Anyone Interested In A 2024 Winter Card? Dm Me The Address Its Getting Sent To

10. Grief - PLEASE MIND WARNINGS

>abridged post with soft art<

Kidd in memory - 8 | Killer in memory- 12

Kidd in present day- 23 | Killer in present day- 27

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Children in danger

Physical & Sexual Assault

on a minor!

Older boys try to kill Killer

Kidd reflects on it as an adult

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

Killer's passed out on his bed - hair loosely braided back, mask and shoes off, but otherwise fully dressed. He's on his side, arms crossed awkwardly, left hand curled over his right shoulder, right hand tucked under his cheek like it was meant to do the same but didn't quite make it, face wedged into the v of his wrists, bangs brushing his knuckles.

Kidd dimmed the room lamp before stripping off his own coat and boots, tossing his googles on the desk next to Killer's helmet. A shower would probably be a better idea, he thought, stripping off his vest and unbelting his kilt, looking over his partner. Killer slumbered on, clearly exhausted. Kidd crawled into bed behind him, shushing the sleepy mumble voiced by Killer.

He reached around the man, fingers slotting in to Killer's on his left hand, pulling it away from where he'd shoved it into his own face. Killer whined a disagreement, but calmed when Kidd pressed his forehead into the exposed crook, propping his head up on his left stump. Their entwined hand was tucked up next to Killer's right, and Kidd sighed into Killer's shoulder, wedging his knee between Killer's until he shifted finally and Kidd slid his leg in, pulling his partner back into him.

Kidd could feel the exact moment Killer's subconscious caught up to it being him and all the tension in Killer eased out, the man going slack and boneless in his embrace. His breathing deepened not too long after and Killer slid into dreamland.

It had taken Kidd years to finally be strong enough to be the 'big spoon.' Years before he was powerful enough to keep them both safe from the things that went bump in the night. Until then, they'd depended on Killer to keep them safe.

Kidd still had nightmares about one night when he was small - maybe 9 at the oldest - the house they'd been squatting in during the rainy season had been broken into by a group of older boys. Killer had set them up to sleep in the kitchen, had always kept them in back rooms on the first floor, away from doors but close to windows. Killer'd woken that night first but realized that by the time he was hoisting Kidd up on the counter and opening the window, they wouldn't have enough time to get away

He'd only had enough precious moments to get Kidd crawling into cabinets next to the sink to hide instead before the group of teen boys had stumbled in.

There'd been no time for Killer to hide too, and while he had fought back, in the end, he'd been too small and weak against the group. Kidd had watched from a gap in the cabinets, had watched them beat and torture his friend for hours, kept sequestered away only by Killer's pleading silent look, begging him to stay hidden when he thought it safe to look in Kidd's direction.

He'd nearly been discovered when one of their tormentors had made a cruel joke about how filthy Killer was, still pinned under them on the broken tile floor. One of the boys started rooting through the cabinets for something afterwards, Kidd frozen in terror as they searched closer and closer to his spot. Killer - exhausted and brutalized - redoubled his efforts to get free.

They'd found a collection of discarded cleaning items under the sink - just one tiny cabinet wall away from Kidd. They'd dumped the bleach on Killer; who'd screamed when it hit his face, getting one arm free to try and protect himself, only for the rest of the bottle to be upended on him anyway.

Kidd internalized every cruelty inflicted on Killer that night, as those boys burned, tortured and raped his friend in front of him for hours. Kidd would grow up to be a cruel man with little mercy to those in his way. But he would have hard set limits on the violence he begot onto others, and the things he watched Killer suffer from that night all means he could not bring himself to inflict on others.

While Killer slept easy in his arms, Kidd felt his thoughts continue to drift to that night, his thumb rubbing Killer's jaw. Once they were done, one of the boys had taken his belt, and tied it around Killer's thin neck, tightening it until the little metal prong caught in its smallest setting, leaving Killer jerking and spasming under him as the others had laughed. The one with the belt had sat on Killer's chest as he'd strangled the pre-teen, watching his eyes bulge and face darken and purple. Kidd watched as they waited for Killer to stop moving, watched him die under them.

Then they left him laying there in a puddle of filth and bleach on the kitchen floor of some backstreet dilapidated home as they wandered off to pillage the rest of the house, to barricade themselves in some room upstairs to shoot up or whatever had drawn them to the building in the first place. Leaving Kidd to sit in the dark with a corpse.

He's still there, some nights, waking up in the dark, the walls of the cabinets closing in around him, blood and cleaning solution filling his nose, Killer's small child body left abandoned. He'd find Victoria in a similar manner years later. The men who'd killed her actually tried to hide her body. They'd just left Killer discarded out in the open.

There'd been nothing he could do to save Victoria. In his dreams - he can't save Killer either. In reality, once Kidd was sure the boys were done with this room, he'd quietly crawled back out of the hidey-hole Killer had stuffed him in. The window over the sink lead to the back ally, and he'd drug Killer's body out that window, hauling him on his back, and dragging, carrying him down the dark crumbling cobblestone, blinded by his own snot and tears and the heavy summer rain.

Kidd had run until his legs gave out, leaving him sitting in the downpour sobbing, Killer's body still draped over him. He'd finally pulled Killer into his lap, blood on his face and thighs slowly tricking away under the rain. Kidd believed his world had ended and he wept. The rain had nearly drowned out the single clue to Killer's fate; Kidd's dreams are haunted by what would have been if he missed that soft struggling wheeze. That desperate gasping of air as Killer tried still to draw air past the belt.

Kidd had lain him out quickly on the soaked ground, ear pressed to Killer's lips in hopes he hadn't imagined the noise, only to hear it again. His tiny hands had scrambled at the belt; he'd have to tighten it to unwedge the little metal pin in the belt hole, and he listened carefully for the moment Killer attempted another breath. As soon as the horrid wheezing noise was heard, Killer's lungs filling with what little air he could get, Kidd pulled the belt tight, desperately fumbling with the thin pin to release it.

He was so sure he'd kill Killer fiddling with it in the rain, unable to get to free when finally it -twisted- under his hands, and Kidd was pulling the leather away. Killer would wear the thick wide bruising for weeks after and a lifetime of trauma with anything closed around his neck or even the leather that became the trademark of Kidd's crew in later years. He lay hiccuping gasping gulps of air under Kidd in the rain, colour in his face almost immediately fading, eyes fluttering open for just the briefest moment before drifting close. Before drifting still and limp once again.

Kidd sat over him, belt in hand, rain beating down on them both. Killer lay panting in his lap for a long moment, before he clutched at Kidd's shaking hand with his own broken one. Pulled it close to him like Kidd held him now, years later, across the world.

Killer slept soundly in his arms tonight, decade and some change removed from the night Kidd had dragged Killer and himself under an outcropping of trash to try and stay dry. At some point, Killer had lost one of his shoes, his pants tangled in his remaining one. Kidd had redressed him, clothes brittle and spotty form the bleach, using the belt meant to take his life to put him into rights when the broken seams prevented his pants from staying on correctly. It would be the first night Kidd would stay wake to greet the sun, protectively curled around his only friend, teeth bared at every creak in the dark.

He'd drift tonight, but never fully sleep, never did when he was alone, and certainly never did when Killer was in his arms. Before Kaido and Wano, as long as he knew either Wire or Heat were on watch, he would have slept soundly on the Punk since they'd hit the Grand Line. Not anymore. He inhaled sharply though his nose, the smell of his partner soothing his nerves as the memories of the night as a child overlayed with the day he followed the haunting distressed cackles across cold fields to find his partner bound and bleeding and dragged and stumbling behind a horse drawn cart. Pawns of Orachi and Kaido tormenting Killer, the faces of the boys of Kutsukku overlapping their features.

Kidd glanced at the heavy door of his quarters, picturing the ship that lay on the other side. Picturing the crew sleeping below deck in gently swaying hammocks, the night owls in the galley quietly idling away the hours. Of Heat settling in for his turn at watch, Wire resting for a few more hours before he would replace him. Kidd tightened around Killer, heels hooking around Killer's calves and pulling closer, causing the man to left out a sleepy chuckle and a soft sigh. Killer slept on. Kidd kept watch all the same.

June 2020. Black Lives Matter. 

With everything going on in the world right now, i’m not sure ‘Happy Pride’ is the right feeling at the moment. Be safe out there my friends. I love you all. You are valid. You matter. 

Size 32 canvas, final size 3.5 x 2.5 inches

the pattern can be found for free on stitch fiddle or google drive

While the original design is not mine the pattern is. The pattern has been tweaked a little from the above, just so you know when making. Things that look okay digitally don’t always look right once they are made so i made some colour adjustments and changed some line placements

Read on A03 or under the Read More..

Kidd & Killer (and Heat & Wire) in SPACE!

Notes:

Wrote over the summer, i just really wanted some claustrophobic space stuff. Not sure how to expand it into anything larger, but the sandbox is open if anyone else wants to play

"Wire to KiKi?"

The radio called out a third time, only dead air in response back.

Stationed outside of the asteroid field, the Victoria Zeta drifted. She was on a skeleton crew for this run - the task retrieving lost cargo instead of their usual mining operations.

As the oldest of the four, Wire & Heat remained behind as their captain and his vice had gone to man the grappler. Wire was more than comfortable piloting V.Zeta when needed, even if he and Heat were technically maintenance crew. Captain was also navigator in times of trouble, able to recalculate paths as fast if not faster than the computer - a skill leading itself beautifully to the shifting fields of debris and stone. Killer was their first mate and lead pilot, but he excelled in the smaller craft the way few physically could, both with the fast chaotic spins she was known for and the small spaces he found more home than claustrophobic.

Right now, Kidd and Killer were out on their own in the smallest of their Victoria collective - the Victoria Punk - a small grappler pod more storage then crew space. There was a second more battle ready grappler - the Victoria Gibson - for outright dog fights. Both were designed for a crew of two, but Kidd was capable of soloing the Gibson as a tank if Killer needed to stay with the Punk to fly quick maneuvers - running distractions rather than outright fighting. The Punk was small but fast - and Kidd had taken advantage of Killer's smaller form to refit the ship to give himself more maneuverability in the arms.

<><>

"Wi.... Ki"

Lost among the screaming alarms was the tiny voice of the comm as Killer took to desperate measures to escape his tail. He'd been behind Kidd in the swivel trying to adjust a loose connection when the attack had thrust them off the face of the asteroid they'd been docked at - free spiraling into space; and he'd only not been thrown against the control panel by Kidd's quick response and holding in him place as they were knocked loose.

He'd slid into the cocoon of the pilot controls of the Punk and was trying to fly and battle alarms simultaneously when Kidd removed his helmet and pulled himself from the gun seat to hang off the shoulder of Killer's station.

"Just fly" he'd ordered - before all the sound fell away when Kidd's headset settled over Killer's ears. Kidd had disconnected the input, leaving Killer to the silence of space and dealt with the plethora of system warnings himself.

Killer knew the Punk by vibrations alone and instinctively continued and adjusted as his displays went in and out. Kidd- the only one who might know the Punk better than Killer - began triage on his ship.

"WiHe to - "

"Zeta - this is Punk. Head's up. We're being ambushed!"

Wire's voice paused. "You need Heat in Gibson?"

"Negative - just stay alert and be ready to grab us when we get to you. We don't have time for a dock at this point."

"Copy Captain"

<><>

Kidd eyed the next set of alarms worried. Killer was doing well in avoiding further damage but the Punk was starting to strain under his hair pin flying.

Killer was also without his helmet - the blue striped plating audibly clattering around the guts of Punk's arms right now.

Executive decision made - Kidd detached his left arm from the Punk's system, and tucked himself in fully behind Killer's station.

"Kidd?" Killer spared him a glace before unclipping the shoulder of his harness. He handed the right shoulder back blindly, trusting Kidd would take it.

"Wrap it behind you and I'll clip you in at the hip." It was an awkward moment of contorting, Kidd twisting himself full circle in the tiny cavity and handing the clip back on Killer's left. There was no room left for Kidd to try and twist to get the left shoulder in as Killer replaced the strap with the one now behind Kidd - the left strap retracting uselessly into the seat.

Kidd patted his partner's shoulder reassuringly, before hitting the seal between the pilot and gunner pods. Maybe before the modifications, this could have been comfortable, but those days where long past them. Really, Kidd was fine just as long as he didn't inhale too deep. He was still too tall for the area, knees bent to each side awkwardly, but when the inevitable leak happened, they would be on the same side of the door no matter the outcome.

And then it came - an explosive shudder as the hull of the Punk was breached and they were set spinning once again. Kidd wrapped an arm over Killer's torso to hold him when the tumbling sent them ass over heels and Killer left only restrained by the hip belt.

Kidd felt his vision hazing as Killer focused on missing the rocks over steadying the spin and he braved one moment to pat Kidd's arm reassuringly before every light in the cocoon turned red and every siren cut off all in one go.

There was an explosion behind them - something big - and then Kidd came back to himself as they drifted in silence. Killer was panting like he'd run a marathon, blond hair slipping from under his suit hood to plaster itself to his sweaty face. His focus was still solely on his flying, but it seemed to Kidd he'd not only shaken their tail but dealt with it permanently.

"KiKi to WiHe - do you copy?" Kidd asked as the alarm lights flickered out as he let go of Killer to begin dismissing them one by one.

"WiHe to KiKi - we copy."

Kidd squeezed Killer's shoulder as he relaxed, a half hearted massage just as much to calm him as to reassure Killer. "We're not going to be able to dock but we're on our way for a pick up."

"Grap and Go, or cargo bay?"

"Grab and go for now. We might have more friends lurking."

Killer would get them to Victoria Zeta - Kidd had no doubts. If they had a grabbler after that was anyone's guess.

<><><>

The Punks gunner segment was gone. Killer had managed to taunt their tail close enough they couldn't evade the mass when Killer'd forced it to detach.

"I'm sorry - " he's started, only for Kidd to press a kiss to his temple as they sat waiting. Heat had used Victoria Gibson to grab the pilot capsule of Punk, and the two remained clutched in Grison's grip as the other grappler remained docked. And they would remain there until the commanders had piloted Victoria Zeta back into the safety of deep space.

"I'll get you a new helmet, don't worry about it."

Killer scowled, "That wasn't what I meant."

Kidd dug his chin into Killer's left shoulder, eliciting a different angry noise, "I said what I said. We still have the Gibson. We'll figure things out. We always do."

The real question was why had they been baited to the run? Were they always the target or just the first unlucky saps to get there first?

Hell - were they even first? How many others had come out here only to meet their ends?

Kidd hated open questions.

beautiful!

*looking for cross-stitch fonts* All of these are so big! Who has time for a 7 by 5 letter!? *makes my own font* Oh, right. This possibly is too tiny. I’ve made a really intense mistake.

So.

@lxshoxk ask.

Mens in Kilt?

And some suggestive below.

The greatest Scottish ass.

29. Date

Kidd - 18 | Killer - 21

Tags specifically for this chapter:

discussions of minors and sex

Kidd confronts Killer on him leaving

Killer struggles with Kidd's age

discussions of teenagers and age gaps

would they actually talk about this irl/cannon - i dunno...

probably not... but then again, they are soft about the other

be ready for an awkward fight that they've been needing to have a for a few years now

but also needed to wait to have until Kidd matured a little bit

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

They were supposed to be going out on the town, the island they'd docked at having a wide selection of restaurants and concert halls and other amusements. They'd been loitering in the area past their departure as the days slowly ticked away in the second week of the new year, specifically for tonight. Instead, Kidd and Killer found themselves drinking in the quiet galley, sharing gossip and reminiscing about an island that never quite felt like home there at the end.

About the wild exploits of The Kid Boss of the Heaps - a teenager that had managed to unify the unmanageable, and how even Killer's Boss had sat up and took notice before their group had imploded.

Kidd had had a few times where the same had almost happen to him too, before he really came to understand the power he'd found himself responsible for - "People only fear you for so long before they hate you enough to do something about it." Which was terribly profound when you realize a 16 year old had come to understand this before the adults around him did.

"At least you had some charisma that got you a few people that had your back. Nobody followed me because they thought I was going to be a good Boss. I was just the poor bastard left standing with the dust cleared. As soon as they realized they had other options, it was an exodus. Most of them defected to you or Wire pretty fast."

"I did notice an uptick of sycophants after that one meeting we had."

"I believe I warned you about that."

Kidd nodded. "Yeah... yeah, you warned me about a few things. You were right - about using my fruit around people. It being a bad idea."

"... I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well. Live and learn."

"I hope you smeared the assholes to paste."

Kidd chuckled darkly, "I did indeed. They were worthless; be glad they ditched out on you."

"It was only a matter of time before they left. They all do." Killer conceded, sipping his beer though a straw Dive had found... somewhere. "Just sorry you had to deal with them."

"You left me." He hadn't meant it accusatorially, not really. Just a statement of fact. But once it was out, Kidd felt a little angry about the whole thing. Killer just going on about being left behind, oh woe is me, but he did the same damn thing.

Killer frozen in place, before slowly putting his mug on the table. Kidd could feel him looking to the galley exit, calculating how to leave.

Fuck that.

"Was I that awful to be around?"

Killer rubbed his palms on his jeans, and Kidd swallowed thickly around the lump forming there.

"Oh."

"Look.. It..." Killer got up then, and Kidd watched him start to pace, feeling more and more uneasy with each anxious step Killer took. "It wasn't you, it was me... Well, it was you but it wasn't your fault."

"I have no idea what that means."

Killer's head is tilted up like the ceiling holds the answers.

"Killer, what the fuck does that mean?"

Killer shook his head, and Kidd stood up abruptly, ready to block him from fleeing.

"Killer! What did I do?"

"It wasn't your fault." Killer reiterated, and that didn't make anything clearer, and they both knew it. "You were just... You were kind of a lot... at.... that age..."

"I was 14! What are you on about?" As soon as the words left his mouth, Kidd had a sickening feeling starting to form in his gut. It must have shown in his face, because Killer glanced at him once before quickly looking away.

"You... got a little.. handsy. At night."

"Handsy?"

"A lot handsy. And.. clingy?" His voice pitched like a question, like he was trying to find a way to word Kidd's apparent behavior while downplaying it at the same time.

Kidd slumped against the table they'd just been enjoying drinks at. "How bad was I?"

"Four Blues, Kidd - you were awful." Killer groaned, "Every fucking night, three times a night, minimum, you'd be all over me."

"I... I.."

"Every time I thought it safe to drift off, you start making these little noises and I was so sleep deprived, Kidd. So sleep deprived. I'd leave in the morning purely to go sleep in Ceannard's office for a couple hours."

"I was 14!"

"When I was 14, I would get up and fucking take care of it - you just.." Killer voice had a panicky edge he'd never heard, before pointing wildly at him, "Every fucking morning, I wake up and had to deal with you getting off dry humping me. And you didn't even have the decency to be awake!"

"So you should of woken me and told me to knock it the fuck off!" Kidd paused, head cocking to the side as he studied how Killer had tensed up, bad shoulder touched in - "You didn't want me to wake up. You didn't... you didn't want me to know. Why?"

The mask hides a lot - Killer was always too expressive - his face an open book. But the mask didn't hide everything. Not from Kidd at least.

"You were into it."

Killer shook his head. Not a denial of Kidd's words, a denial that they were being spoken in the first place. He was coiled up so tight Kidd wasn't sure he was even breathing anymore.

"You liked me all rubbing up on you." Kidd almost wanted to preen at that, anyone else he would be puffed out proud. Instead a knot formed in his gut. You got off on it He keeps himself from saying, the thought tangling in his throat, forcing him to swallow thickly. Or you wanted to at least...

Killer made to widen the gap, but Kidd wouldn't let him, crowding him up against the wall.

"Then why would you leave?" he cried, not understanding at all, "I was horny, you were horny, what was the problem? We coulda fucked around a little, so what?"

"Because Killer might be good for a quick fuck, but nobody sticks around long after!"

Kidd started at him quietly, stunned, step back like Killer's words had been a physical blow. Killer hunched in himself, slouching back, surprised by his own confession.

"Killer..."

"I thought... I thought if I left first it would hurt so bad. You were getting along with the other Heaps' and you had a reputation for being an tough asshole so I thought... I thought you'd be okay."

Kidd pressed his fingers up on the bottom lip of Killer's mask, a request not a demand, his brows pinched unhappily.

Killer relented, and pulled the helmet off. But Kidd surprised him by taking it from him, holding it in his hands thoughtfully. He studied the interconnected plating, planning on how he'd make the next one different - better ventilation and more internal padding around the ears.

"I really liked Vicky." He started solemnly, "The three of us. Hanging out together. And sure, I wasn't thrilled about the two of you ditching me all the time. I thought maybe I was jealous of you for a long time, getting to hang out with her alone. And maybe I was... But I think I was also jealous of her. But then she was gone." Kidd spoke to the helmet, easier to say this to the empty drill marks than the man in front of him. "But that was okay because I still had you. And .. And I really liked being with you. I always felt safe, and waking up every morning with you right there... and then.. and then you weren't anymore. Even before you left, you started to be distant, and I hoped maybe you just got a new girlfriend and after the novelty wore off things would go back to how they were."

Killer was quiet, watching his hands fiddling with the metal, before he gently took the mask back.

"But it was me. You left because of me."

The worst part was Killer couldn't even disagree. He turned away from Kidd to put the helmet aside. "I left because I didn't know how to tell you no. I left because I rolled over and let anyone fuck me for a kind word, and I knew that I'd let you too, if you wanted. But you were 14 and you're my kid, and it got all weird and complicated and I didn't know how to see you as someone who wanted sex yet and .. And I was scared if I gave in, if let you take what you wanted, you'd toss me aside too once you were satisfied... so I ran away before you could."

"And if Vicky hadn't died... would you have ever talked to me again?"

He watched Killer's hand caress the line of white and blue. "No." He said finally. "No. You were doing so well; I was so fucking proud of you. You turned into this great man: You united the Heaps, made them believe they were people again. You had all them following you because they saw you were someone worth following. And I knew that I didn't have anything to do with that. That was all you. And I didn't deserve to talk to you anymore."

"Excuse me?" Kidd frowned, "What the fuck do you mean - you didn't have anything to do with that? You don't deserve to talk to me? What are you on about?"

When Killer didn't answer, Kidd grabbed his elbow and forced him to turn back, "Look me in the face and say that bullshit again!"

Killer stubbornly remain quiet.

"No!" Kidd growled, "I've gladly bashed the face in of anybody who talked shit about you. Don't think I'm gonna let you say it either."

Killer opened his mouth to start to say something but then stopped again.

"Killer!" frustrated, Kidd grabbed Killer's face in his hands, forcing him to look at him, "Say it to my face. If you're going to insult my friend, have the balls to say it to my face."

Killer met his eyes this time, blue to orange, complementary and contrasting in equal parts, and Kidd frowned at the pained pinch at the corners, the shame Killer wore in his features. He didn't understand, and no searching helped him find the reason. "Why would you ever say that you aren't the reason I got this far in life?"

Killer tried to escape his look by closing his eyes, but Kidd shook him softly; Killer's long lashes brushing his thumbs when he opened them again.

"Why did you leave me?" he tried again.

"You were 14...."

The light went on this time, Kidd breathing out a soft, "Oh" as Killer tried to look away again. Kidd rubbed his thumb against Killer's cheekbone, tipping his head back until their eyes met again. "I'm not anymore."

Killer was starting back at him, a fearful guarded look. But now, now Kidd thought he understood. He smiled back, tone soft, "Can I kiss you?"

The fear was still there, but Kidd would show him. He waited until Killer lowered his gaze, but nodded, a soft, "Okay" that was both defeated and begging.

Kidd smiled, hands sliding up Killer's cheeks to brush his bangs away and placed a soft kiss to Killer's forehead, smirking at the red painted lip marks left behind. Killer was looking up at him curiously though his lashes. Kidd rearranged Killer's bangs until the mark was hidden under wild hair.

"It's my birthday... come have dinner with me?"

"Okay."

they never quite have hair for me, but they have my poison of choice!

any of my fellow peeps wanna play? I'd love to see how yall see yourselves

pic crew chain ig

Picrew

Panqueques maker

This is my second Picrew! Feel free to use it as an icon on any social media. Please do not use it as an NFT or for any profit. All re

tag ur moots<3

@xxbvtt3rflyb0yxx @r1p0utmygvtzz

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(Open tag)

T-T

so many people returning shit........

so i can finish the book shelf (meaning another pattern page done! 5 down, 7 to go!), and i can /probably/ finish azi’s coat now, but they where out of stock on the third colour.

guess i can try again on my way to work on thursday. until then, poor azi’s wings are just gonna have to stay unfinished for a bit now

i have now run out of a third colour for the cross stitch….

think the holiday shopping is over enough to attempt to go to the store once today has rolled around to a more reasonable hour?

reblogged here since i no longer use that account

Happy Halloween

Hello there! Hope you guys are having a great time!

Any fics that you know of a power imbalance between the two since Aziraphale is much more powerful than Crowley?

Any fics, doesn't matter for rating and whatnot!

Hi! The idea of one being more powerful than the other is only a fanon trope. So here, have a couple of fics in which Aziraphale is more powerful and a couple in which Crowley is more powerful...

Incongruous States of Being by ZehWulf (T)

“Who would win: Aziraphale or Crowley.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale startles. “Well—such a question. It’s not as though either of us has engaged in so much as fisticuffs in ages, and one does need to keep up practice with these sorts of things.” His fretting dies abruptly when Crowley cuts over him clearly, baldly: “Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale’s mouth clicks shut, and he goes so still that the group is forcibly reminded that ethereal beings don’t technically need to breathe, have a heartbeat, or even metabolize energy to exist. Beside him, Crowley’s stiffened up and his lips pull back from his teeth in a toe-curling wince.

I’ll think of you every step of the way by Mekachu04 (T)

Aziraphale worked very hard at being soft. He's been working very hard for more than 6000 years to be soft, and one demon is trying his patience on the matter, leading him on a smiting spree in hell.

aka - exploring my personal headcanon's of our fav duo's pasts, set sometime after the series ends. Tags will be expanded reflecting each new chapter to minimize spoilers. i'm not very nice to either of of our beloveds in this, but it all works out in the end.

Being Gentle by Sodium_Azide (M)

Principalities are built for war. Only for war. However, as bewildering as it may be, on Earth sometimes peace breaks out.

He felt like a siege catapult attempting to skip pebbles on a pond.

Aziraphale, a very gentle angel created to defend Eden against all of the horrible might of Hell, does his very best to be soft.

Starstruck by Atalan (T)

Aziraphale wasn't one of the angels tasked with creation. He wasn't ever expected to create anything new, but as it happened, he already had, though no-one (including him) realised it.

He had, completely on his own and with very little fuss, invented being desperately, hopelessly in love with someone who didn't even know his name.

AU. Aziraphale gets a shock when he runs into the Archangel Raphael in the Garden, especially since he's calling himself "Crowley" and pretending to be just any old ordinary angel. Meanwhile Crowley just wants someone to appreciate him for himself without all the convoluted power games of Heaven...

Truth Serum, Kidnapping, and a Garden! Oh My! by animefan021513 (T)

Aziraphale is a bit shaken by the place that Crowley created when he stopped time. So, logically, he gives Crowley a truth serum specially made for beings like him and Crowley to draw the truth out about that place. Soon, they find out that Gabriel is kidnapped by demons and needs their help. What truths will be revealed about Crowley? Who was he before he fell? What will his memories reveal when TESTED for REDEMPTION!? What will Aziraphale find out about some things he mysteriously doesn't remember? Will this whole thing affect their friendship? Why is Gabriel being nice now? READ AND FIND OUT! :) (Based mainly on the show)

The Truth Remains by WanderingAlice (M)

Raphael had been the third angel ever created, and he’d raised himself first with Michael’s clumsy help. Then he’d turned around and raised three more siblings, and loved them all so fiercely it hurt. He'd loved Aziraphale too, more than either of them really knew.

And then, he fell. He lost everything. The bond he held with his siblings was ripped away, leaving an aching, empty void. And while he still has Aziraphale, the angel doesn't recognize the archangel who taught him how to care about the Earth. And Crowley refuses to tell him who he was, or how Aziraphale's voice is the one thing that can soothe the ache in his soul that wants, so badly, to feel a connection again.

A story through the ages as an angel and a demon come to terms with their shared past.

- Mod D