#and solitaire takes place for like a month and a half in the middle there

[bamimilyt6]

I genuinely wonder how they're going to do the timeline for S3, because this is where a lot of Oseman works outside the comic kind of collide (This Winter and Solitaire both take place within the ~10 month period S3 will cover).

And the TV series, while still true to the comics, messes with the timeline and events a bit. Typically they've created more plot points (Sports Day, Imogen/Ben drama) to fill screen time, and they've moved some things around (Nelson-Spring family dinner) but since there's a lot of plot to cover in 8 episodes, I wonder what they're going to change or leave out.

And they will have to change a lot, depending on how much of Solitaire they keep in the show - no Bash means no Ben means no Solitaire making people kick the shit out of him??? Will they even include the Solitaire blog plot? Did the Imogen/Ben story line replace the Ben/Becky story line? And ofc no Olivia Coleman, which means none of the awesome Sarah Nelson moments :(

I'm just very intrigued and very excited for S3, because I know the Heartstopper team has something good cooked up for us!!

#i say s3 will cover 10 months bc of the teaser information we have #the first ep seems to be the beach day which is the summer after charlie's yr 10 #and the last ep seems to be summer fête which is near the end of charlie's yr 11 #and solitaire takes place for like a month and a half in the middle there #this winter is also literally just christmas day #there's just so much stuff i really hope they tie it all together!!! #heartstopper #solitaire #this winter #osemanverse

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (pt 5)

A/N: I had a little mental block when trying write this one! I think it worked out in the end but better is coming ! I promise. Enjoyy :)

masterlist

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Word count: 3.4k

tw: none, fluff :)

Spencer didn’t dream about you. When he woke up, he was sweaty and disoriented and had no recollection of the dreams he had. He fell asleep next to the box fully clothed, his arm thrown across where you should have been. In those first few moments of morning when you aren’t quite sure where you are or who you are, he reached around for you and found nothing but emptiness. 

‘Emptiness? No that can’t be right. She was right here.’ 

Just as he thought it, the truth occurred to him. 

‘She was never here. Just the box. Wait, the box. Where is the box?’

He shot up quickly, getting a little dizzy, and frantically looked around the room. He saw that he had knocked the box over while he slept and the contents were scattered all over the floor. He groaned and went to pick everything up. His hands found all the items and he put them away carefully, not peeking. He didn’t want to ruin the surprise. When everything was put back where it belonged, he sighed and sat on his bed, staring longingly out the window. 

It was barely 6 am and the sun had risen, but he couldn’t see it behind the thick gray clouds that lined the sky. It was snowing. Not a rare thing to see in Virginia, but it was very appropriate for this day. You loved snow, wintertime, the holidays, all of it. You even tried to get him to go skiing with you a few times, which he refused to do. He is extremely clumsy in nature and would definitely hurt himself or someone else if he tried. It’s a miracle they even let him carry a gun. Besides, he’s more suited to drinking hot cocoa in the lodge by a fire. The cold is much less forgiving to him. Growing up in Vegas made him partial to the heat. Even though he had lived on the East coast for many years, he’d still complain anytime the temperature dropped below 40 and bundle up in a wool coat and scarf.  Your New England roots on the other hand, taught you to handle the cold much better. When he’d complain about being freezing, you would tell him that he had no idea what real cold was like, and when you would complain about the heat he’d return the sentiment. 

He left the box on the bed and took a shower. He needed to wash everything from the last day off.  It was therapeutic to just stand in the hot water and let it burn slightly, reminding him he could still feel. This had been so emotionally draining; he could barely remember the last time he cried so much. Today he just felt numb, barely bothering to put on more than sweatpants, but somehow mustering up enough energy to make a pot of coffee. He had a feeling he’d need the whole thing to get through the next twelve letters. Each one felt heavier in his hands than the previous did, and each cut a little deeper too. With a cup of coffee in hand, he fished around for envelope #4. 

“Spence, this next one is special. You’ll know why the second you pick it up. #4: The Book of Margery Kempe.”

He smiled and ran his hands over the book, his mother’s favorite. The spine was bent like it’d been cracked open many times, and the pages were worn and well read. He could tell it was your personal copy because of the dog-eared pages. You always did that, making him grimace every time you creased the corner of a page. 

“You could just use a bookmark, Y/N,” He’d say, earning an eye roll from you. 

“A book should look like it’s been read, that’s why I buy paperbacks and write in them! I want anyone who picks up something I’ve read to feel how much I loved it, that way they love it too.” 

That comment always made him smile, “Fine, just don’t do it to any of my books.”

“Don’t worry Dr. Reid, I only do it to my personal collection.”

The memory felt warm and inviting, but ended quickly. Instead, he grabbed the book, the letter, and his coffee and sat at the chess table he had pushed against a window. He wanted to see the snow while he read, just to feel closer to you.  

“I bought for our flight to Vegas, the trip where I met your mother for the first time. You mentioned Kempe was her favorite, and I so badly wanted to impress her. I know she’s...well she’s her. But you’re her pride and joy, Spence, I didn’t want to disappoint her. Or disappoint you for that matter. Remember when you asked? 

“I’d like you to come with me next week,” You said over an IHOP pancake breakfast. 

“To Vegas?”

You nodded, “Yeah I’d love if you came with me. You could see my hometown.”

“I’ve been to Vegas, Love.”

I know it seemed like I didn’t want to go, that isn’t the case. I did want to go. I wanted to go so bad, but I was hesitant. I was so terrified that I would mess up. I didn’t want to ruin us, we’d been doing so well. I felt like this would be a defining moment in our relationship (spoiler alert: it was) and I didn’t want to risk it going poorly. 

“Yeah on cases! And that is not the impression of Vegas I want you to have. C’mon please? It would mean the world to my mom.”

I think I choked on my pancake, “Your mom? She knows about me?”

“Of course she does, I write her letters all the time.”

“Your mom knows about us, and you want me to meet her?” 

You smiled and nodded, “Yeah Y/N, how many times do I have to say it? I want you to meet my mom.”

That’s probably when I tackled you in a hug in the middle of an IHOP. That solidified the fact that you trusted me. I knew you trusted me at work, but the fact that you were willing to show me that side of you, the side you don’t really show anyone? I can’t thank you enough for it. 

We’d been together just over six months, which to most people that seems like a long time to wait to meet the parents, especially when we were already so serious, but your situation is different. I wanted you to do it in your own time. 

My family on the other hand, you met them pretty early into us dating. My niece turned one a few months into us being together and I dragged you to Connecticut for the party. Everyone loved you, of course they did. There isn’t one thing to not love about you. Nate and my dad were definitely not thrilled that I was bringing you. Nate tries to be all Big Brother-y but it’s all an act, he’s a softie. And dad would rather I marry a rich man and be a stay at home mom. I can hear him now saying, “Y/N if your mother were here to see you thirty and unwed she would be so disappointed !” Dads. They’re the worst, but I don’t have to tell you that.”

For some reason that made him chuckle, having rough/nonexistent relationships with your fathers was just another item on the long list of things you had in common. On paper, you were a perfect match. But that was the only place. 

“But somehow, you didn’t have to wear them down, they just loved you instantly. Even Mia loved you, and she was one! You handed her toys and helped her put on her shoes. You talked to my dad about whatever he had on the History channel. It was perfect. You fit right in with us; it was like you completed us, you were the missing piece that we didn’t even know we needed. I know Mia will miss you; you were always so good with her. I think we’ll all miss you. And my dad is going to hate that I will not be married off any time soon, but he can deal with that. 

But back to your mom. To say I was nervous to meet her is probably the biggest understatement of all time. The way you love and care about her is one of the many reasons I fell in love with you. The way a guy treats his mom says a lot about how he’ll treat you, and with you it said ‘oh my god he’s perfect’. You do everything you can for her, even though it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. I admire that; I can only wish to be that kind and giving. 

We both took a few days off to go see her, and when we were in the airport I pulled out this book and tried to read it. 

“That’s mom’s favorite,” You said, smiling at me shyly. 

“I know.” 

The plane was delayed due to a storm. We sat waiting and waiting for a few hours, your hand on my thigh and my head on your shoulder as I desperately tried to read this book. I really did. I stumbled through about 50 pages but had retained literally nothing. I found myself rereading sentences like ten times over and trying to decode them. I felt embarrassed about it. You could read the whole thing with your morning coffee and immediately recite it forwards and backwards, and translate it into Korean and Russian flawlessly and there I was, sounding out every word. It’s not like I can’t read. I can read, I just can’t read and comprehend 1500s English very well. Science was always my strong suit.

I didn’t get much farther on the plane ride either. You, on the other hand, brought a whole library in your carry on and on that 5 hour plane ride you read two thick books, took an hour long nap, played solitaire (twice), won war against me (twice), and ate all the snacks I brought for you. And in that same time frame, I had gotten through maybe half of the book, taking very long breaks to stare out the window, talk to you, and try to sleep. 

“What part are you at?” You asked me at one point and I just kind of stared at you. 

“Uh, the uh, part where she’s going to Jerusalem?”

You chuckled, “That’s not very far.”

I shoved you playfully, “Hey! It’s confusing and hard to understand!”

You reached for the book, trying to take it from me, “Let me see.”

I moved it out of reach, “No! I need to figure it out on my own.” You smiled and let me keep trudging along. 

When you woke up from your nap your head was on my shoulder and I was running my fingers through your hair like I usually do did when you slept. 

“You don’t have to read it, Y/N,” you mumbled, your voice groggy with sleep. It’s always raspy when you first wake up. 

“I know, I just thought maybe I would impress her.”

You smiled and leaned over and kissed my cheek, “I love that, but don’t worry. I promise she’ll love you.”

Then you nuzzled into the crook of my neck and fell back asleep. I put my head on top of yours, closed the book, and allowed myself to do the same. 

When we landed, it was hot. Like, ungodly hot. No wonder you can't stand the cold. 

We first went to the hotel and I changed into more appropriate clothes for the weather. You somehow still had on slacks and a shirt, I don’t know how you didn’t sweat to death. I drove us to the sanitarium, and you were nervous, you barely even spoke. You were twiddling with your fingers and bouncing your leg, I didn’t have to use my profiling skills to figure it out. The radio was off and you stared out the window. 

“How long has it been?” I finally said. 

“Three hundred and six days.”

I just nodded, your nerves added onto mine tenfold and I thought I may faint. I got us there safely though. 

“You stay here, I’m going to see if it’s a good day. If not we’ll come tomorrow,” You said. 

I just nodded and leaned over to kiss you. It took way longer than I thought it would for you to come out and when you did you were smiling. Huge. 

“Good day?” I asked, hopping out of the car. You just nodded, still grinning ear-to-ear. You grabbed my hand and every nerve I had melted away. You always had that effect on me, even when we were just friends. No one will ever get me in the same way again. Even if they tried, I wouldn’t let them. You were it for me”

Spencer reached for the mug to take another sip and found it was already empty. He stared into the bottom of the mug where some sugar hadn’t dissolved and mulled over that last sentence.

You were it for me.

He put the mug down forcefully, knocking a few chess pieces over.

So then why wouldn’t you LET him be it for you?

“You led me to her, pulling me behind you, whispering reassurances to me the entire time. 

“Mom, this is Y/N, Y/N this is my mother.”

I came out from behind you, probably looking like a meek little mouse, “Hello.” I waved. 

“Now Spencer, you didn’t tell me she was pretty.”

You blushed and stammered, she chuckled, “It’s nice to finally meet you Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

“Likewise,” I said, and shook her hand. It was warm and soft like yours. In fact, so much of her is in you. You don’t look the same, but your mannerisms are pretty close to identical. Her hair is lighter than yours but equally as wild. I love her, because she’s you. So many parts of you, the best parts of you. She made you, and I love you, so I love her too. 

You let us talk alone for a while and she told me about your childhood. How she called you ‘crash’ because you were always running into something. How you were always the smartest kid around and how she was so proud to be your mom. She told me about the letters you send her, much like the one I’m writing right now. You told her about all our adventures, nights crying over Emily, the film festival, Jacksonville (PG version of course); you told her all of it. Your mom had your version of our love story hidden in letters somewhere in her room. That inspired me to write my version, the version you’re reading right now. 

She told me she knew we were together before you even told her because all your letters became about me. All the case stories had me and you as the stars, everyone else falling into the background. Hearing how you talked to her about me made my insides feel all fuzzy. You told her I was intelligent, courageous, empathetic, funny, and pretty much every other positive adjective you could find. 

“I’ve never heard him talk about anyone the way he talks about you,” she told me, “He definitely cares about you.”

I smiled, “I’ve never cared about anyone as much as I care about him.”

“So you love him?” 

I was taken aback at first, and paused for a moment to think, “Yeah, I do.”

It’s a weird thing to say to your boyfriend’s mom the first time you meet her, but she’s just so easy to talk to. It’s double weird because I hadn’t even told you that I loved you yet. I was being honest, I never loved anyone the way I loved you. 

“I couldn’t ask for anything more for him.”

Then I hugged her awkwardly and you came back in. I was trying and failing to suppress the smile on my face the whole time. The three of us talked until visiting hours were over. We left her with the promise that we’d be back again tomorrow.

“I was right Y/N, she loves you!” You said as we climbed back into the rental.

“She’s pretty great,” I said and held your face in my hand, “So are you.”

Tomorrow never came. 

The next day was a bad one for her, so you took me to the neighborhood you grew up in, pointing out the sites you wanted me to see and telling me the memories you had there. You took me to get chicken fried lobster at Binion’s. You held my hand as we walked down the Las Vegas strip, pointing out the ones you’re banned from. On the last day, we ordered room service and spent all day in bed, not bothering to get dressed. I loved learning about your past. At the time I anticipated being part of your whole future; I would be in every story for the rest of your life. I hate that now I’m just another chapter of it.

On the flight home I cracked open the book again and this time I read it with newfound vigor. I had a new appreciation for it after talking to your mom. You watched me flip through it, highlighting and annotating like I was in English class. You peered over my shoulder the whole time, and don’t think I didn’t see the smirk on your face. 

“When her crying passed, she came before the Archbishop and fell down on her knees, the Archbishop saying very roughly to her, “Why do you weep so, woman?” I read aloud, looking up into your warm eyes as we descended. 

“She answering said, ‘Sir, you shall wish some day that you had wept as sorely as I,’” you finished, not even having to look at the page. 

You have wept as sorely as I, Spencer, and I do not wish this feeling on anyone. 

I closed the book and held it to my chest, staring at you and mustering up the nerve to say it.

“I love you,” I whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. 

You tried to contain your grin and scrunched up your eyebrows. You cupped your ear and pretended you couldn’t hear me, “What was that?”

I rolled my eyes, “I love you.” I said it louder, more forcefully this time. 

“I love you too,” you said, no hesitation. 

I turned my head up to catch your lips and seal the whole weekend with a kiss. 

It’s kind of funny how I confessed my love for you up in the sky, among the clouds, somewhere over Virginia. It’s funny because I was on cloud nine, almost literally. It felt so good to finally say it. We were in love, arguably the most magical thing in the world. There is no one I would rather have experienced that with than you, Spence. And no one I will ever experience it with again. 

Your mother and I write to each other sometimes. Like remember when she went to the Grand Canyon? She may have sent you the Grand Canyon, but she sent me a turquoise necklace, which I will be keeping. She wrote to me once in the last few weeks since we broke up. I can’t answer. I can’t send her any more letters, it doesn’t feel right; it’s no longer my place. 

So next time you visit her, show her this. I hope she doesn’t mind that I wrote in parts of it, maybe someday I’ll be able to find it in myself to write to her again and she can tell me what I missed or got wrong. Give her a hug for me Spence, and tell her I’m sorry, I wish I could come in person to tell her, but I can’t. Tell her I already miss her. I know how happy she was for us, how excited she was about... well everything. How excited we all were. Tell her I’m sorry that I couldn’t do it. Thank her for making you who you are, the most amazing man alive. Tell her it’s been a privilege, because it has been. I mean that.”

Spencer cracked open the book and admired your dog-eared pages and highlighted bits, reading your annotations and rough translations of old English to modern English. He sighed and slid his fingers down the pages. His chest tightened as if he should cry, but no tears could fall anymore. Instead, he stood up and put the book on a shelf, where one day he’d read it again to remember that weekend. To remember you. He walked slowly back to the kitchen, filled his mug again and went to find the box.

(part 6)

tags! (if you would like to be added just let me know!): @l0ve-0f-my-life @aperrywilliams @helloniallslovelies @random-ravings @ajwantsapancake @boiled-onionrings @andiebeaword @frnks-stuff  

#spencer reid #spencer x you #spencer reid fic #spencer #spencer reid smut #reid #reid x you #mgg #mgg fanfiction #criminal minds #cm #dr spencer reid #spencer reid self insert

[degenerate-perturbation]

Ultimate Good Omens Fic Recommendations

I read the entire AO3 archive. I started sometime in November 2018 and read all the way back to 1999. I did not read every story, but I tried. Here are my recommendations.

(Most Good Omens fic is very good, which is why I bothered to read the entire archive instead of just scrolling through the first few pages, despairing, and giving up, which is what I usually do when I read fanfiction. So if your fic is not here, congratulations! I probably still read it and liked it but this post is already very long.)

My Absolute Top Favorites

Deus Ex Machina by clockwork_spider -  Angels really aren't the most sentimental bunch, so when Crowley was escorted back to Hell, Aziraphale's initial reaction was to do nothing. But let it be known that God moves in ineffable ways.

Tryst On a Hot Church Roof by Macdicilla -  Crowley has some fantasies. Aziraphale encourages him to explore them and not to be embarrassed. Neither of them can really take roleplay seriously but they still have a good time.

Re-Recalled by Jennistar -  Halfway through an argument, Aziraphale gets accidentally discorporated and doesn't come back. Crowley does the sensible thing and panics.

The love that dare not speak its name by Lunasong365, sous_le_saule  -  London, late nineteenth century. Aziraphale finds that time moves slowly while waiting for Crowley to wake up. Meeting Oscar Wilde should break the monotony. But perhaps it will bring more of a change than the angel anticipated…

Safe Haven by JAMoczo -  A remix of Prodigal Son: January 1945; Aziraphale has a crisis of Faith.

(The rest below the cut, in convenient categories)

General

Five Things That Never Happened To Aziraphale by imperfectcircle - Five things.

Down to the Earth with Violence by Daegaer -  Crowley and Aziraphale meet after the end of the world.

Coming to an Arrangement by Daegaer  - The long, slow path to the Arrangement.

Act of Redemption by copperbadge -  After the world failed to end, Crowley got depressed.

Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot by xylodemon -  In which Crowley starts over. Again, and again, and again.

A Few Conversations, Which are Mostly Related to Christmas by xylodemon - In which there is cocoa, conversation, and more Christmas cheer than Crowley think is strictly necessary.

The Ghost and A. J. Crowley by Argyle -  A heartwarming tale of grisly ghost plants and fearsome floral apparitions. Has Crowley finally met his match? Will Aziraphale come to the rescue? And just how difficult is it to remove dirt stains from white carpet?

Five Meetings (Steps in the Fall and Rise to Grace) by icarus_chained -  GO Noir AU. Bad things are brewing in the City of Angels, and one tired ex-cop is stuck in the middle of it.

How to Make Friends and Influence Flora aka Radio Four Never Mentioned This by WinterEyes -  The Fear of Crowley isn't all it's cracked up to be

Suntne Angeli? by Macdicilla -  Adam answers the question of whether angels need to eat and drink, and accidentally creates a major change in the (pants) fabric of reality.

Field Agents by Lunasong365, sous_le_saule -  How did ‘Human’ Resources (both Demonic and Angelic) recruit Crawly and Aziraphale to be field agents? Is it a coincidence that they both found themselves back on Earth after leaving the Garden of Eden?

The Devil Went Down to Georgia by ImprobableDreams900 -  Now Crowley went down to Georgia, he was looking for a soul to steal, cause he was in a bind and way behind and he was willing to make a deal.

Major Failings by irisbleufic -  It was quick and messy, the sort of thing that took you off-guard no matter how many beheadings, torture stints, and vivisections you'd seen otherwise. Actually, Crowley wasn't certain how many of any of those he'd actually seen. He tended to lower his eyes or look away at the last second. This was also a major failing in a demon.

Pre-Relationship

Gavotte by bunnyfication -  Crowley sleeps a decade or a few, and suddenly Aziraphale is dressing fashionably? And asking him to a dance at a club with a "select clientele"? Clearly something is amiss.

Something About Flamingos by Plumbeo -  Aziraphale and Crowley have a petty, stupid, pointless fight. After four days of not talking to each other, the angel decides to break the silence - in an equally stupid way.

it giveth light unto all in the house (the let's have some wine remix) by pocky_slash -  There's loving Crowley the way he loves their waiter at the café and the ducks in St. James Park and linzer tarts and there's—well.

growing season by ghostsoldier - In which Aziraphale kills plants, and Crowley is a generous sort of demon.

Afternoons and Espresso Spoons by Kirathaune

Home by LysanderandHermia - Crowley has a realization, and it's about the angel drooling on the couch while he sleeps.

Sweet Dreams, Angel! by sous_le_saule -  Aziraphale’s never been able to sleep. Crowley takes up the challenge.

Be Ye Therefore Merciful by AmberDiceless -  Crowley does something utterly unexpected, and Aziraphale must face an opponent who cannot be thwarted.

Saunter by Aria -  There is nothing to do but feel out of sorts, disjointed and slightly askew from the world, and watch as Aziraphale absently eats the apple, the world's hundred millionth apple, symbolic of nothing at all.

They Get Together In These Ones

And when he falls by torch -  There are many ways to celebrate having avoided the apocalypse.

The Member of the Wedding by Aja - Crowley comes to a realization.

Survivors' Guilt / For All the World by irisbleufic -  It was a dark and stormy night, and nobody was enjoying it.

Goodbody by copperbadge -  Aziraphael's new body is causing some problems.

Sunday (Or the First Day Of the Rest of Their Lives) by pollitt -  Sunday at the park

Under Cover by bliumchik -  There's a new little problem in Tadfield...

An Excellent Long-Term Solution by Beth H (bethbethbeth) - In which Hell seems more forgiving than Heaven, Aziraphale seems to have got himself into a bit of a pickle, and Crowley seems to have come up with the perfect solution, almost all on his own.

Firebird: III. Finale by htebazytook -  "In the background Crowley and Aziraphale met on the tops of buses, and in art galleries, and at concerts, compared notes, and smiled."

Old Fashioned by htebazytook -  Hell has changed.

Very Complicated Solitaire by htebazytook

Ordinary People (The Anything But Ordinary Remix) by cimorene  -  Crowley has started to take a proprietary interest in Aziraphale's bookshop.

The Speck in the London Eye by Vulgarweed -  A hot dame, a missing youth, a quirky consultant—and much much more than meets the eye at stake. Private Investigator A.J. Crowley just might be in over his head this time.

TwoFish by Grindylowe -  A love story about angels and demons. Also, fish.  

Snowy Evenings by htebazytook -  Five times Crowley couldn't stand the snow, and one time he could.

A Peculiar Sensation by Elvendork -  It happens at the Ritz: Aziraphale comes to a startling realistion, but takes it in his stride remarkably well.

As Above, So Below by JenTheSweetie - Crowley and Aziraphale talk, drink, complete paperwork, drink, fall asleep with abandon, drink, and do other stuff (maybe). And drink.

Modern Love by punkfaery -  Crowley, Aziraphale, and a series of religious buildings.

A Backwards Proposal by HoloXam -  An encounter with a bride-to-be puts an idea in Aziraphale's head. Crowley doesn't react very well.

Post-Relationship

Recall by busaikko -  RECALL: 1. To ask or order to return; 2. To summon back to awareness; 3. To remember; recollect.

That Subtle Knot by apple_pi -  I wonder. Does an angel get his wings when the bell is set off by a demon?

Never Mind the Gravitation by Argyle -  Sure, there's life on Mars. But Crowley can hardly call it living.

Flamingos by Interrobam -  "Las Vegas, Crowley had always maintained, was technically Aziraphale's fault." Crowley and Aziraphale go to Las Vegas, contemplate the history of civilization and the meaning of existence.

Snapshots by mirawonderfulstar -  Five photographs on the wall of Aziraphale’s shop.

A Resort By Any Other Name by TheLifeOfEmm -  Or in which Crowley and Aziraphale go on holiday, but have a bit of trouble with the weather.

Hell's Bells (Wedding Bells) by Macdicilla -  Hell finds out that Aziraphale and Crowley are together, and eventually Heaven does too. Hell sends its [unwelcome] congratulations.

Categorization by SleepsWithCoyotes -  Crowley calls 'em like he sees 'em.

Black Dog by HoloXam -  In which Crowley feels bad and Aziraphale makes tea.

The Flame No Dampness Dulls by mirawonderfulstar -     Aziraphale doesn't understand why Crowley's spent the last two months trying to seduce him when the demon hasn't ever shown any interest in sex.

heaven is a place where nothing ever happens by Contra -  After the end of the world, there comes a new morning.

These Ones Have Sex

Lethe For Two by SleepsWithCoyotes -  A visit from the Angel of Oblivion sounds pretty ominous, doesn't it?

Monday, Half Past Four by TruckThat -  Crowley decides that almost any course of action is justified if it manages to distract him from the fact that it's been nearly two days and so far nothing else is going wrong.

The Reason for the Season by Vulgarweed -  Adam and Pepper, now married with children of their own, worry that their kids might be losing some of the magic of the season. Adam calls in a little favour from some old friends - with a nice little bonus that's in it for them.

No Such Thing by irisbleufic -  "You mean [Agnes] was trying to reassure us the whole time that the world wasn't, in fact, going to end?"

Historical

Casual as Birds by apple_pi -  Aziraphale and Crowley in London, 1944.

New Day (The Dreaming of You Remix) by Daegaer -  Ettore dreams of friendship and love.

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by Argyle - The Devil has all the best tunes. (London, 1940)

Theatrical Sins: A Play in Three Acts by Aria -  "What did you do?" Crowley asked in horror, the first time he saw Aziraphale after sleeping away most of the nineteenth century.

Natural Laws by Argyle -  Every object in the Universe attracts every other object. (Lincolnshire, 1665)

Species, Origins by bliumchik -  A prehistoric chat.

Lessons in Falling by Argyle -  You never forget how. (London, 1866/1899)

The Visible Universe by Argyle -  It was not a remarkable day. (England, 1928)

How Crowley Saved Christmas by such_heights -  It was 1842, and Aziraphale really didn’t want to do it.

Letters by inabathrobe for miss_narla -  Aziraphale and Crowley burn letters and bridges.

Myths Will Be Myths by palavreado -  Aziraphale says goodbye to an old friend.

On Transmutation (and Tortoises) by Vermin_Disciple -  c. 1859. In which Aziraphale reads the latest bestseller, and he and Crowley take a trip to the Galapagos.  

i wanted to hurt you but the victory is that i could not stomach it by gyzym

Three Times Aziraphale Was Almost Too Much Of A Bastard To Be Worth Liking by feverbeats -  They have to stop meeting like this.

Safe Haven by JAMoczo -  A remix of Prodigal Son: January 1945; Aziraphale has a crisis of Faith.

In der H'lle by Copinggoggles -  Snapshot in the trenches.

Hell Is Empty by bemusedlybespectacled (ardentintoxication) -  Crowley goes to investigate this Inquisition he supposedly helped to start and finds Aziraphale instead.

And All The Devils Are Here by bemusedlybespectacled (ardentintoxication) -  Aziraphale is taken in by the Inquisition for witchcraft and finds help from an unexpected source.

The Widening Gyre by Vulgarweed -  In the spring of 1916, some in London and Dublin were fighting a war on two fronts. Three, if you include the heart. (Too long a sacrifice can make a stone of it.)

Bacchanalia by furchte_die_schildkrote -  The first time Crowley was kissed by an angel, Aziraphale had wine on his breath, a nearly full moon hung in the sky, and Rome was burning.

Carmina Burana by Lunasong365 - Carmina Burana has been described as: Profane. Sensual. Irreverent. Satirical of religion.So why was its source text discovered in a monastery?

The Fourteenth Century by Elsinore_and_Inverness -  An Angel, a Demon and the Crisis of the Late Middle Ages

“O Serpent heart… Fiend Angelical, Dove Feather Raven” -William Shakespeare (R&J, 3.2.74-76) by Elsinore_and_Inverness -  'There are no sonnets immortalizing a demon with eyes like the sun. This is probably just as well.'

Don't Mind You Under My Skin by 50artists -  Five times that Crowley tempted Aziraphale (with mixed success), and one time Aziraphale tempted him.

Biblical

It Came Upon A Midnight Clear by Daegaer

Over the Face of all the Earth by Daegaer - The Tower of Babel seemed like a good idea at the time . . .

Father of Nations by Daegaer -  Crowley and Aziraphale keep having dealings with the same family.

Thirteen Ways of Looking at an Apple by Argyle -  In which one thing leads to another, and the Garden awakens.

build me a city, call it jerusalem by gyzym -  Man begets man begets The Tales of Men, and there's nothing godly in that; Those Above and Them Below haven't any need for the stories humans have been hungry for since the snake and the Angel with the flaming sword.

for I am come to send fire on the earth by tomato_greens -  The worst of it was that Crowley had already received a commendation, gleaming, from Below.

And Find for Herself a Place to Rest by tomato_greens -  So long as you avoided the thorns, it was a nice tree.

Another One Bites the Dust by diefiend -  Crowley and Aziraphale and the Crucifixion.

Other Characters

Revisited and Riding Out by Patrick Phelan

Of Woman Born by slythwolf -  A brief biography of Adam's biological mother.

Pennies From Heaven (Pound Notes From Hell) by Ineffabilitea -  Warlock just wants to feel special again.

Forgotten, As A Dream by Clodius Pulcher (Clodia) -  "They'll be back. They're never far away..." Pippin Galadriel Moonchild, aged eleven and a half, dreams red. Or rather, Red.

Good Help is Hard to Find, or The Hazards of Reading Prophecy by Fleur Rochard (fleurrochard), somnolentblue -  Wherein Aziraphale hires a shop assistant.

Love Me Tender by tomato_greens -  Bright lights and ice cream: what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Except when it doesn't.

Memory Yields by Interrobam -  The thing about being destined to bring about the apocalypse when you're eleven was that no one quite made plans for how you were supposed to go about the rest of your life.

The Morning After the Morning After the End of the World by Aegialia -  Anathema moves on and figures herself out.

In which Adam challenges Crowley to a drinking contest and it is a terrible idea by Macdicilla -  It is a rather foolish thing to set a bet with the devil, or even with a devil, unless you have an ace—or better yet, all the aces in the deck—up your sleeve.

Anything by LoveChilde -  About ten years after the world didn’t end, Pippin Galadriel Moonchild meets an angel. Or maybe just a harmless homosexual. They have tea.

Forgive Those Who Trespass by JAMoczo -  Crowley and Shadwell share Madame Tracy and Aziraphale for a week. God help us all.

Crossovers

The Nice and Accurate Adventures of Aziraphale in Ankh-Morpork by Glinda -  All truly good second-hand bookshops are really genteel black-holes that have learned how to read.

Bargain Breakfast by Daegaer -  Crowley gets a suspicious sort of customer.

The Corsair of Carcosa by Vulgarweed -  Aziraphale gets his hands on a rare copy of the play The King in Yellow. Reading and its consequences ensue.

#good omens #fic recs #i am very very picky about characterization and prose quality and also i hate fanfiction tropes #but most good omens fics are good and i think these ones are really great

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

Boston Boys [Part Eleven]

Summary: John tells his brother about his relationship with Aurelie; Chris discusses Elsa’s shop visit with his sister.  Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 1919 Chapter Warnings: Angst? Square Filled: The entire series (well, bits and pieces of it) will fill my Crossover square for @marvelfluffbingo​​. A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :)

Boston Boys Masterlist

Glancing at his watch, John winced. If he didn’t leave soon, he was going to miss his appointment. The bar was starting to pick up, but a close friend was coming to cover for him, and he had his two best bartenders working the counter. Along with some seasoned waitresses, he was sure that everything was going to run smooth, even in his absence.

Jenna Fischer, a longtime friend he had known since grade school, knocked on the doorframe of the office before hurriedly shedding her jacket. “Hey, sorry I’m cutting it close! The babysitter was late.”

“No worries,” John assured, “I really appreciate you being here. Cash for the sitter is in an envelope in the desk, as promised. Ed and Rainn are at the bar, Kate and Mindy are waitressing. You should be covered with the five of you, but if you hit an emergency, let me know, I’ll come back.”

Jenna finished hanging up her coat and purse. “We’re gonna be fine, John. You’ve got important things to do.”

“Yeah, they are important,” John agreed. He kissed her cheek, then rushed out to meet his brother.

Paul was already waiting in front of the jewelry store. John yelled his name and waved, jogging to catch up to where his brother was standing.

“Sorry, Jenna was running behind.”

“Don’t worry about it, I got here only a couple seconds ago. You gonna tell me why we’re here?”

John nodded. “Yeah, over dinner. Let’s go inside here, first.”

Paul shrugged and followed his brother into the store. They browsed over necklaces and earrings, the usual diamond solitaire engagement rings.

“Is that what you’re looking for?” Paul asked, surprised that his brother hadn’t even told him much about this girl, let alone that he was thinking about getting married.

“Something like it,” John said, taking in a deep breath. “It’s complicated, but I want to make a lot of promises to this girl. Big promises.”

“Who is this girl, Johnny?”

John pursed his lips. “Her name is Aurelie. She’s a trauma doctor at MassGen. She’s amazing. She’s deaf, but we communicate fine -- her cochlear implant works well, I’m learning to sign. She has a little hearing in one ear. Most importantly, though, when I’m with her, none of the family shit matters.”

“She sounds like a winner,” Paul congratulated, clapping his brother on the back. “So, let’s find her something she really deserves.”

John smiled. He was going to enjoy his brother’s happiness for him while he could. It took another forty-five minutes, but he spotted exactly what he was looking for. After making his purchase, he and Paul headed to a restaurant for dinner.

“All right,” Paul prompted after they had their beers and were waiting on their food. “Tell me what’s so complicated with the doc.”

John licked his lips. “Her family doesn’t exactly approve of our relationship, I guess you could say.”

“Why not? There’s no reason not to like you, brother.”

“It’s not me, exactly,” John sighed, “but our whole family.”

“They’ve never met us.”

Running a hand through his hair, John leaned forward on the table. “Paul, you really gonna make me come out and say it?”

Paul raised his brow and shrugged.

“All right then.” John chugged down half his beer, then set the glass back down and leaned forward again. “Her mom was married to Robbie Evans.”

The information took several seconds for Paul to process. About the time the realization sunk in, their food came. Paul was silent while the waiter set the plates in front of them. He looked anywhere but at his brother. Once the waiter was out of earshot, Paul leaned forward, too.

“I know you’ve always wanted out, but this isn’t the way to do it, you know. Let the Evans family find out. Let Downey find out. You’re done for, Johnny.”

John shook his head. “It’s been going on for months and no one knows -- Jenna knows. That’s it. And it isn’t about getting out, P. I wanted her before I realized who her family is -- she knows who my family is, of course. It doesn’t matter, to either of us. I want as much of a life with her as I can have. She’s distanced from them pretty well, which makes it that much easier.”

“I’m glad you’re happy,” Paul ceded, “but you know Chris is gonna kill you when he finds out.”

John snorted. “Yeah, I’m aware of that.”

“Listen. You give her that ring, you better make sure you’re ready for the commitment you’re asking her to make, and for the risk you’re both taking. I’m happy for you. I am. You tell Kev when you’re ready, and Ma. Just make sure that you’re sure she’s worth it.”

Finally, John had a reason in the conversation to smile. “She’s worth it. She’s more than worth it.”

Paul smiled, too. The brothers dug into their meals and put the serious conversation behind them.

Her lunch break couldn’t come fast enough today. Aurelie could feel that summer virus sneaking up on her, and she was trying to work as many hours as possible before she had to start giving up shifts. Chris had messaged earlier that he wanted to talk, so when she got the chance, she headed to meet him in the cafeteria.

“Scarlett knows.”

Aurelie frowned and her heart stopped. “Knows what?”

“About Elsa.” A breath of relief. “She surprised me at the shop. None of the others remember her, but Scarlett of course remembers her. Warned me that Elsa’s gonna find out sooner or later.”

“She’s not wrong.”

Chris pursed his lips. “Thanks for the encouragement.”

“When have I ever sugar-coated things for you? I told you from the time I saw you two together in Attleboro that you’re taking a risk. I know that you love her, Chris, but you hurt her before you really met her.”

“I’m gonna tell her.”

“How? When?” Aurelie looked to the ceiling before looking back at her brother. “You’ve set yourself up in a bad situation. You’re damned if you do, damned if you don’t. I know this all sounds negative, but I don’t want you to be heartbroken in the middle of all of this, too.”

Chris frowned and reached out for his sister’s hand. “Hey, hey. Why’re you crying? You never cry. I don’t remember the last time I saw you cry.”

Aurelie swiped at the traitorous tears with her free hand. “You don’t understand how important you are to me. You’re putting yourself in the middle of one hell of a mess. You’re putting your entire life at risk.”

“I get that.” He let go of her hand. “After my birthday, I’m going to meet Elsa’s family in New York. She’s already there. After a few days with her family, we’re going to spend a week in Maine. Before we come home, I’m gonna tell her. I don’t know how yet, but I don’t want to hide this from her. I’m falling for her, and I can’t tell her I love her if it’s not clean.”

“Well, I’m proud of you for that, anyway.”

They talked for a while longer, while Aurelie finished her food. She had a feeling it wasn’t going to settle well, but she didn’t know if that was because of the virus, or the overwhelming guilt at telling Chris to be honest when she was still hiding secrets from him.

Happy birthday, big brother. Don’t have too much fun tonight.

Aurelie sent the text, then put her phone back in her bag. She was in the passenger seat of John’s car, heading toward the diner in Attleboro. They had gone out together several times in Boston, without incident, but the fear of someone from either of their families finding them together was too much to allow them to enjoy their time together. From then on, they had agreed to only go out together in Attleboro, and otherwise spend their time together at one house or the other.

Thanks, sis. I’ll be careful. Talk soon.

The text message reply from Chris pulled Aurelie back to the present. With a deep breath and a long exhale, she smiled at John.

“It’s Chris’s birthday. They’re having a big thing over at Stan’s Pub.”

John took her hand. “Do you wish you were there?”

Aurelie thought about that carefully before she answered. She squeezed his hand and assured, “Nah. I’m right where I wanna be.”

John smiled back at her and continued on the drive. By the time they arrived in Attleboro, Aurelie was quiet and her thoughts far away again. John helped her out of the car; Aurelie frowned.

“Are they open?”

“Yeah, they’re open.” He tossed his head in the direction of the diner. “C’mon.”

Lacing her fingers through his, Aurelie followed behind John into the place. It was mostly empty, and the lights were dimmed. The same table where they had sat for their first date here was set with candles and short-stem roses in the center. Aurelie’s thoughts came back down to earth, and she grinned.

“Is it just us?” she asked.

“It’s just us,” John confirmed.

He motioned for her to sit across from him in the booth, and the waitress brought them water glasses right away, followed by two glass flutes and a bottle of champagne. John popped the cork and poured some for both of them. The waitress took their orders, then left them to their private conversation.

“I’m sorry to ask so many questions,” Aurelie began, “but are we celebrating something I’m not aware of?”

John chuckled. “Just celebrating us. There’s a lot we still have to overcome if we want to move forward, but I want to do that with you. I want to move forward with you.”

Aurelie took another deep breath; it was all she could do in the moment to keep breathing. “I want to move forward with you, too.”

“That’s the best thing you could say,” he said, nodding. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a jewelry box; when he opened it, Aurelie was taken with the pretty ring seated inside. “I’m not -- this is not what you might think it is. I mean, it is, but not in the traditional sense. I’m not just proposing marriage, I’m proposing a future. Being together wherever we want. Moving in together. Getting married and having kids, eventually. I’m promising you, Aurelie, that I’m here for you, for the future. Whatever it may bring. I love you, kid.”

Aurelie wiped a tear from her eye. She was doing far too much crying lately, but her heart was hanging on every word John said -- and living by the parts that he had picked up enough vocabulary to sign. “I love you, too, Johnny.”

John’s smile was the stuff of pure happiness. He took her hand and pushed the ring onto the appropriate finger. Aurelie smiled down at the ring, staring at it for so long, she didn’t even notice the waitress delivering their food to the table. Her thoughts were reeling and by the time she could tear her eyes from the ring, she knew that she had to be honest with John.

“Are you happy?” John asked.

Aurelie nodded. “Indescribably happy. But, John, before we get too far into tonight, there’s something I have to tell you.”

His smile began to fade as he nodded and dragged his hand over his face. “Yeah. I’ve got something to tell you, too.”

AlloftheThings: @captain-s-rogers​​​​​​​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​​​​​​@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​​​​​​ @hurricanerin​​​​​​​@horsesandbandsforlife​​​​​​​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​​​​​​​ @captain-rogers-beard​​​​​​​ @shynara51​​​​​​​ @sea040561​​​​​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​​​​​ @xtina2191​​​​​​​ @jackryanplz​​​​​​​ @beakami​​​​​​​ @heartsaved​​​​​​​@fullprunerebelstatesman​​​​​​​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl​​​​​​​

Boston Boys:  @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​​​​​​​ @becs-bunker​​​​​​​ @shield-agent78​​​​​​​ @patzammit​​​​​​​ @crazyandanonymous4u​​​​​​​@ntlmundy​​​​​​​​ @jennmurawski13​​​​​​​​ @okay-maybe-i-like-marvel-too​​​​​​​

#marvelfluffbingo2020 #chris evans #john krasinski #fanfiction #crossover #criminal!au

[keichanz]

Another Day in Hell || Ch. 5

this chapter is for @noanieactuallydrawingalot​. i still absolutely love that amazing art you drew for this story and i’m forever thankful and sooo glad you’re enjoying this story!!! <3 

also wanna give a shoutout to my girl @cammysansstuff​ because she’s been reading and supporting this story since day one and it means the world to me. <3

Read on AO3

Ch. 1 || Ch. 2 || Ch. 3 || Ch. 4 || Ch. 5

The following days were spent in a mixture of more random small talk, light banter – Inuyasha was quick to discover that Kagome was fucking feisty when riled up, and likewise Kagome learned the half-demon had a wit that nearly matched her own – and some light weapons maintenance training. Kagome sometimes went with Inuyasha when he had to leave for some reason or another, whether it be searching for supplies, killing some nuisance deadies (helpfully stabbing some that Inuyasha felled), or inspecting the store for any security breaches or evidence of any unknown presence. Most of the time, however, she stayed behind, letting her shoulder heal and doing her part to keep the space tidy.

Kagome was able to recognize the voices that came out of the radio whenever Inuyasha talked with one of his friends. Most of the time it was the ones called Slayer and Monk, though sometimes a voice that went by Cane came through. Those conversations were always interesting; it seemed that Inuyasha didn’t exactly get along with this Cane guy and they were constantly tossing insults at each other. Kagome suspected they were both purposely trying to piss the other off and while strange – and if she were being honest, somewhat childish – it was also highly amusing.

It was after a particular conversation between him and Monk in which they discussed a rogue and the issue of trusting them with a fawn (??) that Kagome had asked why had had given his real name when he met her and not his alias. Inuyasha had seemed surprised at first, but then he’d shrugged and simply said he’d needed to get her to trust him. Doubtful she would if he’d lied right off the bat and given her a false name.

She’d digested that in silence, though the smile on her face suggested she appreciated that he had, in fact, been true with her from the start.

It was getting easier to be alone now, for which she was grateful, and while she still felt some lingering anxiety whenever she paid too much attention to how long he’d been gone, it was easily manageable. To pass the time, she played cards with an old deck she’d found while sneakily nosing through the stuff Inuyasha had collected over the months. A lot of the time whenever he returned during one of her games, he’d sit down and join her and they’d have the rowdiest, loudest games of Bullshit ever.

It was tons of fun though despite it being just the two of them, and more often than not Kagome was left gasping for breath from laughing too hard.

It was the day before two of Inuyasha’s friends were supposed to show up to take over watching the store and Kagome was in the middle of a rather boring game of Solitaire when the radio crackled to life. So used to the silence of the basement during Inuyasha’s absences, she jumped in her seat with a startled gasp and snapped her gaze to stare at the device where it sat on the table in front of her.

“Ash, come in.”

She blinked. Slayer, she thought, recognizing the feminine voice. Kagome’s brow furrowed slightly; the woman had sounded slightly out of breath and a tad harried. Was everything okay?

“Ash, do you read?” Slayer’s voice came over again and Kagome detected a smidge of impatience.

She bit her lip and glanced at the ceiling door. Inuyasha had been gone for about forty-five minutes and was due back in another fifteen, however it was always unpredictable when his exact arrival would be.

“Dammit, Ash—” Slayer cut herself off with a grunt and Kagome’s frown deepened as she stared thoughtfully at the two-way. That hadn’t sounded very good at all... 

“Come back or so help me god I’ll feed all your precious ramen to the stupid zombies!”

Kagome’s eyebrows rose at the rather...unique threat and her lips twitched. Over the past few days she had also learned of Inuyasha’s fervent love – or maybe obsession was a more accurate term – for the noodles and had he been around to hear it she was fairly certain that particular threat would get his ass in gear. The man liked his ramen.

A few more seconds ticked by and the device remained silent. Kagome watched it for another five seconds before shrugging and going back to her game, figuring Slayer must have realized Inuyasha wasn’t around. Putting the five of hearts on top of the six of spades, Kagome idly wondered what had happened and hoped that it was nothing bad—

“Answer me right now, you goddamn prick!”

The shriek coming from the tiny speaker startled Kagome so badly she nearly fell out of her chair and with a gasp, she didn’t think as she reached over and snatched up the radio.

“Uh, er, h-hello?” Kagome spoke into the mic, wincing at how uncertain she sounded.

She received no response and she bit her lip before continuing a little more bravely, “Um, Slayer, right? I’m sorry, Ash isn’t around right now, but I can pass along a message if you’d like?”

She released the switch and waited anxiously, hoping the woman wouldn’t be mad that she’d answered and not the half-demon. A few seconds later the two-way crackled to life and Slayer’s voice, much more composed, came through.

“Hi,” she said amiably and Kagome relaxed. “You must be that woman Ash has told us about. Uh, yeah, I’m Slayer.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry you had to hear that...usually he picks up right away so I thought he was deliberately ignoring me. He’s done it before, usually when he’s in a mood.”

Kagome could practically hear the other woman’s eyes rolling and she couldn’t stifle the snicker that bubbled up. “I’ve only known him for a few days, but I know exactly what you mean.”

“I think we’ll get along just fine,” Slayer replied and Kagome could hear the smile in her voice. “Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to go. I did have a reason for contacting him and it’s kinda urgent, so could you please tell him to contact me when he gets back?”

“Of course,” Kagome returned without hesitation, frown back in place. She wanted to ask if everything was okay, but knew it wasn’t her place yet so she refrained. “He should be back in about ten minutes or so. I’ll let him know right away.”

“Thank you,” Slayer said, relief evident in her voice, but there was also an edge to it that was more than a little concerning. “It was nice meeting you...sorta.” A soft laugh floated from the speaker and Kagome echoed it.

“Ditto,” she said and the radio fell silent once more.

Worrying her bottom lip again, Kagome set the two-way on the table and sighed, staring down at the cards on the table. She’d scattered them slightly when she’d been startled from the radio suddenly coming to life so she started gathering them into a pile and stacking them back to replace into the ripped cardboard box.

She had just decided to get in a little PT for her shoulder when the ceiling hatch flipped open and Inuyasha dropped inside with a grunt. His shirt was bloody, which meant he’d had to utilize the sword at his hip – Tessaiga, if she recalled correctly – and Kagome hoped whatever he’d had to cut down was already dead.

She tipped him a smile and sat down on the bed. “Hi.”

He flicked her a glance, grunted, and promptly shed his shirt, unceremoniously dropping it to the floor before digging around for a clean one.

Kagome’s face flamed and though she told herself to look away, her eyes took in his muscled back with unveiled appreciation, catching a glimpse of his chest as he straightened to pull a t-shirt over his head. Hastily she looked away and desperately hoped he hadn’t caught her checking him out. Good lord, but the man was ripped.

“Um, Slayer needs to talk to you,” Kagome said. “She sounded a little weird, so I answered her back on the radio. She said it was urgent.”

Inuyasha frowned and picked up the two-way. “Weird, how?”

Kagome shook her head. “Like she was out of breath and, I don’t know...agitated?”

Nodding, not really liking the sound of that, Inuyasha depressed the switch and spoke into the mic, “Ash to Slayer, come in.”

Her reply was immediate. “Took your sweet time,” she quipped.

He rolled his eyes. “What happened? You said it was urgent.”

Never one to beat around the bush, Sango cut right to the chase. “Monk’s hurt,” she said and even Kagome could pick up on the concern in her voice. “We ran into a group of people that threatened to kill us if we didn’t hand over our weapons and supplies and Monk got a cut in his arm that I think needs stitches.”

“So why don’t you—”

“We ran out last week, Ash,” she cut him off, sounding impatient. “Remember? Because Cane is a fucking idiot and used the last of it so he didn’t bleed out after that stupid stunt he pulled?”

Inuyasha cursed because yeah, he remembered. “Fucking wolf,” he muttered.

“Besides,” Slayer continued, voice soft. “You’re the only one I trust to do it right. It’s Monk, Ash.”

Inuyasha closed his eyes and sighed, thrusting a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he rumbled, grimacing. “I know. Alright, fine, but Thing One and Two are gonna hafta—”

“They’re already on their way,” she interrupted and the relieved gratitude in her voice was unmistakable. “Left about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Copy. See you soon.”

“Back atcha.”

Inuyasha stared thoughtfully down at the two-way radio for a moment before shaking his head and placing it back on the dock to charge. Ginta and Hakkaku, otherwise known as Thing One and Thing Two, were the biggest scatterbrains he knew and often forgot to put it back on the dock to charge at the end of the night. At least now it would have a halfway decent charge before they carted it around everywhere.

“Looks like you’ll be meeting everyone a day early,” he said as he turned back around, one hand on his hip while the other racked through his hair. When all Kagome did was toss him a distracted smile before adopting her look of pensive concern again, Inuyasha frowned and then crossed his arms.

“What is it?” he asked. He’d gotten to know the young woman pretty well in the past few days and he could tell something was bothering her now.

Her eyes flashed to his at the question and she worried her bottom lip. He cocked a brow, wondering what it could possibly be to make her this hesitant, then she sighed and really, he should have expected what came out of her mouth next.

“Those people,” Kagome began quietly, her gaze searching his, but for what he didn’t know, “that...Slayer was talking about, who wanted their weapons. Did...were they...killed?”

Kagome didn’t fail to notice the way Inuyasha visibly tensed, and when all he did was clench his jaw and harden his stare, she had her answer.

“So,” Kagome said some twenty minutes later and tilted her head, giving him a sidelong glance as her lips twitched. “Thing One and Two?”

From where he stood by the edge of the shop’s roof, keeping a lookout for a huge black truck and straining his ears for the sound of a diesel engine, Inuyasha glanced to his right and studied the profile of the woman that stood beside him. His gaze met hers for an instant before she looked away, back toward the deadened land that surrounded them and the even deader figures that wandered it. A few of them dotted the landscape here and there, but not enough to be a concern, so they more or less went ignored.

Inuyasha’s brows dipped into a slight frown. He knew it was still bothering her. She tried to hide it behind vague smiles and forced laughter, but he could see the strain around her eyes, the way she unconsciously worried her lip and seemed to lose herself in thought. He didn’t like that she was so obviously troubled by this, and several times now he had to stop himself from reassuring her or spewing out complete bullshit just to see a genuine smile on her face again.

Because the fact of the matter was, anything he could say wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference because this was something she had to work out by herself. He knew she didn’t relish the thought of killing someone in cold blood – hell, he was willing to bet his ramen stash she was the type of person who caught insects in her house and released them back outside – but unfortunately, that was the way of the world now. You had to kill in order to survive and she was just going to have to accept that on her own terms, no matter how harsh it sounded.

Inuyasha knew she would. Kagome was strong; maybe not in body, but definitely in will and heart, and he was confident she would come around in time. And until that time finally came around, Inuyasha would be there to protect her and offer his assistance whenever necessary.

“You’ll understand when you meet them,” he finally answered, lifting a brow. “Otherwise they’re known as Smokey and Bandit.”

Kagome actually did a double take at that and her mouth dropped slightly.

“Yeah,” Inuyasha muttered, knowing exactly what she was thinking. “I know. And yes, it was deliberate. I swear to God they’re joined at the hip. Not once in the entire time I’ve known them have I ever seen them apart. Also they’re bona fide idiots.”

“Don’t be rude.”

He shrugged, unapologetic. “You’ll see,” he said and the distant rumble of a diesel engine had him turning his gaze back to the road.

Not ten seconds later he spotted the familiar black dually weaving between the abandoned vehicles on the road, the twin silver stacks rising up on either side of the cab clearly visible. The truck was lifted and altogether a motherfucking powerhouse and Inuyasha loved the thing. His own vehicle had been stolen long ago when everything started but it wasn’t a huge loss; the sedan had been on its last legs anyway and he wasn’t sorry to see it go.

This monster, however, Inuyasha had pretty much claimed as his own, everybody knew it, and he’s not going to lie: he was going be fucking devastated if something happened to it. He considered it a bonus that it was a zombie killing machine and hell yeah it was fun mowing them down with the modified grill he’d fashioned himself. Reminiscent of a pilot that was usually found on trains, the heavy steel frame easily cleared anything in front of it and it was arguably the best idea he’d ever had.

While Inuyasha raised a hand and waved, gesturing for them to drive around back to the loading dock, Kagome came up beside him and gawked at the six-wheeled monstrosity.

Inuyasha caught the look on her face and grinned proudly.

“Beauty, ain’t she?” he boasted and watched as Hakkaku, in the passenger’s seat, threw him a thumbs up as Ginta turned the wheel to go around back.

“It’s huge,” Kagome mumbled, frowning. “Is it yours?”

“More or less,” he answered and gently took her elbow to guide her to the other side of the roof. “I found it shortly after my own car was stolen, cleaned it up, made it better, so as far as I’m considered it’s mine now. Doesn’t hurt that it’s a beast and a definite upgrade from what I had before.”

The two wolves were just backing up to the loading dock and hooking an arm around Kagome’s waist, Inuyasha murmured a word of warning before hopping down to the ground. Predictably the roar of the diesel truck had attracted a number of deadies and Inuyasha told her to stay put before unsheathing Tessaiga and getting to work.

And as always, Kagome watched in awe as the half-demon darted from zombie to zombie and she couldn’t help but think that he was truly a sight to behold as he swung that huge sword of his around. Bodies fell at an alarming rate and there wasn’t a hitch in his stride, zero hesitation as he cut down the undead with a practiced ease that was almost frightening.

“Pretty amazing, isn’t he?” a voice said to her right and Kagome managed to tear her gaze away from the half-demon to find one of the inhabitants of the truck standing beside her, his gray eyes friendly.

“Don’t tell anybody, but I’ve always thought Ash can give Cane a run for his money any day,” the wolf demon said with a mischievous grin and Kagome blinked in surprise.

“Don’t let either of them hear you say that, or you’ll never hear the end of it!” another voice piped up and Kagome shifted her gaze to find wolf demon number two standing in the bed of the truck. The first thing she noticed about him was his blonde mohawk tipped with red and she thought the look suited him.

The one beside her, a tad shorter than she was with hair the same shade as his eyes and streaked with black, snickered and offered her another wide grin.

“Nah, he’s too busy showing off to hear,” he chortled and Kagome had to smile. “And Iris was bitching out Cane again when we left so doubtful he’d even care if he knew.”

“His face was so red!” Mohawk crowed as he hoped down from the bed and landed beside Gray Eyes.

“But from anger or shame, it was hard to tell!”

While the two men laughed at the expense of Cane, Kagome stood there staring between the two of them with a bewildered look on her face, not sure exactly what to say and wondering if they even remembered she was standing there. She suddenly understood why Inuyasha called them Thing One and Two.

And as if on cue, said half-demon sauntered over and barked, “Would you idiots knock it off and introduce yourselves already? Fuck’s sake, how that wolfshit puts up with you two I have no idea,” he muttered as he bypassed them and entered the backdoor to open the bay in order to load the truck.

As one the two wolf demons looked at each other, blinked, then broke into wide grins before abruptly spinning around to face her so fast Kagome took an involuntary step back.

“Our apologies, miss!” they said simultaneously and Kagome could do nothing but stand there and gape as together they took the same stance, legs akimbo with thumbs pointing at their chests, and plastered on matching, toothy grins.

“I’m Smokey, I have dimples!” the gray haired one said proudly.

“And I’m Bandit, the shrewd one!” Mohawk declared, then to Kagome’s utter bewilderment, they performed an odd sort of synchronized dance with fake fighting that reminded Kagome of a bad action film. They concluded it by striking what they probably assumed were power poses but in reality made them look ridiculous.

Well, more ridiculous.

“And together, we’re Smokey and the Bandit!” they chorused and it was glaringly obvious they thought they’re little show was original and awe inspiring.

So of course Kagome, after getting over her shock, smiled brightly and clapped as they blushed and bowed.

“I have to admit,” she started, a teasing note to her voice, “I was a bit disappointed when you didn’t roll up in a black Trans Am, but that definitely made up for it.”

The duo stared at her for a beat of silence before abruptly losing their shit, jumping up and down, talking loudly over one another and basically just acting like rabid fangirls over the fact that Kagome understood the reference and where they’d gotten the names from. She stood there with a bemused smile on her face and inconspicuously inched toward the door where Inuyasha disappeared.

The truck bay door suddenly slid open, revealing Inuyasha in all of his scowling glory as he glared at the two idiots.

“You both need to shut the hell up before you attract every goddamn roamer within a mile radius and I have to explain to Cane why you morons became zombie food while I stood by and watched. Now quit wasting time, make yourself useful and help me load the truck or so help me...”

He let the threat trail off with one last glower before turning and disappearing further into the backroom to gather supplies to take back to the dojo. Bandit grimaced and muttered an apology to Kagome before scampering after him while Smokey chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Uh, sorry,” Smokey apologized with a sheepish smile. “It’s not often we meet people who share our love for classic films. Heh.”

Kagome giggled and waved off his apology. “It’s fine,” she said. “It’s a good movie and one of my favorites. I have to ask, though, you do realize—”

“Smokey, get your ass over here before I barbecue it in molasses!” Inuyasha bellowed and Kagome snorted a laugh.

The wolf demon scrambled to obey, tossing Kagome one last smile before scurrying over and taking the box of canned food from Inuyasha’s arms to hand to Hakkaku, making a train.

About half an hour later the truck was loaded up, Ginta and Hakkaku were standing in front of the open bay door and waving them off as Inuyasha and Kagome drove off in the monster of a truck. Inuyasha had had to lift her up into it since her arm was still healing and she couldn’t heave herself up but he hadn’t seemed to mind and in fact did it before she’d even asked.

Leaning out the open window and smiling back at her new friends Smokey and Bandit, Kagome waved one last time then leaned back in her seat with a sigh. They were definitely interesting characters and meeting them made her wonder what his other friends were like. She was especially eager to meet Slayer; it’d be nice to have a girlfriend to chat with again and maybe she’d be able to get some more information about Inuyasha from her.

“I like them,” she announced, reaching up to grasp the handle above her head as they bumped over rough terrain and ran over debris that couldn’t be avoided. “Now I know why you call them Thing One and Two.”

She giggled as Inuyasha snorted, but the grin on his face told of his amusement.

“Told you,” he said and hit the button to put up Kagome’s window. Some of the roamers were a little too close for comfort and he didn’t want one of them reaching in.

“I do have to wonder, though...” Kagome suddenly said and Inuyasha flicked her a brief glance before looking forward again.

“What?” he rumbled, managing to squeeze the massive truck into an alley that led back to the main road. A few roamers were standing around in it, but the mounted pilot took care of them, effortlessly plowing them down and clearing the way.

Kagome tilted her head and tipped him a smile, brown eyes flashing impishly.

“They do realize that Snowman was Bandit’s partner, and not Smokey the Sheriff?”

Inuyasha couldn’t stop the grin from spreading and he barked out a laugh.

“What we’re dealing with here,” he replied, shooting her a smirk as amber eyes glinted wickedly, “is a complete lack of respect for the law.”

Kagome threw her head back and laughed.

Ch. 6

a nod to one of my all-time favorite movies, Smokey and the Bandit. also that last line that Inuyasha says is a quote from the movie. Sheriff Buford T Justice, otherwise known as Smokey, says it to his (very dimwitted) son.

buy me a coffee? C:

#another day in hell #ch 5 #inuyasha #kagome #inukag #keizfanfiction #fanfiction #zombie apocolypse au

[sparklemichele]

Torn-25

This is the last chapter folks. Thanks to all who have been with me since day one and all the readers who came along for the ride. XXOO

Torn Masterlist

Eric was dressed in his dress suit for Abbey’s ceremony. You and your parents as well as Four, Tris and Jen was also dressed to the nines. You stood in line with Eric as you waited for Abigail’s name to be called. Once called Four and Jen joined you as her godparents. They pricked her tiny little finger and Abbey cried as her blood dropped in the burning coals. Max said some formal words and they were done. You had a small get together at your house after the ceremony and Eric was civil with everyone. After everyone left and you cleaned up you found Eric asleep with his daughter tucked under his arms. Your heart leaped. You had such a beautiful family. You softly nudged Eric to tell him you were going out.

“Where are you going?” He asked half asleep.

“I’m going out with Nova and Jen. I should not be too long. Eric nodded his head and went back to sleep snuggling Abbey.

______________________________________________________________ 

Nova held your hand as you got an intricate tattoo on your back to cover what scars did not heal well.

“You can hardly see the scars, but I understand why you want it.” Jen told you as she sipped on a mix drink.

“This will not be painful just a little uncomfortable especially with your scars.” The tattoo artist told you. You closed your eyes as he went to work. You were pleased with how it turned out. It was a massive tattoo that covered the majority of your back. It was beautiful. When you got home, Eric was up with Abbey playing. You undressed and Eric gasped at your new tattoo.

“Do you like?” You asked as you showed your back to him. “I didn’t want the scars to show.”

“It’s beautiful. I wish you would have asked me first.”

“Eric it is my body.”

Not wanting to argue Eric was silent.

 ______________________________________________________________

Weeks passed and you were back at work and in a routine with Eric and Abbey. You had made dinner and you all were comfortably eating. Well Abbey was making a mess in her highchair.

“I want to have more kids.” Eric told you before taking a bite of his dinner you just cooked. You mouth fell open and a green bean plopped back onto your plate.

“Excuse me?”

“I want a son. I only want kids with you. We can make it work. We love each other.”

“Is love enough Eric?” You successfully put more green beans in your mouth.

“I know it is. As much as we have been through there is no one else on this earth for me.”

“Maybe one day.”

“One day soon, I hope. I want Abbey to grow up with a sibling close in age. You need to stop the birth control.” Eric demanded.

“We shall see.”

“Your mom is here, and you know I will help you.”

“Eric you work to much for you to help me.”

“I will change that as I missed out on a lot with Abbey. I want to be there for my family.”

“You promise Eric you will help out more often?”

“I promise.” You nodded your head.

“No more birth control?”

“I will stop next month.” To be honest you did not mind a little boy. A little Eric walking around. Probably scaring the shit out of the other kids.

 ____________________________________________________________

You were busy folding laundry you threw in the middle of your bed when you heard Eric let himself in. He was home early.

“Daddy’s home.” You told Abbey who was bouncing in her walker. You smiled at your daughter as she giggled when she heard the word ‘daddy’.

“Hey.” Eric said to you walking in the bedroom.

“Hey back. You are home early.”

Eric walked up to you and gave you a peck on the lips and went and kissed his daughter. You went back to your laundry to finish so you can start dinner. Eric walked back up to you and placed a small black box on the bed beside your folded laundry and went to the bathroom without a word to you. You frowned at the box.

“Eric what is this?” You shouted so he can hear you in the bathroom.

“Just open it!” He shouted back irritation laced in his voice.

You picked up the box and open it. You gasped when you looked at the beautiful round cut solitaire diamond ring. It was breathtaking. You started to get lightheaded and had to sit down on the bed as you gazed at the ring.

You heard the toilet flush and the faucet sink run as he washed his hands. You stared at the bathroom door until he opened it and walked back into the room.

“Eric?” You lifted the ring to him. “What is this?”

“What does it look like Y/N?” He snapped.

“It looks like a ring. I’m trying to figure out what it’s for?”

Eric sat next to you on the bed, his eyes were soft as he gazed at you. He took his fingers and caressed your cheek.

“How can you be so beautiful and brainless at the same time.” The softness left his eyes and you saw a flicker of humor in them.

“Oh, fuck you Eric!” You laughed. Eric chuckled as he took the box out of your hand, pulled the ring out and slipped it on your left ring finger.

“We are getting married.” Eric announced. Your eyebrows raised at his assumption.

“You are not going to ask me?”

“You are mine and I am yours it’s the next logical step. What do you say? Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

You nodded yes as tears slowly ran down your face. Eric kissed them sway as he told you he loved you and Abbey and nothing in the world made him happier.

 Seven Months Later

 Four kissed your cheek and pulled you in a hug.

“I love you.” He told you as he pulled away. You heard a scoff from your husband. You looked over at him and gave him a ‘don’t fuckin start’ stare and he smirked a little before picking up Abbey.

“I love you too.” You told him honestly. Where would you be without Four. He would always be a part of your life. You gave Tris a hug and rubbed her six-month pregnant belly. I can’t believe we will be having our babies at the same time. Tris smiled.

“Yes Eric 2.0 will be walking around Dauntless.”

“Well at least we will have Four 2.0 to balance it out. You hugged Tris again your baby bumps bumping one another. You felt Your son stir in your stomach. You prayed that both kids would get along unlike their fathers. You looked at Eric who was actually holding a conversation with Four. Since your marriage Eric had tried to be civil you knew it was hard for him but Four was a permanent fixture in your life and he was not going anywhere. You looked at both men and thought back on all you three had been through. You never thought in a million years when you were at Abnegation you would fall for two Dauntless leader, have a baby and be married to the most fearless in the faction. Eric made you happy as he had cut his hours at work and spent more time with you and Abigail. He was a good father and you loved him from the deepest part of your soul.

 Finito

 _____________________________________________________________

@imgoldielikehawn​ @laketaj24​ @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol​ @readsalot73​ @titty-teetee​ @fangirlextraordinaire​ @sdcyumyum​ @regular-biitch​ @im-that-one-gurl​ @chocolatemetalprincess​ @warmchick​ @poe-slittleraven13​ @eyesof-mine​ @queenlouisa2001​ @badassbaker​ @emmysrandomthoughts​ @demoncrypt1066​ @petrashappyplace​ @captstefanbrandt​ @mimigemrose​ @lokilvrr​ @apricia​ @lacy-love​ @kmhappybunny​ @catchmeupimgettingoutofhere​ @stellaidiot​ @lilu46​ @trishevans​ @virgosapphire79​ @imagine-mix-fandoms​ @coyote-butterfly​ @purple-puddin​ @jojuarez26​ @bluelassbird​ @angolodiparadiso​ @glamlover87​ @utterlyhopeful​ @alida90​ @noobchic​ @i-thought-you-and-i​ @nickysurfer28​ @tak3th3sh0t​

#Eric Coulter #eric dauntless #divergent #four divergent #insurgent #eric insurgent #four insurgent #tris divergent #tris insurgent #eric fanfiction #eric x reader

[lullabieswrappedinlies]

Boston Boys [Part Eleven]

Summary: John tells his brother about his relationship with Aurelie; Chris discusses Elsa’s shop visit with his sister. Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 1919 Chapter Warnings: Angst? Square Filled: The entire series (well, bits and pieces of it) will fill my Crossover square for @marvelfluffbingo​​. A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :)

Boston Boys Masterlist

Glancing at his watch, John winced. If he didn’t leave soon, he was going to miss his appointment. The bar was starting to pick up, but a close friend was coming to cover for him, and he had his two best bartenders working the counter. Along with some seasoned waitresses, he was sure that everything was going to run smooth, even in his absence.

Jenna Fischer, a longtime friend he had known since grade school, knocked on the doorframe of the office before hurriedly shedding her jacket. “Hey, sorry I’m cutting it close! The babysitter was late.”

“No worries,” John assured, “I really appreciate you being here. Cash for the sitter is in an envelope in the desk, as promised. Ed and Rainn are at the bar, Kate and Mindy are waitressing. You should be covered with the five of you, but if you hit an emergency, let me know, I’ll come back.”

Jenna finished hanging up her coat and purse. “We’re gonna be fine, John. You’ve got important things to do.”

“Yeah, they are important,” John agreed. He kissed her cheek, then rushed out to meet his brother.

Paul was already waiting in front of the jewelry store. John yelled his name and waved, jogging to catch up to where his brother was standing.

“Sorry, Jenna was running behind.”

“Don’t worry about it, I got here only a couple seconds ago. You gonna tell me why we’re here?”

John nodded. “Yeah, over dinner. Let’s go inside here, first.”

Paul shrugged and followed his brother into the store. They browsed over necklaces and earrings, the usual diamond solitaire engagement rings.

“Is that what you’re looking for?” Paul asked, surprised that his brother hadn’t even told him much about this girl, let alone that he was thinking about getting married.

“Something like it,” John said, taking in a deep breath. “It’s complicated, but I want to make a lot of promises to this girl. Big promises.”

“Who is this girl, Johnny?”

John pursed his lips. “Her name is Aurelie. She’s a trauma doctor at MassGen. She’s amazing. She’s deaf, but we communicate fine -- her cochlear implant works well, I’m learning to sign. She has a little hearing in one ear. Most importantly, though, when I’m with her, none of the family shit matters.”

“She sounds like a winner,” Paul congratulated, clapping his brother on the back. “So, let’s find her something she really deserves.”

John smiled. He was going to enjoy his brother’s happiness for him while he could. It took another forty-five minutes, but he spotted exactly what he was looking for. After making his purchase, he and Paul headed to a restaurant for dinner.

“All right,” Paul prompted after they had their beers and were waiting on their food. “Tell me what’s so complicated with the doc.”

John licked his lips. “Her family doesn’t exactly approve of our relationship, I guess you could say.”

“Why not? There’s no reason not to like you, brother.”

“It’s not me, exactly,” John sighed, “but our whole family.”

“They’ve never met us.”

Running a hand through his hair, John leaned forward on the table. “Paul, you really gonna make me come out and say it?”

Paul raised his brow and shrugged.

“All right then.” John chugged down half his beer, then set the glass back down and leaned forward again. “Her mom was married to Robbie Evans.”

The information took several seconds for Paul to process. About the time the realization sunk in, their food came. Paul was silent while the waiter set the plates in front of them. He looked anywhere but at his brother. Once the waiter was out of earshot, Paul leaned forward, too.

“I know you’ve always wanted out, but this isn’t the way to do it, you know. Let the Evans family find out. Let Downey find out. You’re done for, Johnny.”

John shook his head. “It’s been going on for months and no one knows -- Jenna knows. That’s it. And it isn’t about getting out, P. I wanted her before I realized who her family is -- she knows who my family is, of course. It doesn’t matter, to either of us. I want as much of a life with her as I can have. She’s distanced from them pretty well, which makes it that much easier.”

“I’m glad you’re happy,” Paul ceded, “but you know Chris is gonna kill you when he finds out.”

John snorted. “Yeah, I’m aware of that.”

“Listen. You give her that ring, you better make sure you’re ready for the commitment you’re asking her to make, and for the risk you’re both taking. I’m happy for you. I am. You tell Kev when you’re ready, and Ma. Just make sure that you’re sure she’s worth it.”

Finally, John had a reason in the conversation to smile. “She’s worth it. She’s more than worth it.”

Paul smiled, too. The brothers dug into their meals and put the serious conversation behind them.

Her lunch break couldn’t come fast enough today. Aurelie could feel that summer virus sneaking up on her, and she was trying to work as many hours as possible before she had to start giving up shifts. Chris had messaged earlier that he wanted to talk, so when she got the chance, she headed to meet him in the cafeteria.

“Scarlett knows.”

Aurelie frowned and her heart stopped. “Knows what?”

“About Elsa.” A breath of relief. “She surprised me at the shop. None of the others remember her, but Scarlett of course remembers her. Warned me that Elsa’s gonna find out sooner or later.”

“She’s not wrong.”

Chris pursed his lips. “Thanks for the encouragement.”

“When have I ever sugar-coated things for you? I told you from the time I saw you two together in Attleboro that you’re taking a risk. I know that you love her, Chris, but you hurt her before you really met her.”

“I’m gonna tell her.”

“How? When?” Aurelie looked to the ceiling before looking back at her brother. “You’ve set yourself up in a bad situation. You’re damned if you do, damned if you don’t. I know this all sounds negative, but I don’t want you to be heartbroken in the middle of all of this, too.”

Chris frowned and reached out for his sister’s hand. “Hey, hey. Why’re you crying? You never cry. I don’t remember the last time I saw you cry.”

Aurelie swiped at the traitorous tears with her free hand. “You don’t understand how important you are to me. You’re putting yourself in the middle of one hell of a mess. You’re putting your entire life at risk.”

“I get that.” He let go of her hand. “After my birthday, I’m going to meet Elsa’s family in New York. She’s already there. After a few days with her family, we’re going to spend a week in Maine. Before we come home, I’m gonna tell her. I don’t know how yet, but I don’t want to hide this from her. I’m falling for her, and I can’t tell her I love her if it’s not clean.”

“Well, I’m proud of you for that, anyway.”

They talked for a while longer, while Aurelie finished her food. She had a feeling it wasn’t going to settle well, but she didn’t know if that was because of the virus, or the overwhelming guilt at telling Chris to be honest when she was still hiding secrets from him.

Happy birthday, big brother. Don’t have too much fun tonight.

Aurelie sent the text, then put her phone back in her bag. She was in the passenger seat of John’s car, heading toward the diner in Attleboro. They had gone out together several times in Boston, without incident, but the fear of someone from either of their families finding them together was too much to allow them to enjoy their time together. From then on, they had agreed to only go out together in Attleboro, and otherwise spend their time together at one house or the other.

Thanks, sis. I’ll be careful. Talk soon.

The text message reply from Chris pulled Aurelie back to the present. With a deep breath and a long exhale, she smiled at John.

“It’s Chris’s birthday. They’re having a big thing over at Stan’s Pub.”

John took her hand. “Do you wish you were there?”

Aurelie thought about that carefully before she answered. She squeezed his hand and assured, “Nah. I’m right where I wanna be.”

John smiled back at her and continued on the drive. By the time they arrived in Attleboro, Aurelie was quiet and her thoughts far away again. John helped her out of the car; Aurelie frowned.

“Are they open?”

“Yeah, they’re open.” He tossed his head in the direction of the diner. “C’mon.”

Lacing her fingers through his, Aurelie followed behind John into the place. It was mostly empty, and the lights were dimmed. The same table where they had sat for their first date here was set with candles and short-stem roses in the center. Aurelie’s thoughts came back down to earth, and she grinned.

“Is it just us?” she asked.

“It’s just us,” John confirmed.

He motioned for her to sit across from him in the booth, and the waitress brought them water glasses right away, followed by two glass flutes and a bottle of champagne. John popped the cork and poured some for both of them. The waitress took their orders, then left them to their private conversation.

“I’m sorry to ask so many questions,” Aurelie began, “but are we celebrating something I’m not aware of?”

John chuckled. “Just celebrating us. There’s a lot we still have to overcome if we want to move forward, but I want to do that with you. I want to move forward with you.”

Aurelie took another deep breath; it was all she could do in the moment to keep breathing. “I want to move forward with you, too.”

“That’s the best thing you could say,” he said, nodding. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a jewelry box; when he opened it, Aurelie was taken with the pretty ring seated inside. “I’m not -- this is not what you might think it is. I mean, it is, but not in the traditional sense. I’m not just proposing marriage, I’m proposing a future. Being together wherever we want. Moving in together. Getting married and having kids, eventually. I’m promising you, Aurelie, that I’m here for you, for the future. Whatever it may bring. I love you, kid.”

Aurelie wiped a tear from her eye. She was doing far too much crying lately, but her heart was hanging on every word John said -- and living by the parts that he had picked up enough vocabulary to sign. “I love you, too, Johnny.”

John’s smile was the stuff of pure happiness. He took her hand and pushed the ring onto the appropriate finger. Aurelie smiled down at the ring, staring at it for so long, she didn’t even notice the waitress delivering their food to the table. Her thoughts were reeling and by the time she could tear her eyes from the ring, she knew that she had to be honest with John.

“Are you happy?” John asked.

Aurelie nodded. “Indescribably happy. But, John, before we get too far into tonight, there’s something I have to tell you.”

His smile began to fade as he nodded and dragged his hand over his face. “Yeah. I’ve got something to tell you, too.”

Tags: @themtbmbgirl​​​ @keithseabrook27​​​​ @ulovemelightsout​​​​ @rosie2801​​​​ @professorkrasinski​​​​

#john krasinski #chris evans #fanfiction #crossover #criminal!au

[yuki-yozora]

Variables - fanfic ( Underswap Papyrus x Reader ) (Chapter One)

 : !!:  Author's notes ◌ °: !!:

﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎

Hello darlings! ‧ ₊ ° “

If you don't want read the note, please, roll this part.

As I mentioned in the prologue, it's my first time doing an underswap fic, so I'd like your opinion. ˚ ˚ *

I'm doing it the way I think it would be Au if it was complete as well as the fangame, but that doesn't mean I'm 100% following its original forms. ‧ ₊ ° “

That said, I will do my best to stay faithful and make writing interesting and fun. *

The cover image was edited by me, I know it's not the best, but I tried. ° ⸼ ⊹

If I get the link or names of those who created the images I will make available. °

Remembering that I have profiles in tree communities of Undertale in pt br, if you see an Vivinare, something ( skeleton, boned or skelly) with the same post, it's me, don't be scared. ˚ ˚ *

· · ✦ · · · · · · · 1 Notices · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · ·

Fic will follow many of its original creator's ideas with some interpretations and theories of mine. Here's the link about the creator: Popcorn (His profile no longer exists, he made another and left Au, she belongs to fandom, basically)

CENSOR:

Not for fragile hearts.

CONTAINS

(in general): violence, bullying, subliminal jokes, slight depression.

GENRE:

Adventure, Drama, Comedy, Thriller & Romance

˚ ˚ * In this fanfic ⁺ ˚. *

1 Chara is a boy;

2 Has original characters.

˚ ˚ * This chapter presents ⁺ ˚. *

1 slight violence;

2 Citation to depression;

3 drama.

Attention:

Big chapter ahead.

﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎ ﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍ A year has passed… No news ... No trail ... not even false leads. (That fill us with hope just to take care of us.)

We.

I haven't used those words in so many days when referring to my life. Just one in the back, my brother was kidnapped. Chara was taken from me and taken where no one can find him. Your friends' parents shout accusations, as if I could hurt a single hair on your head:

"- It was certainly the oldest. After all, it's not the first death of the family. -"

Heh. People can be cruel.

We were four. He, the only boy and middle brother, only ten years old. The other oldest, Bianca, and the youngest, Daisy, were murdered by someone we trusted. Bianca's boyfriend, Elric, was on the Wizards Order. And to be accepted, the fire had to be fed with a precious commodity. He spent years fooling us into doing this… so that I could do that to him… That was two years ago. I tried to overcome my sadness, Elric was already under arrest, there was a Chara to be comforted. Gradually, our somewhat lonely new routine took shape. He made good friends who didn't judge him as many citizens: relatives of the children killed by the weirdo. Affectionate surname. We finally started to straighten up ... Until one day a couple broke into the house, terrified Doug, Chara's best friend, while frantically attacking me and the other taking my brother out of me in the blink of an eye. Despite my success in containing who attacked us, the other simply disappeared without a trace ...

It was like magic.

The search began in a human pursuit. All in vain. Police dropped the case in the fourth month, new ones were emerging. And there's no way to blame them for that (in a small, old town near the mountains, Ebottown had its high dose of violence.) The neighborhood avoided me as if infected with the plague and made a point of emphasizing how much I was despised. Escape, death. I thought of all this. But the spark of hope that he could come back kept me from leaving. And for that, I tolerate. All the antagonistic attitude of the neighborhood took me from my daily work. It just wasn't working, and my colleagues got angry every time my presence disturbed their eyes. To ensure basic survival, I accepted the night job offered by Luka, (The intimidating woman, the neighbor of the front house. Tall and powerful, with flawless black skin. Wearing her full hair or brightly colored turban, but there was always a vibrant purple, almost neon. His style of clothing was almost Gothic, spiders reminded me, for a strange reason.). The job was in a very elegant night bar serving colorful drinks and a space for parties or 'dances'. All the darkness and the bright alcohol made it difficult for people to recognize me, and anyone who dared to bother me was quickly arrested by the other bartenders or Luka, who was responsible for security. Strange to say that I felt more comfortable there than in my own home… loneliness ails me. Like now, a rainy day, with strong winds. Typical of the city. Interestingly on my day off. No strolling around, (Y/N).

* The rain outside is cold as your feelings and you know you don't deserve it.

A sigh and a roll of his eyes. I was annoyed myself. This whole situation, as if childhood turbulence was no longer enough, made the most frequent episodes of self-deprecation. Now it wasn't just my huge thighs or scars until I said enough. Or having tires in place of a perfect waist, or my abdomen getting easily swollen. No ... That's what I said, how I said it, how I breathed ... I probably needed help:

* But no one will come ...

I got. Luka was a good person, but I couldn't pour that much on her… I'm not worth it. With a flick of my tongue, I got up from the flowered carpet, centered in a bedroom entrance. I just went in there to clean, other than that, I watched the empty beds by the entrance, in silence. I closed the door carefully, looking back out of habit before going to the bathroom. A few gray floors peeled off the wall (cheap workmanship), the sink still full, but there were leaks in the pipe, the toilet was so bad it clogged up with the urine flush, the boxing was tiny, as if someone was trapping you in the closet while bathing you in cold water. Yes, the shower burned. At least I still have cute cabinets and a mirror….

Ah…

I looked into the mirror.

* After all, it's still you.

Long, curly hair, very messy and (h/c), with all the broken hair floating around (better known as fritz and he was too thin to be soft), reddish brown eyes (which weren't as red as Chara's) were probably the only things I liked about myself. Then we have my skin (s/c) very pale due to lack of sun exposure, random acne spreading, not in excess but bothering, deep dark circles, decorated with today's tear marks. A humorless laugh escaped my lips, his hand moving almost on its own, turning on the tap, rubbing the water over his face carefully. This is kind of dangerous, being alone with my sad thoughts.

" Finally. " I sighed, wiping my face on the nearest towel, hands then, as a painful smile crossed my face. " I have that." I tapped my side pocket of shorts where a deck of cards accompanied me everywhere.

It was like an extra part of me since Luka gave it to me, along with three other never-missing items: the black lipstick that Bianca wore when she came out with us, always in a pocket, the yellow ribbon of Daisy's hair on my head. her hair may look like a rattlesnake's nest, but she was always there.) and the weird book of basic flirtations that featured Chara as a pun and that he liked more than necessary (though small, no longer fit into pockets, so the his usual place next to my hip, between underwear and skin.)

I took advantage and wet my hair a little, as if he wasn't coming back to it later. Finishing up and getting some of the apparent melancholy from my face, I managed a hesitant smile at my reflection, but it returned to the cold look when something seemed to burst in the distance and the light went out. A blackout… when all I have to eat is frozen spaghetti and I'm out of gas.

So ... so ... perfect.

Worthy of a rainy day, which seemed to get stronger by the moment. Making a loud, unfamiliar sound, I emerged from the bathroom downstairs, using instincts to move without breaking anything. A kind of mind map danced in my mind, the matches in the cutlery and candles in the open closet seemed to light up like object-hunting games. I lit three candles that had already been used, then looked at the plate of food waiting to be warmed. Shaking my head gently, I put it in the fridge, even though it had no light to keep it intact, and pulled a jar of yogurt in place. This will be my dinner. Sitting at the round table with a prepared spoon, I began setting up the cards to play solitaire when I heard another noise. Much closer than the last. Slowly I took the cards from the table and stuffed them in my pocket, frowning.

A bang ... Coming from the room. Walking carefully, I approached, looking slowly out the door. My coffee table was split in half, the iron baseball bat stuck in the wood seemed to be the murder weapon. That stick was from Luka ...

More noise came from upstairs, my door still seemed to be closed. A kind of cold rose in my veins. This was strangely familiar. I looked around the room before going to the club and pulling it carefully.

* The Metal gave you a shiver of premonition.

I climbed the stairs, knowing exactly where to step so as not to make noise, but when I reached the top floor, I relaxed. The noise ceased. All doors remained closed, my room being the only exception. I peered through the door and, as I thought, he fled, as he had a year ago. The room was ruined, as if it had been a break-in party. The bed broke, the mattress was torn, as were my papers and the wardrobe on the floor, some scattered clothes, a strange substance staining the rug and writing on the wall: - You know where to find me. - My camping backpack, which I used during the research, and a book on the history of the city were in the center of the room. The open book, an image of Mount Ebott circulated there.

"... All right, all right. "

I grabbed the backpack and the book, going down and putting on my neon blue wellies before leaving. I looked at Luka's house and the staff in hand, then ran, just pushing open the door. I didn't have to walk much, she was in the middle of the room, which had several broken things. Concerned, I knelt beside her, almost panicked, but relieved when I saw her breathing. I used your phone to call the police, but decided not to wait. Finally, I have a clue. A chance to catch him. I needed to do this. I laid her on the couch and left a small note, leaving before I changed my mind.

* You are full of justice.

It was night when I started to cross the forest. The rain persisted above, making the cold run down my back. Sharp branches and thorns scraped my skin and ripped my clothes, but now I barely cared. I needed to continue. It wasn't long before I reached the clearing in front of the mountain, the place that started it all. Immaculate gray dust lay where the eternal fire lay. Not washed by rain, not carried by wind. Right there, waiting. I wiped something hot from my face and turned, the cock getting colder against my skin.

* You need to move on.

Gradually, I felt scratches burning, but I made sure they wouldn't be long enough to stop bleeding. As expected, climbing was not an easy task. The soaked, sloping ground was almost a waterfall of mud that made me slip and lose my balance as I stepped on the loose rocks. My hair, my legs, my clothes had mud on everything. I dropped to my knees as I reached one of the peaks, breathing hard as I looked into the dark cavern not far away. Lightning roused me from the trance I entered, so I started to get up, feeling someone watching me.

- It is not bad. -

With one hard blow, I tried to hit him behind me, a whistling noise was all I could get. My muscles tensed automatically with the evil laugh. " Not bad. " He sneered behind me again, his dark red cloak flapping violently in the wind, mocking his hands saluting me.

" What you want? " I growled. He started to laugh, part of his mouth visible, a large scar on the left side of his face, lips and chin. " Foolish child. You have no idea what you did when you attacked that wizard, do you? Knights are so ignorant. " He shook his head, like I was a lost cause. A gold stick with a ruby top appeared in his left hand. " So we agreed that you should be eradicated, like monsters. But you multiply like rabbits." His voice was thoughtful. " Anyway, it's trivial in our day ... But, how you attacked us ... A massacre is inevitable! " Another laugh followed.

* You have no idea what he is talking about, but decide to face him anyway.

" Does not matter. " I took a deep breath, making a decision. "I don't want to know your motives now." I watched the ruby light up with its magic. " Still ... You must be punished. "

With a speed I didn't know, I advanced and hit the club in his ribs, pushing it aside and giving him a breathlessness. A sigh of pain was all I heard before something moved away from him and fell to the muddy ground. I felt discomfort in my chest and arm, but got up without difficulty. Once again, I set off to attack, but dodging a red sphere he threw. It surprised me and the rodeo was not so successful, it scraped my arm and burned my skin. Others came and it was hard to get rid of them, the mud at my feet making me slip all the time. Adrenaline took over my body and I felt even faster, confident, almost enjoying fighting, the steady pace: side, side, spin, jump, run, roll, attack, lose. It wasn't long before I hit his face, an uncomfortable, muffled sound sounded around us, something that looked like a tooth flew away from him. He withdrew closer to the cave, making me follow him cautiously. That smile sent mixed emotions in my core. Suddenly, many spheres formed and advanced against me at high speed, barely leaving room for evasion. One of them hit me in the belly and the pain I felt was masked by the lack of mobility. No matter how much I moved, I couldn't leave the place.

" Finally. " He hardly seemed to have such a hoarse voice that he seemed. " You slippery trash. " He approached, holding his stomach, sweat mixed with rain, some blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. " Now. " He gripped my face tightly, the team being torn from me and thrown into some dark corner. " Come . " My body began to float, following it to the cave. " Com'on, not look at me like that. I'll tell you a secret. " He laughed. It wasn't too deep, there were flowers scattered all over the floor, all golden flowers, I think, a smaller hole in the ceiling where the rain fell and a larger, very dark hole in the floor. On the walls, several inlaid crystals gave the lighting a mystical feel. Suddenly I was hurled, slipping on the floor and ruining some flowers, stopping right at the edge of the hole. Barely able to move, I lifted my face to face him. I was completely defenseless. There was a macabre smile on his face, his now visible eyes glowing with blood red. "Your brother is just waiting." He whispered. " Go get him. -" And a kick threw me in my death. Soon, only darkness painted my world.

*It's the end.

· · · · · · · · · · · · · End notes

My english is very beginner, so i'm using the help of google translator. If anyone with available time can help me review, I appreciate it. (Y/N) - your name (h/c) - hair color (s/c) - skin color More legends will be added in the future! Word Count: About 2,880 If i use any images similar to the game can be found on the Gamejolt website. They do not belong to me.

#undertale #underswap #undertale au #reader #fanfic #neutral route #chara dreemurr #mages #magic #underswap x reader #swap papyrus x reader #swap papyrus

[scaryscarecrows]

Roots and Leaves

Eh, I liked this arc. Or. The pain this arc inflicted on people. :) ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN TO TRAGEDY TOWN, SUCKERS!

There’s rain above him, turning the dirt to slick mud that just keeps slipping through his fingers.

God no please not like this not like this-

He can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe and he knows that not a foot away is air-salvation-life, but he can’t breathe now and-and-

Please not like this-

And his fingers finally breach the topsoil, scrambling in the mud, blood drying in the wind.

* * *

A week earlier…

Jason suspects this wasn’t his brightest idea. Though, really, when your criteria for ‘should I?’ is ‘is it as bad as chasing after the Joker by myself?’…well…you get a lotta leeway, okay? Not many things are that bad.

Besides, it wasn’t for himself.

Okay, so it was a little bit, but not a lot, and…yeah, it was seventy-five percent case and twenty-five percent ‘has Bruce revoked my access yet?’

Answers: he found his perp in Bruce’s database, and he still has access to the Batcomputer’s (why is everything you own Bat-something, B, huh? How old are you, four?) files. Huh, look at that, B’s a sentimental bastard after all. Or he just spaced. That’s more likely. New Robin to train and all that.

Whatever.

He got a bit distracted, testing how far his access went, and ended up in his own files, because he’s a little morbidly curious as to what it says about…about. Y’know.

It was all so clinical, to the surprise of none. Bruce had apparently gone over that tape with a fine-toothed comb like the obsessive bastard he’s always been, and the only things missing were internal injuries and a few of the more subtle-yet-permanent damages like his shoulders. Things that aren’t obvious when you’re sitting quietly in a chair.

Fucker. Jason’s still wondering if Bruce spent more time cataloging the damn tape than he spent looking for him.

He’d been about to click out (he doesn’t want to drive all the way to Wayne Manor to punch Bruce in the face, he doesn’t, he swears on his own unused grave) when he’d spotted the ‘leads’ tab.

Eh. He probably put it there in case Alfred was looking over his shoulder or somethin’. Like bringing up a Wikipedia article when you were about to get busted playing Solitaire instead of working on your essay.

But Jason’d clicked on it, and, well…

Well.

It’s more extensive than he’d thought. He’s not sure how to feel about that. Bruce had been close, a couple’a times-questioned the right guards, even, if he’d just questioned ‘em again a month or two later, after the Joker bought ‘em off…

He hopes that fact keeps him up at night.

He continues to scroll. Lotta dead ends, lotta close calls, lotta where the hell did you get THAT idea? And he’s just about to sign out when his eyes flash across, of all places, the school Bruce’d left him at for all of three days after he caught him with that tire iron in hand.

Wasn’t that place closed?

Apparently not. Wow. Only in Gotham, man, only in Gotham-what’s that?

It’s a link to the ‘genetics’ page Bruce made him fill out at the very beginning. He’s still torn between finding a little creepy and admitting that it’s kinda practical. What’s interesting about it now, though, is that there’s been some editing done.

What the hell? Did some long-lost relative crop up? An amnesiac or something?

Sheila Haywood, the name reads. And next to it, relation-mother.

What? He feels his lips hitch up in that stupid rabbit-expression (he can’t help it, SHUT UP) he gets when he’s really confused. Mom (?) used to laugh and call him Bugs.

This makes no sense at all. Bruce must’a had a period of insanity or somethin’. He has exactly two parents (well, three and a half-Alfred counts as something and Bruce…once upon a time, maybe…), and this Sheila Haywood is not one of them. He even looks a bit like Catherine-same hair, same eyes.

But.

But Willis had those features too, didn’t he.

Jason shoves the laptop away from him and takes a few deep breaths. This is ridiculous. Bruce makes mistakes. Obviously-look at him, huh? This is one he hasn’t caught, that’s all. Hasn’t looked further because there’s no reason to look further. Sheila probably just…maybe she came forward looking for money or something, that’s a thing. Happens all the time.

He pulls the laptop back, after a few minutes, and opens the file. It’s not a big one-name, birthday, picture (he doesn’t look like her, she’s blonde and bright-eyed and pretty) and…associates.

Joker. Ah. That relationship is over, according to Bruce-there had been blackmail involved. Well, there’s that lead explained. Dead end, too. She’d been free of the clown for over a year, before Jason ever…

Bruce is mistaken. That’s all. Willis knew a lotta people, for fuck’s sake, he’d never been…Mom had always been upset. Y’know.

His hands are shaking and he doesn’t know why. This isn’t anything. This is a mistake, Bruce makes them all the time. Look at him. God, look at…look at Babs, if Bruce hadn’t made the mistake of givin’ Joker a thousand and one chances, she wouldn’t be…

Sheila Haywood smiles awkwardly at him from her driver’s license picture. The last time Bruce updated this file was…maybe six months after he disappeared. At the time, she’d been living in a middle-income apartment close to Gotham General-her place of work, apparently.

What does it matter anyway, huh? Catherine was his mom, even at the end when she barely recognized him anymore. And she hadn’t done somethin’ stupid enough to get Joker-blackmail, either. So there.

He mashes the little red ‘X’ in the corner and flings himself backwards to reach his bottle of Fanta (Fanta, don’t ya want-a?). Fucking Bruce. Why does he have to leave that kinda stuff lyin’ around, huh? It’s over. It’s done. Archive it or whatever and find somethin’ new to brood over. Like Dick’s poor fashion choices. (His hair’s growing dangerously near mullet territory again…if he steps one spandex-clad toe into Crime Alley, Jason’s tackling him and taking an electric razor to that before it can evolve into its final form. Never again. Gotham doesn’t deserve that.) Priorities, old man. Priorities.

His Fanta’s half-flat and he scowls, blames Bruce for distracting him and making him forget to drink it while it was still bubbly, and takes a sad swig anyway.

As it turns out, the Fanta isn’t all that flat and with his head hanging partly off the couch, it, uh, gets near his nose. The fizzy feeling makes him gag and jam his tongue against the roof of his mouth to try and stop it.

He should’ve just had tea. Soda’s too much risk.

He sets the bottle aside, glares at it so it knows its blame, and stretches. There’s a neat pop-pop-pop along his spine, followed by a nasty knock in his right hip that forces a startled gasp out of him, and then blessed silence.

Well. For Gotham. Somebody’s screaming at somebody in traffic below.

Never change…

Mom used to shut the window, even if that made it stifling inside. Said she didn’t want Jason picking up any of those words. Joke was on her, a little bit-the ancient Russian lady that used to watch him now and then taught him everything he ever needed to know. Bruce…had not been enthused when Jason’s ‘I know Russian!’ turned out to mean ‘I know how to tell you, your dog, and your mother-in-law to fuck a rotten egg in Russian!’

What? He hadn’t specified.

His computer glows at him, the background of Jane Austen’s signature looking starker than ever, and he lets his head fall completely off the couch, feels the blood start rushing to it.

Sheila Haywood is, uh, Joker-free now, right? Not working with Harley Quinn or whatever? Harley can be scary as fuck when she wants to be.

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, it is completely irrelevant to him. Bruce made a mistake. It happens. Or the Replacement had that idea. Or Dick. Yes. That’s all.

But he’s still going to check, because he always checks on past Joker associates, in case they’re sleepers or anything. Look at that one infected guy…Henry or whatever.

S’a matter of public safety. That’s all.

#Jason Todd #Sheila Haywood #Jason's curiosity is going to get him into trouble one of these days #Arkhamverse #sort of #you know me I mash canons together into a canon meatloaf #Roots and Leaves

[spectorbarnes]

Let Me Love You | Part 10

Summary: Working as a waitress in New York doesn’t really pay the bills. One of the regulars has grown fond of you and wants to help you monetarily. He’s not from that side of town, more of the upper east side, and more importantly, he wants to be your sugar daddy.

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Sebastian Stan x Reader 

Warnings:  sMUT, FINALLY (18+), oral sex, sex

LMLY masterlist

You stood in the hallway, amazed at what was clearly going on in the bedroom. You shook your head before letting your imagination run loose. You couldn’t invade his privacy. You turned your heel and walked towards the door. Your mind came up with a million excuses. Maybe you could stay somewhere else. No, dumbass. You don’t have any other place. You thought.

You reached for your purse on the table and picked it up. Something must have fallen out of it and hit the glass table. You froze and the noises coming from the bedroom stopped. On instinct, you reached for the door and opened it. Sebastian’s footsteps became louder and your hand slowly pushed the door shut. It was now your time to put your acting skills to the test.

“Hey,” Sebastian exhaled under his breath. His eyes widened and you could see his belt was loosely buckled.

“Hi.” You could only glance at his eyes for a few moments without looking away.

“How long have y-you been here?” He asked.

“I just got here, I told you I was going out.” You walked behind the kitchen counter and reached for an apple.

“I know, I-” He paused. Just then, you slipped up and made eye contact with him.

His face was perfectly structured. His lips looked soft and delicate. A pure specimen. There was no way he meant you. He couldn’t have said your name. Well, maybe he did. But he meant another girl with the same name as you. How were you appealing to him?

“I’m going to bed. Have a good night.” You walked past him towards his bedroom.

You heard a soft “good night” before closing the door.

You woke up in the middle of the night after having that strange dream. You turned the bedside lamp on and sat up. Your face was hot, and your palms were sweaty. Did you really dream about him in his bed? Maybe you had that dream because you knew what he was doing in here. You told yourself to forget about the incident and go to sleep. Just like any other day.

But you couldn’t. You shut your eyes for a while but never fell asleep.

The bedroom slowly began to be illuminated by the rising sun. You still had not gotten enough sleep. You were definitely going to be in a pissy mood today.

You kicked the bed sheets off you and sat up. You began to get dressed for work that morning. You didn’t feel yourself yet. It felt like you were a robot and you were moving without your control.

You managed to put on makeup and a business suit, like the other dozen you had in the closet. You looked in the mirror and tilted your head to the side.

You were feeling a little risky. You opened the closet one more time and began to look at the more revealing clothes Sebastian had gotten you. You were too intimidated to put on those dresses. They all were skin tight, some had a deep v-neck and some barely reached your knee.

You played dress up for a couple of minutes until there was a knock on the door.

“Yes?” You asked. Immediately covering your bare top half with the dress you had just taken off.

“I made breakfast,” Sebastian said.

“I’ll be out there in a minute.” You answered. You slipped on the dress that showed off too much of your cleavage. You looked in the mirror and frowned.

That dress was clearly not suitable for work, you put back the outfit you had originally thought of wearing. A simple blue blouse with dark pants.

You walked into the dining room to find Sebastian, well suited up, sitting on the table rolling blueberries over his waffle with a fork. He looked like a child being forced to eat breakfast before heading to school.

“You made waffles?” You spoke. He looked up and gave you a small chuckle.

“Are you surprised I cook?” He asked. He shook his head and said your name.

There it was, a little flashback from the incident last night. All it took was him to say your name to remember how loudly he was moaning it out alone in his bedroom. You pulled the chair away from the table and sat down.

“A little.” Your voice broke at the last word while he passed you a plate, he locked eyes with yours and raised his right eyebrow.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“I am.” You responded. “I just need a drink of this,” you took a sip of orange juice.

You ate for a few moments in silence.

The man at the other side of the table seemed to be avoiding any kind of eye contact with you.

“I should get a cab-”

“I can take you.” He interrupted.

“We can’t risk anyone seeing us in your car together.” You told him. He finally looked up at you and gave you a smile. “Well, I better get going. I don’t want to get in trouble with the boss.” You winked as you got up from the table. He lightly chuckled.

“Oh wait, before you go, I have something for you.”  He reached into his back pants pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed you a black card. “I’m going to be busy with late night meetings as we finalize some contracts at the office this upcoming week and I want to make sure I cover all of your expenses.”

“Sebastian,” You stared at the credit card with the word Platinum branded across it. “This looks- I can’t accept it.”

“Sure you can. It’s got a couple hundred already loaded. Think of it as an apology from last night.” He cleared his throat. You looked at him.

“Listen, I’m sorry for how I reacted-” You said.

“No, I didn’t give this to you because I wanted you to apologize. I’m the one who should apologize.” He got up from his seat and walked around the table to meet you. “In fact, I rehearsed this earlier today and I am not going to let you interrupt me.” He shut you down before you even got a word out of your mouth. You’ve only lived together for a few weeks and he already knew you so well. “I was stupid last night. I shouldn’t have overreacted. I have a history with Michael and before you ask what happened, we’ll save it for a time when I can explain everything. I just don’t want you to get hurt and with that man, you’re guaranteed to get your heart broken. I don’t want him to play you the way he’s played, other women. And,” He paused and sighed. “I care for you. A lot. You being here with me has made me really happy. Being involved at work so much I don’t have time to relax or have a good laugh with anyone, but you’ve changed all of that.”

Was your face getting red? Because you were pretty sure it was.

Sebastian wrapped his left arm around your waist as he towered over you. He pressed his right hand against your cheek.

“I like you. I really do. I’m saying this now because I want you to think of the possibility of us. If you don’t feel the same way, I’ll wait. I won’t pressure you. If you don’t feel anything, I understand. Losing you to someone else I’ll have to cope with it, but losing you to Michael will ruin me.” He pressed his forehead against yours and closed his eyes.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest and you were pretty sure he could feel it too.

“Say something. You’re scaring me.” He whispered.

“I-I don’t know what to say.” You responded.

“You don’t have to tell me how you feel right now. I just want you to tell me when you’re one hundred percent sure that you do feel the same way or you don’t. Whether it’s next week or next month or next year, I will wait. Okay?” He leaned back and looked into your eyes.

“Okay.” You nodded.

The morning dragged through, there were little tasks to be made. After you were done with them, you played a little solitaire on your desktop. You briefly called the hospital to check in on your dad. The nurse said he had significantly improved, and they didn’t need to extract the blood from his brain. He didn’t need a surgery might even wake up one of these days, his body was just taking time, which was normal. As soon as Sebastian arrived at the office after his first meeting of the day, you followed him to his desk and told him the good news about your father which was followed by him rushing to you to hug you, which made your eyes start to water.

You made some phone calls and set meetings in the conference room. Your dad’s slow but positive reaction to the medical treatments made you feel a lot better. You were having a good day. Maybe more than a good day because Sebastian’s speech over breakfast kept replaying in your head over and over again throughout the day.

You snapped out of your little recap of the day and came back to reality. Rachel was sitting across the hall, waving her hands frantically over her head. “What has gone into you, what has you on cloud nine?” She chuckled. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for over five minutes.”

“A lot of things.” You sighed. “But what did you need help with?”

“I’m just making sure you RSVP’d for tonight.” She said.

“RSVP’d what?” You asked. Rachel’s eyes instantly widened.

“Did you not get the e-mail?” She asked. You shook your head. Just on cue Sebastian stepped out of his office and greeted us.

“Good work today, ladies. I will see you all tomorrow.”

“Goodbye, boss. Happy Birthday, again.” Rachel smiled.

Today was Sebastian’s birthday.

“It’s your birthday?” You blurted out. Sebastian smiled at you shyly.

“Yes, silly. Didn’t you congratulate him?” Rachel spoke.

You got up from your desk and hugged him. “Why didn’t you tell me today was your birthday?” You whispered in his ear.

“Honestly, I forgot about it.” He responded. You pulled away from him and Sebastian winked at you. “Have a good day, you two.” He waved goodbye before walking away with his portfolio in hand.

“Since you didn’t RSVP to our boss’s surprise birthday party tonight, I am taking you as my plus one.” Rachel cheered. “A couple of supervisors are going to trick him into going to the party tonight. Ahh! I’m so excited.”

“What’s the attire?” You asked.

“Formal. Very formal. Think red carpet attire. I’m taking this cute blue dress I wore at my sister’s wedding.” Rachel said. “I assume you’re not ready so I suggest you either run to the nearest store right now or go home and dig through what you have in the closet.”

Nothing. You had no formal attire in your closet. Thanks to Rachel, all you had was sexy lingerie.

“I’m going to run out of here and find something.” You turned off your computer and reached for your bag.

“Pick you up at 6? Send me your address!” She shouted as you walked down the hallway. “I won’t be home. Send me the place’s address instead. I’ll meet you there!

You raced out of the office and got to the nearest store you could find. A couple of looks through the racks and you were definitely not able to afford most of the stuff there. Those tags had too many zeros. You remembered the card Sebastian gave you that morning and pulled it out from your wallet. You called the number on the back of the card. The customer service representative picked up.

"Hi, I just got this card from my- uh- friend and this is the first time I’ve had an account with you guys so could you walk me through how much I can use today.”

“Yes, m'am may I have the name and number on the card.” You finished giving her the information and a couple of moments later she began answering your questions. “Okay, how much did you think of spending?”

“I was told this card had a couple of hundred, maybe one or two hundred dollars. I just don’t want to spend more than half of it-” You were interrupted by her light chuckle.

“I need to buy a dress and-”

“I apologize for my laugh there, ma'am. But there seems to be a misunderstanding on your part. You do have a couple of hundred on this card. A million. To be exact.”

You almost dropped your phone. One fucking million dollars.

“One million?” You asked.

“Your boyfriend knew you were going to call and left a note for you here saying ‘Buy whatever you please. You deserve this and more. Love, Seb’. And honey if you ask me, I would not buy a hundred dollar dress, this man deserves a lot more than that. Give him something to drool over.” She said.

“Oh, I will.”

Your phone had blown up by the dozens of calls Rachel had made. You listened to the couple of voicemails she left, upset that you had yet to arrive, how you missed Sebastian's facial expression and how she was getting drunk alone.

You had arrived at the luxurious rooftop club and got in the elevator to get to the rooftop they had rented out for Sebastian. You may have missed the surprised reaction to the party but you were going to have a reaction of your own. You were left alone in the elevator and faced the mirrors on the side making sure You looked your best. You had bought a red dress with a deep v-neckline and a slit that reached the top of your thigh. You had black strap heels and your makeup was definitely as you say, 'slaying’. You fixed your straightened hair to the side and bit your lip and your reflection. You looked like a billionaire’s lover. And maybe you were about to be.

The elevator door opened and you stepped out into the rooftop. You found Rachel alone, slumped down on the first table to the right along with a glass of what you assumed was whiskey.

Her face lit up as soon as she saw you and waved you to come over.

“Holy fuck, you look hot.” She chugged the rest of her drink down and pulled you to sit down with her in the booth. The music was blaring and people carried on their conversations. No one had caught a glimpse of you. But you didn’t care about any of them. Just one.

“I need to give Sebastian his gift.” You told her. “Do you know where he is?” You asked.

“I think he is in the back by the bar. Funny he kept asking me for you too- Oh shit.” She groaned.

“What?” You followed her gaze to the entrance. There stood a woman, blonde, about your height. Wearing the most elegant gown you had ever seen. A gown similar to yours but in black, a gold accent at the top and these smoky eye shadow that clearly made any man swoon. She gave you a bad feeling. “Who is that?” You turned around to see Rachel pulling your dress back to look at the inside of the top.

“You’re wearing Versace!” She yelled, slightly slurring her words. A few people a table away turned around. Rachel was clearly drunk.

“Rachel, who is that?” You asked again. “That’s Diana. Sebastian’s I-don’t-fucking-know-what-she was-but she worked for the company for a while but something went wrong and left. I am pretty sure they fucked. He was miserable without her. ”

Was Diana the girl Sebastian had the toxic relationship with? Was he her sugar daddy?

“He has a thing for blondes.” Rachel slurred. “Especially that blonde. I don’t know what the fuck she is doing here.”

“I’d like to know too.” You stood up from the booth and saw as she found Sebastian who was by the bar at the end of the room. They greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek.

“She’s also the fucker who nearly destroyed this company by ruining Michael and Sebastian’s friendship- Hey! Where are you going?”

You just needed to hear the beginning of Rachel’s sentence to know You had to make your way over there. You started turning heads as you walked across the room. Diana seemed to try and start a conversation with Sebastian by touching his arm and making a throaty giggle. He faked a smile as his eyes continued to scan the room. That was until he saw you making your way towards him.

His jaw instantly dropped as his eyes scanned you from head to toe, and you tried to sway your hips a little more as you walked to him. “Happy Birthday, Seb.” You held your arms open for an embrace.

“If you’ll excuse me.” He told the blonde woman next to him before meeting you halfway.

“Sweetheart,” He gave you a gentle squeeze as he held you in his arms. “I see you used my card.”

“I see you left me a little message with them and a little more hundreds than you told me you had given me.” You whispered a little too close to his ear.

“I was just sharing something I have too much of.” He replied. “And after this little surprise, I might just give you things like those more often.”

“I’ll take that as a challenge.” You said seductively.

He took a step back and looked at you amazed. “Who is this girl in front of me? What did you do to my roommate?”

Someone cleared their throat behind you, you turned around and saw Michael leaning over the bar with a drink in hand. “I was about to ask Sebastian who is the young woman he was talking to but now that I see that it’s you. May I?” He held his hand out. You took it, thinking it was a handshake but he lifted your hand up and made you turn around to give him a 360 view of you. “Wow, you look amazing.”

“Thank you.” You said feeling very uncomfortable. Like you were a tiny little organism under a microscope, and Michael was looking down at you through that microscope.

“That’s enough, Michael. You know the rules.” Sebastian stepped to your side, almost as if he was about to defend you and start punching Michael. “You can’t date anyone that works for us, especially my assistant.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Sebastian. We’ll keep it away from your ears. I know how well you like to spy on your employees.”

“Michael,” The blonde girl that was with Sebastian a few moments ago, Diana, stepped in and tried to pull Michael back. “Calm down, don’t make a scene.”

Michael and Diana took a step back and walked away. Sebastian winced and relaxed his body from its previous stiff posture.

“Are you okay?” You asked as he braced himself on the bar stool.

“I am, thanks for asking.” He took a deep breath. “She’s a-

"You don’t have to explain to me. I’m going to check in on Rachel, she’s a little tipsy.” You touched his shoulder. “Ignore him and enjoy the party. It is yours after all.”“I’ll try. Just promise me you’ll come back. I want to introduce you to some people.” He said. You nodded and excused yourself before checking in on Rachel who at this point was too drunk to function.

“Rachel,” You shook her shoulder. Her head was placed down on the table. You ordered her a glass of water with lime.

“Ooh, vodka.” She took a sip.

“It’s not- ok, fine drink it down.”

The party ended later, Rachel managed to get back to her senses. Well.. almost all of them. You kept your promise to Sebastian where he introduced you to almost everyone working for him. You met a couple of accountants, salespersons, important clients and his best friend, Brendon. Brendon reminded you a lot of Sebastian which explains why they were best friends. He cracked a couple of jokes to the birthday boy and Sebastian scrunched his nose and laughed.

At that moment, your heart warmed up. It wasn’t the way he was sexily dressed or the way you were. But in that moment he was happy and smiling to the whole world. He forgot about Michael and that one Diana chick that rubbed off on you the wrong way the moment she entered the room.

You danced a couple of songs, of course in a group. If you were both caught dancing alone together there were clearly going to be some rumors circling around the office. Sebastian didn’t want that to get out of hand. He broke a couple of dance moves and by the end of the night, you felt like you got to know Sebastian a lot more.

By the time most of the guests had left you said your goodbyes to everyone, not forgetting about the birthday boy. Wanting to put off the act that you were not living together at the same apartment at the upper east side where You took his bed and he took the couch and you walked in on him last night- well. You know how it goes.

“Are you taking Rachel home?” He asked as you walked away from the group. “Yeah, we’re just gonna catch a cab.”

“Let me take you guys. My car is parked outside.” He pulled out his car keys.

“Oh, boss. You don’t have to.” You smiled. Sebastian smiled back.

“No, I insist.” He said.

You both took tipsy Rachel back to her place and promised her roommate that you would check in on her tomorrow morning to help with the clear hangover she would be having tomorrow.

Sebastian and you drove back home in silence. It was the kind of peaceful silence you wouldn’t want to break, it was comfortable. You went up to the apartment, turned the lights on and took his jacket off of your shoulders. Which smelled of him, the cologne he used and left a lingering scent on your skin. You could tell he wanted to say something but at that moment, you didn’t feel like talking.

You turned around and grabbed the side of his face and pulled him in for a kiss. He gave out a small moan before pulling back. “You’re drunk.”

“Sebastian, I didn’t have a single sip of alcohol tonight.” You pulled him in for a kiss again and tugged on his tie.

“Wait,” He pulled back, panting for breath. “Is this you answering my question?”

“Yes and,” You bit your lip and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I know what you did last night. I came back just in time to hear you screaming my name.” You admitted. You could feel Sebastian’s face begin to burn against your cheek. “I’d be lying if I didn’t think it was hot. Actually, I had a little fantasy of my own in my dream last night-”

His hands grabbed the under part of your thighs and lifted you up to wrap your legs around his waist. He growled and attacked your neck with kisses as he pressed you against the nearest dining room wall.

“You have no idea how hard it was to control myself in front of all the guests when you looked like this. Just for me.” He said in between kisses. You lifted your head slightly higher to give him better access to your neck. “But what made you change your mind about us?”

“You’ve been treating me well and come on, what’s a sugar baby without her daddy, am I right?” You shrugged. Sebastian pulled back from you and scanned your face.

“Oh my god.” He said incredulously, before attacking your lips again.

He pulled you away from the wall and began to carry you to the bedroom where he gently placed you down on the bed. He pulled his tie off in a swift movement, began to unbutton his shirt. You sat up at the edge of the bed and came at eye level with his belt. Your hands reached forward as You began to unbuckle it.

Sebastian was left with just one single undergarment. “Oh fuck.” You looked at his huge bulge and then at his back reflection in the mirror behind him. "Shit, you got a nice ass.”

“And you got a sailor’s mouth.” He grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it over your body. The look on his face was definitely one you will never forget. Thank god for Victoria’s Secret.

“Just one last thing.” You smiled and bent your leg over the bed to begin to unstrap your heels when his hand wrapped around your ankle.

“Leave the heels.” He commanded. Instantly, you brought your leg back down to the floor. “Lie back down.”

You nodded and did what was told, you were left to face the ceiling and your mind began to wander. Did I really just do that? Is this not another one of those fantasy dreams I am having?  Maybe I am really in bed, trying to fall asleep and Sebastian is in the other room getting ready for sleep. Maybe-

Your hands grabbed a fist full of the bed sheets as your back slightly arched up. You had not noticed your core was fully exposed to the man kneeling down at the end of the bed. You suddenly felt this great sensation of a tongue lapping-

Your eyes fluttered shut as you tried to bite back the moans filling in your throat. You swallowed hard and lifted your head up to see him in between your legs, his eyes instantly locking with yours as he continued to please you.

“You’re delicious.” He mumbled against you. The vibrations his mouth gave you as he moaned against you. You wanted him and you wanted him now.

He pressed in a finger and then two as his mouth began to work your folds, moving at a faster pace each time. At this point, you couldn’t hold in any noises right now.

“You taste just as sweet as I imagined,” His dirty talk filled the room as you struggled harder not to rip the bed sheets to shreds. His fingers kept hitting the right spot inside of you and you were just coming close to the edge.

“Fuck- Sebastian I’m gonna-” You instantly grabbed the back of his head and ran your fingers through his hair.

“Come for me, baby.” He whispered and with those four words You fell apart. His mouth continued to work at you as you came down from your bliss. You half sat up, still panting, to check up on him. You looked over at him to see him pull off his briefs. You immediately did the same with your bra and we were left naked, admiring each other.

He crawled over to you where he positioned himself in between your legs. He pressed his tip against you.

“Are you sure about this?” Sebastian asked.

“Very sure.” You answered.

Without breaking eye contact, he entered you inch by inch. You whimpered as he began to move inside you, setting a rhythm with his hips. It wasn’t long until you were screaming his name.

“Sebastian-Oh fuck.” You began to claw at his back. Sebastian gave you a gentle smile as he looked down at you.

“You like that don’t you.” It sounded more like a statement than a question.

“Y-Yes. Fuck.”

“There we go.” He chuckled lightly as he found your sweet spot. “You’re so tight for me, princess.” He picked up the pace, hitting the same spot over and over again.

At that point, you were sure he was going to break the bed. In fact, you wanted him to break it.

You felt yourself nearing the edge again and you tightened your legs around his waist and rolled over so that you were on top.

“My turn,” You said. You began to roll your hips up and down his body as he reached for your breasts his fingers rolling your nipples. He sat up and circled his tongue around your right one.

You sensed Sebastian near his climax and you rolled your hips one last time before sliding up and down his shaft. His hips bucked up just as yours came down and your lips met again. Breathless, you reached our climax almost at the same time.

You fell against Sebastian’s chest as he pumped the rest of himself into you. He fell back onto the white fluffy pillows and held you in his arms. You waited to catch your breath before you got off him.

You both lay together on the bed not bothering to look at each other. The room stayed silent and the nerves kicked in. Wasn’t he supposed to say something right now?

A pinch of guilt began to flood your mind. That was until you felt a hand interlace with yours.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan imagine #marvel imagine #bucky barnes #let me love you #thewritersoldier #sugar daddy sebastian stan

[luftballons99]

settle down, it’ll all be clear

relationships: Platonic Reigen Arataka & Kageyama Shigeo

fandom: Mob Psycho 100

summary: "Reigen knows when something is off with Mob.Off in a way that doesn’t involve demonic infestations or curses. Off in a way that a homemade spirit tag or one of Reigen’s famous massages can’t fix.

Off in a way that makes Mob trip over his own feet on their way back from a job."

or

Mob has a fever and the only prescription is fatherly care.

tags:

Sickfic

Platonic Relationships

Fluff

Friendship

Protectiveness

Good Parent Reigen Arataka

Sick Character

mob has a fever poor bb

reigen takes care of him

Smoking

Protective Ritsu

chapters:

1/1

words: 2674

read it on ao3 here

(NOT RE*MOB!!!!)

There’s something up with Mob.

Granted, there's rarely not something up with Mob, if Reigen really thinks about it. You couldn’t tell from looking at him - the ruler-straight black bangs and mild expressions make him seem like just another emotionally stunted 14 year old kid with an adorably unfortunate haircut - but he has all kinds of stuff going on behind the scenes.

How many other middle schoolers can lift tables with their minds? How many other middle schoolers exorcise spirits after school? How many other middle schoolers reduce buildings to rubble when they’re stressed instead of, like, playing a video game or whatever it is kids do nowadays?

(Reigen remembers smoking on the school roof when things got too much for him, but he supposes that was more of a ‘Reigen thing’ than a ‘middle school thing,’ given that he still hasn’t managed to kick the habit even at 28.)

The fact is Reigen really only ever interacts with one kid, and that kid, thankfully, is Mob. Which means that A) so long as Mob isn’t interested, he doesn’t need to know or care about whatever hot new trends teens are into, and B) Reigen knows when something is off with him.

Off in a way that doesn’t involve demonic infestations or curses. Off in a way that a homemade spirit tag or one of Reigen’s famous massages can’t fix.

Off in a way that makes Mob trip over his own feet on their way back from a job.

Reigen glances down at him after he stumbles, not seeing much other than the shiny top of his black hair. Mob finds his balance after a moment of flailing and lets out a long, drawn out sigh before trudging on. Reigen keeps an eye on him as they continue down the sidewalk, shadows spilling out of the alleys they pass in contrast to the orange sun setting behind the Seasoning City skyline. The job ran a little longer than expected - two spirits to exorcise instead of one - but Reigen figured it was nothing that Mob couldn’t handle.

He thumbs the five yen coin in his pocket (He hasn’t had a smoke since lunchtime but he sure as hell can’t whip out a cigarette when Mob could breathe it in secondhand, so restless fidgeting it is!) and observes the downward slump of Mob’s little shoulders, looking littler in the slightly oversized jacket of his school uniform.

He must be tired. Hungry, too - it’s been at least a few hours since either of them have eaten. Plus, it might help take Reigen’s mind off the red-patterned little cancer box in his jacket pocket.

“Hey, Mob,” he says, nudging the kid with his pointy elbow. Mob jolts as if he’s just been woken up, looking left and right like he’s forgotten where he is until his gaze finally settles on Reigen and relaxes slightly in familiarity. Okay, weird. “Do you wanna get some ramen before you head home? You did good today.”

Mob takes a second to answer; long enough for Reigen to stop walking and look down at him expectantly. Mob’s eyes are glassy and underlined with purple, his cheeks flushed. Okay, weirder.

“Yeah,” Mob answers absently, his voice strangely cracked even for a boy going through puberty, and that’s when Reigen gets it. He feels silly for not realizing sooner; reading people is, like, his whole thing, intended to make up for his inability to read auras (not that anyone needs to know about that). He guesses he could stand to be more considerate of Mob. No, he knows he could.

With new found resolve, Reigen slips his hand out of his pocket and wipes Mob’s thick bangs aside, revealing his scrunched eyebrows and the pale, glistening skin above them. His hair forms wet clumps under Reigen’s hand and he knows even before he presses his palm to the center of Mob’s forehead that the kid has a fever.

“You’re burning up,” he tells him, frowning. Mob slumps forward with a deflating breath, forehead pushing into his touch. Something in Reigen’s chest twists at the sight. Any efforts Mob might have been making to keep his condition secret are evidently abandoned, his bleary eyes falling shut and his expression twisting in discomfort.

So no ramen, then.

“Okay, kiddo, let's get you home,” Reigen sighs. Mob looks up at him in a daze and Reigen smiles down crookedly in what he hopes comes across as reassurance rather than worry. “Let your parents take care of you, yeah?” He scrubs his hand over Mob’s hair fondly, making it stick up at odd angles.

Mob licks his cracked lips, shaking his head lightly and seemingly getting dizzy from it; he starts swaying back and forth like a dowsing rod and Reigen has to clap a hand over his shoulder to keep him from tipping over onto the pavement. “My parents are gone for the weekend,” he mumbles, pressing the heel of his palm against one of his eyes.

“That’s not good,” Reigen says with a grimace, sucking in a breath through grit teeth and rubbing the back of his neck. He tips his head up towards the sky in thought, considering his options. One thing’s for sure, Mob needs someone looking after him right now, and while Reigen knows Ritsu is a good kid - well, that’s just it. He’s a kid . And it doesn’t feel right to leave Mob without adult supervision right now.

“Okay, new plan,” Reigen says decisively, whirling around with a flourish and dropping into a crouch. He stretches his arms out behind him, motioning for Mob to come closer. “Hop on, kid, you’re coming with me.”

He waits for the addition of 90 pounds of boy on his back, but it doesn’t come. He glances over his shoulder and sees Mob still standing, albeit barely, and twisting his hands into the front of his jacket with a face pinched in conflict with himself.

“I don’t want to impose,” he says politely. He’s always been so damn polite. How long is it gonna take for him to figure out it’s okay to relax a little, at least around Reigen?

“It’s no imposition,” Reigen assures him, then smirks confidently. “What kind of shishou would I be if I didn’t look after my favorite student?”

“...But shishou, I’m your only student.”

“That’s right! I’m a very busy man,” he announces as a little voice in the back of his head reminds him he spends most days in his office playing solitaire and minesweeper on his computer until a client walks in. “You’re very lucky I chose you, Mob. Be proud of yourself.”

Another lie - Reigen has known for a while that he’s the one who’s lucky.

Filing that thought away for when he’s lying awake in bed and staring at the ceiling in self-loathing like he does most nights, he wiggles his hips impatiently and makes grabbing motions with his hands. “Now hurry up and get on before you fall asleep on your feet.”

He catches the slight incline of Mob’s head out of his peripheral vision and braces himself for his weight. Hesitantly, Mob places his sweaty hands on Reigen’s shoulders before sliding his arms around his neck, his hot forehead pressing against the back of it. In one fluid motion, Reigen rises to his full height, his arms curling around the crooks of Mob’s knees. He bounces in place once to get a better grip and Mob squeaks from the suddenness of it.

“Ah, sorry,” Reigen says, turning his head and catching a glimpse of Mob’s ear, pink and hot. “You alright back there?”

“Mhm,” Mob mumbles, relaxing against Reigen’s back, finally letting the exhaustion get the better of him. “Thank you, shishou.” His voice is splintered and small and it breaks Reigen’s heart a little bit.

He clears his throat. “Don’t mention it, Mob,” he says dismissively, making his way down the sidewalk in slow, careful strides so Mob can hopefully get some sleep on the way.

Mob sleeps like the fucking dead.

Reigen already knew that before, of course, but it’s still jarring when after trudging into his apartment and depositing Mob on his bed, the kid doesn’t so much as twitch.

His head lolls to the side against one of Reigen’s pillows, his body limp like a rag doll’s and his already pale skin concerningly paler. Reigen sighs and rubs the back of his stiff neck, sweaty from having Mob’s burning forehead pressed against it. He circles around to the foot of the bed and slowly slips off Mob’s shoes. After a quick glance up to make sure Mob is still asleep, he heads back into the living room and drops his shoes by the front door. He searches his kitchen and bathroom for medicine, a thermometer, a cold compress - something - and returns to his bedroom with handfuls of half-empty bottles of tylenol and pills a few months out of date, a damp hand towel draped over his wrist. Not ideal, but it’s all he’s got.

He sets the medicines down on the nightstand, having to shove aside an empty coffee mug and a pack of cigarettes to make room. He turns to Mob and pushes his thick, damp bangs back, replacing them with a cool washcloth, patterned with faded little ducks. Mob finally shifts, eyes cracking open as he lifts a shaky hand to his forehead.

“Wha…” he mumbles, glazed eyes blinking up at Reigen in sleepy confusion. Reigen exhales softly in relief.

“Hey, Mob,” he says breathlessly with a lopsided smile, sitting down at Mob’s side. “How ya feeling?”

Mob curls his hands into loose fists and rubs his eyes, groaning quietly. “Warm,” he utters, hands moving to cup his cheeks. His eyebrows pinch together. “Cold…? Both.”

“Yeah, well,” Reigen chuckles, shrugging, “That’s a fever for you.”

Mob begins propping himself up on his elbows, saying, “Ritsu - “, but Reigen gently pushes him back down onto the mattress with a hand on his shoulder.

“Uh-uh, I don’t think so,” he reprimands softly, sighing at the confusion on Mob’s face. “I’ll call your family for you and let them know you’re here. Don’t worry. You just - “ he makes a halting gesture with both hands, like he’s telling a puppy to stay put, “ - relax. I’ll handle it. Do you need something to drink?”

Mob takes a deep breath, letting his head fall back against the pillow. He tugs at the high collar of his uniform and, after a moment of fidgeting, says, “Yes, please.”

“You can take that off if you want,” Reigen offers, gesturing to his uniform. “Do you have extra clothes you could change into?”

Mob nods, turning his head and glancing around the room as if in search of something. “Mm, yeah, my gym clothes. They’re in my bag…”

“Ah.” Reigen gets up and picks up Mob’s bag from where he’d dropped it by his bedroom door. He offers it to Mob, who forces himself into a sitting position, hands braced against the mattress on either side of him and elbows nearly buckling from the effort. Reigen manages to catch the damp washcloth before it slips off of Mob’s forehead and into his lap. He sets it down on his nightstand, unsure of what else to do with it.

He leaves the room to let Mob change and to call his parents, assuring them that Yes, he’s fine, he’s just running a little fever and I wanted to keep an eye on him, Yes, Yes, No problem, Bye now.

Ritsu, however, is a little harder to deal with. Reigen doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

“I want to see him,” the youngest Kageyama says firmly on the other end of the line, curt and honest where Mob is shy and polite.

“I promise he’s doing okay,” Reigen vows, stamping out his own lingering concern like a cigarette butt under his heel.

“Not okay enough for you to let him come home, evidently,” Ritsu points out. Shit.

“It’s just,” Reigen starts feebly, fingers curling mid-air as if he could conjure the right words with a vibrant enough hand gesture, “your parents are out of town - “

“We usually manage on our own just fine.”

“ - but Mob is sick . Hell, somebody’s gotta be responsible for him, you know? I can’t just leave him alone. He’s a kid. And so are you, by the way - How about a little respect for your elders, huh?”

There’s a long moment where the only sound coming from the other end of the line is faint static. Reigen swallows, cursing his chronic foot-in-mouth syndrome and praying to whatever spirits are probably haunting his shitty apartment that he hasn’t offended the kid somehow.

“Whatever,” Ritsu mutters finally and hangs up before Reigen can reprimand him for the attitude.

Was he like that when he was a teenager?

Maybe. Probably worse.

Whatever.

He grabs a glass from one of the kitchen cabinets, being sure to pick one that isn’t cloudy or chipped (the only one, for that matter), and fills it with water from the tap. He knows Mob usually prefers milk, but right now he needs clear fluids to flush the virus out.

That’s how Reigen thinks it works anyway.

A cursory google search probably wouldn’t hurt next time he tries to take on the task of diseased child care. Hindsight.

He knocks on his bedroom door and waits for the all-clear before entering, seeing Mob sprawled out on his back in his red and white gym clothes as his uniform sits at the foot of the bed in a wrinkled puddle of black and white.

“Your parents say they hope you feel better,” Reigen informs him. “And your little brother misses you, I think.”

Mob grunts in acknowledgement, blindly reaching for the forgotten washcloth on Reigen’s nightstand and slapping it back onto his forehead with a wet clap . Reigen feels bad forcing him to sit up again, but the kid has to drink and take some medicine before Reigen can let him go back to sleep.

After being fed tylenol and cold pills and having to chug down a whole glass of water at Reigen’s insistence, Mob can barely keep his eyes open.

“It’s cold, shishou,” he complains, teeth chattering as his whole body shakes like a leaf.

“Alright, well,” Reigen starts, standing up from his position at Mob’s side and tugging the covers out from under him. Mob curls up against the mattress, shivering almost violently, and Reigen tucks him until he’s little more than a quaking amorphous lump among the sheets. Reigen smiles and pats what he assumes is Mob’s shoulder - it’s hard to tell when the only part of him that’s visible is the top of his black mop of hair - and is about to turn and leave the kid in peace when a little arm shoots out from under the covers to grab Reigen by the wrist.

Reigen’s head whips around to look down at his captor, who is now peeking tearfully over the rim of his blanket-cocoon.

“Shishou, stay?” he asks, voice rough and small and needy.

Reigen isn’t naive enough to believe that Mob is as emotionless as he appears; he never has been. But it’s rare that Mob is this expressive and it catches Reigen off guard in a way only Mob can.

Mob needs him right now. And he’s being honest about it.

Reigen melts in the heat of his sudden, overpowering urge to protect. He clears his throat.

“Alright, yeah,” he says after a moment of dumbfounded staring. He turns back, crouching by the side of the bed. He tugs the blanket down away from Mob’s face far enough for him to see more than just his eyes and hair and readjusts the crooked washcloth stuck to his forehead.

Mob closes his eyes and lets out a long, labored breath. A smile quirks the corners of Reigen’s lips as he lightly ruffles Mob’s hair.

“I’m not going anywhere, kid,” he vows quietly, and it’s the one thing he’ll never lie about.

#mp100 #fanfiction #arataka reigen #shigeo kageyama #my fic #mob psycho 100

[chewysugar]

someone will be with you in a moment

you phone the Employment Insurance office because you made a mistake on your report. you’re up at the crack of dawn, and there’s still a wait time. of course there’s a wait time. millions of people are out of work on account of COVID and the stupidity of others. but you bear with it because you need the money.

a breezy voice says “all of our agents are currently busy. please stay on the line and someone will be with you in a moment.”

between this and other variations, they play a mellow, borderline mariachi tune. it’s the kind of thing designed to be inoffensive. all guitar strings, soft horns and a steady beat that ticks with each stroke of the second hand.

after one hour, you get discouraged. but the music could be worse. it keeps you hypnotized, really. and you need the money. still, the voice keeps saying “all of our agents are busy. please stay on the line and someone will be with you in a moment.”

two hours pass. you’ve tried to keep yourself zoned in by playing solitaire on your computer.

the music has you wanting to fall asleep despite three cups of coffee going into your empty stomach.

“all of our agents are busy. please stay on the line an someone will be with you in a moment.”

three hours.

you’ve put the phone on speaker. the screen is greasy from being pressed against your skin and hair. your stomach lurches from lack of food and acidic coffee.

you’ve kept playing solitaire because there’s nothing else to do. you mostly lose, but sometimes you win. not that it matters when your fiscal future is in the balance.

by now you thought the appropriated Latin music would have abated, but no. it’s still gentle. coaxing. seducing you into staying on the line like a trout with a hook through its upper lip. on the other side of this there will be a person who can help you. who can give you money for rent and food.

it’s almost three and a half hours. you’re knuckles are cracking from the need to hit someone or something out of sheer impatience. but you’re not going anywhere because--

“hello, this is Severin, how can I help you.”

a person! an actual person, and not a robot.

you turn the volume on your phone up, and fumble for your information. before you, your umpteenth game of solitaire is half-finished and unimportant.

almost tripping over your words, you tell Severin about the basis of your call--how you made a mistake on your report. how your previous employer neglected to mention that they’d be giving you your vacation pay out on a final paycheck which you received after registering for EI.

“of course,” says Severin. they have a cool, pleasing voice. the kind of voice that says “i can take charge of an apocalypse and not break a sweat.”

“if you’ll just give me two to five minutes, I’ll take a look at your file. would you mind holding?”

“not at all.”

“thank you.”

severin lures you back to that music. almost at once your racing pulse slows. it’s pavlovian at this point, the need to remain calm as the strings put you in mind of somewhere dusky and warm with a view of the ocean.

you stare at your computer screen, not really seeing it. you wonder if this game of solitaire is something you’ll win, or if you’ll bust like you have the last twenty-six times.

“hello, thank you for holding.” Severin is back, their voice a dead even for the lulling music they just interrupted. “i see where the error was made, and we can update it. i just need some further information from you. is that alright?”

“yes. yes, of course, anything.”

“Current address?”

you tell them.

“And how long ago did you leave your previous employer?”

it was three weeks ago. before Christmas. you emphasize that it was on account of COVID, and that you’re sure that you’ll be rehired just as soon as people start getting their act together.

“yes, yes of course.” Severin doesn’t seem a font of empathy, but you can tell they understand. they’ve heard it from thousands of people by now. and they want to help you. it’s a simple error.

“before we proceed, I need your mother’s maiden name.”

you narrow your eyes, and when you respond, it’s a little snippy.

but Severin doesn’t sound at all ruffled.

in fact, there’s something of a laugh in their voice.

“thank you, thank you. we really appreciate your patience. times are tough right now, and we’re doing all we can to help you. i just need the name of the street you grew up on.”

you tell them, your chest tightening. they should know who you are already. you gave them your social insurance number and your password almost four hours ago.

“and that was near Killarney Elementary school? where you went from kindergarten until fifth grade when you moved to a new city?”

“yes, yes.”

“this was because of the fire, right? in the arts and crafts room? your best friend died there along with three other children and two teachers.”

“yes, that was why, but--

“when you moved, you had night terrors. you hit your mother in the face when she tried to comfort you and skipped school in from grades six to eight until you were threatened with academic probation. is that right?”

you’re on your feet now. you’re so hungry, and tired from the lack of sleep you’ve gotten over the last three weeks.

“that’s right!” you tell them your name--first, middle and last. you tell them where you’ve worked since you pulled yourself together and graduated high school only to enter college, dropout and cling to a string of minimum wage jobs.

“please be patient,” Severin says, still quite at their leisure. “we’re only trying to help you. goodness knows you need it after all the failed relationships you’ve had. your second romantic partner in high school, that was the one they found in a psychotic rage after overdosing at your house party, wasn’t it. the one you gave the drugs to in the first place. you told them it was the best high you’d ever had, didn’t you?”

it’s then that your deprived, dulled senses catch up with you. information about your childhood is one thing--you did have to answer to a lot of authority figures following the Killarney fire until you pulled yourself together at the age of fourteen.

but they shouldn’t know that you told your distant ex something that private.

“what’s going on?” you say, stunned and borderline brain-fried.

severin still has the same chill tone in their voice. “we’re just trying to help you process the mistake you made on your unemployment insurance claim.”

“but--

“you’re fortunate to have worked for the school board as long as you did, even if it was as a lowly custodian, what with your turbulent track record. i suppose you felt a great sense of responsibility towards education, as it was you who started that unfortunate fire.”

through a throat gone tight, you look towards the sliding glass door of your apartment. the dark curtains you put there for privacy are shutting out a january morning too warm for your part of the world.

“is this some kind of joke?”

“our agents are not in the habit of making jokes,” Severin says, and for the first time, an iota of feeling laces their words. they’re very displeased with you, and you feel like a foolish child again--chastised and questioned by hysterical, furious grown ups who just want answers. who just want you to behave.

you swallow at the obstruction in your gullet.

“please,” you say, “please I just need my report fixed.”

“report? what report? you have no file on record. in fact, from what my information is saying, you’re fate is to never make money again. expect an eviction notice by the end of the month. none of your friends will help you, because you’ve been relapsing during the pandemic and they secretly find you burdensome and frustrating.”

something hot and wet slides down your cheeks, and you sink, weak-kneed into your chair. you’ve always been afraid of this--you’ve known it to be true, even when your closest friends answer your calls at two in the morning because you’ve fallen to pieces again. but you were going to get better, honest you were! it was just that the pandemic has been so hard, and you’ve already been through so much, what with the arson and the overdose and the dropping out.

“the streets won’t protect you much, i’m afraid,” severin continues. “we’ll still be keeping our eyes on you. now before I let you go, I just want to clarify something with you, for training purposes.”

you can’t bring yourself to reply. severin takes your silence as acquiescence.

“if i were you,” severin says, “i’d move the ten of diamonds to the jack of clubs if you hope to win the game. thank you for using our telephone services. our agents look forward to hearing from you in the future.”

the line goes dead, and you’re not alone.

#short story #short stories #spooky #unemployment #pandemic #covid #horror

[laberintos-espinas]

The Old Chunk Of Coal

Some days are diamonds. Some days are Stones... And the alternative one, I am just an vintage bite of coal, but I can be a diamond at some point  Custom Made Jewellery I love songs. I love the lyrics and secondly the thumping vibrations of the decrease observe beats. I recollect these traces from  country conventional refrains. I recollect them due to the fact I realize the feeling of being taken into consideration a clump of coal. It's a bad feeling. It's now not so much the coloration that is a downer, it's the darkness that's involved whilst one thinks of coal. It's a fossil gas. It's top simplest for heaping onto an already insupportable ecological or metaphorical emotional trauma situation and making it worse. Let's strike a in shape to the coal and burn it until it is used up into ash. Then allow's desire the wind will scatter it, as we do not even want to empty the ashes once it is usefulness has been used up. We're ungrateful every now and then for services rendered. Coal paperwork under the floor. Without light. I assume it gets worse. I assume coal is not even an unique component. I suppose it is compressed gases or rotted timber or something discarded to begin with.

OK. So you get the image that I just like the phrases to songs that sing approximately desire for rotting ancient discarded elements.

I have a friend it truly is a shamanistic healer. It started out that he changed into going to help me locate my manner and discover my voice. Then I commenced cleaning his house for him. This made feel sooner or later for some motive. We additionally percentage songs. Baby-boomers are constantly flower youngsters at heart. I suppose neither one folks really knows why I'm nonetheless spiffing up the palace. I know at a few level we bartered house cleaning for transcended meditation classes. Yet I got here with a again schedule. I'm going to clean my way through his lavatories and into his coronary heart. When I get there, I'm going to mirror my Light on his pathway and then flip him into the palms of the one true God to take care of. Silly presumptive conceited me, assuming he wanted me to shop him. I deliver up my Shaman due to the fact he instructed me in three separate restoration periods I turned into a diamond so first-rate that soon many round me could recognize and notice me. I figured he changed into speakme inside the religious geographical regions and in symbolic language. Now I'm not so sure.

OK. So you get the picture that I've been on a religious quest to connect and solder myself right into the mainline connection with my Creator, God as I changed into taught. You recognise the only inside the Christian container? However, something came about along the way I didn't assume. My point of view concerning traditional Western Christianity flipped. I think now, that Jesus changed into certainly the entity that lead me into the Kingdom of God. Nevertheless, since I've certainly wondered and did research from original supply statistics, I suppose God is Spirit, the whole Spirit of the God and that God is entire natural Love; the originating, creating, shrewd Source that is the vibration of natural white power light. The Light of all cosmology and creation.

Something has also happened to me for the reason that my unique friend and the Shaman helped me locate my voice and soul again. I started out to put in writing. I started out to write prolifically. I write all the time. I cannot prevent it. It's been approximately six months now of nonstop writing. I write day and night time. I write about something and the entirety. I actually have masses to say and do not know why. My "still small voice" is very talkative. Just about each person it is are available in contact with my e-mail radar range, has advised I write for a living. I've just been watching for the go-ahead signal from a person. I've been at the intersection watching for the mild to turn green. Today it occurred.

You now recognize I stay to write down. I discover the sector around me high-quality and wondrous and want to inform absolutely everyone all about it.

I belong to a churchwomen's fellowship institution. It's seventy five-a hundred women who can find time on Thursday mornings to come back collectively with aim of being God honoring, together. One of the instructors for one in all this season's classes, I am venerated to say, has come to be a pal of mine. Judy is a raven-haired angel of a girl filled with grace, information and dignity. She's the pastor's spouse. She's additionally very humorous. I'm unshakably convinced God has a strong dry sense of humor. He need to have. Look at us!

Today Judy surprised me. She asked my permission to study one in all my written works. It was well timed and related to the President of america. She felt it turned into a very good element for some women to hear. I did not want to appear unpatriotic in those perilous instances, right after 9/11 so I agreed. I changed into very thankful she become not going to make me arise and examine my essay. I contemplated just skipping magnificence these days, to keep away from the embarrassment I'd no question sense and possibly keep away from the harsh sarcasm or poor criticism of my sisters in Christ. (Oops. It sounds a tad like my perceptions of my fellow guy is askew, would not it?) God will work on this hassle.

I did not hen out. I confirmed up. What I didn't anticipate passed off next.

Judy didn't wait till small institution time. She got up there and read my article to the complete bunch of properly-bred, sensible ladies at the monthly scheduled all-church women's luncheon earlier than our writing class. I become mortified! I started to look around me. The feast room changed into full of spherical tables seating eight ladies a table. A little hearth-orange rose budded out of the middle of every desk. These ladies began to appear like a bouquet of freshly reduce plants to me. This kind of bouquet is such an extravagance for someone like me. These girls are the cream of the crop on Mercer Island, WA. A.Ok.A. The Golden Ghetto. My sons and I best live on the island because of a Section 8 HUD housing voucher for the poor.

I watched as women began to wipe water out of the corners of their eyes. I watched as eyeglasses started being eliminated and noses had been blown. I watched girls torn between gazing me ( seeking to hide in a nook of the front of the room) and trying to stay riveted on Judy analyzing My written words. I watched as the sounds of my tale bounced towards my mind. I changed into surprised to say the least. I 'd by no means heard my words out loud earlier than. I become curious about the article. It produced a silent sound down in my internal middle connection to God. It struck worry (as in awe) in my heart as I realized some thing supernatural had passed off to my palms to jot down such sounds.

When the object become finished, the girls applauded. They asked copies to own in unison. I turned into proclaimed a proficient writer. I was humbled into silence, again. I saw some thing unrecognizable. I saw refracted mild start to prism off these ladies lower back at me. Just like while a diamond is held up to the daylight. I contemplated this sight.

As if this became now not sufficient, the primary group disbanded into the smaller lecture room corporations to prepare for the inspirational teachings of the day. It would be an hour and a half of studying and sharing Life training, girl Christian style. Judy had every other marvel in keep for me. She wasn't through with me yet due to the fact she was the teacher of the writing group I belonged to for this smaller organization.

The topic below discussion become Changing Times. Judy started out giving examples of how traditional authors had expressed themselves as she thumbed via Emerson, Lewis, and a pair current luminary authors. About midway via the class, Judy yanked out yet ANOTHER of my tales and read it to this magnificence as her last example! I turned into petrified the ladies might grow resentful, bored and angry at this monopoly on their time. There had been many proficient women in this organization. All with superb motivating stories to inform. Judy made no bones about how highly she regarded my capacity to seize pix and percentage my coronary heart-mind to an target market. She study Homecoming Parade. She excerpted and compacted the lengthy story into one which hit the mark. More tears flowed and mouths hung free. You should've heard a pin drop in the location. More applause. I shriveled underneath the desk and attempted to clown round graciously to alleviate the pain of appreciation and recognition.

What I saw as I appeared around this group of 30 movers and shakers of all ages, shocked me. I noticed it symbolically, as is my way. But nevertheless, it became there for the viewing. I saw a super wonderful blue-white, exquisite-reduce diamond being held up and placed into a platinum solitaire putting.

When the meeting ended, a woman I'd gotten to recognize recently approached me. Her call is Judy Boynton. She clipped off her credentials for the organization. She was a professional posted creator of fiction and non-fiction novels. She changed into an finished artist of sculptures. She become a trustee on the Board of Pacific Northwest Writers Conference affiliated with Pacific Lutheran University. She'd been a member of this group for over 25 years. I became impressed. Not so much through her credentials, as high-quality as they were, however with the aid of the strength and force at the back of her eyes. This woman had awareness and motive. She was aiming at me.

She advised me she knew what she was speaking approximately. She instructed me and the organization I WAS a gifted creator. She told us she'd visible enough to realize the difference among one that would like to be a writer and one that IS a writer. I fell into the latter category. She surpassed me numbers and pamphlets and instructed me to be at the next convention meeting. She explained this is where publishers, agents, and authors meet each other with the purpose on publishing written works of merit. Names like Ann Rule and J.A. Jance had been bantered approximately at some stage in this same day through others as they requested my permission to have them perhaps touch those "friends of theirs."

It isn't regularly in a lifetime that one simply is AWARE of a life converting moment or day. I've been graced with one of those moments. Today it appears, the sector round me is starting to notice and recognize the old chew of coal were given the dust pressure-washed off of her so hard and significantly by means of Life, that she'd developed into a diamond solitaire of well worth and observe.

I know in which I belong proper now, proper at this area in time. I belong sticking effective near my special buddies who know a way to crimp the ones platinum prongs at the diamond setting firmly and securely. I even have a sense diamonds are forever, as they are saying. How should this have passed off?

[vulgarismo]

A Few of My Favourite Things - The Bling Rings

My three genuine 'bling' rings live on my left hand, declaring my conjugal status to the world. In only a couple of years, they will have been there for 50 years... envision that!

My wedding band is thin with three small jewels set in minuscule white gold precious stone shapes on the yellow gold band. I had arranged a wide, plain gold band, until I started giving somewhere in the range of a shot. No... unreasonably substantial for my long thin fingers. By one way or another, this slimmest of wedding rings, with its own piece of 'bling' was the ideal counterpart for my solitaire precious stone wedding band with its straightforward shoulders set with little jewels each side.

My time everlasting ring had been my Mother's, that I acquired 34 years after our marriage. Another thin ring set with small precious stones that cheerfully settled right in nearby the 'elder sibling' (or sister?) jewel ring - making an ideal equalization - a brilliant and glossy amicability. I love the idea that a piece of my cherished Mother carries on with my consistently with me, sharing triumphs and disasters, and all the shades of Life in the middle.

Engagement Rings Perth In any case, this story has a place with the 'work of art' precious stone wedding band that included in a most startling manner in the primary long stretches of Summer, here on our retirement ranch. Living in the South East of South Australia sees the greater part of us all around adjusted to the cold and wet months - yet enduring the warmth of Summer temperatures that our Northern cousins would discover worthy as great, warm and sunshiny days. Subsequently, the cool of the night and the delicate breeze that creeps over the land from the ocean only 15 kms. (9 miles) away, are invited and appreciated most appreciatively. On such a night, following beverages and loosen up time, I had an extensive cavort with our long-haired German Shepherd hound, Benji - the two of us getting a charge out of a tumble and move around on the cool grass until sleep time.

The following morning followed the standard blurred peered toward, slow awakening daily practice of - nature call; wash hands and fast search over of hair; make first mug of espresso; turn on PC; taste espresso while inertly checking fingernails. Gee mm - that thumbnail needs consideration - stretch fingers out, and... my heart halted for a few thumps and afterward started to pound agonizingly in my chest and excruciatingly boisterously in my ears. I could scarcely relax. There was an extraordinary dark opening where my precious stone ought to have been. It just couldn't be valid. I tenderly felt the paws of the ring... there was certainly nothing supported inside them.

I checked my work area and console (and improved the console and shook it). I was certain it would simply be lying there, honestly gleaming at me. Possibly the floor? I followed each progression back to the restroom... had it dropped out as I dried my hands? No. I carefully concentrated each square of the tiled floor and afterward the finished wooden sheets of our Kitchen and feasting zone; around the pot and the organizer tops. Nothing.

In our bed? Presently there was a chance. Maybe got on the bed material during that time as I dozed? Once more, no. As I woke my significant other and disclosed to him the stunning news, I started to cry. He support me and in his standard handy design, first checked every last bit of our bed and the covered floor underneath, and afterward 'strolled' me through each move I'd made since I got up. We cleared floors and vacuumed and analyzed our dusty assortments with an amplifying glass. That magnifier immediately turned into a basic hard core instrument in our examinations of each niche and crevice; each knothole and join among wood planks and evading.

The quest continued for quite a long time as the region enlarged to incorporate the front grass where I had played with Benji. This territory gradually and horrendously developed as the most probable spot, since I had hit the sack a while later, and the jewel could well have been lost without even a second's pause. Will you simply envision what number of little beads of dew on the grass can sparkle in the daylight - for all the world like a precious stone - and how frequently expectations and spirits raised up, just to be run down, by and by? Indeed, even Benji himself couldn't get away from a careful pursuit of his hide - just on the remotest chance the precious stone had become entrapped some place on him. How I wished!

All looking through demonstrated unprofitable. The dark opening in my wedding band appeared to be significantly bigger and emptier each time I took a gander at it. Finally we needed to concede destruction and telephone our protection fellow - the person who had known us for around 30 years by then - the person who had never let us down when we were out of luck.

Very soon, he had the option to give us our first uplifting news in this awful circumstance - our protection would cover another precious stone and its substitution cost. We simply required a composed statement from our gem specialist to be sent to the Insurance organization for endorsement.

On close assessment, the gem specialist found a minuscule twisting of the paws on one side, which persuaded the precious stone had sneaked out of that side. We had just moved here half a month prior, and now I tragically recollected two or three thumps to my hands as we man-took care of the unending boxes - however as no damage could be identified by the unaided eye, I had loose. As an outcome of this life-changing misfortune, I currently visit my gem specialist routinely, for him to take a snappy look with his trusty one-eye magnifier for any early indications of harm or wear. Up until this point, everything is acceptable.

At last, my cherished ring was back where it had a place, shining at its standard degree of splendor, like this show had never occurred. Literally nothing about the setting had been changed, which was actually how I needed it. I'm only not into the refreshing and redesigning pattern that numerous ladies grasp (even to the point of getting a bigger precious stone as their days become increasingly princely).

We are persuaded the last resting spot of my late long lost jewel is down a little break or insect opening possibly, in our front yard. In case we're right, would you be able to envision somebody, sometime in the not so distant future, burrowing to make another nursery bed - and surrendering a scoop of earth to discover a jewel?

[misspaigej]

A Few of My Favourite Things - The Bling Rings

My three genuine 'bling' rings live on my left hand, reporting my conjugal status to the world. In only a couple of years, they will have been there for 50 years... envision that!

My wedding band is thin with three modest jewels set in minor white gold precious stone shapes on the yellow gold band. I had arranged a wide, plain gold band, until I started giving about a shot. No... unreasonably overwhelming for my long thin fingers. By one way or another, this slimmest of wedding rings, with its own piece of 'bling' was the ideal counterpart for my solitaire precious stone wedding band with its straightforward shoulders set with small jewels each side.

My endlessness ring had been my Mother's, that I acquired 34 years after our marriage. Another thin ring set with little precious stones that joyfully settled right in close by the 'older sibling' (or sister?) jewel ring - making an ideal parity - a splendid and sparkling concordance. I love the idea that a piece of my cherished Mother experience my consistently with me, sharing triumphs and catastrophes, and all the shades of Life in the middle.

In any case, this story has a place with the 'centerpiece' precious stone wedding band that highlighted in a most startling manner in the principal long stretches of Summer, here on our retirement ranch Engagement Rings Perth. Living in the South East of South Australia sees a large portion of us all around acclimatized to the cold and wet months - yet enduring the warmth of Summer temperatures that our Northern cousins would discover worthy as great, warm and sunshiny days. Thusly, the cool of the night and the delicate breeze that creeps over the land from the ocean only 15 kms. (9 miles) away, are invited and delighted in most thankfully. On such a night, following beverages and loosen up time, I had a protracted cavort with our long-haired German Shepherd hound, Benji - the two of us getting a charge out of a tumble and move around on the cool grass until sleep time.

The following morning followed the standard dim looked at, progressive awakening routine of - nature call; wash hands and snappy go over of hair; make first mug of espresso; turn on PC; taste espresso while inertly checking fingernails. Gee mm - that thumbnail needs consideration - stretch fingers out, and... my heart halted for a few pulsates and afterward started to pound horrendously in my chest and insufferably noisily in my ears. I could scarcely relax. There was an incredible dark opening where my jewel ought to have been. It just couldn't be valid. I tenderly felt the hooks of the ring... there was unquestionably nothing supported inside them.

I checked my work area and console (and improved the console and shook it). I was certain it would simply be lying there, guiltlessly twinkling at me. Perhaps the floor? I remembered each progression back to the restroom... had it dropped out as I dried my hands? No. I carefully concentrated each square of the tiled floor and afterward the finished wooden sheets of our Kitchen and feasting region; around the pot and the cabinet tops. Nothing.

In our bed? Presently there was a chance. Maybe got on the bed material during that time as I dozed? Once more, no. As I woke my significant other and revealed to him the stunning news, I started to cry. He ameliorated me and in his standard down to earth design, first checked every last trace of our bed and the covered floor underneath, and afterward 'strolled' me through each move I'd made since I got up. We cleared floors and vacuumed and analyzed our dusty assortments with an amplifying glass. That magnifier immediately turned into a basic substantial device in our examinations of each alcove and crevice; each knothole and join among wood planks and evading.

The quest continued for a considerable length of time as the territory extended to incorporate the front grass where I had played with Benji. This territory gradually and agonizingly rose as the most probable spot, since I had hit the sack a while later, and the jewel could well have been lost without further ado. Can you simply envision what number of minor beads of dew on the grass can flicker in the daylight - for all the world like a precious stone - and how often expectations and spirits raised up, just to be run down, indeed? Indeed, even Benji himself couldn't get away from an exhaustive inquiry of his hide - just on the remotest chance the jewel had become snared some place on him. How I wished!

All looking through demonstrated unprofitable. The dark gap in my wedding band appeared to be much bigger and emptier each time I took a gander at it. Finally we needed to concede thrashing and telephone our protection fellow - the person who had known us for somewhere in the range of 30 years by then - the person who had never let us down when we were out of luck.

Very soon, he had the option to give us our first uplifting news in this nightmarish circumstance - our protection would cover another precious stone and its substitution cost. We simply required a composed statement from our diamond setter to be sent to the Insurance organization for endorsement.

On close assessment, the gem specialist found a little mutilation of the hooks on one side, which persuaded the precious stone had sneaked out of that side. We had just moved here half a month prior, and now I tragically recalled two or three thumps to my hands as we man-dealt with the perpetual boxes - yet as no mischief could be distinguished by the unaided eye, I had loose. As a result of this extraordinary misfortune, I presently visit my diamond setter routinely, for him to take a brisk look with his trusty one-eye magnifier for any early indications of harm or wear. Up until this point, everything is acceptable.

At last, my loved ring was back where it had a place, shimmering at its standard degree of brightness, just as this show had never occurred. Literally nothing about the setting had been changed, which was actually how I needed it. I'm only not into the refreshing and rebuilding pattern that numerous ladies grasp (even to the point of getting a bigger precious stone as their days become progressively princely).

We are persuaded the last resting spot of my late long lost precious stone is down a little break or subterranean insect gap perhaps, in our front yard. In case we're right, would you be able to envision somebody, sometime in the not so distant future, burrowing to make another nursery bed - and surrendering a scoop of soil to discover a precious stone?

[twistednuns]

June 2019

“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keep moving.”   

A (very) sunny day in London. Seeing a seal in the Thames, right under the Tower Bridge. Walking through St. James’s Park, eating ice-cream. Taking a beautiful picture of Laura in Covent Garden. Finally getting out of the underground. A tiny rainbow reflection in the sky over Greenwich.

Playing badminton in the evening with Frank. Sitting by the river, making new friends (duckies).

Micha. Meeting in Thalkirchen after I had just seen a half dead mouse. Walking along the river, finding a nice spot across from the zoo with a bunch of musical hippies playing the drums on the other bank. We got drunk on Toro Loco and Grasovka in ice hockey cups until he kissed me in the middle of a sentence. It took quite a while until I noticed I was just kissing my first man with a tongue piercing. At some point I re-erected a knocked over portable toilet (does drunk me have superhuman powers?) and we walked to the subway together. Such a gentle weirdo.

Making breakfast for someone other than me. Sharing an apple. Eating out of the same bowl.

IKEA has veggie hot dogs now. Excellent. I also got a new cutting board. And that’s ALL I got. I’m virtually patting myself on the shoulder right now.

Christoph and Lauren’s wedding was pretty chill. We squeezed into a car, went up a very steep hill to attend the ceremony and spent the rest of the day around a camp fire drinking gin and tonics or dancing to very bad music. I loved getting to know Michael’s boyfriend of 4 years. I always received gay vibes from him… good to know that my gaydar isn’t broken.

Taking polaroid pictures in the beautiful afternoon light. I also loved Christian’s outtakes of the theme music quiz. One of them honestly looks as if I’d just won a beauty pageant - we have a host, two ladies with jealous side glances and me, all excited, open mouth, in front of the mic, waiting for her tiara…

Spending a few hours in my mum’s garden. Doing dangerous yoga exercises in the grass. Walking barefoot. Marveling at the lush roses everywhere. Watching a blackbird taking a bath under the cherry tree. Very entertaining.

I want to learn Spanish and this video gives me hope - apparently I can heavily rely on my French vocabulary.

Why the men I like usually look the same.

Hanging out with Martina, Tobi and Diego the dog at the Thalkirchen campsite. Watching the rafts go by (horrible music), driving them home with their car right before the apocalyptic thunderstorm.

The perfect dessert: berries or peaches with fresh cream. The perfect dinner: Truffle pasta.

The concept of eclecticism.

Spending the afternoon with Franzi at Maria Einsiedel. Meeting baby Elise for the first time. Hopping into the Eiskanal, turning my body into a freezer for five minutes. Eating tiny lemon ice-cream and galia melon.

Meeting Catrin and Andreas at Brillengalerie in Altheim. Really good cappuccino (he’s an optician AND a latte artist). I loved trying on those gorgeous glasses and talking to Catrin about the Latte Art championships and rude customers.

Our trip to the Bavarian Forest to make a cake tree for the wedding. We visited Lena’s uncle who turned a tree trunk into a three-tiered cake stand with his chainsaw. We helped. I really want to get a chainsaw license now.

Once again: roses. They are incredibly lush this year. I don’t know why exactly but climate change seems to have one tiny upside.

Drawing. Portrait practice. Filling my sketchbook from idee. Polychromos coloured pencils.

Using Instagram’s story feature for the first time. I love editing pictures and adding gifs and colours. Immature and tacky but fun.

Looking trough old analogue pictures. Finding lots of my dad looking like the perfect Millennial. 90s fashion really IS back. I still loathe fanny packs though.

I found someone who’s coming to India with me!! I’m going to travel with Bibi this summer. So excited!

Unfortunately: the Solitaire app on my phone. Unhealthy obsession. You know you’ve got a problem when you’re getting REALLY good…

The smell of dill pickles reminds evokes vivid memories of my grandma. She used to make them herself, in heavy stoneware next to the wash room in the cellar.

Spending the evening with Bibi at Kulturdachgarten (having Ginger Spritz as a sundowner in the late afternoon sun), eating Israeli mezze at NANA in Haidhausen and seeing Rocketman at Rio cinema. My colleague works there so we got discount tickets and free ice-cream. Taron Egerton is a fabulous actor. If I had to describe the film in one word it’d be flamboyant. Also, I’d have loved to be the costume designer for this.

Iglo veggie love frozen meals. With Hela curry ketchup. Nom.

Extremely cute new rockery plants (who will have to do with regular potting soil I’m afraid).

Meeting Andre at Thalkirchen. Spending the evening on an Isar gravel bank, drinking the beer Martina brought from Croatia. Joining the… eh, what’s the Mile High Club for people who prefer water to air travel? Catching the last train home. Taking dinky photobooth pictures because we still had ten minutes to spare. That fake photo strip makes me happy instantly whenever I look at it.

Getting better at asking for what I want.

The character Moe in the Netflix series Trinkets. To me, she’s so much more attractive than Tabitha. And I love her attitude. And her hookup in episode seven. What a pretty man.

Manu making me realise how much I look like my dad. “At least jawwise!”

Spending the evening with Tom. Pre-theatre Spritz, Melancholia at Kammerspiele, Isar-beer near Müllersches Volksbad. Talking about our insights and issues.

It’s fascinating to see the lupin in front of my balcony door open it’s blossoms gradually from bottom to top. This plant has such an interesting structure and geometry.

Salad season. Somehow I only like salads in the summer but then I eat them passionately. With strawberries, Black Forest tofu, peaches, blueberries, mangoes, olives. Those nice, firm Roma tomatoes you only get during the summer months. I made a huge bowl of Tabouleh the other day and had it for breakfast, lunch an dinner.

Going home in the morning, smelling of another person.

Booking flights to India. 5 weeks. I’ve never been gone for so long and then I chose India of all places… I feel a mild panic attack coming but I’m also super excited.

Artificial cherry flavour.

A day trip with Lexi. She brought crisps and a fun Mexican dice game which we played on the train. Spending the whole afternoon soaking in the warm water at Therme Bad Aibling. Discovering the amazing acoustics in the various domes. Making a new duckie friend. Weird mirror selfies with hairdryers. Dinner at a Bavarian restaurant in Rosenheim. Teaching le Sash some obscure Bavarian words.

The word obscure, come to think of it. Uncanny is a close second.

Jupiter being so bright in the night sky. I always notice it first as soon as it’s dark.

Librarians are secretly the funnest people alive.

So many things, really. I’m feeling quite happy at the moment. My only problem is that I keep gaining weight. Somehow enjoying myself is adverse to the strict regime I need in order to stay perfectly healthy.

Random things: Schweppes Fruity citrus and orange lemonade. Tomato sandwiches with fresh basil on olive ciabatta. That squirrel running over the garage roof in the morning. Dreaming of ferry rides through US rivers. And intercourse with a panther. The Garner Ambre Soleil natural bronzer spray with coconut oil. Nice colour, good smell, minimal chipmunk effect. And of course me regular Garnier sun oil. It’s the bottled essence of summer.

Filling in for someone in the Natural 20s pub quiz team. Being invited to a pen and paper round with feline characters only. Meeting Sophia who, I realised later, played Rosencrantz (or Guildenstern?) at Entity Theatre’s production of Hamlet last year.

My complete and utter obsession with Phil Collins’ version of You Can’t Hurry Love. I think it’s going to be my next karaoke song.

A desire and drive to be creative. Making collages out of dried leftover paint. Drawing on the window panes. Getting out gouache, pastel chalks, oil pastels, those weird 3-in-1 coloured pencils which create such a nice texture. Drawing first thing in the morning. Spending hours drawing owls for the coffee roasters. Using coloured pencils to draw portraits of all the cool girls of Instagram.

Oh, speaking of art. I don’t want to jinx it but I might get the chance to write a book soon! I met an editor who works at a publishing house for lifestyle books and needs someone to make a book about portrait drawing/painting for her. So. Excited. They’re also looking for a trainee in the graphic design department. I really hope I get to collaborate with them in one way or another.

Cute summer outfits. Good colour combinations. Accessorizing. Wearing pretty clothes with a creative twist. Actually putting some thought into putting together an outfit can be a lot of fun. After all it’s just another way of making a collage.

Polarized sunglasses providing me with the bluest skies and rainbow-tinted tram windows.

The Croatian man who sat down next to a visibly pregnant Bavarian woman on the subway and started telling her about his daughter Persephone and the abduction myth connected with her. I keep reading and hearing about Demeter and Persephone lately, for example about Baubo and the vulva presentations / Demeter worship.

Carmen Rohrbach’s Unterwegs sein ist mein Leben. I was very impressed by how much she has seen and experienced. How much she knows about nature and animals. I mean, she’s a biologist, too. Reading this book made my days a little more special because it gave me a sense of how much more there is to discover on this planet.

Eating vegan ice-cream (pumpkin seed and ginger-turmeric) with Micha. Sitting on the balustrade in front of the Art Academy. Staring into these insanely pretty blue eyes all the time. Looking for the toilets, roaming through the hallways. I love the architecture of that building.

A ladybug escaping the subway train through an open door. Freedom!

I love how the characters resemble each other so much in the different generations in the TV-series Dark. Uncanny. And they feature very nice colour contrasts, too. I guess I like their production designer / cinematographer.

Late-night Isar strolls. Drinking red wine, lying down, watching the stars surrounded by fireflies! (which are quite rare where I live so I was lucky - the strangest thing is that I had drawn a firefly into my sketchbook earlier that day, feels like I manifested it)

Tollwood gin and tonics, forgetting to go home, ending up in a gay club at 3am. Nice Thursday.

Making up for the lack of sleep on Friday afternoon. Waking up late. Releasing my inner Julia Child at 2am by making sushi rolls, taboulé and Bergsteigerbrot, something like super tasty vegan granola bars with lots of nuts and honey.

A little bike tour with Frank along the river. Pseudo-meditating on a log, eating some snacks I brought. Floating with the current. His alliterations (“further fodder for future followers”).

#personal #present perfect #things i love #june #2019 #june 2019