#drunk proposals

[vantablackdraws]

that small, fluttery feeling

[deimcs]

Mystra has dictated the terms of my potential for long enough. The Crown would grant me control of my own destiny at last.

[thisonetimeinmeridian]

The fact that people still get Arya and Gendry's characters wrong to this day gets my blood boiling. I literally saw someone on Reddit say Gendry wouldn't have let Arya be herself?! And it got so many upvotes??? Like what the fuck??!! That person said she also wouldn’t be happy with Gendry and someone responded they wouldn't actually be equals because that's too "unrealistic" and "happy." Um hello? There are multiple women in the GOT universe shown ruling and being independent in spite of societal norms.

I'm getting mad over the final season all over again. I need to calm down. Other (wrong) people might thing Arya is a loner or a nomad or a pirate or an emotionless assassin who doesn't care about anyone, but really, all that is is trauma. Like she started her list and quest for revenge due to the trauma of loosing her family and all that death and violence.

She just needs to heal first. I was mad at the time, but I think a year at sea will be good for her. Give her time to self-reflect. To unpack all her trauma and everything she's done. I have a sinking feeling my girl thinks she isn't worthy of love anymore and that her family and Gendry will think she's a monster. We know that's not true. But does she?

She's not gonna roam the seas forever. She'll go back to her family eventually. And when she does, I think her journey would only last a year, I think she'll reunite with Gendry and settle down with him. She'll be like Lyanna Mormont. Untraditonal. Honest. Independent. Fighter. She can still ride horses and do all things she loves and still want to get married to him eventually and have kids.

I dont see why it has to be one or the other? Lyanna's mom, Maege Mormont, did that. Why can't Arya? That's what pisses me off, that people think just because you're a tomboy doesn't mean you dont want love or romance. And I don't entirely blame these people since the show is bad at portraying different types of women and how, yes, even a tomboy can want those things. It also didn't help that Arya was almost emotionless in seasons 7 and 8.

Anyway, how the fuck can they think that about my boy Gendry?!?!? Justice for him. This post I'm ranting about was from a year ago, but I can't help but be pissed off. He was drunk!!! He got his own last name wrong!!! He didn't know what he was saying!!! The only ladies he met at that point were Arya, Brienne, Sansa, Lyanna Mormont, and Daenerys. All who are independent, strong, respected, intelligent, and who don't dare have a man tell them who to be.

Of course he got confused!!! He already has a complex growing up as a lowborn blacksmith. So, of course, he'll get confused and think "oh Arya can be this type of lady, I've never met one before, but they seem fine. Not like a snob at all. Now Arya and I can be family and I can be worthy of her!"

Also, Maisie and Joe ship Gendrya and Maisie said in an interview she'd like Arya to be at peace with a hunk and all she needs to be convinced to do a sequel show is to have zips instead of laces and Joe said Gendry would die of a broken heart so suck it. Joe also said, "at least now not capable of that love," or something to that affect.

That person is wrong, and I'm mad at D and D all over again for ruining my one OTP who actually had a chance at being canon. So thanks, guys. Anyway, those interviews are on my blog somewhere. I reblogged them from someone if anyone who actually bothered or cared to look at this wants to find them or ask me to find them.

Rant over (for now).

[shushmal]

i was going to make a post that was just:

steve, watching took girls he used to be in love with kiss: *in the least creepy way possible* hell yeah :)

and in the tags i typed "steve being besties with all his exes" and then immediately thought of the fact that, yes, steve is friends with all his exes, EXCEPT for eddie

like, eddie and him have a quick summer fling or something, it burns hot and it burns FAST. but then, like in all relationships, they both change. they both start thinking of the ✨future✨ and... steve's not leaving hawkins anytime soon, you know? and eddie wants nothing more than to get out. but they're both attached, more than they thought they were, so it's not necessarily an amiable break. it's not horrible, they don't hate each other or anything. but there's lots of tears and a little bit of yelling, and then...

eddie leaves. and they never speak again.

and they think of each other, sure. in new partners, in new experiences, wondering what it might be like if— except that's not the reality anymore. they're NOT together anymore, so there's no sense in wondering, right?

except... they do. they do wonder, they do wish, they do miss each other, they still want each other. but that ship's sailed. he's moved on, they think. he's moved on and his happy with someone else.

and of course, that's when mike and el's wedding happens to everyone.

[elilelibeli]

Reggies drunk craving

Sound of their front door wakes James up. He turns on the lamp next to the couch and sees Reg taking off his shoes.

“Hi love” he ask while yawning.

“Hi Jamie” Regulus smiles at him, “why aren’t you asleep?” he asks slurring.

“Wanted to wait, how was your night?” James gets up to kiss him. Regulus melts in his boyfriend’s touch.

“Great! They played so much Rihanna, I haven’t danced that much in a very long time.” he says in between small kisses. “You can go up and I’ll be right up with you” he says smiling at his boyfriend’s childlike yawn.

James steals one more quick peck and heads up the stairs lazily. He is about to go into the bedroom when he hears a loud curse.

“Reg, love what’s going on” he calls.

“James, where are my leftover noodles” Regulus whines, closing the fridge door with a loud bang. “Did you eat them?”

“Baby, the noodles from last weekend?” He asks and chuckles at his boyfriend’s eager nod.

“No I didn’t eat them Reggie, they were old, I threw them away”

“You threw my noodles away?”

“Yes love, the veggies had mold on them”

“But I wanted to eat the noodles. That’s the only thing I craved in the cab. I was sitting and thinking about those noodles and I really..” Reg can’t finish his sentence because he is crying. He is actually crying about the noodles, big tears and full pout crying.

James can’t help himself but laugh. His boyfriend is standing in the kitchen at 3 am, crying because of the noodles with a lip quiver and that adorable, little pout.

“James, do not laugh! This is not funny you threw away my noodles” Reg says putting his hands on his hips.

“Come on baby, they had gone bad. Go up, try to take those glitters off and I’ll order you some”James pulls him by his belt loop and tries to kiss him. Reg is pretending to be upset but still smiles against James’s lips. He heads up to the bathroom happily.

Last thing Regulus remembers is going upstairs to get ready for bed. Now he wakes up because of a loud bang from the kitchen. He quickly goes down to see what’s going on.

“Jamie, are you okay?”

“Shit, did I wake you up? sorry love I dropped a lid” James answers. James who is standing in front of a stove, stirring a big pot of noodles at 4:30 in the morning.

“Jamie what are you doing?”

“The noodle place you like was not open when I tried to order, so I figured I’d try and make you some.” James was smiling at him “we ran out of spring onions but I think it will be okay”

“You made me noodles.” Regulus is staring at him, his mouth fully open.

“Yeah?!”

“Well.. Jamie is 4:30 in the morning”

“Yes but you were craving them, weren’t you?” James asks while getting a bowl from the cupboard.

Regulus is still standing. He cannot believe that he is not even surprised. Of course this is what James would do, he would stay up all night to wait for him and then cook him a stupid drunk craving at 4 in the morning. He is standing there and he is not even surprised that this is happening because things like this happen to him now. And he suddenly realizes the size of luck and happiness he has are unmeasurable, because he is used to things like this. He gets to receive James’s huge love and exist with this much kindness. He realizes how truly happy he is and how he would do anything to always be this warm from James.

As if something nudged him, Regulus moves suddenly, hugging, or more like jumping on his boyfriend’s back like a mad man. “You are going to marry me, right?” he asks with an extremely serious tone.

James turns around. He is smiling with his whole face, dimples on his cheeks, crinkles around his sweet, sweet brown eyes. He laughs with his loud laugh that Regulus prefers over any symphony he has ever heard.

“Right, of course, of course I will Reggie. I would do it right now if I could” he answers, with sincerity in his voice.

“Right, okay, good, perfect” Regulus answers, unable to form a coherent sentence after having every single cell in him injected with overdose of love. He kisses his, apparently very soon to be husband on his cheek and grabs a hot bowl of what he thinks will be the most delicious noodles in the world from his hands. He is happy truly, truly happy.

[thevesuvians]

To Lucio and Nadia

What was your wedding like?

Oh, it was nice at first, but then the alcohol wore off, and it was so annoying. Noddy didn't even hesitate before she said no to laying with me, ON OUR HONEYMOON, TOO. I told her we should redo the wedding to be a lot better but she said no.

— 🐏

[xfriki26]

News about Agatha and Patty, they are no longer girlfriends...

They are fiancees now

[oh-surprise-its-me]

Jamie definitely doesn’t like his birthday (for valid reasons fuck his dad) so for his 30th Roy and Georgie throw him a small party of them.

The team obviously throws him a big party and he’ll smile and be the golden party boy but he doesn’t actually love it.

Roy that morning and makes him a full non meal plan approved breakfast. Roy tells Jamie he’s allowed to pick anything to do that morning ( wink wink) ((they play fifa and Jamie finally gets Roy to admit the game is fun))

They go to Georgie’s house and Jamie is so shocked that his mom made him all of his favorite childhood foods and holy shit Roy fucking Kent loves him and is in his childhood house for his birthday.

It’s officially the best birthday Jamie’s ever had and it only gets better that night when they go home and Roy gives him a necklace with their jersey numbers.

[redmemoirs]

i love the thought of everyone at lilias (infamously anti-noble as they are, re:lata) thinking haki, the nice supervisor who everyone likes despite her background being kind of inseparable from who she is, is totally out of the king's league

[solar-halos]

odesta week. day #1: modern au monday

summary: annie and finnick engage in some crazy funky shenanigans after a concert

3k, odesta fluff, modern au. also some johannie in the beginning (as a treat) but obv this is odesta endgame. concert they attended isn’t explicitly mentioned but know in ur heart it’s chappell roan

“Wanna do something fun?”

Annie was not expecting Johanna to say anything, so her next opened mouth kiss lands directly on her chin. Oops. The club lights bathe them in swathes of purples and pinks, which complements the lipstick stains on Johanna’s neck. 

“Huh?” Annie asks. It’s a fair question—she thought all this making out they were doing was the fun part. 

In Annie’s opinion, it couldn’t get better than this. It’s not everyday you get to see your favorite artist’s favorite artist live and in concert, and it’s also not everyday that hot people choose to strike up a conversation with her.

Johanna and Finnick are hot. And, even better, they were the ones who turned around and started asking her questions right after they caught her eye in line. Maybe they just really liked her vibes. Peeta and Katniss were accompanying Annie, too, but anyone with a sixth sense could tell that they weren’t really down with throuples.

Annie would be so down for a throuple. Need she remind you that Johanna and Finnick are fucking hot.

Annie had no idea what the fuck a man was doing at this concert, but she already knew she was a goner as soon as Johanna offered Annie a vape she procured from her tits. Annie was ready to dive in. 

And she did—kinda. Eventually. The concert venue was crackling with sick beats and (courtesy of Johanna) simmering sexual tension. Hands on hips, bustier against bustier—it was like they’d known each other for a thousand lifetimes (Annie didn’t even know Johanna’s last name). Then the concert ended, and they were walking out together, and that was all the flirting time Johanna needed to convince Annie that they should start locking lips. 

Speaking of locking lips, how come they’re not doing that right now?

Right. Johanna wanted to do something fun. Annie pulls away and gives Johanna her undivided attention. Well—as undivided as it can be with all the pulsing lights and upbeat music and enthusiastic dancing going around all around them. 

“You’re so cuddly,” Johanna says. Annie is suddenly hyper aware of the fact that she’s not even sitting in her bar stool anymore. Oops. She had no idea that she was trying to drape herself over Johanna, so she pulls away. “I think my friend Finnick would really like that.”

My friend Finnick. As if he needed an introduction. That was the guy who was standing by Johanna’s side in line the entire time they were waiting for the concert to start. In an ideal world, Annie would have been sandwiched between their locked lips, but she had to play it cool. Chances are he’s just one of the girls. 

Or maybe not. They looked like they were having a pretty intense argument the moment the concert ended, making pointed gestures at Annie, but Annie’s own friends were pretty good at distracting her from their (hopefully) platonic lovers quarrel. 

Katniss and Peeta tapped out after the first club. Annie kept going, especially when Johanna’s hands kept wandering lower and lower and lower until Finnick stopped shooting her weird-looking glances altogether. 

“Does Finnick like me?” Annie demands, excitement blooming in her chest. That’s so hot. “Like, does he wanna be with me?”

“Probably,” Johanna replies. She fixes Annie with a glare that looks almost wistful, then gives her a hard kiss on the mouth as a parting gift. “I need post-coital cigarettes. Not cuddles.”

“Oh.” She starts nudging Johanna away now, too, because she doesn’t even smoke. “Good thing you figured that out about us. I would’ve never guessed.”

Johanna raises her pierced eyebrows. “Seriously?”

Annie leans back and studies her. She has pink hair that’s molded into spiky tendrils and a glittering constellation of nose piercings. Annie’s eyes flick down to her bustier and leather pants.

“I don’t like making assumptions about people,” Annie says, as if she hadn’t been thinking with her dick the entire time. 

“Get the fuck out of here,” Johanna replies good naturedly, her own lipstick smeared all across the dimples on her cheek. 

Annie stumbles out of her seat. She’s not even drunk. Not since the first club, at least, but they’ve cycled through so many that she finally registers that her feet ache in her stilettos. Why doesn’t anyone ever talk about the psychological repercussions of serving so much cunt all the time?

She starts her search for Finnick. It was harder to pick him out in the first couple clubs—and not just ‘cause Annie was preoccupied with Johanna—but they’ve officially transitioned out of Las Vegas’ queer scene and landed in dudebro territory. Finnick’s dark eyeliner and chipped red nail polish is really starting to stick out in the-only-club-that’s-still-open Nevada. 

Nevada. Road tripping from California with Peeta and Katniss hadn’t been ideal—Peeta’s car was probably never gonna fully recover from this—but desperate times called for desperate measures. Annie would have attended that concert if it was hosted in the middle of the goddamn ocean, wetsuit and chunky goggles and all.

“Finnick!” She finally finds him, and when she does, she does not hesitate to sit down next to him at the booth he’s at. She’s never been very good at figuring out what the fuck a social cue is, but he seems pretty happy to see her, so she takes that as her sign to keep going. “Hi!”

“Hi,” he says, so softly that the music nearly eats his reply whole. His cheeks flush.

He’s pretty. The dark liner dragging across his under eye would look harsh on anyone else, but she’s suddenly obsessed with all this eye contact he’s making with her. His coppery hair drapes over his shoulders, the soft waves curling right over the knot of his Adam’s apple.

Hot. 

Annie already knows so much about him. They spent a lot of time in line together, so she knows when he graduated high school (he’s only one year older, so the age gap won’t be very hard to defend at all) and where he’s from (California, too—good, ‘cause Annie didn’t wanna do long distance) and how he found out about the concert in the first place (Johanna was obsessed with the music first, then he followed in her footsteps, which Annie doesn’t really mind. She’s already compiling a playlist in her head that she thinks he’ll really like).

“Have you heard of this song?” Oh. It’s like he read her mind. He pulls out his phone, shuffling closer to her. Annie knows that he’s getting so close as an excuse to drown out the blaring music. She cuddles even closer, but she doesn’t have an excuse. She just likes cuddling—Johanna clocked that from a mile away.

Finnick does, too. He slides an arm around her waist and she sets her head on his shoulder the entire time they carefully curate playlists for each other. Annie can’t wait to listen to all the stuff he picked out for her on the way home.

“Favorite color?” Finnick asks, after they got all the soul-binding stuff out of the way, but he keeps giggling because Annie finally found the perfect angle to dot kisses to the underside of his chin. “Wait, let me guess,” he adds, and Annie thinks the only reason he even tacked that on in the first place is because he doesn’t want her lips off his skin. 

“Okay. Guess,” she says, punctuating the demand with another kiss.

He takes his time. Annie progresses to the corner of his mouth, but she doesn’t know if they’re ready for that yet, so she focuses her efforts on his cheek. He ducks his head to the side so that they’re looking each other in the face. No one’s ever looked more kissable.

“Blue,” he says. “Your favorite color is blue.”

“Kinda.” Now it’s his turn to start kissing her. He has a lot of skin to choose from—her bustier is teeny—but he keeps it nice and respectful at her jaw. Annie drags him down to her neck, butterflies erupting in her tummy. “Cerulean.”

“That counts. It’s blue.” He’s getting bolder. He crosses over to sternum territory, green eyes flicking up to hers, which would be sexy if it didn’t look like he was being charged with a crime. 

“Kiss me, please.” Maybe he was waiting for a verbal cue. Hot.

That’s apparently all it takes for him to get cocky. He smiles into her skin, lips dragging over her pulse in another hypnotizing kiss. “Don’t you wanna know my favorite color?”

She knows he doesn’t really mean it. She answers him anyway—she was in the mood to be played with.

“Red.” Like the color of his nails. Like the sky before a storm. His grin broadens, so she knows she’s right, but he obviously intends on teasing her. Two can play at this game. “Am I wrong? Maybe Johanna can give me a hint.”

His eyes get as stormy as his nails. He darts up from her chest, so Annie’s hands fly up to his cheeks to meet him in the middle. Their lips tangle together in a messy blur of spit and tongue, trying their best to map each other out. But, when Annie gets acclimated to the touch and heat and feel of him, she gets acclimated. 

So does he. They’re climbing into each other’s bones in no time.

Annie’s on top—on his lap, raking her acrylics through his waves—but she savors the pressure of his ringed fingers on her hips. Hard enough to bruise.

She angles her neck to the side. He gets the hint. She surveys the area while he gets to work, his chapped lips leaving goosebumps on her skin. She feels restless sitting still like this, even with all the friction his patchwork jeans have to offer. 

“Wanna dance?”

Once again, he takes the words straight out of her mouth. Annie leads the way, with Finnick trailing behind her so he can press more kisses to her neck. The intensity and intimacy of it all has her leaning back into him. Her skin tingles where his hands linger—her bustier, her hips, the whale tail peeking out of her skirt, then all the way back to her bustier again, his fingertips whispering all sorts of promises over her skin.

Annie’s never felt so respected. She feels secure, all tucked up between his arms and his lips. They move as one, united in heart and soul.

“Okay, everyone! Get the fuck out!”

The disco lights disappear, replaced by blinding fluorescents. The security guard up front is already ushering people toward the door. Is it seriously 2am already?

Finnick and Annie glance at each other. Lipstick stains on his neck, ring-shaped indents on hers. There’s no questioning who she’s going home with tonight, so she slips her hand into his and fishes her phone out of her purse with the other. Katniss was okay with leaving Annie with Johanna and Finnick under one condition: Annie had to send her frequent updates about her night.

you can’t fuck some rando you just met, Katniss replies, but it’s so much more than that. They weren’t just gonna fuck—they were gonna exchange souls. 

They pass by Johanna on the way out. She’s walking with someone else, a new layer of lipstick slathered over her face. She salutes them both as she and some girl climb into an Uber. 

Finnick and Annie look at each other again. And then they burst out laughing.

Anyway, Finnick isn’t a rando. He’s someone she knows on a personal and metaphorical level. He’s the sugarcubes in her coffee (he likes sweet drinks) and the training wheels on her bike (he never learned how to ride). She knows him more than she knows anyone on earth—including herself.

Annie doesn’t make it very far in her stilettos. They collapse on the curb so she can take a moment to rest. She takes this time to stare at him some more, absolutely in love with the slope of his nose and the curve of his jaw.

She has her feet in his lap in no time, his fingers rubbing the tension out of her muscles. She has no idea how it happened, or who initiated the contact—it was as natural as the progression of their relationship. Taking care of each other is second nature by now. 

“I think I have some band aids in here,” he says, scrounging around his pockets. “Johanna’s platforms give her nasty blisters, even if she never says anything about it.”

He carefully smooths out a couple bandaids over the curve of her ankle. She sighs, snuggling into the warmth of his chest. He drapes an arm around her bare shoulders. 

“I left my extra shoes with Peeta. I knew I should have changed into them before he left.”

Finnick has her covered. He carries her around on his back, her strappy shoes dangling from her fingertips. She grins into his neck the entire way to the gas station.

The guy at the cash register throws them a weary look as they buy a bottle of tequila. They also throw in some chips and nacho cheese. All that dancing made Annie hungry. 

There’s a glob of cheese stuck to the corner of Finnick’s mouth. Annie knows her falsies must be horribly crooked by now, so she peels them off. Usually, she thinks littering sucks, but there’s something in the air tonight that’s making her feel silly. 

“Wanna make a wish?” she asks. 

He takes her seriously. He stares at the clump of falsies in her hand for a long moment. He kisses her knuckles, informing her that he made his wish, so she lets the lashes go.

“What’d you wish for?”

“You,” he says. “Can’t get more specific, or else it won’t come true.”

It’s just the right blend of sappy and secretive that makes her heart melt. Loving and being loved has always been an intense, cosmic ordeal for Annie. She’ll never look at the color red the same way, will never pick up black eyeliner without thinking of him first. 

Finnick keeps rubbing over the ring on his finger—the one with the blue, glowing center—and Annie bets it’s because she mentioned it’s her favorite. His cheeks are perpetually rosy pink, even without the tequila. He even stares at her like she’s responsible for the stars aligning. 

“I love you,” he says, as softly as the fingers he has in her hair.

Her breath catches in her throat. He loves her.

“I love you,” she replies. She can’t imagine a time where she didn’t. “You’re not on anything, are you? ‘Cause I’m not.”

He holds up the barely tapped into tequila. Annie shrugs. “That doesn’t count,” she tells him. “I’m on that, too. And I loved you way before.”

He smiles at her. Annie’s never felt prettier. “Okay. If I do something weird, promise you’ll hear me out?”

Annie nods. She’s not even worried.

He nods back, extracting his hands from her hair. His knee suddenly bounces up and down and up and down. “Okay,” he repeats, then unstacks all of his rings so he can slide the blue one off his finger. Annie’s favorite. 

He holds it out to her, the bejeweled part facing her.

“Think of it as a promise,” he says. Annie brushes a stray piece of hair out of his face. “I mean—I can’t stop thinking about how perfectly this fell into place. Even when we go back home, you’re less than an hour away.”

“It’s like we were destined to meet,” Annie agrees. She accepts the ring, slipping it onto her finger. There’s a bit of wiggle room, but that’s perfect for her. She doesn’t like feeling trapped. “I want to get married.”

“So do I,” he replies, almost cautiously. Oh—Annie thinks she finally managed to freak him out. “Should we?”

Or maybe not. Annie smiles at him, suddenly feeling shy. “You don’t mean it.”

He shows her how much he means it. He stands up, offers her his hand, and scoops her right into his arms. She’s in charge of navigation, leading them straight to the nearest chapel. 

“You don’t mean it,” she repeats into his neck, because he can’t. It would be too good to be true. “I’m not dressed for it.”

“Neither am I,” he replies, trying to coax her back out, but she doesn’t budge. He kisses the crown of her head. “We’ll have another one. In California. And we’ll do it exactly the way we want.”

That’s exciting enough that Annie practically leaps out of his arms. They have to sign a whole bunch of papers stating that they’re completely, honestly sober, so Annie flings the tequila into the trash to get rid of any incriminating evidence.

It doesn’t matter how high their blood alcohol content is. Haven’t you heard that drunk actions are just sober thoughts?

A lady waiting behind them clips a veil onto Annie’s head when it’s finally their turn. Annie wasn’t gonna pretend that she wasn’t excited on her wedding day, so she allows herself to stumble a bit as they rush to the altar.

“You’re not gonna,” Annie whispers to him.

He leans over and catches her lips in another kiss. She doesn’t hesitate to drape herself over him. “Watch me,” he whispers back.

Annie does. She doesn’t think she’ll ever stop. She watches him the entire time they’re pronounced husband and wife, she watches him when the guy officiating their wedding tells them to get the fuck outta there (he did not appreciate Finnick launching into some impromptu vows), and she watches him the entire Uber drive over to her hotel.

Peeta and Katniss booked their own separate room, which worked out very well for Annie. They strip all the way down to their rings as soon as they get inside, but not for the reason you might think. Annie always wanted a wedding by the beach, but this landlocked middle-of-fucking nowhere state couldn’t provide that for her. The hotel pool was the next best thing.

Annie throws on her bathing suit. Finnick has to go in his underwear, but they make it work. They splash around and dive under the water again and again and again until Annie feels like she’s being reborn with the fiery intensity of a thousand suns. 

They’re so exhausted when they go back to the room that they only have enough energy to collapse into bed, wet clothes and all. Finnick might be the best cuddler she’s ever seen. 

“I love you,” Annie tells him, because it was hard to stop saying it once she started. She’s consumed by it. 

She doesn’t even feel like she’s married—doesn’t even feel tied down to him, doesn’t feel trapped, doesn’t feel like anyone but herself—which is how she knows that they did it right. Katniss is going to be so happy that Annie exercised enough self control to not fuck him on the spot. 

“I love you,” he replies, already half asleep. Annie wonders if he’ll dream of her.

[meangirlstobin]

happy valentines steve and robin are celebrating by going to different fancy restaurants and scamming free desserts by staging proposals to each other

[bird-slayer-brainrot]

Pre-marital Shenanigans - Good Omens Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer ft. our ineffable idiots at a silly little engagment party gone alcoholic

Anathema had never even dreamed of getting married. It never really bothered her, as she had always understood that the course of her life was already set. It was quite literally planned in a book that had finally ended.

But the world hadn’t, like it was supposed to, and Newt, who she had known all her life but had only now known, had given her the courage to decide for herself what her life would be, well, everything was different.

The world was literally new.

So when Newton Pulsifer, her nerdy, non-witchfinder, world-saving boyfriend proposed one afternoon in their shared garden in Jasmine Cottage, Tadfield, Oxfordshire, England – far from the life she had always known – Anathema, for the first time in her life, felt alive.

Crowley parked the Bentley outside Jasmine Cottage and climbed out. He was leaning over the top of the car, head rested in his hands, as he waited for Aziraphale to get out. To his surprise, Aziraphale emerged from the Bentley with his arm full of wrapped gifts that Crowley hadn’t even seen him pack. Crowley frowned at the angel without menace, and Aziraphale returned the look fondly.

Anathema answered the door immediately. She had been waiting for the past twenty minutes by the door. Crowley drove fast, but he was always late.

Newt was busy in the kitchen preparing cocktails as Anathema greeted their guests. Aziraphale beamed at is friend, unable to hug her with his arms full.

“Anathema, dear.” He said fondly. “Thank you so much for inviting us.”

Crowley, not a speaker, nodded silently at Aziraphale, who nodded in return. This was good enough for the both of them. Crowley followed Aziraphale into the lounge. Anathema shut the door to the cottage behind them.

“Cards?” Crowley questioned. They were in the living room. Newt hadn’t finished the drinks yet. Anathema was shuffling the deck.

“Isn’t this your engagement party?” Crowley grumbled. Anathema shot him a look and he shot up.

“How lovely.” Aziraphale exclaimed. “I’m very good at cards.”

“No you’re not.” Crowley responded almost immediately. Aziraphale made a face at the demon, who did not back down.

“There is cocktails.” Newt announced when he entered. He was balancing a tray of cocktails precariously. Anathema, sensing danger, immediately stood up to help him. Newt greeted Aziraphale and Crowley and sat down in an armchair beside Anathema. The cards were shuffled, and Anathema began to deal.

An hour in, and Newt was tipsy.

Aziraphale had somehow managed to win several rounds, and Anathema had accused him of foul play despite the fact that he, on numerous occasions, insisted he would do no such thing.

“How did you get another ace?” Anathema shouted. Aziraphale just giggled. Crowley was staring at Aziraphale murderously. Crowley was losing, followed in third by Newt. When they were both out, Newt left to fetch another round of cocktails.  

When he returned, it was to find a distraught Anathema had lost another round. Aziraphale was laughing victoriously. Newt smiled at his fiancée, and consoled her.

He had been worried about this. Anathema knew Newt was a worrier, it was his nature. He wanted the engagement party to go smoothly, for Anathema’s sake. They’d talked about it extensively. Eventually, they decided a quiet night in with some friends was exactly what they both wanted.

Anathema didn’t have many close friends in Tadfield, and Newt’s mother was coming down from London down the next day to formally meet Anathema and help with the wedding planning. The Them had already popped by to offer their congratulations. Pepper had announced that she wanted to be the maid of honour. Anathema immediately agreed.

The topic of Aziraphale and Crowley had come up one morning as Newt prepared breakfast. He suggested it offhandedly, and, after considering it, Anathema suggested they invite the pair for some drinks soon. It was an excuse, at best, to check in on the state of the world after Doomsday. Newt knew this, because he always knew.

Anathema had confided in Newt that sometimes she had the sense that she was being watched, like when she was younger, but with less potency. It had been nearly a year since the world had almost ended, and the final instalment of Agnes Nutter’s prophecies had been burnt to ash. She hated this feeling. It was a reminder of what had happened, and how close it had all come to ending. It made her feel powerless.

Newt was, for the most part, an excellent comfort in this. He had been a pawn in this celestial game as long as she had, though he had not found out till much later. When she felt like this, Newt was there. She loved him.

The cards were abandoned and Newt was now fully gone. It seemed that, in an effort to steady his nerves, he had drunk way more than the others. This, combined with his, quite frankly, shit alcohol tolerance, and he was trying to dance with Anathema.

Anathema managed to escape from two clumsy waltzes (somewhere, Billie Holiday was screaming) with her two feet barely intact. She sat beside Aziraphale, who was nursing a glass of wine Anathema didn’t remember any of them pouring. Newt was smiling at Anathema, and she tentatively smiled back.

“So, Crowley.” Newt had recovered from the abandonment by Anathema by deciding to bother the demon, who also had a glass of wine. Crowley watched him as he plopped himself beside him.

“Anathema tells me you and Aziraphale are like.” he leaned forward conspiratorially at the demon.

 paused, seemingly for dramatic effect. “Magic.” He managed to both over-pronounce the final consonant while whispering, seemingly for dramatic effect. Crowley tilted his head at the human, and raised his eyebrows.

Anathema was still talking to Aziraphale. She was laughing at something the angel had said.

“Can you please.” He was almost pleading. Anathema and Aziraphale had now looked over to them. Aziraphale was beaming, and Anathema was doing a very good impression of a tomato.

“Magic me to be deserving of this beautiful, beautiful lady.”

Aziraphale laughed, and Anathema managed to look even more embarrassed.

“Oh, shut up Newt.” Anathema laughed.

They were saying their goodbyes. Anathema had insisted that they had enough space to accommodate their friends, but Crowley said that they would be alright.

When the door shut behind them, Newt turned to look at Anathema with blind adoration.

“Seriously though.” Newt was solemn now. “How is it possible for one single person to be so wonderful. I love you so much Anathema.”

“Calm down Newt.” Anathema said, laughing. Newt then proceeded to wrap his arms around the witch in an effort, it seemed, to become attached to her permanently.

“Bedtime, I think.” Anathema said into his shoulder. “I love you, Newt.”

[lover-of-mine]

Wip Wednesday!

I was tagged by @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @steadfastsaturnsrings @spotsandsocks @jesuisici33 thank you 💜💜

Have a little bit of Buck spiraling after Eddie hangs up the phone in the Eddie gets drunk and calls Buck to confess his feelings fic. prev snippet

Well…fuck.  Eddie is in love with him. Eddie is in love with him? How can Eddie be in love with him? Eddie is… well, he's Eddie and he's just Buck.  Eddie is loyal, and kind, and funny, and beautiful, and he could have anyone if he wanted, but Eddie loves him?  Eddie loves him.  Eddie, his best friend, his partner, his… he doesn't even know how to categorize anymore, loves him.  Loves him enough to go on a drunken rant over it.  It’s surreal, really. Makes him pinch himself to make sure this isn't some weird dream tripped into just because he fell asleep on his book.

No pressure tagging 🩷: @eddiebabygirldiaz @sherlockcrossing @watchyourbuck @try-set-me-on-fire @aspecbuddie @wildlife4life @giddyupbuck @captain-hen and you if you have something to share 💜

[screechingfromthevoid]

[sergeantpixie]

my thoughts after watching episode five of the Artful Dodger:

1. SARDINES

2. “the whale’s wife” oh fagin can turn a phrase

3. “being spurned by a woman is a great boon to our profession” DON’T REMIND ME

4. “i want a win” 😭😭😭

5. “i keep seeing these in my dreams” FANNY ����

6. Belle’s red coat is Stunning, i envy her wardrobe

7. “WHY” Belle is so funny pls

8. NUTMEG

9. Jack is only thinking of Belle 🥺

10. BUTT - 2/10 not juicy enough

11. i know fagin is just lying to buy them more time but it’s so nice of him to throw jack an interesting case and give him an excuse to talk to belle after their fight 🤭

12. “we all thought that that smell was coming from you” CHILDISH but so funny

13. Fanny is actually a great sister, we stan

14. THROUGH THE WINDOW, YAS

15. he’s eating her soup, i love them

16. “apparently a tree” HIS FACE

17. they’re in love, your honor

18. “it is so dangerous.” “yeah, but you love that, don’t ya”

19. “but i don’t really know how to talk to women, i’ve never really found the need to” “i am similarly rarely interest in what a man has to say” and that’s on soulmates (also same @ belle)

20. “not all of you.” i think they should kiss 😊

21. “tell me why you like being a navigator?” god belle’s bedside manner has improved so much

22. jack being honest with him and letting the man decide if he wants to take the risk!!! what a man!!!

23. i love the quiet scenes after surgeries between them, it’s so intimate

24. “i’d never had my own bed before” 😭😭😭

25. “it was the best and the worst times” love these fanfic writers for letting the dickensian character quote dickens lol

26. the way he looks at her 🥺

27. THEY SLEPT THERE ALL NIGHT!!! THAT’S MY SHIP!

28. the glove slap, i snorted 🤣🤣🤣

29. Belle’s mama is a savage

30. Sneed saying “christ” and stumbling back when he says Belle coming at him at least says he’s not a complete fool

31. SHE SEASONED HIM, I’M DYING 💀💀💀

32. the wink, this idiot lmao

33. “oh.” THAT’S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY JACK

34. “hmm, lobster bisque.” PLS SHE’S SO FUNNY

35. i don’t trust youuuuuu fagin!!!

36. fagin trash talking sneed is funny tho

37. the tears in jack’s eyes when fagin has to take his place in the duel, a soft boy 🥺

38. HE SHOT SNEED THAT IS SO FUNNY PLS

39. the navigator mocking sneed 💀

40. sneed being put in the position of begging jack to save his leg is delicious, pls sir i want some more

41. belle, jack, and hetty working together is everything i’ve ever wanted, ot3?

42. ngl i kinda enjoy hetty calling jack out

43. THEY SHOULD SHAVE OFF HIS EYEBROW

44. THEY KISSED!!! FINALLY!!!

[poissond-avril]

finished the next to godliness quest….. im afraid i’m no better than henry . i would literally do anything for you hans