#the author is healing

[the-late-one]

Hello and welcome to a new episode of me writing a thousand words ficlet that turned into a 4k+ one.

Today, I am presenting you some pre-fall fluff and other things at the end.

Enjoy !

*

I knew you

(A Good Omens ficlet) G-rated

One star was shining brighter than the others in that part of the universe.  A white blinding dot was sitting here, on what will much more later be the floor of an immaculate Heaven's building, but was for now invisible.

"Gnnnnk- Ouch !"

The figure, which appeared to be an angel with his wings deployed, was grumbling and swearing while picking at his feathers.

Aziraphale should have known not to get too close from the asteroids belt, but he really wanted to see the Earth from closer. The project was still kept secret, and the angels were authorized to suggest ideas for creations just because the Archangels couldn't handle all the work by themselves. But the final result, everyone would see it only when the almighty would decide to show it.

Now there he was, hiding, trying to heal his hurt wings away from his superiors. He could already hear Gabriel criticize the state of him. Luckily, he was just a cherub, and nobody was paying attention to him.

"Come on come on come on…" Aziraphale whispered, as if the broken feather on the back of his left wing was gonna get closer to hand reach.

"You need help with that ?"

The voice behind him made him jump, and before he got the time to turn around, the rebellious feather got plucked off.

"Ouch !" The cherub let a little cry escape his throat, taken by surprise.

"Oops, sorry. I'm not used to doing it for the others." 

Aziraphale looked behind him to find the other angel standing here, examining the feather with crossed eyebrows.

It was him. The star maker, with his red hair and big brown eyes. Eyes that flicked to Aziraphale's face in a second.

"Ah ! Aziraphale ! I was sure I'd seen these wings before." The angel smiled, all teeth out.

"It's you ! Wait, you remember me ?" Said Aziraphale, turning completely to the mysterious angel.

"Of course I remember you ! Why wouldn't I ?"

Aziraphale stumbled upon his words, "Well I'm– I'm not–"

"What happened to you anyway ? Look at your feathers, are you hurt ?"

The star maker circled him to check on the wings.

"Nothing, really." Said Aziraphale, folding the limbs against himself, "I just flew too close to erm… what do you call it ?... Asteroids ! It's entirely my fault."

"Not my asteroids I hope ?"

"Oh, no ! No no it was down there." The angel pointed behind him, "Around the Earth."

The star maker nodded, palming his chest in relief, "Phew ! You got me worried for an instant ! As you are here and that's my part of the universe. Well, not my part, but the part I helped crafting. We helped, by the way."

"I did nothing." Replied Aziraphale, a strange feeling building in his cheeks.

The star maker jumped in front of him, "You're joking ? Without you all of this would still be dark matter and dust !"

The feeling in Aziraphale's cheeks became more and more present. It was warm, and growing up the roots of his hair. If he could have hidden his head completely between his shoulders, he would have. Instead, he stared at the translucent floor under his feet.

The angel was high ranked, he could feel it. He didn't know his name, but you can't create stars and nebulas without a decent amount of power. Aziraphale wasn’t even sure he had the right to talk to him directly. At least, this angel was nice to him, the small cherub hoping to make friends among the vast Universe the Almighty created. Was he his friend now ?

Aziraphale got pulled off his trail of thoughts by soft hands landing on his left wing.

"Why don’t you use a little miracle to get them all clean ?" Wondered the star maker, absentmindedly stroking the longest feathers.

Aziraphale tried to ignore the chills running down his spine at the contact, "I'm afraid I can't do that. I'm not powerful enough to perform miracles for myself."

"I can do it for you–"

"No !" Aziraphale shouted, and the other angel stared at him with round dark eyes, "No, I don't want you to use your powers for me. Even less for my mistakes. I don’t think she would like that."

Aziraphale stepped aside, sitting back on the ground and gripping nervously at his wings, "I'll take care of that myself. But thank you for offering." He fumbled into the feathers to get back to work, suddenly very flustered.

Why would this angel perform miracles for him ? It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t his fault.

After a short moment of silence, Aziraphale felt a presence sitting behind him.

"Let me help you with that, at least." Said the star maker, running his fingers between the feathers to preen them.

At first, Aziraphale froze, undecided if the angel's insistence at helping him was a good thing or not, but he had to admit that a helpful hand was welcomed. He relaxed after the first few feathers being plucked, but kept his head low to be sure his new friend couldn't see how red his face was.

"You shouldn't do that." Aziraphale said, voice low and quivering.

"Hm ?"

"You shouldn't– you probably have way more important things to do than taking care of me."

"This is important. Isn't it important for you to look good ?"

Aziraphale hesitated, "Well, it is but-"

"Then it's important for me."

A long silence followed. Not an uncomfortable one. Not a heavy one. Just the kind of silence one could find relaxing after a hard day of work, even though work hasn't been invented yet. 

It's the unnamed angel that broke it, shifting position to get somehow closer to Aziraphale.

"So, what are you doing here ? I thought you were working on the Earth project ?"

"I wasn't. I mean, in a way, but I wasn't directly involved in anything. I'm not qualified for that."

The unnamed angel hummed, very focused on his task. Aziraphale continued :

"I made a few suggestions though. About plants mostly. Did you know that humans will have to ingest things to survive ? I did not understand how it works exactly but, they will. It's called "eating"."

"Weird."

"Isn't it ? I'm sure it will have a purpose."

"So what did you suggest ?"

"Oh I'm not sure it-"

"No no, go on, I'm curious now."

Aziraphale hesitated. It was the first time someone was asking him about his work here with genuine interest.

"Erm… I thought about something round. Maybe not completely round but, something soft, with multiple colors. Maybe red, or yellow, or green. It grows on trees so it's easy to find. I'm not sure about the name."

"Little colorful balls ? That's funny."

Aziraphale smiled, "Really ?"

"Yes. Sounds funny at least, especially to eat. What a concept. What is it called ?"

"I wrote down 'abble' but maybe they'll change it. To be honest, I don't even know if they'll use my idea."

"I did one too."

"Oh ? What about ?"

"Not for eating activities, it was for a living thing."

Suggestions for living things were only taken from the cleverest angels, because they supposedly knew better about life. That's what Aziraphale heard when the Archangels asked for ideas.

"A living thing ? You mean animals ?"

"Yes, one of those. I don’t think it's gonna make it to Earth neither, I didn't finish it. Had to fix a black hole before finishing it and when I came back the paper was gone, so." The angel giggled, "It was stupid. It's like a long thing with a head but you can't really tell where the neck stops and the body begins. And it has big teeth that hide inside his mouth so they don't stick out of it, and I was supposed to add legs and wings but I couldn't ! They just saw the sketch of the poor thing and went with it apparently."

"It doesn't have legs ?"

"No ! Maybe they'll add some themselves but otherwise it will have to crawl on the ground or something."

"Oh no…"

Aziraphale tried to contain a laughter but failed, and soon the two angels started to laugh together at the imaginary picture of the failed being. Hiding behind one hand, Aziraphale heard a new song that instantly became his favorite : The star maker's laugh. It was deep and unashamed, head falling backwards and eyes squinted so hard tears were starting to pool on their corners. For a moment, Aziraphale forgot about everything around, all the stars and nebulas and galaxies, because the shiniest object in space was the angel laughing in front of him.

When the star maker took a deep breath to stop himself, Aziraphale turned his head right away, realizing just now that he was staring, and that the other angel had started staring in return.

"That's cruel !" Said Aziraphale, composing himself.

"Not my fault !" Retorted the other, swiping his eyes, "Those idiots had to let me finish my work, that's all."

Aziraphale stopped smiling all at once.

Idiots

This wasn't a word anyone was supposed to use to call the upper angels. He tried to change the subject, suddenly tensing.

"And erm- what are you doing here ? The universe is so vast, have you already finished all the stars ?"

The star maker shifted again to be in Aziraphale's view, "My work is done for now. We have other things to care for. Something called 'gravity' for a start, so your humans will not float away from their planet. And it's gonna keep everything in place around us."

 Aziraphale made a little sound of approval, honestly more focused now on the angel busying himself with his wing than on his own task.

"So I stay here, checking if everything is working well." Continued the angel, "Plus, this is one the best spots to look at my creation."

With a growing smile, he pointed at the stars above them, "Look. You see these ones over there ?"

Aziraphale followed his finger, but for a novice, every object looked the same. He squinted his eyes, and his neighbor probably saw it because he got closer to him, aligning their eyes so they could look in the same direction. 

Aziraphale tried very hard to ignore the funny feeling building in his stomach when their temples brushed together, staring right in front of him instead.

"Here." The other angel insisted, lowering his voice to just above a whisper, "See the star next to the gas cloud. Well it looks like just one, but if you look closely there are two, and a third little one, staying close to each other."

Aziraphale finally spotted the star system the angel wanted to show to him, and in an attempt to nod, forgot for a second their proximity, almost bumping their heads together. But the star maker didn't seem to bother, suddenly grinning with excitement.

"These are my favorites ! Alpha Centauri, I called them."

Aziraphale made his eyes dance from the angel's cheery face to the stars, trying to understand why, in all the colorful, gigantic, artistic creations displayed in front of them, these three little stars were making him so happy.

He couldn’t stop his own smile from stretching his lips. "They are beautiful." He agreed, staring at the angel's glittering eyes.

The star maker's expression changed into something softer, content, as he turned to Aziraphale. "They are ours." He said, scanning his face with a new interest.

Before Aziraphale got the time to ask why, the angel sat back and resumed the preening. "I'm glad you like them too." He said, and for an instant, Aziraphale was sure he saw the angel's cheeks changing colors. Changing into something warmer.

"I like all of them." Aziraphale stated, almost shouting, words escaping his throat like a punch. Why did he say that ? He was meaning it, but did he need to say it out loud.

"Aw, thank you. They're not just mine but... thank you." The angel answered, visibly proud.

They both averted their eyes to focus on the last ruffled feather again, before the star maker mumbled something.

"I'm not getting that a lot."

"Hm ?"

"Compliments." Precised the angel with a clearer voice. "I don't– they never told me they liked them. Up."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Said Aziraphale, a sudden need to get closer to the other drowning him. He wanted to take his hand. He never wanted to take anyone's hand before, or even touch another angel. What was that ?

"It's all right. They don't tell me a lot of things to be honest. Sometimes I feel like they're avoiding me."

Aziraphale took a moment to digest this information. How could anyone want to avoid this angel ? He was the nicest being he met so far. He was joyful, clever, even a little bit funny.

"Oh I'm certain it's just a feeling." Aziraphale tried to reassure him. "They've all been pretty busy lately."

"I'm not the only one thinking that you know ? Actually we're a few thinking the same thing : it's like they were trying to push some of us aside."

"What are you talking about ?"

"I'm telling you, something is up with the Archangels."

Aziraphale was confused, and a certain fear grew inside of him. 

The other angel went on :

"Sometimes I find myself in the middle of a conversation, and all of a sudden everyone around is giving me a look and telling me that they have things to do somewhere else. Once or twice, I understand, but now they barely speak to me anymore."

Aziraphale was stunned. What this angel was telling him was beyond understanding. Was he saying there were teams forming ? It was impossible. Everyone was under the same umbrella, putting aside the ranks. And above all, negativity had no place here. 

What was even more worrying was that, apparently, the star maker wasn't alone feeling this. Who else ?

"Maybe, " tried Aziraphale, a small smile on his lips, "Maybe they just don't understand what you're talking about ? I like hearing you speak about the cosmos but, I have to admit, I'm not as passionate as you are and I feel a little lost sometimes."

"No it's not about that. Earlier, I was trying to peek on what was going on with the planets, because you know they made an almost exact replica of Earth next to it ? Well they almost erased it, took all of the water off, and put it on Earth instead. I asked why, they told me she preferred Earth, I said 'but why not use both ?' and they answered they didn't have time for that. Samael was so sad, he built it all by himself."

The angel was visibly becoming more and more angry.

"They want to destroy everything anyway. You told me the Universe would be gone in 6000 years. Earth too ! The people you worked on, they'll be gone ! Nothing left ! Lucifer told us. This one is a good guy, always welcoming."

The name echoed in Aziraphale's head.

Lucifer

The supreme Archangel.

"What is the point of working so hard to create everything for nothing ?" Concluded the angel.

Aziraphale released his wing, turning to the star maker, whose face was scrunched in this somehow adorable way Aziraphale saw earlier. He wasn't that angry, he was more confused and disappointed.

"I don't think you should get that upset about all of it. We can’t do anything about it, it’s God's plan. We can’t question it. It's ineffable."

"Well maybe someone should start questioning it ! Several angels even. Maybe you should."

"Would you please stop that !" Yelled Aziraphale, standing up and taking a step away, covering his mouth immediately.

The other angel stared at him, startled. "Oh, sorry, did I hurt you ?" He asked, concerned and looking at the wing he had between his hands the moment before.

Aziraphale shook his head, "No, you were very gentle, thank you. But it’s not about my wings ! You have to stop confronting the almighty like you do !"

"Why ?" Asked the angel, shrugging.

"Because it's- it's wrong !" Aziraphale was searching for a better answer, but he didn't have one. All he knew was that he had a bad presentment about all of this. 

He looked around themselves nervously, then crouched in front of the star maker.

"Listen." He murmured, "I really don't want you to get into trouble. If she planned all of this, it's for a reason, and we shouldn't care."

"Why are you so scared ?" Asked the other, leaning closer, adjusting his tone of voice to match Aziraphale's.

"I'm not– … I don't know. I just- feel like this isn't right."

"I'm just asking questions. I just want to understand."

"I know. But-" Aziraphale took his hand in his. It was warm, so warm. It was the first time his angelic skin was touching another, and it felt magical, almost too good, almost too much. But instead of dropping it, he squeezed lightly at the fingers against his palm. "What if it annoys her ? I don't want anything to happen to you."

The star maker stared at him for a moment, not saying a thing, letting his eyes jump from their joined hands to Aziraphale's eyes, and other spots on his face apparently as much interesting to look at. Then he smiled softly, using his free hand to cup the cherub's cheek.

This time, Aziraphale felt something inside of him stop. He didn't know what, but it stopped. The warm feeling nested in his face since the beginning of their interaction flowed down his entire corporation, making him feel like he was about to turn into a cloud of stardust. He couldn’t move, and he was pretty sure that if he started to speak, what would escape his mouth wouldn't sound like any form of language.

It didn’t last long before the star maker took back his hand, letting it fall on Aziraphale's.

"You could make a good principality." He said, his expression shifting into the excited one Aziraphale found himself so fond about all of a sudden.

"What ?" He whispered, his voice half gone to the nearest galaxy.

"You seem so attached to protect me. I think protection is your thing. They're searching for applicants to protect the people of Earth."

Aziraphale came back to himself, "You know things about Earth ?"

"I'm just hearing things." Said the star maker nonchalantly, a smirk stretching his lips.

Aziraphale looked at their squeezed hands, thinking for a moment. "A principality ? Me ?"

"Why not ?"

"It's a very high rank for me. I'm nothing. I'm just a cherub." said Aziraphale, sharing a small smile.

"So ? We were all cherubs once. We just got assigned jobs without asking. You should try. And hey, haven't you helped me create my nebulas ? That's one big step. Plus, we've got you all set, look at you ! All clean and fresh !" Said the star maker, pointing at Aziraphale's wings.

Aziraphale chuckled, looking at his feathers. He turned back to the angel, catching him moving his lips in a silent word while staring at the white wings. He didn't catch it, and instead took back his hands to slide an open palm against the rearranged down.

"Thank you. For that. I really needed a hand."

"Anytime." Answered the star maker, winking and standing up, and he instantly changed his expression again. "Not that you should get hit by meteors again ! But, if you need help, anything, I'll be there. Somewhere. Just– call my name very loudly and I'll come to you."

The burning feeling in Aziraphale's cheeks came back. "Oh that's very kind of you. I'd like to reciprocate but I don't know if I could be of any help at all."

"Noted." Said the other. "Being there for each other, there should be a name for it…"

Aziraphale frowned, thinking for a moment before the star maker interrupted his path of thoughts.

"Friends ! That'll do it. We're friends now !"

"Friends ?" Aziraphale wanted to protest again, claiming that they couldn’t be friends because of their rank difference, but he didn't. Somehow, the shining smile of the other angel made him forget about his worries. "All right. Friend… you're my first friend !" The cherub giggled.

"So are you for me." The star maker chuckled.

They looked at each other one last time, without a word, scanning each other’s face, searching for something, something they couldn’t put a name on yet into their eyes. 

Without a warning, the star maker unfolded his wings and turned away, "Well, see you, Aziraphale !".

"Until we meet again !" Answered Aziraphale, raising his hand, "Wait !"

But it was too late. The star maker disappeared in a reddish ray of light across the sky. 

Aziraphale put down his extended palm, intertwining his fingers together, suddenly feeling very alone. He stared at the dark spot where his friend was sitting a moment ago, mumbling between his teeth.

"You didn't tell me your name…"

***

"I'm Aziraphale ! By the way."

Crawly looked at him from head to toes, eyebrows crossed, "Yeah. I know." He said with a soft voice.

Aziraphale couldn’t contain his surprise, along with the feeling of happiness and relief growing in his chest. "You- You know ? You remem–"

"Yeah, I heard you talking with the humans. It's not my first day here, y'know. Had to do a little bit of scouting before executing the plan."

Aziraphale's expectations died there and then. Crawly, as it was his name now, wasn't remembering him. He had no idea how bad of an effect the fall could have on an angel, and sadly, he was starting to get the picture. The demon next to him was only looking like someone he used to know, he probably wasn't him at all anymore.

His hair wasn't looking as soft, his skin was paler, his eyes the ones of a snake. His wings were pitch black and ruffled, not white and impeccably preened.

He was someone else.

"Thank you."

Aziraphale didn’t answer, only nodding at the unexpected gratitude.  He couldn’t bring himself to look at Crawly for too long, memories of his lost friend stinging his heart like a thousand wasps. Instead, he kept observing Eve and Adam going away in the desert. 

When they disappeared from his view, he sighed, tilting his head to the sky to feel the rain pouring on his face.

"Interesting." He mumbled.

Crawly was still looking at him. He could feel the golden eyes heavy on him. Maybe it was the first time he was seeing an angel since his fall. Or maybe he was trying to remember…

"It’s called 'rain'." said Aziraphale. "I heard God talk about it but I never thought I would see it happening."

Crawly turned his eyes away.

"Amazing isn’t it ?"

"Huh ? Yeah…"

They both looked away.

"You’re not afraid of me ?" Asked Crawly.

The question was strange. "Should I ?"

Crawly took a minute to answer, "I don't know. I'm a demon, we're supposed to fight each other, aren't we ?"

"I don't wanna fight. It's not my role. Do you think I'm a danger to you ?"

Crawly’s eyes danced from the angel's face to his wing above his head, then he scoffed, "Really ?" He shook his head. "I don't wanna fight either."

The rain eventually stopped, leaving the two beings completely soaked. They parted ways, Crawly awkwardly stepping away from where he was being sheltered.

Aziraphale shook his wings in a few bats before starting to preen them, using just enough of a miracle to dry them clean. He was done in a few seconds.

"Well, that was something !" He said, with a cheeky smile on his face. "A few more minutes and we would have turned into fish !"

 Crawly, on his side, wasn't in the mood for a laugh, struggling with his damp feathers.

"It’s not an easy task, is it ?" Tried Aziraphale, guardedly approaching the demon.

"I’ve never been wet before." Said Crawly, shaking his wings.

Aziraphale fumbled with his hands before stepping closer, "I can give you a hand if you wa–"

"No ! I can do it myself !"

It was brutal and defensive. Snake eyes fiercely piercing through the angel's ones. It was so aggressive that Aziraphale had to back off to feel safe again, the demon's aura becoming darker.

"All right." Aziraphale whispered.

They stopped Interacting for a few seconds before Aziraphale started again, opting for a lighter tone.

"I have. Been wet before, I mean."

This seemed to get Crawly’s attention back, but the demon was still looking away. Aziraphale went on.

"I wanted to see the waterfall from closer. Until I remembered why it was called a waterfall. Didn’t know it was only water. Silly me."

Aziraphale smiled at his own story while Crawly looked at him in disbelief. He couldn’t contain a little smirk and turned his face away. Aziraphale heard a small chuckle before the demon looked at him from above his shoulder.

"You are not the principality I was imagining while coming up here." He admitted.

Crawly stood up, deploying his black wings completely.

"Are you sure you don't want my help ?" Asked Aziraphale once more.

"No, don't bother."

And in a snap of Crawly’s fingers, the wings were dry, along with his hair and togas.

He still had his powers.

Aziraphale stared at the feathers with more insistence now that they were completely exposed.

"There are a few broken ones." He murmured. He wasn't supposed to say it out loud, but Crawly heard him.

"They're still growing back." Said Crawly, eyeing at the black feathers.

Growing back ?

Aziraphale didn’t dare to imagine what this single sentence implied. Flashbacks of the war popped in his mind, and screams filled his ears. One scream in particular, and one painful smile.

Without realizing it, the angel had stepped so close to the demon that his hand had landed on one of his wings, tracing the damaged plumage with his fingertips. He came back to the present moment when he heard Crawly gasping under his touch.

"Oh ! Sorry ! I didn’t mean to do that !" Aziraphale pulled back abruptly, feeling the tears that started to nest in his eyes on the verge of falling. He blinked them away, holding his right hand with his other one as if he was incapable of controlling it.

"It's all right. You're curious. I get it."

"I really shouldn't have."

"It's okay, I– argh !"

Suddenly, Crawly grabbed his chest, like he was being pulled to the ground by some invisible force.

Aziraphale wanted to run to him, but kept himself to do so. What if it was his fault ? "Oh no, are you all right ? Did I do something wrong ?"

"Yes. I mean no. I think they’re calling me down there. I have to go."

"But- Oh… so that's how they do it." Murmured Aziraphale.

Crawly stood up, finally visibly relieved, and approached the end of the wall. He turned to Aziraphale.

"I guess," started the angel, "I'm not supposed to say it was nice meeting you ?"

Crawly huffed, "No. I think that's against our side's rules."

"Maybe, until next time then ? Who knows. Sometimes you think you’ll never see someone ever again, and yet…" Aziraphale lost the end of his sentence, reminding himself that he was the only one remembering Crawly’s past life.

Crawly nodded, and was about to jump from the wall, when he turned one last time to Aziraphale. 

"It was nice anyway." He admitted, barely looking at the angel's eyes. He raised a finger "Oh and you better clean what you’ve done to the wall before going. Trust me, you don't want her to see that."

Aziraphale frowned, looking around in panic, "How much do you know about what I've done here ?"

Crawly smirked, jumping from the wall to land lightly on the ground, "Until next time angel."

Aziraphale smiled at him in confusion, and watched as the demon turned into a snake again, before disappearing under the lush vegetation of Eden.

A feeling of emptiness gained him as he walked alone along the walls of the garden. The humans were gone, and the only other being he could talk to was not only a demon, but also went back to where he came from. The tiniest hope that Crawly would remember him was also gone. 

Nervously, Aziraphale fiddled with his ring, looking up at the sky, mind filled with questions, about why they've done this ? Why to him ? Why send him back to Aziraphale ?

He asked nothing, hurrying instead to mask what he'd done for Adam and Eve. 

As much as he loved him, he didn’t want to end up like Crawly. 

He didn't want to fall.

But deep down, he knew.

Maybe it was too late.

[briannapastorpoetry]

Good Grief by Brianna Pastor, available here!

[forgetful-nerd]

The authors who keep 2012! Leo’s knee injury are the real ones.

But the ones who also give him voice issues are Royalty.

[quess-art]

Hi! Whose your fav in twisted wonderland? Or if you dont have any what characters to you use the most?

(Pssst by the way can you drop your friend code 🥺🥺🥺)

Most of the characters are likable assholes so I don't really have a fav lol If judging solely on design, Ortho's and Leona's outfits are usually great

Dorm Riddle was my first card and I have no regrets, he hits like a truck and is still my most used card

My Player Name is Quess!

[whiskeyandcigarsmoke]

Trying to gauge interests...

So there's quite a few Wade/Deadpool sickfics, but is anyone interested in a Logan sickfic????

I've been loosely writing a series of connected Logan sickfics, but I've been mainly writing them for myself since I wasn't sure if anyone else would really vibe with them.

[author-main]

Okay, I'm thinking that after Phoenix fell off the bridge, waking up and seeing his burns, I can only imagine his distress at new marks that he can no longer hide.

I'm sorry i'm just overthinking lol

The wonders of gloves and socks

ko-fi here (commissions and shop open!!!)

[saturnianthots]

[remh-oldsoullikemine]

"I've lost my smile"

My happiness lies dormant,

in a cave somewhere beyond my reach.

I would love to call it back to me,

but sadness has stolen my speech.

Sometimes, I can hear it snoring,

or talking out loud in its sleep.

Other times, I miss it so much

that it makes me want to weep.

I hope someday to wake it up,

to rouse it from its rest.

But until then, I try to carry on,

and just keep hoping for the best.

[shxnigxmi]

❤︎︎ 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐃 ❤︎︎ [ᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

ఌ synopsis: you eagerly await the return of your husband, and he can’t wait to be in your arms once again

ఌ content warnings: foul language, anxiety, domestic fluff, ghost is literally whipped—

ఌ author’s note: why is physical affection so hard? like someone hold me in their arms and keep me safe but like do it without actually touching me cause i fucking hate that fucking shit /:(

—

Beat down and bone-tired. Ghost was exhausted.

Simon was exhausted. And he let out a tired huff as he slid the key into the lock of his front door before he twisted it with a click. Repeated the same process with the handle before he was twisting it and trudging inside, dropping his heavy duffel on the ground as he slid out of his sneakers. Black Nikes he traded in for his combat boots back at base.

“Lovey,” he called out into the apartment as he kicked his shoes off. When he didn’t get an answer his immediate response was to tighten up with panic. Muscles taut against the profound ache of weariness that weighed down heavily on his bones.

At least he would have, but there was no need for such a reaction. Because he could see the door to your art room slightly ajar, the soft golden light coming from the lamp you kept on the desk in the corner bathing the hallway in it’s pale glow. And he could hear you humming, your voice soft as angels and melodic as a siren bewitching him to come closer as your taut chords strung the sound together beautifully. He smiled.

Inhaling a breath that felt like it had cleansed his lungs is when he noticed the scent of pumpkin spice, and he tilted his head at the small glow in the corner of the living room. A candle, the flame small as the scented candle was no more than three inches tall. The rightfully themed orange wax sat in a small glass container. Tiny and withheld there on the table by the bookcase.

He wondered why he hadn’t noticed the small flickering before, or why the scent had evaded him until just now. Perhaps he really was tired. Or maybe it was because he heard you, and the fact that he was aware you were present in this home you shared with him made him feel more at peace. Softer and less tightly wound, less of Ghost and more of Simon the longer he stood there before the shut and locked front door.

Yes, the candle added it’s aroma to the homely vibe his apartment was bathed in. But it was you that made it feel truly like home, it was you that made it feel safe and comfortable. Here with you he could be Simon, he could be human.. just a man yearning for love and affection. Wanting to be taken care of and held tenderly.

Out there in the real world, the world that’s full of vile and hateful shadows that prowl in the darkness waiting for an innocent victim is where he needed to be Ghost. Lieutenant Riley. Cold, hard, calculated and cruel.

Here with you… he could just be Simon. Your loving and devoted husband.

So he smiled minutely, a gentle thing tugging the corners of his lips up minutely to put a soft look on his face. Happy. He paced to the art room, the first door on the left at the mouth of the hallway, before he peered inside through the wide gape you had left the door with.

And the warmth in his chest bubbled at the sight of you, sat in that stool with one leg tucked up and laid down on the flat of the stool. Your other leg bent at the knee as you used it to rest your elbow so your paintbrush strokes could be more fine. Simon smiled at the way you looked so domestic, a large shirt —no doubt one of his— draping your figure. Large sweatpants that bunched up around your ankles and have been rolled at the waistline. And a pair of crew socks. Your hair was pushed out of your face with an elastic headband. And it was then in that moment when he had brought his eyes back up to your face that he noticed the headphones.

He was perfectly happy just watching you as you worked in your element, the way you guided the paintbrush across the canvas was mesmerizing. Perfect strokes as you moved your hand in an arch to curve the colorful line you’d just created.

It wasn’t until you were painting the left side of the canvas did you notice the figure out of the corner of your eye. You felt a brief sense of electrified panic and fear of an intruder as you quickly flicked your head to the doorway— and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was just Simon.

Humming you went back to it, switching out the wide brush for a fine point one and using the fibers to scoop up a dollop of green before.. wait—

You froze, then looked back to the doorway. And sure enough he was still stood there, arms folded across his chest and leaning against the doorframe with a playful glint in his eye and smug smile on his lips. Bare to you at the expense of his mask rolled up to the bridge of his nose. Simon!

“Simon!” You squealed, clambering off the stool and setting the paint pallet there alongside your headphones before you were spinning and leaping into your husband’s strong and loving arms.

He chuckled deeply at your enthusiasm, then reached down to grab your thighs before he was hoisting you up to encourage you to wrap your legs around his wide waist. And you did so with little more prompting.

“I missed you doll,” he murmured into your hair and you laughed wetly as you snuggled your face closer into his neck. Warm and bare to you, vulnerable to loving pecks as you welcomed your hubby home.

“I missed you too Si. So much.” You pulled back from his embrace of just enough to cup his face and pull his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, and you gently held his face as he pressed his lips firmly back against yours.

No matter how many times you and he shared saliva it felt like the first kiss every single time. That first kiss that you can recall happening on your porch, the porch just out the front door he had just come through.

It was the first date, after you two had met in a bar downtown you’d hit it off rather quick. And he offered a nice and quiet walk alongside the large pond in the city’s square. The pond that had a beautiful fountain in the middle, and as you walked with him slowly but surely you had gotten to know a bit more about him.

What with his black balaclava and the fierce and brooding aura about him, it had been a shock he’d asked you to join him outside. He had seemed prickly and more of lone wolf type of guy when you’d seen him across the bar all those nights ago. And you were surprised when you’d both ended up at the bar together.

He wasn’t. Because he had noticed you too, and he had been trying to scrounge up some courage to approach you. Eventually, his teammates had pushed him to stand and go order another drink when they saw that you had returned to the bar.

And the rest has all led up today, to that electrified kiss. A kiss that you felt all the way in your toes, like fireworks erupting in your chest and butterflies fluttering in your stomach. That’s the affect Simon had on you, the “so helplessly and utterly in love” affect that made you feel warm and happy anywhere near him. He was perfect.

And you’re so glad he’d put a ring on your finger, so glad you had bought a ring of your own to ask him. And so glad to have been happily married to him for three years already. Because Simon was comfort and Simon was home.. and you loved and adored him more than anything.

“What’re ya workin’ on?” He questioned as he set you back on your feet, pressing one final kiss to your lips before you were turning away from him to face the canvas. The project that was almost finished.

“Just some big piece for a company in New York. Payed a shitload for it too,” you explained as you moved to the desk in the room. Messy with files upon files stacked on top of each others, papers strewn about and the mahogany wood littered with pieces of garbage. Candies, discarded coffee cups, crushed energy drink cans.. it was a disaster.

But you found the paycheck right where you had left it, laid atop the manilla folder in the corner. You plucked it from it’s perch before moving back to Simon and handing it to him. His eyes widened at the number of zeroes behind the set of double digits at the beginning.

“Bloody hell.”

“Yeah. I’m kind of frazzled because they paid a lot.. and I know they’ll like it I’m just not sure I’ll be able to finish the whole thing in time.” You spoke, suddenly ready to burst like a water spout and rant to him. You knew that he would listen intently and you knew he would do whatever he could to fix the problem or offer any advice he thought would be helpful. But you were tired, you’d been staring at the damn canvas all day. And whilst you had a cohesive idea in mind the client had said to make it abstract. So you’d just been letting your brush guide your hand and went to your heart’s content.

But now? Right now all the colors were blurring together, and not in the way an abstract is supposed to. Not in the way you’d seen it in your head. And it was making you frustrated, anxiety aligning unwell with your unease and anger made everything so much worse.

When you had finally found somewhat of a groove again is when Simon had come home. But even still.. it didn’t quite feel right. You dreaded the thought of maybe having to start a new one tomorrow, but you didn’t want to give your client something you weren’t proud of. Especially since they’d paid so much and especially since they expected so much from you since your profoundly successful gallery last month.

So when you had seen Simon all worries had flown right out the window, and the ire wound tightly in your chest had dissipated. He’d worked out the unruly twitch in your brow with his mere presence alone and you melted into his hold when you had squealed and jumped him.

But now that you had once again found the canvas as your main point of attention— the feelings returned. And you grimaced angrily at it. As if your twisted scowl would somehow fix the painting and your problem.

Simon recognized the look in your eye, and he knew you would continue to glare at your painting until you either got new inspiration or burnt yourself out trying to create something that was satisfying to your expectations. So he turned you to face him and cupped your cheeks.

“Let’s get to bed yeah? I’m sure you’ll have a fresher perspective on this tomorrow.” He gently urged, and you sighed softly as you reached your hands up to hold his wrists. You nodded your agreement.

And he took your hand in his to guide you into the shared bedroom at the end of the hall. Once inside, your nightly routine began. And he helped you with your skincare routine as you gently pulled off his mask and wiped clean the black eye grease that painted his face. Once clean with a cleansing wipe you began his skincare routine, built and patented by you.

And he closed his eyes and exhaled softly at the way your hands and fingers felt on his face. The intimate domestic feeling behind the action made his heart warm and his stomach flutter. You had made him a skincare routine, loved him enough to care about what he’s putting on his face. And it felt amazing to be sharing a nightly routine with you again.

Once you both rinsed your faces clean and patted them dry, you brushed your teeth before waltzing back into the bedroom to the closet on the other side. And you both changed into cleaner clothes. A pair of boxer briefs and a clean shirt from Simon’s side of the closet for you. He opted to go shirtless and donned sweatpants that hung low and accentuated his abs and v-line. You couldn’t help but stare and Simon grinned as he caught you looking at him from where you lay on the bed.

“See something you like?”

“Oh you know I like you very much Honey.”

He chuckled quiet in his chest before he was turning out the bathroom light and joining you on the bed, wrapping a strong arm around your middle and pulling you into his chest. Your back flush against it, and you relished in the warmth that radiated off of him.

He pulled the sheets and duvet up to cover you both, kissed your temple before trailing his lips down to your cheek, your jaw and eventually your throat. Where he whispered his goodnight into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. You had uttered yours back to him when you turned your head to catch his lips with yours one more time before you faced forward again and settled in to sleep through the passing night.

Missed constellations and the pale glow the moonlight cast upon the complexes that made up your neighborhood. All to be in the safe and protective arms of your beloved husband.

Simon Riley. Who you loved and adored more than anything in this world.

—

ఌ author’s note: i just like to imagine that when you are in the arms of your comfort character all your fears, all your worries and your aches and your pains just vanish.. as if being in their arms makes everything okay… makes you safe and protected… makes you loved ❤︎︎

[writers-potion]

can you make a list of specific relationships tropes(platonic or romantic) pls🫶

List of Relationship Tropes <3

Hope this helps! :) If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram!

Romantic Relationship Tropes:

Friends-to-lovers

Enemies-to-lovers

Forbidden love (it can be an external or internal taboo)

Stuck together - 'trapped in an elevator'

Secret identity (billionaire/royal/celebrity in hiding)

Best friend's brother/sister/ex

Seconc chance romance

Soulmates (soulmate AU prompts)

Fake relationship

Wedding fever - runaway brides/best men/wedding planners/ jilted

Amnesia/mistaken identity

Holiday romances/flings

Opposites attract (similar to enemies to lovers)

Academic rivals (high school/ college)

Unrequited love

Sunny vs. Grumpy

Pen pals to lovers

Matchmaking gone wrong

Sworn off a relationship (then falling in love, of course)

Single parent with new love

Arranged marriage (Arranged Marriage Prompts)

Return to hometown & fall in love with your childhood friend

Bully turned out to be the nice guy

One person being afraid to commit + the other chasing them

Falling in love with someone from the past/future

Tiny guy, huge girl

Other Character Dynamic Tropes:

Badass and child duo (usually, the child will be extraordinarily mature/capable)

Battle couple (like Mr. and Mrs. Smith vibes)

Blood brothers

Brother-sister team - bickering but working perfectly together

Intergenerational friends - being best buddies with your grandparents, which your parent doesn't understand

Translator buddy

Talker plus Doer duo

Student and Master team

'Sensitive guy + the most macho guy ever' duo

Rivals-to-friends

The Shy Guy/Girl + the outging wingman

The popular girl/guy + the copycat

Ride-or-Die found family

A childhood enemy becomes a central part of a friend group

Parents who see their kids become best friends too

Orphans from the same orphange

Long lost siblings finding themselves in each other

A straight girl + lesbian as bffs / a straight guy + gay guy as bffs, becoming each other's wingmen/women

a secret handshake or unique SOS sign that only they know

Girl code/bro code/friendship code

Having set routines, like meeting under ---- tree at --- hour

Family Tropes

Adoption angst

adult adoptee - an adult character is adopted into a different family despite being legally of age

Awkward parent-child bonding efforts

Babies ever after - the child is forever a baby to the parents

Black sheep/ugly duckling

Cannibal clan

Feminine mother, tomboyish daughter

Obnoxious in-laws

Twin Tropes

Angst surviving twin - on twin dies so that other becomes nervous

Single-minded twins - can have a creepy twist...

Evil twin

Playing their own twin

Twin telepathy - twins can pick up on each other's thoughts/emotions

[thepersonalquotes]

We invent what we need to get us by, but in doing so we are really continuing to hold on to the pain of yesterday.

Stephen Richards, The Pain You Feel Today Is The Strength You Feel Tomorrow

[briannapastorpoetry]

a poem from the poetry collection, 'Good Grief' by Brianna Pastor. Available here and wherever books are sold.

[writethestory365]

It doesn’t matter what you start with — just get started.

[tricorderreading]

Star Trek: Vulcan Academy Murders

Father and son bonding moments; spock asks about bonding with humans, and Sarek realizes just how far he pushed his son (away) without meaning to

Sarek apologists rejoice, he wasn't intentionally an asshole to spock growing up, he was a kinda clueless dad who tried to show he cared but struggled to express it

Also, context: a human guy just got bonding-engaged to a vulcan woman, but he doesn't have training in mental shielding and is accidentally BLASTING his joy everywhere he goes. This is the "same" feeling that spock is referring to at the beginning of this passage

[drarrily-we-row-along]

"Come on," Draco said, dragging Harry in the door by the lapels on his expensive suit jacket. He looked delectable and Draco wanted to drown in him.

Harry stumbled, collapsing against Draco, pressing him back against the wall in the hallway, "Mmrmph," he managed as Draco grabbed his face and kissed him hard.

His hands went straight to Harry's buttons, tugging them hard enough that the fabric bit into his fingers, stinging as he ripped Harry's shirt.

"Draco," he gasped, pulling back, something in his voice sounding vaguely concerned.

And he very much didn't want that. Draco dove into kissing him again, groping Harry's back, pressing their bodies more tightly together. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to think about it, didn't want anything but Harry-

"Draco," he repeated, pulling back again and catching Draco's hands. He pressed them back against the wall next to his head trapping him again but not in a sexy way. "Wait," he said, voice soft, and Draco's saw red.

"Don't," he growled. "Harry. Fucking don't," he spit, shaking his head and fighting against Harry's grip on his wrists. "Let me go."

"Hey," he said, achingly tender, and Draco would have punched him if he'd had his hands free. "Can we talk about that?"

"No," he said, "I don't fucking want to talk about it. I want you to fuck me until I can't think straight."

Harry tilted his head down, trying to get Draco to meet his eyes.

Draco was absolutely not having it, he didn't want to look at Harry, didn't want to feel like this. "If you're not going to fuck me, let me go and I'll go find someone who will," he threatened.

Harry sucked a breath through his teeth, "you don't mean that," he said.

He glared at him, hoped that his face conveyed all of the anger and vitriol he was feeling, "Don't tell me what I will or won't do," he said. "Don't pretend to control me. You don't."

His hands were released and Harry took a step back, his torn shirt hanging open, leaving the image of his heaving chest incredibly clear. "Fine," he said, stepping away and turning toward the living room. "You're right," he added over his shoulder, "I don't control you. But I do get to control me, and I don't like being used."

"I'm not trying to use you!" he exclaimed, storming after his boyfriend.

Harry made his way into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He took a long drink before he turned to look at Draco, "What were you trying to do then?"

He threw his arms in the air, "trying to get fucked!"

"In order to avoid talking about what happened at your parents'," Harry said.

"What does it even matter?" he exclaimed. "Why does it matter why I want you to fuck me into incoherency? Especially when it's something that you want too!"

"I just want to talk to you first," Harry said. "Is that too much to ask? To just have a little communication?"

He scowled, rage sitting high in his chest, "Yes. It is too much to ask, I don't want to fucking talk. I thought I was dating a man, not some fucking woman who feels the compulsive need to talk everything to death."

Harry flinched, "Too far," he growled.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he snarled, "Have I hurt your delicate feelings?" And he knew he was being an asshole, knew that he was lashing out, but he was so mad, absolutely raging and he couldn't seem to stop himself. He didn't want to stop; he wanted to fight, wanted to hurt.

"I'm not doing this," Harry said. "I'm not having a fight about this."

He stalked over and shoved Harry, both palms flat against his chest, "Fight with me!" he roared. "Yell at me, tell me I'm wrong," his fists hit Harry's chest. "Come on!"

"No," Harry said. "I'm not going to do that. I don't want to treat you that way."

A glass shattered behind him, Draco's magic swirling through him. "I'm leaving."

"Fine," Harry said, standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Fine," Draco snapped, stalking away from the other man and heading straight for the door. He summoned a bottle of whiskey and paused on their front step. He had half a mind to go to some club, find some random bloke to sleep with, someone who would really pound him. But decided that Pansy's was actually the place he should crash. She was always good for a fight.

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

Draco woke up the next morning, in Pansy's guest bed, with an awful hangover and an even worse feeling swirling in the pit of his gut. "Shit," he whispered, rubbing his face and trying not to panic.

"Hey, there," Pansy said from the doorway, tossing a hangover potion at his head.

He caught it and uncapped it, draining it and shuddering at the immediate effects. "I fucked up," he managed once most of the symptoms of the whiskey he'd consumed vanished and left only the guilt and shame behind.

She nodded, "I said that last night," she replied flippantly as she sat down next to him on the bed and handed him a cup of coffee. "And then we had a spectacular row about it."

Draco sipped his coffee, "I wanted to have a fight with him."

"Right, but he didn't."

He groaned as the words he'd said to Harry the night before flitted through his mind, "I was awful to him."

"Go home," she said.

He shook his head, "What if he's mad?"

"Then you'll get that fight you were so desperate for," she teased, bumping her shoulder against his.

"What if he's not?" he whispered, the thought somehow even more horrifying.

"Go home," she repeated, nudging him out of bed. "I've got company coming for brunch," she added.

He turned to look at her, "Thanks," he whispered, grateful beyond measure that she would fight with him when he needed an outlet without batting an eye.

"That's what best friends are for," she said with a wink. "Now go."

He trudged home, deciding to walk instead of apparate, trying to work out what he was going to say and mostly failing.

When he came in, Harry looked up from where he was sitting at their kitchen table. Unshaven, puffy red eyes, mouth turned down in a frown, his eyes flickered over Draco's body before meeting his gaze.

"I stayed with Pansy," Draco said softly, by way of apology.

Harry nodded, then looked away from Draco to stare out the window, taking a sip of coffee from his cup.

"I didn't sleep with someone else," he continued. Draco couldn't bring himself to walk closer, to come in out of the doorway, he wasn't entirely sure it would be welcome.

The other man winced but said nothing, didn't even nod.

"You're not going to even talk to me?"

"What would you like me to say?" Harry asked, turning his face to look at him, exhaustion written across it plain as day. "Do you want me to tell you that I stayed up all night, waiting for you to come home? Should I tell you that I thought about going out to all of our normal clubs to see if I could find you, but was too afraid that you'd come back and think that I'd left you?" he asked, running a hand through his hair, "Would you like me to tell you that my entire body felt like it was burning up with rage and jealousy but I couldn't-" he broke off and shook his head and looked down at the table. "I couldn't tell you, couldn't do anything with how angry I was because that isn't how I want to treat you. Is that what you want to hear?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

At that Harry looked up at him and Draco took a step closer.

"I'm sorry I said those things, I didn't mean them. I was just angry and I wanted to fight with you." He shook his head, "My parents, they just-" he broke off.

Harry reached for him, took Draco's hands in his and drew him in closer before pressing kisses to his knuckles, "I know," he said softly. "I was mad at them too, love. They had no right to speak to you that way."

Tears prickled the backs of his eyes as hurt and resentment build up in his throat and chest at the remembrance of their criticism.

"And I didn't want to hurt you more," he continued. "I didn't want to add to that burden." He tugged Draco down until he had him sitting cradled in his lap like Draco was a toddler instead of a twenty three year old. "I love you. I want to fight for you," he added and Draco buried his face in Harry's neck, his stubble scratching his temple and cheek.

"I love you," he whispered, the feeling so big, so present that it terrified him.

Harry turned his head to kiss Draco's temple, "I love you too. I want to honor you and be on your side."

He nodded, "I want that too," he confessed. "I just get afraid to let myself believe that you want to be on my side. What if I end up needing you?"

His lover chuckled softly, breath ghosting through Draco's hair, "It's a scary thought that maybe we weren't made to do life alone, isn't it?"

"I don't want to need you."

"Why?" he asked softly, hands brushing over Draco's back soothingly.

He held his breath for a long moment before saying, "if I start to need you and then you leave, what will I do?"

With a soft hum, Harry held him closer, "I hear that," he replied. "I'm scared to need you too, but it doesn't change the fact that I do. I could live without you, Draco," he said, "and you could live without me too. But I'd rather live with you," he continued. "I'd rather put in the work to live with you, to love you. My life is better with you in it."

"Mine too," he agreed.

Harry nodded, "Maybe we just take it one day at a time, maybe we just work on trusting that neither of us is going anywhere. Maybe you let me be on your side, and I let you be on mine."

"And then what?" he murmured, fear and hope warring in his heart.

"Then," Harry said, drawing him impossibly closer, "we just keep doing it for the rest of our lives, one day at a time."

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

Read more of my fics

[thepersonalwords]

A good friend is a healing friend.

A.D. Posey