#now then i gotta tag for archival purposes
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< CAPTAIN'S SLIMECICLE CINEMATIC UNIVERSE TIMELINE >
It's here!!! This is it!!!!! well okay tbh it's still very rough, there's a lot of detailwork that is kind of loose and stuff I'm still theorizing/thinking about, but this is the big look! I also cut down on a lot of the stuff about characters to focus on the timeline itself, so I might make a follow-up post with that stuff because ily council. But this is my interpretation of the scu timeline! I know there's a lot of malleability when it comes to the scu, but even within that there's certain parts I kinda took and ran a bit far with, so hopefully it all makes sense. The line between interpretation of canon and creation of headcanon is thin. Also, since my timeline isn't actually a line, it'd be a bit hard to watch along with, but I'll link the playlist of my personal preferred viewing order anyway HERE! And without further ado, here's my timeline :]
[Long post below the cut- enjoy!]
The Slimecicle Cinematic Universe follows the path of Slimecicle, one of many players who wish to achieve god-power. Players are able to travel between realms with ease, but altering those realms? That takes a considerable amount of power. However, this is not unachievable, and Charlie is one among a group of players attempting to become godlings.
VOCAB I USE:
Godling: A being of god-power that can alter realms, and primarily uses it for creation.
Demonling: A being of god-power that can alter realms, and primarily uses it for destruction.
Realm: What we would think of a minecraft world, a separate place that players travel to when they find new places.
World: Within a realm, it is the earthen spirit itself. More abstract, but a powerful force to be interacted with, and has some semblance of life, magic, and almost sentience itself.
Dimension: The Overworld, Nether, and End are different dimensions.
Player: a person who largely interacts with realms, able to move between many, and able to become a godling if powerful enough.
Wild spirit: a spirit somewhere between a person and a beast, connected to the world as opposed to the way players can interact with realms. While both players and wild spirits can be connected to mobs, the connection is generally stronger and more widespread for wild spirits.
God-power: Expressed by things like creative mode, op, and VR, powers that can alter realms and enforce some kind of control over players within them.
Plight: What happens to a godling when they are forced to die without respawning or in an otherwise more permanent/impactful way, an effect other than a mortal death. Can be broken out of, but is incredibly difficult, and can have lingering effects unless truly ended.
< PRIMARY CHARACTERS >
Charlie “Slime” Slimecicle:
Godling of food, enchanting, crafting, and smelting
Plight: DEATH (if worn down enough, he will not suffer a normal plight as other godlings would, but would become mortal and truly die)
Middle child
A shapeshifter by nature of being a slime, and his natural adaptability seems to be related to his proficiency with god-power.
“Condi” Condifiction:
Godling of other dimensions
Plight: caged (trapped in a location/pocket dimension of his own, and more importantly, trapped in his own mind in a whirl of penned-up hyperactivity that brings insanity)
Eldest
Condi, Charlie, and Grizz don’t remember if they’re biological brothers or not, but they grew up together, and Condi was always the most adept, the “alchemist assassin,” who kept them safe.
Grizzly(plays):
Godling of nature, weapons, and tools
Plight: shackled (forced to comply to the orders of the being that killed him, though it may appear as if he has respawned as normal. Can also more generally inhibit his ability to use his own power as he wishes)
Youngest (twin with Bizly)
Has gained animalistic traits from swapping power with Bizly, mainly vaguely bear/doggish. Since meeting they called themselves twins, and through this exchange have no reason to say they do not fit the word.
Bizly(channel):
Godling of mobs
Youngest (twin with Grizzly)
Plight: muzzled (at the most extreme is forced to disappear completely, being entirely unable to be heard or perceived by anyone. Can also more generally cause his words to lose meaning, and it is supernaturally difficult for him to be taken seriously or listened to.)
The only member of the Council who did not grow up with the group: he was a wild spirit (wolven) that was discovered by Grizzly, and slowly honed shapeshifting powers and traded bits of magic with Grizz to walk with players.
(J)Schlatt:
Demonling of food and nature
Grew personally slighted by Charlie and the Council, and eventually trapped them in a separate timeline of his own creation to attempt to kill Charlie.
< TIMELINE OVERVIEW >
Begins with IF ONE PERSON DIES EVERYONE DIES
The VR SERIES (videos marked with vr.) and CHARLIE’S ESCAPADES (videos marked with esc.) then happen at the same time, with the final video of the VR Series being when Schlatt’s timeline is created.
Charlie's escapades then repeat in Schlatt’s timeline, followed by NATURAL DISASTERS, HARDEST DIFFICULTY, and 100 DAYS.
At the end of 100 Days Condi activates the time loop, which he cannot use to break out of Schlatt’s timeline but he can use to bring everyone back to the beginning of it.
CHARLIE’S DREAMSCAPE ESCAPADES (videos marked with drm.) take place in the haze between his death at the end of 100 Days and him fully being transported by Condi to the beginning of the time loop.
< THE TIMELINE >
MINECRAFT, BUT IF ONE PERSON DIES EVERYONE DIES:
The conflict between Charlie and Schlatt begins here. Charlie is a trickster spirit at heart, and it is consistently seen to overlap with his joy in experimentation and creation, leading his pursuit for godly power.
This is one of the first places Charlie goes to try and hold his own among others who are growing in power like he aims to, and he at first struggles, as seen in how he fails to survive for long. However, he quickly makes use of this mechanic in his own way, and uses the forced respawns to tease the others. When Schlatt joins, this is especially targeted at him, to his infuriation.
Schlatt goes to Carson, who appears to be the leading godling of this realm, to ask for Slime’s removal, but he says that “I’m not sure that I can really do that.” This hints to some sort of power Charlie has that is potentially greater than even Carson and Schlatt, the most powerful entities there. In the same conversation it’s said that Schlatt is a broken record, hinting that he has trouble often with wanting to control others and remove them if they bother him.
This showcases the conflict of the whole series: The rising godling Charlie Slimecicle threatening the power of the demonling Schlatt.
MINECRAFT IN VR IS ABSOLUTELY TRAUMATIZING (vr.):
Charlie, Condi, Grizzly, and others begin working in a realm where they start experimenting with more control over their world, specifically by exerting control over themselves and their physicality in the plane (expressed through vr use).
Narwhal is notably present from the very beginning, as a figure of power among the group, and Wheatie is also a member from the start.
The excursion near the end of the video to the Nether is most notable as it is recalled in a flashback during the 100 Hunters video, specifically when Condi falls into the lava while bridging.
MINECRAFT IN VR WILL HURT YOU IN NEW WAYS (vr.):
Notably Schlatt joins this world, and it’s clear Charlie has a slight position of power over him in this place, and it makes him uncomfortable.
Bizly also enters the scene in this video, first in a beastly purple and gold skin, then mimicking Herobrine, slowly changing from a more beastly form to that of a player. He was a wolven wild spirit found by Grizzly, and as he gave some of his power to Grizzly to assist his path toward godhood, he gained power from Grizzly that helped him act as a player.
At the end of this video, Charlie, Condi, Grizzly, and others all partake in first a spleefing tournament, then a “gladiatorial bloodbath” which Charlie wins. Bizly watches this battle, and Narwhal and Wheatie both appear to have been utilizing god-power (creative mode) to create the arena, pouring power into it that Charlie proves himself best suited for. This is another of the beginning signs that he excels in this power.
Schlatt is not present for these later events.
I INVITED YOUTUBERS TO PLAY MINECRAFT VR AND THIS HAPPENED (vr.):
The rest of the council is not present, but Schlatt and other figures on the server are.
This video is largely just an example of Schlatt attempting to show he’s more powerful than Charlie, and Charlie continuing to fuck with Schlatt and generally make things worse.
Poppies make an appearance in the video, as an attempted and rejected peace offering from Charlie to Schlatt.
MINECRAFT VR HAS DRIVEN MY SOUL FROM MY BODY (vr.):
The video immediately starts off with Charlie and Travis claiming that Schlatt seems upset, while he vehemently denies it.
Schlatt also seems to be using the same kind of worldbending power Charlie has been utilizing in this video (VR), potentially as yet another way to try and maintain power over him. However, Charlie continues to prove he has greater knowledge and control over this power, and then Schlatt injures himself while utilizing the physicality-altering power, and this pushes Schlatt over the edge.
Schlatt gives an apple to Travis, taking control of him, though the power of the fruit isn’t known to anyone but the goat demonling yet. Travis begins to follow Schlatt and work with him to attempt to capture Charlie and then kill and cast a spell on him. It is with the symbolic death in the grave that Schlatt manages to latch onto Charlie’s spirit and begin creating a separate timeline in which he has control over Slime and the Council.
The rest of the video is a semi-hallucinogenic experience Charlie has as the spell is cast and he, along with his friends, are trapped in Schlatt’s timeline.
Travis is killed, and with this lifeforce and the ritual he enacts over Charlie, Schlatt puts his foot in the door to start working toward making Charlie mortal, and finally get back at him for the ways he’s taunted him.
ROLL (esc.):
Narwhal is given power in a realm of Charlie’s, a compromise to utilize Narwhal’s power and allow Charlie to attempt to expand his own. This was an idea proposed to Narwhal by Charlie not long after the creation of the VR realm, as Charlie started to come into his own in that kind of power and became more and more excited about the possibilities.
Flowers make an appearance as a protective entity.
During this video a site reminiscent of Molympus is also created, as an island floating above the land is created by the die.
Near the end of the video the die is dropped by Narwhal and Charlie gains control of it, and more of Narwhal’s power is passed to him. He is immediately able to use its power far more rapidly than Narwhal, and the world is destroyed by their battle. In the destructive blast, Condi, Bizly, and Grizzly are able to escape with the more powerful Charlie, but the weakened Narwhal and Wheatie fail to escape, and are destroyed, their power shattering and being absorbed by the newest godlings, the Council.
MINECRAFT, BUT IT’S PAY-TO-WIN (OR LOSE) (esc.):
After the blast, Charlie blames himself for Narwhal and Wheatie’s deaths, so he sets out to experiment with his newfound power on his own.
This is the most raw of Narwhal’s remaining chance power, which Charlie begins to learn to harness by not being able to control exactly what it does, but by being able to shift how likely each effect may be (changing prices).
MINECRAFT, BUT EVERY BLOCK FIGHTS BACK (esc.):
Condi and Grizzly, concerned for Charlie, ask him to let them help with his experimentation, and suggest they ask Schlatt to come into the equation as another power on par with Narwhal to help. However, they decide that all will be on equal grounds to hope to preserve everyone equally, so Schlatt is not put in godly status. Bizly is missing from this video, having been pushed to the side by Schlatt, unbeknownst to the others.
Charlie is the only one with god-power (op) to begin with, but he is walked through much of it by Schlatt.
Grizzly is at one point cornered by Schlatt, and threatened with an apple. Grizzly would have no way of knowing of the fruit’s power, and yet he immediately recognizes it and reacts with intense fear. This is some of the strongest evidence for a time loop, with residual memories that would allow Grizzly, the most affected by Schlatt’s use of apples, to remember it when face-to-face with it. It is also important to note that while Charlie does not seem to remember as much as Grizz, he is the one to send Schlatt away by overpowering him with more apples.
After this, Charlie says he has given god-power in the realm to all members (op), which Schlatt immediately makes use of to try and seize power.
After this the whole group slowly devolves into using their power more and more. It’s clear Condi, Grizzly, and Charlie have become just as adept at it as Schlatt, using it for jokes and cheats.
MINECRAFT, BUT IT’S WAY MORE TRAUMATIZING (esc.):
After the last escapade, Condi and Grizzly suggest they go to their own realm without Schlatt, and Charlie agrees. Because they do not have quite as much control the world becomes far more dangerous.
This also could be the way they searched for Bizly after he had been missing for some time, as he is more beastlike in origin. This world may even be his creation, not Slime’s, which would further cement why they did not utilize creative god-powers.
This video also showcases the tendency Charlie and Grizzly are characterized by in wanting to find ways to live amongst the challenges that face them, not necessarily fight to escape. They are far more inclined than Condi to settle in their tower and hunker down there and learn to live with the dangers around them, which is an attitude they continue to showcase in how they handle the timeloop.
MINECRAFT, BUT 100 PLAYERS ARE HUNTING ME (esc.):
Bizly has returned to the group, and goes along with Condi and Charlie for the next of Charlie’s exercises in his power.
This is another example of Charlie’s experimentation with randomized power, as a bunch of random people are spawned in and create entropy in their path.
Halfway through the video, after all three of them have died, Charlie resorts to using his god-powers, but it is too explosive and causes the world to crash. He shows his growth by reining in it quickly though.
There is an explicit flashback to the escapade to the nether in the VR series, when Condi fell before. This time, he does not fall.
Thatoneperson is an important figure, and is clearly more than just a hunter. They exhibit godlike power that hints at them potentially being Schlatt in disguise. This would be the chance used to muzzle Bizly, when the ordeal with Thatoneperson being killed leads to his being pushed off the fortress, a death that could be latched onto to muzzle him. This takes gradual effect, and he remains for the rest of the video, but is missing from Natural Disaster.
In the End fight with the dragon, Charlie yet again exhibits god-power to summon every hunter to fight by their side.
<< THE TIME LOOP BEGINS. >>
Charlie’s escapades all repeat in this timeline but under Schlatt’s watch, no longer as a way for Charlie to grow, but a way to torture the Council and weaken them.
MINECRAFT, BUT EVERY 5 MINUTES THERE’S A NATURAL DISASTER:
When Charlie eats the apple early in the video, it accomplishes what Schlatt began doing right before the time loop was created: it makes him mortal. He can now truly, fully be killed, if done in a way powerful enough to stop his respawn.
Immediately after this Charlie is notably able to give Grizzly an apple as a help, not a hindrance, which could be tied to his emerging domain over food. Grizzly’s domain over nature also begins to emerge as he gives poppies that begin to work as protective symbols.
Schlatt quickly gets them to build him a church, showing how he’s trapped them in a state they forget their own emerging god-power, and taunts them with the light to the command blocks later, showing the torturous pointlessness of the whole experience.
Grizz becomes shackled by Schlatt at the final volcano, but Charlie is able to take control of the realm from Schlatt and Grizz is able to break out to an extent. Schlatt does still remain in power over the timeline as a whole though, and retreats to regroup.
THE HARDEST MINECRAFT DIFFICULTY:
With picking the chests at the start of the video, the Council solidifies their domains of power as godlings. They had already began developing these, but this used some of the last chance magic Charlie had from Narwhal to allow them to concentrate their power into stronger, more specific areas. This whole video is an example of the Council going all out with their powers, and truly testing their limits.
When the apple is given to Grizzly and he falls, he becomes shackled again. Though Schlatt is not in this world, he is pulling the strings as this happens in his timeline, and so the shackled Grizzly is still forced against his brothers. However, he strains against his restraints, and manages to make the fight fair enough that his brothers can beat him.
The wolves were supposed to just be a joke. A joke between twins. Bizly’s wolfish, he wouldn’t really hurt them. If Condi hadn’t spawned them in the nether, it would have just been an illusion, a prank. It was just bad luck. “I may have been the boy who cried for the wolves, but I will not cry for you.” When shackled, and with Bizly muzzled, Grizz forgets that Bizly was the dearest wolf he cried for.
In Grizzly’s last moments, Bizly, who had been fighting against his own plight for a while now, sees that Grizzly’s being controlled by his own and he can either be shackled in the mind as his body fights his family, or he can be shackled fully as a ghost that cannot act against them. In saving Grizzly, Bizly has to kill him to turn the shackles to a kind Grizzly can fight out of. He barely manages to reach through enough to help them get to the end, but his shackling means he cannot be in the world with them, and even that small effort to help them doesn’t have any real use.
WE SPENT 100 DAYS IN HARDCORE MINECRAFT:
Charlie has forgotten everything. After Hardest Difficulty, the Council continued to try and live their lives, but in the wake of Grizzly’s absence Condi threw himself into research, locking himself in his labs for long stints of time, feeling something was off about Grizz’s “death.” He was eventually caged there, and Bizly faded further under his muzzling as Schlatt used this opportunity to take them all away from Charlie.
Schlatt then created an environment filled with death: a zombie apocalypse. Natural disasters also, notably, play a large role. This would be the final trial where he wore Charlie down to the point he could kill him.
Each of the Council appears in a diluted way how they can through their plight, and Bizly, having fought his off the longest, is able to work through his in many ways. He appears first out of the Council as Florida Man, accompanied by wild animals that he can interact with as a wild spirit.
Tommy enters, a wild spirit (zombie) who has started to move toward a player form and demonling power very similarly to Bizly. Grizzly ended up trading power with Bizly because they were at similar power levels, but Schlatt is able to give without any side effects because of his immense power, and Tommy comes into power over the 100 days as a demonling under Schlatt.
Charlie finds Condi’s lab where he’s been caged, and reads hints in Condi’s diary that he remembers what was done to Grizzly and is trying to fix it by recreating the world. His caged mind does not recognize Charlie, but Charlie is able to help Condi partially break out of his cage, and he is able to go out into the world though much of the mental caging effects linger.
“In the new world, Charlie, everyone will be happy. Because I’m going to be a god.” He knows.
Condi is not successful in hopping worlds- he hops times back to the beginning of Schlatt’s timeline. He can’t escape it completely, but can form a time loop so they can try again. It doesn’t seem like it’s worked at first, but it is in the moments between a death and respawn that he can transport them, and so he is able to go back when he “dies.”
The Blood Bachelor’s arena somewhat resembles the arena from the VR series, yet another ritual to whittle down Charlie’s mortality.
Ranboo is another upcoming godling/wild spirit, this time pulled in by Charlie, talked about more in the section for Beating Minecraft w/ Ranboo. He may have some idea of the fact that the apocalypse was created by Schlatt, twisted to be expressed by his conspiracy.
Wizzly is the still shackled Grizzly, fighting to regain control of his powers. He has some version of his own knowledge of the timeline as a whole, knowing that Charlie is the “protagonist,” the focus of Schlatt’s attention.
On day 99, Schlatt comes with apples, his strongest weapon. This is when Charlie starts to remember, and fears him, but the reminder of Bizly and the others pulls him away just before he eats. Bizly, who Charlie can barely remember, but with the knowledge Schlatt forced on him he now realizes has been working to keep him safe even though he’s a faded version of himself. Charlie then goes back, hoping he can bring him back before he’s faded completely, and he’s able to call him and the others for the final battle.
In this fight Tommy is seen wielding god-power, as he has become a demonling over the 100 days.
Charlie uses Condi’s machine to world-hop, and here, in a realm of Condi’s power, Schlatt attempts to finally, fully, kill Charlie. But in the moment where Schlatt kills him and attempts to stop him from respawning, Condi’s power is able to take Charlie not to mortal death, but back to the beginning. They will try again until they are all saved. Until Bizly is unmuzzled, Grizzly unshackled, Condi uncaged, and Charlie survives.
It is also worth noting that Bizly, Grizzly, and Ranboo were left behind, but at the mention of Charlie, Grizzly summons zombies, saying “let’s do it all again, run it back from the top”, and they are killed too, allowing them to be transported as well as Condi begins the timeloop.
<< THE TIME LOOP IS ENGAGED. >>
BEATING MINECRAFT AS A SLIME (drm.):
I FINALLY BEAT MINECRAFT FOR THE FIRST TIME… (FT. RANBOO) (drm.):
Both of these videos serve roughly the same purpose, as hallucinations/dreams Charlie experiences between time loops. There are many variations of them, all being very rudimentary ways of him changing a world and seeing how he fares, similar to his original escapades when growing his god-power. He begins to encounter Ranboo, a wild spirit of the place between dimensions (hence the enderman/End and ghast/Nether influences) that manages to interact with these dreams as Charlie moves between dimensions/times, and is eventually pulled into the timeline through Charlie’s power. However, he also begins to move toward godhood as a result of being gifted some of Charlie’s power.
These are the beginning of Charlie potentially being able to not only alter a realm, but create entire realms of his own.
#captain's words#slimecicle cinematic universe#scu#slimecicle#charlie slimecicle#I'm gonna tag the other primary characters mainly for my own archival purposes :thumbsup:#condifiction#bizlychannel#grizzlyplays#jschlatt#anyways. this rules my brain#I have some doodles of my council designs I might share and also AN ANIMATIC I FINISHED TODAY???? that I might post#which to be clear I've never made an animatic before. so. idk what possessed me but I made one for the scu#I think about the scu a regular amount and am very normal about it. come closer.#the only reason I don't go absolutely batshit is because condi and grizz are here and idk how much they look at scu stuff ALSJDFBDS#but I don't want to be perceived#I gotta stop talking now or I never will but please send me your scu timelines if you ask me about mine I'll die of happiness etc etc#scu nation rise up
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For the song ask thingy: Celebrity Status by Mariana’s Trench
This is
1) probably because I associate Mariana’s Trench with you ✋
2) it’s a very upbeat song 🕺
STOP I love this so much 😭
So honoured to have this association for you, it feels like a great accomplishment so thank you 🥰
#ask#ask game#mine#sscrambledmeggss#sidenote: the new url is very fun#I know its been like that for a bit now but I don't think I've said anything yet#and I think this is the first time I'm using your tag since you switched so we gotta use the old or for the sake of archive purposes:#xmeggiemoox
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👋 some words at the beginning (subject to change)
this is a nsfw blog. minors ily but you gotta fuck off this isn’t for you. also dni if you’re homophobic, a pedo, or a zoo.
also 35+ probably not you either for the time being unless you're an account that's interacted with me a few times yk
new addendum as of 11/17/23: given what i learned about how utterly useless the block function on here is, which you can and should read here, the situation mentioned below with explicit content will be the only reason i block a blog in order to maintain my posts staying within their intended audience of legal adults. this rule will continue until i am made aware that the errors in the block function have been corrected.
posts here may include: bondage, primal stuff, petplay, praise/degradation, monsterfuckery, furry content, vore, breeding (but not pregnancy), (soft) cnc, all kinds of weird physical/mental shit
posts here will not include: scat, (human) feet (there may be rare mention of monster feet), vomit, harder cnc
kinks (on my own posts only) will be tagged for ease of blacklisting. if i miss one please gently lmk it was likely an accident. reblogs are usually not tagged. you can read more about tagging policy here
ask etiquette: send me things! be nice though! also please no overtly sexual images of real people but other images are fine. i also love being tagged in things. i almost never rp with people though, if you have to ask if i’m comfortable doing that with you the answer is probably no.
new, likely indefinite addendum on the above point: if i open your blog and am immediately slammed with very very explicit untagged/flagged genitalia photos that may well constitute a block just heads up
i’m trans, so a significant portion of my content is gonna be aimed at trans people! misgendering me/characters is an instant block. we don’t fw that.
please send asks i adore them!
longer fiction under the cut (this will have a better system eventually)
i think that’s everything! have fun!
longer stuff:
dragon/human, m/f, oral, soft oral vore
mimic, fatal vore (idk why this one renders weird)
the kinktober posts:
teratovember:
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Spinning Through Stardust (2613 words) by awaytobeunshaken
Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Ashton Greymoore/Orym, Fresh Cut Grass & Ashton Greymoore, Ashton Greymoore & Milo Krook
Characters: Ashton Greymoore, Orym (Critical Role), Milo Krook, Fresh Cut Grass (Critical Role)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Space Opera, Futuristic with Magic
It was supposed to be a basic cargo run. Drop shit off, get paid. Instead, Ashton's stranded on a moon at the ass-end of space, smashed half to bits with only their engineer for company.
Orym's been wandering the galaxy on his own since the attack that killed his husband. The work he's been doing for Lord Eshteross hasn't quite given him back a sense of purpose, but he'll settle for direction and companionship.
It seems like just chance that allowed them to meet. But what is chance, really, if not the culmination of all that came before.
Prologue: Abandon Ship
"What the helling fuck?” Ashton shouted, mostly to himself, as he made his way down to the cargo hold among the debris that had once been his pride and joy. Up until whatever anomaly they’d jumped into had ripped half its systems apart and sent its crew scattering. “Milo!” they yelled, thankful to at least have personal comms. “Tell me you have some good news.”
“There’s no way I’m gonna get these engines stabilized before they blow. We’ve gotta get out of here.”
That was a ‘no’ then. “Just buy me a few more minutes,” Ashton replied, hoping his voice was still audible over the fizzling and hissing of the door panel leading to the hold. Half the shit in there was already trashed, but if they could at least salvage something it might still be okay. After all, it wasn’t his fault. That would mean something to most people. But Jiana Hexum had a reputation; she wasn’t an easy person to work for, but it meant she paid well if you needed some quick cash. It also meant she wasn’t someone you wanted to cross, even on accident.
They were still trying to stack a few crates on the hover dolly when the explosion hit, sending Ashton flying across the hold, grasping for the contents of the now shattered crates as they flew with him. He didn’t recall much after that. Pain, mostly. Especially in their head. Begging Milo to leave without him, that maybe if he went down with the ship, Hexum wouldn’t concern herself with the rest of them. Milo ignoring them, scooping debris from the floor, then dragging them through the ship, Ashton clutching… something to their chest with one arm, the other… draped across Milo’s shoulder, they supposed. Funny how he couldn’t feel that arm at all.
And then Milo finally, blessedly shoving them into the last escape pod—they left us one, that’s nice—and shooting it off into space. Milo’s voice, begging him, “Stay awake, Ashton. Please, just stay with me.” And they tried. Ashton Greymoore, who made it a point not to get played by anyone’s emotions, was also not gonna back down from a challenge. “C’mon Ash, please, just talk to me.”
“I—” But that was as far as they got. Breathing was hard. Words were harder. Milo was keeping one eye fixed on Ashton even as they dug through the pod’s medkit. They didn’t think he could do it. So he would. Just keep his eyes open. Keep taking one raggedy breath at a time. Just keep his eyes
Chapter 1 on ao3
#critical role#cr3#alternate universe#space au#ashton greymoore#orym of the air ashari#ashrym#cr fic#my fic
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ah yuko's birthday
#it really sucks to go to her tag on here most of the time#but no matter what still my fave holmes i should rewatch it already. i miss her i miss this#it feels so weird n sad to see such a little amount of people talking abt her or even knowing her at all#when my heart breaks every time i get a notification from a post abt her and those are like. happy posts!!#i dont wanna look at sad posts anyway#anyway. hbd and thank u for making me really happy with your incredible portrayal of my favorite character <3#yuko takeuchi#tagging this for my own archive purposes kinda dont want it to show up in the tags but welp#rants#i know it's not about that right now but man gotta finish watching elemntry one of these days too lmao#i kinda miss. being into this sometimes. like im still into this but yk idk
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Making Time
Mobius M Mobius x Reader
Part 3
My Masterlist • Series Masterlist
“Here we go.” You whisper, looking between Mobius and Loki, then up at Mount Vesuvius.
“Shh, any minute now.” Mobius adds.
“Until this entire town is wiped off the face of this planet. Imagine. All that volcanic ash-“ Loki starts.
“I know. We don't want to get too giddy.”
“Oh, come on! It's cool.”
“No, it is cool, but it's just not in good taste because...”
“They're all gonna die anyway.”
“I know. Now listen, I'm gonna watch the TemPad for any variance energy.” He says, pulling the device out from his pocket.
“Okay.”
“Okay, because we gotta be careful.”
“If you're wrong, and there's a good chance you are, anything we do can create a huge branch.”
“Oh, Mobius! You make even the end of the world sound boring.” Loki complains.
“Listen! Okay, we're not meant to be here.”
“And we don’t need Minutemen rushing here to arrest and delete us, okay?” You tell him. He nods,
“Okay.”
“Anything we do can impact the course of history. Do you get that?”
“Yes. Yes.”
“So we're gonna start with very small disturbances. Very small. Can you make bird noises?” You both frown at Mobius.
“Bird noises?”
“Yeah. Bird noises. Like some, like whooshing noises?” He begins to imitate a bird call. You roll your eyes,
“Moby? I was on the side of caution. But we’re going to need more than that.” Mobius continues his bird impressions to the disdain of Loki who groans and runs off.
“Loki!” You hiss. He doesn’t go far, standing on a nearby cart and proclaiming to the people of Pompeii that they are all going to die. On a positive note you’ve come up with a new scale to rate nexus events: starting with bird noises and ending with prophesying the future. Loki then decides to release a hoard of goats. Fantastic. Loki halts his Latin monologue to look over at you and Mobius for a fact check,
“We are from the future, right? What is the TVA? I mean, it's from the future. It sounds from the future. It's pretty futurey.” You’re about to answer him when you realise you don’t actually know. You’d always assumed the TVA just existed outside of time. Though you’re not sure how that would work. You’re about to ask Mobius when the volcano erupts. Loki then proceeds to have what looks like an existential crisis. “Nothing matters! Nothing has any consequence! Dance while you still can!” You lean over Mobius’s shoulder.
“How’s it going?” You ask, nodding towards his TemPad.
“I don't believe it. Zero variance energy. No branching in the timeline.” He tells you. Overhearing what Mobius says, Loki approaches you,
“The TVA would never even know we were here. If it were me, this is where I would hide.” A colossal cloud of ash rolls down the hillside, quickly approaching the three of you.
“Erm, Loki, bud?” You say, concerned that he hasn’t noticed. You point over his shoulder, “You got a little something-“
On your return to the TVA, the three of you head to the archives, searching for all naturally occurring disasters. Turns out there’s a lot of them. Mobius hands you a pile of events from before you existed, which you appreciated. Whilst you were curious about what happened to the world after you left it, you’re not too eager to see the long list of apocalypses. After what feels like hours of searching the three of you decide to take a break.
You and Loki are sat in one of the TVA cafeterias, waiting for Mobius to return with some food. Two hunters pass by your table, and you keep your gaze on the papers in front of you.
“Why do they look at us like that?” Loki asks suddenly. You look up at him.
“Like what?”
“Don’t act like you haven’t noticed. You and Mobius don’t get the looks that you and I get.” He observes. You sigh,
“That’s because when it’s me and you, they see two Variants possibly plotting to overthrow the TVA.” That shocks Loki.
“You’re a Variant.” He states, and you nod,
“I was set to be deleted, until Mobius stepped in and saved me.”
“You must be very grateful to him.”
“I am.”
“So you believe in the all powerful lizards which dictate the existence of trillions of people?” You smirk, looking down at the papers in your hand.
“I didn’t say that.” You glance up at him, recognising the look on his face immediately. He was scheming. “Look Loki, I may not be a hundred percent loyal to the TVA, but I am to Mobius.”
“Mobius, who is a part of the TVA, who you don’t fully trust. How can you know he has your best interests at heart?”
“I don’t. I’m just hoping, that he does.” Mobius soon joins the two of you. After a brief discussion about jet skis the conversation quickly turns far too philosophical for your poor ‘I’ve just read about a million case files’ brain.
“I don't get hung up on believe or not believe. I just accept what is.” Mobius says with a sigh. Loki looks at him incredulously.
“Three magic space lizards?” Mobius nods,
“Time-Keepers.”
“Created the TVA, and everyone in it?” Mobius nods again. “Including you?”
“Including me.”
“But not me.” You add. Loki laughs softly,
“Every time I start to admire your intelligence, you say something like that.”
“Okay, who created you, Loki?” Mobius asks.
“A Frost Giant of Jo
“And who raised you?”
Odin of Asgard.
Odin, God of the Heavens. Asgard, mystical realm, beyond the stars. Frost Giants. Listen to yourself...
It's not the same. It's completely different. No. It's not the same.
It's exactly the same thing. Because if you think too hard about where any of us came from, who we truly are, it sounds kinda ridiculous. Existence is chaos. Nothing makes any sense, so we try to make some sense of it. And I'm just lucky that the chaos I emerged into gave me all this... My own glorious purpose. Cause the TVA is my life. And it's real because I believe it's real. “Fair enough. You believe it's real.”
“Yeah.”
“So everything is written. Past, present, future. There's no such thing as free will.”
“Well, I mean, you know, it's an oversimplification...”
“But practically, yes.” You say, not wanting to hear the in-depth workings of the timeline.
“So, in fact, in a way, us three here at the TVA, we're the only ones who are actually free.”
“Where are you going with this, Loki?”
“How does it all end?”
“That's a work in progress.”
“Those lazy Time-Keepers. What are they waiting for?”
“Au contraire. Because while we protect what came before, they're toiling away in their chamber, untangling the epilogue from its infinite branches.”
“So when they're finished, what happens then?”
“So are we. No more nexus events. Just order. And we meet in peace at the end of time. Nice, right?”
“Do we get to live in peace or do we just disappear because we aren’t needed anymore?” You ask, suddenly concerned that he mentioned the end of time. Loki continues his own questions,
“Only order?” Mobius hums in response. “No chaos? It sounds boring.”
“I'm sure it does to you.” Loki suddenly changes the subject,
“You called me a scared little boy.”
“I called you a lotta things.”
“You did. You're wrong, though. You see, I know something children don't.”
“What's that?”
“That no one bad is ever truly bad. And no one good is ever truly good.” Well that was deep. Mobius looks down at the table in front of him.
“Scared little boy.” He repeats.
“Yes, it was quite patronizing. I thought it was a bit too far, actually.” Loki admits. Mobius looks up, an idea dawning on his face.
“You're very clever.” He tells Loki as he stands up.
“I know.” Loki makes a ‘well obviously’ face as you stand and follow Mobius as he makes his way to the archive.
“The Variant left something behind at an old crime scene. A cathedral. A candy box. An obvious anachronism. I gave it to Analysis, but they couldn't find anything real.”
“Why does that matter?” Loki asks. Mobius unlocks a box on a nearby shelf, before opening it up.
“Cause now we have two variables. Apocalyptic natural disasters and... Kablooie.” He pulls out the candy box.
“What's that?”
“Candy. Do you have candy on Asgard?”
“Yeah. Grapes, nuts.”
“No wonder you're so bitter.”
“There’s a massive vending machine near Renslayer’s office. One time, I’ll buy you one of everything.” You tell Loki as the two of you sit down at your desk. Mobius returns with a huge stack of files.
“Okay. Kablooie was only sold regionally on Earth from 2047 to 2051. All ya gotta do is cross-reference that with every apocalyptic event.” The three of you sit, sorting through the files for sometime. Mobius looks up at you,
“Anything?”
“Well, it's not the climate disaster of 2048.” You tell him, flicking the page over.
“Or the tsunami of 2051.” Loki adds.
“Let's go. Let's go. Come on.”
“2050. The extinction of the swallow. Is that a thing?”
“We killed off the swallows?” You stare at Loki. “How the hell did that happen?” Mobius shrugs,
“Completely screwed up the ecosystem.”
“Krakatoa erupted in 2049 as well. No Kablooie.”
“God, it's just one damn thing after another, isn't it? Cyclone, famine, volcanoes, floods...” Mobius lists, and you can’t help but agree.
“Got him. That's where he is.” Loki pulls open a case file before offering it to you and Mobius. The two of you peer at the papers inside.
“Alabama, 2050.” You read aloud. Loki looks at you both, seeming rather pleased with himself. Mobius grins,
“You're gonna take my job if I'm not careful.”
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I’ve seen a lot more talks recently going around about Ultimanias, Benny Matsuyama, Maiden, etc. Here, on the Twitter...If there is one thing I’m genuinely curious about, is what exactly sets everyone’s understanding about epitexts? For supplemental materials like guidebooks or reference/fan books and how exactly they’re produced? How much do you understand about the history of Studio BentStuff and their way of making said materials, or even about anything related to authorship and publication?
There are just too many things thrown around so easily on the internet these days, not enough productive conversations about these things man. It’s...weird.
It’s easier to have a conversation with someone if I understand their foundational logic for this stuff, because a lot of the things I see are very strange. Or at the least, isn’t practical for what goes behind the production of these types of materials. Authorship and production knowledge is important—having a pragmatic approach for having a sense of what happens “behind the books” is a must have for decent conversations about guidebook/fan book making. Whether it’s for materials that are purely informational, for entertainment and uniqueness, or the sweet spots between—right where BentStuff typically specializes in.
There are SOOO many companies, SOOO many writers and editors, that exist and create this stuff, obviously going way beyond just Japanese related companies like that of the Famitsu, Dengeki, or V-Jump brands. But, obviously given the tags, FFVII or Square Enix games are the topic for today, along with BentStuff. For this stuff (heh), there has always been more than just Studio BentStuff, and even for them, the foundation of how they make their books is what makes them, I’d say, one of the best companies that do what they do. And what they do, how they get it done, was always set before the Ultimania series. If you don’t know about how they made their ALL ABOUT series or their Kaitai Shinsho (解体真書) series, then you don’t really know about the Ultimania—the former two being the heart of the “research and analysis” and “project”-minded approach they use to create that series. I know many don’t understand Japanese or don’t want to go through the trouble of working out translations, but....there is SO much information out there, on their website, in their books. And to be honest, so many of these misunderstandings start to not make sense to me when we have had whole online communities for decades dedicating themselves to translate stuff and provide information.
We can regurgitate the same quotes from the same books for 20 years, making circular arguments, but not talk about this in-depth?
I’ve been planning on releasing this huge thing, this “archive” essentially, of information about BentStuff, but I’ve realized that it’s honestly easier to talk about these things on a more case by case basis with interested people. Because there’s a lot, and I want to be able to talk to people about this stuff so people can really get where I’m coming from. Maybe I’ll post something at a later time to get something started, but this would definitely be a thread where it could start.
But, like, I gotta cover something I saw recently.
Honestly what set this off for me is someone saying that Matsuyama is a “rando writer” (as in being external to BentStuff) or was “commissioned” to write the Diary Entries or Maiden....
It’s just...so interesting the amount of confidence one has when saying these things without any of the proper evidence or understanding on the subject. I’m not trying to be harsh, but, it’s just weird. I just want to throw this out there, real quick:
Matsuyama essentially co-founded Studio BentStuff along with a few other writers from the BASIC magazine company, the lead in that being Akira Yamashita, who is the CEO. Matsuyama is one of the Directors of the company, along with Ichiro Tezuka, a name ya’ll probably recognize from FFIV stuff. This company was built by writers and lead by writers, but many others (some from BASIC too) eventually joined them to create what we have now. He ain’t no “external” nothing, though when it comes to their published books, it is true he didn’t do much until the FFVII Kaitai Shinsho.
Also, BentStuff write and edit [proofread] their own books, even if there are others who will supplement this, typically the publishing editors. e.g. like with Kaitai, those in the Famitsu editing department (whoever published Famitsu at the time) or for the Ultimania, editors from SE. Naturally that is to say, they get whatever they need if they can from the developers of what book their making—this is the same for any company who makes guides, really, if they have the opportunity to be in further contact with them. However, that caption of a picture you keep quoting from the book? A line from the character profile? Story Playback? You can literally see in the back of the book who was in charge of writing that—go read their staff comments on their website (if you don’t feel like translating like I did, just use Google, you can at least get a general gist for most comments). There’s a lot (they stopped including comments around the FFXII Battle Ultimania), with Ultimania being the latest series, but check out ALL ABOUT and Kaitai Shinsho stuff, too, but there’s even stuff for Dragon Quest. It’s a treasure trove, and the staff say some funny things too a lot of the time. Either way, you’ll appreciate what it is they go through to make these materials.
On that note, of Matsuyama’s writings (particularly of the Diary Entries and Maiden for this discussion), he was never commissioned specifically to write what he does—his own staff comments on the BentStuff website and the peritext (or lack thereof) in the books counteract this alone. Not to mention, it isn’t practical in how the process of their book production works.
Yes, BentStuff as a company can either get the license or be hired to write a guidebook, but in determining who does what for the book, this isn’t done the same as, say, Jun Eishima being hired by SE to write the FFXIII or FFXV novels. Or, even, what Matsuyama would’ve had if he was able to write the originally planned novel for Lightning Returns. The decision of who does what is mostly internal of that of BentStuff, for example, who does the Scenario section, or the maps, who writes the prologue if included, who does the character profiles, boss data, speedruns, time charts, technique tables, etc. Whatever. Matsuyama, just like everyone else, does his decided part, and we can’t any more say he was specifically “commissioned” to write his creative materials than we could for all the other members doing their roles. At least, not without the proper evidence. (get into more below)
Either way, don’t create the wrong idea by using "commission” to describe the reasons as to why Matsuyama included these materials—the most practical and rational reason being, you know outside of him co-founding the company, that many companies allow creative freedoms or projects to be had about their works. Canonical or not—this isn’t new. If a company founded by writers gets the opportunity to write guidebooks, it makes sense for them to seek the opportunity to work in their own “projects” to make their books unique, and the idea of this started all the way back in their ALL ABOUT series, precedent to both Kaitai Shinsho and Ultimania.
There of course, has been other things, like “Square Enix said” when it comes to anything written in the Ultimania books, the notion that certain presentations within a guidebook suggest canonicity, that the more creative materials [their “projects”] Benny or other BentStuff members create are canonical simply because they’re in the books, etc.....oh boy.
He isn’t a “rando”, nor was it “commissioned”, and most of his creative works are limited to the books for entertainment purposes by BentStuff, for the book, and typically nothing more like being officially a part of the respective series canon. Unless evidence supports his or other’s authenticity as author’s for the series in question, I believe the default thought for ALL his materials should be that of fun readings for the books, expressions by BentStuff. That honestly goes into a different conversation about the canonicity of any of Matsuyama’s or others materials in the guidebooks and about authorship/authenticity, but the important thing to note is the two emphasized points above. If you want to get into canonicity, we definitely can as, honestly, it isn’t really too hard to cover with the proper evidence, which is also from in-book peritext or Benny’s own comments. Other observational stuff too. There are only a handful of materials that can really be discussed based on evidence of Matsuyama’s authenticity as a writer for the respective series. At the top of my head, included would be the short stories for Brave Fencer Kaitai Shinsho, the FFXIII Omega story, and maybe, his materials for the series SaGa—some like Beender just setting-wise aren’t canonical, but the value of his interpretation for this series can be discussed considering he has worked on one of the games scenario at a later date.
I digress.
Like I said, I’m just open to discuss this stuff without having to write a huge informational dump of like, their entire history, though I know people who are researching themselves would find that useful. It’s just a lot. But if any of that above is something you believe or disagree with, please, feel free to tell me why and we can get this ball rolling. It’s fun to talk about, at a certain point, I didn’t spend all my time researching just to be miserable.
Eh, sort of.
Misery loves company, so....
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Diary of a Junebug
Making cookies at the Nova Aeria Clock Tower
When it comes to being creative with cookies, Addie and Ginger are always up for the challenge! Since rebranding and opening shop at the Nova Aeria, things have been going super well for them. They went from a small cookie stand in their neighborhood to a traveling cart and now they have a full fledged bakery in the city.
Today the bakery was busy because of the monthly cookie contest, which has been a huge hit since it started earlier this year. Like I said, Addie and Ginger like to think outside the box when it comes to unique cookie recipes!
A lot has changed since I last saw them at the camp. At the time they were rebranding, taking time off to reevaluate things after realizing that the direction they were going in wasn't working out. By reinventing themselves and starting over from scratch, they were able to make something that aligned more with their dreams. It wasn't easy, but they took the plunge, knowing when to bail out when they realized that they deserved better.
The Nova Aeria Clock Tower feels like it exists in a space of its own. I don't know, it just gives off this starry, otherworldly vibe. I can also see why Addie felt that this was the perfect place to settle down in. She always has a knack for being intuitive like that. The moment she stepped inside, she knew that it was meant to be. And that's not something Addie says lightly so if she's somewhat certain about anything, we gotta keep that in mind.
For now, it's just Addie and Ginger running the bakery, though now they're in the process of building a team. Bree and Lyn were gonna start training soon but they're needed at the funeral parlor where Lyn's brother Ry works as undertaker turned temporary director.
Bree and Lyn have always been Addie and Ginger's biggest supporters so it was a matter of time before they joined the team. They're creative bakers too - Bree's baking videos are always relaxing to watch and Lyn likes experimenting will all kinds of complicated recipes. Problem is that their families aren't as supportive of their baking aspirations so it's a case of them waiting for the right opportunity to take a plunge and pursue their dreams.
So now they're one step closer! Except they can't quite take the step yet as poor Ry's overwhelmed since the funeral parlor director and consultant are out of commission. Lyn says it's not as bad as it sounds - basically, the director and consultant occasionally work with an adventurer's guild so they sometimes tag along on a mission with their investigator friend. Rarely they both go together and for that particular mission, things went horribly wrong, as Lyn puts it. The director, who Lyn describes as a bit of an eccentric prankster who seems too cheerful despite her family's business, should be out of the hospital tomorrow so she'll probably be back in a week or so. As for the consultant and investigator - an old fashioned gentleman and a headstrong young adventurer - it'll be a while before they're back up on their feet again, but at least they're recovering from their injuries.
Lyn always has stories relating to the funeral parlor - mainly about the director being weird and causing trouble. She seems like an interesting person, someone full of dark humor and can be a bit much, but a nice person overall. Lyn's family and hers go way back, and she has been supportive of Lyn and Bree while Ry seems to be on the fence. The consultant and investigator sound like cool people too - Lyn doesn't know them too well but they've always been nice to him. Bree says the consultant's super knowledgable about a lot of things so he always has a lot of interesting things to say.
The funeral parlor business was never for him so Lyn only really works there if they're short handed. Bree is basically the on call undertaker - probably the only one in the world as far as I know - though she mostly does cleaning and sometimes clerical stuff. To keep things lively, she bakes treats for the staff, which they appreciate, especially the director. She also learned a bunch of new recipes from the consultant, who also taught her a bunch of obscure and valuable baking techniques that most professionals have never heard of.
Since it's the monthly cookie contest, Ry gave Lyn and Bree the day off. So Ginger felt that this was the perfect opportunity to start their training - by being contestants! Normally Bree bakes something at least once a week but since the funeral parlor situation, she hasn't baked in almost a month, which is almost sacrilege to her. Of course, she was totally up for the challenge of coming up with a brand new recipe on the spot.
I was surprised at the turnout of the contest - thirty contestants! The bakery was packed so Addie had to break everyone up in groups. I didn't participate in the contest myself while Fauna and Mira did. Daisy Jane and I were behind the scenes, helping out contestants and cleaning equipment. It was cool seeing the kitchen as well as get some sneak peeks behind upcoming recipes.
It was fun watching everyone come up with all kinds of cookies. Everyone had such a unique spin on their creations so trying over thirty kinds of cookies didn't feel like a hassle. There were sweet cookies, savory cookies, and a lot of in between. Even things that you wouldn't think would go in a cookie came out well. Addie and Ginger sure know how to get everyone creative!
Fauna made a passionfruit matcha mochi cookie that screams tropical vibes. It was a recipe she came up with on the spot so it took a couple trial batches to get things going. The matcha cookie dough texture is like a mix between shortbread and chocolate chip, resulting in a flaky, buttery, and rich flavor. Then she bakes the cookies for a bit while making the passionfruit mochi. Before the cookies finish baking, she tops them off with the mochi, like putting chocolate chips on top, and put it back in the oven for a minute or two. That way, the cookies are crisp on the outside and soft on the inside while the mochi is chewy and flavorful.
Mira came up with colorful chocolate cookies with a black sesame custard filling. They taste as good as they look, especially with the rainbow sprinkles. The cookie is made from a mix of coconut and almond flour, resulting in a nutty flavor that goes really well with the custard and chocolate. The flavor's not overly sweet thanks to the black sesame and a touch of flaky rock salt, which really elevates a dessert. I can totally see this cookie being served at a rainbow themed party for its looks alone.
Lyn went experimental with a super duper chocolate cookie. Basically a super rich brownie in the form of a cookie that's made from three different types of chocolate. To balance out all that chocolate, he topped them off with roasted pecans flavored with lime and chilis. He got the inspiration from hot chocolate with chilis and the flavors go surprisingly well together. I mean, along with the rich chocolate ganache drizzled on top, without the spicy pecans, the chocolate would've been way too much. Only Lyn can pull off something as indulgent as that!
Bree's creation is like a fusion of a focaccia and quiche in the form of a cookie. The dough is similar to focaccia, except with some tweaks here and there to make it more cookie like. The topping is a cream cheese custard with a blend of herbs, an unusual mix of sweet and savory flavors that balance each other super well. How she came up with this idea, I don't know. To add a bit of a personal touch, she decorated the cookies as various constellations. Creativity never ceases to amaze me!
There were so many cookies, more than enough to take home and give to friends. Bree and Lyn plan to stop by the hospital and funeral parlor on the way home to give away some of the sweet treats. I did a little baking myself with Addie and Ginger before they closed up and that was pretty chill. It's so good to see them thriving and I can't wait to come back, especially now that Bree and Lyn will be joining them soon.
While waiting for the cookies to cool, Ginger took us on a tour around the Nova Aeria. At first glance, the clock tower looks like a fancy shopping center. It kinda is but also isn't, if that makes sense. There are shops and cafes but there's also places like an archive building, an observation deck, the clock tower itself, a couple of HQs - it's basically the center of a lot of things. Even those who spend their days at the Nova Aeria for years - generations even - still don't know the full extent of the clock tower and what exactly its purpose is.
Being the curious cat she is, Ginger wants to learn more about the Nova Aeria. Lyn wants to know more about the place as well. Both say the consultant seems to have some knowledge about it so he seems like a good starting point. The director might know something too as her family has connections to the clock tower so that's another thing to look into. Hearing them talk about the clock tower's mysteries has made me curious too.
What stories does the Nova Aeria hold? That's another thing to look forward to on future visits.
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Learning New Things about Ourselves Transcript
This transcript was done by @rosesisupposes @everphantom @crushingonanartist @fandomsofrandom (who’s urls may or may not have changed at some point, and others, who’s urls had been lost to time and my disorganization.)
This transcript was created for the purpose of creating a comic-version of the video for those who were uncomfortable with the puppetry. This project has been effectively abandoned, and the blog shall be treated as an archive for the work that had been completed. (as explained in this post)
The transcript had been partly split up to create places for artists to draw individual sections, which has remained in tact in this transcript. If people want to utilize this transcript for creating a comic or drawing, I entirely welcome it! As long as all the characters follow a human design, tag this blog and I’ll reblog it.
14:58 Thomas: Oh, Logan! You’re up!
14:59 Logan: If by up you mean I am not down...to do this, you are correct.
15:04 Roman: Oh big surprise coming from no fun-son honey dew-dew. Last second addition there, made it, stuck the landing.
15:10 Patton: Aw, Logan come on! We need you at the table if we’re gonna be learning!
15:14 Logan: Please. It has become quite clear that me cosigning all of your ridiculous antics is just a formality. When all of you decided on using puppets to address a serious issue, logic was already figuratively thrown out the window.
15:25 Roman: *dramatic sigh* Again, you don’t have to use the word figuratively. We know you that you weren’t literally thrown out of a window.
15:31 Logan: How? Have you been watching me constantly?
15:33 Patton: Don’t assume Roman! You know what happens when you assume. You make an as out of su and me.
15:39 Logan: *exasperated sigh* *mumbled* Thank you Patton. *back to normal volume* I just don’t want to concern anybody by suggesting I was throw through a window. I wanted to communicate five by five that I’m five by five.
15:47 Thomas: It’s okay Roman, his intentions are there. I mean, who does going above and beyond with clarity hurt?
15:54 Roman: Going above and beyond? *laugh* More like going overboard. It’s stupid.
15:58 *Logan inhales, glares at Roman as he crumples up a paper and throws it at Roman with a yell*
16:01 Roman: Ow! Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh!
16:02 Patton: Meep meep!**
16:03 Roman: You hit me in the eye. You hit me in the eye, you freaking bookgerm!
16:07 Virgil: Geez, L, that was pretty rough.
16:09 Logan: Eh- I’m sorry. I-I don’t know what that was. *pause* Maybe I should go.
16:13 Patton: NO! We are not about to leave it there, mister! We can’t continue this convo, if you’re gone-zo
16:21 Thomas: THAT’S RIGHT!
16:21 Thomas: Look, Logan, you can be like one of those Sesame Street human friends!
16:27 Logan: Like Maria?
16:28 Thomas: Like Maria!
16:29 Logan: Okay... I mean, a more accurate comparison would be that you’re our Big Bird, and we’re all your… Snuffleupagus**.
16:36 Thomas: Pre-1985, before they canonically confirmed Snuffleupagus wasn’t imaginary.
16:40 Logan: Of course. *softly* Clarity
16:41 Roman: Hmph-
16:42 Logan: Okay, so- you’re puppets. Care to explain to me how this is going to help?
16:47 Patton: Well, we could start by having an open and honest conversation about our feelings?
16:54 Thomas: *takes a deep breath*
16:55 Roman: Hmmm…
16:56 Virgil: *groans softly*
16:57 Thomas: I don’t think so.
16:57 Roman: Yeah, I don’t like that.
16:58 Virgil: I’d rather go live in a garbage can.
16:59 Patton: No! Really, this is important, guys! Thomas, you have to face your feelings head-on! Tell me… *singing* do you ever feel like a paper bag?
17:10 Thomas: Wha- I thought we were talking about a loop!
17:13 Patton: Well, how do you suppose we get out of the loop, mister Looper?
17:16 Thomas: Well, I guess I don’t know… but I mean... like- what do I have to feel bad about? I mean, really. Like- yeah, I feel iffy with my videos. So what?
17:27 *Roman sighs as Thomas continues*
17:27 Thomas: Big deal. The ‘problems’ I have wouldn’t even exist without all of the incredible privileges I’ve received. I should feel lucky. I asked for this. So I- I don’t feel like I’ve got a right to feel this way, but-
17:42 Patton: Thomas, that’s ridiculous! Now should you count your blessings? Absolutely! Lots of people are way worse off!
17:49 Thomas: … oh
17:50 Patton: Yeah, I should not have said that as cheery as I did. --break-- *louder* But… you shouldn’t feel guilty for having feelings! Sure, sometimes your feelings may not make sense, but it’s not your feelings job to make sense! You just… experience them. And you have to do your best to deal with them.
18:07 Thomas: Well that… makes sense.
18:11 Patton: Not talking about them... is not dealing with them.
18:14 Thomas: Yeah, but I don’t even know where to begin talking about my feelings, because I don’t… understand them right now.
18:19 Virgil: Maybe you won’t have to understand your feelings if you fix the problem.
18:24 Patton: Well…
18:25 Virgil: Logan’s gotta cool it with the deadlines.
18:26 Logan: What?
18:27 Roman: *blows a kiss at Virgil* Thank you!
18:28 Virgil: Too much pressure.
18:29 Logan: Oh, I’m sorry. Except I’m not! Are the deadlines really the cause of that pressure, or is it… I don’t know… *quickly* Roman’s inability to perform adequately?
18:35 Roman: *offended gasp* No!
18:37 Virgil: Well- it’s a little of that.
18:38 Roman: *weird shocked noise[?]* What??
18:40 Logan: Exactly, boom.
18:40 Virgil: Look dude, doesn’t it make sense to think you have something to do with this? The issue has to do with creating content and his pride? That’s a lot of you.
18:48 Roman: Well pardon me, Vomit-y Central, but when were either of you the experts on creative content? Who are you to criticize my work??
18:58 Virgil: Oh my gosh, what is up your butt?
19:00 Roman: An arm!
19:00-19:34
THOMAS: Okay, I think it’s clear that pointing fingers is getting us nowhere. So let’s avoid that
PATTON: [Pointing at Thomas] Agreed. Oh, butterfingers!
VIRGIL: [Muttering] That’s not what butterfingers means
THOMAS: Logan, would it be fair to say that with all of this arguing, order is not actually being obtained?
LOGAN: Perhaps we are in a state of disorder because no one is adhering to my instruction
THOMAS: Okay, okay, well, okay, I’m - I’m happy to hear you out, then. What do you think we should do, Logan?
PATTON: Yeah, Logan, help us out, what can you tell us about learning new things about ourselves?
19:34-19:58
LOGAN: Well, it all goes back to the point you made earlier, Patton. Asking the right question: why?
ROMAN: That’s right, today’s video is brought to you by the letter “Y”
LOGAN: No, stop it, stop it, the question “why,” W-H-Y. “Why?” So much of what you feel, Thomas, comes down to whether or not your actions are aligning with your goals.
PATTON: Oh! I think I get it!
LOGAN: What?
PATTON: Yeah!
19:58 - 20:12 [Cut Scene]
[Electric Company Bit: Profiles of Patton and Thomas]
PATTON: Why do you make videos?
THOMAS: Because they’re fun
PATTON: Why did you make it a job?
THOMAS: So I could support myself, and so I could try bigger things
PATTON: Why did your old friend’s question stick with you?
THOMAS: Because…
[End cut scene]
20:12-20:42
THOMAS: Because I always wonder if I’m doing the right thing for a living
LOGAN: Okay, interesting! Elaborate on that. And nobody do any puppet bits
PATTON: Well, that was from The Electric Company
LOGAN: [Waving arms at Patton] Shhhhhh. Thomas?
THOMAS: I don’t know, I guess… As far as I know, we have one life, and I guess I have doubts about… whether or not I’m making the most of mine.
LOGAN: Okay! We’re getting somewhere. Expand upon those doubts
THOMAS: Oh man, um, I… I don’t even know where to go from there
20:42-21:02
LOGAN: I mean if you asked me, I could certainly list off several factors that could be contributing to your doubts.
[Cut to Thomas, then Patton, then Roman all silently looking around as well. No one responds]
LOGAN: If you asked me, I could… gladly share them
THOMAS: [Sigh]
ROMAN: Welp
VIRGIL: [Sigh]
LOGAN: Just lemme know if you want to hear what I have to say
21:02-21:45 epilepsy warning
VIRGIL: Hey Logan, can you list off some of those factors you mentioned?
LOGAN: I’m glad you asked, Virgil. Firstly, there’s no job security, I mean, people fall out of public favor very quickly
VIRGIL: One! One cause of unease, ah ah ah [lightning flash]
LOGAN: You’re balancing a great deal of responsibilities. People have limits; perhaps you can’t continue at this pace indefinitely
VIRGIL: Two! Two nervous thoughts, ah ah ah [lightning flash]
LOGAN: Your work is inessential. Several may claim that they have been [air quotes] “inspired” by one thing you’ve said or another, but who’s to say they couldn’t have found the inspiration they needed elsewhere?
VIRGIL: Three. Three depressing speculations, ah ah ah [lightning flash]
LOGAN: And oh, oh! I can think of another one. No one takes you seriously!
PATTON: [Audible gasp]
VIRGIL: Four. Four uncomfortable characters in this room right now.
THOMAS: Logan, is that really what you think?
-
LOGAN: Thomas, I have held back my opinions for too long, and that’s obviously not benefiting you. I refuse to withhold my perspective any longer. You need to get a real job.
ROMAN: Hey, yeah! Like being a movie star!
LOGAN: No! A real job.
VIRGIL: Sheesh, you sloppily eat some jam, accidentally make a few puns and now you’re all sensitive about not being taken seriously?
LOGAN: [Interrupting] I’m not a joke! I mean, I can’t be thought of as such. Because there will be times in which I must be heeded and given our current circumstances, I clearly haven’t been. So I’m saying what must be said. I can’t tolerate this foolishness any longer. [To Thomas] You need to change your life around.
-
VIRGIL: Logan, I appreciate what you bring to the table and all, but the thing you just recommended would be a massive change in Thomas’ life sooo I kinda hate you a little bit right now andddd shut your dirty mouth
LOGAN: Ah, typical
THOMAS: I don’t know, Virge, maybe he’s right. Maybe that’s the cause of all this
VIRGIL: Thomas, don’t start. I have plenty of hate to go around
PATTON: Ohhh very funny, Virgil, you cute little muppet! Thomas, you know he doesn’t mean it. And Logan, that was… helpful! When the chips were down, you brought up some very meaty points, you ol’ crackerjack, but this stuff is more than just silly or cheesy, and I’m sorry I keep bringing up food, it’s just the inside of this bag smells like first grade lunch in the cafeteria and so many memories!
ROMAN: [Snaps] Patton, stay with us
23:17
PATTON: Sorry! Boy, I really milked that bit, wakawaka!
ROMAN: (stares in silence, before taking a deep breath) What I think Patton is trying to say is that Logan’s just proven that he’s the worst, and that he’s been the thorn in your side all along
VIRGIL: Could you even contribute like an ounce of constructive input to our conversation today, Dr. Doo-the-Most?
ROMAN: Okay, why don’t you just go get lost in a dryer
VIRGIL: You know, Roman, it’s just too bad your brain isn’t as big as that chin
ROMAN: Well you smell like FOOT!
THOMAS: Roman-
ROMAN: No, Thomas, I know. That wasn’t helpful. In truth, I do feel bad
THOMAS: You do?
ROMAN: Yes
VIRGIL: Well then maybe you should say you’re sorry
ROMAN: You’re right
VIRGIL: Oh, really?
ROMAN: Logan-
VIRGIL: Okay
ROMAN: -earlier, I made you angry. I do that quite a bit, actually. I provoke you, and you retaliated with violence… like a stupid caveman. But! I am responsible for my actions and my actions alone. So, I’m sorry.
LOGAN: Oh, well. That’s. Very kind.
ROMAN: Okay, well, I gave that a shot. I still feel bad.
PATTON: Well, why not try expressing your feelings in a way that makes sense for you?
24:27
ROMAN: Well, that might work. Let’s see (clears throat, then gestures to his right) Maestro?
[MUSIC STARTS]
[Singing] So you’ve gone and called someone stupid
And in response, they damaged your eye
But, there is where the conflict must end
Lest you both end up blind
LOGAN: [Speaking] Another song? Really?
ROMAN: [Singing] Sometimes, the problems at play
Are not all plain to see
So, we lash out at our loved ones
Disregarding our bond sanctity
PATTON: There are several sides to us that may seem abstract at first
Until we discover where everything fits
And, people can be like a half-missing puzzle set
As we find the pieces, things make more and more sense
THOMAS: Nice imagery, but I'm not sure I follow.
25:27 - 26:00
PATTON: Well I’ll give you an example.
PATTON: [Singing] I had this problem where I’d often hide my less than awesome feelings so when I would feel like sobbing I’d just smile and crack jokes! I thought that that was coping. Only joking, never showing sadness, hoping it would go away.
LOGAN: [Spoken] Did that work?
PATTON: [Singing] Nope! I still felt bad
ROMAN: [Spoken] Aw pat..
PATTON: [Singing] It’s okay
THOMAS: [Spoken] How’s that?
PATTON: [Singing] Everybody gets sad. Even dads that have people to care for! And therefore- You don’t have to hide your pain. Life without rainy days is incomplete!
PATTON: [Speaking] Or, like not even a thing, you know? Rain goes to plants, plants feed animals, plant-eating animals feed animal-eating animals, and humans feed animals corn and inject them with hormones until they can barely walk anymore
THOMAS: Patton?
PATTON: Yes?
THOMAS: How does all that relate to rain?
PATTON: Oh, right! Rainy days. Forgot what I was talking about. Umm... putting it simply, rain is a necessary piece of the puzzle that is, uh, life.
LOGAN: So true. Are we done singing, or is this just one of those musical interludes?
26:22
VIRGIL: On the subject of storm clouds because, you know, you need storm clouds to... make... rain. I'm just gonna get into it.
[Singing] You once knew me as real gloomy
This weird spooky broody dude
Because I knew you'd listen to me
As too scary to ignore
I thought that I could take it
All the hate could just be shaken
But when you lo-- care for someone
Not much hurts more than their scorn
I also felt bad
ROMAN: [Speaking] Come, now
VIRGIL: [Singing] In a different way
THOMAS: [Speaking] Different how?
VIRGIL: [Singing] By bad I mean, well, mean
But I did what I thought that I had to
Which is bad, too
I don't have to act all tough
THOMAS: Sometimes love is enough
PATTON: Or what we need
27:00 [END]
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;|; Mobile Rules ;|;
Mun Info
name: Moe Loogham
age: 21
birthday: September 25th
pronouns: She/Her
faceclaim: Deadpool, Rose Quartz, or Loki
rp experience: 8+ Years
discord: Available to Mutuals on Request!
HELLO!
I'm Moe! It's great to meet you. After taking a very long break from the tumblr rpc, I've decided to dive back in, because why the hell not.
I'm from New York, I have two beautiful guinea pigs named Sage and Rosemary and I'm a witch, that's just about everything you gotta know. I recently graduated from college, and still trying to figure out where I wanna be in the world, so this is my little corner of the internet where I come to unwind and scream about my favorite roboy.
My Rules have been broken up into sections. I will try to keep each section as brief as possible while still informing you of everything you need to know about how I like to run things.
Blog Etiquette + Following
This blog is
PRIVATE, SELECTIVE, and MUTUAL'S ONLY and 21+.
I do not follow for a follow, and I do not follow back unless I am interested in threadding with you. If I follow your blog, it means I have read your rules and bio at the very least! I do not send in passwords, but if you have a post that you would like to direct followers to when they've read your rules, I will like it.
If we are not mutuals, you are still free to interact through asks and ask memes. i reserve the right to delete/ignore asks from mutuals and non-mutuals alike! this is mostly out of precaution, and would only be done in cases that violate privacy or cause discomfort.
I will only thread with other Roleplay/Ask blogs. Sideblogs are fine, but if your main blog is a personal, please let me know and tell me your sideblog url! If you RP off of your personal, I will not follow/thread with you. This is mainly to keep my dash organized. That being said, I will not unfollow someone just because they post OOC a lot. I know I have a tendency to do the same sometimes.
I am not okay with nonmutuals reblogging my content. Feel free to like them, but reblogging anything will result in a soft block. Repeated offenses will result in your blog being blocked. I'm not here to be your aesthetic/graphic archive.
The same applies to ask memes. Do not use me as your meme resource. ALWAYS reblog from the source.
Just as a general note, sometimes I will have periods of low activity. I try to be active at the VERY LEAST once a week, and sometimes I'll be able to crank out like 10 replies in one day. But real life always comes first, for me AND any of my rp partners. RPing is a hobby for me, and I don't let it stress me out. Of course, if it's been a week or two since I've replied, there's a very good chance that I've just forgotten to respond. If that happens, do not be afraid to poke me about it.
If I ever want to drop a thread, I'll let you know, and I'll very much appreciate if you do the same, but it's absolutely not required. I don't mind at all, if anything I'll usually ASK if you want to drop it and if you do, that's completely fine. The other option I have for threading is ARCHIVING, for when we have a thread that we want to put down for now, but maybe pick up again later. If you'd rather Archive a thread instead of drop it, just tell me. :)
Also!
All Icons on this blog are made/screenshotted by me or RK800ISALIVE, and my post banners were made by DENICDLIFE Please do not take them or use them!!
Shipping + Exclusivity
this entire section is very important. please read it carefully, and feel free to ask me if you don't understand something.
This isn't my first rodeo. I love shipping. I am perfectly open to shipping. HOWEVER, that is not the sole purpose of this blog. Regardless of canon, fanon, personal preference or otherwise, unless we have spoken previously about it, Connor will not be automatically shipped with your muse. This blog is OCxCanon friendly, and canon ships are fine too. But for ANY case, I ship chemistry If your muse doesn't click with mine, that's totally fine. But please don't try to force a ship on me, and do not follow me if shipping is the only thing you're looking for out of our threads.
On that note: Original Characters. They're great, I love hearing about them and seeing their depth and complexity. But if your OC has little to no history, or if their sole purpose is to flirt with Connor, please do not ask to interact.
I've had so many experiences in the past with OCs whose existence is based around wanting to bang my muse and it really grates on me. It's nothing personal, I know writing only gets better with practice, but if you come to me asking to be a detective who works with Connor and that's all the information you have, I really ask that you go find another Connor to interact with.
I will only ship with your muse after discussing it out of character. IC flirting is the only exception to this, but do not get angry if Connor does not respond the way you want him to.
I don't want to have to put that there, but it's happened to me too many times before and it's an uncomfortable situation for everyone involved. Please don't do it.
This blog is NOT Exclusive, but I do practice Maining with other muses. What that means is if we have previously discussed it, and have had enough interaction, my muse will refer to yours in conversation or in terms of relationship depending on circumstance.
Once I have created mains, they will be posted in the Navigation tab. Occasionally I may post a mains call, which invites anyone interested to discuss becoming a main with Connor.
Mains have top priority for threads.
TRIGGERS + NSFW
I am 21+ years old, and NSFW can and will happen on this blog, however I will always keep anything that contains NSFW under a "read more" cut for the sake of any followers who are not comfortable with seeing NSFW content.
I am comfortable with most NSFW topics. I absolutely WILL NOT write about pedophelia or incest, and definitely WILL NOT rp sexual situations with minors or people who I have not shared consent with. This is for my safety as well as those who I interact with. I'm trying to get into grad school, not jail.
I will try to tag triggers accordingly as they appear. Triggering content that MAY appear on this blog include:
Abuse
Child/Character Death
Disease
Drugs/Drug Use
Alcohol
Execution/Murder
Gore
Nudity
Self-Harm
Suicide/Mental Health Issues
Verbal/Physical Violence
Torture
Important: mun and muse are mutually exclusive. I am not Connor. Connor is not me. Actions performed in threads do not reflect me or my personal beliefs, unless otherwise explicitly stated by me.
If you've made it this far, I would really appreciate if you could like this post, just to let me know you've read and understand all my rules. If you are not comfortable doing so, that's fine! It's really just to help me know people cared enough to go through the whole list. :) It's not at all an obligation, but it would be really awesome.
Despite the fact I am comfortable with NSFW, I prefer to be comfortable with the other mun as a person before agreeing to write these topics with you. I am not obligated to write NSFW with anyone.
Last Updated: 8/19/2020
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Promise Me Forever [1]
Fandom: Devil May Cry
Characters: Dante, Lirael Thorne (OC)
Rating: M
Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, First Time Friends to Lovers
Chapters: 1/14
co-written by @lickitysplitfic
Summary: An old, long-forgotten promise between gods comes back to haunt Dante when it deposits an unfamiliar woman on his door. Claiming to be the descendant of Ler, she says that they're meant to fulfill the oath made by Sparda centuries ago, and all he can do is watch as she turns his life upside down. Yet when her parents come knocking, demanding the oath be fulfilled, he's forced to choose: return to the bachelor ways he loved so much, or give in to the emotions brewing between them.
Hello, solynaceawrites here! I'd like to welcome you to Promise Me Forever, an indulgent arranged marriage AU that lickitysplitfic and I have been working on while cooped up due to quarantine. It stars Dante and an original character named Lir, and features what we believe are all of the good points to have: mutual pining, angst, and, of course, the eventual smut. If you enjoy this fic, please let us know, whether through comments, kudos, or sending us a private message.
»»————- ⚜ ————-««
As the vehicle—a taxicab, she reminds herself—lets her out at the curb, Lir takes a moment to simply observe her surroundings. While she knows of the outside world, she has never experienced it for herself; her life, until now, was spent in the compound, being trained in the arts of seduction and diplomacy and the more mundane things expected of a wife, and she is startled by how loud, how filthy, the city is. It makes her more than a little homesick for the clear air of the coast where she was born, the peaceful silence of the library within which she whiled away the hours between her lessons.
Still, she is here to perform a duty, and so she squares her shoulders, lifts her chin, and climbs the stairs to the building in front of her, glancing only briefly at the sign that reads Devil May Cry.
The second she opens the door, the scents of old food and stale beer assault her nose. Breathing shallowly through her mouth, she steps inside and frowns. The room is spacious, to be certain, and hints at the grandeur it could achieve, but with the busted jukebox in the corner, the old, ratty couch on an equally threadbare rug, the beer bottles and empty pizza boxes littered across every surface, she's surprised anyone actually lives here. Her eyes trace the strange weapons hung haphazardly on the walls between posters of scantily clad women before landing on the chipped desk and, settled behind it with his feet on its surface and a magazine over his face, a man.
"Excuse me," Lir says, approaching him with the same care she'd use for a wild dog, "I'm looking for the son of Sparda."
The magazine shifts as the man turns his head. With a glove-covered hand, he lifts the pages to peer at her from beneath before dropping it back into place with a grunt. "What makes you think he's here?"
"My mother told me that I would find him at the shop known as the Devil May Cry. This is the correct place, is it not?" She works to keep her hands from fidgeting with her skirt. A lady, her mother had informed her, never twiddles her fingers. "Am I in the wrong place?"
"Nope, this is the shop. My shop, actually." He sighs as he sits up, his boots thudding to the floor, and she takes in the pale hair and handsome face, noting the similarities between it and the portraits she had been shown of Sparda. "Name's Dante. What can I do for you?"
Slowly, still wary, she steps forward, reaching into the bag at her side to pull out a letter that she holds out for him to take. "My name is Lirael, but you may call me Lir. I'm here regarding the promise made between Sparda and my father."
"Sparda, huh?" He folds his arms and leans back in his chair, ignoring the letter, the leather creaking a bit as he regards her. "Sparda is long gone, you know."
Lir swallows nervously. "I'm sorry to hear that. We had known he hadn't been seen for many years, but not that he was . . . Well." She waits for Dante to say something, and when he simply stares at her, she clears her throat uncomfortably. "I understand he had a son. That's who I am looking for."
"He had two sons, actually," Dante replies.
Her eyes open wide in surprise. "Oh! That I didn't know. Where is the eldest?"
"He's dead, too."
Lir feels heat on her neck, a mixture of embarrassment and anger. "Are you mocking me?" she snaps. She takes a step forward and presses her lips together. "Who are you, anyway?"
Dante chuckles, the sound bearing an edge of scorn. "I said he had two, didn't I? I'm the second. Gotta say, though, the old man never mentioned anything about some promise. Sure you got the right demon?"
"Yes, I'm certain," she replies, her tone clipped. "The promise was made millennia ago, during the war between the worlds. In return for aid in sealing the portals, Sparda promised his son's hand in marriage to one of the daughters of Ler."
"Lir? Thought that was your name."
"I was named for the god my people serve." She lifts her chin. "If you are truly one of his sons, and the eldest is . . . gone, then that means I now belong to you."
His brows lift. "Tempting, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline. I'd offer to pay for your cab home, but I don't have the cash. Have a safe trip."
He goes back to lounging, and she can only stare at him, her heart beating uncomfortably in her chest. If she fails here, it will mean a life of solitude and seclusion and being stricken from her family's records, and she swallows thickly and moves around the desk to stand next to him. "Is there something about me you find displeasing? I know that I am not . . . the most endowed of my sisters, yet I was trained just as they were in the arts of pleasure, so I am certain I can satisfy you."
Slowly he lifts his face, his expression completely unreadable. Lir stares back, trying not to panic as she waits for him to speak. "Well?" she finally demands.
"Sorry, I . . . uh, what did you say?"
She sighs loudly, hands balling into fists so to keep her temper. "I said, I am trained in the arts of pleasure, and—"
"That's what I thought you said."
He stands and takes her by the arm, and for a moment Lir does panic as he drags her behind him. This is what she has been raised for, instructed her whole life: fulfill the promise of her god and become wife to the son of Sparda. But to be handled so roughly and dragged to his bedroom, to be used like this—
Until she realizes he is dragging her towards the door, bending to pick up her suitcase on the way. "Hey!" she cries. "What are you doing?"
"This has been swell, and I don't know if it was Lady or Trish that put you up to this, but you gotta go."
Lir struggles against his grip, forcing Dante to curse under his breath as he tugs her along. "It's not a joke! Please, just listen!" She pulls as hard as she can, wrenching from his fingers and landing in a heap on the floor.
Dante stands over her with a scowl and his hands on his hips. "Enough is enough. What do you want?"
"I told you! I'm here to marry the son of Sparda and fulfill . . ." Her voice fades as emotion wells in her throat, and in frustration she swipes at her eyes, hot tears threatening to fall. "I thought I was coming here to meet a legendary knight, not some buffoon in a dirty warehouse!"
"I am a legendary knight," he bites back with a frown.
"You are rude and disgusting," Lir shouts, climbing to her feet. "If I were not bound to marry you—"
"Woah, woah, sweetheart, slow down with the marrying," Dante yelps, putting his palms up. "I ain't marrying anybody. Look, I don't know what my old man said to your old man or god or whatever, but I'm not marrying you, and I sure as hell not gonna date some, uh . . . whatever it is you are." He gestures up and down as she goes red. "So you're gonna have to just go back to where you came from and explain."
"I can't."
Dante rolls his eyes. "You have to."
"No, I can't! I can't go back, they'll . . ." She sucks in a sharp breath, digging her nails into her palms. "Can we just . . ."
"Oh, no." He leans over, peering closer. "No, no, no. Are you crying?"
"No."
"Because there is no crying in my shop."
"It's not like I want to be!" Humiliated both by having been caught crying and by how poorly this whole thing is turning out, she turns away from him to rub at her cheeks, trying to wipe the moisture away. "I can't go back," she repeats, miserably. "They'll punish me, and a failure of this magnitude would mean . . ."
There is a heartbeat's worth of silence before he says, "They really take this, uh . . . this marriage that seriously?"
Lir nods, still refusing to look at him. "I'm not the eldest of my line, but the council thought . . . well, they thought that I would be best suited as your wife, because my magic is stronger than my sisters'. I was raised for this purpose alone. If I return to tell them that you refused me . . . It would mean I'm too flawed, and they would take my voice and send me to the archives."
She wraps her arms around herself, waiting for his word. Anger still simmers below the surface despite her best attempts to soothe herself; hasn't her entire life been waiting for someone else's word on where to go, what to wear, who to marry? And here she is again, waiting on the word of someone else.
Lir risks a glance to see him rubbing his cheek, covered in a line of stubble. "Okay. You don't have to, uh . . . go get your voice taken or whatever. Just stay right there, okay?"
She nods and watches him walk over to his desk. Dante faces her as he moves backwards, his hands out as if she were something dangerous, about to pounce or explode. Lir frowns, wondering why he is behaving this way; surely he fights demons every day, and isn't afraid of anything?
He picks up the receiver of his telephone and presses a few buttons. "Hey," he says, his eyes still on her. "You busy? . . . No, I don't have your money, but . . . Will ya listen to me? There is this girl here and, uh . . . she's crying."
"I am not!" Lir shouts.
"Just come." He bangs down the receiver and sweeps a hand through his hair. "My friend Lady is on her way. She'll help you figure out what to do."
"Is she your lover?" she asks. Dante stares at her, his lips parted with surprise, and her cheeks heat. "I'm sorry, I only . . . I thought that might explain why you . . . why you didn't want to go through with this."
"Lady would put a bullet in my head before she'd do anything like that," he replies, his voice oddly flat. "She's a devil hunter, but she's the only one I know who might be able to do something for you."
"Do something . . .?"
He nods once. "Yeah. Get you set up in an apartment or somethin', if that's what you want to do, make sure that you don't have to go back to wherever it is you came from."
Lir shakes her head, following him as he walks through the shop. "I don't want to go to an apartment. I want to—"
He stops suddenly and she nearly crashes into him as she pulls up short. Dante turns around and glares down at her, the top of her head barely coming to his collarbone. She bites back the rest of her sentence as she looks up in almost awe, the sheer size of him intimidating this close. Far below the surface she can sense the demon powers that lurk in his blood, and, inside that, the thread that connects them through the oath that was made, like a thin gold chain, beautiful and brittle.
"You what?" he growls.
"I take it that Sparda never spoke about us," she murmurs.
"I'm not interested in hearing about Sparda from some girl crying in my shop," he says. But the taunt is not unkind, just sharp, and Lir lifts her chin. "Save it for Lady. She'll help you out."
"Fine." Lir spins on her heel, her lips twisting at the "hey!" Dante yelps as her hair smacks him, and stomps over to the chairs that serve as the waiting area near the door. She sits properly, as she was taught, ankles crossed and tucked back, her hands folded on her lap as she stares straight ahead.
He watches her for a few seconds before shaking his head with a shrug. Then he returns to the position she'd found him in, though she can feel his eyes on her from beneath the magazine spread once more over his face. Lir tries to meditate, something she had been taught to do whenever feeling upset—a lady should never show her anger, in case she makes her husband uncomfortable—but her mind refuses to clear. For every lesson she had sat through, none of them had covered what to do if Sparda had failed to mention his promise to his sons, if she was rejected.
Nearly an hour has passed in stony silence before the sound of an engine cuts through the air, idling outside the shop before going silent. She squares her shoulders and turns her attention to the door just as a woman with short-cropped hair steps through it, lifting her sunglasses to peer around with cool eyes. It doesn't take her long to spot Lir, yet it's Dante she addresses first. "What the hell did you do this time?"
"Me?" Dante drawls, unmoving. "I didn't do a thing. She wandered in here spouting off about getting married and started crying when I said it wasn't gonna happen."
"Married?" The woman barks out a laugh. "You sure you didn't imagine it?"
Lir frowns, wondering if this is the one Dante spoke to on the phone. "Excuse me," she interjects, as politely as she can, "but he's exaggerating the truth. I was sent to fulfill a promise made between his father and mine, and he has no interest in it, so we've come to a bit of a stalemate."
The woman turns and looks her over curiously. "What's your name?"
"Lir," she answers. "I'm the direct descendent of the god Ler, 60th in his line."
"Sixty?" Dante mutters, but she ignores him.
"The savior of humanity, the knight Sparda, asked Ler for his help in sealing the demon realm," she continues. "In exchange, Ler made him take an oath that his son would marry his daughter. Sparda agreed, although he did not have any progeny until . . ." Her eyes trail over to where Dante is sprawled and her brows draw down. "And here we are."
The woman laughs, shaking her head. "That is some story." She smirks and jerks her chin at Dante. "Did Trish do this?"
"I wish." Dante sighs and gestures towards Lir. "Would you do something with her?"
"And what am I supposed to do?" the woman demands, her hands on her hips.
"I don't know. Take her somewhere."
Lir opens her mouth to protest, but the woman shakes her head. "Bad idea, Dante. If what she says is true, then Sparda made an oath to a god. That much magic power binds you, and you want to just break it? Any idea what would happen if you decide to defy an oath between gods?"
Dante makes a face. "Is it bad?"
"Bad is an understatement. From what I understand, you'd wish you simply died instead of enduring the punishment you could suffer." The woman glances at Lir. "Which leaves the question of what to do with her. Why haven't you sent her home?"
He yawns. "Said she can't go back without losing her voice. Or something like that."
"That true?" The woman turns to her.
"Yes," Lir replies. "As I told him, if I return having failed to fulfill the promise, I will be punished for it, my voice taken, my name and history stricken from the annals and sent to spend the rest of my life in the archives."
Both of them study her, the woman with a frown and Dante with narrowed eyes. "Well," the woman says, "in that case, you're going to stay right here."
"What!"
She holds up a hand to quiet Dante, and Lir's brows raise. Are all the women around here so forceful, or is this one different? "I'll go see if her story checks out. Should be easy enough. I'll also see if I can get the details on this oath."
Lir fidgets as Dante leans over the desk and growls, "And how much is this going to cost me?"
The woman smiles sweetly. "We can negotiate the price once I see if there is anything worth finding."
He grumbles and waves his hand as she turns to Lir. "Will you write down where your home is? And any other contact information?"
Lir hesitates as the woman extracts a pen and pad of paper from the bag slung on her hip. "If they find out he has rejected me—"
"I'll be discreet, I promise," she says.
Lir studies her for a moment, her heart pounding. Her face seems kind beneath the sternness, and then she notices her eyes are two different colors, making her blush a bit. "It is said that heterochromia is a sign of truth-telling," Lir murmurs, accepting the pad and pen.
"Hetero-what?" Dante shouts.
Lir shoots him a look but the woman just laughs. "That's new to me. But I'll take it." Lir goes to work writing down information, and when she is finished, her smile is genuine. "Don't let him push you around," she says, nodding towards Dante. "He might look scary but he's a big softie underneath."
A loud snort comes from the devil hunter, and Lir masks her own laugh. "What is your name?" she asks.
"Lady is fine. I'll call you in three days," she hollers over her shoulder, and with a final wave she exits the shop, leaving Lir alone with Dante.
Another silence, no less awkward than the first, descends in her wake. Lir does not need to look to feel Dante's displeasure; it makes the air between them thick and unpleasantly heavy, and she nearly bites her lip before she catches herself. Her family, her tutors, all of them had assured her that this was an honor, that she would be greeted with warmth, and yet . . . She glances at him from the corner of her eye, suppressing a wince at the thunder on his brow.
Uncertain of what else to do, she stands, intending to go and see if there is anything in the kitchen she can use to make a meal for him. His voice stops her. "Sit down."
"What?"
"Sit. Down." Dante points to the chair she's just left. "Lady might buy the wounded damsel bit, but not me, so you're not going anywhere until I hear what she's found."
"You still think this is a joke?" Disbelief colors her voice heavily. "Why would anyone pull such a prank?"
His eyes are cold, assessing. "Might not be a prank. Might be someone wants a shot at me or something I've got hidden away here."
"Hidden away?" The laugh leaves her before she can stop it, tumbling from her throat before she even realizes. "Is there anything inside this place besides trash? Your antique collection of socks, perhaps?"
Dante stands, glowering at her, and Lir snaps her mouth closed. He grits his teeth, more than likely struggling to keep his temper, and her heart tightens as she waits to hear whatever rebuke he is preparing. But Dante simply points again, his voice like shards of glass. "Sit down and don't speak."
Lir obeys immediately, her training overtaking her defiance in her fear. She watches as Dante tries to make another phone call, then another, and on the third try when he gets no answer he lets go a string of curses. "Why is no one home when I need them?" he shouts, slamming the receiver down.
He walks around his desk, grabbing his leather coat from the coat rack and heads towards the door. "Where are you going?" she calls.
"Out." He pauses as he walks by, and they exchange a look, his furious and hers cautious. "Just stay right there."
"Lady said she'd call in three days," Lir protests as he turns. "You can't expect me to sit in this chair the whole time."
He mutters under his breath before jerking his chin to the steps. "There's a spare bedroom upstairs. Last door on the right. I'll be back in a few hours." Then he steps closer, pointing his finger at her with an edge to his voice. "Don't get comfortable, sweetheart. You can stay here tonight but tomorrow you're out of here. And don't touch any of my stuff, got it?"
"I . . ." His lips press together, and she deflates, teetering on the edge of true despondency. So much, she thinks, for a warm welcome. "Yes. I understand."
Dante turns, his boots thudding on the floor, and the slam of the door makes her flinch. With no one around, there is no reason to keep up the pretense of decorum, and Lir folds in on herself, covering her face with her hand as she struggles not to cry. All she had wanted in coming here was to make her mother proud, to prove to everyone who said she was too willful, too curious, too everything to succeed wrong. Yet it seems like it was all for nothing; she failed, and horribly at that.
Once she is certain that she has swallowed her tears, she stands and heads towards the stairs. Yet she pauses, staring blankly at the piles of trash on every available surface, twisting the hem of her shirt in her fingers. Dante had told her not to touch anything, but maybe if she proves to him that she's capable, despite her youth, of taking care of him . . .
With a nod, she goes to the kitchen. The state of it makes her groan, pizza boxes and beer bottles everywhere, dishes stacked high in the sink, the counters stained, but she rolls up her sleeves and pulls her hair into a braid. Under the sink, to her surprise, is a spray bottle of bleach, a thing of furniture polish, a full box of trash bags, four unopened bottles of dish soap, and even some purple liquid labelled as a floor disinfectant. If he has all of this, Lir wonders, why doesn't he take care of his home?
"A man is incomplete without a wife," she murmurs out loud; one of the sayings repeated since her youth that feels even more ridiculous now. She pulls the supplies out and opens the first trash bag, going through the junk in the kitchen as she starts to clean. It will be hours before she is tired anyway, and Lir figures this is a good use of her energy. And who knows? Maybe Dante will see that she can be useful after all.
#dmc#devil may cry#dante sparda#lirael thorne#lir#dante/lir#dante/oc#dmc oc#fanfiction#writing#story#myfic#collab#promise me forever#pmr#i hope you enjoy!!
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Fire Emblem Heroes
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Alfonse/Summoner | Eclat | Kiran
Characters: Alfonse (Fire Emblem), Summoner | Eclat | Kiran
Additional Tags: Trans Male Character, Coming Out
Series: Part 3 of can you tell me what it's like (or how it's going to be?)
Published: 2020-07-01
Word Count: 944
Summary:
Alfonse never thought asking what should be a simple question would be this hard.
(Or, Alfonse learns there's a word for his experiences.)
a new trans alfonse fic just before pride month ends! my commentary, as always, under the cut
so i haven’t been writing as much lately, probably for obvious reasons. i keep joking that it’s only the spirit of pride month that allowed me to finish this, which is a valid joke considering uhhhhhh i started this fic about two years ago and only just finished it now. that’s just how it is sometimes i guess
then after finishing it (by which i mean looking it over with geo, my beta reader, because i did do a little bit of editing on my own after that), i sat on it for a few days because i couldn’t find a title. and then i found a title. and then i sat on it for a few MORE days for No Valid Reason Really. and then i was like “SHIT IT’S THE LAST DAY OF PRIDE MONTH I GOTTA POST THIS NOW” and so it’s like 9 pm and i’m just posting it now. again. that’s just how it is sometimes i guess
uhhhhh anyway. i may have an idea or two for some more trans alfonse fics so the series isn’t “complete” yet. i should really look at my server to remember what i said there about it since i have goldfish bastard brain and only vaguely recall what i said
this fic takes place during canon! do i know when in canon? fuck no, i didn’t think about that. but that means this takes place a few years after the last fic, which is a huge jump considering the last two fics in this series were pretty much directly connected. the others will probably also be Vague On The Timeline since it’s self-care to not be super focused on when a fic takes place. i’ll say that judging by when i started it, this is probably... post-book 2, pre-book 3. idk. idk if it really matters there’s not any details there covering it. most definitely post-book 1 tho
i like writing m/m kiralfonse more than m/f kiralfonse because i’m Extremely Gay and the lack of m/m kiralfonse is... a little annoying? tho at some point as a nonbinary person i’m obligated to write something with a nonbinary summoner since there’s ALSO a lack of kiralfonse fics with explicitly nonbinary summoner (gender neutral fics don’t count!). that’s not gonna be part of this series tho
this fic was purposely not heavy on the romance, i wanted to focus more on that idea of like. alfonse kind of finding out there’s a term for what he is, and the sense of community. and then also being able to talk to someone who understands about what those experiences are
anyway this is good for me because it means that for future fics in this series i can finally actually call characters trans! they’ll know the word now! why did i make it harder on myself before, aside from “because fuck you, self”
favorite part: it’s a bit too long for me to want to copy and paste here, but that part where kiran is telling alfonse about how he realized he’s trans, since it’s loosely (but not entirely) based off my own experiences. basically from “No, no, that’s fine! I get it. Even if I’m the same way, it’s still always kind of hard to say, isn’t it?” to the end of the fic
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Can the Gay art bugs also help Myla?
while she definitely Could join hallownests coolest new art club/therapy group, i dont really think that her problems being solved by becoming some kind of an artist would fit her character… arc? i guess??
see, i picked the ‘quirrel gets dragged to sheo’s and becomes a landscape painter’ route for several reasons (tw for suicide mention/discussion btw!!):
the first one being, obviously, the nailsmith - a character that has a lot of similarities with quirrel when you think about it. he also helps you on your quest throughout your big adventure– he upgrades your weapon til he forges the pure nail and so, after doing the thing that he was meant to do, wants to end his life. if we take the ‘quirrel kills himself after the blue lake scene’ theory into consideration here, you can definitely see the similarities in their… approach to fullfilling their ‘life purposes’. and imo thats exactly the kinda thing that both of these guys could bond over if quirrel is given the same opportunity to recover from this kinda mentality. if the nailsmith lived through this, then so can quirrel
the second one is related to the thing that people like to point out a lot - quirrels nail, how he always iterates the vital importance of having one, and how he symbolically abandons it by the end of his journey. this is where sheo comes in! sheo is basically a bug whose whole life used to revolve around the nail… until it didnt; he was able to find a new calling in life by abandoning his old one. ‘abandoning’ is a strong word though, cause he definitely held on to most of his knowledge and mastery of the nail, repurposed it. after all, “the wielding of a nail, the wielding of a brush… these things are not so different”. maybe quirrel could learn this lesson, too
the last one is that i just think that becoming a traveling landscape artist just… fits him?? quirrel LOVES exploring and sightseeing, so why couldnt he become passionate about trying to capture the many wonders of hallownest (and possibly other lands)? preserving those awe-inspiring places, recording those moments of discovery on a canvas. to archive them, if you will.
i hope they dont mind the tag (i’ll delete it if u do), but @wingmould added some really nice tags on my original post about the idea, and, Yeah. i wholeheartedly agree
now to myla. first and foremost, i gotta say that im one of the people desperately clinging to the hope that if you dont touch her and then get rid of the infection, she gets cured and lives happily ever after. that being said, i know that some of yall accidentally (or purposefully, out of mercy) kill her. so! heres what i got for our sweet miner girl in vals ‘theyre FINE shut up’ au:
in my understanding, the main cause of myla succumbing to the plague are two things feeding into eachother: her obsession and her loneliness.
(presumably) like many explorers before her, myla came to hallownest with a specific goal in mind - to get wealthy. and them mysterious, powerful crystals near the mines sure do look like a jackpot, dont they? especially when they start singing about ‘something even more valuable hidden deeper in’. that’s the reason she comes down there, the reason why she stays AND the reason why the radiance is able to invade her mind so easily. but i think that if she just had someone that could stop that obsession from consuming her, she could get saved??
like, sure, little ghost might pop in now and then to listen to her singing, but i dont think theyre really able to tell her ‘myla for the love of god stop overworking yourself and go outside’. and, from what we know, she doesnt have any friends/acquances besides the knight who could do that, either. “This is hard work, but I don’t mind. Down here, I can k-keep working without even sleeping. It’s fun!” see what i mean????? shes been down there for god knows how long, sleep deprived, probably starved, and alone, and NOBODY tells her that, hey, maybe she should, like, take care of herself? please??
so my idea is that someone actually does that and saves her. im thinking maybe sly? or cornifer?? cornifer deffo would be a better candidate since, in-canon, he could find myla while doing some exploring. and then he could take her to dirtmouth at some point, to, yknow, get some fresh air and maybe a cup of bug tea or whatever. and, after speaking with iselda, she Possibly could get hired as the new map shop keeper? since iselda is interested in going on an adventure with corny. it would be a way for myla to earn some geo and not risk her life while doing that. plus she could make some friends in dirtmouth! that way she’d be surrounded by people that wouldnt let her reach that rock bottom again, yknow?
woof, thats!! a lot of text. sorry about that! im just really passionate abt HK discussions!! anyways, it’s 5 am and im still not sleeping so i should. probably go do that sdhfuashdffus. good night
#val.txt#im making a lil comic abt this idea#so anyone interested in *gestures vaguely @ this post* This#stay tuned!! i'll finish it *some* day sdhfuhas#long post#hk#hk spoilers#tw suicide mention#ask to tag#Anonymous
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yayo
by light_loves_the_dark
He needs her to say it, more than anything. He needs her to acknowledge who they are to each other, that they own each other’s heart and souls and bodies. If she’s the sun he must turn to, he’ll ensure that he’s the only one that she shines for.
Maybe one day, he’ll confess it all to her and await her benediction. He’ll get down on his knees and give her his soul, tarred and blackened as it is, and beg for hers in return. Not that her reply really matters; if she turns him down, whatever’s left of him will fizzle out. He doesn’t have a life without her, without an apocalypse to stop. Those are his purposes in life, and he’ll bargain and beg and cheat and steal to obtain them. For now, he’ll take anything he can get, however underhanded and greedy he has to be.
-
aka the one where it’s their 18th birthday and five is ready to get his family the hell out of dodge, but first he’s gotta crash reggie’s party and show the world that vanya’s not just his sister. she’s his. period.
Words: 5323, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/M
Characters: Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy), Vanya Hargreeves, Allison Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Additional Tags: oh god where do i even begin, Porn with Feelings, Kinky, Talk of Voyeurism But It Doesn't Actually Happen, possessive Five, protective five, Number Five is a good brother, in more than one way, BAMF Vanya Hargreeves, She's Very Powerful, Five Does Not Think the Best Thoughts, Daddy Kink, Pseudo-Incest, Possessive Behavior, Lana Strikes Again, Also They're Both In 18 Year Old Bodies Here, Don't Ask Me About Their Actual Ages I'm Not Doing the Math, Praise Kink, If I Know You IRL and You Read This We Can't Be Friends, Tori I Hope You're Happy, Again, This Is Not A Super Light Fic
source https://archiveofourown.org/works/26227462
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WIP lines
@tracybirds tagged me ::hugs you:: to do recent lines from my works in progress.
I have so, so many works in progress, so I’m only going to pick on the mess I created since I stopped writing The Hero in order to try to get my Secret Santa fic done on time back on the 8 Dec 2019. Yes, that is where the mess all started. There are five ::headdesk::
The Hero
I do not have anything new for this one. What is published is where it is at. So I will have to give you a little that you may have already read.
“He wanted to end this.” Virgil’s parched voice broke the sudden silence. “He tried to shove that down my throat so he could end it. He wanted to blow himself up as much as he was being driven to do the same to us. If he had a bomb in his head, don’t you think he would have found a way to set that off rather than kill all of us?”
We’ll Be Home For Christmas
Gordon pulled up the feed from the Raoul sea buoy network ring. A hologram appeared of the mother and calf with just enough detail for Gordon to point out the healing net injuries on the little one.
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, she was caught nasty.”
“Bastards.”
“Don’t worry, we got them. Hell, IR has identified the money responsible and we have our legal team in motion.” A polite way to say his beautiful girlfriend was wreaking havoc in a calm but final way only she knew how. He had no doubts there would be very little left of the Polominka guy by the time she finished with him.
And what was left would probably be swept up by Parker and deposited in the nearest trash can.
Gotta love a girl who knew how to get a job done.
“Gords, you with us?”
“Huh?” A blink. Sam was grinning at him as if he knew exactly what Gordon was thinking about. He glared at him.
It didn’t faze the man. “Penny for your thoughts?” That was followed by an outright snigger.
“Shut it, Samwise.” So he flushed scarlet, big deal. Idiot.
Thunderbird XL
The ride back was nothing like he remembered eight years ago.
The whole ship vibrated, the harmonic sinking into his bones and curdling his stomach.
Yeah, that’s all I’ve got.
Need
Which sprouted from Thunderbird XL. My muse would not sit still at the end of the season!
Time passed as it always does. Jeff Tracy showed no further signs of mental instability. In fact, he grew stronger. Scott introduced him to the Board of Tracy Industries and he slowly picked up duties in the business, lowering the demand on Scott’s time.
Their father was all the better for it to have a purpose outside of family, and Scott was better to have less work on his plate and actually get to bed at a reasonable time every now and again.
Virgil continued to hover like a worried hen. Scott watched him. Even Gordon sought out Scott on a couple of occasions, concerned for his engineer brother.
Their Dad was regaining his strength, yet Virgil didn’t seem to see it.
When the World Goes Boom
And here we have the current monstrosity awaiting attention ::sigh:: Not all of it is up on the archives as I’ve been slack, but it is up to Part 8 on Tumblr and a good 26,400 words long so far.
“John, there are discrepancies in the records of all fourteen remaining waste harvesting facilities.”
John looked up at her camera. “Exactly like the first?”
“In the majority, variations on a theme. It appears there is methodical thievery in progress.” A hologram appeared in front of him, numbers scrolling through.
John eyed them, rubbing his chin with one blue-gloved hand. Could it be that simple? Theft? “That is a lot of missing material.” He frowned. “Too much to hide easily.”
“I have searched for any suspicious transactions world wide. There are no indications of strain on any of the markets for these materials. If they are being sold, it must be in extremely small increments.”
She threw up another range of numbers.
“They must be storing it. That is far too much to sweep under the rug.” He pulled up a scan of the nearest waste recycling facility. It was in the middle of snaring the remains of a multistage rocket booster. It’s grapples were dragging the huge chunk of metal into a maw of a retrieval bay. Lights flickered on the operating bots darting around the capture.
John eyed it with a frown. Radioactive materials and precious metals. Alan had seen a single person in a space suit carrying something with a radioactive symbol on it. He did a few distance calculations.
“Eos, could you please do a scan of all the space junk within EVA distance of this facility. Look for radioactivity.”
“Yes, John.”
The next question was ‘how did that man not get blown up with Alan?’ Quickly followed by ‘how did Thunderbird Five not detect him in the first place?’
Oops, I was wrong...there is six. There is a fic that I have not archived. It doesn’t even have a title, but is 5,400 words long.
Untitled
“Thank you, Chief McCready. I will be in touch.”
“I look forward to it.”
She stared after the woman as she left the room, thoughts swirling in her head. She had no doubt, Lady Penelope wouldn’t tell her a thing.
But there were other ways,
Cass grabbed her comm and contacted an old friend.
I don’t have any new text for this as I had to freeze it there - last written 7 Feb 2020 after which I went down with an infected foot, decided I had too many WIPs and left it there. But I can say that the old friend that Cass was going to contact was Ned Cook.
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed these quick snapshots into where these fics might be going. My priorites at the moment are Boom, Christmas, Hero and then the others if I can wrestle the muse.
Who knows what else will get started in the meantime :D
Nutty
(who goes back to work tomorrow, so my time goes back to minimal)
Tagging: I think lots of peeps have already done this and my memory is atrocious, so have at it if you will :D ::hugs you all::
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Good Omens (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub (Good Omens), Dagon (Good Omens), Hastur (Good Omens), Gabriel (Good Omens), Uriel (Good Omens), Disposable Demon (Good Omens)
Additional Tags: Fluff, Bodyswap, Episode: s01e06 The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives, Aziraphale loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens)
---
Back at it again with the Gift Fics! this one for @apple-duty whom I love so very much, I hope you like it <3
The song prompt Apple gave me was I’ll Be Your Mirror by The Velvet Underground, so of course I wrote a body swap fic xD
You can read it on AO3 or the full fic is under the cut (but you’ll miss the very lovely poster; that's only on AO3)
---
The first thing Aziraphale is aware of is the stench. Like rotting eggs mixed with bile mixed with month old trash with just a hint of lilac. As if someone decided to pin all of their hopes and dreams on a multipack of Poundland air fresheners.
Also it’s wet. The air feels damp; his clothes feel damp. He can hear dripping coming from somewhere. That constant trickle of a faucet drip, but one that never quite keeps to a pattern. The kind where you expect the drip, but then it’s just a millisecond off course and grates on your nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard.
It’s a veritable assault on his senses. After all, Aziraphale has standards. He also has a throbbing pain in his head that he doesn’t quite remember where it came from. He keeps his eyes screwed shut, trying to will the pain out of his head.
Think back, try to remember. He’d been in the park with Crowley. He’d had ice cream. He liked ice cream. No, focus back. Angels; a kidnapping. The Sound of Music? Still sick of that one. Then a crowbar. Tickety-boo. But it’s all backwards because…
Aziraphale finally opens his eyes. Everything is dark, impossibly dark. Sunglasses, of course. Oh dear, that’s right, they’ve swapped faces. He’s in Hell wearing Crowley’s face; laid out on a concrete slab in what appears to be a prison cell.
He sits up and takes stock of his surroundings: four concrete walls with no visible door, the concrete slab, and a poster on the wall. The poster has a kitten hanging from a tree branch, it says “Hang in There!” at the top. Underneath, in a scrawl, it says “The Worst Is Yet to Come” with a crude approximation of a smiley face1. It’s unsettling at best, completely idiotic at worst.
He lies back down on the slab. It’s uncomfortable, but far from the worst place he’s ever rested. There’s nothing for it now, all he can do is wait. Whatever denizens of Hell have been charged with capturing him will come back for him soon enough.
After all, “the worst is yet to come”.
He has to focus, he has to become Crowley. This won’t be difficult, he’s known Crowley so long. Aziraphale has memorized nearly everything there is to know about the demon - for thwarting purposes, obviously.
He knows the kinds of quips Crowley would make in the face of adversity. How he carries himself around perceived authority. How he walks like he’s not sure what exactly ‘hip bones’ are supposed to be.
But he also knows Crowley’s kind heart and his clever mind. He knows Crowley’s loyalty. And it is loyalty, isn’t it? He never went to Alpha-Centauri. He never would have, not without Aziraphale along for the ride.
He knows how the lines around Crowley’s eyes crinkle differently when a smile is genuine. How he stammers when he’s overwhelmed or embarrassed. How when he’s had just a bit too much red he starts to hiss at the end of his words. How he can captivate a room, hold it in the palm of his hand like an apple on offering. How when he laughs, he laughs deep and full and melodic.
He knows so much about Crowley; the being in the world he holds most dear in this life.
He’ll have to channel all of that to keep Crowley safe, and he knows that right now Crowley is doing the same for him in Heaven. They’ll survive this, they have to. Aziraphale can reflect everything Crowley is right at them and win Crowley his freedom.
Aziraphale closes his eyes and a razor sharp memory comes back to him unbidden. A church in 1941, the burning remains of a house of God that signalled the beginning of Aziraphale’s own awareness. He’d been falling for a long time, but not from Grace.
He’d seen it, in Crowley’s flat the night before. The eagle lectern from the church. Sentimental old serpent.
When this is over, if they survive, there’s no need to hide any longer. Their sides are perfectly aware of their “fraternizing”.
If they get out of this, Aziraphale resolves to tell Crowley what he’s known for so long, in the deepest recesses of his angel’s heart. He loves Crowley, with every fiber of his being that shouldn’t. And when this is over, he’s going to tell him just that.
---
Ozone. Overwhelming, nostril burning, ozone. Like an overactive air conditioner. And pine, but that particular artificial pine. Cleaning solution. Hovering over the surface like someone dumped an undiluted jug of it on the floor and just walked away.
And the light, it’s so harsh. Hell is supposed to be harsh, but this is on another level. He can’t see anything else for how bright the light is, these eyes that are not his are taking their sweet time adjusting. He strains his wrists against the rope restraining him. It’s rough and itchy, obviously imbued with some kind of celestial energy since he can’t will it away.
The room feels cold, like an unbearable chill. But he can still feel himself sweating. Like the worst waiting room in the known universe. No temperature regulation to be had. It’s ironic, he thinks, if this is supposed to be where you want to end up. The chair that creaks every time he moves is not helping. It’s so uncomfortable he wants to scream.
He can’t, of course. He’s bound and gagged. By angels, of all things. Figured his lot would go in for that before Heaven did. Hell has several agents with those kinds of things as their purview (for pain and for pleasure, and for that weird place they intersect.)
Ah well, focus on something else.
The windows are a nice touch - floor to ceiling polished glass. He can see all the wonders of the world from here, and even Crowley has to admit the view from the top is nice. But it’s so empty. A vast hall with no life in it whatsoever. Where are they keeping all those alleged pure souls? Not here, obviously.
It’s lonely, he realizes, with a twinge of affection for a certain ineffable being. One that he’s currently wearing the face of.
No wonder the angel surrounds himself with books and food and the finer things. There’s nothing here. Nothing but overly bright and overly clean.
Aziraphale belongs in a dusty bookshop. He belongs on Earth with the humdrum monotony of human life and the ever-changing majesty of human invention. Not in this place.
This place that belittles him, makes fun of his hobbies, of his corporation, of his soft heart, of his do-gooder nature. Everything that makes Aziraphale, well, Aziraphale.
This place never deserved him. Never deserved an angel that cared about every being he came across, even so much as to cover a lowly demon with his wing in the rain; or who cares so much about humanity he’ll swan dive away and straight back down to Earth for an infinitesimal chance to save them all.
They’ve never deserved the one angel who truly is a being of pure love. They were never his angel’s home. Home doesn’t treat you like that; home is supposed to be a place of love.
He shakes his head. Gotta play the part, he thinks. He knows Aziraphale better than he knows himself. Aziraphale has a few nervous tics, but underneath is a soldier. A guardian charged with protecting the first of humanity. A protector who has watched over the Earth and its inhabitants for longer than anyone or anything else (save for two).
A being of so much immeasurable ethereal power that a mortal being could never comprehend his true form. A being of so much love that it overwhelms even a demon who shouldn’t be able to sense that anymore. A being who cares about things like crepes and Shakespeare and nonsense first editions of books no one even remembers anymore.
A being who cares about him. Who cares about Crowley. And is right now in Hell wearing his face and being strong for him.
Crowley can do the same. He can be a mirror image of Aziraphale, in every way. He has to.
And when he gets out of here, the first thing he’s gonna do is finally, finally kiss his angel senseless. Let him know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that he is wanted, that he is loved, and that he is home. Crowley will be there - for as long as Aziraphale would have him - to show him how wonderful he is, how beautiful he is, and how absolutely loved he is.
Even love from something wretched is better than the falsehood of this place. Crowley had learned that the hard way in the early days.
But when this is over, he’ll be there to hold Aziraphale together, to be the light on the door that leads him home.
---
“Demon Crowley,” Beelzebub sneered, “I sentence you to extinction via holy water. Have you anything to say?”
This trial had been a farce at best. Just evidence and an execution sentence. But they had been prepared for this.
“Well, yes,” ‘Crowley’ says after a bit of contemplation. “This is a new jacket and I’d hate to ruin it. Would you mind if I took it off?”
Beelzebub rolls their eyes and Dagon groans. He hears Hastur mutter something about “flash bastards” under his breath. Aziraphale turns and takes off the jacket, folding it neatly over a metal chair in the corner.
He spares a couple of passing glances to the tub full of holy water next to him, saying a silent prayer to no one that this works. He can feel the residual energy radiating off of the water and he suppresses a shudder as he strips down to just Crowley’s socks and underwear.
He’s wearing his demon’s face and facing down the very thing he’s feared for so long would be Crowley’s undoing. How long has he been terrified of this? Ever since that horrid argument in 1862 he’s feared for the demon where holy water is concerned.
The lengths Crowley had gone to to get it has scared him, but it had been worth it in the end. Aziraphale can’t imagine a life without Crowley in it, and hopefully after this he won’t have to.
He moves to the tub, stands staring into the water. It feels a bit like things coming full circle, at this point. “Any time now, traitor,” Hastur calls to him, “We don’t have all day.”
He turns around, takes a deep breath, and falls in backwards with a dramatic splash. Aziraphale is gripped by a momentary panic as he hears the tell tale pops and sizzles of holy water-induced destruction. It soon becomes apparent that this is just the residual demonic energy on the floors and walls, sizzling away into the ether when it mingles with the splashed water.
Oh, that means this is going to be fun. He can’t resist, tossing a bit of water towards the window of the demons staring at him. Watching them scream and recoil. He smirks in a way that he hopes fits on Crowley’s face.
“I don’t suppose that anywhere in the nine circles of Hell there’s such a thing as a rubber duck?” Aziraphale asks to the room in general, finally turning to his supposed ‘jury of peers’. He has to suppress a laugh. Dagon is cowering behind Beelzebub, who looks like they just witnessed Gabriel trying to dance the salsa.
“No?” he asks with an obvious lilt to his voice. When they don’t answer he goes back to his humming and splashing, being as ‘flash’ as he can possibly be.
“He’s gone native,” Beelzebub croaks out while Dagon cowers behind them, “He isn’t one of us anymore.”
“So you’re probably thinking,” Aziraphale says with a flourish, draping himself over the edge of the tub as though he doesn’t know what bones are, “‘If he can do this, I wonder what else he can do?’”
He watches their faces, sees the fear underneath. Angels can sense love, that’s true. But they can sense other things, too. Fear, in particular. They’re meant to assuage fears, to calm and reassure. But Aziraphale has been playing both sides for long enough in the Arrangement that he knows how to nurture that fear as well.
He stares Beelzebub right in their beady eyes, “And very, very soon, you’re all going to get the chance to find out.”
“He’s bluffing, we can take him,” Hastur says, a bit too quickly to be casual, “One demon against the rest of Hell? What’s he going to do?” Aziraphale pays him no mind, Dukes of Hell are beneath Principalities anyway. And none of the demons in Hell are fit to even look at Crowley’s face, as far as he’s concerned.
“Shut it! Get him out of here, this’ll cause a riot,” Beelzebub shouts while rushing to block the window to the peanut gallery; Aziraphale honest-to-someone giggles. Beelzebub keeps shouting, “What are you all looking at? Nothing to see! Nothing to see here!”
There are footsteps and a flickering of fluorescent lighting, and Aziraphale turns to see Michael, prim and proper as always, strolling down the hallway without a care.
“I came to bring back the - oh, Lord.”
Aziraphale almost wishes he had a camera phone, just so he could preserve the shocked look on the archangel’s face. For days when he needs a good laugh
“Michael! Dude. Do us a quick miracle, will you?” He says, hand outstretched, not wanting to waste an opportunity and feeling emboldened by wearing Crowley’s face, “I need a bath towel.”
Michael hands him one in an instant, still looking shocked as anything. The confidence that comes from being Crowley is exhilarating. The more he gets away with, the bolder he is. Aziraphale decides right then and there, he’s going to make sure they never, ever threaten Crowley again.
“I think it would be better for everyone,” he puts on his best angelic fury voice, preying further on that seeping feeling of fear, “if I were to be left alone in the future. Don’t you?”
He stares each of them down in turn, holding eye contact and glaring into their very souls. He waits for each to nod in turn before deciding he’s satisfied.
“Right,” he says with a smirk and a wiggle (he is still him after all, even wearing Crowley’s face), before getting out of the tub and doing his best saunter towards the exit.
He heads for the elevator, stands still as a statue as he waits for it. He’s in such a hurry to leave he nearly runs into one of the Erics on his way in. As soon as the doors close, he sinks against the elevator wall and sobs. Aziraphale cries as he feels the worry wash away from him, the worry that’s plagued him for centuries now. Crowley is finally free, and Aziraphale couldn’t be more relieved.
---
“Can I hit him? I’ve always wanted to hit an angel.”
Of course Eric would want to take advantage of an opportunity. Idiot that he is,
Sandalphon grins, gold tooth glinting in the harsh lighting. “Go for it,” he says with contempt. Aziraphale had told Crowley about earlier the day before, when the Archangels had cornered him in an alleyway. Now it seemed they didn’t want to get their hands dirtier than necessary.
Eric stands in front of him, reeling his fist back like he’s gonna be able to do anything. Lowly disposable demons, always wanna be above their station. Crowley can’t break character, but he isn’t gonna let this asshole get a punch in.
He stares coldly into Eric’s face, pouring every but of contempt he can without breaking the facade. He can’t let them see him crack. He can’t let them see Aziraphale crack.
He screws his angel’s face into what he knows Aziraphale to be. Brave and steadfast, even in the face of adversity. Never truly backing down when he’s up against the wall. And he lets out one, teeny, tiny little smirk. Just enough that only Eric would be able to see it.
“I...should be getting back,” Eric stammers, fear radiating in waves,”I’ll come and pick up the Hellfire in, what, an hour?”
“Barbecue will be over by then,” Uriel says with all of the enthusiasm of a uni student with a 5 AM math class.
Uriel makes her way over to him and unties the ropes on his wrists in one movement, “Up.”
And he does jump up, because that’s what Aziraphale would do. He adjusts his clothing - waistcoat, bowtie, cuffs - same way Aziraphale has always done. The nervous tic that’s been his calling card for millennia.
“I don’t suppose I could persuade you to reconsider?” Crowley knows the angel would make one last attempt, one last gesture to give them the opportunity to do the right thing. “We’re meant to be the good guys, for Heaven’s sake.”
“Well for Heaven’s sake,” Gabriel says with his corporate smile, “we make an example out of traitors. So...into the flame.”
Crowley stares at the pillar of hellfire for a beat, more than a little concerned with if their plan will work or not. He thinks of his angel, burning in hellfire, burning out of existence.
He thinks of a bookshop. Of a Queen record melting to a gramophone. Of linen pages and leather binding going up in smoke. Of himself, on the floor, soaked to the bone, screaming to no one and nothing. Of an angel shaped hole in his life.
Crowley thinks of how relieved he was, sitting there drunk on Taliskers, when Aziraphale had materialized in front of him. Not himself again, not yet, but safe. Where are you, wherever it is, I’ll come find you. He’d meant it, and Crowley had found his angel again at the end of the world.
He’d screamed through fire, he’d drove through fire, and now he’d walk through fire. All for his angel.
“Right, well, lovely knowing you all,” Crowley says, knowing Aziraphale would be kind, even to the last. “May we meet again on a better occasion.”
“Shut your stupid mouth and die already,” the smile that Gabriel gives him now makes him want to vomit; it’s so callous and fake. He stares Gabriel right in the eyes as he steps forward. The heat from the pillar is warm and comforting; he’s a demon, after all, he was born anew in Hellfire after the fall.
Crowley takes a deep breath and walks in, letting his body adjust to the heat. It’s comforting, in a twisted sort of way. Like a nice screaming hot bath at the end of a particularly difficult day.
Crowley sighs and rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck a couple times for good measure. Hellfire is surprisingly good for the joints, when it doesn’t kill you instantly. Gabriel and the other archangels are staring at him, stupid gaping looks on their faces.
What’s a field trip to heaven without a little bit of fun at the expense of some right bastards?
He breathes Hellfire right in their faces, laughing as they scamper back liked spooked rats. He thinks to himself that it’s a shame that the Hellfire didn’t hit any of them.
Sandalphon looks like he’s about to jump out of his skin. Uriel is shivering. Gabriel is wearing his fake corporate smile again, trying to find a way to salvage the situation.
“It may be worse than we thought,” he stammers out, Sandalphon hiding behind him like a scared little kid.
“What...is he?” Uriel asks, the only one with a level head in this situation.
“You see,” Crowley says in a multi-layered version of Aziraphale’s voice, “I don’t think you want to know what I am. Because the less you know, the less danger you’ll be in.”
Crowley weaves his hand in front of him, almost like an orchestral conductor, swirling the Hellfire between his fingers. Shaping it into little spheres and then banishing them back to the rest of it, acting for all the world like he doesn’t care.
“Gabriel, we need to go to damage control,” Uriel says, tugging on Gabriel’s sleeve, “If word gets out about this.”
“You’re right, yes, of course,” Gabriel stammers, rubbing his temples with one hand, “It’ll start riots, I know. Fine, Aziraphale, just...get out of the fire.”
“Oh are you sure? I’m just working on my tan a bit, it’s ever so dreary in my bookshop, I don’t get much sun you know.”
“Just leave, Aziraphale!” Gabriel shouts, face red and perfectly done hair falling out of place. That alone was worth the trip, to break the composure of the Archangel Fucking Gabriel (what a prick).
“Ah, right then, I’ll just…” he steps gingerly out of the fire, adjusts his clothing again (waistcoat, bowtie, cuffs - every single time), and worries his hands together as he heads for the exit.
He gets in the elevator that will take him back to the lobby, where he’ll hurry to the prearranged rendezvous point as fast as he can. As soon as the door closes, he collapses against the wall and laughs. Big, full, gargantuan laughs. Soon enough his sides is hurting and he hadn’t even known their corporations were capable of that.
Aziraphale is free now, and Crowley has never been happier.
---
Aziraphale fidgets anxiously on the park bench. Crowley should’ve been back by now, he’s sure of it. He’d been half expecting to meet him in the elevator or the lobby, if he’s honest. Then again, Heaven does like to drag things out.
It’s all he can do to keep from jumping from the bench when he sees his own usual corporeal form heading towards him. They did it, they survived. They averted the apocalypse and tricked both Heaven and Hell. And now they can spend the rest of their days on their own side; together.
A place that Aziraphale has wanted to be for a very long time. He settles himself as Crowley sits next to him on the bench.
“So,” Crowley says in the angel’s voice, but sounding so very much like himself anyway, “D’you think they’ll leave us alone now?”
“At a guess, they’ll pretend it never happened.” Aziraphale is practically vibrating off the park bench. He’d made his promise to himself, he’s going to tell him. Just, not while he’s wearing his dear demon’s face. “Anyone looking?”
Crowley presses fingers to his temples and scans the area, Aziraphale fidgets with a ring that doesn’t exist and shoots a look skyward despite knowing he doesn’t need to any longer.
“No,” Crowley says, sounding a little distracted in his own right, as he extends a hand, “swap back then?”
They link hands and Aziraphale feels the atoms on the outer edges of his corporeal form rearrange themselves back to his usual soft and stuffy self. He shakes out the kinks just a little while Crowley cracks his neck next to him.
Aziraphale looks over at him, noting that he seems stiffer than usual. Must be the swap. Even if it was just outward appearances, it’s still rather taxing. Crowley catches him staring and reaches up to change the collar on his jacket back to red.
“A tartan collar, really?”
“Tartan is stylish!”
Crowley just rolls his eyes at him, and Aziraphale decides it’s now or never.
“Crowley, I have something I really must tell you,” he’s glad to have his own visage back, if only so the ring exists again for him to fidget with. This should be easy, but what if he’s wrong?
“Whatsit then, angel?” Crowley says, raising an eyebrow, and oh suddenly it is so very, very easy.
“I’m sure you must already know, I don’t see how you wouldn’t, I’ve never been good at hiding it, but Crowley,” Aziraphale can feel the sting of tears in the corners of his eyes. He’s heard of happy crying before, but never experienced it himself, but this feeling of release so close to saying those three simple words must be what that’s like. “Crowley, I lo-”
He doesn’t get to finish.
---
Crowley is, at best of times, a bundle of anxiety and nerves. Today was no exception.
He hadn’t been sure when the time would be to make his move, but then Aziraphale had looked at him like that and every bit of resolve he might’ve had holding him back faded away.
Aziraphale had been saying something, Crowley hadn’t really been paying attention, but suddenly it didn’t matter. All that mattered were those lips and his lips and the tears in the corners of his angel’s eyes and making them go away.
His hands were on Aziraphale’s face before he could tell them not to be, and their lips were crashing together soon after.
So now here they sit - on a park bench, lips locked together. Aziraphale is frozen stiff as a statue and suddenly Crowley has a very sharp and very real fear that he’s gone to fast again.
He breaks off and hides his face in his hands, sunglasses pushed up into his hairline, “Christ, fuck, ‘m sorry angel, shouldn’t have done that.”
“Crowley, my dear-”
“Won’t happen again, promise you that,” he just can’t stop stammering. “I mean, now you know, so if you want time or something or for me to fuck off just say the word.”
“Crowley,” Azirpahale says louder this time, gingerly touching Crowley’s wrists, “dear would you please put down your hands.”
Aziraphale wraps his fingers around Crowley’s wrists, tugging his hands away from his face. Everything is a bit blurry and Crowley realizes he’s crying.
He blinks the tears away and sees Aziraphale, smiling that bright and wonderful smile that Crowley doesn’t always get to see.
“There you are,” Aziraphale says, running a thumb along Crowley’s cheek to wipe away a tear that dared to escape it’s confines.
“Stop it,” Crowley says, trying to look away but finding himself unable, “don’t give me that look.”
“What look would that be?”
“You’re looking at me like you...you…”
“Love you?” Aziraphale asks and Crowley could swear the angel’s eyes sparkle.
“Yeah, that,” Crowley says softly as Aziraphale continues stroking his cheek, “you can’t love me. I’m a demon, twisted and unkind that’s me.”
“Oh my dear,” Aziraphale says cupping the demon’s cheek, “you couldn’t be more wrong about that if you tried.”
And then, miracle of miracles, Aziraphale leans in and kisses him. Aziraphale is actually kissing him. And he’s kissing Aziraphale back. And Aziraphale is kissing him back again and what a revelation that is.
There’s no telling how long they sit there, it’s not like either of them have to breathe. When they finally break apart, Aziraphale’s voice is barely a breath against his lips.
“I love you, Crowley, I’ve loved you for so very, very long.” Aziraphale tilts his forehead against Crowley’s and for some reason the intimacy of that is more overwhelming than the kiss they just shared. “Wily old serpent, light to my darkness, my darling, my dearest.”.
“Aziraphale,” Crowley says reverently and wistfully, drunk on love and belonging, “Aziraphale, you never belonged there, you’re so much better than them. I’ll spend the rest of my days proving that to you, if you’ll let me.”
“Oh my dear,” Aziraphale says, kissing him again, “I’d like nothing better.”
“Love you, angel,” Crowley says, peppering kisses all over Aziraphale’s face, getting to hear that laugh that sounds like daybreak, “let me tempt you to lunch.”
Aziraphale laughs, full of hope and full of love, the way Crowley thinks he should always be able to laugh. “I do believe, my darling,” he says as he kisses Crowley on the nose, and it should not be as adorable or endearing as it is, “a table for two at the Ritz has just miraculously opened up.”
As they stroll through the park, hand in hand for all the world and Heaven and Hell to see, Aziraphale feels like he’s home for the first time. Here, with Crowley, finally allowing himself to bask in the glow of a love unconditional and patient. And finally Crowley can feel the love that’s been his all along; the unyielding adoration of his angel. Faintly in the distance, they can hear a nightingale singing in Berkley Square.
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