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ririblogsss · 28 days

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what if Danny give no fu-ks

Ok hear me out, Dannys obsession has never truest been confirmed by the show itself (that I remember) I've seen a lot of people say his obsession comes from wanting to help / protect people. But what if he feels as though that he is now doing more damage than good, after all there are a lot of people getting hurt as colateral damage from the chases he has to go on. Or simply when he has to run away from getting captured.

What if one night he was up late and saw a post about a tragedy that happened because he slipped up (it wasn't even his fault, but he still blames himself for everything). And then he starts looking at all the bad comments against him ignoring all the good ones saying how much Danny Phantom has helped Amity. Because Danny is still human and confirmation bias is real. Imagine how he felt the moment he realized that he was causing people to get hurt instead of keeping them save.

Image the desperation clawing at him with the realization that he has never been able to fully manage his obsession. it makes him sad, desperate, angry.

His entire self is filled with too many emotions at the sametime he isn't even able to identify them and catalogue them properly like Jazz taught him.

and then everything stops and he feels nothing.

Completely and utterly numb.

Like his whole reason to keep going suddenly disappears.

And it has.

He gave up on his obsession and now he has to make / get a new one.

But it's not that easy.

This drastic change could've ended any ghost as they run on (live off) emotions.

Luckily because he's a Halfa, so that has given him the upper hand. Unfortunately it makes it so that he is completely devoid of any emotion.

Months go by and people immediately notice changes, the more drastic one is that Phantom went missing, and eventually a lot of ghost that where coming in looking for him stop. Amity Park is no longer populated by ghosts, and slowly the GIW started to retreat from Amity going to another place following a lead that says there are more ghost activities up north.

But those changes aren't the only ones noticeable. Dannys classmates and teachers can vouch that Danny has changed. Most say he was always quite , and others say he looked down right depressed. Danny didn't do much in classes not that he paid attention before. Its just this time it seems that its not out of being sleepy or anxious about another ghost attacking the school instead Danny looks like he coundn't give less of a fu-k about anything.

He never smiles anymore not even when his favorite subjects (mechanics and space) are brought up. Not even a quirk of a smile. The school decided to contact his parents about Dannys new behaviors. That includes skipping classes, not handing in work, not doing the assigned work in class ect....

And its not like his parents havent noticed, they've had more time in their hands since they aren't using hours of the day/night going out hunting anymore. and they have witnessed their son become a shell of himself. They don't know what to do, and they don't want to worry Jazz about it because she's at collage and needs to focus on her studies.

So when the school contact them and told them that the behavior is the same in school they decided major changes needed to happen. Starting with a change of environment.

Maddie and Jack decided that Amity park was too big of a city with too many people. They could nearly see the stars at night because of the light pollution, hence they decided to move next door to Alicia, Maddie sister, home in SmallVille.

They decided it was the best choice, Danny would be surrounded by nature and he could do online classes that would go the pace he wanted. The move was immediate, the day off they packed everything sold the house and moved.

They only stopped to say goodbye to Danny's friends. A small bye and hug later they were on a 7 hour road trip to their new home.

When they got there the old resident handed them the keys of the home and told them to ignore the their neighbors 'The Kents' as they often made a lot of noice and had group gatherings every month.

The one thing Jack and Maddie forgot to double check was if the house was an actual house or a farm house. Sounds similar, but completely different as they now had 2 cows, 16 chickens, 1 rooster, and 3 pigs to take care off.

Danny was put on duty of taking care of the animals, such as feeding them on time and making sure they were healthy. Jack and Maddie made more of the heavy weight as to re building broken fences and fixing the questionable roof.

(The first thing Danny did when meeting all the animals was name them. After all this was about all the interaction he was going to do.)

Danny didn't have time to think about his lost obsession or his lack of emotions as he was now too busy making sure each animal was taken care off.

Marcy and linda (the cows) were danny's favorite they were very gentle and he felt that they could understand him when he spoke to them the stories of his vigilante past.

On the other hand The Chickens were a nightmare, Glinda was cool as she never chased him down. But Matilda and Bethany were a nightmarish duo spiteful too when he was seconds late to the finding time. Mark the rooster was chill he mainly acted as of he was part of the group that needed protection.

Marice, Betty, and Miss Piggy were the chillest of the bunch never gave Danny any trouble when feeding them and always made a point that they loved their new mudbath installation that Danny made for them on his first 2 days on the farm.

A month after arriving at the farm house Danny noticed that mark was missing. Danny looked everywhere around the property and saw him from afar, at the road. So Danny did the sensible thing anyone would do when spotting a run away pet, and that is call their name at the top of your lungs whilst running after them.

naturally Mark the escape artist run the opposite direction. By the time Danny caught up to him Danny didn't recognize the house he was infant off. So with Mark comfortably in his arms He swears he can see a smug look on marks face. Danny turned away from the house to start his walk back to the farm, but he was met with a kid his age looking at him with distrust.

"Ehhh look kid Im sorry to have crossed the properties border but Mark here" Danny made a point to acentuate Mark in his arms "Runaway from me this morning and I've been trying to catch him ever since, anyways I need to go feed the girls"

The kid starred at him for a second "OMG your from the new family in Mr.duncans farm right? in Aver ST.?" and wow the kid was like a ray of sunshine.

"Yea-" Danny could even finish his sentence before the kid cut him off by starting to talk a mile a minute about how he was so exited to meet people his age that lived near by and how farm chores were harder that normal house chores.

"Jon, give him time to respond. Im Damian this is Jon" Danny jumped he hadn't noticed the second kid at all

"Oh yeah... sorry about that what's your name?" The kid (Jon) slightly less enthusiasm, a bit embarrassed if his tone of voice was anything to get by.

"Danny, Im 15" he responded before he started walking away after all he did need to get in time to feed the chickens unless he wants to suffer their furry. Danny shuddered at the memory that popped up in his head.

"Wait!!! I just thought we could be friends cause we live close by u know" Jon said catching up with Dannys steps. Damian was following from behind.

"Sure kid I don't care" Dannys voice was monotone much like it had been for months.

"Hey were not kids for your information, Im 14 and Damians 16 soon to be 17, so if anything you night be the actual kid!" Danny chuckled slightly it was more similar to releasing air from his lips than a laugh.

Soon a quite and enjoyable science encompassed the group as they went to Dannys home.

"Hmm... you're hold on Mark is adequate and the your determination for getting home in time for feeding is acceptable" Damian spoke up after a while of the passive silence.

"yeah and what is It to you" Danny was slightly urked by Damians default setting speach. He told him as such.

Jon blanched before erupting into giggles that sent him to lay down on the grass uncontrollably laughing. Damians right eyebrow quirked up in what Danny assumed was amusement.

Thus a new friendship grew that day.

They often gathered at Dannys or Jons yard to have picnic in the weekends (as Damian and Jon has school in Metropolis on week days) and hangout with the animals. Danny found out that Damian was a vegetarian and that he had various animals at home. One time he brought his Great Dane Titus, who bodied Danny on sight to give him kisses.

Also Damian was Damian Wayne as in bruce Wayne, Batman sugar daddy. When he said that, Jons milk flew out of his nose and Damian choked on his cucumber wrap. Even Titus gave him a judgemental stare.

Slowly Danny started to smile more, laugh every so often. And things were feeling so much better after not being able to feel anything for a while.

Jazz, Aunt Alicia and especially Maddie and Jack felt so relived to see that Danny was slowly coming back to them.

Danny to this day backs the fact that Mark knew something and planned the whole thing.

#dc x dp #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton #mark the chicken is definitely a meta with super intelligence

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vincentbriggs · 4 months

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Now that I've moved, I finally have space for my mannequin! Last winter the store I work at got new mannequins and didn't need the old ones anymore, and I wasn't going to pass up a free mannequin, so he's just been waiting in my parents basement for a year.

He hasn't got a name yet. He needs repainting and a few minor repairs, so I figure I should wait until after that to name him. Especially since I'd like to try adding some clay or something to his face to make it less chiselled. I guess he can just be called Mr. Fibreglass in the meantime.

Mr. Fibreglass is currently wearing a ram skull mask I made for a college assignment, a very simple stretch knit hood/cowl thing I made to go under the mask, a dagged robe I made in 2016, a pair of boots I got secondhand years ago (which are vinyl and in bad shape and do not keep my feet warm At All, so it's ok that I had to cut a slit in one of them to be able to put him back on the stand), a necklace I got from the thrift store, and a pair of very cheap fishnets that I don't remember buying. He'll be wearing this for quite a while because mannequins are very uncooperative and frustrating to dress.

#mannequins #decor #masks #skulls #mr. fibreglass

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erinlindsayy · 6 months

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professor || carol danvers

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ . ┊ ⁭You're Carol's designated note taker, and usually the one teaching her a few things. What happens when you give her the wrong set of notes?

➺ warnings: dirty talk, spanking, edging, violent use of straps, carol danvers tops (but I fully believe she's a switch now), umm... general unholiness, bratting, etc.

✧ a/n: surprise... I'm back... more content coming soon... I promise I've got a val/carol/r fic coming soon, but this popped into my head and I couldn't resist... JOCK COLLEGE CAROL, OK? JOCK RUGBY COLLEGE CAROL.

↬ like this work? let me know! comments help encourage writers to write more and let them know that you liked what they wrote :)

★ requests are open–I write for a number of fandoms! just ask :)

☆ comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated ☆

“Can any of you attempt to discern meaning from this week’s assigned reading? Why might I have selected this particular work for you all?” asks Professor Valkyrie, starting class for the day. Your hand immediately raises, and she nods in your direction.

“Well, was not Beckett’s entire point to find meaning in the absence of conventional meaning?”

Professor Valkyrie, nods.

‘Interesting thought,” she says. “Care to elaborate?”

“Well,” you begin. “Beckett created a landscape for us that is so alien and foreign, and unlike what we know. The play does not include any symbolic elements, and it does not really go anywhere. You might try to make meaning out of the carrot that Didi and Gogo share, or the leaves appearing on the tree, but they literally mean nothing. At the end of the play--we, as well as Vladimir and Estragon, are all still waiting for Godot. So, in a sense, there is no meaning, but perhaps there is meaning in the fact that there is no intended meaning.”

“Good,” replies Professor Valkyrie. “As always, a carefully articulated and thoroughly crafted response. Excellent work as usual.”

You smile politely, and fall back into your seat as Professor Valkyrie continues to lecture about Samuel Beckett and the wonderful nature and reality of Waiting for Godot.

Meanwhile, you’ve jotted at the top of your notes, in big bold letters ‘I hate this play!’

After all, the ability to just to understand and converse about a work of literature does not mean that one has to enjoy it.

After class, you’re stopped, as usual, by the one and only Carol Danvers. Resident jock, captain of the division one team, aspiring pilot, rumored sex god extrodinare, Carol Danvers. She’s quite the legend around campus, but not exactly for her work ethic as it pertains to academic pursuits, which are... lacking, to put it politely.

“Do you have my notes for me,” she asks, holding her hand out. “I need to at least act like I’m going to study tonight, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Carol, why do you ask for my notes if you never use them? You do realize that mere possession of the notes will not translate into you understanding the material, yes? You have to actually read them in order for the information to enter your head.”

Your reply is snarky, short and snappy, but you’re fed up with Carol at this point. She asks you for notes in all the classes you share together (which, granted, is not many,) but never seems to read them or take any of her classes very seriously. Carol narrows her eyes at the response.

“I’ll just sleep on them? Os--”

You cut her off, finishing her sentence.

“--mosis does not apply, Carol. You know that. You cannot absorb the material through the pores of your skin. Read the notes, and actually try for once, or stop bothering me. I could be taking notes for myself, rather than focusing on summarizing all of the lectures so that you can stuff them into your bag, never to see the light of day again. Don’t ask me for notes again unless you’re ready to be serious.”

With that, you hastily pull out a few papers from your bag, not bothering to double check if they were the correct ones or not. You shove the papers into Carol’s and turn away sharply, not bothering to look back. Granted, you were headed in the completely wrong direction, but you weren’t about to give Carol the satisfaction of seeing your face again.

Of course, Carol knows that you hardly need notes for your own purposes. Summarizing the lectures for her provides you with the information you need to keep your own mind sharp, with years of literary study and reading filling in the blanks to broader context for you. But still, you love to hassle her. Carol does feel guilty occasionally, knowing how much work you put into the notes you take for her. They’re always organized, and you write important little tidbits down in the margins. She always glances at them, but can never bring herself to actually study the notes.

Tonight is different. Carol is inspired, reenergized by your scathing talk. She sits down at her desk, and finally pulls out the notes you gave her. She reads the first line, and laughs to herself.

These definitely weren’t the notes she meant to give me, she thinks to herself.

_______________________________________________________________________

You’re startled out of your evening study session by a loud ding from your phone. Normally, you wouldn’t check your phone in the middle of studying, but you’re intrigued.

Your jaw drops slightly when you notice that the text is from Carol.

8:57 hey. I’ve got a question about the notes

You’re shocked. Carol actually... read the notes?

9:00 Shoot for it. How can I help?

9:01 Well. The notes weren’t really on Waiting for Godot

9:04 Oh. Did I give you a repeat copy of last weeks’?

9:05 Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that they’re standard academic notes

You roll your eyes at her comment, typing out a harsh response before deleting it and sending a far more cordial reply.

9:06 Oh?

9:07 Well, for starters, I don’t think that Waiting for Godot has anything to do with sex.

Attached to her text is a picture of your recent exploration of the things that turned you on, or as you aptly named it “An empirical study of the things that make me wet.”

You’d never meant for anyone to see it, ever. It was purely a list of the things that you desperately wanted to try, things you enjoyed watching and reading, various things that interested you.

You’d written the list mostly as a joke, as a way to get the ideas out of your head. You wondered how it even found your way into your backpack, and you’re ready to curl up into a ball and cry when Carol texts you again.

9:13 I could help you, you know

9:14 I have a few things that I could teach you

9:15 What do you say we make a deal?

You swallow thickly, intrigued.

9:17 What sort of deal?

9:19 You teach me literature.

9:21 I’ll fulfill your deepest fantasies. (And take you out on a date ;) )

You blink slowly, unable to process the words appearing on your screen. A date? Lessons in sex? It all seems to be far too much to handle, and you’re not sure if Carol is serious. The prospect is alluring, however, and you can’t help but admit that you’ve had the tiniest (largest) of crushes on Carol ever since you saw her in that signature leather jacket of hers, kicking her legs up against the desk in front of her, even if your feelings were against your better judgment. You knew she was aware of this fact, and the way you were always angry around him for some odd reason.

9:24 If this is a joke, it isn’t funny, Carol.

9:30 I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow. Be ready. We’re getting pasta.

__________________________________________________________________________

“So. You want to be a pilot, but now you’re here playing rugby and studying literature?”

Carol shrugs.

“My best friend Maria and I were supposed to enlist together, but some shit happened and he needed me to stick around. I’ve always been good at rugby even though my dad hated that I played sports, and so I stuck around here. Got a full scholarship for rugby, and put the dream of flying aside. The academy will always be there. It’s not what I wanted, but it’s what Maria needed. I couldn’t just leave her when she needed me most.”

You smile softly at Carol, shocked by her sudden display of emotion. She’s clearly conflicted, and her eyes drift up to the sky, staring wistfully at the dimming horizon.

“I think that’s very brave of you, Carol. You’re a really good friend,” you say, reaching out to place a hand atop hers in a sudden burst of confidence. The evening had been oddly pleasant, and conversation flowed between the two of you. Granted, Carol was still somewhat of an egotistical jerk, but she was obviously emotionally conflicted, and she had sacrificed her biggest dream to help her closest friend when she needed it most.

Carol looks down at your hand, tensing up for a second before flipping her palm to meet yours and giving your hand a quick squeeze.

“I’m alright, ok? I don’t want you worrying about me.”

You nod. Carol smiles, and moves to stand up.

“What do you say we get out of here, and head back to my place? Maybe watch a movie?”

You smile, nodding at Carol. “I’d like that a lot,” you whisper. “I’d like that.”

Carol holds her hand out to you, helping you up out of your chair. You move to pull your hand out of hers, assuming she meant to just assist you up, but she holds on firmly as the two of you walk back to her vintage red Mustang.

The drive back to her apartment is filled with throwbacks from the 90s, widows open and hair wild. You’re both singing the words of the songs obnoxiously, relishing in the sweet freedom of the open night.

When you finally reach her apartment, your eyes are bright and your hair is messy. You look over at Carol, messy hair strewn about. You begin to laugh uncontrollably, with Carol joining shortly after upon seeing your own windblown look.

When the laughter finally succeeds, you look over at Carol to find her gazing at you intently. You laugh apprehensively, but Carol’s gaze does not falter.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful,” she asks.

You nod your head slowly. “Not really, no.”

“But you had a boyfriend?”

You nod. “It wasn’t really the best of situations. I’ve since come to many realizations about myself since then.”

Carol smiles. “Well, then I guess I’ll just have to tell you as many times as I possibly can to make up for the lack of times you’ve been told that.”

“Carol, I don’t even know how to respond to that,” you sputter out.

“So don’t.”

Carol leans in over the middle of the car, hesitantly pressing her lips against yours in a tender kiss. You’re surprised at first, but you lean into the kiss, melting against her mouth. Your hands tangle in her already messy hair, and you smile against her lips. The kiss intensifies as your hands begin to roam down Carol’s back, fingers itching to explore. She pulls her hands off of you, smiling softly.

“Let’s head inside, Princess. We can have a lot more fun in my bedroom than we ever will out here.”

You nod your head, eagerly anticipating the next steps.

When you reach her apartment, he leads you past the kitchen, flipping on various light switches as she heads through the living room, finally reaching her bedroom. It’s surprisingly neat, with framed photos of her and a woman that you guessed was her friend Maria. There’s a small pin shaped like a sort of star resting atop her desk, with a framed photo of an adorable orange kitten. Her bed is neatly made, and the room is incredibly put together.

“You like it, huh?”

You jump, startled by Carol’s voice.

“Yeah. Um, it’s very nice,” you reply. “Super neat.”

Carol laughs.

“Yeah, for all my disorganization at school, I do like to keep my apartment pretty tidy.”

Carol walks over to her desk and picks up your list.

“I think this belongs to you, my darling. We don’t have to do anything with it, or even speak of it again should you so wish that to be the case.”

You bite your lip, considering your options.

“Were you really serious, Carol?”

Your heart is beating fast, and your palms are beginning to grow clammy.

She laughs.

“Of course I was serious, Princess. Why would I offer if I wasn’t?”

You look down, mumbling your answer out.

“I didn’t really think someone like you would ever be interested in someone like me, honestly.”

Carol laughs, walking over to you. She gently tilts your chin up, meeting your eyes.

“Hey. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, and you drive me up a wall when you’re yelling at me to fucking finally read your notes, as you so kindly put it in your own words. Of course I would be interested in a girl like you. You’re incredible.”

She kisses you softly, slipping hers hands underneath your sweater. Breaking away for a second, she whispers to stop her if anything is too much. Green for go, she says. Red for stop.

Her hands roam up your body, making their way up to your neck. She gently squeezes at the column of your throat, whispering in your ear.

“I noticed you had this on your list, Princess. I did read your notes this time, and I did study up. I know all the things that could make you tick. And yet, I still want to hear you tell me what you want. You want me to choke you? Squeeze your throat till you’re begging me to stop?”

“Yes, please,” you moan out.

“Then use your words, Princess. Mmm... and what else should we do today? What other things from your little list do you want to try? I know you don’t want to start off simple... You even said so yourself. Tell me with your words, Princess. Tell me what you want.”

You gasp, head tipping back as Carol’s hands resume their exploration of your body.

“Cat got your tongue, Princess? Normally you’re so vocal during class... Why change now?”

You moan again, unable to speak properly as Carol’s fingers find your nipples, gently pinching. He pinches harder when you are unable to answer her question.

Moving hers hand to cup your jaw, he harshly tilts your face to look at him.

“Answer me, Princess. I’m growing impatient and I don’t have all day. Normally you’re so quick to answer. What a shame.”

“Put me in my place, please,” you gasp out, voice breaking. “I want you to edge me and spank me and punish me and tell me what a naughty little girl I’ve been, touching myself to the thought of you. I want to eat you out while I’m forced to touch myself, unable to cum without your permission. I want you to choke me as you pound me into the mattress with your cock, reminding me of my place. I want to be your good little girl, moaning only your name as you show me who I belong to.”

Carol smirks.

“I’ll be honest—I always knew you had a thing for me. You weren’t exactly discreet. The secret is, I had a thing for you too. I wasn’t expecting you to write about me in your notes, though. And I definitely wasn’t expecting you to write something like that ever. Our little teacher’s pet, our good little girl, the smartest girl in class—and such filthy thoughts! Didn’t take me long to figure out who the mysterious blonde figure was. You wrote some pretty explicit stuff in there, Princess. You’re such a filthy little whore... So many dirty thoughts! Imagine if those notes had fallen into the wrong hands...”

Carol’s hands dip to the edge of your sweater, swiftly pulling it off of your body. She cocks an eyebrow at you upon seeing the lacy navy blue bodysuit underneath that you’d specifically selected for tonight.

“Did you wear this just for me?”

You nod.

“Good girl. I like the way you think. Now, take off those pants for me. While you’re at it, get rid of that lacey little thing. It’s pretty, but you’re prettier.”

You obey her quickly, shedding every stitch of clothing from your body. You’re trembling with excitement and anticipation, and you’re nervous as Carol’s eyes rake up and down your body.

“Stunning,” she says, never taking her eyes off of your body. “You’re absolutely perfect. I can’t wait to teach you how to be a good little slut for me... you’re such a good learner. Wonder if that translates in the bedroom?”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Why don’t you shut up and find out already?”

Carol laughs condescendingly.

“You sure you want to mouth off like that, Princess?”

You nod. “You seem to be all talk right now, and no action.”

Carol growls. “We can change that. I don’t tolerate brats around here. Brats get punished. If you’re a good girl, you get rewarded. Which is it going to be tonight, Princess. I need an answer.”

You roll your eyes without even thinking. “Just fuck me already, Carol.”

Carol tangles her hand in your hair, pulling your head back. “I told you that brats get punished. It looks like you've selected the brat role tonight. Get on your fucking hands and knees. I’m not going to ask you a second time.”

You quickly obey, scrambling onto your hands and knees. You wiggle your ass slightly, but Carol firmly holds it in place.

“Stop. Now, since this is your first time, I’m going to take it easy on you. We are only going to do ten, but mark my words, if you pull this sort of bratting on me again, I can and will increase that number. Now, I want you to count.”

The first strike comes faster than you were expecting, but it does not hurt as much as you thought it would.

“One,” you gasp out.

Carol strikes again, harder this time.

“Two,” you gasp out again.

He continues, hitting a bit harder each time, and your ass is red by the finish.

“Good girl,” she whispers in the shell of your ear. “You took your first punishment so well for me—it is almost like you were made to do this...”

She ghosts her fingers lightly over your neck, drifting down to your collarbone before moving her hands to gently massage the soft tissue of your breasts.

With a gentle slap to your aching ass, she gives you a new set of instructions.

“Now. For our next lesson, you’re going to suck me off. The better you do, the less edges I’ll give you tonight. I hope you’ve been studying, Princess. Either that, or you just better wish that this comes naturally for you.”

Carol swiftly pulls her pants and boxers down and throws her shirt to the side, revealing her toned abs and muscled back. You can see her muscles ripple as she stretches her arms above her head to take her shirt off. Your jaw goes slightly slack at the sight of her perfect nude figure.

“Close your mouth, Princess. You’ll catch flies.”

You blush. “Sorry, Carol. You’re just so beautiful.”

Carol winks. “I can tell, Princess. Your eyes haven’t left my torso.”

You giggle, but quickly stop when Carol moves directly in front of you.

“Test time, Princess. Hope you’ve studied. But, if you haven’t, I’ll allow for retakes. Think of this one as a pretext, if you will. How much do I need to teach you when it comes to this particular subject?”

You moan at her words, mouth salivating. You’re desperate to touch her, to run your tongue over her strap. Carol leans down to press a quick kiss upon your lips, immediately guiding your face to her strap after. You’re unsure of what to do at first, the feeling foreign upon your tongue. Eventually, you begin to find your rhythm, head bobbing as you introduce a hand to match your rhythm. You continue your tiny kitten licks, timing them with the thrust of your fingers. Carol is silent for the most part, but every so often she breaks her stoic silence with a loud moan or gasp when you hit a particularly sensitive spot against her body. You grind against the pillow that Carol has placed between your legs, annoyed with the lack of friction you got, but thankful to have anything at all. Your tongue continues its way along Carol’s strap, body quivering with pleasure.

It isn’t long before she’s moaning continuously.

After all, you have always been a very quick learner.

Carol pulls away, and you whimper at the loss of contact. She messily kisses you, groaning at the taste of herself on your tongue.

“For your first time, that was surprisingly good.”

You beam in satisfaction.

“However, I’m still going to edge you at least five times.”

You whimper.

“But Carol—“

“No buts, pretty girl. It’s for your own pleasure, alright? It’s good to practice delayed gratification. Now, get over there on the back of the bed for me. Spread those legs as wide as you can. I want that dripping cunt of yours on display.”

You move off of your pillow, following her instructions. Carol walks over to you, hovering over you on the bed as she cages your body with her arms.

“I want to hear every moan you make,” she growls. “Don’t hold back on me, Princess.”

You nod.

“Yes, Carol.”

Carol smiles and strokes a single finger through your dripping folds. You shudder. The feeling of her soft fingertips against your throbbing core is heavenly, and you’re unable to hide from the breathless moan that escapes your mouth.

Carol continues to slide her fingers through the folds of your cunt, relishing in the puffy texture as she explores. Her fingers trace small circles here and there, dipping into your soaking hole when she feels like doing so, pinching your clit, edging you into oblivion.

You ask her to cum numerous times, but she always pulls away. Finally, she pulls away for the last time.

“You can cum this time, Princess. But I want to cum on my cock for me like a good little slut, alright? I want you to scream my name for me. Let the whole world know you’re mine now.”

You nod, moaning at her filthy words. She carefully lines up with you and thrusts in quickly, giving you a chance to adjust to the size and foreign feeling of the cock inside of you.

When you nod at her, she begins to thrust her hips at an ungodly pace, hitting that perfect spot inside of you that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. She moves one hand to your clit, rubbing tight little circles over the throbbing organ, and her other hand moves to your throat, lightly pressing down. She’s pushing you into the mattress, firmly grinning the column of your neck as her hips thrust faster and faster.

“You like it when I choke you? When your brain starts to go a little bit foggy and you can’t tell if it’s from the sex or lack of air? You like it when I tell you what a good little slut you are, taking my cock like such a good little Princess, showing how well you learn and how well you take instruction?”

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out in between moans. “Please, fuck me harder.”

Although it seemed humanly impossible, Carol managed to fuck you harder. The relentless snap of her hips grew faster, thrusts hitting further and further inside of you each time. The hand rubbing your clit runs faster, harder, and just before you’re about to rip over the edge, Carol whispers in your ear.

“Cum for me, Princess. Cum like the good little girl you are.”

You scream out in ecstasy as you tip over the edge, collapsing against the mattress. Carol pulls out, falling into bed next to you, wrapping her arms around you as she presses kisses to your neck and collarbone, drifting up to your forehead.

“You did so well, Princess. You’re such a good learner. Looks like you’re just as good in here as you are in a classroom.”

You smile.

“I try my best. Honestly, that’s all I can ever do.”

Carol smiles.

“A good attitude to have. Now, let’s go get you cleaned up.”

A few snacks, some water, and one blissful shower later, you’re dressed in Carol’s old sweatpants and sweatshirt as you climb into bed beside him. She’d invited you to stay the night, and you hadn’t been able to resist. Carol flips the lights off, pressing a delicate, featherlight kiss to your forehead.

As you lay in bed however, you remember an important fact.

“I still have to teach you all of literature,” you mumble.

Carol laughs softly.

“And I have many things to teach you still, darling. But for now, sleep.”

You smile, closing your eyes as you feel Carol’s grip on you grow stronger.

Literature could wait until tomorrow.

#carol danvers smut #carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel smut #god i cannot believe i am back here #holy hell #help lmaooooo

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vidavalor · 8 days

Text

Great Balls of Fire

Ok, I've got a Final 15 theory on the kiss and the elevator and... pie?

This is for-- and in thanks to-- @indigovigilance, @ineffablelunatics and @somehow-a-human, as their metas reminded me of the idea of something in Aziraphale's mouth after the kiss and their talk of ball bearings and The Bullet Catch has eaten my brain alive and so here we are. Thanks also to @kayleefansposts for drawing my attention to 2/3rds of the metas. 🤗

What, exactly, happened in The Final 15? Maybe this...

As observed by many of us and discussed in the metas of the people I mentioned above, Aziraphale visibly has something in his mouth when he pulls back from the kiss. We also see him move the object around in his mouth-- or, we do, if his expression doesn't distract us first.

Because it's on his tongue, this isn't just light being weird or showing a filling or something. This is, clearly, a piece of metallic-colored something in Aziraphale's mouth. @indigovigilance pointed out how aspects of this parallel aspects of The Bullet Catch and I would agree with that. @ineffablelunatics, off of @somehow-a-human's post on the object, said it looked like a ball bearing and that's actually when I realized that I think the show might have subtly told us over the first two seasons what it is. And if it is what I think it is? The object is the reason for Aziraphale's reaction after the kiss-- not the kiss itself.

So, what is it?

To explain that, we have to start with two scenes, one from each season: 1601 and Crowley in Heaven with Muriel in 2.06.

In the 1601 scene, we learned that Crowley & Aziraphale experimented with their powers after they got tired of canceling each other out and that they discovered Heaven's dirty little secret in the process. That secret is that basically the only differences between them are the colors of their feathers and the lack of immunity to hellfire/holy water. Heaven has been telling everyone that some magic was "demonic" and that angels couldn't do it and they also had told everyone that demons no longer possessed angelic powers. Crowley & Aziraphale realized that this was bullshit-- Aziraphale could do temptations and Crowley could still do blessings. It's this discovery that allowed them to start fulfilling each other's assignments. They didn't tell a soul because of the danger of admitting they knew, especially because admitting it would be acknowledging that they had worked together to figure it out. This means that, with the exception of holy water being dangerous to him since he fell, Crowley is effectively still an angel in terms of the power he possesses.

This would mean he can magically make just about anything he could make when he was an angel. It's relevant because Crowley, as we'll see, made the object he slipped into Aziraphale's mouth during the kiss.

When Crowley is in Heaven with Muriel in 2.06, he opens the file on Gabriel's trial, which we are told can only be accessed by "a throne, or a dominion, or above"-- further showing that the truth is that Heaven actually can't strip angels of their power to do miracles. They're just simply telling them that they have done so as a form of social control and casting some to Hell to use them as way to discourage rebellion. This scene also reminds us of Crowley's awareness of this and shows him using his "angelic" powers to get information to help Gabriel.

The same scene with Muriel and Crowley that showed us that Crowley still retains his angelic powers reminds us again of the rank of throne/dominion in Heaven. (I say "throne/dominion" because Muriel's verbal commas and the way the sentence is structured-- along with the scene in S1 when Crowley goes from his throne to dominate his plants lol-- suggests that it is possible to be both ranks of angel at once, which is another topic so we won't go too far into that right now.) Crowley was undoubtedly a throne/dominion-- and it's not even just the fact that he had that hilariously tacky throne in S1. It's relevant here because of ties of throne-related things to what it is that Crowley made and slipped into Aziraphale's mouth.

Thrones are apparently God's chariots. They are concerned with justice and reside in the areas of space "where matter originates"-- which feels very Before the Beginning, right? They are symbolized by big wheels that rotate and by eyes that change color.

Yes, by wheels and eyes that change color... seems very Crowley, no?

The eyes repeat on the symbolic wheels and are in the position of what we on Earth would call ball bearings, apparently looking kind of like this:

...and remember the interconnected, turning wheels in the scroll that Crowley had Aziraphale hold in the moment they met, at the start of 2.01?...

It could be said that Crowley... a throne, a polymath, a scientist, an inventor... a being whose signature thing is the sexiest old car on four wheels... could make ball bearings from his body when he was an angel and, since we know that he still has basically everything but the ability to make holy water from his angel days, it means that he still can make those ball bearings...

...but we also know what else he can make from his body since he's also a demon-- and not just from his hands but from his mouth...

...hellfire.

Yes, I'm saying that it really was a ball bearing in Aziraphale's mouth-- but it was not hollow or empty. Not by a long shot. It was full of hellfire. It wasn't for Aziraphale's memories as Crowley didn't think that Aziraphale had time or opportunity left to extract them.

It was a suicide pill.

The story was calling back to The Original Ineffable Divorce in 1862...

Think about what Crowley saw when he was up in Heaven in S2...

Crowley is the one who put together what happened to Gabriel. He watched the video of Gabriel's sham "trial" and he saw The Metatron basically order Gabriel killed and cast down through the ranks and he knows that Gabriel only evaded Hell because of how it would have diminished the power of the institution of Heaven to send him there. Crowley knows that Aziraphale does not have this same amount of political power. He knows that The Metatron is a shifty motherfucker and that Michael cannot be counted on. He knows how much danger Aziraphale is in.

So, he takes a page from Lord Beezlebub after seeing that they protected Gabriel with the fly... only it's not exactly the same thing.

Beez's fly was given to Gabriel to help save him. It was a place to store his memories to help protect him long enough to keep him safe until they could make sure he was safe and intact. It worked because Beez and Gabriel had time to make a plan together. By the time Crowley is in Heaven watching the video of what happened to Gabriel and then getting back to the bookshop to sort it all out, there's no time for he and Aziraphale to make a plan. They are not alone again until after "The Metatron" has already shown up and, by then, Aziraphale is already on his way to being lost.

Beez is actually the first character we ever see make their signature thing on-screen and when they do? I mean...

Evocative of a kiss, with that big closeup on Beez's mouth. We watch them push the fly gently out of their mouth with their tongue. It foreshadows Crowley making something in his mouth and ties delivery of it to the kiss. We know that Crowley knows that he can make a single object that is of aspects of both Heaven and Hell combined-- like a ball of hellfire tempered, unless consumed, by a ball bearing.

Plus, earlier in the season, there's Gabriel tying The Fly-- which came about as a result of Beez trying to help him manage his depression by helping him to feel safer-- to metaphorical suicide when he spends the scene where the angels show up chasing it around the bookshop, trying to kill it with one of Aziraphale's Bibles, symbolizing just what Heaven is doing to everyone's mental health here...

But this is just where this possibility starts, really... because why else do I think it's a hellfire-full ball bearing suicide capsule that Crowley gave Aziraphale?

Well, for starters, there is all the holy water that is all over this plot at the end of S2... At the end, Crowley stands in Whickber Street outside The Bentley right across from The Dirty Donkey in a nod to-- among other scenes-- the 1967 scene, when Aziraphale brought Crowley the holy water.

Aziraphale knew that Crowley also secretly wanted holy water as a last resort and Aziraphale initially couldn't handle the idea of losing Crowley and reacted badly before eventually coming around to the idea that maybe Crowley needed to have some supernatural cyanide at his disposal in order to feel safer and that he should have that option. Based on the holy water story, Crowley, then, would be the first person to think that Aziraphale needed a suicide pill as an option if he found himself in trouble he couldn't get out of.

In 2.06, Crowley knows how likely it is that Aziraphale could be harmed by the angels and/or sent to Hell-- which is the domain of Crowley's assailant, who is literally Satan, and who hates both of them for, among other things, turning Adam against him. Crowley knows Aziraphale is a good person who wants to believe the best is possible but he also knows how unlikely it is that this is going to go well for Aziraphale. Crowley can't stand the thought of Aziraphale suffering so he gives him a way out as an act of love because Crowley would sooner lose Aziraphale for eternity than see him suffer.

When it becomes clear that Aziraphale is going with "The Metatron" and Crowley is out of ways to convince him not to, he sees Aziraphale look away and start to cry. Crowley goes back and kisses him as a last resort but Aziraphale is initially resistant-- not because this is their first kiss and not even just because they're upset (though that's part of it) but because to kiss Crowley then would be to let him in... (after all of those symbolic doors and "let me in"s happening in the story)... when Aziraphale making the mistake of trying to shut him out.

Aziraphale eventually, though, can't help but let Crowley in a little...

...because, ya know, it's Crowley...

...and, when he does, he opens up a little, and Crowley slips a suicide pill into Aziraphale's mouth.

It's also definitely worth noting that one of the reasons-- the primary reason, even-- why Crowley kisses Aziraphale is because he needs a cover to both make and give the fireball to Aziraphale without being noticed-- and to do so in such a way that Aziraphale would be assured of the ability to have it on his person when he got to Heaven-- even if he lost his clothes in the process, as like what happened to Gabriel when he was cast out. It has to go in Aziraphale's mouth for easy consumption for it to work and kissing him is the only way to do that. What's really worth noting, though?

Crowley's plan hinged on Aziraphale eventually giving in and kissing him back. He couldn't tongue the fireball into Aziraphale's mouth without Aziraphale parting his lips and Crowley knew he would... because he always does. Not that they're regularly trying to kiss while being super miserable lol but mah point is that Crowley knows that Aziraphale can't ever not kiss him. That's not indicative of this being a first kiss-- that's indicative of the complete opposite of that.

Anyway...

Aziraphale knows what Crowley can make and what it is that he just gave him and that's why this is his reaction after the kiss:

The devastation isn't over the kiss itself. It's because Aziraphale trusts Crowley's interpretations of things more than his own sometimes and, by secretly slipping Aziraphale a suicide capsule out of fear and love and delivered in a kiss, it really hits home for Aziraphale that Crowley thinks they are now in a situation where there probably isn't going to be another way out. It's not because it's a first kiss-- it's because it's likely a last one-- and things are so dire that it came with supernatural cyanide.

It's the realization that Crowley really thinks Aziraphale has been fooled and Aziraphale can't bear it because he knows, deep down, that Crowley is probably right and he's embarrassed. 'Pride goeth before a fall' and all that... Aziraphale is lovely-- an absolute poppet-- but he's imperfect, just like us all. One of his worst traits is that he doubles down when he's been embarrassed as a way of trying to save face and retain pride. It's maybe his worse flaw and it gets very dangerous for him here. Crowley is no stranger to trying to stop situations where it could happen, like this paralleling time in 1941:

Some other reasons why it's a fireball suicide pill before we get to what then happened in the elevator...

There's the fact that the show had a scene set in S2 in The Dirty Donkey-- where the elevator is. (As the start of the scene, Crowley & Aziraphale even walk through the door where the elevator will materialize at the end of S2.) Part of their conversation is very possibly Crowley recounting their first kiss-- at minimum, it's about kissing-- and then Aziraphale makes it also about balls, combining the two to, among other things, foreshadow The Final 15:

The wordplay here is already threefold in this scene off of Crowley's joke that follows Aziraphale remembering Jane Austen's balls: balls (testicles), the phrase that x person "has balls" (is badass), and balls (of the cotillion/dancing variety). This continues into the meeting that Aziraphale hosts-- the disaster of a ball that goes straight into the end game of the season. Here's Aziraphale making yet another ball-related wordplay joke-- this one, during The Meeting Ball:

"We're having a ball" as in they're literally having a ball-- a party-- but also the idiom "we're having a ball" meaning "we're having a great time." We are now up to four different meanings of the word 'ball' in S2, stretched across different scenes, emphasizing the importance of it. One of the missing ones still needed here to complete this idea is a literal ball-- and the ball bearing would not only meet this idea but would then make all of the ball-related wordplay have had the purpose of building towards it. We think it's building towards The Meeting Ball-- and it is-- but all of it, including The Meeting Ball, would actually then be building towards the hellfire ball, which is the actual ending of S2.

Then, there's what this all has to do with the eccles cakes...

Yes, eccles cakes lol... Eccles cakes, as a lot of us already know, are popularly referred to as "fly cakes", off of how the currents sometimes look in them, but the significant thing here is that, despite their name, eccles cakes are not actually cakes at all-- they are really pies.

Ball bearings are also used in Good Omens' favorite metaphor of food to weigh down dough when baking pie crust. Pie weights and ball bearings are basically the same things, just put to different use. It means you literally cannot make eccles cakes from scratch without a jar of pie weights... which are just, structurally, the same thing as ball bearings... and Crowley can make them. You also make pie dough by first rolling it into a ball.

Which is likely why this hilarious moment exists:

Please hold The Cake-Pies of Symbolism, my pie (and Pi)-loving dear...

Crowley's face at having to stand there holding some little pies 😂...

The eccles cakes-that-are-really-pies go along with this theory as well because look how the show presented the forthcoming apocalypse to us back in 2.01:

The horse is Crowley, the rider is Aziraphale, and they're headed for Armageddon-like mental health disaster-- all ushered in by the four eccles cakes, representing Gabriel, Beez, Nina (who suggested & gave them the eccles cakes) and Maggie.

Presumably, The Lords of the Flies are the two eccles cakes that are already canoodling on the back of the plate while Maggie and Nina are the two in the foreground who are aligned but not yet together. Crowley's S2 plot is largely working at the behest of these wonderfully rebellious pies. He looks after Gabriel, finds out what happened to him and connects it all to Beez... and this is after he spent the season on his vavoomy Operation Lovebirds to get Maggie and Nina together. He's responsible for the pie crust-- the containers of the eccles cakes-- in a show obsessed with containers. Crowley is, symbolically, a jar of pie weights in being form by way of his actions-- which is suggestive of the fact that he can probably physically make them. (There's also: "Just a few million years to bake," which Crowley said of his stars-- which he made-- in the opening scene of the season.)

"Nina, what do you sell that calms people down?"

Calm is from the Greek kauma, which means the heat of the day. Heat, as in slang for a weapon. Heat, as in hellfire. Heat, as in what's needed to bake. Heat, as in passion. Heat, as in "bringing the heat." The heat of the day-- the sunny daylight of The Final 15. Eccles cakes-- really: pies-- calm people down... they bring them heat, in every possible way, and it sets them on a path down-- to Hell.

Then, there's Agnes Nutter...

When The Witchfinder Army came to kill Agnes, she hid gunpowder (a weapon) and roofing nails (the construction-related metal that enabled it) in her dress. Agnes blew up-- she became a literal. fireball. Crowley wasn't necessarily suggesting that Aziraphale turn himself into an Agnes-like bomb in Heaven when he gave him the capsule but he was giving him a weapon involving fire with which he could kill himself if he had no other way out.

Then, there's the theme of suicide in examples from earlier in the season:

Crowley saving Elspeth (on the night Crowley was dragged to Hell)... The bit when Aziraphale then calls Crowley from Edinburgh in the present and tells him that he's read that Dalrymple left in disgrace and killed himself... "The Bananafish" being a short story about trauma by J.D. Salinger which ends with a traumatized man suddenly killing himself... Crowley setting Gabriel up to jump from the window and then stopping him from doing it...

There's also the fact that the end of S1 was Heaven and Hell forcing Crowley and Aziraphale into forms of suicide (getting into hellfire/holy water) and the "Aziraphale" in the Heaven part of it was Crowley spitting hellfire-- at Gabriel, no less, whose story is what jumpstarts S2.

Then, there's that the song that is The Clue to everything in S2 is "Everyday", the significance of which is that it's a foundational song of American rock 'n roll. Rock 'n roll is a blend of musical styles that actually wouldn't exist without first the big band/swing that Aziraphale loves that came before it-- symbolizing how Crowley & Aziraphale paved the way for Gabriel & Beez. There's another song, though, that, like "Everyday", is from the pivotal rock year of 1957 that is equally influential and is enormously Good Omens-y, in the sense that it cleverly uses wordplay to the effect of barely disguising sexual euphemisms and often through amusingly church-y language:

You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain/Too much love drives a man insane/You broke my will/But what a thrill...

Goodness gracious... great balls of fire...

[Also: less part of the theory and more just a possible nod but... "The Metatron" brought Aziraphale a coffee, there's a threat of non-existence, and Aziraphale might have gotten a 'kiss of death' from a being who is, essentially, a cherry pie lol... so, those of you who know that other greatest television show to ever television show might see a bit of a nod to Twin Peaks in here as well.]

Speaking of kisses of death... the film that popularized the word "vavoom"-- and which GO S2 is homaging all over the place-- is called 'Kiss Me Deadly.'..

So, after the kiss, Aziraphale gets the capsule and keeps it tucked into his mouth and he's gone too far with the conversation and doesn't want to admit that maybe he's wrong and Crowley is right. Crowley goes out, "The Metatron" comes back in, and Aziraphale keeps looking at Crowley staying by the car out the window and he's a bit more nervous now ("what about, um, my bookshop?"). Even if he still wants to be right, he's beginning to doubt even more that he is.

He almost tells "The Metatron" to go. He almost goes to Crowley. We see him start to say that he thinks he made a mistake but he doesn't go through with it. He's too embarrassed. Fraulein Maria can't face The Captain and is trying to run back to The Abbey over here.

Aziraphale goes out with "The Metatron" and the significant moment is this revelation: "We call it 'The Second Coming'."

This is the moment that Aziraphale realizes for sure that he's been tricked and there is no Supreme Archangel job for him. The Metatron doesn't want to change Heaven or save anybody-- he wants to destroy the world, same as he always has-- and there's no way that he'd ever trust Aziraphale to carry that out when Aziraphale is who stopped the first round. Heaven will never admit they did wrong by Crowley-- to do so would be to collapse the system because then every demon would want to appeal their own status and demand justice and the Heaven/Hell regime would fall, in the sense that their little supernatural empire would crumble. The Metatron would never allow that and Aziraphale realizes in this moment for sure that he has been played for a sucker.

It's still possible that, at this moment, Aziraphale might still believe that this being who has tempted him with the possibility of the justice he wants for Crowley more than Crowley actually wants for himself-- and with false reassurances that he and Crowley could be together forever-- actually is The Metatron. Or, Aziraphale might be starting to get the sense of what's actually happening but, either way, he now knows that he's been fooled. He knows now that while he and Crowley both got some things wrong (suggesting they run off and proposing suddenly were not great moves on Crowley's part)... about this bit anyway? About being in danger if he believes the being who came to the door? Crowley was right.

So, Aziraphale has a choice: does he go to Crowley or does he get in the elevator, knowing now that to do so is to go to a form of death?

He can't face Crowley. He knows Crowley would forgive him and just wants him to be safe but, in the moment, Aziraphale is too ashamed and too embarrassed to admit that he was fooled and to deal with how awfully he just behaved. He's also exhausted from being hounded by the weight of his halo and Heaven for thousands of years. Negative thought cycles in overdrive-- he's never truly believed that he deserves Crowley and he has convinced himself that maybe Crowley might be better off without him. Maybe they just don't get a happy ending and maybe Aziraphale is so tired and can't run and hide anymore and just wants it to end.

Imagine spending thousands of years in service of an organization that also doubles as family and who abused you and abandoned you and who now wants to kill you... and you so hoped that change was possible that you clung to the idea beyond a point of reason-- to the point of hurting the one you love, with whom you have the only real love you've ever known. And you know he'd forgive you in a heartbeat because he loves you and he just wants you to be safe but you can't face him because you can't yet face yourself... that's Aziraphale deciding between Crowley and the elevator.

Aziraphale can barely glance over at Crowley and when, he does, it's also The Bentley he's looking at because he's telling the car to play Crowley their song. Crowley said "no nightingales" but Aziraphale says, in response: "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square." His last moment on Earth and he uses it to basically leave a suicide note for Crowley that says nothing but I'm sorry. I love you.

Their song plays when Crowley starts the engine of The Bentley, which calls back to the first time they met in the Before the Beginning scene that began the season and showed how they started the engine of the universe together.

Aziraphale might be trying to warn Crowley about Armageddon by sending an "engine trouble"-type of message or he might be calling back to when they first met or, as I suspect, he might be doing both but the show, at least, is referencing Before the Beginning here with this, whether or not Aziraphale intentionally is.

So, Aziraphale? He makes his choice. He gets into the elevator...

...and he swallows the fireball. Which we can see him do here:

Or, as this was foreshadowed in S1 by the being whose own fall and subsequent arrival at the bookshop door set all the events in this season into motion:

(The eerieness of the fake grin on Gabriel after seeing how it foreshadows S2 ending with Aziraphale's mad grin...)

Because, when all is said and done, this poor bastard really would have a death-by-swallowing-something story over here, wouldn't he? Can they just hurry up and destroy the Heaven/Hell system so Aziraphale can have food and sex in peace already, please? 😄

Aziraphale knew he'd been played and he didn't want to go through whatever came next. He didn't want to reach the top floor of Heaven because he knows that only forms of death await him there. They'll take his memories. They'll cast him to Hell. Being a demon is no picnic and Aziraphale has seen that in being with Crowley for so long. Satan is not exactly the biggest fan of Aziraphale and Aziraphale, better than most, knows what Satan is capable of. He doesn't want any part of that. He ingested a suicide pill to avoid being captured by the enemy.

Crowley gave him the pill because angels are not immune to hellfire. That's what made it a suicide capsule, right? It was supposed to kill him within seconds. It was supposed to be quick and relatively painless-- a way to escape the horrors that might await him. Even when Aziraphale is at his worst-- as Aziraphale was in their last scene in bookshop-- he is still a pure-of-heart, lovely being to Crowley because Crowley loves Aziraphale as he is-- imperfect. Just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing. It never occurred to Crowley that the capsule might fail. Why? Because Aziraphale is, always and forever, his angel.

Both Crowley and Aziraphale thought the fireball should have protected Aziraphale from pain and suffering by killing him almost instantly once he ingested it.

By that measure, Aziraphale should have burst into flames in the elevator, seconds after he swallowed the pill just after stepping inside.

But he did not.

We watch as the seconds start to tick by... and we see the realization play out on Aziraphale's face as each second that passes is another one where he's still here...

...the look gets more and more unhinged as the elevator keeps climbing until we get the slightly mad dark grin as the last shot of him before a fade to a deathly black... with Aziraphale having spent the final splitscreen since he got into the elevator on the other side of Crowley, symbolizing what's happened.

In the elevator scene, we are watching the dawning realization play out on Aziraphale's face as the fireball doesn't work and there's only one reason why it wouldn't-- because he's no longer an angel.

Aziraphale has been sauntering vaguely downward for the season and maybe for awhile before then. He's been letting the darkness in, more and more, throughout all of S2. We have been watching his fall happen. The 'falling from a great height into a pit of boiling sulphur' part of falling? Ceremonial. An aftermath of sorts-- an additional punishment. It awaits Aziraphale when he gets off the elevator in Heaven but it's something we likely don't really need to see and never have seen in the show yet because that's not actually the main point of a fall. By the time you're literally falling from a great height, you've actually already fallen.

Aziraphale's determined-- but also just really half-mad-- final grim smile in the elevator over his understanding of what's happened is both the pain of thousands of years of religious trauma and abuse-related misery and a bit of completely unhinged I'm gonna burn this place to the fucking ground fury.

Aziraphale swallowing the capsule also parallels Gabriel having to "consume" The Fly to open it. The Fly went through Gabriel's eye and allowed him to "see"-- it give him realization and understanding by returning his memories to him. For Aziraphale, he swallows the fireball and it also gives him a kind of sight-- realization and understanding of what's happened and what's to come... all of this also in the moments before his memories (and, so, his sense of self/his life) will likely be taken from him.

(For a time-- he'll be fine eventually. *mantras* South Downs Cottage, South Downs Cottage...)

"And from his mouth go burning lamps and sparks of fire leap out." The Job quote on the matchbox. The matchbox contained the fly-- it's the equivalent to the ball bearing containing hellfire. Works now on several different levels but one of them then is: And from his mouth (Crowley's mouth/the kiss/the fireball/Aziraphale swallowing the fireball)...

...go burning lamps (the light that goes out in the bookshop when Aziraphale is in the elevator)...

...and sparks of fire leap out. Several meanings:

Literal sparks-- in that Aziraphale can now spit hellfire, like how Crowley did in his body in Heaven in S1.

Sparks of fire leaping out, in the sense that Aziraphale has made the leap-- he is a demon now.

Lastly, though... sparks of fire leap out... as in, Hell (and Heaven) hath no fury like this very, very, very pissed off Angel of the Eastern Gate whose whole thing is freeing those imprisoned by corrupt systems...

Visually paralleling the elevator with a grey wall behind him and light/darkness alternately striping Aziraphale is the 'Aziraphale and God' scene in 1.03, setting up its sister elevator scene in 2.06, where Aziraphale realizes that he has been tempted by Satan and has fallen. (Ironically, a realization about having fallen that happens while going Up in an elevator.)

God: "Aziraphale. (dryly) Angel of the Eastern Gate. Where is the flaming sword I gave you, Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale, unintentionally foreshadowing the fuck out of the plot:

"...must have put it down here somewhere."

Yeah. 😉 Give 'em hell, Aziraphale.

Bonuses:

The awning of a new age/Dawning of a New Age joke. An understanding/a daybreak that begins a new era...

"Oh, listen, I think it's about to happen-- the 'awning' of a new age." Yes, indeed, Crowley. A dawning of a new age was imminent...

...and, finally, if you substitute 'Aziraphale' for his parallel of 'Job' in these sentences, Bildaddy summarized the season endgame quite nicely in 2.02:

#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #good omens 2 #good omens theory #aziracrow #good omens speculation #good omens clues #good omens analysis #good omens parallels #long post but worth it #tw suicide #tw depression

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cuprohastes · 1 year

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Visit strange new worlds and pet... Your co-workers

OK look: Allogrooming.

We'll pet anything. Big lizard? Lemme hold it. Fur? Oh god damn yes. Feathers? So burd, much stroke. Tiny octopus with blue rings or a highly toxic nudibranch? Lemme stroke it. Even people petting giant wads of gum.

[puts finger to erpiece] ... that was a cat!? It was pink! ... Hairless you say? mm-hmm... ohh, to shreds you say?

Anyway. I've seen my mother pick up: a decorator crab , a snake, a monitor lizard, and a skunk and pet them.

The skunk was a professional. He was down with it.

Anyway. Imagine the various aliens and their assigned Human (Who's there to carry stuff and do the Human Things), and one day the Geologist comes out and her fur is perfect, and everyone is like... wait there's a fur-stylist on base?

No, but if you let the Human pet you, they'll also groom you, trim your fur, and help you get your dye job right.

And slooowly people are just standing innocently near the Human looking all tactile and groomable, and hey you know humans only have limited amounts of hair?

Did you know they use it for display? Did you know they have thousands of years of cultural history of coming up with really cool decorations?

The relief crew shows up and the on-site team just breeze past with painted feathers, dyed fur, beaded hair, Celtic patterns shaved into their fuzz - as for that one Tsin, what they've had happen to their scales? They got offers. Like serious attention.

#Humans are space orcs #humans are weird #Pet the Geologist

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sv5hive · 1 month

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take a break | sv5

pairing: sebastian vettel x fem!reader

warning(s): unhealthy studying habits(?), self-doubt, academic failure etc, etc.

word count: 797

note: this is incredibly self indulgent bcos guess who failed their chemistry exam!!! hahahaha you guessed it it's me!! (if i don't laugh i'll cry.)

masterlist!

hours of staring at a bright computer screen in a pitch black room had clearly began taking its effects after the words began to warp and swirl around. a dozen empty cans of redbull sat at the bottom of your bin along with several scraps of paper you had torn apart in frustration.

you couldn't even remember when you sat down at your desk to study. all you knew was that you had an important exam the next day and you felt hopelessly unprepared. you tore your eyes away from the blinding screen to look outside your window. the moon shone through sparse clouds illuminating the desolate streets. usually, the roads were teeming with cars trying to get home but at this time of night you were the only one awake.

"schatz? what are you still doing up?"

in the midst of zoning out, you failed to hear your boyfriend entering through the door.

was it really that late?

"i'm almost done, seb. i just have to finish this little bit now."

"come on, how long have you been sat at that desk, hm? studying for hours on end does more bad than good."

"i know, i just- i'm almost finished i promise. this test is really important and i have to do well."

"hey, hey, what's wrong?"

he rushed over to you with furrowed brows and outstretched arms.

without even realising, tears had brimmed your eyes and began tumbling down your face at an alarming rate.

"nothing, it's nothing. uhm, i'll finish this and then i'll come to bed."

you hastily wiped away your tears with your sleeves but they seemed to be never ending.

"it's obviously not nothing, schatz. if it's making you cry like this it's something to talk about."

the seconds ticked by as you debated whether you were ready to reveal what had been plaguing your mind. clearly sensing your inner turmoil, sebastian tugged you out of the chair and towards the kitchen.

"come with me to the kitchen, i'll make us some tea so you can calm down."

after two cups of hot chamomile tea had been made and placed on the counter, sebastian sat opposite you and patiently waited for you to speak without pushing you. your tears slowed down to faint sniffles as you sipped on the tea silently. annoyingly, sebastian was right and it did help you compose yourself. you put down your half empty cup and cleared your throat.

"i've been struggling with my studies. there's just so much to remember and it just gets harder and harder to keep up but everyone else is fine and i don't understand why i'm the only one who can't do the simplest tasks."

at this point, it was difficult to see through your hot tears and your face was burning up with embarrassment. sebastian was quick to place his hand over yours to try and bring you some sense of comfort.

"schatz, you are the smartest person i know. if you're finding it difficult then you're probably not the only one. i'm sure everyone can see how much effort you're putting in and that's all anyone can ask of you. if you don't do well on the test tomorrow it's not the end of the world, ok? but i think you will be completely fine, im certain."

you nodded half-heartedly, not fully convinced despite his little pep talk. you rubbed any remaining tears away and attempted to put a smile on your face.

"yeah, sorry i just feel like an idiot dumping all this on you when you just got home from work. how was your day?"

he got up from his seat to encase you in his arms. he might not be able to help with your assignments but he could definitely be there to support you with anything and everything else.

"don't apologise for your feelings. i'm sorry i didn't realise you were having a hard time. i should've noticed you weren't coping well. and my day was good, thank you for asking."

you smiled into his chest at his heartfelt apology for something that was never his fault to begin with.

"don't be silly, seb. it's not your job to constantly watch me. i should be able to do that myself."

"i know you can take care of yourself but it doesn't hurt to ask for help sometimes. it might feel like you're alone but you're not. i'm always here for you, you know that right?"

he tightened his hold on you as if to reassure you further and peppered the crown of your head with soft kisses.

you leaned up to place a peck on his cheek to express your gratitude in a way you would never be able to do justice with words.

"yeah, i know."

#f1 x reader #f1 x you #sv5 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1 imagine #sebastian vettel one shot #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel fluff

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rafesapologist · 4 months

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the set up — rafe cameron; part seventeen

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

warnings: angst, swearing, drug use, emotional outbursts, reckless rafe, mentions of substance abuse

author's note: Y'ALL let me clear up some confusion on the last chapter!! please note that rafe and y/n are on a break (no not in a ross and rachel type of way) so i promise the plot line is not that y/n cheated don't stone me OK anyways please enjoy dont hate me i promise im not here to dissapoint u all xoxo

The cozy afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows of the chateau, casting a warm glow over the living room. JJ and you found yourselves immersed in the absurd drama of a mindless reality TV show, sharing laughter and lighthearted banter.

As the ridiculous antics of the show unfolded on the screen, your legs were comfortably propped up on JJ's lap. He sat beside you on the couch, a bag of M&M's resting between the two of you. The crinkling sound of the candy bag echoed in the room as you both indulged in the colorful treats.

With each shared chuckle, you felt a sense of normalcy and comfort in the midst of recent chaos. The camaraderie between you and JJ, the simple joy of laughter, and the sweet companionship made that quiet afternoon a welcomed respite from the challenges you both faced.

During the commercial break, you turned to JJ, your eyes meeting in the dim glow of the living room. The TV cast a soft flicker across your faces as you gathered the courage to broach the subject.

"Hey, JJ," you began, "I was thinking, with everything going on and me recovering, do you mind covering my shifts at the golf course for a while?"

JJ met your gaze with a warm smile. "Sure thing, Y/N. I've always wanted to be a bev cart guy." You chuckled at his response, appreciating the lighthearted moment amidst the challenges you were facing.

JJ couldn't help but feel a warm sense of satisfaction as he watched you laugh. The dim light of the TV reflected in your eyes, accentuating the joy that danced within them. The dimples that formed on the sides of your mouth made the moment even more enchanting for him.

In that lighthearted exchange, as laughter echoed in the chateau's living room, JJ felt a growing connection with you. It was a simple moment, but the intimacy of sharing laughter brought a sense of comfort and pleasure, making it a memory he cherished.

JJ cleared his throat, realizing the shift in the atmosphere after his lighthearted joke. He tried to regain composure by placing his hand on your thigh, attempting a casual move, but the unintended tension in the air made the situation awkward.

"Yeah, um," you responded, sitting up straighter as an awkward cough escaped. The playful moment took an unexpected turn, leaving a subtle discomfort that lingered between you and JJ, "thank you for doing this for me. You've made this process a lot easier." Your gaze remained on your lap, not wanting to acknowledge the longing look in JJ's eyes.

JJ nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Of course, Y/N. Anything for you," he replied, a genuine warmth in his voice. The acknowledgment of your appreciation made the air a bit lighter, but the unspoken tension still hung in the room.

JJ got up from the couch, stretching slightly. "Well, time to hit the golf course. Gotta keep those beverage carts in check, you know?" he said with a playful grin. You nodded, appreciating the levity he brought to the situation. "I'll be back later. Take it easy, okay?" JJ added, his eyes reflecting concern for your well-being.

JJ returned, the fabric of his golf course uniform emphasizing his athletic build. He flashed a charming smile at you, his dimples deepening as he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the top of your head. "I'll be back before you know it. Remember, call me if you need anything," he reassured you, his words carrying a genuine warmth that lingered in the air after he left.

"Thanks Jay." You flashed him a weak smile, a subtle hum in your response.

With a soft smile and a parting "Course," JJ headed out, leaving you to relax in the comfort of the chateau. The door closed with a gentle click, and you settled into the solitude, thoughts swirling as you contemplated the recent events and the uncertain path ahead.

Meanwhile, at the golf course, Rafe was trying to find some semblance of normalcy in the routine of hitting golf balls. Topper and Kelce joined him, bantering about their day and cracking jokes as they took turns at the driving range. The rhythmic thud of the golf balls echoed in the air, providing a temporary distraction for Rafe's restless mind.

Suddenly, Topper spoke up, snapping Rafe out of his focus on his swing, "No shit. Looks like Maybank is tagging in for your girl's job today."

Rafe looked up, somewhat surprised by the mention of your name. "Yeah, apparently," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the mix of emotions swirling within him. "She's probably taking some time off or something." The casual tone of his voice masked the turmoil he felt at the thought of you needing time away, especially after the events that transpired.

Topper chuckled, nudging Rafe with his elbow. "Guess you'll be seeing a lot more of her then, huh? Playing the knight in shining armor while she's on the mend?"

Rafe tried to shrug it off, taking another swing at the golf ball. "Just covering a shift, man. No big deal."

Kelce joined in, smirking. "Sure, Rafe, just a shift. We all know how protective you get when it comes to her."

Rafe's jaw tightened, a mix of irritation and guilt coursing through him. He tried to maintain his composure, hiding the internal struggle he was facing.

"Yeah, whatever," Rafe replied with a dismissive tone, forcing a nonchalant smirk. Despite his attempts to act unfazed, the mention of you stirred a swirl of conflicting emotions within him.

As they continued hitting balls, Rafe couldn't shake off the thought of you. He wondered what you were doing, how you were feeling. The weight of guilt lingered as he tried to focus on the golf game, his mind drifting back to the events that led to your hospitalization.

Topper chuckled, glancing at Rafe. "Maybe we should call over your new replacement. What do you think, Rafe?" he teased.

Rafe's grip on the golf club tightened, his jaw clenching for a moment. He shot a glare at Topper, his attempt at maintaining composure waning. "Shut up, Topper. Just focus on your swing."

Topper smirked, nudging Rafe with his elbow. "Come on, man. Let's call over the 'new bev cart girl' and see how well he handles the job."

Rafe shot Topper a sharp look, irritation evident in his eyes. "Leave it, Topper."

Kelce, sensing the tension, chimed in, "Alright, alright, no need to get all worked up."

Topper couldn't resist pushing further, calling out to JJ in a mocking tone, "Hey, Maybank! We heard you're taking over Y/N's job today. Guess you'll be delivering drinks and flirting with the kooks too."

JJ, annoyed by the insinuation, rolled his eyes and approached the group. "Give it a rest, Topper. Just trying to cover Y/N's shifts while she's recovering."

Topper chuckled, making a snarky comment, "Recovering, huh? Must've been a wild night for you two."

JJ's jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing at Topper. "Mind your own damn business, Topper. Y/N and I are just friends."

"Friends who share a lot of secrets, I bet," Topper teased, clearly enjoying getting under JJ's skin.

JJ couldn't hold back his irritation any longer. "You know, Topper, maybe if you focused on your swing as much as you focus on everyone else's business, you'd actually improve."

Rafe chuckled at JJ's retort, finding some amusement in the banter. The tension between them remained, but for now, the golf course banter served as a distraction from the more complicated emotions lingering beneath the surface.

Kelce stepped forward, shooting a warning look at Topper. "Dude, chill. Back off a bit."

JJ chuckled, enjoying the humor of the situation. He waved off the situation, deciding it was better to walk away than engage further. As he strolled away from the group, he couldn't help but notice the lingering tension, especially from Rafe.

As JJ walked away, the golf course seemed to echo with the tension between Rafe, Topper, and Kelce. Rafe's gaze lingered on JJ's retreating figure, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. The crisp sound of golf balls hitting the grass around them served as a stark contrast to the simmering emotions among the group.

Topper wore a mischievous grin, clearly reveling in the opportunity to stir the pot. He leaned in, taunting Rafe with remarks about JJ and you, trying to get a rise out of him. Kelce, sensing the tension, urged Topper to back off, but the damage was done.

Rafe's clenched fists betrayed the storm of jealousy raging inside him. The idea of someone else taking care of you when he believed it should have been him was a bitter pill to swallow. The golf course, once a place of leisure, now became a battleground for unresolved emotions and unspoken desires.

Rafe's temper boiled over like an erupting volcano. He flung his golf club with unrestrained force, the metal clattering as it hit the ground. In that explosive moment, his frustration and jealousy manifested in that single, violent action. Without a word, he stormed off the course, his steps heavy and purposeful, leaving behind a stunned Topper and Kelce.

The intensity of his reaction lingered in the air, a palpable tension that echoed through the golf course. Rafe's car door slammed shut, a resounding punctuation mark to the scene he left behind. The once serene atmosphere of the golf course now carried the weight of unspoken emotions and the consequences of a jealousy-fueled outburst.

"Fuck!" Rafe's voice exploded in a torrent of frustration as he hurled his golf club away, the metallic clatter blending with the ambient sounds of the golf course. In a seething rage, he stormed off the course, each step a declaration of his boiling anger. Reaching his car, he slammed the door shut and unleashed another curse, pounding his fist against the steering wheel. "Damn it!"

The air in the car became thick with tension as Rafe's frustration reached its peak. His knuckles turned white as he clenched the steering wheel, the metal groaning under the force of his grip. His breaths were heavy, each exhale carrying a hint of desperation and torment. The dimly lit interior of the car bore witness to the storm raging within him, the dashboard reflecting the twisted expressions that crossed his face – a turbulent sea of regret, jealousy, and self-loathing. In that moment, the weight of his actions pressed down on him like an unbearable burden, and tears streamed down his face, marking the depth of his turmoil.

The sounds of Rafe's anguished sobs reverberated through the confined space of the car, echoing the depths of his despair. His shoulders shook with the weight of his emotions as he laid his head on the steering wheel, seeking solace in the cold touch of the metal. Each sob was a painful admission of the havoc he had wreaked on his own life, a symphony of regret and sorrow that painted the interior of the car in the hues of his torment. The glow of the dashboard served as a silent witness to the unraveling of a soul burdened by its own choices, a heartbreaking melody played out in the confined solitude of the vehicle.

As Rafe's sobs subsided, leaving an eerie stillness in the air, he wiped away the remnants of his tears and took a deep breath. The realization of the damage he had inflicted upon his own life hung heavily in the air. Gathering his composure, he straightened up in the driver's seat, his face a canvas of emotional turmoil.

Later that night, at the chateau, you found solace in the comfort of your room, immersed in the chaotic world of Jersey Shore on your screen. The dim glow of the television cast a soft ambiance, providing a temporary escape from the recent tumultuous events. The familiar banter and antics of the reality TV cast served as a momentary distraction, allowing you to detach from the complications of your own reality. The room echoed with the scripted drama of the show, a stark contrast to the unscripted chaos that had unfolded in your life.

As the characters on the screen navigated their tumultuous relationships, you found a strange comfort in their exaggerated drama, the absurdity of their situations a welcome distraction. The rhythmic crunching of Cheez-Its provided a simple, satisfying soundtrack to the unfolding chaos on the television.

Wrapped in a cozy blanket, you allowed yourself to get lost in the antics of Snooki and the gang, temporarily forgetting the complexities awaiting you outside the fictional realm. The glow of the TV bathed the room in a warm, artificial light, creating a cocoon of familiarity and routine amid the recent upheaval.

Lost in the mindless entertainment, you relished this respite from the storm that had swept through your life, if only for a brief moment. The cheery, mindless laughter from the show mingled with the occasional rustle of the snack bag, forming a soothing backdrop to your solitary night of escapism.

The sudden buzz of your phone disrupted the faux-reality unfolding on the TV screen. You retrieved the device, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Rafe's name illuminated on the display. Uncertainty and a tinge of nervousness swept over you as you contemplated answering or letting it go to voicemail.

A million thoughts raced through your mind – the recent events, the hurtful incident, and the unresolved emotions that lingered in the air. You hesitated for a moment, the allure of a potential conversation with Rafe conflicting with the fear of reopening wounds. The room, once a haven of mindless entertainment, now felt charged with anticipation.

With a deep breath, you decided to answer, your thumb sliding across the screen to accept the call. The line connected, and you braced yourself for the unknown, unsure of what awaited you on the other end of the conversation.

"Hey," you greeted Rafe, your voice carrying a mix of hesitation and confusion.

"Y/N," Rafe's voice slurred on the other end, accompanied by the faint sounds of background chaos. The shakiness in his tone hinted at a state of inebriation, leaving you with a mixture of concern and discomfort. The unexpected turn of events added another layer of uncertainty to an already complex situation.

"What's going on?" you asked cautiously, your mind trying to decipher the situation through the limited cues in his voice.

"I messed up," Rafe admitted, his words heavy with regret. The disjointed nature of his speech suggested a lack of coherence, and you couldn't help but wonder how deeply his actions had affected him.

"I fucking miss you, Y/N," Rafe confessed, his words laced with a raw emotion that transcended the haze of his intoxicated state. As the sincerity in his voice resonated through the phone, you couldn't ignore the impact his admission had on you.

There was a momentary silence, only broken by the distant sounds of the party or gathering Rafe seemed to be in. It was a stark contrast to the weight of his words, creating a surreal atmosphere.

Rafe continued, his voice softer, "I messed up, and I… I just needed to hear your voice."

You could hear the vulnerability in his tone, and it stirred conflicting emotions within you. Despite the hurt he caused, the sincerity in his words touched a chord.

"Rafe, where are you? Are you okay?" Concern laced your voice, and you couldn't help but feel a mixture of worry and empathy for him.

Rafe took a moment before responding, the background noise suggesting he was in a lively and chaotic environment. "I'm at this stupid fucking party," he muttered, the disdain evident in his words. "I need you, y/n. It's killing me that I can't touch you or even see your face."

As he spoke, you couldn't ignore the tug of conflicting emotions within you. While his vulnerability struck a chord, the memories of the recent events and the pain he caused were still fresh in your mind.

"Rafe…" Your voice softened, a mixture of sympathy and caution evident as you spoke his name.

He interrupted you, the alcohol evident in his slurred speech. "Look, I-I know I fucked up. Big time. I don't know what to do." There was a rawness in his voice, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.

A heavy sigh escaped you as you processed his words. Despite the hurt he caused, you couldn't completely shut off the empathy you felt for someone clearly struggling. "Rafe, maybe you should go home and sleep it off. We can talk tomorrow when you're in a better state."

Rafe's response was a defeated murmur. "I just… I miss you so damn much."

The weight of his words hung in the air, leaving you torn between compassion and self-preservation.

Reluctantly, you agreed, deciding that making sure Rafe was safe took precedence over your own discomfort. "Okay, fine. Just… send me the address of where you are."

Rafe clumsily managed to type out the address in his inebriated state. As you received the message, you couldn't help but shake your head, a mix of frustration and concern settling in. After a moment's hesitation, you texted back, "Stay put. I'll be there soon."

Turning off the TV, you quickly changed into something more presentable, preparing yourself for a night that seemed to be taking unexpected turns.

Your footsteps echoed in the quiet night as you hurriedly made your way to the car. The cool evening air did little to ease the tension that wrapped around you. As you drove to the address Rafe had sent, a myriad of thoughts raced through your mind. The uncertainty of what you were about to walk into gnawed at you, but concern for Rafe propelled you forward.

The drive seemed to stretch on longer than usual, each passing streetlight casting shadows that mirrored the anxiety building within you. You arrived at the destination, a dimly lit area that seemed to amplify the weight of the situation. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for whatever lay ahead and stepped out of the car, determined to face the tumultuous night with Rafe.

The chaotic scene unfolded before you as you navigated through the rowdy crowd of inebriated teenagers. Their laughter and cheers mingled with the distant music, creating a dissonant backdrop to your urgent calls for Rafe. You scanned the front yard, searching for any sign of him, but the chaos made it challenging to discern individual faces.

The flickering glow of party lights illuminated the scene, casting an eerie ambiance on the gathering. Despite the lively atmosphere, an unsettling tension lingered in the air. Your calls for Rafe went unanswered, drowned out by the revelry around you. Determined, you pushed through the crowd, determined to find him and ensure he was safe amidst the chaos.

Your determination carried you through the dense crowd inside the house, the pulse of the music and the chatter of partygoers reverberating through the walls. As you pushed your way towards the living room, the energy of the crowd seemed to intensify. You soon reached the epicenter of attention, discovering a swirling mass of people encircling a couch and a coffee table.

A mixture of curiosity and anxiety fueled your movements as you elbowed your way to the front of the crowd, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening. The chaotic scene unfolded before your eyes, revealing a tableau of excess and debauchery. As the sea of bodies parted, you finally saw Rafe in the midst of it all, his eyes glassy and his demeanor far from composed. The weight of the situation settled heavily on your shoulders, and you knew that this night held unforeseen challenges.

A mix of shock, concern, and disappointment washed over you as you observed the scene unfolding before you. The group of girls surrounding Rafe seemed to revel in the chaos, cheering him on with enthusiasm that only fueled the reckless atmosphere. The sight of Rafe snorting a line of coke, his head tilting back as he inhaled the substance, left a bitter taste in your mouth.

As the crowd continued to revel in the spectacle, you felt a growing sense of urgency. The reality of Rafe's actions hit you, and you knew you couldn't stand idly by. Determination fueled your steps as you pushed through the onlookers, your focus solely on reaching Rafe and addressing the concerning situation at hand.

"Rafe? What the fuck is this?" Your voice cut through the chaos as you confronted Rafe, the intensity of the situation reflected in your expression. The cheers and laughter around you faded into the background as you locked eyes with him, demanding an explanation for the reckless scene playing out before you.

Rafe, seemingly caught off guard, looked up from the table, his eyes meeting yours. There was a moment of hesitation in his gaze, a mix of guilt and surprise. The atmosphere in the room shifted, tension hanging thick in the air as you awaited his response.

"Y/N," Rafe mumbled, his voice laced with a mixture of regret and the effects of the substances he had just taken. He absentmindedly wiped his nose, a visible sign of his actions.

The room fell into a momentary silence, broken only by the distant sounds of the party continuing in the background. Your eyes remained fixed on him, waiting for an explanation or any sign of recognition. The gravity of the situation sank in, and a mix of emotions swirled within you—anger, disappointment, and a twinge of concern for someone you once cared about deeply.

"Rafey, who is this?" One of the inebriated girls besides Rafe chimed in, much to your dismay.

Ignoring the girl, you locked eyes with Rafe, your expression a mix of confusion and frustration. "What the hell is going on, Rafe?"

He struggled to focus, his gaze flickering between you and the party unfolding around him. "I just wanted to forget, y/n. Forget everything," he slurred, the weight of his words punctuated by the chaos of the party.

The room continued to buzz with energy as the partygoers paid little attention to the unfolding drama. The atmosphere was tense, and you felt a whirlwind of emotions coursing through you.

"C'mon Rafe, we're leaving." You grabbed Rafe's arm, pulling him away from the crowd. The girls protested, but you ignored them, determined to get him out of this chaotic scene. Rafe stumbled as he followed you, his movements unsteady.

As you made your way through the crowded house, you couldn't help but feel a mix of disappointment and concern. You guided Rafe towards the door, eager to remove him from the toxic environment. The night had taken an unexpected turn, and you were left grappling with the reality of the situation.

Rafe ended up following you out to your car, stumbling as he tried to keep up with you. You opened the passenger door in an attempt to help him in, but before you could be successful with doing so, he stopped you.

"Y/N, wait," Rafe called out, his voice wavering.

You turned to look at him, your hand still on the car door, waiting for an explanation.

Rafe took a deep breath, his eyes filled with remorse. "I fucking miss you, and I hate knowing fucking JJ is the one who is taking care of you when it should be me," he admitted, his words hanging heavy in the air.

"I can't, Y/N," Rafe said, stopping you from closing the car door. His eyes were pleading, and his voice trembled with vulnerability. "I can't take care of you like he can. I messed everything up, and I don't deserve you."

You sighed, torn between frustration and concern. "Rafe, just get in the car. We can talk about this later," you urged, wanting to address the situation at hand first.

Rafe took a step back, rubbing his temples as if trying to push away a headache. "I messed up, Y/N. I messed up everything," he admitted, his voice strained. "I thought I could protect you and fix things, but I only made them worse. I can't compete with JJ. He's been there for you, taking care of you, and I… I just have to watch from afar."

You looked at him, seeing the pain in his eyes. Despite the turmoil of the situation, a part of you couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"Rafe, please," you pleaded, your voice a hushed whisper, "not here. Let's get you home, and we can talk about it later."

He nodded, still looking disoriented, and you managed to guide him into the car. The girls who had gathered around seemed disappointed, but you ignored their judgmental stares. You closed the car door, and as you got behind the wheel, you couldn't shake the feeling that things had taken a turn for the worse.

As you drove Rafe home, he sat silently in the passenger seat, occasionally letting out a quiet apology. The atmosphere in the car was heavy with tension, and you couldn't shake off the worry that had settled in your chest. The Rafe you knew was put-together and conscious of his image, replaced by this version consumed by substances and self-destruction. You kept stealing glances at him, the apology in his eyes mirroring the internal turmoil within you.

You arrived at the Cameron's home, the emptiness of the house mirroring the void you felt within yourself. Assisting Rafe out of the car, you couldn't shake the worry and frustration that had taken root in your mind. The place felt desolate, echoing the emptiness of the situation between you and Rafe. You had Rafe's arm draped over your shoulder, his incoherent murmurs echoing in the silent house. Each step felt like a heavy burden, a somber atmosphere surrounding you as you helped him inside.

"Alright Rafe, you're gonna have to help me get you up the stairs," You struggled to support Rafe's weight as you reached the foot of the staircase. His movements were sluggish, and you knew you needed his cooperation to navigate the stairs safely.

"Y/n," Rafe groaned, stumbling up the stairs, "you've ruined me."

You rolled your eyes, a mixture of annoyance and concern etching your expression. Guiding him up the stairs, you replied, "You've done a pretty good job of that yourself, Rafe."

Rafe's words slurred as he leaned against the wall, struggling to maintain his balance. "N-No, it's killing me without you here," he mumbled, his eyes glazed and unfocused.

You sighed, realizing the gravity of the situation. "Rafe, let's get you to bed. We can talk about everything tomorrow when you're sober."

With effort, you managed to guide him to his room. He collapsed onto the bed, his eyes heavy with intoxication. As you turned to leave, he weakly grabbed your hand.

"Don't leave, Y/n," he pleaded, his vulnerability piercing through the haze of substances.

You hesitated, torn between sympathy and frustration. "Rafe, you need to rest. We'll talk in the morning."

"Y/n, please stay," Rafe pleaded, his eyes filled with desperation. "I can't handle being alone right now. I need you."

You sighed, torn between your concern for him and the boundaries you had set. The night had taken unexpected turns, and you found yourself grappling with the aftermath of Rafe's emotional outburst.

"I'll stay for a little while," you relented, pulling a chair closer to his bed. "But we need to talk about everything, Rafe. Tomorrow, when you're sober."

He nodded, a mix of gratitude and sadness in his eyes as you settled in to keep watch over him through the night. "Will you at least lay with me?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of the implications, but eventually, you sighed and joined Rafe on the bed. He rested his head on your stomach, and you gently ran your fingers through his hair. The room was filled with a heavy silence, interrupted only by Rafe's soft breathing.

As you lay there, you couldn't help but reflect on the events of the day. The unexpected twists and turns had left you emotionally drained. The boundaries you had carefully set seemed to blur in the face of Rafe's vulnerability.

You decided that tomorrow would bring clarity, a chance to address the issues that had surfaced. For now, you focused on providing some comfort to Rafe, hoping that the morning light would bring a clearer perspective on the tangled emotions surrounding you both.

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