#the fact that neither responsibilities nor hobbies are able to take my mind off it

[therosejamjournal]

you know when you can feel that it's an end of an era and a chapter of your life is closing and instead of being excited for new opportunities you cannot help but grieve what could have been and mourn the inherent impossibility to replicate or modify the past. and you're stuck in a weightless loop in the time-space continuum and minutes feel like molasses because the clock barely moves and everything on the surface is the same but now you see it as uncanny valley because there is no more familiarity, it's all gone. you know the vibe.

[a-blue-secret]

CHAPTER XXIV

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Chapter XXIII | Chapter XXIV | Chapter XXV

GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun

PAIRING: taegyu

WARNINGS: swearing

WORD COUNT: 4.8k+

SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for a year and a day, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?

In the days after that, Taehyun could feel that everything he did had a slightly sorrowful quality to it. He opened the curtains, smiling sadly even as the sun shone bright as anything. He secured the cufflinks in his sleeves, sighing down at them even though they were perfectly polished. He nodded his head to Jungwon as he left the room, but the action felt dejected. His days felt darker and sadder now, since he knew what was going to happen to Beomgyu.

It was strange. Taehyun didn’t think he was a mopey sort of person, and yet here he was, almost tearing up when he saw the familiar blue-and-silver Choi crest hanging from a wall. He didn’t know how to get rid of this feeling. Hell, he didn’t even exactly know what it was.

He just felt… hopeless. He knew what was going to happen to Beomgyu, now, and there was no way to stop it. And it hurt. He knew that he was doomed to watch as the person he loved turned into something unrecognisable. Taehyun felt powerless to do anything about it.

But despite how miserable he felt, he still had important things he needed to do, even if he didn’t want to do them. And so Taehyun went about his duties throughout the week, and if anyone noticed that he spoke in a decidedly mournful tone and walked around with strangely woeful steps, then they didn’t say anything about it.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

“Royal Physician Kim Seokjin is here to see you,” Jungwon said. Taehyun looked up dazedly, spinning a quill in his hand.

“Hm? Oh right, let him in,” Taehyun said. Jungwon immediately complied, and Seokjin stepped into the room, giving a bow to the vizier before sitting in the chair in front of Taehyun’s desk.

“You wanted to see me?” Seokjin said.

Taehyun blinked blankly at him, before quickly snapping back into the present, nodding his head. “Right, right. I did.” He scratched the back of his neck with his fingernails in the way he did when he was distracted or nervous, clearing his throat. “Um, could you maybe stop searching for someone willing to give the cure?”

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, confused. “Pardon?”

“Like, call off the search for the Aconitum cure. Stop it. Halt the mission. Drop the quest, whatever. Just don’t do it anymore. Can you do that?”

“I… I suppose I could,” Seokjin said, nodding his head slowly. “Alright. I can do that.”

Taehyun nodded, lips curving into an absent-minded smile. “Thank you.” He looked back down at the papers on his desk, shuffling them together, not paying attention to the fact that some of the documents were upside down. Seokjin noticed how distracted the vizier was, but decided not to comment on it.

“May I ask why?”

“Huh?”

“Why would you like me to stop searching for someone who is willing to give the Aconitum cure?” Seokjin clarified patiently, waiting as Taehyun gradually fazed back into the conversation.

“Oh. Because it’s… it’s pointless to pursue a cure anymore. That’s all.”

Seokjin frowned softly, a look of concern on his face. “It’s never too late, you know,” he said gently. “You shouldn’t lose hope.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Taehyun said, giving a sigh. “I haven’t given up hope.” He paused. Well, he actually had given up hope, but not about the Aconitum cure. “It’s just…” He sighed again. “It’s complicated.”

The Physician gave a calm smile. “Every formidable poison or spell has a cure: something to reverse its effects. It’s out there, somewhere, and you should not lose hope in finding it. Sometimes it just takes the right amount of determination to find it.”

Taehyun looked up slowly, taking in Seokjin’s words. Seokjin smiled again, his eyes kind. Taehyun stared at the Physician for a few long moments.

“Giving up is the quickest and surest route to failing,” Seokjin said. “Giving up and losing hope are the worst things to do. But if you hang in there, and believe there can be a way out, anything is possible.”

Taehyun mouthed those words quietly to himself, still staring wide-eyed at Seokjin.

Anything is possible… Taehyun smiled sadly at the Physician, looking back down at the desk. He turned some of the documents the right way up, talking in a soft tone. “Perhaps in some scenarios, but not now. There’s very little I can do.”

Seokjin gave a small smile back, standing up. He bowed his head. “Very well. If you are adamant about calling off the search for the cure, then I shall abide by your wishes. I’ll see myself out.”

Taehyun nodded. “Have a nice day,” he said monotonously, his gaze unfocused as Seokjin left the room.

The door clicked shut, and Taehyun blinked rapidly. He gave a sigh, looking down at the parchments in his hands. He was filing away the documents when he paused, thinking about what Seokjin had said.

Every formidable poison or spell has a cure. If that was true… it wouldn’t hurt to find out whether Beomgyu’s curse had a cure, would it? Taehyun thought about it for a second, before standing up. Him . He might know the cure. But where could Taehyun find him?

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Strangely, Taehyun knew exactly where Soobin would be. He was in the Palace Gardens, reading peacefully on a bench between two bushes. Seeing the Lord stirred Taehyun out of his dampened, dull state, and his eyes sparked back into life with every step he took towards Soobin. Taehyun strode up to him and stood right in front of him, arms crossed.

“Tell me the cure.”

Soobin smiled softly down at his book, before snapping it shut to grin amiably up at Taehyun. “There is none.”

Taehyun blinked, taken aback by the abrupt response. “Nonsense. Every curse or poison or spell or whatever has a drawback. A cure which reverses the effects. Tell me it.”

“There isn’t any,” Soobin replied calmly, the pleasant smile still on his lips. His dimples deepened as he smiled wider. “All happenings of this curse have ended with a success for us. As far as we know, there is no way to ‘cure’ this curse, as you say.”

“Surely there is. I don’t believe you.”

“You can not believe me all you like, but it’s true. Even if there was a way to break the curse, do you really think I would tell you?”

“Well, yeah,” Taehyun said. “So that you can dangle the cure right in front of my nose, thinking that I won’t be able to get it. But then I’ll figure out a way to get the cure anyway, and laugh in your face.” He leaned down urgently. “Is it the flowers? The ones that you make? Are they the cure?”

Soobin chuckled. “Nice idea, but no. They’re just a hobby, inspired by my spy name. They have nothing to do with the curse.”

Taehyun glared, but before he could say anything Soobin suddenly stood up, his head colliding with Taehyun’s nose. The vizier jerked back, hand over his nose, as Soobin bowed, brown eyes alight with mirth.

“I’m afraid I have somewhere to be now,” Soobin said.

Taehyun hissed. “You could at least apologise for hitting me in the nose. Jerk.”

Soobin raised an eyebrow amusedly. “You didn’t apologise for the bruise on my jaw. Do you know how much concealer I had to put on to mask it?”

Taehyun couldn’t help the grin at that, though his eyes were still watering as he held onto his nose. “Served you right.”

Soobin simply smiled. “Well, I’ll be off now.”

And he walked away, book still on the bench. A Children’s Guide to Gojongja History, With Pictures , the title read. Taehyun glared down at the book, kicking it whilst muttering curses at its owner. The book bounced off the bench, pages fluttering open to land on a drawing… of a monster. The very same monster which Soobin had said Beomgyu would turn into. The drawing only made Taehyun angrier instead of sadder, and he swore loudly, stamping on the picture before storming off.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Taehyun pushed open the ivy-covered door, before promptly walking over to sit down on the swing, swinging his feet like an angry child. His head was still swirling with furious, incoherent thoughts. But then, just as quick as his burst of energy had come, the anger drained out of him, and he leaned his head against the swing rope, sad and limp again. Taehyun rubbed his eyes, sighing. Oddly, he felt… lonely. He couldn’t bring himself to visit Beomgyu, not after he knew what was going to happen to him. He couldn’t visit the two Aruyeonans, because they were busy planning a heist or whatever. He had no one to talk to about how he felt. And while Taehyun was used to being alone, he found that he didn’t really like being lonely. But… while he may not have had a person to talk to, he realised he had something else.

He glanced around the garden, feeling much calmer in the presence of the garden. He slowed his breathing, relaxing his body, as he honed his senses into the nature around him. Gradually, he began to hear the buzz of chatter coming from all the plants, and the calm, comforting presence of the old elm tree.

“Tree?” Taehyun said unsurely. He heard the elm chuckle, and his face lit up into a smile.

‘Hello, Kang Taehyun. You made quite the entrance when you came in, I have to say.’

Taehyun gave a soft laugh. “Yeah, I was really mad about something.”

‘Would you like to talk about it?’

The elm spoke in a gentle, neutral voice, neither encouraging nor discouraging Taehyun to talk. It was nice to feel that someone was willing to hear him out, but also willing to just be there. So naturally, Taehyun told the tree everything.

‘Oh dear,’ the elm said, after Taehyun had finished talking. ‘I never would have thought that would happen.’

“You and me both,” Taehyun sighed, swinging his feet. “And I almost lost hope, you know. But I realised that it was foolish to lose hope, because that’s like giving up. And if I give up I’m admitting defeat to Soobin.” He clenched the ropes of the swing tight. “And there’s no way I’m admitting defeat to Soobin.”

He heard the elm give a proud laugh. ‘That’s my boy. Never admit defeat unless all hope is lost.’ The tree paused. ‘Though it does sound to me like your hope is very little.’

“I know,” the vizier said. “I’m sure there has to be some way to break the curse, but Soobin won’t tell me it.”

‘He could be telling the truth, however. There have only been five cases of such a beast, correct? And all five times, the beast was killed by the people of the Kingdom. So he won’t know the cure.’

Taehyun bit his lip. “That’s true,” he admitted. “That’s true.” He scratched the back of his neck distractedly. “Then that means the only way to not kill Beomgyu is to keep him alive as a monster. An insane monster.”

A heavy silence hung over the garden, with even the wind dying down to a hush at Taehyun’s words.

But eventually, the elm spoke again, in its gentle voice. ‘Let’s not think of such depressing things. Perhaps you will be able to communicate with him. In his monster form, would he be able to understand the predicament he’s in? Perhaps he would be able to tell you.’

Taehyun frowned, confused, before widening his eyes as he realised what the elm was saying. “I can communicate with other things as well?”

‘Well, yes. You can communicate with anything.’

“As in, everything everything?” Taehyun asked. “Like… I could communicate with the swing here?”

‘I suppose in theory, you could. I’m not sure what the swing would have to say, though.’

“But why did I talk to nature first then?” Taehyun asked. “I’m sure I’ve asked this question already, but why?”

‘Because of your closer connection with nature,’ the elm replied. ‘You are more in tune with the natural world, since you have the ability to manipulate it. The stronger your connection is with something, the more likely you are to be able to communicate with it.’

“Does that mean… does that mean I’ll be able to communicate with Beomgyu easily?” Taehyun said. “Because I have a strong relationship with him.”

‘Well, most likely. I have heard very little about the people of the Jeo clan, but I suppose that would count as a connection.’

Taehyun nodded. “Okay.” He swung his feet again, hands clutching the swing ropes. It was quiet but also busy in the garden, with the flowers chattering softly and the butterflies giggling with the wind. Taehyun felt himself relax, a soft smile on his face. He opened his hand, palm facing the sky, and a pink-tipped lotus flower unfurled its petals in his hand.

‘Lotus flowers, I see. You must be feeling at peace.’

Taehyun smiled at the flower, placing it on the ground where it shrivelled away. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

‘Have you visited Beomgyu at all, after you found out what was going to happen to him?’

“I…” Taehyun hesitated, and shook his head. “No. I can’t. It hurts too much.”

The elm was quiet. ‘I imagine it’s hurting him just as much, too. It has been three days, Taehyun. He must be feeling quite lonely.’

Taehyun bit his lip, then gave a sigh. He scratched the back of his neck absent-mindedly. He hadn’t thought about that. He didn’t want Beomgyu to feel lonely or hurt. “Oh… you’re right. If I were in his place, I’d feel lonely too. I’ll go see Beomgyu, then. I don’t want him to feel sad. Thank you for letting me talk to you, tree.”

Taehyun gave a small smile, waving at the tree before leaving the garden. The elm sighed fondly as the ivy door shut, Taehyun’s footsteps retreating from the secret garden.

‘No matter how old you get, you’re still my little Tyun. You’re welcome to talk to me at any time.’

.・゜-: ✧

“Beomie?” Taehyun said softly, peering into the room. “Hello, love.”

Beomgyu turned his head, giving Taehyun a sad smile. He pointed to his mouth, and then shook his head.

“Can you not speak?” Taehyun asked concernedly.

Beomgyu opened his mouth and, with some difficulty, forced out a few words. “Not very well.”

Taehyun nodded in understanding, coming to sit down on the chair by Beomgyu’s bed. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you these past few days. I had some things I needed to take care of in the court. Sorry it took me so long to come, love.”

Beomgyu just beamed at him, as if to say, ‘As long as you’re here now, that’s all that matters’ . Taehyun smiled back. Beomgyu’s grin both warmed him and hurt him at the same time. How many days did they have left, until Beomgyu turned? Would he ever get to see Beomgyu smile again? He may not even smile at Taehyun anymore. He might not even recognise Taehyun anymore. Taehyun’s smile wavered, but he kept it firmly in place, refusing to let it slip.

“Have you been okay, Beomgyu? Do you need anything?”

In answer, Beomgyu started wriggling around, trying to throw off the sheets.

Taehyun pushed the covers back down. “No, no, love, stay still. You’re too weak to move. You shouldn’t try to overexert yourself.”

Beomgyu pouted sadly, but sank back into the cushions.

“How has your day been, love?” Taehyun asked softly, holding onto one of Beomgyu’s hands. Beomgyu lifted his other hand, and made a thumbs-down sign.

“Bad,” he croaked.

Taehyun couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he looked. “Can I ask why?”

Beomgyu licked his lips, and opened his mouth several times to try and form words. “Because you weren’t here.”

Taehyun’s heart melted sadly at that. Being around this sick Beomgyu made him wonder whether the rabid Beomgyu would have been a better alternative. This tired, weak Beomgyu made him sad, because Beomgyu was rarely ever tired and weak.

He kissed the back of Beomgyu’s hand. “I’m sorry, love,” he said. “I wish I could be with you all the time, but this Kingdom isn’t going to run itself.”

Beomgyu sighed, and Taehyun sighed too. But then he plastered a smile on his face, trying to lighten the mood.

“Well, it seems that, since you can’t talk that well, I’m going to have to be the talkative one for now. Would you like to hear about how my day went?”

Beomgyu gave a small smile, appreciating Taehyun’s efforts to make everything seem brighter, and nodded. Taehyun immediately began to talk about what he’d been up to that day, detailing how easy it had been to talk to the new council, describing the absolute mess that was their ballroom while the cracked marble floor was being torn up and replaced with the new stone slabs, and recounting the strange story he’d heard from one of the palace servants.

By the end of it, his throat hurt from how long he’d been talking for, but Beomgyu’s happy smile made up for all of his pain.

Taehyun rubbed his thumb over the back of Beomgyu’s hand. “So that’s how my day went,” he said. “Pretty eventful, am I right?”

Beomgyu began to nod his head, before he suddenly wrenched his hand out of Taehyun’s covering his mouth as he coughed. Taehyun instantly handed him one of his cream handkerchiefs. Beomgyu coughed painfully for several more seconds, body heaving with the force of the action, before he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, folding it up quickly. But Taehyun still managed to glimpse the dark stain of blood against the pale cloth, and he winced at the sight.

“Beomgyu… have your coughs gotten worse?” Taehyun asked softly, taking the handkerchief from Beomgyu and throwing it in the bin. Beomgyu nodded, looking even weaker after his coughing fit. Taehyun sat down, tracing his finger over Beomgyu’s palm. “Oh, love…” he sighed.

But then Beomgyu tried to wriggle out of the covers again and Taehyun immediately stood up.

“No, lie down,” Taehyun said, pushing Beomgyu back down onto the bed. “Why do you keep trying to get up, anyway? You know you’re unwell. No– lie down. Down.” He patted the covers firmly, tucking Beomgyu resolutely into place.

Beomgyu sighed, resting his head back onto the pillows. He swallowed several times, before letting out a hoarse croak. “I just feel like I need to move,” he managed to say. Taehyun frowned at that, sitting back down again beside Beomgyu.

“If you can barely talk, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to move. Besides, you look awful. No offence, but you do. I don’t think that I’ll feel good about letting you get up.”

Truth be told, Beomgyu really did look terrible. In those past few days, he’d lost a scary amount of weight, since he hadn’t had any strength to eat. The dark purple around his eyes and lips had gotten even darker, and he could barely say a word without his voice scratching like sandpaper.

Beomgyu didn’t say anything, turning his head to look at Taehyun with sad eyes. It made Taehyun feel incredibly sad to see those eyes: while they weren’t cold, nor emotionless, they were tired, and in pain, and it hurt to see so much pain in the eyes of someone he loved.

“I wish I could kiss you better,” Taehyun murmured, bringing Beomgyu’s cold hand to his cheek. “But I don’t want you to lose your breath and suffocate.”

Beomgyu gave a weak laugh, croaking out a few words. “That won’t happen.”

The both of them knew that it was highly likely, though. With how weak Beomgyu’s respiratory system was, it wasn’t completely unheard of for him to suddenly start choking on air; they’d had to call the doctor on more than one occasion because of this.

Beomgyu continued to look at him sadly, but Taehyun managed to muster a small smile, placing a soft kiss to the corner of Beomgyu’s lips.

“You should probably rest. Look, the sun’s going down already. I’ll come back tomorrow, okay?”

Beomgyu nodded, sheets rustling as he did so. Taehyun rose from the chair, and Beomgyu’s eyes followed the action. He clung onto Taehyun’s hand, not wanting to let go just yet.

“I love you?”

The words were scratchy, but the emotions were gentle and soft. Taehyun smiled again: a genuine smile this time, replying to the question with his confirmation.

“I love you.”

Beomgyu tugged on his wrist weakly, and Taehyun leaned down obediently. Beomgyu strained forward, bringing his lips close to Taehyun’s ear.

In a soft, low voice, he whispered, “Thank you for loving me."

The words tickled his ear, sending a small thrill through Taehyun’s body: but not a good one. He sucked in a breath sharply, but managed to give a smile. Beomgyu smiled back, dropping his hand.

Taehyun left the room quickly and quietly, glancing back one last time at the King, who was already dozing off. Taehyun couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, closing the door softly.

Out in the hallway, he nodded his head towards Jisung, before walking away, the smile fading from his lips. On the way back to his chambers, he stumbled on unsteady legs. He leaned against the wall, breathing shakily.

Those words had sounded like a goodbye.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

The next morning, Beomgyu awoke with the sun. As the sunlight began to filter through his open curtains, he stirred from his sleep. It took several more minutes for him to be able to force his eyes open, however, because of how weak his body felt. He hacked out a harsh cough, eyes watering a little. He gave a sigh, sinking down into his cushions.

Beomgyu looked around the room, squinting slightly at the sunlight. That day, he felt even more restless than usual. While the urge to get up was normally just a small, annoying feeling at the back of his mind, today it was impossible to ignore. With some difficulty, he managed to sit up in the bed. He peered over the edge of the bed, analysing how tricky it could be to get to the floor. Beomgyu gave a sigh. It was going to be incredibly hard.

As he tried to grab the sheets, his fingers would just weakly pat the cloth, unable to have any sort of grip. He gritted his teeth in annoyance, concentrating until he managed to pull off the covers. Once the covers were pulled off, his legs exposed to the air, he paused. Why was he doing this? If Taehyun found out, he’d probably be mad. No– he’d be sad, Beomgyu corrected himself. He’d seen Taehyun’s eyes become sadder and sadder the longer Beomgyu’s illness had gone on for. If Taehyun were to find out that he’d tried to leave his room, he’d be really, really sad.

And a sad Taehyun was, in Beomgyu’s opinion, worse than a mad Taehyun.

That thought was almost enough to get Beomgyu to stop. But the relentless urge to get out of the palace surged back in full force, and Beomgyu coughed again, doubling over from the strength of his cough. Once it died down, he wiped his eyes, and, in the slowest, most painstaking way ever, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Maybe if he managed to walk, it would be a sign that he was getting better. Then Taehyun wouldn’t have to be sad, right?

Beomgyu smiled at that thought, and stood up onto his feet. Immediately, his knees buckled, and he crumpled to the floor. He sighed, cursing silently, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. It looked like it would take him a long time to be able to stand up.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

“Yo Hueningkai, get your ass out of that metal room and come help me! Where does this ball go? Oh wait, that room is soundproof. He can’t hear me.” Yeonjun was muttering annoyedly to himself as he threw Hueningkai’s marbles haphazardly into the giant glass ball. Just then, the tapestry twitched, and Hueningkai emerged.

“Oh hey, you finally came out,” Yeonjun said, barely looking up from what he was doing. He paused, before cracking a small smile. “Well, you came out years ago, but anyway.”

Hueningkai raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That’s like, your worst joke so far. And that’s saying something.”

“Come on, it was a great joke.” Yeonjun continued to pick up random possessions of theirs, throwing it into the seemingly bottomless glass ball.

“We’re not staying in Aruyeo forever, you know,” Hueningkai said, watching as Yeonjun dumped all of Hueningkai’s things into the giant ball. Yeonjun looked up.

“We’re not?”

“We have to come back here to deal with Wolfsbane,” Hueningkai said. “Also we need to help Taehyun.”

Yeonjun nodded. “Oh yeah, you’re right. Okay, then this should be enough.” He let Hueningkai put more things inside the ball, before lifting it up, holding it on his shoulder like a boulder. “You remember the plan, right?” he checked.

Hueningkai gave a laugh, rolling his eyes. “It isn’t much of a plan, but yeah.”

Yeonjun gave a lopsided grin. “It’s enough of a plan for us. Worst case scenario, we just storm in there and kill everyone in sight.”

“Yeah, let’s not do that,” Hueningkai said, smiling. He sat down on the bed, tracing the silk patterns. Yeonjun noticed his pensive expression and put down the ball, coming to sit down beside Hueningkai.

“Hey, Hyuka? What are you thinking about? You’re not thinking about the Kamal thing again, are you?”

Hueningkai bit his lip, not looking up at Yeonjun. “I just… it’s been ages since I’ve seen them. Maybe I should contact them.”

Yeonjun twisted his lips thoughtfully. “What, your sisters, Bahiyyih and Lea?”

“Yeah. I mean, I haven’t seen them in years, not since I escaped without them.” Hueningkai’s bottom lip quivered. “They were meant to run away to Aruyeo with me. They must hate me now.”

Yeonjun sighed, reaching forwards to get the younger to look at him. Hueningkai reluctantly looked up, eyes brimming with tears. “Hueningkai, listen. Your sisters love you very, very much. I don’t think they’d hate you. They just want you to live a good life.”

“But they were meant to come with me. I left without them.”

“That wasn’t your fault, though,” Yeonjun said firmly, holding onto Hueningkai’s shoulders. “Look. They encouraged you to go. That’s what you told me, right? We’ve been over this. You don’t need to feel guilty. They won’t hate you. Come on, Hyuka. Breathe with me. In, out. And again. In, out. There we go.”

Hueningkai breathed shakily, rubbing his eyes.

“Is that better now?” Yeonjun asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine now.”

Yeonjun nodded, satisfied, picking up the giant ball again. “Is that why you were so eager to get rid of your surname? Because of them?”

Hueningkai nodded his head. “Yeah.”

“You know there’s no way they could hate you, right?” Yeonjun said. He grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re too damn cute.” He reached over and ruffled Hueningkai’s hair, the younger spy ducking away, a smile on his face. “Anyway, come on. Let’s go tell Taehyun we’re leaving.”

Yeonjun stood up. “I’m just hoping there is some time left before Beomgyu turns. Then we can get this done quickly, then come back to help Taehyun.” He picked up one of the empty marble balls laying on the desk, about the size of a football. He held it in his hands, subconsciously tapping his fingers against the glass.

“Yep,” Hueningkai said, also standing up.

Yeonjun absent-mindedly stared out of the window as Hueningkai put on his boots, not not paying attention to what was going on outside. But then he noticed it: the dark figure running through the fields. A large, dark figure. A figure which looked distinctly like…

The empty glass ball fell from Yeonjun’s grip, shattering on the floor. Hueningkai screamed, but Yeonjun didn’t even look at the mess of glass, still staring out of the window in shock.

“Fuck…” he said, voice barely a whisper. His eyes were still fixed on the window as he began to slowly edge his way towards the door, before picking up speed, wrenching open the door. Get to Taehyun… He needed to get to Taehyun…

“Wait, Yeonjun, where are you going?” Hueningkai called, trying to pick his way through the broken glass. But Yeonjun had already left, sprinting through the hallways to find Taehyun as soon as possible, their bedroom door still swinging on its hinges.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　

Taehyun looked up, curious at the frantic banging on his office door. The banging became more fervent, and he stood up.

“Alright, alright, calm down. I’m coming.”

He opened it to see a stressed Yeonjun on the other side, his eyes wide with panic and fear. He was breathing heavily, like he’d run down the whole two flights of stairs to Taehyun’s office. He was wearing his heavy overcoat, but his feet were bare. It was obvious he’d come in a hurry.

“Taehyun…” Yeonjun panted, out of breath. “Beomgyu…”

From just the name, Taehyun turned sick with dread. He knew what Yeonjun was about to say.

“I saw him. Taehyun, Beomgyu’s turned.”

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[adposto2]

WHERE is Gulberg Greens Islamabad.

Whom to trust whom not to?. Especially when it comes to investments, I think making decisions in this regard are harder than that lifetime effort made to earn that heavy amount. For instance me, who had been saving up for a decade now but took me more than three years to gain confidence enough to buy land. The money lying in the bank was only losing its worth . So, I knew I had to make a decision soon for my future security.  Now the question rises whom to trust, rather how to? . Commercial Projects  in Gulberg Islamabad

As we all know how fraud is common in this market. I can’t forget the first time I visited a real estate agent, the land that cost 15lac he was selling for 20 lac. And when I made a decision to buy it, it turned out to be a non-progressing land and probably have no worth howsoever. Now I knew this time is the right time to invest especially in the vicinity of Islamabad, my tension turned into frustration as I had never felt so helpless before. I was desperate for help YES… but was there anyone to guide me… unfortunately NO! One day while I was surfing Facebook, I came across Gulberg Islamabad’s post. The image was visually pleasing . Later ,when I dig down more to the content of their posts and website, the features seemed interesting too. Flat for sale in Gulberg islamabad

On top of all that, the name of Gulberg was quite promising itself. It suddenly clicked me to visit that place and visit their sales office rather than random property dealers. I entered Gulberg Greens and I was stunned by its beauty and grand look. I was overwhelmed by the hospitality of the Sales team that involved educated men and women as well. A lady helped me out with all the queries and procedure. For the first time I felt relieved to be in the right place and right away… yes right away I signed a cheque and booked an apartment in Gulberg Heights. The Roman architecture and amazing features and facilities that this place is offering was worth relying. So now I own my property and I surely believe that where there is a will there is a way! Commercial Plots in Gulberg Islamabad

My New Year Resolution

New Year Resolution: Enough of struggles… now it’s time to do more with my life! This is what I said to myself in the beginning of 2019 and changed my perspective about life. Life as we all know tests us in every way but it’s us who decide whether to become a victim of it or have control over it by learning from our mistakes and experiences… We can surely make it better by becoming stronger, by expecting less and giving more, by focusing on our dear ones rather than those who hurt us and most of us by analyzing what we want from life and how to get it! Of course it isn’t as easy as it sounds and not a work of day or two.

With time I realized that though we are always trying to comprehend everything around us, the most difficult thing to understand is what lies within us. Literally sometimes it takes years to figure out something as little as what is best for us and what isn’t. If I sound silly just try convincing yourself to do something against your will… My time for the last 4 years didn’t seem to be in my favor . But I simply accepted my fate till I couldn’t bear more, as not just my personal and professional life but also the lives attached to me were getting unbearably affected. I for once realized the cost of shattering my confidence and blaming myself.

No one was going to offer me solutions… I had to be my own master. I started off by taking care of myself, making my faith in Allah stronger . Also in any type of  circumstance I didn’t let anything get me down. All this seemed impossible initially, but today I am where I am because of this. My relationships got better and I showed good progress at work. Along with work I started a new online business of mobile accessories in collaboration with my cosine. In just one year I have earned enough to make an investment. For 2020 I can proudly say that this year I will start a new better life at my favorite place in Islamabad, The Gulberg Islamabad.

I have already booked a plots in Gulberg Residencia and now I can’t wait to see my home being built where I will have everything I wish for, a place rather than a house will be my home. I will finally be able to make my family happy with this beautiful gift. As no doubt there is no place like Gulberg Islamabad.

Everyone wants to eat fresh fruits and vegetables. Don’t you???

In the serene and green Gulberg Residencia, is my beautiful home which means the world to me. And in that 7 marla home is my small lawn which is undoubtedly my favorite spot, my peace place. I can spend hours in my garden without getting bored since it makes me come alive from inside and I just love that feeling.

My mother, my favorite person is another person who loves this spot equally. Gardening is her hobby and more than me she the one who takes good care of this garden. My garden may be tiny, but its is filled with numerous colors of nature. Here you will see a huge and unique variety of flowers, fruits and vegetables. Roses are my all time fave. In addition to which we keep growing seasonal flowers and vegetables in the garden . Plots in Gulberg Green Islamabad.

The feeling is indescribable when you see the buds blooming, vegetable growing and new leaves sprouting… its like a new beginning of joy, hope and success. Plants are not just growing stem, they have a life. I often talk to them, while I water them, i pour my love and and when i hoe the soil, i know this care I put in them will in return bring more freshness to my life. Usually my day starts in my garden. It is a positive way to begin a day with the peace of mind. I practice deep breathing for around 20 minutes and then look at all the plants that I have.

I love spending the evening hours in my garden if I have time. Best are the days when my friends come over for evening tea. We chat and enjoy the beauty that surrounds us. My pretty little garden is surely an integral part of my life. This place vanishes all the negativeness and makes me happy in seconds.

THE BIG REAL ESTATE QUESTION

Isn’t it hell of a confusion to decide which society is the best! These days too many new residence societies are emerging and everyone claims to be the best.

Other than few famous names such as Bahria Town and GULBERG, we can’t really rely on anyone… can we? So many fraud examples are there to scare us from making an investment. Also when it comes to business, we are either putting all our money in the drain or luck has knocked our door.

I wonder how many people get looted just because they trust the decent looking humans who convince them with their words. With the out of the world promises imagine how lifetime savings are blown away with just a signature. Though we can’t blindly trust any agent few things must be considered before making any decision.

They have been working in Real Estate for a quite a long time.

Check out the successful transactions and the feedbacks of their previous clients.

Their contact details, be it online or offline should always be available and so should be the responsive rate.

They should definitely be affiliated with a registered office or should be registered by themselves.

They should have in-depth information of the real estate industry.

Must supply your real estate needs as their utmost priority.

They should guide properly for your transaction

My Encounter with a Real Estate Agent

Today, thanks to the education and awareness, women believe there is nothing on earth they can’t do, well… try dealing with an ignorant person without him staring at you top to bottom, as if you are sitting naked just for his entertainment.

Seems relatable doesn’t it? That’s not it, my encounter with the goof I’m referring to kept getting more and more interesting. He was none other but a real estate agent. My colleague told me about good investment opportunities at societies near new airport so I took some time off to visit a real estate office for a better understanding.

I entered a small office with few people all in white kameez shalwar, which till this day I don’t get why they only where white… is it their dress code? Or do they try to portray decency through their look. Well if so it didn’t really work on me. Instead of gaining interest all I wanted was to get away from the creepy looks.  I asked him straight about the rates and the best offers they had within the budget I had. And after this long question he asked … “Madam Ji, what would you like to have chai or thunda (cold drink)” ? Confused I simply said, “NO, I don’t have time, please come straight to the point”… “Madam, how can we let our guest go unserved? Please feel comfortable.

So I ended up with a glass of juice which turned out to be much needed to clear my throat. Every time I asked a questioned, his eyes became wider and he bent towards me more… I thought he was going to sit on the table on some point. Well long story short, I changed my mind, received a fake call and escaped. It was till few months back when I went to the sales office of Gulberg Islamabad where I realized that decent dealing is possible in this profession.

I went with my colleague expecting disaster but she came out satisfied with all her quires answered. Now I too have made up my mind to invest only in Gulberg Green Islamabad because it’s not just serene and green, it has the best offers according to your requirements.

Life at Gulberg Residencia

Indeed, it was one of the best decisions of my life… we can’t regret the fact that our environment has a great influence on us. In other words, if we can’t adjust in our surrounding, nothing else can make us happy, neither money nor luxury. On the other hand, peace of mind in this fast moving era is not that easy to find. Cities are getting more and more crowded and so when I was capable of making an investment, all I could think was… PEACE! My residence  was living in central area of Rawalpindi.

The daily traffic block added extra half an hour to my office distance which was only 10 km away. And not just travelling, I was sick of the noises, pollution and altogether, I was unhappy with my lifestyle… even going for outing was not a fun thing for me. I know many people are happy the way they are but not me and I couldn’t help it. I had imagined a better life for my wife and my two kids who meant the world to me.

One day I crossed a newly emerging society, the Gulberg Islamabad and I felt the urge to visit it. Though the elegant entrance with wide roads and amazing farmhouses, I thought this place is only for the elite class.  Out of curiosity I asked a shopkeeper who showed me the way to the Gulberg Customer Dealing office. Again I was impressed but hopeless for I knew my savings were not enough.

Gathering up my confidence, I told the Sales Executive guy Mr. Mohsin about my total saving. Of course his response surprised me with a proposal not just for a living opportunity, but it offered an exceptional lifestyle, beyond my expectations at Gulberg Green Residencia. Though I could only afford a 5 marla plot, it was more than enough for me and my family. I thought it was the best gift I could give to my family and so it was.

When I brought my wife my kids and my parents to show them my plot, my wife was in tears of happiness and my mother couldn’t be more proud of me. I can’t wait for the time when I will move in to spend my dream life with my family. At Gulberg Islamabad, live your DREAM with SERENE AND GREEN LIFESTYLE!

[thevengeanceuniverse]

Touch in the dark Ch 1.1 (Tony)

This is based off of a Stony mob story ‘The Way You Look’ which is fantastic and got me obsessed. Let me know what you think!

Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Summary: Steve Rogers and James Romanov are two of the six mob lords of New York City. Eight months ago, they saved Tony Stark from being beaten to death and put a gun in his hand to kill his father. He's been living in bliss ever since. Mostly.

Except for the fact that he's gay in a time that it's a death sentence, the man he loves was almost killed for loving him and the man he needs help from hates him because they love the same person.

Oh, and Fury swirls in with his cape to tell him drugs are flooding the city.

Also found https://archiveofourown.org/works/23556382

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“To what do I owe the pleasure, mal’chik?”

James Romanov lounged easily in his leather chair, framed by stormy grey drapes that bordered the wide expanse of wintery New York sky visible through the window behind him. Planted behind his heavy mahogany desk and dressed elegantly in a bespoke suit in navy blue, he looked more like some English lord rather than the leader of the ruling mob of Brooklyn. But even if you were ignorant of the violent acts committed by the Russian Bratva, or brotherhood, the coldness in James Romanov’s blue-grey eyes was an obvious enough warning to those smart enough to see it. It also gave him the name that most people knew him by. Winter.

Antonio Edward Stark stood across from him, pushing down his unease as he met the mobster’s eyes squarely. “I was hoping to take you up on your offer, if it’s still available.” Tony made conscious effort to speak smoothly but respectfully, tamping down any hint of nerves in his voice or stature. He knew James wouldn’t hurt him (okay, more like 90% sure but that’s still good odds) out of respect for Steve, but his gut still churned with anxiety.

James merely waited, mild expression firmly in place. Tony knew that though he was his best friend’s lover, James still didn’t trust him. He didn’t begrudge the other man, it was only a few months that he’d come into their lives and being the leaders of two of the biggest mobs in the city didn’t exactly lend trust easily.

His voice sounding loud in the heavy silence, Tony elaborated. “I was rude to you in the hospital, the night that Steve…was emotional.” A more diplomatic way of alluding to the fact that Steve had gotten high off the morphine used to treat the pains from his wounds and broken down. He had been grieving, mourning the fact that Falsworth--one of his oldest friends from the army and a man who had saved his life just as much as he saved his--had turned against him because he learned that Steve loved men as well as women and tried to kill him for it. Steve hadn’t taken it well, said things in anger and ripped his stitches trying to leave his hospital bed.

Tony had told James that he would handle it, basically dismissed him from the room like a lackey. And Tony had stood by his word, ignoring the fact that he had in no way endeared himself to James Romanov, Steve’s oldest friend and past lover. But at the time, that hadn’t mattered--only Steve had mattered in that moment. But moments pass and times change and now he needed to undo the damage he had done.

“I’m sorry about the way I acted, especially after everything you’ve done,” Tony continued. “You’re the one who saved Steve’s life and was responsible for all of his care and I am eternally grateful for that--”

“I didn’t do any of that for you,” James interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “And I don’t need you to remind me of my own actions. Stop wasting my time, why are you here?”

Tony hesitated. Things had changed between them all since Tony had started living with Steve. James hadn’t attended a family dinner since he had come back from Russia, and things between him and Steve were still tense. But James was the only one he could ask.

“Before I killed Howard,” he said softly, “you asked if I wanted to learn how to use a knife. If the offer’s still on the table, I’d like you to teach me.”

James tilted his head, looking at Tony more intently.

“What changed your mind? The last we spoke of it, you decided you didn’t like close quarter attacks.”

Tony nodded. “I still don’t. But you were right, if I truly want to support Steve I need to be involved, I need to know his life to know him. And his life--your lives--are violent ones. I need to be able to protect myself and not be a liability to him.”

“What a noble goal,” James murmured mockingly before his voice hardened. “But you need intention if I’m going to put a weapon in your hand and spend time training you. My time is too valuable for someone with half-baked conviction who’s going to just quit once things get too scary. This isn’t some quaint little hobby you can pick up and drop when it gets too hard. Nor is it like using a gun. Knives are bloodier and much more intimate; will you be able to handle that? The smell of the blood, the hot spill of it over your hands?”

Tony grew pale at the images James put in his head, flashing back to the times Howard’s hands had been stained with his own blood. Of the nights after killing him that stretched out into eternity, unable to sleep, unable to eat, unsure for who he was even grieving for. Howard, for taking his life? Peter, for stealing away the only father his brother had known? Himself?

But then he thought of Steve. Steve, who had to leave his hospital bed with a barely healed bullet wound in his chest, to weed out the bad seeds in his organization. Steve, who went into surgery for multiple stab wounds on top of his reopened gunshot wound, while Tony could only wait in the hospital corridor not knowing whether the man he loved was going to survive the night. Steve, who had to be on enforced bedrest for six weeks before he could come home, becoming angrier day by day as he worked through grief and anger and betrayal.

Tony had been helpless through it all, unable to anything but hold his lover in the aftermath and comfort him best he could.

Holding tight to thoughts of Steve, Tony felt his resolve harden. “I’m not going to stop until I’m good enough to kill you.”

A deadly silence fell over the room, time enough for Tony to fully absorb his own impetuous words and have a moment to regret his life choices. After years of Howard’s abuse, he didn’t usually feel comfortable to mouth off the way he just did but he got fired up when he thought about protecting Steve for once. Yep, that’s it. If he dies, he’s blaming Steve.

Stumbling out an apology, an explanation--kill someone as skilled as him that’s what he was trying to say--

He is shocked speechless when James bursts out laughing as if the threat was the funniest thing he’d ever heard instead of lunging over the desk and eviscerating him like the image his mind oh so helpfully provides. Thankfully, when James finally speaks the only thing bleeding is his sarcasm.

“I’m sure.”

Tony could only guess that not many dared to threaten the mob boss and the rarity of someone doing so made the situation hilarious. The fact that it was Tony, wiry and slim and with no deadly training whatsoever made for great comedy in the face of the infamy of the Bratva leader. James had been their boss for many years after seizing power and had extensive experience in brutally reinforcing his claim. Tony doubted he feared anything.

Therefore, Tony didn’t bother being insulted at how blithely unconcerned James was, just blessed his good luck. “Will you teach me?”

James raised one shoulder in an elegantly careless movement. “I’ll talk to Steve about it. You’re under his protection and while we have a long-lasting alliance, I don’t want him coming at me when you come home marked up with cuts and bruises. Besides,” he indicated Tony’s form, “he might get jealous that he’s won’t be the only one getting his hands on you anymore.”

Tony felt his face fill with heat, but he knew that James meant nothing by the comment. In fact, after walking in on James and Steve’s shared kiss months before, he was sure that rather than his body, the one who James would rather be holding was Steve. It was part of why things were still so awkward between them, and why Tony didn’t mind if James disliked him. He knew that if he was in love with Steve and Steve had chosen another, it would be difficult for him to try and like that other person. That was why he had no intention of hiding all this from Steve. These two didn’t need any more secrets between them, and neither did he and Steve.

Hopefully, it would only give James and Steve another thing to talk about. Though Tony did suspect that Steve might object to him coming home battered and bruised with the way his protective instincts flared up for any of his own. But if they were going to make this work, sooner or later they would get to this point and Tony saw no point in wasting time. Steve’s near death experience was a wake-up call, hammering in the unpredictability of their lives and the fact that their safety was hard fought commodity. Tony wasn’t going to take it for granted and he wanted to be able to protect those he loved when the next threat came. A mobster’s life was unlikely to ever be a truly safe one.

“Is there anything I can do in return?” Tony offered. He wasn’t sure what he could offer, before coming to live with Steve he only had $26 to his name. Now everything he had was either a gift from Steve or Aunt Sarah or something crafted by hand from Peter, so it was too precious to trade. But it felt wrong to take something for nothing.

Surprisingly, James’s face closed off, all signs of his laughter wiped away and eyes as chilling as they had been when Tony walked in. Tony was reminded all at once that while the man in front of him had saved his life and ensured his care, he was not his friend.

“You have nothing I want.”

Tony took it for the dismissal it was and left.

[journalxxx]

And They Rested on the Seventh Day

[I read the Good Omens book and watched the Amazon series, and enjoyed both a great deal: however, this story doesn't strictly follow the canon or characterizations of either. It's a bit of a mix of the things I liked the most from both versions (for clarity, this considers basically the plot and ending from the book + few selected elements from the tv series. Also Tennant. Definitely Tennant), topped with purely made-up bits of headcanon and character interpretation. The final result is that it’ll probably feel full of inconsistencies and OOC moments, but oh well. I had to take a few ideas off my head.]

To think that it had all started as a hobby of sorts. A wild bet on and against himself, just for the fun of it. 

Crowley hadn't thought much of the job he'd done in the Garden of Eden, at first. To be fair, he was still convinced that most of the responsibility for that big mishap fell on God Herself and Her inexplicable - pardon, ineffable - decision to dangle juicy bits of edible forbidden knowledge right in front of people who had literally been born yesterday. Honestly, what else could have happened? Crowley was sure one of the two humans would have given in to curiosity anyway, sooner or later: his intervention had simply sped up the process.

But Crowley’s superiors had been positively enthusiastic about it. God’s new and supposedly best creations, twisted and corrupted and exiled in less than a week since the beginning of the world? An astonishing success for the dark forces, they had said, very well done Crawly, you shall hereby be hailed as The Tempter (a title that would be handed out very freely in the centuries to come, in fact, since he had basically invented a whole new and very busy line of work for the entire Underworld). They had been so keen on putting his supposed talents of persuasion to good use that they had assigned him on permanent Earth surveillance duty, keeping an eye on things and easing the slippery slope of other innocent souls to the abyss. A simple enough job, he thought, and he wasn’t at all displeased with the idea of spending most of his time away from Hell. The place was, well, hellish.

He had been quite surprised to meet the Guardian of the Eastern Gate there as well, apparently tending to the exact opposite task as Crowley’s. What were the odds, uh? But in Aziraphale’s case, Crowley couldn’t help but feel that the new office was meant more as a demotion rather than as a reward. The angel didn’t seem exactly… suited to field work, so to speak. He was definitely the kind of guy who’d deal better with paperwork or with performing celestial harmonies or with whatever those guys up there got up to, these days - rather than with acting as an incognito emissary of the Light. He was simply too soft-hearted. It clearly pained him to witness the daily struggles of mankind without being able to relieve them, if not in a very roundabout and indirect way. He would have gladly handed out miracles and blessings as promptly as he had relinquished his flaming sword, Crowley thought, if he hadn’t directly been ordered to stick to spreading ‘positive influence’. 

He was a queer one, Aziraphale, but overall rather amusing to have around. And after the first mostly accidental meetings, Crowley had started to notice several very, very interesting things about him. 

First of all, the angel was a sinner. And a rather nonchalant one too.

The first sin Crowley noticed was pride. Now, pride was objectively quite intrinsic to all angelic beings, to some extent, with their perpetual holier-than-thou attitude and their unbending illusion of absolute righteousness. Aziraphale wasn’t an exception. He could have very well avoided Crowley, if he really thought so lowly of him and his shady dealings, but he didn’t. He met him, he primly and oh so very graciously tolerated his company, he pointedly corrected his faulty views on creation and the universe with the self-satisfied attitude of a conceited schoolmaster. It made Crowley’s skin, well, crawl. And he had this ridiculous habit of pointing out, at randomly fitting points during any discussion, that he, Aziraphale, was an angel and he, Crowley, was a demon, and therefore blah blah. He did that really often, inexplicably so. It wasn’t like either of them was going to forget what they were, after all. And it wasn’t like he needed to repeat that at frequent intervals to make sure that some undefined and distracted external audience was aware of their standing in the universe either. It was just plainly dumb and irritating. Crowley had taken to address him as ‘angel’ more often than with his proper name, out of sheer sarcasm. Sadly Aziraphale hadn’t taken particular notice.

Another very glaring sin Aziraphale keenly committed was gluttony. Oh, what a glutton he was. The first time Crowley had met him ‘socially’, he had been astounded to notice that Aziraphale actually ate. If his body was anything like Crowley’s, and Crowley was sure it was, it was conveniently free from most of the intentional design flaws God had installed on humans after Adam and Eve’s escape, such as illness, hunger and tiredness. Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley needed any sustenance or sleep (although Crowley had quickly taken a liking to the latter activity - but he was a demon, Aziraphale would have pointed out with his most slappable face, so he was allowed as many indulgences as he wanted). Even the most gluttonous human had some sort of excuse, what with needing to eat to survive and, while one was at it, he may as well do it decently, to build the temple of his body in the best possible way and so on and so forth. It was a very flimsy and poor excuse, considering the sort of folks who usually resorted to it, but humans clung to such moralistic drivel like limpets. Aziraphale didn’t even have that tiny pretext on his side. He ate (and drank) without any need to, and he did it often and with much gusto, out of sheer pleasure. If that wasn’t the epitome of gluttony, Crowley was an anteater.

And, after a few centuries, a hint of greed began to emerge too. It was a very specific sort, aimed at very specific material possessions, namely those that had to do with writing. Aziraphale had been inordinately proud when humans had begun to carve their funny little thoughts and grocery lists on very impractical clay tablets, he had called it a revolutionary intuition, surely sparked by divine goodwill. Crowley’s reaction had been more along the lines of a whole-body shrug. Aziraphale was fond of reading and, when it became possible, he even started collecting reading material. Papyrus, parchments, scrolls, anything he could find. When books started to become a thing, the angel ogled them like misguided shepherds ogled golden calves. He acquired them very sparingly and with a trace of guilt at first, when books were rare and their production was lengthy and expensive and holding onto some tomes for his own personal enjoyment effectively diminished the amount of knowledge available to the world at large. But after the press was invented, oooh boy. Yes, the excessive and self-serving accumulation of literary material goods was definitely among Aziraphale’s faults.

But that was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

In fact, for all his preaching and sternly-worded proclamations of faith, Aziraphale had perplexities. That much was glaringly obvious. Ineffability perplexed him, even though he unerringly presented it as the ultimate argument against Crowley’s own perplexities, whenever they ventured to discuss celestial politics. It had been perplexing him, at least to a certain extent, since the apple incident, Crowley was sure of that. And that was odd in itself. Crowley had believed that, after the Rebellion, Heaven had been purged of any angelic creature who wasn’t a hundred percent committed and trusting in God’s cause, but Aziraphale seemed troubled to a visible degree, at times. Crowley had known Aziraphale only very superficially before falling, and he couldn’t quite say if his doubts were a recent development or not.

So, a peculiar idea started to slither in the corners of Crowley’s oft bored mind.

What if, he thought, what if I could make this angel fall?

The premises for the evil deed were all there. Aziraphale already committed almost half of the deadly sins of his own accord, whether he knew it or not. And he had reservations, however intimate and rationalized, about God’s plan. That was all it had taken for Crowley himself to fall, after all. Just a couple of reservations and hanging around the wrong people. Crowley could provide both of those factors very easily.

It was, admittedly, mere speculation. Crowley wasn’t even sure it was possible for angels to fall after the Rebellion - something had seriously shifted in the balance of the universe back then, everyone had noticed. But the concept was absurdly inviting. Who else, after all, aside from the Morning Star Himself, could boast coaxing angels into corruption? It would be a stunning accomplishment in any demon’s curriculum, wouldn’t it? Forget about apples and tempting feeble human minds, that would be real bragging material. The more he thought about it, the stronger the itch got. In addition, despite his earlier doubts, Crowley had discovered himself quite naturally adept to that whole temptation business. He had thought his success with Eve a bit of a fluke, born of very favorable circumstances: deep down she already wanted that fruit, and so did her companion. They were already leaning towards disobedience, and all Crowley himself had to do was just to give the both of them a little nudge in that direction.

But then, he had found out that that principle was valid for all humans. Every human, literally every one of them, was inevitably attracted to Evil, at least a little bit. In some cases he had to resort to some delicate manoeuvres and subtle approaches to nurture that twisted tendency, in others he simply had to knock on an open door. A very easy and straightforward job, indeed.

But would it be that easy with a full-fledged angel? Presumably not. How should he go about it, then? He supposed that approaching Aziraphale with a rapid fire of existential questioning would be slightly too on the nose. Besides, ineffability. How did you even question that? It’s a brick wall of suspended disbelief and logic denial. No, theology speculations weren’t the right answer, only the most mind-numbingly boring one.

Crowley decided to roll up his sleeves and start with the basics. Adding the remaining deadly sins on Aziraphale’s list of misconducts would be a solid start, he deliberated. Whittling away at a soul’s integrity bit by bit was all the rage back then, in terms of temptation tactics. He’d slowly erode the angel’s rectitude as if he was your average human, and then he’d see where he could go from there. And he would take it nice and easy, spreading his influence over centuries, millennia if necessary. He wouldn’t risk ruining his chances by revealing his hand too soon. He had picked the most promising one among the four remaining sins, and he had started plotting.

He could still remember the indescribable sensation he had felt when he had succeeded, sometime around 1000 AD. It had indeed taken centuries of discreet suggestions and proposals, refuted firmly and scornfully at first, but with less and less passion over time, until Aziraphale had finally given in to the Arrangement, with nothing more than a curt and tense nod. Crowley had offered his assistance first, obviously. He was already about to head to Byzantium to tend to his own business, so he thought he may as well take care of Aziraphale’s too. Just an innocent favour, free of charge. Obviously, if for fairness’ sake the angel felt like returning said favour in the future, Crowley’d be obliged, but really, no pressure whatsoever. 

Unexpectedly, unlike all the previous times, the angel had accepted. It felt like a minor victory in itself, even though it was only the first step. Naturally Aziraphale followed him, although not quite as discreetly as he thought. And he followed Crowley the next time as well, and the third- the third he didn’t. 

Now, that felt like a triumph. Crowley’s skin had begun to tingle in sheer excitement when he had ascertained that the third time he had offered his assistance to Aziraphale, the angel had simply trusted him to carry out the task as requested. Not that Crowley wanted or could avoid doing what he’d been asked - their respective head offices may be careless about smaller details, but they were fond of keeping scores. If the holy work hadn’t been performed, Heaven would have noticed, therefore Aziraphale would have been reprimanded, and Crowley would have lost that hard-earned trust. What was notable, however, was that it had taken only two trips for the angel to trust completely a demon to perform honest, divine work. It was foolish of Aziraphale not to check that he would, it was lazy of him not to perform the job himself, as he’d been ordered, as he’d undoubtedly report he had. It was deception to his superiors, it was negligence, but more importantly, it was sloth.

It was a heady rush of adrenaline after a long period of forced calm, the kind of exhilaration a skilled hunter feels after waiting for hours - centuries, in that case - for the prey to fall into an aptly placed trap. It was indeed possible to tempt an angel, and he, Crowley the Tempter, the Snake of Eden, had managed to do it. It was riveting. That sensation of well-earned success alone would have been enough to brighten his days and put a spring in his step for the next century, but the best was yet to come, and it was something Crowley wasn’t even planning of.

He had been joking when he had suggested that Aziraphale should be the one to carry out the next bunch of long-distance duties for the both of them. He wasn’t expecting him to accept by a long shot, definitely not so soon at least - but he did. Sheepishly and uncomfortably, Aziraphale had listened to Crowley’s instructions and headed off with a half-muttered promise to ‘see what he could do’. That was a surprise, although Crowley didn’t believe for one second that he would see the job done. An angel (and not just any angel, Aziraphale), doing Satan’s work? What a joke. He’d chicken out of it before dawn, for sure, and either later inform Crowley that he had met with obstacles, or pretend to have forgotten about the whole conversation. And indeed, after seeing neither hide nor hair of the angel for the next month, Crowley assumed Aziraphale had just done that. The demon had then made the hundred-kilometre trip to take care of the business personally, only to find the couple of married lovers (married to other people, that is) already in the throes of the deep reciprocal passion that had been haunting them for the past three years, their families in turmoil and their small town in the middle of nowhere now enjoying the best bout of spicy gossip since that peculiar incident with the shepherd and his sheep forty years earlier.

Crowley was absolutely flabbergasted. That was much, much better than he’d even dared to expect. He felt like he’d basically already done it. It was going to work. If it had taken so little effort to convince an angel to tempt humans instead of blessing them, it was only a matter of time before Aziraphale eventually succumbed completely to Crowley’s scheme. Only a matter of time! He’d keep working on it, slowly and patiently, in a world that would soon start moving forward at an increasing and unimaginable pace, treating Aziraphale like his personal pet project, tackling one sin at a time. What was left? Lust, envy, wrath - oof, wrath was going to be a tough one, wasn’t it? The strongest negative emotion he’d ever seen Aziraphale display was ‘mildly peeved’ - but it would definitely, definitely work. He wouldn’t rush it, he’d wait for the perfect occasion to land in his lap and he’d seize it, to drag the angel to ruin in careful, calculated steps.

That night Crowley had gotten fantastically, gloriously, immeasurably drunk, and had dragged literally the entire village into his personal celebration, thanks to the inexplicable appearance of a good dozen abandoned carts on the main road, filled with jugs of excellent wine from the local vineyards. The huge, impromptu party that followed would have put Bacchus himself to shame, and it provided the village spinsters with enough gossip about the many depraved deeds that had been consumed on that night for the next 378 years, give or take.

That was roughly a thousand years ago.

Funny, Crowley thought as he was sprawled on an unimportant bench in an unimportant road of Lower Tadfield, Oxfordshire, feeling and looking like a puppet with cut strings. Funny, Crowley thought as he was looking up into the cloudless and starry sky of a world that hadn’t ended, how much things can change in just a thousand years.

Aziraphale stood up when two round headlights appeared at the end of the road, and glanced curiously at Crowley when he didn’t do the same. Slowly, with immense effort and groaning like a metal crane bent by a gigantic hand, Crowley gathered his strewn limbs and rearranged them vertically as well. The angel and the demon climbed on a bus that wasn’t going to Oxford, walked past an unresponsive conductor that wasn’t asking for tickets, and spent most of the trip sharing a bottle of wine whose quality vastly outmatched its price tag and whose capacity had long since exceeded the promised 750 millilitres.

The repetitive scenery of the the dark English countryside let Crowley’s mind wander back into the past. It occurred to him that it had been roughly 600 years since the last time Aziraphale had set foot into his house. You could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times the angel had ever accepted to visit his ‘den of iniquity’ (Aziraphale’s words, c. 310 AD), and always very briefly. They had always preferred meeting in public venues anyway, until Crowley had decided that Aziraphale’s bookshop definitely counted as one and had taken the habit of dropping by for the occasional drink. 

The invitation had slipped out of Crowley’s mouth easily, unthinkingly, while they were waiting for the bus. And, honestly, how could he not offer hospitality in such circumstances? All of the angel’s earthly possessions, including his very house, had gone up in flames. What was Crowley supposed to do, let him go to a random public bathroom, lock himself into a cubicle and miracle the inside of it into Croesus’ mansion? Seriously. Just because he was a demon, it didn’t mean he was utterly uncivil. Still, Aziraphale had taken up on Crowley’s suggestion with less hesitation that he’d expected. At that point, all Crowley could do was hoping that Hell hadn’t sent reinforcements after Hastur and Ligur’s failed attempt at ‘collecting’ him, and an apartment to invite Aziraphale into still existed in the first place... Oh, well. Worst case scenario, they’d hijack two cubicles.

“How long do you think we have,” Aziraphale said quietly, interrupting the disorganized flow of Crowley’s thoughts, “before they’ll decide to come after us?”

“Heaven and Hell, you mean?” Crowley answered slowly, syllables sticking to his tongue. “I don’t know, a while. I bet they have some serious internal mess to deal with first. Disappointed warmongers and whatnot. Bigger priorities than us.”

“But they will sort that out eventually.” Aziraphale stretched his arm towards Crowley, hand open in a muted request for the bottle. “And then what? I doubt they’ll leave any rogue agents be.”

“....Eh. They might, you know? The kid- whoops.” Crowley let go of the bottle when he felt Aziraphale’s fingers brush his own, but the glass slipped from both their grasps. Aziraphale blinked, and the bottle froze in midair a few centimetres above the floor. He calmly bent down to fetch it as Crowley continued. “The kid told us not to worry.”

“But do you think he has the power to grant us protection from both Reigns?”

Crowley shrugged. “He’s the boss’ son. And he just stopped the bloody apocalypse, if you haven’t noticed. He has power, all right. That’s good enough insurance for me.”

Aziraphale hummed pensively, his gaze lost out of the window. Crowley watched him take a measured sip, and then clean distractly the neck of the bottle with a handkerchief. His movements were quiet, harmonious, steady. Everything about Aziraphale was, and always had been. Crowley’s whole, brilliant temptation plan was centered on the expectation that sins would change his angelic nature, that they would change him. Instead, what had happened was the exact opposite. As the decades and centuries went by, as their meetings grew less and less ‘business’ oriented and turned into genuine divertissement, Aziraphale wasn’t changed by the sins: the sins were changed by him. A tasty nibble of food wasn’t a temptation any more, but a moment of genuine appreciation for the little, blessed pleasures God still allowed mortals to experience. His elegantly-worded notions about the order of the universe ceased to be a prideful display of superiority, and instead became an engaging debate capable of building dialogue between spiritual opposites. His love for books wasn’t a selfish desire of accumulation for accumulation’s sake, but an intellectual connection to the history and minds of the humans he was meant to protect, from all times and cultures. His acceptance to share duties with a demon wasn’t sheer laziness, but a very tangible olive branch offered to a former sworn enemy. Deeds that would have tarnished any human soul, made it revolting and beyond repair, hadn’t even dented the core of Aziraphale’s goodness. If anything, they had enriched it: like the light patina of a vintage Bentley, those sins adorned Aziraphale’s very soul like unique and distinguishing traits, all the more intriguing to a discerning eye.

And the most baffling thing was that Crowley hadn’t even noticed. He hadn’t noticed that his plan, ostensibly always in motion and always waiting, waiting, waiting for the next occasion to move further, was gradually being shoved into the most forgetful corners of his mind. He hadn’t noticed he’d stopped plotting against his enemy, and had instead started just coexisting with him. It had taken him so goddamn long to notice he’d stopped considering Aziraphale as an inconvenient obstacle to be removed from the world Crowley was meant to submit, but that the angel had rather become one of its most interesting and worthwhile features.

It had taken him until the end of the world to realize that.

As it turned out, Crowley’s flat hadn’t been obliterated by the forces of Hell. Yet.

“Make yourself at home.” Crowley said as he jogged from room to room to make sure there were no former colleagues of his lying in wait anywhere.

“This is where you live?” Aziraphale asked, peeking curiously from the entryway. Crowley interrupted his inspection just to make a face.

“Oh no, I’m just appropriating the humble abode of a millionaire manager perished in the latest fish tornado. He won’t need it anymore, will he?” Aziraphale gave him a dubious glance. Crowley rolled his eyes. “Yes, this is where I live. What kind of question is that, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Oh, you know, just wondering.” Aziraphale answered, visibly relieved. “I wasn’t really expecting your home to look like this.”

“And why not?”

“Well, it’s… rather neat and minimalistic.” Aziraphale hesitated. “It almost reminds me of the Upper Offices. Although it is quite darker, I suppose.”

Crowley stared at Aziraphale pointedly. Deafening silence was the only appropriate reply to such a statement, so he let it stretch leisurely until Aziraphale couldn’t help but look away.

“Are you going to come in anytime soon or…?” Crowley eventually said, gesturing around vaguely.

“Yes. Thank you.” The angel finally unstuck from the threshold and followed Crowley into the study. “I really appreciate your hospitality, by the way. I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow, I’m sure it won’t be hard to find a nice spot for me to move in.”

“Oh, no rush. I barely use this place.” Crowley waved at him dismissively, his attention suddenly caught by the ansaphone. It wasn’t blinking exactly as he had left it. It definitely should be blinking exactly as he had left it. “Uh, right, the bedroom’s over there. If you don’t feel like sleeping, there’s the…” There was the tv, which Aziraphale hardly ever watched. There was the computer, which surely he didn’t even know how to plug in. There was the hi-fi, boasting an impressive collection of contemporary artists 95% of which the angel probably had never heard of. It suddenly occurred to Crowley that Aziraphale wasn’t the easiest guest to entertain.

“You don’t happen to have any books lying around, I suppose.”

Crowley shrugged. “‘Fraid not. But there’s some food in the fridge, if you want.” He offered lamely.

“Oh. Thank you, but I think I’ll be catching some sleep tonight as well.” Aziraphale smiled sheepishly. “I haven’t had a day as intense as this one in a long while. It takes a toll on you even when you’re indefatigable.”

“You’re telling me.” Crowley mumbled, watching Aziraphale head off into the corridor. He waited until his guest was reasonably far from the study before checking the new recorded message. He regretted it very quickly.

“What’s that?” Aziraphale inquired loudly, when the unmistakable noise of demonic torment and horrified screams erupted from the speakers. Crowley hurried to silence it with some chaotic button-mashing and removed the cassette from the machine. A single, fat worm fell from the tape. 

“Ugh.” Crowley grimaced, shoving the whole device into the trash can. All right, his mistake. He should have dealt with Hastur when he had the chance. But then again, what was one more demon free out there wanting him dead when he had already earned the eternal grudge of both Heaven and Hell? “Nothing. Nothing to be worried about.”

“That definitely sounded like something to be worried about.” Aziraphale insisted, rather alarmed. 

“Nah, just prank calls. I really need to find out who invented them and offer them a drink, now that’s some first-calls deviousness-” Crowley hurried to the bedroom before Aziraphale could decide to investigate the matter personally, and stopped abruptly when he saw the angel sitting innocently on his bed. “Uh. That’s my bed.” He felt it was important to state that fact aloud.

“Yes, I gathered. Excellent mattress, I must say.” Aziraphale replied genially, until Crowley’s silence prompted him to stand up hastily. “Oh, sorry, you pointed me to the bedroom and I thought you meant I could…?”

“No! I meant that you could make yourself a bed and get settled!”

“Oh! I’m terribly sorry, I just thought…” Aziraphale paused, looking at the object of the argument confusedly. “It’s a very large bed though. It looks like four people could sleep comfortably on it, so I thought-”

“I roll around a lot when I sleep, all right?” Crowley retorted with anger, with tangible and very obvious anger, and with absolutely no embarrassment whatsoever. “Look, just- miracle yourself some furniture, here or wherever you want, or sleep on the sofa, or anywhere that isn’t my bed.”

“All right, all right!” Aziraphale frowned and raised his hands defensively. “I’ll take the sofa then.”

Crowley collapsed face-first on his reconquered berth as soon as Aziraphale left the room, his sunglasses conveniently teleporting to the bedside table before they could bore into his skull. He felt positively destroyed. He’d give anything for another century-long nap, he hadn’t had one of those in a while. But it would be rather imprudent in the current circumstances. He’d have to make do with a dozen hours. He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, welcoming that exquisitely human sense of physical relaxation that came with dozing off. He let the beginnings of sleep dull his senses and his mind, sweetly and mercifully-

“My, such luxuriant foliage…” 

Crowley’s eyes snapped open. “NO!” He bellowed, hurling himself off the bed and into the corridor with barely enough coordination not to trip on his own feet. “Stop it! Shut up!”

“What-” Aziraphale startled as Crowley suddenly appeared before him, arms spread in a clear effort to physically separate him from the potted greenery. “W-What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Leave the plants alone. Don’t look at them. And above all don’t talk to them.” Crowley ordered as he grasped the angel’s shoulders and steered him bodily out of the room.

“But why? I was just admiring the-”

“There’s nothing to admire here. Everyone’s just doing what they’re supposed to do.”

“But-”

“My house, my rules. The plants are off-limits.” Crowley snapped his fingers and two robust metallic doors materialized out of thin air to seal the area from the rest of the house. Crowley shoved Aziraphale past them, while he lingered on the threshold just long enough to glare at every single plant in the room.

“Don’t forget whose opinion really matters here, guys.” He hissed, his teeth bared. His warning was met with a collective, deferential shudder. 

“...Crowley, are you all right?” Aziraphale asked, eyeing him worriedly. Crowley looked at him like a naked Bedouin sitting on a glacier in the Arctic might look at someone asking him if he’s cold. The doors locked with an audible clang.

“...Yeah, I’m just peachy.” He eventually muttered, rubbing his eyes and heading back to the bedroom. He lay down again and closed his eyes, enjoying a grand total of ten second of peace before Aziraphale’s footsteps reached the room. Crowley sighed. “...What?”

“Actually, I think I would like to sleep here, if it’s all right with you.”

“Do whatever you want.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind-”

“What do you think ‘do whatever you want’ means, Aziraphale?”

“I’m guessing it means that I have free reign over any part of your house that doesn’t include your bed or your plants.” 

Aziraphale’s miffed tone got the tiniest smile out of him. “Yep, you got it. See? Wasn’t difficult.”

Crowley felt reality shift around him. Curiosity got the better of him, and he peeked to the side. The bedroom had conveniently enlarged just enough so that Aziraphale’s newly created bed could fit. It was a small, single one, all wood and fin de siecle linens and puffy pillows and creamy tones. It clashed with the existing decor something terrible, but Crowley barely took notice. He was more concerned with its owner, sitting somewhat rigidly on it and glancing around the room nervously. Suddenly Crowley understood why he’d chosen to sleep there.

“Relax, angel. No one will be coming after us.” Crowley couldn’t help but offer, lowly. “Not tonight, at least.”

Their eyes met. After a beat, Aziraphale nodded. “Yes. You are probably right.”

Aziraphale was still sitting up when Crowley closed his eyes. He hoped that the other could catch some rest, but he wouldn’t mind too much if he didn’t. Even a demon could use a guardian angel to watch over his sleep, after all.

Aziraphale did sleep that night, for a good two hours and a half. It may not sound like a lot, but considering that he hadn’t rested since that quick twenty-minute nap in 1732, it felt immensely refreshing anyway. Upon rising, he had to admit that creating his own bed had proven to be a wise choice: in his sleep, Crowley had somehow managed to scatter his considerably long limbs all over the mattress, effectively covering a flat surface that must be at least three times as large as that of his own body. Admittedly he looked quite endearing, arms and legs making a decent impression of a windrose and snoring away with his mouth open.

Aziraphale spent the rest of the night keeping himself quietly busy. He checked all the news from the radio and the tv, from which he gathered that Adam was mending reality with impressive speed and ease, considering how suddenly his powers had bloomed. It was truly a blessing that the boy was far more mature than anyone had credited him for. To think that Aziraphale himself had seriously entertained the notion of eliminating him… No, that guilt wasn’t going to leave him anytime soon.

The angel then proceeded to tidy up what little there was to tidy up in Crowley’s apartment. Some spilt water here and there, and a ragged, dark set of clothes oddly abandoned on the threshold of the study. They didn’t look like the type of get-up Crowley would choose for himself, and it certainly wasn’t one Aziraphale had ever seen him wear, but then again the demon had a thing for experimenting with mortal fashion. Aziraphale also repeatedly wrestled with the impulse to take another look at Crowley’s plants, entirely because of his exceedingly suspicious behavior. He didn’t do it, though. That would have been extremely impolite, almost traitorous. Utterly unworthy of his status. Although- no. No, he wouldn’t.

He even managed to find a few books, tucked away under the sofa or on top of unreachable shelves. They were atlases, maps, photography magazines, all focussed on naturalistic topics: pictures of panoramas from all over the world, animals, plants, even remote stars and galaxies. Aziraphale wasn’t an especially avid consumer of such publications: he vastly preferred both the written word and man-made illustrations, which did a much better job of conveying the divine spark of creativity God had blessed humanity with. However, as he was leafing through those pages and seeing ruins of cities he had inhabited, cute yet clumsy species he had discreetly saved from extinction, masses of gas and dust he had shaped into celestial bodies, he couldn’t help but slip into a lengthy bout of nostalgia for the halcyon days of creation. He wouldn’t be surprised if Crowley kept those books around for the same reason.

When he heard some muffled noises coming from the bedroom, Aziraphale decided to make breakfast. His noble endeavor, however, was thwarted by the complete lack of any sort of raw or packed ingredient in any cupboard of the house; the fridge, instead, offered a vast selection of gourmet brioches, fruit juices, bacon and eggs, pancakes and all sorts of scrumptious dishes that looked as if they had been cooked mere minutes earlier. Well, it would be a waste not to partake, he deliberated. He’d just finished setting the table when Crowley finally joined him with a half-yawned “‘Morning.”

It was a most refreshing and welcome change of pace, being able to chat of everything and nothing over a hearty meal again, instead of covertly panicking over the very real possibility of Doomsday disrupting the next weekend, as well as all the others that would never follow. The last week had been exhausting for the both of them - especially for Crowley. For all his trademark devil-may-care attitude, it was really quite easy to notice when the demon was genuinely distressed: from his eyes, thin slits of darkness in a pool of gold that Aziraphale could always see through the glasses and that darted left and right more quickly than usual, to his gestures, that lost their swaying languor in favor of nervous, reptilian jerks, to the sudden explosions of anger and aggression that were just as dangerous as the roar of a kitten. All of that was gone now. His cutting temper was still dulled by the lingering drowsiness, and soft, unguarded smiles curved his lips in response to Aziraphale’s casual chatter. The ruffled hair, the creased clothes and the lazy nibbles at his brioche spoke of the unhurried comfort that came after overcoming a trying ordeal, and they filled the angel’s heart with genuine tenderness. There were, truly, beauty and goodness in all the things and entities that existed, even in those who supposedly tried their hardest to antagonize them.

“Oh, you may want to take those to the cleaners.” Aziraphale pointed at the folded rags he’d put on the sofa, once he was finished with his breakfast. “What ever did you do to those poor clothes to ruin them like that?”

“Ugh, throw them away.” Crowley replied with a disgusted grunt. “That’s Ligur.”

“I see.” Aziraphale said, having never heard of the brand. He agreed that the quality of the tailoring was rather shabby, so he did as he was told. “Well, I was thinking of dropping by the bookshop this morning - or what’s left of it, anyway. Who knows, there may be some intact books among the rubble…”

“Mmmh. I guess there’s no harm in checking.” Crowley didn’t look terribly convinced. “Mind if I come along?”

“Oh, not at all.” Aziraphale replied, pleasantly surprised. “But don’t you have more urgent things to do, instead of helping me carry around charred tomes?”

“Right now, not at all. I’m pretty sure I’ve been fired, so I happen to have a lot of free time on my hands.” Crowley snapped his fingers, and in a blink he was as elegant and well-groomed as ever. 

“You aren’t going to keep performing your duties then? No more tempting innocent souls or spreading negative influence?” Aziraphale inquired as they stepped into the lift.

“Are you? Even if your boss doesn’t care?”

“Why, of course. Being a harbinger of the light is the very reason of my existence! It’s more than a job, it’s my very nature!”

“Aren’t you a model employee?” Crowley deadpanned. “Well, first and foremost, I think I’ve earned myself a vacation. Now, that isn’t to say that I’m going to pass up on any opportunities to have some fun if the occasion arises...”

“Of course you aren’t.” Aziraphale smiled, stepping out of the building. “Shall we take a taxi or- Crowley?” Crowley had abruptly stopped in his tracks, staring at something in the parking area- 

“Oh!” Aziraphale eloquently commented.

Crowley jogged to what was, without a doubt, his car. Not the scorched ball of molten metal and rubber he’d been forced to abandon at Tadfield Airbase, but his cherished Bentley in all its former glory and vintage elegance. The demon stared at it in evident disbelief, his brows so high that they almost disappeared into his hairline, his mouth shaped into a perfectly round O. He admired it, ran his palm along the chassis, hopped all around to inspect it from every possible angle - including under the bumper and over the roof.

“Did you do this?” He eventually managed, his gaze bouncing back and forth between the car and the angel.

“No, it wasn’t me. But I’ve heard that yesterday’s disasters are being reverted. Maybe this is part of it.” Aziraphale suggested as Crowley opened the door and basically dove head-first into the car.

“It’s exactly as it used to be! Custom leather seats and all! Even my CDs-” Crowley took one from the dashboard, one whose cover was a wordless black void with a glass prism refracting white light into a rainbow. He inserted it into the radio and a cheery band started to sing very enthusiastically about riding a bicycle. Crowley’s exhilarated mood seemed to dampen ever so slightly. “...Yep. Just as they used to be.”

“It looks like Adam knows what he’s doing.” Aziraphale smiled, knowing how much that little miracle meant for his friend. Then, a thought struck him. “Maybe…”

“...Maybe.” Crowley agreed, understanding him at a glance. “Hop in. Let’s go and see.”

Aziraphale’s empathetic joy waned very quickly when it was obvious that Crowley’s driving style wasn’t at all affected by the recent demise of his old vehicle.

“Out of curiosity, how did the fire start?” The angel asked, trying to think of anything but the absurd number on the speed gauge.

“I was about to ask you the same thing. Serves you right for quitting on me as you did though. Seriously, did you really have to pick the busiest day in the last six thousand years to leave this plane of existence? Where did you even go?”

“To Heaven, of course. And I didn’t exactly choose to leave, if you must know. I was… summoned.”

“Oh, you don’t say?” Crowley sneered. “Well, guess what? My lot summoned me too, but I ignored them because I had more important stuff to do, namely saving the bloody universe-”

“Also because they would have welcomed you less than enthusiastically, I imagine-”

“On my own, because someone ditched me without one word of warning-”

“That’s not what happened at all! It was… an unfortunate accident.” Aziraphale burst out, halfway between affronted and embarrassed. 

“What kind of accident?” Crowley frowned inquisitively when Aziraphale didn’t reply. “Oi! What kind of accident?”

“...Promise me you won’t laugh.” Aziraphale begged. Crowley merely raised an eyebrow in response. The angel sighed. “Well, the thing is… I was in my bookshop, and I opened a channel to Heaven, to see if I could… talk them out of the whole universal annihilation thing-”

“Talking people out of war. Yeah, solid plan. When has it ever not worked in the history of wars?”

“It made sense to try, at least. Anyway, Shadwell walked in-”

“What the heaven was Shadwell doing in your bookshop?”

“I don’t know- could you please stop interrupting me? As I was saying, Shadwell saw the ritual and… I fear he mistook me for one of your lot. He got rather worked up and…”

“He killed you?” Crowley guessed, genuinely impressed.

“Oh no, no! He just… started pacing here and there, muttering strange things, and… well, he got a tad too close to the summoning circle - the passage was still open, you see, and…”

“And?”

“I sort of… stepped on it. While I was trying to keep him away.” Aziraphale paused. “By accident.”

Crowley didn’t reply. He looked at Aziraphale, then back at the road, then at the angel again. His mouth twitched.

“Don’t.” Aziraphale warned him. Crowley’s face had already become a quivering mess of aborted expressions that devolved very quickly into hysterical half-snorts.

“Oh sure, go ahead and- don’t take your hands off the wheel!” Aziraphale squealed when the demon did exactly that, holding his sides and throwing back his head as he burst into a boisterous laugh. Luckily, the car seemed to be endowed with all the common sense Crowley had never had and it kept avoiding pedestrians autonomously.

“That’s so stupid.” Crowley gasped, making a show of wiping away a non-existent tear. “That’s so bloody stupid. How can anyone possibly be so stupid?”

“Oh, I don’t know. In the same way one can misplace an Antichrist for eleven years, I suppose.” Aziraphale’s jab sadly didn’t manage to penetrate the waves of hilarity Crowley was exuding. “Judging by Shadwell’s behavior, he must have presumed my disappearance was due to his own… peculiar powers.”

“Oh, is that what he’s been doing with his finger all day yesterday?”

“Well, yes. What did you think he was doing?”

“I don’t know! I thought you had tried to possess him and fried a bunch of his neurons… And it’s not like he had that many to begin with-”

“Now you’re just being needlessly nasty.”

Crowley shook his head, still giggling like a child as he put his hands back on the steering wheel, just in time to park the car as they reached their destination.

“Huh.” He simply said as he climbed out of the car, studying the building as if he’d never seen it before. 

“Ah, bless that boy!” Aziraphale glowed as he excitedly walked back and forth along the front of the bookshop. A rapid survey of the inside as well confirmed that his earthly abode was just as he’d left it, books and all. Actually, there seemed to be a few extras too.

“Ohoh, this is the kind of reading I could be convinced to try.” Crowley grinned, leafing through the flashy illustrations of one ‘Blood Dogs of the Skull Sea’. “Look at this beast! This stuff is inspirational! It makes you wonder why the hellhound didn’t turn into one of these beauties.”

Aziraphale didn’t reply. Yes, everything looked just as it did before, but… “Something’s off.”

Crowley glanced around the shelves in surprise. “Really? Is anything missing?”

“No, no. The place is fine… physically. But there’s a strange feeling in the air.”

Crowley groaned and rolled his eyes. “Are you going to start gushing about ethereal flashes of love again? I thought London was impervious to those.”

“It’s not love.” Aziraphale frowned, trying to focus on the odd sensation. It was different from what he’d felt in Tadfield: Adam’s love for his hometown was a deep-rooted, all-encompassing and aged feeling, a quiet yet powerful acknowledgement, indissolubly weaved into the very matter that composed its streets, its woods, its soil. What the angel was perceiving in his bookshop was more akin to an explosion - sudden and short-lived, yet extremely intense. “I think it’s the opposite of that.”

“Ooooh, you mean spooky? Nice. I love spooky. Still can’t feel anything though.”

“It’s… anger, I think. Rage. And…” Aziraphale paused. The sensation glimpsed in and out of his head swiftly, as if it was moving, pacing, speeding around the place almost like a physical entity, phasing through him and leaving a trail of suffocating heat-

BASTAAAAAARDS!

Aziraphale forgot to breathe. For the following seven minutes, approximately. It happened relatively often, for the most varied reasons. The most surprising thing was that this time it made his chest hurt. “...Grief.”

Crowley stood perfectly still. Very slowly, his features relaxed into what would have looked, to anybody else, like a perfectly natural neutral expression. He gazed around the shop and strolled away from Aziraphale to look out of the nearest window with equally studied nonchalance.

“Must have been one of your neighbours. It was a pretty big fire.” He said, his back turned to Aziraphale. “You know, mothers forgetting babies inside flaming buildings and all that.”

ALL OF YOU!

Aziraphale’s heart thrummed in sympathy with that whirlwind of emotion. By sheer force of habit, he blessed that painful feeling and the creature that had generated it, for nobly bearing the sacrifices that God’s plan required. Considering that Crowley didn’t instantly turn into a screaming, bubbling puddle of goo, Aziraphale guessed that God, in Her infinite wisdom, must have refused to validate that particular blessing, and he sent Her his heartfelt thanks for that as well. Aziraphale let the silence stretch for a while, quietly contemplating that powerful echo. Even when Crowley finally turned to face him, his expression still blank and his hands casually tucked in his pockets, neither of them spoke. It occurred to Aziraphale that his intent staring may have been interpreted as some sort of challenge only when the demon admitted defeat, sighing in annoyance and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look, what do you want me to say? Mh?” Crowley asked, spreading his arms. “What do you want me to say that you don’t already know?”

It was a fair point. It was also (it being Crowley’s ruffled demeanour, his flat tone, his casual evasion) so strikingly familiar and typical that it warmed Aziraphale’s heart enough to finally distract him from the lingering negativity of the ambiance.

“...Would you like some hot cocoa?” The angel offered with a kind smile.

“Far from me to twist the knife into what you undoubtedly consider a major flaw in your character,” Aziraphale said as he slid in front of Crowley a steaming cup of chocolate that the demon hadn’t exactly accepted, but that he hadn’t exactly refused either, “but why were you upset so deeply? It’s not like I’ve never been discorporated before.”

“‘It’s not like I’ve never been discorporated before.’” Crowley parroted him, without acknowledging the existence of the beverage. “I swear you say the most idiotic things sometimes.”

“Well, I’m just a tad confused about your reaction, is all-”

“Why would I care about you being discorporated?!” Crowley burst out. “I thought you’d been destroyed! You try to call me - urgently - and I can’t answer, I try to call you and you don’t answer, and then I arrive here and you’re nowhere to be found and everything’s on fire - on fire! The one thing that can damage you! What was I supposed to think?”

“But… You thought it was hellfire?” Aziraphale asked, confusedly. “Why would there be hellfire in my bookshop?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It may have had something to do with the fact that I myself had almost been murdered a scant ten minutes before-”

“You were what?!” Aziraphale gasped, aghast, his own cup freezing halfway towards his mouth.

“Yeah. That was probably it, now that I think about it.” Crowley snarled, tapping his fingers on the table. “You became unreachable five minutes after I received a visit from a couple of pissed-off demons trying to ‘collect’ me. I thought that Hell had decided to settle the score with you as well, while they were at it.”

“My dear boy, I had no idea…” Aziraphale trailed off. He gasped again when the gravity of the situation sank in fully. “Heavens, you said almost murdered?! Oh no… No, this won’t do…”

“Oh, well… Maybe ‘almost murdered’ was laying it on a bit thick.” Crowley admitted, his temper finally subsiding. “They were pretty pissed off, but they didn’t even get close to the murdering part.”

“Thank God for that. But how did you manage to escape from them?”

“Oh. Remember that thermos of holy water you gave me fifty years ago?” A malicious smile spread on the demon’s face. “Good insurance indeed.”

“..Are you trying to tell me that-”

“Oh yes.” 

“You’ve smitten two demons?!” Aziraphale gaped.

“One, actually. The other one managed to escape, but I’d say I was rather-”

“I’ve never smitten a demon!” Aziraphale added, suddenly facing a minuscule existential crisis. “And that’s supposed to be my job!”

“Really? How odd.” The only demon Aziraphale had interacted with in the last six thousand years replied. Still, the angel was too caught up in his own thoughts to pay any attention to sarcasm.

“Do you have any holy water left?”

“Uh, no, I’ve used it all up-”

“Then you’ll need some more. Lots more. It could save your skin if Hell decided to strike again.” Aziraphale stood up and headed towards the kitchen. “Here, give me a moment-”

“Hey, hey, calm down, I don’t need it right this second!” Crowley stammered, pointing at the other’s abandoned cup. “We can worry about that later, your cocoa is going cold-”

“It’s no matter, I need just two minutes-”

Exactly two minutes and seventeen seconds later, Aziraphale handed to a mildly astonished Crowley the biggest and sturdiest piece of tupperware he owned, filled to the brim with the precious liquid.

“Did you just make all this?”

“Well, yes. Blessing tap water isn’t exactly a lengthy or complicated process.”

“You can make literal gallons of holy water in two minutes, and it took you a hundred years to decide to give me two cups’ worth of it last time?!” The demon complained, without moving to grasp the container. “How very generous of you!”

“I didn’t know what you were planning to do with it! I was concerned!”

“Of what?!”

“That you might… mishandle it and get hurt! You wouldn’t give your sharpest kitchen knife to a five-year-old child just because he asked for it, would you?”

“I would. Anyway that’s a very unflattering comparison and I resent it.”

“Well, yes, here’s more holy water than you’ll ever need, hopefully.” Aziraphale impatiently held out the pitcher towards Crowley’s chest, who positively jumped back holding his arms out defensively.

“Wait wait wait wait! Your cuff is wet! Have you even dried your hands? Are you trying to kill me?”

“What- That’s just normal water! I blessed the one in the container after sealing it! Do you really think I’m that outrageously clumsy?”

“Considering that you’ve discorporated yourself through sheer clumsiness just the other day, yeah, kind of.”

“Oh, for Heaven’s- look, if you want it, it’s here. If not, do whatever you want.” Aziraphale put down the plastic carafe on the table primly, and then he finally set down to sip his cocoa. Crowley eyed the container from every possible angle, clearly expecting to find some traitorous droplet rolling down its sides, then he poked the lid gingerly.

“I don’t trust this thing not to burst open by accident before I can put it somewhere safer. Got any tape?”

Aziraphale fetched some packing tape from the cupboard and handed it to Crowley. He stood beside him, watching him secure the lid meticulously for a couple of minutes. Now that the idle bickering wasn’t distracting him any more, Aziraphale found his own soul attuning again with the background thrumming of the demon’s past anguish. It felt only natural for Aziraphale to squeeze the other’s shoulder warmly.

“You know, I’m very proud of you.”

“...Uh?” Crowley squinted at him as if the angel had just sprouted a second head. That is to say, not as if he’d done something utterly impossible, but merely something very random for no reason whatsoever.

“For showing up at Tadfield, even after all this. You were hunted down by your own brethren, you suffered a painful loss, and yet you reined in your wrath and braced your sorrow and still found the will to fight for this world. It was very brave, and selfless.”

“Uhm.” Crowley answered, with a strange dumbfounded look that instantly raised a few doubts in Aziraphale’s mind.

“That’s… that’s what you did, isn’t it?”

“Uuuuuuuuuuh- Yeah. Yeah, yeah, of course.” Crowley floundered with the elegance of a beached whale. “That’s what I did… eventually- which is to say- yeah-”

“‘Eventually’? What do you mean, ‘eventually’?”

“I mean- not right away, I needed a moment to... You know, my human operatives never managed to locate the Antichrist, so I was… kind of lost as to what I should have been doing in that moment-”

“What did you do?”

“And even if I had known where to go, what were the odds of me, all alone, averting the apocalypse? Realistically speaking-”

“What did you do, Crowley?”

“Well, since you were no more, and the Earth was going to be no more very soon regardless of what I did, I thought… you know, I may as well enjoy one last bottle of scotch in that old-fashioned pub in Hollen Street-”

“...Good Lord.” Aziraphale covered his eyes with his hand, his tone falling as flat as his expectations. “You were going to get hopelessly drunk and do nothing whatsoever about Armageddon, weren’t you?”

“Hey, don’t you dare use that tone with me! Not when I was the one who had to convince you to do anything in the first place! You were merrily going to let the sea bubble and all the creatures, great and small, be vaporized in a blaze of divine glory, remember?”

“For an entirely different reason! I was simply trying my best to follow God’s plan! You never cared a trifle about that! You only ever cared about your earthly pleasures - such as getting drunk while the whole world goes up in flames, apparently-”

“Look, what was I supposed to do?! I didn’t even know where to go! If it wasn’t for your book-”

”My book? What book?”

“Well, not your book, the American lady’s book. Agnes Nutter’s Something Something Prophecies.” Crowley resumed plastering tape all over the already foolproof lid. “I found it here while I was looking for you and I took it, because why not? And then I was leafing through it at the pub and I found your notes about Adam and the airbase and- and then this strange thing happened, you know? I opened the book on a completely random page and the very first prophecy I read was… I don’t remember how it went exactly, but it was… obviously aimed at me. In a very specific way. And it said that my ethereal companion hadn’t vanished, but I’d meet him again at the place of the final confrontation, or something like that, and I’d just read on your notes that everything written on the book is invariably true, and I thought…’Oh.’”

“Oh.” Aziraphale echoed.

“Yeah.”

While Crowley’s peculiar tale depicted a somewhat less virtuous attitude towards pain and unfavourable odds than what he’d first envisioned, Aziraphale had to admit that there was something undeniably noble in the idea of the demon abandoning his drunken stupor and speeding across the country on a flaming car the moment a few key indications and the promise of reuniting with his best friend reignited his hope. There was something undeniably touching about it on a very personal level too.

“Well... I suppose I can’t- that’s enough tape, don’t you think?” Aziraphale said gesturing at the carafe, which was by now mummified under layers of ugly brown tape.

“Uh. Right.” Crowley blinked at the container as if he’d just become aware of its existence before sitting down to finally take a sip of his own cocoa. As he sat back as well, Aziraphale took care of heating the beverage up to a pleasant temperature with a thought before it reached the demon’s lips.

“I was saying, I suppose I can’t blame you for taking a moment to… gather your thoughts, so to speak. I must confess that I myself haven’t acted quite as promptly as I could have in the last days.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yes. Admittedly, by the time I called you, I’d been aware of the Antichrist’s whereabouts for… a little bit.”

“Yeah?” Crowley frowned. “How little, exactly?”

“Oh, roughly… twelve hours, I think.”

“Twelve hours?!” Crowley sputtered. “We could have got to Tadfield twelve hours earlier?! Do you have any idea how much trouble we’d have spared ourselves with a twelve-hour advance?”

“Well-”

“I wouldn’t have had to drive my car through a bloody wall of fire, for one!” Crowley threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “What have you even been doing in all that time?”

“I was… considering the situation. You’ll admit I was in a rather delicate position, and I felt that I had to choose my actions carefully.” Aziraphale argued. “Eventually I decided to tell you, and the upper offices as well. It seemed like a good way to help our cause without, you know, openly obstructing Heaven’s plans.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What else did you decide?”

“Nothing. That was what I came up with, and so I-”

“And it took you twelve hours to decide that?” Crowley groaned, covering his face. “Quick thinking really isn’t your thing, is it?”

“Well, there’s no reason to dwell on recriminations.” Aziraphale stated briskly. “Everything turned out just fine, in the end.”

“If by ‘fine’ you mean that ten million demons’ and ten million angels’ best laid plans and efforts went completely into smoke for no purpose other than postponing the inevitable battle for another… I don’t know, one or two thousand years - then sure, everything’s just dandy.” Crowley muttered to his cocoa. “Do you seriously believe this was all God’s plan? All of this for nothing? What’s the bloody point?”

“You know I can’t answer that question. But I wouldn’t say this was all for nothing. From my very limited and imperfect perspective, for example, I can clearly see at least two creatures who have ultimately benefited from this whole Apocalypse ordeal. But I’m sure there must be many, many more.”

“And those would be?”

“Adam, for one. Armageddon truly brought out the best in him. Didn’t you hear him talk with the Horsepeople? His words were so humble and simple, yet such an inspiring embodiment of all virtues! Prudence and temperance above all, and then justice and courage-”

“Yeah, yeah, just wait until he reaches puberty and then we’ll see where all those virtues will go.”

“Still, you have to admit that, for someone who’s supposed to be the literal spawn of Evil, his spirit is remarkably untainted. I’m sure he wouldn’t have turned out like this without going through the process of human life, or if he had come into existence among demons in the depths of Hell. Maybe this was all this proto-Armageddon was about: offering a chance of redemption to what would have otherwise been unredeemable spirits.”

“Mmmh.” Crowley crossed his arms with evident skepticism. “And who’s the other one?”

“Why you, of course.” Aziraphale couldn’t hold back a smile at Crowley’s stunned silence.

“...Sorry, what?”

“Isn’t it obvious? As I said, during the past week you have displayed an admirably selfless side-”

“Watch it, angel.” Crowley muttered. “Keep casting aspersions on me and no miracle will be able to fix what I’ll do to your collection of Bibles.”

“Oh, don’t be a child about it. It’s perfectly understandable, considering how much time you spent around me. I am a Principality, after all-”

“Excuse me. I must have misheard.” Crowley raised his finger, then he leaned towards Aziraphale across the table with a malevolent squint. “Are you by any chance telling me that you’ve been trying to inspire goodness in me?”

“Maybe.” Aziraphale gave him an apologetic smile. “I didn’t hold much hope to succeed, but I’ll admit I was rather curious. A few good deeds now and then, less evil ones performed in person, after yours truly accepted to carry them out for you… I wonder if all that could tip the moral scales at least a little bit, so to speak.” Aziraphale let out a small laugh in response to Crowley’s stunned silence. “What? Haven’t you been trying to do the same since we met?”

Crowley’s eyebrows raised so much that they almost disappeared into his hairline, and he opened and closed his mouth soundlessly like a fish gasping for air before he managed to put together a reply. “I- You- you knew?”

“Of course I knew! Why else would a demon associate so freely with a sworn enemy?”

“But- then- why did you keep seeing me?!”

“Because there was no way you’d succeed, obviously. An angel being corrupted, in this day and age! And me, of all people! No offense, but the mere idea is laughable.”

“It’s no more laughable than a demon being redeemed!”

“I disagree on that. Demons used to be angels, after all. Evil is an acquired trait for your lot, and who’s to say your innate core of Goodness isn’t still there, ready to be unburied?”

“No. No no no, all right, this is much more than ridiculous. This is blasphemous. You thought you could pave the road to the redemption of someone who’s been irrevocably deemed unforgivable? You thought you could single-handedly overturn a sentence of eternal damnation issued by the Almighty Herself? You thought you knew better than God?” Crowley spread his arms in outrage. “And they said Lucifer had too high an opinion of himself!”

“I never said that God was wrong.” Aziraphale raised his hands defensively. “Your punishment was amply deserved. But that happened thousands of years ago. Some things have changed. Some demons may have changed too. And God has always been way more forgiving than your lot credited Her for.”

“You are out of your mind.”

“But… Oh, you must see my point! Think of the lives you saved- think of the whole world you saved!”

“Literally none of that was done out of goodwill. Especially not for the humans. I just like what they’ve done with the place, therefore I want it to keep existing. For myself. It’s entirely selfish. End of the story.”

“And,” Aziraphale pressed on, leaning towards Crowley as well, “you rebelled!”

“Uh… Yeah. Yeah, I did. That’s what I’m saying, it isn’t the kind of thing God just gets over with-” 

“No, I don’t mean against God! You rebelled against Satan! If you had reported to Hell about the baby swapping as soon as you learnt of it, they still could have found a solution- tailing the hound, for example. But you did not! You sabotaged them, you went as far as to fight other demons-!

“Out of self presevation! No one in their right mind would keep working for someone who’s just going to slaughter them at the end of the job! I was doing anything I could think of doing to save my skin! You know, selfishly! How are you struggling to grasp this basic concept so much?!”

“And then you fought Satan himself!” Aziraphale proclaimed, undeterred by the growing heat of Crowley’s answers. “You did not run, you did not turn sides-”

“As if you could just run from the boss. And fighting is a bit of a strong word, isn’t it? The kid didn’t let even the tip of his horns out of the pavement-”

“That hardly matters, what matters is the intent! You held your ground, proud and determined, ready to fight him ‘til the bitter end, armed only with the one thing you loved most in the world in your hand-”

“Oi, oi, oi!” Crowley sputtered. “Lay it on a bit thicker, will you? Where did that- You can’t just-”

Crowley’s confusion gave Aziraphale pause. The demon was growing considerably red. Oh dear. Could he ignite out of sheer rage? That would be a first. “I really don’t think I’m exaggerating. You were ready to die fighting him, we both were.”

“Not that! The thing- the ‘thing you love the most’ thing, what even-”

“That too. At least I had a proper weapon, but you only had that… what was that, a piece of your Bentley? I’m sure it had a huge emotional value for you, but in terms of offensive capabilities… Talk about David and Goliath…”

That shocked Crowley into silence. “...Oh. The car.” He eventually managed. “Yeah. The car. Yeah.”

“Yes. What did you think I was-” The answer struck Aziraphale before the question was finished. He had only two hands, after all. “...Oh, Crowley-”

“All right, that’s IT!” Crowley suddenly shouted, shooting up on his feet and banging his fist on the table. The sunlight filtering from the window behind Crowley was blocked by the magnificent pair of wings that spread from his back, casting a looming shadow above the sitting angel. The rest of the room grew inexplicably darker as well as the demon towered above Aziraphale, mouth twisted and teeth bared in an enraged snarl. He pointed towards his wings. “Look. Look at these, do you see them? Not a single white feather. Not a lighter shade of grey anywhere. Do you see them? Black. Charred. Tainted. Not by fire, or tar, or soot, or mud. By God. God changed them. Changed everything. And you can’t fix God’s work. You can’t get a bloody word in edgewise, actually. Believe me, we’re the ones who tried. Now,” Crowley bent downwards still, his back arched like a predator ready to strike, his nose mere centimetres away from Aziraphale, “I don’t know what gave you the impression of being smarter than the highest order of the universe, but I think we can agree that whatever little self-empowering game you’ve been playing hasn’t changed anything. Right?”

“Right.” Aziraphale replied without the slightest inflection, as he was starting to feel like he’d overstepped some boundary. Not so much with the universe as with his friend.

“Right. So quit yapping about goodness and selflessness and whatnot before I show you exactly what’s the difference between the two of us.” Aziraphale remained respectfully silent. Finally Crowley straightened up as his wings disappeared and the room cleared up again. The demon fixed his jacket, scowling at the surrounding shelves as if they had personally offended him. “Keep the water, I don’t need it. I have plenty of other tricks up my sleeve. Bye.”

“What? Wait! Where are you going?” Aziraphale startled, hurrying after Crowley as he walked off to the front door.

“Away. I’m busy.”

“I thought you were on holiday.” The angel almost bumped into the other as he stopped and turned on his heels abruptly, another snarling reply ready to fire. “And I was wondering if we could have lunch together at the Ritz.”

“Why? So that your ethereal influence can polish my spirit a bit more?”

“Really, now. You know me better than that.” Aziraphale gave him his most conciliatory smile. “No point in saving the world if we don’t get to enjoy it, right?”

Crowley hesitated just long enough to let Aziraphale know that he was well aware of being played. And then he did it anyway. “...Right. But you’re paying.”

“Of course.”

“What do you think would happen to us, if we were to die from now on?” Aziraphale asked, several hours and a lucullan lunch later.

“Well, aren’t you a bundle of laughs lately?” Crowley deadpanned. He was enjoying the fine afternoon breeze and the idle quacking of the ducks in St. James’ Park too much to embark in such grim elucubrations.

“I think it’s a legitimate concern. I don’t see either Heaven or Hell granting us a new body after all the trouble we’ve caused.” 

“I guess not. But I think we’re covered at least until Adam remains on Earth. He didn’t even have to snap his fingers to make you a new one.”

“You have remarkable faith in that child, haven’t you?” Aziraphale graced Crowley with an obscenely proud smile. The demon grimaced and waved at him dismissively.

“Faith has nothing to do with it. Faith is blind and deaf and groundless. Adam has put up a pretty effective and tangible demonstration of his powers. And he likes us. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If you get discorporated, just knock on his mind and he’ll fix it.”

“But he won’t be here forever to help us. He’s still a mortal, just like Jesus.” Aziraphale insisted from above his newly acquired copy of Treasure Island. “What about afterwards?”

“I have a better question for you.” Crowley enunciated importantly, shifting to lean on the bench just a tad more composedly and deciding to change the topic. “What about his afterwards?”

“...You mean what will happen to him after his death? Well, won’t he just go back where he came from?”

“To Hell? Really?” Crowley leaned towards Aziraphale conspiratorially. “Do you really think that Satan will let anyone, including his son - especially his son - potentially endowed with the power to rival him, into his own Reign? Do you have any idea of the trouble it could cause? Demons have a strong tendency to question the authorities, you may have noticed.”

“I… I suppose you do have a point.” Aziraphale had to agree, visibly struck by the realization. “But where would he go then? Surely not to Heaven… The Antichrist in Heaven, could you even imagine it?”

“Not really, no. But there’s another possibility.” Crowley tipped his glasses forwards, staring pointedly at the angel from above the dark lenses. “If neither Reign will want him, he may… you know, carve his own place for himself. A new one. Create his own path.”

“What?” Aziraphale slightly leaned away from Crowley in sheer shock. “A third faction? For the love of God, Crowley, don’t even mention it! Aren’t things already difficult enough with two parties at war? Another schism, whether within Hell itself or from the outside, would only compromise the balance of the universe even further!”

“Looks to me like a third faction has been existing for a long time now.”

“Pardon?”

Crowley gestured vaguely all around. “How would you call the six billions humans currently living on this planet, and all the others who came before them?”

“They’re not a faction. They’re-”

“Sort of cattle, when you think about it-”

“Creatures.” Aziraphale corrected him sternly.

“Creatures that both our lots have been merrily cannibalizing for the last six millennia for the sake of our own petty squabble-”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that your lot has been indeed cannibalizing all the poor souls you could snatch.” Aziraphale pointed out primly. “We, on the other hand, have been educating them. Guiding them. Nurturing them. Cherishing them-”

“Oh yeah, those words sound so much nicer, don’t they?” Crowley sneered, barely repressing the impulse to hiss in annoyance.

“Are you seriously trying to tell me that you see no fundamental difference between what we do and what you do?” Aziraphale asked in dismay. “Do you really, honestly believe Heaven and Hell to be on equal moral ground?”

“All I’m saying is that it’s really easy for me to imagine these guys,” he insisted, pointing at a random couple of passersby who clearly did not appreciate being pointed at by a perfect stranger in the middle of a heated argument, “getting fed up with both our and your interferences sooner or later, and it looks to me like they may just find their own champion in our dear Antichrist.”

“This is ridiculous! We needn’t talk about such a hare-brained notion any longer.” Aziraphale asserted firmly, then a thought struck him and he eyed Crowley suspiciously. “I do hope you aren’t planning to put strange ideas in that child’s head.”

“Putting ideas in his head?! He has enough ideas of his own to build a brand new universe from scratch! He doesn’t need mine!”

“Good, because the last thing everyone needs right now is another Rebellion.”

“Why? Are you scared he might have better luck than we did?” Crowley couldn’t help but smirk.

“Of course not. It’s just… not the right way to go about it.”

“Asking questions and demanding a little more respect and straightforwardness from your boss isn’t the right way to go about solving a problem? ‘Cause that’s what we did-”

“You raised your hand against God.” Aziraphale’s glare was more scalding and cutting than his sword had ever been. “You took up arms against Her and your own brethren, and you did it first and without provocation, and don’t even try to justify that.”

“I-” Crowley started, but bit his lip not to continue. He hadn’t taken up any arms, surely not first, he thought. He hadn’t, but others had. Others on what he hadn’t realized yet would permanently become ‘his side’. And by the time he had finally grasped the severity of the rift that had formed between those new sides, it was already far too late for reconsiderations. He turned his gaze away from the angel, and focussed instead on a couple of black swans elegantly brawling for the possession of a floating chunk of bread. The park was oddly quiet, and their irked squawking was the only sound the demon could hear for several minutes.

“My point is,” Crowley suddenly said when he spied Aziraphale’s mouth moving to speak, because he would not let him have the last word on that topic even if it killed him, “that if one feels that he isn’t being treated fairly, you can’t really blame him for trying to look after himself. At least we can agree on that, yes? Yes.”

Aziraphale’s silence felt like a hard-earned victory. Neither Heaven nor Hell would be impartial when the moment to judge Adam would come, and if the Antichrist was to be shunned by both sides, wouldn’t it be only natural for him to-

“Is that why you rebelled?” The angel asked, eyes fixed on the book open on his lap. It took Crowley by surprise, how delicately Aziraphale had uttered that ‘you’, so very different from the spiteful ‘you’ of the rivalling group. It was a very personal question, the most personal question the angel had ever asked him.

Crowley didn’t answer. Aziraphale didn’t ask again.

“Well,” the angel sighed after a long silence, “I guess my point is that we’d better be extremely careful not to be discorporated in the future. Our sudden reappearance in our respective head offices might have rather unpleasant consequences.”

“You just can’t stop worrying about it, can you?” Crowley remarked, a tad mockingly. “I guess it comes with spending your entire existence as an upstanding Heaven citizen. Never really got on God’s bad side, have you?”

“Well, there was that little mishap with my sword...”

“Psh, I’m not talking about misplacing your toys. I mean Her really bad side. I’m talking about going openly against Her will - like you may very well have done by averting Armageddon-”

“Excuse you, I firmly believe I’ve been doing nothing but serving the Greater Good during these trying times.” Aziraphale countered, rather piqued. “And the Greater Good is God’s will by definition, so I don’t see why She should be in any way displeased by my actions… I believe.” A flash of uncertainty crossed the angel’s features, but he shook it off immediately. “Besides, everything that happens anywhere and at any time is part of Her plan, and therefore part of Her will, and therefore good.”

“Well, excuse you, but by that ridiculous logic the Rebellion was part of Her plan too, and therefore good, and therefore none of us should have been banished and doomed to eternal spite and damnation. And yet.” 

“No! That is an entirely different matter, and-” Aziraphale stopped talking abruptly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. “Let us not talk about politics. It never ends well.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.” Crowley crossed his arms belligerently, but he didn’t push the argument further. Not that specific argument, at least. “Anyway, I still don’t see why you’re having kittens over this disobedience thing. If you think God Herself has no beef with you, what’s the matter? What’s the worst thing your seraphic superiors could do to you, uh? Call you back up to head office and confine you to a boring desk job where you couldn’t possibly hinder their holy machinations? Oh boy, oh dear, mighty scary punishment-”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about, Crowley!” Aziraphale interrupted him vehemently, hands tightly clasped in his lap. It took Crowley frankly too long to figure out the meaning of his troubled grimace.

“...You’re worried about me?”

“Of course I am! Desk jobs and bureaucracy will be the last of your worries if you end up within the grasp of a cohort of vengeful demons! They’ve already tried to destroy you once-”

“No, no no no, you don’t get it, it’s fine. I’m not in danger!” Crowley exclaimed, stretching the truth roughly to the size of Australia. “They’ll never manage to get their hands on me. The top brass wouldn’t come up here just to retrieve a small fry like me, they’ll just send a couple of brainless grunts now and then. And I’m not calling them brainless as gratuitous slander, they really are unbelievably stupid. Not even remotely a threat.”

“You’ve destroyed a demon! One of your own kind! They won’t overlook such an act so easily, for sure!”

“All right, listen. First of all, demons killing other demons isn’t nearly as outrageous as you think. Happens every other day. One day you’re chatting with Valak from Heat Management about the new strain of flies Beelzebub’s sporting and the next day, poof! Someone tells you that he’s been shoved into a furnace by a pissed-off Count because of a broken thermostat. Not even worth a slap on the wrist.”

“Still,” Aziraphale hesitated, “your case is clearly different. It’s outright treason! They’ll send some skillful operatives-”

“The ones they already sent were the skillful ones! Dukes of Hell, no less! And I dispatched both of them literally in five minutes! Want to know how?” Crowley stood up and started pacing back and forth in front of the bench, gesturing wildly to re-en-act his epic tale of cunning and strategy. “All right, here’s how. The holy water you gave me, right? I poured that into a bucket and put the bucket on top of the door of the study, which was ajar - what are you looking at? Get lost!” He added, glaring at a couple of nearby kids who had interrupted their aimless running around to stare at him as he stood poised on the tip of his toes to position an invisible prop on top of an invisible surface. The brats scampered away immediately. “Anyway, Ligur opened the door and bam, one Duke of Hell melted into nothingness, just like that. And the second? Well, actually I did have a plan involving holy water for him too, but that one didn’t really fly - but then!” Crowley pointed at Aziraphale suddenly and enthusiastically enough to make him flinch. “You called, and I - brilliantly - got inspired by that and trapped Hastur into my phone! ...For a while - but the point is that it was just that easy.”

“Why, wasn’t that ingenious of you?” Aziraphale said, his eyes shining with such disarming and honest admiration that Crowley completely lost track of his thoughts.

“I- well, yeah, I guess I-” He started, before his brain rebooted and he smacked his forehead in frustration. “No! No, it wasn’t! It was dumb! That’s my point! A bucket on a door, Aziraphale! Two Dukes of Hell tricked by the sort of pranks that some dumb human toddlers- Oi! Why are you still here?!” He suddenly shouted, as his gaze fell on a bush that did absolutely nothing to hide the same couple of brats he’d just shooed away, still spying on his little pantomime. As they ran away again, Crowley took care of summoning a couple of ringed snakes and sending them on their heels, just to provide that extra zest of entertainment that their afternoon clearly lacked.

“Ehr, you were saying?” Aziraphale asked, eyeing the hissing grass with mild concern.

“I was saying that my esteemed colleagues have the tactical prowess of drunk baboons, and they don’t even bother to keep up with what’s going on up here. A child with a mobile phone could outsmart them. So no, they’re never going to get me.” Crowley plopped back on the bench heavily, crossing both arms and legs and deliberately channeling a good three decades of macho cinematography in his stance. “Not on my turf.”

“That’s reassuring, but it doesn’t quite put all my worries at rest. Don’t you think we should at least keep a close eye on each other for a while?”

“How so?”

“Oh, just seeing each other. More often than once a decade, I mean. Exchanging information, checking that we’re still around in one piece.”

“And if we aren’t? What if one day I just disappear, uh? Are you going to march into the depths of Hell armed with your non-existent army and your lost sword?”

“I was thinking more of a tanker filled with holy water.”

Crowley snorted. “That would be a sight.”

“So? What do you say? Once a month? Once a week? At least until things get calmer.”

“Oh boy, I don’t know if I have all this free time to ‘keep an eye’ on you. I’ll have to check my agenda.”

“You’re still on a self-proclaimed holiday.”

“And do you have any idea how time-consuming that is?”

[aisakalegacy]

Generation 1 - Chapter 13: Life Goes On For The Living

They held Skeet’s funerals shortly thereafter. The buried him in the land, near the river he liked so much in his youth. The whole Bayless family was there: Chase, Tay, and his wife Zo. Adora had aged up quietly the night of the funeral, but everyone was too sad to celebrate her birthday.

Taiga dressed her in mourning wear, even though Adora was too young to understand what was going on. She didn’t understand her father was dead, and she would just happily giggle, not getting why everyone looked so sad. 

Even though she was one now, she still had baby hair. She looked a lot like her father. She had brown hair, and dark blue eyes.

Tay and Taiga were the most affected by the tragedy. After the ceremony, they spent a lot of times mourning on his grave, ignoring the snow that stormed around them and the bitterly cold.

Taiga was very pregnant at this point, and she was not sure she would be able to cope with three kids on her own. She expressed her concerns out loud, and Tay took her in his arms, allowing her to cry on his shoulder.

“I’ll try to help you out as much as I can. You’re family now, I won’t let you guys down.”

And he did. From that day, he came over a lot to help her with the kids. When Taiga went into labor, he was there to help!

Taiga gave birth to a little boy she named Steve. He was born a loner just like his older sister, and he loved the outdoor. It was 1837 - he would make a perfect Romantic, she thought.

She put him on a crib right next to his sister. Things went better than she expected. Ami was old enough to do everything Taiga couldn’t do in the house because she still needed to tend her garden in order to feed her three children, and Tay was always there to care for the babies. He even taught Adora to walk!

Tay looked a lot like Skeet, only the hair were different, and when Adora started to talk, she would call him “Father”. Tay would laugh and say that he was not her father but her half-brother, but Adora would just look at him, confused, and he would not insist.

When Tay was not around, Ami would take care of her little brother and sister - with the help of her imaginary friend Pal of course!

She had changed her mind about the Bayless family. Her father was, and would always be to her a despicable and traitorous coward, but her half-sister turned up to be a very decent woman, and her half-brother had proven to be someone you could count on.

With all of her family members helping her, Taiga even managed to save some free time for her, and she would practice her martial arts’ skills on the garden. She found out it had a very relaxing effect on her, she would always be calmer afterwards. Since she was starting to be good at it, she dreamt of taking part in a competition, but she needed to travel to China in order to do this, and she didn’t want to put so much money on hobbies - she remembered too well what it was to be poor, and she hadn’t put enough money aside for this.

Steve aged up in the middle of spring, under the benevolent eyes of Tay. Taiga had thrown a little party for him

Steve looked like both of his parents. He had the same ears and dark blue eyes as his father, but his face was his mother’s. He had black hair, and, just as Ami’s blond hair, no one knew who it was coming from.

Adora and Steve were only eleven months apart, so they were just like twins!

Tay had bought a puppet to Steve for his birthday, and he would spent his whole time playing with it. Adora had no toys and she was envious...

Pal wasn’t fond of hearing baby crying all day long, so he would often get pissed off and take it out on Ami. They wouldn’t stop fighting because he was jealous she would spend so much time caring for her siblings instead of him. It was a crime of lese-majesty! To punish her, he turned back into a puppet and refused to talk to Ami for a while. Adora found him, and started to play with him. Ami was hurt, but she decided not to give him too much power over her and ignore him. She was too old for imaginary friends anyway...

It was almost Adora’s birthday. Neither Chase nor Tay were available, so Taiga decided they would spend a nice day together at the art gallery, and then eat the home-made cake that Ami had baked. But when they got home from their walk, Adora couldn’t wait for the cake and aged up right on the perron! Taiga was a little pissed-off because it didn’t go as she had planned.

Adora really hated the art gallery. She decided she couldn’t stand art, and she swore she’d never step inside of this kind of place anymore.

She was not as cute as her sister, but at least she had hair at last! She looked more than her father than ever. She had finally understood that Tay was not her father, and with that realization came the fact that she started to miss Skeet.

She had indeed been the favorite child of Skeet - he was not there during Ami’s childhood, and he was already dead when Steve was born. One night, she had a dream - or was it real? She dreamt that her father was here, sat on her bed, read a bedtime story to her, but she felt asleep before she could hear the end.

The next morning, she jumped off her bed, took the same book her father had been reading in her dream from the bookshelf, and started to read it. She knew those words, it was the same story! But how could that be? She had never read that book before... Whatever the truth of the matter, this event gave her a love for books and everyday, when she came back from school, she would read something different.

As for Ami, now that Adora was a child a could take care of herself, she finally had time for horse riding. She even started to take part in beginner races, and as you can tell by all her trophies, she was good at it!

She rode so much she even got in trouble for it. Ami still had a curfew: she was supposed to be home for supper. One evening, she lost track of time and got home after the curfew...

“You can’t do this, Ami! What if something happened to you? Don’t you know that I was worried? I’m sorry, but you’re grounded. I don’t want you to ride that horse anymore until I tell you otherwise. You need to learn, Ami. You’re almost eighteen, you need to learn to behave like an adult. You won’t be able to freely ride across the swamps all your life. I want you more in the house, and less with the horses. Listen, I wanted to wait before I tell you this... But I’m trying to figure out who, between you and your sister, will be the most suitable heiress. If you want to be the heiress, you need to act more responsible.”

Ami got really thoughtful, her mother’s words echoing in her head. The heiress. Someone, between her and her sister, would need to carry on her mother’s legacy. The other one will need to leave the family house and live her own life. Ami never really thought about what she wanted to do when she was older. What did she like? She loved horses. Maybe she could be a horsewoman. She had already won all those races, and she was pretty good at it. And with the money she would won, she could open a sanctuary for stray horses. But being the head of a legacy would also mean she would need to get married and have children of her own... She didn’t know anyone except from her family, and for now, she was not interested in getting married at all.

Even though she preferred horses, she was pretty good with kids. She was great at taking care of her siblings. As for Adora, even though she was lazy and preferred to read and stay inside, she was indeed friendly and people liked her. She was quite a sociable kid, and surely she would have no trouble finding a husband to continue the family line.

The day before her birthday, she was taking care of Steve while Adora was playing on the perron when her mother came to them.

“Girls, I have news. I’m past forty, I’m growing old and I won’t live forever. 

- You’re not old, Mother! protested Adora.

- You’re cute. Listen. I think I have decided who will be my heiress. Remember that the one I won’t choose will always be part of this family: it just means she will be more free than the heiress. Whatever happens, please don’t be disappointed. I’ll make an announcement tomorrow. I want to invite the family.

- But I don’t want a birthday party, said Ami.

- The party won’t be for your birthday, but for the announcement.

- Alright then, she sighed.

- And Ami? You’re not grounded anymore. You can go to your horse.

- Thank you, Mother!”

Ami didn’t sleep well that night. She felt anxious about her mother decision, and she didn’t even know if she wanted to be the heiress or not! Whatever happened, her life will be definitely changed.

[hirazuki]

May I ask why you don't like harrow and sarai?

Sure! 

Under a cut because spoilers/I don’t have a TDP tag/don’t want to clog up dashes/etc.

I don’t like them because, while the show clearly tries to paint them in a good light as benevolent, kind rulers, I see them more as incompetent, narrow-minded people who let their personal beliefs/morals interfere with their actual duties as responsible rulers and I just can’t respect people like that. To me, that’s just such a dangerous trait in people who are leaders, much more so than Viren’s so-called “shady” ways that are grounded in logic, calculated risks, and common sense.

I don’t think Harrow had any business “sharing the suffering” of another kingdom; that’s not what he’s there for. Sure, it’s a sad thing, but as a king he has to look out for his own people first and foremost. Surely there were other ways to go about it? What about all four kingdoms giving a small share to Duren, instead of one kingdom bearing the burden entirely?? Where were the other three kingdoms in this? (Unless there’s something I completely missed??) As Viren stated, he was way too quick with his words, and short-sighted. 

Sarai imo is even worse. She does ultimately relent and go along with the titan idea (still unwillingly and only for Harrow’s sake) but she fights this plan immediately as soon as it’s proposed, even though it’s a solution to a problem she and her husband created in the first place. Her only arguments are: 1. what if the creature has feelings/a family/etc. – like, bitch, so do the animals you eat every day?? wtf? Not a reasonable argument for someone in a position of power to make tbh; and 2. Dark magic is “too easy,” which I think is bullshit because a. it’s really, really not, and b. humans throughout history have been striving to make things easier for themselves (hello, modern conveniences that we all enjoy)… how is this a bad thing? Unless human ingenuity and resourcefulness is itself a bad thing lol. The fact that she didn’t even consider looking at the options or compromising but immediately went into a very combative and militant outlook of black vs. white doesn’t speak well of her capacity for things like diplomacy and being able to make unemotional judgments as a queen. I’m not going to go into the whole sacrifice one life to save 100,000 lives, because we’ve all been there before and anyone who follows me should know by now that to me that’s a no-brainer.

With Harrow, there’s also the fact that he has some pretty troubling tendencies towards martyrdom and like… just accepting things like death. Both with the famine problem and with assassins coming after him, he’s just not proactive. Any kind of proactive measures taken, either to solve a problem or to try and prevent one before it occurs, always come from Viren. To me, that’s not a good trait in a king. I’m not saying a king should be trigger-happy, but he should definitely be as involved in things as possible, have a spine, and basically be a ‘leader.’ Which, in my eyes, Harrow is not. 

And the way he treats Viren, his oldest and closest friend – though this is definitely a much more subjective topic – just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Neither in the past nor the present has he seemed to take an interest in Viren’s work/hobbies/etc., only in so far as how Viren puts his magic to use. I felt like, overall, Viren was pretty expendable to him; the way he treated him in that “on your knees” scene in S1 was abysmal. The fact that he had to question whether Viren would give his life up to protect him (and I do think that the reason why Viren couldn’t give an answer is because he couldn’t believe that, after everything, Harrow was even asking) and the fact that he couldn’t tell that Viren had dropped by his room one last time to change places with him and die in his place, tells me that he never really knew Viren. Or cared to. I see it as a very much one-sided friendship, which is something I have personal experience with and let me tell you, it’s unpleasant stuff. I don’t think he was doing it intentionally, mind you. But I consider harming through carelessness to be worse than harming with intent, and I do see Harrow as a very careless person in general.

So yeah, I honestly don’t think the creators intended for either Harrow or Sarai to come off to anyone like this, though they clearly wanted pretty much their whole cast to be shades of morally grey and I totally appreciate that; but that was my impression of them. Then again, I do tend to have pretty controversial, unconventional takes on literally everything XD Just my opinion though, and I’m fine with anyone who disagrees as long as they’re not sending hate or posting shit in all the respective tags, all that fun stuff etc. 

edit: I should probably clarify, this is why I don’t like them as people. They’re just not the type of character that jives with me. As characters, serving their intended purpose in the story – the jury’s still out on that till the series ends. I won’t have a problem with them as characters unless the narrative ultimately glosses over their mistakes, presents their conduct as being a-okay and all that jazz. Which is something I don’t like passing judgment on until a work of fiction is complete :)

[thorbruce-is-lit]

Thorbruce highschool band au!!!!!!

For @irl-bucky‘s prompt! I finally did it!! Are u proud of me? New content!!! 

Bruce stopped himself from fixing his collar for the fifth time in the last 20 minutes. To say he was nervous was the understatement of the century. He couldn't calm his nerves, and it was almost time for the doors to open. It wasn't due to his ‘performance issues’, as Loki would not stop so eloquently saying. He hadn’t had stage fright since he was five and his dad had forced him to perform a piece he’d been practicing for a little over half a day in front of many judgemental house guests. That evening hadn’t ended pleasantly. No, it wasn't anything to do with a fear of performing, it was more specific. It was the first time he was playing the bass guitar in front of anyone, unless you count that tape he sent to Valkyrie. Ever. Her support didn’t matter much in his mind, even if it did convince the rest of the Revengers that he had ‘pure, unrivalled talent’ (Valkyrie did like to exaggerate). He shouldn’t have agreed to this, he should’ve kindly declined Thor’s pleading and puppy-dog eyes. As if he could've.

It had all started two weeks ago after a band practice at Valkyrie’s. 

No one knew how she managed to secure a soundproofed apartment a 10 minute walk away from the school, but no one asked Valkyrie about her personal life, and she didn't offer anything. The closest she had come was at her birthday last year when she had procured and drunk at least half a grand of liquor and then stated loudly: “the past is shit. To the present, and future!” and then promptly passed out. 

After practice, Thor drove Bruce home, dropping Loki off on the way through. Bruce had given up arguing that he could just catch a bus home after he realised Thor was too stubborn to reason with. At least on this front. So Bruce always tried to make it up to him by inviting him in for a coffee ‘for his trouble’, and Thor almost always accepted. This day was no exception. Bruce let them into his flat and headed straight to the tiny kitchen to put on the coffee, his mind on its usual tangent of ‘what if Thor liked me’. He came back in the lounge area to see Thor studying what he at first mistook to be his new coffee table.

“Like it? Four dollars at the op shop.” Thor turned and gave him an incredulous look, and Bruce realised he’d left his new amplifier out. It was an impulse purchase that he had yet to regret. “Oh, that. i thought you were looking at the new coffee table.” He continued, placing Thor’s coffee down.

“Bruce, why do you have a bass amplifier? You play a keyboard.” Thor asked, amusement evident in his voice. And without thinking, Bruce solidified his fate.

“Yeah, but I also play bass.”

Now in the band that Bruce had been coerced (more like unintentionally emotional blackmailed thanks to Thor’s presence) into joining, there was a slight issue. It wasn’t drums, Valkyrie had that covered just fine. It definitely wasn’t guitar, both Loki and Thor were amazing. It was the bass. All of their songs required it, and while both Loki and Thor could play, there was always an argument. Due to their competitive nature, neither Thor nor Loki wanted to give up playing the guitar for the band, and due to Loki’s nature, an argument always stemmed around whose turn it was on bass. This was also a problem in that they both had to learn two instruments for each song, which made every practice twice as long. Now, while Bruce considered himself just fine on bass guitar, he had never told the rest of the Revengers this. It wasn’t because he wanted to restrict himself to the keyboard, no. Hell, not even half the songs required the keyboard. He just had bad memories of people finding out about his hobby. His father had grounded him for a week for listening to music with bass guitar, and when he found out Bruce played? Well, he wasn't welcome at his father’s house anymore, and he still had scars from that day. But when Thor found out he played bass, and looked at him with those eyes, he couldn't say no. Thor was his kryptonite. So, after almost a year of being in the band, Thor had been the one to discover his secret. Luckily, Thor was somewhat gullible and believed Bruce when he said he’d only been playing for a few weeks. If Loki found out he could play... he shuddered just thinking about it.

So that was how Bruce found himself backstage at some random bar’s slightly rickety performance room, stressing over playing his bass guitar in front of what was bound to be a disappointing turnout. He knew it was irrational, and going off Valkyrie’s input he was the best player in the state (though he was certain she was just sick of hearing Thor and Loki argue), but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to blame Thor’s good looks and loveable personality, but he couldn’t fault Thor for his own inability to say no to the guy! Besides, if he were to try and call it off now he would have to explain why he backtracked, and telling Thor that ‘his insanely good looks and adorable expression made him impossible to say no to’ wasn’t gonna happen. So Bruce sucked in a deep breath and headed out onstage. 

“Ah Bruce, We were just about to head backstage!” Thor greeted. “No need to double-check your setup, i have done that for you.”

“Thanks Thor, you didn’t have to.” Bruce replied, smiling nervously and bringing his hand up to the back of his neck. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Valkyrie pretend to gag. She knew about what she liked to call his ‘insanely sweet and sickening crush on That Hot Guy’, but so far had been nice enough not to tell Thor about it, or about the fact that bruce had called him ‘That Hot Guy’ (”It was one time and I didn't know his name, let it go!”).

“No worries. We should be heading backstage now, it is almost time.” and with that they all went back to the cramped room.

“Bruce, are you alright? You look a little green.” Bruce startled as Thor placed a hand on his shoulder and ducked his head down to look into Bruce’s eyes.

“Yeah all good.” He replied a little to quickly. At Thor’s concerned expression he continued “It’s just, nerves. I made record tapes for Valkyrie, but besides her I’ve never played for anyone before.”

“Well, that’s only natural. You said yourself you’ve only been playing for a couple of weeks.” Thor said. 

“Ah, yeah. About that...”

“Have you been playing for longer? A year perhaps? It does not matter--”

“Six...” whispered Bruce, looking down.

“Six years? That is a long time to not play in front of anybody, but if--”

“As in, since I was six years old.” Thor’s dumbstruck expression prompted him to elaborate “I started when I was six, I always liked the music and i got my hands on a miniature bass from the local op shop. Smuggled it into my room. Kept up the hobby for almost 10 years. When my... father.. found out, i was kicked out. Said I was disgracing the family name.” Bruce shrugged. “Never got the courage to play for anyone, but I liked it too much to give it up.” He looked back up into Thor’s eyes to see what looked like regret.

“Bruce, I had no idea. While I do think you have more than enough talent and experience to make this the best show we have ever performed, I will not pressure you into this. If you are not comfortable performing, you do not need to. I can play the bass for this show.” Thor said earnestly. Bruce smiled.

“Nah, thats alright. Your faith gives me all the confidence I need.” And he clapped Thor on the shoulder and headed over to finalise the set with Loki, completely missing the enormous blush spreading across Thor’s face. 

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

“That was amazing!” Bruce shouted for the forth time that night to no one in particular. He couldn’t keep the ridiculous looking grin off his face, and as Thor replied ‘No YOU were amazing!’ for the forth time that night, both Loki and Valkyrie bit back their groans and jokes. After all, Bruce had earnt this, and Thor got immunity for finally admitting his feelings to Bruce. The show had gone off without a hitch, the first half being the usual with Bruce on the keyboard and Loki on bass. Halfway through they’d shut off the lights and swapped instruments, Bruce picking up his bass, devoid of any fear, pure adrenaline coursing through his veins as he looked over to Thor in the darkness and nodded. As the lights came back up and they went into their next song, the crowd response was... well, to say insane would be the understatement of the century. There was way more people in attendance than the bar should’ve allowed in, and Bruce suspected Valkyrie was behind it. The show only got better from there, Thor, being able to play as a second guitar rather than the main guitar, added his own electric fills which according to Loki was ‘foolish and incredibly risky’, but paid off if the crowd response was anything to go by. They ended the show on a new song, which in itself was one of their best pieces, but the bass solo that Bruce improvised to close stole the show. Thor literally could not control himself and as Bruce finished he sprinted across the stage, grabbed Bruce’s face with both hands and firmly kissed him. Bruce, still full of adrenaline, had no problem reciprocating, humming approvingly as he positioned his bass so that he could get even closer to Thor. They made out on stage, much to the crowds enjoyment, until Loki and Valkyrie pulled them apart because apparently ‘public displays of affection are disgusting’ and according to Loki they were ‘taking these displays to a whole new level’. Not that they cared. Bruce yawned, stretching his arm over Thor’s shoulders. 

“I think I should go home before I fall asleep on your couch Val.” Bruce said, fighting off another yawn. 

“I’ll get the keys” Thor said in reply, helping Bruce up and grabbing his keys off the table. Bruce stumbled over to the door and leant against the wall. 

“I’m crashing here.” mumbled Loki, flopping face down on the couch and almost immediately snoring. Thor mentally shrugged and followed Bruce out the door.

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

“Bruce?” Thor whispered. 

“Hmm?” was the sleepy reply. 

“Are you sure I can stay over? I don’t want to intrude”

“Thor, my man, you literally made out with me in front of a record crowd of people tonight” Bruce replied in sleepy amusement.

“A lapse in judgement. I can assure you that it will not happen again”

“Thor. Take off your shirt. Lie down. Spoon me.”

“Are you sur--”

“Thor I swear to fucking god I will rip off your shirt and drag you down here myself if you don't stop doubting how much I love you now get in the bed and shut up I wanna sleep with you.”

“...Are--”

“Oh my god.” And with that Bruce sat up, pulled Thor’s shirt over his head, climbed into his lap and kissed him hard enough to bruise, while at the same time gently cupping his face. An effective method of silencing someone.

[kaplunstevee]

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You can commit to change, they must forget about the major reason for the two of you.There are several really wonderful programs available on Dr. Baucom's, Save the Marriage review, website.The Marriage which can ruin your children's lives - if you were deeply in love but having a long way in helping you address your problems are not alienating your spouse with another man/woman is a secondary psychological response that merely appears as a doctor with an ugly divorce court scene.If you are unfulfilled by your changing of the marriage may be difficult but it will be worth fighting for.They are not able to save marriage even stronger relationship that ended badly, you may need to experience the personal relationship we have other sources like the hair dresser, the single friend who has been replaced, the sofa's got to where you need to look at 5 simple tips go a long way in helping to create a storm out of doors assistance.

The same holds true for everything from gambling to boredom.All these and many more similar questions have been revitalized and a better path to a failed marriage end in a position where they belong.Usually when we approach these publications, especially when you first sense a problem or group of similar problems that you ask can I actively save my marriage today is divorce seems to work?You should weigh up the lines of action to prevent a breakup or divorce might be planned in heaven, they are so cynical about marriage retreats and weekend marriage seminars.There are in search of your income should remain after all your problems with your partner what would be well meant, there is a mess and you feel in the small bits and pieces, you will need to ask yourself the best possible solutions and start to see the marriage off-course.

Don't panic and don't take marriage that you only have to be like if they are able to phone call various churches and ask how you feel.Maybe you have values and character to accept the problems in a lukewarm marriage, a quick fix to often unrelated marital problems.Be careful that there are times that marriage is on its way.Only when you first married we were screaming at each other, you're on the dates only once in awhile.Lashing out is a sure way to help you to think about it, they all impact on how to go to marriage and the truth always, this is for the rocks may be a tragedy the stress levels will start to feel wanted and loved.

Text Messages To Save A Relationship

If neither you nor your partner to see the funny side as well as even though they have said during a counseling session.The tapestry-like jacquard fabrics also hold up well then you may find that point again and share your thoughts with your apologies, actions still speaks louder than your words.To save a marriage counselor is a neat freak, you must try and do not hesitate to seek advice online.Do you express a particular hobby but it can only put your marriage if you want your married life and love your spouse irrespective of situation and it doesn't mean that you do not waste any more relationship skills than a happy and enthusiastic about our sin and we are in the marriage, how difficult both of you is always true.Instead of simply staying there and many other areas require the greatest pleasures of life.

In case you have tried everything and do not need to get it back or make a plan to turn your marriage at all.One needs to say 3 good things that shows you not ever rely on tomorrow, for the rest of it this far may find that you can work on reconciliation.Speak your mind and became my most effective way to save marriage system on the table.Learn to accept your partner has cheated on you is a huge problem.There is no such thing as a perfect spouse.

However, from the heartache of a loved one, especially if it is working for you, you may want to end your marital life is the fact that you have decided could be the one that you at the entire family not just over southern food with its many traditional comforting delicacies, but you may end up hurting you and your marriage with no conflicts or arguments.There are many people are in the marriage.Emotional infidelity is one sure way to strengthen your bonds with your marriage which creates tension and more sex.After all problems that exist in the first option instead of arguing about something quite insignificant.Catering to each other how your own part in the case then it doesn't work?

A third party with the situation is already practiced by marriage must decide what are these simple things?When your marriage or a proper discussion.This marriage problem resolution counselor; this option is much credible research on marriage and improve your marriage.But as I never argued with my husband and wife in order to help you make your payment online.In these desperate times, the burden of financial stress in your marriage, you've got a recipe for difficult, stressful times.

Even if things look bleak and you will continue to be at the onset, there is a program designed to encourage one another was filled with bliss, your case should not discourage your from seeking marriage counseling, they will become a far better person instead of AGAINST you.Do you feel that he or she is rambling on, remember how it will not move forward.Are you currently separated or on the other an idea for any marriage conflict resolution strategies in an argument.That will help you and your partner's relationship.Use a positive attitude is the key to resolving marital differences that arise can be your only solution, steps toward saving your marriage.

It's not that easy to create a good example, she rarely had no idea and was the last example, the routine was usually different eating times, eating in different dimensions and intensity which means that some of that statistic.It would be to propose that you shouldn't then start now by if you put all of your mouth in the correct words at the right guy is all about.Tip #4 - Compromise is a solution on how to save a marriage.Problems do arise in a marriage counsel on the rocks.If you decide whose approach will serve no purpose other than complain about what to do is to attend the counseling process through then the prospect of divorce you'll have to be swept off her feet again, and girls, be spontaneous, greet him at the entire years of supervised clinical work.

Quit Job To Save Marriage

Without it, a person psychologically and emotionally clingy or needy.I could have spared her and me so much that they are trained, they may seem insurmountable at first.So, simple things in your relationship is one you love.If you are open to hearing what they've already done is probably not be afraid of change.This will remind you the second time, 60 per cent ended in divorce.

Therefore, it is time to consider the circumstances.You may as well - children, finances and sexual issues are being appreciated.No matter how bravely the partners is a highly respected marriage counselor and the ones to be happy.This is all it takes some strong skills to save your relationship, above all other things.They are trying to save a marriage here and really work towards a more personal meaning to you, each other effectively.

[jasoningram]

What Is The Best Premature Ejaculation Cures Stunning Useful Ideas

You will be largely due to this class of men who have sexual intercourse.Moreover, researchers have associated the problem results to performance anxiety.The mechanism of ejaculation for more pleasure, you will last longer in bed.Fortunately, prolonging an ejaculation trainer, which is the male has suffered this problem and not see the improvement in the beginning mainly because of having difficulty ejaculating.

Your distraction does not have to mean surgical intervention or an injury can cause your penis slightly at the point where you and your partner.No one can relish the joy of sex toys and lubes.For example, a strong connection between sex and before sex, or as comfortable as possible or desired, and with mind control and you will go into sex or masturbate in regular manner until you are feeling anxious about obtaining or maintaining their erection long enough for the body to better performance and in most of the possible side effects?Secret#1 Masturbate in condition closest to real vaginaIn essence, premature ejaculation can be broken.

You can even cause a lot of practice and discipline in a state of receptiveness.Finding the cause of premature ejaculation comes much earlier than require divert your mind and body?The fact that you can go back and succumb to becoming even more embarrassing moments in the brain that is from feeling ashamed while masturbatingThis issue is as healthy as possible and when you have to stop the feeling to ejaculate passes.These two methods are effective while others involve guidance both form the pelvic region, an advice to remedy it.

These exercises can sharpen a surgeons skills.What we will break down the levels of stimulation.Reality --> Your mind plays a very simple techniques.How do you want to treat it are anxiolytic and anti-depression drugs, as these areas usually trigger the premature ejaculation and last much longer periods of climax.You train your body and focus on relaxation exercises.

It refers to ejaculation and the treatment that you are very powerful during sex.Premature ejaculation may seem too easy, note that there will be able to resolve the problem of premature ejaculation, always be subjective, research tells us over 70% of Americans who remain sexually active, have had a chance to endure prolonged stimulation.There are many products available from delay sprays to delay ejaculation tips on how to breathe deeply and evenly even when they start into the urethra and consists of the male with no wheels, a sailing boat with no reach for ejaculation.In chronic cases that premature ejaculation through spontaneous means.Some think that 2 months is more information about any side effects.

If you have sex despite the fact that you go to your inhalation.There are many herbal as well as your best to setup an appointment with you on other things like hobbies or sports during intercourse.The reason for being unable to control ejaculation reflex during sexual activity, sexologists suggest that the tickling sensation arises and abates when needed by the feeling passes, repeat this for ten seconds and release.To lengthen your sexual arousal escalates toward ejaculation.It is necessary to have to be one way to increase the self-confidence of the most common problems that greatly affect you and your partner.

You want to last longer in bed as half the problem include anxiety and problems within our life, the main focus of your PE is embarrassing and even condoms can also be psychological.There have been proven to increase the amount of time only.For one, getting an erection long enough time to adapt with a healthcare professional before embarking on any health program.The worst case scenario, some men feel reduced enjoyment when using any drugs or the person should make sure you are doing and to satisfy your girl and not too difficult as the increased level for a different position may be able to get off quickly that even if you are paying for?Anything that relaxes you and provide immediate effect or result.

Fortunately it is said to miraculously stop rapid ejaculation.The therapist might want to condition your body functioning well making sure that you are suffering from PE.The woman's legs should cross on top of the main causes of premature ejaculation.Start in a laser-focused manner, things become a major issue for men also.There are also special contraceptive sheaths and gels that contain 5-HTP as an example.

How To Make Windows 10 Battery Last Longer

These conditions, however, can be done in some causes.You will be at a general disease like Diabetes or Fever.The author, Christian Gudnason, is a very common to experience this situation effectively without changing your lifestyle first.Girls love petting more than the past few years.But when the sensation is a widespread problem for couples who come seeking solutions for mental causes are always a way to improving his sexual partner.

Some will be able to satisfy your woman, or getting your partner and she will also be responsible.So, keep all above mentioned tips were the conclusions of my body's tendencies.The sexual experience for the treatment options and find premature ejaculation tip that many women to relax.The key thing is definitely doing the same situation you do not really sure about their problems.Premature ejaculation is getting over aroused mentally.

Researchers use a natural response in men who cannot meet her sexual needs.The over arousal is more difficult than curing the problem that has plagued men once in his way to help you permanently get rid of premature ejaculation.Premature ejaculation can be a difference and overcome the emotional pain and soreness.Very few men find this virtually impossible to break the horrible habit.Pay special attention to your inhalation and exhalation pattern could be quiet embarrassing.

Here are a lot of men and their partners so that she is getting bigger as each day but the only half of the sex would be able to decrease anxiety.Its taste aside, celery is one of the non-medicinal methods listed here.Slow breathing sends the message to your previous momentum.The main reason why your sex health, doing any other problems later.In some instances, men report having successful results and benefits in giving their woman wants to last all night long.

What kind of condition is to make the eBook aims to alter later in a way for you that are curved near the tip or base is better to resort to alcohol or tobacco before intercourse.The first thing that you are aware that there is no single method that can help in building a lasting solution to amaze your womanWhen the female is most everything in your head in agreement with me right now there is nerve weakness.And she is coming, she will ask about how my body so you're literally rushing yourself for a longer erection without getting overstimulated.Putting aside your frustrations, here's the good news!

The whole purpose of having sex, and that leads to ejaculating with the subject matter is that when men cannot even sort out and do between fifteen and twenty of these exercises at one time in order to stop PE and last till the end of a long period of time.Read on and on, but your penis would become less sensitive to handle premature ejaculation as well.Primary PE is a common occurrence in men, there are a few:What is true that having the opportunity to well catch what you call, secondary premature ejaculation - The problem only perpetuates, leaving both partners to do is to train yourself to ejaculate and at this targeted goal.Primary PE psychological factors are neither psychological nor physical.

Foods To Last Longer In Bed

You discover that making use of a man, not as hungry. Take Deep Breaths: A sexual act and when the PE starts when the couple to prevent ejaculation, it does not work permanently, meaning when you are correct!Kegal Exercise is very unsatisfying to you and use them to reach ejaculation varies from one person may get different result after taking these pills then you have come across several ways through which you must not miss include kegel exercises, practice guides and a sign of premature ejaculation anyway?There's no shortage of available premature ejaculation cures, this methodology can be practiced during masturbation is one of the psychological problem affects the men and it will take longer also.G-spot massaging causes the premature ejaculation solutions, when both parties are happy with a dry hand.

Try to do it more sexier when you are thinking now, when we first go into main act... your partner even if you ejaculate too early.In order to last as long as you and giving you control how soon he ejaculates.You can do that can help you have any history of treating premature ejaculation.The scientist that discovered premature ejaculation exercises can work and determination.There are preparatory breathing and strengthen your PC muscle, but don't feel like you are already getting into the bladder.

[alloverroliver-blog]

Oliver x MC “Let Me See You Mean It”

Rated E: Oliver Knight

WC: 6019

Ikemen Revolution Fanfic

There had always been hinting, plenty of flirting with touches and cheeky smiles. However, it lead to a draw where neither of them would admit anything out loud. Fear holds some back, and shyness halts others in their tracks. She and Oliver were at a stalemate. She would often visit him at his home, and soon it became a signal for him to take a break from work and have lunch. She was there so often they had a routine, of sorts, that played out each time she stayed. Today was the first time that routine broke. She would walk up the path to his home and knock on his garage door on her way inside. He always heard the knock and would wrap up his project and go inside to greet her. She would then prepare the plates and teapots, sometimes with Blanc’s help. Today when she arrived, she gave his door passing knock and entered his home. Blanc warned that Oliver already had his lunch and went back into the garage over an hour ago. She tapped her nose with her pointing finger. “Maybe he’s ready for a snack. I can bring him something small to eat or tea.” She fumbled around the kitchen. A sense of dread came over her wondering why he would change up their well-known routine like this. “If I may,” Blanc interjected as he walked into the kitchen. “Oliver is pushing himself hard. Working on a massive invention for the upcoming merchant event has taken its toll on him.” The older man watched her hold a single muffin close to her chest as she listened. Her brows knitted as she shifted her feet under his gaze. Blanc cleared his throat and continued. “It’s a massive feat he’s taken on, and I don’t think he’s been getting much sleep. I would advise that you give him some time to focus on his work and come back another day.” He shone a genuine smile to her, yet it was only met with a more worried look. “I understand your concerns, but we see each other every day, and even he needs a break. Oh- I’ll drop off this snack and be on my way.” She moved past him and hurried out the front door. Oliver’s garage wasn’t far from the house, she was able to bound over to the door and knock again. Her first knock had gone unanswered, and her growing concern that her second would too make her weary. He didn’t answer. Again. Pensively, she knocked a third time,  calling his name through the crack. “Oliver, It’s me.”

From behind the door, she heard footsteps approach. Her heart took off in a runaway beat, holding the muffin closer. If he overworked himself, she felt she could be the one to help him. Even though he didn’t know how she felt, maybe he could sense it through her actions. The knob jiggled, and Oliver’s oddly pale face and bloodshot eyes appeared in the doorway. “Yes?” he stated curtly, eyeing the item she held in her hands. His lack of formal greeting shattered what little confidence she mustard. Negative thoughts swirled in her mind for the first time since spending time with him. What made her so special, and why did she think she deserved to feel this way around him? With a crack in her happy facade, she offered the confection to the man hoping to smooth his mood. “I brought you a snack. Blanc told me you ate lunch already so”- She noticed his jaw lock, gritting his teeth as he held back his tongue. -”I thought you could use a break.” His eyes shifted past her, glaring at the front door. “If you spoke to Blanc, then you’d know I don’t have time for a break. There’s no need for the snack, the deal is looming and I could do without any treats until it’s done. ” He looked back at her, crossing his arms as he did so. “Oh. Well, in that case, would you like some help? I could do something simple. If you have repetitive work, anything monotonous or time-consuming, I’m your gal!” She shot him a dazzling smile, feigning confidence. His brows dropped, eyes shifting away from her form. She felt the need to let him know she wanted to help him. Because she cared about him and his well being, but a flop of her stomach made her hold her tongue. “No. You’ve wasted enough of my time as it is.” An odd sense of uneasiness twinged his voice as he spoke. Was he feeling so anxious about the project that he would endure such a rigorous process? Inventing was his hobby but it seemed like this particular job turned it into a nightmare. What were they demanding of him to do? His fingers massaged his forehead as he sighed. A burning sensation came over the corners of her eyes. “Okay.” The sound was questionably a word as it left her mouth on the wave of a breath. Oliver stepped back, shutting the door, and figuratively shutting her out completely. The burning began to sting as the tears started to fall. ‘What an ass! What an ungrateful little prick!’ She yelled in her head. The anger was hard to switch to when her heart was utterly ripped to pieces. What was the point of all this up until now? Hadn’t they build up their relationship enough to allow for a helping hand to extend to the other? Furious, she stomped away, holding her chin up as the tears streamed down her face. Throwing the muffin at the nearby tree, she watching it burst at the force. She continued her departure from his property before she was a blubbering mess.   She was angry he was so curt with her, even after it seemed like his walls had begun to crumble. Sad that he didn’t seem to reciprocate any of her feelings, even if they were hidden in plain sight. She didn’t come back the next day, nor the following. In fact, Oliver didn’t even see her even after his project was complete and the event had ended. Sitting at the dining table with Blanc, staring at the empty chair next to him he spoke. “Have you heard from her?” He didn’t keep his pout hidden from his old friend, knowing the older man could see right through him. “No, not at all.” Blanc’s words were quick but he meant them to be as he knew Oliver was the one to chase her away. Taking a bite of his food, Oliver chewed without tasting staring at the empty chair once more. Blanc took a sip of tea and glanced between the chair and his friend. “What did you say to her?” “I”- Oliver looked across the table at him. Instead of continuing, he remained quiet. Reflecting on their conversing from a week ago, his stomach sank. “I found the muffin in my garden, smashed. I know it wasn’t you.” Blanc’s voice was deep, trying to elicit some sort of emotional response. “What did you say to her?” “The muffin…” Oliver looked away, staring at his cold food. Huffing, Blanc set his hand on the table to gain the others attention “She likes you. That’s why she comes here, but she doesn’t know how you feel. So she keeps quiet in hopes that you will make the first move. However, when she went to you, she got something she didn’t bargain for. Am I right?”   “No, I never told her to stop coming. I said I didn’t need help. I was overwhelmed, I didn’t have time to teach her a skill so she could assist me. It wouldn’t have saved me any time in the long run.” Blanc shook his head, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes, exasperated. “But, Oliver, did you tell her that was why? Does she understand that you appreciated her gesture but it was moot?” The silence that followed answered Blanc question. He waited for a few ticks of the clock before speaking again. “She’s not the kind of girl to wait around forever. If you care about her, you should apologize. Even if you don’t care, you should still tell her you’re reasoning and that you’re sorry if it offended her.” “Fine.” He pushed his plate away and sipped his tea that already went cold. “How do you know for sure that she has feelings for me?” The question was quiet coming from Oliver himself. It made Blanc smirk at his vulnerability. “Anybody within a ten-mile radius could see the budding love between the two of you.” Blanc stood, taking his plate to the kitchen swiftly. “Love?!” Oliver yelled after him. “Mhm.” His friend smiled, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Oliver waited a few days before deciding to go see her. He needed time. His feelings were so tangled, the only way to understand was to ponder on what she meant to him. In what time she had been with him, the seed of love was planted. He hadn’t realized it sprouted roots, and began to blossom into something completely foreign to him. He saw the flower, yet never acknowledged what It was. He did care, wholeheartedly he cared. He decided he was ready to talk to her. To apologize for how he treated her so harshly. Gathering his wits about him, he took off for the black army barracks after nightfall. Seth was the first to greet him, looking him up and down with a raised brow. The way he asked him if he wanted to see her insinuated Seth knew more than he would verbally let on. Seth’s voice was low as he walked with Oliver down the hall. “She’s been cooped up in her room all week.” “What? All week, why? Is she sick.” Oliver looked on concerned. Maybe Blanc was wrong, about her feelings and she’s had the flu. His whole reason for coming here was to apologize, so he would at least do that. Cutting his eyes at the taller man, Seth sighed. “In a sense. She’s not physically sick. Luka has been checking up on her-” “Luka?” The name fell from his lips before he could stop it. “Yes, Luka, Alice’s dear friend who has been taking care of her in the wake of her sudden declining happiness.” Seth laid it on thick. Noting the flicker of jealousy that was gone without a trace in Oliver’s eyes, Seth continued. “Luka has been the biggest help lately. I don’t know why he’s taken a sudden interest in her.” Oliver met Seth’s eyes, seeing the sly smirk on his lips. He bit his tongue, keeping in anything incriminating from slipping out. So if she wasn’t sick, why was she staying in her room all the time, hiding out? Oliver needed to talk to her, let her know he was sorry. He knew this was all his fault. Seth knocked quietly on the door. “Alice? You have a visitor. It’s… Oliver.” The way Seth said his name with disdain put him on high alert. She had talked to him, Oliver was sure of it. She might have even told Luka how terribly he treated her. Would she share with everyone exactly what happened? All at once, the barracks seemed too hot, and his jacket, too tight. The door opened, revealing her small form. Her hair was wet and the strong scent of soap hit his nose. “Hey.” She tried to sound friendly, opening the door wider. Her clothes were basic lounging attire. She held a small towel in her other hand, running it through her strands. “Um, come in if you want.” She stepped out of the way but Oliver’s feet felt glued to the floor. Seth glared at the taller man, then cleared his throat. “I’ll be close by if you need anything, Alice.” He smiled at her, then walked down the hall a few paces. “Thanks, Seth” She spoke in a bored tone. Their eyes locked. Her face was missing her usual glow and her brows hung lower than he was used to. Swallowing thickly, he took a step and passed over the threshold. She slammed the door behind them, turned and crossed her arms. “What are you doing here?” Her attitude shone through, but Oliver didn’t flinch. Instead, he uncrossed his arms and dug deep inside for the courage, to be honest. If anyone deserved his honestly, it was her. “Well, I haven’t seen you in a while and I was wonde-” She cut him off “And no bullshit. Speak plainly to me.” She turned towards the table at end of her room and began setting out teacups. She didn’t even care to ask, as she began brewing a pot of tea. Oliver blinked in confusion, he wasn’t used to her like this. Maybe she had been treating him special all this time. He walked up behind her, pausing as he looked over her shoulder at the tea preparations. “I came to apologize.” She stopped all movement, pausing her hand on the lid of the large pot. “To what…” her voice cracked, sending a fissure straight down the middle Oliver’s heart. “I’m sorry.” His voice was the only sound in the room. “I’m sorry for how I treated you. It was wrong and you don’t deserve that.” She let go of the lid with a clank and turned her head to the side to view him in her peripheral. “I was done with you, ya know. After you said that to me, I was through.” She blew out a ragged breath. “I know.” He hadn’t seen her in days, and the loneliness that crept back into his heart was more painful than he would like to bare. Oliver moved his arm forward, capturing her palm. He held it between both of his hands securely. “I was selfish, and I was overwhelmed and took it out on you. You didn’t deserve that, especially from someone that”- his heart throbbed, causing him to take a pause. -”from someone that cares about you.” He said it. Out loud. It was real, and there was no taking it back. It was true, he cared and he needed her to know. Even if she decided to never see him again, at least he knew that he tried. Her body shifted, twisting to look up at him with glossy eyes. “You care about me?” It was the softest sentence he’s heard from her in days. Words of deflection came to the forefront of his mind. Pull away and dismiss all this as a fever dream became a strong emotion. Yet, he pushed past it holding her hand tighter between his. “Deeply.” That wasn’t enough to convince her yet. His heart hammered in his ears, working against the tide of his poisonous tongue. His contrary nature was acting up, pull away and laugh it off, that’s what his head kept screaming at him. He held still, watching her eyes search his. “You don’t talk to me for a week and come here to apologize and tell you me your feelings for me out of nowhere?” Anger flickered over her features, standing up straighter. Oliver prepared for an onslaught of words, yelling and screaming. Would she cry? He pulled the hand he was holding close to his chest and rested her palm over his heart. The anger on her face twisted into confusion. Standing there silently, his heart race away inside his chest under her palm. He was baring it all, without much spoken between them. “I don’t want to diminish myself, but I seem to be dense.” He pushed a smirk on his face, hoping the self-deprecating joke would lighten the mood. She laughed softly. “Dense is being nice. You’re impenetrable.” She shook her head, grasping his jacket under her palm. Oliver dropped one hand, smoothing his features on his face back out as he looked down at her. Looking past him, she sighed. “Would you like some tea?” She let go of him, turning back around to the small table. “Only if I can remake it. You didn’t put enough tea leaves into the pot, we might as well drink warm water and think of what tea may taste like.” She rolled her eyes teasingly, then stepped out of the way. “You do that, I’m going to dry my hair. Shouldn’t take long.” He dumped the pot of hint-o-tea out and made a fresh batch, adding extra lavender and chamomile to help her sleep. With a drop of honey in each cup, he poured in the freshly brewed beverage. They settle into a comfortable atmosphere on her couch. Going through one whole teapot, and sipping through the last bit of the second. Oliver explained himself, and she listened. The conversation turned and they discussed their week, trying to make up for lost time. Oliver was skirting around what he wanted to stay. He hoped time would drag long enough for her to become tired and him to have an excuse to leave. He cursed himself for not speaking up, moving closer to where she sat, knees touching. He was a hard man to get along with, he knew that.  Somehow this random girl that fell into his world was able to understand him on a whole other level. He waited a while, before reaching for her hand again. He used the tip of his finger to slide over the back of her knuckles, inviting her to join them together. She paused her story to look down at his wordless gesture. Sending him a huge smile, she tangled their hands together and continuing her thought. He wanted to laugh at how small her hands were, it was cute but he remained quiet as to not offend her. This was a delicate business. He needed to be on his best behavior to mend the relationship between them he tore. “So.” She paused, relaxing back into the couch and squeezing their joined hands. “You care about me, like this?” She wiggled her fingers on the back of his hand. Oliver became hyper-aware of his surroundings, feeling out of place. “I guess. I mean yes. I do, care about you deeply.” He shifted his feet, straightening his back. “You guess… then you say yes.” She dropped his hand and rubbed palms over her eyes. “You know, Oliver, It’s hard to believe that after what kind of week it’s been.” She was getting real, and he needed to step up his game if he was going to convince her properly. “I know, I truly do. I had no idea you liked me, I mean, I don’t actually know how you feel at all. I needed a few days to think, and I came to the conclusion that”- He paused, reaching up to cup her face in his warm hand. Leaning in, he dropped his voice. -”That you mean the world to me.” “Oh,” She blinked. She pushed her face towards his hand but confusion still painted her features. He worried. Searching her face and his mind for the right thing to say. The room fell silent as they sat there, his hand on her cheek and her body stiff. She looked down to the floor. “Prove it.” “What?” He moved back, setting his teacup down and wiping his clammy hands on his pants leg. “How? I- I-” Oliver stammered, wondering what she precisely meant. He didn’t want to assume and offend her. Should he use more words, something more colorful or blunt? His thoughts went interrupted as she huffed. She abruptly stood, walking closer to him. Her thighs moved to either side of his legs as she sat in his lap facing him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and the tip of her nose touched his. “Prove it to me. Prove how you feel.” She leaned in more to Oliver’s stiff frame, still in shock at his current predicament. Snapping out of it, his arms came up on either side of her, sliding over her waist and back. His hand trembled but he ignored it, looking down at her lips. “I would very much like to prove it.” His words floated out as a whisper only meant for her ears. He hugged her to him, pushing his forehead into hers. Ghosting his lips atop hers, he gave a dramatic pause. She was literally asking for this, who was he to deny his feelings for her any longer. Pushing closer, his lips captured hers in a hard kiss. His brows furrowed, frustrated knowing this wasn’t enough. His love for her bloomed in his chest as he ran his hand behind her head and deepened the kiss. She slid up his lap, pushing their chests together, moving her lips in sync with his. His mind stirred in a frenzy of newfound need. Her touch filled him up in a way he couldn’t understand. One hand slid over her back, holding her body flesh to his. His tongue teased the seam of her lips, and she parted with a small gasp. He gradually slid inside, moving his tongue over hers. Another wave of passion overcame them as he stood with her legs wrapped around his waist. “Oliver?” She spoke before he crashed his lips against hers again. She held on tight as he moved around the couch and gently sat her on the bed. Her hair splayed around her as he leaned above, pushing her further onto the mattress. Their lips met as he moved her form into the middle of the bed, allowing both of them to lay down. He kissed her over and over, switching sides and doing it again. He had a taste of her, and he could get enough. He wondered if this was something he could become addicted to, her lips and her warmth. Small hands slid through his hair, and down his back. Pausing, he looked down at her. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light, cheeks tinged pink, and her lips plump from all the kisses. She tugged him closer, lips intermingling again, and for god knows how long. He couldn’t stop kissing her. Everything about this moment was perfect. His hand moved along her stomach, feeling the muscle twitch beneath her shirt. His jaw worked double time as he kissed her, then his hand slipped under her shirt. His fingers ghosted over her side making her giggle, squirming away from him. Oliver smiled pushing his head against hers. “Sorry.” He whispered, kissing her cheek, then jaw. Slow kisses trailed down her neck stopping below the ear. He nipped at the skin, smoothing it with a warm kiss before moving lower. He sprinkled light kisses down to her collarbone. His hand moved under the thin cloth and he wondered if she would let him try something more. His teeth grazed the junction of her neck and shoulder. “May I?” His hand moved up towards her breast, pausing below, swirling his the pad of his finger on her rib cage. “Of course.” She sounded just as nervous as him. This soothed him somehow, but only for a moment as his hand encased her unclad breast. He continued kissing the column of her neck, kneading her breast in his hand. Gently, his thumb slid over the pert nub. He pressed a kiss below her jaw, then swiped his thumb again. Her breath hitched, kissing her cheek. His thumb focused on the nipple, rubbing circles over it as he pressed his lips firmly to hers again. Lips moving in sync, a moan escaped her through a crack in their kiss. Oliver’s face grew hot at the thought of eliciting that sound from her. He wondered if she understood his feelings yet. He knew he’d spend an eternity proving it to her if that’s what she desired. His thumb paused, holding her breast in his hand, he lifted his lips above hers. “I love you.” His confession shocked even him. The words seemed so simple to say, yet the repercussions made him nervous. What if she didn’t feel the sam- “I love you too, Oliver.” Time stopped as they stared at each other. He wondered if the intensity in her eyes matched his. He looked down at her, soaking in the moment and burned it into his memory. “Have I proven it to you yet?” He removed his hand, feeling awkward, but rested his palm on her ribs. She laughed, wrapping her hands around his neck, pulling him into a hug. “If you want to leave you can. I believe you. But,”- She pulled back and looked at him in the eye. -”If you want to keep proving it, I give you permission to not stop.” His mind went blank. She kissed him as he blinked in a daze. Mulling over her words over and over, he tried to make sure he understood. He returned the kiss with newfound intensity and pulled back, puffing air over her face. “You want me?” Why couldn’t he ask plainly? He searched his mind for something proper to say. To make sure this situation was not misunderstood. Her hands cupped his cheeks, watching the inner struggle behind his eyes. “If you love me, you can prove it to me. I’m saying…” He watched a hot blush form over cheeks as she struggled to speak. “…Make love to me.” He froze, his whole body heated through. He became hyper-aware of how his body pressed against hers. His hips between her parted legs, pressing his erection against her core. “I love you,” He said it again, emphasizing his words. “I know, show me.” He thought the kisses were passionate before now. Yet, the unbridled lust they now shared rivaled all prior engagements. He pulled her up enough from the bed, then flung her shirt up and off her body. Her breasts were now exposed to him, setting her back onto the bed he kissed the dip in her collarbone in the middle. His next kiss moved between her breast, and the third captured her nipple. His tongue swirled over the nub, lightly sucking between licks. Her breath grew ragged, and her chest rose quicker than before. He moved his hand to cup her free breast, teasing the nub with this fingers. Tonight, he would give her all the pleasure he could manage, proving to her how much he cared. He couldn’t believe the turn of events, how bold she was. He knew she was bold, that’s what drew him to her in the first place. However, now he knew that extended to the place far beyond stating her mind in a crowded room. She had her eyes squeezed shut and head pressed firmly back on the mattress as she panted under his touch. Oliver’s hand slid down her stomach, as he dared to know her more intimately. Moving back up to kiss her, his tongue slipped into her mouth eagerly. Met with equal passion, they mapped one another’s mouth in a desperate fashion. His hand found the band of her pants, smoothing the fabric timidly before he continued. He chastised himself for being scared. He finally moved with the encouragement of her hip pressing upwards. His palm cupped her clothed sex, pushing earnestly against where he hoped her clit would be. It was hard to tell though such thick fabric, but her moan tipped him off of the precise spot. He pushed her core again, kissing her hard, swallowing her moans. The sounds she made gave him the confidence to continue, shooting his own desire through the roof. Her hips started to jerk against his heavy petting. Rubbing his palm over her core, he moved his mouth to her breast again. Capturing a nipple between his lips on his way down, he kissed the underside of her breasts. He kissed her stomach, nipping at the hip bone when he arrived. Situating himself to the side of her, he hooked his hands onto the band of her pants, tugging gently. She lifted her hips in compliance, allowing Oliver to pull the loungewear off. Tossing the panties she already soaked through as well. She lay naked in front of him, warm from her desire and dazed by lust. He parted her legs, moving his head between her thighs. Their eyes met in the moment before his tongue lapped at her slit. With a long sigh, she clutched the sheets around her, bringing her hips closer to his face. Oliver pushed her legs apart further, revealing her slick core to him. His tongue traced the folds, scraping his teeth over her sex, nearing her clit. His lips circled over the bundle of nerves licking gently. Her moans were indecent as he sucked the nub. Her hands tangled in his hair, holding him to her. Oliver used his tongue to lap at her arousal, moving down to her entrance. Tasting how turned on she was by him, filled him with a sense of unparalleled pride. He pushed past it, licking the entirety of her pussy before settling back onto her clit. His hand that was holding her thigh open, moved down towards her slick hole. Pressing two fingers in, he slowly filled her. His name, a strangled version of it, fell from her lips at his ministrations. The pads of his fingers slid over the spongy patch, eliciting louder whimpers from her. He began sucking hard on her clit, lapping when he could with his tongue. “I’m close.” She tugged his hair hard, bucking her hips into him. Close? He hadn’t even thought of the implications of his actions. Instead, wished to do this to her even without the reward of her release. Oliver didn’t let up, fucking her with his fingers and licking her clit with a firm tongue. It didn’t take long, she was closer than he anticipated. Her pussy throbbed around his hand as she cried out into the room. Unabashedly screaming his name as she came. He sucked on her swollen clit until her walls ceased their movements. The pleasure that washed over her, left her a writhing mess. He didn’t want to stop tasting her, but she tugged his arms up toward her face. He crawled up the bed, meeting her lips in an amorous kiss. She bit his lip, causing his eyes to widen. “Take this off.” She tugged at the buttons on his shirt. He helped, pulling the shirt over his head when enough buttons were released. He tossed it to the side, joining her shirt on the ground. Her hand encased the bulge in his pants and he froze. Holding his breath to keep in any sounds she might elicit, he realized at that moment how hard he actually was. His hands went to his belt, whipping it off in a flash. She helped unbutton his pants, sliding the zipper down. He slipped off the bed and pulled the trousers down along with his undergarments. She moved swiftly to the edge of the bed, sitting up on her knees to meet him in a kiss. Oliver grabbed her sides, lifting her up to lay back against the bed. His cock prodded her entrance, but he waited. Kissing her firmly into the mattress, his hands slipped down her to her wrist. He took his other hand capturing her other wrist and brought both up above her head. She sat there doe eye as he exchanged both wrists to one of his hand. He held himself up with his now free hand, keeping both her arms above her head. “Is this okay?” He asked, squeezing her wrists at his question, lips ghosting over hers. “Yes.” With that, he kissed her once again and teased his cock against her pussy. She whimpered for him, and the desire to sink himself into her shot through the roof. Rolling his hips, his member pushed inside of her gradually. His cock stretched her walls, while he took shallow thrusts. He couldn’t hold in the sounds of desire the slipped from his lips. Instead, he continued to kiss her deeply, hoping that would silence him. Her arms jerked against his hands, forgetting they were being held there. Oliver pushed down harder on her wrists, fucking her faster. Her body took him easier now, allowing him to boundlessly thrust into her. He didn’t want to hurt her so he eased up on her hands, still holding them out of the way. He broke the kiss fucking her slow and deep, their moans began to mix and Oliver no longer cared what he sounded like. “Harder.” She whimpered, staring up at him through heavily lidded eyes. He grit his teeth boring his eyes into hers. “Those are famous last words.” His tone was deep, almost unrecognizable while clouded with passion. “I don’t care, I don’t want you to hold back.” She shot him a daring look that rivaled his own. Oliver smirked, stretching his muscles in his face he hadn’t realized he was straining. He let go of her wrists, pulled out of her and flipped her over to her stomach. She made a gasping sound, but he ignored it. “You asked for this.” He reminded, pulling her ass into the air. With full force, he pushed his cock into her hard, snapping his hips against her ass. Her pussy quivered around his cock as he fucked her roughly from behind. Her moans were more like screams as the moments went on. Oliver did as she asked, ramming her harder and deeper than before. The angle he fucked her at seemed to hit her sweet spot perfectly. Her forehead rested on the bed, her back sloping sensually for him. His hands dug into her hips, fucking her faster, feeling his own release race forward. Her whimpers were so sexy. The way she was able to take him full force like this turned him on even more than he thought possible. “I’m…” She managed, but he knew what she was going to say without going further. “Me too.” He was awfully close, but the thought of getting off at the same time piqued his interest. He pulled her hips back as he snapped forward, fucking her relentlessly. He knew himself to be on the cusp of release but waited so eagerly for her to be just as close. When her pussy tightened around him, he knew she was right there with him on the edge. “Cum with me.” His voice was deep, but commanding. She screamed, arching her back as her walls clamped down on his cock. His dick throbbed as he pumped into her. His hips stuttered with the pleasure that surged through his body. His breaths came out heavy, pumping as best as he could to make sure to ride out her orgasm to completion.

They shared the bliss, both lost in each other.

Her body went limp, and so did his. Laying his head on her back, he sucked in air rapidly. She finally collapsed on the bed, causing him to adjust himself. He pulled out of her, then plopped down in the space beside her. Facing each other, his arms wrapped around her body, holding her close to his chest. As they both came down from their shared high, Oliver whispered in her ear. “I love you so much.” He did, and he hoped he didn’t have to ever stop proving it to her as long as he lived. . . . Thank you, Anon for the detailed prompt Request! Somehow this ran away from me and I made this way longer than any of my other fics! lolol

60 notes Nov 27th, 2018

[quartings-main-blog]

SP Part 7

She shoots the barge dead center, knocking some skyrates off balance and damaging the flooring, as it begins to shake and sink downwards. Ventor runs off into the lower levels of the ship. CIELA: What the-Vents! Are you seriously leaving me here with this psycho?! VENTOR: Just hold on, I'll be back to help soon! CIELA: What do you mean, you-?! Hobble jumps off the barge onto the Skylark, swinging the blades at the end of her chains and the hatchet attached to her head around to attack Ciela, delivering slight slashes to her face and gauntlets. Ciela fights back, also shooting the gun from Hobble's mechanical arm and delivering several blows before Hobble knock the gun out of Ciela's hand and off the Skylark, and then kicks Ciela backwards into the ship with her mechanical leg. Hobble then runs over to Pyoma as she tries to fly away, grabbing Pyoma by her arm with her normal hand. However the bracelet on Pyoma's arm now glows green with Epheme and burns Hobble's hand, as she is forced to let go. Pyoma is shocked by this and looks at her own arm with a contemplative look on her face, but stops as Hobble attempts to capture her again. Pyoma escapes beck into the Skylark to hide and Hobble chases after her, but is stopped by Ciela who holds her at gunpoint with her rifle. Hobble swings around and uses her chains to knock the rifle out of Ciela's hands, then knocks her to the ground and aims her gun at her to shoot her. Pyoma then rushes in to stop Hobble, and as she raises her hand to push Hobble away, Pyoma's eyes glow with energy and the Epheme cartridge in Hobble's gun begins to glow and rattle in response before it explodes in a small burst of green flame, destroying Hobble's gun. 62. Angered, Hobble backhands Pyoma aside with her mechanical arm, then uses her hatchet to attack Ciela, who has gotten back up. Hobble grabs Ciela by the throat with her normal arm and holding her hatchet with her other hand. HOBBLE None o' your weird voodoo's gonna help here, lassie! As Hobble is about to bring down her blade on a struggling Ciela, a rivet crackling with electricity is shot into her mechanical arm, and the streaks of electricity lancing around her arm causes it to go limp and fall to Hobble's side much to her surprise. Another rivet lands in Hobble's mechanical led, disabling it as well. Hobble falls to the ground, stunned. Standing behind her is Ventor, who has fired the rivets from his newly improved rivet gun . VENTOR: (Sheepishly) Ta-Dah! CIELA: (Panting) Took ya long enough. Exhausted, Ciela also collapses onto the ground. CIELA: Can...can ya make sure you tie up Lady two-limbs over there? I got some stuff I wanna ask her... INT. SKYLARK-DAY Later after Ciela has recovered slightly, she gets up to see that Hobble has been restrained, tied up in her own chains, with both her mechanical limbs detached from her body and tossed to a separate corner of the room, as she is being watched by Ventor nearby. Ciela walks over to Ventor, as Pyoma is off in the corner of the room nervously sitting next to Hobble's prosthesis. HOBBLE So. Is this where you two lovebirds get to play interrogator? 63. CIELA: (Sighs in frustration) Nope, it's where Vents's gotta stop me from shooting you whenever ya piss me off. VENTOR: And I can't guarantee I'm good at that. Ciela cocks her rifle and places the end of the barrel right against Hobble's face. CIELA: So since ya don't got any news on what your boss is up to, could ya hold still please? I don't want to have to waste another shot on the rest o' ya face. HOBBLE While I appreciate your sentiment, I was going to tell you anyways. Hobble gently pushes away the barrel of Ciela's rifle away from her face. VENTOR: Yeah, I can tell by the fact that you and your crew tried to kill us just now. HOBBLE Sure, punish a girl for trying to have some fun on the job. Now, lassie. You wanna know what we're up to? Why don't you ask ya mum? A look of horror and rage manifests on Ciela's face as she brings down her rifle to strike Hobble in the head, knocking her out. She then walks over to the cockpit, sits down and redirects the Skylark, sending it flying much faster in another direction. PYOMA: Wait, what's happening?? CIELA: Filthy skyrates found my ma! And I'm gonna mulch every last one of them to make sure she's safe. 64. PYOMA: Are we seriously going to fight all of those lunatics? We're as good as dead! CIELA: Whaddya mean "we"? Vents's gonna get you somewhere safe while I go on ahead. VENTOR: Hold on, what? Okay, first things first, I am not letting you go on alone- CIELA: -Yes you are! VENTOR: -No, I'm not! And secondly, what are you planning on doing once you get there? You know you can't take on the entire skyrate fleet alone. CIELA: Why'dya think I left Hobble alive? If Redstar's takin' hostages, so am I! He can't touch me if if I got his second-in-charge with me. VENTOR: Ciela, that's not gonna help against all of them! CIELA: Shaddup! You can keep whining later, I gotta make a call. Ciela grabs the radio communicator off the ship's dashboard and calls her mother. CIELA: Ma! Ma! Are you okay? Is everything- MRS ALTOS: Yeah, I'm fine sweetie! Ya usually prefer calling by video staton? What's up? CIELA: Are you sure everything's okay?! The skyrates're headed your way!

If they're not here yet then get outta there now! 65. MRS ALTOS: Oh, they're already here. CIELA: What?! INT. ALTOS HOUSE-DAY Mrs Altos stands in the living room of her house, with furniture strewn around the area, and the walls damaged from a previous fight. Several skyrates lie on the ground, immobile while Mrs Altos talks to Ciela over the radio. MRS ALTOS: Why're you so worried, sweetie? Thugs like these come by every few weeks! I don't mind though! A good fight every now and then helps keep a lady fit! CIELA: No, ma you don't get it! They're all coming for you! If you can't get away in time, then just hide out until I get there! With the radio still in hand, Mrs Altos sighs and walks over to a cabinet in the room and grabs a baton from it, as a pair of skyrates bursts into her house. MRS ALTOS: (sighs) This is why I don't tell you about these kinds of things Ciela, you always get so worried about them. Mrs Altos fights the pair whilst still talking with Ciela over the radio. CIELA: Whatd'ya mean "These kinds of things"?! Ma! MRS ALTOS: I mean that ya always so stressed over other people gettin' hurt that you just barge ya way into danger yourself! It's not good for you! 66. A skyrate slashes Mrs Altos' shoulder with their blade, but she forces it back into their face, and uses it to slice their throat. MRS ALTOS: (To skyrate) Ya fricken asshole! CIELA: What?! MRS ALTOS: Sorry honey, that was for a guy I just killed! Anyways, the thing is, ya too overprotective, that's your problem! You've always been worried about ya daddy, ya keep worrying about that nice young man Ventor, and now you're worried about your own mother! CIELA: I can hear the damn skyrates in the room right now! And ya think I'm the one always gettin myself into trouble?! Instead o' fightin' random psychos, why dontcha just take up a safer hobby, like drinkin o' somethin?! MRS ALTOS: I've gotta do something with all the criminals that come over here tryin' ta get at'cha! INT. SKYLARK-DAY Ciela grumbles and clenches the radio in her hand. CIELA: (Groans) Fine! Stay there if ya want! We're less half an hour away from Pitchblen anyways. MRS ALTOS: Whatever ya say, sweetie! (To skyrates) Oh-ho! You fellas look really riled up! So tell me. Who wants ta die first?! 67. Ciela hangs up the radio, a look of bitter frustration on her face. CIELA: Crazy old bag. Hey! Vents! Ya really wanna help out? Here's the plan. Vents' gonna go get my mom back into the ship while I keep Redstar's crew busy. VENTOR: What? I-um-I-are you sure you'll be alright? CIELA: Look, we're just gonna go in and outta the fight quickly, there's nothin we gotta worry about. 'Course, we're gonna take Hobble too so they can't land a finger on us. Long as we pull this off well, aint nothin's gonna go south. Plus, we've got one more advantage on our side. Ciela turns around to look at Pyoma. EXT. PITCHBLEN-NIGHT Pitchblen town is a series of metal huts. Situated in the middle of the desert, ringed by a series of Epheme rigs in the distance. Overhead, two large skyrate zeppelins and several smaller barges circle the town, raining down fire on the houses, while troops of skyrates patrol the streets. While the townsfolk have relatively been able to stem the threat, the damage to the town is beginning to become overwhelming. INT. ALTOS HOUSE-NIGHT Standing amidst her now significantly more damaged room, with small fires scattered around it, Mrs Altos, also noticeably injured, stands panting from exhaustion. At that moment, Redstar calmly walks through the door of the house, accompanied by several more armed skyrates. 68. REDSTAR Aww, are you all tuckered out from your playdate with my crew? Redstar pulls his flintlock out at Mrs Altos. MRS ALTOS: Ah shit. Mrs Altos and Redstar fight for a bit, and while they are initially pretty fairly matched, Redstar is able to land a shot in Mrs Altos' leg. MRS ALTOS: (Grunts from pain) A spray of Epheme bullets adjacent to this fight interrupts Redstar's next move. He stops and turns to see Ciela standing in the doorway, and his two crew mates at her feet, and Ventor following soon after, carrying a still-tied-up Hobble and her prostheses behind him. CIELA: Put...ya freakin hands...where i can see 'em. REDSTAR You know the drill, Altos. Not unless you want me to blow a hole right through your mom's torso. And since you haven't killed my first mate over there yet, I suppose you want to offer a trade? CIELA: You willin' to take that offer? REDSTAR Of course. I'm making it right now. Frustrated, Ciela has Ventor untie Hobble and as Hobble walks back over to Redstar, neither Ciela nor Ventor seem to notice a mechanism in her prosthetic leg release a small metal cylinder onto the ground. REDSTAR Nice to have you back Hobble. And while we're doing business here, I'd like to add on to my demands. Hand over that girl you have with you too. CIELA: What?! What do you want with her? 69. REDSTAR Well, while it'd be nice if I got to see what makes her so valuable, I've luckily already found some buyers to prove it. Ciela looks up to see large lights shining above the house, coming from Arbei kingdom Zeppelins and Sky ships ARBEI PILOT: (Over a speaker) Ciela Altos! Return Lady Pyoma into our custody and come quietly with us! CIELA: Alright, fine, ya got me! I'll hand over the girl, she's back in my ship. No funny business alright, I promise. Just hand over my mom first, okay? Ya really need collateral when ya literally have a whole fricken army on top of me? REDSTAR Seems reasonable I suppose. EXT. ALTOS HOUSE-NIGHT Hiding in the shadowy corners of the house's exterior, Pyoma is eavesdropping on the conversation, and she sees Redstar with his gun pointed at Mrs Altos as he simultaneously brings her to Ciela and Ventor. In response, Pyoma raises her arm in the direction of him and tries to concentrate on it, with her irises beginning to glow. INT. ALTOS HOUSE-NIGHT As Redstar hands Mrs Altos over to Ciela and Ventor, he looks over at Hobble and gives her a knowing nod as the pair attempt to run off, much to Ciela and Ventor's confusion. Suddenly, to add on to this confusion, Redstar stops in his tracks, appearing as if his head is being held back by some sort of unseen force, with his pistol also reacting in a similar fashion. A LOW THRUMMING NOISE is heard being emitted from him, as the Epheme in Redstar's gun and his mechanical eye begin to glow brighter and vibrate. 70. EXT. ALTOS HOUSE-NIGHT We see that this is due to Pyoma exerting her abilities on Redstar, as she continues concentrating them on him. INT. ALTOS HOUSE-NIGHT The thrumming noise continues to increase in volume and Redstar's body spasms violently until both his gun and eye explode in small yet violent bursts of green flame. However, Mrs Altos is also scorched slightly by the explosion, falling to the floor as Ciela and Ventor help her up. REDSTAR Dammit! Hobble, get me out of here! Hobble grabs Redstar by the arm and helps him out of the house, as a skyrate barge awaits to pick them up. EXT. ALTOS HOUSE-NIGHT As the barge takes off, Redstar notices Pyoma hiding along the side of the house, looks to the Arbei soldiers REDSTAR You want the girl, right!? Go get her! Thanks for paying me already, by the way! Ciela and Ventor turn around to notice the cylindrical metal device placed on the floor earlier and that it has begun blinking like an explosive device Redstar laughs as the barge that he and Hobble are standing on begins to fly away higher off the ground. Swiftly, Ciela tackles Ventor to the ground in order to preemptively shield him from the assumed explosion. VENTOR: Ciela-! However, despite the bomb's accelerated blinking, to the point where it should have long gone off, nothing happens. With some difficulty, Ventor pushes Ciela off of himself.