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ericsonclan · 3 years ago

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How to Trick a Ghost

Summary: Sophie and Minnie work to set up a surprise birthday party for Tenn but how do you hide a party from a ghost?

Word Count: 1819

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Minnie looked at all the party supplies, her talons clicking impatiently against the floor. She wanted to start decorating already but Sophie told her to wait. With a small huff Minnie sat on the floor and started to build a nest out of some party streamers. It was actually pretty comfy. She burrowed into the copious amount of party streamers, happy chirps and tweets leaving her lips as she closed her eyes.

Suddenly the sound of fluttering wings appeared along with Sophie carrying a tower of party hats on her head and a mannequin with her talons. “Mission successful,” Sophie grinned as she dove down and did a clumsy landing. The harpy quickly redirected her course though and fell to the ground with a bit more grace.

“Tenn is distracted?” Minnie poked her head out of her nest, a blue streamer draped over her head.

“Yep! He sure does love my art box!” Sophie fluffed up her feathers with pride then glanced over at Minnie. “Uh, Minnie, those are supposed to be draped on the walls, not your face,”

“I know that!” Minnie gave an embarrassed chirp. “I was just trying to guard and hide them in case Tenn showed up. Y’know ghosts, they can just zoom through walls like it’s no big deal,”

“True, true. Well he’s gonna be busy for a while. As soon as I let him use my art box his eyes got all big and shiny,” Sophie smiled, picking up some streamers and flying up to place them with her talons. “He possessed a colored pencil right away and I swear I’ve never seen a pencil race that fast across a piece of paper,” Sophie gave a pleased tweet and a twitter at the recent memory when she paused, her head tilted slightly to the side. What was she forgetting?

After a moment her eyes grew large. “I forgot the tape! I’ll be right back!” Not waiting a second the harpy was off, zipping through the house like it was nothing. She searched all around the front living room, then the dining room table. Nope, not there. Sophie tapped her talon against the floor, unsure where to look when she recalled that there was some tape in her room. The harpy was off like a shot once more and it wasn’t until she had already opened the door that she remembered that Tenn was in there. The loud sound startled the ghost who slipped out of the pencil, his form turning a bit fuzzy due to being spooked.

“Oops, sorry,” Sophie gave a small series of apologetic chirps and walked forward. “Just gotta grab some tape to-” She paused, catching herself before spilling the beans on the surprise birthday party her and Minnie were throwing for Tenn. “Fix my backpack?”

“Your backpack?” Tenn quirked an eyebrow, unsure what his sister even meant.

“Yep! It’s a harpy thing!” Sophie snatched up the roll of tape. “Anyways, whatcha drawing?”

Her question was answered by Tenn possessing the piece of paper and moving away. After a moment he poked his form out of the object.

“Sorry, it's just...” The ghost couldn’t think of an excuse that wouldn’t give away what he was drawing.

“It’s okay, I don’t have to see it if you don’t want me to,”

“You can see it, just not yet,” Tenn fidgeted with his fingers, the edges of his ghostly form twirling in the air.

“Okay!” Sophie grinned then reached forward and tried to ruffle her brother’s hair but her hand phased through. “Damn it, keep forgetting. Alright, I’ll leave you to it then!” Sophie gave one more smile then flew out of the room. Tenn waited a few moments then quickly returned to possessing the colored pencils; immediately the red pencil went to work.

Minnie was in the middle of blowing up a balloon when her twin reappeared.

“I’m back!”

Sophie’s voice caused the harpy to inhale sharply, choking on air. Minnie made a weird face, little odd twitters and chirps leaving her lips as she tried to clear her throat. Sophie zoomed forward and whacked Minnie’s back with a hearty hit, helping her catch her breath. Minnie gave her sister an annoyed look and Sophie gave a nervous laugh.

“Oops, sorry about that. So, whatcha working on?” Sophie poked her head over her twin’s shoulder and noticed the ghost-shaped balloons.

“I thought Tenn would like it,” Minnie looked down shyly.

“He totally will! Alright, I got the tape so we can get started!” Sophie flew a few circles in the air to burn off some of her excitement then got to work putting up streamers. The twins worked hard on the decorations as they spoke about the party, both of them buzzing on the anticipation of their brother’s face when he saw the party. After a little while though Sophie paused. “Wait, what if he sees this early?”

Those words worried Minnie, her mind spiraling for a moment. “Salt!”

“Right! Genius move, salt repels ghosts,” Sophie disappeared and returned moments later, a happy, proud smile on her lips as she showed the container of salt. “Let's get this circle made!”

“Sophie?”

“Yes, Minnie?” Sophie smiled over at her twin.

“Why the hell did you make the circle so small?” Minnie gestured to the tiny circle that barely encircled her.

“We didn’t have enough salt for the room so I thought I’d focus on just us...”

“The salt doesn’t make us invisible though and Tenn would still see all the decorations,”

Minnie’s words made Sophie realize her mistake.

“Oh shit. Well, ummm,” Sophie shrugged. “Oh well, he definitely can’t reach you now. Anyways, can I get on your shoulders? My arms hurt but I still need to put up the banner,” Minnie sighed “Fine,”

Sophie beamed at those words. Soon the twins were back at it with decorating until the next question popped up in Sophie’s mind.

“Minnie, what did we buy for party food?”

“Ghost peppers,”

Sophie blinked at that answer. “Those are super hot. They’re gonna burn our mouths off.”

“Yeah, but I don't know, I thought maybe ghosts could eat them because, y’know, the name,”

Sophie stifled a laugh. The action made a frown appear on Minnie’s lips as her feathers ruffled in embarrassment.

“Maybe we should’ve made some boo-loney sandwiches too. Oh! Oh! Or maybe we can bake some boo-berry pie,” Sophie devolved into a fit of laughter and fell onto the floor, tears in her eyes as wheezy chirps left her lips.

Minnie’s frown remained; her feathers were extremely ruffled. “Whatever, I know you’re a dumbass too.”

Sophie kept laughing for another few seconds then got up to her feet. “Okay, okay, yes, I am a dumbass but at least it wasn’t about ghost peppers,” Sophie smiled and felt Minnie nudge her side. “Anyways, back to decorating,” Sophie strolled over to get the mannequin but soon paused. “But first, one more joke. What does a ghost order at an Italian restaurant?” “I don’t know, what?” Minnie asked but then immediately figured it out and answered at the same time her twin did.

“Spook-ghetti!”

The sisters smiled, sharing a quick laugh and in that moment all was forgiven and they worked to get the mannequin to look snazzy so that Tenn would look great at his party. Sophie threw on a feather boa and Minnie tossed on a pair of birthday sunglasses. After that was done the twins looked around at their great decorating skills then shared a fist bump. It was time to get Tenn.

“Just close your eyes and hover over this way,” Minnie guided her younger brother who was absolutely confused. He was currently floating about inside his artwork since he wanted to show it to his sisters. After a while though he slipped out of the item when Minnie said to open his eyes. Slowly opening them, his mouth went ajar as he took in the sight of the room. Streamers of blue and purple covered the walls and cute cartoon ghost balloons floated nearby. On a table there were ghost peppers, some bottles with flavored mist labeled ghost water and a cake with beautiful unicorns on it. Next to the cake was way too many presents for two harpies to afford or for a ghost to own. Beside the table was a mannequin with a pink feather boa and birthday sunglasses with a name tag that said: Hi, my name is Tenn, a 10/10 brother.

“So, like it?” Sophie leaned forward, her talons anxiously scratching on the floor. Minnie seemed just as nervous; her eyes had taken a more panicked anticipation.

“Like it?” Tenn managed, his voice soft. “I love it! This is amazing!” He gave one of the biggest smiles that the twins had ever seen. The two of them crowed with joy and fist bumped again as Tenn started to float up higher in the air without meaning to. He was always this way whenever his happiness was too much for his small ghost form to contain.

Tenn was so caught up in his happiness that he was halfway through the ceiling when he snapped out of it at the sound of Sophie’s curious chirping. Glancing down, he noticed that she had found the art. In an instant he flew through the air and hovered over it.

“I wanted to surprise you two with a drawing,” Tenn fidgeted with his fingers as his sister studied the art. It was all three of them standing in front of their house. Sophie had a paint brush and easel and was flying in the air while Minnie was busy playing a song on her guitar while Tenn hovered in the air above them with a smile.

Minnie and Sophie were silent for a few seconds.

“Holy shit, this is...” Minnie looked up at her brother with the happiest smile, “Fucking amazing!”

“Yeah! It's so cool and cute! I love it!” Sophie tried to tackle her brother with a hug but phased through. “Oh shit,” The harpy whispered as she realized her mistake too late before crashing on the floor.

“Soph, you okay?” Tenn’s ghost form flew over his sister.

“Yep!” Sophie gave a thumbs up.

Tenn gave a relieved smile at that. “Oh, I can possess the mannequin, then you get your hug,”

Sophie and Minnie both gave happy twitters at that and soon Tenn dove down, possessing the mannequin. The twins instantly flew forward and wrapped their arms around it, the closest form of Tenn they could touch.

“Happy birthday, Tenn,” Minnie gave a soft smile at her brother.

“Yeah! Happy birthday! You’re thirty three!”

Tenn gave a small sigh. Even if the fire happened around twenty years ago he felt closer to the age he had become as a ghost. “Thanks,” Tenn felt an overwhelming warmth take over his heart. He couldn’t wait to celebrate his first birthday as a ghost.

#twdg #twdg minnie #twdg sophie #twdg tenn #minnie sophie brotp #sophie tenn brotp #minnie tenn brotp #twdg dreamer fam #fanfic #we are monsters we are proud au

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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 5 years ago

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Um, hi! Is it okay if I request a few items? Specifically some items that can be found in the Feywild or fey enchanted/cursed? Sorry for the trouble.

Sure I take requests :) Here is a variety of items that are generally related to fey.

A cup-hilted rapier crafted by the fey and decorated with a fantastic depiction of the Wild Hunt. A bearer grasping the handle is flooded with the energy of a predator on the hunt: excitement, hunger and bloodlust. When wielded in combat, the wielder can hear the bellowing sounds of a hunting horn blasting in the distance, rousing him into a murderous frenzy.

A cold iron scroll tube containing a signed parchment, entitling the bearer to one unspecified favor or service from a local fey princeling. Knowledgeable PC’s will know that although the favor doesn’t seen to have a catch or price, nothing is ever truly free with the fey.

A fey made tome bound in sheet of smooth bark gilded in silver entitled “Lexicon of Stealing Mortal Babies”. The text is a guide to obtaining newborns from humans with tricks. The book is written in sylvan and the pages are transparent sheets, made from giant insect wings with text painted on.

A sealed glass vial filled with the dried and shredded mushrooms from an entire fairy ring.

A strange flute of rubbery blue fibers interspaced with five holes. If played as an instrument by one skilled enough, it can replicate the unearthly music of fey creatures.

A jagged amber rob with a dead fairy sprite entombed within.

A discrete brownish book the size of a deck of cards without decoration or title. Its contests reveal themselves to be a Changeling training manual and guidebook on how the fey train the supernatural shapeshifters to infiltrate humans, live among them and carry out their nefarious goals.

Weeping Willow: A foot tall willow sapling in a glass bottle that survives indefinitely while sealed in the glass. When the glass is broken, the sapling can be planted in the ground and begins to grow at twice the normal rate for a willow tree. This specific plant is a magical species known as a Weeping Willow. Instead of drawing water from the ground by its roots it to sustain itself, it instantly teleports freshly shed tears from sentient creatures into itself. The moment a sentient creature cries within the Weeping Willow’s range of effect (A 500 ft radius centered on the tree), the tears immediately vanish and are used as sustenance for the tree. Knowledgeable PC’s are aware that the actual origin of this magical species is not well known and most stories believe it to have been the helpful but misguided attempt at a comforting gesture by a minor god or fey creature. Legend has it that the creator saw that sentient creatures always seemed to cry when they were sad and thought that if the willow took away their tears, they wouldn’t be sad anymore. Other stories believe the willow to be a form of foul parasite that thrives on suffering and sadness. Those stories portray a trickster fey or petty demon who sows seeds of Weeping Willows which subtlety encourages anguish within its area in order to feed on more tears. Regardless of it’s origin, Weeping Willows are fairly rare and are usually found in places where tears are commonly shed as those are the only places where it can survive. Adult Weeping Willows can be located in places of great or recurring misery such as war memorials, hospitals, hospices, orphanages, graveyards and prisons. Whether its effect on the creatures in it’s radius is a blessing or a curse is up to each person to decide on their own.

A sealed glass vial filled with pure spring water taken the Feywild.

A brass bell that always stays highly polished and resembles the sound of strange laughter when rung. It is rumored to open doors to the Feywild.

Pillow of the Sleepless Fey: A comfortable pillow which appears to be designed for a child. Stitched into one side is the name Nodwick. If a creature sleeps upon this pillow during the night, small fairies will come to him and will extract 1d6 teeth while the user sleeps. The miniature fey will sprinkle generous amount of fairie dust in the user’s mouth which instantly heal the wounds and take away all pain associated with the process. Upon awakening, the user is filled with a supernatural vitality which causes him not to require any sleep or rest for a number of days equal to the number of teeth lost plus one. If the fey are prevented from removing the teeth for any reason, the user is not affected by the fairie dust and does not receive any benefits.

Caustic Talon: A scimitar made entirely from rare, enchanted ironwood and blessed by a fey spirit in the form of a forest dragon. The fey creature’s personal style manifested itself on the weapon and the blade retains the grain of the ironwood, its dark grey and deep brown streaks are now lined with brilliant streams of emerald acid that slither between the grain of the wood. Deep green dragon scales run along the spine of the blade, turning into leaves as they meet the hilt. The vine-wrapped handle spirals down to the dragon-headed pommel, its face locked in a fierce snarl. When the weapon is swung, the acid in the blade can be heard sizzling in anticipation of landing a hit, but the caustic liquid never spills its power in waste. Half of the damage dealt by the scimitar is considered acid damage while the rest is normal for its type.

Fey Pillow: A silvery cushion which sparkles in the moonlight and always feels cool to touch. When used, the creature will hear the whispers of the fairy king while they sleep. In the morning the cushion will produce a small crystal that contains the creature's dreams which may be watched on it's reflective surface. There is a 5% chance that the crystal's dreams belong to a prior owner of the cushion. The crystals the pillow produces melt into fresh dew after 24 hours.

A letter from an unknown sender that simply reads, “I told you so!”. The return address is plainly labeled “Feywild”.

A sealed glass vial filled with magically preserved, High-Elf Pipeweed. Knowledgeable PC’s will know that this hemp originates from the forest courts where it has been impregnated with the deep magic of the Feywild. When the smoke from burning it in a magical fire is inhaled, it may grant arcane visions of the future or the past, and as such is favoured by oracles and soothsayers. Under the effects of antimagic it merely produces a light-headed feeling and a desire to eat apples.

A steel flask with a safety latch attached. A sloshing liquid can be heard inside. The flask contains a delicious fey honey.

A wooden scroll tube containing a parchment scroll, sealed with wax that is an invitation to the Yew-Lord’s banquet. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the title of the Yew-Lord, as a powerful Arch-Fey.

A pan flute carved from the bones of a unicorn which when played, do not make the slightest sound to most creatures. Only fae and fairy kin creatures can hear the tortured sounds of the unicorn’s spirit and they will often seek revenge for their fallen kin.

Crosswind: An ancient longbow originally gifted to a forest ranger who had pledged his life and service to a fey lord. The weapon is made of a light wood and is rather thick, rounded, and has stylized etchings of wind, that are filled-in black. Pink roses and vines are carved along the front and sides of the bow and it is found with a deep leather quiver containing a dozen white arrows fletched with hummingbird feathers and tipped with an unknown green stone. The bow is strung with a string plucked from the fey lord’s own harp and a musical note rings out each time the weapon is used. When fired the bow releases a strong gust of wind that blows along the arrow’s wake and slams into the target. Whenever an arrow loosed by the bow hits a creature of medium size or smaller, the target is pushed back five feet from the blast of wind. —Note: A medium creature is typically no taller or longer than eight feet.

Minor Weapon Enchantment; Bumbling: The emblem of a fairy circle is gilded in silver on the weapon’s grip. The entire weapon is a masterpiece of flowing graceful design, delicately ornate scrollwork and is a tribute to those who made it. Running along its length is a poem written in iambic pentameter, penned in Sylvan, the language of the fey. Those who are able to read it, discover it is not much more than a limerick disparaging the mortal humans and extolling the virtues of the fair folk. The verses have particularly harsh words to say about the incompetence and clumsiness of humanoids and how that in contrast, the fairy peoples are naturally adept in all ways. Any non-fey creature who wields the weapon finds that they are slightly less proficient than usual at completing their normal everyday task, as if the poem was a warning rather than boast. The weapon is treated as a +1 but while the weapon is being wielded and for one hour afterwards, a non-fey wielder suffers a penalty of -1 on all of his skill checks.

A massive cloth and leather banner emblazoned with the unified crests of ten different fey courts.

A bone signet ring displaying the symbol of a large spreading tree. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the image as the symbol of the Yew-Lord, a powerful Arch-Fey.

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superwho-am-i-kidding · 5 years ago

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The Getaway

Crowley and Aziraphale have been married for three years, which also happens to be the number of children they’ve been blessed/cursed with: a headstrong pair of twin boys (Zachary and Anthony Junior) and a little girl (Rosalie) too young to be anything but sweet. Everything seems perfect…

Featuring the stunning and adorable illustrations of Erin, AKA @my-chemical-romanoff.

**The angst is very real with this one, so I’ve issued a few warnings: Major character death, visible blood, graphic descriptions of violence.

Please be courteous of our hard work, and do not repost the illustrations or writing. Reblogs are appreciated!

7,342 words and 5 illustrations below the cut.

“I’m going to get some wine for dinner.” Aziraphale looked up from the book he was reading when his husband spoke. “Be back soon.” Crowley was by the front door of the bookshop, shrugging a jacket onto his lean frame.

“You’re leaving?” Aziraphale asked, marking his place before closing the book. He shifted in the chair slightly, stretching out his back.

Crowley paused, mid zip. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, I was just going to light some candles and take a little bath before dinner.” Aziraphale looked over to where the kids were playing in front of the fireplace. “Can’t really do that when there are three little ones depending on you to keep an eye on them.”

Crowley followed his gaze and smiled at the toddlers. “I can bring the boys with me.”

“My dear, they are three years old. A liquor store is not an appropriate place for them to spend their evening.”

The demon lifted a twin onto each hip and shrugged as he watched his husband pick up their youngest child. “Nonsense. We’ll have fun. Right, boys?” The two nodded happily, grabbing for Crowley’s shoulder-length auburn hair that he had been growing since the Armageddon-that-wasn’t. He shook the strands free from their fists before miracling it up into a bun on the crown of his head.

“Might even stop at the sweets shop down the road on the way home…” Crowley lilted.

Aziraphale gasped, a pleased blush spreading across his cheeks. “Oh, if you do, please grab me some of those lovely macarons! You know the ones I like.”

Crowley chuckled and kissed the angel on his forehead. “Of course, dove.” He watched Aziraphale lean forward and kiss both boys on the tops of their heads. “Now go start that bath so you’re ready for dessert when we get home.”

Aziraphale gave his husband a smile and a soft kiss on the lips before he looked down at their daughter. “I suppose I could set up a playpen for Rosie in the bathroom with me.”

“That’s the spirit, angel. We’ll be back soon, alright?” Crowley set the boys down by the door as he helped them into their jackets, hats, and mittens. “Let’s get all bundled up, yeah? Don’t want my little snakes to get cold!” The twins giggled before one opened the front door. “Zachary, don’t you dare go down those steps by yourself!” Crowley yelled after him.

The younger of the twins smiled cheekily and turned on his belly to scoot down the stairs to the sidewalk in front of the bookshop. “Bye!”

Crowley quickly finished dressing the other boy, AJ, before picking him up and scurrying outside after his son. “What did I tell you?” he glared at the little boy before grabbing his hand and leading him to the Bentley that sat parked across the street. He set both boys into their car seats and began the laborious process of buckling them in. Both kids made it especially difficult as they squirmed around, trying to escape the car. “Hey!” Crowley hissed a little, his tongue catching on his extended fangs. The boys froze for a moment before they laughed, reaching for their father. The demon only sighed, finishing the straps on both car seats before slipping into the front himself. He glanced in the rearview mirror at the twins and couldn’t help but smile as they kicked their feet in anticipation of the ride. Starting the car, he flipped on the radio to a station that was miraculously playing Queen. When he slowed to a stop at the liquor store, he miracled a stroller to be waiting beside the car. Unbuckling AJ, Crowley tried to place him in the seat.

“No!” AJ squirmed and kicked in his father’s arms. “Want to walk!”

“There is a lot of breakable things inside this store,” Crowley tried to explain. “You have to sit or you might get hurt.”

“No!” AJ wailed, going limp in Crowley’s grasp as he started to cry.

Crowley sighed as he settled the toddler into the top seat of the stroller. He turned around to grab the other boy, who had begun to cry as well. He buckled both securely into the stroller before he knelt down in front of them. “Look at me,” he said. Neither stopped crying, so he tried again. “Want to know a secret?”

AJ hiccupped, rubbing his eyes. “What?”

“You have to stop crying, or I won’t be able to tell you.” It took a few moments for both boys to stop crying. When there was nothing left but sniffles coming from them, Crowley smiled encouragingly. “Your Papa has to sit when we go shopping here, too.” He wrinkled his nose with a little smirk as they pondered over what he had told them.

“Really?” Zachary asked.

“Yep,” Crowley confirmed. “He’s broken too many things.” The twins began to giggle as Crowley pushed them inside. “There we go,” he smiled. “No more sad faces.” Two stuffed unicorns appeared in the laps of the boys and they squealed with delight. “Let’s go find that wine for your Papa.” He pushed the stroller down a few aisles before he stopped in front of a long row of shelves. Crowley pursed his lips before settling his sights on one of the more expensive bottles. “Hm…” He picked up a Bordeaux and glanced at the label. “1986,” he mused. “Not a bad year.”

“Nine, one, four…” AJ read.

“Good job, buddy,” Crowley grinned. “That’s right. Nine hundred and fourteen pounds. I think your Papa is worth that, don’t you?” Both boys nodded. Crowley took the wine to the front counter to pay.

“Aww, they’re adorable,” the cashier cooed as she rang up the wine. “How old are they?”

“How old are you?” Crowley asked them. Both struggled to hold up three fingers. “Three,” Crowley confirmed.

“Daddy is six thousand!” Zachary told the cashier with a wide grin.

“Is that right?” she laughed. Zachary nodded, hugging the unicorn to his chest. Crowley whipped out a credit card and paid for the wine. He wheeled the boys back outside, where it had begun to lightly snow. The twins leaned forward in their stroller reaching out to grab the flakes from the air. Crowley smiled before getting the kids settled into their car seats. He glanced back at their glum faces as they looked out their windows at the snow and sighed. He pulled out his phone and dialed his husband.

“This is Aziraphale.”

Crowley rolled his eyes at the way the angel insisted on answering the phone. “I know who it is, you idiot,” he said teasingly. “I called you.”

“Crowley!” the voice on the other side of the line immediately brightened. “I was just slipping into the tub.”

“You’re not already in?”

“No,” Aziraphale sighed. “Rosie needed a diaper change and then I had to set up her playpen. Just as I set her down, she began crying, so I had to give her a bottle. And you know how messy she is, so I had to completely change her. I’ve just started filling the water.”

“You didn’t forget your lavender bubbles, did you?”

“Of course not!” Aziraphale scoffed. “I’m frazzled, not incompetent.”

“Of course not,” Crowley parroted back, his voice soft with fondness. “Look, since you haven’t had any time to relax yet, I think I’ll bring the boys to the park for a little while. It started to snow and they could use a little outdoor time.”

Aziraphale let out a soft sigh of relief. “That sounds wonderful, my dear.”

“We’ll be home in a little while, and I’ll make sure to grab you those macarons.”

“Thank you, Crowley.”

Crowley ended the call and turned to look at the boys in the backseat. “We’re going to a park!” They both squealed, copying their Papa’s wiggles of excitement. Crowley’s heart swelled as he looked at his boys. When they arrived at the park, everything already had a light dusting of powdered snow. Crowley let the twins out of their seats, releasing them to the playground. They rushed to the slides, racing each other to be the first one down. “No pushing!” Crowley yelled after them. “Or we go home!” He watched them make their way down the various slides of the park with a smile. After a little while, he made his way to an open patch of snow and stopped time around them before opening his wings. “Come here,” he called to the boys. “And watch this!” He spread out his arms and fell backwards into the snow. He wiggled for a moment before springing up and turning around, brushing the snow from his falling bun and coat while he shook out his wings.

“It’s a real snow angel!” Zachary gasped.

“Snow demon,” Crowley corrected his son, resting his wings against his spine. “Let me show you how to make one.” He coached the boys through opening their little wings and flopping onto their backs. They kicked their feet around for a bit before raising their arms for Crowley to lift them up. He pulled both kids out of the snow and set them down a few feet away from their impressions in order to admire them. They grinned and Crowley helped them tuck their wings away before he restarted time. “Go run around,” he encouraged them back towards the park. “Tire yourselves out,” he mumbled after they had run off. He cleared a bench and lowered himself into it as he watched them play.

“Daddy!” AJ yelled from the top of a slide. “Watch!”

“I’m watching, buddy,” Crowley reassured him. “You’re doing a great job.” He leaned on the bench and spread his arms across the backrest as he stretched out his legs in front of him. A shiver ran down his spine as a few snowflakes made their way down the nape of his neck. He watched the twins for a while longer before he pursed his lips with a smile. Leaning forward, he scooped up a little bit of snow and with the small help of a miracle, made it land directly on AJ’s head.

“Aahh!” he shrieked before he sat down to cry.

Crowley cursed under his breath and ran to pick up the toddler. “Shh,” he tried to console him. “It’s just snow. It’s fun, see?” He made another snowball and tossed it towards Zachary. It ended up hitting him in the back, knocking him forward onto his face. He pushed himself up from the snow and began to giggle. AJ sniffed and wiped his mitten underneath his nose before Crowley set him back on the ground. Zachary began making his own crude snowballs before hucking them towards his dad and brother. Most of them fell flat, with only a little bit of powder hitting their intended targets. AJ smiled a little before bending forward to scoop up some snow. “Now you throw it at your brother,” Crowley told him.

“Okay,” AJ bit his lip before he turned around and tossed his handfuls of snow at his father instead.

Crowley gasped in shock, blinking in surprise as AJ ran to join his brother. “You little liar!” The twins began to pelt their father with snowballs as he cowered away from them. Crowley held his hands out in a crude shield as he burst out laughing. “I’m gonna get you two for that!” The boys squealed and ran away, looping around the playground in order to avoid their father’s wrath. Crowley tried to toss snowballs towards his children, but they managed to hide before they could hit their targets. He shook his head and miracled up a snowball twice the size of the boys. Their eyes widened as they looked at the looming shadow above them. With a smirk, Crowley dropped it, burying the boys in loose snow. Their heads popped out of the pile, giggles and smiles abound. They clambered out of the snow and rushed to tackle the demon.

Crowley fell onto his back as the twins piled on top of him. He laughed, wrapping his arms around them in a tight hug. They pushed their cold noses against his cheeks as they snuggled into his warmth. He hoisted himself to his feet, carrying the boys back towards the Bentley. AJ sneezed as Crowley finished buckling him back into his seat. “Cold,” he sniffled, scrubbing his mitten underneath his pink nose.

“You’re cold?” Crowley’s forehead creased as he realized how flushed their cheeks were. “I suppose you would be. Let’s stop and get your Papa those macarons and get you two some hot chocolate.” Their faces immediately brightened as Crowley drove back towards the bookshop. He pulled off the road at the little sweet shop and helped the boys out of their seats. Taking hold of their hands, he led them inside the store. They approached the counter and ordered a baker’s dozen of various macarons for Aziraphale, some peanut butter cookies for Crowley, and cutout sugar cookies and cocoa for the boys. They sat down at a little table and ate their cookies. “Feel warmer now?” Crowley asked. They nodded enthusiastically. “Good. How are your cookies?”

“Good!” they both exclaimed.

“You know, I couldn’t hear you when you got your cookies.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” they said in unison, cookie crumbs stuck all over their faces.

Crowley smiled. “Alright, you two. Let’s get you home and cleaned up before your Papa starts to worry. And don’t tell him you already had dessert.” The boys nodded, each charged with carrying a little bag of cookies back to the car. They settled into their car seats without fuss, allowing Crowley to buckle them in with no protests. They drove home in fine spirits, parking outside of the bookshop and walking into the warm store. Crowley ushered the boys into the kitchen to put the cookies on the counter. He frowned when he noticed that there was no meal waiting on the stove for them. Not that he expected Aziraphale to cook for them, but it was something the angel thoroughly enjoyed. “Huh,” he muttered. He shook his head as he walked the boys down to their bedroom, hearing some splashing coming from the bathroom. “Let me get your Papa and sister out of there so the two of you can get cleaned up.”

“Okay,” they smiled, already tugging off their shirts and pants. Crowley shook his head as they stumbled around their room in their diapers and socks. They were so close to being potty-trained, but hadn’t quite grasped the concept of telling their parents when they needed to go.

Making his way back towards the bathroom, Crowley knocked on the door. “Angel?” Rosie gave a cry at the sound of her father’s voice. “Angel, we’re home.” He tried the handle, but found it locked. “Aziraphale, the door is locked.” Rosie cried louder at the sound of the rattling door. “Aziraphale? Is everything okay?” The only sound that came from within was his daughter’s cries. “Aziraphale!” Crowley returned to the boys’ room and set them in their cribs. “Daddy’s gonna be right back,” he promised them. “Just stay here.” He closed their door behind him, ignoring their confused faces and questioning reaches. After trying the handle to the bathroom one more time to no avail, he gave in to using a miracle in order to unlock the door. “Azira–” his eyes widened as his voice collapsed into a horrified whisper as his daughter began screaming, “–phale…?”

He stood frozen in the doorway, his mouth hanging open and his limbs going numb. One of his hands was still on the doorknob as he took in the scene before him in slow motion. He could feel every part of him begin to shut down, the numbness overtaking every other feeling that had previously been present within the demon. There were no words he could have used to describe the horrors that were in front of him.

There was just horror.

And there was blood.

Everywhere.

Splatters littered the ceiling in macabre patterns, dripping down the walls in red icicles. Not a single surface was without blood. The candles had all been extinguished from the spray, their once white wax turned red. He turned to look at the mirror, his pale face being reflected back at him through splashes of red. His vision blurred as he continued to stare at himself. Crowley felt dizzy. In all his time on Earth, he had never seen so much blood. He preferred to avoid battles in favor of drinking alone or with the angel. This was the first time he truly understood what the Apocalypse should have been. It was supposed to be the End of everything. And it was supposed to be bloody. He swallowed without thinking, his mind spiraling into nothing. He was finally brought out of his reverie by Rosalie’s screams. Crowley’s gaze snapped to his one year old daughter who sat in the middle of the bathroom inside of her playpen.

Blood had pooled inside of it, soaking her from head to toe. The puddle was smeared from where she had crawled around, trying to get away from the seeping liquid. Toys were abandoned, stuck to the floor with the aging blood. The teddy bear Crowley had gotten for her when she was born was lying on its side, completely saturated with blood. Rosie began reaching for her father as she sobbed on the hard tile, her tears clearing away lines of the blood that had streaked her face. Crowley forced himself to blink a few times before he scooped her up and pressed her tightly to his chest. One of his hands, now covered in blood, held the back of her head against his shoulder so she couldn’t see what remained around her. Rosie’s cries continued, but were muffled against the fabric of his shirt.

Crowley collapsed to his knees, blood darkening the already black denim of his jeans. He tried desperately not to acknowledge what was in front of him as his eyes slowly traveled around the bathroom. Eventually he was forced to rest his gaze on the figure that lay in the bathtub. Directly before him, and nearly eye-level, was the pale body of an angel who had grown to love a demon. His face was relaxed, almost as if he were sleeping, and miraculously devoid of any blood, save for a thin line between his lips. His wedding ring was visible on the dripping hand that draped over the edge of the bath. The tub was red around him, little rivers flowing onto the floor and pooling at Crowley’s knees. There was not a drop of clear water left. Crowley stared as the fine, blond hairs at the back of the angel’s neck were slowly dyed pink as the dark water lapped against them.

He shook, knowing what a body meant.

When angels are discorporated, their bodies return to Heaven with them in order to be remade into working order. When angels are killed, however… there is no need for bodily repairs. The fact that Aziraphale’s body was still before him meant he had not been merely discorporated; he had been murdered, never to return. Crowley clung to their daughter as if she were his only lifeline, and at that moment, she was. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to stop his eyes as they traveled the length of the tub, trying to assess what damage had been done to his angel. But he couldn’t. The water was so dark and murky that Crowley could hardly pick out his husband’s soft frame underneath the surface. If Crowley had to guess, it was most likely the angel’s own sword that killed him. Someone had gotten ahold of the blade and had used it against the love of his life. He reached out a shaky hand to softly touch Aziraphale’s cheek, only to reel backwards in shock when he felt how cold his skin was.

He felt sick. He couldn’t breathe, much less believe what he was seeing. But he knew it was true. He couldn’t feel the angel’s presence anywhere. Crowley’s eyes flitted down to the ring he had gifted the angel. After what felt like ages, Crowley forced himself to stand up and back out of the bathroom. The door swung shut behind him as he trudged down the hallway, bloody footprints following him. He looked behind him and cleared them away with a miracle and a blank expression. In the same thought, he cleaned himself and his daughter of blood as well. He returned to the boys’ bedroom and forced himself to look at his sons. He never realized how much they mirrored their parents. AJ took after Crowley in looks, with bright eyes and red hair and a soft personality to match Aziraphale’s. Zachary was the opposite, his small body stuffed full of spunk and sass like Crowley, with curly blond hair and gentle eyes like Aziraphale. Crowley silently redressed the children, his bun finally falling apart and shielding his eyes from their questioning looks.

“Daddy, what’s wrong?” AJ asked.

“Nothing,” Crowley said blankly. “Just get dressed. We need to go.”

“Where?”

“Back to the park,” he lied. “I left something there.”

“I want to stay with Papa,” AJ crossed his arms, refusing to put his shirt back on. “I’m hungry.”

“Me too!” Zachary piped up, wiggling around on the floor to get his pants off. Crowley clenched his jaw and finished dressing them before he led them downstairs. He began putting on their jackets when they started complaining more. “I want to stay!”

“I want Papa!”

“Enough!” Crowley yelled for the first time in his life. All three kids shrank back from him as his eyes exploded yellow. Their small bodies shook slightly as he stuffed them into their winter gear. AJ had tears in his eyes, but didn’t dare let them fall. “Let’s go.” He picked up a crying Rosie and walked out of the bookshop towards his car, the boys following closely behind him. He crawled into the backseat to put the children into their car seats. The car was silent as they drove back to the park. When they parked, Crowley stepped out of the Bentley and tilted his head back to look at the stars. He took a shaky breath before he stuck his hand in his coat pocket. His fingertips were met with cold metal as he pulled out the ring to examine it in the starlight. The wedding band had been forged out of a pair of his sunglasses for the angel and was the only piece of him he had left. Sticking the ring back into his pocket, he climbed back into the car.

He drove slowly back to their home, carefully taking the children out of their seats as they watched flames emerge from the bookshop. “Are you the owner of this establishment?” Crowley heard a firefighter speak.

“Do I look like I run a bookshop?” he scoffed halfheartedly, remembering the last time the bookshop had been on fire, only three years prior. “The owner is my husband.” The boys clung to Crowley’s legs as he held his daughter on his hip.

The firefighter nodded. “The origin of the fire appears to be a set of candles that were knocked over in the bathroom,” the man said. “I’m afraid we found a body inside. It matches the description of Mr. A. Z. Fell.”

“That’s my husband,” Crowley said.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” the firefighter started back towards the trucks.

“Daddy?” Zachary timidly spoke up from behind Crowley’s left knee. “Where’s Papa?”

Crowley nudged the kids away from his legs before he knelt down. “Your Papa is… he’s gone.”

“When is he coming back?” AJ asked, screwing up his face in confusion.

Crowley looked at their little faces, illuminated by fire. “He’s not.”

“Why?”

Crowley swallowed and looked up at the burning building. Crowley tried to phrase it as gently as possible, “Papa went to sleep and he isn’t going to wake up.”

“We can wake him up! Where is he?”

“Your father’s body is in the ambulance,” a different firefighter said. “Although I don’t think you should let your kids see him like that–”

Zachary and AJ ran from Crowley and climbed into the back of the ambulance, following the firefighter’s instructions. Crowley followed behind them with Rosie in his arms as Zachary tugged on the sheet covering his father’s body. “Papa,” he called. “Papa, it’s Zack’y. Papa, wake up.” He tugged harder until Aziraphale’s face and shoulders were revealed.

AJ climbed onto one of the benches built into the side of the truck and leaned forward until he could clamber onto the stretcher next to the angel. He put his hands on Aziraphale’s chest and pushed lightly, shaking him a little. “Papa, wake up. Wake up!” he begged.

“Zachary, AJ, come here,” Crowley said gently, his free arm outstretched towards them.

“Why won’t Papa wake up?” Zachary sniffed as he climbed towards Crowley.

“And why is he cold? He has a blanket,” AJ added innocently.

Crowley looked at Zachary, the nearly identical copy of the angel he had just lost. “Because your Papa died. Which means he won’t be coming back.”

“Do you miss him?” Rosalie asked nearly twenty years after the incident as she stood next to her father and brothers in front of the marble headstone that was carved into a pair of white wings.

“Every day,” Crowley replied, his voice cracking. “You know that.”

“What was he like?” she asked.

Crowley lifted his gaze to meet his not-so-little girl’s. “I’ve told you a thousand times.”

“Tell me a thousand more,” she replied with a gentle smile. “Tell me about the first time you met.”

“That was ages ago…”

Zachary smiled, small dimples in the exact same places as Aziraphale. “Don’t tell us you’ve forgotten, old man.”

The demon shook his head with a faraway smile. “Of course not. I could never forget. I was sent to Earth, to the Garden of Eden, in order to tempt Adam and Eve into committing the first sin. The big no-no: eating from the Tree of Knowledge. It was easy, really. Just hung out of the tree and whispered into Eve’s ear about how good those apples were and how she should really try one.”

“Wait,” AJ stopped him. “You were hanging in a tree?”

Crowley scowled lightly at him. “I wasn’t called the Serpent of Eden for nothing. I was a snake back then. Still am, if we’re being honest.”

“Right, of course,” AJ smiled and Crowley knew he was just teasing him along. “Please continue, oh, great Serpent of Eden.”

“Right, I’ll do you for that later,” Crowley pointed a finger at his eldest son. “But for now… your father gave them his sword before they were banished from the garden. He was always a softie, even then. After the humans left the garden, I went to talk to the angel. Principality of the Eastern Gate was his title. I assumed he would be just as stuck up as the rest of Heaven’s lot, but he was different. He was…” Crowley shrugged, “Aziraphale. I didn’t mean to like him, but it’s very hard not to when you ask what happened to his sword and he blurts out that he gave it away for the benefit of someone else.” A soft expression befell the demon’s face as he looked down. Crowley placed a hand on the warm stone and smiled. “He shielded me from the very first rainfall with his wings. Only kindness I was ever shown since I fell from Heaven.”

“When did you know you were in love?” Rosie asked, tilting her head a little.

Crowley laughed, wiping his sleeve underneath his nose. “When he said he gave away his sword.”

All three kids began laughing, huddling close together in front of the grave. “You know,” AJ began, “I don’t remember much about Papa, but I do remember how soft he was. He gave the best hugs, that I know for sure.” He sighed. “I wish I could hug him again, tell him I love him and all that.”

“He knew,” Crowley said quietly.

“Was he always that soft, Dad?”

“Wasn’t supposed to be,” Crowley snorted. “Both Heaven and Hell had these perfect sentries in mind, all muscle and no emotions. Big, meaty guys,” he puffed his chest out a little. “But they got me and your Papa instead. He was soft from the very beginning, at least that’s what he used to tell me. And I have always been, well, this,” he gestured to his lanky form. “But your grandmother made each of us personally, so one can only wonder what She was thinking when She allowed that fluffy angel to fall in love with this scruffy demon.”

“She was obviously thinking clearly,” Rosie rested her head on her dad’s shoulder. “Without the two of you, we’d never exist.”

“Yeah, and we all know that would have been a tragedy,” Zachary scoffed. Crowley rolled his eyes, stretching his arms across the shoulders of his children.

“I love you,” he said. “Your Papa loved you. Don’t you ever forget it.”

They stood together for a while before Zachary spoke again, his voice soft. “What really happened to him, Dad?”

Crowley stiffened. “Fire in the bookshop. He fell asleep and didn’t make it out.”

“Shouldn’t he have just discorporated? And then come back? You told us that angels and demons can’t really die. Especially not by human means. Please, just tell us the truth. We deserve it.”

“The truth?” Crowley squeezed his eyes shut. “Your father… he was murdered. An angel or something came in while I was gone and killed him.” He had tears falling down his cheeks. “The one time I wasn’t there to save him and look what happened.”

“Wait… I think I remember that night,” Rosie knit her eyebrows together. Crowley turned to look at her. “I thought… I always thought it was just a nightmare.”

“What? What do you remember? What did you see?”

Rosie closed her eyes. “Blood,” her voice trembled. “Blood everywhere. I remember someone came in while Papa was filling the bath… They had a sword or something.” She shook her head, “They killed him right in front of me.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “How could I forget something like that?”

“You were a child,” Crowley said. “You shouldn’t have to remember.”

“But I do. I remember they twisted the sword like there was nothing to it. Like they weren’t ripping a father from his child. From his husband, his family.” She took a steadying breath as tears fell down her cheeks. “I watched him die that night. They put him in the bath after he was… gone,” she continued. “Let the water run until the tub turned red and overflowed. Then they vanished. I don’t remember anything else until you picked me up.”

Everyone around her had tears in their eyes and on their cheeks. “Ro…” AJ whispered, moving towards her to envelop her in a hug. “Shh…” he hushed his little sister gently as she began sobbing.

“Rosie…” Crowley started. “Do you remember what they looked like?”

She shook her head, wiping her sleeve across her face. “No.”

“Do you remember anything about them?”

“I remember… their eyes.” Crowley looked up at her hopefully. “They were glowing.”

“Do you remember what color they were?”

“Purple.” Crowley covered his mouth with one of his hands and nodded, turning away from his kids as she answered. “Dad? You know who did it?”

“I always had my suspicions,” he took a breath. “But now I know for sure.”

“Who?”

“The biggest,” he paused, letting out a hiss in place of a profanity, “Heaven claims as their own: the Archangel Gabriel.”

“You called?” a voice spoke up from behind the group. He smiled as they spun around. “Demon,” he greeted. “Abominations,” Gabriel nodded his head towards the children and adjusted the gray scarf that hung across his shoulders. “I believe I was summoned?”

Crowley stared at him for a moment before he lunged. “Murderer!” His eyes were yellow with fury as he began throwing punches. “You killed him, you bastard!”

Gabriel dodged most of Crowley’s assaults, waiting for the demon to tire himself out. “Finished?” he asked, wiping a bit of blood from his lower lip.

“Just getting started,” Crowley growled, raising his fists again.

“Are you sure? Because it looks like I have the upper hand here, you know, with the collateral damage and all.” Gabriel waved his hand, throwing Crowley’s children into some of the various rocks that littered the perimeter of the cemetery.

“No!” Crowley ran towards his kids, carefully helping them sit up, the archangel all but forgotten. Rosie was the best off, with a cut on her forehead being the only injury she sustained. A thin line of blood ran down her face as she was helped to a sitting position. Crowley hurried over to AJ next, pulling him up to rest against an unbroken stone in order to catch his breath. He was panting heavily as he cradled his shattered right arm. AJ nodded his father away, reassuring him that he would be alright. Crowley turned his head to locate Zachary when he froze. The younger of the two boys was lying motionless in the grass, his face pale and hair pink with blood. Crowley was on all fours next to his son, memories flooding back. In that moment, all Crowley could see was Aziraphale in the tub in front of him, dying all over again.

Crowley cradled his son’s head gently on his lap. Zachary weakly opened his eyes, squinting in the harsh light. “Dad?”

“I’m here, buddy. You’re going to be okay.” Crowley tried to assess the damage that was done to his youngest son. He took the cuff of his sleeve and tried to dab away the blood that was across the boy’s face.

“Aww,” Gabriel cooed. “Letting daddy fix you all better?”

“Shut up!” Crowley hissed, instincts torn between staying to protect his children and fighting with the angel. “They’re just kids,” his voice broke a little as he tried to reason with the angel. “They have nothing to do with this.”

“They’re abominations,” Gabriel responded, venom in his voice. “There should be no such thing as an angel and demon hybrid. It’s unnatural.”

“You’re unnatural,” Zachary slurred, his eyes cloudy as he searched for the archangel.

“Good one, buddy,” Crowley returned his attention to the boy in his lap. “Now I need you to promise me you won’t go to sleep. I have to get rid of him.”

Zachary nodded his head a little. “Go get ‘im, Dad,” he mumbled.

Crowley gently set Zachary back onto the grass before he stood up to face the archangel. “You’re going to pay for that, and what you did to Aziraphale.”

“Oh, stupid demon. You’re weak. You couldn’t defeat me if you tried.”

“Wanna bet?” Crowley lunged forward again and caught Gabriel in the jaw with a right hook. “You don’t spend six thousand years on Earth and not pick up a few tricks.” He beat the angel back with several swings, leading him away from the kids.

“Dad?” a weak voice called out to him.

Crowley froze and turned towards the call, missing the punch Gabriel threw towards his cheek. He went down in a spray of blood, landing hard on his wrists. “Zachary, buddy, you can do this. Just stay awake.”

“I can’t,” his voice was getting frailer.

“Don’t you dare say that,” Crowley growled, wiping blood from his lower lip as he rushed toward his son.

“’S okay,” Zachary said, looking up at his father.

“Zachary Alexander, you are going to be fine,” Crowley shushed him as he did what weak miracle he could to save his son’s life.

The boy’s eyes wandered to somewhere behind his father, their color just a bit clearer than before. “I can see…” he lifted his head a little. A soft smile appeared on his face as he relaxed back into his father’s arms, “I can see Papa.”

“Ignore that and look at me,” Crowley insisted.

“I can see him too,” AJ spoke up, his voice breathy.

“Anthony Junior, don’t you lie to me. I thought it was just your arm that was–” Crowley turned to face him and stopped short, his breath catching in his throat. “Aziraphale?” his voice cracked.

“Impossible,” Gabriel snarled.

Aziraphale stared at the archangel coldly, not saying a word. “Angel?” Crowley stood up, shakily making his way towards his husband. Aziraphale glanced indifferently at Crowley before returning his attention to Gabriel. “Aziraphale?”

“Get the children somewhere safe,” Aziraphale’s voice was all business, all but lacking its normal warmth.

“Angel, there is no way I am leaving your side,” Crowley protested, standing up.

“Crowley, please,” the angel’s hard façade cracked a little.

“We can help,” Rosie pushed herself to her feet and wobbled a little before gaining her balance. “He won’t stand a chance against four of us.” AJ stood as well, trying to hide his hisses of pain.

Aziraphale’s face softened as he watched his children stand next to his husband. A proud feeling fluttered through his chest as he looked at the family that was determined to back him up. “Leave, Gabriel. And don’t ever bother us again,” Aziraphale demanded, pointing his reacquired sword towards the archangel. Gabriel snarled but disappeared, knowing that four of them would be too much to take on by himself. Aziraphale sagged with relief before he hurried over to his youngest son. He placed a soft hand on his forehead and closed his eyes, healing the boy completely. Zachary sat up and stared at his father with wide eyes, his mind slowly catching up with what he was seeing. Aziraphale moved to AJ next, lightly touching his broken arm before healing it. AJ’s mouth fell open a little bit as he watched his father move along to his sister. Aziraphale cupped his daughter’s cheek carefully before the mark on her forehead vanished.

She let out a choked cry before throwing her arms around his neck. “Papa!” Aziraphale wrapped his arms tightly around her, hugging her as close as he could. “It’s really you.”

“It’s me, sweetheart,” he tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “It’s really me.”

“Pop!” Zachary and AJ crowded around him, trying their best not to cry.

“You’ve gotten so big, all of you,” Aziraphale commented. The kids began crying, huddling around their father.

Up until that moment, Crowley had stood frozen as he stared at the angel. “Aziraphale,” Crowley breathed, rushing between his children to hold him for the first time in over two decades. “Angel, you’re alive,” tears began falling down his cheeks. “You’re alive…”

Aziraphale placed a hand on his husband’s cheek. “My dear,” his smile wobbled as he looked into the golden eyes he loved so much He could see the years of stress and heartbreak behind their glassy surface as he placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “You kept your hair long,” he commented.

“You always did like it that way,” Crowley let out a sob before crushing Aziraphale into a hug. “I missed you so much!”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and let himself sink into the embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of his husband. “I missed you as well.”

“What happened to you?” Crowley asked, pulling back just enough to look at the angel’s face.

Aziraphale’s expression darkened. “When Gabriel found out about our switch after the Apocalypse, he was not pleased.”

“I assume that’s putting it mildly,” Crowley smiled a little.

Aziraphale returned the smile. “Very. He swore to make me pay. And he decided to do it when I had the most to lose.” He pulled his children closer. “You two boys came right after the Apocalypse,” Aziraphale told them. “Your father and I got married and ten months later you two appeared.”

“We didn’t need to know that,” AJ groaned.

Aziraphale smiled a bit more. “We had two amazing years together as a family of four. It was wonderful, but something didn’t feel quite right yet. Then I got some big news. Your little sister was on her way. And just like that, I knew nothing could get better. We had one perfect year together before Gabriel knew that there was no better time to enact his revenge. He knew you would always protect me, dear, even if it was to the death,” Aziraphale looked at Crowley. “But we were extremely fortunate that you happened to take the children out on the night Gabriel decided to make his visit. I think your lives were saved only because you were gone. And I thank God every day that nothing happened to you.”

“You thank Her?” Crowley shook his head. “Why? She let you die–”

“Discorporate,” Aziraphale corrected him. “I didn’t die.”

“But your body–?”

“Was left there on purpose to make you believe that I was dead. Gabriel came into the bathroom as I was preparing to step into the bath. He told me that he knew what we had done and that he was there to settle the score.” His eyes darkened, “He picked Rosie up before I knew what was happening. He threatened her if I didn’t follow his demands.”

“I’m so sorry, Papa,” she whispered.

“Whatever for?” Aziraphale exclaimed, grabbing her hands.

“If I wasn’t there, maybe he would have let you go,” she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Aziraphale lifted her chin, “My dear, there is nothing that can prevent Gabriel from doing something once he’s set his halo to it. You just made his case stronger. He demanded that I self-discorporate in order to return to Heaven. I had him swear that no harm was to come to you before I complied. I assumed he was going to bring my body with him when he returned, but he didn’t. It wasn’t until later that I realized what he had done with it.”

Crowley paled at the memory. “He obliterated you, angel.”

“As he intended, yes. I wish I could have prevented you from seeing that, I really do.” He reached out to caress the demon’s cheek. “But I’m here now, and that’s all in the past.”

“But how are you here?” Crowley asked.

“I cannot say for certain, but I do believe that a Divine Presence was mostly responsible for my escape.”

“Escape? From what?”

“Heaven,” Aziraphale said. “Gabriel threw me into one of the prison cells and forced me to watch everything had happened from the moment you returned to the bookshop, onwards. The fire,” he took a little breath. “The fire was not planned. I don’t know what happened.”

“Me,” Crowley blurted. “I did it. I burned down the shop.”

Aziraphale took a half-step backwards in shock. “You what?”

“You were dead, Aziraphale,” Crowley reasoned quietly. “I couldn’t stand to have that many reminders of you. But I do…” he fished around in his jacket pocket, “have this.” He pulled out the ring and took Aziraphale’s hand in his own.

Aziraphale gasped, “You have it! I thought it was gone forever,” tears appeared in the corners of his eyes.

“It was the one piece of you I couldn’t bear to lose.” Crowley splayed his husband’s fingers and slipped the ring back onto its rightful place. “But I will not be holding on to it again,” he glared at the angel.

Aziraphale beamed up at his husband. “Wouldn’t dream of letting you, my dear.”

“I love you so much,” Crowley whispered, leaning forward to capture Aziraphale’s lips with his own. It was a feeling he had missed for years, and one that he would never take granted for again. “Promise me you’ll never leave us again,” Crowley begged softly.

“I swear,” Aziraphale replied, pulling his family into a tight hug, his wings extending out to pull them ever closer.

17 notes · View notes

rosa-berberifolia · 6 years ago

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The Man at the Bar 2|Mortal Kombat x Reader|Kenshi x Reader

A/N: This is part 2 to the Man at the Bar. Take a look around and make sure no one is reading over your shoulder. Or let ‘em read it. If you’ve got the balls, use them!

Be Warned: Definitely SFW escalating to Definitely NSFW

Word Count: 2400 ± 50

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Jacqui was really helpful in helping you get ready for your date with Kenshi. Even though he couldn’t see you, you still wanted to look your best for him so that at least he could be seen with a good looking woman on his arm. Jacqui helped you curl your hair and pin it up into a loose up-do. You wore statement earrings with a bracelet, no necklace. And your dress (with your spanx underneath ;) ) was a black tea length number with a very low cut neckline, and black pumps to match. Jacqui helped you with your makeup before leaving to go to the restaurant Kenshi asked you to meet him at.

You walked in and looked around. It was a nice place, not the fanciest, but not a regular type place. The room was dimly lit so you had to squint to find Kenshi. He was sat at a table towards the back. Your shoes clicked on the floor as you walked over. You saw his eyebrows knit together as he tilted his head so that his right ear faced where you were coming from.

“Kenshi.” You greeted. He stood up to hug you, something you weren’t expecting.

“Y/n.” He said taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. “You look beautiful.” He said motioning for you to sit down.

You couldn’t help but laugh, “How would you know? For all you know I’m in a onesy that looks like a unicorn. That clicking on the ground you heard is because I’m wearing stilts…I’m eight feet tall right now.” You lied playfully.

Kenshi laughed at your remark. “You’d be beautiful no matter what clothes you wear…or didn’t wear.” Kenshi countered quickly making you smile and blush.

“Good answer.” You said as the waiter came to pour you both some wine. Then he handed you a menu which you took. But you became confused when he didn’t give Kenshi one. Then you realized, unless it was Braille, he wouldn’t be able to read it. “Do you need help with the menu?” You asked.

“I already know what I’ll have.” He said calmly. “But thank you.”

It was silent while you read the menu, deciding what you were going to have, and trying not to be too nervous. In truth, you were very nervous. Your stomach was doing flips and you swore that your heart was skipping every other beat. Kenshi was really nice the last time you saw him. And not to mention, he was very attractive. Even if he was older. You liked his slightly graying hair and beard. You wondered what it would feel like between your legs as he nipped at your thighs before… You decided on the pasta, and then closed your menu and put it on the table, and took a sip of wine trying to calm down from your licentious feelings. You looked up to find Kenshi facing you with one eyebrow cocked.

“What?” You asked.

“Nothing.” He said taking a sip of his wine, but then he licked his lips and bit his lower one sensuously. You couldn’t help the pool of wetness growing in your panties. You squirmed uncomfortably in your chair. You cleared your throat to clear your head.

“So how did you get into the fighting business?” You asked trying to distract yourself from the aroused tension that was growing between you two. Kenshi answered your question, and the rest of the night’s conversations were the same as the food. Great and satisfying. You were pleased to find out that you and Kenshi really did have a lot of the same characteristics and interests, and enough that were different that you could challenge one another. You found yourself smiling throughout the evening. You couldn’t lie. You really liked Kenshi. And by all appearances he seemed to like you too.

You were talking about difficulties you two had experienced in your lifetime. Kenshi had his forearms laying on the table while he discussed how he went blind with you. His story was so sad that you put your hand on his to comfort him. He stopped talking as soon as he felt your hand on his. But then he put his other hand on top of yours and then kept telling his story. He stroked the back of your hand lovingly while he talked.

Eventually the conversation took a turn and you somehow found yourself making a reference to a nature documentary that you had seen. You loved to watch them. Even if sometimes they were sad. They just fascinated you so much. Understanding the reference, Kenshi answered with the follow up line from that same documentary, and then you two started talking about how much you love watching them.

“You should come watch one with me.” You offered.

“And when would we do that?” Kenshi asked mischievously lifting an eyebrow at you.

“Whenever.” You smiled and bit your lip at him, not that he could see.

“I could get the check and we could cap off the evening with one?” He offered.

“Your place or mine?” You asked in the most sultry voice you could manage.

“Mine.” He said in what seemed to be almost a growl. Holy shit did it do things in you. The excitement rumbled deep within your core and you found yourself nodding, but then realized he couldn’t see that, so you spoke.

“Okay.”

///

The two of you walked hand in hand to Kenshi’s place. It was within the Special Forces compound. You walked into the small apartment. It was dark, all of the blinds were drawn. Kenshi felt along the wall by the entrance for the light switch and turned it on. You saw that his place was well kept. Almost everything had a Braille label on it. You watched as Kenshi went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of white wine. He felt on the cupboards for the labels, opening one of them and pulling out two wine glasses.

“I can do that if you want.” You offered.

“Thank you.” He said as he moved out of your way. He walked over to the living room where there was a couch and a small TV but an intricate sound and AI system.

“System on.” Kenshi said. The TV turned on and it made a start up noise.

“Welcome home.” The system addressed. You walked into the room with the two now full glasses of wine.

“Does it matter what we watch?” Kenshi asked you.

You shook your head as you both sat next to each other on the couch. “No, I love them all.” You said truthfully. He nodded to you.

“System, open Netflix and play Africa.” He ordered his AI. The system turned on Netflix and immediately started playing the documentary. David Attenborough started talking and you two listened silently while Mr. Attenborough spoke. You held hands and graced each other’s skin with your thumbs. Soon your head rested on his shoulder and you put your other hand on his thigh. You felt Kenshi’s body tense up but then relax as you rubbed gentle circles into his muscled leg. You could hear him swallow harshly at your actions.

Suddenly he sat up and faced you. You moved back for him to move as he wanted. You were confused. Had you done something wrong? You waited for him to say something. But he just held his lips between his teeth as if he were contemplating something.

“May I try something?” He asked.

You nodded, “Sure.” Then Kenshi put an affectionate hand under your chin and he guided your lips to his. The kiss was sweet and tender. As if he were testing the waters, seeing how receptive you were to him. When you kissed back he smiled into the next ones. Soon the kisses became less and less gentle. His hand moved from your chin to the side of your head, putting his fingers through your hair to hold you to him. You did the same with your right hand, using your left one to grab the collar of his shirt and pull him, keeping him against you. You moved on to his lap and you held his face in your hands as you kissed roughly. But he moved to kiss a trail to your ear, taking your ear lobe between his teeth to nibble on it before he sucked for a moment.

“You’re thoughts have been very distracting.” He said to you. You pulled away.

“What?” You asked. How could he know what you’ve been thinking?

An almost worried expression graced Kenshi’s face before it relaxed. “It’s been fairly obvious.” He said pulling you back towards him. He kissed just under your ear before continuing in a husky voice. “In your tone. The way you smell. Everything about you is just…distracting.” And then he started to leave open and hot kisses down your neck, across your chest and then up the other side of your neck to your lips again. You couldn’t deny how much you wanted him. Wanted to see what he was capable of in the bedroom. The eroticism of the whole evening was pooling in your core and it was aching to be relieved.

“Then do something about it.” You said playfully. You wished that he would just take you to his room and have his way with you. He pulled away from you slightly to lick a strip from your collar bone up your neck to your chin. Then he kissed you roughly as his hands found their way under your ass, holding you to him as his stood up from the couch and walked over to his bedroom.

He dropped you down on the bed. When his hands were free of you he unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall to the floor. He crawled up your body, leaving kisses as he slowly made his way up to you, taking extra care to leave sloppy wet ones between your breasts and up to your lips. He kissed you once before he hooked his fingers into the straps of your dress and pulled it down just enough so that your breasts were loose.

He captured one of your nipples in his mouth, suckling the nub and then licking it while his other hand massaged the other breast. It felt like heaven and it made the ache between your legs that much greater. He switched to the other breast and that was when you had a terrible thought.

‘Oh god! The spanx!’ You thought. You arched your back as though you were having that much pleasure from Kenshi’s ministrations. And you would have been if it not for the granny panties that you were wearing. So while he worked on your breasts you hooked your fingers into your dress and panties and pulled them the rest of the way down so that Kenshi wouldn’t have to do it and therefore wouldn’t know what you had on underneath your dress.

Kenshi smiled into the kisses he placed on your chest, making his way back up to your mouth to capture your lips in another passionate kiss. His one hand came to the back of your head to cradle it and the other roamed your now exposed body. He eventually came to your pussy and he ghosted his fingers on it making you moan in anticipation. You felt the smirk on Kenshi’s lips as he kissed you. Then his fingers went between your folds rubbing your clit slowly.

“That wet already?” Kenshi asked teasingly. You nodded into the kisses as your hands wandered along his abs, slowly making your way to his pants. You undid the button and started to slide his pants and underwear down his legs. You made sure to run you whole hand along his thighs, feeling how toned the muscles there were. Taking his member in your hands, you swirled your thumb over the tip, coating it in precum before pumping at an agonizingly slow pace. Kenshi groaned into your mouth.

Quickly he removed his hand from your pussy and grabbed your thigh and brought it up exposing your sex to him more. His fingers returned but instead of playing with your clit he entered one finger into your pussy and started pumping at the same pace that you worked on him. You moaned and he added another finger and picked up the pace.

“Mm! Kenshi!” You whimpered.

“Tell me what you want.” He said gutturally into your ear. He curled his fingers inside of you hitting your g-spot.

“Oh god!” You exclaimed. “I want you to fuck me!” Kenshi smiled proceeded to roughly attack your neck with messy kisses that felt so good against your skin. He moved each of your hands to be above your head and he held them there with one hand. The other hand grabbed his cock and teased you with the tip before he put on a condom. You wrapped your legs around his hips giving him better access. He pushed all the way into you at a torturously slow speed. Then he came all the way out and went all the way back in. He continued doing this until you couldn’t take it and you started to buck your hips. You heard Kenshi chuckle at you.

“Kenshi!” You whined. Kenshi smirked and then started to fuck you harshly. Roughly banging into you at a quick pace. The sound of skin on skin filled the room. Your moans and Kenshi’s moans added to make a sexual orchestra of sounds. You couldn’t help but think how amazing it would feel if he lifted your leg onto his shoulder. And before you could even ask he did what you were thinking.

You saw stars. It felt incredible. In this position he was able to hit exactly the right spot within you. Your moans turned to cries as the familiar knot in your abdomen started forming. But you needed a little something more to come. And again, as if Kenshi was reading your mind, he took his hands off of your leg and one went to massage your breast roughly, and the other went to rub circles on your clit. Holy fuck you felt amazing. You had never had sex this great. Within moments your pussy was contracting around his member. You came all over his dick, and the feeling of that caused Kenshi to come as well.

After a moment for you both to regain your breaths, Kenshi pulled out and fell onto the bed next to you. He put an arm underneath you and pulled you towards his side. You wrapped an arm around his chest and held him. He softly played with your hair and kissed your forehead.

Yeah…you liked Kenshi…a lot.

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat imagine #kenshi #kenshi x reader #kenshi imagine

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this-is-a-love-story-fleabag · 5 years ago

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Fork you, then (8/?)

Thanks for sticking through with me on this! I think there will be two chapters after this one, but who knows?? Fleabag saves her friend Boo’s life and earns a spot in the Good Place, but is everything here really so perfect? And what’s up with the hot priest next door? 2089 words. Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. Also on ao3.

"Do you feel peaceful here?" he asks.

"Not in the slightest."

"Maybe we should look for it. Go out on a mission in search of heavenly contentment."

"If we can find some, I'm all for it," she laughs. "Plus, I definitely need a hobby other than drinking and masturbating."

"Sure, sure. We can't have you getting a strained wrist, or whatever."

In contrast to the remarkable abundance of frozen yogurt shops in the Good Place, the priest has not yet managed to find a single pub.

"It's basically a forking war crime," he laments as they make their way through the meandering streets back to his house, a bottle of wine shoved in each pocket.

"Maybe we could open one together," she says, inspecting the label of a bottle of Merlot. "I used to run a café, maybe it's the same."

"Maybe," he agrees amiably. "Sounds like a lot of work, though, when we can just drink at home."

"We'd probably be the only customers, anyway."

He opens his front door and they lounge either side of his coffee table, sprawled out on the carpet. "I sometimes wonder if we're the only bastards in heaven," he says, pouring them both a liberal glass of wine.

She lets out a peal of laughter. "I have had the exact same thought."

"I thought I'd feel more peaceful, you know?" he says, leaning back against his sofa and waving his drink for emphasis. "I've reached my eternal rest or whatever... and it's actually really forking stressful."

"At least you know you belong here, after doing all that..." she waves her hand in the air, narrowly avoiding spilling red wine on the carpet. "...priesty stuff when you were alive."

"I'm sure you-"

She cuts him off. "Were you a good priest?"

It takes him a second of thought and several sips of wine before he answers. "Yeah, I think so. I wasn't a great person before that, but I think I made up for it. Were you a good person?"

"Fork no," she laughs. "Someone up there's getting fired for this, I guarantee you."

"Come on, you must have done some good things."

"I'll let you know if I remember any." They lapse into comfortable silence for a while and he tops up her glass. She looks comfortable propped up against the armchair, loose-limbed and languid.

"Do you feel peaceful here?" he asks.

"Not in the slightest."

"Maybe we should look for it. Go out on a mission in search of heavenly contentment."

"If we can find some, I'm all for it," she laughs. "Plus, I definitely need a hobby other than drinking and masturbating."

"Sure, sure. We can't have you getting a strained wrist, or whatever."

"Here's to peace," she proposes, lifting her glass.

"To peace," he agrees.

Their first attempt at achieving inner piece does not go well. The priest has the bright idea to ask Jianyu to lead them through a Buddhist meditation. He assents with a bow and brings them into a silent clearing in the opulent grounds of Tahani's mansion, a faint whiff of buffalo sauce suffusing the air around him. He settles them cross-legged on the manicured lawn, spines straight, hands resting lightly on their knees, ready commune with the universe.

Then Jianyu opens his mouth.

An hour later, they wave him farewell and walk out of the garden, slightly dazed, and continue without speaking for a few minutes.

"So is that a typical Buddhist meditation session?" she asks, breaking their silence.

"Not... in my experience," responds the priest diplomatically. "I don't think it's usual for a monk to use the word "dope" in any context."

"I did find the part about letting go of the swamp alligators in your soul oddly helpful."

"I saw the look you gave me when he said that, you forking menace." In fact, the entire session had been a series of amused, side-eyed glances between the pair of them and a superhuman effort not to laugh.

"What does Bortles mean? Is it Sanskrit?"

"I've never heard it before, but my Sanskrit is absolute shirt, so I can't be sure."

"I know it doesn't mean 'downward-facing dog' but that's all I've got."

"Maybe he had the right idea with the whole... vow of silence thing."

"Definitely."

Tahani jumps at the chance to get involved in their self-improvement project and immediately insists that the three of them take a spa day together.

"I see you're here for the throuple's massage," says Janet brightly from behind the reception desk in the gleaming, white relaxation centre.

"That's not quite-" says the priest, just as his neighbour says "Fork yeah." He squints at her and she grins unashamedly.

"Janet, we're here to find inner peace," announces Tahani. "Set up the room to be 80% Gwyneth Paltrow's private spa and 20% Paul McCartney's five-dimensional meditation cube."

"Sure!" says Janet. "I'll go find two other Janets for the massage therapy. Go in through that door and undress, then lay face down on the massage tables. We'll be with you in a moment." She pings out of reality and the three peace-seekers head through into the treatment room. The decoration is all bare Norwegian wood and soft lighting, with gentle nature sounds playing in the background and stacks of immensely soft, fluffy towels.

The priest carefully averts his eyes as his neighbour shucks off her dress without a hint of self-consciousness, throwing it onto a chair and unsubtly checking out Tahani as she did the same.

"Are those your real tits?" she asks.

"Yes," sighs Tahani. "I've always been cursed with a large bosom. It's a nightmare trying to find couture that fits."

"Sure. Difficult."

He manages somehow to take off all of his clothes with a towel wrapped firmly around his waist, drawing an amused, knowing glance. He slides onto the table and covers himself with another towel so that every inch of his body save his head is completely hidden.

"Hi," says Janet, popping back into existence with two other Janets in tow, one in a neat, green pantsuit with a beaming grin, and one in skin-tight leather trousers who was fiddling with her phone. "There weren't two Good Place Janets available, so I've had to borrow one Bad Janet to help out."

"What up, fart-goblins," says Bad Janet. "I'm here to touch your butts."

"Who wants to go first?" asks Good Janet #1.

The priest is amused but not at all surprised to see his neighbour raise her hand.

Michael's idea for them to find inner peace is to send them out into the centre of the lake in a rowing boat in the middle of a scorching hot day with a picnic basket and instructions to enjoy themselves. At this, they do not entirely succeed.

"How am I sunburned in heaven?" wails the priest later, applying aloe to the peeling red patches on his chest. "This is the most Irish thing to ever happen to anyone."

"How did you get sunburned through your shirt?" she asks, her sure, cold fingers rubbing in soothing circles over his shoulder.

"I don't know," he whines, leaning into her touch as her hands drift over his skin, cooling the burn.

She mutters something that sounds like "his beautiful neck", then clears her throat and turns away to get more lotion. "I don't think Michael has a strong grasp on what it's like to have human skin."

"Well, that's two down. Who should we ask next?"

"No, nuh-uh," says Chidi firmly as Eleanor paces along his living room.

"Come on, man, it's just one little threesome! What harm could it do?"

"OK, first of all, I would really prefer that our relationship remain monogamous, but most importantly, we're trying to teach her that you can't solve all your problems by ignoring them and just having sex with people."

She scoffs. "Agree to disagree."

"Eleanor..."

"Fine, I'll take them... rollerblading, or whatever, but I maintain that your objection is total bullshirt."

It's about 3AM on a warm, still night, when the priest clambers up the rose trellis and raps on his neighbour's window. Fortunately for his delicate constitution, she is not wearing frilly underthings. Unfortunately for his stupid heart, she's wearing a pair of pyjamas that she stole from his wardrobe, and she looks adorable in them.

"Father," she greets him. "What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, so stumblest on my counsel?"

"Fork, I was going to open with 'soft, what light through yonder window breaks', and you ruined it."

"So, wherefore art thou climbing up my forking walls in the middle of the night?" She leans over the windowsill, framed in the warm light from inside, and part of him aches to reach up a little further and meet her red lips in a soft kiss.

"Eleanor asked me to look after her unicorn for her and I've forking lost it," he says instead, pouting forlornly. "Can you come and help me find it?"

"That doesn't explain why you couldn't use the door instead of the window."

He shrugs as well as he is able to while clinging to a wall two storeys off the ground. "This seemed less intrusive."

"It isn't," she laughs. "Can you get back down or do you need me to haul you in?"

"Er, hauling, probably," he admits, and she grabs him by the wrists to yank him inside. Her bedroom is relatively plain and a little untidy, but it smells like mysterious girl things like perfume and body lotion. This entire situation is making his head spin a little (although that might be the altitude).

He perches uncomfortably at the foot of her bed while she hunts around for a matching pair of shoes. "Where did you lose it, and what direction did it go?" she asks as she gropes blindly underneath the bed.

"Next to the fountain in the town square. I only turned away for a second! I think it forked off towards the lake."

They make their way, via the front door, down towards the water, whispering and walking quietly so as not to disturb the neighbourhood.

"Look," she says, grabbing his arm on spotting a glimmer of silver in the moonlight over the fields. "I think that's it."

They approach carefully, sensibly wary of startling the giant pointy horse. The unicorn seems to pay them no heed, flipping its mane in mild annoyance before pooping out a small, wet rainbow.

"Hey, there," she says in the most soothing voice she can muster, gingerly extending an arm towards the creature. When her hand touches the unicorn's flank, it gives out an almighty whinny and wheels around to look her dead in the eyes, huffing aggressively.

"Fork fork fork fork fork," she mutters under her breath as she backs away rapidly from the beast. "I don't think it likes me."

Quick as a flash, the priest grabs the unicorn's reins and gives them a yank to turn its attention back to him. "Come on," he says sternly. "It's time for you to go home."

The animal rears up and lets out a noise of extreme displeasure, but the priest stands firm and keeps his hold on the reins, using his disappointed-Sunday-school-teacher scowl. Little by little, the unicorn stops bucking and grunting, and allows itself to be led back towards the town square.

"Thanks," she says, walking a little ahead to keep a wary distance away from the creature. "I thought I was about to become unicorn food."

"I don't think they actually eat people." The unicorn let out another aggressive grunt. "Although I'm not entirely sure on that."

"Why does Eleanor even have a feral unicorn?"

"She didn't tell me! She just handed me the forking reins and told me to look after it and forked off!"

"You wrangled it remarkably well."

"I'm surprised I didn't run away, to be honest. I'm not usually good at dealing with things."

She gives him a smile over her shoulder. "You’re braver than you believe, and stronger and smarter than you think," she tells him.

He stops short, making the unicorn give a huff of annoyance. "Is that Winnie the Pooh?" he gasps. "Did you just quote Winnie the Pooh at me?"

"I-"

She can't finish the sentence before he's cupping her cheek and capturing her lips in a fierce kiss. He pours himself into her, the pent-up longing and affection from the last few weeks crashing over them like a wave, each touch of his hands against her skin igniting a fire in his senses. He cards his fingers through her dark curls as she gasps against his mouth, her soft body pressed against his.

The sound of galloping hooves brings them out of their private moment, and they surface to the sight of the unicorn tearing away down the road.

"Oh, fork," they say in unison.

#fleabag #the good place #fork you then #my fics

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cometcalloway · 5 years ago

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Amethyst Calm, Fluorite Cloud

Amethyst Calm: How do they usually sleep, in what position? Do they like plenty of pillows, blankets and/or plush toys?

I imagine it takes a while for Lothric to get comfortable & he’ll just fall asleep in whatever position he was trying out when being tired finally overcame the background noise of pain. Lol I bet they don’t mean to but end up in the same position when they finally fall asleep, & motions they make in their sleep are synchronized. I imagine their identities get a lot less distinct when they’re both asleep.

Lorian wouldn’t be caught dead with a plush toy. Lothric has a few plush toys because when you’re hedonistic and unpredictable & like to treat yourself, things like that tend to turn up sooner or later. Well-made unicorn that’s floppy & elegant & has roses in its mane that was an impulse purchase even though it wasn’t super cheap, beanie baby turtle, happy meal toy (of a character from a movie he didn’t see) rescued from the sidewalk…? But he doesn’t sleep with them or see them as comfort objects. He wanted them and now he owns them, is the story there. He still has a water bottle label from one of his first days on the island, rescued because he’d never seen a photograph of mountains before and thought it was too pretty to throw away. Owning things and having a place to put them in a world that isn’t ending is amazing.

Fluorite Cloud: If they had the opportunity, would they prefer to know what’s going to happen in the future or not? Why?

Probably! Anything they don’t have ‘control’ over can feel dangerous, after living in such an unpredictable situation. The more they know, the less danger they’re in.

#illimitexabominer #thanks!#whoops forgot the last one #added it in real quick #if you're even a little bit a supervillain you probably have at least one plush toy

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finnpartencreations · 4 years ago

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Unicorn water bottle labels, Printable unicorn bottles labels, Rainbow water bottle labels, Unicorn bottle labels, Rainbow unicorn labels

#unicorn #unicorn party #unicorn birthday #unicorn label #unicorn water bottle labels #printable water bottle labels #party #rainbow

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takeallyourloveouttame-blog · 5 years ago

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game on.

I wouldn’t call you if I didn’t really need you. I have no one else to fucking call. The words replay in my head again and again. I’m overly tired and rightfully so. I’ve been working overtime trying to infiltrate this criminal group without luck. I could hear Dustin in the background shouting, stomping; anything to make noise and announce to the neighborhood that he was overly pissed. I knew - given Kitt’s broken voice - that it wasn’t going to be a pretty scene. I knew I would be overly pissed too. I also knew that if it was what I thought it was - my plans would be changing soon. My hands find pockets as soon as I exit the subway train and jog my way up the stairs to the brisk welcome of night. Continuous prompts remind me to stay calm and clear of mind. I don’t have enough skin in the game yet to over-emote. My only in at this point is Dustin. Mind flashes to Kitt and her quivering voice. Eyes darken as I press the damn-near broken buzzer for their apartment and hear the obnoxious gargle signaling the door is open. Pulling the door wide, I stride the stairs rapidly and don’t care to knock on the door belonging to the siblings’ shared apartment. As I enter, Dustin gets in my face, wild-eyed and face-flushed. “He beat her real fuckin’ good, man. I’m gonna kill him. I don’t care what happens to me.” Fingertips press against his chest. I can feel the heat rising off of him and can smell his bravado. I don’t doubt that he’s willing to kill for his sister, but I do know that I need him to do the opposite and remain my main point of contact to this syndicate. I also recognize that I’m not ready to see what awaits. “If you want your sister to bury your sorry ass, go put a few plugs in someone. You’re not thinking straight. Probably can’t even aim a gun right now. Where is she?” My eyes waiver toward the bathroom door. The light fixture buzzes audible through the cracked door, but isn’t loud enough to drown out the pained croons and hitched breath. “Dustin. Sit down, stay there.” Approaching the door with measured steps, I lightly rap my knuckles to the back of the unevenly stained surface so it doesn’t nudge open further without invitation. “It’s me. I’m coming in.” The door creaks as I slowly push it open - and I immediately see the same blinding red that fills Dustin’s gaze. My heart begins to drum rapidly in the barrel between my ribs and I kneel in front of her, taking in a visual assessment of the damage, thumbs pushing back hair from her face. “Please tell me there’s a corpse somewhere,” I whisper hotly through a seething clench of my teeth. “I just want to fucking shower and sleep and I can’t get my own shirt over my goddamn head without almost passing out from the pain.” “No corpse then?” I quirk a brow, and watch tears brim her eyes but refuse to fall. My jaw tenses again and I nod in understanding, straightening up to assess the shower and then her state. “This’s gonna hurt.” She nods and I bend and scoop arms around her, straightening her up and trying to ignore her throated cries. “How much do you like this?” I ask, giving a small indicating tug to the hem of her tank top. “I doubt the blood will come out. Just get it off of me,” she says and I notice the hitch in her breathing; the pain in her eyes. It doesn’t matter if she likes it in that moment. “Scissors,” I say and turn toward the medicine cabinet, opening it wide to ruffle through without a car, pushing past menstrual medications, tylenol, unmarked bottles, and tampons. “Dustin, bring me scissors,” I holler and hear him immediately shuffle around. His hand appears with a pair of shears in the crack of the door and I grab them, then close the door entirely. “Turn around,” I offer in a firm, yet gentle tone. I fight to hide my anger, but know I will get my ultimate revenge. With her back toward me, I pluck the material away from her skin and skim the scissors along the rails of her spine, slicing until the tank top splits. My hands carefully guide the material over her shoulders and down her arms, trying to be the least intrusive for her battered body. Dark, deep bruises paint her skin. Especially along her ribs. “I’m gonna undo your bra,” I say with a bit of hesitation, fingers gently clasping fabric on either side of the hook and loop. I want further consent and feel my heart ripping through my ears, but I know she’s been through trauma and don’t want her to have to console me to be able to fulfill a request that was hard for her to make to begin with. I pull the fabric apart just enough to loosen the hook from its notch and keep a grip on both ends to keep it from snapping against her burdened body, guiding the fabric down her shoulders and arms until it falls to the bathroom floor. I stay behind her and make the transition to her pants, arms reaching around to her front when I feel her hands on my forearms. “I can do my pants, you perv.” Our smiles are audible, though hers extinguishes with a pained exhale and I take a step back and swing my body to avert my eyes. Staring down a lone scar in the wall, I listen to the pain in her breathing and refusal of tears and I force myself to remember them - for later. For the right time. “Ready,” she tells me and I turn toward her, eyes dipping for a brief second over her naked form before stepping toward the shower. I dip in and turn the dials, gliding my fingers through the stream until it warms to a comfortable level. “Ready when you are,” I say, securing my eyes to hers. Her movements are slow and measured. I can tell she’s trying to cause herself the least amount of pain with each step. Her knees near the ceramic edge of the tub and I find my natural frown settling a bit deeper. “This is going to be really fuckin’ rough. Take it at your own speed and lean on me as much as you need. I won’t let ya fall.” She seethes, her lips vibrating as she lifts her leg and steps over the tub’s side, her other leg quick to follow. I can tell she wants to bleat out but she bites it back. Kitt is tough as nails and I wouldn’t expect anything less. I close the shower curtain around her and wait before I hear the familiar exhale again. My head pops through the water barrier and I see her attempting to reach for her shampoo. “Easy,” I warn, already shrugging from my jacket. Quickly kicking off my shoes and tugging off my socks, I enter the stream still in my white t-shirt and jeans, realizing I need to ditch my phone and wallet rapidly too. Outstretching my hand and securing the shampoo bottle, I squeeze a growing amount into my palm before she gives me a silent nod. She turns her back toward me and I feel relief. “Smells like a unicorn’s asshole,” I note and spread the goo between my hands before dragging my fingers through her hair gently. I remember the gash near her hairline and try to keep the suds away from it. Brush strokes of red slip down the drain. “What else do you need?” I ask, my clothes now clinging heavily to me. “This yours?” I grab a loofah and note Dustin’s obvious bar of soap - greasy hairs attached to it like a magnet. A bottle of cheap soap with a colorful label with some kind of cheesy vanilla graphic catches my eye and I hold it in front of her for verification. Stringing soap along the loofah surface, I rub it in and she turns her head. Our gazes linger and she slowly takes possession. My gaze turns and I linger in the back of the tub, listening to more hisses and grunts until she’s had enough, dried and fresh blood pooling through the running stream. “I’m done,” she says and refuses to sound defeated. Leaning forward, I flick off the water and step out, water puddling at my feet as I reach for a towel she directs me to. I wring pools of excess water from my shirt into the tub, the fabric hanging loose at my waist then take another towel and attempt to pat myself down. “Can you-” she starts and I interject. “The whole reason I’m here’s so Dustin doesn’t see his sister naked, right?” I help wrap herself with the towel and open the bathroom door. Dustin sits up, suddenly alert, though he’s poured himself at least half a bottle of whiskey just during the wait. “Your sister’s a badass,” I assure him. “You alright Kitt?” He’s clearly distraught, angered, and overly protective, but he's also eyeing me and my soggy, sloshing clothes. She nods, mostly because nothing about this is alright. She helps pick out items from her closet and I ask, “did you lose consciousness at all?” “I don’t even fuckin’ know.” I help slip the flannel on one arm at a time and secure the buttons, eyes on hers other than to navigate which button I’m on. “Just go fuckin’ commando and cut me a break here,” I relent and she nods as if it isn’t a big deal. When I bend over to secure the leggings over one leg, I struggle and she bobs for balance. “Use me,” I urge and feel her palms on my back as I struggle to roll the leggings up. “I don’t know how the hell you wear these.” Sweat threatens my brow line when I finish, straightening up my stiff spine with a grunt. “Bed,” I tell her. “Dustin, get in here!” Within seconds, Dustin jogs into her bedroom. We help her into bed and I instruct Dustin to lay off the fucking booze and whatever else. I warn Kitt to stay awake no matter how bad she wants to sleep through the night in case she’s concussed. I tell them I’m going to leave, but I stay perched on the top step in the hallway just outside of their door for hours. Dark eyes lost in a longing gaze, trapped inside my head as I plot my next move. Before I finally leave, I replay the words in my head. The words I made her tell me before we left that bathroom. “Who did this to you?” “Like you don’t know.” “I need you to say it, Kitt.” Confusion riddling her eyes - then emotion. She blinks, skews her jaw, and says the magical words: “Fuckin’ Ace.”

Fuckin’ Ace. Game on.

#drabble #vaughn x kitt #vaughn x dustin

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festfashions · 6 years ago

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Four Things You Can Amazon Prime Right Now to Upgrade Your Nocturnal Camping Experience

I LOVE festival camping. There’s daytime activities, there’s people all around you, the party never stops! I’ve learned a few tips and tricks now that have helped me boost my camping experience. This weekend is Nocturnal Wonderland which of course has camping! Since it’s only a few days away, here are some items you can Amazon Prime in time for the weekend to upgrade your camping experience.

These are all items I have purchased from Amazon, and have loved! Also FYI, I joined a new affiliate program with Amazon, so when I share links, they have special coding so that if you purchase using my link, Amazon will give me a little money! So use my links and support my blog!

Solar Powered Twinkle Lights

These are the simplest way to make your tent look fab at night, and easier to find. We first purchased some for Lightning in a Bottle because it’s so dark camping there, but I love bringing them to all my festival camping now. You just need to make sure it charges in the sun during the day, then usually as I’m leaving for the night I turn them on (even if it’s still light out) so that when I come home they’re all lit up! I wrap them around the polls on the outside, and we even put a little set inside too. They usually have multiple modes too so you can flash them, twinkle or stay solid.

Colorful Water Drop Lights: Amazon, $8.99 Fairy Flower Blossom Lights: Amazon, $10.99 Honey Bee Lights: Amazon, $11.95

Solar Powered Light Bulbs

Ok so these are more for the functional side of things. Again bought these for Lightning in a Bottle but this past year, and I’m obsessed with them. They are super bright and add real light inside your tent when you’re getting ready or going to bed. They have the cute little hook too so they’re easy to attach to the top of your tent somewhere. If you can’t tell I’m all about that solar power because I believe in saving the planet, so go solar wherever you can!

Solar Powered Light Bulbs (2 Pack): Amazon, $13.99

Mini 3 Drawer Organizer

I share this all the time on my Instagram stories when I’m packing for a festival. It’s the perfect thing for camping because it keeps all your stuff organized and then makes a great side table when you’re camping! I usually tape it closed during travel so that it doesn’t all fall out in the car. I label each drawer too so my friends know where stuff is. This is great to organize little things, like our 2nd drawer has “tools” safety pins, scissors, tide pen, zip ties etc. One drawer for us is always makeup and flash tattoos including the eyelash glue. The third one is for accessories: glow sticks, fans, packs of gum, bubbles etc.

Mini 3 Drawer Organizer: Amazon, $10.56 Or get TWO for $17.56!

Tiny Bluetooth Speaker

I was given the penguin for Christmas and they’re so adorable, fit in the palm of your hand, and actually have really decent sound. The bass isn’t great, but I mean, what do you expect. The battery lasts long, and you’re apparently able to pair them with other animals from their speaker series to amplify the sound. We haven’t tried that yet, but I love that feature, and my friend bought a unicorn one for us to try someday. They’re great for traveling because of how small they are, and would be storable in your Mini 3 Drawer Organizer so it doesn’t get lost!

My Pet Mini Bluetooth Speaker: Amazon, $29.99

#amazon prime #words #text #nocturnal wonderland 2018 #festival camping #rave camping #camping upgrades #lightning in a bottle #imagine music festival #festival tips #Solar powered lights #rave life #EDM life #EDM tips #rave tips #ravers #plur #EDM #camping

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sunsetmaiden · 2 years ago

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I'm....so angry. I'm so fucking angry! I'm so angry. I just want to scream. And underneath that mountain, that burning volcano of anger is the deepest well of sadness n hurt

I pack my daughter's lunch for school. I bought several lunch and snack boxes because it's supposed to be pack in/pack out and i...this way I can take all the wrappers off anything. The boxes are colours she likes. The boxes were expensive. I found, searched, HUNTED for vinyl stickers for them and her water bottle - I found a sticker pack with squishmallows stickers. She loves squishmallows. We decorated the boxes together weeks ago before school started. I pack her lunch with so much care. Her snacks. I make sure I have her favourite foods, different things, fresh and good. Protein and carbs, veg, a fruit and a little dessert. There's a nice zip lunchbag to put the boxes in, it matches her backpack. I got the most cutest unicorn ice packs to keep her food fresh.

I'm...I'm angry thinking about so so many tepid, smushed up, tuna sandwiches. One piece, the heel of the bread. Wrapped up in the empty bread bag that the crumbs weren't even shaken out of first. A half soft rotting apple. Or nothing at all. A backpack fished out of somebody else's trash, written on by the previous owner in now faded ball point pen, frayed straps, broken zipper or Binders from the foodbank stuffed in a ripped plastic grocery bag. Pencils falling out the holes. Late walking myself to school in kindergarten, first grade.

I paid the school fees, I ordered my daughter pieces of pizza from the PAC pizza day fundraiser. I'm going to buy a stupid box of apples I don't need or want from the PAC apple fundraiser. Writing down the dates for school picture day, keeping everything in order.

I labelled every single item of my daughter's clothes, neatly in black ink. Thinking about the polished faces of my classmates and their pencils with their names written so neatly down the side. how raggedy any of the supplies I had looked in comparison.

Something clawing at my chest, heaving, breaking anger. Dark satisfaction at all I have done, provide and do for her. I will be perfect for her and she will never know....how lucky she is because it's all just normal. It's all just normal stuff.

The biggest wettest tears now after I put her to bed for the night. I wish I could scream. I wish I could smash up an entire car until it was nothing but dust. I wish I could level a city. I clean up my kitchen. I wash the floor instead.

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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 7 years ago

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Trinkets, 22: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A small, Randomly Colored folded paper bird. When unfolded, it refolds itself and any crumples or tears it has sustained magically fix themselves.

An eyepatch resembling a large flower that covers the entire eye of the creature wearing it. When applied to a creature’s face, the eyepatch grows rootlike tendrils that wrap around the bearer's head to secure it.

A set of fish jaws fashioned into a bracelet. When worn, the bearer has an in depth knowledge of northern pike.

A bracelet made from a lattice of woven brass. It automatically adjusts itself to the wrist size of its bearer.

A shimmery cloak clasp depicting a violin and a sword. It smells vaguely of ash and fire.

A sealed metal tin labeled “Armstrong Mustache Wax”. According to the description, the recipe has been passed down the Armstrong line for generations

A glazed porcelain pipe. Everything about it seems vaguely familiar, but you aren’t sure why.

An old and beaten up steel drinking flask. After carrying the object for more than 1d4 hours, the bearer becomes convinced that the flask has to be kept a secret.

An uncannily familiar face etched into a piece of dead wood.

A marble pyramid, small enough to fit in a human’s palm. When held, shadows seem to flicker in the corners of the bearer's vision.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.