tight grasp. Their eyes met, his full of danger, hers full of desperation, begging the man to finally pull her to her feet, to fuck her like she needed him to. 

“Do you think you deserve to be touched? Do you think you deserve to cum? I should have known you’ll turn into a cock-hungry whore the second I touch you.” A gasp left (y/n) as he pulled away, forcing her to her feet seconds later. She was pushed towards the black leather couch, trying to sit down though it seemed as if she was too slow for him. With his hand finding its way back to her hair, Tom manhandled her down onto the couch, drawing an excited moan from (y/n). 

“Open those legs, show me how wet you are from sucking my cock.” A whine left her at his words, legs spread to expose her soaked panties to him, hidden beneath her skirt. His cold fingers wandered up her legs, he shuffled her skirt up to her waist before he pushed her panties aside. The groan that left him at the sight of her bare cunt shot shudders down (y/n)’s spine, eyes close to falling shut. “Look at me, don’t you dare to even think of looking away.”

His palm came down onto her cunt, spanking the soft skin with more force than anticipated. (Y/n) choked on her gasps, eyes wide as she stared up at the smirking priest. Her lungs were aching, trying to hold onto her breath as she kept choking on the air flushing through her lungs, too excited to even speak up. 

“I can’t wait to fuck you stupid, force you to take every inch.” Priest Riddle’s words were enough to leave her moaning and gasping as he flipped her around. He had her pressed against the armrest while he positioned himself behind her.

“I’m on the pill, just fuck me, please.” His raspy chuckles filled the room, leaving her walls clenching in anticipation. (Y/n) felt him brush the tip of his cock through her slit for a second before he pushed into her, her eyes instantly fell close, fingers tightening their grip on the armrest with her nails clawed into the fabric. 

“God should strike you down for the sinful words you speak, allowing a man to fuck you because you’re selfish, wanting to give in.” She shuddered against him, unable to speak as he fucked her. His hips snapped against her behind with every thrust, forcing himself even deeper into her cunt, enjoying the way she felt wrapped around him all too tightly. 

“Fuck, feels so good.” (Y/n) mumbled the words, not trusting herself to speak up, voice caught in the back of her throat as he fucked her breathless. This is what they have been warned of, the carnal sin, a feeling so intense only those who weren’t allowed to touch one were able to make one feel. 

“And for that, you will submit to me from now on, you won’t go against me no more. You’re mine now, forever mine.” A sob clawed through (y/n), she didn’t understand the depth of the words he spoke, could only choke on a “Yes”, too focused on her high to overthink the consequences she’d have to face. Consequences of actions she had been desperate to go through with. Drunk on the feeling of her priest fucking her breathless. 

“Oh God, I’m so close, don’t stop.” Her words left him chuckling, she felt him near her ear, growling the words that were about to roll off his tongue.

“God can’t help you now.” She choked on her breaths, eyes rolling into her head as she sneaked a hand down her body. Her bundle of nerves pulsed against her fingers, giving herself the last final push to fall over the edge. The white, blinding sensation shot through her, leaving (y/n) trembling as he kept fucking her. 

His breaths grew shallow, she felt him twitch deep inside of her, about to cum with a devilish grin glued to his lips. (Y/n) had to cling to the couch, scared she’d faint from the intensity of her orgasm, unable to think straight as she was panting. The priest pulled out of her seconds before he came, painting her ass with his cum. 

Wordlessly he pulled away to reach for a towel. He cleaned her with a hum leaving him, staring down at her and the fucked-out expression she wore. Only slowly did she dare to turn around, looking up at him with wide eyes. She didn’t flinch as he cupped her cheek, forcing his thumb down on her tongue for a second. 

“I expect you back here tomorrow morning, don’t even dare to think that this was your only lesson.”

[toasecretsanta]

From @just_snakess for Aquos

“So, what’s been going on at camp?” I asked my children, spearing a sausage on my fork. We were sat at the Apollo table in Camp Half-Blood’s mess hall, enjoying the food after a hard day’s work training. Well, the demigods had been hard at working training. I had been hard at work giving the occasional thumbs up from the sidelines. But I liked to visit Camp Half-Blood often, even when there was nothing in particular that needed some godly input. It was the least I could do, after spending, well, millennia, almost completely ignoring my children. I felt a now-familiar surge of guilt, but pushed it firmly down. Now was not the time. Instead, I continued my questioning.

“News? Gossip? Pranks? Tell me everything.” I waggled my eyebrows suggestively, then regretted it.

Will cracked a small smile at my antics, so I figured it was all worth it. “It’s been surprisingly quiet, actually,” he said.

“It absolutely hasn’t,” Kayla objected. “You know Tanya from Hephaestus? Turns out her epic rivalry with the Aphrodite cabin was all for show, and she’s been dating Chloe for months. The Aphrodite kids can’t decide whether to exile Chloe for not telling them, or hail them both as the greatest forbidden romance of all time.” “And then there’s Chiron’s new initiative,” put in Austin.

As one, the table groaned.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Gracie said miserably, staring down at her plate like she was staring down the barrel of a gun. Oh, wait, demigods don’t use guns. Perhaps the Hephaestus cabin should get on that.

“It’s awful,” Jerry bemoaned. Kayla clapped him on the shoulder in commiseration.

I looked at Will. As head counsellor, he would surely have some sensible and reassuring comment to make to raise his siblings’ spirits. “No, Dad, it really is that bad,” he said, as if he’d read my mind. “It’s to do with Chiron’s new…”

“...mental health initiative,” the whole cabin finished together, with various levels of despair, disgust, and hopelessness in their voices.

I frowned. This seemed like an important parenting moment. “Now, children,” I began. “I know talking about mental health isn’t always comfortable, but as the god of health, you can trust me when I say it’s very important! Whatever Chiron’s got in store for you, I’m sure it’s entirely justified and very helpful.” Oddly, this did not seem to have the cheering effect I’d hoped for. Gracie picked gloomily at her food. The others exchanged commiserating glances with each other.

“In principle, I’d agree with you,” Will said, evidently their designated spokesperson. “But…not this. Anything but this.”

“It can’t be that bad,” I said optimistically, though privately I was beginning to have my doubts. I’d seen my children more enthusiastic about literal wars.

Will grimaced, but didn’t reply. The table fell into a gloomy silence. It seemed I had made a social faux pas, which was unfortunately a surprisingly common occurrence for me. I cast around desperately for another source of conversation, and spied Meg walking with a tray over to the Demeter table.

“Meg! Over here!” I shouted, waving my arms frantically. One thing I’d learned about Meg is that to get her attention, you had to remove the option of plausible deniability that she hadn’t noticed you. She also enjoyed it when I embarrassed myself in public, which made it more likely she would then do what I wanted.

Meg rolled her eyes, but I saw the corner of her mouth upturn in a tiny smile as she corrected course over to our table. This made me feel embarrassingly gooey inside. 

“Sup,” she said as she approached. Meg is very eloquent. It is just one of her many charms. I shuffled along to make room for her on the bench as my kids gave her a muted welcome.

She frowned. “How come you’re all so sad?” “The initiative,” Kayla said gloomily.

Meg mimed throwing up. The table nodded in mournful solidarity.

“So what actually is this initiative?” I asked, which I recognised was not the wisest move socially, but my curiosity was winning out.

As one, the table shuddered.

“We just have to tell him,” Austin said to the rest of the table. “He’ll never rest until he finds out otherwise.” He turned to me with the determination of a hardened warrior once more facing down his worst nightmare. “Chiron is making us each come up with a mental health mantra,” he said.

Gracie clapped her hands over her ears. Will looked vaguely queasy. Meg vibrated with vengeful anger.

“That doesn’t seem so bad!” I said.

“It’s so cheesy,” Kayla said.

“And also useless,” added Yan. Kayla nodded in agreement.

“Mantras are not useless,” I said sternly. “In fact, I had one myself, and it kept me going through all sorts of things!” Gracie wrinkled her nose. “Really?”

“Don’t be rude,” Will scolded, but it didn’t really sound like his heart was in it.

“Wait, tell us what it is, and then we can copy it!” said Jerry.

The table all turned to look at me expectantly. I realised I had backed myself into a corner.

“Ah,” I said, panicking. “Well, the thing is - I really can’t - I’m afraid I’m needed very urgently at Olympus for something very important - I’m sure you understand - bye!” 

And with that, I poofed out of the mess hall and into my bedroom in the sun palace, where I collapsed on my bed and screamed into the pillow. “Something very important? Really, Apollo?” I said to myself. “That was all you could think of?”

*

Some hours later, I rather sheepishly [teleported] back to Camp Half-Blood and lurked hesitantly in the shadows of the woods, unsure of how to [re-introduce] myself after my rather rapid escape earlier. Before I could think of anything good, however, Meg spotted me.

She marched up to me and punched me in the arm, hard.

“Ow!” I protested.

“Dummy,” she said. “Don’t poof away. Just say you don’t want to answer like a normal person.” 

She spoke gruffly, but I was well practised at Meg-interpretation. My heart melted.

“Oh, Meg,” I said, pulling her into a hug. “I’m very sorry for disappearing on you.” She hugged me back. “ ‘S okay,” she said. “You panicked. I get it.” This made me want to hug her even tighter, but I released her before she started to squirm.

“Why’d you panic?” she asked.

“Truthfully? I’m not entirely sure,” I admitted. “I guess I was just a little embarrassed.” “You embarrass yourself all the time, though.” I gasped. “Rude!” But she wasn’t entirely wrong. Why had this particular instance made me freak out so much? “Maybe because I felt put on the spot?” I said out loud. “I mean, my mantra wasn't that bad.” Meg raised an eyebrow.

“It wasn’t!” I protested. “I’ll tell you right now! It went ‘I am beautiful and everyone loves me’, which is pretty standard mantra stuff, for your information!” Meg burst out laughing. I crossed my arms grumpily. “What?” I demanded.

“That was actually your mantra?”

“Yes,” I said defensively. “It…didn’t work very well, in the end.” “I don’t think that’s a very good mantra,” Meg said bluntly. I opened her mouth to snap at her, but something told me this wasn’t just one of her standard insults. She continued, slowly: “I mean, all gods are attractive, so that wouldn’t really make you feel good about yourself. And mantras aren’t meant to be about other people’s opinions. Apparently.” She crossed her arms and looked away, cheeks red.

“Meg,” I said, surprised and touched. “Have you actually been listening to Chiron’s mental health initiative?” She shrugged defensively. “Thought it might be useful for helping the rest of Nero’s kids,” she muttered.

I couldn’t help it, I hugged her again. “That’s very kind, Meg,” I said earnestly once she had scrabbled away from me, cheeks still glowing bright pink.

“Whatever,” she said, but she was smiling. “Anyway, that’s a shitty mantra. You should get a better one.” “Language!” I scolded. “And I don’t even go to this camp, why should I have to think of a mantra?” “I don’t go here either,” Meg pointed out. “Not properly. You spend at least as much time here as me. So if I have to do it, so do you.” “But-” “Shut up,” she told me. “I’m your master. This is an order.” I folded. Secretly I was quite touched by the fact that she still wanted to give me stupid orders, even though I was a god now. “Fine,” I said. “We will make stupid cheesy mantras together. How do we proceed?” 

She shrugged at me disdainfully. I hadn’t known a shrug could be disdainful before I met Meg. “That’s what everyone’s trying to figure out, dummy.”

“Yes,” I said slowly. “A most troubling dilemma.” I paused, drawing on my centuries of godly knowledge, and came up largely blank. “Meg, it pains me to admit it, but this is not my area of expertise. We may require backup.” “Backup?”

I nodded, warming to the idea. “Yes, indeed. I will go forth and seek knowledge on mantras. Surely one of our friends must know something.” Meg looked dubious. “You’ve only got a day left, though. They’re meant to be due tomorrow.”

“And nobody’s done one?” I said incredulously.

“The whole camp has ADHD,” she pointed out.

I nodded, conceding the point. “Have faith,” I told her. “I’m a god! I travel quickly. When I return, I will be the master of mantras! The mantra master! Perhaps I already am? Are they a subsection of poetry? Who’s to say? But regardless, I will return to you soon, dearest Meg.”

I kissed her on the head, then vanished. My quest had begun.

*

My first port of call was the Waystation. Emmy and Jo were some of the wisest people I knew. I felt sure one of them would have advice to offer. But when I appeared in the Grand Hall, the place was largely deserted, save for two familiar faces deep in concentration at one of the anvils under the rose window.

“Lityerses! Leo!” I cried. “It’s good to see you, my friends!” Leo put down the sledgehammer he was wielding and offered me a wan smile. “Hey, Apollo,” he said.

I frowned. “Is this a bad time?” “Well-” Leo began.

“Yes,” Lityerses interrupted. “Calypso broke up with him,” he informed me.

Leo winced. “Dude, you didn’t need to say it so bluntly,” he said, but even that was half-hearted, lacking his usual brimming-over energy.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know you cared for her a lot.” He shrugged, uncomfortable. “It’s tough for her, rejoining society after so long being on her own. I get that she needs some time to figure herself out without having to worry about anyone else.” “It still sucks,” said Lityerses, with more emotional intelligence than I would’ve expected from a guy once known as the Reaper of Men.

Leo patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks, buddy. Anyways, Apollo, what were you actually here for? Unless it’s because you’re deeply invested in my love life, which would be understandable, if a little creepy, because I am incredibly hot.” He flexed a bicep.

I wasn’t surprised he was changing the subject. Deflecting with humour was a Leo Valdez speciality; even I could tell that much. But I couldn’t fault the guy for not wanting to talk about his breakup 24/7. “I’m actually here on a little quest of my own devising,” I said. “Do either of you know anything about mantras?” Leo let out a genuine laugh. “Okay, that was not what I was expecting. Why are you going on a mantras quest, Apollo?” “Long story,” I said. “Well? Anything?” He shook his head, still smiling. “Sorry, man. Not my thing. Lit, you got anything?” “No,” Lit immediately denied, but there was something shifty about his eyes. 

Leo immediately rounded on him. “Dude, you’re kidding me. You have a mantra?”

“I am an esteemed warrior who has lived for many lifetimes of men,” Lityerses said stiffly. His cheeks were red.

“That’s not a denial!” Leo said gleefully.

“I, for one, would love to hear your mantra, Lityerses,” I put in.

“It’s just Lit,” he said, crossing his arms. “And it’s not really a mantra.” Leo gasped. “He admits it,” he stage-whispered.

“Shut up, Leo,” Lit said. I’d never seen someone flush brighter red in my life. “It’s just something Jo said to me a couple months after I started staying here. That it didn’t matter if people called me Midas’s son or Commodus’s lieutenant or even the Reaper of Men. That I had to decide how I wanted to see myself, and then hold tight to that. Never let it go.” I’d never heard Lit speak so many words in one go before. I was moved by the fact that he'd chosen to share such a personal thing with me.

“Aw, Lit,” Leo said, clearly touched. “I’m telling Jo you said that.” “Don’t you dare,” Lit grumbled. He turned to me. “Hope that was helpful, I guess.”

“Thank you very much,” I said. I wanted to express my gratitude further, but Lit still struck me as a man who wouldn't appreciate the attention. “Those are very wise words indeed. But as nice as this chat has been, I'm afraid I must be on my way. I’m on a tight schedule!”

*

“Brother, I don’t have time for games,” Artemis said to me, arms folded. “We’re finally a step ahead of the fox. I don’t have time to waste.”

“But this is important!” I protested.

Around us, the entire camp of hunters was a flurry of movement as they struck their tents and packed up camp. They were remarkably well-polished. One elbowed me as she walked past carrying a towering pile of weapons, which I graciously chose to believe was accidental.

Artemis looked unimpressed. “You have five minutes. And if the fox gets away again, it’s your fault.”

“What?” I cried. “It’s not my fault you’ve all been on a wild goose chase for years!” “Wild fox chase,” she corrected.

“It’s a figure of speech!” “Is this really how you’re choosing to spend your -” she glanced at her watch - “four remaining minutes?” “Fine,” I said, not at all sulkily.

She looked at me incredulously. “Is that a pout?” “Now who’s wasting time? Anyway, what I wanted to talk to you about was mantras.” “Mantras?” She studied me more closely. “Brother, are you having an identity crisis?” She said it derisively, but there was a hint of genuine worry in her eyes.

“No, no,” I reassured her. “It’s just so I can advise the demigods. Something about Chiron’s new mental health initiative.” I tactically left out my agreement with Meg that I would also have to come up with a mantra.

“Chiron started a mental health initiative?” came an incredulous voice from behind me. I turned to see a young woman with short black hair and a familiar leather jacket. “Guess camp really has changed since my day.” “This does not concern you, Thalia Grace,” Artemis said. “Do not let my brother drag you into this ridiculous conversation.”

“Thalia!” I said, delighted. “I don’t suppose you know anything about mantras?” She snorted. “Nope. Lady Artemis?” Artemis sighed. “Well, I suppose if I must contribute…” She closed her eyes for a moment in thought, then opened them again. “Yes, I do believe I have it.” “Really?” I said suspiciously.

“I go to the trouble of indulging in your foolish games for once, and I am met only with suspicion? You might hurt my feelings, brother.” “Sorry, sorry,” I said hastily. “So what is it?” She gave a small smile, which made me instantly suspicious. “Repeat after me: I, the god Apollo…” I didn’t like where this was going. “I, the god Apollo…” “...pale in comparison to my lovely, talented, and beautiful sister.” She beamed at me. “Do you like it?” 

Thalia gave her a high five.

“Very funny-” I began, but the two of them were already walking away.

“Sorry, brother, must dash!” Artemis called over her shoulder. “We have a fox to catch!”

*

My beloved oracle, Rachel Dare, stared at me contemplatively. “I think I’m getting there,” she informed me, daubing a few more dashes of paint on her easel as she spoke.

“Really?” I said hopefully.

“Mhm.” She put down her brush and scooted over her stool so she could look me in the eyes. “Are you ready to receive my prophetic wisdom?” The suspense was killing me. I nodded eagerly.

“Apollo…” - she looked me dead in the eyes - “...you are Kenough.”

I frowned. “Is that a riddle?” She threw up her hands. “Aren’t you the god of music? Why are you so uncultured? Look, stay here, I’ll get my laptop. I’m about to change your life.

She wasn’t wrong. The Barbie movie was excellent. However, it did not aid my quest.

*

“It turns out that knowledge of mantras is harder to come by than I thought,” I informed my mother as we sat down for our weekly afternoon tea. “Nobody is taking my quest for knowledge seriously. Well, except maybe Lit. I knew I liked him for a reason. But the rest of them are just treating mantras as a joke!”

Leto took a sip of tea, unbothered by my dramatics. “Didn’t you think of them as a joke?” she said, infuriatingly reasonably.

“Well, yes,” I admitted.

She raised an eyebrow.

“...And also I called them stupid and cheesy and useless,” I said. “But they are! No wonder none of the [demigods] have taken this seriously!” “Were Lityerses’ words to you stupid and cheesy and useless?” Leto asked.

“No,” I said. “No, not at all.” “Then clearly some mantras aren’t like that.”

I sighed. “But none of the others will see it that way. Even Lit said that his advice wasn’t really a mantra.” “So clearly people don’t respond well to that word,” Leto reasoned. “Much like you, they associate it with cheesy advice with no real benefit. So stop using it.” My brow creased. “Investigate mantras without investigating mantras?”

“Why not? Just try asking them for a piece of advice, something that someone’s told them, or that they’ve realised themself, that they hold close to their heart.”

“And you think they’ll respond to that?” I said hopefully.

She lifted one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “It’s worth a try. And Apollo, before you go, I’ve got a piece of advice of my own.” She made sure I was listening before she continued. “It doesn’t matter if it’s cheesy if it helps.”

*

My mother, as always, was right.

“There is always happiness in unicorns,” Lavinia told me solemnly. “And in tap dance.”

“We can change things,” Frank said as we gazed out over the reconstruction of New Rome.

“Not even curses last forever,” said Hazel, pressing a small blue sapphire into my hands.

“Just ‘cause I’m half Cherokee doesn’t mean I’m a fount of spiritual knowledge, you know,” said Piper. “But I guess I would say that happiness is still possible.” She squeezed Shel’s hand.

Luguselwa watched Nero’s children replant a new set of seedlings. “It’s not too late,” she said.

“I thought we already had this conversation?” said Artemis. “Honestly, brother. My advice is that you don’t need my advice. You know full well what advice you need to hear. You know better than anyone else. Now stop with this pointless denial and listen to yourself.”

*

When I returned to Camp Half-Blood, it was in chaos. Demigods ran panicked between cabins or else were deep in frantic discussion with friends, some scribbling on scraps of paper, some murmuring under their breaths. 

I eventually found Will out by the strawberry fields, alone save for Nico. “It’s a war out there, Dad,” he said to me, face grim. “Chiron’s officially announced there’s an hour left until the deadline, and then we all have to recite our mantras. Everybody’s going crazy.”

“Are you both ready?” I asked.

Will grimaced. Nico gave me a death stare worthy of the son of Hades.

I raised my hands in surrender. “Only a question!”

“I'm starting to panic about it a little,” Will confessed.

Only now? I wanted to say, but I guessed that comment wouldn't be appreciated. Instead I nodded and said “I've left mine rather to the last minute as well.”

“You're doing one?” Nico said incredulously. “Why?”

I reddened, and Will cut in before I could answer. “Meg bullied him into it,” he said. “If you're ever confused about anything Apollo does, 99% of the time you can blame Meg.”

Nico nodded as if this made sense. I wanted to argue, but I was aware I didn't have much ground to stand on.

“But one thing I am confused about,” Will continued, “is that didn't you already have a mantra, Dad? Why do you need a new one?”

Believe me, dear reader, I wanted to make a bad excuse and disappear to Olympus again. Despite my trials, emotional vulnerability was still not my strong point. But instead, I said “I’m afraid I’m reliably informed that it was, in fact, a shit mantra. Not very emotionally healthy. So I’m giving it a second try.” “Any luck?” Will asked.

I took a moment to consider. “I’ve talked to a lot of different people,” I said. “Many of them told me very wise things. But I think - and I will deny saying this - that my sister was right. It’s something you have to come up with yourself, because deep down, you know what you need to hear.” They both took a moment to take that in, or perhaps they were wondering what in the Hades I was going on about.

Eventually Will said, in a very quiet voice, “But what if I don’t deserve to hear that?” Tears pricked at my eyes, and I gathered him up into a hug. “Of course you deserve to hear it, Will. You’re brave and kind and a fabulous healer, but even if you weren’t any of that, you’re still my son. And my son deserves the world.” Will hid his face in my shoulder for a moment. “Thanks, Dad,” he whispered.

I pressed a kiss into his golden curls, then looked at Nico. “Look after him for me, will you?” I said.

Nico nodded solemnly. “With my life.”

*

But I still had one final visit to make. I found Meg in the stables, brushing down the unicorn I’d gifted her as my return-to-godhood present. She’d taken to horsecare - well, unicorncare - far more easily than I’d expected given her lack of experience, but she seemed to find the same quiet satisfaction in the manual work that she did in gardening.

“You better have some real good mantra knowledge to offer,” she warned me. “I got nothing.”

I sighed and slumped down by a post. “You’re not going to like it,” I said.

She huffed. Apparently that wasn’t even worth a verbal response.

“It’s just gotta be the thing you most want to hear,” I said. “The thing you most wish someone would say to you, but then you’ve got to say it to yourself.” “That’s stupid,” Meg said. Her shoulders were tense. “I don’t want to.” “Neither do I,” I said honestly. “How about I go first, so you can laugh at me?” “You’ve got one?”

I sighed. “Yes, and it’s the cheesiest, stupidest thing in the world, and I don’t believe it when I say it. But if I say it enough times, maybe I’ll start believing it.” Meg looked heartbreakingly fragile. “You go first, then.” I hesitated. The words felt like they were getting stuck in my throat. Trite, a lie, unoriginal, stupidly similar to a stupid quote from the stupid Barbie movie. But I needed to hear them. Not only that, Meg needed to hear them. We both needed me to be vulnerable right now.

“I’m enough,” I said quietly.

Meg blinked, and then launched herself at me in a hug. “I love you,” she said hoarsely.

“I love you too, Meg,” I said, voice cracking.

She shook her head, nose rubbing against my chest. “No, that’s my mantra,” she said. “I love myself. Or whatever.” She sniffed, but I didn’t even care about the cold snot starting to collect on my jumper.

I held her close to me in that quiet stable, just the two of us and a unicorn, and there was not a thing in this world that could have made me let her go.

sorry this is slightly late!! and the formatting may have messed up, the stars are meant to be in the middle of each line. i think i caught all my mistakes but this is very on the last minute so i might have missed some sorry! but it's done!

[deesseshesca]

PAC : Why are u the best ? (10 reasons)

Y'all are my favs...

Good evening pretty souls, let me dive into your energy and bring the best of it out.

SALE 

Until October 31 all readings on my ko-fi is 30$, only

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION.

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else. 

PILE 1. 

Even when life feels repetitive or unexciting, you have a unique ability to see potential in every moment. Instead of feeling bored, you use this time to reflect, recharge, and come up with new ideas.

Conflict just isn’t your style. You thrive on harmony and always manage to bring people together, diffusing tension and making sure everyone feels heard and respected.

 Where others may feel dissatisfied, you find hidden opportunities. You see beyond the obvious, turning situations that might seem stagnant into valuable moments of growth and reflection.

 You effortlessly navigate through competitive or chaotic situations, preferring to focus on collaboration rather than competition. You inspire others to work together, not against each other.

 Even in moments where others might feel unfulfilled, your optimistic outlook helps you find joy in simplicity. This ability to appreciate what you have sets you apart as someone who truly understands life’s deeper values.

You steer clear of unnecessary conflict. Instead of engaging in arguments, you stay calm, centered, and focused on what truly matters, avoiding drama and negativity.

Even when life doesn’t give you everything you want, you are still grateful for what you have. This mindset allows you to maintain a positive outlook and inspire others to appreciate the beauty in every situation.

 You solve problems in ways that bring people together. Your natural optimism helps you see solutions that others miss, and you always strive for peace, finding compromises that make everyone happy.

Your energy lifts those around you. When people feel stuck or negative, your optimistic nature reminds them that better days are always ahead. You have a talent for helping others see the bright side.

 No matter how chaotic things may get, you stay centered and calm. You don’t get pulled into unnecessary conflicts, and your peaceful energy helps keep everyone else grounded as well.

💌: Do you wanna to discover 10 other reasons why you are sooo good in bed + moodboard, also you are the only pile where your current/future partner came through, so there's also 10 other reason as for why they love u sexually all on my ko-fi.

PILE 2.

* You’ve faced deep emotional wounds and heartbreak, yet you rise stronger each time. Your ability to turn suffering into growth shows just how powerful and resilient you are.

* After healing yourself, you instinctively help others. Your journey through emotional turmoil has equipped you to guide others through their own struggles, making you a beacon of light for those in need.

*  You embrace your vulnerability, knowing it makes you stronger. This openness creates deep, meaningful connections with those around you, elevating everyone you come into contact with.

*You don’t shy away from difficult conversations. Your emotional intelligence allows you to speak your truth with grace, offering clarity and comfort to others in a way that few can.

* Even when you struggle to fully trust your intuition, you’re constantly learning about yourself. You know your flaws and strengths deeply, which makes you one of the most self-aware people.

* Despite the pain life throws at you, you keep fighting. Your heart may have been pierced, but your spirit remains unbroken. This inner strength radiates in everything you do.

* Even when things seem unclear or you’re second-guessing yourself, your emotional intelligence helps you see through confusion. You know how to sift through the noise and find the truth within.

* You’ve mastered the art of balancing your emotions. You know when to hold on, when to let go, and how to approach situations with both empathy and rationality, making you a stabilizing force for others.

* Even when your intuition feels blocked, you still find a way to navigate through challenges. Your ability to persevere through uncertainty is a testament to your inner wisdom and strength.

* You are unapologetically yourself, even in moments of doubt or confusion. 

💌: Do you want to discover 10 reasons why you are so good in bed ? + Moodboard.

PILE 3. 

You have a vast array of dreams and aspirations, and unlike others who might hesitate, you boldly go after them. Your imagination is boundless, and you’re never afraid to chase what you truly want.

While others might be stuck waiting for the right moment, you seize the day. You don’t let life pass you by, and instead of overthinking, you take immediate action toward your goals.

 Where others see limitations, you see opportunities. You live with an open mind, always aware that the world is full of limitless choices, and this makes you incredibly resourceful and creative.

 You refuse to be stuck or trapped in situations that don’t serve you. Your ability to recognize when it’s time to move on makes you a forward-thinking, dynamic individual.

You possess the ability to dream big, seeing things that others wouldn’t even imagine. This visionary energy sets you apart as someone destined to create and manifest things far beyond the ordinary.

While others may get stuck in indecision, you are decisive. Even in the face of many options, you know how to make swift choices, refusing to let overthinking slow you down.

While many people get lost in their dreams, you know how to bring them into reality. Your combination of creativity and action makes you a master of manifesting what you desire.

Even when challenges arise, you find a way to move forward. Your ability to quickly adapt and make changes ensures that no obstacle holds you back for long.

Your imagination knows no bounds. This not only fuels your dreams but also makes you incredibly innovative, constantly coming up with fresh ideas and perspectives that others find inspiring.

 While others may wait for the perfect moment, you create it. Your proactive approach to life ensures that you’re always ahead of the curve, moving forward when others remain stuck.

💌: Do you want to discover 10 reasons why you are so good in bed ? + Moodboard.

[theladyismyshepard]

Oath Breaker

Now this one is just me letting my love for the Paladin run wild and I can't get over the thought of throwing it all away for that special one that they love. Funnily enough, my first playthrough was Druid! If you reblog, tag what your first class was/will be

(How the party reacts to you, a Paladin, breaking your Oath for them)

Shadowheart –

You were born… well, you couldn’t really say where, as you hadn’t the faintest clue. You were an orphan living the life as an urchin in the Lower City streets of Baldur’s Gate, that much you were sure of. With your natural charisma and having a knack for persuasion, things could have turned out worse. That isn’t to say you aren’t a survivor, you might have called upon your sleight of hand once or twice. But there was something about you… You were an optimist. You drew people in with your personality, and before you knew it, you had your own makeshift family that you chose to be a part of.

You were always aware of the ones who were having it worse than yourself, you couldn’t help it, it was almost like a reflex. There were the inexperienced, the frailer, the innocent… Some would say you were softhearted, caring entirely too much about everyone else’s well being rather than your own, and honestly? You felt no need to deny or explain yourself. Not when your bleeding heart was content to surround itself with those needing your guidance. It was so nice to feel needed wasn’t it?

Until the joy was stripped when you found yourself losing it all, and the worst part was that you tried your hardest, gave everything you had, and it still wasn’t enough. You weren't enough. It was a day that started as any other would, though at some point you and your friends found yourselves in the sewers underneath the city. It was no grand battle, there were no honorable deeds… It was a simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was a gang of rotten people that just wouldn’t accept your presence, yet refused to let you leave. One by one your comrades fell… You were the fighter, the protector here, not them… so why were you the only one left alive? It was a “lucky coincidence” that the scuffle was noisy enough to attract attention, though those were never your words.

You felt shame. The people you had come to care about, who looked up to you, had fallen at your feet and you could do nothing. You had all the courage in the world, all the compassion… One could argue that that might be the reason you lived, that maybe you were destined for something greater… You couldn’t see any reason past the survivor’s guilt. No one could convince you otherwise… at least not until the god Helm spoke directly to you one day when you were at your lowest, ready to give up your optimism

"Following the ideal of the knight in shining armour, you will act with honour and virtue to protect the weak and pursue the greater good.” You could feel the power that Helm was offering you, and it was too alluring – it was the power that you desperately needed to make a difference, to ward off the evil, to actually be able to protect.

It was an Oath that you lived by day in and day out. You grabbed outstretched hand after outstretched hand, offering your help to anyone and everyone in need, whether it be an extra blade in an unjust altercation, or a measly passing of judgment between two quarreling neighbors. What was once a reflex to help people was now an unsatiated devotion, an incessant demand. You had no purpose if there was no one to help. Your duty guided you straight to the nautiloid, and as your party grew bigger, you started to see that there might have been a reason for that. Was it to make amends for your last group of friends? Because the thought made you sick to your stomach… What if you failed just as you did last time?

You wouldn’t… As you gazed upon the crease between Shadowheart’s brow as she fretted over losing her own faith for your cause, for you, you decided that this woman right here was what you were living for. Not to protect the world from itself, not to solve every problem thrown your way, not to blindly follow an Oath, but to worship a cleric who had no one to worship herself. You would make her happy, even if that finally entailed the end of you.

She had the opportunity to have her parents back, and of course there was always a cruel catch involved. It was unfair, and while it teetered on the edge of blasphemous (you could feel it burning in your veins, Helm himself warning you off) you found yourself standing between Shadowheart and Shar’s massive form, needing to pass judgment, to intervene against this… this evil. The ultimatum of Shadowheart’s parents or the curse paining her hand was unethical, it was treacherous. It was also not your war to wage, and that was a direct message from Helm.

What could you possibly do? The only thing you’ve ever been good at was a good starting point. You lived by your Oath and you would die by it… and by betraying it all at once. You couldn’t help but to turn back and look at Shadowheart, she was all you ever had eyes for, and realization flickered across her eyes as she registered what you were trying to convey. You could see the fight building, her refusal on the tip of her tongue, but you beat her to it.

“Take me or fight me,” it was a demand met with incredulous laughter, but the fact you weren’t reduced to ashes on the spot relayed curiosity on her part, “Accept me in return for Shadowheart’s parents and the curse wounding her… I can’t accept a no,”

“How bold, paladin,” it was dripping with sarcastic disdain, “Not only will I take your Oath, but I’ll take your life and I’ll relish in the misery it brings your dear, heart… I can feel her agonizing heartbreak as we speak. This little display was delicious, and I thank you for that… If you both can satisfy me, I just might consider myself generous.”

You’re hardly aware of what comes next, not the raise of Shar’s hand, her magic visibly building, not the frantic pulling of Shadowheart’s hand on your arm, not when there was a growing emptiness swelling in your chest, threatening to bring you to your knees as you gasped on strangled breaths. Helm’s spirit of guidance left you behind to flounder in your mistake. You were no paladin of his, but you would be an Oath breaker for Shadowheart tenfold. But once was enough, and you’ll never stop paying for it.

Lae'zel –

You were born in a modest town outside of Wyrm’s Crossing and Rivingston, just far enough to prove ideal in terms of privacy without complete isolation. A town of basic essential– a town where everyone had their function. There was the blacksmith and her wife, the harvester and his family, the carpenter along with his wife and their gaggle of sons following in the trade, the medicinal/healer woman and her two children… what you lacked were soldiers

It was an easy slaughter with hardly anything to even pillage, but what the raiders lacked in treasures, they took in captives. That included you. It wasn’t long before you’ve come to decide that killing you would have been a mercy, and even more immediate was your swelling resentment and thirst for vengeance. It would be years of praying for the strength to fight this oppression before the patron god Ilmater heard your pleas, and came to you with a contract, an Oath… “You will set aside even your own purity to right wrongs and deliver justice to those who have committed the most grievous sins.”

The entire enslavement stronghold fell by your hand, and your hand alone. It was your right to pass this judgment, and it was your duty to carry out justice with no mercy for your wicked captors. And so was your entire moral code as you traveled far and wide, seeking out evil and persecution and the vengeance that draws with it, calling you here and there until the very day you found yourself infected and surrounded by a mismatched group of people that you’ve come to care for.

A particular githyanki had caught your interest early on, what with her prowess in battle, and her loyalty to her people above even her own life. It was respectable and you admired her for her strength. Both with wits and with blade. You trusted her for her word once you’ve come to see the sentiment returned. There was no one else you would trust to take to battle with over her.

But it was more than that… You’ve seen and heard how the githyanki were portrayed, by Shadowheart no less… Lae’zel’s people suffered persecution from the people of your world for their “brute hostility”... Lae’zel gets a gleam of pride in her eye anytime she hears that… and at first you wondered if it was just your Oath that drew you closer to the soldier, a need to defend, a need to lash out against any hatred sent her direction

No… that wasn’t it… Not when you stood there, mouth agape as your eyes darted back and forth from Lae’zel to Orpheus. You gulped as her hand subconsciously slid into your pocket, the jar containing the Astral Tadpole finding shelter in your palm. A sacrifice had to be made now that the Emperor was no longer on your side and you needed the powers of a Mind Flayer on your side if you even considered taking on the Netherbrain. You broke into a sweat at what this would entail.

You would give up your form for something so much greater that it couldn’t even be contained in your body. It was an almighty power that you were not meant to have, and as a Paladin, a quest for such power would break your very oath, even if your intentions were good, even if your intentions were out of spite to destroy the brain. But you knew what your intentions were and they were purely selfish: You intended to spare Lae’zel the impossible task of watching the Prince of her people give up his newfound freedom for another Hell. Not because of your oath of vengeance, but because you loved her.

“I…” This was the first time you’ve ever seen Lae’zel speechless and wide-eyed, at a complete loss. “You…”

“Mla’ghir… Liberator… That is what you shall be known to our people as… May my will be done,” Orpheus decreed, bowing to you, and from behind him you can still she Lae’zel struggling, her mouth opening and closing, and maybe it was wishful thinking, but you could’ve sworn you had seen a glossy film over her eyes that was pooling on her lower eyelids.

“You have a duty to your people, Lae’zel… just like I had a duty to anyone and everyone who crossed my path… before I met you. Now, I have my own personal oath to you, and I will do anything to-”

If it was a kiss you were seeking, you succeeded. One hand grabbed the back of your neck and the other wound around your back, pulling you in firmly against her lips. It was a bittersweet display, knowing this was the last that you were to receive. It was worth it, and you would break your oath a million times over if it meant Lae'zel could finally have the opportunity to let go of her own vengeance. Taking a step back while uncorking the bottle before you could lose your nerve, you accept the Astral Tadpolr, and miss the look of terror and worry Lae'zel had for you as she weakly reached out before thinking better of it.

Karlach –

You were born in a lonesome village nestled discreetly in the thick forests of the Wilderness. Hard to access seeing as there’s only one way in and one way out, and the entrance is hidden behind a waterfall. A true town of nature, it is literally taken over and incorporated into the wild. You grew up with the whispers of the trees and the understanding of animals. Everything had a balance, and you could tell when all was right with the world in terms of energy and flow.

Which also entailed being able to pinpoint the moment nature felt off, like there was a wound torn asunder and darkness and misery was oozing out and taking over. Being as in- tune with nature as you were, it physically pained you to feel the death of the earth around you. Living in a place so far away from the destruction of life was good for you– Until you could feel the presence of people making their exploration in a place already explored. There was hardly anything you could do to protect the sanctity of the land, not when you could physically feel the wars waging upon them, the resources that were being exploited…

Your prayers for the lands were answered one day by Mielikki, the goddess of forests and the creatures who live within, and with her she brought an Oath granting unspeakable powers that could benefit in healing, healing yourself, healing your friends, healing the world… “You fight on the side of light in the cosmic struggle against darkness to preserve the sanctity of life and the beauty of nature.”

No other words would ever ring more true to you as you live your life healing the hurt that mankind leaves behind on the land. You still hold onto hope that there are more people like you who care about the wellbeing of nature and the life within. You keep that hope alive in hopes that it would spark and set ablaze, leaving a lasting impression on people rather than nature.

You found yourself lounged comfortably along the wooden raft that you yourself had crafted. The wood was chipping and stained with a permanent moss, evidence of its wear-and-tear during its time in service. The only sounds that could be heard were the gentle lapping of the babbling river, the rustling of leaves as wildlife took its course through the surrounding wilderness, and your breathing… you didn’t even see the nautiloid coming

You didn’t even see Karlach coming. Well… that’s neither here nor there… But her fiery nature and her bright soul was breathtaking, and you found yourself in awe of the force of her very being. Her smile, her mannerisms, her passion… she burns brighter than anyone or anything you’ve ever known– and it was only a matter of time before she burnt out. It was a cruel reality that you avoided, but you knew, deep down, past your heart, but to your Oath…

Karlach’s soul was the purest you’ve felt in ages, but there was no heart that sustained that. It was an infernal engine that roared the very fires of Hell, and it was a bomb that was set to go off at any given moment. It was nature’s way, and your Oath was telling you to accept it, that all cycles come and go and that this was no different, no matter the sorrowful circumstances. But you couldn’t accept the snuffing of the brightest life that the world, Heavens, or Hells could offer, that would be the cruelest crime against humanity.

That was what you told yourself. But at the end of it all was when you lost your faith. You held not an ounce of hope in your heart in the depths of your deepest despair: watching her grunt in agony when she would usually be cheering and whooping in celebration. The very life and soul of the party– the one who, without even knowing it, had you changing your entire devotion. There was only one you intended to worship and it wasn’t Mother Earth… Her name was Karlach, and you could feel your own light fading with her own as you felt your love being plucked away. You would drain every sea, tear apart every mountain if it meant sparing her life.

And… you were letting it? You could have pushed harder for her to return to Avernus, just long enough to find a more permanent cure, or another upgrade at least… But the heartbreak on her face and the constant insistences of getting trapped and never returning were too much to press further. You would never ask her to do something she was dead set against, and you never would have asked her to give up her body and soul for the advantage over the Netherbrain by becoming a Mind Flayer. You rush forward, ignoring her initial attempts to push you away so as to not get burned, and wrap your arms around her body despite your skin burning and peeling. This was it, you could feel her trembling and you were afraid… so afraid that you crumbled and your facade broke when it really mattered. You begged her to stay, to return to Avernus because you in fact needed her alive more than you needed anything else alive on the planet.

Would one call you selfish for allowing her to lose her body and soul anyway for a less noble cause? Would they call you thoughtful for taking her interests to heart? As Karlach faded with a lovely smile reserved only for you along with a wink, you felt the oncoming tendrils of nothingness take a hold of where the light in your heart used to be. There was nothing now, no love, no guidance… What would Karlach think of you for breaking your Oath of the Ancients by losing yourself in losing her?

Astarion –

You were born to a life of nobility within Baldur’s Gate, a life that supplied little struggle, though you knew of it when you could see the hopeless flocking the streets. There are times that your guilty conscience calls you to act, to give what you could, but you also had an understanding that what was yours was yours, and it wouldn’t remain so if you gave it all away. Some might call you generous with the people.

Others might try to kill you. How appreciative. You like to think it was for the run-of-the-mill nobility ransom, maybe come to kidnap you by chance? You couldn’t understand why they were pulling their knives ou-

And then you were gasping awake, suddenly lying on the ground in a pool of blood– your blood… The servants had found your dead body, and your family could afford to stock up almost indefinitely on Scrolls of Revivify. Your brain was foggy as you struggled to comprehend the series of events that resulted in you being resurrected. It was a weird cult who had a hit out on you and you had never felt so helpless. When you had learned the news that all of your possessions had been stolen along with your life, you needed vengeance.

So you dedicated your time to following the goddess of avarice and hatred, Tiamat in hopes of gaining her favor. After a while, you thought she had no use of you, maybe undeserving of her power, but one day she finally came to you.

“Your fury is still there, but you are not so blinded… I have use for all, but to think of yourself as unworthy– well… That makes it so much sweeter. You will set aside even your own purity to right wrongs and deliver justice to those who have committed the most grievous sins.”

And deliver it you shall. You could taste the putrid burn of unserved justice. You could feel the fiery anger of revenge from the wronged  as if it were your very own, and nothing was sweeter on your lips than delivering the final sentence after it itched at your skin for the longest. Overall, it was a satisfying life consisting of butting into other people’s business and having god-gifted powers to judge them for it. One could get used to it, and you did… until you were infected and scrambling just like the party you were traveling all over Faerun with.

The vampire had charisma about himself, his words dripping with honey as much as blood as you spoke to him and learned more about his backstory. The more you got to know, the more your hunger for vengeance grew into a gnawing at your gut. You would personally see to Cazador’s death as retribution but you wouldn’t dream to see it carried out by your own hand– No, for once, it felt even better to watch Astarion unleash centuries of torment and anguish. He was on his knees, and while that was usually a beautiful sight that you’ve come to… come, gravity pulled you to your own knees as you pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

“It’s okay, my love, it’s over… you are free,” You cradle his face in your hands, and you watch as he flinches before easing into your touch despite himself.

“I feel… nothing,” admitted Astarion hollowly, truthfully… You could see all the spunky attitude keeping him his charming self just gone from his body as he sagged forward. “His connection, his influence, gone… As is my way to walk freely in the sun when this is over.”

In the haste of battle, it was easier to acknowledge that Cazador’s special spawns were his energy source. He couldn’t complete the ritual, ergo, he could not absorb Astarion’s soul, leaving him nothing but a pile of ash. That also meant that Astarion himself lost the opportunity to Ascend in Cazador’s place and accept unlimited power that a lot of people dream of, yourself included. Seeing his wide range of emotion, you couldn’t help but to feel a bitter taste in your mouth. You took part in stopping his Ascension…

So you would do anything to give yourself and the man you love the chance at that power again, even if it meant turning your back on the greater good. What greater power was there than the control of the Netherbrain? As the party traveled far and wide, you had encountered several illithid tadpoles on your journey. A majority of the group did not favor the power that they had to bring, and trusted you to agree. That was why you shared the tadpoles in secret with Astarion the moment he showed interest.

The power coursing through the two of you along with the help of the Emperor… it was no challenge to overpower the brain and take control of it, granting unmeasurable powers the likes of which no one had wielded before. Even the Gods would quake in your wake… Even Tiamat herself could not harm you for taking on such power that would deem you as an Oath Breaker. You pull Astarion into a kiss, and allow every racing thought to flow outward and into your connection. You feel his sly smirk against your lips along with a gentle nick of his right fang.

“Darling, you’re so vile I could eat you right up… I adore anyone who would break an Oath for me… whether it was their own or someone else’s,”

[vidavalor]

Ah, I remembered!

My question was: what are your thoughts on Crowley saying ‘I lost my best friend’ when he’s directly talking to Aziraphale’s non-corporate ghost in season 1? I always thought that line was strange. Is it that he can’t say ‘I lost you directly’ because others might be listening?

Hi @procrastiel ooh, nice! I *love* this scene so I'm super happy to share an opinion on it. Thank you. :)

Meta on the meanings behind what they call each other, what they intentionally *don't* call each other, how they actually said they loved each other and came up with a shorthand for it in 1941, and why they still don't just use those damn words already...

This goes everywhere, just FYI lol. I think I started with "no nightingales" and took a scenic route through 1600, 1941 and bits of S2 before coming back to the scene you asked about but I've been told it makes sense. Thanks for indulging me. :)

There are certain things that Crowley & Aziraphale feel that they can't call one another and can't say to one another directly. It's not just because they could be overheard if they're in public, though that's always a concern. They don't say them when they're alone, either.

It's because it hurts too much.

They've always tried to be optimistic about surviving Armageddon and being able to be together somehow but they're terrified that they won't and the odds, in their minds, aren't great, being that it's the whole will of God and all. As a result, they've lived their whole relationship expecting it to end in tragedy. They could both live for all of time, forced apart by Heaven and Hell. One of them could die and leave the other alone for eternity with nothing but the memory of the other. Meanwhile, in the now? It's not a great situation, either.

They can't really be together. They are together but not openly and they can't promise each other everything and they absolutely would if they could. Heaven and Hell could literally murder them if they got caught together so they have to be careful and keep it a secret. This means that even as the human world they live in opens up and starts to change to a point that queer humans like them are living more open lives with one another, Crowley and Aziraphale still cannot at this stage in the story.

So, it all becomes then an unspoken question of: what would make this easier? (As if it could ever really be made easier?) They don't wish to cause each other any additional pain. What would make it easier, they think, is if they don't say certain things so that what they can't have now or what might be lost to them in the future is and will be easier to bear.

This is delusional but they're doing it anyway because it gives them some measure of control over things they can't totally control.

They think it is easier to deal with not being able to be together if they just never say directly aloud what they are in terms that are surface-level undeniable. They speak in a coded language with one another and they say all the things in those words. But the doublespeak gives them some cover. Not to ever deny any of it but it softens the edges of it.

It's also because they live with the fact that they can't fully be together but they also both are fundamentally optimists and want to think that maybe, someday, they could find a way to have what they want to have with one another. That's also why they don't say the things fully. A part of them thinks that if they just don't right now and they wait until some time comes when it seems like they could have a life together, then they still get to have those moments. They're almost saving some of it for a life they hope they get to have but aren't sure if they will.

As a result, they are romantic as all fuck towards one another but they don't use words like romance or love aloud. If they do find they have to talk about it, they've shorthanded it in a way that they both understand because it's based on their past together. We already can see bits of it uncoded-- nightingales, dining at the Ritz-- but there are more than that that we can see if we deep dive a bit here so let's do that...

What's evident in the scene in 2.06 wherein Crowley decides to try to abandon the doublespeak is how deeply ingrained this way of speaking is for both of them. Also, how they don't abandon it when they're alone (the 1967 scene also illustrates this.) Crowley actually reverts back to their doublespeak *three sentences* into his proposal. He doesn't get much further than establishing that they've both been on this planet for a long time before he starts evoking coded messaging. He flicks his hands between them during the "you and me" line in a way that is echoing how Aziraphale gestured at him to mean "couple" in 1941. He winds up using coded language all over the place, peaking with the "no nightingales" moment that is actually coded language twice over because of "nightingales" being their word for romance and the asking Aziraphale to listen for birds evoking the Job minisode and the moment in the courtyard when they came up with the doublespeak.

Part of why Crowley can't get through the proposal without it is because he doesn't want to do it like this. Both the doublespeak and the idea of someday loosening it a bit mean things to them. They like their private language. Maggie and Nina are not exactly correct in assuming that they never say how they really feel. They're not wrong, either, but they're not fully right. Crowley and Aziraphale do talk. They just do it in a way that hurts them less because they can't bear to hurt each other because they're batshit crazy in love with each other. Maggie and Nina are correct in saying that Crowley and Aziraphale don't say how they truly feel if saying how you truly feel means using traditional language but they are wrong to say that they don't express these feelings at all because we have literally been watching them do so this entire time.

Notice how Crowley, even risking more with breaking their code in 2.06, still doesn't say some things. Amazing how he said all of that and he didn't say I love you, isn't it? He could have. He is, in what else he's saying, but the words they don't say are still there on the table. Aziraphale, later in the scene, almost does. He almost does because he is a mess over the situation and he wants to give Crowley something but then he doesn't and he spits out a self-aware I forgive you instead. That horrid, complicated version of it that he's used before and is code they both kind of hate. He's angry that this is all happening the way it's happening because it's taking some of the things they leave unsaid for hopeful, better days and it's saying them in a less than ideal moment.

That they both leave out that I love you, though, is the most I love you thing they could have possibly done.

They think it will be easier to not be free to be together and unafraid in the present-- and to maybe lose one another in the future, if they eventually have to-- if they pretend they're not a team or a group of the two of them and one way to do that is to never say words like the one we were all silently screaming at Crowley to say in that scene in 2.06 lol: "couple."

Are they a couple? Yes. Are they lovers? Yes. Are they partners, the term Nina used? Yes. Do they refer to their relationship using any of the terms in this paragraph? Oh God no...

That is why Crowley freaks out when Nina tries to get him to use uncoded, normal, human person language to help her understand what Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship is. She calls them partners and this is Crowley:

We're in agreement with Nina then when she responds with:

Nina isn't wrong here. She's just from a different world than Crowley. Nina lives in a world like ours in the year 2023 and she's puzzling Crowley and Aziraphale out through that filter. She doesn't know at this point that they are an angel and a demon who could be murdered by Heaven/Hell for being together. Her best rationale for why she's never seen Crowley and Aziraphale in her cafe together and didn't know until this week that the bookseller has a fella is her theory that Crowley is married and that he and Aziraphale are having an affair. To her, it explains why they've got chemistry for days but they're secretive. Crowley denies that-- defending Aziraphale's honor like the good old fashioned lover boy he is :)-- but the reason why he quickly denied that he and Aziraphale are partners, even if they absolutely are, is twofold. They are used to hiding it, it's dangerous for them to get caught out, and he probably feels uncomfortable with the idea of telling someone what they are exactly without talking with Aziraphale about it first-- that's all one reason.

The other reason is that he and Aziraphale don't use that word. It's not that it's an inaccurate one; it's probably the most accurate one, actually. They have a word, as we'll see, but partners isn't it because partners is the same thing as a couple and these are embargoed words to them. They don't use those phrases, even if that's what this is, just as they don't say I love you because if they don't call it love directly, they'll never lose that love, in their minds. If they don't know what it's like to hear the other say it, they don't ever have to bear the pain of never hearing it again. Better to hold those words back and only use them if they ever can somehow really be fully, openly together without fear. If Crowley doesn't use those words with Aziraphale, then he's not about to use them with the Coffee Shop Human he's only just recently met.

Along these same lines, they refrain from traditionally romantic terms of endearment on the surface. No my love, no darling, no sweetheart. Angel was there at the start and it stays because while it's always really angel (romantic), it's also angel (species/occupational), so it works well enough with their code. But its equivalent in reverse is Crowley. It's intimate, in the sense that only Crowley and Aziraphale know what it means. Only they were there in Job's courtyard. That's the coded layer of it-- it's Crowley's name to everyone else on the surface but it's that and a pet name to Aziraphale. It's why Aziraphale just calls him that constantly. Crowley changed his name to something only Aziraphale also really understands, making the use of it by Aziraphale then a way of expressing affection. When Nina asks them both separately about their relationship, both Crowley and Aziraphale actually revert to using what they call one another in an effort to explain it, even though they know that it doesn't translate fully in human terms without more words. Crowley says Aziraphale is an angel he knows; Aziraphale says:

Ironically? They are actually making it all *more* intimate by speaking in their own, private, coded language. They can't give each other everything but this they can, right? The language is their own, little world and not being able to explain their relationship to humans that well in 2023 doesn't mean they don't know what they mean to one another, which is more important. Since they can't make each other promises of forever that they can't keep and they can't have a life in the present that they'd choose for themselves, something they can do is use their little language to be sweet towards one another and they do. By having to work a little harder at conveying meaning through doublespeak, they wind up with something ironically actually at least as romantic as the traditional words, if not more so.

Anyone can call a lover darling and it can be lovely but can just anyone make my dear fellow romantic? Aziraphale can. This one was all him. He loved standing there in front of a dozen deadly human soldiers in the Kingdom of Wessex in 597 A.D., getting away with a pet name under the guise of stealing the "old sport"-style of male, moneyed, British speak and turning it romantic. This scene is great with the pet names because it opens with Aziraphale being a bit of a tease with "is that you under there, Crawley?" which he only does so that Crowley will roll his eyes and correct him. Aziraphale loves that Crowley changed his name to something coded between them based off of the moment they started their doublespeak. It was very romantic and this scene shows that Aziraphale sometimes, in earlier days, would call Crowley the old name just to get Crowley to correct him, which is all just a coded way of getting Crowley to say that, yes, he still feels the same way and yes, he still wants Aziraphale to call him that. This same scene, a few sentences later, then has Aziraphale's my DEAR fellow-- heavy emphasis on the 'dear'-- which is then answering Crowley's admission by just skipping any and all of Crowley's names entirely lol and calling The Black Knight my dear in front of a bunch of bloodthirsty soldiers and mercenaries.

The my [] fellow is perfect in their little language because of how it sounds all "I say, old chap!" on the surface but contains words that are romantic to them in their doublespeak. It's intentional that it's *not* "old chap" or "old sport" that they appropriated for their own purposes, it's my [] fellow. Fellow as in human, which is how they see their relationship (because it is) and that's something that comes up when Crowley uses a variant of this in 1941, which we'll get to in a second. My adds an intimate element to it of admitting that they are each other's in whatever ways they can be.

Aziraphale, like we said a moment ago, will sometimes sauce Crowley with the pet names a little and he does in S1 when he calls Anathema my dear when reassuring her in a scene in which he and Crowley are having a playful coded argument over Crowley's driving. Aziraphale miracles a bike rack onto the back of The Bentley and unnecessarily codes the word "bicycle" ("a perfectly normal velocipede"), smirking when Crowley grumbles "bicycle" at him. It's joking with him a bit at the lunacy of their little language *in* their little language. (Crowley playing back during this sequence is also calling Aziraphale angel (romantic) in front of Anathema, which was also a strategic decision to signal to her that he might look like a murder hornet but he's really just long-suffering gone on the sunshine-y one. Very we're just an old gay married couple, hen. We won't hurt you. in tone.) Anyway, Aziraphale using my dear with Anathema-- and his little smirks towards Crowley around it-- was really just underlining the way he uses my DEAR fellow with Crowley by using the same core phrase with a human in normal, uncoded, human conversation.

Other than this and the big one we're going to get to, there are really only two other things we've seen them use to refer to one another. In S1's Eleven Years Ago/2008, there's the moment when Crowley and Aziraphale have arrived back at the bookshop and Aziraphale is flirting with Crowley and says this, tongue firmly in cheek:

I mentioned this in another post about the wall slam in Tadfield but this is a very much intentionally blasphemous specific sexual request that is more at home in the sex meta post you all have me working on lol but for the purposes of this conversation, "foul fiend" is Bible for "wicked demon", so this is Aziraphale just kind of flirtily, jokingly calling Crowley a wicked demon in the one area in life where Crowley would probably happily own that description lol. It also has the other layer of humor in it in that Crowley calls Aziraphale angel (romantic) all the time, more often than he uses Aziraphale's actual name, and you'd think he wouldn't want to because Heaven hasn't exactly done right by Crowley and he's not especially fond of it. By calling Aziraphale angel with love behind the meaning of it, he's calling Aziraphale a good angel. He's saying that Aziraphale is what an angel is *supposed*to be, something that Aziraphale struggles with. It's both sweet and reassuring at the same time. As a result, Aziraphale has never just started calling Crowley "demon" for the same reasons-- he thinks if being a demon is being demonic and truly evil, then Crowley is a terrible demon because he's a lovely person. He is, however, positively wicked in bed, and Aziraphale likes to mock their whole situation with blasphemous Bible innuendo when requesting a little hellfire.

The other thing to briefly mention before we get into the friend discussion is a scene not long after the one we just talked about, when they're both smashed in the bookshop in S1. When he's drunk and attempting to say "bouillabaisse", Crowley gets distracted staring at Aziraphale for a moment and calls him baby before going back to his attempts at saying a word (in French, their romance language, per S2) and we get the "fish stew-- anyway!" segue back into the rest of the scene. Aziraphale was too drunk to notice enough to react so this opens up the question of whether or not the rules can get slightly more lax in bed. Does Crowley call Aziraphale baby in more intimate moments or does he just want to and it slipped out when he was drunk? It's a fairly normal phrase so it both would and would not be a surprise either way but it's still something of a question mark by the end of S2.

But there's one thing that they use that pertains to your question from the Discorporated!Aziraphale scene (told you we'd start to get here eventually lol) and that's how they use the word friend.

The rules of their language apply-- what is said on the surface is what one of the meanings of what they are saying is. It has to be what it sounds like on the surface to also be a coded thing. Aziraphale is Aziraphale's name and angel is what he is and Crowley is the name Crowley chose for himself. That angel and Crowley have hidden meanings-- that angel is given a tone that turns it from referring to Aziraphale by his species and more into angel (romantic); that Crowley is the name everyone calls Crowley now-- from angels to demons to humans alike-- but only Aziraphale knows that it's an in-joke referencing Crowley having to playact at being demonic and evil to hide his truer, sweeter nature... this is what makes these terms acceptable in their mutual language. My [] fellow is then also meeting the rules of the language because of the humor of taking a non-romantic phrase and using it for this romance of theirs that they don't refer to as one. It sounds like a perfect common thing for British men of any kind of relationship to use in conversation on the surface but it's romantic to them underneath.

So when they say friend, by their own rules of this language, it has to first contain the surface meaning. It has to be true on that level to reoccur in their language. So 'friend' does mean 'friend' in a friendship sense. They are friends. They are good friends-- best friends. Using the word is an admittance that they are each other's closest friends, which is both lovely in its own right and healthy in a romantic relationship. You want to be friends with your romantic partner. It doesn't mean you can't have other friends, of course, but if you're not friends with your partner, it's not really going to be a terribly satisfying relationship and since that is what they are-- the longest-running of long-term relationships lol-- that they are friends is important and a good thing. It's also a big deal for them to admit to it, since they are actually *supposed* to be mortal enemies. Their whole enemies-to-lovers thing never really got off the ground because they adored each other on sight but that they're friends despite the danger and the conflicts is a big thing in its own right.

But that's not the *only* meaning of friend to them, so let's look at how they evolved that bit of their language.

From what we've seen so far, it started in 1600 in The Globe Theatre scene with this:

In 1600, Burbage drops some human, queer coding into the secret language. Friend, the way Burbage is using it, is something that's actually implying lover. The surface word is technically related to friendship but the tone changes the meaning of friendship in this context to be that of a sexual relationship. Burbage's tone implies that he thinks Crowley and Aziraphale are fucking (which Crowley, laughing, silently agrees with is obvious, since he's been ignoring Burbage in favor of buzzing around Aziraphale and clearly trying to flirt his way into his bed).

Burbage is pissed that these two-- who, as we know, are basically the entire audience-- have been ignoring his monologue in favor of flirting with each other so when Aziraphale tries at a modicum of politeness (that somehow is even bitchier subtly than Burbage lol-- "I love all the... talking" is the best he can come up with), Burbage slings back by trying to drag Crowley into it by calling him Aziraphale's friend, with that loaded tone that makes the question really: 'and what does your lover think?'

Aziraphale gets the innuendo-- he's not exactly a novice at this in 1600-- but his immediate response is just to panic at the idea of anyone noticing him and Crowley together and, as Aziraphale does when stressed, he lies in increasingly absurd levels of untruth. (See also: the scene with Shax in The Bentley in S2, when he spirals up into ludicrously claiming to *not even know who Gabriel is* in an effort to say that he has nothing to do with his disappearance.)

Crowley is bemused by Aziraphale's increasingly desperate attempts to deny what is abundantly obvious to everyone around them and by Burbage's attempt to make a thing out of them to try to assuage his bruised ego. He chooses a little violence with this particularly amusing bit of go fuck yourself, you insecure little twerp:

Anyway lol what this scene then does is give us a moment in the story wherein we see them in a situation where friend (loaded) is defined as friend used euphemistically for lover and they both know it. This isn't coding they came up with but that they will wind up appropriating from the humans around them and repurposing for themselves, though they won't for awhile still to come yet.

What's worth noting here is that friend (loaded) in this human code is euphemistic for a pretty wide array of loaded friend relationships. There's no separation in it for friends with benefits versus someone you're seeing but aren't comfortable admitting that versus someone you've been with for awhile versus the person that is basically your secret spouse, etc.. All of these things are friend (loaded) in human code because the main purpose of it is to identify a pair of people who are involved as such without directly saying so on the surface, even if it's implied heavily via tone.

So what happens when Crowley and Aziraphale eventually decide to repurpose it for themselves?

They've got to be clear on what it means. They'll need to define it more specifically amongst themselves in order to use it.

For awhile still after 1600, they just aren't defining their relationship. They don't need friend (loaded) because they have things they call each other, right? They've got angel and Crowley and my dear fellow and the like. They're not usually around a lot of other humans together that are going to do what Burbage did and try to force a definition of it. (This changes, as we know, in the modern era-- especially S2-- but back in the day, it was true for them.) As a result, they've never had to define this and that's absolutely fucking perfect, as far as they're concerned.

Not defining this? Lovely. Yes. More of that. Makes the fact that they can't just call each other my love hurt a lot less, they're convinced. It helps now for sure and it'll make it less painful if they lose each other. They totally will not at all continue to spend thousands of years wondering what it would sound like if they said the things. They don't each have fourteen million fantasies about being able to use the traditional words and how they'd do it-- absolutely not lol. *Not* using the traditional words isn't at all making both the allure of those words-- and the ones they *do* use-- hotter and more romantic or anything. Not in the slightest...

So then we eventually get the Holy Water Arc, right, and in the middle of that scene, we see them run into a definition problem. In 1862, what actually causes them to fight isn't the holy water request. It's Aziraphale giving it all a word and that word being "fraternizing." First rule of We Don't Say It Club is that we don't say it... but it's also that if you're going to say a word that means the two of you and what you have, maybe don't use the one that Heaven would-- the one that means 'socializing with the enemy.' In Aziraphale's defense, they're both a mess and half-broken up in this scene and there's more going on it than we're going to get into here but the point is that suddenly not having a word caused big drama and caused the whole holy water conversation to de-evolve into an argument that broke them up for the eleven or so minutes that they can stay broken up.

But they still hadn't really resolved the whole holy water argument debacle by 1941, even if there is evidence in the show that they saw one another between 1862 and 1941, and the reason why they haven't is because holy water is irretrievably linked to defining what they are.

Crowley asking for it meant they had to consider what they are to one another and talk about it and 1862 proved their language didn't have words for that at the time. There is a level of panic to it because the request contains a certain level of acknowledgement about how they feel about each other. Aziraphale jumps onto holy water being a suicide pill not just because he's terribly worried that that's why a visibly anxious and depressed Crowley wants it but because if it's not what Crowley wants it for, then Crowley is saying he wants it for defense and whose defense, right? Not just his own, potentially. It's very much saying that he wants it to protect not just himself but Aziraphale from Hell and now we're talking about Crowley being willing to risk the wrath of Hell and maybe get himself killed trying to protect Aziraphale from harm and now, we're closer than ever to that I love you under the surface and they panic and they avoid it for 80 some odd years entirely until World War II...

...and then we arrive at The Blitz in 1941. We are now a scant one hundred years or so until 6,000 years being up since the creation of Earth and Armageddon was always going to happen in "*about* 6,000 years" so, for all they know, this is it... and Crowley in 1600 told you how he feels about sad endings:

So while rescuing Aziraphale is nothing new, Crowley turned up in 1941 with the intent of making a better ending, in case they had now found themselves at the start of the end of the world. They were almost out of time either way and he didn't want it all to end without them having said the things but also they didn't know *for sure* if this was it... and they still can't be together if it isn't... so Crowley can't just show up and be like so, angel, I've been meaning to tell you in the actual words for the last six millennia-- I'm madly in love with you. He has to find a way to do it in their language of doublespeak. And so, here's Crowley using friend (loaded) in front of the Nazis in 1941:

By using my friend in the church, Crowley is then actually euphemistically calling Aziraphale my lover by calling back to The Globe Theatre and stealing the human coded term that Burbage used. Crowley does not care what the Nazis think. The comment isn't for them; it's for Aziraphale. So is letting Aziraphale find out about his first name, which is also calling back to The Globe Theatre. ("Anthony", pronounced "Antony", as in Shakespeare's 'Antony and Cleopatra', the play in which Shakespeare put the love poetry he stole that Crowley wrote for Aziraphale.) So is referencing the unguarded holy water in the church, which is then trying to talk about it a little by connecting it to this romantic grand gesture here and acknowledging why they panicked over it all those years ago. It's all saying I'm in love with you in their little language in the best way Crowley can in this moment.

But what did we say about friend (loaded)? We said they have to define it, right?

Because it can mean different things. Crowley isn't wrong to use it and Aziraphale understands it the way he does in the church. He understands it to euphemistically refer to them as lovers, which they are. It's just that all of this combined with Crowley saving the books then makes Aziraphale realize that it's one thing to say my friend (loaded) but if you say it and then there's holy water referencing and then there's more of the Shakespeare scene in there with Anthony and the little "you don't like it?" pout and then there's the entered a church for you and... you put all of that together with little demonic miracle of my own and saving the books...

...and Aziraphale realizes that Crowley is taking the thing that they always were-- my friend (loaded)-- and using it in the middle of saying that he's in love with him.

Crowley is trying to give it a word.

The word he's using meets all their language rules. It's from a moment in their past. It has a true surface meaning and a loaded undertone and subtext for days. He's not asking Aziraphale to use it. He's not saying the actual thing, as that would be breaking their rules, but he is absolutely saying it in their language.

He's not asking Aziraphale for it in return. He's just saying that this could all be over soon and he needed Aziraphale to know and in some ways, it's an apology of sorts. He's sorry they fought. He's sorry they lost years over it. He's sorry for the pain of it. He was in love, you see. The sex while pining got to be a lot. All of this got to be a lot. You get it now right, Aziraphale? Yes? Good. Lift home...

The phrase my friend (loaded) takes on a different meaning after Crowley saves the books and after their conversation inside and outside The Bentley. That's the point of the two "shut up"s-- the one from Part 1 and the one right after it where Part 2 picks up. Why have this conversation twice? Because it's actually two different conversations.

The first one outside The Bentley is Aziraphale in a love stupor, just telling Crowley that saving the books was a nice thing and Crowley responding with a half-effort "shut up" while he cleans his glasses. It's the only scene in the entire series to date in which Crowley is cleaning his glasses and he is in this moment to give Aziraphale his eyes for a moment. But The Blitz, Part 2 shows us this again... and then gives us the scene in The Bentley with what starts out sounding like the same conversation on the surface to start. It is, though, not the same conversation *under* the surface...

There's a reason why Aziraphale says a second time that saving the books was a nice thing. They're now in The Bentley, which is a little more private, and Aziraphale can't let this drop because he needs to know for sure what Crowley is saying with this and if Crowley's sure he wants to be saying what it seems like he's saying. This is basically Aziraphale's version of Crowley's "are you sure? are you sure you're sure?" in the magic shop later on. Aziraphale knows Crowley just said he's in love with him but Aziraphale also knows *Crowley*, right?

He's been with Crowley for a long time. He knows him very well. He knows that Crowley is anxious and emotional and hopelessly romantic and that the world is literally ending around them as they're driving through bombs raining down over London and part of Aziraphale is thinking of the fact that even in this seemingly apocalyptic Armageddon that could be starting here, Crowley was coded in what he just did. He left the traditional words on the table. He said the things in their language and that is, in some ways, even more romantic, but he's left them the things they leave out of hope for a better future, just in case. There's a caution to that and while Aziraphale appreciates the caution, he also can sense that Crowley was nervous about doing this. He is a little concerned that Crowley's going to have said he loved him and then regret it and pull away from him again and Aziraphale can't do the first bit of the Holy Water Arc all over again. He's really wanting to start to move into a lighter era here lol. He also really wants to be sure that he's understanding what Crowley is saying entirely.

And he wants to hear it again.

If Crowley isn't going to shut down on him entirely now, Aziraphale very much liked all of this and would like more of it but he first has to be sure he knows for sure what Crowley means and he can't just ask directly or he's both saying the things they leave unsaid and he'd be undoing Crowley's effort so he has to find a way to ask without directly asking and in such a way that an already sensitive about all of this Crowley won't take offense or be embarrassed and that gives them a way back from this if Crowley shows signs that he feels like he might have gone too far.

So Aziraphale offers Crowley an out.

He tells him again that it was such a nice thing Crowley did for him. He means this and it was a nice thing but this is also saying that he heard that I'm in love with you that Crowley was saying by saving his books and that he liked hearing it, that it was nice, that it was okay that Crowley did that, but that it's also okay if he feels like he made a mistake with it.

Crowley's response to again being told that it was nice is to again tell Aziraphale to "shut up", this one a bit more emphatically than he did outside The Bentley a few moments before. It's unclear to what extent this language, at this time, is sexualized, but by 2019/S1, this back and forth of Aziraphale calling Crowley "nice" and Crowley responding with some bite is a self-parodic sex game that they're playing in Tadfield.

Much of what happens in Tadfield is playing on other parts of their story-- think about the paintball bit with the gun but now with knowledge of The Bullet Catch in The Blitz, Part 2-- and there is a big difference in the ways Aziraphale calls Crowley "nice" in 1941 and in 2019. In Tadfield in 2019, Aziraphale is literally smirking in a way that implies that this is a little game they play and he's saying a series of things that he knows will prompt this intentionally outsized reaction from Crowley, who is playing it with him. The game is likely tied *to* this bit of 1941 that we see in The Blitz, Part 2 in S2, in that it's referencing it a bit (if very obviously going in a different direction lol), but also because Aziraphale's phrasing and tone in 1941 is not smirking. It's softer and quieter and not designed, through their language, to prompt a certain response out of Crowley. It's not yet a sex game, it's still a kind of conversation they've had in the past that will serve as inspiration for said sex game in the future.

While it's a bit unclear if a version of this already existed in 1941 or if 1941 is part of the evolution to what it becomes by 2019, there's a tone to it in The Bentley in 1941 that says that, at the least, Crowley suspects that Aziraphale is trying to lure him towards sex by calling him nice and that's reinforced by the next thing Aziraphale says, which continues it, but is also doing so to provide Crowley with an out to his confession of love, in case Crowley wants to take it.

Aziraphale's out comes in the form of offering him sex, which is absolutely what this is:

Oh, gee, Aziraphale, whatever could you do in this moment here in The Bentley? You aren't at all telling him you'd do literally anything he says he wants right now, right here, in his damn car, are you?

But while Aziraphale would so absolutely yes because lawd, 1941 Crowley is sldjwkejele... look at what he's *really* saying as well...

What he's saying here is we can pretend you just did all of that for sex, if you want to. I know you didn't and you know you didn't but we are good at pretending and if you're silently having an anxiety attack behind your glasses over there, we don't have do this...

Crowley's response?

The quiet "forget it, will you?"

Meaning: I don't want to take it back. I'm in love with you. I wanted to say it. I meant to say it. Everything might be going to go pear-shaped and I wanted to have said it somehow. I don't need you to say it. I don't know what I expected but I also maybe kinda didn't want the response to be 'aww, you're sweet... do you want a blowjob?' so maybe let's just drop this. We're going to never speak of this again now. Moving onto spreading the demon drink...

Crowley turns down Aziraphale's offer to make it about sex and, in doing so, Crowley says indisputably that it's about love. If he had taken up Aziraphale's offer in that moment, then it would have been agreeing to pretend that he's never said he's in love with Aziraphale and to instead pretend that the romantic-looking things were all an effort to get into Aziraphale's pants. When he turns down sex, Aziraphale smiles softly because, to him, *this* is then really the moment that Crowley said he loves him.

Aziraphale knows for sure now what Crowley was saying and my friend (loaded) now has a definition between them that means the whole deal. Since Crowley said the thing that meant lovers euphemistically as part of saying he's in love with him, then my friend (loaded) is now forever part of the night during The Blitz in 1941 when Crowley said he was in love with him, which means that they can't use any version of friend (loaded) with each other without that being part of it. Friend (loaded) always meant lovers (sexual partners) but now it also means lovers (romantic partners) as well. It's not that they just suddenly became romantic partners because it's been a romance all along but now they're acknowledging it in a way they can't go back from and they do so by giving what they are to one another a word in their secret language.

Aziraphale then wants to return the feeling. Crowley is saying that he doesn't need him to by telling him to forget it about it and wanting to move on from it but Aziraphale can't accept that. Crowley might be right-- this could be it-- and like Aziraphale's going to let Crowley potentially soon go to his grave without telling him he's not alone in how he feels. That's not happening. However you think the events happened to give Aziraphale the opportunity to rescue Crowley from the wrath of Mrs. H-- divine fate, Aziraphale miracling the bottles broken, The Bentley shipping it and helping Aziraphale, all of the above, etc..-- he gets the chance not ten minutes later and he takes it... and, of course, what does he use?

My good friend (loaded af lol).

They've already just redefined my friend (loaded) by this point, so to turn around and use it is to tell Crowley I feel the same way. I love you, too. This is Crowley's change in expression in reaction in that above gif. It's one thing when Aziraphale volunteers to help-- that is sweet and Crowley's all eyebrows raised in intrigued surprise. His whole expression then slips from that into being stunned when he hears my good friend and he realizes that Aziraphale is now grand gesturing *him*. He's realizing that the bit in the car really was just an offer of an out, not just that plus Aziraphale saying he was uncomfortable with what Crowley had said and needing it to stay a lot more hidden beneath a cover of sex. It was Aziraphale needing to be sure he understood and needing to be sure that Crowley was sure he wanted to make this change in how they are but now that he's sure on those things, Aziraphale is actually all in for it.

Worth mentioning that my good friend (loaded) is a mashup of my friend and my dear fellow, which makes it extra sweet. Just as Crowley started this by calling back to The Globe Theatre by using my friend (loaded), Aziraphale is calling back to the my dear fellow rhythm of what he's called Crowley for centuries. It says I love you and every 'my dear fellow' was not just fondness but an 'I love you', if you didn't already know. I've loved you forever.

It's also quite literally calling Crowley 'good', which is not something that he really believes about himself but is something Aziraphale believes about him. His good friend, as in close friend, but also his good friend, as in good person. He also does nothing to discourage Mrs. H's inevitable understanding that he and Crowley are a couple. He gestures between them to indicate it. He uses my good friend in such a way that it's just the same thing queer humans of the time would have said to someone low-risk (a theatre person) in London during WW2. It's completely inverted from his response to Burbage in a different theatre in 1600, in the moment this whole friend thing became a thing for them, which is also intentional. It's telling Crowley he understood all the things Crowley was saying in the church and he feels them, too.

Then, there's this, once they're back the bookshop:

Here, we're acknowledging what friends means now by pausing and emphasizing it. "That's what friends are for" is not a phrase that would require the pause and the tone on friends if friendship was all "friends" meant to them. It's not now and this is acknowledging that.

Note Crowley's little lip twitch/almost-sad-smile at what Aziraphale is saying. It's agreement. It's assent. This is them confirming that they understand what the other is saying and giving this new word a home in their language.

This is then what they call each other now when they need to talk about it and it's my friend on the surface and it's my love underneath.

There's a sadness to it. How nice it would be to just be able to say it... It's also a moment of realizing that they aren't sure they can use this word all the time. It's good to have a word and a shared understanding of what it means and they have no desire to take back these confessions of love here but while it's lovely to have said this now, it's also a bit heartbreaking.

Aziraphale's heartbreak, his little Crowley move of putting on his (transparent lol) glasses, his brave smile, and then how quickly they both transition from this conversation into The West End, The West End and I'm a lonely G.I... and The farthing *has vanished*! It shows you how accustomed they are to burying the pain under trying to live in the moment for one another.

A few moments after this, Aziraphale will be showing Crowley some of his human magic tricks in preparation for performing on stage and when they get to the point where Aziraphale is telling Crowley about Goldstone's Magic Shop, he then tells him that it's not for him because it's "for professional conjurers only."

This is somewhat unintentional metaphor on Aziraphale's part that Crowley then acknowledges and turns into coded language in his response. Aziraphale's love of human magic is metaphorical for his love of humanity and living in a way as to indulge his humanity in a way that angels have been taught not to do. The reason why Aziraphale's love of magic is this metaphor and not, say, his love of books or music or food, is because all of the other things that Aziraphale likes about the human experiences can be dismissed by him as relating to understanding the human experience *so as to be a better angel.* He's really not a student of humanity just to learn how to better guide them. He admits to Adam in front of Crowley in S1 that he thinks that humans are the ones who get it when he tells him that he hoped Adam would be good and worried he'd be evil but that he's something better than either of those-- he's human incarnate. Aziraphale can justify most of his indulgences as being related to learning human ways to relate to them to help them-- food, books (his home and his book collection can be justified as necessary cover for his angelic embassy), music, etc.... but the love of human magic?

Aziraphale just loves it. It's for him. It's his hobby. He thinks it's a little selfish and probably a lot unbecoming of an angel. He'd completely just want this for a job and he's not supposed to want a job other than to be an angel, which is supposed to be the bestest job imaginable lol. What kind of angel wants a silly human job? What kind of angel with actual magical powers is obsessed with human magic? Aziraphale is. He's endlessly fascinated. It makes him happy. It brings him joy. It's the part of living as a human that he's done in such a way that it's just for him and in such a way that it conflicts a bit with his role as an angel. The only other way Aziraphale loves like this, in this human way? The only other thing he studies at to be a better human over being a better angel?

Crowley.

So when Aziraphale says that he can't go to Goldstone's because it's "for professional conjurers only", Crowley knows that what Aziraphale is really saying is that the shop is "for actual humans only". He knows Aziraphale is admitting that he's sometimes insecure about his ability to be human because of how his humanity is tied to being an angel. Crowley knows that they're talking about Aziraphale and his human magic love on one level but that they're also talking about them and their relationship on another level. This is Aziraphale saying that he loves human magic with a passion but he's not sure he's as good as it as he could be or as he wants to be because maybe he doesn't know everything about being a human in the way that the "professional conjurers"-- humans-- know... and everything we just said he's unsure about with relation to human magic is also how he feels sometimes about loving Crowley.

This conversation is happening in an overlapping way with their friend confessions and Crowley hears that Aziraphale is saying in there that he loves Crowley with a passion but he's not always sure that he's studied enough, that he knows enough, about being human to be what Crowley deserves. He would love to go to this magic shop but he's afraid that it's not meant for him. He struggles, as Crowley already knows, with how he's not supposed to want it but oh he wants and he can't help but love magic and he can't help but love Crowley... all of which prompts Crowley to reassure him, using a now-familiar bit of their language:

"You, my Nefertiti-fooling fellow, are about to perform on the West End stage. If that doesn't make you a 'professional conjurer'... I don't know what does."

Meaning:

You, my human-passing man, are so good at this that you fooled the Ancient Egyptian Queen. You're about to perform your human magic on stage-- to make yourself vulnerable in a way that scares humans. You are always willing to take risks like that and try something new and learn more about being human and that makes you human. It's human to not totally know how to be human, I think. You're doing all of this tonight because you love me. It doesn't matter if you're a good magician or not. This love of ours is human and you're very good at it. You love me very well. If loving me doesn't make you a 'professional conjurer'... I don't know what does.

Crowley uses my [] fellow to emphasize my friend (loaded) by using the term of endearment that Aziraphale himself started that has human connotations to make the point that their love makes them human and to tell Aziraphale that he's very good at their love.

Aziraphale, understandably melting over that:

And then? They just keep using my friend. For decades. Through S2.

What makes it work for so long is the fact that it's human-coded in origin so if they run into a situation where they need to refer to one another like this, they can use it and it doesn't get a lot of questions. After the partners scene with Nina, Crowley uses my friend without thinking twice about it, telling her that she'll be safe in the bookshop because "my friend would never let anything happen to you." Nina already gets that they're friend (loaded) and she doesn't know what using friend means to them because only they know about 1941 but it's a phrase that they can use with the outside world if they need to but that mostly stays between them because only they know that, in their language, my friend = my love.

So when Crowley says I lost my best friend in the Discorporated!Aziraphale scene in S1, he means that he lost his best friend but he *also* really means I lost the love of my life.

The first thing my best friend means is just the actual, uncoded definition-- what the words really mean as they are. Aziraphale is Crowley's best friend. Whatever else they are to one another, they've always been that. The idea that he'd have to go through the end of the world and whatever came after without his best friend devastated him. In a lot of ways, it's sweeter than saying anything else, even if they weren't in a public space, because it's saying that what he'd miss the most is just having his partner in crime in life. The other layer of it is the coded layer. Since they are a couple that uses my friend in an euphemistic way for my love, then Crowley's my best friend in 2019 is the same thing as Aziraphale's my good friend was in 1941. It is my best friend on the surface and it is that but it's also my love beneath it.

This scene is also then the same thing in meaning:

And by S1's present of 2019, they're at a point of using it in an argument, which provides them the means to talk in a way they didn't have in 1862. Yeah, they have their dramatic little breakup spats but this is actually a marked improvement over where they were before the holy water mess. So now watch this bit of the bandstand again here below for the friend (loaded)...

Remember that Aziraphale lies increasing bits of absurdity when stressed and that Crowley knows that. He dismisses what Aziraphale says with that "you doooo" when Aziraphale tries the *utterly ridiculous* "I don't even like you" lol. They're both panicked about the end of the world here in Ineffable Divorce: Round One and Crowley's trying to get them to run away again, which is a terrible idea, but in the process of suggesting it, Crowley is calling them friends (now eternally loaded, as we just spent this meta proving lol) and...

...*how long* have they been friends does he say?

So, how long have they been in love, per their language, per Crowley in the bandstand scene?

Six thousand years.

Since the start.

Vavoom. Sorted. :)

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 26/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FORTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY TWENTYONE TWENTYTWO TWENTYTHREE TWENTYFOUR TWENTYFIVE

CHAPTER TWENTYSIX

                “You cannot eat your weight in ice-cream. It’ll kill you.”

                “Stronzata. Worse I’ll be is sick. I just thought that he’d maybe come here…”

                Vi lets out a sigh and drops onto the sofa beside him, forces him to shuffle over so she can snuggle into his side and she reaches for the spoon and takes a mouthful of ice-cream. He doesn’t both protesting, he’s already gone through one tub and he’s already starting to feel sick, but it’s giving himself something else to focus on. He isn’t heart broken so much as he is disappointed.

                “You did say he wasn’t the one.”

                “Well… no. But I still sort of hoped he’d maybe move here.”

                “America might be home to you, but it’s…”

                “Yeah. Okay. Why would he want to uproot his entire life and leave his family behind.”

                “Not to mention not having a job here. And his English sucks.”

                “Ugh. I know. I know okay? I was just…”

                “A naïve optimist?”

                “Apparently.”

                “Hmm. Well. You have the heart or a romantic at least, even if it’s the only Italian thing about you.”

                “Fuck off…” Bradley laughs, shoving into her and she grins back and he guesses she’s done what she set out to achieve, and that was to cheer him up.

…            …            …

                “Fucks sake Leonardo, what did those onions do to you?”

                “Nothing, I’m just…”

                “Missing your boo?”

                “Fuck off Vi.”

                “That’s not a no.”

                “I’m… wound a little tight. Yeah. I’m missing him.”

                “Missing something, that’s for sure,” one of the sous chef mutters and Bradley shoots her a glare and Vi snorts but continues in Italian.

                “Yeah, no shit. Not just him but the sheer amount of sex you got used to while you were shacked up. Everyone’s been getting it in the neck and have sent me to be the sacrificial lamb.”

                “What?”

                “You know phone sex exists right?”

                “I can’t ask him to have phone sex with me!”

                “Why not? It’s not like you two haven’t had plenty of in person sex.”

                “He hasn’t raised it. I don’t want to…”

                “Oh my god, how are both as idiotic as each other? Have you considered that he’s going to be just as horny as you?”

                “Yeah, but it’s not like he can easily sneak off and jerk off whenever the mood strikes him!”

                “Like you can? Send him a series of messages or pictures so when he does have a moment, he can and then maybe he’ll return the favor. Or you know. Be an adult and fucking talk about it. Cazzo!”

                Bradley looks down at the pulverized mess of onions. There is finely diced and then there’s the slurry he’s created in front of him and he pulls a face and sets it aside. He can use it in a soup. Vi does have a point though and he guesses he’s going to need to see what steps he can put in place and maybe see Jake sooner than he thought.

…            …            …

                Having Admiral Kerner know his name is unnerving, although it does wonders for his reputation, it’s not like he’s related to Jake at all. Plus those he considers sort-of friends are happy to share the baked goods Leo has taken to sending about every four to six weeks. It’s after the second package that Jake takes the time to look up the 1986 Top Gun class with Nick Bradshaw, curious to know who else might be lurking in Leo’s past.

                Holy shit.

                The knowledge that Leo knows one admiral is surprising, but the idea he might know more is mind boggling. There are some absolute legends in this class and he wonders exactly how many have kept tabs on Leo. Clearly Admiral Kerner considers him some sort of family, but there are others, like Maverick Mitchell and Iceman Kazansky and Warlock Bates. Slider Kerner is right there and damn Jake wishes he could ask him how he got his callsign. Obviously Leo would much rather have his dad around, but he has people willing to step into the space left. He knows all about Leandro and Silvia, and Vi and all of Leo’s extended Italian family. He knows there is a godfather he doesn’t talk to, and an Uncle Tom he does, although Leo’s only mentioned him once in passing, face twisted with something Jake couldn’t place.

                Three admirals from one Top Gun class though, that seems disproportionally high, but he also guesses with the ages of everyone and their skill sets it’s maybe not uncommon. He thinks about Leo’s godfather, the person who pulled Leo’s USNA papers and sent him to fleeing to another continent. He frowns and wonders how you pull someone’s papers, do you just have to be their legal guardian? Or was it a favor called into someone higher up in the chain of command. Leo hadn’t said his godfather was in the service, but Jake is starting to suspect he might have been, even if he maybe isn’t now and he studies the photo closely, wonders if any of the men in the photo are Leo’s godfather.

…            …            …

                It’s been a few months now and work is insane and he knows he’s wound up, but he also hasn’t had the time, energy or, frankly, courage, to raise the idea of maybe sexting or sending slightly more risqué pictures. He knows his temper is shorter than usual, and he’s trying his utmost to keep it in check, although when he’s being filmed and they want the drama he lets it fly, glad to have the excuse. He ignores Vi’s eyerolls and is apologetic when he snaps. He counting down in days now to when he will next see Jake, a trip to Japan where Jake will be having some shore leave and he’s doing his best to keep it a surprise but he cannot contain his excitement. Vi has worked her magic and he’s got four days of filming a guest spot on one of their cooking competition shows, after which he’ll be able to see Jake for two days.

                Two days is nothing, not really. But it is still better than nothing and it’s definitely better than waiting another three months before Jake’s deployment ends. Because Bradley knows Jake has other people in his life, that as much as he might like to monopolize all of his time when he’s not working, it’s not a realistic expectation to have. So he will work his ass off now so when Jake is on leave he too can be too. Sort of. He’s not sure if he’ll ever not be thinking about cooking.

                The sauce initiative has taken off, and he’s insisted on any profits that Maria was going to send his way are instead directed to the research around early onset dementia, which had made Maria call him a bastard, but he’s sure it’s because he’d maybe made her cry. He doesn’t need the money though, and while his signature is on the bottles it’s definitely a joint operation, although they use a local commercial kitchen and small-scale bottling plant, there are definitely limited editions because Maria refuses to use any tomatoes not grown on their farm. Bradley’s more than okay with that, as long as Jake continues getting his own supply.

                After his conversation with Maria a few weeks ago he’d found himself in a group chat with all of Jake’s sisters, which has been a great source of childhood photos and stories, but also sharing news or anecdotes about their day-to-day lives and Bradley wonders what the hell he did to have yet another family just open themselves up and include him so effortlessly in their lives. He’s well aware that they’re doing it because of his relationship with Jake, but when a package arrives of pictures that Jake’s nieces and nephews have drawn for him, a painting done by Olivia of Jake working picking tomatoes, handmade wooden utensils that Maria admits to making in her spare time… None of them had to do any of that and it makes him both grateful and also miss Jake’s family almost as much as he misses Jake. Another reason why he’s happy to go and spend time with Jake at his home.

TWENTYSEVEN

[dontsh0vethesun]

the christmas fair

part four of home for christmas

natasha romanoff x reader

The hallmark movie inspired Christmas story that nobody asked for.

Natasha Romanoff fell out of love with Christmas, but perhaps a certain someone could help her find the festive magic once again.

Coming home to her small hometown from her life in New York City, the children’s author is reunited with the people of her past; some are happier to see her than others.

But, will rekindled relationships inspire the Christmas story she’s struggling to write? Or will she go home empty handed?

fluff, friendship, an attempt at humour, cringe of course, brief angst?

wc: 3.1k | part one | part two | part three | part five

Wanda’s arm wrapped itself behind your back as she took her place beside you on the sofa, supplying you with a cup of hot chocolate whilst Monica, Carol, Kamala and Kate sat around you too. It was routine for the group of you to get together after a date and this instance was no different, despite it not being your regular topic of conversation, a debrief of yesterday was a must. 

“Not to just jump right into the elephant in the room,” Kamala spoke. “But, she kissed you?”

“I can’t believe her,” Monica sighed. She's been strongly supporting your side since the beginning - as had the others - and she wasn’t giving the redhead the benefit of the doubt. To her, she is the one that broke your heart and nothing else. 

“Did you kiss her back?” Kate smirked. She, like Wanda, was willing to see the more optimistic side of the situation. Though they’re completely in your corner, with that also comes their desire for you to be happy. They’d attempt to beat Natasha up if that’s what you asked but they will also give her a little leeway - if that’s what you think she deserves. Your happiness is of the utmost importance to them all and they will support you with whatever choice you make. 

“I may have,” you mumbled, hiding your heated cheeks behind your mug. 

“Of course you did,” Carol laughed, stretching her leg as far as she could to give your knee a teasing nudge. 

“Was it a good kiss?” Kamala asked through a smile. All of your friends seemed to find much amusement in your embarrassment. 

“It was- I mean - it was a kiss, y’know?” you bumbled out, really hoping for a slight topic change to cool the way your skin had begun to burn beneath their teasing giggles. 

“So it was pretty good, then,” Monica smirked, laughing at the way you tried to hide behind Wanda’s shoulder. 

“God, I dunno,” you sighed. “It was good but I don’t know what that means - if it means anything. I don’t know if it changes anything for me and I don’t know if I want it to.”

“That’s okay,” Wanda spoke. Her voice was soft and the epitome of support and one glance at the softened eyes of your friends was enough to make your heart swell. 

“Yeah, we’re all here for you - no matter what,” Kamala nodded, receiving hums of agreement around the room. 

“We all know she broke your heart,” Monica added. “Whether you admit it or not.” She looked at you with a faux sternness with that, cutting off your murmurings of denial before you could even attempt them. “I, for one, do not like her. I hate her for how she left you but I can be civil-”

“I’m not sure that look you gave her the other night was ‘civil’,” Carol laughed and the woman couldn’t even deny it, she only shrugged with a huff of a laugh. 

“She deserved it,” she returned. “My point is, I’m completely on your side. If you want her to go back to New York next week and never come back, I’ll keep her away. If you figure out this mess you’ve got going on and you decide she’s changed - that she’ll fit into your life - I will stick by you.”

“Mhm,” Wanda nodded. “We’re fighting in your corner. This is your life, don’t let anybody else dictate your decisions. It’s about your feelings.”

“I’m sure we could all gang up on her for a fight,” Kamala added, making you all laugh at the clear determination on her face. 

“I could finally put my archery classes to good use,” Kate spoke. 

“Alright,” you laughed. “I love you all but I’m not sure any of that’s necessary yet. I just - I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never felt so torn, y’know? It’s such a mess right now,” you groaned. “I want your honest opinions. What do I do?”

“Tell her to get back on her high horse in New York,” Monica spoke.

“I say, give her a chance,” Kamala stated.

“Me too,” Kate agreed. “You’ll never know for sure if you don’t explore it all.”

“While I think second chances are nice and all, I say you let us send her packing,” Carol spoke, making you all laugh lightly at the way she mockingly showed off her muscles. 

“I think you should give her a chance,” Wanda smiled, she knows you best and she can see that glint in your eye. “But don’t give her a chance for her, do it for you. You deserve to know if she can give you what you deserve. I joke around with the ‘hopeless romantic’ thing but you know it’s just because I wanna see you happy. I’ll be with you every step of the way and I’ll help you pick up the pieces if it doesn’t go how you want it to. But I love you too much to just watch you give up a chance on something that could make you happy.”

“Okay,” you nodded, swallowing thickly at the tears that dared to bubble beneath the surface. “You’re the best friends a girl could ask for, you know that right?”

“Of course we do,” Monica grinned, stepping over to you to pull you into a hug. 

She was quickly followed by the remainder of the group, soon barely able to breathe, crushed within five pairs of arms. You’d have it no other way. 

“How about we take a night off from the Romanoff situation and go to the fair?” Kate questioned. 

—

An hour later, the six of you were fumbling around with skates on your feet, trying your hardest to stay upright on the ice. It was the perfect way to forget about everything burdening you, it was difficult to focus on much else besides the mere act of not falling flat on your face. 

Of course, to your luck, Yelena had decided to accompany her sister to the annual town fair right at the most inopportune time. You didn’t notice each other for a while, being fortunate to avoid one another at first. Little did you know, Natasha and her sister had been having a similar afternoon with a conversation surrounding you. She too, was attempting to steer clear for the time being, hoping the pair of you could organise your thoughts a little better before coming face to face again. 

But, during an attempt to amuse your friends by separating from the onlooking group to try your hand at some kind of spin that would have them in awe, your body collided with another. The solidity of a leather jacket-clad torse was a relief compared to the frozen ground you’d expected to land on when you stumbled. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you hurried out, instinctively grabbing onto the arms that held you upright. “I- Natasha?”

“Hi,” she smiled. It was an observably awkward upturning of her lips but it was a smile nonetheless. “Fancy bumping into you here,” she laughed. You saw how it turned into a genuine chuckle when you laughed at the comment too. 

“It was a graceful fall at least, right?”

“Like a ballerina,” she lied. You both knew you’d almost taken down a couple of other people with you but that wasn’t the point right now - you were practically begging her not to make fun of you. It was almost like before.

“What’re you doing here? I mean, you’re at the fair obviously - but what are you - are you here with Lena?” you stuttered out, regretting the short glance towards your staring friends who failed at hiding their amusement at the scene playing out in front of them. 

“Yeah, she dragged me out here,” she laughed. “It’s almost as fun as I remembered.”

“Almost,” you whispered, voicing your thought aloud when you meant to keep it in. She looked at you fondly, remembering the way she’d used to do this all with you and you broke your inquisitive gaze with a clearing of your throat. The silence had lasted a little too long for your liking and Wanda skated over at just a glimpse of eye contact with you. 

“Hey, Nat,” she nodded.

“Oh, hi.” She’d clearly forgotten she wasn’t existing in a moment that only the pair of you shared and her cheeks flushed pink as she let go of your arms - neither of you realised you were still holding onto the other. 

“Sorry to drag her away but Kamala wants more hot chocolate.”

“Oh- right- yeah,” she nodded. “I’ll see you around?”

“Sure,” you smiled before letting Wanda guide you away. 

—

“Okay, scale from one to ten, how awkward was that?” Kate asked you. “It looked like at least an eight from where we were.”

“Surprisingly, I’d give it a six,” you answered before taking a sip of the sweet drink in your paper cup. 

“That is a surprise,” Monica returned. She was pleased that it hadn’t resulted in a need for a duel right there and then and that you were smiling bashfully at the thought of it. “I’d have put it at a nine. You literally fell into her, even I was embarrassed.” 

“God, don’t make me think about it,” you grumbled. “I saw my life flash in front of my eyes.”

“Anything seeming a little clearer yet?” Wanda asked, bumping her shoulder into yours whilst you made your way over to the ferris wheel. 

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “I’m not sure - I’m hoping to just avoid her for tonight and think about it tomorrow.”

“You do love to procrastinate,” Carol half-joked, as you joined the queue. 

A while later, practically shivering in the cold, your breath forming in puffs of white before you, the line had shortened enough for you to make your way onto the ride. Carol paired off with Monica and Kate with Kamala but you had your seat stolen by some queue-jumper you could’ve rugby tackled on the spot. 

You shook your head at Wanda just before she went to verbally attack them - you didn’t want to be banned for life. 

You waited for the next available seat to make its way to you and felt the freezing metal through your jeans, instantly regretting agreeing to come on this ride at all. 

“I can sit somewhere else if you want me to,” a voice rasped in your periphery. Natasha. Her hands were pushed into her pockets as usual and she inched away as though she knew your answer before you uttered it. The relieved grin she gave you when you patted the space next to you almost made you swoon; that smile almost made you forgive her on the spot. God, does she know how much she affects you? 

“Of all the ferris wheels in all the towns, you get onto mine,” you smiled, revelling in the laugh she let out at your quotation of a movie you’d shown her years ago. 

You let yourselves sit in the quiet as you lifted higher and higher off the ground. It wasn’t so uncomfortable this time. As though you’d both started to untangle the entwined and knotted mess of feelings about each other. Like the tension of a coiled spring beginning to loosen. 

Seeing the town from this high up was picturesque; you could pinpoint houses, and places where memories were formed. She pointed out the part of the place you both called home where she’d laughed at you falling off a skateboard until her cheeks hurt. She brought it up for years afterwards and just a gesture of her hand in the direction of the spot was enough to make you gently shove her. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she grumbled as the metal of the wheel groaned and you were left stationary in the air, the cold breeze against the tip of your nose from the highest point you could be. 

“Oh god,” you sighed, hearing the ride conductor shout up an apology and an approximate of ten minutes until you’d be let down. You laughed at the thought of Wanda stuck beside a stranger she’d taken an instant disliking to. 

“Guess we’re trapped for a while,” she breathed, resting her arms on the bar in front of you with her hands fidgeting familiarly. 

“Could be worse,” you laughed to ease the tension. “You could be Wanda.” 

You nodded your head downwards to where your best friend was suspended in the air, positioning herself so far away from the boy beside her that she was practically falling off. Natasha laughed wholeheartedly at the sight. You both did and it brought up thoughts of the past, how it used to be, which made you think of the fact that she was truly here. 

“How come you’re back?” you asked, turning as much as you could to challenge yourself to actually look her in the eye. “Not for the holidays - I mean, you just never come back. What changed?”

“I have to write a book. A kind of Christmas-themed one and, what better place to get inspiration than right here?”

“They got the twenty-first century Scrooge to write a festive children’s book?”

“Oh, shush,” she laughed, poking at your arm at the way you’d faked a gasp at her statement. 

“I thought that, maybe, forcing myself to come back here would spur something on inside me, y’know?” Natasha shrugged. “This is my home. The people here gave me the happiest times of my life - the kind of things New York hasn’t given me. I thought maybe, I could find that so-called ‘Christmas magic’ here again.”

“The kind you used to see?”

“Mhm.”

“And have you found it?”

“I think so.”

– 

It gave you a lot to think about. You could see that ounce of the old Natasha you knew before, in that time before it all changed. You can see that, perhaps, she truly has changed. Maybe that inner dialogue she was battling with had been defeated. You hadn’t even known it existed but seeing her now you can see that something had hurt her. 

You saw the light in her eyes that you’d missed so much and things were beginning to seem that slightest bit clearer. You can’t ignore it all and forgive her, as much as you wish you could, without some form of a true explanation. An apology. A true, heartfelt, clarifying apology. You know you deserve it and now you’re letting yourself see that she deserves to be given the chance to gift you with it. 

You’d been bombarded with questions after the shocked look on your friend's faces when they watched Natasha help you up from your seat. Of course, they wanted the gossip of the past twenty minutes. 

“I think she’s different,” you mused. “But it’s somehow just as confusing. She seems different but I don’t know if I’m just seeing what I want to see. And then I think, if I actually should forgive her, shouldn’t I have some kind of apology to accept? Oh my god, I don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“You need to calm down,” Kate stated. “No offence,” she added with a sheepish smile. 

“You do,” Wanda nodded with a laugh at the way you rolled your eyes. “You don’t have to figure it all out in one night. Let's just enjoy tonight and we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I-”

“Fancy seeing you here,” Yelena interrupted, sidling up beside you with her arm flinging over your shoulder. She, of course, was not surprised as she had been having the same run-downs from her sister. She was also a lot less merciful and spotted the ‘couples wreath making’ booth nearby and directed you in its general direction before anybody realised. 

“Anybody want a go? Winners get a prize,” the man running the event announced as you approached, seemingly hoping to gain a final couple to join the others on the small stage behind him.

“These two do,” the blonde grinned, pushing you and the redhead into him with forceful hands on your backs. 

“Oh- no- we’re not-”

“We have our final contestants,” he beamed, not listening to your protests whilst he guided you to your place. 

“Yelena, you’re a menace to society,” Wanda uttered from where the group watched the two of you stand awkwardly. 

“I’ve gotta get my entertainment from somewhere,” she shrugged with a laugh, finding great enjoyment in the way you fumbled around with the objects on the table to try and make something that resembled a holiday wreath. 

“This goes here, right?” Natasha mumbled, attaching various decorations to the hoop in front of you. You only smirked at the innuendo you heard. She didn’t notice. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I mean - I’m not an expert but wreaths usually do have some kind of foliage.”

“Shut up,” she laughed, poking an elbow into your side. Wanda smiled fondly at the sight. 

“I don’t like her much but they do look kinda cute together,” Monica whispered to her and she nodded in agreement. 

“My sister’s an idiot but she’s not a bad person,” Yelena spoke. “She just needs to be honest, not just with herself but with our little friend up there.”

“I hope they can work it out, for both of their sakes,” Carol added. They all watched on as you laughed with each other and worked easily as you attached ornaments to the masterpiece you’d been working on. 

You won, of course, and Natasha braggingly lifted the wreath above her head to show it off.

“A perfect wreath from a perfect couple,” the man smiled and you both returned it uncomfortably. 

He handed you a Santa hat before wishing you well. 

“You’re joking?” you laughed. “This is the prize?”

“And the wreath, of course.” 

“Oh, well that was definitely worth the ten bucks we had to pay,”

“Alright, let’s go,” Natasha chuckled, guiding you towards the group before you actually did get banned for life. 

“Carol, you paid for this,” you frowned, holding up the hat defeatedly. Though it was Yelena’s idea, she pushed the payment onto somebody else, as she often does. 

“I dunno, I think the entertainment was worth it,” she smirked. Natasha took it from you to pull it onto your head, swiping a piece of hair out of your face with the tips of her fingers gliding over your cheek. 

“And you do look pretty cute in it.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, partly in annoyance and partly to disregard the way she made your heart beat aggressively against your ribs. 

“Should we head back? I’m freezing,” Kamala asked and, after a just about awkward goodbye, you parted ways for the night.

[archerygun]

Dr. Monty Montgomery from the Netflix tv show is straight up one of the best examples of Doomed By The Narrative I’ve ever seen and I need to ramble about it for a bit because therapy will not cover the emotional damage The Reptile Room: Part One did me as a child.

For one, this version of Monty is arguably the most competent even if he is still flawed. His biggest mistake comes from the misunderstanding about Count Olaf’s identity, and rather than that be a result of him not listening to the children, it seems to be more of a general misunderstanding? He knows ‘Stephano’ is bad news. The kids think he’s figured out who ‘Stephano’ is and has it under control. He hasn’t. Oh dear.

You’re told from the start that Monty is going to die. He’s screwed. So watching the episode, you begin to almost get the feeling that he knows that too. Like he knows he’s only got that episode’s runtime but maybe, just maybe, it will be enough.

He clings to life so furiously, the narrative has doomed him but he is kicking and fighting the whole way. He jumps out of the back of the van where he was supposed to die almost like he’s saying “I can do it. I won’t let you take me. I won’t die today. Just give me today, please.”

He jumped all the hurdles and then fell before the finish line. He pulled all the right strings, he outwitted the twins, he had the right people on his side.

He was almost perfect. And that ‘almost’ was what killed him.

It feels like he’s looking up at the writer and begging “Not tonight. Let me have tonight. I can do everything I need to do. Just give me tonight.”

Monty Montgomery is locked in a battle of wits not just with Olaf and his goons but with the story itself. His tenacity is what MAKES the tragedy, many good people die in this series but Monty Montgomery just HITS you. The optimistic lull ends with his death, so it has to be one of the most emotionally impactful. But GOD.

The almost time-loop vibes of Lemony Snicket mentioning how the Baudelaires replay that day again and again in their minds even in their later lives thinking about all the ways they could have saved him - and all the ways they couldn’t. Like it’s just a fact that in every timeline, Monty Montgomery dies that day. There was nothing he could do. And still he did everything.

The Reptile Room: Part One gives me too many feelings. I left the room five minutes from the end when my sister and cousin were rewatching it because his death just DOES that shit to you.

Thank you for your time I am in agony. Have a nice day.