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ashthemadwriter-archived · 1 year

Text

"Either I'm insane or you were just masturbating in our living room"

"Open your mouth for me baby"

"Do you know what happens when you misbehave?"

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairing: Fyodor X Fem!Reader

Request: "HIIII I'm here for your September event ! God, I hope it's not too late and you'll take my request (and I hope you're having a good day). So I'll like 17, 1 and 5 with Fyodor. If it is possible a Fyodor... Not very nice, you know, a little psycho. OK it's weird, I hope you will accept T-T Have à great day !!" ◜By dear @concombre-2-mer ◞

Genre: Smut

Format: Fic

Warnings: Explicit smut, Porn with a plot, Orgasm denial, Yandere themes, Toxic relationship, Mean dom!Fyodor, Sub!Reader, French!Reader(Just pretend that you're French if you aren't lol), Lovesick!Reader,Heavy degrading, Praising, Slapping, Choking, Spitting, Dacryphilia, Fingering, Vaginal penetration, Pet names(Dear, Darling, etc), Name calling(Slut, whore, etc), Dirty talk, MDNI, Dark content dead dove do not eat

Word Count: 4.4K (I KNOW)

A/n: Ahhhh this took so long I am very, very sorry. Also, I hope I reach your expectations lol.

Fyodor Dostoevsky, a complicated, brilliant, dangerous man, with so many plans in his head.

You met him at a ball where your dad, the most powerful senator of France, was the host, and he was one of the VIP guests. The second your eyes caught a glimpse of the raven-haired man, your heart missed a beat. It wasn't just about his looks- although you could never overlook how attractive he was. It was the way he calmly witnessed everything and talked in a nice but also careful manner, or perhaps how he smiled elegantly while looking at other people blabbering, like he knew all their intentions inside out- which you found out later that he actually did; nothing can escape this mans sharp eyes.

Whatever the reason was, he had you fascinated by him from the very beginning.

You made the not-so-wise decision to approach him and start a casual conversation, which only made you more curious about this mysterious, fetching man. Your discussion that was supposed to be a short chit-chat lasted for hours, but it couldn't be any other way. You had the same interest, the same likes, the same taste in literature; it was nice having someone who understood what you were talking about and didn't look at their clock every ten seconds as company; nice, and rare.

When the party was over and Fyodor walked you to your room as the gentleman he was, he couldn't miss the hints of lust in your eyes, and how you were looking at him so desirably, hoping he would step inside the bedroom and spend the night with you; but all you got was a kiss goodbye on your cheek and a formal farewell.

That night you couldn't sleep. Between all the tossing and turnings, you thought about the ball. How you found the perfect guy, spent the whole event with him while others were laughing and drinking at the buffet, and how you got rejected in the end. Maybe he was just playing with you after all; just to get information about your father and to take advantage of you, like everybody else had done. He was never interested in you in the first place.

You were wrong.

Not about the information part. He did got the information he wanted through his intellectual methods and you carelessly gave it all away; but for the first time in his life, Fyodor found himself curious about someone, for reasons that weren't involved with his work. He didn't care about your father and his political status anymore, he wanted to know about you; which explained why your phone was ringing with an unknown number showing up on the screen the day after the event.

He asked you to give him a tour around the city and to accept his invitation to a lovely dinner as a thank you gift, and you accepted without giving it a second thought.

Nothing happened that night either.

You were frustrated. Everything was going great, he even smiled at your funny remarks a few times- actually, he was smiling the whole time, examining your expressions with a vague look on his face. But the second you arrived at your home, he was gone again, rejecting your offer to come inside for "a cup of coffee".

Who was this man? Why did he kept doing this? He was not someone you could read his mind easily, you had no idea what was going on through his head; all you knew was that you'd only known this man for two days, and you're already obsessed with him.

Given how many times he had humiliated you, it was stupid to accept his offer for another date the day after again, but you weren't really thinking anymore.

Just like that, you kept going on small dates with each other every night, and he kept refusing to come inside each time; but you were happy that you got to spend time with him; you could always open yourself on your fingers pretending that they're his afterwards. You could see a future for yourself with this man, living in a fancy house together. He would read to you when your head is on his lap, take a bubble bath with you in the bathtub, you could even get yourself a cat. A baby would be nice too, if Fyodor would be down for that...

Little did you know, you were digging yourself into a bottomless hole, which you'll never be getting out of.

Fyodor had the same thoughts as you.

You were so sweet, so kind and lovely. He liked it that you were actually smart, but lost all your senses when it came to him. You were sweetly stupid and it made his heart clench every time he had to drag his feet out of your alley to head back to his empty, cold apartment alone, but it was all part of his plan, and the only key to it was patience, because he needed to make you desperate, to the point that you would kneel and accept everything he tells you to, not needing to be told twice.

And it happened. You found yourself to be at Fyodor's beck and call, agreeing to his every word without putting much thought to it; Even when he asked you to run away with him.

You were skeptic of course; not enough to reject his offer, but you needed to hear him saying it was ok, it was the right thing to do. And he did, assuring you that your parents would never let you come with him if you tell them beforehand, that it's the only option you've got left and you will eventually visit them after a while.

How could you refuse when he was the one asking?

You didn't hear anything from your parents until a few days later, when the tragic accident of fire that had devoured the home of the great senator and the occupants alive got all over the news.

You haven't seen Fyodor for over one week.

Months have passed since the "accident" and your so called "get away", but things have gotten worse, if even changed slightly. You've been kept in a small apartment ever since, and haven't caught a glimpse of the sun for so long, not even through the windows.

Fyodor said it's for your own good, that people who killed your family are after your blood and you need to stay somewhere he can protect you, but you're not sure if sealing the windows are really related to that. You don't have a key to the apartment, even to the rooms; Fyodor has set many ground rules of things you should and should not do, and it's frustrating.

Your patience knows limits, and it might already be at it.

You're lying in front of the TV, with a bowl of ice cream in your hand, looking at some romantic movie in your own language. You watch the people laughing, dancing, making love, but the only thing you feel is one single emotion.

Envy

You're envious of other people. How they go on fancy dates and end up fucking in a public bathroom, while you haven't even kissed Fyodor yet. You don't have the faintest idea why he asked you to come with him in the first place. That's what Fyodor does to you, always keeping you in the dark and only coming back when he decides it's the right time.

Him, not you. Your opinion does not matter one single bit.

Sighing, you turn the TV off and put the empty bowl on the table. You're already way too depressed, you don't need to see other people's happiness and regret about your own choices.

But that's the problem. You don't regret anything. You don't regret taking Fyodor's hand when he offered you a dance at that part, you don't regret spending time with him and having wet dreams about him at nights, you don't regret agreeing to come to this place;

you even know that he was the one who slaughtered your entire family, but you decide not to think about anything other than him because sometimes, ignorance is a bliss.

As you lean back to the couch, you wonder where your boyfriend- if you can even refer to him as that, is right now. What might he be doing? Is he planning another murder? Is he on a date with another poor woman to manipulate her, use her and then just throw her away like she's worth nothing? Is he holding her hand and whispering sweet promises about the future to her?

Ah, you just remembered.

His hands.

Fyodor has long, skinny hands and stretched, pale fingers. You admire the way his veins lay bare under his skin when he holds a coffee mug or writes a letter. His nails are always cut shortly, exhibiting his smooth skin and how he takes care of them. His hands are cold, not at a shivering state but cold enough for you to offer him your gloves, or just hold them to warm them up.

God, you can't wait to hold his hands again, and to feel them inside you once he finally gets around to it.

Sliding your hand in your pants, you close your eyes and imagine how his fingers would curl up and massage your sweet spot, dragging pleasure outside of your cunt. Will he be gentle, taking his time, making love to you? Or is he the kind to be rough and would make you scream his name by the end of the night? It's your call, since this is all an illusion and he isn't actually here.

Fyodor hates masturbation. He told you that once you brought the topic up on one of your dates. He thinks that it's pathetic, useless, and offending to a person's partner, But Fyodor isn't here; it's only you and your pitiable moans filling the room.

You whisper his name as you scissor yourself open on fingers that are actually supposed to be his, but unfortunately, they're attached to the pathetic body of yours. Tears find their way out of the corner of your closed eyes, staining your cheeks, and you wish he was here to wipe them off your face, plant a kiss on your forehead and say how well you're doing for him.

I miss you so much, Fedya…

You feel getting closer to your orgasm as your fingers speed up, but the sensation isn't nice, not as much as it would be when he's the one helping you out; yet this is all you're going to get for now, so you shouldn't complain and just take it.

With a cry out of his name, you come. Arousal covers your fingers and you have no choice but to clean them up with your mouth. Your whole body stings and you just lie there, panting and half way through crying. What would he do if he was here? Would he scold you? Punish you? Or say something like...

"What are you doing?"

Until a few minutes ago, you thought that when he comes back, you'll jump into his arms, kiss his face over and over while telling him how much you've missed him, and that he should bring you along with him everywhere he goes; but now that he's actually here, you just want this to be a mirage.

It isn't.

You desperately open your eyes and tilt your head toward the doorway, only to look at the tall man standing there through your blurry vision.

Fyodor is as handsome and terrifying as ever. There's a bouquet of roses in his hand, and he's wearing his usual outfit, an Ushanka and a black cloak. Everything looks the same as ever, except for the look on his face.

You expect him to be angry, to shoot daggers your way; but through the violet shades of his penetrating eyes, you find another emotion; one that intimidates you more than his anger and sends shiver down your spin.

Disappointment.

You stay silent and keep staring at his figure with widened eyes. Fyodor doesn't scold you. After a few seconds, he slowly walks toward you and places the roses on the table, standing next to the couch.

"May I take a seat?"

You want the ground to swallow you whole.

"S-sure, do as you wish"

He calmly makes himself comfortable on the couch, while you nervously curl yourself up against your side. Feeling like you need to explain yourself, you want to say that it's not what it looks like, but you know you would only tie yourself up in knots. Besides, it's exactly what it looks like, and Fyodor isn't stupid.

With an expressionless face, he points at the flowers on the table.

"These are for you"

Roses are your favorite type of flowers. Sitting there with your legs crossed and your arms wrapped around your shins, you sense his thoughtful gesture to be a slap in the face. Guilt and fear makes your heart ache yet you don't have the guts to start crying again.

You didn't want him to come back. Not like this.

"Ah, thank you..."

He couldn't have heard you since you mumbled so quietly, but he's got sharp ears. You look unsure when you stretch your arms out to pick the flowers up, but when you sniff them, your face brightens up with delight.

"They are lovely"

"So, care to tell me why you were calling out for me like that?"

He's not going to let it slide, is he?

"Nothing. Where have you been?"

"Answering my question with another one? I see"

While you struggle to breath, he takes his Ushanka off and places it between you, and all you do is watching him carefully for a reason you're unaware of yourself, but he probably is, since he's a mine of information and knows every twist and turn of your brain.

"To answer your question, I could say I was tying up a few loose ends. But fill me in, dear; was I hallucinating earlier? Because, either I'm insane or you were just masturbating in our living room"

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but words seem to have been erased from your mind and your tongue doesn't roll in your mouth as it did before. When he doesn't hear a response, he flashes you a pitying look and shakes his head.

"No comeback? You're not even denying it"

How long was he standing there anyway? Was he there from the beginning? Because god, if he was then you don't want to face him ever again.

"You know dear, I thought that we should wait until we were in a better place; but if you're so eager... I shouldn't keep you waiting for so long"

Ah, what?

When he catches you staring at him, like you're unable to believe your ears, he merely smirks; standing up and taking the direction to your bedroom.

"Aren't you coming, sweetheart?"

"I'm... coming..."

You don't have a clue of what is going on, still, you've waited for this moment from the year dot; you won't be letting it pass this easily.

As you enter the bedroom, the sight of Fyodor taking his cloak off catches your eye. He takes a peek at you from the corner of his eye, only to find you standing next to the wall awkwardly.

"What are you waiting for? Get undressed"

"...Ok"

Stripping out of your clothes, you feel slightly embarrassed when your whole body is exposed to him for the first time, and his eyes scanning you up and down are not exactly helping.

Fyodor pauses a little, like he wants to say something but he's not sure if he should; then looks you in the eye.

"Get on the bed"

You obediently listen to his demand and lie down on the bed, getting excited when he follows you to hover on top of you. He gently cup your cheek with his hand, and cracks a smile.

"I don't think I've ever told you how pretty your eyes are, Darling"

You blush at his sincere comment that gives you enough courage to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down a little so that your lips are only inches apart. The idea of you initiating the kiss doesn't even cross your mind; Fyodor is the one in charge and he has to have control over everything. Thankfully, he's kind enough to not push you away this time, playing along by attaching his lips to yours, kissing you passionately. And you kiss him back with so much desire and longing, like you did every night before going to sleep in your imaginations. You won't be doing that anymore, now that you have the real thing.

Not only Fyodor doesn't stop you when he senses your hands on his body, trying to unbutton his shirt, he even helps you out with some of them. You smile into the kiss when you feel a certain "something" pressing against your core, which doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"You sure get cocky, But I don't blame you dear; you certainly taste nice"

"Mhm... Touch me more, Fedya"

The mans face breaks into a mischievous grin. He places his hand on your collarbone, lightly rubbing it with his thumb.

"You want me to touch you more, Darling? Where do you want me to touch you?"

His hand roams down on your body, until it reaches to your boobs, And cups one of them.

"Here? or..."

You let his limb wander on your body, thrill taking over you as you anticipate where its destination might be. A soft moan skips your lips when he finally cups your womanhood, fingers teasing your clit.

"Maybe here? Hmm?"

"Fedya…"

"Yes, honey?"

You look at him with plead through your dewy eyes.

"Stop teasing and just give it to me, ok? I've been waiting for so long..."

Fyodor briefly examines your face and his small slowly fades away. You feel shaken by his sudden change of mood, wondering if you said something wrong.

"I will; but, do you think you deserve to be touched? You looked like you were having so much fun with your own hands back then"

As his gaze pierce through your soul, you find yourself to be in dire straits. Despite the position you're currently in, you know you should rack your brain and say something acceptable, or else you won't see the light at the end of the tunnel, or even tomorrow anymore.

"I'm... Really sorry about that... I guess I was just under so much pressure, you looked like you weren't attracted to me and you were gone for a quite amount of time... But It won't happen again, You have my word. I really am sorry"

As you wait for him to react to your genuine confession, his stare becomes more gentle, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.

"I know you are Darling, I know you are"

His fingers lightly rub circles on your clit to make your mind go numb while he deeps his face in the place between the pillow and your ear, making you shiver every time his lips brush against your earlobe.

"Tell me y/n; which feels better? My hand or yours?"

You choke a moan out as his digits slide inside with the help of the arousal from your lewd activity earlier. They are longer than your fingers; longer, professional, and more importantly, they belong to him.

"Y-yours of course, Fedya"

"Good girl. That's what I thought"

Fyodor doesn't hurry anything. His moves are calculated, and with each shove, his fingertips hit just the right spot. As you whine and hold him closer, you think about something more exciting. When he can make you feel this good only using his fingers, god helps you when he unzips his pants and opens you up on his probably lengthy cock...

Which makes you brave enough to ask him, because if he fingers you for a little longer, you'll probably come and the chance to make him feel good will slip away from your hands.

"Fedya honey..."

"What is it, Love?"

"I need to feel you inside me"

His smile looks dazzling.

"Aren't I already inside you, dearest?"

"You know what I mean!"

Pulling his fingers out, you almost regret asking him to do so, but you try to comfort yourself since he's gonna stuff you with something better and you won't be feeling empty for long.

"Alright then; but first, open your mouth for me baby"

Deeming he probably wants to clean his digits up, you part your lips to help him out, but instead of fingers, he leans closer and abruptly spits in your mouth. You're stunned, but you still swallow it down your throat under the proud look in his eyes.

"So perfect for me, Myshka. Now, lie down and relax. Let me handle things from this point"

As if he wasn't already.

You can't believe your eyes when he uncovers his member from his pants. It's not the thickest cock, but the length is definitely quite something.

Fyodor smirks as he catches you staring. He adjusts himself on your entrance and casts an eye on your expression.

"Does my darling like what she sees?"

"Yeah..."

"I bet you'll like it more when I'm fucking your cunt"

Yeah, no shit.

With a bright groan, he pushes himself into your hole. Your pussy is slick enough to devour his dick, but also tight enough to send pleasure his way. He has a breather before thrusting in and out you, find the steady rhythm and the perfect place to hit inside, making your eyes roll at the back of your head.

While Fyodor does everything, holds you in place, sucks hickeys on your neck and rubs your right nipple with his fingers, all you do is whine, hug him tightly and hover your legs over his back. You would've felt disturbed by how cold his body was; but you don't feel troubled, not even the slightest bit. There is no way you would feel like that when he makes you feel so warm inside. Its not just about fucking- it's about him, coming back to you, to understand the pain you went through, and make the most memorable night as a reunion. In this cold bed, you find your body and your heart getting warmed up by this Russian man's love and affection.

Fyodor fastens his pace at plunging in your pussy, meanwhile his tongue rolls around on the sensitive spot on your neck. It's unbelievable how he knows your body like the back of his hand while this is the first time he gets to lay a hand on you. You don't know whether to moan at his cock pounding inside your tight cunt, or at how he doesn't stop marking you up as his belonging.

"A-ah... Fedya… I'm getting close..."

"I can feel it, love. C'mon darling, Come for me. Show me how much you like it when I make love to you"

His praises send you over the edge. You feel so close, this unholy feeling is so addictive and you never wanna let go. Your body is firing up, you start shaking and you're only a little away from your release; which you'll surely get there soon, with Fyodor whispering sweet things in your ear.

"You're doing so good, Milaya…"

"So pretty for me, sweetness"

"Come for me, baby"

"Come for me, beautiful"

"Come for me"

You are literally on the verge of breaking apart on his cock, one second away from releasing all over him and make a mess out of his lower abdomen. You close your eyes and ready to feel the orgasm wash over your stress and sorrow and make you complete again; but in a split second, you feel a tremendous amount of pain, due to the sudden emptiness of your hole.

You feel miserable when Fyodor's length leaves your orgasm undone, and when you open your eyes to know the reason, you're met with the emotion you were searching for not so long ago.

There's the anger and daggers he was saving from your stare, to let them appear at the right time.

Now.

"Do you think you deserve to come, y/n?"

All the warmth you were feeling a while ago, all the heat and certainty was gone; now it's only fear and pain, germinating in your heart, making your chest ache.

His look is dangerous. It's not just anger. It's everything. Fury, disappointment, disgust. For the first time since you met Fyodor, you feel so scared, to your fingertips.

His grip around your throat snaps you back into reality.

"I'm talking to you, slut. Do you think you deserve to come? After what you were doing on my couch, shamelessly touching yourself like some common whore?"

You don't say anything. You can't. You can't even breath. You can't even if he let's go of your throat. You just want to die.

"Ungrateful little bitch. You're so full of yourself. So needy and pathetic. It grosses me out. What do you want me to do? To treat you like the princess you are? To turn a blind eye to your scandalous behavior and make your every wish come true? You think you're still in your daddy's house?"

"N- no- no- I- no-"

His hand finally let's go of your throat, but just as you're about to gasp for breath, his palm lands on your cheek.

"Don't talk back to me. I didn't give you permission to talk yet"

You only stare at him with disbelief, unaware of the tears that have been falling from your eyes from the moment his attitude changed.

It was never about you.

Never about affirming you.

Never about comforting you.

From the very first moment Fyodor set foot in the house, he came to torture you.

"Do you know what happens when you misbehave, precious?"

He knew what you were doing. He has always known.

And yet, you love him with every inch of your soul. With every breath coming out of your lungs.

"Worthless woman. I should throw you out in the streets, where you belong to. You'll die eventually, if some guy doesn't rip your throat apart. Is that what you want, woman? You want freedom? Help yourself! Get out of my sight and never come back again"

"No! I'm sorry! I won't ever do that again! I promise- !- Please! Please- I swear- Please believe me, Fedya!"

Another slap, landing on your other cheek.

"Don't say my name with that filthy, disgusting mouth of yours. Know your place"

You don't say anything anymore. As he keeps stabbing you with heartbreaking words, you only sob and bite your bottom lip so that your whimpers wouldn't interrupt him.

Fyodor looks at your pathetic state, and clicks his tongue. He gets up and picks his clothes from the ground, shooting a warning glare at you.

"Now, I want to see you try to masturbate again"

And with that, he leaves you in the bed, shattered into pieces.

It will never be about you,

And you hate yourself for not hating this, until the day you die.

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devondespresso · 10 months

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FINALLY

after NINE. HOURS. (NOT including meals and sleep) ITS FUCKING DONE.

A complete floorplan of the entire Harrington house. Including too much thought about random, throw-away lines from characters and squint-to-see-it background glimpses inside.

plently of stuff in the actual house is altered or straight up ignored in favor of following the fiction logic and because I Wanted To. A lot of this is motivated by my headcanons for the Harringtons and how I'm writing them in my fic, but I'm also certainly not an architect so it's by no means perfect. It is, however, unreasonably canon compliant in the few bits we do see.

Thought Process (for context):

the darker shaded floor areas are lower than the rest, some bits like the garages having stairs and some areas like the sun and dining rooms list being like a step lower. Windows are marked with dashes along the outside, sliding doors are two thin lines slightly overlapping, stairs change color as they diverge from the level we're looking at, and furniture is eyeballed so don't look to closely a the scale.

not all closets are labeled, just the ones i figured could be confusing. Steve and the guest rooms have closets i promise.

the laundry room and pantry are not the same size but by the time i noticed i was exhausted. so pretend they're both more reasonably sized.

i don't know what the floorplan symbol for garage door is and then i forgot to look so the headlights point to where the doors are and you can see them clearly in photos so yeah.

The general layout is based on the idea that the Harringtons are or were into hosting dinner parties and business meetings in their home, especially as a young rich couple looking for respect in their circles (Mr. Harrington taking on his father's business and reinforcing that power, Mrs. Harrington climbing her own social ladder and building an image).

So the house is laid out with hosting areas towards the right with the office big and near the dining room because it's more than just a workplace, it represents him as a businessman. In canon the entryway and living room both have very high ceilings and no second-floor above them, so I'd imagine they're also aware of how the top floor looks from below, hence the fancy double/french doors to the master bedroom which is in plain view from below. Steve's room and the guest room are's nearly as visible.

As for the kitchen and sun/pool rooms, I see them more as secondary hosting areas that aren't used as the main location most of the time and are more this background setting to these events that still feel rich. The kitchen is massive and mostly for dinner-parties and Mrs. Harrington's social events.

The kitchen and main bathroom's placement is based on a line Steve said to Barb giving her directions to the bathroom: "down past the kitchen, to the left". With the massive living room on the left and wanting to keep the dining and office close by, i interpreted the "to the left" part being like "find the kitchen, then turn left". And with the rest of the area being open-concept, the bathroom would be the only normal door over there and easy to find. it's a bit of a stretch with just that line, but it makes sense to me with the rest of the context for the layout.

the basement is similar to this, though not as openly displayed so I imagine its for slightly closer friends. Theres a garage door down there so I figured Mr. Harrington might have a cool car he shows off, like he's letting people in on a personal detail about himself. There's also a guest room down there (the only one still considered 100% for guests, more on that later) for those people.

beside the basement garage, there was originally one main garage that holds two cars, obvious Mr. and Mrs. Harrington's cars. I imagine they bought the house before having kids, so a third one wasn't on the mind but after having Steve they added the front one (either turning the carport into a closed garage or they never had a carport and added a whole new addition, up to you)

Both garages lead to the same part of the house, and that area is the only one besides the water heater room that is purely function over effect. It still looks good like the rest of the house but it's not made to be fancy because guests would rarely need to be over there if at all and it's not noteworthy from other parts of the house.

In my headcanon, Steve's room used to be a guest room, staying his room from nursery to present with Mrs. Harrington renovating every now and then. Its one of those places in the house that doesn't have to look perfect for all to see, so she gets creative and has fun with it.

The upstairs guest room is also unofficially Mrs. Harrington's room, based on a line where Tommy mentions a fireplace in "his mom's room" instead of "guest room" or "parent's room" or "master bedroom". I belatedly realized this could be a solidarity thing with Steve hating his dad and calling the master bedroom his mom's room, but that was after 9 hours of this and im not changing it but there you go. In this version, I imagine she leaves the master some nights because her marriage with Mr. Harrington is failing (cheating and all, I wouldn't want to be in the same bed with someone who cheated either)

the master bathroom was an executive decision, just looking at the house in canon and not having enough space in my first attempts, i decided the triangle roof part above the dining and office could fit a master bathroom.

Feel free to use or reference this in your own fics! Feel free to block out my furniture or walls and make your own version. If you share my image please credit with an @ mention!! (again, 9 hours) (thank you fhalsfhd)

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doberbutts · 3 months

Note

(Some other guy entirely here) I do think there's not much of a reason to be so against the terms tma/tme though, and I don't really understand why some people are? Like, in the same way we want a word to describe our experiences so do transfems, and while I do believe that all trans people are affected by transphobia and misogyny, it's obviously also true that we're affected by it differently depending on how we present, cause otherwise we'd all be satisfied with just the term transphobia (not saying anything new here so far)

So, since it just so happened that the term transmisogyny was coined to mean specifically the oppression transfems face (regardless of what anyone might feel on the matter, that is what it means in practice), what's really so wrong with having terminology to specify whether you're affected by it or not in online discussions of specifically transmisogyny? I'd think that would be relevant enough information, and you're not obligated to share it unless you want to.

I think what's really bothering a lot of people is that these terms exist for half of our community but there's no acceptable equivalent for the other half, and there's constant backlash against attempts to fill that void in the language. But that's not the fault of anyone who advocates for the use of tme/tma, or rather, they are separate issues that I don't believe should be conflated even if the proponents of tme/tma are the same people who are against specific terms for transmasc oppression.

When we do this, from the pov of trans women we are the ones rejecting their terminology and trying to silence them when they talk about their discrimination, and since we know exactly how that feels, I think we as a community should take a step back on the matter and just let it be.

Just because we feel dismissed when it comes to a similar matter doesn't mean we should dismiss in turn.

Not that anyone needs my permission or anything for this but:

I don't really have any problem with the words transmisogyny or trans-misogyny, as I think they are valuable labels to discuss a specific intersection of transphobia and misogyny.

I am not sure I necessarily have a problem with the terms TMA or TME themselves, outside of that I think it is not possible to be exempt from oppression because it will apply to you even if the label itself is wrong. This is also how hate crime and discrimination law works in this country- it is both your label and what the offender thinks of you, not just one or the other.

In other words, the guy who screamed at me about how I'm a Mexican is incorrect because I'm not Mexican, but it is still considered to be discrimination against Mexicans because it was his hatred of Mexicans that fueled the attack. It doesn't mean that actual Mexicans aren't the actual targets or this, but it does mean that it's not possible for me to be exempt from anti-Mexican sentiment. It doesn't mean that hatred of Mexicans doesn't exist, it does mean that if I want to stop getting screamed at for saying non-English words while visibly brown (I said pate, which is FRENCH and not Spanish, in reference to a can of dog food he was buying), then I need to ally myself with Mexicans and see what I can do to help decrease this hatred of Mexicans within my country.

What I do have a problem with is how these words are used and applied.

Caster Semenya is a "TME" intersex woman who was caught by transmisogynist Olympic rulings intended to hurt trans women, and to this day is still not recognized as a woman. How is this exempt from transmisogyny? She is literally being affected by transmisogyny- and interphobia, and misogynoir, and lesbophobia. And there are more examples than that, but this will already be a long enough post.

Moreover, I'm finding a lot of hypocrisy in the theory itself, labeling certain instances of oppression as things only TMA people experience and then refusing to listen when TME people say that they experience it too. I don't really care what or how people talk about their own experiences, but I do think it's a little ridiculous to be told that someone else who is not me can tell me what I experience better than I can. And then refuse to listen when I say that I have felt the hurts they're saying don't apply to me.

If TMA/TME had stayed within the limits you've set, being about descriptors of your own personal experience rather than trying to apply theory to entire demographics in a way that very little other theorycrafting does, I wouldn't have cared. Unfortunately that's not how it's being used and I don't like that.

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deeply-embarrassing · 11 days

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Over-analyzing Shauna's teenage room

Set design has a ton of purpose on yj so let's go! A messy bedroom for a very messy girl!

So first and foremost, of course, the jackieshauna of it all.

• The wallpaper: it's full of poppies, Jackie's favorite flowers. Jackie was the wallpaper of Shauna's entire life, surrounding her. Despite being a very obnoxious wallpaper, which might be to the taste of a child but not of most teenagers, Shauna hadn't redecorated. Shauna seemed to be allowed to do whatever she wanted with her space, so it's interesting that she kept this wallpaper. But also, poppies might have become Jackie's favorite flowers just because they were in Shauna's room. So who started the poppies thing? Where do Jackie and Shauna end and begin...

• Diverse posters taking up a lot of space: Shauna's trying to cover this wallpaper, aka to build her own identity, to express herself. And if Jackie didn't start the whole poppies thing, then it's just Shauna baring her soul to the world. It contrasts with the mostly neutral decorations in Shauna's future house: though many items have hidden meaning, it's all very symbolic and rather discrete.

• The pictures of Jackie / herself with Jackie: it's neat that the large majority of these pictures are on her mirror. These are what Shauna saw each morning: she saw not only herself, but also Jackie, and herself next to Jackie. (And I mean, the shots of Shauna's mirror only showed Jackie's reflection... The identity issues...)

Overall, Shauna seemed to enjoy/need visual reminders of who and what she loves. She put up several pictures of herself, too. A lot changed later on.

• The conjoined marmots (?) facing away from each other: codependency, toxicity, jackieshauna

• Dancers at the Barre by Degas: there's a similar poster in Jackie's bedroom, which I didn't manage to identify!

At first, it's a bit disturbing that Shauna's poster featured two dancers (despite how lonely she felt), while Jackie's only portrayed one (despite perceiving "herself and Shauna" as an inseperable item). It feels as though it should be the other way around. But these aren't something you'd put up as teenagers! They were bought as children, with/by their parents. So, to me, these don't inform us about Jackie and Shauna's relationship, but about the environment they grew up in, and the people they were encouraged to be.

Child Shauna could clearly express herself, her interests, her friendships. Her family couldn't buy an expensive frame, or/and considered that nothing about her had to be set in stone. Meanwhile, child Jackie was meant to be a lonely, pretty performer enclosed in glass. Everything in her room was in order, expensive and perfect. So false and lonely.

• Which leads to Shauna's blurry, blink-and-you'll-miss-it "performance between two dancers" poster: no words, especially if you consider the posters above?? Both dancers are clearly wearing the same blue tutus, they're most probably female dancers, but it's unclear whether they're embracing, kissing, or just dancing together. Very blatant homoeroticism, but so easy to miss, only seen behind Jackie. I haven't managed to find the original art, please please please hit me up if you did!!

• Which now brings me to the large amount of rainbow stuff: homosexuality.

However, displaying such obviously gay items (including the poster just above) isn't something a closeted teen would do. It reinforces my belief that Shauna truly thought she was straight. Still, these were meant to make us wonder about Shauna's sexuality: the scarf is hard to miss, even for a casual viewer. Maybe it was a misdirect, maybe it wasn't.

• Le Frou-Frou by Lucien-Henri Weil: only quickly seen behind jackie (!!), it's the cover of french naughty humor magazine, considered to be one of the most seductive posters ever. Why put up a poster of a mysterious seductress? Because it's edgy? Because you want to be her? Because it attracted the eye For Some Mysterious Reason? A mix of it all?

• The last jackieshauna straw: this bedroom looks almost exactly like the cabin's attic, which will become Shauna's new wilderness bedroom. By itself, it's interesting, the attic felt like home.

But also... Do you know who'll lose her virginity in the cabin's attic, on Shauna's bedroll? And do you see this shot? Insane.

Then, Shauna sure was an angsty teen with a rather rich inner life she liked to display:

• Shauna draws (part 1), The Eyes: this drawing (which is most probably hers, our creative queen) really adds a lot to her pre-crash self!

It focuses on perception. Eyes turning into teeth is crazy, Shauna already linked looking/being looked with consumption, which can have many interpretations (her codependency with Jackie, her destructive relationship with Jeff, how she perceived relationships in general...). Of coure it foreshadows cannibalism, and perhaps how she'll be observed and analyzed by the world after the rescue, "a celebrity" who never asked for it. And the whole painting might also be foreshadowing future psychosis, misshapen people watching Shauna, even in her own bedroom.

• Shauna draws (part 2), The Anatomical (?) drawing: It very much reminds me a vague drawing you'd find in anatomy books, representing a digestive system? There's the lower vena cava, the stomach on its right, maybe the gastro-omental artery underneath the stomach, and the spleen on its right (which shape ressembles more of a heart, though). It's very inaccurate, especially if she drew a heart, but that's not the point. Hunger and consumption and maybe love! The butcher and human anatomy!

(Or maybe it's not meant to represent much, but I'm having such a hard time believing that, considering how consistent/purposeful Shauna's entire bedroom seems.)

• Religious items/imagery: a prayer for the Virgin Mary (if I speak...), a priest, an angel helping out the desperate, a temple, and the representation of some form of meditation. Finding comfort, peace or/and meaning through religion/spirituality already appealed to our future cult member. These make Shauna's back-and-forth relationship with spirituality even more interesting.

• The pic of the Santa Monica pier + the "Azia, Live in London" poster : the poster isn't from anything, it's a prop poster. It's all about her ambition to leave, to travel abroad (and about Shauna being so fucking cool with her cool posters of cool, obscure bands).

Also, the poster includes religious imagery, a cross!

• Reality Bites (1993) movie poster: a documentary following, among other storylines, the life of a disenchanted woman stuck in a shitty job despite graduating at the top of her class. She's also trapped... in a love triangle... do I need to elaborate....

• "Between Us... The Bleds" poster: prop poster. Between them, there's blood. Skull, woman laughing. Okay Shauna :D Aside from the angsty vibe this prop gives Shauna, it's clearly the show kinda fucking with us. Between Shauna and the world, there's the taste and feeling of blood, which lingers for the rest of her life.

• Many books, CDs, and band posters: overall, it's a mix of popular (like the huge Nirvana poster) and obscure references (prop posters serve as "obscure references"). It gives her this deep, angsty and mysterious vibe while still being "like any teenage girl".

• FUCK YOU : FUCK YOU.

Finally, a few other interesting details:

• The bunny: Either Shauna liked rabbits, either it's just there, some decoration you get as a child and then simply stays there until you move out. Of course it foreshadows all the symbolism regarding rabbits. The possibility that Shauna might have liked rabbits before the crash wrecks my brain though.

• Dazed and Confused (1993) movie poster: it's about the unforgottable last days at school, which the characters struggle to remember... Yeah, you could say that!

• She's a soccer champion: for someone who claimed not to enjoy soccer, she sure displayed a lot of items related to it! Or maybe she wasn't lying, and I'm not sure which option is worse.

=> TL;DR: just through set design, we can see that Shauna was a rather artistic soccer champion, allowed to express herself and having much to say. That she might have been in love with her codependent bestie, might have been struggling with interpersonal relationships, and was already prone to identity crises, sometimes turning to faith. Among other things. Everyone say thank you to the Yellowjackets set designers!

#nurse he's out again!! before you ask no im not okay and yes i have a job #yellowjackets #yellowjackets meta #shauna shipman #jackieshauna #had to fight tumblr's limit of 30 pics for this one... you wont silence me #didn't mention everything but these are the Main Elements to me

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greensun · 10 months

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THE BIG QSMPSTUCK LOREDUMP AKA: I finally get to do all the lorebabble I wanted to do.

EDIT (11/1/2023): THIS VERSION IS NOW OUT OF DATE AND DOES NOT INCLUDE THE PEOPLE IN THE ICE CUBES. I AM CURRENTLY REWORKING PARTS OF THIS BUT MOST SHOULD STAY THE SAME FOR THE NEW POSTS SANS BAGHERA, KAMETO, AND DANTDM'S CLASSPECTS! LOOK FORWARD TO UPDATED POSTS IN THE FUTURE.

SOME NOTES: 1. I have a very specific version of qsmpstuck going on with my art I make that I made with a group of friends (thanks Slimercord!) 2. There are other people who made other classpects and takes on QSMP characters that are more character based, mine is not that case, it looks at how QSMP as a whole would work as a full sburb session, and balancing how many people would be on each aspect or class to carry that motif of Homestuck's balancing/equal duality theme. This means I am looking at and using Classpects as a narrative & plot device, not necessarily a personality test like how someone would classpect a real person (This is how the Extended Zodiac works, and why I choose to ignore it for character classpecting. It works great for classpecting real life people though, so by all means you can use the EZ for you and your friends!). 3. AND WITH THAT! It means two people per aspect and and class, with the exception of space and time having three people, and knights and heirs having three people. 4. FAIR WARNING: IF YOU HAVE NEVER READ HOMESTUCK, THERE IS LOTS OF DEATH IN IT, WITH LOTS OF RESURRECTIONS. I WILL BE DISCUSSING DEATH IN A VERY JOKING MANNER HERE! 5. For posterity in case things change in the future: This post was made August 2nd 2023, after the French were added, and right before the Election arc finished. I'm sure if I came back to this after QSMP is over my classpecting would be different. (Updated August 20, 2023)

I'll add this again at the bottom but if you want more of my notes and thought processes or just more qsmpstuck in general here's the link to my tag for all qsmpstuck on this blog, and here's the link to all qsmpstuck on my regular mcyt blog. (my regular blog includes other people's qsmpstuck takes & reblogs however! But every classpect analysis I reblogged in there w/ an anonymous ask sent to the OP was me on anon lol)

HERE WE GO! The big ol google doc sheet I had to make for this. Every note on that godtier order list is how we decided the character would godtier, and we still aren't even technically done! I have so much information built up for this AU I am not sure I could include all of it in this post.

CLASSPECTS

Anyway, in terms of classpects, the way we went about deciding was 1. Finding symbolic meanings we felt fit the characters best 2. If the classpect was funny and had a fun double entendre to the character 3. If we really struggled, we went and picked up Dahni Witch of Light's classpect analyses and found which class fit a character best within an aspect we had a vague idea of. I find Dahni's analyses to be the best at classpecting non-homestuck characters with, because they give enough leeway in interpretation and are somewhat broad, while still applying as a fictional character's story arc, rather than solely a personality test. We also basically ignored most classpect's assigned "role" concept thingy, they were too nebulous in meaning to help much, with the only ones we kept being Sylphs are the passive creation class with Maids as the active creation class, and then Bards are passive destruction, Princes are active destruction.

AND NOW BACK TO THE CUBES YOU CARE ABOUT: As stated before, we did lay it out so we (mostly) only had two per aspect and class, to get that true fan session balancing spirit. Space/time and knight/heir are the only ones with three members. Here's how the outfits look!

My favorites here & their reasonings are: - Etoiles: Sylph of Blood - We all agreed him getting a classpect that is at least somewhat silly would be fitting, but all immediately came to the conclusion that he would hands down be a blood player. From his love of fighting, and the way he goes about befriending everyone he meets to help them, he's just so blood player. To balance out our initial silly classpecting idea, we made him a Sylph! It fits, like, really well! He creates friendship, he helps people, like. What more could you want from a classpect for him. - Mariana: Maid of Doom - I sent these two asks to this other person about this and liked their reasonings lol. - Spreen: Prince of Breath - Look I'm a Spreengirl I think he would play a great active destruction class and he takes away other's freedom (in minecraft). He kills people. He's just so Prince to me. It's really funny. - BBH: Knight of Life - Do you know how funny it is to take a guy who's whole thing is that he's like entirely black and red themed and put him in the burlap sack outfit. Also Knight & Space player frog breeding combo. He's working with Foolish on those frogs. - Foolish: Page of Space - This guy is the ultimate builder of all time ever. He was hands down the easiest to look at and go Oh he is THE space player here. - Fit: Prince of Space - Y'know 2b2t and hacked clients and griefing people? Prince of Space. Plus since he's a space player, soooo - Philza: Knight of Rage - Another great Space & Knight combo. This guy is such a hater on QSMP (positive) he doubts easily distrusts whenever necessary. Such a rage player. - Missa: Bard of Time - Missa is really failgirl I know quite a few people haven't like... watched much of his MC stuff. However you should check out when he had to be placed in a box to fish by himself so he wouldn't die a third time in Minecraft Extremo. He's a perfect Bard, and then he does music. Great set up for a Time player. Wouldn't want it any other way. - Antoine: Seer of Void - truly. Truly. A guy I looked at for two minutes and immediately knew what classpect he needed. That scene where he just like lightly questioned Cellbit after he escaped the federation and it made Cellbit so nervous he started just saying things that made him look way more nervous than necessary? Core Antoine moment for me. The fact he has a basement filled with so much writing on every candidate? The fact he hides his true face so much? We don't even know what's going on there? Void Player. Seer. So fitting it's beautiful to me. - Felps: Maid of Breath - Look, breath is THE aspect of freedom and doing what you want at your own pace. I think I would be committing a cardinal sin if I DIDN'T make Felps a breath player. - Tazercraft: Witch of Doom & Page of Time - They get to do a fucked up glitch timeloop. With these two classpects they can literally do whatever they want forever. Witch of Doom is a classpect that you give to a character if you know they can rip everything to shreds, have fun doing it, but wouldn't (usually) use it to actively hurt people out of true malice (for no reason) (a witch can DEFINITELY respond negatively if push comes to shove). Page of Time is so funny as a classpect also. Just like... Look up what the Page godtier outfit looks like. You'll see what I mean... And why Pac is a page. - Rubius: Waste of Breath - This classpect sounds really mean, sorry. I promise I like Rubius. He's supposed to be a stand in for what the Hussie author insert was in Homestuck, opposing Doc Scratch and fighting him. Hussie was a Waste of Space, I wanted to keep the pun with waste here. Breath worked the best. The federation has a Lord of Blood ability to counter him. Neither of these two count for the main classpect total.

One day I might post a copy of the google sheet and link it for more in-depth reasonings for every character, but like... almost everyone had reasonings like this where we spent waaay too long analyzing everyone LMAO. This is getting long as is, so I'll cut off classpecting here.

DREAMING MOONS

I am about to say something that will make people either really mad or really happy. There is no canon true definition of what assigns you a dreaming moon in Homestuck's text. The only thing we can glean from canon about which moon you get is that Prospit humans make their bed in the morning, and Derse humans don't. Needless to say, this doesn't help when you want to individually give each person a dreaming moon, but it IS great news for me: it makes assigning dreaming moons based on dividing the cast in half really, really easy. That is how it worked for the troll session, it was cut in half with teams, and then assigned based on red team vs blue team. So that is what I did here. All of the English speakers were given Prospit, and all of the Hispanic side were given Derse. This has lore relevance. We'll get back to it in a moment.

Also for note, the Federation is Prospit, with Dersite carapacians being a more nebulous identity against the Federation. Hispanic side was given Derse because they just seem more like Derse guys. Plus the whole Time on Derse/Space on Prospit theme going on in original HS canon is something I kinda wanted to go along with.

Quackity was given dual dreamer, with one of his dreamselves being ElQuackity, hence why he isn't listed. To balance this, we had to make another dual dreamer, and figured handing it to Kameto, who basically is permanently lost in the void, would be a good balance.

The French and Brazilian sessions were assigned using the "well this character would make sense here" method.

Server/Client Orders & Session Chains

If anyone needs a brief refresher, a client is the person you get into a sburb session, and a server is the person gets you into the session. Everyone is a client and a server to someone different. (tl;dr John was Rose's client, Rose was John's Server.) THAT BEING SAID! It means the loop for sessions close once you're all connected to both a client and a server. There are three separate sessions here, and one of them is a mobius double reacharound.

For clarity, the arrows mean: Client <- Server

The Original session, the mobius double reacharound, is the Spanish-English session. The order is

Quackity <- Mariana <- Spreen <- Roier <- Missa <- Vegetta <- Maxo <- Luzu (<- BBH)

BBH <- Foolish <- Slimecicle <- Jaiden <- DanTDM <- Fit <- Philza <- Wilbur (<- Quackity)

Because of the nature of a Mobius Double Reacharound, it means BBH and Quackity enter the session first, by technicality. The first person in a session is also the person who does the ectobiology. Unlike the troll session which only had Karkat as the ectobiologist, if Q!Quackity were the sole ectobiologist, no clones would be made and everyone would be stuck in a paradox, so I think it's funnier if BBH and Q had to work together on Ectobiology. I find their dynamic hilarious. Anyway, Luzu and Wilbur had to be the last in their respective chains, because no one else would be able to enter.

The next chain is the Brazilian closed Session, which is

Forever <- Mike <- Pac <- Felps <- Cellbit (<- Forever)

As previously mentioned, Pac e Mike (uou uou) have very good classpects to make up for the fact they have no space player. I'll come back to this.

The final chain is the French closed session. It goes

Baghera <- Antoine <- Etoiles <- AyPierre <- Kameto (<- Baghera)

They have balanced moons! They have a space player! They have a seer even! Both light and void! However, in missing a time player, they are forever doomed to fail the session.

LANDS OF PLANETS AND PARTNERS

Now I can finally explain actual lore. My apologies for making you read about 1000 words before this.

The Hispanic-English session is glitched. There is not a planet for each person. They have to share planets with a person from the opposite dreaming moon, generating lands that are a combination of two different aspects entirely. The planetary pairings for this prime session are the same pairings used for the initial egg pairings.

I really love designing lands for Sburb AUs it's my favorite thing in the world. The first one is the Land of Acid and Alcohol, Slimecicle (Heir of Heart) and Mariana's (Maid of Doom) land. Its oceans are acid and gasoline, and then covered in bottles that are a Russian roulette of alcoholic beverages, and then Molotov cocktails! The second is the Land of Steam and Dreams, Roier (Witch of Blood) and Jaiden's (Seer of Hope) land. It's filled with buildings built in an industrial revolution style architecture, playing on how people could believe in social mobility and "making it" in that time period, while also being reliant on heavy metallic machinery! I have a lot of fun conceptualizing lands.

The session's glitches don't stop at the planetary pairings on their own however, and it continues when Luzu attempts to enter the session. The session glitches from him being BBH's client, where it refuses to match pairings if they're connected directly, as the game would be unable to generate the gates above each player's house, it would simply loop back to connecting with the same Land. Luzu ends up being paired onto Quackity's land because of this, because the Game still detects him as having a dreamself on the opposite moon, even if he technically has both.

This causes BBH and Wilbur's land to glitch, and they end up paired together (as a bit of a nod back to how BBH and Wilbur were initially intended to be paired, before admins just made a new egg for Wilbur). We'll get back to this in a bit.

Some other lands from the AH session I enjoy are - The Land of Lush Forests and Iridescent Lakes, also known as LOLFAIL, BBH and Wilbur's land, which is a double Life player land, so the oceans are filled with gemstones and the land is covered in the most dense forest imaginable. It has the most difficult underlings spawn on it compared to any other land in the Anglo-Hispanic session. - The Land of Frogs and Typhoons, Spreen and Fit's land, which every space player is guaranteed frogs as part of their land, combined with Spreen being a breath player, it is a constant hurricane with frogs in it. They do not work on trying to calm the storm. They just start killing the frogs. There are so many frogs. The frogs are constantly flying at anyone who enters the land. Fit's slogan is FTF. Thank you to crow qsmp-yaoi for saying this idea because it truly brings me to tears every time I think about them being hit by those frogs flying at Mach 10. - The Land of Synapses and Static, Maxo and DanTDM's land. It's a darkened land, caused by Maxo's void, and then covered in a blanket of constant fog so thick a lighthouse can barely cut through it. The land also has mimicking noises to make familiar sounds to any player that steps on it, caused by Dan's Mind. It is an overbearingly lonely land. One where you understand what it truly feels like to be alone. One where you can lose someone as soon as you take your eyes off of them. Maxo last saw Dan on this land. No one else has seen him since.

I'm going to stop myself here, but I might come back and draw some more Land illustrations for these, haha.

Denizeggs

With the planetary partners, you might have seen this coming. Each planet in the combined session is missing a Denizen. Instead, what each player finds at the heart of the land is a little egg they need to help raise. They all find eggs at different points, however. Some people find their egg before they godtier, some find them afterward.

All of the eggs correspond to the land of their respective parents, however Luzu joins into the session too late to ever meet Tilin, second to last of the chain, she's already dead by that point.

And then the final major glitch in starting this session, when Wilbur joins as the final member of the chain, and enters, the only land open is BBH's land. Due to the nature of Sburb already knowing how things would end, it was always going to be this way, and there was no other option on who's planet he would join. The game glitches again, and detecting a second Prospit player, spawns in a new Denizen: Tallulah.

The eggs generally follow how they were in QSMP proper. Some of them die early. Some of them don't. Juanaflippa is as tragic as she is in canon. Two dads who are just bad at raising a child and it would have never worked out. Slime still kills Tilin by accident. Spreen doesn't care about Ramon, ditched him etc you know how it goes. The eggs are partially a planet quest too, so it's best if the eggs do live here.

Also in the glitches with this, there's a lack of consorts on any of the combined planets. There are a few, but not really as common as canon proper would have.

BRAZIL! 🇧🇷

The Brazil Session is a closed session between the five Brazilians. One of the requirements to complete Sburb is that you need a Space player (required to have forge in order to complete the final genesis frog & launch it into creating a new universe) and a Time player (required to keep the session in the proper timeline). The Brazilians have a time player (Pac), so they're halfway there!

There's some hiccups along the way. Mostly just Cellbit accidentally killing Felps and having to sprite him so Mike could make him a robot body to live in, but same old same old etc. Pac and Mike also kill each other by accident, but some other stuff happens there.

They still don't have the main aspect to actually continue the session, realize this, and also have a guy with one of the most conceptually powerful classpects to exist in terms of being able to glitch a game and save everyone. They manage to contact the primary session, reaching out to two grieving parents who are desperate to do anything to revive their daughter, one of whom is also a very powerful Doom player.

Brazilian Lands (brief edition)! - Land of Vultures and Culture, Forever's land, is a Hope land based around having Forever work to help save consorts who are hiding beneath intense structures and live in very isolate communities from each other. There's also massive megafauna in the skies that are always trying to kill them. - Land of Electronics and Experiments, Mike's land, is a pretty typical doom land, based around Chume labs, and has a constant lightning storm overhead - Land of Dancefloors and Dollhouses, Pac's land, is a combination of a land quest he has to get through, and a typical time land. All time lands have a clockwork or a music theme, I think him having a hot pink land that's massive amounts of dollhouse rooms attached to each other he has to make it through is just a fun concept. - Land of Cloud and Sky, Felps's world, is just a land with everything high in the sky. His whole quest is about him harnessing his ability to go with the flow to connect his consorts together. This is hard when he's sprited himself after dying upon entering due to Cellbit fucking up and accidentally killing him, and living in a robot body built by Mike. Aradia style. - Land of Searchlight and Bone, Cellbit's world, is a giant panopticon style prison. With so many bones, both decorating the prison, and filling the prison cells. His final moment is when he gets to the office of the panopticon, and it is his quest bed. He has a whole ordeal over it.

RICARLYSON! So these guys have regular consorts and Denizens, Richarlyson spawns in the heart of Skaia, and gives the quest for the other five guys to raise him.

Pac (Page of Time) has the ability to manipulate time as he wants once he realizes his abilities. Mike (Witch of Doom) can rip a hole in the universe so big it saves all of the players and sets them smack in the middle of another session, especially a previously contacted session with the connection being a Maid of Doom. With a time player land as well, they get a scratch construct on the Land of Dancefloors and Dollhouses, setting up their ability to scratch their session and set loose a whole new universe where theirs once stood.

French

The French session has probably the most normal planets of everything going on here, what really starts their journey going awry is that they have no time player.

Antoine, being a Seer of Void, can see something is going wrong. He makes contact with people outside of their session in an attempt to restore things to balance. He goes off into the veil and contacts the horrorterrors, and sets up a connection between two Doom players who seem they both desperately need it.

While he's doing that, the rest of the French proceed to have the most normal Sburb session out of anyone. Etoiles is having a great time on his planet. Aypierre gets a genesis tadpole. Kameto has two backup lives.

French Planets (Brief Edition) - Land of Apples and Airplanes, Baghera's land! It's probably the nicest land of anyone's. There are many jokes about how she doesn't get why everyone keeps complaining about their lands being horrible until she reaches theirs. - Land of Sham and Soil, Antoine's land, it's a dark land with tall dirt towers that make it impossible to see where you step. You'd need to be someone who could find where you're going in the pitch dark to even survive here. - Land of Bonds and Breakouts, Etoiles's land, is a land of a giant maze dungeon labyrinth. It's a nightmare for everyone but him. He loves it. - Land of Bogs and Frogs, AyPierre's land, is a land with frogs in a very thick swamp. I'll be honest i Just need to cook on this one some more. - Land of Hidden Leaves and War, Kameto's land, is a Naruto joke.

POMME! Is like Richas she's in the middle of Skaia. An easter egg if you will.

The French session is brought into the primary session when Antoine manages to contact with everyone else fully, rather than quietly watch from the outside. Etoiles and Baghera lose their original selves, and are their dreamselves when the universes collide in, and were unable to godtier, due to not knowing about the quest slabs.

GODTIERING! & the rest of the chronological story

THIS is the order of the godtiers from the beginning of the Spanish-English session. Anyone in the other sessions who godtier before their universe collide event has a red numeral to keep them distinct. I feel pretty strongly almost everyone would godtier here, they're all characters based on gamers. Sburb au works exceptionally well when you know everyone's gaming style.

Also, yeah I have notes listed on each godtier order for how each person dies. Like it's that detailed atp.

Spreen has the highest kill count out of everyone on purpose. I think he'd be down to cut his friends down knowing they'd be revived immortal afterward. As well as, the federation is Prospit in this scenario, they want everyone to godtier. I think him playing to what they want out of him feels his style. Anyway, he sprites his own dreamself due to ElQuackity messing with timeloops. To make his living player self trust him, Spreensprite convinces him to godtier Roier first. It is himself he's talking to, after all. Roier becomes the first godtier in any universe, and not out of his own volition. After seeing it really did work with Roier, Spreen godtiers himself. He gets li'l bear ears ala Jade getting doggy ears with her dreamself sprited, he threw in a Rubius cubito to his kernelsprite first. I like the bear ears I'm biased .3. q!Spreen being really fun in a Sburb concept is why I got hooked on this au after all.

After the first lore is repeated, BBH godtiers himself by decapitating himself with a sendificator to fuck with Foolish. He's kinda bitter about getting beige clothes. He befriends the midnight crew at least. This is before he has Dapper. He finds out about godtiering from Roier by accident and then is like. Oh I have the BEST idea.

Vegetta is killed by Spreen by request, wanting to be stronger to protect Leo, and then Spreen godtiers Missa in order to use his time powers on Derse to throw his dreamself at the kernelsprite, locking the time loop. Anyway, Missa is essentially locked in a tower on Derse's moon after this, now permanently in his Dreamself's body, who hadn't awoken prior. Fit realizes people are walking around in weird clothes, hears about it vaguely from BBH, sends a text to Spreen who'd been ghosting him, and goes like. Hey man. Wanna kill me? And gets his first reply in months.

Phil is attacked by an overpowered monster and almost dies, and Missa manages to get the message to Fit that this is happening through time shenanigans, and Fit manages to get him to his questbed before he fully dies and loses his dreamself. Phil is not happy about this and could not be angrier. He doesn't blame Fit though it's like a self anger thing.

THE BRAZILIAN CASCADE HAPPENS! PEOPLE DIE. By which I mean Slimecicle and Mariana work together to try to help the Brazilians into the session in a bid at saving Juanaflippa, hoping one of them have the ability to revive her. Slimecicle is murdered in the crypts of Prospit by Quackity in a duel, where he cuts off Quackity's arm in exchange for Quackity cutting down his life. Truly one of those luck moments where Charlie dies on his questslab. Mariana is murdered at the same time by Spreen, who is now fully working under orders from the Federation.

Pre-cascade, Pac and Mike both godtier, because they stumble into a stable timeloop, by Mike accidentally glitching Pac's questslab into throwing it at him and killing him. He godtiers with this. Now, as a fully godtiered page of time, they make it to Mike's questbed, and godtier!Mike nudges Pac's slab at Past!Mike to pick up and throw when fucking around with powers.

Felps godtiers in the cascade along with Mariana and Slimecicle, they leave behind Derse and its moon, and they both get destroyed. Where his body sleeping on the quest slab godtiers. Aradia style. Except... as a Maid of Breath, his robot sprite body doesn't explode. He just sort of... exists in both. When one falls asleep the other wakes up. The rest of the Brazilian session just assumes the Cascade fucked with his robot body's energy sources. He kind of just figures each side is a weird dream he keeps having.

Cellbit is staunchly anti-godtier, while Forever wants someone he trusts to godtier him. Cellbit refuses to godtier Forever, and causes a major fight between them. Then Spreen murders Cellbit into his godtier under orders from the Federation, which is preceded by a long Scooby-doo-esque chase, where BBH sees them both, and decides to follow. BBH is a fully godtiered Knight of Life here, he has resurrection powers for other players, and Spreen is functionally immortal as well. BBH 100% catches up to him after he kills Cellbit, and proceeds to put Spreen in a torment nexus of dying and undeath. Thus ends the Killing Spree(n).

AND THEN THE FRENCH CASCADE HAPPENS! The final session connects, and Baghera sacrifices herself to make it happen. After they make it in, they learn about Quest slabs, and there's a whole thing with Etoiles dramatically getting her to her questslab before she fully dies. Etoiles then proceeds to go kill himself on the questslab immediately after. Felps is also hanging out with the French, they found him hanging out in the void and take him with them. They lose Kameto in the void however, nobody's really sure where he went.

Pre-French Cascade, Antoine is the only French player to godtier, and no one will explain how it happened. It seems like no one really knows, but Etoiles keeps saying more fantastical descriptions every time someone asks. He's never taken his seer hood off of his face.

Back in the order of the godtiers, Forever befriends Baghera, and eventually her and Etoiles and Cellbit help him godtier. It's a whole event. Richas is having a blast.

Bobby dies, and Jaiden decides to godtier in order to get into the Federation's good graces, as well as out of guilt of feeling that if she were stronger and godtiered she could have saved him. Roier godtiers her.

AyPierre is godtiered in a tragic accident with one of his many machines. Etoiles helps pull him to his quest bed. He's a Thief of Space he has fun with it.

Foolish is the second to last person to godtier, and he is godtiered by Pomme by accident. He wanted his godtier to be as cool as possible, and somehow managed to not godtier by this point. It's just very him. He's down with the page pants.

Quackity is the final member to godtier. BBH kills ElQ at one end of the universe with the aid of Maximus. Slimecicle kills the regular QQ in one final duel.

At the end of the universe, the only people left alive and able to contact the rest of the sessions to never godtier are Wilbur and Maxo.

DanTDM disappears on the Land of Synapses and Static, never to be seen again, along with Turnip following soon after.

Luzu finds a glitch and is absorbed by it not long after he enters.

Nobody is really sure if Kameto godtiered or not.

MISCELLANEOUS NOTES

We're currently working on figuring out sprites for everyone, so hey! I might come back and add an update on that, but this post is so long my computer is lagging. I have a gaming laptop. It shouldn't be doing that. Here's some stuff on the sprites we do have + some misc notes.

Cellbit's flashlightkind is like how Kanaya's lipstick works. It's a chainsaw.

Spreen has Spreensprite, BBH has Skeppysprite, Missa has a sprite that is a mysterious skull sprited twice called Skullskullsprite, and Roier has his dog with a spiderman called Dogmansprite, and Jaiden has Arisprite, who's Miku & Ari combined :D (thanks icarus!)

It is 5 am as I finish typing this and queue it. I think I started typing this at 5 pm yesterday. Feel free to comment any thoughts you have or play around in this au! Also feel free to @ me if you do, either on my main mcyt blog (@etoilesbienne), or here!

qsmpstuck tag on my art blog / qsmpstuck tag on my regular mcyt talk blog

#qsmp #qsmpstuck #qsmp au #qsmp homestuck au #mcytstuck

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adickaboutspoons · 8 months

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I object to the term "whim"

In episodes 4 and 5 of the second season, there's a lot of throwing around of the word "whim." Ed and Stede both argue that they were just a whim to the other, Stede concludes they they are both "whim-prone" and that whim-prone people shouldn't run off to China together, and Ed cites their "whim-prone"ness as a reason to take things slow as they start to rebuild their relationship.

And I know we all like to joke about U-Haul failboats in love, but they aren't whim-prone. That's not what's going on here.

The first time on the show that we hear the word "whim" is in s1e4, when Izzy says "For years, I've followed your every whim, I've managed your increasingly erratic moods, I've massaged this crew when they were worried about your judgment." But from what we see of Izzy's interactions with the crew, he's not a massager, he's a sledgehammer, and the crew respect Blackbeard a hell of a lot more than they respect Izzy. Ed's moods don't read as "erratic" at all if you pay attention to what he's responding to; he's an emotional guy, for sure, but mostly even-keeled until highly provoked. And as for "following [his] every whim," Izzy can barely follow orders as given - committing insubordination at least twice that we see; not telling Stede that it was Blackbeard that wanted to meet him in s1e3, and flat-out ignoring Ed's "we're not doing this" in s1e6 when he challenges Stede to the duel. So I don't see Izzy as a reliable narrator when he suggests Ed is "whim-prone" - it might look like that to him because he doesn't try to understand Ed on his own terms, but it is v. much a construction that Izzy is imposing on Ed; not an objective character trait Ed possesses. After all, you don't get a reputation for being "history's most brilliant tactician" if you're not, at the heart of it all, a planner.

Stede is also a planner. Mary accuses Stede of abandoning his family on a whim, but that's also inaccurate. Thanks to all the hard work @nicnacsnonsense did in her marvelous 1st season timeline video, we know that SIX MONTHS elapsed between Stede proposing with his model boat that they go to sea at the anniversary debacle and the night of Mary's apology when Stede had already committed to actually leaving. That's not a whim - that's plenty of time for serious deliberation. It LOOKED like a whim from the outside because of their disastrous communication failures, but that doesn't make it true. Unabandoning his family was not a whim either - Chauncy was the catalyst, but only because he created a high-pressure situation that validated all of the insecurities we'd seen Stede struggling with all season; guilt over abandoning his family, and his crater-bottom self-esteem that the people he loved were better off without him. Even in season 2, we see more of this long-game behavior, where Stede takes his drudge job in towels and elevates it by applying scent; a move that LOOKS whim-prone from the outside, but primes him for success when it comes time to escape, because it means he knows the guards are used to deeply inhaling the scent of the fresh towels he gives them, and is thus he is able to trick them into chloroforming themselves.

There are times in the 1st season where it might LOOK like they are being whim-prone, but for the most part, those things are mostly time-critical circumstances . The impulsive decision to go to the French Party Boat? The invitation was for that night, so it's not like another opportunity like that was just going to come along. Stede's impromptu Fuckery? He'd JUST been introduced to the concept that morning, and the ships on which he wanted to try it out were three days away. If you'll recall, Ed actually tries to talk him out of going through with it with such a short turn-around time, and likely would have succeeded if Izzy hadn't interveined to further his "Kill Stede Now" agenda. The Treasure hunt? Stede was anxiously scrabbling for ANYTHING to keep Ed's attention (AFTER he confirmed there were no oranges for sale, not even for ready money) because Ed said that his plans for the day included "planning for the next adventure" and leaving. Act of Grace? Signing away ten years of your life for a man you've known for a month IS a lot, but the alternative was letting Stede be executed. Running away together? I'll give you that China was quite the absurd swing, but they WERE in jail for all intents and purposes - no sense staying longer than absolutely necessary, and there theoretically could have been time for re-working the plan once they were just away had circumstances not arisen.

So while I think it's fair to call the boys whimsical with their love of dress-up and lovely perfumed things and theatrics and tasty sugary treats, I wouldn't say whim-prone is an accurate descriptor (and the fact that they are accepting that it is makes my heart crack wide open for them, because it's evidence that they're still both uncritically absorbing the labels applied to them by people who don't really understand them at all), nor the problem they need to address.

Their real problem is actually the exact opposite of flitting from whim to whim; that, once they've committed to something, they are all in, 100% ride-or-die. It's why Ed resigned himself to going down with the ship when it turned out he'd miscalculated the date instead of trying any evasive maneuvers with the fog to give them cover. It's why, when Stede didn't show at the docks, Ed went full pillow fort until Lucius was able to talk him around into life going on without Stede. It's why Stede threw himself into trying to be all the things he thought he'd failed to be as a husband and father when he came back to his family, and was committed to staying, even though it was making him miserable, until Mary tried to murder him.

Ultimately, the solution for both these conditions is the same - slowing down. But it's not a matter of making sure this is serious and not just a whim for either of them; it's a matter of taking the time to understand exactly what it is that you're committing to. So I object to the term "whim."

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd s2e4 #ofmd s2e5 #my modest contribution to fandom

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ivory--raven · 26 days

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thoughts on ocean sunfish (mola mola)?

A controversial fish and one I have not seen in-person, though I'd like to. This post deserves a picture.

Mola mola is a huge planktonic bony fish - planktonic meaning it lives in the plankton, goes wherever the currents take it and can't outswim them. Most plankton are really small. Can't see them without a microscope small. The common ocean sunfish (mola mola) can weigh up to 1,000 kg. They look like giant heads - or moons. In French their common name is poisson lune, moon fish. They get their bad reputation because they're basically giant heads and they can't swim and they only reason they're not eaten is that they're too big to eat. It's an effective strategy. Natural selection doesn't care about coolness.

I do care about coolness, but my metric's weird. I think ocean sunfish are cool.

Here's a sea lion just chomping out of a sunfish. This is one of the perceived flaws of sunfish - but y'know, sea lions also straight up eat marine iguanas' tails for fun, so sunfish aren't uniquely bad for being eaten by them.

And ocean sunfish are cool. They're a member of order Tetraodontiformes, along with pufferfish, porcupinefish, and filefish (yes, filefish are a real fish). This order is one of ray-finned fishes and they're known for their weird body plans. Most fish are pretty predictable with their body plans, favour manœuvrability or cruising or acceleration. There's a cool diagram about that.

Tetraodontiformes, ocean sunfish included, are doing something else. If I had to put them on the diagram, it would be in the manoeuvrable corner, cause they're rubbish at everything else. I've scooped up a filefish with my bare hands.

The order name is more or less tetra + odont + iformes, meaning four + tooth + shape. And the whole ending in formes thing is pretty typical for orders - people like to name them "shaped like this" or what basically translates, in scientific latin, to "[example organism] and friends." For Tetraodontiformes, it's all about the jaw bone being formed into a beak shape with four chunks. Fish with beaks.

Beaks and weird body plans. I'm sold!

One cool thing about ocean sunfish is their spikes. Yep, spikes, like their relatives.

Left - a porcupinefish. Right - a pufferfish.

And a young ocean sunfish.

As young fish (the word is fry) they are spiky! And pretty cute, I think.

Ocean sunfish manage to steer themselves by squirting jets of water out of their mouths. They have very few bones, and no swim bladder, which is unusual for a fish that lives so close to the surface. They use cleaner fish to get the parasites off them and I'm a fan of mutualism. They also might use seabirds to clean themselves off, floating at the surface and getting the birds to pick parasites off. That's pretty cool.

So yeah. In general I'm an ocean sunfish fan.

#ocean sunfish #mola mola #thanks for this ask #i love talking about fish

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stackslip · 1 year

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when i volunteered with kids there were so many who struggled with reading comprehension and they would go from happy, confident people to completely locking down and curling up onto themselves when asked to read. when i volunteered with another org that was specifically geared towards autistic kids, a lot of these children had basically been kicked out of school and of different social environments bc the very fact of being autistic and having any kind of learning disability was basically met with "well you won't do anything with that. guess it's time to institutionalize the kid bc they're gonna be useless". and the org had developed a specific method to teach these kids how to read/write but it did nothing to counter the actual issue at hand: the very idea that someone can't learn to read/write makes them inherently undesirable and destructive and they must be kept from wider society. not to mention that in my country conservative politicians rage every day at how lower income kids (especially of immigrant origins) have lower literacy rates and how that means they're Not Integrating Into French Culture and it's a sign that they're inherently stupid, and savage, and unable to assimilate.

people will say reading comprehension and literacy are inherently virtuous and the lack of those means you ARE lacking and broken, and then add that these are easy skills that anybody can and should be able to acquire easily. and then they'll claim that saying anything to the contrary is actually the REAL ableism/racism/classism bc social barriers and learning disabilities aren't a thing or aren't that hard to surmount i guess. meanwhile they'll also moan about how people like YA too much instead of reading REAL literature, while never thinking about what they consider real literature and why, and who tends to write these books and how they got published. or the history of schooling in their country and how it ties to the destruction of minority languages or oral tradition. or the ableism baked into education systems. or etc etc etc

anyhow literacy and reading comprehension ARE value neutral, and idc how annoying you find YA, or feel superior to people who only read magazines or to random strangers who say they don't like shakespeare. stop bemoaning how kids these days have weird takes on your old english literature curriculum and this means it's the end of civilization and maybe think a little about how to remove the barriers people who can't or don't possess literacy skills for *any* reason have to face every day, and how destructive these barriers are, especially under capitalism.

#eli talks

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chuplayswithfire · 2 years

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So like, fandom has a racism problem, yeah. That's not a surprise. Fandom's just a microcosm of the rest of society, and society's got a racism problem. But the more I look across content, the more I've started to realize people don't seem to understand why racism is.... a problem.

And that makes it harder for people to see racism, when they don't really... understand why and how it's a problem. I've been thinking about this for the last day, and so I'm making this post today because I finally had a chance to sit and put my thoughts together in a way that I hope will make sense.

Because here's the thing. I've been getting... more and more the idea that people think racism is a problem because it makes people feel bad. That Jim stabbed that British officer because calling Frenchie a slave was an insult that hurt Frenchie's feelings. That Ed had the French captain skinned and thrown overboard because calling Ed a donkey hurt his feelings. That the ship full of aristocrats were jerks because they hurt Ed's feelings.

And like. Yeah, I mean, on a very surface level, their feelings were hurt, sure, those were shit things to experience. But it's not about their feelings, first and foremost. Racism isn't about making people feel bad. Those things weren't bad just because they were especially shit insults.

Racism is about making structural oppression. It's about making people less - not making them feel less, but legally, socially, morally, literally, less than. It's about establishing "this is a person, and that is not a person". It's about society wide depersonalization. And in the context of OFMD especially, it's about whiteness and colonization, and the way that racism is the socially created and legally enforced system through which whiteness decides who counts and who doesn't. Who is a person and who is a thing.

Slaves and donkeys? These are things. These are items to be bought and traded and sold and put down and compensated for the loss. They are not people with rights and freedoms and protections, they are line items on someone's accounting sheet, objects with monetary value pre-determined and understood.

Frenchie isn't called a slave because that British officer (yeah, I'm not learning his name, not sorry) felt like being an ass or wanted to make him feel bad. He called Frenchie a slave because he was furious that some thing, some object, some less than creature, was speaking to him as if they could have even the faintest hope of being on the same playing field, let alone equally human. He was declaring Frenchie an object and a tool that should be silent unless spoken to.

That's why Jim throws that knife at him. That's why Jim is pissed enough to blow their cover even with a fuck-off huge warship right next to them.

Because everyone on the ship knows exactly what being a slave would make Frenchie. And Jim especially has reason to be aware of and sensitive to that, given that Jim is in love with a Black man who's already been being demeaned, dismissed, and disdained through this whole encounter.

Those British officers get their shit wrecked because they're declaring people the crew loves to be less than they are, less than human, reminding them all that in the world outside of piracy Frenchie, Oluwande, and Roach aren't people but property. Objects. And that shit's not fucking acceptable.

This logic directly follows through with the French captain Ed has killed - which, let's be clear, that French captain was definitely going to be killed no matter what, because this is a pirate raid and if they massacred what seemed to be a majority of the crew already, there's little chance they'll leave the dickbag captain alive behind them. So this isn't a man who got killed because he was a racist fucking dick.

This is a man who got himself a worse death being a racist fucking dick.

The scene plays out in a very similar way as the previous dickbag racist to get got, except in this case, there's no Jim to to take control of the situation (Stede is not able particularly helpful here because of his own implicit biases that he's yet to unpack), there's just Ed and Fang here to react to this situation.

And the situation is - the French Captain being a racist, and specifically choosing to focus on being a racist to Ed rather than just being generally anti-pirate. I'd thought that was pretty clear until I came across the sentiment that Ed is lashing out here because his "feelings were hurt" rather than because he was responding to racist bigotry, so let's be blunt about that.

Stede starts the interaction with a characteristically bitchy remark about how there's a distinct lack of saucier spoons on this "supposedly first class vessel", but when the French captain throws out, "my apologies... hadn't imagined we'd be hosting your kind", the meaning of that statement goes right over Stede's head. He registers insult, sure, but the way Ed stills there? The way he closes his eyes and then turns and requests clarification in a way that is clearly meant to give this asshole a chance correct his mistake?

That's Ed identifying what Stede missed. That when the French captain says your kind he's not referring to pirates. And that's made clear by the fact that when he continues on, he doesn't direct his response to Ed And Stede, he directs it to Ed specifically.

"A rich donkey is still a donkey."

That's the French captain doing what the British officer did. Naming Ed for an object, a beast of burden, a thing that is not worthy of recognition or respect or acknowledgement. Ed's Blackbeard and yet as far as this asshole is concerned, by the very fact that he's not white nothing he's ever accomplished, not the fear he inspires or the legend he's built, matters in the face of that.

That's what racism is about.

It's about whiteness establishing that the most successful, the most fearsome, the most legendary of all pirates is an indigenous man and that makes him worth less than any white man. He's got this captain's life in his hands, and even that can't make the man treat Ed with a crumb of caution or respect. He's not a person to that French man. He's an upstart, an animal stepping out of line.

And honestly, I think too many people think Stede's reaction was the right one. Because it wasn't. At all.

Stede's not helpful here, I mentioned earlier, because he's got his own implicit bias acting as baggage. When Ed expresses his absolute fury at this man calling him a donkey, a beast of burden, an animal, even though he doesn't know nothing about Ed, Stede's response - is to try and stop the anger, rather than address the source of it. "Don't debase yourself for a man who doesn't have a single tureen on board." @knowlesian has written some great meta on the subject of this response, but to put it simply - Ed also doesn't have a tureen on his ship, Stede, and there's nothing debasing in a natural and normal anger response.

Someone labels you an animal, a beast, a creature, you should get angry. They should get cussed the fuck out. Especially because again, it's not unique. The French captain is very effectively reminding Ed that the greater society, the world, will never see him as a full person, deserving of respect and acknowledgement, no matter what he has or how he carries himself or what he accomplishes. It's foreshadowing how the party will go - to the white world, Ed will always be a novelty at best, a disobedient animal at worst.

Lashing out at that, especially with words, isn't debasing yourself.

And honestly, that guy getting thrown overboard? And skinned? (Though really, it's up in the air as to whether Fang actually bothered with that.) That's a power fantasy for so many of us fans of color, lmao, the idea that god, one of the fucked up assholes out here doing their level to remind us that the world does not see us as full and equal people, gets to suffer and die.

It's not because his feelings were hurt. It's because just like the British officers, this man is reminding Ed and the audience that the structural power of racism is such that you can never win within the system of it, because the system is built to keep us out, keep us down, keep us pinned.

Stede's reaction makes sense, because he's part of that system too - he's been born and raised in it, in the respectability politics, in the genteel illusion that the upperclass way of doing things, where you direct the initial response to the person reacting too loud, too public, showing all that messy, uncouth emotion rather than the person who's actually the problem. You look at the response rather than the source.

And Stede, to his credit, isn't trying to shut Ed up. He's trying, in his own way, to be helpful, actually!

But Stede doesn't know what it's like, to be considered not a person. As a white gay man who everyone has been able to clock as gay his entire life, he's been treated as lesser than and wrong and disgusting his entire life, by his father and his peers, but he's till a rich, land-owning white man. That makes him a person, even if a despised, rejected, undesired one. His society sees him as a person, someone who could even, theoretically, plausibly, be treated with respect if he could just behave according to their rules.

That's not an opportunity you can have, with racism. It's one of the underlying differences in homophobia and racism that I've personally felt, as someone who's experienced both. With homophobia, what you are is wrong but the expectation is that you can, should, and must, act "right", behavior "appropriately" and then you can fit in. At the bottom of the pack, but in. With racism, you're always out. You can't change your race. You can't change what you're identified as on sight. You can't do anything to overcome what you are, and that's why you're treated as and understood to be less than.

And in this time period, that's very much a legal standing, far more overtly than it is in 2022. Black people aren't people, in 1717, they're property or soon to be property or creatures without real intelligence who need to be minded by their betters. Indigenous people aren't people, they're savage animals who need to be minded by their betters, uneducated, uncontrolled.

The response to the British, and the French, and later to those aristocrats, is appropriate in this world, because this is a world that does in fact, cater a bit to that fantasy - what if some people got what they deserved, sometimes? What if it was in fact, the right thing, to fuck up a racist? The internet loves to talk about punching Nazis and TERFs, as they should, but the same goes for a racist too. These guys are reinforcing a corrupt, horrific system of abuse, and they get what they deserve.

I'm sure this won't reach many people. But if you read this post, I hope you think about what racism is, and how it works, and understand that it's not about the individual at all. It's about the system at play and how that system dehumanizes and minimizes and objectifies whole classes of people for the sake of uplifting a single race and making everyone else into objects and novelties and creatures rather than people.

Next time you see someone say Ed "had his feelings hurt" by the French captain, or imply that the British navy were "rude" to Frenchie, Oluwande, and Roach, remind them that they weren't fucking rude, feelings weren't hurt, they were being actively dehumanized in accordance with an overarching system of widespread oppression.

#low on the totem pole #bottom of the pack #ofmd #ofmd meta #fandom fuckery #edward teach #our flag means death #i haven't done a racism 101 style post in ages but certain circumstances have shown me this is necessary lol #at least for me to get my own thoughts out so i dont just roll my eyes into the back of my skull #edited to remove phrase in exchange for because reminded of bad practices with that phrase

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novthewolf · 3 months

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Two’s company, three’s a family - Part seven

Summary : As a cupid, an angel of love, your mission was to make sure everyone was paired up with the right person. Yet you couldn’t get your two most ancient clients to finally end up together. And despite the 6,000 years spent on the case, you couldn’t bring yourself to give them up, oblivious to the reason…

Pairing : Aziraphale x Crowley / GN!Reader x Crowley / GN!Reader x Aziraphale (polyamorous relationship).

Parts : First - Previous - Next

Masterlist : Here

Warnings : long, too long (someone stop me), animal corpse, implied child death, crucifixion, depiction of h0rnisness, mention of s3x, s3xual undertone, alcool, violence, blood, use of french, angst, nazis, anxiety panic, slow burn, english isn’t my first language.

Words : +19,3k (seriously, stop me)

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Love ? Have you ever really felt Love ?

3004 B.C., Mesopotamia

It might be a strange thing to say, but right now you are actually learning how to walk. Oh, you knew the basics, but you never tried to practice on real soil. It felt weird on your feet, gritty and dry; it kept scratching the skin. A mix of tickles and quite pleasant itches. The reason you decided to come down was not to experiment with new sensations but to actually see why you had to bind specific animals together.

You would have asked the other cupids assigned to the mission if they knew anything, but only the principalities were aware of the actual goal. So, as curiosity overtook you, you made your way to the open land once you reached the limits of the forest. You were taken aback by the seemingly huge boat sitting on the hilltop. There were a lot of people, nicely looking at the strange scene behind some wooden fences.

Your eyes followed the multiple coupled animals, and you smiled, recognising the ones you created. Apparently, humans were leading them to that structure, leaving you more confused than ever. Slowly, you ambled to join the crowd and catch glimpses of conversation to try and understand what was actually going on. You ended up resting your arms on the wood and lifting your feet off the ground to relieve the pressure. When you jumped on your other foot, you bumped your right elbow against someone else's left side.

"Ah, sorry! I didn't see you here." You hurried, turning around to meet the unfortunate human.

"Oh, it's really nothing." The person was reassured. You gulped when you recognised him. It was the guardian angel of the Eastern Gate who stopped you from reaching said gate in the Garden of Eden. "Did you hurt your foot? My, you certainly will without any shoes on." He rambled in a worried tone. You started to worry as well. Did you just permanently damage your ride? By ride, you meant your physical body.

"No, no! I'm fine." You backed out slightly when he reached down for your leg. "I'm an angel too. My feet aren't hurt, I hope, and I never heard of... shoes? Anyway, please don't mind me." You dismissed me, looking for a way out.

He didn't seem surprised that you were an angel too. But your shattered heart missed a beat. You didn't mean to confess that. Does he remember your status? If he is aware, is he informed enough about your kind? No walking on earth, no feelings, no meddling in other angels' business. But instead of accusing you of not obeying your superior, he just nodded and actually miracled you some'shoes'. It was a really sweet gesture; you didn't know how to react. You simply muttered a small and bashful thank you and watched him kneel down in front of you.

You squinted your eyes, distruting the gentle way he took your scratched foot and helped you slide it inside the unfamiliar fabric. Once you were equipped, you trampled on the soil, laughing incredulously. It didn't hurt anymore !

"Thank you !" You exclaimed, giddy. And you were grateful to find that your overexcitement didn't faze him; he smiled brightly and joined his hands.

"Oh, there is no problem at all !" He laughed in a breath. Seeing that he seemed open-minded, you yearned to ask him the questions that burned your lips. However, someone interrupted you.

"Hello Aziraphale." A demon greeted him, his yellow snake eyes fixed on the guardian angel's face. He took place on Aziraphale's right side. You audibly gasped out of fear and embarrassment. Those two were the ones you linked back in the garden ! Plus, having a demon so close was still overwhelming.

"Crawley..." Aziraphale smiled nervously, his eyes going back and forth between you and the demon. That was when the redhead spotted you and tilted his head to the side to see you better.

"Hello there." He grinned with all his teeth. Intimitated, you simply hummed as a hello. Crawley then turned to Aziraphale. "So giving the mortals a flaming sword, how did that work out for you ?" He teased.

"You gave your sword away ?" You blurred out.

The angel huffed, flustered, and took some time to figure out what to say next. "There were really dangerous creatures out of the garden; they needed some protection." He rambled your way, then turned to the demon. "And the Almighty has never actually mentioned it again."

Crawley shrugged. "Probably a good thing... What's all this about ?" He gestured at the whole commotion. You nodded in agreement.

"Did they have a sudden urge to build a floating zoo ? Is it a common occurrence for humans ?" You wondered, truly curious.

"Well, they do have particular little quirks, but I never saw it come to that extent." The demon trailed, not meeting your eyes.

"From what I hear, God's a bit techy. Wiping out the human race. Big storm." Aziraphale gestured, and you smelled moonflower and moss, which you learned to recognise as sadness, even if he didn't show it. While Crawley's scent made you crunch your nose, you turned to him and watched his expression swing from outrage to disbelief.

"All of them ?"

"Just the locals." He nodded with tight lips. "I don't believe the Almighty's upset with the Chinese. Or the Native Americans. Or the Australians."

"What about the animals ?" You asked deeply, worried as you grasped his white sleeve. There was limited contact between you and animals, but every time you spent time with them, you felt a strong pull towards them, and you couldn't help but coo and coddle them.

"Oh no, God's not actually going to wipe out every creature." He flinched at your touch and was slowly pulling away. Despite your need for reassurance, you knew none of your fellow angels liked to touch you, so you let go. You felt the demon's eyes on you.

"You see Noah up there ?" He pointed towards the hill, and both of you looked up. "His family, his sons, their wives, and every couple of animals they brought in, they're all going to be fine."

"But they are drowning everybody else." He sneered, truly peeved. Aziraphale couldn't even answer and rather preferred to nod in agreement with sealed lips. Goats bleated in the background, catching your attention, and you turned around. Kids came running along them, blissfully playing and laughing. You shuddered.

"Not the kids. You can't kill kids." Crawley argued. He felt more disgusted by it than he showed, and you tilted your head to get a better look at him. You didn't expect him to care. Aziraphale hummed, darting his eyes away. Your heart sank, and you gulped.

"Well, that's more the kind of thing you'd expect my lot to do."

Yeah, so why isn't that the case?

As if he sensed your doubt, the angel spoke up again. "Yes, but when it's done, the Almighty's going to put up a new thing called a 'rain bow'" He offered with a smile, but all he could muster was a brow raise. "As a promise not to drown everyone again."

You couldn't help but let out a mix of scoff and a grunt. Crawley shared your distaste for the whole idea and mocked it. "How kind."

"You can't judge the Almighty, Crawley. And mh..." He stopped and turned to you inquisitively. He wanted to know your name. The last time you heard out loud was when... You wanted to slap yourself. Come on, you couldn’t be afraid of your own name, now can you ?

"Y/N." You smiled; you were actually happy to introduce yourself. Aziraphale was very nice, and even if he didn't know who you were or what you were, he was treating you with kindness and respect. You weren't sure if you were happy to know that a demon had learned your name. Oh god, what if he told him ?

"Don't fret; I'm sure God got all of this figured out. God's plans are simply:

"Are you going to say 'ineffable'"? Aw, they end each other's sentences. You almost forgot they were bonded. You smiled at the thought before remembering that you were the cause of it and how forbidden it was. You looked slightly red as you rubbed the back of your neck.

And when you thought you couldn't be more flustered, you felt Crawley skip behind you, brush his body against yours, and settle by your side. You were now as red as whatever was the reddest on Earth, and you completely froze up too. He then proceeded to burst your ears by yelling.

"Oi, Shem ! That's unicorn's going to make a run for it." A unicorn was indeed running away from the gathering towards the forest, and you were deeply alert, as you were the one responsible for its bounds. "Oh, it's too late. It's too late !" Crawley howled again.

Tired of his loud voice, you decided to leave and run after the poor creature. "Thank you for everything! Mmh.." You rushed before turning around, not sure how to respond in a non-monotone voice. "Bye bye! Smooches !" Smooches ? Really ?

You heard the angel echoe "smooches ?" as you sprinted away. Even with shoes on, you had terrible coordination and fell a few times before entering the forest, while seemingly hallucinating hearing Aziraphale's voice call you in the distance. Despite trying your best to catch the unicorn in time, you couldn't reach it in time. Instead, rain caught up to you, and you also had to discover how to swim. It wasn't as much fun.

Thankfully, you were able to fly away and find shelter in a cave, cold gnawing at your fingers and feet. And in that moment, you were the loneliest you have ever been. You hugged your knees and stared at your dreadful-looking arm, but you couldn't help but hope the unicorn was safe on the ark.

The minute the level of the water lowered enough for you to search, you didn't waste a second. You roamed for hours, your hair and clothes muddy and wet, tangling around your face and body. A few branches scratch your skin, and pebbles disrupt your messy scout. The sun shone through the branches of the wrenching trees remaining on the land.

That was when you found it. Your breath hitched in your throat, considering the sight in front of you. The water had carried it to the canopy, where the remains of lilac bushes lay still. The long legs of the unicorn lay on the sludge-covered ground. Its beautiful long white mane is all tangled and scattered all across its face, its eyes still open and terrifyingly empty. You didn't even feel your feet move or the tears pouring down your cheeks—just crushing fatigue. It was dead. You were the one who paired it, and now it is gone. God, if you had been faster... Suddenly bursting with adrenaline, you ran and jumped at its side, like you wished you had before it was too late.

You hugged the unicorn's neck as tight as you could, holding on to the vain hope that a heartbeat would be heard. But all you could feel was the wet, cold white coat of the beautiful creature. You couldn't bear to let go; you didn't want to leave it alone. Curled up against its shoulder, you waited. The faint sound of thunder rang through the sky, urging you to look up to that shallow promise that would never make up for anything. Not for the losses, not for the pain. You wish you didn't feel the hurt, but you will be damned if you ever forget the cruelty of that moment.

Footsteps slowly made their way to your miserable form. Your eyes opened on their own, and you looked over to see who interrupted your grieving. And as you thought your heart couldn't be more broken, you let out a desperate cry. Crawley stood there, his golden eyes empty, but his face showed profound sorrow, looking as messed up as you did. A small body draped in a white-drenched sheet was held against his chest. The tightness of his hold reminded you of your own, but the delicacy of his touch made him look so vulnerable. He started walking once again, seeking your eyes, and you felt his misery, adding to your own.

Gently, he rested the small body against the side of the unicorn and patted its head.

"It's not fair." You sobbed, your heart clenching violently, the broken pieces piercing through your lungs.

He kneeled down, seemingly paying his respects like you've seen humans do. "God doesn't exactly do 'fair', if you hadn't noticed."

His red hair hid his face from you, but so did his distress and deep anger. It confused you. Of course you understood how he felt; you just didn't get why. Was it just because it was in his nature to thwart her wishes? But shouldn't he cheer on so many deaths and tragedies? Laugh at pain and suffering, like you have been used to.

"It's just... so cruel, and... I don't..." You couldn't finish the sentence before breaking down in tears. Crawley studied your face, followed the path of your tears, and finally focused on your clenched hands. He inhaled deeply, turned around, sat cross-legged, and gazed up at the sky.

"You might have too much of a sweet heart." In a cheerless joke.

You looked up and saw the majestic bow that adorned the clearing sky among the deadly clouds. It felt like a cynical joke played on you. Mocking you for the naive hope that justice was something God actually cared about.

But... as you peered over the furious demon grieving at your side, you felt less alone and strangely understood. Slowly, your hand went up and down his right arm to soothe his boiling heart, dusting off petals of lilac. He turned around, and you gave him a sad smile.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

33 A.D. Golgotha

It's safe to say you were heavily reprimanded for disappearing like that and letting a unicorn get away, because now, thanks to you, they were all extinct. Great job once again; you kept to yourself. Of course, you didn't mention your encounter to anyone.

And yet they didn't punish you; instead, they put you in charge of their new project, "Jesus." He was an incredible human; he was so full of love and kindness that you suspected they used the essence of the Bound itself. Those thirty-three years were fantastic, and you sure were able to stock up on love. You just wish it didn't have to end so soon.

Now here you were, completely defeated. They always had to do that, didn't they? Someone walked up to you and poked your right arm to get your attention. Surprised, you flinched and turned slowly with wide eyes.

"Oh, Aziraphale." You smiled, happy to see him here, since for some reason he was joyful, despite your circumstances. You had decided to give into your heart, only feeling what other people felt. And also, the filter might be broken; it seemed to work just fine with the guardian angel. He was certainly cheerful to be in the presence of the'son' of God, so it felt nice to feel the same.

Aziraphale smiled in return. "Hello Y/N." He then turned to the scene, and his brows frowned. You couldn't help but stare, like you did in the garden. What about him made you stare? You weren't sure, but you were dead set on noticing all the little details of his expressions. He was so expressive, whether it was through his mouth twitching, teeth gritting, or eyes glittering and squinting. The same goes for his smell; you were sure you could guess everything that was going on inside his head.

"Were you assigned to him ?" The gentle voice whispered, as if not to startle you. You thought about your answer. It wouldn't be logical if only cupids were to care for him, so it wouldn't blow your cover. But why did you want to keep lying so much? You slapped yourself mentally. Because he was a principality, because you showed too much emotion for a heartless being, and because you fricking bound him like a demon! But he was so nice, maybe he wouldn't mind... No.

"Yes, I followed him for most of his life." You smiled quickly but definitely stopped gawking his way. "He is a wonderful person." Tears welled up in your eyes, but you knew his existence was still worth it.

The disturbing sound of cracking bones, the hammer, and Jesus's words brought you back to reality, away from the memories. Why do humans never acknowledge good or beautiful things without having to break them? Love was a tricky concept to them, and they didn't really know when to let things be. Because, come on, he was betrayed by a kiss. They used love and trust as weapons. Humans would rather choose hatred and ignorance if it meant they were right and their pride would remain intact.

"Yes, humans can be dreadful creatures. sometimes." The angel nodded. You looked up, flustered. Being used to having yourself as your only companion made you forget to close your mouth and not get lost in your reflection."

You flinched when he screamed, and you averted your eyes to the ground. A long black robe came into your view. Climbing up from the dry soil to the eyes of the newcomer, you smelled the spice of the naga viper. Crawley was indeed quite angry, alright ?

"Hi Crawley." You greeted me while taking a step closer to Aziraphale, away from the smell.

He acknowledged your presence with a smile and a nod, and you felt the angel stare behind you. You turned around to identify the emotion slithering from Aziraphale, but it was already gone. Still, he was fidgeting with his fingers and slowly backing away.

"Come to smirk at the poor bugger, have you ?" The demon inquired of Azirphale.

"Smirk ? Me ?"

"Well, your lot put him on there." He shrugged.

"What ?" Your incredulous voice resounded louder than you thought. "I thought it was the hate demons." You grasped Aziraphale's sleeve for support, and you fixed him. And he didn't pull away.

"Well, it was, but we, in a sense, let them put him there." He tried to explain the best he could while preserving Heaven's integrity. "And I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Crawley. Otherwise, it would have been a more merciful death." He finally assured you, and you let go, unsure and overall confused.

"Oh, I've changed it."

The two of you turned to Crawley. "Changed what ?" You asked.

"My name. ' Crawl-y' just wasn't really doing it for me. It's a bit too... squirming-at-your-feet-ish." You chuckled at his explanation.

"Well, you were a snake." Aziraphale smirked, and his brow ticked in a teasing manner.

He was? You gulped and bit your lower lip. Thoughts came in a whirlwind into your mind, and you certainly weren't listening to anything they were saying. God, how many mistakes have you committed? The unicorn, the forbidden bound, and letting the snake tempt Adam and Eve into eating the apple. You were a complete catastrophe.

"Did you ever meet him ?" You heard Aziraphale ask.

The step you tried to take back was stopped by confusion. They were supposed to be linked, and when that happens, the people involved spend a lot of time together, as one would expect. So logically, they would at least know if the other had met someone as important as Jesus. What if... You visualised the surrounding bounds, the complete, yet-to-be finalized and the multitude of possibilities. You darted down to observe the bound of the two and realised you were standing in the middle of it. And to add to your feeling of failure, you realised the bound was anything but completed.

You can't even get that right; you mocked yourself. Laughter and tears wanted to escape your throat. Maybe it was for the better, but still, you couldn't bear to be the reason two people couldn't be together, especially not with such a beautiful bond. Perphas, you could try to shoot them one last time. You considered the thought for a moment and slowly decided against it. That was until you heard Jesus cry in pain once again.

"Oh, that has got to hurt." Crawl—no, Crowley hissed. You sniffed, but a small smile settled on your lips. The sound alerted the angel that spined to see you.

"He'll be alright, dear." He reassured me while tilting his head to the side to get a better look at you.

"For sure. Like I said, he's a bright man who wouldn't even hurt a fly; he'll go right up there." Crowley assured me too, gazing up at the sky.

You scratched your arm and hummed in response. Jesus was being horribly tortured for the ideal that love was the best thing life had to offer, and he priotized beyond anything else. The feeling was mutual; you wanted to live by that, if only your peers didn't make it sound so out of place. But you thought the least you could do to honour your philanthropic companion was to respect his beliefs.

"I'll be heading home... I'm heading to heaven. Gotta prepare for his arrival." Your eyes were lost staring at some rock on the ground before retreating away and weaving. "Bye, bye."

"You're sure-" Aziraphale tried, but you were already gone, middling in the crowd where you belonged. A faceless stranger that no one recognised. You turned your blindness spell on and flew up in the sky. You glanced down on the pair and laughed to yourself while aiming. Hopefully you wouldn't have to shoot them again, but come on: how many more arrows would this bound need ?

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

41 A.D. Rome

Your invisible form was flying through the streets of Rome at a daring speed. Footsteps running on stone pavers and clothing rubbing against the rough surfaces of the city walls rang in the air. The giggles of the youthful couple were mixing with your own as you twirled around in pure delight. Oh, the sheer happiness of being young and deeply believing that their first love story would last forever.

It might be surprising to hear for some, but cupids were not shooting at every couple. It is your principal job, but most importantly, you were supposed to make sure the world's boundaries were constantly supplied with love. Of course, bounds were the most secure way of ensuring it; not every love story was meant to last forever. And young love is one of the most powerful types, beside unconditional love, as it is filled with hope and innocence.

The young man suddenly grabbed his lover's hand and pulled him into a small, secluded alley. You clapped your hands and soared up in the sky to land on the rooftop of a house. You crawled your way to the hedge of it and gawked down on them with a wide smile. The smaller boy was backed against the wall while his partner was smothering him with kisses on her nose, cheeks, and throat. His arms were passed around his neck as he hugged him lovingly. You supported your head with your hands settled against your cheeks.

The taller boy separated himself from his neck, and he used this opportunity to kiss him passionately. A huge wave of love came rushing up to you, and you inhaled it with vigour, both with your nose and mouth. It raised you on your knees and made you fall down on your back. You basked in the reinvigorating feeling and strung out profusely. The cold stone made the exposed skin of your legs shudder, but the warmth you felt in your heart surpassed any other sensations. It filled your stomach, and you were completely sated.

You hummed deliciously and observed the sky. Now, you were thirsty and still riled up from the emotion, and as always, you didn't know how to manage the thrills coursing through your system. As you came to understand, humans had different ways of dealing with such stirs. The more your body experienced, the more you contemplated your options; you just didn't have the guts to try. Whether it was food, sleep, or sex, You didn't know why; you just had that urge to be human.

Of course, it was absolutely inconceivable for your fellow angels and certainly for the demons too, if you were honest. It was just a different side of yourself that you started to discover. As strange as it is to say, acknowledging to yourself that you made terrible mistakes on Earth made you feel wonderfully uninhibited. You just lack the courage and actual safety to try.

Being unable to talk to anyone about it made you feel so insecure and scared. What if something went wrong ? What if your gifted body wasn't made to experiment anything 'humanly'? Oh Jesus, what if you exploded?! Yes, you had an inexplicable fear of exploding, and you had no idea where it came from. You just needed someone to... Well, actually, you just needed someone.

You rolled to your side and listed all the endeavours you wanted to throw yourself into when you felt an oddly familiar presence. You were alone most of the time; no one was really 'homey' in your heart. So, you kept rolling towards the busiest street, forsaking the lovey-dovey couple. It was a restaurant, and a busy one at that. Still, you managed to spot a red-headed man with much shorter hair than you remembered.

You looked down at your hands, still doubting the choice you made eight years ago. To appease your mind, you slipped down and called off the spell. Maybe they were on a date. Did they eat food ? Yes, you had your priorities neatly organised.

You peeked the upper part of your head through the door frame and found Crowley sitting alone on a stool. Scanning around the restaurant, you were met with the queer sight of Aziraphale playing on his own. Well, maybe it was a tradition of theirs...

"What have you got? Give me a jug of whatever you think is drinkable." He leisured. It peaked your interest, but you didn't initiate any movements. You watched intently when you saw Aziraphale get up from his seat and go up to the demon.

"Crawley- Crowley ? Well, fancy running into you here." Damn, they are definitely the least communicative couple you have ever encountered! Certainly, a bound like that would make it so much harder for them to be apart. You flashed your eyes pink, and that was when you summoned your vision. And you felt like screaming. Their link was still incomplete !

"Y/N ? Golly, it's quite a reunion." Aziraphale chuckled, clapping his hands. He gestured for you to come to the counter too. Unsure, you tiptoed your way towards them. Your mouth opened slightly when you saw the two drinks lying there.

Aziraphale followed your eyes and chirped. "Oh, where are my manners? Would you like a drink too, dear ?"

You blushed and started playing with your fingers. "I never consumed anything from Earth." The stutters you let out doubled the intensity of your embarrassment.

"Anything ?" Crowley insinuated, even though you didn't catch what he meant. The angel did, though, and tsked in a reprimanding tone.

"Still a demon, then?" He gave him a side eye.

The redhead snarked in response. "What kind of stupid question is that,'still a demon?' What else am I going to be, an aardvark?" The angel didn't listen, however, and ordered a drink for you.

You looked down, feeling like you were overstepping a private discussion. Sheesh, your shot has been totally useless, heh? You were really good for nothing, cupid, now were you? "It's really nice of you, but..."

"Here you go, apple and pear juice." The bartender served you right before you could slip away. You eyed the goblet and sniffed the sweet smell of appel and pear, the scent of endermant.

"Don't worry, the taste is way sweeter than house brown; it'll be easier for a first try." His round hand was handing you the drink, and you gently grabbed it, brushing your fingers against his. Bubbles were twirling in your stomach at his consideration.

"Thanks." You mumbled. Crowley huffed with a smirk. When you met his gaze shyly, he winked and grabbed his own cup. A gentle and warm sensation envelopped your body, and you held your cup closer to yourself.

"Salutaria." Aziraphale cheered and went to clank both of your goblets. You and Crowley met him in the hallway, and the vibrations caused your skin to create goosebumps. You enjoyed the feeling, especially when you ran your fingers alongside the texture, like you were doing unconsciously on your right arm. Freezing mid-thought, you rushed to see that your heavily scarred forearm was exposed for anyone to see.

Hiding it in such a hurry caused the pair to study you. You forced out a laugh and raised your glass again. "Heh, a moment of hesitation." You said this before bringing the cup to your lips. In the corner of your sight, you saw the angel moisten his lips.

"So, why are you in Rome for?" Crowley wondered, not caring at all for your discovery, as he finished his drink. You hummed in delight; your taste buds felt like exploding. You darted your tongue out and rolled it around the bit of honeyed pear that couldn't quite enter your mouth. Crowley gulped audibly, as he apparently didn't finish his bevarage as you thought he did.

"Mmh... I thought I'd try Petronius' new restaurant." Adding to the fruity liquid, a heavy wave of macarons and rosé made its way to your nose. You laughed breathlessly, and you were brought back to the conversation. "I hear it does remarkable things to oysters."

"I've never eaten an oyster." Crowley confessed. Do people eat rocks? You tilted your head, confused.

"Oh, well, let me tempt you to..." Aziraphale started, making you gasp.

You weren't the only one spurred up by the vocabulary of the angel; Crowley suddenly turned around to meet his gaze. That is when you noticed he covered his eyes. Despite this, Crowley still looked somewhat exasperated for some reason but was giving hints of macarons as well. Perphas, they were so flustered because you caught them on their date.

"No, that's—that's your job, isn't it?" His expression was tight, laughing through his teeth, his eyes going back and forth between the two of you.

To make sure you weren't the problem, you tried to suggest you join them on their little trip. "I might try an oyster."

He sputtered, realising the mistake he had made. "Oh God... Mh, the taste might be a bit too rich for you." You licked your lips, chasing the saccharine flavour. Crowley looked etched and suggested something out of sympathy.

"They'll be simpler food..."

You put the goblet down and backed. "Don't mind me, I'll see myself out; I still have some, huh, miracles to do!" It was a lie, of course; your lot didn't perform miracles on a daily basis, but you didn't think much of it. Oddly enough, lying didn't bother you that much.

You were so ashamed. You didn't understand why your bow didn't work. Some couples weren't easy to finalise, but you had already shot them twice. Plus, their bound wasn't strained or weak; it wasn't a technical mistake. So why ? "Have fun." You hoped your smile would encourage them to dine together, in spite of your interruption.

"Y/N-" The crowd already covered your body, while you wasted no time scampering away. The moment you were out of breath, you had arrived at the market. Inhaling deeply, you straightened yourself up, trying to sort out your thoughts. Obviously, something was wrong, whether it had to do with you or with them. If it failed not only once but twice, it's because it wasn't meant to be at all. Continuing would be pointless; you had to give them up. You had to.

Why, in the name of love, could you not make up your mind around the idea? Why couldn't you shake off the feeling of excitement you felt when those two were together? Certainly, a bound that would send such love could not be a miscalculation. They made you feel so good, and the theory of your possible addiction is becoming much more plausible now. But you refused to get addicted to them. You had to leave them; if they were meant to end up together, they would eventually do it on their own.

"Would you like to try an oyster, dear customer ?" A merchant interpellated you, since you had stopped only a few steps away. You observed the display of rocks and took a curious look at the seller.

"How do you eat them?" You asked.

"It's easy; come see." He called you over. First, he held the head in a firm grip and brought a knife to the tail of the pebble. He then twisted the knife around and finally slipped it inside. You raised one brow at your own dirty mind and looked away. Finally, as you didn't watch the rest of the show, he levelled the now-open rock to your face. "And you eat what's inside."

You studied the bogger-like thing and sluppered the whole thing, afraid of the taste. And surprising enough, you loved the taste of it, even if the viscous consistency made it hard for you to properly touch it with your tongue. You wondered what it would have been like if you went with Aziraphale and Crowley.

Jesus, you wanted to slap yourself. Stop thinking about them; you couldn't break your new resolution so quickly. And still, the thoughts kept rushing in! How caring the angel had been when he offered you a gentler beverage. The strange device that rested on Crowley's nose, which hid his pretty yellow eyes, The visible fluffiness of Aziraphale's whole being. Or the sweet gesture Crowley had for you, even though you had imposed yourself between him and the white-haired man.

Ok, you are ceasing at all, Y/N; this is ridiculous. You just had to be a burden, now don't you? All of a sudden, a hand tapped on your shoulder, but you were too irritated to answer politely.

"What ?" You snapped and shook the hand right off your shoulder.

And you turned around. You were sadly met with a slack-jawed Mihael, a colleague and former friend of yours, before the war. She was walking—well, you thought she did—but she still floated a few inches above the ground. Her dark pink eyes scanned your face, your fully expressive face, and trailed down to where you lay. She saw you eating, walking, and feeling. Oh God, she saw you snap, broodi, and enjoy. Worst of all, she was, out of all the cupids, the most documented about your situation. Mihael knew. It made her terribly dangerous.

"Please..." You pleaded, reaching out to her, but it only made it worse. She pranced as if she had been burned by your aching hands. Wors couldn't align together.

"Mihael, wait !" You ran after her, but she had already taken off and activated her blindness spell. "No, for heaven's sake !" You then tried to scream your disapproval out of your heart. Running away was the first thing that popped into your mind. Maybe go to the bottom of the abyss to properly cool down. That's how Mihael would come back, or if you were summoned, you'd be perfectly capable of faking your emptiness.

You sighed and detected the scent of desire. It was a brothel—a fancy one. You contemplated the idea of entering and finally deciding to indulge in your sinful interests. Hey, you were about to spend a fair amount of time away from all civilization, not even having light as your company. It would just be another line you'd cross, but you stopped counting the moment you bound an angel and a demon together.Oh God, could you just stop thinking about it? Ugh...

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

1354, Balkan merchant caravan, Greece

"We can't just keep every infant we find, Y/N. She's not our kin." Elif lectured you severely. Who was Elif, you may ask? He's the head of the merchant group you've been following for a couple of months. You had met him and his wife a few years ago, for obvious reasons, and now you travel with them in the hope of providing the parental love the two craved.

However, they were never able to conceive. So when you found this little baby girl, you knew she needed them as much as they needed her. Convincing Nazli was easy, Elif—eh, not so much. He wouldn't have an unknown baby as his child.

"We will give her to the next village with a stop-by, and that's final." He gave you a stern look and walked away to the group of men gathering around the fire.

It would have been easy to use an emotional orb to persuade him to keep her, but you knew their link would be hollow and fake; it would never last. You sighed and caressed the chubby face wrapped in a tight blanket, nested in the woman's arms. Her eyes pleaded your way, and you sent her a wave of reassurance.

"I'll take care of it, love. Don't worry." You smiled. You jumped out of the caravan and stretched your arms and back. The night sky was truly a beauty. On the day of your creation, though it's all a blur, you remember that it was also the same day all the stars were brought into existence. It was incredible, a majestic moment you wished you could recall more clearly, but your mind was funny like that.

You sighed, the memories of your last meeting with Mihael coming back to the surface, as you did four hundred years after you spent sleeping in the ocean. Honestly, you didn't mean to sleep; it was just all so peaceful, you couldn't help it. She hadn't said anything to Jophiel or Chamuel, not even her own linked! You were so thankful for that. Adriel was a real pain in the ass.

She came to you, more worried than anything else. I apologise until your ears bleed; you still didn't show the full spectrum of your emotions. You didn't trust her. All Mihael did was warn you, advise you to show minimal emotion, and keep better track of your environment.

Following her recommendation, you strayed from your kindness while still providing enough love so they would let you be. Through all your experiences, the distance between you and your peers grew larger, and even if you shared your emotional capacity, you knew you were a freak. It was all too strong. You felt alone in your emotions. Alone in the world. Under the vast canopy of the night sky, with stars twinkling like distant beacons of hope, you stood alone in the deserted land, your heart heavy with a profound sense of isolation. The world around her seemed to fade into insignificance as she gazed up at the infinite expanse above, feeling small and insignificant against the backdrop of the cosmos.

As you traced the patterns of constellations with your weary eyes, a wave of emptiness washed over you, engulfing you in a sea of solitude. Each glittering star seemed to mock you with its unreachable brilliance, a reminder of the vast distances that separated you from the rest of your kind. The soft breeze brushed your hair, bringing along a particular smell. Images of a certain red-haided demon flashed through your mind. A gasp fell out of your lips, and your heart swelled, beating wildly. You searched franticly, bouncing on your toes.

The moment you spot him, you want to rush and greet him, but his posture and behaviour stop you. Crowley is standing next to a caravan, seemingly hiding behind it. Confused, you take baby steps towards him and wait. Once you arrive near him, you get to see what he was watching.

Thieves and barbarians were steathly making their way down the hilltop to the merchants. They were barely visible to the eye; the bright glow of the campfire seemed to warn the good people, but no one seemed to notice. You bit down on your lip when you realised it was certainly your friend's work. Friend ? You meant the client. The anger you felt wasn't directed at him, and it surprised you.

Well, no, what surprised you the most was his next action. While you thought Crowley was here to supervise everything that went smoothly, he instead did something unexpected. He straightened up, raised his hand, and snapped his fingers. You frowned, completely lost. Now, you were standing right behind him, peeking to see the scene unfold.

A huge piece of marchandise rolled out of a cart, one facing the approaching criminals. Elif, who had been conversing with his men, snapped his eyes at the bag before scanning the area around it. Including the bushy hill. The man spotted the group and alerted the others to get ready to fight or hide. You gasped and glanced over Nazli and the baby, but they were far enough away and well hidden.

Your eyes soften at the realisation of what Crowley just did. He also seemed quite satisfied with his actions, and you knew he was congratulating himself. Yeah, you smelled the mix of whipped cream and blueberries. A smug smirk appeared on your face, and you decided to scare him just a bit.

"How much has changed since I left?" You spoke up playfully, making sure to be as sudden as possible. And your wish was answered when Crowley spun around violently, screaming and bolting away from you.

You laughed despite yourself, but the demon was too stunned to really care. "Y/N ?! You scared the hell out of me!" He crowed.

"It seems like you didn't need my help for that." You accused me teasingly, a brow raised.

His widened eyes finally shrank down, and he gulped. "It's not what it looks like." His voice sounded almost pleading, tugging at your heartstrings.

"Crowley, it's okay. I ain't going to denounce you." You took a step forward and tilted your head. "But I will ask you questions." The struggles of battle could be heard, with the thieves charging at the campers.

He groaned and ran a hand in his hair. It grew longer since the last time, probably multiple times since it had been centuries since you two encountered each other. It seemed to be tied into a low ponytail, and his clothes were still as black as the night, in comparison to yours, which were always colourful.

"So... why are you doing the angels work ?"

He sighed and took some time to respond, allowing the gooshing sound of blood hitting the ground to fill the air. "I guess I could tell you..." Crowley took off his glasses and searched into your eyes. In return, you offered him an encouraging smile.

"Me and Aziraphale made an arrangement... We stay out of each other's way and help when we can." He crossed his arm against his chest, leaning again against the caravan.

"Seem simple enough..." You shrugged before frowning. "Don't... don't Heaven and Hell suspect anything ?" Your voice reflects your concern.

A dagger was thrown your way. Crowley grabbed onto your sleeve and pulled you out of its trajectory, next to him. "Nah, they never suspect anything; you know how they are." He tried to act casual, but you did smell relieved that you didn't freak out.

You hummed and chuckled. "Yeah.." A kind of comfortable relationship settled between the two of you, but you couldn't shake the awakening remaining. Leaving abruptly and disaperating for centuries will do that for you.

"Where have you been ?" The redhead inquired.

You inhaled deeply before answering. "I visited the abyss for a while, and... I kind of fell asleep."

Crowley's impressed smile echoed your embarrassed one when he turned toward you. "You fell asleep ?" He nagged with a chuckle. "For how long ?"

"For about four centuries..." You rubbed the back of your head. The air abruptly carried the piercing cries of the infant, grabbing your attention and sending them right back to your clients. You gasped sharply and held your breath. Two barbarians were sprinting towards the poor woman and the baby. Nazli did her best at keeping them at bay, swinging her sabre around and cutting them off enough to prevent them from getting closer. But their patience was running thin.

"Nazli !" Alerted by gut-wrenching cries, Elif called out to his wife, his eyes widening with terror. But he had no time to think; no, he rushed into action. The chief slashed his way to his love, not stopping for anything. Not even the cart right in front of him, where you and Crowley were currently leaning against.

"Wow." The two of you mused in chorus as the chief jumped right over your heads and landed right behind the two men. He brought his long, curvy dagger to the first's throat and slit it wide open. The cries of the baby kept ranging through the air as you watched in awe and slight disgust as the crimson liquid poured down in a thick puddle on the soil.

"Ew." You murmured, earning a scoff from Crowley, who observed the scene with arms crossed over his chest. The other thief punched Elif in the face, but he couldn't care less. He spit out a mixture of blood and saliva and then plunged his dagger into the attacker's chest with all the rage he could muster.

"Mh, talk about killing for love." Crowley commented. But didn't answer. Instead, you looked at the scene tenderly. Elif helped his wife get out of the caravan, putting his hands around her and the baby. That's when the infant instinctively grabbed onto the man's finger. By the way his breath caught in his throat, you knew it pulled right at his heartstrings. You couldn't help but smile like a complete goof.

After what felt like hours, the marchants finally won their battle. Now was the time to mend wounds and sooth souls. Crowley stayed with you the entire night, giving you two hours to catch up. And despite how much you struggled to admit it, you did enjoy spending time with him. Not because he was a dreadful company, quite the opposite. But you knew you had to keep your distance.

Right now, you sat next to each other, watching the spouses cuddle the baby. In the soft glow of the rising dawn, Elif and Nazli sat side by side next to the fire, their hands clasped together in a silent gesture of love and solidarity. The room was bathed in the warm hues of sunrise, casting a soft, golden light upon their faces.

"Nazli." Her husband began, his voice filled with emotion, "I've been thinking a lot about what you said... Maybe we should take her in."

Nazli's eyes lit up with delight, her heart swelling with gratitude for the man she loved more than words could express. You swore in that instead, as you smelt the intoxicating scent of love, you could sink back into the deep abyss and leave solely on the memory of their love.

"Oh, Elif.." She exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion. "Do you really mean it ?"

Elif nodded, a smile spreading across his face as he reached out to gently caress his wife's cheek. "Yes." He replied, his voice filled with conviction, "I mean it with all my heart. I want nothing more than to offer you the family you always wanted." His hand caressed the small baby's hair. "Offer her the family she needs. Little Qamirah." He smiled foundly.

Tears of joy welled in Nazli's eyes as she threw her right arm around her husband, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Thank you, my love," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. You smiled tenderly and glanced towards Crowley, your hand gesturing to the couple. He smiled softly and rolled his eyes in anoyance, but you knew how he truly felt.

You retreated from the wholesome, resting your head back against the wooden cart. "Maybe this deal isn't such a bad idea after all."

Crowley mirrored your chuckle. "I guess you could be added to the contract." He jested teasingly.

You gasped happily and smiled. "Really ?"

"Sure, but it'd be best if you stayed on the surface of Earth for that." He nudged your elbow with his own.

"Don't worry." You streched your back and raised your covered arms high in the sky.

Crowley frowned as he took notice of the clothing. "Afraid you'll get a tan?" He teased.

You bit your lip and caressed your right arm. "Nah, more like a fashion choice." You winked. Crowley laughed hoarsely and then streched up his arm. You watched softly as he got up and dusted himself off.

"I'd love to stay, but I got some reel demonic work to do." He waved off and had already started to walk away. In a matter of seconds, you got up and followed after him. Somehow, you didn't want to let him leave, at least not this way.

"Wait !" You called, and Crowley stopped midstep.

"What ?" He turned softly.

Instead of answering, you sprinted towards your caravan and grabbed a plant you had snatched when you went to the other side of Earth and spent time with the Tupi-Guarani ivilization. They have wonderful, complex social structures, rich oral traditions, and extensive knowledge of the natural world. Ah, what a wonderful vacation !

You pulled out the plant; they called it the flower of the moon. It was a stunning plant, prized for its graceful, glossy foliage and elegant white flowers. With its lush, dark green leaves that arch gracefully from the base, the moon flower produces delicate, white flowers with a central spadix surrounded by a white, petal-like spathe. "There you go!" You handed it to him with a bright smile.

Crowley observed this little beauty of nature before looking up at you with an unimpressed expression. "A plant ?"

You rolled your eyes. "Not just a plant, a moon flower. But it's so great to have one of those! You never really feel alone."

His bright yellow eyes stared into your own before he smirked. "It was time for you to emmerge, sweetheart." He nagged.

You pouted and nudged his arm. "Shush. Take the plant, a gift for everything you taught me." He groaned and took it anyway.

"Just so you know, if it dies, it's not my fault." His warning made you chuckle.

"I'll keep that in mind." You winked. "Thank you for your help." He simply nodded as a goodbye before disappearing from thin air.

As you stood there, you felt loneliness crawling its way back onto your shoulders. All the while you stayed with the demon, you never once felt alone. And more than that, you truly experience true understanding, and it was so refreshing... The irony of the situation was truly oddly amusing to you. You didn't trust another cupid, one of your kind, to display every emotion you could have. But it felt so natural to do so with a guardian angel and a demon. Swallowing with difficulty, you observed the newly founded family and felt something echo deep into your soul.

You laughed—a mixture of disbelief and strange relief. Not only were you one of a kind, but you also found out that you weren't alone in this. Yep, maybe you could indulge yourself in their company... Just a tinsy bit...

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

1793, La Bastille, Paris

"Rattrapes la, bon sang!" You yelled at the young woman, hoping she would finally decide to run after her friend.

"Non, Y/N." She dismissed her sternly, though the tears threatened to leave her eyes. "Elle a fait son choix; c'est son problème." Turning away from you, she hid her feelings for her friend from you. At least she tried.

You groaned and added exasperation. "Elle a juste eu peur, Lucie. Robespierre est en train de couper des têtes à la volée; c'est tout à fait normal!" Lucie's 'roomate' Madeleine had joined her during the revolution, but the more the franzy took over, the more scared she became. People began beheading anyone who was against the Republic ideology, which included severing the heads of nicely dressed people.

Obviously, an argument ensued, and Madeleine decided to run away from Paris all together, to be safe from all the madness. Lucie wanted to stay, to continue the fight, but you knew she loved her more than anything. And here you were stuck between the two, trying desperately to smooth things over and reunite them. Which was insanely difficult.

"Alors quoi, tu vas la laisser partir? Ne plus jamais la revoir?" You tried to reason with her.

"Absolument !" She exclaimed and threw her hands in the air, acting like a spoiled brat. All of this was still too fresh. Lucie was immensly offended and hurt by her lover's words; there was no way to calm her down right this moment.

So you sighed and ruffled your hair. "D'accord, si c'est ce que tu veux..." Softly, you turned away from her. "Mais n'oublies pas qu'elle ne part que demain matin... agis avant que tu le regrettes." You threw her one last glance towards her, giving her time to pound.

As you made your way towards the square, you saw a couple young men tearing out pavers from the street and children gathering wood for their home. The city streets bustled with the fervour of revolution, while you kept seeking solace amidst the chaos that engulfed the lovely city. The distant echoes of revolutionary chants mingled with the clatter of horse-drawn carriages and the murmur of lively conversations, creating a symphony of sound that enveloped you in a cocoon of anonymity.

With each step you took, you felt the echo of Lucie's convictions pressing down on your stomach—the burden of long, agonising memories hanging over your heart, ready to come crashing down any second. The events of the day had left you shaken and unsettled, your mind swirling with thoughts of rebellion and resistance that once again didn't originate from you.

As you kept walking, you found yourself drawn towards the quieter corners of the city, away from the tumultuous crowds and swirling currents of political intrigue. Picking up a small yarrow, you softly palyed with it in between your fingers. As you wandered through narrow alleyways adorned with quaint cafes and bustling market stalls, your sensitive nose smelled of Parisian life and emotions.

With each passing moment, the rhythm of your footsteps became a mantra, a soothing cadence that calmed your racing thoughts and grounded her in the present moment. The cool night air brushed against your skin as you rolled up your sleeves, enjoying the relaxing wind on your scarred arm. The scent of freshly baked bread and aromatic spices was a comforting reminder of the simple pleasures that still existed amidst the turmoil of the revolution.

Slowly, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the beauty of your surroundings, finding solace in the timeless elegance of Parisian architecture and the soft glow of gas lamps that illuminated the streets like beacons of hope in the darkness. You brought the small white flower up to your nose and inhaled its scent deeply.

And as you flew up to a moonlight-bathed rooftop, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, allowing yourself to bask in the stillness of the sky. Reajusting your red béret on your head correctly, your eyes suddenly snapped down to two guards guiding an overly dressed and white figure away towards the Place de la Révolution, where the crowd was gathered around the guillotine.

And you knew who he was, for sure. "Oh God, Aziraphale..." You sighed and shook your head. The angel had quite particular taste in clothing, so it wasn't really a surprise when you spot him parade in Paris with such expensive clothes. Yeah, he always had a way to miss social clues. So, you flew back, saying farewell to your newly found peace, and followed them from a safe distance.

For your part, you dressed as the typical revolutionary Parisian, while slightly more colourful, so you had no trouble sneaking inside the prison, dodging the aristocrats being taken away by the very clear slashing sounds and screams coming from the lace. You kept searching among the moist cobblestones until you heard Aziraphale's gentle voice.

"Look, this is all a terrible mistake." He assured me while you slowly peeked your head from behind the cold stone wall. "I don't think you understand."

"I have good news for you. You are the 999th aristocrat to die at the guillotine by my hand." The man affirmed himself cheerfully, like a proud collector. "But the first English." You rolled your eyes at the statement, still waiting for the right moment to interfere. Why did Aziraphale not consider using a miracle? Why risk discorporation, especially such a painful one ?

"Now..." The man started before you heard him move around.

Before you understood what he was doing, Aziraphale got up, his chains clanking on the ground. "Please ! No."

You frowned, anger bubbling in your stomach and your teeth gritting. No way I'm letting him hurt Aziraphale... A rush of adrenaline washed over you, but just before you could intervene, a voice spoke from behind you.

"How about we help our little friend, mh ?"

A loud, high-pitched yelp escaped from your throat, and you turned violently around. Crowley was looking at you through his sunglasses and mocking a smurk on his lips. You let out the breath you kept in your lungs and growled.

"Don't do that." You scowled.

He shrugged and leaned over the prison cell. "It's just payback, sweetheart." He mumbled in a low voice and snapped his fingers, causing your brow to raise.

"Animals." The angel grumbled, deeply reproachful. You smiled and pushed the cell door open.

"Animals don't kill each other with clever machines, angel." Crowley said before sitting down nonchalantly.

"I'm afraid only humans do that." You added, standing with your hands behind your back.

"You..." Aziraphale sighed, and you smelled utter relief emitting from him. "Good Lord..." He smiled, rolling his eyes. You close up to him and gently remove the chains from his wrists. Your eyes trailed on his clothes, and you scoffed. Long white coat, richly decorated vest, obviously tailored pants, gee... The only thing you missed was the way your friend looked down at your hands, his breathing picking up slightly.

"What the deuce are you doing locked up in the Bastille?" Crowley inquired from his corner. "I thought you were opening a book shop."

"In London, nontheless." You finally got rid of the metal and let it fall loudly to the ground. Stepping away from him, the angel had space to take a deep breath and explain himself.

"Well, I was. I got peckish." He pouted, rubbing his bruising wrists.

Crowley smirked. "Peckish ?"

Aziraphale couldn't meet your gaze as you tasted funnel cake in the air. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, if you must know, it was the crêpes." You chuckled in response.

"Crêpes ? Don't they make 'em in England?"

"Not as good as the ones you find in Paris, that's for sure. Oh, and the brioche." He assured me, filled with conviction. You shook your head and kept laughing.

"So you just popped across the channel during a revolution because you wanted something to nibble?" The demon almost, ironically, lectured.

You shrugged. "Meh, I could understand. But not dressed like that, Azy." A smirk took place on your face.

He eyed you two up and down and then stated: "I have standards." In all your responses, you stuck out your tongue. "I did hear they were getting a bit carried away over here, but..."

"Yeah, this is not getting carried away. This is cutting off lots of people's heads very efficiently with a big head-cutting machine." The red head pointed out his slight resentment.

You nodded in agreement, but tried to bring up the positive. "At least, they are quite creative." But all you earned in return were jaded looks from your two clients. You raised up your hands to plead your innocence. "But, why didn't you miracle your way out?"

An effective way to change the subject. Aziraphale looked down once again. "Oh, I was reprimanded last month." You glanced towards Crowley, and you shared a knowing look. "They said I'd performed too many frivolous miracles. I got a strongly worded note from Gabriel."

Your lips twitched in a contrite pout. Only imagining what Chamuel would do if you ever got reported didn't settle quite with you, and the last thing you wanted was to bring to yourself. In a way, you were envious of how Aziraphale had even the chance to make a mistake.

Crowley stood up and strolled towards you. "Well, you're lucky I was in the area."

"We." You wasted no time correcting him.

Aziraphale scoffed. "I suppose I am." A soft smile appeared on his face, and the faintest blush appeared as he gawked at the two of you. "Why are you here?" He frowned.

"My lot sent me a commendation for outstanding job performance." The demon answered first, waving off his own statement.

Aziraphale gasped and got agitated again. "So all this is your demonic work?" He gestured towards the raging crowd.

"No. The humans thought it up themselves. Nothing to do with me." Now it was Crowley's turn to clear his name. So, there is a chance for you to restore your image.

"Heh, I told you, creative." You chirped proudly. But the same silence welcomed your words. You sighed, and your shoulders fell. "Fine..."

"Well..." Azirphale talked up again after a few seconds of judging silence. "I suppose I should say thank you for the, uh, rescue." He swung his arms from either side of his body softly.

"Don't say that." Crowley suddenly surged forward and snarled, startling you slightly. "If my people hear I join forces with an angel to save another, I'll be the one in trouble."

You sighed and rolled your eyes, already starting to walk away. Over the centuries, you learned to leave these two whenever they started to have a moment. "And my lot, do not send rude notes." Crowley's voice was fading and was replaced by your own footsteps.

"Well, anyway, I'm very grateful. What about if I buy you lunch?" Aziraphale offered. You stopped in the middle of the hallway and, at a turn, smiled, melancolic, before foresaking their conversation. Even though it didn't stop there.

"What do you think, Y/N?" The red head stopped mid-sentence as he noticed you were gone. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "What do they always do?"

Once again, you didn't join them for lunch. Why would you? They were just clients. You repeated this to yourself all the time, hoping one day it would finally make its way to your brain. But this desire never went away, despite how many times you echoed your words over and over again.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the slowing city, you stepped out of a restaurant, crêpe in hand. Obviously, to avoid any unwanted attention, you made sure to pass by Lucie and, thank you enough, Madeleine. Quietly munching on your treat, you observed their bodies finally coming together. The tension that had lingered between them for so long seemed to melt away in the fading light, replaced by a tentative sense of reconciliation. They were a few feet away from each other, but still Lucie reached out tentatively, her hand trembling slightly as she touched the blonde's cheek, her eyes filled with regret and longing.

"Je suis désolée, Madeleine." She whispered softly, her voice barely audible above the gentle rustle of leaves. "Je n'ai jamais voulu te faire de mal." Tears softly formed in her eyes. "Je t'aime plus de tout au monde." She confessed, her voice breaking under the emotion.

Madeleine's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she reached out to clasp her lover's hand in her own, the relieving scent of forgiveness filling the air. "Je t'aime aussi, Lucie." She replied, her voice trembling with emotion. "J'ai juste eu tellement peur... tout ce qui passe en ce moment..." Her breath quickened once again through her fear.

"Je sais, je sais, et je m'en excuses. Mais je te promets qu'il ne t'arrivera jamais rien, jamais." She assured, so determined with the firm intention to protect Madeleine until her last breath.

And in that moment, as they sat together beneath the canopy of clouds, you felt a pang of longing tug at your heartstrings, a silent reminder of the feelings you had buried deep within your soul. It wasn't the first time you felt envious, but you would never let those feelings settle in your heart. The choice you made so many centuries ago will never change. However, as you watched from the sidelines, you were unable to recognise the truth that lay dormant within your own soul.

Lucie and Madeleine embraced, their love rekindled amidst the fragrant blooms and gentle whispers of the night, as they finally found solace in each other's arms. "Ça ira mon amour..." Lucie hugged Madeleine tightly against her chest as she continued to sob her relief and fear. "Ça ira pour toujours."

Yeah, it will be okay. You bit off a bit of your crêpe, the mixture of the taste of love and your little snack warming up your belly in the best way. You got up and stretched out your arm, bow in hand. And while you shot the two of them, you kept hoping that one day you would be at peace with your choice.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

1811, Windsor Caslte, London

The grand ballroom shimmered under the warm glow of candlelight, its walls adorned with opulent tapestries and gilded accents. As the musicians tuned their instruments, the air buzzed with anticipation. Ladies draped in silk and lace, gentlemen adorned in tailored coats, assembled in a choreographed display of social refinement. As the orchestra struck the first notes, couples gracefully glided across the polished floor, engaged in the intricate steps of the minuet. The scent of perfumed wigs mingled with the delicate fragrance of flowers scattered throughout the hall. Servants discreetly circulated, offering glasses of fine wine to the elegantly attired guests. You swiftly grasped a glass and nodded to the young woman, thankfully.

Amidst the rhythmic rustle of silk and the subdued murmur of conversations, the atmosphere exuded a sense of sophistication and regality. The ball at the court of George III unfolded as a spectacle of grace, where every movement and gesture spoke the language of grace and societal hierarchy. You strolled among the crowd to fade into the background while observing two enemies dancing together. The line between love and hate was so thin. You couldn't help but feel drawn to them, despising the risk of facing a hate demon. She was sent to kill him, a duke, but they've been dancing for hours now. The tension was there—the ballroom, the dancing—if you wanted to, you could just send a wave of temerity, and the deal would be sealed!

I continued to stroll in a circle around the couple, listening to the music softly. You enjoyed the sweet melodies and the frail details of each note; it made your heart react differently to every song. You hummed the languishing melody as you closed up to the buffet, where you were met with a familiar presence. Your head softly snapped to study the table covered with baked goods, and you smiled brightly as you recognised the person. Rushing to his side, you wasted no time greeting him.

"Aziraphale !" You chirped as you stood a few feet away from him. The white-haired angel was startled, as he didn't expect you here, even less to catch him with his mouth full. He let out a muffled exclamation before swallowing with difficulty.

He coughed a bit before greeting you back. "Y/N, hello!" Aziraphale smiled and closed up to you ever so slightly. "Golly, I haven't seen you since the bastille." His whole presence was so warm, and you couldn't help but bask in it.

You nodded, still smiling like an idiot, as you looked at him up and down. "I'm relieved to see you understood how to dress according to the situation." You teased him playfully and nudged him gently. Worry had eaten you up for a long time since the last time you saw the trusting angel almost getting disintegrated, so it was refreshing to see him well and still so fluffy-looking.

"O-Oh.." He smiled, embarrassed, while rubbing where you had touched his arm. He laughed softly. "Yes, I learned my lesson well enough."

You grinned gently before grabbing a small snack from the display of food. "So, what have you been doing here?" You munched softly on the little dish before looking back up at him.

"Oh, well, I've been sent here to perform some miracles, as always." Aziraphale explained. "But I must admit that I stayed for the music and the food." He hummed as he picked out something too. "Ah !"

You laughed softly at him and took in the ballroom once more. "I see. It's nice to see another angel enjoying music too."

His eyes seemed to sparkle when he nodded. "Indeed, it is." He smiled, his squishy cheekbones raising up. Despite yourself, you couldn't help but blush at his attention, though you would not admit it. To shake those ideas out of your head and tilt your head towards the intricate dancing. "Even danced before?" You wondered, taking the last sip of your wine.

"Oh, heavens no..." Aziraphale dismissed you, while you still caught his yearning gaze directed to the dance floor. "Angels don't dance."

You raised your brows, your lips pouting in an agreeable manner. "True, but we are one of a kind." The smirk on your face was nothing but devilish.

He exhaled deeply and shook his head. "You spend too much time with Crowley." The last dance came to an end, and the room roared with delicate applause. Aziraphale kept fidgeting with his fingers, longing to join in on the next dance.

"By the way, I know the steps of the minuet." You trailed off casually. "I could guide you." A small grin creeped into the corner of your mouth.

His chest swelled quickly at your words. "You do?"

twirledYou didn't ans;er him, instead, you giggled and led him to the dance floor. In the dimly lit ballroom, the strains of a delicate melody of the song 'St James' House' twirling in the air. With a gentle yet firm touch, you guided him through the intricate steps of the dance, your movements fluid and effortless. As you two glided across the polished floor, your poised demeanour contrasted with the angel's tentative strides, yet he followed your lead with a mixture of awe and determination. His steps faltered occasionally, but your encouraging smile and subtle corrections kept him in rhythm. With each turn and twirl, you conveyed a seemingly lifetime of experience, while Aziraphake, with his earnest enthusiasm, added a sense of freshness and spontaneity to your performance.

He had the happiest grin on his face while gracefully gravitating around one another. "You're doing great."

His cheeks were coloured a soft pink. "It's so much better than I could imagine."

"You shouldn't be afraid to do what your heart wants because you dread what others might think." You chuckled and squeezed his hand.

His brown eyes met yours, and you smelled cypress and pitaya. The words escaped your mouth before you could think; they shocked both of you but truly conflicted him. And you wanted to slap yourself with your own hyprocrisy. However, Aziraphale didn't give your dark thoughts enough time to form.

"Sometimes I wish..." He whispered, looking down at his feet. You gave him time to form his words correctly, gently leading the dance. "I wish I wasn't attached to Heaven." He was truthfully letting his vulnerability out, trusting you with ideas that could get him erased. "Not that I want to be a demon; far from that! But... at least not having so many restrictions and rules."

"I understand how you feel; it's the way Heaven does things. I find it odd and... cruel." Under the facade of elegance and refinement, a sense of unease hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the grandeur of the evening. You two kept twirling and spinning, your steps now synchronised in perfect harmony. With each turn and dip, no one could suspect how you spoke in hushed tones of the injustices and inequalities that plagued the very system they were sworn to uphold.

"It's unfathomable." Aziraphale murmured, his voice tinged with frustration, as he guided Amelia through a graceful turn. "How can we claim to be the arbiters of justice when we let incommensurable horrors happen on Earth ?"

Your brow furrowed in agreement as she met Aziraphale's gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the harsh realities they both faced. "Indeed," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness. "I also had been exposed to a certain... hypocrisy." You kept escaping his gaze. "But at least, I think we can find beauty in the fact that despite all the hate in the world..."

You trailed off your last words, preferring to watch over the angel's shoulder and see your two clients still dancing with ardor. Their movements were a silent protest against the injustices that permeated their world, a defiant assertion of their shared belief in a better, more equitable future. A hope that encouraged them to share a kiss instead of guiding each other to their deaths. You smiled softly and led Aziraphale towards the outlet of the dance floor, as you had an arrow to shoot. "Most humans choose love."

As you finished your sentence, you reached the rest of the ballroom. Aziraphale's mouth was slightly open, as if totally mismerized by words. On instinct, you chuckled and kissed his cheek. "Sorry, Az, I have to go, but it was so good to see you again!" You chirped and fantastically ignored the angel's blush. "Bye, bye! Smooches !"

And you left, bouncing up and down and disappearing in the crowd. But you couldn't resist a last little peek. As you did, you catched Aziraphale, pressing his hand to his cheek with eyes wide open. You giggled. Sometimes you forget how angels aren't used to being physical; you have to cut him some slack.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

1862, St. James Park, London

In the tranquil setting of the park, you stood next to the serene pond where ducks paddled lazily through the shimmering waters. With each gentle toss of seeds, you watched as the ducks eagerly darted forward, their feathers ruffling with excitement as they pecked at the scattered treats. You were waiting near the Aziraphale and Crowley, discretely, of course, and waiting to see the result of your new attempt. You had tried a new technique and sincerly hoped it worked this time.

Lost in the soothing rhythm of your task, Sarah hardly noticed the passage of time as she waited for her friend, Alex, to arrive. But as the minutes stretched into hours, a frown creased her brow, and a sense of unease began to gnaw at her. Finally, you spotted Crowley alone, striding towards you, his brow furrowed and his expression clouded with frustration. Your heart sank as you recognised the telltale signs of a heated altercation, and you braced yourself for the storm that was about to come.

As he approached, he stomped his foot heavily on the ground beside you, his movements stiff and tense. Sensing the tension radiating from her friend, she hesitated for a moment before tentatively reaching out to lay a hand on his arm, a silent gesture of comfort and support.

He groaned loudly and kept fidgeting and squirming around; it was obvious he didn't handle frustration really well. "I can't believe him!"

You chuckled and turned back to the pound. "It's good to see you too, Crowley." You smirked.

"Yeah, yeah..." He dismissed me but didn't ask anything. Without another word, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a crumpled paper bag, tossing a handful of breadcrumbs into the pond with more force than necessary, causing the ducks to scatter.

"Don't feed them bread!" You slapped his hand to stop him, causing all the crumbs to fall to the ground.

He frowened and shook his hand to nub the pain. "Why ?"

"It's bad for them! There." You stood up and gave him your small bag. "Give them some cracked corn, or even peas is fine!"

Crowley nodded absently and started throwing the seeds inside the lake in a more calm manner now.

“So, what did Aziraphale do to piss you off this time?” You grinned softly.

He didn't smirk like he used to. Nor even scoff. You turned to him and realised he was playing with the small, empty bag. You frowned slightly and inhaled deeply. Rusty metal and tuna filled up your nose, making you fully turn. Why was he feeling guilty?

“Was it something you did?” You guessed in a soft voice, trying to show him you wouldn't judge him if he made a mistake.

He groaned and took off his glasses to rub his face. His bright yellow eyes met yours, and you saw doubt. What wasn't he ready to tell you? After everything you had discussed.

“If it’s something you said, I'm sure it can be dealt with.” You smiled reassuringly.

He shook his head and faced you slowly. “It's something I asked.” His answer was evasive, but at least he was giving you hints.

You nodded absently, though you didn't know what Crowley could have possibly asked that Aziraphale wouldn't allow. “Did you ask to buy a book?”

He scoffed out a laugh. “I wouldn't dare.”

“Then what?” You pressed in a near whine. Crowley lost his smile and looked back ahead.

His chest rose in a deep inhale, and he reached in his pocket for a piece of oddly wet paper. With a scrunched nose, you took the slimy paper and opened it. And what you read made you feel what other cupids thought you always did. Dead serious.

“What…w-what..” You coughed and blinked repeatedly. “Why would you need that?”

He was fixed on your face, examining your reaction. “For insurance. In case the deal goes wrong."

“It's too dangerous.” You took a step back. Anger started to bubble in your stomach. Why ? You couldn't exactly pinpoint it. Maybe it was against Crowley for ever considering such an idea. Or against yourself for participating in a deal that you knew could bring mountains of troubles. You squished the paper in your hand and miracled it away. The red-haired man sighed next to you.

"Fine, take his side; I don't. As I said to him, I got other people to 'fraternize with, some more open-minded people." He pestered you, but you didn't miss the smell of hurt. You huffed anyway and frowned.

"Yeah, right, go on then. Go tell your demon friends how eager you are to get your hands on this; I'm sure they'll be thrilled!" You snarled and threw the last bit of seed into the water, miraculously not hitting any ducks. Not wanting to stay any longer, you left, purposely stepping on the ground harder than necessary.

In an effort to clear your mind, you strolled through the park while the regular questions came running back to you. Why, when you shoot an arrow at them, it doesn't complete their bound but instead leads them apart even more? What were you doing wrong? It often confused you and kept gnawing at your brain, so very often. You entered a part of the park filled with roses of all sorts, similar to the different types of affection and love. Because flowers tend to represent the variety of loves that exist in the world. White roses for young love, pink roses for gentle love... And in the case of this one, you weren't sure.

While you observed this new rose, you failed to notice the angel's presence right at the angle. He was smelling the same flowers as you, Jack Roses, as they were called, to calm his nerves. As he gazed back up, he spotted you. A smile adorned his face, and he gently made his way to you. "Y/N ?" He gently called out. You looked up, too, and smiled. Yeah, you both knew you had the same conversation.

In a comfortable silence, you went to sit together on the worn park bench, the evening sun casting a warm glow over the tranquil scene. You noticed the furrowed brow and tense posture of your friend. He kept twirling the rose in between his fingers. Quietly, you grabbed it from his hand and attached it to his jacket as an ornament.

With this gentle touch, you offered a wordless gesture of support and solidarity. Aziraphale's gaze flickered towards yours, uncertainty etched in the lines of his face, but as he met your reassuring gaze, a flicker of relief crossed his features. In that moment, you felt the tension in his body begin to melt away, replaced by a sense of reassurance and, you’d call it, camaraderie. After a few minutes, you grinned slightly and joked. “Fraternising ?”

He scoffed and closed his eyes. “You know what I meant.”

The problem ism that you didn't. Through theMilanals,s you never understood the nature of their bon,orr your relationship with them. Are they friends,camarades, or, lovers ? It was so mess and confusing. Maybe it was because of your heart, but you were not capable of identifying the truth of it all. And solely about them,m which only made it worse ! But now, you couldn't leave Aziraphale alone, could you? It was your fault if they split up, the least you could do was, well, do the right thing. And you always, always do what you think is best.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

1941, London

In the heart of wartime London, amidst the chaos and clamor of air raid sirens and echoing footsteps, you raced through the bustling streets, your heart pounding with urgency. The cobblestones echoed the rhythm of your hurried steps as you darted past dimly lit alleyways and bustling market stalls,your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

In the heart of wartime London, amidst the chaos and clamour of air raid sirens and echoing footsteps, you raced through the bustling streets, your heart pounding with urgency. The cobblestones echoed the rhythm of your hurried steps as you darted past dimly lit alleyways and bustling market stalls,your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

You were frantancly looking for Aziraphale. The two of you had been hanging around each other, and you started to notice when he first had contact with the Nazis. And despite your anger, you knew he was putting himself in danger, and you couldn't help but come to his aid. The only problem was that you had no idea where he might be. With every passing moment, the weight of uncertainty pressed down on your shoulders, driving you forward with a relentless determination. Your senses were heightened, attuned to the cacophony of voices and the distant rumble of explosions that reverberated through the city like a symphony of chaos.

Through the haze of smoke and dust, your eyes kept flashing pink, searching frantically for his familiar aura, your aching heart hammering in your chest as she wove through the throngs of people who filled the streets like ants scurrying for cover. Each passing moment felt like an eternity as you raced against time, your mind consumed by the singular purpose of finding Aziraphale and avoiding a catastrophe.

As you turned a corner into a narrow alleyway, your breath caught in your throat as your eyes finally spotted Aziraphale's bound, guiding you to a nearby church. With a surge of hope, you quickened your pace, your heart pounding in anticipation as you drew closer to the familiar energy. In your haze of thoughts, you didn't realise you were standing right in front of the huge wooden door and had kicked it open. The noise the door made mimicked thunder, startling the three men, though your blazing gaze was focused on only one. Azirphale had his eyes wide in complete confusion and was surprised. But only after a few seconds of taking your messy appearance in did worry morph into his face.

"Y/N ? Oh, my dear Lord, what happened to you ?" Aziraphale rushed to you, totally abandoning the two men.

"War happened to me." You growled before shaking your head and strolling towards him. "I can't believe you're dealing with Nazis !"

Meanwhile, a thinner man packed up the books Aziraphale had brought. "I will pass it on to the Fuehrer."

"To Hitler ? The wost human ever ?!" You sighed then, completely dejected. Like every war, it took a real toll on you. Love was hard to come by, and you were famished, going as far as bounding rats together. Aziraphale stumbled on his words, wanting to explain everything to you, but stopped himself.

"These volumes of prophecy will be in Berlin by the end of the week. The Fuehrer will be most grateful." You glared the Nazi's way, your face utterly sullen.

"You have been exceedingly helpful, Mr. Fell." You sent a deadly look in the white head direction while he kept fixing ahead of him, lips drawn in a thin line. That's when the noise of a gun resonated inside the empty space of the church. "Such a pity you and your friend must be eliminated, but take heart, just another in the blitz."

A loud, exasperated sigh left your lips, and you commented. "Again ?"

He pouted apologies in response and then turned back to his little friends. "That's not very sporting." You frowned, intrigued, and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

The chubbier one copied your frown and observed. "You do not appear worried, my friend."

The sound of heels was accompanied by another cocking gun. You turn around, your eyes widening along with the two other men, while Aziraphale fakes nonchalance. Still, he reeked of arrogance.

A woman dressed in black was aiming her weapon at the Nazis. "He's not worried." She revealed. She didn't smell friendly, though, but surprising enough, some humans were more talented at hiding their real intentions than others. That's why you couldn't figure her out. Wary, you softly stepped back, in between her and your friend.

"Who is she?" The man asked, and Aziraphale wasted no time in answering. "She, my double-dealing Nazi acquaintance, is the reason why none of those books are going back to Berlin." He turned to you, bowing his head with pride at his own schemes. "And why your nasty little spy ring will be spending the rest of the war behind bars." The two men nicely raised their hands and dropped their guns.

Suddenly, malice hit your nostrils—a mix of sweetpea and the steathy scent of gunpowder—revealing itself when you least expected it. Oh, come on...

"Let me introduce you to Captain Rose Montgomery of British Military Intelligence." The way he talked truly felt like he was reliving a scene from a mystery book, and you could easily get distracted by how much you enjoyed his almost childish joy if you weren't busy eyeing the woman's swinging aim.

She stepped closer, but you stood your ground next to the angel. "Thank you for the introduction." Her smile was too fake, and her gun kept pointing in the wrong direction, and you didn't hesitate to constantly step in the way.

"Our side knows all about the two of you. She recruited me to work for you." He insisted on the word 'work' while glancing furtively at you. But you knew something was off. "Aziraphale..." You started with a meek voice.

"And now she is going to tell you this building is surrounded by..." Aziraphale continued to ramble but interrupted him firmly.

"Aziraphale." You grabbed onto his arm to ground him as a twisted smile diformed the man's features.

"I'm afraid she works for us, Mr. Fell." You held back and growled as the man spoke up.

"Allow me to introduce Fraulein Greta Kleinschmidt." The smaller man spoke slowly as the woman turned towards both of you, clearly aiming at you now. Aziraphale gasped, but you kept keeping him away from the weapon.

Greta kept stepping away and started to talk tenderly with one of the men. Gee, you couldn't believe that the most love you had felt in weeks was coming from the most terrible people God had ever created. You glanced back at Aziraphale, who was completely lost, and it pained your heart to see him like this. "Now, where were we? Oh yes." The gun was so close, you swore you could just knock it out of her hand. "Killing you."

"You can't kill us. There'll be paperwork." Azirphale almost pouted behind you, but you sensed him moving closer. But before anything could happen, the heavy wooden door slammed open once again.

And whoever had just entered seemed to have quite trouble breathing. Or maybe they were hurt. In the end, it was a mix of both. "Sorry, consecrated ground." It was Crowley, daring to walk into a church. His feet seemed to burn as he tried to spend minimal time on the ground. And you thought about how grateful you were that you had the ability to fly. "Oh ! It's like being at the beach in bare feet." His voice was so high-pitched that it almost made you laugh.

"Crowley ?" You mused, at a loss for words. It's been years since you've seen him—well, since your argument in St. James—and it would be a lie if you said you hadn't missed him.

"Yep, the one and only, always there to save your butts." He teased while turning around in circles to avoid standing in one place.

"I should have known, of course. These people are working for you." Aziraphale accused you and finally stepped in front of you.

The demon seeked suppot in one of the dark benches as the floor kept burning him. "Nah, they're a bunch of half-witted Nazi spies running London, blackmailing and mudering people. I just didn't want to see you embarrassed." He tried to nag but couldn't handle the pain. Instead, he waddled around like a duck.

"Indeed, I see you are covering for us both." Azirphaled mocked you in a hushed voice and smiled when he noticed the growing grin on your face, even if you tried to mask it.

"Mr. Anthony J. Crowley. Your fame precedes you." The man started, catching your attention, and you noticed the woman almost drooling over your friend. Well, it was a bit exaggerated, but it seemed like the best vocabulary to use in that moment.

"Anthony ?" Aziraphale wondered, unsure if he heard him right. "You don't like it ?" Crowley retored, and you smelled legit curiousity; the thought of him changing his name to suit the angel caused a cheeky smile.

"No, no, I didn't say that. I'll get used to it." The white head reassured me, though he kept frowning. And it raised a couple questions for you too.

"Wait, so what's your name ? Or do they call you Aziraphale Fell ?" You leaned in, tilting your head to the side. "Kinda redundant, don't you think ?" You jested with a smirk.

"Really not the place, dear." The angel lectured gently but didn't lean away.

"The famous Mr. Crowley ?" She kept eyeing him like a piece of meat, and you really didn't like that, and you unconsciously moved in front of the demon, but it was kind of useless considering he had to keep moving. "That's such a pity that the three of you must die."

Crowley tipped his hat, and you pouted. "What does the 'J' stand for ?" You continued, despite what Aziraphale had just said.

"It's just a 'J', really... Look at that !" You frowned, followed, and looked over where he was gawking. Holy water. You scowled. "A whole fontful of holy water doesn't even have guards !" The red head explained a mixture of pain and excitement.

"Enough babbling. Kill them both." The Nazi finally ordered, already grabbing the bag full of books.

However, Crowley had other plans. "In about a minute, a German bomber will release a bomb that will land right here." He gestured while dancing around. "If you all run away very, very fast, you might not die. You won't enjoy dying; you definitely won't enjoy what comes after." You nodded in agreement, almost mocking.

"You expect us to believe that ? The bombs tonight will fall on the East End." The chubbier man smirked.

"Yes. It would take a last-minute demonic intervention to throw them off course." Crowley confirmed, and you decided to play along.

"I think you're all wasting quite valuable time, dear fellows." You smirked; you couldn't admit it, but you truly hoped they wouldn't run away and would rot in Hell.

"And if, in 30 seconds, a bomb does land here, it would take a real miracle for my friends and I to survive it." He tilted his head to the side, towards Aziraphale.

"A real miracle?" The angel stammered in response, carefully moving closer to the two of you.

"Kill them. They are very irritating."

Crowley raised his hands and pointed at the ceiling, expectingly. Suddenly, a distant rumble echoed through the darkness, growing louder and more ominous with each passing second. The ground beneath your feet trembled as if in anticipation, sending shivers down her spine. The air crackled with electricity as the sound of rushing wind filled your ears, drowning out all other noise save for the rapid beat of your heart.

With a deafening roar, the bomb plummeted towards the earth like a deadly harbinger of destruction, its descent marked by a piercing shriek that cut through the silence like a knife. As the bomb crashed into the church with a thunderous explosion, the earth shook with the force of its impact, sending shockwaves rippling through the air like ripples on a pond. Glass shattered and metal groaned in protest as the building buckled under the sheer force of the blast, the sound of crumbling masonry echoing through the night like the tolling of a funeral bell.

At an agonisingly slow pace, things settled. Your eyes had started to water, and you had instinctively closed your eyes to shelter yourself away from the bright light, the noise, and the chaos. The fear inside you was growing exponentially. It all happened in seconds. Your heartbeat was racing wildly, and your breath was shallow and erratic when you felt a person's touch. You were confused, and the person kept calling your name, but you couldn't find the strength or courage to look up and see who it was.

"Y/N..." The voice sighed, saddened by your state. Ever so gently, you found yourself enveloped in a warm embrace. You inhaled deeply the scent of the coat in which your face was buried and recognised Aziraphale. His arms encircled you with a sense of unwavering comfort and solace. Your body trembled with the aftershocks of shock, and your mind was reeling from the turmoil of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

As the angel held you close, you could feel the steady rhythm of his pristine heartbeat echoing against your ear, which was so reassuring. Crowley came closer too, but kept a distance and slowly stroked your. You felt the tension in your muscles begin to ease, the tight knot of fear slowly unravelling under the soothing touch of your friends embrace. In this cocoon, you allowed yourself to take a deep breath and process everything. You weren't used to so much action, preferring to act from afar. With each passing moment, you felt a sense of tranquilly wash over you, like a gentle tide lulling her into a state of calm surrender.

Finally, you regain composure and separate yourself from Aziraphale, while Crowley backs away. "T-Thanks..." You sniffed. The angel simply smiled warmly and kept his hand on your right arm, as if to grant you at least a bit of contact.

He then turned to Crowley. "That was very kind of you." He smiled once more and nodded thankfully.

"Shut up..." He brushed off, putting back his sunglasses, despite the darkness of the night.

"It truly was." You thanked me too. And you saw Crowley lip twitch in an apologetic pout, but you weren't mad at him; you didn't even think you would react like that. "Hey, there'll be no paperwork !" You chuckled.

Aziraphale along with you too, until he realised something. "Oh, the books!" He quickly scanned over the debris but didn't see them. "Oh, I forgot all the books !" You tried to look for the bag too, and apparently so did Crowley. "Oh, they'll all be blown away."

The demon approached us once again, the bag full of books completely untouched. Your eyes widened, and you watched the interaction with a tender gaze.

"A little demonic miracle of my own." Crowley handed it back to Aziraphale, who simply watched, dumbfounded and so, so smitten. You grinned and blushed at the rush of love you felt deep in your heart. "Lift home ?" He offered as if nothing had happened and walked over a black Bentley.

After inhaling deeply and discretely fed on the love, you gasped at the sight of the machine. "You have a car ?!" You chirped and sprinted behind Crowley, while Aziraphale stayed behind. Though the night was far from over, it started incredibly well, 'cause tonight, you'll be able to feast on a whole lot of love!

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

1967, Soho, London

In the smoky haze of the dimly lit bar, you sat perched on a bar stool, a tumbler of whisky cradled in her hand. The amber liquid glinted in the soft glow of the overhead lights, casting a warm, comforting glow over your features as you took a slow sip, savouring the burn that spread through your chest. You truly enjoyed this new pub, and particularly its name, 'The Dirty Donkey'. Yeah, it always makes your drunken laugh out loud every time you think about it.

For a fleeting moment, you felt a sense of contentment wash over her, the familiar rhythms of the bar providing a sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world. But as you glanced across the room, your gaze fell upon your dear client, Crowley, engaged in a conversation with two humans, causing you to cock a brow. They were moving to a private room, much to your surprise and honest annoyance. Thankfuly, not all your clients were desperatly trying to get themselves in trouble; expect two very specific men.

Groaning, you abandoned your glass on the counter and followed them. And yes, you had no shame in eavesdropping on people. Crowley hunched over the table, his voice low and calm as he exchanged words with the shady couple. Your brows furrowed with concern as you watched the exchange unfold, a sense of unease settling like a stone in the pit of your stomach.

"So, Spike, you're the muscles; you'll be hauling on the ropes." The demon explained it all too professionally.

"And she'll be going down on..." You didn't have time to hear the rest as you felt a presence nearing you. With a gasp, you swiftly put on the blindness, and you reprimand yourself for not thinking of it sooner. A young man walks past you and enters the room. In spite of your desire to follow him, you knew better and focused on spying.

"Who are you ?" A man spoke.

"I understand you need a locksmith." You grew even more confused. Why on Earth would Crowley need help picking up a lock?

You recognised Crowley right away. "I was expecting Mr. Narker."

"Well, Mr. Narker's passed on to his reward. I've taken over the business." The voice was the nearest; you figured it was the youngest. "He was my cellmate. He taught me everything he knew. "You rolled your eyes. Gosh, you hated when you were right.

"My name's Shadwell." You kept focusing; you needed to know what Crowley was planning.

"Please... sit down, Mr. Shadwell."

"Lance Corporal Shadwell. If you don't mind." Unbeknownst to the both of you, Crowley and you shared an unimpressed expression at the man's arrogance.

"So, what's so valuable that they're going to leave it in a church at night?" A more feminine voice inquired. That was when the truth came crashing down on you. You closed your eyes and sighed. He was still after that god-forsaken holy water. You gritted your teeth in anger, but another emotion overtook your wrath. You truly feared for his safety, knowing that he was treading dangerously close to a path from which there might be no return.

With a sense of determination, you straightened up and marched your way out of the building. You had to talk with Aziraphale now. So, wasting no time, you strolled proudly to the angel's bookshop, which was only a few miles away, and even if it erased any trace of epicness, you rushed in.

Startled, Aziraphale's gaze shot up from his book, and he met you in a near panic. "Oh my Lord, Y/N, don't enter like that." He said it gently while putting down his book.

"Sorry, Az, but it's kind of urgent." You apologised while hurriedly floating his way. "Crowley is in trouble."

He met you half-way, sending you a wave of snowy nights. "What kind of trouble?"

"He's going to rob a church to get holy water!" You cried out, deeply worried, too.

"Oh my God, I cannot believe him!" He exclaimed angrily, still in his polite tone. You sighed and waited for a few minutes, as Aziraphale's footsteps marked the tempo of his passing. It gave you both time to consider the whole situation and what your options were. There was no way you would just stay still without doing anything. But how could you prevent him from putting himself in danger?

That's when you got an idea. It wasn't the best, and you knew you'd have to convince the angel and yourself. Swallowing thickly, you finally took a step towards him and called his name. "Aziraphale ?"

He stopped in his tracks and waited for you expectantly, thinking you had found the solution to all your problems. Your lips formed a thin line before you finally offered him your thoughts. "I know what we agreed on, but... maybe we could trust him."

"What ?" His face had lost all its colour, and he looked at you like you had lost your mind. Which was understandable.

You exhaled and put your hand on his shoulder. "Think about it. What's worse? Has he tried to get the holy water on his own, possibly getting caught or, even worse, splashing himself in the process?" You seeked his eyes to convey how much you believed in your idea.

Aziraphale almost pleaded with you with his eyes. You frowned apologies and smiled softly. You were asking for a lot; he was terrified for his life, and you had just suggested giving him a suicidal pill. However, the angel surprised you once again. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before opening his eyes. "Okay."

A few moments later, you and Aziraphale teleported to Crowley's car. You held tightly to the bottle and hid it on the ground in between your legs. Just at the same time, the demon entered his car, sitting lazily. That's when he felt your presence and turned to you, astounded. "What are you doing here?"

"We needed a word with you." Aziraphale started calmly, with a high reserve.

"What ?" He faked ignorance.

Obviously, it didn't fool you, and you rolled your eyes. "Please, we both work in London; it's hard to miss things." Crowley glanced at you from the rear mirror but didn't say anything.

"And apparently you're setting up a... caper." The angel glanced towards you too, searching for backup. "To rob a church."

You nodded and leaned forward, between their seats. "Crowley, it's too dangerous." But your friend didn't let you influence him and kept looking away.

"Holy water won't just kill your body. It will destroy you completely." Aziraphale added, dread lacing his voice.

"You told me what you think 105 years ago." He snarled lowly, exasperation in the back of his throat.

"And nothing changed." You said it serverly, gripping on the leather seat, gaining Crowley's attention as he turned towards you.

"But... we can't have you risking your life." Though you knew you should have backed out the moment you were added to the equation of 'we', you couldn't just leave. "Not even for something dangerous..." Aziraphale sighed.

"So..." You reached down to the car floor, carefully pulled out the thermos, and slowly handed it to Crowley. His hands shook as he reached to grab it, though you still held onto it.

Aziraphale swallowed thickly and eyed the bottle like a hawk. "You can call off the robbery."

Your fingers met with the demon's as you let go of the bottle. "Watch the cap. Don't unscrew it unless it's your last resort." You warned in a hush voice, afraid the cap might just pop right off it.

"It's the real thing?" Despite his glasses, you can see how incredulous his face was. He held the holy water like a bomb, ready to explode.

"The holiest." Aziraphale was incredibly stiff, and he kept leaning away.

"After everything you said..." he whispered, unable to wrap his mind around the idea of the both of you giving in. "Should I say thank you?"

"Better not..." You smiled.

"Well, can I drop you anywhere?"

"No. Thank you.." Crowley pouted; he really wanted to do something for Aziraphale, but he kept being so stubborn. "Oh, don't look so disappointed. Perhaps one day we could... I don't know." He smiled thoughtfully. "Go for a picnic." He then glanced at you, truly hoping you would accept his next offer. "Dine at the Ritz." He shrugged. You looked down; maybe you were the stubborn one after all.

But Crowley insisted. "I'll give you a lift, anywhere you want to go."

"You go too fast for me, Crowley." Really ? Like, really? You sighed and roughly leaned back on the seat. Aziraphale didn't waste any more time and slipped out without saying another word.

But you could see past the facade of bravado the vulnerability that lurked beneath the surface of Crowley's neutral exterior. So, you reached out to him, making a silent plea for him to not give up. You knew that no matter how fiercely Aziraphale resisted, he would always be there by his side, despite how much he wanted to pull away.

For your part, you stayed, feeling a kind of pull urging you to do so. After spending some time in silence, Crowley spoke up. "Need a life, sweetheart?"

You chuckled and sat back up. "Please..." You observed the wheel for a few seconds before chirping, interrupting his movements. "Can I drive?" You used your big, charming smile.

Crowley glanced your way for a few minutes, contemplating the idea before shrugging. "Sure." He opened his door to switch places. You grinned mischievously and grabbed the stirring wheel tightly.

"I'll give it to you fast, boy." You said that and started the engine. Pray for Crowley's poor heart.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

2000, Aziraphale's bookshop, London

On your way to meeting Aziraphale and Crowley, you couldn't help but giggle like a little child. You skipped through London, avoiding flying and frightening the sweet baby creature snuggled against my chest. You didn't know such an adorable thing could ever exist, but humans were always full of wonderful surprises! You squeezed your way through the crowd on the busy side walk before finally catching a glimpse of the angel's bookshop.

"Almost there, baby!" You cooed with a big smile and felt her squirm against you. You hurried to cross the street and forcefully pushed the door open with your shoulder. The bell rang loudly, which brought your friends attention to you. Crowley was sitting on the couch, well, more like his body was thrown carelessly on it, whereas Aziraphale was nicely sitting on his big, comfy chair and holding a small device in his hand.

Crowley threw his head back to look at you. "Happy new milenial." He joked with scoff. You smiled brightly and floated towards them, not far away from the ground but enough to not walk down the stairs.

"Hello..." You sang and giggled again until I landed next to the couch. You squeezed the little bundle of joy into your arms. Aziraphale cocked a brow, amused.

"What do you have here, dear?" He smirked, curious. Crowley sat up and looked at you, intrigued as well.

"Oh... nothing..." You chuckled, giggling. Scanning the room for a place to sit, you notice a brand new big divan, which you had never noticed before. "Well, this is new."

Aziraphale got up and took the place next to you. "Indeed, it is." He laughed softly. "It's for you." You looked at him, showing him your disbelief.

"Aw, really?" You asked while approaching the grey van. It had a back, so you didn't have to just lie on it, and it looked really squishy too. You sat down on it and smiled brightly. "Oh, this is great! Thank you.."

The angel dismissed your gratitude with a small gesture. "No need to thank me, dear. "You'd simply like a place to sit on your own."

You smiled gently at him before Crowley spoke up. "What kind of animal is that?" He titled his head to the blanket in your arms as he gave off strong aromas of curiosity and... endermant?

You brushed it off and inhaled deeply. "Gentlemen..." You started trying to set the ambiance. Both of them leaned slightly. "Let me present to you... Eden!" You exclaimed wildly and took off the blanket, reaveling your new baby white dexter mini cow in all her cuteness. She mowed softly as you put her down. She was extremely tiny, with her white coat, black ears, and snoot.

"Oh..." Aziraphale cooed, and you could smell how smitten he was already with her. "She is precious." He affirmed.

Crowley gave off the same scent but still tried to keep up his mocking exterior. "Wow, that's where mini hambergers meat comes from." He teased, his uncovered eyes sparkling with mischief.

You gasped loudly, fakely offended, and went to cover her ears. "Shh, you fool ! She might hear you." Eden mooed and nudged your arm. "I know, baby, he's a meanie." You cooed and kissed her forehead.

"Damn right." He laughed and caressed the mini cow's fur.

"Right, you are absolutely dreadful." Aziraphale rolled his eyes, mocking the gentle behaviour of his friend. Crowley growled but didn't retort anything. "

"Really, you would do that ?" You smiled brightly, earning a chuckle from the angel.

"Of course, you spend so much time here; it would be cruel to leave that poor creature all alone." He tilted his head to the side, inviting you to follow him.

Aziraphale opened a door, right behind all the shelves, in the hidden parts of the bookshop. The room was dusty and crammed with books and antics, from the ground to the ceiling. And despite the library in itself, it was the largest room the bookshop had.

"We'll just put all that into other rooms and upstairs."

You turned to Azirphale, who was making grand movements to explain his whole plan. "It would be its personal stable. He smiled from ear to ear. It truly warmed your heart to see him so involved.

Crowley was leaning against the door frame, holding Eden to his chest. You spotted him and cooed mockingly. "Aren't you a sweetheart?"

He scoffed while petting Eden's head. "Nah, that's your job."

You pursed your lips into a bashful smile before an idea popped into my mind. "Oh, I never thought of what a cow might eat !" You exclaimed, outraged at your ignorance.

"Don't worry, dear, I'm sure I have a book about it somewhere." Aziraphale was reassured, already leaving the room to find it.

You sighed in relief and followed right behind him. It took some time, but you eventually found it and walked back towards the room, leafing through the book. The two of you came to a sudden stop. Everything that was previously in the room was lying on the ground. Aziraphale let out an offended gasp.

"Crowley ?" You called out, midway concerned and amused. "I'm not sure that's how you tidy a room."

The angel was the first to open the door abruptly and stop just as fast. You pressed yourself against him to see what happened to the room. Your eyes widened, your heart quickening, and your eyes flashed pink. "Wow..."

The room, if you still call it that, had enormously enlarged. So much that it actually had an horizon. In the seemingly soft glow of dawn, the meadow unfurled like a tapestry woven with a myriad of colors. Dew-kissed grasses shimmered with a silvery sheen as they swayed gently in the early morning breeze. A symphony of bird songs filled the air, weaving melodies that danced among the fragrant blooms.

Clusters of wildflowers adorned the landscape, painting the meadow a kaleidoscope of hues. Sun-kissed daisies nodded their heads in greeting, and their cheerful faces turned towards the rising sun. Delicate lavender blossoms released their sweet, intoxicating fragrance, mingling with the earthy scent of fresh grass and damp soil.

Water streams meandered lazily through the meadow, their crystal-clear waters glinting in the golden light. They carved sinuous paths among the greenery, creating small, tranquil pools where dragonflies darted and frogs sang their morning serenades. Butterflies flitted from flower to flower, their delicate wings shimmering like stained glass in the sunlight. Bees hummed busily, collecting nectar from the blooms and adding their gentle buzz to the symphony of nature's orchestra.

The ceiling—no, the sky—wasn't entirely blue, but it reminded you of a gentle summer morning. Just the softest warmth. We slowly walked into the landscape, afraid to disrupt it. The thick grass felt mellow under your feet, and you couldn't resist kicking off your shoes to feel it yourself. Aziraphale chuckles, joining the sweet sounds of birds and the running water.

"This is amazing !" You laughed in disbelief and utter joy, twirling around, taking in everything this beautiful place had to offer. The ground was now the last thing on your mind, and you took off in the air, floating around like a cherub.

"I can't believe Crowley did all this in such a short amount of time." Aziraphale backed up, caressing the petals of a Jack Rose.

You chuckled and floated in a circle around him. "Where do you think he is ?" Your eyes scanned the area, and you spotted him beyond a field of yarrows, answering your own question. "There ! C'mon !" You landed abruptly next to Aziraphale and took his arm, hurrying him to climb up the small hill.

Crowley was sitting underneath a tree that bore the colours of a pink cherry tree, but the lazy branches resembled those of a weeping willow. Eden quiet moos caused you to smile and rush the final feet, seperating you from the two of them. The demon smiled almost smugly at your arrival, and you responded with a bright grin.

"This incredible..." You panted a bit and roughly let yourself fall on your back, on the grass. Aziraphale chuckled and miracled a blanket under the four of you. A comfortable hum came out instinctively, and you completely laid on the ground. With a happy coo, Eden waddled her way and rested her head on your stomach. Aziraphale sat down as well, crossed his legs, and congratulated Crowley on his work.

"Now, this is a wonderful place to have a picnic." Aziraphale sighed and rested back on his arms. You chuckled and laid down on the blanket. Eden's weight left a comfortable pressure on your chest. Staring at the sunny sky through the pink brenches of the tree, the scent of heliotrope embraces your entire being.

You never knew what heliotrope was meant to represent, despite how many times you asked Mihael about its meaning. All she ever gave you as an answer was a cheeky smile and a shrug. So, you didn't ask further. And right now, all you wanted to do was bask in the scent and never leave this meadow.

Or its inhabitants. For anything in the world.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

There... Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to sleep U,w,U

Hope you liked it, I put extra details for you to enjoy ! Now let's hope Y/N | Balael will be and about in the next chapter, 'cause they're running out of time ;)

And if they're any errors like a lot 'I's instead of 'You's please let me know ^^

Bye bye !

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