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fandom-imagines · 3 years

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Your Age

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Jealous!Professor!Lupin X Legal!Student!Reader

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: Jealousy, teacher x student relationship, implied smutty ending. Oh and implied toxic parenting.

Summary: After a rough breakup, Y/N finally starts talking to men again. But this doesn’t sit right with her ex, Professor Lupin.

It was hard for the new DADA Professor to watch the girl he longed for be flirted with by somebody else, Draco Malfoy to be specific.

An uncomfortable feeling settled in his chest as he watched Y/N smile at the platinum-haired boy, her hand resting on his upper arm. She was blissfully unaware of the burning gaze that was fixated on her and the Slytherin.

“You have no right, Remus,” he mumbled to himself, extremely grateful that there was nobody within earshot to hear him talking to himself. “You broke it off with her. You’re too old.”

“Y/N, can you stay behind a moment, please?” Despite his lips being pulled up into a soft smile, his eyes held a different emotion.

“Sure, Professor!”

Once everyone had piled out of the room, Y/N’s friends saying they’ll see her in Potions, Remus finally broke the news.

“This can’t go on,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “There’s so many reasons why it can’t.” The pain in her eyes was something he would never be able to erase from his mind, no matter how much he wanted to get rid of it.

“Got ya,” she smiled, holding back tears. “Is that all, Professor?”

Hearing her use that title whilst they were alone struck a new type of pain in his heart and all he could do was nod.

“That’s all, Y/N.”

That was four months ago, and the Professor had never felt worse about anything. But he knew it was for her own good; he’s too old for her, at least in his mind.

Y/N had never known the reason behind his sudden distaste towards their relationship, instead being left to assume that he had met someone else; met someone his own age.

The first month had been the worst. Constant overthinking, skipping classes and the feeling over never being wanted again.

The second month things got better, not much but a bit. Her parents were still on at her, as they had always been, about finding a powerful wizard boyfriend. It didn’t matter either way. It isn’t exactly like she could have told them who she was seeing. It just stung more with her mother telling her if she doesn’t find someone now, she never will.

The third month was when things started looking up. She was feeling better, less insecure and was finally spending time with other men, most notable, Draco Malfoy. The sleepless nights were over, and she was beginning to feel better.

“Sorry I’m late,” Lupin rushed as he entered the classroom, hair messy and dark bags under his eyes.

Y/N’s hand dropped from Malfoy’s arm, falling to her side which didn’t go unnoticed by the DADA teacher; things like this made him feel happy yet guilty. She deserves better than an old professor in his eyes and she shouldn’t be sad about him leaving.

He caught the Y/H/C-haired girl’s eyes as she moved to take her usual seat in front of his desk. Usually, she would desperately avoid his sight, something that pained him, but it was different today. For what reason, he didn’t know, or at least he didn’t until Draco took a seat beside her.

“You look lonely, Y/N/N,” he smirked. “Want some company?”

“I’d love some,” she returned his smile, one Lupin longed to be directed at him once again.

It had been about a week since he had seen Y/N last, and he wished the first time that he saw her again hadn’t been like this.

Malfoy and she were leaning against the wall outside of him classroom, both unaware of his presence. They were talking about something, something that he couldn’t hear and he was about to interrupt them until he saw the blonde lean in and capture her lips on his own. Eyes wide, Lupin turned and left, not hearing or seeing what had happened immediately after.

“Look guys,” Seamus laughed, noticing the letter that Y/N had received mere seconds ago. “Y/S/N got herself a howler!”

Y/N, who was now blushing at everyones attention on her, let out a sigh and she unwillingly opened it, aware of the consequences if she did not. The entire halls attention was on her as it began to scream:

“Y/N Y/S/N! How dare you reject Lucius Malfoy’s son! Draco is a lovely young boy, how dare you break his heart like that? He was nothing but nice to you and you won’t even let him take you out on a date? How ungrateful are you? You’re nothing but a frigid little girl, no man will ever love you!”

“Okay mother,” Y/N muttered, watching as the letter tore itself up. “I think I’m going to go.” Were her final words, not waiting for her friends replies before leaving, not realising who had followed her.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as Y/N sat herself on the step outside of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, somewhere she had come out of habit. She always ended up here when she was upset. Nobody was come, it was early morning on a weekend.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice sounded around the corner. Of course he knew exactly where she had gone. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she was clearly lying, he knew her too well for her to lie to him. “I just want to be alone.”

A sigh left Lupin’s lips as he took a seat beside her, robe almost tripping him which would have been comical if not for the situation at hand. “She’s not right, you know?” He chimed in.

“What?” Y/N turned to face the man she was once involved with, only for him to already be looking at her. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not unlovable,”

Confusion enveloped her body as Remus took Y/N’s cheek in his hand, finger roaming the flesh. “I love you,” without hesitation his lips pressed gently against her own, not thinking of the consequences. He enjoyed the way she kissed back immediately, being too used to his lips against hers.

But she pulled back moments after. “No you don’t,” she said. “If you did you wouldn’t have gotten rid of me.” Her hand reached up to snatch his hand from her cheek, missing the pain that flashed across his face.

“Can we talk in my office?”

“I guess,”

And so she followed him, noticing how dishevelled he looked along with the locking of the door. Despite his messy look, he was still attractive.

“What is it?”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you. I didn’t do it for any reason other than wanting to protect you,” he admitted, flicking his wand to give her a seat as he took one beside her, tilting it so he could face her. “You need somebody your own age, somebody that won’t have to disappear once a month, someone that isn’t me.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at his confession, unsure as to how to respond. “But I don’t want anyone else. I love you and only you. You’re the only one I want.”

“I’m sure Malfoy would beg to differ. I’ve seen to way you two act.” He swallowed deeply, looking anywhere but her face.

“Are you jealous?”

The professor hesitated. “Yes, I want you to be only mine. I know that’s selfish but you’re all I can think about, you’re all I want. Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

His hand reached to grasp Y/N’s own, intertwining their fingers whilst he enjoyed the blushing. His spare hand reached for her cheek once again as he spoke. “Forgive me?” His breath fanned across her lips, having moved closer to her face.

“Always,” she pushed her lips against his, something she had missed dearly. “I missed you so much.” She murmured as he pulled her into his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck as they kissed.

“Me too, darling,” he groaned at the feeling of her pressing against his area. “Let me show you how much.”

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usertimothee · 3 years

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lights will guide you home

title: lights will guide you home fandom: wonder woman, dccu pairing: steve trevor x diana prince rating: t summary: he falls half in love with her the first time he sees her skate.

(a wondertrev college au: in which steve trevor, a player on his university's club hockey team, helps run the school's ice rink when it's open to the public in december. he expects it to be another boring year, until he meets a figure skater who just might change his life.)

read on archive of our own

author’s note: hi! this fic was written for @bearholdingashark as part of the wondertrev secret santa gift exchange run by @wondertrevnet

ice skating is my favorite holiday activity, but because of covid i haven't been able to go :/ so i decided the best way to make up for it would be to write a fic where out lovelies skate!

this was fun to write! hope you like it, jen!

xoxo, rebekah

lights will guide you home

He’s never excited to work the skate rental booth, even though he’s had to do it for the past three years. Since he’s on his college’s club hockey team, he’s obligated to help run the school ice rink, along with his teammates, once it opens to the public come December. He always picks handing out skates. It’s the most boring, for sure, but it’s also the easiest - that means he can study for finals at the same time. So while the other guys fight over who gets to drive the zamboni, he quietly and dutifully signs up for the skate rental booth, and leaves.

He also always signs up for early afternoon shifts; hardly anyone is there on the weekdays, which, again, means more time for studying. He doesn’t expect this fourth year to be any different.

Except when he arrives at noon on December 1st, there are about ten kids already skating around on the ice, their parents sitting in a cluster in the stands, talking and taking pictures on their phones.

“What’s up with all the kids?” he asks Eleanor - one of the rink custodians he’s come to recognize over the years - who’s sweeping around the rental booth. He throws his backpack on the counter as the older woman pauses her work and leans on her broom. She smiles gently as she looks out at the ice.

“One of the girls in the figure skating club wanted to give free lessons this year. So you’ll have some entertainment this year.”

He motions to his backpack.

“Brought my entertainment with me.”

“Well, this entertainment might be more entertaining, and I heard,” she says, moving her hand beside her mouth so she can fake-whisper in his direction, “it might be a little easier on the eyes, too.”

He rolls his eyes, and Eleanor laughs.

“Are you going to try and set me up with someone every year?”

Last year she’d convinced a young woman who brought her niece skating on a regular basis to go over and talk to him. It had been hmms and yeahs and awkward pauses and forced laughs and had, decidedly, gone nowhere.

“I can only try, Steve. Don’t study too hard, okay?” she calls over her shoulder as she walks away.

He gives her a thumbs up in confirmation, and then sits down and gets out his books. He’s just about to put in headphones so he can drown out the Christmas music that plays throughout the arena at this time of year with some music of his own, but hears one of the heavy metal doors to the rink open noisily before he can hit play. A loud but melodic voice rings out in the almost-empty building.

“I’m here! Sorry I’m late!”

A young woman rushes in, racing past his table and throwing her bag in the bleachers, moving in such a hurry that he doesn’t get a good look at her until she takes the ice, gliding onto the slippery surface with ease.

Apart from her white skates and a deep purple scarf and matching gloves, she’s dressed in all black, long dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail. She’s tall - taller than most figure skaters he knows - and lean, but she’s strong. She must be, given her sport, but he can also tell in the way she’s carrying herself on the ice. He can’t see her full face - only her side profile - but he can tell she’s beautiful.

The children flock to her easily, a couple tripping in their eagerness to get to her. She skates over and helps them up. Then, she tells the children to circle around her - in that same melodic voice - and turns.

When he sees her face, looks into her deep brown eyes, his jaw goes slack.

She’s beautiful, undoubtedly. More than beautiful, he decides. Breathtaking. He literally stops breathing for a moment, and his next inhale is a shaky one as his heartbeat speeds up.

Their gazes are still connected, so he notices when her eyes go from kind to questioning. He has a strange urge to get up and go to her, to take her hand and ask her gently what was wrong, when her voice sounds again.

“Is everything okay? Do I need to sign in or something?”

Shit, I’m staring.

He’s staring like an idiot and he pulls his headphones out of his ears and briefly pretends to read the textbook in front of him before answering.

“Oh, uh, no. No, you’re fine. I just...I’ve never seen you before...around here.”

“Oh,” she says, still staring at him strangely, but now looking amused rather than confused. She smiles, and his thumping heart skips a beat. “I’m giving lessons at noon on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays this December.”

It takes a moment to smile back, but when he does, he sees her relax a bit.

“Yeah, yeah. I, uh, figured,” he answers, stupidly, still stumbling over his words like an idiot.

She smiles once more, and then turns back to the kids around her.

“Okay guys! Who’s ready to learn to skate?”

A chorus of tiny voices answer her, and she skates to the middle of the ice surrounded by her small students. He watches, mesmerized, as she begins to move with all the seamless, effortless grace in the world. Studying is all but forgotten, and the beginnings of an enchanted smile turn up the corner of his lips.

“I told you it would be easy on the eyes, didn’t I?” a voice says from somewhere behind him.

“Shut up, Eleanor,” he says, still watching her, and the old custodian laughs.

* * *

He spends his weekend trying to muster up the courage to talk to her. It’s like every cliché movie ever; he stands in his bathroom and talks to himself in the mirror, trying to think of smooth lines and cool looks. He had looked like an idiot last Monday, and kept his sights on his books and avoided any more eye contact with her on Wednesday and Friday.

But it was a new week, a new day. And he couldn’t blow it again. He wouldn’t, he thought confidently as he rushed into the ice rink. It didn’t even matter that he was ten minutes late. He had practiced.

Since he’s late, she and the kids are already on the ice. He sits down at the rental booth and pulls out his books, making a conscious effort to not look at her. He doesn’t want to seem too eager. Playing it cool was of paramount importance. He even puts in his headphones, and presses play on his phone. The soothing music he uses to study begins to ring in his ears.

He opens one of his textbooks, and begins to read…

...And the next thing he’s aware of is the pound of a firm knock on the table in front of him. His eyes snap open, and he jumps slightly, disoriented and groggy.

He had fallen asleep.

He stayed up late the night before, completing study guides and endlessly highlighting his notes as he crammed for finals. He only got about four hours of sleep, but he thought he would be fine.

Apparently, he wasn’t. And now he had fallen asleep, and missed her, and now Eleanor was waking him up to tell him his shift was over or to tease him about sleeping on the job and -

“Steve?”

The sound of his name wakes him up even more, and his heart leaps when he realizes that it’s not Eleanor’s voice calling to him. Instead, it’s the melodic one he’d first heard a week ago.

He looks up, and there she is. Her beautiful eyes stare down at him, the expression on her face puzzled but slightly amused.

“Steve?” she asks again, when he doesn’t say anything. “Steve Trevor, right?”

And he almost kicks himself. He’d been caught staring again, and he can feel his cheeks begin to warm as he blushes in embarrassment.

No, he tells himself. Not again. Pull yourself together. You fucking practiced.

He quickly tries to think of something to say, his brain reminding him to play it cool on loop.

“How...how do you know my name?”

God, he’s so bad at this.

“Oh,” she says, lifting her hand and pointing her thumb over her shoulder. “That nice custodian woman told it to me. Eleanor, I think she said her name was?”

He sits up straighter so he can look past her body, and sees Eleanor by the doors to the locker rooms, waving at him cheerfully with a big smile on her face. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, looking back up at the young woman in front of him and smiling.

“Yeah, I’m Steve. Nice to meet you. It’s been fun watching you with the kids.”

Better, he thinks. A little better.

She smiles brightly at the mention of her student.

“Yes, they’re wonderful. I’m having an amazing time with them.”

“Well, they seem to love you. You’re a great teacher.”

“Why, thank you, Steve Trevor,” she answers, her smile turning more gentle and kind. “You’ve only seen me teach for three days, though.”

“Four, now.”

“Ah, but you slept through the fourth day,” she reminds him, and his skin flushes again.

She laughs at his lack of response, and again, his heart skips a beat. He can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

They fall silent, and he’s briefly reminded of that girl Eleanor tried to set him up with last year, and all the awkward lurches and pauses that made up that conversation. This silence is different, though. It doesn’t make him nervous or uncomfortable, and he’s not scrambling for a way out of the interaction.

Instead, it feels warm. Somehow familiar, even though this is the first time they’ve ever spoken. And as they stare at each other, her chocolate eyes gazing into his ice blue ones, his smile grows.

“I was wondering if I could skate one of my programs while I was here,” she murmurs. “I have a test tonight, so I’ll miss my normal practice time.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’ll be disturbing anyone,” he says, motioning with his hand to the empty arena.

She laughs again, and he decides that it’s his new favorite sound.

“Thank you, Steve,” she tells him, and turns toward the ice.

“Wait!” he says, getting up from his booth and catching up with her. “Do you want me to play your music over the loudspeaker?”

Her eyes brighten.

“Could you? I was just going to use my phone, but that would be a lot better.”

“Sure. Just show me which track.”

She hands him her phone, and points it out to him. He grins.

“Hey, I know that song.”

She hums softly, and begins to walk again.

“Maybe,” she tells him as she steps out onto the ice, turning back to face him. “But I don’t think you’ve ever heard this version.”

She begins to skate backwards away from him, but his voice rings out again.

“I don’t know your name!”

“Diana,” she calls back to him, without stopping. “Diana Prince.”

“Diana,” he whispers, as he watches her skate away.

* * *

He falls half in love with her the first time he sees her skate.

The moment she begins to move to the first notes of the piano, she is the embodiment of elegance and grace. He rushes from the media booth and back down to the ice so he can get a closer look. Even through the glass, he can see emotion she puts into every moment of her performance, watches as the expression on her face changes as the music speeds up, as the mood shifts.

Then, the music slows, and becomes softer. She glides as if she’s one with both the ice and the music. And when the music speeds up again, and becomes more intense, so does she. Her jumps and twirls seem effortless, as she lands each one with a gentle precision.

He can’t look away. The entire arena is filled with her performance - with her effort and emotion and heart and skill - and he’s enchanted by her.

When she’s done, and holds her final pose at the center of the ice as the music comes to an end, he realizes he’s been holding his breath. He exhales slowly, and then takes a deep breath in.

Eleanor starts clapping from somewhere else in the building. She finally breaks from her pose, and looks over at her, smiling.

But all he can do is stare after her, mouth slightly open.

It’s only when she begins to get off the ice that he gathers himself. And he makes a decision.

He doesn’t care if he looks like an idiot, or if he’s being too obvious. He’s done trying to play it cool.

He can’t go another day without knowing her better.

He walks to where she’s standing over her gym bag, looking for her shoes. He taps her on the shoulder, acutely aware that this is the first time they’ve ever touched.

“Diana?”

She jumps slightly, and turns to look at him. She doesn’t say anything, though. It’s as if she knows why he’s here, and what he’s going to ask her.

“Will you get dinner with me Friday?”

She grins, her smile wider and brighter than he’s ever seen it.

“It would be an honor, Steve Trevor.”

She reaches up to where his finger still lingers on her shoulder, and places her hand over his.

* * *

The other half of him falls in love with her the first time they skate together.

After their third date, he asks her to teach him how to skate.

“I thought you played hockey,” she tells him. “You already know how to skate.”

“Yeah, but I can’t skate like you,” he counters. “And since we already know you’re such a good teacher…”

She smiles as they walk around campus, looking at all the Christmas lights the school has put up, hand in hand.

“I know I’m not as cute as your other students - “

“I beg to differ,” she interrupts. “And would argue that sometimes, you’re even cuter.”

He blushes, and she laughs.

So they break into the arena. (Well, not technically. He does have a key to the rink.) It’s around midnight when they get there, after everyone has already left for the evening. He gets them both skates out of the booth, and as they lace them up, she laughs.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to teach you to skate in those things.”

“Hey,” he says, frowning. “Don’t knock my skates.”

He does have to admit, though, that there’s a marked aesthetic difference between his clunky, black hockey skates and her delicate, white figure skates.

“Come on,” she says, standing up and taking his hand so he came with her. “I might still be able to work my magic.”

They glide to the center of the ice, and she begins positioning his body, immediately going into teacher-mode. He thinks it’s absolutely adorable. She says she’s going to teach him a simple upright spin, but he has to admit that he’s not paying much attention because he can’t focus with her hands all over his body - on his hips, legs, chest, lower back, as she moves him in all sorts of directions. He can only take it so long before he pulls back from her.

She looks at him questioningly.

“Steve, what are you - “

He skates forward slightly, and kisses her.

He kisses her, and at first he’s worried he’s made a mistake because her lips remain still, but then she moans softly against his mouth, and melts into him. She throws her arms around her neck, and when his tongue swipes across her bottom lips she parts her mouth readily.

It’s his favorite kiss he’s ever had. And he doesn’t know how long they stay there like that, kissing and holding each other, but they break apart only when they have to, and breathe against each other heavily. They’re silent for a moment, but there’s a comfort in it, just like there was that day he first saw her skate.

“I thought you wanted to learn how to skate,” she says finally, jokingly.

“I do,” he ensures her. “But I think I want to do this a little more right now.”

She giggles, and the sound warms him from head to toe.

“I think we’re in agreement there,” she murmurs.

They smile and stare at each other, him pulling her impossibly closer, and her running her fingers gently down the side of his face.

And in that moment, he knows he loves her. The feeling consumes him, and he almost blurts it out right there. But he decides to keep it to himself for now, for it to be a happy secret that lives inside his heart. And instead, he does the thing he wants to do most in the world.

He leans forward, and kisses her again.

a/n: the song diana is skating to is the mashup of paradise and fix you by coldplay that maia and alex shibutani skated to for their long dance at the pyeongchang olympics. i strongly suggest you look it up if you've never seen it or heard it! not only will it give you a more complete idea of the fic, but it's a beautiful song and an extraordinarily beautiful program.

merry christmas to all who celebrate! i hope all of you have a wonderful holiday season!

#wondertrevsecretsanta #wondertrevnet #wondertrev #wondertrev fic #wonder woman #diana prince #steve trevor #steve x diana #otp: you can save the world #hey i wrote this!

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magicofthepen · 3 years

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Romana II for the character asks 👀

thank you for the ask!! <33 as you can see, I really like talking about Romana 😊

favorite thing about them: ….I’ve realized it’s quite hard to answer this question for one of your all-time favorite characters, oh wow there’s so much I could talk about. (gallifrey Romana II is exactly my Favorite Character Type, but I actually first fell for Romana II while watching the E-space stories.) but okay one thing that really Gets me about her is how deeply she loves? both in an ‘big picture’ sense and in a personal relationship sense. she genuinely cares about the people of her world and other worlds so much, and gives so much of herself to try to protect them and make their lives better….which becomes a mix of something very admirable and something very unhealthy that’s really complicated and interesting to unpack. and I’m so weak for stories of lonely characters slowly discovering friendship, and all of Romana’s friendships are such interesting and important dynamics in different ways, and she just. loves her friends so much, even when she’s struggling with how to be a friend, and the stories of these relationships (both on tv and in audio) are such a big part of my attachment to her character.

least favorite thing about them: I’ve talked a bit about this recently, but I’m very picky about Romana-as-villain arcs, and sometimes in the audios the writers have her do terrible things, and it feels more for the sake of being ~dark and edgy~ than something that has solid characterization backing it up? for example, on one hand, I really like how the Imperiatrix arc shows how she falls to the point of becoming a tyrant, shows how her intentions get twisted, and how circumstances and manipulations and her own character flaws lead her to make the choices that she does. on the other hand, the “destroyer of worlds” thing in series 4 doesn’t emotionally back up her choices and feels a bit like “we’re going to have this character do Terrible Things just so she can feel guilty over how Terrible she is.” and tbh I do side-eye the overall obsession of the EU of making her a darker and more power-hungry figure (in contrast, something like Time War 2 has some of my favorite Romana characterization, probably because she’s on the side of “stubbornly standing up for what’s right.”)

(I’ll probably skip favorite line for most of these because alas I’m absolutely terrible at picking one.)

brOTP: ….is it cheating to say Leela and Narvin if I also ship them? ….okay I’ll leave them for the otp section, but those two friendships are just so so important to Romana, and I love them as committed platonic relationships too! (especially since sometimes I get very into thinking about Romana as aromantic - this is not a consistent headcanon, obviously I do write a lot of shippy Romana fic in which she’s not aro, but I do think there’s solid backing for it, and I like exploring different headcanons and interpretations of relationships.)

but I want to use this section to ramble a bit about Romana and the Doctor! (I used to ship them a fair bit - in a “I love this dynamic as either a romantic thing or a platonic thing!” way - but lately I’ve been more into their relationship as a platonic thing, so I think they fall much more under brOTP for me.) they’re such a Team when they’re traveling together, and I love that understated fondness they have for each other, the way they genuinely enjoy each other’s company. and I love how they’re like. constantly holding hands and standing very close together and just being very softly affectionate. (and not to make everything about Skin of the Sleek/Thief Who Stole Time, but the way the Doctor both gives Romana space and looks out for her in those audios is so good?? they’re really soft together and I melt every time I listen to those audios.) And I love how they part on good terms, with a deep undercurrent of mutual respect and care….and I have a lot of painful feelings about the crumbling of their friendship later in life. it does make sense that they’d grow apart - they end up making very different choices when it comes to Gallifrey - but also that layer of sharpness/coldness in their interactions in Neverland (and Zagreus)….oof that hurts. (and going back a little further - the first time I heard their conversation at the end of Apocalypse Element where the Doctor leaves her, it was a gut punch - the way she so badly needs a friend, and he….doesn’t stay.) so my Doctor & Romana II feelings are a combination of “oh my gosh I love them” and “oh my gosh they break my heart.”

OTP: ot3 my beloved <33 so Romana/Leela is my og Gallifrey ship, the one that was so so inevitable because their dynamic is very much my ship type (wlw opposites attract)…and then their chemistry (“There will be a place for you with me, for always.” / “I need you” / “I have lost a great deal. I have lost you.” / “You never will be alone.” etc. etc. etc.) and the overt parallels between Leela’s feelings about Andred and her feelings about Romana, and the way the story uses the narrative structures of romance w/ them (dramatic breakup! pining!)……yep I was definitely going to ship this. I’m utterly in love with how they’re both so alone in different ways at the beginning of Gallifrey and yet they end up reaching out to each other and finding a home in each other. I’m endlessly interested in unpacking the messy complicated dynamics of their relationship - the ways their individual pain and grief clashes, the ways they cling to each other too tightly, the ways they fail to communicate - and the ways they get better at communicating, the ways they choose each other and keep fighting for each other and for their relationship.

(and whoops this is gonna be two paragraphs now) and Narvin/Romana is my other otp for Romana, and that was a surprise, because m/f enemies-to-friends is My Thing, that’s exactly the kind of platonic relationship that Gets Me. and I do love the entirely platonic take on their relationship so much, but I also definitely really ship them?? it’s the combination of “complicated devoted longing and messy power dynamics” in the middle seasons, and “oh my gosh they’ve figured out how to talk about feelings??” in the later ones. so it’s not so much “enemies to friends to lovers” as “enemies to one-sided pining/friendship with complicated power dynamics to more balanced, healthy friendship to lovers”? sort of? basically there’s so many different interesting shippy dynamics to explore with them, ranging from “oh god they do care about each other but this is a mess” to “they’d genuinely be so good together,” depending on when we’re talking, and I love that. I love how their relationship is always changing and growing, and how once they get close, they really share the same sense of duty and care for their world and the universe and the work they’re doing together. I love that they’re two people who have their own individual struggles with forming personal relationships, and so it seems like they shouldn’t ever work, but they do? and I do have a tremendous soft spot for them in the Time War audios in particular….they have such old married couple energy and I love exploring that kind of romance dynamic - warm and settled and really not that different from a committed friendship.

all in all: I’m very much an ot3 shipper, I love the idea of all three of them together (I’m really into exploring poly relationships and it’s super great how open this fandom is to poly shipping!) I probably ship Romana/Leela more consistently than Romana/Narvin, but those two relationships (romantic or platonic) occupy pretty equal amounts of my Gallifrey brainspace? so I’d say both fall into the “otp” category.

(the rest of this is going under a cut because this is so long oops.)

nOTP: nOTP isn’t exactly the right term for my feelings about Brax/Romana since I do read (and enjoy!) fic about them? (but with Gallifrey, I’m very open to reading whatever, I easily fall for good writing even if I’m not into a ship.) but Brax/Romana is definitely not my thing - I think I just have a personal discomfort about teacher/student relationships (and yes, she’s older in Gallifrey, but that mentor-figure dynamic still underpins their relationship, and the whole “your old teacher is romantically interested in you” thing is apparently something I personally nope out at). (obviously I’m not judging anyone who does ship them…heck I have a Romana ship that’s way more toxic. it’s just this particular romantic dynamic is Not For Me). but like I said, I do read fic about them! (It’s just a bit tricky because sometimes a fic will really hit those nope buttons, and sometimes it won’t? hard to say why….but broadly speaking I tend to be more interested in Brax/Romana fics that lean into “there are some unhealthy power dynamics here” rather than away from it - and I tend to compartmentalize even the Brax/Romana fics I like into a different universe in my head to avoid running into that I’m uncomfortable feeling).

random headcanon: ooh which one should I ramble about this time…how about this: Romana II has very particular feelings about touch. unexpected touch from people she doesn’t know/trust is uncomfortable and jarring. and it’s always been somewhat of a thing in this incarnation, but it really became a big deal post-Etra Prime - and even more so post-Pandora crisis - being touched without warning by most people brings up all these feelings of not having control over her own life and body (and mind, since touch also has links to telepathy). however, with the handful of people she does deeply trust, touch is a comforting and grounding thing (and something she really craves), a reminder that there are people who are there for her, people who care for her.

unpopular opinion: ….I told myself I wasn’t going to talk about this on Tumblr because the audio is so universally beloved, but welp it does say unpopular opinion. so, um, the short version is, I can’t reconcile Romana’s characterization in Erasure (aka the Bellescon thing) with Neverland or early Gallifrey or my general interpretation of her character (and I tried! like “wrote a fic to try to make it work for me” tried!). so after I kept running into a wall when trying to write a different Erasure-related fic, I decided, in Doctor Who tradition, to just throw out the bits of canon that don’t work for me. (in other words: Erasure’s not part of my personal canon anymore. which is really unfortunate because I do love so many other parts of it, and it’s a great Narvin audio and great performance. and I can enjoy it as a self-contained thing, but I’ve stopped trying to make it fit with Romana’s characterization elsewhere.) (although I do have an Erasure-related fic that I’ll post one of these days - it’s a section of that fic that hit a wall that I think works well on its own!)

song i associate with them: All the King’s Horses by Karmina / We Are Dragons by Karmina are my top songs for Gallifrey Romana (well, more specifically post-Apocalypse Element Romana). the two songs are variations on each other and they’re just so spot-on for her?? All the King’s Horses gives me major post-Etra Prime feelings (Free to go back on my own / But is it still a home when you’re all alone? / All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put me back together again), and We Are Dragons is such a Gallifrey Romana song in general (Do it all for the love of my kingdom / And here’s to dying for life worth living / And here’s to hoping we bleed for something / I’m not done fighting for what I believe in).

favorite picture of them: anything in her Horns of Nimon outfit or Shada outfit, I love those looks so much! And for fanart: some of my favorite Romana pieces are this three Romanas art by @aethira, and any of the Gallifrey covers by @joycieillustrations (who paints Romana II so incredibly!!)

#thanks for indulging my urge to ramble about romana ii <33 #swinging stars from satellites #ramblings #romana #asks

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elenajones23 · 4 years

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Just sharing some thoughts/opinions about The Umbrella Academy.(part 2)

I decided to share some of my thoughts and opinions on TUA S2 and S1,I know some of my opinions /thoughts are very controversial and not popular but they’re also based on facts and some mistakes the writers have made this season. Here I go (if you don’t like any of opinions/thoughts then please kept for yourself/don’t read my post, I will not tolerate any hostility from anyone) (fair warning this post will be so freaking loooong so good on you if you read it all), it’s also going to be multiple posts as I have a lot to say.

Klaus:-

This might come to shock to some of you but I HATE Klaus, he was the least character that interested me last season, I only started liking him like by the end of S1 but I just HATE him completely in S2. Seriously Klaus was just a complete shit show this season, he basically became a version of Reginald in his own twisted way.

Let’s start with S1, now I do admit he had a lot of hilarious moments and as we learn more about him we learn that the reason behind his dedication is because of the trauma that he went through as a kid (his psycho father locking him up for 6 hours at a mausoleum when he was just 13 years old) it made him be afraid of his own powers, afraid of his own mind so I sympathized a lot with him because he was abused in such distributing manner.

It’s also clear from the fact that Cha- Cha & Hazel had such tough time breaking him that either Reginald has put them all through some kind of torture training or what Klaus goes through on a daily bases is a much worse torture than what Cha-Cha & Hazel were putting him through either way, Reginald fucked the kids, nevertheless he broke when they were getting rid of his drugs which is understandable (though not really did he really think he would get the chance to actually take any of it later?) after that Eudora comes to his rescue and she saves him and rather than him warning her that there were two of them he just leaves her there looking for another score NOT caring for one second about her, literally all he had to say/whisper is that Hazel wasn’t alone or give her any kind of signal but all her cared about is getting more drugs and because of his selfishness Eudora died and he clearly couldn’t care less about her, he didn’t even show any signs of feeling guilty or anything honestly that was one of the MAIN reasons I stopped sympathizing with him and started to even hate him.

After he came back from traveling back in the past, it clearly affected him because he lost Dave, he tried to be sober so he could talk to Dave again and that’s when we finally got to see Klaus without all the BULLSHIT, that’s when we finally got to see him be himself without the drugs (still haven’t forgiven him for Patch but I just went with the flow, there isn’t much I can do about it, and he wasn’t 100% at blame, Cha-Cha is the one who killed her) and he was actually ok. In the episode before the finale his powers were strong enough that Ben was able to hit him and even play patty-cake with Klaus (or whatever that game was) , in the finale klaus’s powers were strong enough that Ben was able to save Diego then later on strong enough to project him and even defeat all the gunmen.

So naturally I was excited because it meant that we would get to see more of Ben, Ben who can finally be heard, be touched and can touch others, more of Ben FINALLY interacting with his other siblings, he would get to contribute to the conversations, he would get to hang out, hug and maybe even have fun with his siblings. Instead all we got is Klaus treating him like a prisoner/unpaid worker who uses him for his own desires whenever it’s convenient for him to get more famous and luxuries life for free, all the while ignoring Ben completely, taunting him of inability to do anything without him, calling him his ghost bitch, lying to all of their siblings that he was there, denying him any kind of interaction with his siblings. Klaus basically became a version of his father, isolating Ben from the rest of his family, belittling him, taunting him, mocking him, forcing him to things for him, ignoring him. abusing Ben’s ghost abilities for his own benefits.

Klaus also acted like his father by lying & manipulating 1000+ of people(7 kids) by feeding BULLSHIT lies & manipulating them for THREE YEARS just because he was bored and it was fun for him to fuck with people’s minds to pass the time and get easy money & luxury god forbid he actually works a real job (until it was the right time to stop meet Dave) and when he got bored of them he just left them several times NOT caring for one second that he ruined 1000+ lives/futures of innocent people exactly like how Reginald fucked them up when they were kids then let them to their messy shit, just like he manipulated Luther for 4 YEARS just for the heck of it. Even when he “tried” to blow them off, he didn’t really try, he barley said anything, if he actually cared about them he would have used his stupid powers to scar them and make them leave him alone for good, give them their lives back but all he ever cares about is himself and only himself.

This just occurred to me, Klaus actually FUCKED UP with timeline/history the MOST, it’s really a HUGE miscalculation on the writers part that no one came after him to eliminate him because he FUCKED up history ROYALY for 3 YEARS yet NO one was sent by the commission to fix this HUGE ERROR in history all of his followers defiantly had different impact on the original history and yet he was just allowed to fuck up history, Luther, Diego, Allison, and Vanya had little or NO impact on history and yet they were targeted more than once. The only explanation that makes sense is that Klaus is TUA fandom favorite character for some reason and they would let him get away with anything.

Here’s what I have got to say about Klaus & Dave this season, Klaus’s attempts were just creepy, he can’t just go up to stranger teenager a man in his 30’s and tell the teenager that he loves him just imagine how Dave felt this complete stranger knows everything about him and tells him that he loves, Dave for felt SCARED and very uncomfortable yet another adult telling him what to do or not d, and Klaus kept on pressuring him, NOT caring for one second how terrifying & confusing this whole situation is for Dave, it was just yet another good person that Klaus disturbed his life for his own selfish reasons. It was also so very very very unfair of him pressuring/rushing a teenage kid in 60’s to accept his sexuality (telling him out loud in restaurant in front of his homophobic uncle that he loves him) that just outing way way too much for a teenage kid, and because Klaus’s selfish action Dave ended up enlisting much earlier than he originally did thus by butterfly effect logic Klaus technically shouldn’t know him because he fucked up Dave’s history and their history as well (so by all means by the end of S2, Klaus wouldn’t still have Dave’s dog tags) and even the butterfly effect skipped Klaus for some reason(everything just seems to work out for Klaus so smoothly) Dave would never approach him if he saw him he would be too scared of Klaus.

S02E10 just further proved how SELFISH Klaus is, right after Ben’s funeral he conjured him very easily and Klaus at that age still didn’t use drugs (at least not as heavily as he did later on in his life) he could have focused on his powers and strengthen his power enough that the rest of their sibling could see & talk to him, Ben could have told them he never blamed any of them for his death, give them a peace o mind, instead Klaus just kept him a secret for himself for YEARS and NEVER once told them about Ben, the made them believe he’s talking to other ghost or just too high and seeing delusions , they were facing the freaking apocalypse TWICE and he NEVER let Ben share any moments/spend a little o time with them because all he ever cares about is himself.

People are always made at his siblings for never believing him or checking on him when he acts too weird (like when Ben possessed him during the light supper est.….) the thing is by now they’re so used to his bullshit lies & manipulation that they always just think he’s just lying and manipulating because he has done so many times over the years because of his addiction, he “cried wolf” one too many times for any of them to take seriously or believe him, and considering what Klaus did to 1000+ of innocent people in 60’s it’s no wonder they don’t take him seriously. Yet they don’t recall the moments when Diego could tell Klaus was actually going through something and how he was there for him, or how Allison did the same or Klaus in S2. They’re always just quick to make it out as if his siblings don’t care about him when the fact is he cares very little about them because if he actually did he would have told them Ben was still with them for everyone’s sakes and they might have taken his light supper possession more seriously because they would have known that Ben might have something to do why Klaus just all of sudden acted “too weird” it’s Klaus’s own fault that they didn’t question his “weird” because to them it’s seems just like good old acting up/acting weird just or attention.

The fandom loves blaming Luther for Vanya’s outrage (even though her own choices that led her to be isolated from her siblings even more and choosing to trust a stranger over them is why she went on said outrage) yet no one ever acknowledges Klaus’s role in the apocalypse in the first place, Harold/Leonard wouldn’t even stood a chance without that journal. Klaus is literally 50% responsible for Eudora’s death and for the first apocalypse.

I was kind interested in seeing sober Klaus this season, that I would finally get to see the REAL Klaus and turns out the real Klaus is the biggest asshole (well one of the biggest asshole, the other one is Vanya) in his family, the real Klaus is literal version of Reginald with just with his own twist, and I honestly hate/can’t stand shitty selfish manipulative assholes like him specially the ones who seem to be a “nice guy” but in fact is a complete asshole deep down.

PS: his powers are 99.99% USELESS MOST OF THE TIME, I don’t get how he ever was part of the umbrella academy team, what exactly did he do? they didn’t even shows us in the flashback in S1E01 of him doing at all, even in Allison’s story to her daughter she said Klaus got distracted talking to a ghost. Klaus SHOULD have DIED long time instead of Ben.

#klaus hargreeves #anti klaus hargreeves #tua #tua spoilers #the umbrella academy #tua season 2 #luther hargreeves #allison hargreeves #diego hareegves #vanya hargreeves #netflix #the umbrella academy season 2 #the umbrella academy season 1 #eudora patch #reginald hargreeves #ben hargreeves #alison hargreeves

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starlightinhumanform · 4 years

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The Light and the Obstacle that Casts It

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Anxceit

Summary: Deceit and Virgil are forced to reconcile for the first time since Virgil left to join the light sides. They realize that they missed each other more than they thought.

Warnings: Description of Panic Attack, Description of drowning used as an analogy, (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: Mild angst with a happy ending

A/N: I’ve been meaning to write something for this fandom for months and I’m super happy I finally got to it! I have a lot of other fics planned, so please tell me if you want to join the taglist. Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info Normally Virgil would have welcomed the clicking rhythm of the clock. At least it filled the silence. Now, however, it seemed daunting- a constant reminder of just how painfully slowly time was passing in the mindspace.

By some cruel twist of fate, he and Deceit found themselves alone together for the first time since Virgil had left the dark sides. They sat at opposite ends of the couch, both refusing to look at the other.

The emptiness of the room was oppressive. The silence settled across them like a thunderstorm rumbling along the horizon, the gentle threat of imminent ruin. It made breathing difficult and thinking clear even more of a challenge.

Virgil prayed for something to fill the space between. He would have been overjoyed to see Patton, or ask Logan what he was working on, or yell at Roman to stop singing. Hell, he could even deal with Remus popping up and screaming something about deodorant. Something, anything.

He felt desperate, mind grasping at a way out of the situation.

“You know... I don’t bite.”

Deceit’s purring voice broke through Virgil’s thoughts and startled him both physically and mentally, “Excuse me?”

“I said I don’t bite. Unlike you it seems; you haven’t ceased biting your nails for the past five minutes.”

Virgil jerked his hand away away from his mouth where he had been, admittedly, chewing on his thumbnail, “What do want?”

Deceit made a tsk-ing sound from the back of his throat, somehow still as suave as the rest of his voice, “I just went to talk. Is that a crime?”

Virgil couldn’t help but laugh humorlessly. He turned so he could fully face Deceit, “You never ‘just’ want something.”

“There you go again, spitting your words out at me,” Deceit shook his head with an obviously dramatic flair. But there was something real in the way his eyes danced across Virgil, always moving but never losing their focus. It was as if he were looking for something in Virgil.

The intensity made Virgil squirm, confused and uncomfortable. It was obvious Deceit had some hidden motives. Virgil could tell even by the honeyed way Deceit’s voice dripped through the room that he was trying to get something. But what was it going to be this time? And why now? And why him? Of all the sides to pick on, why did the powers above have to chose him?

“Just skip the show, Deceit. Tell me what’s going on; I know you’re up to something,” If Deceit’s voice flowed like honey, Virgil knew his ran like venom. And he honestly didn’t care.

Deceit shrugged and glanced down at his gloved finger tips with an air of nonchalance, “Am I up to something? I had no idea. Please, do explain to me to me what it is that I’m doing.”

Virgil felt ready to scream. He had no control of the situation; he wasn’t even sure what the situation was. There was only one thing he was sure of: Deceit hated him with the passion only someone as defensive and melodramatic as Deceit could. Unfortunately, Virgil could understand why with perfect clarity. He had abandoned Deceit, moved on without a second glance. He knew it was for the best and he didn’t regret shifting over to the light sides, but why had he been such a shitty person about it? He hadn’t even said goodbye- there one day, gone the next. It was such a cold thing to do... there was no wonder in his mind why Deceit would take every chance he got to give Virgil a taste of his own medicine.

And Deceit was clever, crafty. If you hurt him, he would get revenge in the most painful way possible; he would strike where it most mattered. Virgil knew the trigger had been pulled, now he was just waiting for the bullet to hit.

Virgil ran his hands through his hair, worrying his already messy bangs into an official birds’ nest, “Oh come on. You know you always have ‘reasons.’ The one thing you don’t have a reason for is being nice to me.”

Deceit raised his eyebrow on the unscaled side of his face, “Do you really believe I have only malicious motivation?”

Virgil sneered, “Yeah, I do. Especially since you’re using alteration.”

He scoffed, “You’ve certainly gotten touchy living with these softies.”

“You know what- I actually haven’t! Did it never occur to you that I’ve always been this sensitive?” Virgil squinted incredulously, “I was literally called Anxiety for years. I’ve just learned that it’s ok to talk about it, set my boundaries; something I was never told when I was with you.”

Deceit seemed to crumble. His face softened and the forced casualness in his body evaporated. As the tension of his facade left, his shoulders hunched and he leaned forward with his hands on his knees. The movement only brought Deceit a few inches closer, but Virgil barely resisted the urge to jump back. His flight or fight reflexes had been ringing an alarm since he had been left alone, but now the animalistic instincts were blaring in his head.

Deceit’s face distorted into a sad smile, “Do you really want to know what’s going on?”

Virgil hesitated. He knew what “truth” meant to Deceit. On the rare occasion that Deceit stooped to honesty, he did so with brutal efficiency. But this is what Virgil had wanted right- to have everything out in the open? To deal with whatever Deceit was throwing at him and just be done with this whole nightmare. But now that the option was presented to him, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to accept it.

He finally made up his mind, nodding his head silently as he glared down at his fidgeting hands in his lap. The sooner this was over, the better.

Silence had once again fallen over the room and the ticking clock regained its rule over the room. Tick tock, tick tock. The seconds seemed to be passing by even slower now. Virgil felt like he was stuck between two breaths- and his lungs were too frozen to take another. What was Deceit waiting for? Why couldn’t he just put Virgil out of his misery already?

Virgil glanced up from where he had been clenching his fists when the couch cushion next to him sunk beneath Deceit’s weight. His eyes jumped to Deceit’s face, searching for answers. But Deceit’s expression gave away nothing. He was a blank slate, vague sadness that mixed with regret and settled into the type of smile that shouldn’t even be called a smile because it’s the furthest from happy he could have possibly gotten.

“Deceit, what the hell are you-“

Virgil’s voice cut off with a sharp inhale as Deceit brought his hands up to cup his face. Deceit must have taken his gloves off before walking over because the palms that pressed gently against Virgil’s cheeks were bare. One was cooler than the other, the snake side of Deceit soothing against the blush that was burning under his hand.

Deceit ran his thumb against Virgil’s cheek bone. His eyes crinkled like he was wincing, like the hand that rested against Virgil’s face was actually pressed against a burning pan. He gave another humorless laugh, close enough this time that Virgil could feel the heat of Deceit’s breath hitting his neck.

“Virgil, I don’t hate you. I never did. I-“ He paused for a moment, taking enough time to shake his head and role his eyes, “I missed you.”

Virgil could feel the stress building up, a dark sludge that began at the pit of his stomach and rose into his lungs. His lungs crumpled under the vice grip of some invisible force. His heart began pounding, desperate to burst from the fist clenched around it. He felt trapped in Deceit’s hands. He didn’t know how to respond, he didn’t know how to feel. Because there were so many feelings welling up inside of him all at once. This wasn’t what he had expected. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t what he had wanted. Is this what he had wanted? He couldn’t remember two seconds ago but he could remember so well the years past.

It was too much pressure; an entire world’s worth of ideas in his head and the weight was crashing down on him. His breath escaped him, reverting to short, rapid gasps through his nose that barely reached his lungs. Tears were spilling down his cheeks before he even felt them reach his eyes. They were messy and ugly and spilled over onto to Deceit’s fingers and down Virgil’s chin.

Deceit brought his hands away as the tears found their way down to his wrists. He replaced his hands across Virgil’s back, pulling him closer. To Virgil’s surprise, he didn’t resist, instead swinging his legs under himself so he could better melt into Deceit’s chest.

Virgil was pretty sure it surprised Deceit as well, listening to the other man’s breath hitch as he buried his face into the dark cape directly above Deceit’s heart.

Deceit got over his original shock in a matter of seconds, relaxing and wrapping himself tighter around Virgil’s shuddering form. One of the hands on his back began rubbing in small, repetitive circles. The pressure was grounding and oh so familiar.

Deceit seemed to recognize the same familiarity, “Just like old times, huh?”

Virgil couldn’t think of a response except to cling tighter to the body around him. Because this felt exactly like old times, except everything had changed now, and maybe it still was changing, and Virgil never knew when things were going to be safe again, because everything was always changing, but he had Deceit with him now and he wasn’t going to let go because maybe he could keep Deceit here for just a little while longer. The world was an ocean of changing tides and Virgil had no power against it. The water was crashing over his head and he couldn’t even see the light filtering through the surface.

“Hey, hey, hey, let’s stay here for right now,” Deceit’s voice broke through the murk. It was low and indescribably soft, grounding. It felt real despite Virgil’s overfilled mind, the deep vibrations in Deceit’s chest creating a rumbling lifeline for Virgil to cling onto, “You are here and you are safe. I can promise that nothing will hurt you while I’m here.”

Virgil took a shuddering breath, raising his head to stare up into Deceit’s face. His eyes shone down, one rich hazel and the other a sparkling emerald. Both were soft with affection and layered with care. It was enough to make Virgil want to burry his face back into Deceit’s chest as he choked on the words attempting to rise up his throat, “But what about when you’re not here? What happens then?”

One of Deceit’s arms left Virgil’s back, the other squeezing him even closer. The missing hand brushed through Virgil’s damp bangs hanging in front of his eyes. As his fingers reached the ended of Virgil’s hair, they drifted slowly down to his face. The pads of his fingers sat softly against his skin as they fell from his brow to his jaw, but that softness was fueled with something intense, something that made Deceit’s hand shake, “Oh, Verge, I will never let you get away from me again.”

“You promise that too?”

“Yeah-“ Deceit’s voice cracked, “Yeah, that too.”

“Then prove it.”

Deceit froze, the affection in his eyes momentarily replaced by startled confusion, “What do you mean?”

Virgil felt weak and light headed and his heart was still hammering in his chest but he managed a lopsided grin, “Prove you’ll never let me get away.”

“Virgil? I will but I don’t know how. I-“ He sounded almost desperate.

Virgil cut him off, plunging upwards to press his mouth over Deceit’s still moving lips. He scrunched his eyes shut and dug his fingers into the material of Deceit’s cape, anything to bring them closer together.

At first there was no response; Deceit simply ceased to show signs of life for a moment- no movement, no breath, Virgil was pretty sure he even felt the other side’s heart stop. But then he melted forward, bringing both hands to intertwine in the back of Virgil’s hair. His lips responded too, moving to return the pressure, but softer than Virgil’s. He was gentle, mouth moving occasionally, but only when it seemed necessary to deepen the kiss.

Virgil felt his own features relax, eyebrows unraveling and forehead losing its tension as he settled into the gentle rhythm Deceit was setting. He felt warm and safe and- and he was running out of breath.

He pulled away with a quiet hum and gave the tip of Deceit’s nose a small tap.

Deceit blinked open his eyes, both somehow dazed and sparkling at the same time.

Virgil gave a small laugh and let his hands fall from Deceit’s chest to wrap around his waist and clasp behind his back, “I missed you too.”

#romantic anxceit #anxceit #anxceit fanfic #anxceit fluff #deceit sanders #ts deceit #sympathetic deceit #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fluff #anxceit angst #ts virgil #virgil sanders #virgil and deceit #The Light and the Obstacle that Casts It #starlight writes

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entity9silvergen · 3 years

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Oblique- Chapter 2 (Sanders Sides Fanfiction

Previous chapter, Full Story

Story Info:

Summary: Unable to experience romantic attraction, Remus feels incomplete. Unable to feel sexual attraction, Roman feels less than. Maybe as the King, they decide, they will feel whole again. Their partners and friends, however, know this isn’t the solution and seek to help them realize there’s nothing broken about them before it’s too late.

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil, Nate, Remy, Emile, Seth, Toby, Janus, Remus, Unnamed Orange Side, Romulus, Dragon Witch

Relationships: Logan/ Patton, Virgil/ Roman, Janus/ Remus, Remy/ Emile, Toby/ Seth, Nate/ Orange Side

Other Tags: AroWriMo, Aromantic Remus, Asexual Roman, Spider Virgil, Snake Janus, Orange Side, 7th Side, Additional Sides, No OCs, Short Vid Characters

Warnings for this chapter: Sexual themes, internalized acephobia, internalized arophobia, arousal, romantic feels, minor self-harm, intrusive thoughts, Remus

Author’s Note: There is nothing explicit in this one but there is some post sex scenes and pre almost sex scenes. Also romantic feels. I am aroace so like I don’t actually know what I’m doing, first time writing something like this, but we’re doing it. If any of that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to skip this chapter. It takes place prior to the previous chapter and provides more context to what’s up with Remus and Roman but is not actually relevant to the plot.

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Remus felt good in that way only an orgasm could cause.

It was like… like everything inside him just melted away. Everything tense and tight just washed away. It was at times like this he really felt at peace. The only times he felt at peace. With his mind quiet, he really just felt like himself. Not Dark Creativity, not Intrusive Thoughts. Just Remus.

He should go be productive. Draw something that wasn’t totally obscene. Maybe take a shower without trying to swallow the soap. Eat something other than deodorant. Trim his mustache without cutting himself. Nah, he was still going to do all that stuff. He loved it, intrusive thoughts or not.

He started to roll out of bed when an arm stopped him.

“You’re always so quick to leave,” Janus murmured, draping an arm over Remus’s bare hips. Fuck, that was sexy. Why was he so sexy? All naked and relaxed… Disheveled. That was the word Remus was looking for. His hat, gloves, and clothes were long gone, messy brown hair and scales out for the world to see. Well, not the world. Just Remus. Janus was cute when he was like this, rare as it was. Not cute enough for Remus not to have a double take at his words though.

“Is that bad?” Remus asked hesitantly, a bit more of his insecurity in his voice than he would’ve liked. He knew Janus wasn’t mad and he wouldn’t make fun of him. It was just… ugh, the post-sex euphoria was kind of fading and Remus was starting to feel bad about himself again.

Janus looked up at him, breaking out of his affectionate daze. He frowned. “I mean… no? If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to be. Staying the night is just nice.”

“Why?”

The question tumbled out of Remus’s mouth before he could think, like most things he said did. He felt like he shouldn’t have said that but he couldn’t help it. And he really did want to know.

“It just… um, helps with the emotional side of hooking up?” Janus ventured. Remus tried not to frown. “The romantic aspect?”

“Oh. Um, okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I’ll stay,” Remus responded and flopped back down on the bed, letting his back hit the sheets once more. Janus stayed where he was. Remus just stared at the ceiling, unsure if Janus’s touch was nice or uncomfortable. They were both all sweaty. And sticky. Didn’t people normally shower after this? Or wipe off or whatever? Normally Remus would just run around naked and the air would dry him off and he’d be good as new but that didn’t really feel like an option right now.

“You look so uncomfortable.”

“What? I’m not uncomfortable.”

“You’re like a tree right now.”

“Unfuckable unless you want splinters?” Remus cracked, looking down at Janus, but the snakey Side didn’t seem amused.

“You’re literally lying on your back with your arms at your sides,” Janus deadpanned. He shifted a bit, resting his head on Remus’s chest. “And that’s fine but you look stressed. Which is weird because you just came and normally that makes you all loose. Figuratively, not literally, don't look at me like-”

“I’m loose in so many more ways than one,” Remus responded with a shit eating grin, wiggling a bit. Janus sighed, sounding exasperated but fond. But then Remus sobered up. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. You know I don’t really mind your jokes. Or lewdness. It’s just part of who you are as a Side.”

“Not that. I meant for not being… romantic. It’s just not my thing. I’m not Roman.”

Janus lifted his head to look at him. “I don’t want Roman. You think if I wanted Roman I’d be in bed with you? If I wanted Roman, I’d be having Roman.”

Remus couldn’t stifle his laughter. Roman probably wouldn’t want Janus either, not when Virgil was so clearly the Side for him, but Janus’s confidence and self-assurance amused him. He was right, Janus probably had the swagger to seduce whoever in the mindscape he wanted. Though he may be biased.

“I don’t really care if you do the whole romantic bit of a relationship,” Janus went on, putting his head back down. “Feelings can get kind of icky. You’re my best friend and I love you, I wouldn’t change that.”

Now, Remus knew Janus said that to comfort him but it just made him feel all kinds of bad. Guilty. Selfish. Ungrateful. He didn’t like these feelings. He was the Duke! He didn’t get down in the dumps. He was just pure, unfiltered nastiness. Not whatever this was.

He didn’t know if Janus expected a response or not but he just smiled awkwardly and patted Janus’s hair. Janus didn’t comment on how grimy his hands were and just relaxed against him, seeming to enjoy Remus’s fingers in his hair. It felt weirdly intimate to be doing this. It was nice, Remus supposed, but it felt foreign. Like he was missing something. Maybe he was missing something.

He tried to steer those thoughts away. He was naked in bed with his best friend, not fully clothed and crying in the shower alone like he normally was when these moments hit. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. He was… This was a good moment. Good things were happening. He’d just had an amazing night of mindblowing sex. His friend- partner, fuck buddy, boyfriend, whatever- had just told him he loves and accepts him. How could he be thinking about this right now?

Janus would tell him he wasn’t broken. That he wasn’t missing anything. That he was amazing the way he was. But Remus couldn’t find it in himself to bring it up right now. It was hard, not voicing his thoughts. He loved talking, spouting out every thought that crossed his mind. These ones though… He didn’t really want Janus worrying about. He already knew what Janus would say. Janus was a two-faced liar who could trick the smartest Side in the mindscape but Remus trusted him. Janus knew how to be serious. He knew how delicate Remus’s heart could be when it came to- to… He wouldn’t tell Remus anything about himself that he didn’t believe. It was just Remus who didn’t believe it.

Remus loved himself. He knew he was amazing. He loved his creations and that he could creep any Side and Thomas out. He just wanted to live his best life. But that little voice telling him something was wrong, giving him memories of a time before, would always be there.

Maybe it was time he listened to it.

=================

Roman just felt so freaking good.

His heart just felt so full. He just had so much love in him that he felt like he was going to burst. It thrummed in his chest, letting the feeling of life flow freely into his limbs. He didn’t know why he felt like this. Maybe it was because of the role he fulfilled as Thomas’s romantic facet and his fanciful side. Or maybe he was just so high on love that it got him all giddy like this. He didn’t know, he just knew he liked it. It was an amazing feeling that he just wanted to have forever.

But all good things had to come to an end.

Virgil withdrew from him, not quite letting go but enough that Roman craved his touch again. He leaned in for another kiss, and managed to successfully get one, before noticing the look in his boyfriend’s eyes. It wasn’t… a bad look. Not a new one either. Just somewhat different.

Virgil was definitely turned on. Expected, after making out for however long they’d spent doing just that. To be honest, Roman was pretty into it too and he could feel some arousal coming in. It was an exciting feeling, one only supplemented by the rush of affection he was feeling.

So why did he feel so uneasy?

Virgil slotted his palms over Roman’s hips and gave him a sultry look. “You want to do a bit more?”

Roman opened his mouth to respond but no words came out. He didn’t know if it was from arousal or fear. He locked eyes with Virgil and nodded, trying to look eager. Virgil looked… excited? Happy? Satisfied? Something. He looked something good at his response and started undoing the zipper and buttons on his pants. Roman looked away, not really wanting to watch despite all the feelings happening down there. It was only once Virgil’s fingers were hooked around his underwear that it became apparent something was wrong.

“Dude, you okay?”

“Don’t call me dude when we’re in bed. You’ll kill the mood.”

“I’m trying to kill the mood. You look hella uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.”

“You looked away when I took your pants off and you flinched when I touched your underwear. Is that comfortable in your world?”

“I’m fine, Virge. Let’s just keep going.”

“We don’t need to do this if you don’t want to.”

“But I do want to,” Roman insisted, gesturing vaguely to his crotch which was very visibly hard through his underwear.

Virgil didn’t budge. “Having a boner and wanting me to touch you are two different things, Princey.”

Roman sighed. “I know.”

“Consent is sexy.”

Roman sighed louder. “I know, Virgil.”

“Communication is-”

“I know, Virgil.”

“Come on, talk to me, Princey.”

“You’re still killing the mood.”

“I know, Roman,” Virgil responded, mimicking Roman’s tone, before giving him a serious look. “What’s up? If you don’t want to, that’s fine.”

Roman opened his mouth but, again, no words came out. How was he supposed to articulate his thoughts? He wanted to… do stuff. Sexual stuff. Touching. That sounded fun. Sex was supposed to be, like, a big thing in a relationship, right? So shouldn’t he want to do it, being the romance guy and all?

Maybe it was because sex was more of a Remus thing. Ew, no wait, he shouldn’t be thinking about his brother right now. Actually, that was a big turn off which was what he needed right now. But point was that sex was never his thing. Roman didn’t think about it much. Or at all. Should he? That was something people thought about, right?

Thinking about sex made him feel… gross. Not completely though? Thomas was a pretty sex positive guy so all the Sides generally viewed consestuall sex as a healthy part of a relationship but anytime Roman thought about sex in a more personal way, not as an abstract concept, he felt all weird. And he knew he shouldn’t. Sex was natural. Hundreds of generations of humans have been doing it. So why couldn’t he?

There was just this… disconnect. Between what, he wasn’t sure. His feelings, his body, arousal, desire, all of it. And it felt wrong. Like, it should be there. He didn’t know what it felt like but he could imagine it. He’d read about it and he could see it in his mind but when it came to the present moment, it just wasn’t there. He-

Odin’s eyepatch, Virgil was waiting for him to say something, wasn’t he?

“Can we… not?” Roman said weakly, hating how unsure he sounded. But to his relief, Virgil just nodded.

“That’s fine. We’re not ready,” Virgil responded. Roman couldn’t tell if he sounded disappointed or not. “But I, um, I’m going to go take a cold shower. Figuratively, not literally. I hate the cold. I’m going to go jer- I’m going to go take a shower. And you can do whatever you need to do or take one after me. And then we can just hang out. Does that sound alright?”

Roman was a bit surprised Virgil seemed so together. Not anxious. He was still a bit rambly but mostly together. Maybe he was just trying to put on a face for Roman’s sake. Either way, he was grateful that Virgil was taking the lead on this one, however odd it may be for the other Side. Smiling, he nodded. Virgil returned it and wandered off to the bathroom.

But when he returned, Roman was nowhere to be found.

=======================

They both slunk out in the night, stumbling to the Neutral Zone with similar goals in mind. Consciously or unconsciously, it was impossible to tell. They were just hurting and that was enough to draw them together.

Still, they looked surprised at the sight of each other, Roman on the stairs leading up and Remus surfacing from the basement. It was dark but the red and green of their clothes seemed to stand out. They stayed silent, staring at each other wordlessly, waiting to see who would move first.

It was a third figure who broke the silence.

“Sup guuurlssss,” Remy slurred as he drifted through the living room, seeming to materialize out of nowhere. Both of the twins jumped, startled by his sudden appearance, but Remy was already wandering towards the hallway by the time they realized who exactly it was. “Go to the dreamspace if you’re going to destroy anything, bitches. Toby will be pissed if you touch his shit. Byeeee.”

The twins watched the Neutral Side walk away, his shuffle making him seem to float away in a very dream-like manner. But that was just how Remy was and they could ignore him and soon they were once again focused on each other. Remus spoke first.

“So why are you here?”

“Why are you here?”

“I asked first.”

“But I’m older.”

“Explain or I fart and wake up the whole floor. And you know how smellicious this tank can-”

“Ugh. Okay, fine.”

“Well?”

“...”

“Princey.”

“What was the question?”

“Why are you here, Prince Boring?”

“Um, well…”

“Just spit it out, brother mine.”

“How do you sex?” Roman blurted bluntly.

Remus started at him. He blinked. Once. “What?”

“How do you do sex?” Roman repeated, looking flustered. “I can’t.”

To his credit, Remus was quiet for a full three seconds before bursting out laughing.

Roman scowled. “It’s not funny! I just… I can’t.”

Remus tried to smother his laughter to a series of giggles, wiping a couple fake- or real, who knows?- tears out of his eyes. “Oh Princey! You should’ve come to me sooner! I tried giving Seth some crash course kink lessons from yours truly but Toby hit me. Really hard. It was hot. Janus let me do my whole spiel on him but it’s no fun when you’re fucking the guy you’re teaching because he already knew all this stuff when he signed up to be my fuck buddy but now that you’re-”

“Stop. I already regret this,” Roman said, waving his hands. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Poopy.” Remus didn’t actually sound disappointed, a blessing in disguise.

“I just… can’t get into it.”

“I know what you mean,” Remus said, surprising Roman. When Roman didn’t speak, Remus continued. “I can’t do feelings. All that romantic stuff? Bleh. Not for me. But I feel bad because I think Janus would like it. I’ve tried but it just feels like it’s… not… there.”

Roman suddenly felt a surge of mutuality for his brother. He was voicing exactly how he felt. Well, not exact. Opposite, really. But he felt understood. “Do you think it’s because of the split?”

“I- Maybe,” Remus admitted with a shrug. He rubbed a finger under his nose. Roman almost reached out to stop him from picking his nose but he was just scratching his mustache. “It feels like… like… I’m a mirror. And I shattered. A long time ago. And someone taped me back together. They really tried but they did an awful job. There’s sharp pieces sticking out everywhere ready to cut your hands open so you can watch as you bleed out but the reflection’s all fucked up and you just see all the dark, awful… goop inside of you. And there are pieces missing. And I don’t know where they are.”

“They’re probably in me,” Roman said softly. “I don’t feel like-” He gestured loosely in Remus’s direction- “that. I feel like- like a mirror that broke but got put together with glue. They made something new and it’s- it’s art. But it’s still broken. You just can’t always tell but it’s real and it’s there.”

Remus nodded, uncharacteristically solemn. He was playing with his hands, like he was nervous. Roman noticed tiny cuts on his hands around his fingernails, like he was picking at them. He wasn’t picking now though, just fidgeting. Like Virgil. “Do you think we’d be whole together? As King Creativity? Do you remember if he felt normal?”

Roman hesitated. “I don’t remember. But I think… Remus, I feel so empty all the time. Like I’m only half a Side. And not just about the sex thing. I feel so- so- so-”

“Oblique?”

“Oblique,” Roman whispered. “And I want to feel normal. And I think maybe we can do that if we tried to… I don’t know, unsplit?”

Remus didn’t say anything but his face betrayed him. With decisiveness, he offered Roman his hand. And Roman accepted it.

No longer would they be broken mirrors of each other. No longer would they be oblique. Soon, they would be whole once again.

Next chapter

#fanfiction #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #arowrimo #aromantic #asexual #asec #janus sanders #deceit sanders #demus #roman sanders #prince roman #virgil sanders #prinxeity #creatvitwins #king creativity #read note for warnings #chapter 2 of 3

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the--sad--hatter · 5 years

Text

Bloody Roses - Chapter Three (Bucky x Reader)

Bloody Roses - Chapter Three (Bucky x reader)

FANDOM - MARVEL

WARNINGS - SOME BLOOD AND INJURIES, MENTIONS OF NUDITY

SUMMARY - What you thought was a trapped squirrel turned out to be a super soldier in need. It’s not every day an Avenger turns up in your garden, in serious need of help but you deal with it as best as you can.

Masterlist

Chapter Three

You were by no means the worlds best chef but you could cook. Actually, you were pretty damn good. It was usually presentation that you struggled with, not taste. Bucky seemed like someone who appreciated taste more than looks though (you hoped). You never had any reason to actually cook though so you just settled for shoving something in the oven most days. But with Bucky here….

You dug out all the ingredients for shortcrust pastry and made the dough, leaving it to chill in the fridge while you ran back upstairs to shower. It was the fastest shower of your life because you were painfully aware of the fact that he was in your garden.

He had come back.

The happiness you felt from that was impossibly bright and beautiful. It was like walking around with liquid sunshine in your veins, making you feel warm and happy inside. You had wanted him to return and your wish had been granted and he brought with him an optimistic excitement.

You used your favourite shower gel, the one you saved for good days and the more expensive shampoo and conditioners instead of the normal ones. When you were feeling this happy you wanted to feel it in everything you did so you made sure to treat your body, lavishing it with care so it felt as light and content as your soul did. Still, you didn’t linger.

You tied your damp hair into a messy plait as you skipped downstairs, peeking out of the windows into the backyard as you went. He had his back to the windows as he sanded down the edges of a plank of wood and added to the pile. The comically large pile.

You knocked on the glass and opened the window a crack so you could hear each other.

“So exactly how long have you been skulking around my property while I slept?” You asked, waving to the planks of dark cherry wood.

“Four and a half hours?” He shrugged.

You raised an eyebrow at him and he had the grace to look somewhat sheepish but the truth was, you got it. If it was anyone else it would be creepy and strange but it was him. There was an ease and comfort there that meant him wandering around and building furniture didn’t feel weird at all. It felt like he belonged here.

“How many bookshelves are you building?” You asked him, grinning.

“Well you have a lot of books and I only saw two rooms.” He answered.

It was your turn to look sheepish and he grinned at you.

“You do have more books than I saw!” He accused.

“I like books ok?” You said slamming the window closed and pouting and flouncing out of sight theatrically.

“I like books as well.” He said as soon as you walked into the kitchen and you yelped and jumped back out of the room.

“Did you run across the yard to meet me in the kitchen and scare me?” You demanded, peering around the doorframe.

He was sat casually on one of the stools at the kitchen island, legs crossed at the ankle and arms folded like he’d been there a while.

“No.” He scoffed.

You gave him your best ‘mom look’ until he cracked a grin and admitted what he’d done.

“I didn’t do it to scare you, that was a bonus.”

“Don’t make me call Captain Rogers to come and get you again.” You threatened, shaking your head in mock disappointment as you switched the oven on to preheat.

“I’m sorry! I’ll behave.” He protested, the grin tugging at his lips letting you know he wasn’t really worried.

“Hmm.” You pretended to consider it.

“Think of the bookshelves!” He tried.

“I will get over my fear of that buzzsaw eventually you know.” You grumbled.

“Will you?” He challenged, calling your bluff.

You stared him down for all of three seconds.

“No.” You huffed and stomped over to the fridge, pulling out your bowl of chilled pastry dough and setting it on the counter.

He immediately prodded at it through the clingfilm and you slapped his hand away.

“Is that cinnamon?” He asked, sniffing it.

“Yes? Is that a problem? Do you not like cinnamon?” You asked worriedly.

“I like it. What are you making?” He asked.

“It’s a pie crust. I’m making apple pie.” You explained.

“Steve’s gonna be so jealous.” He said smugly, almost to himself.

You moved around, pulling out the things you needed while he watched the way you moved around, stepping over Othello as you went.

“It’s not going to be ready for a couple of hours you know.” You told him in bemusement as you rolled out the dough.

“That’s ok, I like watching you.” He said easily.

“Do you now? You didn’t sneak into my room and watch me sleep did you?” You asked, smirking at him.

“Is the woman who stripped me naked while I was unconscious really accusing me of being inappropriate while she was sleeping?”

“Hey! It was for your own good! And I didn’t look.” You defended yourself, threatening him with the rolling pin for emphasis.

“Stark said to tell you that if you took pictures he’ll pay you to leak them online.” He informed you, frowning at the message he was passing along.

“First of all, wow. Second of all, Tony Stark wants to see you naked? Third of all… thirdly of all? Having Bucky Barnes pass along a message from Tony Stark is surreal.” You said, crinkling your nose as you carefully placed the dough in the greased pie tin and smoothed it into place, cutting around the edges to make it nice and neat.

“And Banner told me to ask you to never ever attempt to stitch anybody up ever again.” He added.

That made you chuckle apologetically because you honestly felt bad but it was still hilarious. Bruce banner did not approve of your botched attempts at administering medical care. It was so surreal it was downright hysterical.

“You healed alright though? Right?” You asked worriedly.

“I healed fine thanks to you, no matter what anyone says. You’re the one who found me, you’re the one who took care of me.” He said heavily, catching your eye and holding your gaze.

“Technically Othello found you.” You tried to deflect, uncomfortable with the way he was looking at you.

Like you were something special, something wonderful. You weren’t wonderful at all.

“I remember hearing him and thinking that Hydra had found me. Then I saw you and…”

“And what?” You asked, covering the pie crust with a baking sheet and pouring rice on top of it to weigh the dough down before you put it into the oven to blind bake.

“You told me to stop bleeding on your flowers. I didn’t know what was going on but I was on edge and trying not to pass out. I just remember your voice, begging me to let you help me. Hydra never asked permission, they never offer help. I don’t know how I knew for sure it wasn’t a trick, I just did. I just trusted you to help me and you did.”

“Anybody would have done it. For every sick Hydra agent in the world there are a thousand normal people who when faced with the chance, will choose to do good.” You assured him.

“Maybe. I hope so. But of all the people whose garden I could have wandered into, I’m glad it was yours.” He said emphatically.

“Why?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

“I forgot things like this still existed. People like you. Where it’s normal and safe.” He admitted.

You thought about what little you knew about his life, his long and painful life. He’d been lost in a war and taken by the enemy, broken and abused and when decades later, he got free, he went straight back into the fight. It must have been a long time since Bucky met someone who’s biggest concern was whether their roses got trampled. His decision to come back and build bookshelves made a hell of a lot more sense now that you had thought it through.

“This house… I bought it because I thought I could make it into a home. A haven, away from the world. I didn’t realise how much work was going to go into it, how much fucking carpentry.” You said and he had the gall to laugh at the derision in your tone.

“But it’s calm and peaceful and serene here.” You sighed dreamily.

“It is.” He agreed. “I could help.” He added abruptly.

“Help?”

“What I’m saying is there’s a lot to be built here, if you wanted help with that. After all, that’s what Avengers do isn’t it? Assemble?” He joked, making you let out a surprised, horrifically girlish giggle at the pun.

“I’m sorry are you… are you moonlighting as a handyman?” You asked him.

“Only for you doll, your very own one handed handyman. Whenever I’m not on mission I could come around, help out.” He offered.

You wanted to tell him he didn’t need to do anything, he was welcome to come around without having to earn a place but you didn’t know how he would take it. And besides, he was practically bouncing in his seat with excitement, his eyes alight with eagerness. Your eyes flitted over his hands and you wondered how often he got to use them to create something, to build rather than destroy.

“Alright.” You agreed.

“Really?” He asked, despite it being his suggestion he looked taken aback that you’d agreed to it.

You nodded. His shock melted into happiness and you noticed the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners when he smiled , inadvertently leaning closer to him. He had come back, and it wouldn’t be the last time apparently.

“Ok. Well I’m going to get back to those bookshelves. I can’t exactly slack off on my first day on the job.” He said, wiping his hands on his jeans nervously as he stood and looked to you for approval.

“I’ll be in here if you need anything.” You told him, gathering all your ingredients for the pie.

“Come on boy.” He said to Othello and you gaped as your dog padded after him, tail wagging.

Apparently Othello had found something he liked more than food… Bucky Barnes company. You couldn’t even blame the fickle canine.

As you boiled the maple syrup to 120 degrees (Celsius) and warmed the double cream to make the caramel, you felt light and airy with the happiness that had settled over you.

“Are you allergic to nuts?” You called out of the window when there was a break in the sawing.

“No?” He called back.

You slowly stirred in the cream with the syrup and added the butter before you set the caramel aside to cool next to the pie crust and started thinly slicing the McIntosh apples, probably eating about two whole apples worth of slices as you worked. Once you were done you layered the slices, caramel and pecans inside the pie crust and used the leftover dough to cover it all up before putting it in the oven.

That was when you started trying to come up with reasons to go outside without making it seem as if you were checking up on Bucky. Because you weren’t. Checking Bucky out… Yes, but checking up on.

Othello’s food bowl still had biscuits in it. Presumably Bucky had taken it upon himself to feed him this morning, either that or Othello’s IQ had jumped an alarming amount. Whatever the case, that wouldn’t fly as an excuse.

“Aha!” You yelled loudly, remembering Othello wasn’t the only animal you fed on a regular basis.

You grabbed the bag of bird seed from the cupboard and hurried outside, deliberately not gawking at Bucky picking up twice his body weight in wood planks and carrying them over to the porch.

“Hi.” You waved at you wholly uninterested dog as you strode past.

“Doll! Wait!” Bucky called as you walked across the garden.

“I’m just feeding the birds, don’t mind me.” You shouted without turning around.

There was suddenly a metal arm around your waist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Put your hand out in front of you, slowly.” He whispered huskily in your ear.

You swallowed your heart that had leapt into your throat and did as he said, feeling almost dizzy as the scent of freshly cut wood and his own unique musk enveloped you. Your hand met resistance and you squeaked in surprise.

“Drop cloaking device.” Bucky said loudly.

The quinjet shimmered into view, right in front of you and you belatedly realised that you’d been one step from walking into the side of it.

“Well that could have been embarrassing. And painful. But more importantly, embarrassing.” You gulped.

You felt his chest rumble against your back as he chuckled at you and very slowly, let you go. It took every single iota of self-control you had not to pout when he stepped away.

“So… there’s an invisible jet on my lawn.” You said conversationally, like you were commenting on the sunshine.

“Well how do you think I got here?” He asked.

“I thought you drove? My first instinct wasn’t that you took an Avengers jet to come build bookshelves. I can’t believe they let you take a fucking baby plane to run errands.”

“Let?”

“Oh god, you stole it?”

“Borrowed.”

“Am I gonna get in trouble for this?” You asked in concern.

“No, no! You won’t. I promise.” He assured.

“Ok then can I go in it?” You asked hopefully.

“You wanna see inside? And I’m sorry, baby plane?” He asked bemusedly.

“It’s a plane that hasn’t grown up yet, don’t try convincing me otherwise. Can I see inside? Please?” You asked excitedly, tugging on his sleeve and trying to drag him around to where the ramp descended from.

“I’ll do you one better doll… You afraid of flying?”

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The fact that so many people seem to like this is really really sweet. Like it makes me feel really warm inside that my little haven is being enjoyed by others. I love you guys xxx

For those who asked about the book mentioned in Chapter Two 'The life of Death'; no it's not a real book. It was just a concept I played with a few years ago that never made the cut.

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@likes-to-smell-books @thelostallycat @dilaila95 @dropthepizza346 @destiel-artemis @hiddles-rose @myfandomlife-blog @thosesexytexasboys @liveonce-sodoitright @spnrvt @tarastudiesalot @dahkness @sexyvixen7 @jaynnanadrews @littledeadrottinghood @pinkisokay @angieptt @anamcg317 @belladonnarey @queen-kayy92 @breezy1415 @penumbrawolfy @fairislesheets @lianadelphius @coolmassivenerd @youhavebeenspared @candyxcyanide @musingpredilection @isaxhorror @destiel-artemis @my-drowning-in-time @isabelcrichards @teh-nerdette @dlcita @deathofmissjackson @life-wanderer @cleo0107 @spicymagz @drdorkus @inquisitor-selvala @le-mow @zeannastardust @nighmxre @blue-cat-1989 @writingforbucky @abo4280ooof @mad4oak @jsmith509

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #The Winter Soldier #the winter soldier x reader #bucky fluff #Bucky series #The Avengers #the avengers x reader

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redvoid-40 · 4 years

Text

Some of you may have noticed I’ve been posting little fanfic snippets here. Lately I’ve been re-watching Naruto because nostalgia. And despite having to finish my HxH fic or my novel I couldn’t help but start a new work. I dunno, it was just super nostalgic to see all the characters that I used to love (not you Sasuke) and I was left with a desire to write I hadn’t felt in a long time now.

I’ll be honest, I’m not quite sure where I’m going with this, but I do know it’ll be friendship and adventure-focused, with a side of GaaraxOC in later chapters (please bear in mind that by later chapters I mean LATER chapters; I won’t really touch the stuff while the character are kids). Also, I’m all for healthy friendships so there’ll be a lot of that too, specially with the girls in the show (I really feel Kishimoto could have invested more on his female characters).

Still, I think maybe someone out there might get some enjoyment out of this, so I’ll start posting my fic here in an ordered fashion. Hope you guys enjoy it! :D

Fandom: Naruto

Fanfic title: ???

Chapter 1: The New Girl

Genre: Friendship, Adventure, Hurt/Comfort

Word count: 2205

Warnings: OC is a crybaby none

---

“Class, from today onward we’ll welcome a new student at the Academy.”

There was a wave of whispers among the children as they wondered about the new kid. Excited, confused and just a little bit anxious, the young Genin-to-be asked one another if anyone knew anything about it, heard any rumours before this sudden announcement.

Iruka gave his students a few moments to collect themselves before clearing his throat to get their attention. It took a few moments but at last, silence came over the class.

“Please come in and introduce yourself.” Iruka called out, reaching out his hand to the side, towards the open classroom door.

The sound of soft steps came first, breaching the door’s threshold languidly. Then came the image of a little girl with light brown, wavy short hair, that framed her face with messy curls. She wore a black long-sleeved shirt and pants.

At last came the sound of her voice, and just like her eyes, it felt dead.

“My name is Osasu Shin.” The little girl said, bowing at the waist. “Please take care of me.”

The murmurs came again, this time less excited and more anxious. Iruka noticed the tension and smiled brightly at his students as he laid a comforting hand on the girl’s head.

“Why don’t you guys introduce yourselves? I’m sure Shin-kun is just as curious about you as you are about her."

The whispers died at once as the children stared at each other, wondering who'd go first - hoping someone would.

And so someone did.

A blonde boy stood up and slammed an open palm over his desk, as a huge grin stretched on his whiskered face. The new girl flinched at the sudden noise, but Iruka and the rest of the class just sighed, seemingly used to it.

"My name is Uzumaki Naruto! And I'm going to become Hokage, believe it!"

There was an uncomfortable silence afterwards as Shin stared at the loud boy. She didn't know what to say.

"Thanks Naruto. Next time try not to shout it though. Also don't just hit your desk like that!" Iruka said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Anyone else would like to introduce themselves?"

Again silence.

And then-

"I'm Akimichi Chouji! Welcome! Shikamaru, say hi as well."

"This is such a bother… Hey, I'm Nara Shikamaru."

"Nice to meet you! I'm Yamanaka Ino!"

"And I'm Haruno Sakura!"

One by one, the children spoke their names and at every excited syllable that reached her ears, Shin's eyes became a bit less dull.

Iruka smiled.

---

When lunchtime came the children split in smaller groups and ran out of the classroom in a matter of seconds, all eager to wolf down their food and use the rest of their free time to play.

Shin remained in her place, staring unseeingly at her desk. As soon as the door closed behind the last of her classmates, she felt the all-too-familiar sting in her eyes that announced the coming of another bout of crying.

It had been easier to hold back with everyone around her but now that she had been left alone the task was proving to be much harder.

The little girl swallowed as her vision blurred. She rubbed at her eyes insistently, but once the tears came there was no stopping them. They streaked down the back of her hands and down her forearms. Some escaped and fell directly on her desk, leaving little dark spots all over the wood.

"Why are you crying?"

The voice startled her, as did the pair of bright blue eyes that suddenly appeared so close to her face.

Vision still blurred, Shin could only gap at the boy "I-I…"

"I know what will cheer you up!" The boy, Naruto, announced with a bright smile. "Let's go!"

Not waiting for a response, he grabbed her hand and dragged her away from her own misery.

---

"Oji-san! Two Ichiraku specials!"

"Right away!"

Shin was no longer crying, but her eyes were still a bit red and puffed. However, the owner of this little restaurant and his daughter were kind enough not to mention it as they moved around behind the bar, preparing Naruto’s order.

“This place has the best lamen in the world, believe it!” Naruto exclaimed excitedly, pulling her to sit with him at the bar. Much quieter he added: “Iruka-sensei always brings me here when I’m feeling sad.”

Shin raised her eyes to the blonde by her side and felt a lump form in the back of her throat; those baby blue eyes weren’t the bright shade she saw during the class. They had a shadow over them that spoke of a special sort of sadness that was not unlike her own - the kind which was so personal and so heartfelt it almost became part of one’s self.

The burn in her eyes was threatening to come back.

“H-Hey! Don’t cry! I brought you here to make you feel better!"

Shin swallowed her lump and nodded her head, pressing the heels of her hands firmly against her eyes.

I can stop crying. I will stop crying.

A few moments later - once Shin had taken a hold of herself - the owner came back with two large bowls of steaming, delicious-smelling lamen.

He smiled at the children as he put the bowls in front of them and Naruto didn't waste a second before digging in with a loud 'Itadakimasu'.

Shin felt her mouth water at the smell and looked up at the man standing across the bar.

He said his name was Teuchi-san. He has such kind eyes;

"Go on." He urged with a warm smile.

Shin nodded again and reached for a pair of chopsticks.

"Itadakimasu."

---

Time, Shin found, didn't pass nearly as slowly as she thought it would today. Between Naruto's excited ramblings and Teuchi's fatherly inputs, late afternoon creeped upon her with ease, involving the streets with warm shades of orange and red.

And with it came a very angry-looking Iruka.

"Naruto! I can't believe you! Not only it's the third time you skip class this month but you also dragged Shin-kun along! On her very first day!"

Shin had the decency to blush and look down in shame. Meanwhile Naruto grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head.

"Hehe… you found us, Iruka-sensei."

There was a huge vein pulsing on the teacher's forehead. Shin feared it might actually burst.

"I'm sorry, Iruka-sensei. It's my fault really. I was-" the words caught in her throat. She didn't want anyone else to know she had been crying. "- I was down. Naruto was just cheering me up."

Iruka's eyes softened as he took in both children, as if seeing them for the first time today.

Naruto was sitting on the stool closest to him, grinning that foolish and innocent grin of his. Shin was sitting on the next stool, staring up at him with brown eyes that were nothing like the haunted gaze he had witnessed early that morning, when the Hokage had brought her to him.

These kids… They are stronger than most Shinobi could ever hope to be.

"Hmph! I'll let this one slide, but don't you try to pull this stunt again, you hear me Naruto? And don't you let this little brat get in the way of your studies, Shin-kun."

Shin nodded, but it was hard to take Iruka’s scolding to heart when he was ruffling Naruto's hair so affectionately.

"Anyway, it's going to get dark soon. Let me walk you two home." Iruka spoke before turning to the owner. "Teuchi-san how much do I owe you for these two?"

"You know that new customers get to eat on the house, Iruka." Teuchi said with a smile. "And since Naruto here is helping me expand my business, I'll treat him this time as well."

“Ah! Thank you Oji-san!” Naruto said, jumping from his bench. “I’ll be back soon! Believe it!”

Shin bowed her head. “Thank you, Teuchi-san.”

“I hope to see you again soon, Shin-chan! Meanwhile, you be good, okay?”

The little girl was about to jump down from her bench as well, but froze at those words. With wide eyes she looked up at Teuchi, smiling down at her so kindly, so warmly, so like…

“Papa and Mama are leaving now. You be good while we’re out, okay?”

Shin’s eyes burned again, but this time the back of her hands were enough to keep the tears from streaking down her face. She sniffed and, for the first time in weeks, allowed her lips to curl up in the resemblance of a smile.

“I will!”

---

“You should smile more, Shin-chan!” Naruto spoke suddenly as they walked through the streets of Konoha.

“Hm?”

“You have a really cute smile, believe it.” The blonde explained, grinning.

Iruka sputtered and Shin blinked at the boy, as if his words didn’t make any sense.

“Naruto! You shouldn’t behave so familiar with a girl you just met!”

The boy’s eyes widened, as a blush crept up his neck. “I-I didn’t mean it like that! Not that you’re not cute, Shin-chan! Honestly you’re almost as cute as Sakura-chan! Ah! I’m not trying to say anything by it though! I think you’re real nice, but I- what I’m trying to say is… Ahhh! You’re my friend! And I like you better when you’re smiling. Believe it!”

An awkward silence befell the trio as the last of daylight disappeared and the street lamps lit up around them. Iruka sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hoped Shin wouldn’t take it to heart Naruto’s blabbermouth.

Shin lowered her face and turned slightly away from Naruto and Iruka as her shoulders slowly started to shake softly.

“S-Shin-chan! Are you crying? I’m sorry, I didn-”

Shin cut Naruto off, shaking one of her hands in front of herself in a dismissive gesture. It was then that Naruto and Iruka realized she wasn’t crying.

She was laughing.

When Shin faced both again, she was smiling. But it wasn’t the little thing she had showed them back at Ichiraku; it was a full-blown grin.

“I like you too, Naruto-chan.”

And just like that, Naruto steamed into a glitch.

“Ah! I-I’m sorry!” Shin said, reaching out to support the boy’s shoulders to keep him from falling face-first to the ground. “Naruto-chan? Naruto-chan! Iruka-sensei, what did I do? Naruto-chan!”

Iruka didn’t quite believe in what he was seeing.

They are both completely clueless.

---

“So here we are!” Iruka announced with a grand gesture when they arrived at their destination.

Naruto stared at the door to his apartment, confusion clear on his face. “Ehhh? Iruka-sensei, this is my home! I thought we were going to take Shin-chan to her place first.”

Iruka smiled and pointed to the door just a few meters to the right.

Naruto didn’t quite understand the meaning.

“So, are we going to her place or not? I’m starting to get hungry again, believe it.”

Iruka sighed and shook his head.

“Naruto... Shin-kun will live next door to you as of today. Make sure to help her out whenever she needs, alright?”

“Eh?! Is that true, Shin-chan?”

Shin nodded. “Although I’m new here, if there’s anything I can help you with please let me know.”

“But isn’t this apartment a bit too small? What about your parents?”

“...”

Naruto realized his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. The warm atmosphere from before was quickly smothered by a silence so sad it made Naruto’s ears ring with it. Shin was too kind to say anything, but the shadows that fell over her eyes and the way her lower lip trembled with the strain of holding back tears was enough condemnation to him.

Of course… A new girl who just moved in to Konoha and transferred to the Academy with no warning or explanation. Those sad eyes… She’s like me. She doesn’t have any family.

“Ah, Shin-chan....” Naruto began, staring down at his feet in shame. “I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot, believe it.”

“Shin-kun-” Iruka tried, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. “-I’m sorry. I’m sure Naruto didn’t mean it.”

Shin shook her head as she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, trying so hard to barricade her tears.

“I’m sorry, Naruto-chan, Iruka-sensei. I know a Shinobi shouldn’t cry. I’m so pathetic…”

Despite her words, there was no hiding the sobs that caught in Shin’s throat or the shaking of her shoulders as sadness suddenly overtook her. She had been so good during the day - even felt something so close to happiness bumbling inside her again - she had almost believed she was getting better. But a few words that reminded her of her parents were enough to reduce her to a sobbing mess again. She was truly path-

“!”

Shin startled at the sudden feeling of warmth around her and raised her face from its hiding place behind her hands. She felt Naruto’s hair tickle her cheek as his hands pressed around her shoulders.

“I know it hurts. Being alone is really painful, isn’t it?” The boy whispered in her ear with a sad voice that Shin felt didn’t belong to him. “It’s okay to cry, but we’re here for you now. Believe it.”

“My poor baby. That thunderstorm was really scary wasn’t it? It’s okay now. Mama is here.”

“Hey, don’t forget about Papa! I’m here too!”

Shin swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded as her hands grabbed on the back of Naruto’s shirt.

“Thank you, Naruto-chan.”

Iruka watched the scene with a heavy heart. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he walked to them and laid a comforting hand over each of their heads.

It was a cruel world indeed, this one that allowed children to fend for themselves.

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tippitv · 5 years

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Supernatural recap: 15.04 “Atomic Monsters”

Howdy, recap readers! It's going to be a short one this week as I'm currently battling a cold that's evolved into an ear infection that is currently making me about as well-balanced as a baby giraffe on ice skates. I considered skipping this episode entirely but there were things I really wanted to cover about it.

Namely, there's this opening scene in the bunker. Everything is lit red like a security system has been breached. Indeed, the place is swarming with monsters of some kind. Demons? Yes. Demons. Dean is coolly going about killing them in ballet-like slow motion that speeds back up for the fatal blows.

You can tell at once from the directorial choices that things aren't quite right. The aforementioned lighting is one sign. The influx of demons is another. Then there's Dean's very full beard and imperfect hair. I mean, his hair IS perfect because there's nothing he could do to make it ugly. But it's not its usual texture-puttied self. It's messy and dry, down on his forehead. Dean has obviously not had time to devote to it. All he's got is genetics. The infinity scarf he's sporting is also some kind of indicator of some kind of thing. Maybe it's a sign that he's now some kind of sexy post-apocalyptic lumberjack assassin.

Anyway, what I'm saying is that Ackles, who directed this episode, injected more creativity than regular directors tend to. Which, you know, I get it. Not every episode is going to be innovative. They have a limited schedule and budget. But it does get to a point where many scenes in many episodes feel as if they don't need directors at all. Just have everyone sit down and talk or walk from point A to point B and talk. It gets to be a bit paint-by-numbers so it's nice to have an injection of someone's energy and point of view who's not one of the four or five main directors.

Ah, here's the part where I momentarily lost my shit.

Dean offs a bunch of demons and then pauses when he finds BENNY THE MUTHAFUCKIN FRIENDLY VAMPIRE critically wounded. I've made no secret of the fact that Benny's one of my favorite short-term characters. He had a fantastic intro and a tragic send-off that came too soon.

He dies again (NOOOO) after telling Dean once more, "See you on the other side, brother."

Dean resumes stalking around the bunker in search of the mysterious enemy who turns out to be Sam. Sam's hair is especially bouffant now, which I think is one of the usual indicators of his state of evilness.

And indeed he has returned to imbibing demon blood for reasons we're not yet privy to. We know from their chat that he killed Bobby and Jody (NOOOO) because they got in the way of his doing something. Dean tries to talk some sense into him but Sam's eyes go black and he telekinetically breaks his bro's neck.

In the present day, a non-demonic Sam wakes up with a start. He doesn't tell Dean which means at some point we're going to get an angry confrontation about why Sam didn't mention sooner that something was wrong.

Also, I don't know if Sam is supposed to be a full vegetarian these days but at the least he doesn't eat meat-based bacon anymore, so Dean lying about the kind of bacon he's been buying is a dick move. Also, we're super late in the timeline for Dean's masculinity to still be so fragile. Stop acting like a bite of soybean is going to make your testicles detach from your body and Plinko their way down your pants legs.

Okay so the A-plot is this: Sam and Dean investigate a high school cheerleader's death. It's immediately apparent that the parents of some lacrosse boy are involved because they have that standard "we're vaguely familiar Canadian actors whose characters get more attention than non-villains would warrant" introduction. Now, in a logical world, Sam and Dean would immediately peg them for murderers or at least accomplices, because they've seen this pattern play out many times, but then the A-plot would be over. Long story short: Their son got turned into a vampire but they want him to have a normal life where they live vicariously through his lacrosse successes at Yale. The kid's less of a monster than his parents, and volunteers himself for a beheading. It's a little bit sad but we spent more time on misdirection than getting to know him. It was too late to cure him but Dean could've mentioned his pal Benny who gave up killing. Then Sam could've made an uncomfortable face that communicated "THIS IS RELEVANT TO MY VISION BUT I CAN'T SAY ANYTHING."

Noteworthy is the use of Jensen Ackles's own song "Sounds of Someday" over the ending of this plot. He has a lovely singing voice and it's different enough from his Dean speaking voice (no gargling with gravel here) that I'm not sure I'd notice if I were just a casual viewer.

Now for the B-plot which is actually the more important plot to the season: the return of Supernatural fangirl Becky.

As with probably many of you, my first reaction was to shudder because eight years wasn't enough for me to forgive and forget the utter grossness of "Time for a Wedding!" That one's right up there with the manwitch dog episode for grossness with me. But Becky's gotten herself sorted out and is disgusted by her own actions towards Sam back then, so I'm kind of glad she showed up.

Who else shows up? Chuck Almighty. In need of an ego boost, he intrudes upon Becky's life. She's got herself a handsome husband and cute kids now, and her own Etsy store selling handcrafted Supernatural merch, but she feels a grain of pity for her old boyfriend. Thinking he's an abandoned prophet, she encourages him to get back to writing, but has a little bit of concrit for his new Sam and Dean fluff fic.

Y'all ever had a fic writer who said they wanted a beta reader but then got super mad at even the most helpful advice? Yeah, that's Chuck.

So he starts writing another story. This one is tortured and dark and painful. I think it's basically supposed to be Sam's dream from the opening. But I think the show fundamentally misunderstands something about fans and writing here. Becky says she hates the story because it's dark and hopeless. That's not necessarily why fans hate certain endings. A dark seemingly hopeless ending can feed a fandom for decades and spawn a million fics. But one that isn't earned? One that doesn't feel like a natural outcome of what came before? That's the stuff of shit heaps. That's the stuff people hate.

In writing, a gut punch is good. A sucker punch is bad.

Chuck finally reveals to Becky that he's God by disappearing her husband, her kids, and eventually her, too. Now he's just gonna squat in her house and use her computer. Ex-boyfriends are the worst, amirite?

So that's it for this week. Please reblog if you enjoyed this recap and visit my virtual tip jar if you can: https://ko-fi.com/A4017DA

I'm consistently broke and could use a supply of Nyquil and/or ice skates.

#supernatural #spn recaps #my recaps #atomic monsters #tippitv

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todisturbtheuniverse · 5 years

Text

FIC: How Strong the Habit of Idle Speech [1/2]

Rating: T Fandom: Good Omens Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley Tags: Pre-Relationship, Developing Relationship, Mutual Pining Word Count: 3000 Summary: Crowley attempts to sleep off recent events. It's a form of self-defense. Aziraphale putters, and thinks, and finally acts. Takes place between the bus ride home from the apocalypse and ice cream in the park. Also on AO3. Notes: There's a second part to this somewhere. I've both reread the book and binged the show in the last week, so it seems likely that there's a general mixing of canon. Mandatory "I am not British and have no idea how well I am or am not mimicking some cadences of speech" warning. Title from The Country of the Pointed Firs and Other Stories, by Sarah Orne Jewett.

The television bathes the room in its flickering, vaguely offensive, bluish-white light; a low stream of sound, interspersed with swells of music and shouts of violence, issues from it; in his sleep, Crowley's foot twitches and resettles, stretching out toward Aziraphale, his head tipping further back against the arm of the couch. It doesn't look exactly comfortable, limbs that are usually so fluid and effortless strung tight instead: arms crossed, cramped, over his chest, one leg crossed over the other, and no pillow, even, between his back and the armrest.

He would have plenty of cushion if he'd just put his body the right way. There's a whole part of that side of the couch, however uncomfortable the black leather looks, that is meant for feet to go up on.

But there has been a lot of wine, and a lot of frantic planning, and a very long day before that, every moment of it testing them in some way. The energy of ethereal and occult beings is said to be infinite, but even Aziraphale is feeling a little drained. Here is the cost of rubbing elbows with humanity: your molecules eventually begin to think like theirs do.

Aziraphale is full of too much nervous energy to sleep, even so. Besides, one of them should keep a lookout, just in case tomorrow comes early.

The book in his hands was meant to occupy him. "Was hanging onto this, for...something," Crowley had said vaguely, producing it from a cleverly-hidden console table behind the couch when it became clear that Aziraphale could no more enjoy the television programme than he could dance the tango. "Can't remember. Have it."

And he'd thrust it forward in that casual way of his—here you are, it's nothing, don't thank me, first editions just magically appear when I ask them to—and Aziraphale had taken it, and said, "Thank you," without equivocating at all. Crowley had given him a long, measuring look, perhaps waiting for the expected equivocation.

It's not his usual fare. The Country of the Pointed Firs, Sarah Orne Jewett. American, very late nineteenth century—may as well be twentieth. But he sees the point, the appeal, especially at the time that Crowley would've fished it off a shelf somewhere. The pervasive sense of decay that suffuses it, the hardship. The loneliness.

Regardless of the flip commentary he has supplied for Crowley, Aziraphale does not actually think that this first edition just magically appeared. It has a certain truth, a certain wear, built into it.

He leaves it on the coffee table, beside his cup of tea, and moves quietly toward the study. Crowley doesn't stir.

Aziraphale makes himself useful. He begins with the congealed mess of destroyed demon on the floor, and returns what remains of the holy water to the thermos, screwing the cap on tight. All night the thought of it has needled him, but Crowley had said, "Don't mind the mess," and issued a certain look from behind his sunglasses that seemed to say, Today has been very long and we are going to deal with that later.

But Crowley is asleep, and has no opportunity to disapprove now. Aziraphale inspects the whole place, making certain that no drop of it remains anywhere that Crowley might accidentally step or sit or lay a hand.

He considers taking the thermos back. Miracling it away, far away, where only he will be able to find it. He could lie, claim that what was left was too polluted to use again, but he abandons this plan fairly quickly. He is sure that Crowley would see through it. Sure, too, that he has seen enough pain and contempt and suffering on Crowley's face these last few days to last—well, forever.

Polluted would not be a kind word to use, certainly.

So he screws the cap on tight and leaves it on the desk, significantly more empty than the last time it passed from his hands to Crowley's,1 and ensures to the best of his ability that Crowley will not be vaporized by stray droplets.

He allows himself to think on that. Allows himself to consider an Earth on which Crowley does not tread. It is a chilling place, he has realized, this hypothetical landscape. To him, anyway. Humans will go about and muck things up and perform minor miracles of their own, and that is still joyous, wonderful. Because Aziraphale loves humanity—more than he was meant to. It's not generalized enough, a kindly and paternal distance from them. It's up close and messy: he's coveted their food, glutted himself on their words, succumbed to the sloth of a long afternoon with their wine.

And still, it is not nearly as close and messy as the way he loves Crowley.

He waits, one step into a room verdant with houseplants, for someone to smite him for thinking about this so straight-on. He's done a good job of coming at it sideways, until now. Always have plausible deniability, that's how he's kept himself unsmote for millennia.

But no voice booms from the sky; he hasn't heard Her in a very long time, now. No searing light falls to make him into a pile of angel ash, conveniently opposite the location where demon goo recently resided. And he doesn't Fall, either, as far as he can tell.

This only cements the suspicion he's had, for some centuries now, a creeping thing that grew legs with time: that no one is really At The Wheel, so to speak, and even the angels who lovingly despise Aziraphale are not omniscient.

The plants are trembling, a thin and exhausted terror that has gone on all night. Crowley has been even more erratic than usual, and it's worked them into quite a state, wondering when the next judgment will fall on them. Aziraphale moves among them with the mister, calming them, repairing those that have come out in stress-spots so that they'll be safe from Crowley's wrath.2

When they've stopped shaking, and fallen back into their usual state of low-level unease, Aziraphale stays there among them, for a time. The hours left until dawn are an eye-blink. He feels its approach like an oncoming train, and wishes he could step out of the way. Stay in this microcosm created by a breath of reprieve, here in Crowley's flat, where Crowley is safe, and Aziraphale with him, forever.

Forever. Yes, that's what they're gambling for. The stakes are uncomfortably high when the alternative is or nothing.

He supposes that, if it comes to that, he won't know the difference. He will be nothing, after all. Absent entirely from existence. And maybe, centuries or millennia from now, he and Crowley won't even be a story that others tell. Everyone—angels, demons, the few involved humans and their professional descendants—will forget, and the two for whom it matters most won't be there to remind them.

His eyes sting. He allows it. Just like all their wonderful food, and complex music, and artless contraptions, there is something special about human emotion, even emotion dour as this. The nerves don't quite know where the hurt is coming from but know it's there all the same, and create a strong, centralized ache in his chest.

He returns to the sitting room, and from the doorway, he looks at Crowley. He's curled even tighter into the couch now, tucked snugly against the back of it, breathing deep and even. He doesn't snore.

Aziraphale miraculously finds a nice knit throw blanket in that console table and drapes it over Crowley. Softly, gently, so he won't wake. The sunglasses look like they're digging into his face, so Aziraphale leans over him and maneuvers them free.

He's almost made his escape when Crowley's eyes flicker open, and Crowley's hand reaches up—fast, but swerving, unsteady—to fasten around Aziraphale's wrist. Once there, his fingers tighten, relax again, but don't release. His eyes fix on Aziraphale's face. They narrow, a little. Not suspicious as much as squinting.

"Is it time already?" he mutters, words running together, some letters skipped.

"No," Aziraphale says. The ache in his chest has intensified. It is still painful, understand. But there is something else there, too, magnified by Crowley's fingers wrapped around his wrist, by the muzzy clarity of Crowley's yellow eyes fixed on his face.

It feels like dancing the gavotte. Breathless and joyful.

This can't be the end of all that. He simply won't let it.

"No," he repeats, "we have a few hours yet. I thought you looked uncomfortable."

Briefly, Crowley's fingers flex. Aziraphale can almost see their trajectory, their intent, though his imagination is probably running amok, is all: Crowley will pull Aziraphale's hand the scant distance to his lips, brush an absentminded kiss against the back, and let him go.3 But instead, with something like regret twisting his mouth, gathered around his eyes, Crowley releases him without doing any of that.

"So do you," he returns, a little clearer now. "Stop puttering and sit down."

"I was not puttering." But he does sit down, closer to Crowley than before; after all, he reasons, Crowley's legs are taking up nearly the entire couch, so there is nowhere else to sit except this spot, where legs really ought to go if legs must go on furniture at all.

"There'll still be a load of congealed demon on the ground if I turn around and look, then?" Crowley says, tipping his head back against the armrest again. His shoulders have lost a little of their tightly-curled tension. He closes his eyes, and smiles as he says the words.

Aziraphale is more familiar with Crowley's smirk, of course. It has featured a hundred, a thousand times more prominently in their long acquaintance. But he knows the smile, too, a thing that is still a trifle smug and sharp with mischief, but heartfelt.

"No," Aziraphale admits. "It was dangerous. You might've tripped."

Crowley's eyebrows go up. His eyes don't reopen. "Appreciate the concern."

Aziraphale smiles, too—quick, and looks away, as if he's at risk of being spotted.

But happiness, however bright, can maintain itself only so long when dread is waiting to re-establish itself, and Aziraphale feels that coldness take root again. That fear.

"I was thinking," he says, though really, he's been very careful not to think this particular kernel of thought through at all.

"Only thing to do while puttering," Crowley replies. "That's the problem with it."

Aziraphale ignores this. "We could just…go off. Enough distance, maybe they wouldn't follow. Too much of an inconvenience."

Crowley opens his eyes at this. Turns to look, slowly, at Aziraphale. His face is unfathomable.

"You think?" he asks, mildly.

"Alpha Centauri has been recommended to me." Aziraphale gives a feeble smile. "Might be nice."

They look at one another. It's easier to hold a gaze through discomfort than for humans, certainly, but it is not easy. Aziraphale, however, does not look away. He searches for some answer on Crowley's face.

"I should say no," Crowley says at last, one eyebrow raised. "Give you a taste of your own medicine."

"I suppose you should." Aziraphale clasps his hands together in his lap, the better to keep from fidgeting. In a more somber voice, he says, "I would deserve it."

Crowley shifts beside him with some low murmur of discontent in his throat, pulling himself a little further upright. "You've gone off-script, angel," he says. "You're supposed to remind me that you're here to thwart my wiles, and you can't thwart them if I'm here and you're on Alpha Centauri, so I have to come with you. You insist. For the cosmic balance of the universe."

"I think I'm a little tired of the script," Aziraphale says.

Crowley looks like...he looks a little like he did on the wall of the garden, so long ago, when he'd found out Aziraphale had given away the sword.

"That right?" Crowley says, with a threatening grin tucked into the corner of his mouth.

"Yes," Aziraphale says, and while Crowley can still be caught unawares, "I'm sorry, you know. For the things I said. They weren't true. And they were unkind."

"Shut up." The words are automatic, familiar, a defense that Aziraphale knows well, but Crowley's face softens even as he says them.

"Well, they were."

Crowley draws in a deep, heavy breath. "I knew you didn't mean it. Not really."

"I suppose you must have," Aziraphale says, "or you'd be on Alpha Centauri by now."

Thank God you knew, he thinks, but does not say; it is a matter of respect. Thank God, thank God, thank God you have always known me better than I have known myself.

Silence blooms. The problem with being off-script, Aziraphale reflects, is that he doesn't know what to do next. Bumbling his way forward in the dark like a human who's forgot his glasses and his torch and his sturdy boots, bound to stub a toe or three.

"I still have to say no," Crowley says, though he doesn't seem at all happy about it. "We've really mucked things up for them. Maybe Alpha Centauri was far enough from Armageddon-level mass chaos, but this is different. They'll hunt us now, wherever we go. They have a target, and they're not distracted by each other anymore."

Aziraphale lets out a sigh. "I suppose you're right. Should've gone while we had the chance."

"We should've, but it was stupid of me to ask." Crowley settles back against the armrest again, looking to the ceiling. "You would never leave Earth. You like the crêpes too much."

"You wouldn't, either," Aziraphale points out, ignoring this last.

"Not without you, at least," Crowley says, offhandedly enough to offset the sentimentality. Mostly.

It still puts Aziraphale's heart in his throat. This, too, he allows.

"But I couldn't stay, you know," he says, and he does not bother with offhandedness, "without you."

Crowley lets out a long, low breath. He doesn't look at Aziraphale, but Aziraphale sees something in his face, regardless: the briefest, smallest flicker of relief, before it's hidden again.

"Well," he muses, with half a smile, "that's something."

He still looks tired. Aziraphale would keep him up talking these last few hours, no matter how awkward, no matter how strange things have become, but they both need to rest, in their own ways, if they're to have any chance.

He wants that chance. They must make it count.

"If you don't mind, I think I'll sit here and read," he says, pulling the book back to him, and sitting back against the same armrest that Crowley sits back against.

Crowley sighs, and moves; he shifts away from the back of the couch and closer to Aziraphale instead. He shoots a pointed look upward, a question, unspoken.

"I think I'll go back to sleep," he says, and his eyes ask for permission. He waits. He has been waiting, Aziraphale understands, for a long, long time. "If you don't mind."

Aziraphale shifts his book to his right hand, and rests his left arm across the armrest. "Of course I don't, my dear."

Crowley takes his meaning. They have done a good job of that, over millennia of superficial words, but Aziraphale hopes they will have the opportunity to do better. Would get down on his knees and pray for it, if he didn't worry that would spoil the whole thing.

Crowley settles himself against Aziraphale with a contented breath, so quiet that only an angel would hear it. The weight of his body leans in; his head drops back against Aziraphale's shoulder. Aziraphale can just barely feel the tickle of his hair, most of the product melted out of it, no energy left for a demonic miracle to keep it arranged just so.

And Aziraphale lowers his arm from the armrest, lets it drape loosely around Crowley's shoulders instead. Something that was strung tight within him seems to relax at that touch. They both seem to, a long settling that has been a long time coming.

"Have some faith," Crowley says, a touch wryly, which—after everything—is perhaps the strangest thing Aziraphale has heard in all this time. "This will work."

"Of course." It's just a matter of where he puts his faith, now. It cannot be in mysterious ways and ineffable plans. It was simpler, then. Still, he would not trade it. "Of course it will."

Crowley nods against his shoulder, and then makes a disgruntled noise in his throat. "Did you put a knit blanket on me?"

"You looked cold," Aziraphale says; he can't really help smiling.

Crowley grumbles, but he doesn't throw it off, and he doesn't change it to something that better matches the harsh decor of the flat; he lets it be. And shortly, his breath evens out against Aziraphale's throat, and his body warms beneath Aziraphale's arm, and Aziraphale reads with only half a mind and doesn't judge himself too harshly for it.

Footnotes

1. How often has that moment returned to him, in these, the end of all days? The echo of it felt every time that every time Crowley pressed him for more time? The disappointment deepening, and hardening, and hurting, with every No Aziraphale forced himself to speak?

2. If only they knew that Crowley's wrath actually meant that they got to live with Aziraphale instead. Aziraphale doesn't dare tell them; they're Crowley's houseplants, and it seems to Aziraphale that this is not an area in which his Thwarting of Wiles is required. Besides, he likes best to have only one or two or at most three plants at a time. Any more would just infringe upon his bookkeeping.

3. A long love of literature can really only make a person one thing: romantic. Angels are not immune. Nor are demons, come to think of it, if you can get them drunk enough to listen to a bit of T.S. Eliot when they're too inebriated to loudly protest.

Go to Part 2.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziraphale/crowley #universe writes #god this sure is just a lot of me talking huh #thanks for enduring

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our-smooty · 5 years

Text

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 5

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags: Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

My Ko-Fi

3 days later, they finally wore each other out. By the end of the last day Crowley was practically incapable of speaking and Aziraphale was a jittering mass of sensation. They stopped when the mutual shaking of their bodies made it nearly impossible to continue. Shortly thereafter, they both fell asleep after a very half-hearted miracle from the demon to clean things up. Crowley couldn’t have cared less himself but knew the angel would be very uncomfortable and upset when the woke up if they didn’t get clean. It was the least he could do, after innumerable orgasms.

Crowley’s sleep was deep and dreamless which was rare for him. Even all those times when he napped away months and decades there had been frequent strange--sometimes upsetting--dreams that forced him awake. It was probably one of the reasons those naps lasted so long; it was hard to feel rested if you can’t actually rest. But this time Crowley was out like one of Aziraphale’s Heavenly lights for just two days, practically a catnap, and when he woke he felt hazy, but rejuvenated.

With a satisfied sigh and a great big stretch, Crowley burrowed under to covers, a stupid smile on his face. He felt fantastic, especially since his sleep had let him skip any muscle soreness. All that was left was the pleasant buzzing of a very satisfied libido. Again he reached down to touch his lower belly, something akin to giddy nervousness. Would he know right away? Or would he have to wait like any old human? It wasn’t like there was a president.

In the end he didn’t spend too much time luxuriating in their bed. Mostly because he could hear Aziraphale downstairs and the idea of getting some morning snuggles--even if it was nearly noon--appealed to him greatly. The getting up and getting dressed part was only a little tricky; even after three days his legs still felt a little wobbly, but in the end he managed it without using a miracle. Comfy clothes in place Crowley made a quick pit stop in the bathroom to brush his teeth, then meandered down the stairs into the living room where he knew Aziraphale would be curled up with a book and a cuppa.

“Hello dearest,” Aziraphale greeted, setting his book aside to pat the couch beside him. Crowley folded himself into the space and over the angel’s lap. “Did you have a good rest?”

Crowley nodded making a grabbing gesture for Aziraphale’s cup of tea, which he was passed very without complaint. Contrary to his taste in coffee, Crowley liked his tea very sweet and milky, which luckily lined up with his lover’s tastes exactly. He handed the cup back to Aziraphale and nuzzled further into the angel’s shoulder. “Lunch?”

Aziraphale wiggled happily, setting the tea aside with his book and drawing Crowley in closer. “I heard that the pub in town has been getting very fresh produce this summer and have been using it to make the most delicious tea sandwiches.”

“Sounds good angel, they have that cider too, yeah? The kind with ginger in it?” The sandwiches he could take or leave, and usually he’d give his portion to Aziraphale just to watch him enjoy them. Alcohol though was always something he enjoyed.

“Yes, but I think we should be avoiding that now, shouldn't we?” Crowley frowned in confusion for a few seconds before he groaned.

“Aziraphale… We don’t even know if its--If I’m--” He was really going to have to get over this inability to talk about it.

“Still, it’s good to get into the habit, and I’m sure they have some lovely non-alcoholic drinks we can enjoy.”

“We? S’not like you can’t drink,” he groused, fiddling with the buttons on Aziraphale’s waistcoat, thoroughly prepared to throw himself into an epic sulk.

Aziraphale made a considering noise. “It wouldn’t be fair though, would it? I don’t think I’d feel right, indulging while you can’t.” That made him feel… something. Grateful maybe? Or embarrassed. Either way it calmed him down enough to avert a really moody disaster. Curse Aziraphale for being so attentive and sweet and not giving Crowley any reason to have a really good brood.

“Fine. But I’m ordering the most expensive, most complicated drink they have. And I might even send it back,” Crowley grumped. Aziraphale giggled and pressed a kiss to the demon’s sleep-mussed hair, which was entirely too pleasant for the simple gesture it was. It made Crowley want to turn into a snake and curl up in the angel’s lap and forget about going for lunch.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else, my dear. Shall we get ready to go? I’m sure you don’t want to go out in your loungewear.” It was Crowley’s turn to laugh and plant a kiss on the angel’s cheek with an exasperated eye-roll.

“They’re trackies angel, not loungewear. You’re such an old man.” He still didn’t get off the sofa though. “No idea why I want to have your k-kid, to be honest.”

“Love probably has something to do with it,” Aziraphale teased lightly. Crowley grumbled but didn’t deny anything. Not like he could have, with how badly he was blushing. Damn these human corporations and their vascular systems.

“Shut up,” he groused, snuggling further into the warmth and softness of his lover’s well-worn jacket. “When do you want to leave?” Crowley knew it was best to let the angel set the pace, lest Aziraphale get himself into a tizzy.

Aziraphale considered briefly before nodding decisively. “I think I’d like to remain here for a little while, if that’s alright. I’m enjoying just sitting here with you.”

“Mmm, fine with me. You’re warm.” His snakey nature shone through in moments like this, and Crowley had the secret suspicion that Aziraphale had been gradually increasing his natural body temperature since they had begun living together to cater to his reptilian side. He couldn’t find the will to complain about it.

“Splendid. We’ll head out in a little bit.” Aziraphale used the hand not around Crowley’s shoulders to reclaim his tea and they took turns sipping. If the tea lasted longer than it really should have between them, Crowley was willing to let it slide because it gave him more time to cuddle up to his angel. Miraculously, the pub would have a large number of tea sandwiches still ready and fresh when they got there, despite the fact they regularly sold out.

The next 2 months were a flurry of sex, cuddling, and preparation for Pulcifer-Device child number three. They were eventually forced to stop their near-constant state of being in bed or recovering from being in bed to watch Lottie and Annabella while Anathema and Newt made final preparations--and got as much sleep as possible before--their newest addition. Luckily their South Downs cottage was already equipped with a room specially made for the girls and they were both more than prepared to watch them for at least a week at a time. Though they still paniced occasionally becuause raising the Anti-Christ was one thing, especially since they really hadn’t been raising him so much as influence. Taking care of and watching over two little girls who they were invested in was entirely another.

In the final week before Anathema was due Aziraphale had offered to have Lottie and Bella stay over at the cottage until the baby arrived. Anathema had readily agreed--probably desperate to get some rest before the big day--and Newt had brought them and all of their supplies over. As far as they knew, this was just another fun trip to spend some time with their uncles, and not a brief respite for their parents. Crowley did not envy Anathema and Newt having to deal with two children under 5 all the time.

“Crowley, why are the girls eating ice cream for breakfast?” Aziraphale asked as he strolled into the kitchen on the second day. Both Annabella and Charlotte had heaping servings of chocolate ice cream in front of them, and on them, and on the table. It was an impressive mess. Crowley glanced up from where he’d been scrolling through his phone and shrugged.

“They asked for it. Figured after the tummy aches set in they’ll never ask again, or this’ll be one of those “fantastic childhood memories” humans like so much.” Aziraphale tutted and snapped, changing the bowls of ice cream to whole wheat pancakes and fruit. Lottie sighed dramatically but didn’t complain too much because the angel had made sure to stack her plate high with strawberries, which were her favourite. Bella on the other hand was only three and did not appreciate her sugary feast being replaced. Crowley saw the subtle chin wobble and furrowing of her tiny brow and immediately glared at Aziraphale.

“Big mistake angel,” he drawled just as she took in a deep breath. Aziraphale gave him a confused look before the situation seemed to strike him all at once. It was too late though, because in the next second she let out an ear-piercing screech that could have rivalled Beezlebub on a bad day. “At least the ice cream was keeping them quiet.”

“You can't give children pure sugar for breakfast, Crowley! It’s not good for them and I would expect you to know better!” Aziraphale near-shouted, wringing his hands this way and that as he hovered around his youngest god-daughter. Lottie was still calmly eating her strawberries and making a mess out the pancakes by squishing them up and pushing them off the plate. It was a far cry from the peace Crowley had created with the ice cream.

“You think I didn’t miracle away most of the sugar and other gunk before giving it to them? I’m not an amateur Aziraphale.” Crowley rolled his eyes and stood, procuring a can of whipped cream from thin air and dolloping a fair-sized amount on each girl's portion. Almost immediately Bella began to quiet, but Crowley wasn’t finished. “Use your words, Bella. What do you say to Uncle Aziraphale and your sister?”

She squirmed and pouted before relenting. “Sorry for yelling.”

“Good, now finish your breakfast and then we can go to the park yeah?” She nodded happily and began to dig into her food. “And Charlotte for Somebody's sake stop making a mess and just eat your food. You aren’t a baby and you don’t need to mush it up, do you?”

Aziraphale watched with wide eyes as Crowley completely diffuse the situation he had created. The demon could feel his nervous, unsure energy from across the room. He vanished the whipped cream--because he knew his god-daughters well enough not to trust them around it without close supervision--and gave the angel a pat on the shoulder. “S’not good to spring stuff on them like that angel. Besides, it’s gonna be confusing enough for them when the baby shows up, might as well let them have some fun.”

“I didn’t think--I’m sorry dear.” Aziraphale physically deflated. “I’m rubbish with children, aren’t I?”

Crowley sighed and pulled Aziraphale into his side, not trapping him in a hug just in case Bella’s screaming earlier had been too overwhelming. “You just need some practise angel. We can work on it.”

“No more sugary stuff for breakfast though, alright dear? Even if you do make it healthier, I don’t want them going back homing and demanding sweets.” Crowley supposed that was fair, though he might still sneak the girls a little something when Aziraphale wasn’t looking. It was only right, especially with how busy Anathema and Newt would be with the new baby over the next few months.

“Sure. Are you coming to the park with us?” Crowley asked, nuzzling into Aziraphale’s jawline and taking in a big whiff of that familiar sunlight and book glue smell. Normally Crowley could do this for hours, basking in the fact that he was allowed to do something as absurd as sniff his angel now, but this time there was something wrong. Aziraphale smelled off and bad and Crowley jerked back, automatically throwing a hand over his mouth while sprinting to the sink.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, voice dripping with concern. “Crowley, what’s wrong?”

At the table, Charlotte and Annabella looked up from their breakfasts with wide eyes. “Uncle Azi is Uncle Crowley alrigh--ahh!” Bella screamed as Crowley heaved over the kitchen sink and threw up the coffee he’d had for breakfast. And then the remnants of the chips he’d stolen from Aziraphale’s plate the night before. And then, when there was nothing left, he kept retching and retching until he could taste the bitter-poison taste of bile coat his tongue.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale said again, rushing over and holding back the demon’s hair to prevent any more sick getting stuck in it. “Oh goodness, what happened? Are you ill; can demons even get sick? Tell me what to do!”

“Ngk--shhhh” Crowley hissed, spitting the last of the sick in his mouth out into the sink and gagging at the smell. “M’fine, need water.” Immediately there was a glass of ice cold water being thrust into his hand and fluttering hands combing through his hair. The water helped with the bad taste and with the strange, unexpected nausea, but I didn't do anything for the sudden dizziness he felt. “Think I’m… I’m gonna pass out..”

The edges of his vision began to fade out as his ears began to ring. Faintly he could hear Bella and Lottie’s upset little voices talking over Aziraphale’s equally panicked one, followed by a firm grip keeping him mostly upright and the shattering of glass. Angel’s could be strong, when they needed to be. Crowley sagged into Aziraphale’s arms bonelessly and completely out of it. He wasn’t sure if seconds or minutes had passed but eventually things began to calm down and right themselves. His vision came back--when everything had gone fully black and reddish he wasn’t sure--and he could distinctly hear the sound of Aziraphale asking Lottie to get him Crowley’s cell phone from the table. It sounded like the angel was about to call someone, but who? 999 wasn’t exactly equipped to deal with occult beings passing out in their kitchens.

“Zzzzira?” he slurred, wondering when they had gotten on the floor. “Wha’happened?”

“I’m not sure dear,” Aziraphale’s voice was shaking, clearly terrified. “You were throwing up and then you just… you just fainted. How are you feeling now?”

It was still difficult to string thoughts together, but Crowley knew he needed to for Aziraphale and the girls. “Hot, kinda sick. You smelled… wrong. Who’re you calling?”

“I-I’m not sure. I thought maybe one of our friends, Madame Tracy is a bit of a Jack of All Trades, she might know what to do…”

“Absolutely not. She’ll bring Shadwell and I don’t think I can deal with him right now,” he groaned, wiggling into a sitting position. “I’m already feeling better angel, I’m OK.”

“Uncle Crowley?” a tiny voice to his left called out. Both girls stood back a few feet, clutching at each other and looking entirely too worried. If Crowley thought worrying Aziraphale was bad, he was entirely unprepared for the way those scared faces made him feel.

“Come’ere,” he said, opening his arms so they could each bury themselves in one of his shoulders. Aziraphale leaned in too, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s waist and pulling him close to his chest. “I’m alright, sorry I scared you.”

“You threw up and passed out Crowley, I wouldn’t call that alright in any sense of the word,” Aziraphale murmured into his hair. “Can you tell me what happened, at least?”

Crowley thought for a bit, idly twisting and playing with the girls’ hair. “I was OK and then I smelled you and it made me feel sick, and then I was on the floor,” he explained, starting a more complicated braid in Lottie’s hair. “You didn’t smell any different than normal but it was just… not good.”

Behind him Aziraphale hummed. “I still think we should call someone.” Crowley grunted and refused to respond, hoping that if he didn’t acknowledge it that Aziraphale would drop the idea. Besides, he felt fine now, maybe a little weak, but in general ok. In front of him Bella squirmed out of his grip, wrinkling her nose at the smell from the sink.

“It’s like mummy,” she said, pinching her nose. Both Crowley and Aziraphale’s head snapped towards her.

“What do you mean, sweety?”

Bella made a face and stuck her tongue out in disgust. “Mummy got sick, when the baby was starting to grow in her tummy.” Suddenly, everything clicked into place and Crowley’s stomach dropped and fluttered at the same time. Aziraphale went inhumanly still at his back; no breathing, no heartbeat.

“Morning sickness…” Crowley wheezed, the plait he was working on slipping from his fingers. “Makes sense, the sensitivity to smells, the sick, the dizziness.”

“Does it?” Aziraphale squeaked. Crowley laughed a little, surprised at how out-of-depth the angel sounded.

“Didn’t you watch over Eve in the Garden?”

“Yes but--!” Aziraphale blustered. “I didn’t ask about those things Crowley, that would have been rude!”

“Oh of course,” Crowley intoned. The only reason he didn’t roll his eyes was because he was worried it might make him dizzy again. “Wouldn’t want to ask anything inappropriate.”

“Quite.” They fell silent again outside of Bella’s continued complaints about the smell. “Wait does this mean you’re--?”

“Yup,” Crowley answered his voice wobbling up and down in a distinctly freaked-out way. “Also, I need you to get a bucket, cause I’m pretty sure I’m about to get sick everywhere again in about 10 seconds.”

#fanfic #good omens #gomens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale/crowley #azirapahel #crowley #crowziraphale #mpre

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theclaravoyant · 5 years

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musings on the evolution of bisexuality in sitcoms and being treated “like a joke”

Not to open up old cans of worms, but for my video project I was thinking about the subject of Eleanor Shellstrop (The Good Place) and various opinions about her bisexuality, the status of it canon-wise, and in particular the feelings amongst some of the fandom (and non-fandom) that it is treated “like a joke.” I have heard similar things about Rosa Diaz (Brooklyn 99) as well regarding the latter point and so that worked its way in, and soon enough this ended up sort of turning into a short ish essay. I’m not really trying to argue a particular point, but merely reflect on some things, and I hope you don’t mind I thought I’d share my musings. It boils down to being laughed at vs being laughed with, which I get to below the cut after a brief exposition (I have some Thoughts)

Note: I am not looking to get into an argument with anyone, and I’m not saying this is the be all and end all answer to rep, but if you wanted to share some thoughts, add on, etc, you’re welcome to do so.

Note II: Just for clarity’s sake, non-LGBT+ people are welcome to interact if you would like to do so.

I must admit, moving back to the topic of Eleanor for a minute, I resonate with some of those feelings I outlined above. For example, I don’t particularly care for the fact that we have never seen her engage in an abiding romantic or even sexual relationship with a woman, whereas her romance with Chidi has been rebooted over and over and is consistently the outcome. It grates on me a bit that in a universe which has been rebooted upward of 4 different times that we have seen (and approx 300 other times shoved into a few minutes) this is the outcome every time. Why not explore another option for a season? I love Cheleanor, don’t get me wrong, and the constant rebooting annoys me from that perspective as well not just the f/f perspective, but in terms of sapphic rep and also considering how often bisexuality is exploited and misrepresented by heteronormative storytellers (eg the tropes “Bi the Way” and “Not Too Bi”), it really sucks.

Edit: I deleted a paragraph here that had some examples I had misremembered and was rushing through. Shockingly writing up a train of thought on a bus leads to some inaccuracies and skipping over of valuable debates. Instead, I will say that I don’t mean by the above, that m/f bi attraction is not real and valuable. It certainly is. What is a pain in the ass in my opinion - and in the opinion of a lot of the bi people I know before anyone comes at me with that again - is when bisexuality is only used to make a character interesting, sexy or rebellious, while still only representing the m/f side of things because that is easier/more comfortable/etc for heteronormative writers and viewers to portray and invest in.

THAT SAID, back to my actual point. I think we (particularly we who are LGBT+ ourselves) are also very accustomed to seeing LGBT+ characters in dramas, where bad things happen and there’s angst and death and gnashing of teeth. I think this being the norm leads us to freak out a bit and not necessarily know how to actually handle positive, happy rep in which we ourselves, our identities, are taken seriously. We are so used to either being a tragedy or being laughed at (rather than with) that it is extremely unsettling to experience what I would call a dawning new era of being respected in sitcoms - including The Good Place, Brooklyn 99, One Day at a Time, and I’m sure there are others as well.

It’s not surprising, with this skittishness trained into us, that some people interpret the treatment of Eleanor’s bisexuality as being a joke. I’m also not saying this knee-jerk reaction is the only reason; again, I’m not saying my thoughts & feelings on this are the be all and end all of rep. I am just saying that it was a major reason why I was uncomfortable at first: it is extremely hard to trust people to joke around about us, and our identities, and especially with the added element of the unique hypersexualisation of bisexual f/f attraction. But recently I’ve been rewatching some older and less progressive, less inclusive sitcoms and in comparison, it becomes very clear, the difference between being the butt of the joke (laughed at) or being part of a joke (laughed with). It might help - not just with Eleanor, but with others too - to give some examples:

In Friends, Monica, Rachel and Phoebe, only use the idea of f/f attraction when they want to get the boys’ attention, distract them, win bets, or the like. They are successful in this explicitly because the men find this idea so ridiculously, mind-bogglingly sexy that they can’t think. Yet NONE of these main characters are ever revealed to have an actual, serious attraction to girls; none of them express it outside of the direct goal of getting male attention. Similarly, in How I Met Your Mother, Lily’s repeated expression of a desire to kiss a girl is put down to her artistic nature and rebelliousness, and is repeatedly called “so stupid”, and again, is only used to get male attention (to wake up Barney). When she finally kisses Robin, it goes away (bi experiment trope), and it is implied that ~lol~ after all that Robin might actually want more, but that is then left hanging and never revisited again. There are heaps more, I could go on, but these are all examples of being laughed at.

Compared to these sorts of jokes, let us reflect on Eleanor again. Jokes around her sexuality include: being so attracted to her female nemesis that Eleanor can’t insult her profusely without starting to compliment her, and being so attracted to her boyfriend’s girlfriend that in a simulation where she plays him, she goes to kiss the girlfriend instead of her assigned goal, which was to break up. If this sounds more like #relatable sapphic content than a dismissive joke, that’s because it is. These jokes could not happen without Eleanor’s attraction to women, that is true, but the attraction itself is not the joke. The joke lies in Eleanor’s reactions to the attraction as a messy, funny, sexually driven human. In this way, her bisexuality forms part of the joke, but it is paired up with her other personality traits as a comedy character to be laughed with. Similarly, with Rosa Diaz, her stunned moment upon seeing Alicia is funny because it is an example of what we in the biz of gay ass blogging sometimes refer to as “useless lesbian brain” (or in this case “useless bi brain”). It’s cute because the love interest is a girl and because Terry is hyper-enthusiastic that it’s a girl. It wouldn’t work as well as a joke if it was not a girl, and heteronormativity is almost definitely the reason for that, but the point still stands that the bisexuality itself is not the joke, it’s the way she responds to it: it’s the fact that Rosa Diaz, usually so suave and in control, loses the ability to Can. Terry’s overly enthusiastic allyship is also funny, but mostly to people who have experienced overly enthusiastic allyship ie the LGBT+ audience.

(To add one final example: I am not aware of ANY male bi rep in older sitcoms, which kinda speaks for itself, but in the more modern ones we have characters such as Darryl Whitefeather (Crazy Ex Girlfriend). One of the biggest jokes around his sexuality is his coming out as “both-sexual!!” Once again, the joke is not the bi attraction itself, but rather, in the fact that lol this pour bi soul didn’t know the word for it! Another example imo of being laughed with).

I know I’m not saying all that much new here. Probably nothing new, to some people. I also know I’m not addressing every joke or facet of bi or LGBT+ rep even in the shows I’ve just listed. I’m not trying to, I mean none of us have all century. I just think it’s important to highlight what I feel is usually quite a strong difference between being laughed at and being laughed with, and that was the main idea of this post. It’s definitely not always as simple as the examples I’ve outlined above (eg. some of the Eleanor jokes are similar to jokes made in Pitch Perfect, in which I would say it’s about being laughed at), but I am just trying to put some words to some of my thought process on this sort of thing, particularly as I rewatch Friends and think about how far we’ve come with it!

One final time, because people in my inbox don’t seem to get it, I am not claiming to be ‘correct’. This is just an aspect of my feelings and opinions. I am also not trying to ‘speak over’ people who actually ID as bi; in fact, it was bi people saying ‘why can’t you let us have funny things’ that actually opened my eyes to a more comfortable bi-friendly interpretation of the treatment of Eleanor’s sexuality in the first place. I’m not trying to say “this is good rep, actually,” or “this is bad rep, actually.” As I said above, I think it’s both, and I think it’s more complicated than that, and most importantly, I am not actually trying to change anyone’s mind. If you resonate with this? Cool. If not, that’s fine. It’s my thoughts, my opinion. It’s not fact and I don’t want to tell anyone how to feel especially about their own rep.

With that in mind, if anyone is interested in chatting with me more about this sort of thing (by which I do not mean harassing me about it) or asking me what I mean by certain things, or for writing advice, or whatever, you’re welcome to do so - this is just the tip of the iceberg! I just wanted to put this out there in the world for whatever purposes it might come to. Thanks for reading!

#lgbt representation #the good place #brooklyn 99 #tgp meta #b99 meta #eleanor shellstrop #rosa diaz #life of a fangirl #bi representation #lgbt #lgbt+#long post

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sxftrxchxe · 5 years

Text

harmony-rt

AN-this is actually the backstory i have in mind like 90 percent of the time sksksks. please enjoy <3

SONG: none

WARNINGS: hints of past abuse. pregnancy?

FANDOM: it 2017

WORDS: 3420

SUMMARY: its just a pregnancy fluff fic

yn-your name

ln-last name

ec-eye color

hc-hair color

hl-hair length

AGED UP TO AROUND TWENTY TWO

The young girl skipped down the road happily avoiding the cracks and humming while her parents walked behind, heads on shoulder and hand in hand. They were always like that, a perfect example of a stereotypical family that only exists in movies. But for yn ln that was her reality since she was born.

"So you aren't nervous? Like even in the slightest?" She shook her head and stumbled as she almost stood on a particularly small crack, her small pastel pink bag nearly falling off.

"Nope you and Daddy said I was going to the the princess of the playground. Isn't that why I'm wearing this ugly ice cream dress? Cos princesses wear horrible stuff?" Her mother laughed and smiled lovingly at her daughter. yn's small pink cat bag hit her back with every hop and skip creating a rhythm she was determined to keep. Her dad gasped and she looked up to see the cream and blue building of Derry's kindergarten in front of her.

Other kids were hugging their parents and running through the blue gate and happily greeting friends. One small boy clung to his mothers and cried begging her to stay. yn giggled at how stupid he was being as her mom fixed her hair and muttered something under her breath. After a slightly aggressive tug and a sigh, she turned around to smile at her favourite people in the world.

"Good luck Sweetie. We love you okay?" Her mom leaned down and pulled her in for a hug. She hugged her back and giggled as her dad pulled a face from behind.

"And at twelve me and your father will be waiting here at the gate okay?" She nodded and pulled away to hug her dad's leg. He laughed and pat her back as his eyes wandered to someone driving by in a car. Another sob from behind her caused her to turn back around and skip into the playground leaving her parents to walk back home with their arms around each other's shoulders and tears falling down their faces.

The boy who had previously clung to his mams leg was now sitting just inside the gate with a pout on his face and tears in his eyes. yn gave him a small wave before her focus turned to three girls playing hopscotch while one sat by and watched. She looked a bit bored and caught yn watching her. She waved at her happily and yn almost skipped over to play until a happy scream came from the other side of the playground. Boys were chasing after girls while they screamed and laughed. Others were clinging to a climbing frame and pulling faces at each other as kids slid up and down a slide nearby. yn nearly exploded with excitement as she saw two empty swings near to the slide for her to sit on and make friends. She gave the bored ginger a last wave before turning to run to the other side.

Unfortunately, she turned right into someone else and fell to the ground landing on her knee and crying out in pain. The boy by the gate gasped loudly and gagged as he noticed the small trickle of blood coming out of her knee. Her eyes began to fill with tears before someone hand was stuck in her view and she looked up.

"I'm sorry I thought I was late cos I can't tell time and I guess I didn't see you oops. Are you okay? Your leg is red and disgusting now." The voice came from the person who she ran into which turned out to be a scrawny young boy with big brown eyes and dark messy hair. He was wearing an oversized blue button up lazily thrown over a cream t shirt, the same color as yn's shoes. She took his hand and he pulled her up almost dropping her to the floor again when she sneezed.

"Sorry, I'm allergic to grass. My mom calls it hay fever but I don't. And I guess a little blood never hurt anyone." yn flashed the boy a toothy grin which he returned. The boy at the gate gagged again and yn heard the girls from hopscotch teasing him before the girl who was watching them told them to be quiet.

"What's your name?"

"Oh, I'm yn ln. What's yours?" He shook her hand he was already holding which confused yn so much she stopped smiling.

"I'm Richie. Richie Tozier." She smiled again and let go of his hand and wiped her own on her ice cream patterned dress just in case he had the cooties her dad told her about.

"Chee Toaster?" He laughed and shook his head causing his curls to bounce. She shook her head back and crossed her arms. He looked pleasantly surprised when she replied in her cute childish voice.

"No, I'm calling you Chee. Now, do you want to swing on the swings?" He nodded and the slightly aggressive way they met was forgotten as they linked arms and ran across the playground. The swing set was in the shade behind an oak tree beside the slide but no one was on the slide anymore. Still, they kept running until they landed by the swing set and quickly hopped on kicking their legs to go higher and higher. They easily making friends like most five-year-olds do.

SEVENTEEN YEARS LATER

yn Tozier found out she was pregnant at twenty two. Married, happy and long forgotten were the horrors of her past meaning she was overjoyed.

In fact her only problem was how to tell her husband in the most flamboyant way. After all the Toziers weren't known to do things normally. Richie proposed on their graduation day in front of the whole school whilst everyone sobbed after all.

So on March 7th 1998, her husbands twenty second birthday, she decided to execute her plan that was boiling in her head for months.

First she called up her long time best friend and practically sister Beverly Marsh and told her the news. After much squealing between the two, yn explained her plan and Beverly agreed saying they had to do it.

Three squealed phone calls and two where she sobbed with Bill and Eddie the plan was ready. All she had to do now was wait. Which in itself was hard since her bump was beginning to show. Richie asked why she was no longer wearing her favorite skirts or t shirts in favor for her oversized sweaters and tracksuit bottoms receiving panicked and random responses most of the time.

"Hey nn? Why aren't you wearing your skirts anymore? It's literally thirty two degrees out?"

"I'm allergic to the material."

"You're allergic...to the material?"

"Yup. But only for a few months ha ha oops okay bye I have to go to work."

Richie was getting suspicious. She was dodging many question instead giving him food and taking more private calls than any kindergarten teacher should ever take. One time he found her crying on the floor surrounded by tissues saying something like "am I just like her?" When Richie asked who she had quickly stood up and wiped her eyes saying she had to go to work even though it was eleven pm at night. yn was never the best at lying. So on the night before his birthday he sat her down on the couch and asked the question burning at the back of his head for weeks.

"Are you cheating on me?" When yn's eyes widened and she didn't answer instead staring back with saucer eyes and a mouth wide open Richie presumed his assumptions were correct. He sighed and stood up running his hands through his forever messy hair. Lori started to stutter trying to think of an excuse but none came to mind.

"You know what? It's fine, I'm fine. I knew this would happen since you're so much better than me anyway I just thought seventeen years would have meant something you know?"

"Rich it's no-"

"No! No! It's fine just let me finish I mean kindergarten wow has it actually been seventeen years? How haven't you changed?"

"Chee look at m-"

"No yn you look at m-"

"I'm Pregnant!" yn yelled standing up off their small couch and clamping her hand over her mouth like she just said the worst thing ever. Richie stopped and looked at the girl who had tried to wear one of her old skirts and t shirts to try and throw him off. If he squinted in the light he could just about make about the small bump growing on her stomach.

yn felt her eyes begin to tear up at Richie's shocked expression. Maybe she was wrong maybe he didn't want kids and just wanted the Hollywood life he was working on. Maybe he would leave her alone with their child to bring them up like her own mom. Maybe she was right about her assumptions that she was just like her.

However after twenty seconds of silence Richie scooped the girl up bridal style and spun her around the room screaming. yn began to giggle and cling on to his T-shirt so she wouldn't fall. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she did so glad her husband wasn't actually kissed and more just shocked.

He eventually put her down after a cute peck on the lips you usually wouldn't see from Richie who was ever the passionate. Once yn had two feet planted firmly to the ground he dashed to ring his closest friend Stan and tell him the news. yn didn't bother telling him she already told everyone instead happy she could take the skirt uncomfortable rubbing against her growing stomach that contained a child. Her child. Their child.

Seven Months Later

Beverly wiped the sweat off her brow with a wet towel her boyfriend Ben had brought along. Ben was tapping the uncomfortable hospital waiting room seats and glancing at the hall for the nurse every so often. Eddie sat on her other side muttering about the dangers of pregnancy whilst also sneaking hopeful glances down the bleached corridor. Bill was across from him leaning forward with his hands over his mouth and leg bouncing. If anyone he had been most excited and Beverly hoped they would be just as excited once the baby came. Stan was rubbing Bills back and checking his watch, having to leave in two hours. yn had already been in labor for six hours so he had a pretty good chance but there was still that twinge of worry telling him he'd miss everything. Mike was on Bills left staring straightforward and breathing heavily. No one had spoken a word in a half an hour, tired and impatient.

Suddenly there was a yell of excitement from down the hallways, causing them all to sit up. Richie busted out the room yn was in with a nurse yelling at him saying he had to wait a minute before he said anything. Beverly stood up, now aware of her eye filling with tears as he ran towards their group making other patients jolt awake.

"It's a girl! I gave birth to a girl! That was some work lemme tell you, my hand is so sore!" No one bothered to correct Richie instead yelling and pulling each other into celebratory hugs. He looked a mix of exhausted and the happiest Beverly had ever seen him as he threw his arms around a sobbing Bill.

"What's her name?" Eddie asked once the group calmed down just enough for them to hear each other clearly. Richie's eyes widened and he ran back to the room where the nurse was still yelling. Beverly would have face palmed at the fact he forgot to name his own daughter if it wasn't for the fact he had his own daughter. She was an aunt! Sort of not really but still!!!

Ben pulled her in for a hug and she was made aware of the many tears on both her boyfriends and best friends faces. She wiped at her own before smiling at her best friends and pushing her copper curls back. They pulled each other into a group hug until there was another whoop from down the hall that caused them all to pull apart and grip on each other's shoulders.

"Harmony-Rose middle name Georgia! And last name motherfucking Tozier! Get your asses down here!"

"Sir no we can't allow that right now-"

"Come On!"

"Sir you're wife needs rest-"

"Bring The Bitches Down! They Need To Meet The Newest Loser!"

The nurse gave an exasperated sigh before mumbling an okay. The door opened slowly as if saying they could come in. After more excited yells and tears that received both looks of admiration and eye rolls from the other patients they ran down the hall, Stan nearly running into a tray of needles and screaming in agony instead of pride.

Bill got in first before Beverly squeezed past Eddie. She nearly cried again once she saw her best friend sitting up in the hospital bed her hair messed up and eyes tired holding a small bundle of blankets. Richie was sitting in a chair beside her leaning onto the bed so he could both see his daughter and hold his wife's hand.

yn smiled tiredly at the six surrounding her bed before turning the bundle towards them so they could see their new shared child. The little girl blinked back at them with big ec eyes like her mom and slight black hair like her dad. Beverly felt Ben and Bill both squeeze her hand only one letting out a small sob as Harmony Rose was handed towards him.

"Here Billy your new niece and goddaughter. I hope you like her middle name it's for the both of us." Bill nodded and took the baby in his arms once the nurse showed him how to. He sat on the bed and waved down at his goddaughter with wet eyes slightly shaking as yn apologized to the other five boys about him being godfather. Richie said he considered them all top daddies before receiving a tired slap from his wife.

Beverly had handed the baby next learning she was the godmother and aunt of the now sleeping baby in her arms. yn rubbed her back as she rocked her slightly promising she would be the coolest aunt ever.

Ben was next explaining how he already bought tons of clothes for both gender and had them in the trunk of his car telling Beverly to remind them to get them before they left.

Then it was Eddie who happily took the girl and rocked her. He decided she was both the cleanest and dirtiest thing he ever held before getting a snicker from both mother and father and complaints for calling her thing from the others.

Mike begged to be next and sat down beside yn, talking to the other girl who's eyes were now opening again. He told her how he would have her both the most polite and ripped girl in her kindergarten receiving a quiet whoop from the group afraid to do their usual loud chanting in case she cried.

Stan was last and he cried again once the girl wrapped her hand around his finger and cooed which made the whole group gasp never having heard such an innocent noise before. Once he had wiped his eyes and apologized to Harmony Rose for the bad manners he went to hand her back to yn only to find both her and Richie asleep. Hands intertwined of course. They usually were. They both looked completely exhausted and so happy no one wanted to wake them up.

So instead with permission from the nurse Ben lay the girl in the cot provided by the hospital and Eddie rocked her to sleep saying he was good at that. Apparently he was because after only three minutes of rocking and whispered hushes Harmony-Rose was out cold.

The six remaining awake losers sat on the floor legs crossed and smiles on their faces. Heads were leaning in heads and hands were on hands. Beverly and Ben even had their linked crossed a slight promise to have their own kids when they were ready whenever that was. The nurse came back in to send them all out but took pity on the happy kids

"You know she's going to be moved to a room shared with three other new mothers tomorrow. I don't know how all seven of you will fit in at the same time." She spoke in a hushed voice taking blankets from the floor to send to the washing room. No one moved and Beverly spoke.

"Seven? Nah there's eight of us." She smiled at the yn who looked ten years older in front of her. Still she had the same smile on her face that she always had and her gown was covered in stickers showing Beverly she had matured, not changed. Richie even looked older, bags under his eyes that usually looked so young. Her eyes slid over to the cot containing her new goddaughter and she smiled wider. "Nine. There's nine of us."

"Nine. You all seem so close so it will be hard to split up to see yn and Harmony-Rose." Beverly finally noticed her friends all sleeping around her the only one mildly awake being Mike who was also blinking asleep. She shook her head before leaning onto Eddie muttering slightly in his sleep beside her.

"We'll figure something out. Always do."

5 years later....

yn held onto her daughters hand as she skipped down the road between her two parents humming. She had a small galaxy bag on her back that hit off her back with every jump reminding yn of herself. Unlike her however thick curls held back with only a small purple clip bounced around her face and tickled her nose. In fact aside from her piercing ec eyes and thumb biting the girl was one hundred percent Richies. From her hair to loud personality tendency to make a mess and annoy Eddie. Even the faces she pulled sometimes reminded yn of her husband.

"Here we are Rosie. Are you ready?" Harmony Rose let go of both of her parents hands and shrugged before turning to run in the gate. If yn didnt gently take her wrist and pull her back she would have left without a second glance. Richie smiled at his favorite people as yn scooped the girl into her arms and went over the rules.

"And no running into annoying boys okay? And if you do run away. Nothing good ever comes from it." Harmony Rose nodded wiggling to get out of her moms glance. Richie scoffed and threw his arm around his wife's waist.

"No if you run into a quiet girl run away. Don't ask her name it's a trap." yn elbowed Richie and gently let Harmony-Rose back down. She blinked back at her parents elbowing each other like kids before sighing and skipping through the gate. She waved back at her parents and took a quick scan of the area eyes lighting up at the sight of an empty swing set.

A young girl clung to her moms leg and cried as her mom tried to calmly get her off. A small group of girls skipped together one looking slightly more bored than the others. A group of boys and girls ran each other in a extreme version of tag. A young boy with blonde parted hair was sent to the ground as Harmony-Rose turned and ran into him. yn smiled as Harmony-Rose helped him up, a small smile on her face.

"Weird isn't it?" She asked once the initial weirdness wore off. Richie shrugged and pulled her closer not taking his eyes off his daughter running off to the swing with the boy in her hand.

"Nah I think it would be weirder if she didn't get a soppy love story." yn smiled and put her hand up to touch her husbands arm. She drew circles on it softly a feeling of peace washing over her.

"Let's hope her life is less chaotic and more soppy then." Richie nodded and the trees behind them rustled sending a gust of wind to blow yn's ice cream patterned dress around her legs. Her cream shoes on her feet seemed to remind her of something she couldn't quite place the hair clip holding her hl hc hair back also seeming rather reminiscent.

"So we're bringing him over for dinner?"'

"Oh yeah. And Mike just texted me saying him and Stan will drop by later so he's already meeting two of her uncles." yn's fingers curled up against the blue button up Richie decided to wear that day and she smiled.

"Perfect."

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erisgregory · 5 years

Text

Come Crash Into Me Chapter 3/7

cross posted to AO3

or start with chapter 1

Authors: Crysty09, erisgregory

Crysty09′s tumblr Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019) Relationship: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes Characters: Michael Guerin, Alex Manes Additional Tags: Fake/Pretend RelationshipAngst and Fluff and Smut Summary: Michael is dreaming about an air base in Arizon but Max and Isobel don’t want to look into it. So he takes his plight to Alex. Though they’ve just begun repairing their friendship, Alex agrees to help. Though to get on the base they will have to pretend to be a couple. What will they find at Davis-Monthan? And what will it mean for the future of their friendship?

Alex couldn't help but smile as he took the exit,"perfect," he started looking around them, "any preferences?" He asked. "I picked out last two meals," he teased.

Michael ran a hand through his hair. “Sure. How about we find a diner, no drive thru.” Michael could eat fast food just fine but he wanted to stretch his legs and he didn’t feel like trying to decide between McDonald’s and Burger King.

"Works for me," Alex smiled and let his eyes scan over their location. He saw what looked like the road that led further into town and turned that way, finally seeing a small 'mom and pop' style diner. He pulled in and parked, "this work?" He asked with a grin.

"It's perfect." Michael told him. "I just need out of the jeep." He explained. "Walk around a bit, sit in a different seat for a little while." He hopped out and then held the door for Alex.

Alex laughed and followed Michael out of the truck, "you're telling me." As he landed on the ground, his prosthetic buckled slightly and he lunged forward, the problem with being in the car so long.

Michael immediately reached for Alex trying to steady him. “You okay?” He asked, worried. Maybe he should drive a while. “I can do some driving if that would help.” Michael offered.

He was suddenly glad Michael was so close, "thanks," he said, finally steadying himself, "yeah once we finish eating, maybe that’s a good idea." Alex hated this disability sometimes.

Alex smelled good up close, of soap and sunshine. Michael was trying not to think about that, but he couldn’t quite help it. He tried to focus on just getting inside and eating. “Okay, it’s no trouble.” He said. He actually loved driving, it came with a sense of freedom. Michael held the door of the diner for Alex and tried not to lean toward him as he passed.

Alex could feel the familiar electricity at Michael's gentle touch and he cursed himself. He nodded and after a moment he followed Michael inside, smiling at him for holding the door open and he made his way towards an empty booth.

Once they were seated Michael took a moment to look around. The place was older but clean and the food smelled fantastic. “I ought to eat a salad, Isobel is always getting after me about all the burgers I eat. But she’s not here...” Michael grinned at Alex conspiratorially. The waitress dropped by to get their drink orders and to drop off the menus. “I’ll have a coke.” Michael told her.

"I won't tell Isobel if you won't," Alex teased, winking playfully. As the waitress approached Alex gave her a charming smile, "make that two please," he said, taking the menu and flipping it open. He glanced at a nearby table, "those burgers do look to die for," he grinned, his stomach growling.

Alex’s wink just about killed Michael, his heart actually stuttered in his chest. But he could be cool, Alex was just being friendly. “Yeah they do.” He agreed looking over the menu offerings. They had curly fries as an option and Michael had a weakness for curly fries. He thanked the waitress when she came back with their drinks and went ahead and ordered a bacon cheeseburger, since Alex wasn’t telling on him.

Alex ordered a cheeseburger too and a matching order of curly fries. Once the waitress walked away, be took a sip of his drink and checked his phone before leaning on the table, "this is nice," he said, smiling softly at Michael.

“It is.” Michael had to agree. He’d never spent so much uninterrupted time with Alex just hanging out, as it were. Things almost felt totally normal. Maybe one day with practice they would. Michael sipped his drink, “I feel really lucky, that your my friend.” He didn’t know where the words were coming from but they were true, except for the unspoken part where he still wanted more.

He had loved Michael since they were kids but they had not had much chance to get to know each other outside of the bedroom. Alex knew every sensitive spot on Michael's body but before now, he didn't know how much the other loved curly fries. Despite their years of messy history, Alex felt like he was just now getting to know Michael. He smiled, "I like getting to know you," he admitted, "as a friend." Alex's only issue was that getting to know Michael was just making him fall deeper in love with the other male.

“It’s good, right? Why haven’t we ever done this before?” Though Michael knew the answer to that, there was never any time. Now they were making time. Carving out the space for something Michael thought was more important now than ever.

Alex nodded, "yeah it's really good." He grinned, "I guess we just never had the chance to talk when things were so crazy and hectic." He looked at Michael, "but I'm so glad we finally can."

“Me too, I almost feel like we did everything backwards.” They had. They’d fallen right in to bed as teens and years later did the same all over again. “We rushed the end and skipped the beginning.”

He couldn't help but laugh, "yeah I guess we kind of did." Alex couldn't push down the sudden hope that maybe this was them starting over, and that maybe they could find their way back to each other again.

Michael laughed with him and the waitress came with their food. She went to get them refills on their drinks and Michael tucked into his burger. It tasted amazing. It was so good that he let the tiniest moan slip past his lips as his eyes closed.

Michael's moan made Alex freeze for a second, his body immediately reacting to the sound as it brought back so many moments between them. He had to suck in a deep breath, and stared down at his burger for a moment before he could shake them.

When Michael opened his eyes Alex had a look that Michael couldn’t quite place as he stared down at his burger.He decided not to try and decipher it just then so he grabbed the ketchup and poured some beside his fries and dug in.

Alex took a bite of his burger, trying to push all of the memories from his mind. He took another sip of his drink and his phone dinged. When he looked down he almost choked on the fry he was eating. "So um, this is an interesting development," he laughed nervously.

That laugh didn't sound great. "Oh?" Michael asked, nervous for the answer. He wiped his hands on his napkin and took a drink. "What is it?"

He took a breath, taking a sip of his drink, "that was a text from Shawn, my buddy on base." Alex looked up, "he's the one getting us a room on base but apparently, the only way they will let us rent a room is if we are together..." He bit his lip and hoped Michael would catch on.

It took a moment for that to sink in. When it did Michael felt his mouth fall open and his eyes go wide. He quickly recovered himself and ran his hand over his face. “So we just say we are and they believe it?” Michael asked feeling wrong footed. He wanted to be with Alex, but in a real way.

Alex watched as his words sank in and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the shock on Michael's face. "That should be enough in general but any time we are around people, we have to make sure it's believable and we will have to share a room with only one bed," he blushed slightly.

Michael could feel his face heating up. They were really going to have to pretend and make it believable. It would be believable but mainly because Michael still had all those feelings for Alex. What was he going to do if they had to touch or or... Michael's brain sort of went offline at that point and he realized he was no longer making eye contact with Alex but instead staring at his hands as though that were helpful. "I see," He said, looking up again. "I'm sure we could pull it off. As long as you're okay with it. I don't want to push you to do something that makes you too uncomfortable."

He could tell that Michael was uncertain and it dawned on Alex that they had never had the chance to act like a couple in front of people and he vaguely wondered what that would even look like for them. His pulse sped up when he thought about the fact that they would be sharing a bed and he honestly wasn't sure what would happen if they had to touch or kiss; what they had was electric and he knew that hadn't changed. For a breath, he thought Michael was going to say no but then looked up and Alex smiled, "I'm good with it," he said, his voice quiet, his gaze holding Michael's.

Alex was good with it. That made something pleasant unfurl in his belly, something that he didn't want to look too close at. "Then it's settled. We're a couple." Michael said, taking a deep breath. "Should we talk about boundaries or do you think we can play it by ear without worrying too much?" He wasn't sure he could do it without knowing where the line was drawn.

Alex kicked himself as his pulse fluttered at hearing Michael say those words but he nodded, "we're a couple," he repeated. He paused for a second at Michael's question, "we can discuss it if you want to." He thought about what would qualify, "do you have any specific ones you want to lay out there?" He asked.

“I think we should have some general rules in place. Like holding hands is okay and hugging is okay, but if we have to do more than that, if we have to kiss, we keep it to a peck at most. I'm just thinking it might get messy if we..." He shrugged. He wanted to kiss Alex, not set these boundaries in place, but if he didn't lay down at least a couple of rules, then he might make a total ass of himself.

Nodding, Alex's chest ached, "makes complete sense," he bit his lip. He knew Michael was right, if they crossed certain lines, they may never come back. "Maybe no pet names?" He asked, he wasn't sure if his heart could handle hearing Michael call him babe.

“Yeah, gross. No pet names. Hey do you think it matters how long we’ve been together, maybe we need a backstory?” He asked. It’s not like he could tell people one thing and Alex another. Still all this couple talk was making Michael’s face feel warm.

Alex looked down, his face glowing bright red, "um about that," he laughed nervously, "some of the guys on base were overseas with me and I may have mentioned you then," he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

Oh. Well, that was just... Michael had no idea what to think about that, but it made something like hope spring up in his chest. He tried to squash it down and be an adult about this. "What do they know?" He asked, when he could find his voice. If he sounded a little strained to his ears, well he couldn't help that.

He had planned on Michael never knowing about the stuff he told his buddies overseas, it wasn't supposed to matter but here he was trying to explain to Michael what he said. "Well I talked a good bit about my first love," his face burned and he looked anywhere but at Michael, "talked about how I planned on coming back to Roswell and making things right with you."

Michael wanted to smile. It would be such bad form, but he could feel it tugging at his lips. He wouldn't though, Alex was clearly embarrassed by all of this and Michael didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable. However, it was nice to hear that Alex had spoken of him as his first love. It also stung a bit knowing that he'd fucked things up between them so they weren't actually together now. Thinking that made the smile stop before it ever got started. "I'm sorry." He said, before he could stop himself. "I messed that up for you."

When Michael spoke, Alex looked up, the other man's voice sounded strained and he shook his head, "things happen," he breathed. Without thinking, he reached across the table and took Michael's hand, "nothing to apologize for." He gave him a small smile.

Michael squeezed Alex's hand and offered him a small smile in return. He knew he had a lot to apologize for, but Alex was gracious. When Michael had originally apologized Alex had been hurt and probably felt betrayed, but even then he'd been gentle with Michael. Like he understood why Michael had done what he'd done. Which was more than Michael could say for himself. "So, we're really doing this, huh?" He asked shaking his head.

The feeling of Michael's hand in his sent a tingle through him and he questioned how he was going to survive their fake dating. He laughed quietly, "yeah we are really doing this." He looked down at their forgotten food, "we should probably finish up and hit the road," he said.

"Yeah, we should." Michael said, laughing too. Luckily his fries were still warm, though not as molten hot as he preferred, they were edible. He asked their waitress for their check and then reached for it when she brought it back and laid it on the table.

Alex took a few more bites of his food and he reached to grab the check when the waitress brought it too. "You bought the last meal," he smiled, "I can take care of this one. After all isn't that what people who are dating do?" He laughed.

Michael chuckled and let the check go. Pretending to be dating Alex was going to be the death of him, he was sure. All Alex had to do was turn on that smile or laugh and Michael was mush. He’d agree to anything. “I guess so,” he agreed softly.

He took the check and moved to the register, limping slightly; he paid the woman and turned to grin at Michael, "ready to hit the road?" He asked, digging the key out and tossing them towards Michael, "you should feel special, no one else has ever driven the jeep."

“I’m ready.” He said. Alex tossed him the keys so he caught them and headed for the Jeep. “I feel very blessed,” he teased. He really did though. There weren’t many people he would trust with his truck and Alex’s Jeep was a lot newer and a lot more expensive. He hopped in the driver’s side and clicked his seatbelt before starting the engine. “Any specifics I should know about?” He asked.

Alex grinned at Michael as he climbed into the jeep, it felt weird to be in the passenger side. "Um the gas can be a little touchy sometimes," he laughed, "but over all, it drives like a dream." He sat back, "and remember it's my baby so be gentle."

Michael wanted to keep seeing that grin on Alex’s face,. So he decided then and there that his secondary mission on this trip was to make Alex smile as much as possible. “Got it.” He said with a grin at Alex. Then he pulled back onto the road toward the highway. The Jeep did handle like a dream.

It had been ages since Alex had felt this at ease, he honestly wasn't sure he ever actually had. He watched as Michael pulled out on the highway, the smile on the other man's face made his heart race. "It feels strange to be in the passenger's seat," he said with a chuckle.

“I’m sure it does.” Michael said. “You can be the navigator now and I’ll even let you pick the music.” Michael chuckled. If this were anyone but Alex, Michael wouldn’t feel so generous about the music, but making Alex smile more was too addicting a prospect to pass up.

Alex tucked his good leg up underneath him and relaxed. "Navigator is easy for the time being, you go straight," he laughed, "so I guess I get to be the DJ." He wiggled his eyebrows playfully and leaned up to play with the radio dial before finally landing on a song from their past, Ocean Avenue and he grinned at Michael, turning the volume up as he started singing along.

“I guess so.” Michael told him. Then, Michael grinned so big at Alex’s singing. It made him so happy he just had to join in. “There's a place on the corner of Cherry Street!” Michael didn’t think he had a great voice but he loved hearing Alex sing.

He couldn't help but laugh, a real true laugh as they both sang along. It had been years since he had heard Michael sing and it thrilled him, "sleeping all day, staying up all niiiigghht!" He sang, his eyes shining as they locked on Michael.

To make up for his off key singing, Michael just sang louder. “If I could find you now things would get better!” He wasn’t trying to mean the words literally but he couldn’t help the association and thinking about how much he missed Alex. This was priceless, though, he would always remember the easy free look on Alex’s face.

"I know somewhere, somehow we'll be together," a small part of Alex hoped those lyrics were true that maybe they would be together one day. As he watched Michael sing, taking in his relaxed state, his heart squeezed and he fell just a bit deeper in love.

“I remember the look in your eyes when I told you that this was goodbye.” Michael’s chest felt tight as he sang the words, they were a little on the nose and Michael couldn’t quite keep up the volume after that.

Alex's breath hitched in his throat as those words slipped out, his mind flashing back to their goodbye and he looked at Michael, his smile faltering slightly as he saw a strange look flash across his face. The song continued to play and he picked at his fingernails.

Michael stopped singing along, suddenly it was too painful. He wanted to say something but he didn’t know what he could say. Nothing would make the past okay even if they were in a better place. “Maybe we need a new song.” Michael suggested.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Alex nodded, "yeah," his voice cracked slightly. He leaned in again and hit shuffle on the radio dial, waiting for another familiar song to come through the speakers. His mind reeled at the implications of the song lyrics, keeping his eyes on Michael.

The radio stopped on a familiar song, Pink’s So What. “So, so what? I'm still a rock star!” Michael knew it was technically a breakup song but it was at least upbeat. “Works for me.” He said.

Alex laughed again, "nanananana!" He sang, letting his voice raise slightly, smirking over at Michael. He could feel his uncertainty slowly fade, "I wanna get in trouble!" He continued.

Michael easily picked up the singing again with Alex there singing next to him. “And guess what I'm having more fun!” The tension left his body and he began to relax again.

He started to relax again, "I'm gonna show you tonight!" He laughed, this song was fun and upbeat and he leaned back against the seat, a huge smile back on his face.

They continued the routine of flipping through stations and singing along for several songs but then they collapsed into a comfortable silence. Michael was still just driving straight when he saw a sign for the world’s largest ball of yarn and it made him laugh. “Should we stop?” He was only half teasing.

Alex was relaxed in his seat, watching the sights go by, glancing over at Michael periodically. When he saw the sign, Alex raised an eyebrow and laughed, "you know what, why the hell not?!"

“Okay then!” He said and took the exit. It was easy to find the largest ball of yarn because they could see it in the distance. “So do you think there’s some other big ball of yarn somewhere and this one beat it out as largest?”

With a laugh, Alex shrugged, "I don't really know," he shook his head, "I guess there would have to be." He tilted his head, "I wonder who sits around and decides they need to create the next largest ball of yarn?"

Alex made Michael laugh again as they pulled up. “No telling. I’m sure they have a plaque or something. Things like this always do.” He parked the Jeep and turned it off.

The sound of Michael's laugh made Alex feel warm inside. "I just had a thought, do you think maybe we should, you know, practice this whole pretend dating thing in front of people?" He suggested as the Jeep turned off.

Michael thought about that for a moment before saying, "Yeah, I really think we should." He hopped out of the jeep and went around to Alex's side to wait for him. Then he reached out and offered Alex his hand to hold. He was suddenly nervous that Alex would be able to tell how he was feeling just through touch and it made him feel a little on the silly side.

Alex took a deep, calming breath as he watched Michael walk around the Jeep and then he slid out, landing more gracefully this time. He glanced at the hand he was being offered and smiled, sliding his hand into it, warmth spreading through his body.

Alex's hand in his own felt right. It felt more right than anything had in a long time and that was a little bit scary for Michael. Together they walked toward the giant ball of yarn which was many colors all wound together. There were a couple of others there who looked up as they approached but just smiled and looked back at the yarn.

Their hands fit together perfectly and Alex couldn't seem to wipe the goofy grin off his face as they walked. Nobody seemed to be concerned about their arrival and he easily fell in step with Michael, "so, the world's largest ball of yarn," he raised an eyebrow at Michael and laughed quietly.

“Yup. It’s pretty big. Do you think they could crochet the world’s longest scarf from it?” Micheal laughed. This was so dumb and so perfect. Being here looking at this goofy ball of yarn with Alex was the best time he’d had in a long time. He could almost forget what they were heading toward.

Alex couldn't help but burst out laughing, "that is a good question," he smirked playfully. He knew how serious this trip was, how much Michael needed answers about his family but honestly, Alex couldn't remember feeling this relaxed and happy maybe ever.

Michael was an over thinker, but in this case he just went with his gut. It felt so right to lean in and kiss Alex on the cheek. The moment he did it he worried. “Was that too much?” He asked softly.

His breath caught in his throat, the simple gesture surprising him momentarily but then he locked eyes with Michael, a faint blush on his cheeks and smiled, "no not at all," he replied quietly.

And oh in that moment Michael wanted to really kiss Alex. His cheeks were lightly flushed, his soft smile was mesmerizing. Michael only just stopped himself. “Good,” He said and gave Alex’s hand a squeeze.

For a moment, the world around them disappeared and all he could see was Michael and he returned the squeeze, his thumb gently rubbing over Michael's. Alex was suddenly glad that they had decided on a practice run because he was pretty sure a real couple wouldn't react like this.

“We should get back on the road.” Michael said, shaking himself free of the spell Alex seemed to cast over him. He wasn’t ready, he wanted more time to just soak Alex in, but they had an important task ahead of them and somehow Michael needed to keep his head in the game.

Alex nodded, breaking his train of thought, "yeah, you're right," he said, turning and tugging Michael's hand back towards the jeep. "Do you want to keep driving or you want me to?" He asked, keeping Michael's hand in his as he walked.

“Maybe we should switch out. We’re getting close now and I have no idea what to say to them at the base.” Michael walked Alex all the way to the driver’s side door, reluctant to let him go.

"Yeah that makes sense," he didn't miss that Michael walked him to the driver's door and his heart melted a little. As they reached the door, Alex turned and smiled at him, leaning up and kissing Michael on the cheek, "I know how to handle the MPs," he continued, with a playful wink.

Michael was stunned by the kiss and shaken by the wink. He knew he’d have to be better at pretending they were together. He shouldn’t be so caught off guard at every look or touch, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He was so drawn to Alex. He let Alex’s hand go slowly. “I’ll bet you do.” He said with a laugh.

Alex laughed and shook his head, he could see Michael struggling similar to the way he had been earlier. He climbed into the jeep and adjusted himself, turning the vehicle on and entering the highway, "the MPs are pushovers," he laughed.

“So I’m going to get to see Captain Manes at his finest, at last.” Michael teased. He was still feeling warm and happy from all the contact with Alex. Just picturing him putting the MP’s in place was wreaking havoc with all his self control. Seeing it in person was going to be something else indeed.

"Yeah I guess you will," he laughed, glancing at Michael. The happy, teasing look on the other man's face made his heart ache and he desperately wanted to touch him again. He was starting to remember that Michael was his addiction, once he touched him, it was never enough.

#malex #malex fic #roswell new mexico fic #come crash into me fic #eris writes fics

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fyrapartnersearch · 5 years

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Hello, the name is Aylo and I am a dedicated on and off role-player with a tendency of writing original stories in the hope that one day, my own vision gets pushed out into the world. But that dream is still a far away concept as most of my works are still in the making. Since I am still on summer break, I’ve got some time at my hands that I’m interested to fill it with some juicy writing.   Roleplaying is one of my greatest hobbies on the side! I enjoy it greatly as it gives you the opportunity to build a world and gripping plot with a partner. Also, a little about me before dive into it. You must be at least 18+ of age when you want to start original roleplay with me, just to be upfront and honest with you. I am in my twenties, thus I have no quarrel, or rather much prefer, mature adult themes. I accept anyone, but they have to be willing to fill some of these categories mentioned down below. What I expect is a decent (if not, very good) grasp on grammar, the ability and will to write creatively and shoulder half of the plotting and responsibility as well as the passion for roleplaying. Of course this should be seen as a fun way of passing the time and inspiring one’s muse, but I really like to invest… I wish for my partner to take equal initiative.  

 This request is a bit of an unusual one as I am targeting a fandom that you may have or have not heard about.  Currently I am on the hunt for someone who would like to start a JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure themed RP with me! Yes, as odd as it sounds, but the series had captured my heart in the most bizarre way (I couldn’t resist, apologies) and I simply fell in love with this odd, quirky world of JoJo. I started binging the series a year ago but now, I really became invested and grew to crave for an experience in writing it with a partner!

Regarding which era of the JoJo’s we could take this, I am fairly open, though I have yet to watch Part 5.   Since the world of JoJo is so vastly open and brimming with possibility, there’s no exact limit. Unless of course, the characters are overpowered, then we might have a problem. However I’ve rarely encountered cases, so I wouldn’t worry that much about it. I have a strong penchant for including original characters and ideas that can be added to the pre-existing plot. Also very happy to expand on the given worlds and open to AU’s. Okay so I am a really big nerd when it comes to the supernatural, mysterious, urban myth and fantasy. Love combining those given elements with organised crime, complex characters, cataclysmic events and dark schemes that all unravels as time goes on. JoJo is a perfect breeding ground for it all.

    Which JoJo is the best JoJo?

  In my opinion, I love all of them <3

Just to be frank here!  I am going to list all of the parts I am open and willing to do, down below:

JoJo: Phantom Blood (Part 1) 

JoJo: Battle Tendency (Part 2) 

JoJo: Stardust Crusaders (Part 3) 

JoJo: Diamond is Unbreakable (Part 4)

Now I know there are seasons of the series that I’ve yet to read and watch, but there is so much of the world already, I am perfectly content with focusing the story on those four!    Writing: 3rd person perspective. My writing is wide-ranging and flexible, which means that frequently, word count will go up 1000+ per reply - though it highly depends on the given situation and partner. Quality over quantity as they say - but why not both? I love detail in description, and I am actively seeking someone of the same infamy. My partner should have a basic grasp on grammar, punctuation and somewhat of an interest in knowledgeable writing. I also double! (preferably, but we can always discuss whether it makes sense for our roleplay our not.)

 What it entails: 

Alright, so you are writing with some of mature age. I have 11 years of writing experience when it comes to the game. This will be a fair warning that this request is not for the faint of heart. There will be violence, swearing, gore, intimate scenes, uncomfortable subjects, drama, conflict and other dark themes included within the story. I have few limits but I will respect the boundaries of my partner, so do not shy away from telling me. Just so you know, I won’t fade to black or skip out on the nitty gritty. Go big or go home. Interests: My line of interests are very dynamic when it comes to genres. I love conceiving my own lore inside a stories, be it an original or a pre-existing story. Gothic fantasy among others are one of my favourites. I am not opposed to tapping into some science fiction, action, romance, crime, action or thriller genres, in fact I encourage it. Inspirations for me are Lovecraft, Hellsing, Blade, Underworld, etc. As for the fandom inspired RPs, I am more than willing to bend some rules and be a little indulgent. World building and sharing the burden: You should be active and help me shape the world around our characters. Even if we discuss many things during and before the roleplay, how we wish for things to play out and take its course, I am always happy to be surprised with a secret of my partner’s character I didn’t know before. You don’t need to lay out all your cards on the table… keep it a little mysterious and suspenseful. Just enough so we can work with the ideas, but not completely kill off the suspense. Characters: I write canon as well as OC characters. Faceclaims, GIFs, drawings, mood boards or just a plain physical description is absolutely sufficient. Whatever floats your boat when it comes to visualising your character and their backstory, I’m on board. Characters should be written as opulent, flawed, unique, talented, heroic, villainous, spiteful, angry, and everything in-between figures. In other words, don’t be scared of making them ‘human’, even when they are non-human. Romance: Openly play and accept characters of both genders, preferable m x f pairings, but I am open to m x m and f x f relationships as well. I have more experience with m x f relationships, so I might be more adept with this one. If the chemistry of two characters compel me, I will ship them no matter what! When it comes to sexual scenarios and intimacy (intercourse, foreplay, all that jazz). I encourage erotism, but always in a tasteful, sensual manner (that goes for romance as well). The passion must be felt through the screen, even if it’s just a mere description of someone’s deep train of thought. Content: Drama, violence, implication of sexual content, metamorphosis, symbolism, action, romance, pretty much everything is a-okay. I am unbothered by certain subjects that may or may not be uncomfortable for the general public. Roleplays are fictional stories and we best keep viewing them as such. If there are things you are uncomfortable with, name them and I shall respect those boundaries. But don’t be surprised when suddenly one of our characters bites the dust, or gets tortured. It may be difficult to write and read, but it is all part of the story and furthering the plot. My roleplays imply and involve brutality, mayhem, psychological and physical torture among other things. But I also greatly endorse beauty, serenity and placid moments, scenes or characters. I love it when it comes full circle… everyone- and everything has a beautiful and hideous side. Both should be embraced like Yin and Yang. Communication and friendship: OOC-chat friendly! I love meeting new people and making friends and as we all know, communication is key. Plus it strengthens the compatibility between us. Communication is the alpha and the omega. If there is anything that bothers you, or if you think you are left out in some way (be it a mistake on my part or if we’re both at fault here), don’t be frightened to tell me. Really, it won’t be taken personally since I know that we all slip up every now and then. We’re only human after all. It is also completely sufficient if you only type out a few messages per week. I am super chill about it. It doesn’t bother me re-writing a scene to fit the narrative more. If there are mistakes, they can be corrected - just to get that out there. We can always exchange opinions and see what would benefit the story most. I will also voice my opinion should something arise that could be bothersome. Partnership: An active roleplayer is wanted without a doubt. Can’t do the thinking for two now. Let’s row this boat together Limits: Subject matters I avoid are pedophilia, bestiality, necrophilia, vore, scat, furries and various other bizarre fetishes. Also no one-liners or text-talk messages. The sentences have to be cohesive, coherent and decently structured.    I live in CET central Europe. My response rate varies throughout the weeks, depending on my schedule.  If I should hit a hiatus, I will let you know as soon as possible. I understand when you are busy as well and won’t be able to respond, though I highly appreciate if my partner does disappear without notification. At least give me a heads up on what’s going on so I can adjust and put the roleplay on hold if needed!  Mediums I roleplay on are email and google-docs. I also have Discord in case for OOC chat, but I rather much prefer email at first because Discord can be somewhat messy from time to time.  I prefer if my partner messages me first on email, giving me a brief description of themselves, their cravings as well as ideas. That way I can see if we’re compatible and if it bears any potential.   Message me here:

EMAIL: [email protected] Hope to hear from you soon! Lots of love!    

Sincerely yours, Aylo

#independent roleplay #oc rp #multiple paragraph #para #long term #email #tumblr #aou rp #submission

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