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#Storming Ox
comfortmie · 3 months
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Trust fall
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azfellandco · 8 months
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It's about Crowley bearing witness to Aziraphale's desire, about the way that desire is animal and visceral and enormous and terrifying*. And about how Crowley sees that and wants it. Crowley offers the ox rib and watches Aziraphale eat because eating provides them no sustenance, it's purely for pleasure, sensual, selfish. And Crowley introduces Aziraphale to this, and thousands of years later still takes obvious pleasure in feeding Aziraphale, in watching him eat. In watching Aziraphale's pleasure.
And I think it's significant the things we see Crowley put into his body in s2, and why: six shots of espresso, as something bracing before seeing what it is that made Aziraphale call him in his "something's wrong" tone; whiskey, because he has to give Aziraphale some bad news; wine, because they "might as well get comfortable" during the storm coming down on Job, after Aziraphale learns that Crowley is actually pretty unhappy with Job's suffering; and poison, to dispose of it so Elspeth (or Wee Morag, I've fogotten which is which) doesn't die. Crowley doesn't take Aziraphale's "something that calms you down", only consumes things that not only don't bring him pleasure but are an attempt to prevent pain. Crowley, who introduced Aziraphale to this important physical, sensual, selfish pleasure, denies it to himself. He denies himself the eccles cakes, he denies himself partaking in food, and he denies himself Aziraphale.
And we see throughout the rest of the season other things he's denying himself: the comfort and safety of a home in the bookshop in favor of the mobility and ready-made escape of living in the Bentley, the surety of saying what he really means during the confession. He cannot bring himself to admit what he wants, that he wants. Gabriel and Beelzebub "going off together" is not what he wants. He wants Aziraphale, but he doesn't say that, because he's never, in the years and years and years we've seen this season, let himself want or be seen wanting. "Going off together" is as close as he can get to speaking it. "A group of the two of us" is as close as he can get. So he has to watch as Aziraphale leaves and takes his pleasure in the world with him.
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evelinawood · 1 year
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Almost three months in to this crazy adventure and I love him more every day
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Whatever conspired in the stars that day for us to reconnect…
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I am so grateful & blessed to have this amazing love in my life ❤️
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sensitivesiren · 5 months
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(if someone has these screencaps please add them to this post - i'm technologically challenged)
I simply cannot get over the look that passes between Aziraphale and Crowley in s2ep2 when they restore Job's children and all of the angels turn to Aziraphale and ask if they're his new children, and we can see him squirm a little and dodge the question with "they certainly seem to be!" and then a few lines later the angels turn to him with an "Aziraphale, who are they?" an inescapable question, time is limited, he can't hesitate, but he LOCKS eyes with Crowley who is leaning against a post with his eyebrows raised in a whose side are you on stare.
And then it pans back to Aziraphale who hesitates, "They . . . are . . ."
and then he has this LOOK on his face, of acceptance, of resignation, and he makes eye contact with Crowley again, and says "They are . . . his new children."
He was ready to risk it all. Fully believing that he would fall for this. That look is a surrender. And he was ready to do it too.
He holds eye contact with Gabriel, blinking a lot, but not looking away. His smile doesn't reach his eyes. There's a brief moment of relief on his face when Gabriel claps him on the shoulder and believes his lie, but he knows that God will know what he's done. He fully believes he's going to fall for this.
And he looks to Crowley again, who applauds him. Aziraphale looks like he's going to be sick.
He's had several earth-shattering revelations in the last 24-ish hours.
Crowley (the demon) is good, and he believes it with his full chest.
God plays games for fun at the expense of others, and it's wrong.
Gluttony (he ate that entire ox)
Aziraphale believes that Crowley believes that blurring the lines between Good and Evil by questioning God and thwarting the will of heaven are exactly what caused Crowley's fall. (see you in hell)
Crowley and Aziraphale are on the same side, if temporarily, holding onto each other like a rock in a storm, with Aziraphale constantly looking to Crowley for reassurance, trusting him to have his back.
he's going to fall
I just feel like its overlooked that this was the FIRST TIME EVER that they teamed up (as angel and demon) and Aziraphale was fully ready to accept the consequences of that. He found something more important than choosing sides.
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lovesthecure · 2 years
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God he is the king of veering off any plan involving me to go do fuck all else with his friends huh
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#376
“Hey Caleb.  You were in that bathroom for a while.  Big shit or were you giving it a tug?  Considering your swim trunks is showing no bulge whatsoever, I doubt you were enjoying your right hand.  Or do you use the left?  Me personally, I’m a lefty….
“Your dad and I were just talking by the pool.  I asked him how long he knew you were gay….  Oh I wish you could see the shocked look on your face.  So you haven’t told him.  He was shocked too.  He said you weren’t.  I told him that I’ve been around sperm burpers all my life and you were a classic pole rider.
“You haven’t said much.  Not one word of protest.  You are just trying to figure out what your next step is going to be.  Don’t worry, I love fucking with your dad.  He’s worked for me for ten years now.  He knows my sense of humor and just brush it off.  Besides he’s been drinking.  But I got enough out of him to convince me that you definitely gob the knob.
“You wanna swing on my dick, or not?  Here let me take it out for ya.  I can see by the lump forming in your shorts that you want it.  Am I right?...  Your dad likes to say that you are quiet and keep to yourself.  I can see that.  Just nod then.
“Ok, let’s do this then.  This guest room’s toilet serves as the overflow bathroom.  Someone will interrupt us.  Come with me.  My bedroom will offer us some more privacy.  Your dad already thinks you are off reading a book on your phone.  Nobody is going to miss me for a while….  It’s a large house.  When I bought it, I had an addition put on for my master suite….  When you enter my bedroom, lose the swim trunks.  Boys are to be naked at all times in my bedroom.
“Damn boy, you are rock hard.  So, were you jerking off or taking a dump in the toilet?...  Look, when it comes to sex, I cut to the point.  There’s no need to be coy.  I’m going to be fucking that pussy of yours, and I want to know if you are empty first.  Good.  Did you also give it a tug?...  Of course, you did. 
“Come here.  Point to the guy you were jerking off to….  You are at a construction company pool party where 80% of the men here work for me.  There are more muscles out there from hard work than a fag like you can take in.  Which one?...
“…Of course, you would go for Stan.  So you like big guys?  He’s six four and built like a brick shit house.  Have you talked to him?...  He can be a bit of an gruff asshole.  The guys call him Ox.  He has a dick to match.  Not the brightest guy, but damn he’s a hard worker and a brutal fucker.  Yeah, he’s tag teamed with me a couple of times.  He can fuck for hours.
“Come with me.  This closet door leads downstairs to my hidden playroom.  I had it specifically designed and loaded up for just about every kink my dick was interested in.  You’re what 20?  You probably don’t know about all these things.  I do know this: you are leaking up a storm. 
“Don’t touch yourself.  Let the leak flow.  Why don’t you have a look around?  I need to text a few of my guests to let them know that I had to step away for a bit.
“That’s a St. Andrew’s cross.  If you have an interest in being whipped, I’d be happy to oblige….  Didn’t think so. 
“Those are my four rim seats.  They are for eating ass.  Depending on my mood, they vary based on how secure the boy is underneath.  That last one secures the boy’s legs up so he can get fucked while he’s eating my shithole. 
“No. No.  Leave your dick alone.  I want you to leak….
“There.  All the appropriate texts have been sent.  Now, we’ll have some time to really have fun.  Come over there.  This is a fuck bench.  Simple.  Easy access both holes.  Climb up.  Knees go here; elbows here.
“Oh, you have a pretty cunt.  Nice….  Oh, you are not as tight as I thought you would be; my finger just slid in.  I take it you are not a virgin.  That’s fine.  I get it, a cunt needs to be fed.  You get fucked at college?...  Kinda figured. 
“Ever been tied up?...  No?  There’s always a first time. 
“Ok, so here’s the situation.  I’ve applied a small amount of lube to your cunt lips.  Your mouth, or rather your throat needs to put some slime on me.  I will probably go between your holes.
“I put a sludge plate under your dick to collect your pre-cum and when I eventually allow you, your cum.
“Open wide…. Oh fuck.  Your mouth feels good.  Oh shit, you know how to work your tongue.  You little faggot whore.  Oh man.  Fuck.
“I gotta try that cunt.  If it’s as good as your throat, boy…
“…Right to the root.  Right to the fucking root.  Wait.  What the fuck?...  Do that again….  Boy you are something.  I could just stand here, and you can squeeze my cock like that all day.  It feels like you are jerking me off with your hole.
“Where the fuck did you learn all this?  No twenty-year-old stumbles on how to treat a cock like you.  Who taught you?
“…Your math professor?  Damn, I never would have thought a math professor would have been so twisted. 
“Say faggot, you have a job?...  Living off your dad, hunh?  You probably go out looking for dick when he’s at work.  You fucking faggot whore.  How would you like to come work for me?  It’ll be in my main office.  It’s a tiny office, just me and my manager Dwight.  You’ll actually have office responsibilities in addition to servicing me and Dwight.  Yeah, he’s another guy that I work with that I play around with.  I employ four or five guys that also enjoy using faggots like you, although Dwight also uses bitches too.
“This is a serious offer.  Your dad doesn’t need to know anything other than you are working in my office.  I need to have these holes accessible.  You want to do that?...
“…Fuck yeah!  I’m getting close faggot.  Keep doing what you are doing.  Oh shit.  Oh shit!  Here it cums!  Shit yeah!
“You keep performing like this, and I’ll pay you what I do your dad.
“So, did the math professor teach you other kinks?…  Eating ass and piss drinking!  Hell yeah!  So you have been under a rim seat?...  No, he just sat on your face.  Did he tie you up, or get rough?...  He wanted to?  Boy, when a man wants to use you the way he wants you need to let him.
“Oh fuck, climb down.  And keep my load in you.  Here hop up on this fuck table.  I want to sample that tongue.  Legs go in the stirrups.  I will be securing your legs in them….  Wrists will be secure at your sides in these cuffs.
“You still in contact with the professor?...  Good.  I want to invite him over some weekend so we can use you all weekend long. 
“This table was designed for butt play as well as eating ass.  Your head goes here onto the head rest off the end.  I can lower the head rest and your head back so that opens your throat to a deep straight throat fuck, but I primarily use it by lifting it up like this to support your head when I straddle it like this.  Now your face is wedged in my ass, with me just standing here.  Get that tongue going.
“Oh fuck.  Fag, this will definitely be part of your office responsibilities.  Dwight will love it too.  As will Ox….
“Hey Ox….
“Faggot, I took the liberty of telling Ox to join us when I sent out those texts.
“Holy shit Ox, this is Murphy’s boy.  He’s a total cunt pig.  I just hired him to work for me in the main office.  Wait until you try his holes. 
“Shut up faggot!  This doesn’t concern you….  Get back to sticking your tongue into my shitter.
“He does this pulse thing with his cunt muscles.  You have to try it.  My load is still inside.
“Hey fagboy, you ever have a baseball bat in your cunt?...  No?...  Well it would have been practice for what’s about to be shoved into you.  You know that bulge you jerked off to is going in your twat.
“Scream in my ass.  Keep that tongue going in deep.  Oh fuck! 
“Look at how much he’s leaking.  Give it to him.  Hard.  He’s shaking.  Keep plowing….  Oh shit!  He’s fucking cumming.  Without his hands, that’s fucking amazing.
“Fag, I don’t care that you shot a huge load.  Ox takes a while to get going.  I’ll be right back.  Ron Owens needs to try you out. 
“Fag, while I’m gone, I want you to focus on the man you jerked off to—the man that is tearing up your cunt.  Here, let me undo your hands.  Run them over his chest.  Feel those muscles and that chest hair.
“Ox, don’t you dare cum before we get back.  Keep pile driving into him, and don’t let up, even if he begs.”
“Faggot, this is only the beginning….”
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Smash or Pass: Part 4/4 (LA!Buggy the Clown x Reader)
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Summary: It's the last stop before the Grand Line and you slink away for a quiet evening. The universe, however, decides to clown on you. Sequel to Kiss, Marry, Kill. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Warnings: Attempted murder. Word Count: ~3.6k.
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PART 4: In which you prepare for a walk of shame, avoid eating your hair, and do some storm prepping.
Oh, what a wonderful dream. There you were, the High Surgeon Princess, besieged by uncultured swine. You thought for sure your time was up, but then the Harlequin Outlaw swooped in like the incorrigible, irascible rapscallion you've always wanted in your life and saved you from certain doom and dishonor. You graciously treated his wounds and one thing led to another and you fucked like rabbits in springtime. You got married and had two-point-five children and lived happily ever after in a castle with a white picket fence.
Unfortunately, your marital bliss is interrupted by the sun on your face and a battleaxe pingponging around in your skull.
You grumble. You hate Drunk You. She’s a bitch who doesn’t know her limits. Next time you see her, you’re gonna kill her.
Your cheek is stuck to something smooth, your arm is under something heavy, and something wispy tickles your lashes. You open your eyes to find that they’re all the same thing -- a broad expanse of tanned skin stretched taut over hard muscle, draped with a head of long, blue hair.
Alright, maybe Drunk You isn’t so bad. She knows your tastes and left you a thoughtful gift. Maybe you’ll get a bonus round.
You drape your other arm over him and explore. Nice pecs, fuzzy chest, cock semi-erect… ooh, soft belly. Very nice.
You walk your fingers up to his face. Stubble, pierced ear…  what the hell is that on his face? 
You sit up as much as you can with your arm stuck under your gentleman friend.
Your memories come rushing back like water through a sluice. Your blood turns to ice. You’re never drinking again.
You’re stuck. In bed. Naked. With Buggy. Buggy. Fucking Buggy. Not Kuro, who at least had some class while he tried to eviscerate you. Not Mihawk, who has no beef with you personally and doesn’t wear a shirt. Not even that handsome Marine with the sword and suit.
You could have lived with any of those, but no, you wake up next to the most pathetic man in the four Blues. A literal clown. A vainglorious loser. A man who wants to rip your captain, your best friend, limb from limb and feed him to sharks.
Do you think you could chew your arm off before he wakes up? 
You look for any sign of him stirring. Eyes closed, hair falling in his face, lips parted slightly as he breathes. One strong arm tucked underneath his head and the other in a loose fist by his mouth.
He looks so cute and peaceful. Ugh.
He shifts enough for you to free your arm and, just as you thank the gods, he lets out a snore that could have come from an ox. You can’t help but laugh.
Maybe this wasn’t a mistake. Maybe this was two people fooling around. Maybe nothing will come of this and you'll both go on your merry way with a fond memory of a night of drinking, dancing, and screwing. La-di-da-di-day. Everyone wins.
You stand up on shaky legs and examine yourself. A lot of little bruises on your thighs where he gripped you, but no hickeys. Thank God.
There’ll be no hiding the walk of shame, but you can at least maintain some dignity. You fix your hair, rinse your mouth out with the water in the dry sink basin, and sponge bath yourself with…
Hmm. No washcloth and you're out of rags. There’s gotta be something around here you can use.
Like the candy cane bandanna on the floor. You snatch it up and, wetting it, give yourself a quick wipe down. Pits, tits, pussy, as the saying goes. You'd never forgive yourself if you got something nasty from this.
“Oh,” says a soft voice. 
You turn. Buggy, propped up on his elbow, blinks sleepily at you. The sun lights up his hair like a shallow sea on a calm morning, shifting and shimmering as he brushes a few strands out of his face.
Your stomach jumps up your throat in a most pleasant way. Clearly, it’s conspiring with your heart against your brain.
He rubs those wide, gorgeous eyes. “Thought you’d’ve made your exit.”
You were about to. You shrug. "Just enjoying the view. Counting the masts.”
Hook baited. The joke is right there. Right there. He’ll say ‘I’ve got a mast for you right here, hur hur’ and you’ll have an excuse to get the hell outta here.
But he smiles. Not the showman’s smile he gets before he says something he thinks is clever. It’s soft. Warm. The kind of smile one bestows in private to those deemed worthy.
"Glad you didn't," he says.
Your brain puts up a valiant defense, but the heart-stomach alliance is winning. You swallow.
His smile wavers slightly. “Is that my bandanna?”
Shame burns your ears. "Sorry. I'll wash it--"
He flaps his hand dismissively. "Keep it. I've got plenty."
He pulls the sheets back and by God, nothing has ever looked as tempting as him. Him, a pirate with a weird nose who tried to kill you, sprawled out on scratchy, threadbare sheets, his fat cock laying there so deliciously—
You swallow again. Your pussy has joined the siege on your brain and they’ve voted to rename it the Organ Entente.
He stretches as he stands, his muscles rippling as he pops and rolls his joints. Sunlight pours over his body, draping him in liquid gold. He pulls his hair from its ponytail and gives it a good shake before putting it back up.
Lest your eyes join the fight as well, you turn away. Count the masts in the harbor. See if you can spy any Marines. Find the Merry.
Two strong arms drape around your shoulders, pulling you against a broad, warm chest. He rests his chin on your head. “Think I can see my ship from here,” he murmurs.
And in jumps your skin from the top rope. The nerves have betrayed the brain, charging over the ridge to aid the Entente in its assault. “Yeah?”
“Right over there. The Big Top.” He points to a perfectly normal-looking ship, nothing like the beast that waylaid you a few weeks ago. “Well, she’s the Loosey Baru now. Heard the Marine captain's a real bulldog, so we did her makeup and gave her a costume change.”
“Amazing what you can get away with when your sail’s not a big Jolly Roger.” You were the only one against putting a giant WE ARE PIRATES sign on your mainsail, but you got outvoted.
His chest thrums as he giggles. “Subtlety is for cowards.”
You scoff. “Subtlety is for people who like not being in prison.”
"And being flashy is for people like me.” His head moves to your shoulder. His stubble scratches against your cheek. “Who like meeting girls like you.”
The Entente breaks through the wall and feelings flood your brain. Warm feelings. Fuzzy feelings. Feelings that make you absently kiss the side of his nose before you’re even conscious you’re moving.
Buggy goes stiff and not in the fun way that pokes your kidneys. He jerks away from you, gaze hard as he searches your face. Whatever he’s looking for, he must not find it, because a moment later he kisses your lips.
Overwhelmed, your brain surrenders. The Entente celebrates by jumping around all through your body, bouncing from your head to your toes. They also must have fired off a twenty-one-gun salute, too. Why else would your ears be ringing like bells? Big bells? Big, glorious, golden wedding bells?
But it's over as soon as it started. He pulls away and straightens up. “C'mon, let's get outta here before the matron gives us the hook."
Dressing goes smoothly enough for the both of you. Socks and gloves are retrieved. Drawers are located. Your bra and his scarf are found. You stuff his bandanna into your pocket and he settles on a ponytail.
You’re pulling on your trousers when you see him looking in a small compact mirror, carefully drawing green swoops on his face with what looks like an oil pastel.
“Makeup at a time like this?” you ask.
“Flashiness is next to godliness.” He draws a cross on his forehead, then regards himself. “Ech, I need a shave...”
You pause as you fasten your belt. “Gimme a few grand and I’ll shave you so smooth you’ll look like a ten-year-old. Promise not to cut your tongue off this time.”
“Done.” He swaps the green pastel for a tube of lipstick and moves on to his mouth, smearing his lips red. “Gonna have to straighten out my cabin first. Place’s been a mess since... well, always."
You pause mid-bra hooking. "Huh?"
“Haven’t shared with anyone ‘til now.” He rubs his lips together. “Not like it’s dirty — just clothes and shit everywhere. Hope you don't need much closet space.”
What the hell is he on about? You pull your shirt over your head. “Sharing quarters?”
“What, you think I’d stick you in with the freaks? My bed’s big enough for two.” With the back of his wrist, he smears the color onto his cheeks and into the gruesome smile he’s known for. “Not to mention that it's a bed and not a hammock. You ever try to fuck in a hammock? Ain't easy, lemme tell ya."
You lace up your shoes. "I have no idea what you’re on about."
"I’ll show you when we get back to the ship."
"What ship?”
Any mirth in Buggy's face vanishes. He looks at you, brows knit. "My ship," he says slowly. “We’ll get you settled, then I’ll go take care of my business, and we'll haul anchor when I get back."
The audacity of this man. "You really think Luffy'll let you kidnap me? He'll be on you like suckers on a squid."
He’s giving you a look you know well: the do-you-need-a-psych-eval-cuz-you’re-talking-crazy look. “Since when is going with someone willingly kidnapping?” 
You return the look. "What the hell makes you think I'm going with you at all?"
He pockets the lipstick and clicks the compact shut. He steps towards you. “You said if I screwed you to the wall, you’d come with me. I did just that. And then I asked if you meant it, and you said you did.”
"That's not--" You falter. Okay, you can see how bringing up what he said and telling him to do it could be misinterpreted.
Well, shit. Miscommunication strikes again. "Sorry you got your hopes up."
Buggy falters. Something stirs the rivers of his eyes, the same vulnerable, hurt something you saw lurking when you'd insulted his nose. His gaze drifts downwards and his jaw clenches.
Remorse douses you in a bucket of ice water. You're officially a giant asshole. And a slut. And a dumb bitch lush who hurt someone you actually started caring about.
For a moment, you consider recanting. Go with him. Run off and join the circus like you always threatened you would. Sail the seas with a colorful cast. Get rocked every night.
You stop yourself. Enough. You hate a captive audience, you're not a pillager, and while you are a slut, you're not desperate. You have people you know you can trust. Stick with them. Don't jump in with the wildcard.
Buggy huffs, snapping you out of your musings. The hurt in his eyes has faded and the rivers are still. The eerie calm before the storm surge.
"You led me on," he growls.
"I did no such--"
A knife flies past your head, taking off a few strands of hair and shattering the window.
Buggy's shoulders rise and fall rapidly. He readies another knife. "I'm gonna rip your lying tongue out."
You suppose that's karma. You edge towards the window and he matches your step. Another knife narrowly misses the back of your head.
“And then I'm gonna drag you across the keel by your fingernails."
Ouch. A third knife sails past your nose. You're almost there...
"And then I'll nail your corpse to the figurehead!" 
He lunges at you and you at him. You dive low, hitting the floor as he hits the dry sink and leaves the way to the door wide open.
Unfortunately for you, it's locked. You turn the bolt only to be pulled away and spun around by the strap of your satchel.
Buggy pins you against the door, yet another knife at your throat, his arm against your chest, and his knee between your legs. It would be hot if it wasn't for the deranged churn and roil in his eyes.
"I'm gonna ask one more time," he says. “You coming with?”
“No,” you spit. You try to kick him off, but he holds you fast.
He cracks a bit in both composure and voice. “What’s that little rubber prick got that I don’t, huh?! What's it gonna take?!”
“He’s never tried to kill me.” Not on purpose, anyways. “And he doesn't hurt innocent people.”
Frustration ripples through his eyes, and his gaze drifts downwards. “Well, I’m hurt.”
"You're not exactly innocent!" He doesn't notice your hand sneaking towards the knob. "He'll have to be dead, dying, or catatonic before I leave him."
He looks back up. Defeat hardens into determination. "Consider it done."
You really shouldn’t say what you’re about to say, but the words are out before you can stop them. “Good fuckin' luck, big nose.”
The river rages. The floodgates crack and the levees break. He drops the knife and reels back a punch.
You twist the knob. The door opens outwards and he sails past you, landing a heap on the floor. 
"Sorry," you say. You really do mean it. He tries to grab your ankles, but you dodge his hands.
The bar looks like a stampede went through it. The matron looks up from her cleaning as you leap down the stairs. "How's your boyfriend?"
"Trying to kill me." You sprint for the front door, only to pause. "This happens a lot. Situation normal." One more pause. "And he's not my boyfriend."
An impotent roar hits your ears. "I'm gonna make you eat your hair!"
And there's your cue. Exit, pursued by a clown.
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In hindsight, it makes sense that Sanji would be in the galley making breakfast. You still scream like you saw a corpse when he greets you, but he doesn’t take it personally. Just offers you a warm drink and a place to sit.
You sit at the counter while he pours you a steaming mug of black coffee. You drink deeply. “How do you always manage to make a perfect cup?”
“If I told you that, I’d be out of a job.” He returns his attention to the stove. “So what’s his name?”
You almost spit your coffee all over him. “Say again?”
“You're gone all night and come home in the morning looking like you ran the whole way.” He gives you a sympathetic smile. “Will you at least tell me if you were chased? Just in case we need to bust some heads.”
“I think I lost him by the shipyard.” You stare into the swirling steam. “If you fell in love with someone, would you leave the crew to be with them?”
Sanji’s gaze drifts upwards. "Didn't I already?" 
But he's... Oh. Ooooh. "Alright, that was smooth. But you know what I mean."
He pulls a frying pan from the cabinet, gazing into its sheen like a scrying mirror. "I'm not sure. Depends." He looks up. “Is this the same person who sent you running?”
“No,” you say on impulse. Sanji continues to stare at you. You slump. “Yes.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Love always hits like a hurricane,” he says. You quirk your eyebrow at him. “Old East Blue saying. It's sudden, fast, and sweeps you off your feet.”
Not the only thing that does that. "Speaking from experience?”
“First time I saw you, love,” he says with a wink and a smile.
You blush in spite of yourself and laugh. “Call me in ten years. I’m a bit old for you.”
His smile grows. “Could have fooled me.” He clicks the burner on and turns to dig around in the refrigerator. “So, tell me about your temptation.”
“What's there to say? Boy meets girl, boy drinks with girl, boy dances with girl, boy kisses girl…” Boy blows girl's back out, boy gets his heart broken, and boy threatens to make girl eat her hair. “...and here I am.”
“Sounds like a swell guy.” He sets a stick of butter, a rasher of bacon, and a dozen eggs on the table. "At least you had fun."
You snort. “So what do I do about B—” You catch yourself. “About this hurricane of mine?”
Sanji looks at you. Not that accusing right-into-your-soul look that Nami does, but like a man contemplating fish in a pond. “Well, you could build a sea wall, evacuate to higher ground, dance around naked in the rain…”
You chuckle. You wouldn’t mind seeing that. “What would you do?”
He smiles. “Batten down the hatches and enjoy the rising tide.”
You nod. Certainly something to chew on.
Standing, you take your mug. “I’m going to sit on deck. Photosynthesize a bit,” you say. You smile. “Thanks for listening, Sanji. I mean it.”
"Any time, love. I'd never judge." He cracks eggs one by one into the frying pan. “Every big storm has a name. What’s this one?"
You pull the bandanna from your pocket. You should hang it out to dry. “Hurricane Buggy.”
As you head out on deck, you hear the mighty splat of eggs hitting the floor.
---
The Buggy Pirates are no stranger to their captain's mercurial temper. Laughing one moment, shouting the next, then throwing a violent fit about who knows what, then back to cackling.
But this is extreme even for him.
They linger outside his cabin, listening to the crashing and slamming. No shouting, though. Just the occasional huffing and puffing, followed by the crack of splintering wood and the whunk of knives hitting the wall.
"How long's he been at this?" the strongwoman asks the fire eater.
"Longer than usual," he mutters. "No one knows why."
The old fortune teller -- also the cook -- crosses her arms. "He was gone all night and he comes back with a love bite. Could only have been a woman."
The shatter of glass makes everyone flinch. Still, not a sound from the captain.
"Could've been a fella," the strongwoman says.
The cook shakes her head. "I've been around a long time, girl. Only a woman could drive a man to this sort of madness. The fury of a woman scorned is nothing compared to the rage of a rejected man."
The contortionist rolls his eyes. "So he fucked around and found out. So what? Mohji said he had eyeballs on the rubber kid's crew. We need to move."
The strongwoman casts him an appraising look. "If you wanna go in and get him, be my guest."
He blinks, then frowns. He crosses his arms. "We could all go in there."
"I'm not gonna fight a guy with a shitload of knives."
"We can take him. Not like he can't stab all of us."
"He literally can."
"Wait. Shh, shh, shh." The fire eater puts a finger to his lips and holds up his hand. "You hear that?"
They all listen. They hear nothing. Silence.
He presses his ear to the door. "He's singing," he says with a frown.
They all glance at each other. That's never a good sign. "Singing what?"
"You know the one about the guy who gets drunk and kills his woman and gets hanged for it?" They nod. "That one."
The cook gives the strongwoman her famous told-ya-so look. The strongwoman rolls her eyes.
The door opens. The fire eater leaps away and everybody tries to look like they weren't eavesdropping as Captain Buggy comes strolling out, fiddling with his scarf and humming. He looks perfectly normal -- well, as normal as a man like him can look.
He speaks like he hasn't spent the last hour tearing his cabin apart. "Mornin', folks!"
The marksman looks at the strongwoman. Say something, it says. She shakes her head and looks at the cook. She looks at the contortionist, who looks right at the captain.
"Rough night, cap'n?" he asks.
Captain Buggy freezes. Everyone flinches.
Slowly, he turns to the contortionist. His expression doesn't change as a disembodied hand snatches the man by the neck and throws him into the water. Everyone jumps away, but nobody dares move any more.
Captain Buggy recalls his hand. "Mohji's found Rubber Boy, huh?" he says. "Great! Right on schedule. One little last minute change, though. The brunette with the long hair? I want her alive."
They look at each other again. "I thought we were gonna kill them all," the strongwoman says.
"Oh, we will. First, I kill Rubber Boy. His ass is still mine. Then you all clean up his little friends. And then..." His voice drops. "I teach the little diva a lesson, and then I'm gonna kill her." The darkness vanishes, and he returns to being jovial. "But first, breakfast!"
He strolls off, humming to himself. As soon as he's out of earshot, the cook speaks.
"Oh, he has got it bad," she says.
---
Take a look at a boy like me
Never stood on my own two feet
Now I'm blue as I can be
Oh, love come get me down!
---
A/N: And here end the melodramatics! a big thanks to everyone who read and commented and reblogged and liked and sent asks (askers ilu especially, i see a 1 by the envelope and my day is immediately made) 💙 i've got some ✨idears✨ in the pipeline for what's next, but in the meantime... stay flashy~
⬅⬅⬅ | To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar | ➡➡➡
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avengersnewb · 7 months
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more on how sexual the ox rib scene is, let's now focus on Crowley.
first of all, we know that Crowley has no ulterior motive in tempting Aziraphale. There is nothing at stake, he is not trying to achieve any immediate thing with this. He is genuinely interested in showing this 'angel he knows' something he's never done, take him places somewhere he's never been.
it's also a terrible stressful time for Aziraphale, he is doubting, lying, and deceiving, so maybe that's what Crowley also has in mind?
Aziraphale pushes back on wine because it makes you drunk, and Crowley counters, here, try their food. food doesn't make you drunk.
which. truth. right?
right?
now let's look at his face:
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look at the way he is zeroed in on Aziraphale, full-focus, eyes intense. he is watching Aziraphale, examining his every expression.
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look at his eyes trailing up and down.
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now, tell me, if you didn't know what he's looking at, couldn't you easily imagine he's watching a lover undress? encouragingly, approvingly watching the shy hesitant movements of a firs-timer partner fumbling to get out of his clothes, to go down on his knees, to uh...taste the flesh?
should I bring back Aziraphale's very interesting way he is using his tongue to taste the meat for the first time? completely coincidental right?
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fade to black and thunder and earthquake (also quick reminder how the Anathema/Newton sex scene also happens at the precipice of a very important event AND when it's thunders and storms happening outside) and then we have Crowley laying back, looking, may I say, satisfied? sipping his wine, glowing, and still watching Aziraphale.
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Aziraphale has meat juice all over his face, is completely lost in the pleasure of eating, so much that you might think he is gone down or floating with it? no?
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and Crowley is just watching him, pleased with the angel for doing so good, being lost in the pleasure Crowley has offered him, and pleased with himself for a job well done.
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tell me that you can't very easily pretend that Crowley has gotten his pleasure and is watching Aziraphale getting more of his?
nothing familiar here, right?
he even does some light teasing and mild humiliation as well, which of course pushes Aziraphale more toward seeking pleasure.
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you totally see where this is going right?
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thoughtsfullofbooks · 8 months
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Okay I need to talk about this scene in Good Omens bc I haven’t stopped thinking about it since it came out.
In the mini episode of episode 2 (the Job one) there are a lot of great parts to it which include things like Bildad the Shuite, Crowley protecting the kids (and honestly Ty in general) and Crowley admitting that he is, truly, lonely on Earth as a demon. But the part that doesn’t get talked about enough (or for all for that matter) is the sudden tonal shift that occurs at the end of the episode when Crowley and Aziraphale are sitting on the cliff.
Throughout the episode, each has smug moments with the other, almost teasing in their own special way, (when the goats turn back, when Crowley saves the kids with Azira’s “I knew it!”, etc) but I think the one that stands out the most is when Azira is eating the ox when the storm rages on and Crowley is drinking and asks which side Azira is on. When Aziraphale starts to question God’s choice regarding Job, Crowley smugly states “that’s just how it started for me. See you in Hell.” Obviously Crowley didn’t mean it, he only said it to ruffle Azira’s feathers (perhaps literally), but Aziraphale obviously took it to heart and didn’t pick up the smug sarcasm.
Now the part that I would like to talk about the most is after everything with Job is resolved and Aziraphale lied to Gabriel about the children, it obviously sits heavy on his conscious as only a moment later he resigns himself to the fact that Crowley is there to take him to Hell. BUT the sudden tonal shift that occurs I think shows a lot about how much the two know each other in just a short amount of time (for them at least, canonically this is only the third time they’ve met). Crowley should be happy and all smiles when they meet at the cliff, he got Azira to lie to the other angels, he successfully tempted him to eat human food, and he got to somewhat disobey Hell’s orders by doing (what he will never admit) good deeds, but he’s not happy.
He immediately senses Aziraphale’s obvious distress at being a “bad” angel and quickly reassures him that “I’m not taking you to Hell, angel.” Even though he had his little jab before about meeting again in Hell, I don’t think it registered in Crowley’s mind that Aziraphale didn’t, couldn’t, understand that you could joke about something like that with another holy, or unholy, entity without repercussions. But after seeing Azira so distressed and resigned to his fate of Hell I think he realized that he needed an abrupt change of tone in order to not scare his angel away. That’s why he spoke so gently in this scene and tried to comfort Aziraphale that, while it may be lonely what they have, at least they now have each other.
I think people need to talk about this scene more
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mishwanders · 8 months
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• The Chain (and others) with a disabled traveling companion •
Summary: The chronic pain is hitting me badly today and I can hardly walk, so I’m doing little headcanons to make myself feel better.
Warnings: this won’t cover in depth or all types of disabilities, just in general things and the ones that I can think of off of the top of my head. Quite a bit of hurt/comfort/whumpy/fluffy stuff. There of course is mention of medical items and different illnesses, but other than that, safe for everyone.
Author’s Notes: Written by Mishwanders. Happy Disability Pride Month 💕
Time
The most attentive about it in the group, even more so if he sees you struggling beside him.
He’s the one who literally has the time of your medications, walking time/distance down - it’s all memorized in his head. Could probably look up at the sky and back to you and just know, ya know?
If you need someone to lean on - he’s your guy, he’s built like a tree that will stay rooted in place in the middle of a dangerous storm so long as you need him.
Also has one of the softest laps, so if you need a seat that ain’t the ground, by all means, have at it. He will keep his arm around you waist to make sure you don’t fall over. Feel free to lean back if you need to, he won’t let you down.
Twilight
He’s just as attentive as Time about it. Constantly offering Epona for you to ride so you don’t have to walk as long and even offers his own back if you’d rather ride piggyback/on top of wolfie (if you are as small as Four that is).
Can also lean on him for support if Time is busy. He’s built like an Ox, so you don’t have to worry about being too heavy for him.
Got anxiety or have other mental illness issues? He picks up on that quickly, even more so in wolfie form. He will come to your side or will practically lay across your lap to get your attention and allow you to pet him to get your mind off of things.Will even let you wear his pelt if it makes you feel better. Truly the warmest anxiety blanket there is.
Have epilepsy? He’s quick to catch that too in wolfie form and alert the others that something is happening so they can help him tend to you. He won’t leave your side at all until he knows your okay.
Wild
Big help in the food area - will make sure you’ve eaten so you can take your meds and will ensure he gives you a little extra so you have something for later.
Have a feeding tube? That’s new to him, but if you’re willing to teach him the ins and outs of it, he’s willing to help you with that to ensure the food is made and blended thoroughly to go through.
He pays attention to any food allergies you have to make sure he doesn’t give you something you’re allergic to and so there’s no cross contamination.
Got panic attacks? He gets that, they all get that, but especially him. He’ll sit beside you and hold your hand if you need it, be a shoulder for you to cry on and assure you that things will be okay.
Four
Got pulled into their world without your cane(s)? Smithy is ON IT! Probably will make it double as a weapon as well.
If he’s split into the colors, you know they’re all bickering on how exactly it should look and how to give it to you.
He makes sure everything is exactly to your needs and specifications. Not too heavy and not too light - absolutely perfect.
He’s proud that he’s able to help you out by making anything you could ever need
Legend
Have something you need (rest, meds, a ride, etc.) but too afraid to say something about it? Legend will speak up for you. It’s no problem to him because he wants you to be okay.
He will also be one of the ones to help get unwanted attention off of you and would be willing to fight someone over it.
Need something to double as a weapon (magical cane?) - he’s got something for that.
Will only allow you to have it and will sneak it in to ya so the others don’t pester him about it (but they’ll all know - that’s just how they are).
Hyrule
He may not be able to make all of your problems magically disappear, but he will try to help ease some of the pain if he can do so.
Got the healing potions locked and loaded babes.
Will also be the one to stay up with you if you’re feeling extra ill on the harder nights/days, especially if the others are asleep, taking the nights watch, or having to attend to other situations (baddies, getting food/firewood, etc.)
Like the others, he wants to make sure you’re okay and is willing to do what it takes to ensure that.
Warriors
Just like Legend, your #1 boy for distracting others away from you - a true human shield.
Someone staring rudely at you because you have tubes, colostomy bag, a cane, using a wheelchair, or any other needs? Wars is stepping in between and staring right back at them, giving them the same attitude 100x over.
He’ll always ask if you’re alright, trying to gauge the emotional situation after that. He knows what it’s like to have another stare rudely at the scars on his hand and he wants to make sure you’re okay.
Will also be your human shield if you need to change something out but are unable to get anywhere in a more private location. As a matter of fact - they all would, but especially him.
Sky
Biggest softy for ya, really empathizes a lot with your disability and wants to do what he can to try and help ease any issues that occur during the travel.
If Twilights pelt is too heavy - he’s 100% allowing you to wrap yourself in his sail cloth if you need it for comfort and warmth.
Four also gets his expertise in wood carving for your cane and he puts little designs in it that Four will in-lay with metal after.
Will put his stuff together with yours if you need extra padding on the hard ground to keep from hurting. Any extra clothes of his he’ll pitch in his bag and allow you to use it for any leg/hip pain you may have.
Wind
Little guy can’t do too much, but you know what he can do? Distract you.
Very good at trying to keep your mind busy if the pain becomes to much.
You may have heard a few of the same stories twice, but he puts a lot of expression into it to try and get you to laugh.
Will also sit there and listen to you talk about things you like to help keep your mind off of the pain.
Bonus characters because I feel like it -
Sage
Do you need a wheel chair? Would you like to not need to walk long miles? DO I HAVE THE BOY FOR YOU -
Now granted, that wheelchair may come with a super powered rocket - but truly it’s the thought that counts first, and then your safety second. Don’t be afraid to tell him how you need it to be, he’ll make sure it’s done correctly the second time around.
Just like Wild, super attentive about the food and any allergies you might have.
If you have any phantom pains from an amputated limb (or even nerve damage), he’s willing to be there by your side and provide you with whatever comfort you need.
Fierce Deity
Protective af over you, very watchful. He’s got a keen sense of awareness when he knows there’s something wrong and you need immediate attention even before you as or look at him.
Good chance he will just carry you everywhere he goes - he’s so big he may even just strap you to his back if you’re small enough to do so.
The definition of “have you eaten?”. Will make sure you well fed and able to continue on the journey a little longer before getting to a rest stop.
Curl up in his lap if you’re able to do so, he will hold you there all night and be a big warm bed away from the ground.
Dark Link (aka Dinkster)
Will take any form for you to ride on and keep off of your legs.
Does not know what medicine is but is willing to learn so he can provide it for you when needed.
Ensures that you have time to rest while he scouts out the hero’s and drops more baddies where he desires.
Won’t even ask what you need, will just do it for you because he can already sense it.
Malon
She has a little comfy pillow made just for you when you ride around with her on the cart to castle town.
Will go mom mode if you try to lift a milk crate that’s too heavy for you.
She always makes sure to pack an extra chair for ya so you have somewhere to rest while out in square selling Lon Lon milk.
Also has a box of other items specifically for ya and your needs, just in case you need them!
Ravio
I would like for this man to haggle the price down on my insurance stuff. I think he’d be great at it.
He would also haggle another merchant down on items you need - seriously, let him do it, he’s got this!
Will always keep an eye out for better things to replace your old supplies.
All around, happy to be of service to you and have your service in return!
Epona
You may be thinking “what’s a horse gonna do?” And I’m here to tell ya, horses are some of the greatest animals on earth for this kind of thing.
Epona can sense something is different there and that you need extra care. Sweet baby is gonna do her best not to rock you too much when you ride on her back.
You know how wolfie might lay on your lap? Epona is gonna do the same thing, placing her head on your lap to rest and to comfort you.
She will neigh when she thinks somethings wrong, trying to get Twilight or Times attention to help you. 1000/10 best baby girl.
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comfortmie · 1 year
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Two type of brothers
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idanceuntilidie · 5 months
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In the Aurora Circus
Yandere circus performers ocs x gn reader Warning; metions of kidnapping, yandere themes, being tied up and not in the fun way.
Also you will meet Henry and his love is and will be only platonic, the rest is romantic. Thank you very much. Almost 1000 words someone give me a medal and hot chocolate.
I think my sugar is low- if you want to ask me about everyone you meet go on more might come soon
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You start to think that everyone in the circus likes you, but not in a friendly, bestie type of way.  Hell you think they all love you. They love you like Kit and Hero.  It might be their fault, and it makes sense! 
Since they brought you here you swear the air shifted in the circus.   
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It started with one of the dancers,  Kit by accident left the trailers door open, a spark of hope was lit in your brain. It burned bright, but you swear her eyes twinkled when she saw you. Her cheeks burned red, and she just backed away.  The gag that hero shoved into your mouth stopped you from screaming. 
  Ox wanted to talk with Kit, he was starting to act odd, and she just wanted to see if anything was wrong. Sure, he and Hero mentioned something about crush but it could mess with the shows, and she just wants the best for everyone.  When she finally got to that trailer, she noticed the door being open, when she got closer, she saw someone sitting on the bed, tied up, (e/c) eyes staring at her. Her heart fluttered.  You poor thing, tied up and all. She didn’t move, just watched, will you try to scream? Whine? You are already shaking with fear, why not try to scream? She doesn’t know where this fascination came from, but she didn’t mind.  Ox never thought she would say this, but you looked cute. Like a hopeless bunny, it made her heart flutter. Her cheeks burned. She needs to go, back away.   And so, she did, but she will visit you tomorrow.  Maybe tomorrow you will try to scream. 
 
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The next came those twin clowns, this time the door was closed, and you were just sitting and reading a book. When all of the sudden you saw two clowns' storm into the trailer.   They looked like they were running from something.  “Jesus J this was too much!”    One of them whispered yelled,  the second one scoffed.  “C It’s fine, she needed a little bit of stress relief-”    The words died in his mouth, yours too you didn’t know what you say.  The twins didn’t also.  So you just both stayed like that, silently staring at each other.   The one called C looked at you then at J.   “Holy shit Kit and Hero kidnapped a pretty person” 
  C got smacked at the back of the head by J. The other one winced in pain, while J shushed his twin.  “You never saw us here, but for once in his entire lifetime, you are cute, but sadly sweetheart this isn’t our business.”  
They started to push C towards the exit.  “See you later Hun”- J blew a kiss towards you.   
“Hey wait-” 
They fucked up again, prank gone wrong, Ox was pissed let’s say they decided to mess a bit with her make up.  They needed to hide, and they knew Kit and Hero were gone because they needed to buy some stuff. C suggested they hide in their trailer. So, they did, but they didn’t expect to find someone in there. Both of them were speechless.  After that little one-sided conversation, they ran away again.    This time they hid in the tent.    “You saw what I saw?”  J wheezed. C nodded eagerly.    “An angel”- C sighed dreamily, they did expect for J they him again, but they just nodded agreeing with them.  So this was the famous crush of Kits and Heros. They too quiet but, J had to admit they were a little attractive. They felt bad, his heart aching with guilt.  They ignored the chatter of C rambling about how heavenly you were. They were right, you were. It made him wonder if they could see you again, and so did C. 
  You third meeting was actually with the owner of the circus, since he heard some rumors, he wanted to see what in the hell was going on.   Henry was his name, Kit told you about him, tall scary and tired old man who got this circus after his parents died. He made the show go on. He saved many performs from becoming homeless, like Kit.  You were sweating bullets, but you were a little hopeful now. Maybe he would help you get out, but when he agreed on letting you stay you swear you felt your heart sink.  You were speechless, Kit and Hero were so happy.  You felt like your life ended right there.  But for Henry, he delt like he had a new kid to take care of and raise, and well more performers.   
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Your spirits dropped after meeting Henry, Kit and Hero kept taking care of you. You felt like a doll, and it felt like shit. After some time, they even let you roam around. You tried to avoid Ox, you think you saw J and C running away from Henry this time.   You chuckled at that, but backed away so they wouldn’t see you.   
So that’s how you stumbled upon Lio, the magician. So he was the fourth one you met here after getting kidnapped. You loved his shows and seeing him up close was magical.  He made few tricks, possibly a warmup. You think he was ready for the main thing when you saw him looking at you. He was smiling and gesturing you to come closer.    Lio saw you roaming around the circus, he thought might give you a small show.  The way you were looking at him made him chuckle and smile.   Maybe you would be his little assistant for a while, so he decided to invite you in. He showed you a couple of tricks, and even thought you some.  You were so happy, he always liked to make people smile, but yours was enchanting.  You must have put a spell on him because damn, he can’t think about anything else but you. 
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gallusrostromegalus · 10 months
Note
How do Hisagi and Kira cope with all the chaos Tousen and Gin wind up causing?
So my concept of this is based off these panels in the Manga, where Shuuhei realizes just how much work goes into running the Ninth Division:
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(I love Jushiro's r u fuckin' serious? face here lol)
From the interlude between major battles in the middle of the Arrancar arc, in a cafe in seireitei:
*****
Kira sat in awkward silence as his friend and mentor bawled into his shoulder.
"EVERYTHING! I SWEAR, HE WAS DOING EV-ER-Y-THING!!" Shuuhei wailed. Five drinks in and the teetering walls of Shuuhei's stoic facade has crumbled like day-old cookies. "Managing all our contacts and sources, writing in the cultural articles as needed, keeping the presses stocked and in working order, wrangling the other captains to actually submit their reports, keeping the filing up-to-date- He was even writing the crossword every week!"
"It's uh. It's been a change for me too." Kira mumbled, awkwardly patting his shoulder. Across the table, Rangiku has assumed a facade of gentle sympathy as she waited for the storm of emotions to blow over.
"WHY?" Shuuhei demanded, sitting back up. "WHY DIDN'T HE ASK FOR HELP? The workload must have been killing him- it's killing ME and I read at least twice as fast as he ever did! Did he just... Not Sleep?"
"Well, perhaps he found the tasks he had delegated to you to be difficult for him, but the stuff you're struggling with was easy for him?" Kira tried, optimistically.
"No, that can't be it- It's almost the same work, just more of it." Shuuhei sniffled. "Did- did he not TRUST me to handle the workload? He was always a stickler for details- was- am I not good enough?"
"There's also the whole Treason thing." Rangiku pointed out, unhelpfully. "If I were plotting to overthrow the government, I'd take on extra paperwork to keep it quiet."
Shuuhei slumped over the table, contemplating the thought despondently. "...Was I not good enough to take wi-?"
"-You finish that sentence and I'll break this bottle right over your skull." Rangiku threatened. "You were TOO Good for him to make you an offer like that. If anything he knew you'd do the right thing and turn him in."
Shuuhei sniffled, unconvinced.
"How are you holding up Blondie?" Rangiku changed the conversation with the gracelessness but irrefutable power of an ox.
Kira considered her question, chewing his lip awkwardly. "I... Well I don't know how to say this delicately but, um-" he glanced down nervously at Shuuhei, who at least looked like he couldn't get MORE miserable. "-It's actually been kinda great."
Shuuhei stared up at him from the table, scandalized, and Rangiku barked a laugh loud enough to make the room ring.
"Gin was a...hands off sort of manager. He would always back up whatever we decided to do of course- Heck, he crossed swords with the old fart that runs the Fon Clan for us once, but ah... well. As annoying as him being largely absent was, he was worse when he decided to help." Kira sighed.
"THAT'S GIN!" Rangiku cackled. "I swear talking to him was like talking to someone from a different dimension sometimes- not a damn clue how anything worked."
"Yeah..." Kira smiled weakly. "We had a secret staff calendar to make sure he'd be occupied with something if we had a REALLY important project going on, which probably should have been indicative of something, now that I say it out loud."
"It's indicative of a crap manager, which is a far cry from treason, even if both should be hanging offenses." nodded Rangiku. "Speaking of management- Any idea when you lads are going to take the captain's exam?"
"What?!" Both yelped, startled.
"ME? CAPTAIN! ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Kira shrieked, laughing nervously like a Hyena.
"Nononono-" Shuuhei waved. "I'm half-dead running things as is, and Tousen left things relatively tidy- Apparently Aizen absolutely TRASHED the fifth division's filing and casework on the way out and it's bedlam over there. For all his other sins, Capt- Tousen at least finished payroll out until the middle of November." Shuuhei shrugged.
Rangiku blinked at what Shuuhei said, confused, but was distracted by the sudden arrival of more friends.
"Hi Rangiku-Chan!" Orihime waved from the door, out of breath and lightly singed from training with Rukia, who followed her in, looking equally gleefully disheveled.
"HEY GIIIIRL!" Rangiku squealed with delight, waving for Orihime to come over for a hug, and the girl practically tackled her. "Oof- How's training?"
"She can throw any Hado up to the mid-seventies right back at me now!" Rukia panted, delighted. "We're gonna start on Bakudo tomorrow, to give myself a break."
"-And Miss Rukia has been casting Hado in the 80's and a 90th level one without incantations, so I can't predict what the next attack is be like!" Orihime bounced with excitement.
"Sorry you're doing fucking what?" Kira gaped as Rukia sat down next to him, looking more than a little smug.
"Casting without incantations Kira, try to keep up!" She teased.
"Goddamn." Muttered Shuuhei. "All I've been doing is drowning in paperwork and failing to drown my sorrows."
"Oh no!" gasped Orihime, joining them at the table. "What's wrong?"
"Besides the everything?" Kira laughed darkly. "Apparently Tousen had been doing like 90% of the Ninth Division's Work and now Shuuhei is playing catch-up."
"Oh, wow." Orihime nodded, patting Shuuhei's shoulder sympathetically. "-that's a lot of work! And with his Spinal Implants too!"
The table blinked at Orihime, confused.
"...what spinal implants?" Shuuhei asked, peeling himself off the table and staring at her.
"Oh! oh no, I didn't mean to blab medical information-" Orihime waved.
"Traitors aren't covered by HIPPA, What Spinal Implants?" Shuuhei demanded, calmly but firmly grabbing her by the shoulders to stress the seriousness of the situation.
"I- um, well- When I was being attacked by Mayuri-Taicho, um, Mr. Tousen stepped in and- well frankly, he saved my life!" Orihime mumbled. "But- he lost his um, what do you call it-? The white jacket? and the back of his uniform had been ripped open so I got a pretty good look at his spine and honestly I thought it was some kind of weird body piercing thing at first but when I asked he got really cagey for a bit and said something about 'spinal implants' but MAN, they looked like they had to have HURT, not to mention the big scars on his shoulders..."
The assembled shinigami shared wary looks.
"...Okay, you're not in trouble. In fact, you might be doing us a big favor." Rangiku gently put her hands on Orihime's. "-But I need to you be totally honest about what you saw, or didn't see, or what you think you might have seen but aren't totally sure about, okay?"
Orihime nodded.
"-Did you, at any point, see Aizen's sword, or think you saw one of it's attacks?" Rangiku asked, eyes focused on the girl in a way that reminded her uncomfortably of being stalked by a leopard at the zoo as a small child.
Orihime thought carefully. "I- um. I saw the big Kido spell he launched right before he and Mr. Gin and Mr. Tousen went through that portal- he was really far away, but I don't think he had his sword out. I couldn't actually see what he looked like, just where the light was coming from? It's kind of embarrassing, but I still don't know what this Aizen guy actually looks like?"
"Oh my god." Realized Rukia. "He didn't take Kyoga Suigetsu out the whole time he was at the execution grounds. If Orihime hadn't seen him before then, she was never under his illusion."
"Rukia, sketchbook." Rangiku demanded, hand out and Rukia rifled through her pockets for the book and a handful of pens. "Alright Orihime- do you think you can draw what you saw on Tousen's back?"
"Oh! yeah, I think I can do that!" She nodded.
"Remember, only draw what you're really, really sure you saw- no adding details!" Rukia prompted, remembering The Orihiminator form her art midterms.
"Right! Um- well, if this is his back-" She drew an outline of a human back, noting were his spine and shoulders were. "-there were these like? Little iron nails? Going up in pairs on either side of his spine. I'm not totally sure, but I'm like... 98% sure there was one pair for every vertebra. His hakama and scarf were in the way so I don't know how far up and down the went, but it looked like his entire spine? and then there was this bright red thread woven and tied in really elaborate knots between them- Um. I'm not sure how exactly, but it was something like this- if I saw pictures I'd be able to point the pattern out again." She explained, continuing the illustration.
"-And then on his shoulders there were a pair of Kanji that had been like- carved into his skin? They were bright red, like they were infected or maybe that's what they look like when he'd been running? but um- yeah, it was "Silence" on his left shoulder, and "Obedience" on his right- Like this!" She said, holding up the drawing.
The shinigami, as a group, turned white. Rukia slapped a hand over her mouth that only sort-of stifled the scream she let out. Kira started to shake and Shuuhei got up and leaned out the window like he might be sick.
"...They weren't medical implants like he said, were they?" Orihime winced.
Rukia reached over and gently pushed the drawing down so it was facedown on the table. "That's. um. That's a Curse Orihime. That's a really, really nasty curse." She explained gently.
"Shuuhei-" said Rangiku, frowning. "You said that Tousen had finished the Payroll, right?"
"Yeah, out to the middle of November." Nodded Shuuhei, still looking green. "Weirdest thing- he ended it on the thirteenth, a Teusday. Totally not like him."
"-Its also really weird for a guy who is allegedly planning on committing treason to make life easy for the people he's leaving behind by finishing out the payroll." Explained Rangiku, taking out her communicator and Dialing. "Shuuhei- I want you to go back to the Ninth and see what other work he finished that doesn't make sense, and keep track of the dates he finished them out to, Kira- you do the same for the Third Division. That Teusday thing is bothering me. Rukia- I need you to go find someone from the Kido Corps and meet me at the First Division. Orihime- you're with me."
"Yessir!" The three lieutenants jumped to their feet and took off as Rangiku finished placing the call.
"-Sasakibe-San?" She asked when the line clicked on. "Sorry to disturb you, but I think Miss Orihime has discovered something of critical importance. Can I meet you and Yamamoto-Sotiacho at the first division? Now?"
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cowboyfromh3ll · 5 months
Note
Heyyy there💖 First off i’d just like to say how obsessed i am with your fics🥹 they are perfect and you really nail the characters perfectly so here’s my request if you don’t mind:
Could i request an angsty fic with Arthur where he and the reader used to be together when they were teenagers and they joined the gang together but the reader left after a few years because she has such an innocent personality (kind of like Mary-Beth) and she just didn’t want to live in the gang with criminals so when she leaves she breaks Arthur’s heart. But they stumble into each other in Valentine (where she works as a waitress) when Arthur, Javier, Charles and Bill go to the saloon. At first their interaction goes very good until that fight breaks out where Arthur beats Tommy, after that the reader is in tears because she hates violence so she storms off behind the saloon but Arthur follows her and it’s there where they start arguing and throwing insults where the reader says that she left cause she didn’t wanna be associated with criminals so Arthur calls her naive and is extra mean to her because he can’t hold all his built up anger and judgment towards her decision to leave him anymore. When he returns to camp that night he can’t stop thinking about their heated interaction so he returns to Valentine to find her and apologise for his rough words.
Sorry for this extra long request but i just love how perfect and detailed your fics are so i knew you would be the best to turn to for this request😊🫶🏻
All We Ever Wanted Was Everything
(Arthur Morgan x Ex!Fem!Reader Angst/Fluff)
No smut sorry didn't feel like adding it, also thank u so much ur compliments mean so much to me 😭
Warnings: arguing, depictions of violence, blood
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Intimacy is the art of licking wounds. And the way Arthur loved was akin to the way a dog nurses an open wound, laving tongue and bared teeth and all. The truth was, Arthur longed to be loved so much that it made him sick. The smallest gesture of affection would bring a lump to his throat, and when he would inevitably fall into his grave, it would seep with all the longing he’s ever done. But like a dog, he dangles on his leash; and his need grows teeth. There are teeth marks on everything Arthur has ever loved.
Valentine was bleak, but it still maintained that hustle and bustle of a well-oiled machine. The town saw the daily passage of horse drawn carriages and hard working folks. Though everyone seemed to be there unwillingly, as though they had nowhere else to go; as though this was the only option they had. Such was the case for Arthur. He found himself left with no choice but to acquaint himself with the people of Valentine as the gang moved further east. The main road down Valentine had taken on the pungent weight of horse manure and wet earth. Arthur’s heavy leather boots stomped through mud, leaving deep, smeared imprints that proved he had been there. They traced him all the way towards the saloon, where he so ungracefully tracked more mud up the wooden steps and inside the establishment. He heard Javier’s voice call out distantly from inside.
He pushed open the dusty wooden doors of the saloon, the hinges groaning and squeaking as it let in another customer (it seemed even the furniture was equally as weary as the townspeople). The poignant scent of sweat, body odor, and what could otherwise simply be described as testosterone hung lowly amidst herds of inebriated men. The low hum of chatter and the lively playing of piano was nearly drowned out by Javier’s obnoxious hollering. He eyed the ox skull hanging decoratively on the wooden pillar ahead of him, as well as the dull, peeling wallpaper. The place was kempt, but just barely. Similar to the town outside, with folks just as tired and hard working coming through here. He approached Javier and Charles at the bar, who were accompanied by two women. Even with their backs turned to him, Arthur could tell they were escorts. With one of them having an off the shoulder blouse, a beguiling attempt at appearing more enticing; her burnt orange hair tied lowly into a bun that rested just above a black choker. Her counterpart was of a darker complexion, and she sported a floral top with a singular black braid cascading down her right shoulder; they both wore long purple skirts. Arthur sneered. ‘Unbelievable’ he thought to himself.
“Oh, Arthur!” Javier looked surprised to see him, his enthusiasm suggesting ulterior motives. Javier was not yet reeling drunk, but he was working on it (Arthur could tell the moment he saw the group raising shots together when he walked in).
“Arthur, Arthur, come here, come here, come over here” Javier pulled Arthur in by his shoulder, the rest of the group turning to face him. Wordlessly, he looked at Charles and gave him a nod of acknowledgement.
“I want you to meet our new friends.” Javier added.
Arthur looked utterly unimpressed by Charles and Javier’s ‘friends’. Arthur stood to the side, eyeing the women up and down, the ginger one busty, exhibiting her cleavage almost proudly. He could tell the two men were here for a lay. Though perhaps, he supposed they were fulfilling their duty of acquainting themselves with the townspeople after all.
“Pleased to meet you.” Arthur greeted flatly, nodding his head.
“Well ain't you just the tough as teak mountain man.” One of the women teased coyly.
“Oh, you be quiet, Anastasia! Anyone can tell this one is a pussy cat!” The other one added.
Javier seemed to butt in overzealously.
“Exactly, yes he’s a pussy…cat. Ain't that so Arthur?” Javier seemed entranced by these women, his judgement clouded by lust. Arthur thought it only bothersome. Charles said nothing the whole time, but Arthur knew he was just as enraptured as Javier was; spanning one of his hands behind one of the women's backs.
“Whatever you say.” Arthur murmured. “How much you cost anyway?”
The women looked at him scornfully.
“Well ain’t that a nice way to talk to a lady?” One of them said sarcastically. Javier and Charles looked on awkwardly, unsure of how to aid the situation.
“Oh, I didn’t know I was talking to a lady.” Arthur put emphasis on lady, even stepping forward to punctuate his sarcasm. That seemed to be the last straw, as the two women excused themselves and walked elsewhere, their unwillingness to stick around any longer suggesting that years in their business had diminished their tolerance for such derision. Javier and Charles looked on in disappointment, watching as the objects of their desires made themselves scarce.
“Well, I must say, you got a fine way with the women amigo…” Javier sighed in defeat, retreating back to the bar and leaning his elbows on the counter.
“Yeah, a regular and dandy charmer.” Arthur humored. He picked up one of the abandoned shots of whisky on the counter, throwing back the liquid and letting it simmer its way down his gullet. He cleared his throat, not expecting it to be quite so potent. Valentine's saloon didn’t feel quite as dismal as Arthur had expected, despite its appearance. Valentine had its fair share of shady gray alleyways and sordid, dodgy customers ducking in and out of low dark doorways, but the bar seemed lively enough.
“Is there anything else I can get you boys?” A strangely familiar voice called out. It was soft, but very sharp. It cut through Arthur’s tedious judgment like a serrated knife through butter. Pleasantly easy, but jarring. Arthur looked up, blinking away disbelief, as he beheld what he thought might’ve been a mirage in the middle of this stalemate of a town.
Arthur’s eyes squinted as he studied your face, noting with fondness the familiar way your eyes looked at him with a deep seated compassion. Your hair seemed to float around you almost angelically, the wispy ends of your hair illuminated by the gentle lighting coming in from the saloon windows— making it appear as though you were materializing from a dream. But when the hardness of your silhouette came into focus, you proved to be very real. Your hands maintained the same gentleness they had years ago. Your skin had matured wonderfully into a sophisticated womanhood. You had matured wonderfully. Arthur could still see teeth marks all over you.
“(Name)?” Arthur whispered. He watched the way your face hardened with realization before melting into a warm smile.
“Arthur?” You breathed, tightening your fists and digging your nails into your palm as if it would wake you up from this dream-like sequence. Charles and Javier looked at each other knowingly, a silent agreement between the two of them to move away from the obviously intimate scene. Arthur barely took notice of their absence; he was too entranced by the sight before him.
“Oh my god…” Your disbelief turned into happiness, your gasps turning into airy laughs. “How long has it been?” You exclaimed, becoming suddenly very excited. Part of you wanted to jump over the counter and pat Arthur down, unable to fathom that this was really him. Out of some sort of second instinct, you placed your hand over his, as if touching him would ground you in reality. He flinched, but he did not move his hand away, rather, he felt a sprinkling of butterflies in his stomach. Unlike yours, his hands had a new roughness to them, decorated with scars and calluses. These hands held stories; memories.
“How have you been?” You asked, feeling the faint but familiar feeling of tears well up in your eyes. Arthur was bashful, you could tell from the way he was hiding his face with his hat, not quite capable of looking you in the eye again.
“I’ve been just fine.” He smiled politely and nodded, fully taking your hand into his and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. There was a shakiness in the way he did this; you felt his hands tremble softly. In another act of familiarity, you placed your other hand over his, cupping his own fully. There was a noticeable tension in you as you contemplated your next question.
“You still ride with…uh…” You did not complete your sentence. Both of you knew you didn’t need to. He nodded in response, his smile hardening.
“Yes, still do.”
“Well… it’s good to hear you’re doing good Arthur.” You smiled. The two of you exchanged committal half smiles, not yet letting go of one another’s hands. You seemed to study each other for a moment, and despite customers calling for you, Arthur did not want you to go. And you seemed in no hurry to go either.
You shook your head gently in contemplation.
“Arthur, I… I’ve missed—”
In the not so far off distance, you listened, then watched, as two men bumped into each other. Your stomach dropped in fear as you watched the bigger of the two head-butt the other man, knocking him into a table occupied by patrons. Your hands tightened around Arthur’s as you heard a bottle break, and in a split second, the hammer dropped; the entire bar dissolving into a brawl. All around you, fists began flying and chairs were picked up, as men knocked into eachothers and swung in their clumsy, drunken haze. The testosterone in this saloon alone was nearly tangible. You looked to your left and watched the few women there flee out the back door. With Arthur’s hand still in your own, you began walking towards the back, half expecting him to come along with you.
But to no one’s surprise, and to your disappointment, you watched as he turned his back and threw himself headfirst into the fight. As the only woman there now, you felt safest behind the bar. You feared that if you stepped out, you’d be caught in someone’s flurry of fighting. You backed into the mahogany cases of liquor behind you, feeling the way the bottles vibrated and shook with the far off slamming of bodies against the floor. Your eyes remained fixated on Arthur, and you felt your blood run cold when you saw a man come at him, putting his entire body weight into swinging at him.
His name caught in your throat, but it quickly died down when Arthur dodged the punch, stepping to the side before landing a flurry of punches to the man, kicking him away with his boot. You watched in morbid mesmerization as Arthur continued to fight the man, the fight bordering on unfair as Arthur easily out did the man with skill born of experience. His face was already beginning to bruise a nasty red and deep purple after each punch he took, but Arthur never faltered. Eventually, he knocked the man out cold against a chair, and relentlessly, Arthur moved onto the next. He headed to a group of three men this time, seemingly on his way to help his friend; the same man who started this entire fight.
Arthur’s determination seemed to be helping his friends out of losing fights; it appeared this was something he was used to. Like it was just another daily occurrence for him. But to you, this senseless fighting had no other meaning than to prove who could punch harder.
“What the hell is going on down here?!” Another burling man came stomping down the stairs, his ego just as big as he was, it seemed. Only a man with an inflated sense of self would insert himself into this mess, you thought. You ducked behind the counter, but peered over just enough so that you could see what was going on. You looked to your left, briefly, and saw another one of Arthur’s companions fighting a man. Another man pleaded with this “Tommy” to not involve himself. Your throat became dry as you saw him, with ease, knock back Arthur’s other friend.
Arthur tried to approach Tommy and Javier, but was promptly jumped by another man who wrapped his arm around his neck from behind. Arthur had to continually jab his elbow into the man in order to get him off, the struggle ensuing for excruciatingly long. As soon as Arthur threw him off, he made sure to turn around and land a punch in his jugular, knocking him out. Arthur’s fighting would’ve impressed you, if not for the fact you were terrified.
“Javier could use some help, Morgan!” Bill called out from across the bar.
You watched in terror as Arthur confidently, and calmly, sauntered up behind Tommy, who was ruthlessly slamming Javier into a table over and over, before landing a punch behind Tommy’s head. The impact barely seemed to phase Tommy, before he calmly turned around and punched Arthur across the jaw. The sound of fist meeting flesh made you squirm, especially when it was Arthur’s. You nearly shrieked as you watched Tommy grapple Arthur’s shoulders brutishly before throwing him over the same table. His body tumbled over the surface before landing on the floor with a grunt and a thud. To add insult to injury (and even more injury), Tommy walked around the table and picked Arthur up off the floor once again, before sending his body crashing through the saloon window.
“Oh my god!” You screamed, not caring for your own safety anymore as you followed the scene outside.
Arthur crashed through the glass, gaining new cuts and bruises as he rolled off the wooden porch and onto the mud. He skid across the earth, smothering his jacket and pants with filth. He stood wearily, taking notice of the crowd forming around them. Cold rain poured down on him, only making the surface beneath him even more slippery.
“Come on, pretty boy.” Tommy’s voice was gravelly as he marched down the wooden steps, a parallel to the way Arthur had marched up them earlier.
“Pretty boy? You’re kidding me. Pretty boy?” At this point, Arthur wasn’t sure why he was fighting. To not die, he supposed. He could’ve stepped away at an earlier point, but pride did not allow him to. Now he was stuck in this. The two sized each other up as they got into fighting stances, then Tommy stepped forward and grabbed Arthur’s neck, throwing him to the side.
You heard a cacophony of horrified screams, disapproving howls, and cheers for either Tommy or Arthur. You saw the rage sizzling in Arthur, and felt a combination of pity, horror, and disappointment. It’d been so many years since you last saw him, so many you had lost count, and this was the first time you had seen him since then. The only thing that had changed was how his eyes and hands had hardened. And suddenly, the calluses and cuts on his knuckles that you had seen earlier seemed to explain themselves.
For a moment, Tommy seemed to have gotten the upper hand on Arthur, and you feared the worst. You weren’t sure how far this would go, but your body flinched with each punch you saw Arthur tank. But against all odds, Arthur clambered on top of Tommy.
A smattering of blood and mud smeared all over Arthur’s face, he grunted with each brutal punch he landed onto Tommy’s head. He felt Tommy claw at the thick leather of his jacket, attempting to shove his face away, but Arthur persisted. Arthur got some sort of wretched exultation out of watching the way Tommy’s face turned into one of helplessness. His body thrashed and his limbs flailed as Arthur continued to strike his head, the skin breaking and bleeding from the repeated impact.
Arthur grit his teeth so hard he swore a tooth nearly cracked. He had tuned out the cheering surrounding him, an uninterrupted ringing replacing any other discernible sounds. The only thing he could focus on was the way he would slam his fist, over and over into Tommy’s head, as if in hypnosis. The man below him was a pitiful, bloody pulp; reaching his arms up as if he were begging for some unlikely act of mercy. But Arthur would punch again, and again, and again…
“Stop! Stop! Please!” You watched as Mr. Downes bravely stepped forward, pleading desperately with Arthur to stop. Arthur raised his fist, but did not connect it, instead looking at Mr. Downes. Arthur and Mr. Downes exchanged a few more words before Arthur pushed past him, covered in mud and all, limping away from the scene and pushing past people.
He caught sight of you looking on tearfully, and the gravity of what he had just done crashed down on him all at once when you turned your back and scurried down the alley besides the saloon. Arthur abandoned any resolve he had and followed you. You heard the rugged breathing and heavy footsteps behind you, which only terrified and spurred you on to run deeper into the alley. You turned the corner, back pressed against the rear wall of the saloon. You held your breath, and for a terrifying few seconds, heard the footsteps approaching. As if it were some sort of deliberate jump scare, you yelped when Arthur turned the corner and faced you. Normally you’d find the mud revolting, but now it served to scare you. It made Arthur seem all the more savage, traces of seething rage still present in his eyes. His hair was wild, face bruised and beaten; his blood mixed with mud and smeared his face in a grim unfamiliarity. He took a step towards you, and you flinched, trying to back away but you could not; you could only shuffle to the side.
At once, Arthur was overcome with an unfathomable sense of self hatred and disgust upon seeing the fear present in your face. He felt sickened with himself, and was given a moment of clarity as he looked down at his dirtied hands, his mud smeared clothes, his bruises and bleeding knuckles. Arthur saw his reflection in the window next to you, the person staring back at him unfamiliar, yet startlingly recognizable all the same.
“(Name)—”
“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!”
Arthur’s eyes began stinging, a deep pang hitting his chest. His shoulders slumped and his body sagged, contracting your squared and tensed shoulders, your arms lifted and crossed over your chest protectively.
“You… You… I… I thought maybe you might’ve changed! But you proved me wrong.” You were sobbing at this point, and you weren’t sure whether you were trembling from your anger or fear. Probably both. Arthur could not find the words to respond.
“How dare you! Come into our town, into our businesses, and start a fight! And beat on us like you own the place! You beat that man half to death! WHAT FOR?” Your body buzzed in anxiety, unable to hold in any more of your anger as you shook.
“(Name), he was going to kill Javier back there if I didn’t—”
“You’re an animal!”
Arthur seemed to forget himself once more, feeling rage upon being called an animal. But perhaps it was more than just being insulted. Perhaps it was years of hurt and heartbreak behind his words.
“You don’t know what you’re saying. Listen to yourself—.” He spat through grit teeth.
“Oh I know!” You huffed, lowering your arms now. “Which is exactly why I left in the first place. Why I left you.”
You both felt that one, Arthur the most. The sting was reminiscent of being stabbed in the chest. He turned his sadness to anger, fueling the burning flame inside his chest. It kept him going.
“You left what we had, the good thing that we had, so that you could come and work at some dead end town? Is this really the life you want? Is your way of living any better than what we do?”
“I live a good honest life now!”
“You’re just a naive girl who doesn’t know that sometimes, this is all we got. Some of us don’t have the luxury of being able to just turn away and start anew. For some of us, we only have each other!”
You were enraged at this point, enough to let your guard down and walk up directly in front of him, sizing him up almost.
“I’d rather die working than live my life as a despicable criminal living with a lowdown gang constantly on the run. If that’s your idea of a life, then good god Mister Morgan, I pity you.” Your every word dripped with venom. And you made sure Arthur felt every bit of it, even going as far as to jab your finger in his chest.
“You’re a brat.” He growled. “You seem to forget where you come from. You were once a part of the gang, you went through exactly what I went through and you knew what it was like. And now you wanna act like you’re better than me? Like you’re above me?” He looked back down at you with malice, a hidden layer of hurt and sadness just beneath the surface. He looked somewhere between a kicked puppy and a crazed, rabid dog who’d been rolling in mud.
You said nothing in return, instead falling into some sort of stare off. He looked at you expectantly, but did not anticipate an answer. It was as if by looking into your eyes or expression, he could catch a slight change in your expression that indicated, just maybe, that you did not mean what you were saying. That this was all some adrenaline fueled attack on him after having watched him savagely beat a man. But even he could realize the irony in that line of thought.
But not once did your face soften, or look away from him in a show of discomfort or even intimidation. You stood your ground, heels firmly planted on the mud beneath you both.
Wordlessly, but with a grunt, Arthur moved past you, his arm brushing past and saturating some of your skin and clothes with mud. Arthur grumbled lowly to himself as every fiber in his body urged him to turn around and look at you one last time, to throw himself at your feet and ask if you really meant what you said, but his pride did not allow him.
Even as Dutch spoke to him at the front of the shop, his ears ringed and obstructed any other words from entering and being processed (He hadn’t even questioned Dutch’s sudden appearance with Trelawny). Arthur seemed to look past anyone who spoke to him, only nodding in response when they asked “are you listening?”. It was only when he was able to dunk himself in a nearby barrel of water, did the striking coldness snap him back to reality; the gritty veil over his consciousness being washed away.
The ride back towards camp was a gap in Arthur’s memory. He fell back into a pit of thought that tunneled his vision once again. He was all at once, keenly and uncomfortably aware of every sound and movement around him, but he could not be bothered to give it any thought. The shockwave of impact that traveled up through his body as he got off of his horse rather clumsily did not shake him from his pensive state. He wearily returned the greetings that people sent his way, not in the mood to entertain any sort of conversation with anyone. Arthur wanted nothing more now, than to rest his sore and aching muscles. He changed out of his caked, filthy clothes and changed into his union suit, the clean fabric feeling angelic in comparison to the squalid state of his clothes. His joints began to throb suddenly, as if the pain was triggered at once by laying on his cot, which suddenly seemed to sky rocket in comfortability. A deep ache settled into his side; the side he had landed on after being thrown.
His bed echoed his groan as he rested his weight on it, a large sigh leaving him as pain settled into every cell of his body. His exhaustion overtook him as he slid his eyes shut; his head hitting his pillow like there was a weight tied around his neck. Every bit of his being screamed for sleep, but his racing mind would not allow rest. He thought of you: the terrified look in your eyes after he followed you behind the saloon, the way you looked akin to a wild, injured animal backed up into a corner. He was sure he looked the same.
His bodily aches were accompanied by the pang in his chest as he remembered your heavy words. He squeezed his eyes in an attempt to prevent tears from surfacing, but the pressures in his nasal passages proved to be too much. He turned his back away from camp so that no one could see just how pathetic he looked.
The insults on him, his gang, his way of life. They were all too much to bear. He did not anticipate seeing you at all. He looked back regretfully on how the sweet encounter had turned so sour so quickly; part of him blamed Bill. He could at least find solace in the fact that you had missed him after all these years. As he did. Though he had had women since then, he never did quite forget about you. A boy never forgets his first love. And now that he was a man, those feelings amplified, and he knew it had been more than just puppy love. Part of him could not understand your rejection of the lifestyle. When you initially left the gang, and Arthur by proxy, you explained you could not withstand the violence and bloodshed, but that you respected and understood that this was his way of life, the only way of life he had known, even before he met you and joined the gang. But with the way he had heard you speak so lowly of the gang, he could not understand where all your compassion had gone, especially since you had been part of it.
Part of him still held onto a childlike sense of anger, feeling as though you wronged him in leaving him. But he could at least understand why you decided to up and leave. Perhaps his own judgment of your life had been harsh. You weren’t wrong in saying you lived an honest life, objectively it was better than his. You got to live freely without fear of the law, you made honest clean money, and as far as he knew, you only had yourself to support with the money you made. Arthur hadn’t even considered the possibility you were seeing someone, his stomach dropping at the thought. He was guilt ridden and anxious, nauseated by the thoughts. His temporary solution would be falling asleep to quell it.
When Arthur awoke, it was nighttime. The sun had set, the sky tinged with dark purple that faded into night. Most of the activity around camp had calmed, but many people were still awake. Arthur stood at once, bee lining towards his horse. He ignored any gang members that attempted to come forth and ask him if he was okay, where he was going. Wordlessly, he mounted his horse and spurred it on, riding back towards Valentine.
Perhaps it was unwise to go back into town so soon after raising hell there. But Arthur couldn’t care less. His objective at the moment was to see you. And he hoped to god you’d still be at the saloon. His heart thrummed in time with his horses running, and he began to pant as if he was the one doing the physical activity. Perhaps it was the anxiety that made him so short of breath.
He saw the promising glow of Valentine as he approached the small town, pulling on his horse's reins to try and slow down. His horse trotted down the streets of now dried earth, the prints of shoes and wheels having dried up into casts. He cringed internally when he saw the still broken window of the saloon, the glass having been cleaned up long ago. Luckily for him though, the lights of the saloon were on, and he heard the same lively piano from before. From the outside, it was almost as if nothing had ever happened, but he knew that as soon as he stepped inside, all heads would turn in his direction and stare him down. Arthur was used to looks, he would pay it no mind. But it was the thought of you sending him a disgusted look his way that had his head spinning in apprehensiveness.
Arthur was not a man who was scared of confrontation, and when it came to violence, he was best at letting his fists speak for him. But for more emotional matters, he sounded as eloquent as a child learning how to read for the first time. He would get stuck on using the right combination of words, and would opt towards not saying much at all. But this was something he wanted, and he knew that if was going to ask for your forgiveness, he’d have to put effort into sounding decent.
The hinges of the saloon doors creaked, and as Arthur expected, the volume level of the saloon lowered, the lively chatter dissolving into whispers and grumbles of threats. He looked over towards the bar to see if coming here had been worth his time. And there you were, standing in your confused, and frankly appalled, glory. You were wiping down a glass, continuing for a moment too long as you stared at him.
You had not expected to see him back here, grimacing at the tender purple skin of his cheek. Part of you felt pity, but it was replaced by indifference as you remembered he brought the injuries onto himself. As he began walking towards you, you slammed the glass down on the counter with a sigh and rolled your eyes. The sudden slam startling, but not fully waking, the passed out patron slumped against the counter.
“What are you doing here.” You asked, hand on your hip. It came out as less of a question and more as a statement professing your annoyance. Arthur leaned on the counter, moving his head to the side so he could look anywhere but at you as he attempted to find the right words to start off with. He opened and closed his mouth, and you were beginning to get impatient.
“I’m sorry…”
You were about to demand Arthur either leave or speak up, until you heard his meek apology. You felt your facial muscles relax from the scowl you had held for so long.
“What?” You asked in disbelief.
Arthur fidgeted where he stood, occupying himself by drumming his fingers along the counter. You lowered your arms to your side, fidgeting as well.
“I’m sorry too.”
A moment of awkward silence hung over the two of you before you grabbed his hand; bruised and callused, taken into soft and gentle. You pursed your lips in a half hearted smile before nodding your head towards the stairs. Before Arthur could even understand what you were implying, you were leading him past the bar counter and up the stairs towards a private room.
“What do we need this for? I just wanted to apologize…”
“I know. I just didn’t want my patrons hearing, y’know…” You laughed awkwardly. “A little privacy is nice, they don’t exactly keep their noses to themselves.” You fumbled with your keys, a sweat forming on the back of your neck as you struggled to jam the key into the lock before turning it. Arthur found it rather suggestive, but he decided to move along anyway. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have the hots for you anymore.
The two of you stiffly scooted over towards the bed; first you, then him, the bed dipping significantly from his weight. The sudden dip caused you to bump into his arm, which neither of you wanted to acknowledge outright. Your thighs rubbed against each other, and at last, you were able to see side by side how much Arthur had grown since you last saw him. Seeing the way he dwarfed you tugged at your heart strings.
“Oh, Arthur… How I’ve missed you… I’m so sorry for saying all those nasty things. And I know it’s no excuse but I was scared and… I felt a little betrayed that you had gone off to fight instead of… coming with me.”
Arthur nodded as you spoke, processing each word.
“And I know I shouldn’t have expected that. They’re your gang afterall, they’re your family. And I don’t think you’re all lowdown, or any of those nasty things I said.” You were gripping Arthur’s arm by now, as if holding onto him at that moment might better help him understand and accept your apology.
“I know sweetheart, I know.” He began. “I’m a fool and fighting’s all I know. It’s all I’ve ever known. I ain’t the smartest… but…” Arthur seemed to lose his train of thought, physically pained by his own mental fumbling. “I’m just trying to say that I’m sorry. I especially don’t have any right to judge your lifestyle.”
It was your turn to nod, slowly breaking into a smile.
“I’m glad you came.”
“I wanted to see you.”
The two of you slowly began to intertwine hands, shyly at first, until you fully sent it and gripped his fully. You felt his arm go tense against you as he looked back and forth from where you two conjoined to your face. The tension in the air had a nostalgic feel to it. It brought you back to all those years ago when you and Arthur had first gotten together. You were so young then. Holding hands also allowed you to feel the size difference, causing the both of you to blush.
“You’ve uh… really grown.” You giggled together. “I mean, you always were much larger than me but my my…”
Arthur nodded, looking down at the noticeable differences between you.
“Yeah, I always did love giving you piggy back rides.” He added. The recalling of the juvenile memory had you laughing even more.
“Oh, how I missed those! And you were always so helpful. Could be really helpful to have you around the saloon, can intimidate some guys away like you did for me when we were younger.”
“Gladly will, sweetheart.”
As the laughter died down, you hesitantly leaned upwards, looking for a sign to stop on his face. Though with more hesitation, you abstained from kissing him.
That is, until he went ahead and did it himself. He let go of your hand so he could cup your face, using the other arm to wrap around your waist and hold you close, as though you might disappear if he didn’t. Your lips molded perfectly against one another. It felt like the reunion of lips that should’ve always been together. And even though you had attempted to peel away from Arthur for so long, the meeting was like two sides of a wound finally mending back together.
The muffled chatter of the downstairs saloon was drowned out by your and his heavy breathing. You pushed your own lips hard against his teeth, gripping the downy tuft of hair at the base of his neck. He was taken aback by your enthusiasm but returned it nonetheless. The men you had had in Arthur’s absence were insipid compared to his passionate kisses. The two of you idly palmed and groped each other, the same tenderness as when you two were younger, but with the renewed passion of lovers long separated, finally reuniting with a more carnal desire.
Memories come in waves, and tonight, you were drowning.
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PHEW this took me days, I can finally work on all my other requests. Thanks for being patient y'all
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All We Ever Wanted Was Everything - Bauhaus
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vidavalor · 4 months
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Speaking of underrated horny metaphor moments... Aziraphale directing Crawly directing the fake birth via oxribs after the oxrib night... HELLO?! My eyes just about popped out of my head XD.
So very horny and so very ridiculously funny. I swear that if you don't completely lose it laughing at "Remember me? BILDAD THE SHUITE!", I don't even want to know you lol. Very early Aziraphale being that dry and dirty was hilarious. He's such trouble. :) We all go on about the ox ribs in the cellar and in the scene with the angels (as we should lol) but I think the inbetween hours get ignored and they're equally underrated...
They're on a walk together in the middle of the night when they happen upon God speaking to Job. They snuck out of the cellar after the rain had stopped but while it was still night and they wouldn't be noticed to go for a walk together alone and then, later, once it's daylight, we see Aziraphale arrive late for the angels arriving to "lo, behold, we murdered your kids!" Job and Sitis. At first, we think he's late to the meeting because he and Crowley have been hatching out a plan but oh no no no no lol... they do not have a shred of a plan. Aziraphale basically make the whole thing up in the moment Bildad busts in. Aziraphale's entire plan was 'um maybe find a way to fake rebirth the old kids or something idk' and when Crowley comes in, he now has the help he needs to actually do it, but it's *very* clear that they had absolutely no plan going into the meeting.
"It would be helpful if you were an expert in human births?" says the angel who might have wanted to mention that at some point-- ANY POINT lol-- in the last, like, 14 hours that they've had to work out this plan, now forcing Bildad to try to sell 'professional midwife/cobbler' to Michael (and sell he does lol.)... My point is that if they left to take a late night walk together and then both were outside when the angels appeared to Job and Sitis, then they stayed out all night together, during which time they were not making a plan and then Aziraphale was late to work. They went on a walk to look at the stars and the stormy sky and talk some more and find a somewhat secluded place they could then watch the sunrise together. Maybe somewhere at the beach where they are at the end of the minisode. They nearly made Sitis have seven! more! children! because they lost track of time making out lol.
If you run into that guy you've got all that chemistry with and then spend the next day helping each other with work in between flirting, getting dinner, staying up all night talking, going for a romantic stargazing walk in the aftermath of a storm, watching the sun come up together, losing track of time and nearly missing work because you're so into one another, and then meet up later at the beach and basically have your conversation confirm what you already know, which is that you're soulmates, well... that's a good first date, yeah?
It is a little sad though when you consider that the episode prior to this is 2.01, which is heavy on the emphasis of how Crowley doesn't stay overnight in the bookshop as part of their efforts to keep their relationship quiet. (That the first night we know of that he ever does, later in the week, is without Aziraphale and with Gabriel, is absolutely the stuff of Crowley's dreams and by that I mean his nightmares. Poor guy just wants to kiss the angel and it's always Gabriel or a statue of him getting in the way lol.) The Job minisode might still be one of the only times they've managed to be together all night.
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sanjoongie · 5 months
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Warrior God
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ღPairings: Choi San × Reader(f) ღGenre: God au, Chinese Zodiac influenced, also anime influenced ღTrope: e2l (perhaps if i continue this???) ღWord count: 1,427 ღWarnings: fighting anime style, suggestive dialogue, reader has a dungeon apparently ღRated: 18+ MDNI ღSummary: The Wolf God has recently been taking down the other god's kingdoms one by one, and your kingdom is next. Or at least, that's what he thinks ღDedication: @mejuii​ @downtoamagicalland​ my speedy betas, thank you loves ღA/N: this was burning in my skull after watching San's warrior cover, so I had to get it out! Enjoy~
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“Mistress, he’s coming,” Seonghwa called from the window of your tower, no need to hold back the diaphanous window coverings for a storm was approaching.
“Then it is time for you to go, Seonghwa,” You commanded, finishing tying up your sash from your pants. 
Seonghwa rushed to your side, placing his hands over yours, not wanting to miss one moment of your preparations. “I will not leave your side,” he insisted.
You gripped his chin in your hand harshly, almost comically squishing his cheeks together. His large eyes raised to meet yours. “Are you questioning my authority right now?”
Seonghwa’s eyes moved downwards in subservience. “Never, Goddess, but--”
Your hand let go of him but instead patted his head. “You know why you must go. Now go.” You motioned with your chin towards your door.
Seonghwa’s lips parted, as if he wanted to speak more words but your face was hard for the upcoming battle and Seonghwa knew he could not afford to distract you with soft facts of love and adoration. “As you command, Mistress.” He bowed lowly, hand behind back and against his stomach and was gone in a flurry that his rabbit spirit afforded him.
ღღღ
San strode through the gates of your castle, confident steps as his warrior army surrounded him. His sharp eyes quickly assessed the battlefield and found there was only one body to meet him in this assault.
“Did you send everyone away, Goddess?” San barked across the courtyard as he continued to sweep inside. “Afraid I’ll kill all the people you protect?”
“Yes,” You replied melodically, “I did send all my people away. If they remained, they would get killed.”
San’s broad stance spoke of confidence. His jacket and chains of leaving his mortal life still clung to him. “I would have thought that the Horse God would be much more sure of her powers.”
The laughter that escaped your lips bubbled up in your chest and grew and grew in power. Soon the entire courtyard was full of your borderline crazy laughter. San at first was smiling, as if he was waiting to be let in on the joke and then slowly it dimmed into confusion. 
“I dismissed my people so that I can let loose my powers, San,” You cooly informed him. You pushed off your robe, left only in a sleeveless shirt and baggy pants. Your horse tattoo ran along your back, where your shirt did not cover, only wrapping around your torso, with loose sleeves dangling down your arms. Your magic, which was bright purple in color, waved around you, airy and whimsical. 
San’s followers quickly pulled off his jacket, revealing the majority of San’s tattoos. His with stark black against his golden skin. A wolf’s contenance sat on his left breast. He snarled like a wolf, pounding his chest and clenching his fists. His power appeared as if blue fire, raging like flames all over his body. His followers shrunk back at the heat and he almost killed the few that had aided in removing his jacket and chains. 
“I shall acquire your kingdom, just like I took the Ox’s and the Tiger’s,” San growled. But his fingers encompassed his wrists. He still felt his mortality, clearly.
You tilted your head, cracking your neck loudly. “You just received your godhead, Wolf. I have had mine for a millenia. Do you worst.”
San surged forward with a roar, his warriors behind him like an oncoming wave. The sky crackled and when San’s fist struck, lightning hit the ground around you, several forks striking San’s followers. 
You stood, not moving an inch, your power making a smooth barrier in front of you. San’s face was only a hairsbreadth away from yours but he could do nothing to get closer. Like in slow motion, San’s fist had hit your barrier but the force that was reflected back to him--his own power mixed with your own--sent him flying back, pummeling through the crowd behind him. He hit the wall of your castle hard. Cracks radiated from his form there.
“You will not touch a hair on my head, Choi San,” You said calmly. You flicked your wrists, one hand and then the other. All of San’s followers poofed in a cloud of smoke, a horse’s bellow echoing through the courtyard. It was only you and he left now.
But San’s confidence had not drained yet. He smirked slowly, drawing up only one side of his lips. “I’ll have my fingers tangled up in your hair with your mouth on my cock, Horse God. It is my destiny.”
You laughed under your breath, a smirk pulling at your lips now. You shoved your hands into the pockets of your baggy pants and casually strolled to where San was, still embedded in the stone wall. “Is that why you’re here? To bed me?”
San shook his head, hauling himself out from the hole he made. “No, I am here to take your kingdom and YOUR godhead. But I’ll have you too, while I’m at it.”
You held your arms out to your side, bent at the elbow, palms up. “You know, that’s not half a bad idea, Wolf God.” You bring your palms together. Your purple magic rushed in, surrounding San. His arms snap to his side and his legs are held together. San struggled to get free, his blue flames like an ember along his body, but not strong enough to battle you. “I think I’ll bind you in my dungeon and use your tongue for relief.” You walked to where San was held, using your index finger to raise his strong chin. “Think you could do that for me?”
The blue fire that burned within San’s eyes, within his soul made you excited. Your power exploded and his blue magic exploded from his body. Your hair and clothes moved with the pure, undiluted power radiating from San. “I came here to ruin you!’ He shouted.
You took careful steps back as San staggered forward. His power continued to stream from his body, any sweat steaming off his skin. He walked as if he was underwater but that was simply your own power holding him back. You didn’t even have to make it so, it simply was. San walked you to the front of your tower, grunting and bearing his teeth as his arms shook to cage you between them. You smiled coyly up at him. He wasn’t even aware that his movements were only allowed because you were curious as to what he was up to.
“This isn’t right,” He groaned, his voice low with rawness. His accent had changed, reverting to the language of his people when he was a mortal. 
Your coy smile grew into a confident one, the tips of your lips curling upwards. “Do you feel it, San?”
Your eyes traveled down to his chest, using a finger following the tip of his wolf’s ear on his chest. “Do you feel yourself weakening?”
San’s eyebrows furrowed inwards, both in confusion and worry. “No, I--”
Your smile is now a hysterical grin. “Since the moment you stepped through my gate, my power has been siphoning yours. I’ve been sipping from your godhead. The more power you exude, the more I drink, the more powerful I become. Why do you think I’ve been doing this for so long, hmm?”
San’s eyes become unfocused as he searches deep inside himself and finds that the well of his power is almost dry. “How?!” he demanded in disbelief.
You flicked his nipple and laughed softly. “I’m not about to tell you all my secrets, silly wolf. I’m about to have you trapped in my dungeon.”
“Do-don’t…” San’s head tipped downward to his chest, his weakness finally hitting him as your power began to let him go. If you took away his godhead completely, he would no longer be welcome in this kingdom of the gods. 
You pushed San’s arms away from barring your movement. You flicked your finger again and your power carried San’s body behind you, as you began the climb down to your dungeons. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it. Soon, you’ll be just like Seonghwa. A little doggy for me.”
Your power surrounded the entire grounds of your castle, flowing through the very walls, lighting up the surrounding forest and river with purple light, and then just as quickly, your body absorbed it completely and neatly. That was the signal for your people to come back. The battle was over. But your night had just begun.
Taglist: @hijirikaww @flurrys-creativity @mingsolo @starlitmark @stardragongalaxy @k-pop-ology Permanent suffer with me tag: @smallfrye
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