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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years

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Do You Trust Me?

Pairing: Arvin Russel x Reader

Summary: When Lenora finds out she’s pregnant and another girl turns up pregnant and murdered, Arvin and Y/N take matters into their own hands.

Warnings: Violence, Murder, Sexual Assualt, Teen Pregnancy, Cursing, Mentions of Rape, Bullying, Dark Religious Themes, Talk of Abortion DO NOT READ IF THESE BOTHER YOU (Very similar things to the movie)

Word Count: 7000

A/N: So Lenora doesn’t die in this but that part is instead replaced by the Reaster girl being found dead (I named her Jeanette... I didn’t remember if they gave her a first name)

A/N 2: I know I’m writing characters that exist already but like I feel like I’m going to Hell for writing this. Any other Christians feel that way about liking the movie?

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Secrets were hard to keep in such a small town as Coal Creek. Everyone knew everyone and if one person saw something, the whole town knew about it by next morning. That’s why Lenora had kept her secrets with Reverend Teagarden from all except you. Other than Arvin, you were her only friend in the world. It felt nice to have another girl to talk to because as much as she loved her brother, it was nothing like having a sister. Though you weren’t related, just friends from school, it was the closest thing she had.

The two of you had bonded over the harassment from boys at school. Unlike Lenora, you had no problem dishing back threats and abuse. You were more like Arvin in that sense, not always terrified that the Lord was going to smite you for defending yourself. You and Arvin were close too because of it.

The day you two met, he’d gone to pick Lenora up from school one day to find the two of you cornered out back by Dinwoodie and his boys. They called Lenora ugly, as per their daily routine, and said they wouldn’t fuck her with a bag on a her head. Tommy Matheson had a paper bag held over her face, holding her down while she squirmed.

“There ain’t nothing alive that would willingly let you touch them, Dinwoodie!” You spat while Orville Buckman held you back, his arms wrapped around your body, keeping your arms . pinned to your side, “You’re a vile thing. Hell, I’m sure a dead pig wouldn’t let you fuck it.”

Dinwoodie spun around and blew a hard smack across your face, “Lenora here ain’t much different than that. But you on the other hand, I’d take you whether you wanted it or not. I like a girl with a dirty mouth. And lucky you, I won’t make you wear the bag.”

He fisted your hair and pulled your face close to him, trying to force a kiss from you but spat in his face, a massive drip of saliva landing in his eyes and smaller particles spewed across his lips. “You nasty bi-” Gene Dinwoodie reared back, ready to hit you again when suddenly Arvin came out of nowhere, sending a solid blow straight into Gene’s face, sending him flying to the ground with a crack.

Orville let you go to go after Arvin and Tommy did the same to Lenora. You ran over to her and pulled the bag from her head, seeing evidence of her silent tears all over her face. Once you saw she was okay though, you ran over to help Arvin, who had found himself dragged to the ground by the three boys. Lenora got up too, screaming for them to stop.

“Stop!” You yelled, pulling at Gene’s arms to try and get him to stop kicking Arvin. He shoved you back harshly by the chest but you caught yourself, returning with a sharp blow to his face with your locked fist.

The enraged boy smacked you even harder than before, sending your ass to the ground with thud that you knew would leave a bruise. Your hands and knees got skinned up as you skid slightly on the pavement. Lenora kept pulling on the boys too, begging them to stop but to no avail.

“Ha, sister fucker!” The three of them called out to Arvin before leaving the three of you alone.

“Are you okay?” You asked the boy that you hadn’t met before, who was curled up in a ball on the ground and holding his stomach. He groaned in response, trying to push himself up but requiring your assistance. “Thank you for what you did back there. I’m sorry this happened.”

He stretched, flinching at the slight movement. He sent a small nod towards you but then turned towards Lenora, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner, Lenora.” Words couldn’t describe the guilt he felt for allowing this to happen.

“It-it’s okay, Arvin. It wasn’t that bad this time. Y/N here took the brunt of it, unfortunately.” Lenora turned to you, “‘M sorry about that, by the way. You didn’t need to step in for me.”

You had stood up about the same time Arvin did, brushing as much of the dirt off your bleeding and scraped up knees as you could without flinching, “Those guys are ass holes, Lenora. I did need to.”

Lenora piped up, “Oh, um, Y/N, this is my brother Arvin. Arvin, this is Y/N. She just moved here.”

“It’s nice to meet ya.” You greeted the boy with a pained smile, your face hurting from the blows you’d just taken.

Arvin nodded, “You too.” He paused for a moment, “Can I give you a ride home? I don’t need them boys catching up with you again on the ride home. Besides, your face is getting mighty red. I might have something back at my house to keep it from bruising up too bad.”

You looked over at Lenora, sending her a questioning look, like asking if you could trust this boy who had just come to your rescue, which may have seemed like an odd inquiry to have since he just tried to take on the guys harassing you, but your encounters with boys in this town hadn’t gone all too well thus far. The girl looked unfazed though with almost a hint of excitement that you could possibly be going to her home.

“Um, yeah, I’d like that. Thank you.” You tucked a messy strand of hair behind your ear before looking back up at Arvin to see that he was already staring at you.

That was months ago. You’d gotten settled into Coal Creek by now and the abuse from Dinwoodie had stopped entirely after Arvin had gone full vigilante to beat the shit out of them all. Speaking of Arvin, the day he saved you and Lenora, he asked you on a date and the pair of you had been going steady ever since. If there was ever a couple to not be fucked with, the town had learned it was you two.

This weekend, you’d gone over to the Russel’s home for supper at their Grandma’s invitation. It was delicious, as usual, as that woman had the God-given ability to produce miracles in that kitchen. As you all finished up, Uncle Earskell asked Arvin to help with something upstairs so he left without a second thought to help his kin.

Lenora had been looking at you funny all night, as if trying to catch your eye. After helping Grandma (which she insisted you call her as well) clean up supper, Lenora pulled you off to the side, “Y/N, let’s go on a walk. I need to tell you something.”

The weight in her eyes told you how serious this was so you just nodded, “Yeah, yeah, of course. Let’s go.”

She grabbed a lantern on her way out the door and towards the barn. It was already dark, despite only being seven in the evening. Lenora led you out there and then closed the door before sitting on the hay. “So what is it?” You asked nervously. Normally, you would have made a joke but something told you that this wasn’t a joking matter. Anxiety buzzed all around her.

“Y’know the new pastor? Preston Teagarden?” Lenora began, wringing her hands together and beginning to hide under her long red hair.

You nodded, the question having an obvious answer as everyone, including your God fearing Mama and Aunt, went to church every Sunday. “What about ‘im?”

“Well… um… y’see. We… we had sex.” She whispered the last word like it was the dirtiest thing she could fathom saying.

Your eyes blew wide and your mouth dropped open, “You what?” You whispered back in shock.

“Shh!” She held her finger up to her lips, “He said that to bear yourself as God made his first children was to truly turn yourself to Him.”

You were having a difficult time processing this new information. Arvin and you had both agreed that there was something off about that new preacher since the first day you met him but you wouldn’t have guessed it was anything like this. “Lenora, that makes no sense. God sees everything. He’s already seen you in your birthday suit. He doesn’t need the preacher to see it too.”

Part of you felt bad for the way you were reacting, especially when you saw the way your best friend shrunk back a little in embarrassment. Clearly, he’d manipulated her into getting what he wanted, using her faith as a weapon for her sexual exploitation, but of course she didn’t see it like that because his words were specifically tailored to get her to believe him. Now as you said these things, though, it was becoming clearer to Lenora that she had been manipulated.

“That’s not all…” She continued.

You held her arm gently, “What is it?”

Her eyes got wide with fear, “You can’t tell anyone okay? You gotta promise.” Her hand covered yours, gripping tightly to ensure that you grasped the severity of the situation.

You swallowed hard, honestly scared by her reactions to whatever was happening. This wasn’t like sweet, simple, calm Lenora. Nonetheless, you nodded, “I promise.”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

You actually choked, “What? Are you sure?” This was bad. This was so bad.

Her eyes began to well up with guilty tears, “Yeah, I am. I was pretty sick a few weeks back. Couldn’t eat nothin’ cause I kept throwin’ up. And I haven’t had that time of the month in two months.”

“Two months, Lenora? Shit…” You whispered, leaning back against the hay. Even before moving to Coal Creek, you came from a small town in Pennsylvania where this had happened to a few girls. In fact, it wasn’t uncommon in that particular town. Your daddy had been a doctor before he died so you’d seen more than a few cases of teenage pregnancy. For Lenora, though, this was practically unheard of. Good Christian girls don’t have babies before marriage. “Did you tell ‘im?”

Lenora’s breath shook, “Yeah ‘nd he said I was crazy and delusional. Just imaginin’ things. Said we never did nothin’ in the car. Then he said that I had to get rid of the baby or I’d be branded as the town whore with a bastard son. Even said it’d kill Grandma from the shame of it all if anyone found out.”

“That is not true, Lenora. None of it. You’re not a whore and it would be best for everyone if that baby inside you was a bastard. That disgusting man isn’t fit to walk the Earth we live on, let alone be a father.” It felt like the blood was rushing through your veins with full force, internally panicking about the situation. This was a big deal and, unfortunately, you weren’t sure if Lenora was emotionally capable enough to handle it alone. She’d always been quiet and lonely and an easy target for cruel people. “Are you keepin’ it?”

Her breathing shuddered as if she’d started crying, “I can’t kill the baby inside me and go on livin’ with that. But I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared,Y/N.” Lenora threw her arms around you and you held her as her body rattled against yours.

“Shh, you got me, alright? Me and Arvin. And I’m sure Grandma wouldn’t be ashamed if she knew what Teagarden did to you.” You insisted but she shook her head.

“You must think I’m stupid for believin’ that man.” She sat up wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

“No! I do not think you’re stupid at all. That monster took advantage of you, told you things to make you believe that his dirty, lustful thoughts were vindicated by the Lord. And he’s going to fucking pay.” You were furious now as you began to stand up, unsure of exactly what you’d do but you knew you were gonna do it.

Lenora grabbed your arm and pulled you back down, “No! Wait! Please-”

“What’s going on here?” Arvin opened the door with a concerned face.

Both you and Lenora jumped at his sudden intrusion but were even more nervous about what he’d heard.

“How much did you hear?” Lenora asked her brother, rubbing her hands on her thighs.

He walked in and slammed the door shut behind him, kneeling down in front of you and his sister, “That someone took advantage of you and Y/N was gonna make ‘im pay. Now what happened? What’s going on?”

This was one of the things that you’d always loved about Arvin. He had this protective nature over what he loved, ready to do anything to keep his loved ones safe, whether that was his sister, his girlfriend, or his grandmother. His brown eyes held so much sincerity and understanding for his younger sister but also fear for what had been done to her.

When she didn’t respond right away, Arvin looked over to you with questioning desperate eyes but you chewed your lip, knowing that it wasn’t your secret to tell. Instead, you looked back over to Lenora sadly and nudged her slightly.

“C-can you say? Please? I don’t wanna say it again.” Lenora begged you quietly, avoiding eye contact with Arvin. Though you could never truly know she felt, you tried to understand all the emotions that must have been running through her.

Arvin met your eyes, begging you to tell him what had happened. “She’s pregnant. It’s that Reverend Teagarden’s baby. Said that he told her that the only way to get close to God was to show him her in the form of Adam and Eve. But now he’s saying that she’s delusional and that it’s not his.”

Arvin’s temper flamed inside his chest. That explained the Reverend’s intense sermon about delusion this last Sunday. Nobody did this to his sister and got away with it. “I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking ki-”

“Arvin please-” Lenora tried to calm him but it was a weak attempt, still trying to stay quiet so Grandma wouldn’t notice.

“No, I’ll end his life for what he did to you.”

You watched your boyfriend reel around, hands holding onto his hat. He was livid, understandably so.

Lenora wasn’t quite sure why she wanted to protect Preston Teagarden after what he’d done to her but she thinks it’s that she was more concerned for her brother. Besides, no matter what Teagarden had done, did he really deserve to die for it?

“We don’t have to hurt him,” You spoke to your boyfriend, “If she wants, she can just have the baby and we’ll help raise it.”

“But he said it’s not his and that I’ll just be considered some no-good whore. He said it’ll kill Grandma. I don’t want to kill Grandma.” She was almost crying again at the thought of their grandmother ending up six feet under because of the shame of having her as a granddaughter.

“He said that?!” Arvin nearly yelled.

“But what if he’s right?” Lenora thought out loud, “I couldn’t live with myself if I got rid of the baby but I can’t risk killing Grandma. Maybe it would be better if I were dead-”

“No!” You and Arvin both said firmly in unison. You held her hand tight and Arvin knelt down again.

He swiped his thumb comfortingly across the back of her hands, “Don’t you ever say that. We have both already lost too damn much to lose each other too, ya hear me?”

Lenora nodded, tears falling down her cheeks when she closed her eyes.

“Why can’t we just ruin him? You can have the baby and let everyone know what he did. Everyone will know that he’s the father and it’ll destroy his life.” Arvin suggested, all of the miserable ways this could end for the man twisting his heart in sadistic pleasure.

You shook your head though, “No, they won’t. It’s different for girls in small towns like this. Doesn’t matter what happened, you’re still the dirty no good whore, even if you were raped. The man is treated like a victim for even having the inkling of an accusation brought up.” After a few minutes, you suggested, “Why don’t we run off. We’ll all go to a new town, somewhere where nobody knows none of us. We’ll tell ‘em that your husband died in the war, leaving you with the baby. I’ll go with. I’ll help you raise it.”

She shook her head, “But what about Grandma and Uncle Earskell?” She did have a point. They were both getting on in age and would need more help than they already did.

You all sat in silence for a few moments, brainstorming ideas of what to do. Eventually, Arvin looked at his sister, “Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out.”

The three of you went back to the house for the rest of the night, knowing that everyone would be getting suspicious if you were out any longer.

The three of you kept the secret quiet, barely even speaking about it to each other. You’d been doing as much research on babies in the libraries at school, which earned you quite a few disapproving looks from people who assumed that you and Arvin were expecting. You were serious when you said that you had every intention of helping Lenora and so was Arvin.

Weeks had gone by with relatively no news. Well, that’s what the town thought at least. After finding out about what the Reverend had done to Lenora, Arvin had told you about his plan to watch him.

The pair of you had spent several afternoons staked out near the church, watching as he went to the place of worship and then left at night. But then you started noticing a frequent visitor. Jeanette Reaster. The pair would drive off to a little secluded field and, sure enough, Teagarden would have his way with her. Though you couldn’t hear what was said, it was clear that they’d been praying beforehand before she submitted to him fully. Now, you knew Jeanette Reaster and, much like Lenora, she was the last person you’d imagine having premarital sex for the fear of being struck down by God. Whatever this man had said to them must have been real convincing.

“Piece of shit…” Arvin leaned forward against the steering wheel of his car while you sat beside him. You both watched on as the Reverend laid the girl down and began his assault of falsely “holy” acts.

For respect of Jeanette, you both looked away during the actual act but when you saw her ride off, Teagarden got out of his car, a bunch of fabric in his hands and sniffed them as he watched her. “That fucking perv. How does nobody know about this?” You asked, disgusted. Reaster was a good girl. She didn’t deserve this abuse.

“We know about it.” Arvin said, putting the car in reverse, “And that’s enough.” Less than a week later, word got out that Jeanette Reaster had run off. Grandma had told Arvin and Lenora that her mother had said to her privately that Jeanette left a note saying that she was pregnant but the father refused to believe that he was the father. To spare her family the shame, she ran away and begged them to just say that they had no idea what had happened to her. That’s what her parents intended to do for their daughter’s sake but had entrusted Grandma with the secret just so they had somebody to talk to about it.

The day after she disappeared, they found her body on the side of the road just a few towns over. Nobody had any idea of what had happened except for you and Arvin. Both of you were convinced that Teagarden had murdered her to keep his secret from getting out.

The anger that was held between you and Arvin both was unparalleled. In part, you both felt partially responsible for her death. If only you’d said something, maybe you could have saved her. But neither of you even knew she was pregnant. That monster did to her exactly what he had probably planned to do to Lenora.

“We have to set things right.” Arvin said, sitting in his car one night with you in the woods, “That girl is dead and I can’t help but feel like it’s on me.” His head hung sadly, the weight of another death weighing on his heart.

You shifted sideways in the seat, your jeans rubbing against the vinyl car seats. You placed a hand gingerly on his cheek, “This is not your fault. This is the evil of a wicked man.”

“A girl is dead, Y/N. He got her pregnant and murdered her. He got Lenora pregnant and tried to convince her she was crazy. He’s taking advantage of innocent girls out here and then tying up the loose ends.” Arvin sat there, so much hurt behind his brown eyes. Then an idea dawned on him, “Do you trust me?”

The question took you off guard and it showed but you answered honestly, “Yes.”

Perhaps being quieter in church was for the best for this particular scenario. You’d never been as religious as the rest of your family or the rest of the town, for that matter. But this morning, you found yourself on your knees by your bedside. “Lord, please forgive the things that I am about to do. Please understand that I do this with the best intentions of protecting every other girl to cross paths with Preston Teagarden and to avenge the death of Jeanette Reaster. I pray that you please forgive Arvin as well as I know he is a man with nothing but good and love in his heart. In Jesus’ holy name, amen.”

Almost on cue, your mom knocked on the door to see you on your knees, “Arvin is out front waiting for you.” She announced with a warm smile, noticing your outfit, “You look nice, sweetie! Since when do you clean up all cute for that boy?” She teased, a loving smile on her face as you smoothed out your yellow dress that hung just below your knees. The sleeves were tight and went about halfway down your biceps. It was far from revealing with a neckline that stopped just below your collarbones but it still was tight enough to accentuate the shape of your concealed breasts. A brown belt was tied around your waist, showing off your figure.

“Yeah, well I figured that for once I might as well dress up and do something nice.” The lie slipped out smoothly despite the racing of your heart in your chest.

She pulled you in for a hug, “Well you tell Arvin that I want you back by nine tonight! I’ll be going over to Mrs. Hadderson’s for quilting today, just so you know, in case I’m not home when you get back.”

You picked up your bag and pulled her into a side hug, “Alright, Mama. Love you!” You hollered, running out the door. Arvin was dressed normally, just his blue jeans and t-shirt, but he still looked great as always.

When you slid into the passenger seat of his car, he perked up and looked over at you, “Not used to seeing you like this on any day but Sunday.” He attempted to joke but found it difficult considering what the two of you were planning on doing.

After driving a ways down the road, he asked, “Are you sure you want to be a part of this? Because I can drop you off with Lenora and I’ll take care of this myself.”

Looking over at him to see his eyes scanning your face for signs of hesitation, you placed your hand on his leg, “I’m not letting you do this alone.”

Not too deep down, Arvin felt terrible for allowing you to partake in this. Death had always seemed to follow him wherever he went; he didn’t want you to be stuck with the same curse. The two of you developed a plan but Arvin had created a backup just in case you decided you didn’t want to partake, not that he would blame you. He was terrified beyond belief himself but he’d decided that for the sake of every other girl in this town and any other one’s Teagarden had harmed in the past, he had to do this.

The only thing making him feel remotely at peace with your involvement was the fact that you weren’t actually doing the killing. You were the diversion, he was the trigger man. Arvin sighed, relenting to the fact that you were in on this, “Did you bring the rope?” He asked, eyes flicking over to you and your bag between glances at the road that moved beneath the wheels of his car.

You dug around in your little bag and pulled out a small length of rope, a weapon chosen for the lack of clean up. “Got it. You got the gun?”

Arvin pulled his denim jacket back just enough to show the handle of the Luger that once belonged to his father. This weapon was chosen for its reliability. Once you guys started, you had to finish otherwise he’d tell everyone.

Before you knew it, the tires were coming to a crunching halt on the rocky sideturn just around the corner from the church. A sudden wave of nausea came over you and you had to breathe deeply to settle it down. “You okay?” Arvin asked, reaching out for you.

You swallowed hard, “Yeah.” Sweat began to bead up on your brow as a million different images of what could happen in the next few minutes ran through your head.

Arvin watched as you zoned out on the dashboard and he knew exactly what was going on in your mind. It was the same inner conflict he’d had this morning before picking you up, when he first pocketed the gun. “Whatever happens today, I need you to know that I love you Y/N.”

You sucked a quick breath in. Neither of you had ever used the L-word before. Arvin was scared to because he’d lost so many people and the fewer people he loved, that fewer people he could lose. You had just never loved anyone romantically before and were too terrified that maybe you’d say it too early or think you felt it when you really didn’t. With Arvin, though, you knew it. “I love you too, Arvin.” You leaned forward and kissed him on the lips deeply, wanting nothing more than to stay against his skin for the rest of your lives. But, unfortunately, there was something you had to do first.

“Remember, just get him to bring you to the field. I will be there waiting. I won’t let anything happen to you, you hear?” Your faces were close together, so close your foreheads almost touched, as he went over the plan one last time, trying to make sure that you knew that you were safe as long as he was around.

“I know.” You gave him a small, reassuring smile, though it was far from a grin of actual happiness.

Arvin watched as you got out of the car, leaving the small bundle of rope behind, and walked down the dirt driveway to the church. You looked just like someone that pervert would fall head over heels for. There was an innocent sway to your hips and the way you held your bag close to your body screamed insecurity, but the kind of a young girl who doesn’t know how beautiful she is. The funny thing was that this wasn’t something totally out of character for you. Sure, you had a mouth and fist that could dish as much as it could take, and yeah, you and Arvin had been together for almost half a year, but there was still a youthful innocence to you. There was still a brightness in your eyes and a pep in your step, one that hadn’t been beat down by the tragedies of life yet. It was one of the things that Arvin found most attractive about you but it was also one of the things that Preston Teagard would as well.

The doors of the church were cracked open just slightly when you approached and you could see the Reverend sitting in the pews, reading his Bible, through the gap. Taking one less final deep breath, you pressed the door open and stepped in, the heels of your little white chucks padding against the hardwood. Teagard turned around at the sound, “Why, hello, there.” He greeted warmly. It disgusted you how this man could act no different after knowing what he’d just done but the worst monsters were human.

“Uh, hi there, Reverend. I’m sorry to bother but I just needed to talk to you about something.” You began, accentuated your Appalachian drawl while trying to make your voice sound as young and innocent as you could.

He patted the pew beside him, “Well, my child, you’ve come to the right place. That’s what I’m here for. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

Skin crawling as you walked, you forced your feet to move towards the man and sit beside him. Right away, his arm stretched behind your shoulders as he sat uncomfortably close. At first, you avoided eye contact, “Well, um, you see, I’ve been… straying from the light and I really want to get right with God.”

This had to be the first truth you’d told anyone other than Arvin today. You felt too terrible lying in the presence of God so you’d found a way to genuinely get your feelings off your chest while still luring Teagarden into your trap.

He rubbed his chin and hummed, “The fact that you acknowledge this means you haven’t strayed too far. God always comes back to his flock, even to those little sheepies who’ve gone astray. Why don’t you tell me more.” He urged.

Your hands squeezed the strap of your bag tightly, “I… I have lustful thoughts sometimes.”

Preston was lucky he’d had a lot of practice concealing his emotions because he’d be lying if he said that those words didn’t stir something in him, “Now are these just thoughts or have you acted on them?”

“Oh, just thoughts, Reverend. I’ve never acted on any of them.” You reassured, finally meeting his eyes. They seemed to look at you with such understanding that you could see why Lenora and Jeanette had fallen for him.

He nodded in approval, “And who are these thoughts about?”

This was where you’d have to do a bit more lying, “I don’t really want to say.” You blushed bright red. You knew that Preston must have taken this as a sign that it was about him but it wasn’t. Your dirty thoughts never strayed from Arvin.

Preston looked away and then back down at you, “You’re going with that Russel boy, right?”

Silently, you nodded, not wanting to incriminate your boyfriend too much in this process of confession.

“Has he ever touched you?” Preston pressed, his body getting closer to yours inch by inch until your legs were nearly touching.

The red in your cheeks wasn’t part of the act anymore but genuine. You shook your head, “No, never.” You felt almost panicked at the question.

“Have you ever touched yourself to these thoughts?” His voice became slower, more cautious as his inquiries got riskier and riskier.

You found yourself unable to maintain eye contact with him anymore and looked back down at your shoes instead, just shaking your head, “No, I feel too weird. Like it’s a violation or somethin’.”

Preston looked away, as if considering something, before turning back to you, “Can I show you some place? I find it helps me feel closer to God when I feel like I’m goin’ astray. Perhaps I could help.”

Hook and sink. He’d fallen right into the trap. With a shy nod, you agreed sweetly, “Yeah, yeah, I’d like that. Is it far?”

Teagard shook his head, “Oh no, not too far at all. But I’ll drive so we don’t have to walk.”

Getting him to drive you to the spot was just as easy as you imagined it would be. With a quick glance in the rear view mirror, you noticed a car in the far distance behind you that you immediately recognized as Arvin following. Preston’s car came to a stop in the same field you’d seen him take Jeanette Reaster to a few weeks ago, facing the woods ahead.

It really was quite peaceful and would have been a pretty sight if you weren’t with a sexual predator. Again, his arm slid around your shoulders and you breathed in deeply, the intense sexual tension making you uncomfortable even though you had every intention of finishing him off before he even got a hand up your skirt.

“You said that Russel boy has never touched you. Have you ever shown him yourself?” The fact that this man had the nerve to ask you such questions disgusted you beyond belief but you kept up the facade.

“Like naked?” You clarified, seeing him nod, “No, not naked. We went to the lake one time so he saw me in my bathing suit then but that’s not exactly the same thing.”

Preston chuckled at your naivety, “No, no, not the same thing at all. You know how you’re supposed to save yourself for marriage to be right with the Lord. But there is nothing that brings you closer back to our heavenly father than to be as Adam and Eve were in the Garden of Eden, the garden of pure paradise.”

“How is that so?” You cranked up the childlike inquisitive nature as you looked up at him with big doe eyes.

Preston had to fight the urge to take you here and now, looking at you like this, but he remained strong for the sake of the process. “They were made in his image. We all were but they were his original children. The pure, unaltered image of God himself, before the sin of man tainted it all. By showing yourself in your pure, unaltered image, you bring yourself closer to the light.”

Your brows furrowed, “But didn’t you just say that premarital sex is a sin?” This may have been jeopardizing your mission but you felt inclined to point out the hypocrisy before you offed the man.

He nodded, chest falling and rising with a heavy sigh, “It depends on who you’re with. I’m a man of God myself and I like to model myself after Jesus. I’d like to think that makes me an extension of His love and power and therefore an outlet for you to feel safe to do whatever you need to do in order to be right with Him.”

With a shaky breath, you bit your lip, “Alright. H-how do I-?”

Preston watched as you fiddled with the hem of your skirt and let his mind wander to what else those fingers might be good at. “First, let us pray.” He reached over and held your hand, “Lord, Y/N is showing herself to you. See her Lord, as you made her. She presents herself to you. Give her strength. Amen.”

“Amen.” You muttered after him, your fingers slowly going to unbutton your dress. This wasn’t how you’d imagined the first time a boy seeing you in your knickers going. In your mind, it had always been on a nice romantic evening with Arvin and a selfish part of you wanted it to stay that way but then you remembered why you were doing what you were doing and sucked down the reservations. At least you weren’t actually losing your virginity to the monster.

Nervous fingers fuddled with the button for just a moment too long and Teagarden twisted sideways, hands coming to cover yours, “May I?” He offered his assistance.

Your heart thumped so loud you could hear it but you nodded silently, letting your fingers fall onto your thighs. With deftly skilled fingers, he had your blouse unbuttoned before long and had pushed it off your shoulders. Your breath caught in your throat at this much exposure, your breasts just barely concealed under only the fabric of your bra. Lord, you prayed silently, please let this be over with quickly.

Your eyes slid closed, trying to imagine that it was Arvin touching you instead of Preston Teagarden but then the mere thought of comparing the two made you sick to your stomach. They were nothing alike.

A set of chapped lips kissed your forehead gently, then your cheek, and then, finally, your lips. At first, you drew back, but still kept your eyes closed, trying to mask the disgust with untouched hesitance. You forced your body to relax again and Preston took that as a cue to continue with what he was doing, his lips returning to yours.

Wasting no time, he’d crawled over you until your back was flush against the seat. You placed your hands awkwardly and haphazardly on Preston’s shoulder’s, trying to feign inexperienced confusion. You and Arvin may not have ever gone all the way, but you’d at least gone this far.

Preston’s lips moved down your neck and your breath got caught in your throat. As much as you hated it, he knew what he was doing. This man knew all the right buttons to push to make a nervous girl submit to his every desire and, though you were well aware of the game he was playing and had zero attraction to him, the physical reactions were almost impossible to stop. Your body shuddered when his stubble, something Arvin lacked, scratched the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes were open wide now, just waiting for your boyfriend to finally show up and save you from this situation.

Arvin approached the car and slowly and quietly as he could. The windows were up so it wasn’t too big an issue as long as he wasn’t clanging metal but he figured he didn’t want to take any chances. When approached the driver’s window, his heart wrenched and he immediately regretted putting you in this position.

Preston was on top of you, his hands roaming all around your semi-exposed chest. He knew that you’d never been exposed like that to anyone before and he suddenly felt sick with himself for allowing the first time to be with anyone beside him, let alone Preston fucking Teagard.

He expected to have to psych himself up for the actual kill, to have to convince himself to do it but when you locked eyes with him, a silent plea to get the man off of you, it came unnervingly natural. With the rope already wrapped around both of his fists, Arvin reached for the handle and threw the door open, looping the rope around Preston’s neck and dragging him back out of the car. Preston’s eyes were wide with shock and fear, “What the fuck?!” He hollered in fear, the words turning to gagging and choking. His hands grasped at the rope but Arvin had it pulled too tightly.

Preston’s body was kicking against the grass but his neck and head were pressed against Arvin’s chest, who was kneeling in the field.

“You really thought you could get away with what you did to my Lenora? To that poor Reaster girl you murdered? And then I bet you were willing to do the same to her over there too, huh?” He seethed, notioning over to you with a flick of his chin.

The reverend tried to say something, anything to defend himself or get himself out of this situation but Arvin never let up so the words came out as disgustingly graphic chokes. You crawled out of the car, not knowing what you could do to help or secure the situation but feeling useless now.

In a few minutes time, his lips had turned blue and the thrashing of his body had stopped. Arvin finally let up and the body slump into the grass. He crawled back and away from the man who had only moments ago been all over you, touching you.

That was when he remembered that you were there still. He’d gotten so blinded by rage that he almost blacked out, caught up in the task at hand. But when he looked up, his heart began to beat again and he stood up, rushing to you, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Your face was pale and blank, almost as if you were in shock. Your top was still totally unbuttoned, white modest bra still exposed to the world but you didn’t look like you cared at all. If Arvin was being honest, this wasn’t how he’d pictured seeing you topless for the first time going. He always hoped it would be romantic and with more than enough time to compliment every inch of your perfect body. Instead, you looked scared and shocked and almost like you could be sick.

“Y/N?” He urged, coming stand between you and Preston’s body, attempting to break your view of it. He reached down and began to re-button your blouse for you.

“I’m fine,” You said flatly, only moving to look up at him, “Are you okay?”

With a glance down at his knuckles, the rope burn was clear to see, but Arvin had been through much worse, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m so sorry that I let him do that. This whole idea was stupid and now-”

“No,” You interrupted, finally snapping out of your shocked state and bringing your hands up to rest on his, which were on your chest now, “He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

Arvin didn’t actually feel remorse for killing the man. The only thing he wanted was to take you back home, or rather far away, where there weren’t any reminders of today’s events. He wanted to show you how special you were, how much he loved you, and how brave he thought you were for being willing to be Teagarden’s last victim for the better good of the world.

#the devil all the time #tdalt #tdalt fics #arvin russell #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel imagines #do you trust me?#dark fics #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader

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captainmarkone · 3 years

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come back.

Characters: Suprise CE Character x Reader. Warning(s): Angst, heartbreak hotel. A/N: I got hit by inspo. Enjoy this drabble of nonsense. But imma guess it's not a huge secret as to who the character is... but enjoy!

June 23, 2021 —

Storming down the stairs, I felt nothing but anger. Hurt. My heart absolutely breaking at the sight I saw mere seconds ago. Footsteps falling behind me, their breathing deep as if I was the bad guy; his own anger radiating off their body.

“I didn’t know you were coming home early!” my husband yelled, staring at me with a smirk on his lips. His robe tied around his body to conceal the naked skin underneath. He stood there, watching me as if I owed him some sort of apology.

“I hate you… I cannot believe… I ha-hate you,” I said, words fumbling out. A quiet plea to whatever god that was out there to smite me where i stood. For the pain, the betrayal. It was all too much.

“Who is she?” I asked, his eyes not showing an ounce of concern. He didn’t care that I hated him.

“Someone I met,” he simply answered. His wedding band glowing in the dim light. Something that was now a joke. A sham on what we were.

“My lawyer will be in touch with yours, you spoiled piece of shit. A little boy that married someone to feel like he was a man. You take all the goddamn money because I want nothing, absolutely fucking nothing to do with you, you manipulative little shit. I hope you eat shit and fucking live so all your life someone can remind you that you ate what you become!” I sneered, my voice laced with venom.

He staggered back a bit. Not sure what to say. No snide comment. His hands came up, as if he realized what he had done.

“Angel…” he whispered, as if he spoke louder would make his voice crack. A simple gleam shone in his eyes. Liar, I thought.

“Oh Ransom,” the voice upstairs sang his name. And that’s what hit me. Like a fucking freight train. He saw it then. The gleam in my own eyes. The pain that shown in them.

“Angel, please. She means fucking nothing. Please,” he began to beg, his voice now becoming something different. Sincere? Apologetic? Whatever it was, I wasn’t buying it. He said my name, a soft whisper that left his lips.

“Go to hell,” I said, grabbing my keys and walking out of the house we bought together. He had someone in our bed. Ours. He promised the world to me. Only to take it all back because he wanted his dick wet.

I needed time. To think. To cool off. Before going back there again to gather my things and rip him a new one. Hugh Ransom Drysdale was the love of my life. And that was something I never should’ve admitted to him; to anyone.

At the traffic light, I saw the soft gleam of the diamond perched on my left hand. His token of faithfulness. Sliding it off, I placed it in the cup holder and drove once the light turned green. I didn’t notice the car next to me had stopped just in time before the large truck rammed into my side of the car. Letting my world go black.

————————————————————————————————

RD -

Ransom paced in the bedroom he shared with you. His own heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach. Sick of himself. His actions. The way he let you, the only person who has truly loved him, go. When he sat on the edge of your side of the bed, he couldn’t think anymore. All he could was replay the year and half you spent together.

He had called you multiple times. But of course you didn’t answer. He didn’t expect you to but he had a small sliver of hope that you’d answer. Hear him out. Take him back. But straight to voicemail. He had kicked the blonde out the moment you drove away. Wanting nothing more than to drive after you. But he didn’t. He should’ve.

His phone rang then, before he could check who it was, he decided to just answer.

“Angel?! I’m so sorr-“ he started but was quickly silent when it wasn’t your voice talking.

“Hello. I’m Nurse Bellow from Boston Medical Center. I’m trying to contact the next of kin. Is this Hugh Drysdale?” She asked, following to check if he was your husband. “Hi sir. Your wife is here and in critical condition. We will be expecting you.” She hung up, and Ransom was up in a flash.

Dressing appropriately and making it to the hospital in seconds. Harlan already there with his coat hanging over his arms. They had moved you to a private suite. There you lay. Wires connected and the beat of the machine that checked your heartbeat on. He was devastated at the sight. His world crashing in one night.

“Ransom,” his grandfather said softly. Coming up behind him. Ransom fell on to the chair, taking your hand in his. “Baby… baby please,” he said softly. His turn to plea with the gods.

“I’m so sorry Ransom…” Harlan continued but it was all cut when the machines started going off.

“SHE’S CRASHING!” A nurse yelled, ushering Ransom out with his grandfather. The two sat in silence. No thought in Ransom’s head but you. Your smile. Your laugh. The way you said I love you unconditionally. These were the conditions in which you didn’t love him.

After hours of surgery, the doctor came out and he didn’t seem to have the best news. He sighed heavily and held his hands out and then put them back together.

“Mr. Drysdale… I am so sorry, but your wife didn’t make it. What we thought was just a simple internal bleeding, turned out to be much worse. Your wife… she was about two months pregnant. And well… it made surgery a little longer and little tougher but… she bled out and both didn’t survive. I am so sorry,” the doctor said, making it perfectly clear.

But Ransom stopped listening after he said sorry. Tears streamed down his face, his own heart shattering at it all. Harlan’s hand rested on his grandsons shoulder. Ransom turned to his grandfather and held the old man tight. Weeping in the chair, his world gone.

————————————————————————————————

Five months later —

He stood at your grave. The grass fully grown over your slot. Harlan had paid for the funeral, and even the plot that yielded DRYSDALE on the plaque. He never deserved you.

He had placed the flowers on your grave, standing there in silence. Tears slowly sliding down his face as he watched the flower petals blow with the wind.

“Ransom,” Harlan’s voice lifted Ransoms head. Turning and helping his grandfather down the small hill. “Ah. Thankfully they’ve been keeping this area clean,” he continued. His own bouquet of flowers being placed next to Ransom’s.

“She loved you Ransom. Saw that spark, that good in you,” Harlan said, fetching out a box in his pocket. The small velvet box was placed in the young males hand. “What’s this?” Ransom asked, eyebrows furrowing.

Harlan nodded to your grave and said, “She asked me to get it fixed for you. Said it was dull and needed something. A surprise.”

Opening the box, he saw his lost pinky ring. You must’ve taken it in June. Etched on the flat surface were the first letter of your name, his H, and small b.d.

Tears stung his eyes as he slid it on.

“B.D.?” He asked, Harlan raising a brow.

“I believe it was for ‘baby Drysdale’. Probably going to tell you on your anniversary,” Harlan said. Only making Ransom’s heart sink deeper. “Let’s go eat breaks on, Ran. She’s gonna be okay.”

As Harlan walked back to the car, Ransom stood there with his thumb playing with the band of the ring.

“I love you. I love you both,” he declared, turning before glancing back one last time. He got into the car with his grandfather, feeling a weight being lifted. As if… you had forgiven him.

#chris evans fanfiction #rd x reader #reader #trying not to do spoilers here #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom x you

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sword-dad-fukuzawa · 3 years

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inarticulate thoughts on archon quest pt iii

Major spoilers for archon quest pt iii ahead.

Okay. Okay. Holy shit. I'm still reeling. I really don't know how Genshin's writing and lore just continues to get better. I was honestly thinking that at some point, the writing quality would drop off--and I didn't think the writing was all that stellar to start with. But the writing for Inazuma is absolutely fucking immaculate.

Just to get this out of the way, I have a singular issue with Genshin's writing that is unavoidable: that it can get kind of trite sometimes. But I don't begrudge the game its cliches about friendship and loyalty and hope in the face of insurmountable odds because, even if the writing can get almost childish, it's spectacular for the vast majority of the game. And I don't mind that the game is inherently hopeful. The world is awful enough without needing to play games about just how awful other worlds are.

This is going to be disorganized. So I'm going to start with what made me go oh, clever, and that's the Raiden boss fight at the end.

Demanding a Rematch with Ei

I had an essay about how well Inazuma does game design and a section was on the boss fight in pt ii specifically, but I never got around to posting it. Here's what I wrote:

I want to talk specifically about the Baal boss fight in Archon Quest Part II Electric Boogaloo. If you haven't played it yet, it's a two-part boss fight. Until you've smacked Baal down to 75% HP, it's basically a normal domain battle--a 1v1 match between your team and Baal. But then at 75% HP, Baal decides you know what, no, you don't get to use your Vision, and every member of your team who isn't Traveler gets their E and Q locked for 1 minute.

Your job for that 1 minute?

Survive.

And Baal does not make it easy for you.

But if you make it for that 1 minute, does that mean you get your E and Q back? No, a cutscene plays instead where Baal uses the divine judgement smite and smacks Traveler in the face with it. Yes, you survive. Yes, you and Thoma get to run away to see another day. But there is no way for you to win that boss fight.

The Baal boss fight is the first time Mihoyo has used a "you can't win this fight" mechanic where you will lose and it does not matter what you do.

And it fits pretty damn well with the narrative and thematic components of Inazuma as a whole. You aren't a fairy tale hero who defeats all the bad guys. Hell, you aren't even a leader mounting a glorious resistance. You are not that guy, at least not for patch 2.0. You're just a scrappy traveler from out of town, out of their depth and needing to rely on people they can barely trust in order to survive.

This country is fucking hostile, and the Baal boss fight is one of the best ways that Genshin hammers that into players.

I stand by this. What makes the Baal boss fight even better in pt iii is that it mirrors that first and utterly disempowering fight. You cannot win that fight by yourself, and that remains consistent. She's simply too good at her job. What wins you the fight in part ii, however, is the fact that you are not by yourself.

And I'm not talking about Yae. You're backed by the hopes and dreams and ambitions of the people of Inazuma, crying out to their ruler in the hopes that she will hear them. It fits Inazuma's general theme--you're not the hero, Traveler. You're the messenger. Hell, you're the vessel. And I thought that was particularly powerful.

It's just good writing, that you still do not win that fight on your own.

The Kazuha Scene

I don't know how to convey the amount of sheer shock I had during The Kazuha Scene. Genshin does not pull its punches and this scene is no exception. Kazuha dual-wielding Visions to Electro swirl and clash blades with the Raiden Fucking Shogun was the single most badass thing I've ever seen in this game.

It's also left vague if Kazuha himself, bearing his friend's ambition, was the one who reactivated it--or if, reaching beyond the veil, it was his friend himself. But in that moment, Kazuha reawakened a dead Kami no Me and that, that says a lot. Visions are tied intrinsically to the person they belong to, and despite being from the gods, they're also somehow the most inherently human thing. Kazuha, carrying his friend's will, woke one back up. I can't articulate this in essay form--might have to save it for a fic--but this has me in my feelings in a way I simply am unable to describe.

As an addendum because this doesn't quite go anywhere else, I really do enjoy the way Sara was written and the way you can see the bodies of the guards she leaves in her wake--not dead, but clearly flattened. Very badass.

Yae Dropping Bombshells

Yae. Yae Miko. Yae Miko really went "Oh, Scaramouche is a protoype puppet built by Ei ages ago. The Fatui fiddled with him a bit, though," with a completely straight face.

Yae Miko please.

Listen, I don't think anyone expected that to be Scaramouche's backstory at all.

And Yae's explanation of the story of Ei and Makoto makes Baal's 2D cutscene make vastly more sense. I was like ?? Why is she holding herself?? Is this a metaphor?? The answer is yes, it's a metaphor, it's also just Ei holding her sister, and it's a dramatic parallel to Traveler, who also lost their sibling somewhat during the cataclysm.

Will forever also be in my feelings about Makoto being the gentler of the two, thanks.

MMMM SUMERU LOREEEE ABOUT THE ARCHON TOO AHHHH AND KNOWLEDGE AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SUMERU WHEN??

Speaking of "[insert teased thing here] when?"...

Signora

Alright, Signora's death, in and of itself, didn't make me feel all that bad.

That's a lie, sorry. It did make me feel pretty bad. Just the card Signora...is slain got me. Because Signora is the first casualty, and Signora's death is an escalation, and Signora...god, Signora is dead and Traveler killed her. Sure, it was Baal who made the finishing blow, but the moral consequences of that action lie on the Traveler's shoulders.

What does this mean for the future? Either Childe will kill us or send us a thank you card, I suppose. And it also means that Genshin's storyline may take a turn for the darker. Traveler killed someone. Traveler challenged Signora for a duel before the throne knowing damn well what that meant. The part afterward, as you walk out of the throne room, tells you everything you need to know about how Genshin is going to treat death.

It's fucking horrifying.

Traveler is getting unexplained headaches. They don't speak. The word is fuzzy, glitching out in reds and blues. They walk slowly, like they're in shock, like they can't walk any faster. Paimon begs you to say something because Traveler, you've gone quiet.

And sure, chalk this up to the fact that Baal was piggybacking off of Traveler to try and smite them as they left, but you don't know that as you walk down the stairs. You can only walk, and press space bar when Traveler feels woozy, and there's this feeling of confusion and panic you have to reckon with because Genshin's not a horror game, is it? But damn if it doesn't feel like one for a brief, terrifying stretch of time.

You killed a woman. And Genshin treats that action with the weight it deserves.

At least we all know the answer to "Signora playable when?" now.

#genshin spoilers #genshin impact #baal #raiden shogun #ei #yae miko #traveler #kazuha #la signora #sara kujou

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divinedeathbed · 2 years

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TELL ME ABT ALL YOUR OCS RNNNNN DUDE

SCREAMS no </3 sike

Let's go human to non human

Gabriel is a cultist priest (for a specific ihnmaims AU) who stands at 7'5 (warped by AM to have uncanny characteristics such as abnormal height and out of proportion arms, his go down to mid calf) in his 60s, and is generally a kind spirited man who you can catch gardening or playing the harp from time to time. When he's not... committing ritual sacrifice for his God.

He/him pronouns, demisexual bi

Romeo is an absolute asshole of man. He's a womanizer who loves flirting with, having sex with, then completely ghosting women. He's 6'5, in his mid 20s, and rn is my oldest oc i still keep around. Wears a venetian mask at all times and loves being in bright colors. The type of dude who would catcall you and tell you to smile bc you look prettier when you smile.

He/him pronouns. Straight (but does have some moments of questioning his sexuality lol)

Victor is,,,, hm,,, I never placed them as anything. They float between vampire and other mythical man eating creachers so they're just a creacher lol. Flirty but respectful. Has a "if you're a dick to me or my loved ones I'm going to eat you" personality. Because they eat people. Dines primarily on human flesh. Goes into these,,, feral periods where they'll go crazy and eat anyone they get their hands on.

7'3, sharp teeth, sharp claws, long sharp tongue my beloved. They/them pronouns, pansexual (is the source of Romeo's sexuality questioning)

Absinthe a shape shifting succubus demon that prefers their fem form. As a succubus they are fairly flirtatious, eager to get with any consenting person but also is just... normal. Loves causing havoc when traversing the mortal plane. Is a voice for sinners in the lust ring.

Height varies but usually stands at 5'4. Goes by any pronoun, pansexual

Mariel is a shape-shifting high choir angel. Unsure where to place it for now, considering getting rid of its 'true' form but for now it's keeping it. An insane angel that broke its mind when it saw something it was not meant or supposed to see. Often speaks in nonsense or says cryptic stuff about a listeners future. Considers anyone who spends time with it its friend and LOVES just trailing along with people or holding people in its many tentacles. Does this to literally anyone. Has no sense of danger. Can't remember names easily so gives people nicknames. In moments of clarity it may even remember its name or what it used to do.

Height varies but usually stands between 6'7 - 8'0. Goes by it/its pronouns. Sexuality is a mystery

FINALLY: MICHAEL

Is the archangel Michael. My own design of him for the Mandela Catalogue but branching off to do other things with him. Friendly and sociable, but busy as hell. And due to that he's emotionally numb for the majority of times. Catch him working all the time, smiting demons, running messages, etc. When not working you can either catch him spending time with his brothers: the other archangels, or his,,, husbandddd :3c

5'10, he/him pronouns but doesn't mind being called other things as long as it has respect behind it. Gay.

#long post #asks for mys #THERE YOU GO MY 6 SILLY LITTLE CREACHERS #michael gabriel and mariel are my favorites rn #ocs #gabriel #romeo #victor #absinthe #mariel #michael #my shitty art

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sineala · 3 years

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Captain America: The Great Gold Steal

I wrote this up last week because I did not have access to my usual comics files but I figured I could review something that was just a book. So here is a review of the 1968 Captain America novel Captain America: The Great Gold Steal by Ted White, with an introduction by Stan Lee. I really liked it, actually! It was surprisingly good!

This novel features: Cover art of Captain America holding his shield in one hand and a very large gun in the other! A scene where the villains dramatically unmask Captain America and have absolutely no idea who he is! Captain America being extremely, extremely depressed about being in the future! Captain America dropping acid!

(I'm not kidding about the last part. In this novel there is a lot of LSD use. By Captain America. Talk about something the Comics Code wouldn't ever let you put in a comic book. Thank you, 1968.)

Faithful readers may remember that some time ago I posted reviews of Marvel prose novels from the 1970s. There was a line of prose novels featuring everyone's favorite Marvel superheroes, published by Pocket Books in the late 70s; I have reviews of the Iron Man, Captain America, and Avengers entries in the series; I liked the Iron Man one best, and I also have a Doctor Strange one I have not yet read. They're all short and action-packed paperback reads, of varying quality; the only one by anyone you might have heard of is the Avengers one, which was written by David Michelinie, who was actually writing the Avengers run at the time. That one was, um. An experience.

(Yes, it's "prose novel" because otherwise the assumption is "graphic novel.")

Marvel still publishes prose novels now, of course, also of varying quality; some are new plots and some are straight-up novelizations of comics arcs, which I guess is useful if you want to, say, read Civil War and not look at pictures at the same time. I also have a bunch of those that I could probably review if anyone wants. But, anyway, I personally am particularly intrigued by the older Marvel prose novels, both because the stories are all original and not retellings, and also because I often prefer the characterization found in older comics. And the older prose novels of course use the then-current characterization. So reading a Marvel prose novel from 1979 is like getting to read a brand-new comic from 1979, and that's a whole lot of fun for a nerd like me. Also do you know what's not subject to the Comics Code? Prose novels. So things can happen in these that definitely could not happen in comics of the same era.

This brings me to my current prose novel, which is something else entirely. I mean, okay, not really, it's still a Marvel prose novel. But it's not part of the same line. It's actually a lot older.

Bantam Books actually published Marvel prose novels in the late 60s. Yep, a full decade earlier. They published exactly two, so I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that they were probably not bestsellers. The first one, which I do not own and now sort of want to track down, was an Avengers novel in 1967, The Avengers Battle the Earth-Wrecker. And then in 1968 they published the novel I am currently holding in my hands, Captain America: The Great Gold Steal by Ted White.

(I am still not sure why no one involved in titling this book thought of the word "theft.")

Judging by the back copy, it appears to be about Captain America foiling the villains' dastardly plan to steal gold from the Federal Reserve. Oh boy. Fun.

So this book is from 1968. The modern Marvel universe had kicked off just a few short years ago! Captain America was just getting his own solo book after the end of Tales of Suspense! And here's a novel about him, back when certain elements of his characterization were perhaps a little more flexible than they are today, by which I mean that the cover art -- which the internet informs me was painted by Mitchell Hooks -- is a striking full-body portrait of Captain America, head held high, shield in one hand... and a very large gun in the other. Hell, yeah. Not gonna see that in today's Cap comics, are you? It's amazing and I love it.

(Okay, you might see that in Ults. I'm pretty sure I have seen that in Ults, actually. But this is still cool.)

So the cover art is a definite plus, and apparently it's one of the few reasons anyone has ever heard of this novel. The other reason -- and the reason this is more expensive than the later novels, I assume -- is that Stan Lee's name is slapped on the cover, because he wrote an introduction. (I think I paid about $30 for this. The others were definitely under $20.)

All right. Here we go.

The first page is actually a brief summary of Steve's origin story, but not a version I was familiar with. Steve was born July 9, 1917 (yes, I was surprised too), was orphaned at a young age, and was a student at Columbia University (!) before Rebirth, which in this version is a gradual process that is also extremely body-horror. Steel tubing was inserted into the marrows of his bones. He was fed "high-protein compounds." Then they gave him a chemical that "gave him complete control over every nerve, muscle, and cell in his now-magnificent body." Sweet. Where can I get some of that?

The blurb also confirms his control over his own metabolism as well as his healing factor ("wounds would heal in half the normal time"), which is nice, because sometimes I wonder if canon even remembers the healing factor.

(I don't know why Marvel has this kink for filling people's bones with metal, though. It's not actually empty in there, guys! You need your bone marrow! How else do you want people to make new blood cells?)

The book is dedicated to "Jack Kirby and Stan Lee, without whom there would be no Captain America." Hey, Marvel, Joe Simon would like a word with you. I'm just saying.

The Stan Lee introduction is three paragraphs written in Stan Lee's, um, inimitable, distinctive and extremely florid narrative style -- if you've read any of his work, you know what I mean -- and making the point that Captain America is incredible and you will like him. If you are just discovering him for the first time, you will definitely like him. Okay. Thanks. I guess.

Oddly, the writing style here is substantially different than any of the other Marvel prose novels I've read; it doesn't immediately front-load you with exposition and a cast of colorful superheroes. It opens with a sort of James Bond spy-novel feel, running through a series of unnamed villains and bystanders, and a man who wants nothing more than to talk to Captain America but is killed before he can. Steve comes in halfway through the chapter, and he seems to be written for a reader who doesn't necessarily know who he is, and he isn't introduced as Captain America with his shield flying ahead of him to smite evildoers, or anything like that. He's just a tall, handsome blond guy who is reading a bunch of novels and is unsatisfied by all of them because all he can think of is the past. It's definitely an attitude I would expect from Steve in this era -- he is very much a Man Out Of Time here -- but it's also not how I expected the book to introduce him. You wouldn't even know he was Captain America by the end of the opening chapter, which then ends with a digression about the history of NYC subway tunnels. It's like it wants to appeal to someone who has watched a bunch of Man from UNCLE and just wants to read a cool thriller. Which is not at all what I was expecting.

By the beginning of the second chapter, of course, we discover that Steve is Captain America, as he changes into his uniform. The narration refers to him as Rogers when it's in his POV, if anyone is curious. He apparently keeps the cowl off in the mansion, because the cowl annoys him.

It was not so much that he needed to conceal his identity these days, because for all intents and purposes he had no other identity. Steve Rogers was officially dead, and had been for almost twenty years. Captain America *was* his identity. It was only when he donned the tight-fitting blue uniform with its shield chest-emblem, the red snug-fitting leather boots, and the heavy, yet pressure-sensitive red-leather gauntlets, that he began to feel real -- a complete human being.

Steve? Buddy, are you okay there? You're really not okay, are you, huh?

You see what I mean? They're really hitting the early-canon angst. Hard.

(Also it sounds like his uniform is a few sizes too small.)

We then get an expanded version of the backstory from the beginning excerpt. In this version of canon, Steve actually has an older brother, Alan, who is handsome and athletic and basically amazing, and when they are orphaned they are raised by their aunt and uncle. Steve gets TB twice as a kid, nearly dies from it, and when the stock market crashes, ends up separated from his brother and in an orphanage after his uncle loses everything.

(Honestly if I were writing this book, his brother would be the secret villain. Chekhov's Gun!)

Steve has glasses, gets bullied, is a nerd and an honor student, and studies law at Columbia because he wants to help stop fraudulent business practices and also fight organized crime. Legally, I mean. In a manner relating to law. I guess he's sort of like Daredevil. The lawyer part of Daredevil.

And then he joins Rebirth, and this is the part where I had to put the book down for several minutes, because Erskine's secret chemical, the key to making super-soldiers... is LSD.

Oh my God. You should see my face right now. My expression is, I am sure, indescribable. I'm trying not to wake the dog up laughing.

I just. Holy shit. This book is from 1968 in a way I definitely was not expecting. What the fuck, Marvel?

This project was headed by the brilliant biochemist, Dr. Erskine. His work with the endocrine system, and chemical body control, was well beyond that of his contemporaries. Only he, of all his colleagues, had fathomed the secrets of the Swiss Dr. Hoffman's 1938 discovery -- the mind-controlling LSD-25.

Let's just pause here for a few minutes and contemplate this.

I will point out that Albert Hofmann (yes, the book spelled his name wrong) didn't actually discover that LSD was a hallucinogen until 1943 when he accidentally tried it, but I am positive that 1968 here was a time when Some People were convinced LSD was a wonder drug. I'm still laughing. As far as I can tell, legal manufacturing of it stopped in 1965 so I am pretty sure that the author did not just decide to name a drug that had an ostensible legal therapeutic use, because it wouldn't have still had one by '68.

Anyway, in this version of events, Rebirth is a month-long process that involves a lot of vitamins, physical conditioning and training, and, yes, putting metal in his bones like he's the next Wolverine. They're filling his bones with stainless steel rods to make him stronger. That doesn't seem like a great idea to me, but I am also not sure about dropping acid to gain superpowers. Clearly I am not a genius scientist. Also Erskine knows what DNA is, apparently, because he's just that great. Anyway. Other than the metal, those all seem like relatively normal interventions. So far.

Now Steve has become fairly big and strong (and I guess he still has metal in his bones? this concerns me!) but they need to make him superhuman, so, yes, really, it's time to drop acid. Several pages of this book are devoted to describing Steve's acid trip. His acid trip is amazing and he discovers that he has conscious control of his entire body down to the cellular level. He can control the adrenaline in his bloodstream! He can tighten his muscle fibers! And when he's done tripping he still remembers how to do this, if not exactly on a conscious level, but he can still access the abilities. And that is how you make a super-soldier. It's LSD. Remember, kids, drugs are awesome! Do drugs!

Let's maybe take a few more minutes to think about this.

I just. I have no words. How did anyone at Marvel agree to print this?

I think for the most part superhero origin stories tend not to involve real drugs because people are generally aware that drugs they've heard of won't make you into a superhero. I guess this is what it looks like when you invoke the names of real drugs. They probably wanted something that sounded more realistic but somehow I don't think this was the best way to go. (Radiation, of course, will definitely make you into a superhero but I feel like most people have accepted that as one of the conventions of the genre.)

Anyway, after that Erskine gets killed by Nazis, of course, and Steve goes to war, and for some reason this book contains footnotes by Stan Lee himself listing the comics you can read all of this in. Just like the actual comics do!

We are introduced to Bucky, who for some reason is also from the LES in this version, although not anyone Steve knew before the war, and there is of course a description of Bucky's tragic death and Steve's subsequent icing.

They are really, really stressing the Man Out Of Time thing here:

No other man could have survived so fantastic a voyage through time. And no other man could feel so displaced by time.

He was a man twenty years in his own future. By rights, he should be nearly fifty years old -- nearly twice the age of his fellow Avengers. Yet his mind and his body were not yet thirty.

When the Avengers had brought him back to New York with them and insisted that, as an honored hero of the past, he join them, he felt a sort of melancholy homesickness for his own time and world.

We then get a few paragraphs with the usual being sad that he let Bucky down and got him killed, and also that he misses his family, and that Steve Rogers doesn't exist anymore, and that nobody is alive who remembers him, and that war is hell.

Hey, Steve, maybe the drugs you should do are antidepressants. Just a thought.

Also, this book is 118 pages and we're not out of the origin story flashback until page 34. I think there are some pacing issues here.

Actually, I lied, the flashback keeps going, but now we're up to the Avengers finding him, and I have to say that the list of things Steve finds strange about the future is kind of charming when the future is 1968. Men have long hair! Women have shorter skirts! Everyone is kind of blasé about rocket launches because there have been so many space missions now. (Oh, come on, you haven't even landed on the moon yet, 1968! You're not that blasé.) Color TV! And, excitingly, LPs! You can now listen to 36 minutes of consecutive music. (I actually don't know what previous standard he's describing that is a ten-inch record that holds six minutes a side because I don't think 45s are that big. Yeah, no, I just checked and 45s are seven inches in diameter. Hmm. Oh, never mind. He means 78 rpm, doesn't he? In my defense, the record player my family had when I was a kid didn't play those.)

The description of Steve coming into New York for the first time is definitely written by someone who knows New York, which is fun. There is generally a lot of local flavor to the setting of this book. That’s one of the best parts.

There is a brief summary of Steve's feelings about all the Avengers -- he is most impressed by Thor, which, I mean, fair, he's an actual god -- and Hank telling him all about how he can live in Tony's mansion. With Jarvis. Who Hank says is actually from Flatbush. Apparently Steve spent a lot of time at the NYPL branch at 5th and 42nd trying to catch up on history. And then of course the Avengers ditched him and gave him the Kooky Quartet, and for some reason they're not here right now either so it's just Steve being sad and alone and dealing with this mysterious dead guy. I think probably the book is also done explaining fiat currency now. This is definitely the weirdest Marvel novel I've read.

Anyway, we have now returned to what is ostensibly the actual plot. Steve shows up at the New York Federal Reserve Bank (I guess the theft is happening here and not, like, at Fort Knox) with the gold bullion that the dead guy from the beginning of the book had on him -- I think I got distracted by the LSD bit and forgot to mention that part, but the dead guy was carrying some US government gold -- because the actual plot is that villains are trying to tunnel into the bank vault and steal gold. Steve discovers this after he gets the bank manager to give him a tour. The bank manager tries to refuse, citing security concerns -- Captain America could be anyone under that mask, after all! Steve just smiles and says, "If I removed my mask, would you have any better idea of who I am?" and I guess that's a flawless argument because he gets his tour.

(I'm sorry, all I can think of is that one gif from the JLA cartoon where Lex Luthor bodyswaps with the Flash, announces that now that he's in the Flash's body he's going to discover the Flash's secret identity, then pulls off his own mask, stares at himself in the mirror, and says, "I have no idea who this is.")

Given that the theme of Steve's interior life in this novel is "Steve Rogers died twenty years ago" it seems even more sad that Steve is just walking around basically saying, yeah, well, I'm nobody. And apparently that is being reaffirmed for him by the narrative.

So Steve goes down the tunnels, takes out some of the bad guys, and gets himself knocked out and buried in a collapsing tunnel. Don't worry, he's gonna be fine.

A lot of this book, by the way, is from the POV of random people, like this bank guard who went with Steve into the tunnels:

He had wondered, briefly, if a man like Captain America ever knew the pinch of too many bills, had ever felt desperate over the arrival of yet another mouth to feed. But, of course, Captain America had no family, and would hardly concern himself with such matters. It didn't occur to Thompson to wonder if this in itself might not be something for which to pity Captain America.

Rude. I mean, come on, do we really need random characters telling us Steve is a sad sack whom nobody loves? Steve's already got that covered! (Also, how does this guy know Captain America has no family?)

Anyway, thanks to the power of LSD, Steve is going into a trance, amping up his metabolism (he loses "several pounds" in a few minutes), and making himself super-strong so he can dig himself out. Hooray. This is definitely how human bodies work. Also LSD. This is definitely how LSD works. Yes.

Steve then finds out that a couple of the guards who were with him in the tunnels died down there and he goes home and eats dinner while stewing in miserable guilt because he was responsible for their deaths. He's really not okay. I'm not sure the book actually understands how not okay they have made him. Then someone from SHIELD is on the phone for him and he is briefly cheered up by the thought that it might be Sharon although I think we should also note that the narrative makes it clear that at this point in canon Steve still doesn't know her name. Remember when that was a thing?

Alas, it is not Sharon; it's just a random SHIELD agent who happens to have information about the plot and asks to meet. Then, as Steve leaves to go to the meeting, we get two pages of exhaustive description about the mansion layout and how it's built relative to the surrounding buildings. It feels like this book was written by a frustrated city planner. But anyway, the meeting is a setup and the villains capture Steve.

They knock Steve out, drug him, take him to their hideout, and tie him to a chair. Except, once again thanks to the power of LSD, the tranquilizer they're using wears off way sooner than they expected and so Steve feigns unconsciousness and listens to them discuss their evil plans.

And then the villains unmask him and I swear it's exactly like that JLA gif:

Rogers heard footsteps scuffing across a thick carpet, and then Sparrow's voice again, almost directly over him. His ears still buzzed, but he fought to catch the elusive familiarity of the man's tone. He wished he dared open his eyes.

"This is a moment which I, personally, have long awaited," Sparrow said, his voice rising in triumph. "*The unmasking of Captain America!*"

Then, his nails scraping along Rogers' face, Sparrow dug his fingers under his cowl, and ripped it back. Rogers felt air strike his exposed cheeks and forehead. Then fingers clutched his blond hair and pulled his head back. "Behold!" Sparrow said.

Raven was first to speak. "Well, I dunno about you, Sparrow, but it rings no bells with me. I never seen him before."

Starling agreed. "His face means nothing to me."

"He could be anybody," said Robin. "What good does this do?"

Sparrow let Rogers' head fall back to his chest, and his voice when he spoke was defeated. "I don't know. Nothing, I guess. I always wondered. I felt, if these guys -- these costumed heroes -- wore masks, it must mean something."

"Captain America was missing for twenty years," Starling said. "That could mean the first one died, and this one took his place. He looks awfully young."

"Perhaps. It doesn't really matter. Let's get going."

(Yes, the villains all have bird-themed codenames. I have no idea why.)

This scene just makes my day. I love dramatic unmaskings. I bet they'd have been a lot happier unmasking Iron Man.

The villains then leave Steve and go to a power plant, where we switch POVs to one of the plant employees and get two entirely unnecessary paragraphs about his racist and anti-Semitic thoughts about his coworkers before the villains murder him. Great. Thanks.

Anyway, the villains cause a blackout, while meanwhile they've left Steve alone with the girl villain, and Steve is busy trying to persuade her that crime doesn't pay. He's moved from the "do you know what they'll do to you in prison?" theme onto "how exactly are you going to spend a billion dollars in gold bullion when it's illegal for civilians to possess? who are you going to do business with?" and then points out that gold is heavy and hard to transport, which is when she gets out a a knife.

The bad guys are off to steal the gold, and Steve has now successfully turned the girl they left him with, because she frees him. Of course, the first thing he does is put the cowl back on.

"Why do you wear that?" she asked.

"The mask?" He smiled. "It gives people something external to concentrate upon."

"But..."

"Without it, I'm just another ordinary-looking man. With it, I become a symbol. For some people it creates awe; for others, fear. Look at me. I'm different now, aren't I? With the mask on."

"Yes," she nodded. "You look -- bigger, somehow. Stronger. Fierce, implacable. You look a little scary."

"Exactly. You no longer see me as a person, but as a thing -- an Avenger. It can be a potent psychological weapon."

"They were so disappointed, when they took your mask off. As though underneath they'd find a famous person."

"Maybe that goes on TV -- handsome playboys, and all that. But I've been anonymous all my life. Even my real name would be meaningless to you, to them. No, the mask is part of the uniform, a psychological device. That's the whole story.

Now: let's get out of here. You have a good deal more to tell me yet, and we can't waste more time."

Bwahaha. In a few years, Steve's going to be pretty surprised about who superheroes are, I think.

STEVE, now: Superheroes definitely aren't secretly handsome playboys! That would be silly! STEVE, after Molecule Man: fuck fuck fuck FUCK FUCK I'm such an idiot

I'm definitely looking forward to that.

Also, not that the issue of Steve's psyche actually recurs after this, but he's once again having the narrative vindicate his belief that Steve Rogers is dead and whoever he is under the cowl doesn't matter. Steve, I don't think this is very healthy.

Steve then tracks down the villains stealing the gold, has some geopolitical thoughts about where the gold could be going (he thinks either South Africa or Russia for the best laundering potential) and then hides himself in the villains' trunk while they drive to Staten Island, which is where they're taking the gold out of the country from.

During the final confrontation, Steve finally gets to see the villains, and he discovers that the one in charge is in fact the director of the Federal Reserve Bank who Steve met at the beginning of this book. Gasp. But that's not all! He's also... the Red Skull!

Honestly, I was kind of surprised; I didn't think this was the kind of book where we'd get any known comic villains, but I guess it's always gotta be the Red Skull. I think he's the only one of Steve's big villains who likes to disguise himself; Zemo has obvious disguise issues and I imagine it's also hard to cover up Zola's Teletubby-esque television body.

Steve shoots one of the villains, because I guess that's what he does in this era of canon.

So the plot wraps up in, like, two pages, because for some reason all these early Marvel novels wrap up very fast. Red Skull, of course, attempts to escape and then disappears and his body is never found. The end.

Well.

That was definitely a book. That I read. Believe it or not, I actually think it was the best of these early Marvel prose novels that I've read so far, even if it was also the absolute weirdest; I thought the thriller-style plot was entertaining, I liked Steve and his Extremely Sad characterization, I obviously enjoy all the identity themes, I liked how very detailed the New York setting was, and I do like how they tried to treat it all seriously. I mean, sure, this did lead to LSD in the super-soldier serum in presumably the name of realism, but I felt like the book was trying to present superheroes in a way that didn't feel silly and also didn't really take for granted that the reader would automatically accept superheroes.

It felt like a book that was written hoping that people who weren't superhero fans would read it, if that makes any sense. And I thought that was interesting, because most modern superhero work that I can think of assumes they've got complete audience buy-in and everyone is willing to suspend their disbelief and we all know the genre conventions and are expecting people running around in brightly-colored spandex. Whereas this is more like a James Bond novel if for some reason James Bond were called upon to defend his decision to wear brightly-colored spandex instead of bespoke suits. But I assume no one read it, because Bantam never published a Marvel book after this one.

If you can actually find a copy of this one for a price you're willing to pay. I recommend it. It was delightful and way more solid than I thought it was going to be.

Also, come on, you know you want to read about Captain America's acid trip.

#posts i actually wrote

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imfeelingprettylow · 5 years

Text

So what if, instead of Adam telling Satan off, God shows up? Humor me for a second I probably am going to suck at this

The ground shook and Adam stood facing this massive beast, who was supposed to be his father. But he wasn't because

"Dads don't just show up after 11 years." As he had said. And it was looking like this very scary thing was going to pass. But Satan wasn't budging.

"So my son abandons me. And all that stand between me and the world is a couple of children, a former hellhound, a witch, two witchfinders, a whore, and two rebellious lovers. Seems God has chosen her champions. A pity. " as he was speaking he transformed, his massive self becoming smaller as he turned from horrifying into a vague humanoid shape. A pair of massive wings, much bigger than any angels, sprouted from human shoulders, and with a blink of the eye, a tall man stood before the lot. He was hard to focus on; immensely beautiful and terrifying to behold, with red eyes. Horrifying blood red eyes.

"So. I'm here. Standing before my son asking him to help me end this war once and for all. But where is your god? She sends you lot, with the hopes of what? You cannot save the world. She has abandoned you as she abandoned me." Satan's voice is heavenly and horrifying, a mixture of growling and celestial harmonies that has the hairs on Crowleys neck stand up. There is a flash of light and suddenly Gabriel is standing behind the group. Why God chose him to speak for her he will never know. He is absolutely terrified, as he walks forward to stand beside Adam

"The lord has spoken to me." Gabriel says, visibly shaking. There is a beat is silence. Satan raises one delicate eyebrow

"And?" He asks. Gabriel swallows the pump in his throat.

"She says to go back to the hole from whence you came." Even crowley, in his fit of terror had to smirk at that. Satan chuckles, his smile agonizing to behold

"And why does she not come to tell me herself? Ah, I know" Satan raises his face to the sky, eyes burning, massive wings opening "Because she isn't THERE "

In the next second two things happen. One, beezlebub appears beside their lord to inform him that hell is as it should be. Beezlebub fortunately appears beside Gabriel because they are afraid to approach their master from behind.

The second thing that happens is, God appears. One would expect a flash of light. And of course there is. But this light is so bright that aziraphale, in absolute terror, must unfurl his wings and moving with the speed of the angel he is, must gather Crowley and Adam to him, to protect them from God's wrath. Because God is pissed.

She appears, not as a human, but as a singular ball of floating light, smaller than a human head, burning with the rage of 6000 years. Aziraphales wings protect his demon and the boy from the full force of her might, and he manages to turn to face her. Beside him, Gabriel has done a miraculous and traitorous thing. In a pure act of kindness, without thinking, he has stepped in front of the Lord beezlebub to protect them from God's wrath. Beezlebub blinks at the feathery wall before them, surprised but unafraid. Aziraphale glances behind to see a singed, but very much alive crowley, covering Adam with his body, yellow eyes shut in terror. God hovers before satan, burning with rage and malice. All of this has happened within the span of two seconds.

"Hello Lucifer " God's voice is, well ineffable. Cannot be described. Crowley and beezlebub both cower in fear, hands over their ears in pain. Satan smirks, pleased with himself

"Hello mother." God's light hurts even the angels eyes. She glows brighter, annoyed

"You must go back into the hole, lucy." The old nickname makes Satan pause and suddenly both Gabriel and aziraphale notice pain; Satan's rage is as strong as God's and their wings become slightly singed. Crowleys head pops up as he recognizes that smell.

"All I ever wanted, mother, was to be loved." Crowley is looking back and forth between Satan and his angels wings. Beezlebub is now standing. Both demons know what they must do

"But you lOVED THEM MORE" the roar is accompanied by hellfire and Crowley launches himself in front of aziraphale, midnight wings open. Beezlebub has become a hoard of flies, and swirls around Gabriel protectivley. Both demons take the full force of the hellfire, as God simply casts it aside. Satan's great roar causes Gabriel to cry out in pain. And God pauses. She does not react to her son's temper tanrtrum. She dims. Crowley had begun to smoke in her presence, beezlebub literally dropping like flies. And God notices this, and pauses.

"My son. I wish not to fight. Neither of us can win this battle. So instead of arguing needlessly I am simply going to make you notice something." She turns to face the lot. Crowley is the one front and center. His love for aziraphale is all consuming as he stares at the Lord. He is not afraid, despite the pain he is in.

"Yes I've seen your champions mother. They are unimpressive." Satan's words cut deep and Gabriel cries out again. Aziraphale is trying to stand, but Adam pulls him down to keep him safe.

"My champions? Odd. I didn't choose any of them" God says. Satan scowls

"You choose evrything. You have had this plan since the beginning of time." He argues

"Well yes, I had hoped things would go this way. But I play with cards Lucy. Sometimes my design is less perfect and more..."

"Innefable." Crowley says, his face full of pain. God dims a bit, and moves closer.

"I think I've been quietly watching things from the sidelines too long. Of course I will continue to do so, for the humans sake. But for my angelic and demonic children, I think I let things go too far... You all are so ready to destroy what I so love." God seemed uoset, which is to say that her light went a little blue. Satan fumed

"Ah yes, the bloody humans. Those frail creatures you love more than your own children" Satan spat.

"Of course. I may have underestimated my children however." God said. "It seems to me that angels and demons are not so... binary in good and evil. It seems that given enough time and energy, they can be almost....human" God smiled at Crowley and he flinched. Aziraphale looked up and over one midnight wing at his lord, and slowly came around, despite Crowley and Adams concern.

"Oh, you mean these traitorous fools? I will not suffer them to live." In an instant there were flames engulfing them all.

Aziraphale thought he was dead. He hurt all over. His eyes were shut and he felt...peace. love. So much love. He opened his eyes to see a sky full of midnight wings.

Crowley wailed and grew to a height unimaginable, casting himself fully into the smiting flames of his master. And this act alone is what made him survive. Pure love. The flames hit him, with all the fury of hell, and he absorbed them, snarling, yellow eyes wide

"You will NOT take him from me!"

The flames engulfed him, and then they were beaten back by his wings, right into Satan himself.

Satan stumbled back, shaken but otherwise unharmed. The flames died down and Crowley lowered his wings, the air around him shimmering with heat.

"You will NOT take him from me." Crowley said again.

*authors note* if I screwed anything up please be kind but informative I didn't proof read this at all lol

UPDATE EVERYONE

Satan stood there dumbfounded for a singular second before his angelic face began to contort in rage. before satan could unleash his full fury on Crowley, however, God stepped between them.

“enough lucifer.” she said, and this time, crowley did not cringe. Aziraphale and Adam peeked out from behind him, and Beelzebub was themself again, standing beside gabriel. God cancelled out the pain around her, and faced off with her rebellious son

“you are not seeing what you are meant to see. nor are you trying to understand. you are ignoring the reason this all had to happen. you are disappointing me lucy. again.” God was not angry, but she had begun to turn a rather peculiar shade of purple, that Gabriel recognized as disappointment and sorrow. And Satan recognized it too. He looked at crowley behind God, looked at Beelzebub beside Gabriel, looked at his own rebellious son, at the human children around them, and then finally his bloody gaze was upon his Mother. Satan glared, but behind his false anger was a sorrow and pain indescribable.

“I just want to be loved.” he snarled. Crowley, in all his anger, could at least understand that. Aziraphale, behind him, felt that too and reached fro Crowleys hand, their fingers intertwining. God dimmed.

“you are, my dear boy. I love all my creations, even those that rebel against me. I have always loved you. Even this boy you spawned to destroy my humans, I love him as well. My love does not dwindle, nor does it become overruled by rage.” Adam, in surprise, looked at god and then at Satan. and then he walked right out and stood beside god , her light not harming him in the least.

“you shouldnt hate her so much.” adam said. satan regarded his son with suspicion.

“your powers are great my boy, but not even you could change the reality of his heart.” Aziraphale said. “his hatred has darkened the love that used to be there.” God dimmed again, becoming more blue than purple

“I think youre wrong.” adam said “I think you havent given him a chance. I think, he let himself get upset and he wasnt thinking straight, and he hurt his friends and now, he doesnt know how to fix it.” adam was speaking from personal experience, and his friends smiled

satan frowned at the boy

“so what do you propose we do? we are mortal enemies.” he said, frustration showing. Adam turned to look at crowley and aziraphale, standing hand in hand

“so were they. all it took for them was...well im not sure. i only just met them. but im sure if you ask them they can tell you.” all eyes turned on the pair, and defiantly they refused to let go of each other, though aziraphale was looking rather scarlet, from the singing hellfire or pure embarrassment, he would never tell. Crowley, tire iron still in hand, looked at his angel and pondered for a moment

“it took a second for me to love aziraphale. on the wall. when he showed his loyalty for humanity and disregard for the rules. it took 6000 years for me to admit that, just now.” Aziraphale looked at his demon in shock and then swallowed nervously

“well I...I guess it was the books. I mean, I suppose I’d always been...fond of Crowley, I loved his company. I can always indulge and be...me. and then he saved my books for me and I guess I’ve been denying my love for him until...well a few minutes ago. But yes. We were mortal enemies, perhaps for a moment on the wall. But we have always been friends...and then some.” Crowley squeezed Aziraphales hand and smirked. Adam turned back to his satanic father

“I bet you could learn to do that.” the boy said. Satan, however stood unconvinced

“what? take a ball of light, the Almighty out to fish and chips? with humans? “ he scoffed. Gods light was now a pure amber color, a color of love and humor

“I can take many forms, Lucy.” Was all she said.

“Wait Wait Wait!” Gabriel said, striding forward, Beelzebub following quickly behind “disregarding all of that, I want to know how this is all supposed to play out. we are supposed to have a war! is that not happening?” God turned to her archangel, who promptly took a step back and swallowed in fear

“there will be no war, my child. I will speak to the angels myself.”

“but you havent done that in...”

“too long, Gabriel. I have been absent for too long. Things are going to change in heaven. as for hell...” God turned to her satanic son, and his angelic face was full of conflict “I am always here for you, my dearest boy. Whenever you need me, ask. I have lots of work to do” God turned then to Crowley, Aziraphale and Adam

“you have all done so well, my children. I am so very proud.” and with that, she vanished, like fog vanishes on a windy day, and they were left there with satan, who was looking rather befuddled.

“So the war is off, if my son still refuses to destroy humanity.” he looked down at adam, who looked almost bored

“I quite like humanity, thanks. feel free to stop by the wood sometime, if you ever want to play with Dog.” Satan stood straighter, and looked at Crowley

“and you? where do your allegiances lie now? with the angels?”

“my allegiances have always been with Aziraphale.” the demon said very plainly. Aziraphale squeezed his hand tighter

“fine. Lord Beelzebub?”

“I...” they looked at Gabriel “I am not sure, master. I think we have more troubling things at hand. the troops need some...alignment.”

“well, let us go then. I see no more reason to stay. good riddance and all that.” Satan vanished by melting into the ground. Beelzebub spared Gabriel a glance before doing the same

Gabriel let out the air he had been holding and glared at Aziraphale

“I have to go. You and I are going to talk more about this after I...figure out what side im on.” his face fell in confusion before he dissipated as well.

and so then there were three children, the former antichrist, two witchfinders, a witch, a whore, a former hellhound, and two ethereal beings.

“so...now what?” Madam Tracy said “Ive seen god today. I dont think I can just go back to my flat.”

“Well I for one have had enough occult presence today, thanks. Can we go home now ?” Pepper said. Adam smiled

“yeah I think im gonna go home. my dads here.” and sure enough, Adams human father was getting out of his car. Crowley, in a moment of exhaustion, wavered a bit, and Aziraphale caught him

“are you alright my dear?” he asked in concern. Crowley smiled, eyes shut in pure bliss

“yes, angel, I am perfectly...tickety boo.”

*authors note* thanks for all the support!

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable bureaucracy #crowley #aziraphale

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tanoraqui · 3 years

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ok my last review of my own SPN fic from the early 2010s gets its own post bc the other two were getting long and honestly this was more Good Omens fic than anything. Literally I lost steam on it when faced with the prospect of writing Supernatural characters other than Crowley (the fic, of course, being centered around the idea that What if That Was Proper, GO Crowley, and if so, How).

Once More Unto the Breach proposes that, shortly after the events of Good Omens, Aziraphale was yanked back to Heaven and tortured for a while until he, ah, saw the light again (with input of later seasons, I suppose I’d include Naomi in this somewhere), and Crowley was yanked back to Hell where he was tortured...and just kinda. Tortured. A lot. And had his grace stripped out, this one of the last of the angels who’d followed Lucifer in his fall (and idea SPN never got into but hella could’ve tbh; it fucks). And then, now that he was basically a normal mortal, for some reason they dropped him back in the timestream in like 1500s? Scotland with no memory, planning to let him lead a normal human life and then SURPRISE you’re back in Hell! Bitch! Suffer!

Except instead of leading a normal human life, he (per canon spn) sold his soul to a crossroads demon for a bigger dick, and then, uhhhh, paperwork got lost and he just kinda ended up in the shuffle as a normal demon working his way up through the ranks, eventually becoming the SPN!Crowley we know? Aziraphale, meanwhile, has been sent out again to participate in the newly destined Apocalypse, Michael vs. Lucifer - ineffable!

And then, ofc, they meet a time or two...mostly very awkward and Aziraphale is like, “he’s superficially familiar but no, it’s obviously not My Crowley - who was evil and lied to me, ofc”, and Crowley is like, “what a weirdo.”

The Apocalypse fails to happen again. Aziraphale attempts to quietly duck out of Heavenly duties and resume his bookstore in London. Ch.2 of this fic - which I wrote! - is a pretty solid fic all on its own, of alternatingly Castiel’s and Raphael’s side showing up and trying to persuade him to join their team, and Aziraphale trying very hard to politely send them away before eventually snapping and joining Castiel. In the middle of a fight in a random heaven that happens to be an early 19th century British Navy ship in the height of a storm, because fanfiction is for SELF-INDULGENCE and nothing else.

Actually, u know what, just

“Is that so,” Ezekiel asked softly, playing with his blades. He had three now, his own and Castiel’s. “And how, exactly, are you going to stop me?

Aziraphale made up his mind. “He’s not,” said the bookseller, stepping between them and spreading his wings like a shield in front of the wounded rebel. “I will.”

“What are you doing?” hissed Castiel. “You do not need to die!”

Ezekiel laughed. “You?” He stepped back mockingly, and spread his arms in challenge. “Little brother, you are even lower class than the pathetic excuse for an angel cowering behind you. Who are you to challenge I, Ezekiel, Weapons Master of the Heavenly Host?”

Aziraphale stood up straight, spreading his wings wider. Lightning flashed for the first time in the tempestuous sky above, illuminating their feathery expanse.

“I am Aziraphale,” he stated, “Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden.” The scabbard appeared at his side like it always did, like it hadn’t done for over 6000 years. He reached down and drew the sword, hilt conforming perfectly to his grip. The blade caught fire instantly, and any raindrop that came near evaporated to steam before it touched the flame. “And I wield the Sword of War.”

Ezekiel’s step backwards was genuine this time, as was the fear in his voice.

“The Sword is a Weapon of Heaven, and belongs to Raphael!” he managed.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t,” Aziraphale said gently. It was an elegant sword, long and thin and rapier-like, and very clearly meant to kill. “This is the blade given to my hand by Michael, Commander of the Heavenly Host, when we all trained together as brothers. Before all the senseless bureaucracy took hold. From me, it passed to the human Eve, and there it became a Symbol to the humans, of War. It’s their Weapon, really, so I will use it on their behalf. If Raphael considers that ‘rebellion’, then so be it.”

ANYWAY. So, Aziraphale joins Cas’s rebellion and mostly starts sorting records in the very neglected Library of Heaven that contains a book recounting the life of every single person ever, bc that’s my idea of heaven and I’m right. But also he needs to rescue the nice young rebel angel whose capture kinda prompted him into this decision in the first place, and that means breaking into the really serious heavenly prison area...so he goes to the new King of Hell and bargains to borrow one of the lost Treasures of Heaven (remember those, from s6?) that Crowley has ended up with. They agree: Aziraphale can have the Crown of Pollution thing for 24 Earth hours, and in return, at a time of his choosing, Crowley will get a treasure of Heaven to which Aziraphale has access for 24 hours.

Upon getting the Crown back, Crowley informs him that the treasure he’d like is...Aziraphale, actually. The Sword of War, if he wants to be fussy, and Aziraphale is welcome to come along with it! After all, surely a warrior of Heaven is as valuable as an artifact. “You want me to...smite your political enemies?” Aziraphale says slowly. “Sure,” says Crowley. “Also, come to tea for 10 minutes once a week or so and tell me hte latest news from your little war. I never said the 24 hours had to be consecutive.”

Obviously Aziraphale is Pissed AF, but he’s also stuck, and afraid to tell anyone that he’s been Dealing with a demon. So he goes once a week to tea, and gives absolutely monosyllabic answers full of ice...

Crowley fills some of the silence by starting t just bitch about work...and offers booze every time...once, after a hard battle, Aziraphale accepts...he offers bitchy comments about the demons Crowley complains about...don’t do this, Aziraphale tells himself firmly; it’s not YOUR demon, and anyway that was still probably a lie, and even if it wasn’t (it definitely wasn’t) you can’t find him; he’s probably dead...and this one’s MUCH trickier... There’s an assassination attempt on Crowley in which Aziraphale throws his sword across the room to him and it catches fire just as it does for Aziraphale, just as it doesn’t do for anyone else...

And that’s kinda where I stopped writing, bc I kept just...not wanting to write scenes with actual SPN characters, even though I really did need to involve Castiel, if I wanted him and Aziraphale to have a, “wait, you’re working with Crowley?” “Wait, YOU’RE working with Crowley?!”

I don’t really know how the rest of all that was supposed to go, with Purgatory and the Leviathans and everything. Cas WAS definitely having Aziraphale do research, while he alphabetized the Library, into Purgatory, and that’s a whole additional level of “wow I thought you were legit but Apparently I’m Disappointed Again.” Aziraphale is angry at both Crowley and Cas, but *checks outline* when Cas absorbs all the souls and goes nuts, Crowley runs, worried, to tell Aziraphale. Aziraphale tries to confront/calm Cas, and gets the dubious honor of being the first person “spared” by the new god.

Somewhere in here, logically, Aziraphale must tell SPN!Crowley about GO!Crowley, and Crowley’s like, “weird. I mean, I guess I’ve had dreams now and then of flying or being a snake or burning-but-in-a-good-way, but doesn’t everyone?” (I didn’t write this down anywhere but, like...it must happen.)

Somehow (Library of Heaven? Someone finally found the lost paperwork in Hell?) Aziraphale and Crowley find out that GO!Crowley’s (OG Crowley’s!) lost Grace is in, where else, Hyde Park, turned into, what else, an apple tree. If he is proper Crowley, it should woosh back into him when he touches the tree...

Aziraphale watched it breathless anticipation (not that he usually breathed anyway) as Crowley rested his hand on the bark of the tree.

Nothing happened.

“Well, that was a bit of a disappointment,” said Crowley. He reached up and carelessly grabbed an apple, brought it down and bit into it.

Everything exploded in the bright light of Grace.

In the planning document, I’ve written that Crowley goes back to Hell to try to wrangle it and Aziraphale ditto Heaven, which I guess...is reasonable. Good Omens ends with them both happily fucking off to stay on Earth and that’s the happy ending, but here, early SPN s7 with Cas having just fucked off into a lake and exploded with Leviathans, both Heaven and Hell could really use a sensible guiding hand, and unlike every other time (ie, all the time) that’s true, there’s a genuine opportunity for someone to step in and have influence. So...

Verdict: 11/10 this fic still SLAPS; thank you for coming on this exciting journey of nostalgia with me.

#supernatural #spn #my fic #good omens #p.s. SHOUTOUT to the PAGES document format that these are all in bc i wrote them on my high school desktop computer #goddamn that was a While ago

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spnsmile · 4 years

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Sam wasn’t the only one grieving.

A certain angel who was miles away heard Dean’s accident and the first thing he did upon his return was not go straight to the Bunker to mourn with Sam, no. He immediately went hunting the escaped demon to put an end to its sorry life.

It was easy to hunt it down. It’s the only one proud and stupid enough to declare to his kind he was the one who managed to kill Dean Winchester.

Everyone knew his glory was short-lived. Everyone knew that Dean Winchester’s name belongs to a certain angel. That certain angel who suddenly appeared in that small gathering with blazing blue eyes filled with chilling anger, smiting the hell out of the demon and his demon audience. The angel laid waste to the small gathering, but he wasn’t done.

Castiel firmly believed he can get Dean back, he promised Sam just that in their phone conversation the moment he heard the news so after the errand with the demon, there he went marching to heaven, demanding to have Dean Winchester and no, he’s not going to take a no for an answer.

Naomi herself appeared to tell him personally his goal is futile.

“He’s not here.”

Castiel bristles, angel blade sliding from his right sleeve, but Naomi is unaffected.

“Really, Castiel? After years of letting the Winchesters cheat death, here comes a fair ending, a proof of the cycle that all living must come to their final end, and you the angel of heaven ha the gal to oppose it? Until when do you plan to play the Winchesters’ god?”

“You and I both know taking and returning the Winchesters’ lives is more of Heaven's convenience than generosity. I am here to play that part, give me Dean and we'll be on our way.”

“You are hopeless, Castiel.” Naomi says cuttingly, “To think you would go against fate itself just for your beloved humans. You are blinded—”

“It’s because I love them!” Castiel’s voice rises, irate blue eyes flashing dangerously as he points the blade to her face. “I’ll ask only once. Where is Dean?”

Naomi’s face loses it's cool, replaced by a truly livid expression.

“With the Judge of Souls. You don’t really think we will let him enter heaven without a sound Judgement after everything he’s done… the first seal, Lucifer… tainting you…”

Keep reading

#slice of life #supernatural #destiel fic #destiel fics #destiel ficlet #ao3 #death #happy ending #soulmates #sweet #destiel is sweet

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mimir-anoshe · 4 years

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💧&🔥

Just a bit of Cursed/Nimulot analysis… Cause I’m bored. And I might have found some interesting parallels/imagery watching it through for the 7 billionth time that I would love to share. If anyone enjoys writing meta… Which I mean I know some of y’all need your fix… Feel free to use anything/expand upon it. I would, but I’m a new fur-mumma and she’s taking up all my waking hours, so this little shit-post about this new hell hole of a ship I’ve dove headfirst into will have to do. The images are from a video and show produced by Netflix, I own nothing, so pls don’t be a bitch about it Tumblr.

***SPOILERS FOR THE SHOW!!! WATCH IT AND COME BACK!! OR DON’T? ANYHOO YOU’VE BEEN WARNED!!*** ⚠️

- beware Tumblr app users, it may be your doom -

Where to begin, with the teaser? Or with…

THE SHOW! Here be just a wee few times the writers/director(s) through the writing/cinematography have mirrored these two ‘protect the kid - warriors till the end’ idiots. I’m sure others have picked up on them… Not in any particular order, here ya go anyway.

1x02 - 1x10

*Insert spiderman pointing at spiderman meme*

One scar made by an actual dark god tricking her when she was a child, the others by a very human evil tricking him when he was a child and the consequences for both lasting into adulthood.

1x02 - 1x10

Look at the years of trauma Anakin, look at it! They even use the same damn word! The phonetic tones of disgust! The outcast syndrome! Oof. (And it’s not like Nimue being called demon has to do with a general racial-slur from a human, that is a fey calling her that from her own village!) They both grew up viewing themselves as “demons”, the “abominations”. Even their expressions are the same, fear and sorrow and self-hatred. All they both want is to be accepted! (By their fathers especially). To be loved.

The two who are “cursed.”

1x02 - 1x01

*says nothing*

1x04 - 1x01

“Where to begin? With water or with fire?”

Where to begin? WHERE TO BEGIN??? *dies*

Water ☯ Fire

Sword up ☯ Sword down

Light/Day ☯ Dark/Shadow

Life & Death (Life around her, death in the water) ☯ Death & Life (forest fires make way for new growth)

Long bit: Both characters are associated to the elements of water and fire individually through the environment/cinematography/colour pallet/colour symbolism, and then water and fire is mirrored between them. She is overall water, he is overall fire; but they also have a bit of the other in each other.

For Nimue this symbolism is often done through her environment, showing her connection to nature as the fey queen and that she does not hide who she is if she can help it. She does not hide externally, so her elemental symbolism becomes EXTERNAL.

Whilst for Lancelot though he is often surrounded by fire, the idea of water/tears is either symbolised through the fairy tale style of the artwork or referenced for him through his name as “the weeping monk.” Hinted at in his characterisation of guilt and self-loathing, the way other characters respond to him (”the one who cries”/”you see it all through those weeping eyes”). His main conflict is an Internal fight between who he is and who he needs to become, so a lot of his main symbolism surrounding water (and even fire as pertaining to magic - ashfolk - and not killing fey) is INTERNALISED, hidden, cut off from the Hidden themselves. Symbolic of him hiding his connection to the fey and that other side of himself, the “human” (morally speaking) side, and therefore hiding who he truly is… Lancelot.

For Nimue, fire means life. Being chosen and her magic saving people. For Lancelot fire means Death, his deeds, “the fires of hell” and the destruction of the “ash” folk and his heritage. He believes hell fire is his fate, going by the “even if I am damned.”

For Nimue, water means death. In the water she takes revenge, where that Paladin almost drowned her. Into the water she falls, where they think her shot dead by arrows. The water is her fate as the Lady of the Lake. For Lancelot, water means life. Tears, emotions, taking responsibility, feeling the weight of his guilt and mourning for the things he has done/lost. For him, water - not ash -means a second chance to be better. To put out the fires and heal.

Though in the end, for both of them, water & fire most of all represent death and rebirth.

1x03

^If you don’t understand I can’t help you. ☯

1x01 - 1x07

Now this one I found quite interesting. Remember that even if Nimue directed the second one, it is still the Power/will of the Hidden at play. (Or should I say the will of the Writers/director) Chosen? Mirrors? Night and Day? Fire… Embers to Ashes? We shall see, but I think it was definitely on purpose.

^I’ll just leave that here, the fuckers kept missing each other for an entire season (WHICH WAS ON PURPOSE THE WRITERS DID THAT ON PURPOSE just as an fyi). The fact that there is this much sexual tension, anticipation, mirroring, fate, destiny and chemistry between two characters who have never even mET should be ILLEGAL! They affect each other immeasurably without ever even meeting, so imagine what will happen when they do...? *pterodactyl screech*

Whelp there ye go. Under the next gif I also did a bit on the Teaser trailer, as that just fucked me up a bit I have to tell you! Up to you whether you want to continue digesting my mad ramblings or not. *Shrug* Thanks for coming to my TED talk guys– 😂 Somebody fucking smite me down like the eldritch horror of writing I am dear god think of the children…

THE OFFICIAL TEASER TRAILER:

Arthur running for the Sword of Power, because you know, King Arthur.

“The Legend says…” The Legend of King Arthur and his Sword Excalibur/Caliburnus? The line is very meta, a reference to the in world legend that this story will create, but it’s also expecting the audience to be savvy of the actual legend of King Arthur and his knights. Both these ideas intertwined into one. Aka, the trailer expects us to have pre-decided expectations for the story we’re now being told, because we’ve already been told it before; this fairy tale of celtic myth/history. All the “spoilers” about Arthur, his lineage, Morgana, Guinevere, the Knights, even the lady of the Lake herself come with that knowledge. However…

Surprise surprise, the Weeping Monk (killer of fae)/ Lancelot (eventually Arthur’s most trusted KNIGHT) instead picks up the fae sword from it being embedded in the ground, subverting our expectation, it definitely fucking subverted mine, but not in a GOT way, in a ~good~ way. I was like, “Whosoever be this fine hooded fellow hath stole away both sword and my good sense!!! 👀”

Also harkening back to the legend of the sword in the stone (another expectation), which the action itself signifies that person be - as Merlin so eloquently puts - “The one true king.”

Ok… Symbolic wink wink nudge nudge towards his true nature (inside and out), saving Percival, potentially becoming the greatest warrior and protector of his people and eventually a Knight of the Round Table; and perhaps King of our Hearts??? Ok, sure thing “concept” trailer. I’ll bite.

Ok… *deep breath*

WHOMSt the fUCK decided to frame (fae “ashman”) ?Lancelot? with the ~SWORD OF KINGS~ (also of fae origin) A N D the line…‘the one true king’ ALL IN ONE… instead of Arthur?

‘BELONGS to the one true King?’ Belongs, hmm interesting word choice… This done in a worms eye view shot meant to make the viewer feel like the character is above/superior/basically we’re kneeling before them? (Which I mean sure? but…) Hmm??? HMMM??? I don’t understand CONCEPT Trailer what is the CONCEPT you’re trying to get across? One hand on his paladin sword and the other on “fae hope” Excalibur I get, he has to make an important decision, one that will either save his humanity (and his people) or destroy it (them), yeah yeah sure that’s F I N E…

…but what about the “KING” SHIT HMMM?? Is there something you would like to share with the rest of the class? *sips tea whilst staring straight into the camera*

it may mean nothing don’t quote me

…Anwaaaay… We all know in a fight Lancelot can kick Arthur’s ass so that’s not whats going on here. Arthur is P I S S E D. They’re not just bog standard enemies here. I mean WPM kicking him in the ribs was pretty “fuck you” and they were just enemies there. In this instance the sword is in play, Weeping Monk has taken something from Arthur that he feels “BELONGS” to him - in this case symbolised by WPM taking “his” sword - and that’s making it personal.

“You stole my sword ya bitch!” And what is the sword linked to? Power? Sure. The right of being a King? Yep. And also a certain Queen… No no no, this is the Concept of rivalry. It shows that whatever relationship Arthur and his “Knight” will have in the future after all the “die die die” starts to sizzle down will - in its genesis - be a rivalry. Probably mirroring Gawain and Arthur when they first met to an extent. A rivalry for power? For something else? Who Knows!

*whistles innocently*

And down down down he goes. He’s FALLING. There are many metaphorical concepts associated to FALLING… Falling from “grace” (in the eyes of the Church)… Falling because he has a sky full of guilt crashing down upon him… falling for h… falling in Lo… into the Water!!!! Until he is completely submerged. Water, the idea of cleansing, of washing away who you once were/trauma/sins of the past so you may be reborn a better version of yourself. His old ideals are defeated, he submits to his true heritage and allows it to wash around him so he may begin to heal.

Though if we’re talking metaphors, water is - for obvious reasons - always associated with the LADY OF THE LAKE… Nimue. He has fallen into her world. (pss he’s gonna fall for the Chick in the Lake - I think - there ye go). Water is associated to memory/reflections and mirrors. And he is CRASHING through this mirror… This idea of reflections/mirror images is even more ironic when you’ve watched the show.

And as he falls beneath the water with the sword of a King, she rises out of it, with the sword of a Queen… Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s in the biggest shipping hell of them all? Either these two are going to be really good at relay, or there’s some conceptual significance here. The specifics? No fecking clue, will need to wait for a season 2! There is also some interesting use of Z~oo~m in this last bit, but I’m sure it’s pretty obvious to you all. Summary: just visually in a concept “teaser” trailer, the zoom in on them both, the reverse mirroring, the literal and symbolic visual of water and the Sword (of rulers) connecting them frames these two characters together, that’s just in the concept trailer. Links their legend together. TBH IT LITERALLY LOOKS LIKE LANCELOT FELL INTO THE WATER AND TURNED INTO NIMUE WHAT IS THIS GREEK SOULMATE SHIT I’M–

*calms down* This trailer and the show also definitely said to the original Arthurian Legend “RIP but I’m different.” I mean, Nimue is definitely not Lancelot’s mother figure in this one, that’s all I’m saying.

I think this legend might be a wee bit different 😉*cackles*

#nimulot #nimulot meta #nimue x the weeping monk #nimue x weeping monk #cursed spoilers #nimue x lancelot #my meta #mad mimir meanderingly mumbles #Tumblr is my only escape for this - I wouldn't go near twitter with a thousand foot pole if my life depended on it #where to begin? I don't think I'll ever get over that line - I die every time #my pupper was literally like 'mum what the fuck are you doing writing this shit give me LOVES'#also Nimue owns my heart if Lancelot doesn't marry her I'm going to thanks BYE #my shitty humour~~

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doctortreklock · 4 years

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AU-gust 22 - Futuristic AU

For this. On AO3.

Captain’s Log - Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.42

We got in a bit of a scrape with some unfriendly locals on the planet and found ourselves unable to evacuate due to an ion storm. Which apparently Cmdr. Walker was unable to detect in advance, despite the size of the storm. This marks the fourth time in three months that Cmdr. Walker has failed to note a relevant scientific fact, despite his role as Chief Science Officer.

During our time on the planet, Dr. Winchester was able to...

Captain’s Log - Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.135

Following recommendations from myself, Dr. Winchester, and First Officer Harvelle, Chief Science Officer Walker has chosen to resign his post and retire, effective as soon as a reasonable replacement can be located. He will be leaving Starfleet with full honors.

Personal Log - Capt. Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.167

It has been two days, four hours since we picked up our new Science Officer, and I hate him already. Sammy said not to judge him so quickly, since we’re going to be stuck with him for the remainder of our five year mission, if not longer, but he said it with that pinched look that means he really does hate him as much as I do.

I’ve never worked with an Angel before. I knew they were aloof and cold, but the sheer lack of empathy. God. He’s an unfeeling bastard and it makes me wish I could punch him in the face and keep my command. Even if it would hurt me more than it hurt him.

...Okay, I just listened to that again, and I think I need to push for one of those mandatory ship-wide tolerance seminars again.

Captain’s Log - Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.181

...four members of the landing party affected by an unknown poison, including myself. Though I was unconscious for most of the remainder of the mission, I was later filled in by Dr. Winchester and Cmdr. Harvelle.

Though the away party remained under threat from the native Tulian people, Dr. Winchester and Chief Science Officer Castiel were able to fabricate an antidote to the poison using the readings they acquired from their tricorders and the limited supplies they both keep on hand, as the transporter remained inoperative during this time. I have since been assured by Cmdr. Novak that the transporter malfunction was an anomaly that will not be repeated.

I am recommending commendations for Cmdr. Castiel and Lt. Cmdr. Winchester for exemplary service under pressure.

Personal Log - Capt. Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.205

...how much is actual incomprehension and how much is willful misinterpretation. I swear, we had just talked about the structure of Human jokes and I know he knows more about prime numbers than I do. I think at this point he just gets a kick out of it. I mean, every time he pulls off one of his straight-faced Humans-are-so-strange routines, his eyes just freaking glimmer and he smiles a bit, just on one side.

Everyone on this ship must be blind if they can’t see how much he enjoys messing with us.

Captain’s Log - Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.272

Our newest mission from Starfleet has required us to stop off at Houston IX to pick up an ambassador, whom we will then shuttle to Carthage.

We did not experience any difficulties picking up the ambassador. Once he was on board, however, it became clear that we had a problem.

Ambassador Crowley is a Demon, from the planet Demos in the Etheril system. Cmdr. Castiel is an Angel, from the planet Angelii in the Etheril system.

These two planets have been at war with each other for-fucking-ever, and I can’t believe Starfleet just royally screwed this one up, SO badly--

...Computer, delete--

Personal Log - Capt. Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.272

...that douchebag Crowley has the gall to stand all smug in the transporter room and say that he’s terribly sorry for the confusion and he deeply hopes that the inconvenience won’t be an issue. The dick.

Castiel, on the other hand, was what I’m pretty sure passes as spitting mad on Angelii. I’m not sure how I ever believed he didn’t have any emotions because oh boy were they written all over his face. I’m frankly very surprised he didn’t smite Crowley where he stands for the audacity to come aboard his starship.

This officially puts paid to any belief I had in those rumors about Angels being able to melt eyeballs or kill people with a touch, because if he had those powers, I’m pretty sure Castiel would have used them, rank or no.

Then, as soon as I became aware of this little snafu, I had to go ring up the Admiralty and try to figure out what the fuck was going on. Because the blood feud between the Demons and the Angels was basic knowledge and the first bullet point in the personnel files for everyone from either planet.

There aren’t that many Angels in Starfleet, and even fewer Demons, so I’m not buying Zachariah’s butter-wouldn’t-melt routine. The Free Will is the only ship in the quadrant with any crew member from the Etheril system, so there’s no way we were picked at random to ferry Crowley around.

Someone’s got it out for Castiel, and I won’t stand for...

Captain’s Log - Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.312

...injuries acquired while protecting a senior officer from harm. Dr. Winchester has assured me that Cmdr. Castiel will make a full recovery. The arrow that was meant for me hit him in the chest, which would be lethal for a Human, but Angelic biology differs in both the placement of internal organs and their capacity for rapid healing. I have been informed that Cmdr. Castiel can be expected back at his post within the week.

I am recommending commendations for Cmdr. Castiel for bravery under fire and dedication to the lives of crewmembers. I am also recommending commendations to Lt. Mills...

Personal Log - Capt. Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2254.346

...turns out that Cas hasn’t seen any of the new holos with Ford Harrison. Or any of the older ones. Actually, scratch that.

It turns out that Cas hasn’t seen any holos. Not even older two-dimensional films. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

And that’s a crying shame. I have a large media collection, and I am not afraid to use it. We’ve started weekly movie nights. I’m also trying to introduce him to Earth snacks while I’m at it. Popcorn hasn’t gone over well, but he’s surprisingly into Thin Mints.

After we watch through my entire Ford Harrison collection, I might break out the older classics. Nothing quite like shiny, low-budget, low-tech, computer-animated explosions to lighten the mood.

Captain’s Log - Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2255.11

...seems like the rumors of extrasensory perception have not been exaggerated. Though we were unable to detect any signal on the frequency he described, Cmdr. Castiel has made it clear that he has been summoned back to his home planet for some urgent business.

While the Free Will is technically on a mission to deliver supplies to Lunar Base Kappa, it is not an urgent assignment, so we have time to detour to the Etheril system. If we had not been able to, however, Cmdr. Castiel made it clear that he would be returning to his home planet, with or without the ship.

Personal Log - Capt. Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2255.25

...won’t even talk to me anymore outside of shift! He’s cancelled the last two movie nights, and I swear he’s been avoiding me at mealtimes.

I don’t think I even realized how much time we’d spent together until we stopped.

I’m not sure what those bastards on Angelii did to him, but I swear to god...

Personal Log - Capt. Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2255.47

I’m not sure what finally did it, but he’s talking to me again.

Sammy’s been giving me worried looks for a month, and I’m pretty sure he was working himself up to one of those “you know I care about you, and you’re my brother, but I have to look after the whole ship, and you’re being a dick right now” speeches. Because I totally was. Snappish and frustrated and irritated. ...all because Cas wasn’t returning my calls.

Metaphorically. My metaphorical calls. Because I wasn’t calling him. Obviously.

Anyway.

He’s talking to me again. If I had to put a guess on it, I’d say it probably had something to do with the discussion we had on the Angelii government and social hierarchy. Well, “discussion.”

I might have ranted and yelled at him, but I was concerned, and he didn’t look phased, so I’m not going to worry about crossing any hypothetical boundaries here.

And I’m not sure what it was. But the next morning he met me for breakfast in the mess before shift as if we’d never stopped hanging out. I’m not sure where I went wrong, but I might know how to fix it if it happens again.

Personal Log - Capt. Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2255.93

Someone’s going to die.

I haven’t quite figured out who yet, but they’ve got Zachariah in their pocket, and they’re the ones who called Cas back home, and they’ve got nothing good planned.

I’m not sure what they wanted with Cas, but I deprogrammed him again and I’m keeping him, come hell or high water, so I’d like to see them try and take him again. I’ll be waiting for them.

...Shit. Does this count as a premeditated confession in a court of law? Probably best to be on the safe side then. Just in case. Computer, delete--

Captain’s Log - Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2255.127

...little evidence of large-scale corruption, it is nevertheless apparent that the Daughters of Lucifer were not a small or poorly funded organization.

Their activities - including the targeting of my Chief Science Officer - have been shut down, but I am recommending extensive monitoring of the entire Etheril system, as well as planets with large Angel or Demon populations. Both Abaddon and Ruby have evaded capture and it is not clear what their next moves are.

I am recommending a commendation for creative strategy under pressure for Cmdr. Castiel and commendations for bravery under fire for Cmdr. Harvelle, Cmdr. Castiel, Cmdr. Novak, Lt. Cmdr. Winchester, Lt....

Captain’s Log - Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2255.135

We are hoping for a quiet mission on Altair VII. Cmdr. Novak believes he has devised a way to operate the transporters through an ion storm. Cmdr. Castiel has identified one beginning to brew here in the upper atmosphere, so we’re going to try testing that theory.

Lt. Cmdr. Mills will be leading the away team with Ensigns Jones, Novak, Spengler, and Zeddmore. The primary aim of this mission is to test Cmdr. Novak’s hypothesis by attempting to transport blocks of matter to and from the surface of the planet. The secondary aim of the mission is to take tricorder readings of the air, soil, and native flora.

Cmdr. Castiel will take the conn during this mission, as it falls entirely within the purview of the Science Division. This will also serve as a test of Cmdr. Castiel’s aptitude for command, as Cmdr. Harvelle has indicated that she will be seeking a promotion to captain when we next return to Earth later this year, leaving the First Officer’s position vacant.

Personal Log - Capt. Dean Winchester of the USS Free Will Stardate 2255.165

Sammy’s been giving me weird little half-glances all day, but it wasn’t until I got back to my room ten minutes ago that I figured out why.

It’s been a year since Cas came on board.

Just for kicks and giggles, I went back to listen to the first couple logs I made after he joined the crew. Man, was I wrong back then.

Cas isn’t cold or aloof or emotionless; I just didn’t know how to read him yet. I’m not sure if that’s a Cas thing or more of an Angel thing, but it definitely makes me happy that he’s on board. He’s my best friend, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Between Crowley and Lucifer and all of the day-in, day-out missions we’ve had while boldly going, it’s been a rough year, but never let it be said that the Free Will is boring.

I think I can hear Cas in the hallway, so I’ll cut it short. It’s movie night.

Winchester out.

#AUgust 2020 #Star Trek AU #Supernatural #Dean Winchester #Castiel #some destiel #I'm so tired right now #can barely keep my eyes open #I should have worked on this earlier #but I spent 8 hours reading a really good phlint fic #so that was my whole day gone

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nellie-elizabeth · 4 years

Text

Supernatural: Golden Time (15x06)

This episode has made my soul ascend to heaven!

Cons:

Could have used more sign language. This is totally a nitpick, totally a personal preference thing. I love ASL and I love the idea of Sam learning it for Eileen, and I wanted more, more, more. Also a personal preference thing, but I totally wanted them to kiss? Can Eileen just like... be in the rest of the show and go on hunts with the Winchesters and start dating Sam and... yeah. More Eileen please and thank you.

Pros:

See, I couldn't even properly complain about anything before jumping straight in to the Eileen of it all. We all know Supernatural has a crappy track record with its female characters. So many of them have been fridged, or even at best killed off in a less fridge-y way, but the end result is that there is a dearth of ladies in the Supernatural universe. Eileen was a particularly difficult and senseless death, as there was no reason why she had to die to prove the point that things were getting rough. And then here we have a mission - find a way to help Eileen, who is a ghost that doesn't want to go back to Hell. Sam finds a compromise solution, but it's not ideal, and then he discovers that Rowena was working on a way to make a spirit corporeal. They can bring Eileen back! Cue some witches who come in as obstacles, some reminiscing about Rowena, and then bam! Sam gets a win. Eileen is alive once again.

There are so many reasons why this story felt so important. We are setting up a dichotomy here between Sam, who is still hopeful and still wants to fight for good, and Dean, who is helpless and depressed in the face of the enormity of their problem. (Also he's going through a breakup, so that's making things rough). In this episode, Sam wants to help someone he cares about. And not only does he manage to succeed, he actually finds a much better solution to the problem, and gets to undo just one in the long list of losses he has suffered. This feels narratively sound. The show can't just be a long line of suffering over and over and over again with a band-aid slapped over it at the very end. There has to be some hope, some goodness in the world. And Eileen is that for Sam.

We also have the Rowena situation. Sam goes to her place, and the evil witches explain that her rooms were heavily warded. One witch dies just from going inside. But Sam? Sam is unhurt because Rowena left all of her things to him. And lo, my heart did grow three sizes this day. Holy moly. The Rowena/Sam of it all has left me genuinely staggered. I did not expect this to do such a number on me. I love Rowena. I miss her so much.

I love Eileen, too. I love that she's a hunter, and that she's hyper-competent, and that even though in this case she came to Sam and Dean for help, she never feels like a damsel. In fact, she's taken to being a ghost pretty well, and seems to be able to control where she is with remarkable accuracy and consistency. This is for plot reasons, of course, but I also love the idea that Eileen kicks ass at being a ghost just as much as she kicked ass at being a human.

Sam as a witch is SENDING me. Dean calls him "Rowena's protege," and Sam later says he "learned from the best" when he uses a spell to stop the witch who is trying to kill him. This is one of those things that feels so obvious in retrospect. Sam has always been a great hunter, but he's also always been great with books and memorization and lore and magic. I like the idea of stating this more explicitly. For years, I've looked at the Men of Letters as Sam's natural endgame, a way to combine his love of academia and knowledge with his vocation as a hunter. And I still believe this to be the most logical conclusion. But I also think Sam Winchester is a witch now, and I am in love with it.

And then there's Dean, who takes a backseat this week to hang around in the bunker and eat full boxes of cereal alone in his room. Big mood, Dean. The obvious, textual reason for his distress is that he feels like everything is pointless. If God is making all the rules, what the hell is the point of even trying? There's a moment right at the end where Sam is trying to convince him that what they do still matters. He tells Dean he needs his brother, and Dean seems to respond to that. But he also says that he can't tell what's God, and what's not, and that it's driving him crazy. Which, like, let's drill down into that for a second, because yes. This is so compelling.

Dean has already had that conversation with Cas a few episodes back, when he talked about how he didn't know what was real. And Cas said, "we are." And it was super very much gay, y'all. And now Dean and Cas are on the outs. Everything about the distance between them is being framed as a breakup. Dean is moping around in the bunker, while Cas sequesters himself away in a small town, and talks about a "friend he once had" with random strangers, clearly pining. I know there's more to it than just the Destiel angle, but when Dean says he can't tell what's real and what's God, I am irresistibly drawn to what this means for him and Cas specifically. Castiel was assigned to Dean. He was told to pull him out of Hell because of the Apocalypse. And yes, the Winchesters and Cas became "Team Free Will" and Cas defied his orders and the Apocalypse was averted. But now, everything has been thrown into question. That whole story was just part of Chuck's larger narrative. So is anything about Castiel, about his relationship to Dean, real?

And that phone call. That was a phone call between ex-boyfriends who are forced to communicate for logistical reasons. Cas is so grumpy. Dean is so gruff. "Sam's been trying to call you." Oh, lord, Dean. Just admit you miss him. This whole conversation was so great. It gave me so much hope for the story they're telling about their relationship.

Cas' subplot was pretty standard, but I mean that as a compliment. Basically, his "time off" is interrupted when he learns about people going missing in the area. He helps a woman find her missing son, and defeats the djin who has been praying on the town. He also goes full bad-ass Castiel, healing himself from multiple gunshot wounds and taking down the bad guy with brutal efficiency. He even heals the kid's injuries, although it seems to take a lot out of him. What I found really interesting about Castiel's defeat of the bad guy is that at first he's relying on his powers as an angel, standing and taking the gunshot wounds with barely a flinch. But then he reverts to human methods. He doesn't smite the djin. He stabs him. Over and over. It's actually quite intense. He does things the human hunter way, and it speaks to the ways in which Cas will never be fully human, but he's certainly leaned more and more into that part of his identity over the years. What with his powers being on the fritz, it might be time to hang up his wings once and for all, by the time this show wraps up.

So that's that! We got some prime Eileen content, we got some great Rowena reminiscences, Cas got his own subplot and got to be grumpy to Dean, and we even got a nice little brotherly moment there at the end, where Sam encourages Dean to get back on the horse, and tells him he needs him. This was such a fantastic episode and I can't wait for more!

9.5/10

#review #supernatural #supernatural review #spn #spn 15x06

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whatawriterwields · 5 years

Text

Not the Only Ones - pt. 2

Continued from “Not the Only Ones”

A certain phone had been ringing nearly off the hook since the end of the world. Since Heaven’s office staff had shrunk astronomically, and since an enormous population of angels and demons, glued to office desks for thousands of years, had suddenly begun manifesting bedrooms and flats and even entire cottages lodged within Heaven’s once immaculate hallways, only one person was responsible for answering it now.

“Gabriel,” Gabriel grumbled into the white tablet, which was grimy and smudged from overuse.

“Beelzebub,” the demon buzzed.

“Yes, I know who it is. Any progress down there?”

“Got maybe forty demons from the army who still want the war. The rest are holed up with angels all around the place, letting in bloody sunlight from the upper floors and cooking over bonfires.” There was a pause, as though Beelzebub had put down the phone for a moment - then, in a voice more strained than before, “They’ve also started singing.”

Read on Ao3

“Singing.” Gabriel put his face in his hands. “Demons are singing.”

“Your stupid angels taught them how.”

“Am I going to have a horde of dancing angels up here soon?”

“We’d better get this war back on, soon,” said Beelzebub, and their voice dropped, became lower, more insect-like, more deadly. “Or you’re going to find out.”

“Yes, well.” Gabriel straightened with difficulty in his chair. He’d never had to sit at a desk this long in his life. He’d never worked this many hours without a break. His human form, which was just a kind of concentration-of-essence most of the time, was getting sore and itchy and generally unpleasant. “I might have an idea for that.”

“I’m all ears.” There was an audible wince and Gabriel heard, faintly, the sound of a high note being belted, extremely inexpertly, by some demon down below.

“We can’t do anything against the Antichrist,” he said, “but we can still make examples out of Aziraphale and Crowley. Dispose of them, with hellfire and holy water.”

“Won’t that just make people angrier?”

“Not if we play our cards right.” Gabriel sat back in his chair, wanting to kick his feet up on the desk but lacking any space free of paper. He’d never had a messy desk before. “See, demons like destruction, right?”

“So I’m told.” There was another wince, and this time Gabriel heard the beginning of the chorus of Dancing Queen.

“Dispose of Crowley in some sort of public trial,” he said, “and they’ll all show up to watch. The angels will be disgusted. They’ll turn against their demon friends and come back to Heaven.”

“Hmm.” Beelzebub contemplated. “Go on. And Aziraphale?”

“We’ll deal with him in private. To the other angels, the story with him will be that God smited him.”

“Smited?”

“Smote - smeet - grh.” Gabriel rubbed his eyes. “It’s been too long since I slept.”

When another rousing round of Dancing Queen blasted tinnily through Gabriel’s tablet, Beelzebub swore under their breath. “Look, I’ve got to go. Talk to you later.”

“The hellfire and holy water - it’s a plan?”

“Yeah. It’s a plan.” There was a longer pause, but it was heavy, watched. Not a silence of momentary distraction. Finally they said, stiffly, “It’s a good plan. Thanks.”

A little click and the connection went dead. Gabriel lowered his tablet slowly, gazing around at the paperwork littering his desk like a snowdrift. A million reports on the botched apocalypse, all that had to be written and sorted and filed by only him. While Sandalphon kept the heavenly host out of his workspace and relatively quiet, and Michael watched over the treasury, and Uriel kept watch over Earth, trying desperately to see every corner of it at once.

They were all as busy as him, and as distant. Gabriel hated to admit it, but there was something nice about having a constant conversation partner in the Prince of Hell.

_____

Beelzebub closed their eyes and took a deep breath. This had been the worst week of their immortal life. A tiny fraction of Hell was still standing, still usable as a headquarters, while the rest of it had fallen into grotesque use as some sort of angel-demon blanket fort. Last night they hadn’t gone to bed at all, just stayed up urging each other to try different human foods they were miracling up from Satan-knew-where.

Disgusting as it sounded, Beelzebub didn’t know where they’d be if it weren’t for Gabriel.

They cleared their throat. With a thought, their voice projected through every realm and corner of Hell. “Demons, this is your Prince!”

The call echoed through destroyed corridors and low-lit, leaking office rooms. It blasted through to several huge clusters of creatures clad in dusty black and soot-smeared white, all of which looked up lazily at the sound.

“As you all know, Armageddon has been indefinitely postponed -”

A muted cheer.

“ - and the demon Crowley is partially responsible.”

“Crowley!” several groups cheered, and pumped their fists at once. (Far, far above them, in the quiet warmth of a bookshop, Crowley-in-Aziraphale’s-body raised his head from his position sprawled out on an armchair, swearing for a moment he’d heard someone call his name. Swearing he’d felt some inexplicable warmth shoot through him. But the sensation was gone before he could really process it.)

“I and the remaining loyal creatures of Hell will be obliterating him later today. With Holy Water. Any demons who wish to attend will be welcomed back, as long as they swear their fealty to their Dark Master beforehand.”

Those words were followed by silence. For a moment the angels and demons had fallen completely silent.

Back in their office, Beelzebub nodded, feeling pleased. No demon could resist watching the extinction of a traitor. They hadn’t had one in a while - the last big spree had been in the fourteenth century, before which they’d had a great many more demons - but these days numbers were tight. Everyone had always showed up to see, though. Like humans at a hanging. Easy enough.

In the offices just adjoining Beelzebub, where the loyalists were stationed, there was enough cheering that Beelzebub was not aware of the jeers, hisses, and outraged yells echoing throughout the rest of the underworld.

“How dare they!”

“Crowley’s got style!”

“We won’t stand for this!”

Aboveground, though, Crowley felt that strange, tingling warmth again, and wondered if kissing Aziraphale was having some sort of aftereffect on him.

___

It took all day for Gabriel to scrape together enough loyal angels to pull off a kidnapping. He wouldn’t touch the angel himself, of course - that was beneath him, and, to be frank, physical enforcement had never been exactly his style. Once they reached Heaven again, Aziraphale was taken straight to the highest floor, deftly avoiding all the angels and demons who had made the rest of the place a disaster. They knew Aziraphale was here, but the rumor Gabriel had spread was that he’d come to negotiate. It’d be easy enough to spread the story afterward that God had called down fire on him for daring to blaspheme in Her most sacred space.

Aziraphale was calm and cold, calmer and colder than Gabriel had ever seen him. It was unnerving watching those eyes, still as snake’s eyes, stare into the flame he’d summoned from below. It made Gabriel tense.

What had him so even-tempered? He’d always been a babbling moron, coming here before. All that rubbish about the Antichrist being a ruse…

Well, that had turned out to be true, actually. Huh.

Gabriel grimaced. It didn’t matter. What mattered was getting Heaven back into line, which would be easy to do once they knew the way God dealt with renegades. All he had to do was tell Aziraphale to step into the flame - and he would, of course, the spineless bastard, and he’d be gone, out of Gabriel’s hair forever. Good riddance. He’d finally get a night of sleep, actual full-on sleep not sitting at a desk, and everything could go back to normal.

Perfect plan, perfectly easy. Aziraphale glared at him before stepping toward the column of fire. Gabriel did his best to smirk. Perfect plan.

_____

“Okay, so,” said Gabriel half an hour later, in what he hoped was a moderately professional and not-on-the-verge-of-a-mental-breakdown voice, “Aziraphale is immune to hellfire.”

Beelzebub’s groan sounded like a swarm of flies going into battle. “Excellent. Amazing. Our git climbed into a tub of holy water and asked for a rubber duck.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“The turnout was abysmal, and half the loyal demons defected when they saw Crowley wasn’t hurt. I’m here with Hastur and Dagon and maybe twelve others - we’re the last Hell’s got.”

“Better than what we have in Heaven.” Gabriel put his face in his hands.

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t want to say it. If he said it, he’d have to accept it was true, and he wanted to kid himself for a while longer that it was all a misunderstanding. He wanted to believe this wasn’t real, that it couldn’t be real, after so many millennia of faithful service. Of faith, in general, which - whatever else you wanted to say about Gabriel - he had in spades.

“Well?”

“I. Uh.” Gabriel sighed.

“Come on, Gabe,” Beelzebub said, “just tell me. Satan - God - er, well, Someone knows we’ve been through enough together these past few days.”

It was stupid, how much that comment meant to him. Stupid to take comfort from his sworn enemy. But his sworn enemy was all he had left now.

“I’m the only one,” he said.

Gabriel could feel the shock radiating from the other end of the line. “Seriously?”

“They’ve all gone. Aziraphale left with his head and shoulders still blazing and showed himself to everyone on the way back down. Even Sandalphon said he had better things to do with his time if God was going to make traitors like him immortal.” The rest of Heaven was currently holding some sort of impromptu celebration, complete with music he’d never heard before and - yes - from the sound of it, definitely dancing.

No one seemed to remember he was even here.

“They’re all happy,” he said. “I mean, they’re really happy, all of them together. They just love the war being over. They love… being with each other, I guess.”

There was a long, long silence. Gabriel felt, suddenly, like he wanted to cry. He didn’t know when the last time he’d wanted that was. He’d always considered crying a rather stupid human invention - what was it for, except making you feel as weak on the outside as you did on the inside? But he wanted to now.

“Look,” Beelzebub said at last. “Why don’t you come down to Hell. We’ll talk this out. I’m sure we can come up with a plan.”

And it was even stupider that he brightened at the notion. Maybe a change of scenery would be good for him. He’d never actually seen Hell from the inside.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll be right over.”

_____

“Have you been feeling anything strange lately?” Crowley asked, as Aziraphale appeared in the bookshop’s back room with tea. “Like, these little flutters in your chest?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and passed one of the mugs to Crowley. “Flutters?”

“Yeah. Like, I’ve been thinking I hear someone calling my name, and then -” He put a hand to his chest, to emphasize - “then I feel something here. Like an electric shock, but nice. Like a flower’s blooming in there or something.”

Aziraphale sat back in his seat, frowning. “You know, actually, I think I did feel something like that, while I was in Hell. But I didn’t hear anyone call my name.”

“Weird.” Crowley shook his head and sipped his tea.

“It felt a bit like it felt in Tadfield, you know.” Aziraphale rubbed his chin. “The feeling of love in the air, do you remember?”

“Mmm.”

“Do you think it’s a sign?” Aziraphale’s eyes turned upward; Crowley recognized the look. “Do you think we’re feeling something loving us?”

“S’possible.” Seemed unlikely. Their respective head offices had just tried to kill them. Crowley had seen a couple of angels on his way down from Heaven, but he’d done nothing but scare them with his flame-covered appearance. Who was going to be loving them Upstairs or Downstairs? And as for God, well, she’d made clear what she thought of Crowley already.

Which didn’t matter to him. He had all the love he needed. Aziraphale was everything God and Heaven ought to have been.

They spent a while in quiet conversation. Now that they were back in their own corporations, the world felt finally settled again - everything was calm and peaceful, and the two of them were together. Crowley luxuriated in the freedom of it. Barely anyone came into Aziraphale’s shop even when it was open, so he expected their evening to be completely free of interruption - like a thousand evenings he’d be spending with Aziraphale, now that no one could stop him.

When he heard the knock at the door, both he and Aziraphale jumped. They exchanged nervous glances as it repeated - three solid knocks, a pause, then another three, as if the knocker was impatient to reach them.

“Should we switch again?” Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley shook his head. “No time. Just play it cool.”

They rose in unison and crept toward the bookshop’s door. Aziraphale was cautious opening it, and Crowley chewed on his lip, thinking of avenging angels and demons, thinking of another fight with hellfire and holy water, thinking about Aziraphale in danger again and -

But there were only two people there, when finally the knockers were revealed. Just an out-of-breath looking angel, wings out and wide, a demon on her arm.

“What’s up?” she said. “Crowley and Aziraphale?”

“That’s us,” said Crowley, an eyebrow raised.

The demon stepped forward and stuck out his hand. “They named me Worm, but I go by Wayne these days.” He was grinning like an idiot, like he couldn’t believe he was up here, like he was still processing the sight of the celestial beings in front of him. “You two, can we have your autographs?”

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable bureaucracy #aziraphale x crowley #gabriel x beelzebub #I can't believe I actually wrote for this ship #I can't believe I actually wrote more of this #hope yall enjoy once again

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ourloveisforthelovely · 5 years

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Time to Waste 3

Good Omens story.

As always a big thank you to @brokencasbutt67-writer

Warnings: smut warning

Link to Chapter 2

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader/Crowley x Aziraphale

______________

You followed Gabriel to a small cafe that was off of the main street. Stepping inside, you knew why he had brought you here. It was small, quiet, and nobody really was in the place.

“At least you know why I brought you here.”

Gabriel said as he led you to a small table in the back. The table was blocked by a rather large bookshelf.

More privacy…

You looked back to the archangel with a displeased frown. He was lucky that he was so handsome. Had he been any other random guy; you would have left him by now.

“Reading my mind is rude...again.”

Gabriel chuckled. He already liked your face. It was too bad that he couldn’t “let” himself fall in love with you. That would be letting Michael down. It would be letting all of heaven down!

He tried not to let himself frown too much. Gabriel had always stuck by the rule book. If there was a job that needed to be done then Gabriel got it done.

“You’re not going to smite me are you?”

He said in an extra sassy tone. You looked down at the ground as Gabriel stepped forward. He reached down and tilted your chin up so you had to look at him. Why did he have to be so dreamy?

“There is nothing wrong with what you are. You are one of the most powerful creatures in creation. You deserve some respect.”

You stepped forward so that your body was pressed against the archangel.

“Then why are you coming onto me?”

Gabriel chuckled and stepped back and sat down at the table.

“Maybe I like you.”

You sat down across from the archangel. His eyes were focused on you like a hawk.

“I think you are interested in me because of my power. You strike me as someone that likes power so much that you would do anything for it.”

You replied with a pleased smirk. Gabriel was clearly a bit surprised by your answer but quickly recovered.

“What is wrong with liking power? I get that you don’t trust me. It seems like you have been let down by a lot of people in your life. Not everyone is out to hurt you, beautiful. Let me gain your trust.

You considered his words. Gabriel was right about one thing. You weren’t one to trust anyone. Again, you thanked your mother for that one too. Anytime that you had trusted someone resulted in you being hurt!

Would Gabriel hurt you? What if his intentions weren’t fucked up and he was a good lover? You really weren’t giving him a fair shake by just going off of Aziraphale and Crowley’s word.

You trusted Aziraphale. Maybe that's why you were afraid to trust the archangel. That’s left you with your father’s opinion. Crowley would probably say anything to keep you from Gabriel.

“Nothing is wrong with liking power. I have to keep myself safe. It isn’t my father, Aziraphale, or Beelzebub’s place to keep me safe.”

Gabriel frowned.

“You know Beelzebub?”

You nodded. Of course, you knew the prince of hell. They had been trying to win you over for ages now. It was a bit of a shock when the prince of hell turned up on your doorstep one day telling you your whole life story and wanting to “get to know you.” It was no secret to you that the prince of hell really didn’t give a damn about knowing who you were. They were interested in the power that you could bring them. It was definitely an awkward friendship! Awkward was the best way to put it. The two of you didn’t go to the movies or out to eat. There was no Friday “friends” night where the two of you did anything.

It was just Beelzebub turning up at your doorstep and questioning you about your latest doings or how your powers were working out. They would lounge about your apartment for a day or two before disappearing again.

For the first few months of your “relationship” with Beelzebub, you wondered if the prince was interested in you in the “romantic” sense. That was quickly shot down when you nonchalantly asked if they “dated” often. The poor being just looked at you with wide eyes. After that Beelzebub's visits became few and far between.

You hadn’t even told Crowley of your friendship with Beelzebub. After learning of your father’s last run-in with the prince of hell, you had often wondered what exactly it was Beelzebub’s interest was with you. It didn’t take you long to figure it out. It was the power. If the prince of hell had you on their side then they could potentially be unstoppable.

Feeling like a bit of a hypocrite, you smiled at Gabriel. Maybe the idea of power was appealing after all. If you accepted his advances then you could have plenty of power at your disposal as well.

“Yes. I know Beelzebub. I don’t know if you would consider it a friendly relationship or not. Maybe just an awkward acquaintanceship.”

Gabriel laughed.

“I’ve met Beelzebub. It wasn’t the best of days.”

You smirked.

“Oh I know all about that day in your life.”

Gabriel’s smirk fell instantly and for a moment you were afraid that he would try to attack you. You stood up with a smile and walked behind the archangel. He didn’t move but instead looked at the table in front of him furiously.

Maybe the two of you could have a pleasant exchange of powers after all? You knew that Crowley would probably through the biggest hissy fit known to man. You could practically hear him yelling all the way from the house at the meet thought of sleeping with Gabriel.

Aziraphale...you didn’t even want to think about that one. You felt guilty about that one. Aziraphale was the one person that you didn’t like to think of hurting. You could only hope that if this thing with Gabriel turned into something that your family would understand.

As you stood looking at Gabriel’s back that feeling of attraction came surging right back. You snapped your fingers, leaving yourself dressed in a long black dress that left little to the imagination.

With a smirk you walked behind Gabriel and wrapped your arms around him. The archangel stiffened for a moment before he slammed you against the wall. His eyes looked hungrily down your body.

“I think you like to play games. I must say that I am not at all surprised.”

Gabriel lifted your thigh and placed it over his hip.

“You are playing hard to get then you are dressing like this for my attention. Here I am. I think you are just afraid to get with me because it would upset daddy Crowley.”

The taunt hit you on a new personal level. You scowled at Gabriel a moment before reaching out and pulling the overgrown archangel to you.

“Kiss me, asshole.”

Gabriel looked a little surprised by your sudden outburst. He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was slow at first before increasing to a hungry passion driven make out. You had the feeling that he was about to be bossy or as Crowley put it “the biggest bitch on the planet.” Even his kisses were commanding.

“I want to know what the rest of you tastes like...unless you want to get your father’s permission first.”

Gabriel said in your head as he pressed himself against you. Your eyes snapped open. For some reason, you were afraid to see Crowley standing in the corner ready to kick Gabriel’s ass back to heaven. Upon realizing that there was no Crowley in the corner, you focused your attention back on Gabriel.

“Just get me somewhere, angel.”

Gabriel pulled you tighter to him.

“I thought that you would never ask!”

When you opened your eyes again, you stood in a hotel suite. Gabriel stood behind you taking his suit jacket off. He backed you against the wall and held your hand over your head.

“You’re mine.”

Gabriel said in a deep commanding tone. You pressed your legs together. God, why was his voice like a vibrator on your clit?

Before you could give any objection, Gabriel’s mouth was on yours. You knew that you could fight back and be difficult. The idea sounded fun, however, at the same time, the human in you said no. Your human side wanted to be dominated. The human in you wanted to be weak for the archangel. The demon in you, however, was fighting mad! How could you let some angel show you who was boss?!

The better question was how were you not supposed to start developing feelings for the archangel? One date in and you were beginning to feel “things.” Why you weren't sure? Gabriel still hadn’t “warmed” up to you. There was nothing in the date that showed that he would be a “sweetheart.” What were you supposed to expect anyway?

“You’re mine to touch. Mine to have and mine to please.”

You swallowed as his teeth sunk into the soft flesh of your neck.

“Gabriel...”

You whimpered his name as he continued to suck deep purple bruises on your neck. How would you explain that on to your father, you had no idea. Crowley and Aziraphale weren’t stupid. They would both certainly know what love bites were.

You could always say that you got into a bar fight and some jerkwad punched you in the neck. There was no way that they would fall for that.

“Stop thinking about your parent would you? I am trying to make love to you.”

Gabriel said coldly. He barely lifted his mouth from your mouth before biting down harder. You whimpered Gabriel’s name as his free hand squeezed your ass.

“Yes. Keep saying my name. Say that you are mine.”

“Gabriel.”

“Say that your mine.”

He said, curtly. Gabriel knew that those words would be a real struggle for you today. He slowly stood up straight before letting his finger traced his finger over your cleavage.

“You’re mine, Y/n. I think that you like knowing it too. The demon in you makes you not want to say yes. I also know that you want to make love as much as I do. I won’t touch you until you give me what I want. I’m going to break you in, Y/n. You’ll be submissive to me whether you like it or not. You can be sassy as much as you want but you’ll give me what I want too...”

You swallowed as he slipped a hand up your thigh.

“Damn it, yes!”

“Sorry?”

He replied, innocently.

“I’m yours.”

“See. Was that so hard?”

Gabriel waded you legs apart and lifted you up by your thighs. You reached out to pull the archangel to you by his tie. Gabriel quickly grabbed your hands.

“Naughty girl. Tell me, has anyone touched you? Some nasty human maybe?”

You shook your head quickly. Gabriel was clearly pleased with your response as he pressed his body against yours. You wrapped your legs around the archangel’s waist.

“I like a girl with fight in her.”

“You struck the jackpot then.”

You sassed. Gabriel's hand squeezed the plump flesh of your ass. You hissed as the heat seared through you.

“I also like a girl that I can break into what I want.”

Meanwhile,

Aziraphale stood in the kitchen making his fourth cup of tea since the time that you left. He looked up when Crowley walked into the kitchen looking confused.

“Is Y/n still not home?”

Aziraphale shook his head.

“No, I tried calling her phone and she’s not answering. I’m a little worried, Crowley.”

Crowley put his hands on the counter and looked down at the floor.

“How long does it take for a girl to pick out a face wash?”

Aziraphale shrugged.

“I don’t think 5 hours is a suitable amount of time.”

Crowley muttered a few curse words under his breath.

“I am going to put a GPS on that girl! If she is with that archangel, I am going to find Adam and asking him to change his mind on restarting the apocalypse. Screw that, I am going to find them myself.”

Aziraphale winced.

“Do you really think that it is a good idea to go out and stalk around London looking for her? We don’t even know where Gabriel would have taken her.”

Crowley spun around.

‘I can feel her. Kinda like a sixth sense….I’m following that! You stay here in case she gets home before me!”

Aziraphale put a hand over his face. It was about to be a long night in London.

__________

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