Fandom: Good Omens
Characters: Crowley, Azi
notes: born because of those damn teasing images

“You may go, Aziraphale, your task is done.”

Smiling, his entire body bathed in divine light, Aziraphale nodded to the angelic host—a farewell, a thank you, perhaps; even he didn't know exactly what it meant.

Behind him, he heard an almost metallic sound, followed by a slight clinking—he turned, and before him two large metal doors swung open, appearing as if out of nowhere.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Aziraphale exclaimed, excited, incredulous—he had never seen those doors, had never heard of them, yet he knew exactly where they would lead him.

Still wearing his untouched Archangel robe, he walked through them, and as he was enveloped in a pleasant silence that warmed him inside and out, he closed his eyes, pursing his lips like an excited child waiting to receive the most beautiful of gifts.

Suddenly, he was greeted by noise—cars, laughter, doorbells, telephones, rock music, chatter, and shouting.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and brought his hands to his mouth.

He was beside himself with excitement, as if every nerve in his body was ready to spring into action.

He looked around and immediately recognized his beloved neighborhood, where he had slowly built his beloved bookstore, his home.

Everything was so familiar—and yet so different at the same time.

He looked down at his feet: they were no longer bare, but clad in brown loafers—and his robe had also disappeared, replaced by the clothes that had become his uniform over the years, that light, almost white suit, accompanied by a waistcoat and bow tie.

He felt his trouser pockets and found the small key ring in the shape of angel wings to which the key to his shop was attached.

He trotted towards the front door, greeting people left and right, amid the smiles of friends and the skeptical glances of those he had never met, and then he opened the door.

It seemed like a solemn, almost sacred act.

He had the feeling that, after that, there would be no turning back.

He threw open the door, and there, amid the dust dancing in the dim candlelight, among boxes of closed books, sat Crowley, sprawled in an armchair with his feet on the armrests, red sunglasses pulled down over his face.

He was reading a book that even Aziraphale didn't remember owning, some kind of demonic treatise.

“Of course, Angel, the higher-ups have sent you back here.” Crowley snorted, closing the book and throwing it onto a box.

Then, however, he lifted his glasses and smiled at the angel—his angel. “So, Angel, what do you say, do we deserve a nice vacation now that we've saved the world? I was thinking we could use my Bentley for a little trip... we could find a cottage on the coast, bring some wine and a few boxes of books...”

Aziraphale smiled so intensely that he seemed to light up—and perhaps, who knows, he really did—then grabbed Crowley by his leather jacket and pulled him toward him.

He planted a wet, noisy kiss on his mouth, then pulled back just enough to look into the eyes of the demon he had always known had a heart of gold.

He continued to smile at him.

And he promised himself he would continue to do so until, truly, the End of Days had come.

Fandom: Major Crimes
Personaggi: Julio Sanchez, Chris Carter
note: scritte per il prompt #sogniinlibertà #propositi del gruppo fb Sogni d'inchiostro

Quando Chris tornò a casa, era ormai notte fonda, e le stanze della loro semplice casetta senza troppi fronzoli erano immerse nel silenzio e nella quasi totale oscurità: era accesa solo una piccola lampada nell’ingresso, una luce che molto probabilmente Julio non aveva spento, apposta per lei.

Appena varcata la soglia, si tolse le scarpe dal tacco basso, per non fare rumore, e posó il trench rosso su una sedia.

A piedi scalzi, raggiunse la camera del figlio, Oscar.

Aprì la porta, lasciandola socchiusa, e alla luce della lampada a forma di stella lo guardó dormire profondamente nel suo lettino, abbracciato al suo paperotto di peluche azzurro.

Con un sospiro, il cuore pesante dopo la dura giornata, le ore di paura, chiuse la porta e raggiunse la camera da letto sua e di Julio.

Lui era ancora sveglio, seduto a letto a leggere un manuale di criminologia, i sottili occhiali da vista posati sul naso.

Appena la vide, li tolse, e posó il libro sul comodino.

Ancora con addosso il tailleur, Chris si lasciò cadere sul letto, accanto a lui, lo abbracciò, e Julio la prese tra le braccia, appoggiò il mento sui capelli ribelli di Chris e inspirò il suo profumo - dopo tutte quelle ore, aveva ancora addosso l'aroma di Libre sulla pelle, con le sue note di vaniglia e lavanda e camomilla.

“Il bambino sta bene?” Le domandó, e Chris prese un profondo respiro, ad occhi chiusi.

Fece un leggero cenno di assenso col capo, ma teneva le labbra strette, chiuse in una linea dura.

Il bambino che era stato involontariamente rapito da Webb, spacciatore tossico trasformato in un riluttante ladro di auto, aveva solo pochi mesi: non avrebbe mai ricordato nulla di quello che era accaduto.

Sua madre, però, ne avrebbe forse portato dietro le conseguenze per tutta la vita - e con lei, il figlio.

“Andrea ha proposto a Webb di testimoniare contro i Tres Colores  in cambio di una sentenza più leggera.” Chris sbuffò, rassegnata, arrabbiata, mentre stringeva tra le mani la stoffa della vecchia maglietta scolorita del dipartimento che Julio aveva indossato.

“Credi che accetterà?”

“Chissà.” Chris scrollò le spalle, sbuffò di nuovo. “Lui vorrebbe scontare la sua pena qui, vicino a suo figlio,  ma le prigioni della città sono piene di membri dei Tres Colores, quindi dovrebbe essere spostato fuori dallo stato sotto falso nome…”

“E lui non vuole.” Julio sospirò, rassegnato.

“Già,” Chris chiuse gli occhi, sospirò con lo stesso tono disfattista del marito.

Ne erano entrambi certi: Webb non avrebbe mai testimoniato, sarebbe finito dritto in una delle prigioni della contea, la sua ex moglie non gli avrebbe mai più fatto vedere il loro bambino e nei Tre Colores avrebbe serpeggiato il dubbio del tradimento.

Gli davano tre mesi: magari, non sarebbe nemmeno arrivato vivo alla fine del processo.

Julio spense la luce, e rimasero entrambi così, in silenzio, al buio, a fissare il soffitto con occhi sgranati.

Poi, all'improvviso, Chris si sedette sul letto.

Continuò a rimanere in silenzio, senza dire una parola, solo il suo respiro bucava quell’immobilità permeata di umidità che si attaccava alla pelle.

Col fiato che gli moriva in gola, Julio allungò il braccio verso il comodino ed accese l'abat jour.

Chris se ne stava lì, immobile, le ginocchia piantate nel materasso, la schiena dritta, gli occhi verdi, profondi, senza fondo, spaventati, fissi in quelli scuri di lui.

“Chris…” Julio allungò una mano verso di lei. Con polpastrelli ruvidi, gelidi per la tensione, le sfiorò il polso sinistro, e avvertì il battito accelerato del cuore della moglie attraverso la pelle di porcellana, le sottili vene bluastre. “Cosa c’è?”

“Questo caso… mi ha fatto pensare.” Chris abbassò gli occhi, scosse leggermente il capo. La sua voce era bassa, roca - sembrava che avesse paura o si vergognasse di cosa stava per dire. “A quando credevo di essere di nuovo incinta. Ti sarebbe piaciuto se… se lo fossi stata?”

“Sei…” Julio scattò a sedere come una molla, avvicinò, titubante, una mano al ventre di Chris.

Sgranò gli occhi, il cuore in gola.

“No, no.” Chris sì sbrigò a rassicurarlo. Era leggermente arrossita, e la sua voce era rimasta sì bassa, ma più limpida - timida, non più colpevole.

Rialzò gli occhi su Julio, mordendosi le labbra.

“Allora? Ti sarebbe piaciuto se…”

“Si. Forse.” Julio sbuffò leggermente mentre faceva scorrere, nervoso, le dita nei corti capelli neri. “Voglio dire, ho quasi cinquant’anni, e abbiamo già tre figli, però abbiamo tutti e due un buon lavoro, e delle famiglie, e tra un paio d’anni io potrei già ritirarmi. Ma perchè…”

“Mi sarebbe piaciuto.” Chris ammise, stringendo le lenzuola con le dita. “Mi piacerebbe. Cioè… non è che lo voglio assolutamente. Però… però mi piacerebbe se… se smettessimo di provare a non avere un bambino.”

“Tu… vuoi un bambino?” Julio le domandó, sollevando un sopracciglio, le labbra piegate nell’ombra di un sorriso.

“Si. Ma nessuna ossessione.” Chris divenne paonazza, e mise un leggero broncio. “Niente temperatura basale, calcolo dell’ovulazione… se capita, capita. Se non capita, ce ne faremo una ragione.”

“Chris…” gli occhi di Julio si fecero dolci e profondi. “Con Oscar non è stata semplice. Ti ricordi che…”

“Lo so, lo so. E sono pronta. Davvero.” Chris ammise. “Acidità, piedi gonfi, riposo a letto. Se tu sei pronto a sopportarmi mentre divento una balena insofferente, lo sono anche io.”

“Beh, Oscar ha preso tutto da me,” Julio fece schioccare la lingua contro il palato, ridacchiò. “Non sarebbe male una bambina che ti assomigli. Magari una futura pattinatrice, come tua madre.”

“Non è che perché vuoi una femmina, l’avremo.” Chris scoppiò a ridere. Si lasciò andare contro Julio, il capo appoggiato alla spalla di lui mentre Julio le baciava i capelli.

“Però sarebbe carino,” le sussurrò. Fece schioccare la lingua contro il palato, ed emise una bassa risata, leggera. “E poi, vuoi mettere? Non dovremmo più preoccuparci dei profilattici, della pillola… torneremo a farlo come conigli in tutti luoghi e tutti i modi come quando eravamo giovani.”

Chris alzò gli occhi al cielo. Non si sentiva così vecchia, dopotutto. E anche Julio, era parecchio ben messo per i suoi anni, le cameriere ancora gli scrivevano il loro numero sui bicchieri da asporto.

“Se rimango incinta, poi basta.” Chris sospirò. “Fai la vasectomia, sul serio.”

“Ah, per me va benissimo.” Julio scoppiò a ridere, le diede un bacio umido sulla spalla, mentre le scostava ciocche di capelli rossi ribelli.

“E cosa cis arebbe di così divertente?” Chris si voltò a guardarlo, con un’espressione curiosa.

“Trovo adorabile che tu voglia coscientemente rimanere incinta, visto e considerato che Oscar è stato un incidente felice.” Lui scrollò le spalle. “E che avevi giurato e spergiurato che non ti saresti mai più risposata, che non volevi figli… e invece, come ti ho fatto capitolare!”

Chris rise, ma afferrò il cuscino e lo diede in faccia a Julio, che lo gettò a terra prima di prenderla tra le braccia e coprirla di baci appassionati.

There are weeks when everything is amasing... and then there are weeks where you only get seatbacks.
Like this one.
Just sayin'.

Not so long ago, Razer had believed his heart – or what had taken its place – capable of feeling only rage.
But, in time, the renegade Red Lantern had seen the light, and allowed himself to believe that there was more than that – that he could still love, despite a broken heart - an heart that wasn’t even there any longer. And together with love… came fear, that he would lose it all once again because he had always knew that no life was eternal, and death was a destiny that awaited everyone. Seeing his wife dying had been bad enough, and it had been his undoing, turning him into the monster that had blindly served Atrocitus.
Out of fear, he had broken Aya. Out of fear, he had denied himself hope – and love.
As he scoured the galaxy for his lost love, he vowed to find her – no matter what – and he promised himself he wouldn’t do the same mistake twice. For better or for worse, they belonged together, and he would have made up to her, set things right, no matter what, no matter how long it would take.
The Red Lantern smiled quietly, as the blue light kept him company, never leaving his side, never faltering, as a trusty companion.His ring whispered to him in his sleep, but it wasn’t the old song of hate and destruction he used to listen to every moment of every day. Razer just wasn’t sure why: maybe it was because he was different, maybe it was because he had lost his edge – his uttermost, all-consuming rage – and the swallowing emotion was now directed only towards Atrocitus and himself. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the calming influence of the blue ring at his side.
The Blue Light of Hope had started followed him after he had left Oa, sure that somewhere a part of his Aya still had to exist. The ring had never taken residence on his finger, and yet, Razer known it to be his and his alone.
He wondered if it was the shadow of doubt and fear that clouded what remained of his soul – that he was wrong, that she too was truly dead – that prevented the ring from taking residence around his finger. Or maybe it was just the fact that he didn’t have an heart any longer- and although the ring knew his soul, it couldn’t fully recognize him as a living being.
Razer sighed, wondering once again if he hadn’t done a mistake leaving the side of the Green Lanterns. Then, he lifted his gaze, and watched the quiet starry night, and listened to the calm songs of the wild life of the planet he had chosen to rest his tired bones.
A lively fire was warming him up, flames dancing right before his eyes, as the magic shows he used to watch to as a kid, and, at his side, with its intermittent warm light, the Blue Ring looked like… what had Hal called it? Ah, yes, now he remembered - a lightning bug, one of Earth’s insects.
“You are right, my friend.” Razer tentatively skimmed over the light’s aura, petting the ring as it was a beloved  pet. “I can’t lose hope – not now. She is somewhere out there, and I have to find her.”As much as he wanted to get back into Aya’s embrace, Razer wasn’t stupid: he knew that, was everything to cease to exist, his quest would have been futile.  So, when the bearer of the Black Ring presented himself once again – this time serving death himself, the Dark Lord Nekron -  the Red Lantern reluctantly answered the call, and stood, once again, at the side of his former Lord, and of the family he had chosen and who had kindly taken him in when he had nowhere else to turn to – the Green Lantern Corps, Hal and Guy and Kyle and all the others.
He wore his red ring- but the blue light was never far from him, never faltering, remembering him what awaited him once the fight would be over.
“I’ve received the message, Hal.” Razer clenched his teeth as he fought, valiantly, against what appeared to be an endlessly ocean of adversaries.
“Great,” Hal acknowledged, and Razer swore he saw his friend sweating – as he was scared, unsure of what awaited them. Not that the first Green lantern of Earth didn’t have any reason to be worried. Death was everywhere around them, and there were Black Lanterns as far as his eyes could see – and even more so. Death, he remembered someone once told him, could not be eradicated, nor fought, and as his mind wondered though those dangerous territories, her thought stroke him once again.
Aya – his Aya – had been, in a matter, alive, only to die in his embrace. Was she among those monsters, as well? Was he always doomed to keep finding his beloved again and again – only to see, each and every time, a corrupted version of his beloved in her place?
“All will be well, Lantern Razer – I have faith in tomorrow.”
Razer swallowed, hard, and nodded, the blue light at his side getting stronger, wormer, with each passing second, as to give him a strength the Red Lantern wasn’t aware he could possess.
As Razer stood between Hal and Saint Walker, the Blue Lantern kindly smiled at him, not even taken a little back from the sight of a fellow blue ring, patiently waiting for the day its bearer would be ready to welcome him.
---------
Once spilled the blood of the Guardian of the Universe, Nekron recited his dark spell, and grinned satisfied as he made contact, opening the door towards the greatest secret ever kept: the Entity, the living light bestowed upon the universe that triggered existence itself.
 Death incarnate hit the Light with his scythe, with everything he got, his satisfied grin never faltering, as every living being started screaming in agony, sharing its pain, dying a little with each and every strike, and it was in that moment that it hit them: the Entity was the embodiment of light – but it was the same just like the other entities -   the Butcher, Ophidian, Parallax, Ion, the Proselyte, the Predator, Adara. Alone, they could do nothing, but in the hands of the right being – with the right pilot, as Hal had put it – they could do anything and everything - even overcome the odds and win the fight against Death itself.
Through the pain, he stood at the side of great warriors, powerful allies – some he knew, other were trusted friends of Hal – and did his best to keep as many Black Lanterns as possible, while none other than Sinestro took control of the Entity, bonding with it- taking back control of his life and his destiny. In his mind, the Leader of his own corps was fulfilling Abin Sur’s mission, his mentor’s legacy coming full circle, the deceased alien’s name now restored.
With the corner of his eyes, Razer look as, without hesitation nor doubt, Sinestro tore Nekron apart, taking his heart and crushing it in his fist: a victory they didn’t even had time to celebrate, as, every time the God of Death fell, he raised once again, the walking dead all around him an endless supply of host for what had existed right from the start of the universe, and in the blink of an eye, the battle restarted anew – only, this time, Sinestro, freed from his connection to the Entity, stood on the ground, powerless, a failure in his own eyes.
“Death is your destiny, Sinestro – as is yours, Hal Jordan. Like the others who came back from the dead, you did so because I allowed it. But no more - I want peace again. Life was an accident. It has no meaning, no purpose.”
“No,” Razer took a big breath, the blue light getting stronger and stronger as he closed his eyes and focused all his rage, all of his emotions, into hitting the monster who stood right before them. Nekron, he remembered him of Aja- of the similar words she had once said, when, corrupted by pain and desperation, she had tried to take all of life away, and bring peace and order to the Universe. “No. Black Hand, Nekron… it’s not life that gives us purpose. We give life purpose.”
Razer watched as Hal took matters in his own hands – together with his friends and comrades. As they channeled the power of life through their veins, embracing the power of the White Lantern, he valiantly stood among heroes he didn’t know – but who he was proud to call allies – men and women and children and people of Erath and from beyond the small blue planet, all serving together, all fighting at each other’s side with the sole purpose of serving, and saving, life.
“Let there be light,” the Entity proclaimed, “Live…”
And before they knew it… the clouds had lifted their veil upon the planet that had given birth to life, and, where once stood their enemies reanimated bodies, there was now shamble, smoke and ruins – but, most of all, stood life, victorious, in the shape of their beloved, brought back to life.
And she was there, among them, different and yet the same – the Entity had brought her back, but her body seemed much more… alive than what it used to be, as she was now made of flesh and blood and a beating heart and not just thought and conscience and heart in a metal body. She was so different -her skin as pale as the rays of the moon and not green any longer, and shiny white hair that gently skimmed over her shoulder - and yet, Razer’s heart reached out to her. In any shape, in any world, he would have always recognized her – always, forever and ever.
“My love… Aya…” He swallowed, taking a tentative first step towards her. She was looking around, confused – as she wasn’t sure of what had happened, or maybe, just maybe, couldn’t believe it herself.
LOVE HOPE RAGE COMPROMISED
As his ring went into a million of tiny little pieces, his body started to burn – not literally, of course, and yet, Razer swore it was exactly how he felt in that instant, and screamed – screamed at the top of his lungs, the pain so real and just so raw like nothing he had ever felt before, crashing his whole being, body, soul and mind.  “RAZER?!”
He fell onto the cold, wet ground of Earth, and before losing consciousness, the last thing he remembered was Aya calling his name, the pain in that sole word breaking him again and again and again, as she run to his side, and cuddled him into her embrace, the same way he had done for her before she would be consumed by Infinity.
 “Hal? What’s going on? What’s happening to Razer?” She asked, as she caressed his cold features – as cold as the metal that had once been her body. His Red Lantern uniform had disappear, gone with the ring. The man she cherished more than her life itself stood still in her arms, his eyes empty, voided of life, his features pale and greyish.
“He’s going into cardiac arrest – his heart stopped the day he became a Red Lantern, and now, without his ring…” Hal swallowed and looked sideways. He didn’t dare to end the sentence, not meet Aya’s eyes. She had just came back, had been given yet another chance at life – and yet, life had ripped what she cared the most about away from her.
“Give me your hand, Aya…” Carol Ferris – the Sapphire of Earth, and Jordan’s beloved – took a step forward, and smiled gently at the former AI. Reassuringly, the woman from Earth put an hand on Aya’s shoulder, and squeezed it, like nothing was wrong in the world. “His heart may have stopped, but, Aya, give me your hand…”
LOVE
As channeling her love for Razer, Carol  took Aya’s hand, and gently skimmed with her free one over Razer’s heart. The violet –pinky light of love engulfed them, and Aya held her breath, holding back  tears, just hoping that all would be well, that, as she had been returned at last to him, Razer too would be returned in her arms, safe and sound.
“Your heart is beating, and it will help his beat again too…”
A blue ring – the same blue ring that for a long time had accompanied Razer in his travels through the cosmos, as he looked for answers, shone brighter than ever right before them, where Razer’s heart once stood.
“The blue light will reverse the effects of the red ring…” Saint Walker smiled, gently, reassuringly, his aura of quietness and rightness still in place, just like the day she had met him for the first time. Aya held her breath as she watched, amazed, as the two blue rings- Saint Walker’s and what assumed was to be Razer’s – shone brighter than the life of creation itself, engulfing the alien man.
It was a moment, and yet it lasted an eternity, it was endless. Then, finally, finally, he opened his eyes, and all he saw was her.
“Aya… are we… dead?”
She smiled, caressing his marks on his faces, gently. “No, Razer, we are alive. Both of us.”
He smiled, his features much more calmer, like the light of hope and love had graced his heart, and for the first time in his life, he  truly believed to the voice whispering a new oath in his mind, and, tentatively, he cupped her face, feeling under his fingertips the new texture of her skin – so alien, and yet so familiar.
“Hello Aya, I’ve missed you.” He smiled, and they embraced, holding each other so strongly, so close, that they looked like a single being. They hearts beat in tempo, as a single entity, and as Razer gently run an hand through her hair, Aya couldn’t stop crying, wetting his chest with her tears.
RAZER OF VOLKREG, YOU HAVE THE ABILITY TO FEEL AND INSTILL GREAT HOPE. WELCOME TO THE BLUE LANTERN CORPS.
AYA OF OA, YOU HAVE GREAT LOVE IN YOUR HEART. WELCOME TO THE STAR SAPPHIRES.
The lights of love, hope and life shone inside their souls, urging them to break away from the past and their blackest nights and head into tomorrow, where all would have been well. 

I've been working on editing my work for this year's Het Little & Big Bang- it's a small bang, a bit more than 20000 words.
I've done... six chapter out of nine. And I'm struggling. For real. of course I'll do mybest to get ti done for reveal date- I would be crazy not to, after all the work me and my beta put into it- but I'm changing so many things... rewriting pieces to fix POW, explain things that in the first (or second, or whatever) draft hand't been expalined too well, changing words to avoid repetitions...
It's tiring, and I can work on it only a couple of days a week, because my home computer just kill my eyes, if I try to keep two word documents in the same screen.
ugh.
Really.

Is there anyone interested in betaing a small bang (around 10k) for hetbigbang? Deadline is august, story is short-ish, and is a NCIS:New Orleans work, featuring an Original character...  which is kind of what it makes it ahrd to find soemone willing to beta-read it. (That, and the fact that when there's someone spelling "Grammar" and "gremmer", and apparently there's a lot of such people on the list of fanfiction.net beta-reader, well, what can I say, I'm not exactly tempted to give them a go...
(if karlamartinova is still interested in beta-ing like last year... I may have lost your e-mail information :) )

Few weeks ago, a costumer of mine called me "fat".
Now, I know I'm not thin; I'm not an idiot. I'm 1.50 and I go between size 44 and 46. There's just no way that I'm thin. Plus, between work- and it's my own business, so I basically spend all my time there- and family and stuff, well, I kind of got lazy, eat not too well and excercised even less. 
When this kind old lady told me so, well, I knew it. but it's one other time having someone so rudely and openly point it out to you (if I were less gracious, or had been less surprised, I would have said soemthing. Probably. Maybe.).
But, well, it kind of... woke me up.
I've lessened the amout of white flour, I eat more vegetables and fruit (even if I already ate a lot), less meat and cheese, smaller portions- and yes, following the advice of my doctor, I'm also using pills to decress the amount of sugar and fats absorbed by my body.
BUT, moslty, I invested in excercise. Not the gym- because when you finish working at 8pm, trust me, the gym is the last place you want to go to. I just bought, thanks Amazon,  a trademill and a stepper 8and started using the things I already have home) and I gave myself a timeline. Each day, at least 20 minutes.
And it's working.

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