#Raised all hell once he learned about God Eden. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

little-chattes · 3 years

Text

Ok so I’ve done a complete re-read through and one thing that kept nagging at me was how little Gideon and Harrow’s relationship makes sense given its quite frankly abusive origins. Harrow spends her whole life making Gideon’s a living hell and Gideon just… forgives her. Total and complete forgiveness for an irredeemable girl.

At first I took the sudden shift in their relationship as lazy writing to rush along the end of the story, but that didn't make any sense either. Muir strikes me as an intensely purposeful writer. Then I remembered that Muir is also an intensely Catholic writer and it hit me. Muir isn’t writing a story about a healthy human relationship, oh no, she’s writing a story about Christ’s relationship with The Church… if Christ was a sword toting butch lesbian and The Church was a sardonic bone witch. Call it tender blasphemy.

Now Gideon’s role as a Christ figure is fairly easy to parse out given that her dad is… God. But for the sake of self indulgence (I have to put my 15 year long flirtation with Christianity to use somehow) I’m going to go through all the parallels anyway. There are a LOT of them.

Let’s start at the very beginning (a very good place to start).

Miraculous Conception

Luke 1:34-38

34 But Mary said to the angel, “How will this be, since I [e]am a virgin?” 35 The angel answered and said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; for that reason also the [f]holy Child will be called the Son of God.

Gideon is conceived by artificial means when one of God’s own servants (Mercy) delivers a sample of John’s genetic material to Wake, a ‘normal’ human woman who chooses to carry Gideon in her womb. Notably, the sample lives far beyond its point of expected viability, thus making the conception somewhat miraculous (“Only the sample was still active, no idea how considering it was twelve weeks after the fact” HTN 441).

The Cuckold

Matthew 1:18-25

18 Now the birth of Jesus the [a]Messiah was as follows: when His mother Mary had been [b]betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be pregnant by the Holy Spirit. 19 And her husband Joseph, since he was a righteous man and did not want to disgrace her, planned to [c]send her away secretly.

Gideon the First decides not to kill his lover, Wake, and releases her out the airlock (AND HE TOOK PITY ON ME! HE TOOK PITY ON ME! HE SAW ME AND HE TOOK PITY ON ME” from Harrow’s vision of Wake’s note, HTN 124) just as Joseph took pity on Mary, his betrothed, by deciding to divorce her quietly instead of making her infidelity public which would condemn her to death by public stoning (Deuteronomy 22:21). Gideon the First knew that Wake was pregnant and didn’t tell John because he thought the baby was his. Similarly, Joseph goes on to raise Jesus as his own son.

The Birth

Luke 2:7

And she gave birth to her firstborn son; and she wrapped Him in cloths, and laid Him in a [f]manger, because there was no [g]room for them in the inn.

Neither baby Jesus nor baby Gideon were given a proper cradle, one being laid to rest in a manger where the animals ate and the other stuffed in a transplant bio-container (GTN 23).

The Dead Children

16 When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi.

King Herod intends to kill the prophesied King of the Jews and instead of finding the specific baby, he just has a bunch of them slaughtered. However, Jesus escapes the slaughter of the innocents by Herod when his parents secret him away to Egypt.

When the great aunts gas the nursery and kill the 200, Gideon is meant to die along with them but escapes her fate.

Now this event has a completely different biblical connotation for Harrow.

Firstly, the murder of the 200 children represents Original Sin. In the bible, Adam and Eve disobeyed God in the Garden of Eden, and as their descendants, all of humankind is doomed to also bear the weight of that sin from the moment we are born until the day we die. This is a fact that is drilled into Christians as soon as we’re able to understand it, we are born wretched and unworthy sinners, and there’s nothing we can do ourselves to fix that.

“I have tried to dismantle you, Gideon Nav! The Ninth House poisoned you, we trod you underfoot—I took you to this killing field as my slave—you refuse to die, and you pity me! Strike me down. You’ve won. I’ve lived my whole wretched life at your mercy, yours alone, and God knows I deserve to die at your hand. You are my only friend. I am undone without you.”

Harrow is a multitude, she is 200 children, the entire future of her house. Shes not just one human being,, she’s the whole damn church.

Naz/Nav

he went and lived in a town called Nazareth. So was fulfilled what was said through the prophets, that he would be called a Nazarene.

Although Gideon is not from the Ninth, she is given the Ninth name Nav when she arrives as a baby. Similarly, Jesus is known as Jesus of Nazareth, though that is not where he was born.

The Poor Bondservant

Jesus' role as a servant is emphasized many times in the bible. He was a carpenter's son born in a stable

Philippians 2:5-8

Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross.

Gideon is described as being made “a very small bondswoman” (GTN 24)

The Sword

Matthew 10:34

Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.

The Wretched Sinner

Harrow is wretched, self loathing, and cruel.

She is in thrall of the enemy of god, a figure who was once gods most favoured warrior, cast into hell.

She is like the depiction of the sinner who loves the devil

It's important to note that Harrow isn’t a single person, she is a multitude, the entire future of her people condensed into one body.

The Enemy of God

20 Then I saw an angel coming down from heaven, nholding in his hand the key to othe bottomless pit1 and a great chain. 2 And he seized pthe dragon, that ancient serpent, who is the devil and Satan, and qbound him for a thousand years, 3 and threw him into othe pit, and shut it and rsealed it over him, so that she might not deceive the nations any longer, until the thousand years were ended. After that he must be released for a little while.

Before the fall, Satan was described as a “guardian cherub” who resided in the garden with God (Ezekiel 28:14)

(a funny aside, in the bible the devil is known as the great deceiver but in HTN Muir specifies that Alecto is incapable of lying)

A Life of Abuse

Isaiah 53:3

"He was despised and rejected by mankind,

a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.

Like one from whom people hide their faces

he was despised, and we held him in low esteem”

They got up, drove him out of the town, and took him to the brow of the hill on which the town was built, in order to throw him off the cliff" (Luke 4:28–29).

Gideon lives a life of mockery and is abused by Harrow.

An Unlikely Savior

Despite the fact that Gideon does not fit the expected image of a Cavalier, Harrow chooses Gideon to be her sword and protector.

Despite the many openings Gideon has to make Harrow pay for the pain she caused her, she remains loyal to her

Trust

Harrow realizes that she cannot face the lyctor trials without Gideon, and places her trust in her

Christians are told they must place their trust in jesus in order to reach salvation

Purifying Water

Acts 2:38

Peter replied, "Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Harrow confesses her sins to Gideon and puts herself at her mercy

Gideon forgives Harrow totally and completely, she baptises her

One Flesh

Mark 10:8

and the two shall become one flesh; so they are no longer two, but one flesh.

“The imagery and symbolism of marriage is applied to Christ and the body of believers known as the church. The church is comprised of those who have trusted in Jesus Christ as their personal Savior and have received eternal life. Christ, the Bridegroom, has sacrificially and lovingly chosen the church to be His bride” (x)

Ephesians 5:25-26

25 gHusbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and hgave himself up for her, 26 that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by ithe washing of water jwith the word,

They take the vow of necro and cav, one flesh one end

Gideon’s forgiveness of Harrow is reaffirmed

Harrow risks her life to stay and fight with Gideon, even if it means her death and thus the destruction of her death. Her love for Gideon is now greater than her love for the Body.

The Sacrifice

John 19:34

Instead, one of the soldiers pierced Jesus’ side with a spear, bringing a sudden flow of blood and water.

They will look on the one they have pierced'" (John 19:36–37).

Gideon chooses to die for Harrow, death by piercing

and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.

In order to complete the lyctor process, Harrow both physically and spiritually consumes Gideon

Because of Gideon’s sacrifice, Harrow attains eternal life at the right hand of god

The Tomb

The Resurrection

1On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women came to the tomb, bringing the spices they had prepared. 2 They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus

Harrow turns her body into a tomb for Gideon, a tomb fashioned after that on the Ninth

Resurrection on the Third Day

Thus it is written, and thus it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead the third day, and that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in His name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. Luke 24:46-47

“So many months had passed: and yet, at the same time, she had only lost Gideon Nav three days ago. It was the morning of the third day in a universe without her cavalier: it was the morning of the third day—and all the back of her brain could say, in exquisite agonies of amazement, was: She is dead. I will never see her again.” (HTN 374)

Just in case you missed this important piece of information, Muir repeats it three times.

Go, and tell them, then, that he that was dead is alive, and lives for evermore, and has the keys of death and the grave,"

10 notes · View notes

pengychan · 3 years

Text

[Good Omens] Winging It - Epilogue

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon Rating: T

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: Aaand we finally made it to the end! Which is a beginning in many ways. How is it going to go? Beats me, but it probably won't be boring. Also yes, I am just posting a Christmas-themed chapter right before Easter. So sue me. I had a blast writing this one - hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing!

***

“Unionize Hell. You’re telling me we should unionize. Hell.”

“Well, it would be a first step towards giving you some bargaining power. Once demons begin seeing Satan as someone you can bargain with through the sheer force of numbers, it will be easier to convince them they can decide to walk away.”

“This is the single dumbest idea I have ever heard coming out of your mouth.”

Sitting beside Gabriel, Michael stiffened and glared daggers across the table. “If this is how you believe you can address us, we may as well end the meeting--” she began, only to trail off when Gabriel grinned, resting an elbow on the table and leaning his chin on the palm of his hand.

“That’s blatantly untrue,” he said, still smiling at Beelzebub. “You’d ve heard dumber by far.”

The prince of Hell’s lips curled upwards for the briefest moment. Michael shifted a little on her seat and glanced over at Dagon, who just so happened to be sitting beside Beelzebub for the meeting. She met her gaze briefly, but it was enough for Michael to know she was not the only one to be mighty uncomfortable at the turn Gabriel and Beelzebub’s formerly entirely professional relationship had taken. That was an odd sort of relief.

Unaware of their second-in-command’s discomfort, or just blatantly ignoring it, Beelzebub let out a thoughtful, buzzing sound. “... Hmph, I suppose I have. But I am ready to be you are not inclined to have the Heavenly host unionize.”

“Ah, actually,you’d lose that bet. We have given the go-ahead.”

The Lord of the Flies blinked. “... You have?”

“Yes. It worked out for my friends back in Southampton, so I figured, why not Heaven?”

Michael briefly wondered if she was supposed to remind Gabriel that Heaven was not precisely the same as a port city on England’s south coast, but in the end she decided against it. She was a warrior, had always been, but a good warrior knows how to pick battles and that was not the hill she was ready to, figuratively speaking, die on.

Across the table, Beelzebub raised an eyebrow while waving away a few fies “And God is not displeased?”

Gabriel shrugged, leaning back on his seat and spreading his arms a little. “I have not been fired yet, and I am taking it as a good sign. I suppose it may create a precedent for angels to leave, if so they wish, on more amicable terms than you did. And possibly with some severance. Who knows, perhaps if you had formed a union in the first place instead of going immediately for full-on rebellion--”

All right, they got sidetracked far enough. “Gabriel,” Michael spoke up.

He cleared his throat. “Right, yes. Apologies. Never mind the past. What I am saying is, it might be a viable path forward now - for beings on either side. Do give it some thought.”

“Mmh.” Beelzebub crossed their arms, leaning back against their seat with a foot braced against the table. To Michael’s surprise - and to Dagon’s utter bewilderment, it seemed - they seemed to be truly giving it some thought. “I suppose that perhaps, this does fall into the ‘so dumb it might just work’ caregory. And it’d make Hell worse for Reagan and Thatcher. I will consider it.”

“Very well. I do believe that concludes the meeting.” Gabriel said, and smiled. He’d been smiling an awful lot throughout the meeting, and not the kind of insincere business-like smiles he would usually sport on such occasions.

No, Michael thought, not usually. Before.

“Actually, there’s more we need to discuss,” Beelzebub said, standing. “Privately, if possible.”

“Ah, of course. Right this way. You’re all right wrapping this up, Michael?”

Trying with all her might not to wonder about their private discussion, Michael nodded mechanically. “Of course,” she droned, and busied herself picking up papers once they were gone, trying to ignore the demon who was very much not gone.

“... For the record, the cold shoulder treatment only works if the one receiving it cares about getting the cold shoulder,” Dagon spoke up after a few minutes, filing papers away in a folder she had seemingly summoned out of thin air. “And I do not care.”

And yet you had to remark on that.

Michael let out a snort, choosing not to argue. She hadn’t been trying to remember the being they had known before their rebellion and Falls, or at least not as hard as Gabriel probably wished her to - Sandalphon and Uriel were fairly ahead of her there - but she did have the uncomfortable sensation she had known Dagon, whatever she was called before, quite well.

Awkward, considering she was rather certain it had been her to cast her out.

“Have you had any success in tracking down the Duke of Hell?”

“Hell has a great many Dukes. You will need to be more specific.”

“I believe there is only one who is currently a fugitive,” Michael said, her voice sharper. “Hastur. The one who kille-- who almost-- sort of killed Gabriel.”

“... We lost him somewhere around Alpha Centauri, but I am certain we will catch up with him eventually.”

“Are you always this inefficient?”

“I mean, you’re welcome to try catching him yourself,” Dagon snarled, snapping the folder shut. It seemed the perfect moment for her to disappear in a cloud of foul-smelling smoke, but she did not; rather, the Lord of the Files seemed to hesitate. Michael had just enough time to wonder if she may have remembered something from before that Michael did not before she finally looked up and spoke again.

“All right, since we are suddenly supposed to have opinions now, what do you really think of this… entire… thing?”

“You mean, Gabriel and Beelzebub’s plan?”

“Calling it a plan seems more generous than I’ve ever known you to be.”

That was true, Michael had to concede. When she had tried asking Gabriel if there was a plan they should know of, he’d only replied that he was ‘sort of winging it’. It certainly was a complete u-turn from how things used to be, but if he had been brought back and… not yet cast out again over his unorthodox involvement with Beelzebub, there had to be a reason.

Perhaps whatever he had learned in his time on Earth would be the key to everything. After what she had done to him by blindly following orders, Michael was willing to heed his words now, and so were the others. If it turned out to be a mistake, they would face whatever consequences there may be as one. Never again would she lift a sword on her friends.

“... No, it is not a plan,” she finally said. “I suppose it is more of a leap of faith.”

“Faith in what?” Dagon made a face. “In God?”

Michael did not take the bait. “More in our own ability to figure things out, I suppose.”

“That’s the sort of thing humanity is all about,” the Lord of the Files muttered, and blinked when Michael let out a brief laugh.

“Well, perhaps that is precisely the point. Try being more human.”

“... Have you hit your head? From the beginning of everything, it has always been human who tried to become more like u--” she trailed off, wrinkling her nose as though she had just sunk her fangs into a lemon. “You. More like you. And from the beginning, you have encouraged that.”

“Maybe that is where we went wrong after all.”

A pause. “Are you seriously suggesting it should be you-- us-- to lower ourselves into being more like them? Really?”

“Well. It is what Yeshua did, and perhaps it was a lesson meant for us,” Michael shrugged, and tuned to the door. “After all it was humanity, and not us, to be made in God’s image.”

***

“Oh, look at that. Another wedding invitation.”

“Shadwell and Madame Tracy?”

“How did you guess?”

“They made it abundantly clear during Anathema and Whatshisface’s wedding reception.”

“Ah, fair. Do you think they’ll allow us to take Warlock to their wedding as well? He got on well with the Them, and Madame Tracy has surely invited those children.”

“Can’t see why not. Are you sure they meant to invite us?”

“This is marked for the Serpent of Eden and the Southern Pansy.They did mean to indeed.”

“No clause against witches?”

“Oh, there is. It is to be a witch-free wedding. The only exceptions to the rule are dear Anathema, Adam, the two of us, and the bride herself.”

“You’d think that by now he would have noticed she only has two nipples.”

“Don’t be crass, dear.”

“Fine, fine. Do you think he’ll ever stop thinking we’re witches?”

“Unlikely. And I am not particularly inclined to disrobe and let him count nipples.”

A hiss. “Old fool.”

“An old fool who managed to swindle both of us for a few decades.”

“... Don’t remind me.”

Aziraphale chuckled, and settled more comfortably in his armchair, setting aside the letters to pick up a book. Wrapped around the back of said armchair, the Serpent of Eden leaned his head on top of Aziraphale’s own. He tended to enjoy inhabiting that form, Aziraphale had found out, when the weather outside was cold and the fireplace was lit.

Amazing, how many more little things about Crowley he’d found he didn’t know, after so many centuries of… acquaintance. Sharing a home with someone really did lead to a lot of interesting discoveries. For one, he could now see the appeal of laying in a bed and hallucinating behind closed eyelids for a few hours.

“I could make my entrance in a cloud of Hellfire,” Crowley muttered, tongue flicking against Aziraphale’s hair as he reached to pick up a book.

“I suspect giving the groom a heart attack would put a damper on the wedding.”

“I’m not hearing a no.”

“No, Crowley.” Aziraphale reached up to scratch the scales on Crowley’s side.

He hissed again. “Spoilsport,” he said, but he leaned into the touch all the same.

“Heh. Either way, we have plenty of time to make plans for the wedding, whereas Christmas is around the corner. Do you have anything in particular in mind, Crowley?”

“You do realize demons don’t really celebrate the birthday of your boss’ son, right?”

“Ah, I suppose that’s fair. But I wouldn’t mind a quiet evening in, perhaps bake some cake,” he said, faintly wondering whether Crowley would object to mistletoe.

“Oh. Well, then I could help with the tasting, I guess. And-- wait. There are presents, right? Do you want presents?”

A chuckle “I am rather content as is, but thank you.”

“Ah. Of course,” Crowley seemed to stammer, which was no mean feat considering he currently had a mouth whose anatomy was not meant to utter words in the first place. His head slipped lower, and ended up resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “... You wouldn’t happen to know anything about whatever Heaven’s planning, would you? Things have been… quiet.”

“Not at all. Nor you have the foggiest idea as to what Hell is on to, I’m guessing?”

“Nothing whatsoever. I think I’ll wish them luck and keep it this way.”

Aziraphale smiled, took a sip of wine, and opened his book. “My thoughts exactly,” he said.

When he tilted his head to rest his cheek on top of his head, Crowley did not protest.

***

Did you throw out another of your angels?

Not to my knowledge?

You must have. Someone just got through all layers of Hell all the way down to Satan’s lap. Sliding down a pole and singing. What the Heaven is going on up there?

Let me check with Uriel.

***

“Uriel?”

“Yes?”

“Are you aware of any angels being cast out? Beelzebub insists someone just got there, and I quote, ‘sliding down a pole’.”

“We have cast out no one. Their security must be really lax. Didn’t they have a similar problem with a poet from Florence at some point?”

“I don’t think that one came in sliding down a pole, but fair.”

***

I can confirm we cast out no one. Must be a mortal.

Wonderful, more paperwork and security checks. Thanks for checking, I guess. At least he seems to be keeping Satan distracted from anything we do.

Dare I ask how?

Don’t.

All right. Have you changed your mind about coming with me to the Christmas party?

Absolutely not. But I will meet you afterwards for carnal relations.

Are you aware that it does not count as a sin and therefore it is not the middle finger to God you think it is?

Are you saying you’re not interested?

No. Usual place?

Usual place. Don’t be late.

I wouldn’t dare, Gabriel wrote with a smile, and his finger lingered over the send button for a few moments. I love you, he almost wrote, but he did not and in the end he just sent out the message as it was. Beelzebub would have found it both saccharine-inducing and redundant, and for good reason. There was no need to spell it out, really.

They were both very much aware of it.

***

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for usual celebrations?”

“Rather certain, yes. My former colleagues on Earth invited me to join them so long ago, it would be rude for me to cancel on them.”

“Yeshua might actually show up this year.”

“Ah, I am doubtful. He never did attend his birthday party, did he now?”

That was true, although not something any of them had really felt entitled to comment on. Sandalphon knew that Gabriel had taken it… not quite as a slight, but close enough. After all, the celebration was about a birth whose annunciation he was most widely known for.

Now, on the other hand, he seemed too taken with the idea of celebrating it on Earth to be bothered in the slightest. “... I suppose he didn’t,” Uriel conceded. Gabriel closed the drawer with the last of his work for the calendar year, straightened his tie, and smiled.

“Why don’t you come with me? You could use getting to know more humans, too.”

Both Michael and Sandalphon blinked. Uriel raised an eyebrow. “To celebrate Yeshua’s birthday on Earth with them?”

“Why not? I am sure they won’t mind if I bring some friends. And you could use a break, Uriel. You’ve been working on reorganizing the lower spheres for months now.”

“You know I do not get tired,” Uriel informed him, but she was already glancing over at Michael and Sandalphon.

In the end, it was Michael to shrug. “I suppose,” she finally said, “it would be interesting to see how the celebrations have changed since last time I took a look. They were not precisely cheerful, back then.”

“... When was the last time you did check?”

“Sometimes in the mid-fourteenth century,” she replied, and Gabriel laughed, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Ah,” he said, “I think you will be pleasantly surprised.”

***

“... And this is why it’s either panettone or pandoro, and anyone claiming not to take a side is coward and a liar, and--”

Fabrizio rambled on, clearly rather satisfied to have finally found an attentive listener in Sandalphon, and Gabriel chose not to interrupt him. Somewhere at the other side of the room, Łukasz was staring in absolute disbelief as Uriel drank the twenty-second shot in a row without seemingly feeling any effects, and he might just be starting to fall in love.

As he stepped towards the door and passed by a table, Gabriel chuckled. “Go easy on them,” he muttered, and Michael just raised an eyebrow at him, effortlessly beating yet another warehouse worker at an arm wrestling match. In the end, Gabriel decided that as long as the only thing getting bruised were egos, there was no reason to intervene.

He stepped outside into a cold, clear night. No comet in the sky, but he had felt a pull to come out all the same. He let his gaze wander down the street and there it was - a shadow crouched in an archway, barely illuminated by a street light and covered in blankets as he tried to keep warm. Somehow, the blinking lights of Christmas decorations on the building made the figure seem even more lonely. And that wouldn’t do, it wouldn’t do at all - especially not that night.

“Excuse me,” Gabriel called out, approaching the man. “Would you like to come inside? It is quite cold, and my friends and I are having a party - I am sure they wouldn’t mind.”

The man looked up. He had long dark hair tied back in a ponytail to reveal dark brown eyes, and his features were just barely illuminated by the street light - but it was enough for Gabriel to trail off, taken off guard. The man smiled.

“Thank you for your offer, Gabriel. I think I’ll take you up on this one.”

Ah. Well. It made sense, come to think of it. He’d always been original like that. Past the initial surprise, Gabriel straightened himself and smiled. “Any particular name I ought to call you by tonight?”

“In this time and age, Joshua will do. It's nice to see you guys paying more attention to humanity. I look back fondly on my first lifetime among them. Most of it at any rate,” Yeshua added, and stood. He straightened his back with a groan. “Ow, my spine.”

Gabriel was unable to hold back a chuckle. “Is this how you’ve been spending your birthday for the past two-something thousand years?” he asked. Until not too long ago, he would have been offended by the notion. Now he felt rather foolish for not having thought of it.

“More or less. No offense, but I enjoy Earth. Corporate events were never quite my thing.”

“None taken. I hope your mother is well?”

“The one who cast you out of Heaven, or the one who hit you in the head with a clay vase?”

“... The latter.”

“Ah, yes. She is very well. Still rather sorry about the incident, but maintains you should have knocked if you didn’t want a vase to your head.”

“That’s… understandable. But we have amended records to omit that part, so no harm done.”

“I am aware. So, is there anything I may do to thank you for your hospitality tonight?”

“... Do you still do the thing with the water and wine? Because I believe we’re running low.”

A laugh. “Ah, yes,” he said, slapping a hand on his shoulder as they headed back inside. “I think that can be arranged.”

***

Somewhere, Crowley is losing his entire MIND over the fact this guy got to use a pole on his way in.

#good omens #ineffable beurocracy #ineffable husbands #archangel gabriel #beelzebub #aziraphale #crowley #winging it

17 notes · View notes

asimawv · 4 years

Text

I write and conceptualize story to music, so I’ve compiled a playlist of 30 Darkest Dungeon-specific songs that I listen to when writing (and subsequently re-writing) in no particular order, which I hope will help you set the vibe too. :+)

Names in bold are links for easy listening - tons of Hozier and Of Monsters and Men up ahead, five minute warning.

1. ‘Fire and the Flood’ - Vance Joy

If you listen to nothing else on this list, listen to this one - it’s the kind of song that’s made for movies about yearning. Folk influences, choruses of trumpets and vocal harmony, and instruments that are layered for a rich, resonant sound. This is the song I imagine Dismas and Reynauld horse-racing through a crowded outdoors market in the hamlet to, and the song I listened to nonstop freshman year when I first started writing The Myth of Sisyphus.

You're the fire and the flood And I'll always feel you in my blood Everything is fine When your hand is resting next to mine Next to mine You're the fire and the flood

The chorus is built around biblical allusions to the fire (the burning bush signifying first contact) and the flood (destruction of the first world), the beginning and end. Every line is similarly evocative of Darkest Dungeon in their simplicity (“I’ve been getting used to waking up with you,” etc.)

2. ‘Soldier, Poet, King’ - The Oh Hellos

By the title alone you can guess who this is for. Even the Guild quote for the Leper approaches these three things as the defining parts of his character (specifically it’s “a ruined man, a warrior, and a poet.”) This song coincidentally has an old world influence to it, with a Medieval Renaissance style from a guitar playing a lute-adjacent melody.

There will come a ruler Whose brow is laid in thorn Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei oh lai oh Lord Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh Lord Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei oh lai oh Lord

To be smeared with oil is to be anointed by a prophet and thus chosen by god himself to be king, just as David was and his boy after him (presumably Solomon). There’s something strangely wistful about the imagery, which is just how I like my songs about bygone kings.

3. ‘Exit Hymn’ - Bear Attack!

This song is about the end of the world in a version where everyone simply stands together in silence watching, rather than having the masses swarming in panic.

Lovely shapes to the world descending, Brothers and sisters. Lovely shapes to the world descending, Brothers and sisters Mute.

It defies Lovecraftian horror, which is based on the premise that “common human laws and interests and emotions have no validity or significance in the vast cosmos-at-large” - it flies in the face of existential nihilism and the despair that it should bring us. That’s why I like this song for deaths in the end-boss fight; it also has a special place for other death-related ideas, like full-party wipes - entire teams of people vanishing into the dungeons, gone insane, holding hands while the darkness surrounds them.

It’s a bare song which has a sanctity to it, mostly just piano and rain and human voices. Just what you would hear at the end of the world.

More under the cut:

4. ‘Pursuit of Glory’ - Jhameel

This song is laid-back. It doesn’t have the Homeric intensity that some of the other songs here do - it’s a guy with a guitar and vocal harmony. By god is it a great piece of writing though (all of Jhameel’s older songs have that quality to them), and all of it is evocative of Darkest Dungeon.

So many eyes set on the path to glory Too many ties, friendship is for the lonely Can't still my heart, my tongue has tasted folly Thirsty for art, hungry for power and money

This is a song for everyone in the barracks, especially the ‘laundry list’ of people and their approaches to the pursuit of glory.

5. ‘Good Old Days’ - Macklemore (feat. Kesha)

This fucker put a Macklemore song in here. I did, yeah. It’s not even the only song with Kesha in it here (I’m sorry.)

It’s a sentimental pop song, and I am sentimental to a fault. This is Darkest Dungeon AMV material, and I always mishear one of the lines as “we were underground, loaded mercs in that 12-passenger van” so it’s here.

We've come so far, I guess I'm proud And I ain't worried about the wrinkles around my smile I've got some scars, I've been around I've felt some pain, I've seen some things, but I'm here now Those good old days

6. ‘Past Lives‘ - Kesha

Here it is, the other Kesha song - this was introduced to me by a good friend, also in a Darkest Dungeon context. There’s just something about the lovers spanning time trope and finding each other in one life to the next that is irresistible (for the obvious reason in the context of Darkest Dungeon.) It’s a soft song, totally out of place in Kesha’s typical discography, and has a line about losing someone to the crusades, so... you know.

There's just somethin' about you I know Started centuries ago though You see your kiss is like a lost ghost Only I would know But I, I keep on falling for you Time after time Time after time

7. ‘Viva la Vida’ - Coldplay

You cannot fight this. You know that this is the song for King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem, you know it is. Did you know the official name of this genre of music is “Baroque pop”? Yes, that means more songs like this exist. You will live with this information now.

Don’t fight it. Just let it wash over you.

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing Roman Cavalry choirs are singing Be my mirror, my sword and shield My missionaries in a foreign field For some reason I can't explain Once you go there was never, never an honest word And that was when I ruled the world

Mirror, sword, and shield, the three other members of his party, his missionaries in a foreign field. Thinking emoji. I typed that out so I wouldn’t have a repeat of the crab emoji incident.

8. ‘The Boxer’ - Jerry Douglas (feat. Mumford & Sons, Paul Simon)

Partly inspired by the Bible, Simon & Garfunkle’s ‘The Boxer’ is a folk rock song about poverty, loneliness, and homesickness. It’s written and sung in a style that’s strongly reminiscent of older times, and the final verse about its eponymous boxer is particularly powerful:

In the clearing stands a boxer And a fighter by his trade And he carries the reminders Of ev'ry glove that laid him down Or cut him till he cried out In his anger and his shame "I am leaving, I am leaving" But the fighter still remains

This is what I use for Dismas’ life leading into organized crime and his foolish abandonment of stable job prospects in a half-baked bid for fame, as well as being punched down over and over again but with nowhere else to go. That last part is widely applicable across the cast.

9. ‘I Will Wait’ - Mumford & Sons

I am but a simple man. I see 'folk rock' and add it to my Darkest Dungeon playlist. This song I use for Reynauld - it has that sort of “salt of the earth,” somewhat biblical humility in its choice of words and style.

Raise my hands Paint my spirit gold And bow my head Keep my heart slow

10. ‘Little Lion Man’ - Mumford & Sons

Have we not beaten this song to death yet? Can you blame us? This is the people’s song. We reserve it for all of our favorite fuck-up characters, as primal as Saturn devouring his son. We love this song. Jesus.

Tremble for yourself, my man, You know that you have seen this all before Tremble little lion man, You'll never settle any of your scores Your grace is wasted in your face, Your boldness stands alone among the wreck Now learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck

The line about learning from your mother in particular is why I think of this song for Dismas’ introspection, but I also associate it with the Hellion.

11. ’From Eden’ - Hozier

There’s too much Hozier in my playlists. There is so much of it, and it’s all important to me, says the hoarder. There’s something about profoundly intimate folk music that I love, and god put folk, R&B, blues, and alt rock into a Vitamix for 45 seconds to make Hozier.

Honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword Innocence died screaming, honey ask me I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

‘From Eden’ is, according to Hozier, about idolizing someone from a distance, written from the perspective of the devil “looking longingly at something he desires - for everything that he does not have.” I associate this song with the Grave Robber for its playfully nihilistic tone - Audrey does say something to the effect of being left for dead by high society and the affectionate bordering condescending address is on-brand.

12. ‘Cherry Wine’ - Hozier

‘Cherry Wine’ is unabashedly about domestic violence, and its sincerity is heartbreaking, the sanctification of the blood spilled in the name of keeping her.

The way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine Open hand or closed fist would be fine The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

This song is strongly tied to the Vestal for me.

13. ‘Work Song’ - Hozier

A song about unconditional love - heaven and hell were just words, indeed.

When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

I think of this song for both Dismas and the Abomination - it’s a song about love transcending spiritual and even physical need, complete devotion, but something about it is also not quite right. It’s morbid and excessive, self-pitying, and almost ugly in its sincerity.

14. ‘Sunlight’ - Hozier

The strong gospel influence with the choruses, church organ, religious fervor - I think it makes a great song for traveling scenes and church/altar scenes.

I had been lost to you, sunlight Flew like a moth to you, sunlight oh sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight (sunlight, sunlight) But it is sunlight

15. ‘Arsonist’s Lullabye’ - Hozier

The gospel this time is paired with electric rock instrumentation. Something about the lamentation is unapologetic and matter-of-fact in its disturbing inclinations - this is Paracelsus’ song. Arguably representative of Bounty Hunter and Flagellant as well.

Now that I think about it, it’s great for Abomination as well. Damn.

All you have is your fire And the place you need to reach Don't you ever tame your demons But always keep 'em on a leash

16. ‘We Sink’ - Of Monsters and Men

Of Monsters and Men are closer to the indie rock/pop spectrum with influences of folk, with much less biblical influence and more folklore-inspired lyrics. They make for great trailer and action songs.

We are the sleepers, we bite our tongues We set the fire and we let it burn Through the dreamers, we hear the hum They say come on, come on, let's go So come on, come on, let's go

In Lovecraft’s Cthulu mythos, dreams are how the Old Ones commune with humans on the earth’s surface while they slumber in the ocean depths (Cthulhu fhtagn meaning “Cthulhu is dreaming”); I like to think of the ‘sleepers’ as the heroes being tasked to “set the fire” and the ‘dreamers’ being the Heir and Ancestor driven by some unseen force to unearth the antediluvian underground.

17. ‘I Of The Storm’ - Of Monsters and Men

Very somber song, overwhelmingly piano and snare drum and vocals. Also a great death scene song, or for introspection around the campfire, or played to reveal a major event.

If I could face them If I could make amends With all my shadows I'd bow my head And welcome them

18. ‘King and Lionheart’ - Of Monsters and Men

My favorite OMAM song - it’s clearly written about two children, kind of reminiscent of ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ in its fantastical nature, and very upbeat about the end of the world.

His crown lit up the way as we moved slowly Pass the wondering eyes of the ones that were left behind Though far away, though far away, though far away We're still the same, we're still the same, we're still the same

This part is reminiscent of the Leper’s journey, but the mentions of taking over a town, howling ghosts, the end of the world, a black sea and creatures lurking below, etc. are all evocative of Darkest Dungeon.

19. ‘Little Talks’ - Of Monsters and Men

Also very upbeat for its subject matter - according to OMAM, it’s a narrative of a woman speaking with the ghost of her dead husband, or going insane and believing that she’s speaking with her dead husband.

Some days I don't know if I am wrong or right Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear 'Cause though the truth may vary This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

The call-and-respond style of the song is haunting. I like this song for expeditions and afflicted heroes.

20. ‘Wolves Without Teeth’ - Of Monsters and Men

Suitable for both Occultist and Abomination, being consumed by an unseen and otherworldly force that inhabits them - well, maybe just rarely seen, in the Abomination’s case. Special mention to OMAM’s ‘Human,’ same conceptual backing but more raw.

You hover like a hummingbird Haunt me in my sleep You're sailing from another world Sinking in my sea, oh You're feeding on my energy I'm letting go of it He wants it

21. ‘Desierto’ (Original Motion Picture Score) - Woodkid

This is a full album, because all of it is dark orchestral cinema music described as ‘unsettling,’ with the sole exception of ‘Land of All,’ which has vocals to it. I reserve this album for writing fight scenes and for particularly unsettling events because it’s tense and wordless. I read Junji Ito to this soundtrack too, it’s insanely high-strung and discordant.

22. ‘Iron’ - Woodkid

‘Iron’ qualifies as Baroque pop - you might recognize this as the Assassin’s Creed: Revelations song. The large-scale, cinematic style of it and thematic lyrics make it great for writing about dramatic encounters or brigands.

This deadly burst of snow is burning my hands I'm frozen to the bones, I am A million miles from home, I'm walking away I can't recall your eyes, your face

23. ‘Never Let You Down’ - Woodkid (feat. LYKKE LI)

Another somber song, orchestral with some industrial noise in the mix - another great introspection song, or one for a scene with some hard decisions to be made.

Will you come along cause I'm about to leave this town In my eyes, a waterfall, all I can hear, a siren call Could you be waiting by the shore, oh I could drown without you Will you be holding out the line when I fall?

24. ‘Run Boy Run’ - Woodkid

Church bells, fast percussion, strong orchestral presence. For chase scenes, obviously, but great for fast-paced sneaking scenes as well. Also has a strong quasi-Medieval fantasy setting style to it.

Tomorrow is another day And you won't have to hide away You'll be a man, boy! But for now it's time to run, it's time to run!

25. ‘I Love You’ - Woodkid

Don’t let the scream effects and aggressive percussion at the beginning deter you (it kind of took me by surprise the first few times too) - it soon fades into more of the church bells and melodic string accompaniment.

Oh yeah, unrequited love song? It’s free (mental) real estate, baby.

Is there anything I could do Just to get some attention from you? In the waves, I've lost every trace of you Where are you?

26. ‘Vagabonds’ - Grizfolk

A rare departure from folk! Grizfolk is alt rock/indie pop. Stylistically it doesn’t match the feeling of Darkest Dungeon, but lyrically it’s almost 1:1 to arrival in the hamlet and the subsequent expeditions. Good song for writing about recruits bonding.

Oh this careless ground, guessing this is home now Oh in no man's land, at least we're still standing And we're all just fighting, some of us will not return And there's no redemption in trying to find your way out

27. ‘Everybody Wants To Rule The World’ - Lorde

Great trailer fuel, if you’ve seen the AC: Unity E3 trailer with this song - I listen to an extended version when writing fights in the Guild, especially one where two heroes are beefing. It’s got a primal kind of thing going on. I also associate this song with the Arbalest - lyrically, it fits her backstory like a glove.

Welcome to your life There's no turning back Even while we sleep We will find you

Acting on your best behavior Turn your back on mother nature

28. ‘Torches’ - X Ambassadors

More alt rock/indie pop - kind of a rallying song for dark expeditions, hopeful but still somber in nature - some gospel elements. X Ambassadors’ more popular ‘Renegades’ is also a fun tavern song.

Come on, carry your flame Carry it higher Leave it in the darkness Carry your torches

29. ‘Passing Afternoon’ - Iron & Wine

This is a song I use for reconciliation or domestic scenes - Dismas with Junia in the garden, for example. It’s soft and kind of meandering, and features vintage piano - you know, the piano you heard in the basement of your church turned community center as a child.

There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms

30. ‘Some Nights’ - Fun.

You know this song, your mom knows this song, everyone knows this song from like, middle school. Thought it’d be fun to end this list on an uplifting and very popular song. This is the song that a Disney adaptation of Darkest Dungeon would use in the Training Montage™ - from the point of view of Reynauld. It hits all of the points - being their commander rather than their equal, his stern and antisocial zealotry with no true ideology behind it, the ghost of his wife.

Verse 2, starting with “Well, that is it, guys, that is all / Five minutes in and I'm bored again” is where I see it transitioning to Dismas.

Well, some nights, I wish that this all would end 'Cause I could use some friends for a change And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again Some nights, I always win (I always win) But I still wake up, I still see your ghost Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh What do I stand for? What do I stand for? Most nights, I don't know

_____

Well that’s all from me! Feel free to leave your own recommendations in the replies, and I’d love to know what you think about my personal picks. :+)

#darkest dungeon #playlist #song reccomendations #fic: the myth of sisyphus #give me that hozier baby

46 notes · View notes

jemej3m · 4 years

Text

date number two: bodies in the forest

in which things go pear-shaped, our boys learn a few things and punch a few people: also, Neil meets Nicky.

“Yoohoo!” Allison’s repeated knocking on Neil’s front door was driving him positively insane. “Neeeeeeeeil. Neeeeeil. Let me in, pretty-boy!”

He was rolling the sleeves of his dress-shirt up as he stalked over to the front door to answer it, a scowl across his face. She was grinning when he yanked it open, her expression immediately turning inquisitive at his attire.

“You are relentless,” he grumbled, stepping aside. She sauntered past, leaving a trail of stiletto heel dents in the carpet and french perfume. Her curls bounced as she walked, immaculate as always.

She bee-lined for the bedrooom, where there were no bugs hidden. When she turned around to face him, her arms were crossed with one eyebrow raised. “So you’re going to see him again?”

Neil fiddled with his sleeves, his collar. It brought heat to his skin when he thought about it. He was just - curious. He wanted to know all there was to Andrew and couldn’t figure out why. He shrugged. “I asked if he’d like to grab drinks. He said sure and recommended somewhere called Eden’s. I don’t think it’s a proper date -”

“Ha!” Allison crowed. “Nicky’s going to be ecstatic! He knew setting the two of you up would be perfect: you’re a perfect pair of tiny, brooding assholes.”

“Mmhm.”

“Is that what you’re wearing?”

Neil looked down at himself. “Yes?”

“Jesus Christ,” Allison complained, loudly, pinching his shirt between two glittery nail extensions and dragging him into his own room. “You’re a disaster, you know that, right?”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, looking with disdain at the clothes she threw onto the bed, which included a black wife-beater and a mesh top to go over it. It was January - he was going to freeze to death.

“Is he picking you up from here?” she inquired, rifling through his boxers. Neil sighed: it’d been so long since Lola’s protege had appeared at their doorstep that being embarrassed around Allison just wasn’t a thing anymore.

This is Allison, Nathaniel, his father had said, a broad hand on Allison’s shoulder. Her parents sold her to us. To you. She will be your Lola.

They’d been merely teenagers, bitter and afraid. Silently, in the confines of Neil’s childhood room, they had locked pinky fingers and vowed to take his father down, once and for all. Neil had immediately let himself be comforted by her grey eyes, tumultuous storms rather than simple irises.

“I’m not stupid,” Neil retorted. “You’re the only one who knows where I live,”

“Other than dearest Daddy,” she muttered. She could only speak like this within his room, where they were sure that his father hadn’t hidden any microphones. Nathan claimed it was to ensure that anyone who attacked Neil could be caught but Neil wasn’t stupid enough to assume that his father trusted him.

“I’m picking him up,” Neil mumbled, tugging on the jeans she’d thrown at him. “Are you sure about this outfit? It seems a bit -”

“You’re going to Eden’s on a Thursday night, you idiot,” she laughed. “It’s a gay club on Thursdays. You’ll fit in great.”

Neil did not like the way she winked.

His phone buzzed. He fished it out, almost flinging it across the room in his hastiness. Allison snorted, mumbling “Eager.” Neil wasn’t eager. He’d just - he was simply curious. About Andrew. About the cotton armbands, hidden under his dress shirt. The shadowed eyes. He seemed dangerous, but also impeccably well controlled.

pick me up from this address instead. don’t knock on the door.

The address was for somewhere in the easterly suburbs, a little closer to the club than Andrew’s apartment had been. Neil shoved his keys and wallet and phone into his pockets, letting Allison fiddle with his hair.

“Enjoy yourself!” she called out, getting into her pink porsche. “Don’t kill anyone!” He rolled his eyes and clambered into his car, careening out of the garage.

The house was small and quaint. Two cars were parked in the driveway, one under the awning and another rather haphazardly, nearly scraping the gate. The second was obviously more expensive, and Neil thought he might have recognised it from their first date.

Date. Fucking hell, Neil was on a second date. With a man. His father would kill him. His father would strip his skin from his body and hang it from a flag mast for everyone to see. A gay son couldn’t carry on the Wesninski legacy. Neil was a disgrace enough already.

He wasn’t even gay. He just found Andrew intriguing.

He waited for five minutes outside, then texted Andrew to let him know that he was here. When another five minutes had passed without an answer, he climbed out of the car, checked the address was right, and carefully walked up the pathway.

He knocked on the door twice: before his knuckles could land a third time, the door was wrenched open, revealing a lithe man with brown features and a wild-eyed smile.

“Neil!” he crowed. “Hi, it’s so nice to meet you!”

“Nicky, for fuck’s sake,” Neil heard Andrew grumble from somewhere out of sight. Neil snorted under his breath, shaking Nicky’s hand.

“Allison and I are the best match-makers,” Nicky sung, falling back into his house and pulling Neil across the premise. In the kitchen was another blonde man, considerably taller than Andrew and wearing a genuine smile. “Neil, this is Erik, my husband. Erik, this is Neil! You remember Allison, don’t you, honey? They’re good friends!”

Nicky was...a lot. Weakly, Neil asked. “How do you know Allison, again?”

“How could I not!” Nicky laughed. “We were in the same marketing classes in college. I told her that her Gucci sweatpants were trashy - because they are - and she didn’t take that too well. God knows she loves her brands.”

Neil did know that, probably better than anyone else.

“Goodness, Allison said you were a cutie, but I had no clue how right she was!” Nicky pinched his cheek, and noticed the side-long glance Neil sent to Erik. He winked. “I’d invite you to have fun with Erik and I if I wasn’t sure I’d be scalped by my cousin.”

“Yet you talk too much regardless,” Andrew said, materialising out of nowhere.

Neil was suddenly relieved for Allison’s intervention when he saw what Andrew was wearing under his coat. It was a sleeveless shirt, the holes hanging so low that Neil could see his ribs, the cords of muscle that wrapped around his midsection. It was also low at the neckline, both in the front and back. Neil looked away.

Nicky bid them farewell with a cheery wave and a wolf-whistle. Andrew practically dragged Neil out of his cousin’s house, the tips of his ears bright red.

“I was trying to avoid that,” Andrew muttered. Neil just laughed and gestured towards his car.

“Shall we?”

Admittedly, the club didn’t seem like the right place for Neil. He didn’t drink - he couldn’t afford to lose his inhibitions - didn’t dance, and it was too loud to talk properly. Whilst people watching was fun and Andrew didn’t seem to mind just hanging out by the wall with a whisky in hand, Neil wished they had somewhere quieter to talk.

“I haven’t been in somewhere like this in years,” Neil mentioned, leaning closer into Andrew’s shoulder. “I suppose nothing’s really changed.”

“I snuck in here as a kid. Got a fake ID.” Andrew shook his head. “It was not a good way to figure out my sexuality.”

“What - you came here to just - makeout with people?”

Andrew arched an eyebrow, still looking out over the swarm of writhing bodies. “You never did anything like that?”

“No,” Neil murmured, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “I didn’t realise that was the normal thing.”

Andrew looked at him for a moment before knocking back his whisky and chucking the glass onto a nearby table: a finger in Neil’s belt loop tugged him away from the wall and then they were moving. Past the bar, the dance floor, the music booth, right for the doors. Neil tried to protest - Andrew had paid for both of their admission tickets - but the man was having none of it, Neil stumbling along behind him as he walked.

When they were outside, Andrew leant Neil against the brick exterior, facing him with his ankles crossed.

“I’ve never really done anything like this before,” Neil confessed. “I don’t - I don’t know what’s expected of me.”

“Nothing is,” Andrew insisted. “Nothing you don’t want to do.”

Neil made a vague gesture with his hand. “I’ve been set up before, by Allison or my -” he cleared his throat. “I’ve never asked someone out twice. I suppose I don’t really get it.”

“Do you swing at all?” Andrew inquired.

Neil shrugged, looking away. He supposed this would be where Andrew decided Neil wasn’t worth his time anymore, if Neil wasn’t really sure about sex or anything remotely intimate -

Andrew forced Neil to look at him with two fingers under his chin. “Neil, I’m not here to do something you don’t want to do.”

“What’s the point in sticking around, then?” Neil managed.

Andrew shrugged, dropping his hand. From his pockets he drew out a carton and lighter. Neil let him light two, accepting the second and holding it to the corner of his mouth. “Maybe you’re interesting.”

Neil hummed quietly. He could understand that. Andrew was interesting too.

He realised he liked this: the quiet. Smoking together outside a club, the two of them in their own bubble. This side of the building was dark, courtesy of the wooded parklands that came right up to the club’s westerly wall.

Maybe it was a bad idea. Getting involved with someone who was outside of his circle of work was never a good idea. If Andrew figured out that Neil was the Butcher’s son, he didn’t think that the man’s curiosity would be as forgiving. No one in their right mind would date a gangster’s - a serial killer’s - son, not unless they were already involved in Neil’s world.

“Would you look at that,” came a soft voice from above. “Daddy wouldn’t be too happy if he knew where you were, Junior.” Neil had a knife in his hand before he’d even blinked, pointing it at where the shadow had dropped down into a crouch, just a few feet away. “Would he, now?”

She hadn’t even bothered to obscure her face. Leverett was so sure she was going to kill him that she wasn’t worried about her identity.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, fingers twisting in the loose material of Andrew’s shirt. Then he realised Andrew also had a knife in his hand, perfectly balanced and hidden out of sight. Where the hell was he hiding those? Everything he wore was impeccably tight, far too tight to conceal knives. “Well? Get on with it, then.” He felt Andrew’s gaze boring into him, sharp and incredulous.

Her smile faltered, eyes twitching to the left, where someone was probably hidden around the corner. “No pleas for mercy? No last words?”

Neil shrugged. “Learn to stop revealing your plans?” With that he turned and socked the man who emerged right between his eyebrows. It gave them a window, so he dragged Andrew by the hand - if their fingers were intertwined that wasn’t Neil’s problem - and disappeared into the parklands.

He’d probably been around here before. There weren’t too many places to hide bodies in Baltimore: every time he tripped over a log he wondered if his father had ever left his dead nearby.

“I think we’ve lost them,” Andrew managed, looking around. Neil just shook his head. “You’re rather idiotic, aren’t you?”

That wasn’t the first time Neil had heard that. “We can’t stop here. We’re only safe when they’re dead.”

“Neil,” Andrew said, lowly. “If you kill them, I’ll have to bring you in.”

Nei blinked, slowly turning around. It was pitch-black, but even then, his eyes were golden. Shimmering. Dead fucking serious. “You’re kidding me.”

"What?”

“Are you a cop?”

Andrew sighed. “Maybe. Are you a criminal?”

“If I say yes are you going to lock me up?”

Andrew shrugged. “The worst I’ve seen you do is punch someone in the face. And rightly so.”

You have no idea, Neil wondered, aghast. How had he not noticed? Why hadn’t he done his proper research? This was insane. This was insane. Neil couldn’t date a cop. His father was one of the most highly sought after gang leaders in the Baltimore region! “Fuck,” he whispered, fingertips to his lips.

“Look,” Andrew said. “I’m not going to ask why there are people chasing after you, who your father is, why the hell you had a cleaver in the compartment of your door, but - we could help each other.”

“What do you mean?” Neil managed, voice strangled. When the fuck had he seen the cleaver?

“You could be my informant, and I can -” Andrew grimaced. “Owe you, I suppose.”

“I don’t want to be an informant,” Neil hissed. “I want - I don’t know. I don’t know. I want to get to know you and also really don’t want you to die right now. But I can’t date a cop. I don’t want to lie to you. I lie to everyone else in my life. I don’t want this to be the same.”

Andrew’s hand rose up to cup his cheek. “Who are you, Neil?”

A twig snapped nearby: both of them whirled around immediately, bracing themselves.

“Neil?” Leverett laughed dismissively, materialising from the shadows. Neil cursed. They should have never stopped running. “Is that who he told you he was?”

Andrew pulled a knife on her. “Leave.”

She laughed, but it was cut off with a sharp punch to her throat. Neil blinked: one moment Andrew had been beside him, and the next he had a fistful of Leverett’s hair, her throat constricted by his grip.

“If you touch him, I will make sure that you never see the light of day again.” She made a gurgling noise. “Do you understand?” When she didn’t respond, he shook her. “I asked: do you understand?”

She nodded weakly. Disgusted, he let her go. She was gone within seconds.

Slowly, hesitantly, Neil reached out to unwind Andrew’s fist where it was wrapped around the handle of his knife. Their noses brushed as Andrew stepped into Neil’s space.

“She will be dead by the end of the week,” Neil whispered. “I have no control over that. I have no control over the family I was born into. I’m -”

“Apologise and I’ll gouge your tongue out,” Andrew muttered, sliding the knife back into his armbands. They had to hold sheaths, Neil realised, vaguely impressed.

He sighed. “Maybe let’s just go see a movie, next time.”

Andrew arched an eyebrow. “The Godfather?”

Neil looked at him, dubious. The corner of Andrew’s mouth twitched upwards.

“Drive me home,” Andrew said, taking Neil’s wrist.

Neil just nodded.

uhhh

to be continued? yes, definitely tbc.

(also thank you all for your anons omg so many prompts and so much love I LOVE YALL TOO)

#mobster/cop au #butcher!neil #cop!andrew #andreil #neil josten #andrew minyard #all for the game #aftg #second date #attempted murder #as usual lmao #jem writes

311 notes · View notes

drkcnry67 · 3 years

Text

in truth...

title: in truth

pairing: dean x reader

fluff: in vino veritas

heaven and hell: book of the damned

rating: pg

tags: nothing really too major...

summery: not telling

@spnfluffbingo @heavenandhellbingo @sweetness47

You had to do something, you were not about to let the mark on the love of your life kill him… so you made a deal, you had gotten your hands on the book of the damned and you were now working with Rowena to try and remove the mark…

Rowena: are you sure you don't want to talk to Dean about this… I mean it's his life, his risks…

Yn: I know what he would say and I would rather just remove the mark and save his ass… so we can start the beginning of the rest of our lives together.

Rowena looks up from the book briefly…

Rowena: does that mean something happened, or is it something you learned?

Yn: its none of your concern, now lets just do this...

Rowena: ok fine, let's begin…

The spell’s list of ingredients were not long, but some had been lost to man for ages, centuries in fact:

Something made by God, but forbidden to man: the forbidden fruit-the apple from the garden which crowley had helped to procure for this spell

Something made by man, but forbidden by God: The remains of the golden calf idol, which was later destroyed

The caster's heart: The life of the thing the spell caster loves most

The fourth and final ingredient is a lock of hair from the target with the mark: you had taken a lock of hair from dean when you gave him a hair cut…

Rowena: yn since this is your spell, please tell me what have you brought that is the life of you

You present the case to rowena who opens it and smiles ever so slightly.

Rowena: so what being does this type of murder…

YN: one who wants to save the life of the father of her unborn baby…

Rowena: finally, how long have you known?

You had to take a breath, you were really overwhelmed…

Yn: about a week, since my last doctor appointment. Ive been waiting for the right time to tell Dean but the mark has to go away before dean and i can talk about this baby… cause the mark is causing him to for as hot as it is, be a lean mean hunting machine, talking to sam about this many nights after hunts, sam has told me that he has nearly been killed because dean just gets carried away. This mark needs to be removed and i know he would not listen to me if i tried to explain this…

Rowena: very well, but so you know, you and dean will still have more troubles once the mark goes away, the danger will still be ever present. The hunt doesnt stop when you remove the mark, it will intensify it in more ways then one.

You were now the one standing over the bowl where the ingredients you would be using were being placed with the following words:

YN: Ab manu Dei! (by the hand of God)

You placed the forbidden fruit the apple of the garden of eden into the bowl.

Yn: Ab manu hominis! (by the hand of man)

You placed the piece of the golden calf idol into the bowl

Yn: Ab cruore cordis mei ad fusuro in aeternum! (my bleeding heart i cast into eternity)

You opened the case and poured the heart of your own mother into the bowl.

YN: Tolle maledictionem tuam, ab hoc viro! (take your curse from this man)

Thats when you took the lock of deans hair and put that into the bowl. Suddenly a red blush colored light flew from the bowl, it flung you and rowena back, and left you both to go find dean. You got up and ran after it, you only hoped that you would get to dean before it got to dean…

you were scared, but you ran anyway, rowena on your tail, she had the book, she remembered your deal but she wanted to give you the book anyway. She didnt want it knowing that you were expecting.

You saw dean and dam arriving home at the bunker, you were half way down the road, you stopped suddenly, the red light flying over head… your only instinct was to yell.

YN: dean watch out… im sorry love i had to do it…

Thats when dean was struck by the red flash… once it was done with dean, it flew up into the sky, and suddenly the entire earth went dark as night. You ran a bit more but fell down closer to the impala…

You passed out from power exhaustion and from all that running. You woke up a few hours later only to find that you were on yours and dean bed… dean was just sitting there.

Dean: i know what you did, but i have to ask you why…

Yn: cause i didn't want you to go into the next phase of our lives together with that mark, it was changing you dean, it was changing you… do you know that you almost let your brother die last week during one of your hunts… never mind when me and you went to handle a demon a few days ago. I needed you to have a clear head for what i was gonna tell you.

Dean stands up… but before he could speak the words that you had been holding back for a while now just came spilling out.

Yn: we are pregnant!

This made dean stop dead in his tracks… this made his expressions change rapidly.

Dean: what did you just say?

You grabbed his hand and pulled him to sit on the bed as you looked into his eyes…

YN: i found out last week at the doctor, i am carrying your child dean winchester, and i know its not been that many years together and we haven't even discussed children as a future possibility but i totally understand if you don't want to raise this baby with me… and if that's the case then ill leave but on the off chance that i am wrong about you that you do want to raise this baby with me then please for the love of god understand now that what i did i'm removing the mark, i did it for us, for our future, for the life of our child.

All dean did was cup your cheek…

Dean: don't you dare think for one second that i would ever want your baby.. Hello yn… you don't know me but i know you… i also know that when you removed the mark off your boyfriend here, i was able to crawl into his body, he was supposed to keep the mark. You were not supposed to remove it… you didnt keep it locked up…

You reached round the back of your headboard, you grabbed the small vile and tilted his head back and dumped it down his throat.

Yn: in vino veritas… you just ingested truth serum. Now tell me the truth, who are you and what is coming, what did i unleash by removing the mark off of Dean…

Demon: i have no name, i am from the inner circle to the overlord, i am the one thing standing between you and your boyfriend here, who let me tell you is trying to fight his way out of my blockades. But to tell you the truth, the mark of cain held in the darkness, god’s sister, and without a host the darkness is free to destroy all she touches.

You lept off the bed, and revealed the devils trap beneath the bed. You did the exorcism and dean’s body fell lifeless on the bed. It was 3 minutes later that he sat shot straight up and he looked at you.

Dean: yn im so sorry, i didnt have any control, i heard everything that monster said… and im thrilled that you and i are going to be parents. Dont think for one second that anything the demon said was anything remotely close to what i want… i want you and this baby and we are gonna have the perfect life together you will see.

The rest of the day was spent cuddling in bed, you were discussing baby ideas, plans to add a doorway to the room next door, the plans grew and grew till you both passed out from mental and physical exhaustion.

No one thing would stop you and dean from living your best lives, no one would stop you guys from living eachother till the day you truly were to part.

#spnfluffbingo2021 #heaven and hell bingo

1 note · View note

lady-stardust-writes · 4 years

Text

Imagine Being Older Then Jacob And Him Having A Crush On You

You would have been in London working along side Henry to fight off the Templar influence in the city

Henry and you would have sent a request asking for help but what two of you didn’t expect was a young pair of assassins to appear without word

But nonetheless you both would introduce yourselves and welcome them, the girl Evie would gracefully try to introduce herself and her brother but he would he beat her to the punch by grabbing your hand kissing it. Your eyes would widen in shock as he Introduced himself

“And I’m Jacob Frye, but I can’t stop myself from saying you are the most stunningly gorgeous woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.” you would not take his greeting well and slap him before turning to his sister who was in total disbelief of the scenario, as you explained the situation with the city

But as you did the two would start to argue over what their next course of action should be, with Jacob trying to encourage the rest you on the idea of a gang while his sister disagreed saying they should focus on finding the piece of eden

You agreed with Jacob and backed him which would surprise him but he would be quite happy to have you behind him

Evie would eventually leave with Henry after he told her about a lead, leaving you alone with her overly charming brother

“I know we didn’t have a great sta-“ He tried to talk but you would cut him off

“Listen kid, it’s not going to happen. I’m ten years older then you and have to much on my plate, so go find someone else to have your fun with.” You would tell him not wanting to give him any fleeting idea of him having a chance

You told him that the two of you should get work on forming this gang of his before his sister gets back, but while you talked he was thinking of plans to get you to like him regardless of what you said

The twins had managed to secure a train to act as their base which you would praise them for it as the two had achieved more then you and Henry had after years of being in the city

While on the train one day Jacob would start talking to which you didn’t mind as you weren’t really listening, until you heard him say something about a fight. You would ask him to repeat himself

“If I can beat you in a fight would you allow me to court you?” You raised a eyebrow in amusement. He really thought he win against a master assassin

“Oh he’s cute.” You thought as slipped you into the shadows before appearing behind him and holding your blade to his throat

“I’ve been doing this ever since I was born, so doubt you could win especially in your current state.” You whispered in his ear, making him shutter in shock and excitement

“Oh God, Marry me.” You secretly smiled at his words and let him go, before leaving him as his desire for you grew even more

He would then try more then ever charm you as you consistently turned him down, but you weren’t doing it because you didn’t like him, no you were doing it because you found having feels for someone made you weak

Eventually you would start to play his little game as joke but you made sure at every complement and praise that he knew you weren’t being serious

But even so you were giving him something to work with. He would invite you to go drinking with him in hope it would get you to loosen your demeanor towards him

You agreed to it and went with him. The two of you would have a great night of drinking and gambling as he learned more about you, like how you had a mean game of poker

You and him would be the only two left in pub as they prepared to close. You were talking about your experiences as assassins before he asked if you ever been in love

The question would make you stop and look at him. You had never been in love anyone but then he showed up and made everything you believe change slightly

“No I haven’t and never will. I was once told that love makes you weak and if your weak then you’ll were never get anywhere in the brotherhood. So I never bothered with it.” You were telling the truth yet it felt like a lie when you said it

“It sounds like you were raised by my father.” You sadly smiled at him as you could obvious see that he was disappointed

“But I see that you didn’t take to his lessons to much. That’s good because your too unique to be like him, this is why I like you.” You said the last part without thinking as Jacob just held onto the parts where you complemented him and admitted to liking him after all

A dumb grin would come on his face as you watched before telling him not to get the wrong idea but his was to drunk and happy to care

The owner of the pub told you that it was closed so you draped Jacob arm around your shoulder and walked him home, all while he enjoyed being so close to you

You would get him on the train and lay him in the bed. You would cover him up before attempting to leave but he would grab your hand and ask you to stay

You would sit down in a chair across from him and watch as he peacefully fell asleep and eventually fall asleep yourself. He would awake up in the morning and see that you were still there with him and smile that you actually stayed

The two of you grew a nice little friendship as you all took back the city from the templers. But one day the both of you would be out whenn a group of blighters saw you and decided to take revenge on you for killing their leader

You and Jacob would easily have it handled for the time until more of them joined in once they saw what was happening

You would just be finish taking out a pair when you notice how injured and bloodied Jacob was as he was repeatedly pounded on by a brute

When you saw that it enraged something in you. Seeing someone that you cared about being abused like this just made something click inside of you

“Get the hell away from him!” You yelled as you drop your weapon and ran at the guy ready to kill. He would turn around just in time to be punched in his face before being taken to town by you as you held nothing back

You would take out his knees and hold him up by his shirt and repeatedly punched him in the face as blood would eventually fly from his face and onto yours but you were to blinded by rage to care

You would let the man have the sweet release of death and snap his neck before turning your attention back to Jacob who was in shock at what happened

He had never seen you lose your cool like this, that he was more worried about you then his own self

You would gently help him onto his feet and wrap your arm around him to keep him from falling, you would start saying how you had to get him to the train but he would stop you ask if you were alright

You would try to say that you were and move him along but he refused until you told him how you really felt. You would look to him to try to plead for him to go but you could see the stubbornness in his eye and gaven in

“It’s just that… I care about you Jacob and to see you like that set something off in me,” He was touched that you cared this much about him but before he thank you for it you continued

“It’s was like a instinct to protect the one I lov-“ Your eyes would widen at what you almost said but you knew that he understood what you were about to say

You would look to him to try and explain but you would instead feel lips pressed against yours causing you to lose all track of what you were doing and solely focus on what was happening and before long start kissing back

He would pull back with a mad grin on his face but you were still processing what happened

“I feel the same way, (Y/N) I love you.” He would say making you tilt your head to look at him, his eyes were filled with nothing but love which was new to you

But the more you looked in them did you feel right about it all. You could no longer force yourself to deny him anymore and captured his lips in a kiss once more and smile as you finally embraced love

….....................................…

Requested by @thundering-slytherdor

#jacob frye x reader #assassin’s creed imagine #assassinscreed imagine #assassin’s creed fanfiction #assassin's creed #assassin au #assassin’s creed syndicate #jacob frye #my writing #requested imagine #requested #jacob frye imagine

117 notes · View notes

chingonaclaws · 4 years

Text

* Note: Since LOGAN takes place in a dystopian world set in the 20th Century Fox world of their ‘XMEN’ in 2029 -- I’ve had to tweak Laura’s canon timeline to fit in with the MCU. These are my compiled ideas/notes for where Laura would/might fit in, according to the MCU timeline. This can also be amended/altered depending upon who I am writing with & whatever stories we come up with on the sides. I will update/list those verses within this list as well. XO. - Betty.

2012. AVENGERS. ✗ verse: ( mcu 001. avengers. ) i am not my enemy.

2002, Alkali-Transigen aka ‘Essex Corp’ ) conducts it’s second round of the Weapon-X program utilizing children ‘perfected’ in a lab/facility. Laura Howlett ( known as X23 amid the program ) was ‘born’ into the program, the daughter of an unknown Latina woman ( who is more than likely murdered by the company shortly after Laura’s birth ) & James Howlett aka The Wolverine. 2012, a 7 year-old ‘killing dream’ begins her hardcore training under the Transigen umbrella, having grown up within their cage and knowing nothing but life within ‘The Facility’. During the events of ‘The Avengers’, Transigen ( more than likely a subsidiary or sister-company to HYDRA ) attempts to gather knowledge/the power of the alien forces that attack Earth. It is quite possible during this attack, the Xmen join the Avengers. - Transigen utilizes newer technology to harness a killing serum that triggers and strengthens the children’s mutant abilities. Through the years they continue to medicate and test the formula out on the children, including Laura; to which they discover if they choose a specific target, she will stop at nothing until said target is vanquished.

2015. AGE OF ULTRON. ✗ verse: ( mcu 002. ultron. ) i can do anything.

2013, 8-year-old Laura, along with her ‘brothers and sisters’ attempt to escape from the underground jail in Mexico ( where she was ‘born’ ) when given word/hope of a safe haven full of mutant-kind. The children are provided stories with the help of comic books smuggled into the facility. Some of which include stories of The Avengers, while others house a storyline shadowing the truth about the XMEN. Upon their first attempt of escape, the children are unsuccessful, and Essex Corp demands that they relocate to a ‘more secure’ unit in New York City. In 2015, the attack of ULTRON commences, more or less rocking the hard walls of the New York facility to rubble. For the most part, with the help of HYDRA, Transigen is able to gather up their little ‘test subjects’, some having successfully gotten away, sadly Laura not being among them. 2016, an 11-year-old Laura with the help of the nurses, including Gabby, leads the pack to escape once more. It’s here Laura encounters her father ( Wolverine/James LOGAN Howlett ), Xavier & Caliban by psionic-ally following Charles’ guidance. During this timeline she goes on the wild chase, running from Transigen and relying on what remains of Logan’s strength. The climax ends with Xavier’s passing and Logan’s sacrifice, and the children successfully fleeing for the Canadian border to ‘Eden’ aka the safe haven which turns out to be a new school for the gifted, headlined by a group of vigilante mutants ( aka, the plotline of Mangold’s LOGAN. ) It should also be noted that during this time period, the X-men are dwindling/dying out, and going into hiding due to many people either wanting to lock them up out of fear or provide them ID badges and what not ( similar to the plot of the ‘Civil War’ in the comics. )

2017. CIVIL WAR. ✗ verse: ( mcu 003. civil war. ) my choice mine.

At 12, Laura quietly slips from the safe haven ( headmistress at this time being Emma Frost ) , feeling as though she’s really more of a danger than anything else, specifically due to the ‘death’ serum. Laura cannot control herself when injected with it, especially if she’s provided a ‘target’. To think she could end up killing one of her own terrifies her, not to mention the more she keeps running the less likely Transigen is to discover her. During the time of the Avengers’ ‘Civil War’ ( between Tony & Steve ), Laura is only a child but spotted through the streets of New York. A time or two, Tony witnesses the feral child having pick-pocketing or slyly stealing a thing or two of necessity. Unable to confine the child or discover her whereabouts, he becomes aware of the ‘mutant strain’ in DNA, now knowing there is far more to this life than other worlds, planets, Norse gods and experimental projects gone wrong like Banner -- Hydra’s been hiding the secret unit to which not only have they began to suppress the X-gene that creates the ‘mutants’ but that they’ve been testing the effects of their serums and juices and what have you on children more-or-less created in a lab with the specific function of utilizing them as some ultimate mutant army. It is a terrible and harsh reality and one he does not take to lightly. Contrary to the comics’ canon ( & the Xmen’s Civil War ) when Tony discovers she is a mutant child born and raised the way she was, he almost feels an obligation to protect her from others who felt mutants ought to be branded or ID’d and what not. ( A bit contradictory to the Xmen comics, I know, but it makes sense when you think of Steve/Capt America in the comics and how against Laura he was in the beginning, I feel he’d be a little apprehensive in the MCU as well. This could change depending upon whom I’m writing with. ) On the search for a place to help her ‘lay low’, Tony keeps her at the compound, until Pepper insists she just come on home with her. ( Again, this can be adapted depending upon the individual story. )

2018. HOMECOMING. ✗ verse: ( mcu 004. homecoming. ) are you sure i deserve salvation?

At age 13, since Pepper thinks it best that the pre-teenage girl get used to a ‘normal’ life, Laura begins attending public school, where she continues to attempt to ‘lay low’. Of course she does her very best to fit in, though there are many ‘human’ things she’s unaware of such as personal space and certain topics of speech. She basically follows the lead of people she feels she can trust like Peter Parker. Technically since Laura also ages much slower than most everyone, she will be a teenager for a longer period in her life. It is within these confines that she learns more about humanity, her compassion for the human race quite evident and her curiosity ever the more present. She spends a lot of time making up for lost time in her childhood, things she’s never discovered, places she’s never been -- a life she never knew she could have. 2019/2023. ENDGAME. ✗ verse: ( mcu 005. endgame. ) i’m f*cking wolverine.

During INFINITY WAR ( obviously just prior to this timeline ) Laura of course fights along side the team sustaining little to no injury even though she could’ve severed a limb or two, due to her mutation, she recovers rather quickly. Upon the realization that she could lose her family of mutants with Thanos’ plan, she scurries to get back to the school, begging many of the others to fight along side the Avengers. She succeeds in convincing several of the XMEN, including but not limited to Emma Frost, to take part in the battle... but it is only to their demise as her healing is too rapid for his ‘curse’ and rather than fluttering into ash, she witnesses all those she holds dear dissipate having to see, once again, the utter destruction of those she holds dear. It tears her apart from the inside. In 2023, Laura is just about to turn 17. -- Upon Tony’s return from space (2019), and the realization that Pepper hadn’t been taken away, Laura barricades herself within the hope she can have a somewhat normal family. She stays with Pepper and Tony, far away from the compound. She takes up her roll as a sister-figure to Morgan, something she absolutely takes seriously. She’d give it all up for this little girl -- hell, for this family. Tony stands in as an unlikely father-figure, but even moreso, Pepper as her mother. ( Again, these choices can be adapted/tweaked depending upon the storyline/plot we have -- maybe Laura grew up at the compound, or with someone else or with Aunt May... the possibilities/ what-ifs are endless... She could’ve also gone off on her feral way, etc etc. )

When the final battle hits, and those who were taken away appear within the portals, a sudden relief washes over her. She has much more to fight for, and she gives it her all. But it is at the loss of Tony where she feels her world crumble once more, wondering if she should go off on her own and call it good, because it seems no matter where she attempts to land, there is far more loss to be had. She contemplates whether or not Logan had it correct when he was always insistent they stay far away from people, isolate and keep to themselves. Of course that was a much different time in the world and Transigen/Hydra has/have more things to worry about than hunting her down lately -- still, it’s a threat. With Peter Parker’s ( and possibly others ) insistence, she remains close by. 2023/24. FAR FROM HOME. ✗ verse: ( mcu 006. far from home. ) el que con lobos anda a aullar se enseña.

Basically, Laura ( now, tech, post-snap almost 18 ) is hanging out with SHIELD, there to aid Peter where needed, more or less helping to keep an eye on him, along with Happy doing her best to stay out of trouble.

#ooc.#✗ soy yo. ╱ lil messican girl is ooooouuuttt.#( mcu timeline. )#✗ verse: ( mcu ) como se cura una herida.#✗ verse: ( mcu 001. avengers. ) i am not my enemy.#✗ verse: ( mcu 002. ultron. ) i can do anything.#✗ verse: ( mcu 003. civil war. ) my choice mine.#✗ verse: ( mcu 004. homecoming. ) are you sure i deserve salvation?#✗ verse: ( mcu 005. endgame. ) i’m f*cking wolverine.#✗ verse: ( mcu 006. far from home. ) el que con lobos anda a aullar se enseña.#long post #long post for ts #* i cannot express enough how laura is a MINOR in most if not ALL of these verses !!!!! k thank bye. xx #✗ ¿merezco la salvación? ╱ headcanon.

19 notes · View notes

alarriefantasy · 5 years

Photo

Halloween Fic Rec 2019

Demon

Trade Mistakes by ifancylou, Taayjaay

Words: 3k

Harry summons a crossroads demon without realizing that he'd be giving up his soul in exchange for the deal. He offers the demon something a little different instead.

Demons by CarlyLovesLarry

Words: 4k

or where Harry is a demon and Louis is a hunter, and Harry fuck Louis into oblivion

Sealed With A Kiss by ty_madison

Words: 6k

Harry has been having dreams about a boy, every night since he turned sixteen and everytime he has opened his eyes in the past the boy has disappeared. But now he is awake, the boy is here and he has a deal to make with the innocent Harry.

Paper Planes by cathedralhearts

Words: 7k

Louis sold his soul to the Devil when he was sixteen, tear-stained and miserable, grief wracking his body as the doctors told him his mother had days to live. Lucifer prefers to go by the name Harry, wears Louis’ soul around his neck as a pendant, and spends the next five years following him around.

Shadow Holding Me Hostage by scribblewrite

Words: 26k

Harry's a demon, basically the king of hell and the source of all evil, and he needs an heir. Louis's a normal human, unsuspecting of what's in store for him.

The Devil's Angel by lilacsweaters_ivorylilies

Words: 86k

Ezekiel 28:13 - For Lucifer has been in Eden the garden of God; every precious stone was his covering, the sardius, topaz, and the diamond, the beryl, the onyx, and the jasper, the sapphire, the emerald, and the carbuncle, and gold: the workmanship of his tabrets and of his pipes was prepared in him in the day that he was created.

Fantasy/Supernatural

got me losing every breath (i'm latching onto you) by kissingiscool

Words: 14k

(or an au where louis is a fairy with a fear of thunderstorms and a talent of knitting and harry is a vet with three cats and a lot of love.)

A Love So True You Don't Have To Be Afraid by homosociallyyours

Words: 14k

In a world long ago but not so far away, where true love is valued above all else, Louis and Harry have already found one another. Their lives are shaken by the arrival of Simon, whose heart is more than a bit shit, and who longs to sow unhappiness.

When Louis is changed into a dragon and Harry is the knight meant to vanquish him, it would appear that Simon has succeeded. But love wins, every time.

Waiting For Someone Who Needs Me by graceling_in_a_suit

Words: 17k

AU: Harry is a genie, and Louis doesn't think he needs anything.

The Prince Of Light by jacaranda_bloom

Words: 35k

Louis was found abandoned at a hospital at six months old and adopted by an older couple who raised him. Now twenty, he studies by night and by day works as a live-in au pair for a family with three little girls. One of the girls, Holly, swears there is a Garden Fairy coming and eating treats she leaves out in the cubby house each night.

When the family goes away for a two week holiday, Louis is secretly tasked with feeding the Fairy. While laying out the food one night he falls from the cubby house and is found by Harry. Harry is different and Louis is fascinated. But as Louis learns how different Harry really is, he discovers his own true home and a very surprising past he never knew.

Cue badgers, bananas and cookies, soulmates, a whole other world, and a future he’d never imagined.

like cabbages and kings by you_explode

Words: 60k

When Louis was a kid, he had a series of very vivid dreams about a place called Wonderland. There were rabbits wearing waistcoats and talking cats and ridiculous tea parties, and amidst all the absurdity, there was a boy. A boy with dimples, big green eyes and the sweetest soul Louis has ever known. Louis has always kept a place in his heart for that boy and for his funny dreamworld, and when he’s twenty-five and his life falls apart, it turns out Wonderland might not be so imaginary after all.

there's no fair in farewell by we_are_the_same

Words: 218k

When Harry and Louis, two Cupids who have been bringing people together for decades, are tasked with making Soulmates Liam and Zayn fall in love, it proves to be much harder than expected. But maybe, just maybe, that isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Ghost

The Haunting of Louis Tomlinson by HelloAmHere

Words: 31k

OR: Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

Close to Nowhere by angelichl

Words: 34k

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

you look so good in blue by patdkitten

Words: 20k

Or: Harry Styles hears about a perfect flat from his roommate Zayn's boyfriends and decides to sign the lease. The only problem is: the flat has a reputation for being haunted. It certainly doesn't help that Harry's cat is seeing things as soon as they move in...

The Case Of The (Definitely Not Haunted) Styles Mansion by BriaMaria

Words: 40k

Or the Nancy Drew AU where Marcel is a man of logic, Louis is a private detective who believes in ghosts, and the Styles Mansion is definitely, absolutely, positively *not* haunted.

Tied to Fate by littlelouishiccups

Words: 52k

After his estranged father’s death, Harry inherits a castle in England that has belonged to his family for generations and he knows nothing about. When he breaks up with his boyfriend, Harry decides England is the perfect place for a small vacation. He isn’t prepared to meet Louis Tomlinson, a ghost who once lived in the castle and has haunted it for over five hundred years. He’s even more unprepared to fall in love with him.

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore

Words: 102k

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process

Halloween Themed

Trick-or-Treat (Cheer Up) by writingstylinson

Words: 2k

Louis Tomlinson is the single father of a little girl named Finnley, and they’ve been living in Holmes Chapel for a year. This Halloween is the first one they will be celebrating without Louis’ younger siblings or his own mother. It’s because of this that his daughter, who is usually outgoing and fearless, starts to have some worries about going trick-or-treating alone with her father.

Then Louis comes up with the perfect solution.

This is Halloween, everybody make a scene by allwaswell16

Words: 2k

When Louis takes his son trick-or-treating in a stormtrooper costume, little does he know by the end of the night he will end up gaining a Luke Skywalker, a Chewbacca, and a Rey. He doesn't mind the additions, and if Rey's very hot dad wants to come along as well, he doesn't mind that too much either.

this kitten's got your tongue tied in knots by ballsdeepinjesus

Words: 3k

[it's halloween, harry is a kitten in a tree and louis is a (fake) firefighter.]

A gold and green Halloween by Tita

Words: 8k

Harry and Louis are strangers who, dressed as Drarry, compete on a Halloween couple's costume contest. It's exactly as much of a mess as it sounds.

Black Cats Steal Hearts, Not Souls by SLD24

Words: 9k

Harry finds a kitten in a pumpkin patch the day before Halloween but it turns out not to be a kitten at all.

Horror

All The Songs That You Sing In The Dark by pukeandcry

Words: 10k

What happened was that first people got sick.

What happened after that was that they died.

But the worst thing was what happened after that. After they died, they came back.

The Skeleton Key by photo41

Words: 18k

Harry Styles, a good-natured nurse living in Manchester, quits his job at a hospice to work for Violet Winston, an elderly woman whose husband, Ben, is in poor health following a stroke.

When Harry begins to explore the couple's rundown mansion, he discovers strange artifacts and learns the house has a mysterious past. As he continues to investigate, he realizes that Violet is keeping a sinister secret about the cause of Ben's illness- and tries to convince the Winston's estate lawyer, Louis Tomlinson, that he really isn't going insane.

Loosely based off the movie of the same name.

Insane by prideinlou

Words: 20k

Or in which Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles are two dim-witted, drunk teenage boys that take a Halloween night dare too far, and end up in a life or death situation in the clutches of a haunted mental asylum.

Will they make it out alive... or will they go insane?

Mermaid

seaside improvisation by tinyweirdloves

Words: 6k

[harry is a mermaid who has lost his tail and he lives in louis's bathtub for a month.]

at least as deep as the pacific ocean (i wanna be yours) by writtensoul

Words: 9k

louis is the very entitled prince of the seven seas!! harry is a goofy sailor boy!!! a lot of hijinks ensue involving slippery mermaid tails and happy fun little sea creatures!!

Define Dancing by asphodelknox

Words: 20k

Death has a way of making certain things crystal clear. After Jay’s death, Louis returns to the summer cottage he always considered home. Unbeknownst to him, he’s also returning to the merman who has been his best friend through everything and finds that maybe there’s a chance for more.

Don't Let the Tide Come and Take Me by kiwikero

Words: 28k

Or, the one where Louis decides to set a merman free and ends up finding his own freedom along the way.

Still Deep In Us by graceling_in_a_suit

Words: 41k

AU. The village Harry has called home his entire life sits on six shaky legs, held aloft from the ocean which claimed the entire world twenty years ago. Harry's just a grieving tinkerer trying to do his best, and Louis is a mermaid that ruins The Village's delicate balance of power (and perhaps, just maybe, wins the heart of a boy).

Pirates

Captain Harry Styles... And The Faerie by spaceboyharry

Words: 8k

“You have today been defeated. Remember this forever as the day you were bested by Captain Harry Styles.” Louis zoomed past, shouting “AND THE FAERIE!” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “And the bloody faerie.”

must be something in the water by hattalove

Words: 3k

They all remember, somewhere deep down, why they gave up everything they had for the Mermaid.

The last vestiges of kindness and bravery and everything that is good in the world are on board that ship. Louis’s heart is on it, moored by some nameless jetty.

In Your Black Heart (Is Where You'll Find Me) by graceling_in_a_suit

Words: 35k

Louis Tomlinson has been lying for five years. His crew sees him as a pirate, a Captain, and an alpha; only two of those are the truth. He was content to let the illusion go on forever, but an omega named Harry Styles just had to join his crew and get his warm-vanilla stink all over Louis' best laid plans.Or: the story of The Captain and The Carpenter.

Si Pudiera Volar by messofgorgeouschaos

Words: 68k

When Harry’s fiancé leaves him for his cousin, he looks the other way for the sake of his happiness. He’ll do anything to forget about him, including joining a monastery. It isn’t until his cousin’s former lover, a pirate, appears that he realizes everything is not as it appears, and an honest pirate might be the only person worthy of his heart.

Or, a fic loosely based on Corazon Salvaje.

Vampire

Call Me the End of Your World by captainsftlouis

Words: 3k

or, the vampire AU where Louis is addicted to vampire venom, and Harry is addicted to Louis.

Waiting On You: A Christmas Drabble by emma1234

Words: 5k

On their first Christmas Eve as a couple, Louis and Harry decide it would be a great idea to exchange one special gift with one another to mark a new tradition. Of course, things never go as smoothly as they planned.

I Wanna Do Bad Things With You by lesbianphrodite

Words: 7k

Harry goes to his favorite pub with the intention to drink and feel bad for himself after a terrible break-up. Instead, he ends up hitting it off with a handsome vampire.

Forever And Always by jacaranda_bloom

Words: 25k

OR the one where Harry’s neighbour is a crotchety old witch who hates vampires, Niall is the unsuspecting human who ends up inhabiting Harry’s body, and Louis is the caseworker who is assigned to swap them back. How it ends up a love story is anyone’s guess.

we should open up (before it's all too much) by disgruntledkittenface

Words: 43k

Struggling with grieving and depression since his dad died, Harry has never felt so alone. It’s too much to cope with on his own, but he feels like a burden when he tries to open up with people.

Then he meets Louis.

For You I'd Bleed Myself Dry by amomentoflove

Words: 49k

Harry is cold. His bones ache. Every movement draws a whimper from his cracked lips. The stone underneath him is practically like ice. He’s numb, but can clearly feel the sharp pains on his neck every timeHe visits him. Below the icy cold, the achy bones, and the pain on his neck, Harry Styles is pissed. There’s a fire burning in his mind and the anger for the man who keeps him imprisoned is the fuel. He despises him, the man who feeds from him and is a daily reminder that Harry’s suffering won’t end. The man who keeps Harry so weak that he can barely move most days. Harry’s waiting for the day when his owner will go too far and finally kill him. Death must be better than this cold hell he is in.

It won’t happen, though. He has a way of keeping Harry’s heart beating. So for now, all Harry can do is wait for death to come.

He’s been waiting for years.

Witches

what's inside your imagination (is as real as anything else) by suspendrs

Words: 3k

Or, Harry's a witch who likes to pretend he's a human pretending he's a witch, and Louis's the human in a not-so-clever costume that keeps catching his eye.

A Kind Of Magic by mellagreens

Words: 12k

Louis feels the urge to tell Harry he's in love with him.

Spellbound by lovelarry10

Words: 22k

Louis’ a shifter. Harry’s a witch. The only problem is, they’re hiding those things from each other.Will they be able to keep their secrets hidden at the most spooky time of year?

Call It True by abrighteryellow

Words: 48k

With dreams of being a successful novelist, Harry’s been working so hard that he almost doesn’t notice the smoothie shop that just opened down the street. But he can’t miss the mysterious, irresistible boy who works there, nor the strange but entirely positive effect his drinks seem to have. Harry needs to know what’s going on and he wants to get close to Louis, though not necessarily in that order.

A Spell and A Spark by dinosaursmate

Words: 73k

Louis is a teenage witch, living and attending university among mortals. He has to keep his secret whilst studying on both his degree and his witch's licence. His friends don't suspect a thing, even as spell after spell goes awry.

Our Place By The Moon by PearlyDewdrops

Words: 108k/WIP

Or: a late 90's urban fantasy AU in which Louis wants to befriend the strange boy next door, Harry is just trying to keep his family together, and falling in love is most inconvenient for a witch that may have accidentally reignited a centuries old curseꟷone that kinda messes with that.

#this is long #whoops #halloween fic rec #larry fic rec #larry fics #larry stylinson

167 notes · View notes

satoruvt · 5 years

Text

go down together // pt. 2

this shit is literally so good im so proud of it pls pls PLEASE like it omg

pairing → katsuki bakugou x reader

word count → 1156

summary → “if we go down, then we go down together - they’ll say you could do anything, they’ll say that i was clever.”

song inspo → take care by eden!!!!!!!!

part one | part two | part three | part four

If there’s anything you’ve learned about Katsuki Bakugou in the last few days, it’s that he’s absolutely insufferable.

Too many times you had tried to be friendly with him and he had pushed you away without a second thought. You’re one-hundred percent sure it’s because of some insecurities that lie beneath his overwhelming superiority complex, but regardless of cause, it’s starting to get annoying. All you’re trying to do is be civil with him - the two of you are working together on this case - and he won’t even spare you decent words.

(“Hey, Bakugou, do you wanna get lunch?” “With you? Fuck no.”)

This is the last straw, you think to yourself as the elevator moves up. If he doesn’t take the extra coffee you bought - which is just black coffee, probably as bitter as his soul - then it’s over. No more nice guy from you, oh no. The elevator dings, signaling you’re at his office floor, and you walk out, greeting some younger pros and sidekicks (which, for working for Bakugou, are strangely nice) as you walk to his office. He’d decided that it be the designated meeting place for you two to talk about the mission.

“Good morning,” you say politely as you open the door to Bakugou’s office (one coffee is between your arm and your torso and oh shit it’s falling oh shit). He looks up from papers on his desk, then back down. At least you’re acknowledged today. “I brought you coffee.”

You manage to save the falling cup, placing the one in your hand on his desk. He doesn’t say anything, and you raise an eyebrow at him as you take a sip from your own drink. “A response would be nice. Human interaction is pretty decent, you know.”

Bakugou scoffs - scoffs! - at you, grabbing the coffee from his desk and leaning back in his chair. He takes a sip, stoic, then puts it back on the desk. “Coffee tastes like shit,” he tells you, standing up to walk towards a table in the corner of the room, “how’s that for human interaction?”

God, that bitch -

You don’t have a chance to respond, because then he’s going on about a new plan to help with the case. Bakugou’s over at the table, pointing at the map of the prefecture you’d been assigned, and he’s talking a mile a minute, but his words are organized. Things are rocky, but you don’t point them out just yet, already having learned the hard way that you shouldn’t interrupt him.

“We can’t enter their hideout that way,” you say when Bakugou’s done, sitting across from him. He has the robbers’ headquarters circled in red marker. “It’s too open. They’d see us coming.”

“No they wouldn’t,” Bakugou denies. He’s looking at you like you’re an idiot, and you hate it. “Not unless you do some stupid shit to get us caught.”

“All I’m saying,” you reason, setting your coffee on the corner of the table and pointing at an area behind the building. You feel your anger building already. “Is that something more secluded and covered would work better. If it were just you and me, I’d say it’s great, but you’re planning on bringing a few others from your agency, right? You can’t control that many people at once.”

“You don’t know my team.” Bakugou argues, and you sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. It’s eight in the morning. You don’t have time to argue.

“Fine,” you relent. Your eyes meet Bakugou’s and you give him your best serious look. “But if things get too rough, we back out immediately. We don’t know what’s in there, let alone all of their quirks. Okay?”

“It doesn’t fucking matter, we’ll just blow them to hell -”

“Bakugou.”

He stares at you for a moment, and you think he must be trying to decide if it’s a good idea to argue. “Whatever,” he says instead of a counter-argument, and you know you’ve won. Bakugou walks out of his office - presumably to get other heroes from his agency and let them know of the plan - and you take one last look at the map in front of you. Bakugou’s boxy handwriting spans across the margins and around starred locations. He’s got it figured out, at the very least, but as you leave to get prepared for the mission you can’t help but wonder if it’ll really work.

So, as it turns out, nothing worked out at all.

It was rushed. What you needed was more information - future plans, identities - and Bakugou’s so fight-hungry that all you got was beat up criminals, but most of them got away by the end of it all. By the time you got out of the building, news reporters were lined up, all waiting for a statement from either you or Bakugou, and you had to tell them that you were in over your head and didn’t expect this turn of events. Fuck.

The trip back to Bakugou’s agency is silent. So is the elevator ride up to his office, and the first few seconds before the door closes. You stand, still dressed in your dirtied hero suit, by the table with the map. Bakugou’s leaning on his desk, arms crossed over his chest.

“What the hell was that, Bakugou?”

He looks surprised at your words, but you’re too angry to really care. You told him - you told him that it was hard to control that many people, and that going with his plan was too open and -

“What the fuck?”

“I told you. I said that it wouldn’t work. You rushed into it, and -”

“I don’t have to listen to you, dumbass,” Bakugou growls, standing up from his desk. “This is my agency -”

“And we’re working on this together, Bakugou, so you can’t expect me to go along with every stupid decision you make just because you made it!”

He pauses, but his eyes are flaming. You’re not backing down this time, though, and your voice is steadier as you speak again.

“We’re trying to help people here,” you say. “Get that through your head.”

It’s been obvious the last few days that Bakugou doesn’t like being disrespected, and maybe it’s the frustration from losing the battle, but he doesn’t seem to like your words. He starts walking to you, eyes smoldering and you feel your pulse start to quicken as you instinctively walk backwards. Your back hits the wall and you keep your eyes attached to his because there’s no way you’re going to let him know that you’re kind of scared -

“Don’t tell me what the fuck to do,” Bakugou snarls, and your heart is pounding. “Or you’ll get it.”

And in a second he’s gone, out the door next to you without another word. You don’t really register it.

You’re too focused on your heart beating faster than before, because it’s definitely not fear that made your pulse spike.

295 notes · View notes

efinnx · 4 years

Text

SEASON THREE EDEN FINNIGAN -;-

[ danielle campbell, female , she/her ] do you hear [ VEGAS GIRL BY CONNOR MAYNARD] coming from the beach ? oh, that has to be [ EDEN FINNIGAN ]. they are a [ TWENTY ONE ] year old [ BEACH ATTENDANT ] from the outer banks, and they’ve been living there for [TWENTY ONE YEARS ]. they were chosen to be on the show because they are a [ POGUE ], but really , i heard it’s because they can be [ INSATIABLE & NAIVE ]. if you get to know them though , they’re pretty [ SPIRITED & CURIOUS ] . they might become a quick audience favorite due to their [starfish earrings, flannels tied around short denim skirts, & crimson stained pout ]

Ally here again :) this time with the rebellious nerd Eden Finnigan affectionately known as Lil’ Finn. Message me if you’d like to plot. Her bio is below the cut.

BASICS-;-

Full name; Eden Diana Finnigan

Age; 21

Birthday; January 31th

Height; 5’3

Siblings; Noah & Wiley (step brother)

Occupation; beach attendant, aspiring marine biologist

Location; the cut

Sign; aquarius

(+) ; spirited & curious

(-) ; insatiable & naive

Sexuality; bisexual, but doesn’t realize or recogzine it yet

Pogue or Kook; pogue

Character Inspiration; octavia blake (the 100), seth cohen (the oc), lany boogs (she’s all that), anne marie (blue crush), moana of motunui (moana)

EARLY YEARS-;-

Eden was certainly born in the outer banks, and lived there all her life. Raised, however, that’s an entirely different story, a term used very loosely in the small Finnigan bungalow nestled in the cut. Her father ditched before Eden was born and she only remembers fleeting moments with her mother. It was her brother, Noah, who practically raised her; the only person she could ever really count on.

Her childhood may have been difficult and certainly unconventional to say the least, but it wasn’t a total bust. Eden found ways to adapt and entertain herself, falling in love with the beach, the sand between her toes and the salty air in her tangles. She loved to splash around in the tidepools collecting shells and learning about all the small organisms she could get her little fingers on. It was the only thing that kept her busy while her parents were nowhere to be found and big brother was off teaching tourists how to surf.

SCHOOL/TEENAGE YEARS-;-

Academics came easily to Eden. She was a naturally curious student and read anything and everything she could get her hands on. Much to her surprise, she made friends easily, her curious and oftentimes blunt demeanor somehow managing to charm her classmates. It also helped that Noah was her big brother. She took it in stride and wore her association as Noah’s little sister as a badge of honor, even earning the nickname “Lil’ Finn.”

As Eden entered her teen years, she began to realize that her natural abilities came with tremendous pressure, everyone always seeming to remind her of her potential and that if she played her cards right she could get out of this town and achieve great things. The pressure surmounted, and Eden couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter what she was bound to be stuck in the OBX forever destined to repeat her mother’s mistakes.

It was only a matter of time before the youngest Finnigan began her rebellious phase out to prove that she was no longer a little girl. New attitude, new style, new curfew, new string of lovers, oftentimes disappearing to stretches of time (like mother, like daughter). But somewhere beneath her bold lipstick and short denim skirts lies the curious little girl who wore starfish for earrings and splashed around in tidepools. She is a hopeless romantic at heart who wants the fairytale and craves to quench her growing hunger for knowledge.

COLLEGE-;-

After graduation, Eden took a year off to find herself and save up some money before getting her act together and applying to college. She managed to get into the local community college while balancing her job as a beach attendant with the hopes of someday becoming a marine biologist. After a year of study, she has decided to put her education on hold again, unable to keep up with the cost of school even with the help of financial aid. She hasn’t mentioned this decision to anyone yet, especially not to Noah.

When the opportunity to make a few appearances on a reality TV show presented itself, Eden couldn’t pass it up. If she made a little extra cash, she may be able to continue her education and realize her dreams of becoming a marine biologist. Besides, anything was better than checking badges and managing rentals for kooks and tourists at the beach all summer long.

SEASON 1-;-

Eden only had a short stint on the show for season 1. She was brought on to make a few cameo appearances at the end of the summer in hopes of stirring up drama for her brothers Finn and Wiley.

SEASON 2-;-

Season 1 ended rather amicably for Eden, gaining her a handful of new friends in addition to a very small level of celebrity in the Outer Banks. People began to recognize her more as “Finn’s little sister from that show” and her social media following also began to increase. She used this growing platform to promote her love for the ocean, often posting about her aquatic discoveries and how to keep the ocean waters clean.

Despite the small perks that came along with being on the show, Eden remained in the Outer Banks once it ended. While everyone was off traveling the world and enjoying their new lives outside the show, she continued to work at the beach and picked up odd jobs here and there. She only made guest appearances and therefore didn’t receive as large of a payday as she had hopped. And besides, who else was going to make sure that Finn had his Coco Berries? She kept in touch with a few of her friends from the show and constantly texted her “big sister” Naomi about her travels.

Eden was asked back for season 2 and this time as a season regular. She agreed again not only for the money, her ambitions to get herself back in college still very much alive and well, but also to spend more time with her new boyfriend, Connor. The relationship, when put to the test outside in the real world, ended in disaster playing out publicly for the nation to see. He went back to his ex, and Eden was left heartbroken taking out her anguish on those closest to her. MTV was quick to capitalize on her moments of weakness, even airing her screaming match with her older brother who had been right the whole time.

POST SEASON 2-;-

Upon watching the play back of her first full season on the show, Eden couldn’t stomach the person she was made out to be. Too whiny, too naive, too much of a pushover, and the one thing she begged her ex not to make of her: a fool. Instead of staying in the Outer Banks sulking like a beached whale, Eden decided to make the most of her break from the show, trading in her ocean awareness updates and donations to local “clean up our beach” charities for bikini selfies, skinny dipping, and wild nights out she couldn’t remember in the morning.

When Eden found out that season 3 was going to be held in Australia, the youngest Finnigan practically started packing for the trip the moment she found out. She had never been out of the country let alone across the world and a new city would also give her the perfect chance to start fresh, meet new people, and maybe find an Aussie or two to shack up with. God, how she loves their accents.

This season Eden is determined to reinvent herself even if it means putting her dreams of going back to school and studying marine biology on the back burner and not being true to her naturally curious and dorky herself. This time, she would not be taken as some lovesick teenager any and she sure as hell would not become another carbon copy of her mother.

POGUES VS KOOKS-;-

Eden doesn’t get directly involved in the pogues vs kooks drama, but she can’t help but feel jealous of the kooks and their wealth. It bothers her that even the slackers get accepted into the fanciest colleges while she has to struggle just to make ends meet. That’s not to say Eden will simply turn the other cheek and she’s not afraid to stand up for herself in front of the kooks. Push her too far, and that famous Finnigan temper is bound to explode.

WANTED CONNECTIONS-;-

(i suck at coming up with connection names so bare with me lmao)

the nerd friend -;- Though Eden wants nothing more than to reinvent herself this season, she has also wanted to become a marine biologist her whole life and what a more perfect place to study marine life than Australia. This person helps her get back in touch with that side of herself, and they share a connection for something other than drinking and partying. What happens between them after that is totally open! Psssst take her to the Great Barrier Reef, and she’ll love you forever. [OPEN]

the bestie-;- Eden and this person go way back and they’ve practically known each other for as long as they can remember. Sure, they bicker and tease each other but no matter what they are practically family and they will always have each other's backs. [OPEN]

the on again/off again-;- Eden and this person never made things official though whenever they are together they manage to find some time to sneak off and fool around. Eden recently went through a very public break-up on the show and is honestly just looking for some fun, a good time, and a distraction. Where it goes from there is flexible! [OPEN]

the crush-;- Eden is a hopeless romantic at heart. She’ll never admit it but she’s the girl who doodles your name in hearts all over her notebook. Eden thinks this person is the ultimate eye candy and gets all shy and bashful whenever they are around. Whatever happens after that is tbd! [OPEN]

the new friends -;- Eden is looking for a fresh start, and to have some fun, so anyone whether it be acquaintances, friends, hooking up, or more [OPEN]

And as always if you have any ideas lay ‘em on me!

#outerhq.intro #outerhq.intro.s3 #s3

7 notes · View notes

heartofsnark · 4 years

Text

This Is Love (Chapter Four): Through The Gates

Notes: We’re inching closer and closer to the Seed’s arrival, I know it’s a slow burn to the game events, but I’m enjoying building up to it and hope it will make the impact of it all just that much more meaningful.

Word Count: 9098

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, Belligerent Drunk Man, Drug Overdose, Pratt and Dahlia being dumbasses

For chapter one and the warnings about this fics overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here!

A tall bearded man is on her porch; leaning against the railing. The familiar snake tattoos that curl down his forearms give him away; Lonny. The Eden’s Gate member who showed at the station to give her and Whitehorse a hard time. What is he doing at her trailer? There’s no reason for him to be here.

“Can I help you?” She asks, raising an eyebrow as she steps up onto the porch.

“Just figured I’d stop by, make a friendly visit to the new deputy,” he expression is somewhere between a smile and a predator baring its teeth.

“And, how exactly did you figure out where I live?”

“Small place, loose lips, word spreads fast.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, now, if we’re done with this ‘friendly’ visit-”

“Word spreads especially fast within our congregation, when someone starts arresting our members.”

“Maybe, your congregation members shouldn’t commit crimes?”

“The law of man matters little compared to the law of god.”

“Well, I get paid to enforce the law of man, so unless god starts signing my paychecks, I’ll be sticking to that.”

“Greed isn’t a pretty sin.”

Goosebumps prickle and creep up her skin at the word sin, making her throat tight, as the word settles over her. Memories of her stepfather claw at the back of her mind, phantom pain of beatings past making her body ache, the guilt and shame of being a sinner pitting in her stomach. She digs her nails into the palms of her hands and grits her teeth.

“Yes, so greedy, as you can tell, I mean just look around, ” she gestures around the dilapidated trailer park, “the used needles a foot away from the kiddy slide cost me extra, but I think they really bring the place together.”

“Charming.”

“I do try.”

“Look, I’ll make this stupidly simple, for you,” Lonny creeps closer, nearly standing on her, glowering down at her, “don’t step on our toes and we won’t step on yours.”

“Is that so?” She grins and literally steps on Lonny’s toes, crushing her boot down as hard as she can, until he finally grunts in pain and takes a step back.

“Don’t make a problem out of yourself, deputy….” His dark eyes flicker around, until finally landing on the shed behind her trailer, “that where you keep your bike?”

“Maybe, maybe not, whats it to you?”

“You know, a little generosity goes a long way to mending relationships, deputy. That motorcycle of yours would be a nice little gift to the flock and most importantly, me.”

“Get bent.”

“It’s important that we all do our part, deputy. That everyone gives a little, so that we all can flourish. As we inch closer and closer to the brink; that becomes even more important. What’s yours is mine, so, which is more important, keeping your motorcycle or helping others?”

He’s in her space again, hand reaching out and squeezing her shoulder in a pseudo-friendly gesture; that not even almost friendly smile on his face again.

“I’d sooner watch the world rot than give up that bike. Now, get the fuck off my property.”

She shoves his hand off her shoulder and marches into her trailer; slamming the door shut behind her. Dahlia could scream, could tear apart her entire trailer in rage. Where the hell does that guy get off? Demanding her bike; the motorcycle she slaved over. Her and Lloyd rebuilt that thing from nearly scratch after his son wrecked it; left it abandoned in their shed, a muddle heap of metal left to gather dust. She helped rebuild it; just a project at the time, something to keep busy while she was waiting to see if she got accepted to the police academy, meant to stave off the anxiety. And when it was done, perfectly functional and shining like it was brand new, Lloyd told her to keep it, she deserved it.

There’s not a lot of things Dahlia’s felt she earned; feeling every success has been a fluke, a mistake, a moment of luck. But, she earned that bike. She nearly fought Lloyd’s son when he visited that holiday season; trying to reclaim the bike now that it was fixed and she refused. Lloyd sided with her; because she earned it. Because she put the work and hours into it. And she’ll be damned if she’s going to let some bearded zealot barge in and demand she give it up.

The more she learns about Eden’s Gate, the less she likes them. Stealing booze, trying to take her bike, trying to scare her. She needs a cigarette; she decides and pulls the pack from her pocket; only to find it empty. Damn it. Dahlia starts digging through tossed aside pairs of pants and jackets; she has to have a half empty pack somewhere. She grabs up her duffle bag, still mostly unpacked other than what she’s worn or used this week, rummaging through the pockets for a pack of cigarettes.

A crumpled piece of something brushes against her hand and she yanks it out; only to find a scrunched up white pamphlet. She straightens it out a bit and groans when she reads the front; Eden’s Gate, We Love You surrounding a cross like symbol. Why is this group all over everything?

Giving up on finding a cigarette somewhere in her mess; Dahlia changes into some comfy clothes and plops herself down on the couch, turning the small tv on as background noise more than anything. She finds herself fiddling with that pamphlet again, placed aside before she changed.

Dahlia opens it; if this damn group is going to haunt all her days here, she might as well read their crap. It seems to be fairly standard religious fare. Casted out? Rejected by society? Try Jesus. Take a leap of faith, wash away your sins, confess, atone, and become stronger by joining their family. There are mentions of how corrupt the world is and how it’s all going to end; nice appeals to fear mongering, always have to appreciate that approach. Every word of the dribble reminds her of darker days, of her step father and his asinine sermons. The type of people who’d probably make a PSA about how Dungeons and Dragons is satanic, Harry Potter should be burned at the stake, and Pokemon is an evil atheist agenda to push evolutionary theory on kids.

The leader; man bun guy, calls himself The Father. Those goosebumps and bad memories come back. She knows assuming that all strongly religious people are like her step-father isn’t the best practice. But mentions of sin and calling himself something regarding father, just… doesn’t help.

He calls his siblings heralds; a sister and two brothers.

Her eyes glaze over as she absorbs the same crap she's had spewed at her for years, thoughts of making a donation to planned parenthood in their name pass through her mind. She doesn’t know for certain if the group is pro-life, but one can assume. The picture on the second page of the little pamphlet catches her eye and she sputters out a laugh.

Who the hell runs the PR for this church?

First the creepy statue, then the serial killer-esque drawing on him to open their book, and now a family portrait so awkward she might cringe herself into a coma. Three men and a woman; siblings according to the text. Man bun is in a chair in the middle; not even making eye contact with the camera. The woman, Faith, the siren she’s seen at the hotel and accidentally grabbed outside the diner is on the floor beside the chair. She looks annoyed, like a teenager being dragged to an awkward family dinner. Behind them are the two brothers. One with slicked back dark hair in a coat that appears to be covered in planes; which is… a look. And the other a mountain of a human compared to his sibling; ginger hair with the sides shaved, in camouflage, holding a red rifle.

It all looks ridiculous, from their expressions to their poses. Whoever thought this was a good way to market them is the epitome of human stupidity. Dahlia crumples the little pamphlet and tosses it into the trash; thankful for a laugh to cap off her night. She spends an hour or so watching tv, drifting off to sleep on the couch as she’s done every night.. Eyelids growing heavier and heavier with each second, until black blankets her mind.

Her bladder wakes her up during the middle of the night, causing her to turn and flop around, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She stares at the ceiling contemplating if she has to pee bad enough to warrant making herself physically stand up; the effort feeling herculean in the bleary twilight hours of the night.

“What if I told you, you could be free of sin,” a male voice drifts from the tv and she groans; this shit again?

She sits up on the couch, sliding down onto the floor with the clumsiness of her sleep leaden body. On her tv, at four am, amid commercials for sexy single phone lines is an infomercial for Eden’s Gate.

One of the brothers; the one with slicked back hair in the plane coat, John Seed as the text on screen tells her. He dramatically talks about how all you have to do is say Yes, the power of Yes, walking around what looks like a red carpet covered in flowers; terraces laced with them around him, a crowd gathered around as he talks.

Is he the reason for the Hollywood style YES sign in the valley?

The crowd around him starts to chant the word yes; he’s saying ‘yes, I will be saved’, ‘yes, I will confess’, ‘yes, I will atone.’ And he gestures upwards; revealing a lit up sign of the word YES and she bursts out laughing; her stomach aching and her bladder upset with her for it. Once her laughter subsides, she does what any good decent young adult would do. She rewinds it to the start of the infomercial, grabs her phone from the table, and records the cringefest to post online before finally going to the bathroom.

She goes back to sleep after, still cracking up about this dumb religion and their dumb advertisement.

Dahlia wakes up around noon or so the next day, checking her phone while still curled up in the couch. The post of the religious cringe has gotten some traction; someone making a reaction gif out of the guy gesturing to the yes sign. Jokes about how the guy must get off on the word yes, how insane it must have felt to be working on this, ‘imagine having a grown man in a plane coat telling you to chant yes while he dramatically touches his own tit’. The internet truly is a beautiful place sometimes.

She stretches out her muscles and decides to call the clinic, the one she gave info about to Tweak. Dahlia wants to make sure he actually reached out and didn’t just use her good graces to avoid trouble and call it done.

“Hey, I’m Deputy Hale of the Hope County Sheriff’s department, I referred someone to contact your clinic about rehabilitation. I was calling to see if they contacted you.”

“Of course, could I have their name?”

“Aaron Kirby.”

“Yes, we did receive a call from Aaron Kirby, he’s been placed on our waitlist as our drug counseling services are currently at capacity and we can’t take on any more clients.”

“Understood, thank you.”

She sighs; she can’t fault him for that. Hopefully, they’ll be able to get him in soon. Dahlia stretches, making her back pop, now what to do with the rest of her day. Maybe it’s Lonny trying to take her bike or maybe it’s the mention of those Clutch Nixon stunts yesterday; but she has an itch to go riding and do some stupid shit.

A quick shower and change of clothes; then she’s grabbing her helmet.

Music reverberating in her skull, the rev of her motorcycle engine beneath her, the wind whipping around her, and she’s healed from everything if only for a moment. Dancing and riding her bike are the only things to do this for her; or maybe it’s the music itself that does. But when her blood is pumping, her ears are ringing, and her throat is raw from screaming along to the songs; nothing else matters.

She’s not lonely as she takes a sharp turn right at the chorus.

She’s not sad or pathetic as she cruises down the road, passing cars.

She’s not a disgusting sinner as she takes one of the paths that goes through the woods.

She’s not rejected, worthless, and tossed aside as she hits one of the many ramps across the county, catching air before hitting the ground again.

Everything is pure chaos and adrenaline in her veins; no room for guilt or doubt or

Deer. Big deer, in the road, it isn’t moving.

She hits the brakes; the sudden jerk of a stop, pushing her body forward, losing her grip and being ejected forward. Dahlia hits the ground in a heap, head rattling but thankfully not split on the road. She forces herself to roll over on her back, body aching in protest. Her eyes close and she takes deep breaths, trying to gather herself.

Something fuzzy pushes against her hand, glancing down to see the large deer sniffing at her. It’s no worse for wear, so that’s good at least. She forces herself to sit up, body protesting, and she peels her helmet off. The deer shuffles back a little but when she extends a hand it tentatively presses against it. She scratches its nose.

“You’re very lucky you’re cute.” She digs around in her pockets, finding a pack of crackers, she always has food on her if she can help it and she offers the deer a cracker. It eats from her hand. Maybe she’s just trying to avoid moving her bruised body, but she spends a few moments finishing the little pack with the deer before finally forcing herself to stand.

Her motorcycle is in good shape, a little scuff on the side, but nothing she can’t buff out if needed. Dahlia’s baby remains the most stable part of her life. She rides it back to her trailer, a bit more carefully. She’s managed to burn through most of the day with her reckless bullshit.

She calls Lloyd and Caroline that night; telling them about her first week, skirting around details that might sadden them. Going to the F.A.N.G Center is reduced to just going there, nothing of being overwhelmed and leaving. No mentions of Pratt tricking her when she talks about Peaches, just an old lady with a cougar Dahlia got to carry. No mention of being left out everytime Pratt and Hudson go to the Spread Eagle. No mention of Lonny, the threats, the religious group that seems much more involved with the community than she originally thought. Everything is fine, perfect, ideal.

The pain of her little crash has mostly faded by the time she shows up to work the next day; uniform properly on when she comes into the station bullpen.

“What the hell happened to you?” Hudson calls out and Dahlia can’t help the heat crawling up her face at the attention. Her forearms and some of her upper chest that’s exposed are covered in bruises; mottling blues and purples.

“Oh, uh, I had a little bike crash yesterday.” She shrugs.

“Jesus christ,” Pratt grumbles and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Rook, you need a hobby,” Dahlia starts to say something, but Hudson continues, “one that doesn’t injure you.”

She likes to dance, but dancing completely alone isn’t as much fun, not awful but not as fun. And there's not exactly dance clubs in Hope County. Hmmm. Unfortunate. She shrugs, if her hobby kills her, it kills her.

During patrol, Pratt and her don’t talk about the F.A.N.G Center, they don’t talk about him being angry at her. An awkward cloud hanging over them as they patrol. She doesn’t even bother to ask to give tickets when they pull people over; already knowing Pratt won’t let her and not wanting the conversation. An emergency call to what’s called Sergey’s place breaks up the monotony, suspected overdose.

She digs her nails into the leather of her seat as Pratt flips on the sirens; what if it’s Tweak? Doubts of if she did the right thing running through her head. She wanted to help him; but if he ended up just being put on a waitlist and overdosing right after, how much good did she do?

Sergey’s place is a wooded area filled with abandoned train cars where homeless people and drug addicts gather. Dahlia rushes to where she sees a group of them gathered around; screaming and crying coming from the center.

“Clear the way, so we can help,” Pratt tells them, the crowd dispersing, a woman is seizing. Her entire body jerking and drool pooling from her mouth; another woman holding her close, crying over her.

“Did she take anything?” Dahlia asks.

“We were shooting up and then she was on the ground, I, it’s all my fault, I-”

“Understood, we’re gonna do everything we can to save her.”

Dahlia holds the seizing woman as still as she can, getting out the syringe of narcan that's kept in patrol cars. She plunges it into the woman’s arm, forcing the medicine into her system, watching as her seizing slowly starts to lessen. Removing it, she notices the large bruise and cut on the woman’s forehead.

“Dispatch,” Pratt radios in, “we need an ambulance out to Sergey’s place, confirmed overdosed, head trauma, female early twenties. Junior Deputy Hale has administered a dose of Narcan, over.”

Dahlia stays with the woman, to make sure she doesn’t seize again and hurt herself further. Meanwhile, Pratt clears the way and helps get the ambulance into the area when it arrives; the woman being taken away on the stretcher. They find out the one who was holding her was her sister, allowing her to go with her to the emergency room, while Pratt asks some questions of those who were around. Nothing suspicious; just an overdose, no one to blame.

The younger deputy sighs and a hand clamps down on her shoulder; gently squeezing. Pratt is next to her and she raises an eyebrow at him.

“We got here quick, she should be fine.”

“Maybe, lets get going.”

The conversation is still more than a little stilted as the day goes on; but it isn’t quite the awkward silence of before. Pratt making little comments and saying things, while she nods or hmms along.

Later in the afternoon, when they’ve stopped back at the station, for lunch and paperwork regarding the overdose. She yawns and stretches her arms, standing up from her desk to get coffee. Maybe she needs caffeine or maybe she’s just tired of sitting in one place; but either way she’s up and moving.

She rubs a hand down her face as she enters the kitchenette where the fridge and coffee machine are. Dahlia grabs her mug; one that was bought for her by Lloyd and Caroline. It’s a little embarrassing, the picture of a black cat with the message, ‘horrible and adorable.’

Warmth presses in close to her back, looming over her. The smell of Pratt’s cologne hits her just as a large hand plucks her mug off the counter. Pratt holding the mug high above her head.

“Hey!” She tries to grab it from him but can’t reach, Pratt grinning as she makes the effort to stand on her tiptoes but still can’t quite get it.

“Something wrong?” he smirks, “you can’t reach your kitty cat mug?”

“Can you go five seconds without being an ass?” She turns to face him, glaring at his shit eating grin, the mischief in his eyes as he crowds her and holds the mug just out of reach.

“Hmmmm, no. Can you go five seconds without pouting?” He reaches up with the hand not holding her mug hostage and cups under her jaw to squish her cheeks together and force her lips to pout out; laughing at her.

She smacks away his hand, making a grab for her mug, knocking against his chest in the attempt before he jumps back.

Dahlia whines and he just laughs, dodging her again as she tries to take her mug back. Her fingers can barely reach his face, let alone high above his head where he’s holding her mug hostage. She clambers to grab a hold of his bicep; trying to pull herself up high enough to grab it, laughing at the ridiculousness of trying to essentially climb her coworker to get her mug.

“Jesus christ, you fuckin’ spider monkey!” He nearly falls over, but catches himself and switches the mug to his other hand, placing it on top on the cupboards.

She glares for a beat, still hanging off of Pratt’s arm before letting go. Dahlia can’t even reach the top shelf in the cupboards.

“I’m actually going to strangle you.”

“Something wrong, Thumbelina?” He taunts and ruffles a hand through her hair, the gesture far more rough and teasing than when Whitehorse does it to comfort her.

“Yeah, my coworker is an ass.”

“Not my fault you’re short.”

“If I get dirt on the counter, you’re cleaning it.”

“What do you-” he bursts into laughter when she box jumps up onto the counter, grabbing her mug. The deep rumble of it makes her smile, it’s ridiculous, but he’s left her no choice.

“The hell are you doing, Rook?!” Whitehorses’ voice cuts through Pratt’s cackling and she jumps down with a yelp.

“Pratt did it.”

The older deputy straightens up, after nearly bending over doubled from his laughing fit. Whitehorse pinches the bridge of his nose, Dahlia swears she can see the migraine forming in his head.

“I didn’t do anything,” Pratt defends himself, “she managed that all on her own.”

“I, I just...no feet on the counter, that's where food goes, for fucks sake, ” Whitehorse looks from Dahlia to Pratt, “and no whatever you did.”

With that the sheriff leaves; weary of their bullshit. Dahlia jabs her fist into Pratt’s ribs, hard enough to jostle him but not enough to truly hurt.

“You got me in trouble!” She yells, sounding every bit a kid who just got ratted out to the teacher, and Pratt only snickers.

By the time Dahlia manages to get her coffee, her face hurts from smiling. The ache of happiness followed throughout the day, until Hudson and Pratt cap off the night with another day of chatting at the Spread Eagle, Dahlia left to go home alone.

The next day a call comes in from Adelaide Drubman, Hurk Sr’s ex wife who owns the marina as Dahlia’s been told. She’s seen advertisements around for the older woman’s real estate business, telling people to call Addie. The woman pictured on the signs of those advertisements is a fair representation, albeit maybe a little more airbrushed, of the woman standing before them when they arrive. Older with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, a red bandana tied in her hair. She’s all sly smiles and winks when she sees the two deputies walking towards her.

“Well, hey there, hon’,” she greets them, the southern Montana accent one of the strongest Dahlia’s heard since she’s arrived here.

“Hey, Addie,” Pratt replies in kind and Dahlia gives an awkward wave, “what’s wrong?”

What’s right, Dahlia can’t help but wonder as she looks at the property, clearly abandoned and dilapidated.

“Well, I think some squatters might have moved in on me, sweetheart. And, apparently threatening them with my gun is illegal, but having y’all run ‘em off with yours is fine. Go figure.”

“Yeah, the law is pretty picky about that kind of thing,” Pratt says with a laugh.

“I mean, I’m not complaining , at least I get a chance to see some young pieces of ass in uniform.”

Dahlia chokes and coughs; heat flooding up to the apples of her cheek. That was blunt. Really blunt. Pratt doesn’t seem the least bit bothered, maybe he’s just used to this. Despite her embarrassment, she’s smiling. Something about Adelaide is comforting, warm and friendly, the kind of person who doesn’t know a stranger. Dahlia remembers the gross curmudgeon of an old man that use to be her husband.

“Speaking of which,” Adelaide continues, looking at Dahlia, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, honey.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m new at the station.”

“Our probie junior deputy.”

“Adelaide Drubman, pleased to meet ya.”

“Uh, this might be impolite,” she pauses, rethinking for a moment, but she needs answers, “but were you seriously married to Hurk Sr?”

“Un-fucking-fortunately.”

“Did you lose a bet?”

Adelaide starts laughing and Dahlia can’t help but smile, the sound absolutely heartwarming.

“I’m serious; lose a bet, piss off a witch and get cursed, broke a mirror and had seven years bad luck… It’s gotta be something, ‘cause that just don’t add up.”

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest thing,” the older woman tells her, “word of advice, don’t let anyone tell you you gotta stay with a man just ‘cause he knocks you up.”

“I’d rather die.”

“Good, keep that mentality, save you years of suffering.”

“Okay, enough chat, let’s go check out the place,” Pratt says, nudging Dahlia to get a move on. She sticks her tongue out at him as they walk into the rundown house.

There’s trash strewn around, thankfully no needles or sign of drug users here. Adelaide must have a lot of trust in whoever she has cleaning these places up for resell. They pass through rooms, looking for anyone who’s not meant to be there, knocking on doors and calling out. Most of the house is cleared through and the two of them head to the attic, a good place for any squatters to hide.

The stairs creak under her feet as she takes them two at a time, moving ahead of Pratt in minutes. She hears him grumble, he tells her to slow down, but she doesn’t.

It’s dimly lit, some abandoned furniture and old antique crap littering the area; blocking the window that might have let in even a glimmer of sunlight. She flicks on her flashlight. The light illuminates the dust that hangs heavy in the air, drifting across her vision. Something rustles, a box shuffling across the floor.

“What was that?” Pratt asks as he finally joins her in the attic.

“I don’t know, yet.”

Scratchy noises echo through the room and she walks towards where she saw the box move. She crouches down and shifts the boxes out of the way, finding nothing but a dusty floor beneath them. Then something presses against her leg, a soft sniffing noise.

“Oh my god!” She gasps as she looks down at the cute opossum staring up at her; baby pink nose sniffing at her jeans. A white face, tawny gray almost black body, with big soft dark brown eyes, its wiry whiskers curling at odd angles.

“Is something wrong?!” Pratt yells out and comes rushing over, feet stomping across the floor; the heavy thuds making the opossum hiss and creep backwards.

“You scared it, jackass.”

“I,” he looks down at the hissing opossum, “I thought something happened.”

“Shhhhhh…”

Dahlia reaches out; tentatively brushing her fingers against its narrow snout, feeling the short slightly rough fur. The hissing stops and it sniffs at her hand, letting her scratch up its face to the top of its head. It relaxes into her touch and she scratches behind its ear.

“You can’t pet every animal, you meet, Rook.”

“Watch me,” she says before scooping the opossum up in her arms, holding it close to her chest. A tongue licks over her cheek, the marsupial content in Dahlia’s arms.

Pratt shakes his head and leaves the attic; Dahlia following him down the stairs. Adelaide is waiting outside the home when the two deputies exit.

“Good news, Addie-”

“I acquired a baby.”

“Jesus fuck,” Pratt rubs a hand down his face at her interruption, “there’s no squatters.”

“’Preciate ya coming out to check and taking care of the opossum problem.”

“I fail to see the problem.” Dahlia’s new friend is trying to climb up her head, licking her scalp.

“You really gonna try to sale this mess?” Pratt asks, rolling his eyes and ignoring the younger deputy’s new pet.

“It’s my best chance of making any profit anymore; those fuckin’ Seeds are buying up any place thats actually worth a damn thing. Flipping run down places is the only way to even hope of making money anymore. You know those bastards even tried to by the Marina.”

“They’re gonna own the entire county before we know it.”

Deputy Pratt shrugs his shoulders and Dahlia chews her lip; unsure if she likes how casually they talk about the local religious nutjob owning the county. The older deputy doesn’t even seem bothered by the thought; the idea of them buying everything just thrown out as blasé as one would say the time of day.

“I swear to god, I can’t figure out what I wanna do more; punch John Seed’s face or ride it.”

Dahlia raises an eyebrow at the older woman; she’s unsure what that means…but it sounds vaguely inappropriate… Her nose scrunches, brows furrowing as she tries to reason through this. Riding…like sitting on someone’s face? So, oh… Heat flares up Dahlia’s cheeks as the meaning hits her; definitely inappropriate. Very inappropriate. She covers the opossum’s ears, as if to protect the innocent being from the filth, meanwhile her own ears are burning.

“Addie…”

“I know, I know,” Adelaide waves her hand dismissively, “but you know what they say, the pussy wants what it wants.”

“Not sure that’s the saying.” Pratt laughs

Dahlia raises an eyebrow before looking down at the opossum in her arms as if the little critter could answer her unasked question. Instead, its doe eyes just stare up at her. What cats have to do with Adelaide wanting to fuck John Seed is beyond Dahlia’s comprehension.

“You alright over there, hun?”

“Don’t worry about her,” Pratt dismisses Adelaide’s concern, “she’s probably just wondering what cats have to do with anything.”

“Oh lord.”

“How did you know?” Dahlia whispers, wide-eyed at Pratt, only getting a throaty laugh in response.

“How old are you again, sweetie? Pussy, vagina, cunt; what’s between your legs. Well, maybe not yours, I ain’t got a chance to check y-”

“I would like to change the subject!” Dahlia blurts out; face feeling like it’s been set on fire and no doubt a vivid flush a red. Adelaide’s little grin and Pratt’s laughter only serving to make her face more crimson.

“Well…if we’re on the subject of faces I wanna ride, the Ryes are having their barbecue next Saturday, you and Hudson gonna make it out?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I’ll be seeing you then, Pratt, and hopefully you too, junior deputy. I gotta call my remodeling guys.”

They say goodbyes and wave off Adelaide, going back to the patrol car. Dahlia cuddling her new opossum friend as she goes. This is her baby now and will comfort her through humiliation at the hands of Hope County’s sex perverts.

“What are you doing?” Pratt asks, when Dahlia opens the car door.

“What do you mean?”

“Fuckin’, put the opossum down!”

“No.”

“You’re not bringing that thing into the car.”

“I’m not abandoning my child.”

“It’s literally a wild animal.”

“It’s a opossum, not a bear, calm your tits,” Dahlia tells him firmly, opening the door and plopping down with her critter in her lap. Pratt groans and jumps in the driver side.

“So, what, you’re gonna take it home and make it a pet?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“You know how some stations have like animals and stuff?”

“You mean K-9 units, trained dogs? You wanna train a fuckin’ opossum?”

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” she rolls her hand flippantly, “I’m not gonna train her, she’s perfect the way she is.”

“Have fun getting the sheriff on board with this, that thing could be rabid for all you know.”

“Opossums don’t carry rabies; like they physically can’t have rabies.”

“Okay, fuckin’, opossum expert.”

Dahlia spends a mile or two, just watching out the window at the world passing by as she scratches at her new friend’s ears. Passing by a sign for Rye and Son’s Aviation, she remembers the conversation with Adelaide.

“Who’re the Rye’s?” She turns her head towards Pratt, head cocking to the side in curiously.

“Huh? Oh, they’re a couple who live not too far from Falls End. They have these big barbecues that basically the entire county shows up to; everyone brings some food, it’s a whole thing.”

“That’s nice.”

“You should come.”

“I don’t know them.”

“It’s open invitation, you live in Hope County, cook some food, show up. It’ll be fun.”

“Just like the F.A.N.G Center?” She raises an eyebrow

“Well, if you don’t freak out and run off halfway through, yeah, things can be fun.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” She rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at Pratt.

Side eyes and double takes are taken at Dahlia as she walks into the station carrying a opossum. Dahlia just nuzzles her face against the top of the opossum’s head as they reach the office, plopping down in her chair and propping her feet up on her desk. Pratt walks past with his lunch and Dahlia grabs a handful of apple slice off his plate; making the older deputy stop and glare at her.

“Can I help you?”

“I gotta feed her.” Dahlia shrugs, letting the opossum munch on one of the slices of fruit.

“Feed her your lunch.”

“My lunch is an energy drink and a twinkie.” She ate the last of the lunches Caroline sent with her; an empty fridge and a sink full of Tupperware waiting for her at home.

“How the hell are you still alive?”

“The world’s too cruel to end my misery.”

“Jesus fuck,” he rolls his eyes, “calm it down, Hot Topic.”

“What are you doing, Rook?” Heat zings up Dahlia’s cheeks when she hears Hudson’s voice and sudden fear that being the weird opossum girl might not be what she wants.

“Is that a fuckin’ rat?” A guy next to her, dressed in the standard officer uniform asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Feeding...opossum…Who are you?”

“Rook, this is Brennan, he’s one of our officers, Brennan this is-”

“The rookie deputy, I know, I’m officer Beau Brennan, nice to meet ya,” he says, extending a hand and she moves the opossum to properly shake it. Beau Brennan, possibly the most southern sounding name she’s ever heard, especially this far up North.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“But, uh, Rook,” Hudson looks at Dahlia, “should you really be bringing a wild animal into the station?”

“Maybe not...she’s friendly, though.”

“So, Joey questions you and she has a point,” Pratt swings his hand in an angry gesture, “but I do it and I get mocked?”

“Yes.”

“Well, why don’t you tell Joey, how you want the opossum to be the station pet?”

“Do you?” Joey raises an eyebrow at Dahlia, the younger deputy’s face turning a deeper shade of scarlett.

“...yes..”

“If you want the thing so bad, why not just take it home as your own pet?”

“That’s what I was asking!” Pratt butts in.

“Five seconds ago, you were asking how the hell I kept myself alive, you want me in charge of keeping something else alive?”

“She’s got you there,” Hudson looks back to Dahlia, mirth lighting up those olive green eyes, “what's her name gonna be?”

Dahlia suddenly has no coherent thought in her head. Just cricket noises as she realizes she’s never actually named an animal in her life. Every time she’s ever had a pet or something close to one, she just refers to it by species or someone else names it. The cat’s name is cat, dog’s name is dog.

“....Opossum…?”

“Not how names work,” Hudson pets behind the opossum’s ear, “Petunia?”

“Petunia, it is,” Dahlia flusters to say grinning, she’s actually okay with this, Hudson doesn’t mind the weird opossum girl.

“Why are you encouraging her!?”

“‘Cause it’s annoying you.”

“I think the girls have you outnumbered, Staci.”

“Staci?” Dahlia looks over at Pratt, is that his first name? She’s never actually heard it before. His face completely falls, hazel eyes harsh and angry.

“Shut up.”

“Your name is Staci, oh my god.”

“Spelled with an ‘i’,” Beau adds, grinning as Dahlia starts cackling.

“Oh my god, you have a sorority girl name!”

“Laugh it up, you know when Whitehorse comes back, you’re gonna have to say goodbye to your new friend.”

“Eh, it’s Rook, so he won’t mind much,” Joey says, shrugging her shoulders.

“Huh?”

“You don’t know?” Brennan raises an eyebrow at her, “everyone knows that the sheriff is soft on you. Been hardly a week and it’s like he’s adopted you.”

Her cheeks hurt from grinning, Whitehorse sees her like his own child? She knows she’s lucky to even have gotten the job; let alone the way he’s been going the extra mile to make her feel at place here. But knowing he may see her like family lights up her heart. The sheriff already reminded her of Lloyd before, but hearing that cements the comparison.

“Dear god, if you were a dog, your tail would be wagging,” Pratt-Staci, grumbles as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“It's cute,” Brennan defends her, “we don’t even need a canine unit with her around. Ow!”

Brennan jumps when Dahlia kicks him in the shin, hard enough to bruise she’s hoping. Hudson and Pratt laugh. Petunia is content and nuzzling into Dahlia’s neck as the four shoot the shit, the topic of the Rye barbecue coming up. Hudson and Brennan both plan on being there as well. Dahlia finds herself sinking deeper into her chair, holding Petunia closer. Taking her phone from her pocket and checking the notifications on John’s little video. Other than someone claiming he looks familiar and another person saying he’s hot; it’s mostly more taunts.

“What’s going on here?” Whitehorse’s voice cuts through the chatter, the sheriff coming through and spotting the gathered deputies and officer. His eyes landing on Petunia within a second, “Rook?”

“Yeah?” She scrolls past someone using a gif of John’s light up yes sign as a reaction gif.

“Why are you holding a opossum?”

“She likes being held.” She doesn’t bother looking up from the phone.

“She?”

“Her name’s Petunia.”

“You can’t have a opossum.”

“She’s the station opossum.”

“Rook,” Whitehorse sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, “just go put her outside.”

“So, she’s an outside station pet?”

“I don’t care as long as she’s outside.”

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Dahlia says, finally looking up and grinning ear to ear. Whitehorse shakes his head and just waves her off before going into his office, no doubt looking for some Tylenol or Aspirin at this point.

“That’s it,” Pratt lets out a heavy exhale, shaking his head at Dahlia.

“Told ya, soft on Rook.”

“I’m gonna take Petunia outside, to her new home.”

“Do you think she’ll stay around?” Hudson asks, as her and Pratt follow after Dahlia, towards the little lot of land behind the department.

“If I keep feeding her, she should, right?”

“I’m gonna have to start bringing two lunches, aren’t I?”

“Nah, you don’t wanna overfeed her.”

“Hilarious.”

The wind is blowing just a bit; breezing by and shifting the grass around them. The sun starting to set as the evening arrives. Petunia licks her cheek and then runs up on Dahlia’s shoulder, little hands grabbing at her skin as she clambers up onto her head; curling up like she belongs there.

“Pffft,” Hudson sputters out a laugh, “look this way, Rook.”

Dahlia faces Joey, grinning with the apples of her cheeks flushing red. The older deputy has her phone out and snaps a photo of Dahlia with Petunia perched on her head. She’s not sure why the moment is worth catching, but she’s glad it was.

“Send that to me, if you don’t mind…” Dahlia asks as she puts Petunia down in the grass.

“No problem,” she taps away and Dahlia feels her phone buzz, “and don’t worry I’ll send it to you, too, Pratt.”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“Didn’t have to.”

Dahlia sits down on the ground, petting Petunia as the sun sets. As always Hudson and Pratt leave that evening for the Spread Eagle, she catches Brennan talking about going to the Hollyhock Saloon with some fellow officers before she leaves. Everyone has their friend group, their routine. And it’s time for her own; going home to an empty trailer.

And an empty fridge, she remembers. Oh god, she has to go shopping doesn’t she? It’s a break in the monotony but she’s not sure it’s a welcomed one. She also has to do dishes at some point…and laundry… Adulting sucks.

There’s a little family owned market in the Henbane River region; just a bit more to it than the general store in Falls End. The fluorescent lights irritate her eyes as she pulls off her helmet to look around. Never the cooking type; Dahlia’s hoard comprises of things that don’t require more than a microwave to prep. Frozen meals, snacks, and absolute garbage pile high in her cart as she scours the shelves for more. This might get her through for a week.

Her phone buzzes, another Twitter notification, she’s sure someone else reacting to the Eden’s Gate commercial. She tugs her phone from her pocket; just like she thought a Twitter notification, but the message beneath it catches her eye. A text from Hudson, where she sent the photo of Dahlia and Petunia. The young deputy hasn’t gotten around to opening it; mind preoccupied. She opens the message.

Dahlia doesn’t take pictures of herself and has never been particularly enthralled with her own appearance. But, she likes this photo of her. Petunia is perched on her head, dark eyes warm and soft. The evening sun setting behind Dahlia illuminates her in golden light; dark hair mussed, brown eyes lighting up amber where the light hits, and a wide grin on her face.

Beneath the photo is a message from Hudson captioning it;

‘cant tell who looks better here’

Heat makes it way up to her hairline. Is…did Hudson call her cute? She’s comparing Dahlia to Petunia, a opossum, both Petunia specifically and opossums in general are cute. So if Hudson’s saying Dahlia’s looks are on par with a opossum; does Hudson mean she’s cute? But, not everyone thinks opossums are cute… Some people think they’re gross little trashy goblins, does Hudson think she looks like a trash goblin? She seemed to like Petunia, but just cause she was nice to the animal doesn’t mean she thinks opossums are cute. Dahlia leans her forehead against the freezer section for a moment; letting a turkey meal cool her flushed face as she forces herself to not agonize over this.

A few deep breathes and a concerned passerby make Dahlia straighten back up, getting her bearings before heading to self-check-out. She quickly rings up her items and bags them, leaving the market with her grocery bags in tow.

“Leave me alone…please…” A soft demure voice whispers, a woman about Dahlia’s age stands beside the road a man towering over her with a beet red face. The smell of liquor coming off him on the wind. His hand is wrapped tightly around her wrist, her skin indenting under his grasp as she tries to fold in on herself to avoid his touch.

“Wh-what, you scared daddy Joe’ll call you a sinner for spending some time with me?”

The stench of alcohol wafts off his breath with every drunken slur; even at a distance, the smell churns her stomach. She drops her bags on the cement and makes a beeline towards them, she needs to keep this from escalating, or someone will get hurt.

“Leave me alone!” The girl’s voice shakes as she tries to pry herself from the man’s grasp.

“Fuckin’ peggie whore!”

“Hey!” Dahlia yells out and runs as his other hand starts to raise and pull back.

She gets between them just in time to feel the crack of his hand striking her face. An ache and echo of pain rings through her jaw; a metallic taste where her cheek scraped the inside of her jaw. Glassy eyes widen, the man shocked at the interruption.

“Wh-who-”

“I’m a deputy with the Sheriff’s Department, and unless you want some jail time for assault, I recommend you get the fuck out of here.”

“Pssh,” he scoff, whiskey scented spittle spraying into the air, “li-”

“I’m giving you to the count of three to get out of my sight, sir. One,” she leans into his space, glaring him down and sneering as she counts, “two, th-“

“F-fine, fine, fuckin’ bitch.”

He makes a dismissive hand gesture as he grumbles a curse, but he stumbles away, leaving the two girls alone. Dahlia rubs absent mindedly at her cheek before turning towards the girl; a peggie, he called her. One of the followers of Eden’s Gate. She’s beautiful, five or so inches taller than Dahlia, with long black hair falling in waves down her shoulders. Delicate fine facial features, the deputy can’t help but feel the girl’s face might have shattered has it been struck. Like the handful of peggies she’s seen, traces of tattoos and markings are on her. ENVY etched across her chest and a delicate tattoo of vines with blue flowers curling up her forearm.

“Are you okay?” Dahlia asks her.

“Oh yes, yes, I’m fine, but are you?”

The girl reaches out, fingers nearly brushing over Dahlia’s cheek. She instinctively ducks back, avoiding the touch. Strangers touching her is never something she’s been fond of, though she can’t imagine many people are.

“I’ve taken worse from better; I’ll be fine. You be careful and have a safe night, ma’am.” Dahlia nods at her and makes the quick walk to her abandoned groceries and bike.

She stoops down and begins to collect the food that fell from her bags. A pair of slender hands join in, helping gather up a bag of microwave meals for her, the girl offering it to Dahlia once it’s secure.

“Thanks,” Dahlia murmurs, taking it from the stranger, stashing her groceries in the little storage space under her motorcycle’s seat.

“It’s the least I can do…I’ve never seen you before.”

“I started here about a week ago.”

“Really, that’s incredible…The Lord placed you here at the exact right time.”

“Nah, I just needed groceries,” Dahlia shrugs, “well, hope you have a nice night.”

“Wait,” she knots a hand in the deputy’s shirt, “I’m Layla…”

“Nice to meet you,” Dahlia offers, Layla’s dark brown eyes are darting around, avoiding eye contact.

“I…was on my way to a sermon at Father Joseph’s church and-”

“Look, Layla, if you need my help just say the word. But, if this is the beginning of a conversion spiel; save your breath and my time, ‘cause it ain’t happening.”

“I don’t feel safe, going there alone, right now. What if he comes back?” Her arms cross over herself, the thin cardigan not doing much to protect her from the night chill.

“Oh, uh, you don’t have anyone who can go with you? Aren’t religions like, community things?”

“I was gonna walk there by myself, but…”

“Fuckin’ hell, where is it?”

“Up the north bridge, one of the island’s in the middle of the county, it isn’t far.”

“Here,” Dahlia shoves her helmet at Layla, “I got one helmet and if anyone’s brains are splattering on the road, I’d rather they be mine.”

Layla pulls the helmet on over her head, body still shivering. Dahlia shies and shrugs off her leather jacket; it’s only going to get colder on the ride there with wind whipping around. She hands it to Layla who smiles and takes it, pulling the worn black leather jacket on. Oversized on Dahlia and still marginally so on Layla.

“Thank you,” Layla murmurs as Dahlia straddles her bike, then climbs on the back. Dahlia takes in a deep breathe when arms wrap around her midsection, Layla pressing in close to the deputy’s back as she starts the engine. The familiar nature of the touch contrasting with the fact they’re strangers.

As Dahlia makes her way up to the bridge, Layla lifts the visor just a smidge so that she can whisper directions in the deputy’s ear. Once she’s past the bridge coming from the Henbane, the roads have fencing and barbwire, making it nearly impossible to go from the road into the woods on the island. She rides down the winding road, taking a left turn off the paved road onto a beaten path, rounding the corner she sees it.

A cold sweat builds on the back of her neck, heart dropping into her stomach. It’s a collection of small white buildings, dark roofs, with Latin scrawled across some of the buildings; Luxuria, Acedia, and more she’s sure. All of it on a large piece of land, within she can see picnic tables, bundles of white flowers, where they might gather for picnics or barbecues. She pulls her bike to a stop just a distance from the white gate; Church of Eden’s Gate etched in the upper arches.

People are all around, getting out of white trucks and cars, greeting each other with hugs and waves; throwing side eye glances at Dahlia when they notice her. Dogs are barking somewhere; she doesn’t know where from. Layla clambers off the back of Dahlia’s bicycle, pulling off her helmet and handing it back to her.

“Sister Layla,” a deep masculine voice rumbles out, a familiar man standing by the white gates. Tall with a thick dark beard, his deep dark eyes are focused on Dahlia as he speaks to Layla. Theodore is what the other man called him that day when Dahlia caught them stealing from The Spread Eagle. He looks a moment away from ripping the deputy’s head off her shoulders; his shirt dipping in a way that exposes the way PRIDE etches across his chest, crossed out as are all sins the church members wear.

“Brother Theodore, this is-”

“The new deputy, we’ve met, why is she here?”

“I was just getting ready to leave, don’t worry.”

“What,” Layla’s eyes widen and she grasps Dahlia’s arm, “you can’t.”

“I can’t…?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow and shoots a pointed look where Layla’s grabbing her, making the girl let go. Layla’s trying to rope her into this shit, isn’t she?

“You came all this way Deputy, why not just come in, listen to the sermon.”

“Not happening, I already told you, not my scene. Just give me back my jacket, so I can leave, okay?”

“But,” Layla chews her lip, gears in her head turning, “how am I suppose to get home?”

“I saw at least thirty people go in that church, I’m sure someone will be willing to give you a ride home.”

“Oh, uh, I-”

“Brother Theodore, Sister Layla, service will be starting soon!” Someone calls out from within the compound.

“I have to go, I’ll be right back, Deputy!” Layla rushes to say and then runs off towards the church, Dahlia’s jacket still on her shoulders.

“Hey, wait!” Dahlia jogs after Layla, hurrying through the little compound, but the woman vanishes into the steepled church ordained in cross symbols.

She stops, just before entering the door and takes a step back. The crush of boots in dirt echoes beside her before coming to a stop, the looming of someone nearby. Body heat lingering near her side as she looks up at the cross on the topmost steeple of the church.

“You going in?”

“No.”

“Have fun out here,” Theodore tells her, moving to press a heavy hand against the church door.

“Those dogs,” she starts, listening to the barks ringing out around her, “they friendly?”

“Why don’t you go find out?” He leaves her with a smirk, walking into that church.

Dahlia lets out a harsh breath and pushes her hand back through her hair. A breeze pushes through, her t-shirt and thin uniform shirt does nothing to keep out the chill. She’s not leaving without her jacket; her wallet and phone all in the pockets. Music echoes from inside the church as she plops down onto the ground outside it, balancing her helmet on her knees and resting her chin on it.

If your soul has grown weary, and your heart feels tired…

She fidgets with her helmet, chewing her lip. Please let this Joseph guy be short winded, she just wants to leave. The entire place sets her on edge, makes her skin crawl and she wants to hide away.

Let the water wash away your sins…

A cool breeze passes by, a soft whipping sound mingling with the singing. She scans the night sky, searching for her favorite and only known constellation, she has a feeling she’s going to be here a while…

#far cry 5 #fc5 #this is love #Dahlia Hale

6 notes · View notes

edenkept · 4 years

Photo

❛ NOW I KNOW IT’S NOT YOU , but me that i'll love a little more .

wish i could use emojis to express how i feel , but jus know that for the entire day that ONE PART in roman holiday has been playing in my head on repeat & i ? couldn’t turn it off . anyway , my intros r usually super long SO i tried to keep it - how u say - condensed this time . but i’m so excited & i am so hyped to write w all of u ! @opalsmedia

LINKS : google doc / pinterest / spotify / tik tok compilation

𝑭𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑺

full name : baek ye - seul

nickname(s) / alias(es) : eden park ( english name )

age / dob : twenty one / march 3 ‘99

hometown : seoul , south korea

current location : guildford , england

ethnicity : korean

nationality : english - south korean

gender : cis female

pronouns : she / her

orientation : pansexual , grayromantic

religion : agnostic , raised catholic

face claim : jung chaeyeon

language(s) spoken : korean , mandarin , cantonese , english , some french

speech : english is her first language - seven years spent in london before being whisked away to another world , she’s still got a hold on a formal accent - though , doesn’t sound completely english or american , some ambiguous mixture of someone who’s practiced the language with someone who isn’t a complete expert . all being said , she’s enchanting enough to fool even the wisest into listening - schemes flinging from parted lips that garner attention , though often what follows is informal & laced with sour intentions .

hair : naturally dark , so dark its comparable to a moonless sky , though , in the summer & constant sunlight it’s known to lighten ( just - barely ) . kept just past her shoulder blades , her hair is naturally straight ( barely wavy ) & not often styled . healthy & thick , requires little uptake at current length , so it’s common to see it all down - at most , will be swept up into a messy up - do to be kept out of her face when doing something important . entirely effortless , her hair is often the least of her worries .

eyes : quite the defining feature , her eyes are sharp & cat like . the same color of the earth after an unforgiving rain storm , it’s easy to see past a confident exo - skeleton to see the unresolved pain in her eyes . holders of wisdom & excitement , there’s a lot of sadness that reside in her hues - a lone survivor in an unheard war , she doesn’t let enough people close enough to ever let them see it . instead , it’s more often found to catch her sending a glimpse from over the edge of a book - sly & clever .

height : five feet , five inches

build : athletic , with toned limbs & a toned torso .

tattoos : none .

piercings : only earlobes .

scars : easily hidden , a small two centimetre scar on the inside of her right wrist , just below the fleshy part of her palm . when asked , the consistent story is an accident when moving in with her adopted parents - a child throwing a tantrum & getting themselves hurt . nobody knows the real story , she doesn’t seem keen on sharing .

clothing style : academia aesthetic , she surrounds herself with like minded women who’ve the same ideals & personalities . distinguishable by their clothing , carefully smoothed high waisted a - line skirts , high turtlenecks & long coats over black tights . looks sophisticated enough to have a butler ( which , she does ) but intellectual enough to debate her professor ( which , she often does ) .

usual expression : like she knows too much , as if she’s seen too much & she’ll use it to her advantage . with the constant curve of her lips & the glint that’s always present in her eyes , she always looks as if she’s about to cause as much trouble . devil’s advocate , it wouldn’t be too far off for her to be minutes away from stirring the pot .

distinguishing characteristics : her fleeting laugh - it catches your ear as she passes you in the corridor , always red nails ; deep in color , it matches the shade of blood , a walk that demands attention - it exudes an aura of importance , cat like eyes that always look like they’ve caught you doing something you aren’t supposed to be doing .

𝑹𝑼𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺

exterior : ethereal , she holds herself to an impossibly high standard that everyone can see . is it intentional ? the looks sent over her shoulders , how she parts the halls to reach a friend - no . a normal girl from a normal world , she’s sat in the front of the lecture hall making eye contact with the instructors ; the kind of classmate who learns everyone’s ( everyone’s ) name & collects numbers in a well worn notebook to send out guides & make friends . even if you don’t know eden , you know of eden - the life of the party who always arrives with glowing skin & a passionate argument to have in the kitchen . elite , the rumors of a heaven fallen girl wrap around her with the moonlight ( her journal left in the library , she’s god chosen ) - passionate , with the fires of both heaven & hell wrapped in her . almost normal ( not quite ) , the kind of girl to greet everyone by name while running through almost empty corridors - she tugs a lifetime of sorrow behind her , hides it behind ambition & blind loyalty .

interior : war torn , a victim of poison dipped claws & a dip into the river styx . her mind doesn’t match her body , stuck in between the pages of a grand journey where she views the world as a story . a punishment for early childhood , penance has been found in intricate metaphors that don’t match the sharp callousness that falls from her lips . lost in a universe where she’s half god , half devil & her enemies are heaven - bound , she pushes it all down to pass as normal . a normal girl , with normal goals & normal roles . poetry in her dreams , written down on hidden yellow pages that aren’t meant to be seen by the ordinary . found hidden away in locked boxes are journeys & important figures that only her mind understands ; a gaping scar in her life that she’ll never rid herself of .

𝑪𝑯𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑪𝑳𝑬

this is NOT gna be pretty i spent too many brain cells on my app .

TRIGGER WARNINGS : abuse

there’s an email from doctor seong ; it reads of baek ye seul & important things to note before a first session with her . irreversibly traumatized from early childhood captivity & abuse , she’s learned to cope by transforming her life into an intricately weaved story . each significant figure in her life has a title , an assigned metaphor & character - though , outwardly , she’ll show no signs of trauma . in fact , the opposite - she shows tremendous progress in her personal life , easygoing with peers , approachable & passionate - keep an eye on her movements , if anything internal ever goes external , it’s a dangerous sign .

a file left open on an agent prothero’s office - MI6 stamped & redacted but he knows the story by heart . poor eden , left in the hands of a capable agent that chose a target over her own country . the product of a traitor & a criminal , whereabouts were unknown for the first six years of her life ; but through extensive therapy & decoding childish messages , he’s learned enough to swear to always keep an eye on her . held captive on a london penthouse , had her life threatened & well being always held just out of reach while her mother & father stayed hidden . not much else is known , no specifics , just one instance - she drowned , almost , she says . held under , he can still remember her asking what the most peaceful way to die is . he sends her to partners in south korea , people who want a daughter & promise to raise her the best they can .

pour over comments left on old social media pages , she’s a hit in her new life . sheds her english name as quickly as she received it & thrives overseas while growing into a formidable woman . she’s intelligent ( reminds someone of a mother who had it all once ) , sharp & witty . filled with enough passion to light a palace ablaze , she strives for greatness & settles for absolutely nothing . always equipped with a plan & a way , she gets everything she wants ( & she always earns it , there isn’t a single unearned trophy on her shelf ) . either loved or despised , she shines as bright as stars that are millions of light years away from earth .

in her planner , an acceptance letter carefully pressed & laminated . someone told her she’d never get in , but she sits on campus & smiles - she’s capable of doing anything she wants . next to the letter is an unblemished business card . agent prothero , who found her , gave her the means to burn everything down - he hands her a promise & information that always swims around her head . her parents aren’t dead , kept hidden by everyone in her life , they’re still kicking & on the run . a goal formulated as he reminds her to finish her schooling - there’s the same glint in his eye that she often sees in the mirror - a promise made to finish & return . some people deserve a downfall , her mother’s will be her .

𝑪𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑫

throuple / trio : hee hee , as explained in my app , jus three prodigies who get along so well that they’re jus the best of friends . kindred spirits , always found together , wearing complimenting colors while they try not to laugh to hard in the library over something rly stupid . they hold hands while walking through hidden corridors & keep their heads down to the wind , but it’s always the three of them .

unrequited rivalry : i.e. an opal who sees her as a “rival” ( or jus pushes her ) & eden’s like haha peepeepoopoo in response cos she doesn’t think anyone’s worthy enough to be her rival . if anything , she thinks it’s more endearing than annoying & it gives her something / someone to look forward to when the time comes down to it .

the angle to her deivl : anyone who’s a lil kinder , a lil softer & not as annoying around the edges . eden consistently plays devil’s advocate & will stir the pot it if brings drama & a little bit of chaos into her life , this muse is someone who’s always the ‘ eden no ’ to her ‘ eden yes ’

in relation to her circlet : fully explained in my app , but eden unabashedly views her coven as family - even if she does lean into the role of annoying cousin . she’s no leader , more of an antagonistic side kick who always plays devil’s advocate & causes trouble . that being said , when things get dirty & things need solving , that’s her main job ( she ? thinks )

in relation to the opals : opals , shmopals . a characteristic flaw is her disregard to authority figures ( always seen arguing with professors , will fight the p*lice when called to a party , has tackled various figures around campus ) , including the opals . respect should be earned & besides being her seniors , she’s seen no other reason to respect them . so , she’s outwardly disrespectful & idk what to say .

#opalsintro #THIS IS OOSOOO FLGNFJEAFH HAHHEH #WEAK SAUCE !

10 notes · View notes

humananalytica · 4 years

Text

Good Omens Holiday Swap

Fic for @maandarinee, based on two promps:

I always love Crowley and Aziraphale having some magic Connection where they're Connected for whatever reason and can hear/feel/whatever each other;

Aziraphale or Crowley gets summoned/captured/trapped and the other goes into Rage Mode while getting them back (alternative: one THINKS the other is dead [pls don't actually kill anyone/ bring them back miraculously] and goes into Rage Revenge Mode)

Hope you enjoy! Fic under the cut.

“Where the Heaven are you, you idiot? I can’t find you!” Crowley cast around wildly for even a hint of Aziraphale’s presence. He’d been terribly worried, and frustrated, then there’d been a flash of pain, and now- “Aziraphale, for God’s- For Satan’s- Ah! For somebody’s sake, where are you?!”

A wall of water slammed into Crowley’s chest and knocked him to the ground.

At the same time, a trace of demonic essence collided with Crowley and settled back in his ribcage, just as lost as the rest of him felt. “You’ve gone,” he said to the empty bookshop, “Somebody killed my best friend!”

“Bastards! All of you!” he screamed, disoriented and grieving. Aziraphale was gone and he wasn’t coming back, not ever, and the bookshop was on fire.

His gaze fell on a book that had, somehow, not yet gone up in flames. The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter. He picked it up. He could, perhaps, save just this little something from the fire. Crowley willed the doors to open for him and left the bookshop.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Getting summoned was an exercise in bending quantum mechanics that always left Crowley vaguely nauseous. He didn’t really appreciate his corporation being jerked around without a warning. As a result, the small handful of humans [1] who had actually managed to summon him over the centuries tended to find him in a bad mood.

This particular attempt was one of the worst that Crowley had ever experienced. It was full of metaphysical holes, less of a net and more of a tangled mess of rope. It pinched his noncorporeal being uncomfortably when he pushed against the bounds of the circle, but didn’t offer burning pain or impermeable resistance.

“Demon Crawly, serpent of Eden.”

“Don’t use that name anymore.” Crowley drawled, tucking his fingers into his pockets. “Haven’t used that name in a couple millenia.” He rotated slowly, studying the summoning circle from all angles.

“It was the name that I invoked to summon you.” The summoner replied, without a whisper of confusion or doubt. “It is the name we will use.”

‘We?’ Crowley mentally hissed in irritation, even as he began cataloguing the ways he could get out of the situation. So far, it was looking like his summoner was working with outdated material, felt entitled to . . . whatever he was going to demand of Crowley, and seemed completely convinced that he hadn’t made a mistake. Relatively straightforward to work with, if you had a few milennia’s experience working with Hell.

“I need to learn how to have sex with a woman.” The summoner dramatically threw open the door to the windowless room, revealing a young-ish man with a sweatshirt hood pulled down to his nose.

Crowley blinked, trying to parse why sex with a woman was in any way relevant to what he’d, specifically, had ever done in Eden. Well. Better to let them tell you what they think they’re getting.

“So you came to me,” Crowley tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, as if asking a question.

“Yes,” he said, shuffling inside and shutting the door behind him. “I summoned you because you were the giver of all knowledge and the first tempter, and now I need that knowledge to be given to me.”

There were so many reasons why giving humans knowledge of Good and Evil did not equate to Crowley having some secret knowledge of how to convince a woman to have sex.[2] But Crowley guessed- he wanted what he wanted, and telling him ‘no, sorry, can’t help you,’ would have been met with hostility and disbelief.

“Well, you’ve certainly done your homework.” Crowley pressed against the boundaries of the summoning circle again, trying to gauge if the human took notice. No reaction was forthcoming.

“Can you help me or not?” the man whined, eventually.

“Possibly, but it might take a while.” Crowley hedged. “In the meantime, what should I call you?”

“Uh,” he stuttered, flustered, “‘Sir’ would probably be alright, ‘Master’ is a little gay, I think-”

“How about your name.” Crowley crossed his arms and gave a little half-smile. “Most people prefer that.”

The man paused, then seemed to collect himself. “Tristan.”

“Right, Tristan, I’ll see what I can do for you.” He glanced down at the circle, and his gaze caught on a phrase that defined him as ‘bound to be a servant’. A spark of an idea began to form in his mind. “We may have to make a few revisions to this circle, though.”

“What’s wrong with the circle?” Tristan snapped. “I didn’t make any mistakes. I checked.”

Crowley dropped to one knee and swept his hand over the characters in question. “Look, if you want to still have your soul after losing your virginity, you’re going to have to listen to me.” Tristan’s focus sharpened, and he knelt down opposite Crowley with palpable concern.

He pointed out a handful of words. “This bit defines me as servant of Hell. [3] Now, I’ll be sporting and fill you in on how it’s relevant here. Means that I’m obligated to deliver your soul to Hell if I hold up my end of the contract, deserving or not.”

“When I die?” He made no move to get an eraser or writing utensils, so Crowley pressed on.

“Preciscely,” he hissed, “And it’s whether you have sex once or you do it every day for the rest of your mortal life. Going to Hell for a shag is a load of bollocks, if you ask me.”

The subtle admonishing flew completely over Tristan’s head, not that the demon had expected much. He waffled for half a minute, then dragged a box of chalk out from under a stack of notebooks. “Which one makes you tied to Hell? I’ll just-” He mimed erasing with his free hand. “-and that should be good, right?”

Crowley mentally calculated the metaphysical gap that would result from an unbalanced circle without a complete binding clause and concluded that his odds were relatively good. “Here,” he tapped a single fingernail on the concrete floor, “In the lines closest to me.”

Tristan nodded, then crouched on the floor with an eraser. Crowley’s entire body tensed up on the physical realm as he focused on reaching through the holes in the binding towards home. The eraser wiped the characters into oblivion, and a half second later, Crowley tumbled into the back room of the bookshop. [4]

Aziraphale arrived a moment later, brandishing a teakettle in a manner that carried a subtle threat of bodily harm.

And caught sight of Crowley slowly rising to his feet and straightening his clothes. “What on Earth are you doing?” he asked, relaxing his stance.

Crowley, satisfied with the state of his clothing, flopped into an armchair. “I need a drink.”

[1] And in one memorable instance, some poor woman’s pet cats.

[2] Though he could guess that not summoning demons into your cellar whilst doing a low-budget impersonation of Emperor Palpatine would be a step in the right direction.

[3] This was a lie. In actuality, it defined him as bound to serve in general, implicating the summoner. Tristan, who was not remotely fluent in any of the Old languages, did not cotton on to this bit of deception.

[4] The exact mechanics of this maneuver are, naturally, beyond the human ability to observe. If one were looking for a good analogy, it would help to imagine Crowley as a rubber band, forcing himself through a very small opening by stretching very thin, and then abruptly springing back into his normal state once through. It was exactly as uncomfortable as it sounds.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Right,” Aziraphale said, adding generous pours of bourbon to two mugs of earl grey tea. “What has you so shaken?”

“Wiggled out of a summoning.” Crowley explained, turning his attention to his drink, taking a long swallow and relaxing back against the cushions. “Some idiot who wanted me to help him have sex.”

“Certainly not with-”

“With women.” he cut Aziraphale off. “Young, pretty ones if I had to guess a type.”

“I see,” Aziraphale replied, in a tone that encouraged more details.

“The entire thing was ridiculous, Aziraphale, you have no idea. He did a lot of research, only to put out the whole bloody thing out on a cellar floor with some school chalk. ’S insulting.” He took another swallow of tea, then reached over and topped up his mug with more whiskey. “I should probably try to track down where he got his materials, unless I want to be summoned every time one of his mates decides that I’m the solution to their dry spell.”

“I can reach out to some of my associates and see if any of them know anything about old summoning manuals reentering circulation.” The angel offered, eyeing Crowley with some concern. “There can’t be very many of them in circulation.”

Crowley nodded, accepting. “I’d wager that he found it online, but he also called me Crawly, so the original text is going to be from some point B.C.”

“That does narrow things down considerably.” Aziraphale fished out his pocket watch and glanced at it. “It’s quite late now, but I can sort out a few leads and make calls in the morning.” he glanced up to see Crowley pouring more alcohol into his mug. “My dear, are you alright?”

“Just. Eugh. Aftereffects from forcing myself outside of the circle without it breaking.” Crowley took a gulp of lukewarm tea-flavored bourbon and winced.

“Crowley. You’re shaking quite badly.” After a second of hesitation, Aziraphale gently prised the trembling mug from his grip and set it down on the table, keeping a hold on his twitching fingers.

Crowley blushed. “Sorry.”

“Apologising isn’t necessary.” Aziraphale frowned. “I can feel how distressed you are. It’s usually quite difficult for me to pick up on negative emotions.”

“Maybe you’re looking for it.” Crowley muttered into his free hand. “I can feel happiness and love if ‘m trying to find it. Usually just keep an eye out for the negative stuff, though.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Aziraphale agreed. “I should be in better practice when it comes to sensing distress.” He did not release Crowley’s hand, and the demon felt him probing further. “Well, you’re certainly not all right, I can tell that much.” The angel’s gaze was sharp.

“‘Sss fine. Aziraphale.” Crowley decided that he was not inebriated enough for the conversation and took more bourbon-with-a-splash-of-tea with a still shaking hand, swallowed hard.

“Is this how you would find me, when I would get into a spot of trouble?” he asked. “Tracking feelings of distress and worry?”

“Sssort of.”

“Well, what else then?” he pressed, and if he had noticed Crowley’s embarrassment, he ignored it. “Crowley.”

Bless it. Aziraphale was getting more worried, and more curious, which was a dangerous combination. His desire to soothe the angel managed to overpower his embarrassment, just barely. He finished what was left in his mug and tried to not think too hard about him still holding his hand.

“Do y’know,” Crowley said at length, “How little traces of demonic or ethereal energy can be left around if you try?”

“Yes.”

“Went a little further. Stuck a little bit of my soul with you back in Rome by accident. And it was useful to find you later, so I didn’t take it back.” And it had been a mistake. Crowley had been drunk on Roman wine and angelic company and he had been preemptively grieving losing Aziraphale’s presence for the night, and likely for the foreseeable future. He’d barely noticed when a piece of himself had wrenched its way out of his corporation and onto Aziraphale [5]. “I could sense your distress because part of me was always next to you. In a way.”

Aziraphale got a quiet, faraway look that, Crowley knew, meant he was very quickly sorting through new information. “I know that I shouldn’t have left it for so long, and, ngk” -I’m sorry that I did it without asking or telling you, the actual apology died in his throat.

The bookshop was silent, save for the clocks and the creaking of old furniture as Crowley sank down into Aziraphale’s chair, incandescent with shame. “It’s gone now, anyway. Got it back in the bookshop after you’d discorporated.” He had half a mind to withdraw away from Aziraphale’s judgement, but stayed resolutely in place. The angel deserved to know, at least.

The clocks continued ticking. Crowley resisted sliding onto the floor. Aziraphale had not removed his hand from his. He could sense sadness and maybe a little pity from the angel, if he looked, but there wasn’t any anger or fear, so the demon kept still.

Finally, Aziraphale shifted and sighed. “I suppose it could be considered an invasion of privacy, but I can’t say that I personally mind, the thought of you leaving a bit of your soul within my corporation.” Crowley wasn’t looking, but he could feel the angel’s smile. “It got us out of a fair bit of trouble.” His thumb stroked Crowley’s knuckles.

He vaguely wondered if drinking more would make the situation more or less bearable to deal with.

“Would you like to do it again?” Aziraphale said, at length. “And I could, perhaps, do the same for you, place a small part of my soul in your corporation permanently. If you’re amenable.”

Yes, a thousand times yes, I would do anything to be able to find you if you needed me. I’ve missed it. I would love to hold a piece of you with me always, Crowley thought, aching with hope. “Are you sure about this, angel?” came out of his mouth.

“Only if you are,” Aziraphale countered, radiating steadfast certainty. “I would like it very much. We’re on our own side, I want to reflect that.”

“I’d like it too,” Crowley managed, swallowing. “Just don’t want to saddle you with my emotions.”

“Crowley.” He finally looked at Aziraphale, startled by the intensity of frustrated love that flowed under and with the angel’s conviction. “I want to know when something is wrong. I would love to be able to feel you, Crowley, and I cannot imagine growing tired of you.” He smiled again. “If anything, all the past six thousand years have done is made me want to spend even more time with you.”

“‘Ziraphale.” Crowley whispered, nervous and elated and so in love that it ached. “Now?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale glowed, rising to his feet. “Just one moment.” He went around and drew curtains shut, concealing them completely from outside view. “Would you like to sober up a bit, dear?” he asked, straightening his clothes.

“I was incredibly drunk last time I did this.” Crowley protested, shuddering alcohol out of his bloodstream anyway and getting his legs underneath him.

“Do you remember how you did it?” Aziraphale gestured vaguely. “You may have to show me.”

“Here.” Crowley fumbled about in the metaphysical plane, pulling out roughly the same amount of himself that he’d unintentionally recovered in the bookshop fire during The End Times That Hadn’t Been. It manifested in his hand as an odd, shifting shadow, dancing around his fingertips and reaching for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale’s eyes flashed, and then the rest of him glowed, the vision of his true form superimposed over his corporation. With the infinite care of an antique book collector, he steadied Crowley’s wrist with his left hand, and with his right, drew the offered piece of Crowley into himself, guiding the little shadow to coil up and around his left arm.

Crowley felt as it settled against Aziraphale, and his sense of the angel sharpened into comfortable clarity.

Aziraphale inhaled and exhaled slowly, the image of his true form fading from view. With another breath, he brought a little bit of his soul out of his corporation, a white-gold flame that hovered in his cupped hands.

Crowley offered his left arm in kind, watched his true form as a piece of Aziraphale slid up his palm and forearm in an uneven starburst. It shivered as it settled in, mirroring the angel’s pleased wiggle in Crowley’s periphery.

“I’ve never felt you with such clarity before,” Aziraphale said, awed.

“Sorry.” Crowley offered on reflex, feeling a sleepy, pleasant buzz settle over him.

“Really, now.” the angel reprimanded gently. “It feels lovely, dear, and I don’t wish to be without it.”

“Mmm.” he mumbled, nearly unhinging his jaw with a yawn and sitting down on a couch. “Does feel nice.”

The cushion dipped with Aziraphale’s weight, and Crowley tried to discreetly scoot closer. The angel took notice and guided his head to his shoulder. “It was a bit reckless of me to do that, wasn’t it?” His thumb traced a delicate pattern along Crowley’s jaw.

“A bit.” He yawned again.

“Then again,” Aziraphale continued wryly, “It has been over a millenia since we established the arrangement, one could argue that this was a long time coming.”

“Hm.” he mumbled into the angel’s shoulder, all but melting into the touch. “Got there now.”

“You can sleep, Crowley.” He said, reclining and pulling the demon closer. “I’m not going anywhere.” The lights in the bookshop dimmed invitingly, and Crowley drifted off with Aziraphale’s hand in his hair.

[5] In his inebriated state, Crowley had been unable to distinguish it from the human version of heartbreak.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crowley could not relax. There was something irritating brushing at his consciousness, like a shirt tag. He couldn’t place its source, exactly, and over the course of the week he became increasingly more frustrated. Aziraphale had quickly noticed the frustration despite Crowley’s attempts to downplay it, proving to be a frighteningly quick study.

It wasn’t the new link between himself and Aziraphale, as far as they could tell. Neither one had particularly wanted to dissolve it to be certain.

He had been walking towards the Bentley, intending to return to the bookshop after caring for the plants in his flat, when the irritation that had been following him around intensified to a sharp tug. Ah, he thought, preparing to return to the not-quite-broken summoning circle, that explains it.

He rematerialized in the same circle, with its erased parts redrawn and an extra circle of text around the whole thing, adding a layer of restraints that Crowley couldn’t see an easy way out of. Tristan was standing with his arms crossed in front of Crowley, wearing a slightly different hoodie from the last time.

“Hi.” Crowley said, desperately trying to tamp down on his panic before it could show in his voice. “What brings me here?”

“You got out. That’s not going to happen again.” The man said, sounding understandably (if unjustifiably) pissed.

Crowley decided to try for honesty. “Look, I really can’t help you.”

“You will.” Tristan insisted. “I command you to!”

“Commanding me to do something-” Crowley hissed and recoiled from where he’d been probing at the barriers, nerves burning like they’d been sliced open and dipped in acid.

“So you found my extra protections.” he observed, “good luck getting out of those, Serpent.”

“Still won’t change the fact that I can’t help you. Both of us are wasting our time.” Crowley pushed again. The burning flared against his consciousness, greying out his vision. When he blinked himself back to awareness, he was kneeling on the ground, shaking.

Tristan was watching him, now seated on a rolling office chair. “Keep struggling if you want. You’re only making it harder on yourself.”

Crowley hissed at Tristan, dragging himself to his feet, spitting out blood from where he’d accidentally bitten his cheek.

“Crawly, Serpent of Eden, you are bound to serve me.” Tristan intoned, reading from a computer printout. “You will remain bound until I release you.”

“What do you wish of me, master?” the demon spat sarcastically. “Shall I perform a resurrection? Balance the moon on top of Everest? Either one would be easier than convincing a woman to ever have sex with you.”

“You’ll regret that!” Tristan glared at Crowley, then began rifling through binders. “I have something here that shows me how to punish you.”

Crowley stayed stubbornly silent, still aching from probing the barriers and trying to tamp down on his panic.

“You,” Aziraphale was suddenly there, voice flat and cold, “are going to stop this nonsense at once.” The angel, glowing, wings out, and eyes piercing, loomed over Tristan, who flinched in shock and scrambled away.

Crowley noted, distantly, that he could see the shadow of his essence snaking up Aziraphale’s arm in this form. Aziraphale cast a concerned glance in his direction.

“Ugnnnn.” The man whined, pressing himself against a wall. The angel huffed, and a moment later appeared much more human shaped [6].

“Now. You are going to listen to me.” Aziraphale said. “You are going to erase the circle immediately, in its entirety.”

“You can’t make me!” Tristan protested, even as he reached for the eraser and crouched down in front of the circle. “That demon will attack me.”

“You have my word as an angel that you will come to no harm from him.” Aziraphale said. “And I suppose that I can’t make you, but it will be much easier to restrain him if my hands aren’t busy from doing the erasing.”

He cast a wary glance between the two supernatural entities and began erasing. Crowley made a lunge at him as the circle was broken, just for show, and was caught by Aziraphale, who supported the demon’s weight without flinching.

“Thank you.” The angel said, when it was finished. “I would also like you to tell me where, precisely, you learned this ritual.”

The human sat down at his computer and navigated to a forum, gesturing wordlessly to the screen. Aziraphale shifted Crowley off of him and peered at it. “Fascinating.” He said, “Tell them that it didn’t work.”

“It did work!”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. But anyone who summons Crowley will have to deal with me, and believe me, I will know if someone summons him with bad intentions, and I will end it by whatever means necessary.” Aziraphale said mildly, putting himself between the back of the chair and the rest of the room.

Tristan looked at him, then mulishly informed his contacts that the ritual had been ineffective. [7] “That’s not gonna stop everyone.”

“More fool them.” the angel replied primly, then tapped the computer, which sparked and died with a few alarmed beeps.

“You can’t just do that!” The human wailed, scrabbling to unplug the computer and inspect it for damage. Aziraphale stepped back to support Crowley again.

“You’ll find that I have.” Aziraphale snapped his fingers. “We’re leaving now. Do not try this again. Goodbye.” He snapped again, and Crowley found himself standing in the middle of his flat, being held upright by the angel.

“Thanks.” He said, sore and delirious with relief.

“You’re quite welcome. Would you like to go lie down?”

Crowley did not want to leave Aziraphale’s company. “Are you going to come with me?”

“Of course.” His voice was warm and fond, and he swept Crowley into his arms. “You really did give me quite a fright.”

Crowley, too tired to care about the loss of dignity, steadied himself by looping his arms around the angel’s neck. “I suppose you would have felt the summoning.”

“I did. It was highly unpleasant, and I do not wish to repeat the experience.” Aziraphale nudged the bedroom door open and deposited the demon onto the bed.

Crowley stretched and removed his shoes. “Speaking of, what about his binders full of notes? They were everywhere.”

“Yes, I had noticed those.” Aziraphale said. “I took care of them.” [8]

Changing into sleep clothes was the work of a couple miracles, and then Aziraphale was sliding under the covers next to Crowley.

“I memorized the screen name of the original poster. I’ll have to look into it, see if they’re the rightful owner or if one of my contacts has been stolen from.”

“Can that wait until tomorrow?” Crowley grumbled. “I’m comfortable here.”

“Of course, dearest.” Aziraphale said, and Crowley felt a pulse of love from the angel. “Would you like me to spend the night?”

In response, he wrapped himself around Aziraphale, burying his face into his neck. Aziraphale chuckled and put his arms around the demon, pressing his lips to the top of Crowley’s head. “Sleep well, Crowley.”

[6] But no less furious.

[7] Which, if you want to be technical, was not really a lie.

[8] The angel had miracled all of the ink off of the pages and back into the ink cartridges that it had come from. One didn’t want to be wasteful, after all.

#good omens #fanfiction #my writing #this got longer that I was expecting it to.#maandarinee #go holiday swap #long post

34 notes · View notes