#like my brain absolutely draws the line at understanding hats

[shrimpyjustwrites]

A lil Sam as suggested by @tyrian-bizkits

And! Another Sebek as a treat!

[sca-rian]

I was wondering if you had any fluffy Scarian headcanons because the brainrot is real

dear anon, id love to give you headcanons, but you must understand that i can't stop my brain whenever it decides to ramble. that being said, i give you three scarian brainrot scenarios:

- one concept that was spiraling my mind just now is regarding fanart where people draw grian with glasses. i like to think of it as: yes, grian needs glasses, but he isnt particularly fond of them; truth is, wearing glasses fucking sucks, besides, grian dislikes how they makes his eyes look so small. when he first joined hermitcraft, he quickly made an habit of walking around without his glasses on, frequently hitting windows when he flew (bird behavior) and not being able to properly recognize people when they came to him. he only used his glasses for building and reading, and it's on one of those occasions where scar first sees him with glasses on. and, god, to tell you he's smitten. he can't help but stare, because oh grian looks so cute should i tell him that or should i not— (he tells him. he always does. specially when he founds out grian dislikes the glasses. grian eventually starts to wear them more frequently, although he would never admit why. he can blame it on headaches, tho);

- i like to think of hermitcraft scarian (not necessarily involving 3rd and ll) as a slow burn relationship. something in the lines of the strangers > friends > friends with benefits > lovers pipeline. scar falls first—because how could he not?—and grian is oblivious for a long time. he doesn't think much of it when they kiss, and keep dismissing his feelings when they start to appear (it's just so silly! everyone would feel like that after casually kissing their friend! unless...?). truth is, grian falls hard for scar eventually, and i think a huge turning point for their relationship would be in s8, because its when pearl joins (im a sucker for writing her friendship with grian), and it definitely changes a lot to have someone new noticing how grian and scar look at each other, how their hands are always naturally touching, how they giggle together and lose themselves in their conversations... pearl sees it, and grian eventually has to agree with her;

- this ties into the topic above but. another good brainrot material is. think of their firsts. think about a first kiss, a first date, a first love confession.... think of how they'd be without a doubt an absolute mess through it all. theyd look at each other and giggle, because they make things harder for themselves (example: first time they kiss after a love confession, when its supposed to feel genuine and special, scars top hat falls over grians head when he leans down to kiss him). think of them as silly, but unbelievably sweet and truly in love

[homoose]

Teach Me Something I Don’t Know: Part IV

Summary: The Halloween parade. Will and JJ are adorable. Anita suggests that Spencer become a classroom volunteer. Reader has a rough week.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, a smidge of angst

Warnings/Includes: none

Word count: 4.4k

a/n: I wish we’d seen more of Will and JJ as parents because I imagine it would be adorable and hilarious. Let’s see if you can guess all of their costumes before the reveal lmao. Your only clue is that Spencer loves keeping with a theme and the brown vest (I literally learned how to make my own shitty gif bc I couldn’t find the right one in the search and I do not understand embedding lmao) makes an appearance.

Series Masterlist

———

“Did you grab the bags?” JJ swept the pleated, platinum braid out of her face as she bent over to zip up her boots.

“No, I thought you did,” Will called, bouncing down the stairs.

“I put them in the car already,” Spencer informed them, popping his head back in the front door. “There was just the one box, right?”

“Yeah, that was it,” Will confirmed. “Shit— where’s Michael’s sword?”

“Should be on the counter,” JJ huffed, standing up and adjusting the bodice of the blue dress.

“Got it.” Will came around the corner of the kitchen, patting his hips where his pockets would be— if he weren’t wearing an adult-sized onesie. “Keys?” Spencer held them up. “All right then, let’s get this show on the road.”

The trio headed to the waiting SUV, Spencer climbing into the backseat as Will and JJ got into the front. Will and JJ chattered on about dinner plans and schedules for the following week, and Spencer smoothed down the brown wool vest layered over his white linen shirt. He’d spent entirely too long putting together the costume over the last week (with a little help from Penelope). He’d scrapped the Spock getup he’d been working on since September— he could always wear that next year. But he’d only get one chance to attend the Room 105 Halloween parade, and once the idea had wormed its way into his brain, he had to make it happen.

“Spence?” JJ’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Would you be able to pick Michael up on Monday?”

He ran his hands down his thighs over the mint green cropped trousers. “Sure, as long as we don’t have a case.”

Will smirked at him in the rear view mirror. “How’s Ms. Y/L/N?”

“You’re about to see her yourself, so you can ask,” Spencer replied.

Will laughed, and JJ turned in her seat. “Whoa, coming in hot with the snark. You really do like her.”

Spencer fought and failed to keep the blush from rising, irritation at being teased blooming sharp inside his chest. He tried to shrug as nonchalantly as possible. “She’s a great teacher.”

“That’s not a no,” JJ noted, eyebrows raised.

“She’s Michael’s teacher,” Spencer said, like it meant something.

“Yeah, so?” Will shrugged his shoulders. “You’re his godfather. Technically, you’re not related, so it wouldn’t be breakin’ any rules.”

“Well, it’s not like that, so it doesn’t really matter,” Spencer insisted.

Will hummed and JJ turned back around in her seat. Spencer drummed his fingers on his knees and watched DC roll past through the SUV window. It really wasn’t like that. Y/N was just… very nice. A nice, beautiful, sweet, silly kindergarten teacher that he couldn’t stop thinking about no matter how many books he read or coffees he drank or chess games he played.

Monday was the last day of his sabbatical, and he was even more relieved to be headed back than usual— grateful that he’d have something to occupy his mind other than her. Because his mind was, indeed, occupied. The way her smile beamed like the spotlight on a stage, illuminating whoever happened to be on the receiving end. The way her hands moved in unbound, buoyant illustrations of her thoughts. The way her laugh felt like the first warm sip of tea or the wrap of his favorite scarf. It was getting out of hand, to say the least.

Will pulled into the parking lot, and instantly Spencer’s palms began to sweat. He glanced at the headband on the seat beside him and felt the mortification clawing at his insides. The costume was ridiculous; he was ridiculous. He should have just worn the Spock outfit.

Maybe he could just wait in the car and pretend like he hadn’t been able to make it. Or he could just leave the headband in the car. But then he’d just be in mint green capris with a sweater vest and platform sandals, and she’d have absolutely no idea who he was supposed to be. Then he’d have to explain it, and it would be even worse.

Will parked the car, and he and JJ immediately stepped out. Spencer watched them near the hood of the SUV, enjoying a rare moment of co-parenting without work hovering right out of frame. Will pulled the hood of the onesie up and JJ laughed, brushing her hand over the brown fabric twigs sticking out of the top. He supposed that if Will Lamontagne, Jr. could strut his stuff in adult footie pajamas, his handmade costume was probably all right.

With one last resigned sigh, Spencer slid the headband on. He grabbed the box of Halloween treats, opened the door, and hauled himself out of the vehicle. He pushed the door closed and looked in the reflection of the window, adjusting the headband around his curls and blowing out a breath.

“Ready?” JJ called, peering around the side of the SUV.

“Yeah—yeah,” Spencer agreed. He moved around the vehicle to join them, the three of them walking to find a spot in the crowd of parents standing around the carpool loop.

When they found a suitable spot, Will looked up at him and shook his head. The sandals added three extra inches to Spencer’s height, putting him a good six inches taller than Will. “Those shoes make you look like an actual giant,” Will chuckled. “I know that’s the point, but I feel like even more of a shrimp next to ya now.”

Spencer set the box of candy bags on the ground and would have shoved his hands into his pockets if the linen trousers had any. Before he could respond, JJ pointed to the door of the school, cooing, “Oh my god, look. Remember when the boys were that small?”

The PreK classes came out first, and Spencer could acknowledge that they were very cute, barely out of the toddler stage and holding hands with a line buddy. But he was waiting on a very specific cutie.

He’d barely had the thought when the kindergarten classes started to emerge from the door. He almost didn’t recognize her at first— just an orange blob and green shrubbery. But the converse gave her away.

“How is she so cute?” JJ threaded her arm through Will’s. “Even when she’s dressed as a giant orange blob.”

“It’s a gift,” Will agreed. He glanced up at Spencer. “Right, doc?”

Spencer nodded but didn’t take his eyes off Y/N. “I think so, yeah.” Will grinned and bumped JJ’s shoulder, but Spencer barely even registered his own response.

Thankfully they’d picked a spot near the very end of the loop, so he had plenty of time to get himself together before she was in front of him. While Will and JJ waved at all the tiny superheroes and princesses, he watched Y/N. She was all orange fabric from her shoulders to her knees, with bright orange Chucks to match. On her head was a strange variation on a party hat, bright green ferns sprouting from the tip of the cone and falling into her face. She looked absolutely ridiculous and entirely adorable, and he was in so much trouble.

When the class finally approached the final curve of the loop, Will nudged Spencer and gestured to the box of goodie bags. Spencer crouched down and lifted the box, standing back up to see Y/N laughing at Will and JJ. “Very cute, Lamontagne Family.”

Her gaze traveled across, then up, and then her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. Spencer wondered if maybe the earth could just open up and swallow him whole.

“Oh my god, are you—?” She stepped forward and ran her hand lightly over the vest, and he didn’t dare breathe. “Are you the BFG?!” Her hand dropped from his torso, and he didn’t have time to be disappointed before her face split into quite possibly the biggest smile he’d seen from her yet.

A tiny Superman shouted, “Ms. Y/L/N, we’re making a gap!”

Y/N came back to herself, gesturing to all three of them. “Don’t go anywhere.” She accepted the offered box of treats from Spencer and then turned to help her class catch up.

Will gave him a look. “It’s not like that, huh?”

“Oh my god, she likes you.” JJ clapped her hands together. “This is amazing.”

“I’m takin’ credit for this,” Will bragged. “I’m a regular ol’ matchmaker.”

Spencer couldn’t even be bothered to attempt a denial. He was still thinking about the feel of her palm on his chest, how it might feel to hold her hand, the way her eyes practically sparkled when she saw his ridiculous headband. He was in so much trouble.

Fifteen minutes later, the classes filed back out into the parking lot for dismissal. Y/N led the class down the sidewalk, grinning at the excitement coursing through her line. As they approached the end of the loop, Y/N caught sight of them and waved. The kids lined up in their normal spot, chatting excitedly about their costumes and candy bags.

“Lord, Ms. Y/L/N, you’re something else,” Will laughed.

“Is it not the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen?” She laughed and tapped the green shrubbery hanging in her face. “I have the kids do a little persuasive writing thing every year. They draw a picture and write a sentence about what they think Ms. Y/L/N should be for Halloween, and then we take a vote.”

She waved her hands in that way Spencer loved, the way that was so similar to his own. “Usually the options are pretty tame, you know—ghost, witch, bumblebee. This year was a near tie between runner-up Jojo Siwa and well,” she gestured at herself, “carrot.” Y/N cackled, and the leaves on top of her head shook with the action.

They all laughed along with her, and then JJ added, “The details are truly incredible. Is this an actual plant on your head?”

“I really thought about it,” Y/N laughed, “but no, it’s just fake ferns stuffed into a cardstock funnel.” She gestured at Will and JJ. “But also, excuse me— this family costume is ridiculously cute. Mr. Lamontagne, loving this onesie. Mrs. Jareau, I didn’t even know it was possible to look prettier than you usually do, but here you are. And Michael’s Anna costume?” She held her hands up. “Incredible. Show stopping. I wish I had an aunt Penelope to enlist the help of, because that cape is the actual height of fashion.”

“She helped Spence, too,” JJ prompted, stealing a glance in his direction.

“Oh yeah?” Y/N asked, turning to smile at Spencer.

“We um, 3D printed the ears,” he clarified.

“No way!” She took a step closer to him, peering up at the detail on the headband. He leaned down a little for her to get a closer look. “That is so cool. I’ve never actually seen anything 3D printed up close before— did you design them yourself?”

She met his eyes briefly, and he realized how close they were— close enough that he caught the faintest whiff of sandalwood and cardamom. Of course she even smelled like warmth and home. “Well. I, um— I drew a sort of sketch, I guess. And then Penelope did the software coding. I— I’m not very good with technology, honestly.”

She ran her fingers lightly over the plastic, and he decided she was really trying to kill him. “Yeah, I’m not sure I really understand how it works.”

“Well, first you create a blueprint file of the design you want to print, which you can do through modeling software or three-dimensional scanning. Then you convert the file into an STL file— named for Stereolithography which was the first ever 3D printing process. The STL file is made up of triangular mesh polygons, which is the data that describes the surface of a three-dimensional object. After that, you use a software program to complete the process of slicing— essentially dividing or chopping the 3D model into hundreds or thousands of horizontal layers that the printer can print one at a time to create the 3D object. And then the printer prints each layer until you have your finished product.”

Y/N was quiet, and he pulled back to see her grinning at him. “I thought you said you weren’t very good with technology?”

“I’m not good with using technology,” he clarified.

She nodded. “Gotcha. So you just know everything about it.”

Her joking tone had a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I read a lot.”

“How much is a lot?”

“I can read at a rate of 20,000 words per minute, so… a lot.”

Her eyebrows shot up into the tangle of ferns on her head, and he was just so overwhelmed by how adorable she was. “Well, if I ever have a question about anything, I know who I’m coming to.”

He was sure he was blushing, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. “I’m happy to answer any and all of your questions.”

She let her gaze travel over the rest of the costume. “Oh my god, the sandals! Man, you really nailed it. I’m very impressed.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I thought about being Trunchbull, but I couldn’t find the sweatshirt,” he joked.

She laughed, and he wanted to bottle it up to keep forever. “As much as I would have loved to see your hair in a bun… you’re much too sweet to have been able to pull that off.” She smiled softly at him. “Much more suited to our friend the BFG.”

He rubbed a hand down the back of his neck, and it was only then that he realized Will and JJ had gone to the car. He looked back to Y/N, opening his mouth but unsure of what he was going to say.

“Y/L/N!” He turned his head to see Anita jogging toward them. “Did you—” The giant cardboard box she was wearing knocked into one of the few kindergarteners left in Y/N’s line, nearly sending them to the ground. “Oh my gosh, sorry sweetheart!” She righted the startled child, and Spencer gave her a once over, completely at a loss as to what her costume could be.

“What in the world are you supposed to be?” Y/N asked, choking out a laugh.

Anita looked at her deadpan. “A monopoly piece. Remind me that I’m never participating in team costumes ever again.” She rolled her eyes and gestured at Y/N. “Next year I’m gonna wear an orange t-shirt, call myself a carrot, and be much more comfortable.”

“I’ll have you know this costume was a lot of work,” Y/N remarked, crossing her arms.

“I’m sure it was. You could have put on an orange dress, stuck a green pipe cleaner in your hair, and called it a day, but that’s not the Y/L/N way.” Anita’s eyes slid across to where Spencer stood. “Well, hello, doctor. I have absolutely no idea what you’re supposed to be, but I love everything about it.”

“Spencer’s the BFG,” Y/N said, and Spencer could have sworn she sounded almost proud.

“Ah, Roald Dahl, of course.” Anita smirked. “I see you, Spencer. I see you.” She put her hands on her hips— or rather where her hips would have been if they weren’t covered by a ridiculously large box. “So, when are you going to volunteer?”

“Sorry?” he asked.

“Like, when are you going to volunteer in Y/L/N’s classroom?” She held up her hand, palm down, and made a circular motion between the two of them. “You know, hang out, but professionally.”

“Oh my god, did you need something?” Y/N’s squeaked, eyes wide.

Anita ignored her. “You just have to do a background check, but I’m sure you’ll pass it.”

“Lopez,” Y/N said, staring her down. “Do you need something?”

“Oh, I was just going to ask if you got the email about the PD after school on Tuesday. But this was much more fun.” She winked at Spencer. “Bye, Spencer.”

They both stared after her as she nearly skipped across the grass to the building. Y/N turned to him. “I’m— so sorry.”

He met her eyes and took the leap. “Volunteering could be fun.”

He watched her press her lips together to contain her smile. “It could be.”

He didn’t bother containing his own. “I’ll um— I’ll shoot you an email.”

“I’ll respond to your email.”

…

When he walked in the door, Spencer made a beeline for his desk. He opened his laptop and pulled up his email account, writing as fast as his one-finger typing would allow.

Spencer Reid Re: Volunteering

Hi!

I’m just following up about volunteering. Anita mentioned a form that I needed to fill out? Now that I’ll be back to work, I’ll just need to plan around the BAU schedule. Could you give me a list of days that would work for you?

Really looking forward to seeing you in action.

Spencer

He checked his two other email messages, and then left the browser up while he thumbed through his most recent reading material.

He sat at his desk for the remainder of the afternoon, distractedly perusing his book and glancing at his empty inbox every minute or so. His gaze flew up to the screen at the ding of a new message at 6:30, only to find a promotional email from one of his favorite indie bookstores.

He closed his laptop with a sigh. It was a Friday night. Y/N probably just didn’t check her email on the weekend. He could wait until Monday. He’d see her on Monday.

He limited himself to checking his laptop twice a day on Saturday and Sunday. When Monday rolled around, he checked it in the morning. He leaned back against the leather of his chair, staring at the empty inbox. He had some errands to run, and for the first time in his life, he wished he had a phone that had email on it.

He ran his last-day-of-sabbatical errands and stopped in at his favorite coffee shop for most likely the last midday, sit-down coffee he’d have for a while. Before he realized, it was 2:30. He brought his empty mug to the counter and waved to the barista. Then he walked to the car and prepped his conversation starters.

“Did you get my email? I sent you an email, just wondering if you saw it? Hey— Hello— Hi, I wasn’t sure if you got my email.” He blew out a breath. “Hi. How are you?” He waved his hand. “I’m great. Did you get my email?” He laughed into the empty car. “Ridiculous, Spencer. You’re ridiculous.”

When he pulled into the parking lot, his heart was racing and his palms were slipping against the steering wheel. He pulled around the loop, looking with a furrowed brow at the area where Y/N should be. In her place was a short woman with cropped grey hair. She held a clipboard and looked generally overwhelmed.

Michael sprinted to the car as soon as he saw it. He pulled open the door and let out a world weary sigh. Spencer turned in his seat. “Everything all right?”

“No, everything is terrible,” he huffed dramatically. “Ms. Y/L/N was sick today. Mrs. Franklin was our substitute, and she smells weird.”

Spencer looked through the window at Mrs. Franklin, struggling to keep a few rowdy boys in the line. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’m sure Ms. Y/L/N will be back soon.” He was secretly relieved that he had a potential explanation for the unanswered email.

“I can’t take another day of Mrs. Franklin,” Michael sighed, buckling his seatbelt. “I hope Ms. Y/L/N’s back tomorrow.”

Spencer let out a breath and pulled away from the curb. “Me, too.”

…

JJ huffed out a breath, glaring at the stack of paperwork in front of her. Spencer was nose deep in a book, but he glanced up at the sound. “I can take a few of those if you want,” he offered.

“No, it’s fine,” she sighed. “I’ve really only got six left.”

He looked at his watch. “Each report takes you approximately 37 minutes. With eight minute breaks in between, you’re not going to be out of here until almost 6:00.”

JJ laughed. “I can’t believe I missed out on these scathing performance reviews for thirty days.”

“Suit yourself.” Spencer dropped his gaze back to his reading.

His first week back from sabbatical had been uneventful to say the least. The team had just wrapped a local case, and they’d spent the better part of the week going over consultations and potentials. It was finally Friday, and Spencer was finished with his stack of backlogged reports.

He was finishing the last chapter of the book when JJ dropped a string of quiet curses. He continued reading, waiting for her to ask. She was quiet for another minute.

“I forgot I’m on duty to pick Michael up today.” Spencer looked up at her, slight panic coming over him.

“I really don’t mind finishing your reports,” he offered.

JJ raised her eyebrows. “What, no offering to visit Ms. Y/L/N?”

Spencer closed his book. “I, um. I sent her an email a week ago, and she hasn’t responded.”

“So?”

“So…” Spencer ran a hand through his hair. “That’s weird, right?”

JJ laughed. “You don’t really use email, so I’d imagine your inbox is pretty orderly. But if you use it a lot, it can be easy for messages to get lost.” She looked at him pointedly. “I can almost guarantee that she’s not ignoring you, Spence.”

He sighed. “I guess there’s a quick way to find out.”

...

Spencer drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, watching the door of the school. He glanced at the clock, noting the class was later than they’d ever been. Without really understanding why, he pulled out of the loop and swung back around to park in the lot. He exited the car, and as he rounded the hood, he spotted them.

Y/N was at the front of the line, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket and mouth pressed into a thin line. The line behind her was unlike he’d ever seen it. No waving arms, no smiles, no giggles. Twenty small bodies followed behind her with absolute and total solemnity, and he felt uncomfortable just watching them. It would have almost been funny if it wasn’t so dramatically out of character.

The line weaved around the more rambunctious classes, maintaining their grave expressions and quiet pace. They reached their spot on the sidewalk, and Y/N didn’t even have to say anything. Spencer watched as the line took their spots behind her. She held one hand up to acknowledge parents as they pulled up, murmuring stoic goodbyes to students as they headed to their vehicles.

He hung back at the hood of the car until the majority of the class was gone, slowly making his way across the parking lot. Y/N’s line of sight was pointed in his direction, but her eyes were unfocused in the afternoon sun. He could see the moment that she registered his presence, her eyes widening slightly and bottom lip releasing from the place she’d been absentmindedly chewing. She shifted her weight as he closed the final few feet between them.

“Hi.” She held a silent hand up in greeting. He clenched and unclenched his fingers. “Rough day?”

“It’s not always sunshine and rainbows, despite what everyone thinks,” she snapped. She blew out a breath and rolled her eyes up to the perfectly blue sky, mocking her mood. “I’m sorry. Yes, it was a rough day.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“You don’t deserve my wrath.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the students. “They didn’t either, but— too late for that.”

He watched as she lowered her head back down, rubbing a hand over her face. He desperately wanted to slay whatever dragons had given her normally brilliant eyes such a grey cast. “You have strong relationships with them, and kids are resilient. I’m sure they know you—”

“Please— don’t.” Her voice was thick, and she looked at him with desperate eyes. “I— I appreciate the thought, but I’m— I’m a frustrated crier.” Her shining irises proved her point. “And I’m just— I’m really just trying to keep it together for the last four minutes of my contract time.” Her words were practically a whisper, and she swallowed thickly and glanced down the line, just Michael and one classmate left, eyes downcast.

“I understand.” Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them from reaching out and touching her. “I’m sorry. I— I hope your weekend is better than today.”

Michael slowly left the line, murmuring a quiet goodbye to Y/N. Spencer put a hand on his shoulder and steered him toward the car, stealing one last glance at a crushed Y/N.

...

Y/N Y/L/N

Re: Re: Volunteering

Hi,

I meant to respond to this email, and then a bunch of things happened, and then I was out all week.

I don’t know if you even still want to volunteer after this afternoon, but it felt rude to not respond at all.

I’ve attached the background check form to this email in case you’re still interested.

Y/N

1 Attachment: Background Check

—

Hi,

I meant what I said this afternoon. Your students love you, and they know you love them. If my conversation with Michael in the car was any indication, they’re feeling rightfully embarrassed and guilty about their behavior while you were out.

Regardless of what happened today, your relationships with your students are strong enough that they will come to school tomorrow knowing that you still care about them. Children don’t hold onto things nearly as much as adults.

It would be a privilege to volunteer in your classroom, even on the worst day.

Spencer

1 Attachment: Background Check - Spencer Reid

—

If I wasn’t already crying, I would be now.

Thanks for that.

No sarcasm intended. Really. Thank you.

—

This might be inappropriate, and if it is, please just pretend like this email doesn’t exist.

I have a favorite cafe in the DuPont circle area, Soho Tea & Coffee. They have an excellent tea drink made with honey and milk that I like to order whenever I’ve had a particularly difficult day.

If you’re up for it, it’s on me.

———

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[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier Soccer Parents AU of my dreams (in an early morning strike of weird-brain):

-Geralt knows he isn't the best dad ever. He tries so goddamn hard, but his job is demanding and consumes so much time and even with Ciri being seven already, he still has essentially no clue what he's doing. He sometimes falls into bed, half-dead, and she is the one to give him a good-night kiss. He sometimes forgets she prefers cheese and puts ham on her sandwiches. He is sometimes too happy to have her sleep over at her friends rather than invite them to their house. He doesn't read her all the children's classics, doesn't go trick-or-treating with her, doesn't even pretend Santa Claus is a thing. He isn't the best dad ever. He tries.

-There is one thing he never, ever fails to do and that is take Ciri to soccer practice. Ciri picks up and drops hobbies, interests, even tastes by the week, still unsure what she wants to pursue, but soccer isn't only her favourite pastime, it's theirs. Practice is twice a week and they have a ritual for it. Geralt picks her up from school and drives her there, she tells him about what the dumb boys in her class said, how her art project is going etc. Geralt is there throughout practice, tucked in between Foltest - a guy who is constantly worried for his daughter Adda to get hurt and also very much anxious for her to do well - and Tissaia - a woman who has not one, but three girls in Ciri's age group and several more in others, and knits like a magician - and watches. He takes notes, silently cheers for Ciri.

-After their games and while Ciri changes, Geralt chats with her coach Vesemir - who used to be Geralt's coach, but now prefers to train the girls' teams - about the progress of the team, upcoming tournaments etc. Sometimes when Vesemir is indisposed, Geralt even leads the practice. When Ciri is all done, Tissaia usually has another hat or mitten finished and Geralt and her drive with their girls to whatever food place the girls are in the mood for. They have an early dinner in which Tissaia lectures the girls on their form and in which Ciri is sometimes allowed to sit on Geralt's lap - but only if Fringilla or Yen don't tease hear about it - but in which she definitely gets to steal his milkshake (Geralt hates milkshakes). Geralt only praises her when they're back in the car and Ciri tells him he's too much of a softie with her and should be more like Tissaia. Should maybe marry Tissaia. They both laugh because that is never going to happen.

-Life is good that way. It's not perfect, it's not without bumps, certainly not without tears and scrapes, but whatever the job, whatever injury Geralt carries with him, however long he has to drive, he never, never ever misses soccer practice.

-The season's just kicked off in the year of Ciri's eighth birthday when Geralt and her arrive early on the field to find the stands empty save for a girl in the most ridiculously colorful excercise clothes and blond hair that is braided intricately around her head. With her is a man, maybe five years Geralt's junior. Ciri bolts towards them with a bright grin and Geralt is hesitant to follow. He knows neither the girl nor the man, but from what he can gather she wants to join the team which is just what they need as they're one girl short this season. "Hi, I'm Ciri, I adore your braids." Geralt holds back on the eye-roll. It's nice Ciri can make friends this easily, but his house already is a shrine for role-playing and board games, dolls and random DVDs and another friend means more things Ciri will want to try out. "Thank you," the girl replies and tilts her head to better show them off. "My uncle Jaskier braided them for me, I'm sure he can do yours too." Both girls look up expectantly at the man and Geralt only really notices him then. He is averagely built with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. His floral print shirt has three open buttons and his pants barely reach his ankles. He has the look of a flippant music teacher or a hipster coffeeshop owner. His eyes meets Geralt's and, wait, did he just wink? "I'd love to, dear," he says in a smooth voice that absolutely does not go straight to Geralt's guts. Geralt turns on the spot and decides to pressure check the balls, but he can hear the others giggling as Jaskier braids Ciri's hair. "I'm Priscilla by the way. What's up with your dad?" - "Oh, don't mind him, he's bad with meeting new people." - "Very intense." That's Jaskier. Oh, Geralt will show him intense.

-Ciri invites them to their after-practice dinner. Geralt wants to begrudge her that, but she and Priscilla have latched onto each other in record speed and Jaskier actually fights Tissaia on some of her more strict stances and he braids Yen's and Sabrina's hair too, only Fringilla doesn't want him to touch hers which he respects. Geralt and Tissaia glance at each other. Come to a silent agreement. They may not befriend Jaskier, but he's sunny and so good with the girls and they can use someone like him among their ranks, someone who doesn't have Calanthe's tendency for swear words or Crach's tendency to break out beer in the middle of practice or even Nenneke's tendency to relate everything to the workings of god.

-Jaskier is as faithful as Geralt, perhaps the only one who shows up every time without fail. Shani's parents only drop her off and Crach switches between  Cerys' and Hjalmar's practices and Tissaia sometimes texts Geralt to pick up her girls. Jaskier is there, every time, earlier than any of the others. He chats with Vesemir about his day-to-day, brings home-baked cookies for everyone, he cheers and whoops and tries very hard to understand soccer even though it's evident he doesn't. Geralt never wonders why it's him and not Priscilla's parents that come, it's none of his business. He begins to tolerate Jaskier, but he knows that is where he has to draw the line. He has his hands full with Ciri and his job and his brothers too. He can't afford friendships that extend beyond the field.

-Jaskier doesn't let him off though. He always takes the spot next to Geralt (technically an improvement over Foltest's sweaty visage) and prattles on and on, at least until the game begins. When it does, Jaskier divides his attention between the girls and the stack of paper on his lap which he annotates during practice. It's often either sheet music or the illegible scrawl of pre-teens or wonkily drawn instruments. Jaskier already told him, but from that too it is obvious that Geralt's hunch was right, he is a music teacher. Geralt finds his eyes darting to Jaskier's long fingers, nimble and calloused from the various string instruments he plays. Finds himself glancing at where Jaskier's tongue peeks out in concentration. He listens to the man's ramblings and hums his replies and comes to dislike the days when Vesemir isn't there and he has to focus all his attention on giving the girls a good practice. Not that he doesn't want to, it's just that having Jaskier at his back unnerves him.

-(Jaskier for his part doesn’t care at all about soccer, but he cares about Priscilla so he convinced her parents to let him take her; after that, she said it would be fine if he dropped her off and picked her up again, but Jaskier pretends he is super invested in the sport and the team and he is, but mostly he’s invested in charming Geralt)

-After an entire season of mutual pining and obliviousness, Tissaia decides she's had enough and rallies the other parents. She has Foltest organize a big party at his country house, has Nenneke promise to look after the girls (the woman doesn't drink) and has Crach whip out the finest spirits he has in storage. Calanthe makes a phenomenal playlist and it's Tissaia's job to get Geralt to the party (Jaskier's not a problem) and dress up nicely. Only Aridea, Renfri's stepmother, refuses to pitch in, but she's been a bitch anyway.

-When Geralt picks up Jaskier at his downtown flat he has to grip the wheel of his rover hard in order not to short-circuit. Jaskier has done something to his hair that Geralt can't name but that makes him go woozy inside. He wears a plain shirt that compliments his eyes and hugs his body just right and he looks high on life with color in his cheeks and the most dazzling smile. He's gorgeous. "Darling, don't you look dashing," Jaskier says excitedly and props his feet up on the dashboard, only after kissing Geralt on the cheek. Which is not fair. "Likewise," Geralt mutters, then blushes furiously. He didn't want that to come out, oh no. Jaskier either didn't hear or acts like it and they drive in silence to Foltest's country house. Well, aside from the songs Jaskier hums under his breath, some new composition no doubt.

-At first, Geralt thinks it's a nice enough party for someone who doesn't like parties. Foltest's grilling burgers, they all have cocktails, the music is mellow. Not that that stops Jaskier from swirling an already quite drunk Calanthe over the terrace in dazzling moves. Geralt wants to be swirled like that. "You really have it bad, don't you?" Crach comments when he notices Geralt staring. Geralt downs his beer (he's no cocktail drinker) and tries pointedly not to stare at how Jaskier's swinging his ass around.

-The buzz makes it easier and he relieves Foltest at the barbecue for a bit. But then Jaskier walks up to him, a little short on breath and grinning his most flirtatious little grin. It gives him fucking dimples. Sigh. "Hey you big strong man," Jaskier says. He smells like pineapple and coconut, but isn't even a little drunk. "Jask," he says, pointedly flipping a burger. "Foltest says he has an old karaoke machine in the shed, but it's too heavy for me. Help me?" - "...fine." Geralt gestures for Foltest to keep up with the meat and he and Jaskier make their way along a garden path that winds through thickets and by a small pond. The shed is painted blue and white and Geralt and Jaskier find it very much cluttered, but not dirty which is nice. Geralt only understands it's a trap when it's already sprung on them. The tiny click of the look is almost inaudible over Jaskier's anxious commentary of their search for the machine. There is only one small window and no light Geralt can see. Fuck.

-"Ehm, Jaskier?" he reaches out and gently touches Jaskier's shoulder which has the other man yelp and jump. Which doesn't bode well for what Geralt has to tell him. "I think we're trapped." The effect is immediate. Jaskier goes rigid, his breath catches. Is he afraid? Claustrophobic perhaps? Shit, so he can't be in on the joke. "Jask?" - "Geralt. I know we aren't the closest, but I need you to hold me right now." And he launches himself at Geralt. Maybe he is in on the joke? No, he's trembling too hard for that. Geralt catches him and does as asked. "I am absolutely going to die," Jaskier whines into Geralt's neck and Geralt can't help a small chuckle as he rubs Jaskier's back soothingly. This is... surprisingly nice for a trap. Also likely Tissaia's doing. Geralt has a rare idea. "What if I distract you until someone finds us?" he murmurs against Jaskier's hair and Jaskier draws back a little. In the half-dark his eyes glisten, widen when they meet Geralt's. "You would?" - "Close your eyes, Jaskier." Geralt feels a surge of daring, perhaps granted by the intimacy and seclusion of the situation. He catches Jaskier's lips with his own. When they part, Jaskier grins, shaking from something other than fear. "I thought you didn’t much like me," he whispers. "I thought I got on your nerves." - "Idiot." They kiss again and, faintly, Geralt can hear someone cheer from outside.

[wonglix]

➺ ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ: ʀᴇᴀʟɪsɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʀᴇ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ s/ᴏ

⤷ fluff

*•.¸♡ hongjoong ⋮ when you scold him ♡¸.•*

as weird as it may sound, hongjoong realised that he was in love with you while you were scolding him with an angry look on your face, hands on your hips and brows furrowed

he knew that he was neglecting his basic needs to work a little bit more but he never really thought much of it. he didn’t expect you to come by spontaneously and he got worried when he saw how upset you were, thinking that something might’ve happened.

when he went to embrace you to calm you down, you immediately shut him down, telling him to sit down and listen with a stern look on your face. you began to rant about his health, how it wasn’t good for him to overwork himself like that and that you didn’t want him to faint or break down one day.

he should’ve been ashamed or maybe upset, but he couldn’t help the warmth that was blooming inside of him at that moment. observing your cute little angry pout he had to bite back a smile, realising in that exact moment that he had fallen deeply in love with you.

you weren’t scolding him because you were genuinely mad, you were throwing harsh words at him because you loved him so much and were worried about him. slowly getting up, he came closer to you and before you could call him out he had his hands placed on your cheeks, pulling you in for a sweet kiss.

*•.¸♡ seonghwa ⋮ when you help him ♡¸.•*

he’s very caring and often tends to be the one to take care not only of you but also of the others, naturally falling into the role of the caregiver

seonghwa doesn’t really mind though, he enjoys being able to take care of the people he loves.

seonghwa always knew that he loved you; if his pounding heart and the warm feeling in his chest were anything to go by. the day he realised he was in love with you was an incredibly stressful one, everyone was buzzing around trying to get their work done

he was just about to go around and ask everyone what they’d like to eat, getting ready to go out and get food for everyone when the door to the changing room suddenly opened, you standing there with multiple bags of food in your hands

seonghwa swears he feels his heart jump out of his chest at the warm smile you have on your face while the members practically tackle you to get their food, rushed “thank you”s being thrown around aimlessly

you looked so genuinely happy to help them out, to take a burden off of his shoulders just for the sake of helping - he pulls you close and catches you off guard with an extremely passionate kiss full of love and adoration, the shouts and cheering being drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears

*•.¸♡ yunho ⋮ when you take care of him ♡¸.•*

there’s probably nothing that makes yunho’s heart swell with absolute love for you more than all those times you wait up for him, ready to make him something to eat even though it’s already late

yunho knows that you don’t have to take care of him like that, and sometimes he feels really bad when he sees how much effort you put in just to make him happy but he’d definitely be lying if he said that he didn’t love it

there’s just something about the way you pamper him after a long day of work, how you prepare food for him and make sure he has some time to himself to calm down and relax

he realised he was madly in love with you when he came into the bedroom to see a change of clothes laying on the bed, neatly folded together. in the bathroom he was met with your kneeling figure next to the bathtub, checking the temperature to see if it’s hot enough

his heart clenches and he can practically feel all the exhaustion vanish, like it never existed - and then when you look up at him with a warm, caring smile he can’t help but blurt out, “i’m so in love with you, oh my god”

it catches you off guard but makes you blush nonetheless, a giddy smile on your face when you get up to crush him in a loving hug. he wraps his arms around you, his body relaxing in your hold

*•.¸♡ yeosang ⋮ when you let him vent ♡¸.•*

he bottles his emotions up a lot, not wanting to be burden to anyone by ranting over things that might be considered unimportant - those things still bug him and make him upset nevertheless, though

it can be hard for him to keep his masquerade going, especially when he’s around you. he just wants to rant and vent about all the things he’s been keeping to himself when he’s with you, because you make him feel safe and comfortable enough to be himself

you had suggested a movie night to help yeosang relax and unwind, but it seems that he’s still stressed, that there is still something gnawing at him

you turn off the movie, yeosang turning to you in surprise. you take his face in your hands to make him look into your eyes and tell him to let it all out, to just vent and rant since that’s what you’re here for; you’re there for him when he’s down or mad, happy or sad

it’s like lightning struck him at that exact moment. this, exactly this was one of his favourite things about you; you let him rant on and on about stupid things that get on his nerves for hours on end if he needs to, you’re there to listen to the whole thing no matter how worked up he gets himself

you understand his emotions more than anyone else, you know when he has to blow off some steam and just throw around curses to cool off a bit - and it’s one of his favourite things about you

*•.¸♡ san ⋮ when you’re patient ♡¸.•*

san knows that he can be a bit overbearing sometimes, that he’s too loud or too childish for a lot of people and that there are plenty more that would never put up with him the way you do

but he’s glad that you do, glad that you love him just the way he is, even if he gets on your nerves on the regular and tests your patience a little too much for your liking

he loves to interrupt you with cheesy pickup lines and sweet kisses or play little pranks on you, and you never blew up on him or told him to knock if off with any real malice behind your words

san loves that you’re not only patient when it comes to his little shenanigans, but also when it comes to his work; he knows that his line of work puts a heavy weight in your relationship but you never make him feel guilty, always waiting for him

he can’t pinpoint the exact moment he realised, if it was during the time he kept singing everything he wanted to say or if it was after multiple weeks of not seeing each other - either way he knows that he’s been blessed with a loving, patient partner that is always ready to put up with him

*•.¸♡ mingi ⋮ when you listen to him ♡¸.•*

sometimes he’ll get weird ideas at the most random times of day; he’ll come up with something in 3 AM while he was peeing, suddenly wide awake and all excited to tell you

and the best thing? you’re always ready to listen to him, not once ridiculing him or laughing at his thoughts. yeah you’re a bit grumpy sometimes when he wakes you up just to tell you about frogs with hats, but you never tell him to shut up or tell that he sounds stupid

he can’t help those random bursts of weird thoughts, but he’s glad that he found someone he can not only share them with, but also someone who’s chill enough to indulge in his thoughts and actually discuss them with him

he can’t wait to tell your kids one day that the way he realised he had fallen in love with you was while you were sitting against your headboard, both of you taking your current argument about pet skunks very seriously

there was just this sudden realisation while he was listening to you, this realisation that this, this right here is what he wants for the rest of his life; he’s in love with you and would probably marry you on the spot right now (though he knows that it’s just his tired brain being a little too over enthusiastic )

he appreciates that you not only listen to his troubles and problems but also to those questionable thoughts that would usually keep him up at night

*•.¸♡ wooyoung ⋮ when you tease him ♡¸.•*

he loves to tease you and pick on you lovingly a lot, and the easiest way to make his heart swell with love was to tease him back. he loves that you’re able to clap back at him every time he decides to get on your nerves

humour is important to him, so the fact that you’re able to keep up with him and one-up him more often than he’d like to admit is something that makes him genuinely happy

wooyoung can’t describe the excitement he feels when you decide to tease him back, he doesn’t really know why but he absolutely loves it and he wouldn’t exchange your little banter for anything

you two were going back and forth the whole day, throwing around snarky remarks and lighthearted comments. as much as wooyoung loves soft days with you, days where the two of you cuddle and whisper sweet nothings - these days, where you keep trying to get on each other’s nerves are definitely his favourite

and that’s when he realises, while you’re completely dragging him with your smart remarks - his pride should be hurt and he should come up with a clap back, but he can’t help but suddenly get all mushy and warm inside; you always understand him and his intentions

*•.¸♡ jongho ⋮ when you let him baby you ♡¸.•*

he gets pampered a lot, both by you and his members alike - he loves it, no doubt about it, but there’s something about the pride he feels when he gets to be the one to baby and pamper you for a change

jongho likes to tend to you, he likes feeling like he’s the one you go to when you need help; he likes feeling needed, especially by you. he’s so used to others taking care of him that being the one who pampers you once in a while makes his heart absolutely swell

usually you’re the one to make sure he eats and sleeps properly, you’re usually the one to visit him at work to bring him food; so when he has one of his rare day offs he decides that it’s time to return the favours

he prepares your favourite food for the time you get home and draws you a bath, excited to help you calm down and relax after a stressful day. so when you come home, eyes teary and brows furrowed, he’s ready to help you out any way he can

the exact moment when he realised that he’s really, truly deeply in love with you was when you’re laying in bed next to him, eyes tired and hazy while you whisper a soft “thank you jongie , i love you” right before you fall asleep in his arms

it makes him feel so good to know that he’s there for you, that he can take care of you and make you feel better after a hard and exhausting day. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, a warm smile etched on his face while he lets himself drift to sleep

[jawllines]

Sorry to be annoying but I asked awhile ago and I think tumblr ate my ask but did you ever do tattoo Harry blurb? I love them and I miss them:( I’ve looked through your tags and there isn’t any on there if you have posted one

I CAN POST ONE I WROTE A WHILE AGO RIGHT NOW :D I DONT THINK I POSTED HERE BUT LET ME KNOW HERE YOU GO PET 

i.

“Baby -- baby, c’mon!”

It was rare that Harry ever woke Y/N with more than kisses and cuddles. Maybe an abrupt shoulder shake if the both of them slept through their alarms (and, considering that they are the only ones with the key to open up their own respective stores, they never typically arrived late facing happy employees -- or in Y/N’s case, employee -- Niall, in particular, was always more of a grump in that situation than Riktor even), but even that still managed to be tender, and soft. He always treated her so delicately, as if she were made up of porcelain in the morning and it was imperative to speak in a low, soothing voice with careful touches or she might shatter. And she really didn’t think it was because she was an absolute terror to wake up -- Y/N did quite well, even as early as 5 AM she was still in somewhat of a pleasant mood, certainly nothing to be fearful of -- she thinks he’s just gentle in the morning. He’s gentle all the time, but for some reason or another, he’s extra soft with her then.

They had both had a bit of a busy day, so by the time that they made it back to Y/N’s flat (Harry said he liked it there best because it smelled like her, and -- well, he softens her up and calls her Darling when he wants them to go over there, so it’s hard to say no), both of them were ready for bed. Neither of them could barely keep their eyes open as they scarfed down the burgers they’d picked up on the way home, and once they’d finished and brushed their teeth, they toppled into each other on the mattress. Y/N would reckon they both fell asleep before their heads had even hit the pillow -- she doesn’t even remember crawling beneath the blankets.

Apparently she had though, because now as her brain tunes in with the world around her and she realizes that the distorted voice that had begun to prod her dreams was actually a grumpy, dry throat Harry, she’s cuddling herself closer in the covers. This only makes him grumble at her more, “You’re such a blanket hog,” he whines and Y/N finally blinks her eyes open, being greeted with Harry’s disgruntled, pouted face illuminated by the sunlight beginning to slip through the blinds, “I’ve been trying to unravel it for like ten minutes, but you’re all wrapped up! I’m cold.”

Y/N smiles sleepily at him, not understanding the gravity of the situation entirely as she begins to un-burrito herself from the covers, “G’morning, beautiful,” she murmurs as she does so, finally disentangling from the blankets and while she was a little less warm, Harry was quick to wiggle in beneath them, “Sorry.”

“Don’ be sweet when m’tryin’ to be angry with you,” she puckers her lips at him dramatically, and though he sighs, he leans in and presses their mouths together softly, “Your kisses aren’t g’na sweeten me up, m’still grumpy, blanket hog.”

She can only hum as she cuddles closer to him, “Sorry,” she repeated, this time adding, “Like to swaddle myself like a lil’ baby. Reckon you weren’t holdin’ me well enough last night.”

An offended gasp leaves through his lips soundly, enough that it startles her, but his arms worm around her waist and draw her closer to his body, “Brat,” he grumbled, dipping his nose into her throat, “I held you so well and you just wiggled right out of my arms and took all the covers with you.”

“Like a worm -- I wiggled out like a worm or somethin’,” she tried to sit up but his arms tightened around her, “This worm has to pee though and she’ll soak the bed if she isn’t allowed.”

His arm loosens around her, “This worm sounds like she’s a sleepy sort of delusional that requires about two hours more of rest.”

Y/N stumbles toward the bathroom in her room, “Noooooooo,” she whines, frowning at nobody, not bothering to swing the door shut before she plops on the cold toilet seat to relieve herself, “We’re supposed to go get hot chocolate, no more sleep.”

“Baby, it’s 6 AM and I’ve been up the last 30 minutes freezing my bits off!” He calls back to her and she giggles some, her eyes trying to accommodate to the bright white lights of the bathroom, “Sleep just a bit more and we’ll get the hot chocolate when we wake up next.”

She waits until she flushes and washes her hands to respond to him, and though she knows that she is definitely going to crawl back in bed and fall asleep, she stands at the foot of it with her hands in fists at her hips. He had let his eyes flutter closed by then but she thinks he could feel her eyeballing him, so he looks up past the mountain of blankets now covering him so she could only see his eyes and his nose, “What’re you doing?”

“You’re telling me, you don’t wanna go at 6 AM, three hours before the kiosk even opens to get hot chocolate with me? You must really hate me, don’t you?”

He huffs a sharp breath through his nose which is how he usually laughs in the morning, when he can’t muster up the strength to have a proper giggle, “Absolutely loathe you, baby doll, but could you please come back to bed so I can loathe you in the warmth?”

It takes little persuading -- as she said, she knew she was just going to crawl right back in beside him -- and instead of relying too heavily on the blankets to provide her warmth (like wrapping up half of it around her so she was cocooned entirely. . .this is what she normally does, and she would say that’s probably why Harry almost never has any of the covers in the morning), she relies on him. Picks up his arm so that she can fit herself underneath it and lies her cheek on his chest, “Your pits better not be smelly.”

“I make no promises.”

.                             .                         .

“I love your hair.”

“Stop it, Sweetheart, I’m g’na start blushing.”

They had slept for four more hours rather than the two Harry had originally suggested, but that always happens with them. Y/N would say that they are just too content cuddled up with one another that they milk it for all it’s worth. If one of them wakes up before the other, then they just settle their head back down and close their eyes again. Unless they had somewhere to be, of course, but Harry had a free Saturday (no clients schedule, even though Saturday’s could often be some of his heaviest days) and he’d elected to spend it with her -- whether they were awake or asleep didn’t much mater, they just liked to be near each other.

When they finally did wake up, they lazily got dressed into about thirty layers so they wouldn’t freeze outside. The weather had grown frigid quite quickly this November, and neither of them stood the cold very well, but there was a park lined with little pop-up kiosks with hot chocolate, sweets, little holiday goodies, and an obscene amount of knitted blankets (it was a clever marketing tactic, Y/N thought -- everyone is more willing to spend money on a blanket when they’re freezing cold - she and Harry had certainly fallen for it today). Y/N bought them shoe warmers to keep their toes at least not numb, and Harry lets her borrow a pair of his gloves because she keeps forgetting to buy some of her own. They both have hats fitted over their heads too, and since Harry’s let his hair grow out, his curls stick out from beneath the pumpkin orange print and Y/N can’t stop staring at it. She’s always loved his hair, she told him as much one of the first nights they’d sat on her bookstore’s floor and talked about just a bit of everything. Back when she barely realized she had a crush on him. . . .when she didn’t know that in just a little time, she would be over the moon.

And she’ll never forget that people used to make him feel like shit about his hair, so she maybe overcompensates by telling him every time she has thought about loving it. Which means today, in the span of a short three hours they’d been awake, Y/N had complimented his hair about twenty different times. If she was running her fingers through it, fixing his beanie, or just staring at him, she let him know just how much she adored his curls.

“I hate to tell you this, Button, but your cheeks are already red as apples,” she shifted the paper cup of hot chocolate from her hand closest to him to the other, so she could reach up and tuck them behind his ear, that had reddened from the cold, “The air has you more bashful than I ever could.”

“Not true,” he murmurs, lowering his voice as he knocks closer to her ear, “I always blush when you go down on me.”

“God,” Y/N shakes her head, “You’re too much, d’ya know that?”

He laughs, nudging her with the cold tip of his nose, “You want the peppermint bark? We’re coming up on the seller.”

“Of course, I want peppermint bark,” she reaches for her wallet, “I’m stocking us up for the next hundred years or so.”

Harry slows for a moment, sliding his gloved hand into her own and squeezing, “Hey,” he begins, his voice soft, somewhat reflective and it brings her attention to him at her side, “Y’know when -- you remember how you said you just get random flushes of love for me and s’a whole lot and you just don’t know what to do with it?”

Y/N nods, “Yeah, like every waking minute practically. Why?”

He smiles shyly, “I’m having one of those moments.”

“For the peppermint bark?” She teases, but his brows furrow and he swats her shoulder playfully, “Hey!”

“I’m trying to be sweet on you, and you’re still going on about this bloody chocolate,” he rubs the arm that he swats, even though Y/N has so many layers on plus the blanket that she bought wrapped around her, that he made no real contact with her body.

Y/N pulls him in for a hug, narrowly avoiding a child running past them as she does so, “Oh, you know m’only kidding. I love you too, Bug, more than words can describe and ten times more than the chocolate I reckon. . .well, unless it’s made really well this year.”

“I’ll leave you here, blanket hog.”

[sometimes-love-is-enough]

re: your last ask about the time travel shenanigans—holy fuck yes please more of this. like, not only is it funny as hell, which i appreciate, but it's also a. more c!thomas and b. points to just how interestingly both the plot and characters of this series have grown over the years and i am ALL for it

"Janus!" is the first thing Thomas exclaims when he sees the Side Formerly Known Exclusively As Deceit rise up where Logan would usually stand. Which just might be a mistake, if Janus’s expression is anything to go by.

Okay, in Thomas's defence -

This is a really, really weird day, even by his standards. Because, like, Logan's currently standing in front of the stairs, and that's not where Logan's supposed to be, and his shirt and tie are all wrong. And had had been grinning. Openly. He had been openly grinning when Thomas had first woken up and looked in his wardrobe and realized that his favorite t-shirt apparently doesn't exist anymore and all his clothes are a half-size smaller than he's used to but also they still fit and - okay, no, back to Logan. He'd gone downstairs and tripped over a chair that wasn't supposed to be there and called out Logic. And he'd been about to ask him what's going on and why everything feels so off and also why Logan's standing in Virgil's usual spot instead of over to the right of the stairs. But then he'd noticed all the aforementioned Very Weird Clothing Things. And he'd stopped and said, "Uh, Logan?" and Logan's grin had dropped and he'd stared at Thomas for a full ten seconds then whispered, "what the fuck," with great emotion.

And then Patton had shown up with a ridiculous amount of pun-riddled cheerfulness that Thomas had been able to clock as sixty-percent fake within about half a second. And his clothes had been all wrong, too, and after a lot of confused, borderline-incomprehensible yelling at each other, Roman had showed up and added to the chaos.

"I am scared and confused and on the verge of completely losing it!" Thomas had declared at some point, which had been the cue for an ominous music sting somewhere to Thomas's right that made everybody jolt in terrified unison.

"Did somebody say scared and confused and on the verge of completely losing it?"

"Virgil, thank god!" Thomas had practically yelled, and just about thrown himself across the room to get to him - before pausing midway and allowing his brain to process... wrong hoodie. Wrong amount of eyeshadow. "Wait. No, hang on, is this - "

"FUCKING WHO," Virgil shrieked, leaping backwards half a flight of stairs, which had led to another round of confused yelling, with Thomas trying to assure them all that he's fine he hasn't had some sort of strange head injury or whatever, he's just really happy to see Virgil and no of course that's not weird, what do you mean who's Virgil, that's Virgil right over there, Roman please put down that sword things are already out of hand -

And at some point Thomas had got it into his head that the most reasonable course of events was to summon the one person who always seems to know everything that everybody else doesn't, which brings everything up to speed, more or less. Roman had gone, "Thomas, what are you doing," and Thomas, feeling slightly manic at this point, had said, "I'm trying to summon a demon, obviously," because the best way to get hold of a certain someone probably is blatant lying, and boom, instant Janus.

"Jeee-sus Christ on a cookie-shaped canoe, what is he doing here?!"

"Janus!"

So, Janus pops up, he looks literally the same as he always has (except maybe with shorter hair? Wait, they all have shorter hair, including Thomas, wait a second -) with his half-snake-face and his hat and gloves that cosy-looking capelet of his. And although his expression reflects faint bewilderment and that very particular 'wait, what' emotion that results in being pulled abruptly away from something you were busy with, he looks so normal that Thomas thinks for a moment he might be the only sane person left.

But then Janus makes a series of start-and-stop noises of incomprehension, and gestures wildly towards Virgil, who's crouched midway up on the stairs behind Logan, looking like a cornered wild animal, and snaps, "Why for the love of everything that's holy would you tell him my name?"

"You think this is me?" Virgil retorts, hands going up to grab desperately at the bars lining the side of the staircase. "I don't understand anything that's going on! He somehow knows my name! He's - he's being nice to me!"

It suddenly occurs to Thomas that this might just possibly be a time travel sort of thing. It would explain the clothes shift. And the altered layout of his house. And the fact that when he'd checked his phone this morning it had told him it was 2016, and also it hadn't been his phone, it had been the one he'd broken a few years ago in a tragic piano-moving-related accident.

...Okay, yeah, this is absolutely a time travel thing.

"Is somebody going to explain why Thomas ruined all of our heartfelt name reveal moments in one fell swoop?" Roman demands. "I thought we agreed we were going to do them gradually and draw them out as long as possible for dramatic effect!"

"I agreed to none of that," Virgil snaps from his position halfway up the stairs.

"Yes," says Logan, "yes, I think we all would like to know what's going on. Thomas? What's going on?"

"Uh - " Thomas, who has just come to a rather startling realization about time travel and also about how shitty his Sides' taste in costumes were pre-wardrobe change, doesn't really have a prepared answer for this. "I have... I am - I just - "

Thomas struggles for words. Really struggles. And everyone's just standing there, watching him with expressions that range from terror to confusion to suspicion, and they all look so weirdly young in a way that's hard to pin down. It's the clothes. It's probably the clothes, or maybe it's the way they hold themselves. Roman, carelessly confident, without a doubt in the world. Patton, still wearing a fixed dad-grin, politely baffled and looking back and forth. Logan, who hasn't been systematically beaten down and pushed back over the course of many, many years. Virgil, who's basically just a ball of grey-and-black anger and acerbic anger at this point. Janus, who's... Janus. Who's looking at him in a way that Janus has never looked at him before.

And Remus is probably lurking somewhere in the back of his mind, too, doing whatever Remus does, and - would Remus be any different now, four years prior? Thomas hadn't had any significant problems with intrusive thoughts, not back then... or, well, back now. Maybe he's calmer, maybe Thomas could actually talk with him. Try to work something out, try to understand.

But wait, he's still got to give the Sides right here and right now an answer.

Hm.

...Thomas has been through a lot in the past four years. Not, like, fantasy protagonist a lot, but more like a extended psychological journey of self-discovery and mental health crises. Now, he wouldn't trade any of this for the world, because he's learned a hell of a lot about himself in the process - but also? The Sides have put him through a lot of horrifying realization-type things.

Which is why he absolutely one hundred percent deserves to do what he's about to do next.

"I," says Thomas, with an extraordinary amount of confidence and self-assuredness, "am psychic."

And the dead silence holds. Now even Patton is staring at him in disbelief. Janus has graduated into outright horror, his face twisted up into a oh god no I am somehow responsible for letting him delude himself this far expression.

"Thomas!" Roman gasps, almost instantly lighting up with genuine enthusiasm. "Oh, Thomas, I'm so proud, we've been working on this for years. Tell me, does this extend to telekinesis, or just somehow knowing all our names and nothing else?"

"What?" Janus says. "What - no. No, you can't seriously be going along with this - what? That... what? That doesn't even make any sense?" He turns wildly from left to right, and - okay, it's very enjoyable to see him out of his depth, to be perfectly honest. Thomas likes Janus a lot, knows he has his best interests at heart, but the whole courtroom thing had been a major dick move. This is satisfying. "Are any of you getting this? Does anyone here understand what's going on?"

"I'm psychic," Thomas repeats doggedly. "I acquired magical psychic powers and now I know all of your names and tragic backstories. Surprise! I unlocked my full potential and the ninety-percent of my brain power that I wasn't using."

"That's - that's a widely-perpetuated and wildly incorrect myth," Logan says weakly.

"Nope. Turns out it's true, and I was only using ten percent of it, and now that I've gone full big-brain, I know that Patton's repressing all his bad feelings because he doesn't want to bother anyone with them, Virgil acts all scary and menacing because he thinks it's the only way that I'll ever listen to him, and Janus is secretly a huge dork with a heart of gold - uh, yellow, I guess."

"How dare you," Janus breathes, looking horrified.

"Wha - " Patton suddenly looks very pale indeed.

"Also, Roman, you're my hero; Logan, please never stop smiling like that ever again, it's literally my favorite thing in the world and if you ever stop being enthusiastic about teaching me things I will cry - and Virgil, I love you."

Virgil lets out a choked little noise like he's just been punched directly in the stomach.

"I love all of you," Thomas adds, an afterthought. "I never say that enough. Janus, that goes for you as well. You're right, I need to take care of myself more."

"I'm - " Janus is still looking around at everyone in complete disbelief, but now his gaze fixes onto Thomas, his eyes wide. "I'm what?"

Thomas is now on a roll. An extremely cathartic sort of roll. "And Remus -"

Everybody immediately panics. Virgil and Logan's hands both immediately leap up to clasp over their mouths, which seems to be a reflexive reaction on Janus's behalf. Patton lets out a deranged-sounding high pitched giggle that edges into genuine hysteria.

"Brother? What brother? I don't know what a brother is!" Roman says loudly. "I've never had a brother in my life! Thomas, your glorious psychic powers are malfunctioning. Have you tried turning them off and turning them on again?"

" - I'm not going to lie and say I love him, but -" Thomas stops abruptly, and staggers  backwards to catch himself on the couch as a thought strikes him out of literally nowhere. "Son of a bitch -"

"Does being psychic make you swear a lot?" Patton asks weakly. "Because, uh. Not sure I like this side of you, kiddo - "

"Logan," says Thomas. "Logan, what's the date today? This is so, so important, what's the date."

"It's... October," Logan says, very slowly. "October twentieth. 2016?"

"Holy shit," Thomas whispers, and then says it louder, "holy shit. Okay, listen. I was going to sort out all of our collective psychological issues in one impressive emotional speedrun, but I've realized we have something much more important to do." He pauses, and takes in a very deep, shuddering breath. "Guys. We can save Vine. Excuse me. I've just realized I’ve got to make a lot of calls."

[yamisnuffles]

Blitzed

On the night a church is bombed and books are saved, Aziraphale gives in to what he wants. Crowley can't understand it but is more than willing to follow wherever the angel will lead him.

Rated E. Read on Ao3

Based on my art.

- - - - - -

Crowley was deeply familiar with pain. Every demon was baptized in that sulfur pit, their former grace a smouldering ruin. There were myriad other examples each and every one of the Fallen could list, bother utterly merciless and utterly mundane. Crowley had gotten used to most of it. He was up on Earth and free as he could hope to be, barring some unforeseen miracle. Could maybe be a little better off but that would require him to be without his own very unique brand of suffering. A near century long nap had taken some of the edge off hard denial. Off fraternizing .

The problem was, as familiar as he might be with pain, he wasn’t the best at handling it. That was why he’d added a fresh layer in the form of charred feet. It was why he was talking too much. He tended to do that, he knew. Unfortunately, knowledge of a problem didn’t magically cure it. If it did, his life would be much easier and he wouldn’t be rattling on about decades he knew nothing about firsthand because he’d been asleep and Aziraphale couldn’t know he’d been asleep. If the angel noticed he was bullshitting, he didn’t let on. Didn’t really let on to anything. He’d been about silent since Crowley handed over the books and currently looked a bit like he might be sick as he clung to those same books.

Were the books a mistake? Probably a mistake. A step too far. He was always overstepping and ending up with his foot in his mouth. Or his… everything in that pit of boiling sulfur. And so he talked to stop from thinking, even if Aziraphale wasn’t listening. Especially if Aziraphale wasn’t listening.

He very nearly sent up a prayer when they reached the bookshop at last. Instead he said, “Here we are.”

Aziraphale still didn’t say a word. Crowley dared a proper, straight on look rather than the surreptitious side-eye he’d been giving. Just above a powder blue shirt collar was a pulse that looked to be going faster than the Bentley had a moment before. Neat fingers gripped the handle of the case of books like Aziraphale was afraid he’d fall right off the face of the planet if he let go.  Wide, mirror eyes reflected what little light there was in that bomb filled night and then were hidden behind fluttering lashes. Then, with no warning or obvious cause, Aziraphale stilled completely. Closed eyes. Not a single breath.

When he finally moved again it was to just about throw himself bodily from the car. Crowley made a more measured exit. His eyes were glued on Aziraphale’s every hurried step and a good thing, because the angel nearly fell on his face tripping over the curb. Wouldn’t have been nearly at all if Crowley hadn’t caught him.

Worry overcame his usual restraint and he held firm to Aziraphale’s shoulders. He dipped his head so that he could look Aziraphale in the eyes. “Are you alright?” One thunderous beat of his heart and Crowley pushed further. “I can stay. If you need me to. Want me.”

Aziraphale started doing that rapid blinking thing. Something too complicated passed over his face and was replaced by surety before Crowley had a chance of understanding it.

“Yes. Yes, I think you should stay.”

Crowley’s heart drummed again. When Aziraphale turned, smiled, Crowley forgot all about the need to breathe, the pain in his feet, anything that wasn’t a smile so bright it felt deadly in the middle of a blitz. This close he could smell hints of the near century between them. There was a new cologne and old books, life during a war and peace in the back of a musty old shop. Crowley wondered if he still fit in somewhere amongst all that. He was frozen in that moment, pondering, until he realized the thing grounding him there was the solid weight of Aziraphale against his palms. He quickly removed his hands and shoved them deep into his pockets.

“After you,” he said with a nod toward the door.

“Right, of course. Silly me. I should unlock that, shouldn’t I?”

Aziraphale finally broke eye contact and Crowley felt like he could finally breathe again. He shuffled a careful distance behind. He slipped inside as smoothly as he could given the pain of each step. The moment he was able, he leaned against a wall and tried to arrange himself in a way that surreptitiously took pressure off his feet.

Aziraphale locked the doors and, just like that, the world outside ceased to exist beyond the blacked out windows. Lights in the back of the shop sprang to life with a snap. Apparently no miracle was frivolous in a time like this. Or maybe Aziraphale had stopped caring so very much. Crowley wished he’d been around to find out which.

“Would you care for some wine?” Aziraphale asked, already winding back through the shelves. “I for one could use a good drink after tonight. I have a lovely Cheval Blanc that I’ve been saving.”

“Don’t open it on my account. Can’t imagine it will be easy to get a replacement anytime soon.”

Aziraphale clicked his tongue. “Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t seen you in nearly a century. I think this is as good an occasion as I’ll get. Besides, I don’t know about you, but I could use an excuse. I’ve had few enough recently.”

“Well then,” Crowley said, “don’t let me stop you. Demon. Meant to inspire you to indulgence.”

Aziraphale bit the inside of his cheek and gave a smile that strained to be bigger regardless of his best efforts against it. “It’s settled then.”

He puttered off, deeper into the shop, and Crowley was pulled inexorably after. It felt like walking through a dream to be back in the shop with Aziraphale happily chattering away about everything that he’d been up to in the last seventy odd years. How many times had Crowley had that very dream? And yet not a one of them matched up to the reality. He never could have guessed how it would feel to step back into a life so changed. Yes, the world at large was different and he was glad to have woken up with time to figure it all out. The thing, though, that got him was how his memory matched up to the current reality of the shop.

There were new books. New furniture. But it was all only new to him. There was love written into well handled texts. Chair cushions showed where Aziraphale had sat countless times over years, if not decades. It was all thoroughly lived in and every minute of that life devoid of Crowley, all because of a stupid argument and an even stupider decision to sleep his despair off, as though it was something to be quickly gotten rid of.

Aziraphale hadn’t settled into any of his well loved furniture nor had he retrieved the bottle of wine. Instead he was floating about, putting his books of prophecy down one place only to immediately pick them back up and put them somewhere else. Crowley flopped down into the corner of a leather sofa and watched as the angel flitted to and fro.

“Are you hot?” Aziraphale asked. “It seems rather a bit too hot in here.”

Putting words to action, he immediately stripped off his coat and tossed it on the couch next to Crowley. His hat followed soon after. Crowley tried not to think too much about that golden banded halo, so thoughtlessly discarded. Instead he let his eyes flick over to the coat rack and then back to the angel who was currently toeing off his shoes. At this rate, he’d be down to nothing in a minute or two. Crowley swallowed over his increasingly dry mouth.

“Are you sure you’re alright, angel?”

Aziraphale stopped, fingers on the buttons to his waistcoat. “Yes. Absolutely fine. Finer than a frog's hair split five ways.”

“Finer than…? Do frogs have hair?” Crowley shook his head. He took off his hat and placed it delicately next to Aziraphale’s and then pushed out of his seat. His feet screamed at being used again but he grit his teeth and ignored them. He put a hand on Aziraphale’s wrist. “Just stop for a second, would you?”

And he did. When he looked at Crowley, the blue of his eyes had gone grey under a furrowed brow. He stilled completely for a moment and then reached up to take the sunglasses from Crowley’s face. He folded them, gently opened Crowley’s coat, and placed them in a pocket there. His hands lingered on the lining and moved up to the lapels where they stayed.

Crowley’s feet could have caught on fire in that moment and it wouldn’t have been enough to get him to move. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. When he saw Aziraphale track that movement, his breath was aborted in his throat and he was fairly certain he blacked out for a moment. When his brain started again, words tumbled out too fast to stop.

“Are you- What is- You seem like… Was it the thing about the frogs? I know frogs have- don’t have- hair. You know what, maybe I should just leave. Survived one bomb tonight and so I’m feeling pretty good about my chances out there.”

“Crowley?”

“Yes?”

“Please shut up for a moment, would you?”

“Yep. Shutting up. Now.”

The moment Crowley shut his lips he found them covered by Aziraphale’s. The first thing he thought was that he couldn’t believe he had Aziraphale’s lips on his own. The second was that there was a word for that and that word was kiss. He was kissing Aziraphale. Or, at least, Aziraphale was kissing him. Finally came the thought that he really ought to be kissing Aziraphale back. Like many of his best thoughts, it came too late.

Aziraphale released Crowley’s lapels and broke away. “I’m sorry, Crowley. I shouldn’t have presumed. It’s only that, with my books…”

Crowley let one of his incisors dig deep enough into his lip to draw blood. “Was that all that was? Some way to thank me for the sodding books?”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “No. Of course not. I only realized, well I’ve felt it for so long that I’d almost stopped noticing, but tonight confirmed it.” Those lips that had so recently been pressed together in a kiss, curled up into a beatific smile. “You lo-”

Crowley swallowed the rest of the word with a kiss. He couldn’t hear those three words, not said for him and certainly not if Aziraphale wasn’t going to say them back. For an excruciating moment, he thought Aziraphale wasn’t going to kiss him back now that he’d had time to think better of it. That moment fell away when the angel sank into it with a small, sweet whine. Crowley tried to focus on that, on the noises he could draw out and the taste of ethereal lips, instead of anything that might have been said or wouldn’t ever be said.

With his wits about him this time, he was able to appreciate just how blessedly soft everything about Aziraphale was. His lips were pliant. His stomach and thighs filled in every bony gap Crowley had. Then there was the worn velvet of his waistcoat under one hand and a cloud of curls under the other and Crowley gripped both as tight as he dared. Some foggy corner of his brain wondered if he pressed himself close enough if he could lose himself entirely in Aziraphale. Only way to find out, he supposed, was to try.

He pressed his tongue to the seam of Aziraphale’s lips and was granted entry with a soft moan that grew louder as he roved ever deeper. He was suddenly glad they’d skipped the wine because now all he could taste was Aziraphale and it was the only thing he wanted to taste for the rest of his innumerable days. He pressed tongue to tongue and licked along even teeth. He was too intoxicated by it all to realize that his own heady, hungry sounds were being added to the chorus.

Crowley could never have imagined he’d want more but there was so much more of Aziraphale and he wanted it all. He kissed along the gentle curve of an angelic jaw. He nipped, testing, at an earlobe and licked down, over tendon, thrumming pulse, and to the small peak of his Adam’s apple. He let his tongue fork slightly over that charming colloquial, just enough to savor the irony and cause Aziraphale to let out a needy whine. Or maybe it had been Crowley himself. He was no longer particularly interested in finding that line where one of them ended and the other began.

Nor, it would appear, was Aziraphale. He all but ripped off Crowley’s jacket and cast it aside before fumbling with his tie. While Azirphale went high, Crowley went low. Aziraphale himself had already done away with his waistcoat while Crowley was occupied elsewhere, so it was a simple task to unclasp braces and flick open the button to his trousers. They fell into a pile around Aziraphale’s ankles. Crowley worried it was too much— he was too much— and yet, for all his softness elsewhere, Aziraphale was half hard already and rolling his hips in search of friction. Of Crowley.

Crowley gripped the flesh and tugged Aziraphale closer. Head to head and mouth to ear, he asked, “Tell me, what do you want, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale dug his fingers into short cropped hair and tugged so that they were looking each other in the eyes. This close there was no mistaking how much black had overtaken stormy blue. “You.”

That one word shuddered through Crowley and undid millennia of hedging and denial.

“Fuck.”

Breath ragged, he surged forward to close what scant distance remained between them. He could feel desire rolling off Aziraphale in waves and he wanted to drown in it. Instead of letting it wash over him, he lapped up every bit. It wasn’t pretty. Noses bumped and teeth clashed. It was frenetic and sweaty. It was, in a word, perfect. That should have been Crowley’s first sign that it all was gonna go to shit.

In the midst of all that twining of tongues and limbs, Aziraphale stepped onto Crowley’s foot. Not hard. Not the sort of thing he would have noticed any other time but this time, when he had a cock pressed against his stomach, this time of course he had scorched feet. He jolted and hissed in pain. He bit his tongue, hoping his pain somehow had gone unnoticed. It hadn’t. Of course it hadn’t.

Aziraphale stilled and stepped back. “Sorry. Clumsy of me to step on-” His eyes widened in horrified understanding. “Oh! Your feet! Why didn’t you say anything? How could I forget?”

“It’s fine. Just… twinged a bit when you stepped on them.”

Aziraphale paced in place, over one step and back, as though he didn’t have his cock out. Crowley was tempted to grab it and make him forget all about his stupid, bloody, inconsiderate feet.

He realized he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate it. Appreciate any of it. He’d always imagined, when he’d dared, taking things slow and relishing every article of clothing removed. Instead, he barely remembered half of it. He felt certain he would have remembered stripping away Aziraphale’s boxers and yet, there they were, in a pile on the rug with his trousers. He was caught staring at them when Aziraphale stopped fluttering about like a very fussy butterfly.

“Come here,” Aziraphale said.

The Principality didn’t wait for a reply. He put one arm behind Crowley’s knees, the other behind his shoulders, and lifted him as though he was nothing. Crowley flailed in surprise.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to take care of your feet.”

“ Now ? We were sort of in the middle of something.”

“That can wait.”

“It can-” Crowley sputtered, losing the war for words in the haze of his lust addled brain. “I think your dick, which is poking me in the back right now, by the way, would argue otherwise.”

Aziraphale ignored him and carried him across the room, back to the couch. He was gently deposited on top of some of their discarded clothing. “Stay there,” Aziraphale said.

“Stay- where are you going?”

“I need to retrieve a few things.” Aziraphale only made it a step before he came back to prop Crowley’s feet on a chair. “There. Stay right there.”

There was a small edge of divine command that Crowley was certain Aziraphale hadn’t intended but which made the skin on the back of his neck tingle. It also triggered that part of him that very much wanted to disobey every firmly given order. Had it come from anyone other than Aziraphale, he probably would have, no matter the damage to his own feet in the process. So he crossed his arms and had a good sulk. He tracked Aziraphale’s movements by the tremendous amount of noise he made, first turning his kitchenette upside down and then crashing through his flat upstairs.

Aziraphale returned with an assortment of fluffy towels over one arm and a large ceramic bowl held out before him. The bowl was placed on the ground with enough care that the water within it barely rippled. The largest of the towels was spread out next to it, and then Aziraphale lifted Crowley’s feet and moved the chair they’d been resting on aside.

Crowley watched it all unfold, strangely transfixed, until Aziraphale started to untie his shoes. “I can take those off myself, you know.”

“Nonsense. They need to be removed with care. Your socks as well.”

“Aziraphale-”

“Crowley.” Aziraphale’s voice was sharp but it softened right along with his expression. “Let me take care of you. Please.”

“Hrnngf.”

Aziraphale rightly took that as assent. Crowley could hardly watch him but he also couldn’t look away. An angel was kneeling at a demon’s feet. An angel with a flagging but still very much present erection, without a stitch on below the waist beyond a ridiculous pair of tartan socks and even more ridiculous garters to hold them up, and pale skin marked by the drag of blunt nails. And somehow that was all nothing next to the gentle curl of kiss stained lips or eyes that sparkled with something private and warm and liable to kill Crowley on the spot if he looked too deep.

Luckily there was pain to distract him, a far more familiar distraction than... whatever that had been with Aziraphale not long ago. Or was going to be before his traitor feet had interrupted. He was tempted to spend the rest of eternity as a snake just to spite them for their impudence.

“Sorry,” Aziraphale said when a hiss escaped from between Crowley’s clenched teeth.

“It’s nothing.”

No matter how easily the lie came to Crowley, the sibilance of it gave him away. Probably Aziraphale would have known anyway. He pursed his lips as he slowly rolled up the bottom hems of Crowley’s trousers.

“The shoes were the easy bit, I’m afraid.” His hands were on Crowley’s ankle, the thumbs rubbing gently over the bone. “Perhaps I should get that wine after all. To help with the pain.”

“Just get it over with, angel.”

Aziraphale nodded and peeled off the first sock. The fabric clung to Crowley’s raw sole. He clenched his teeth until he heard them creak in his jaw. Once one foot was bared, it was lowered delicately into the basin of cool water and Aziraphale was on to the next foot. Crowley sighed at the immediate relief the water brought.

“Better?”

“Yeah. Erm, thanks.”

Aziraphale fiddled with the rolled trousers, though the hems were in no danger of getting wet. “I suppose you already tried to heal them yourself?”

“Yeah. Think something about the consecrated ground. Divine retribution or some such. Can’t fix it with a demonic miracle.”

“Right. So I thought.” Crowley shivered as Aziraphale ran thoughtless fingers under the water and to the edge of wounded flesh. “Do you mind if I try?”

“Sure. What’s the worst that can happen?”

The water could, he suppose, get accidentally blessed and reduce him to a steaming pile of nothing goo. Not that he would say that. He didn’t think Aziraphale would appreciate the visual. Aziraphale must have had a similar idea because he pulled Crowley’s feet out of the water and went so far as to push the bowl aside.

Hands once more gingerly cradling Crowley’s ankles, Aziraphale closed his eyes. The miracle probed gently, slower and more tentative than Aziraphale usually worked. His miracles always left a taste something like honey and paprika on Crowley’s tongue, sweet with enough of a kick to make things interesting.

“There now, that’s better.”

Aziraphale kept his hold on Crowley’s legs but lifted one so that Crowley could get a better look. The soles were the bright, slightly dewy pink of new skin.

“They’ll still be tender for awhile, I’m afraid, but your trespass has been forgiven,” Aziraphale said with a chuckle to punctuate.

Even knowing it was meant in jest, there was a squirming in Crowley’s chest that he didn’t care to examine. He wriggled in his seat but that movement only served to tighten Aziraphale’s grip on him.

Crowley frowned. “Gonna keep me here forever?”

“I don’t think,” Aziraphale said slowly, rubbing circles over protruding ankle bones and working his way up to Crowley’s calves, “that I’m quite done taking care of you. If that’s alright with you, that is.”

“Hrnf. It’s whatever.”

Aziraphale shifted his grip so that he had more freedom to move. If Crowley cursed moving too fast to savor things earlier, he’d changed his tune. Aziraphale was looking at him like a buffet and Crowley felt a mix of awe and terror at being on the menu. He held his hands aloft, not sure where to settle them. Yes, Aziraphale had his nose pressed somewhere just east of his cock but he couldn’t put his hands on him. So he started with his fingers digging into his own scalp and stiffly moved to drape arms over the back of the couch in a show of false bravado.

He wanted to protest. No, he didn’t want to do any such thing but he felt like he should protest. Should at least want to protest. There was Aziraphale, bent in reverent supplication and handling him like the most cherished thing in the world. No matter what he did, he made sure to hold Crowley’s legs in a comfortable position, his feet never so much as whispering over the carpet below. He kissed over the exposed edge of sharp hips, up along lean sides, and then down. Every press of his lips was a benediction that only burned for the rush of blood that followed.

With his hands occupied, Aziraphale was forced to use his mouth to do everything. When meandering progress brought him back to Crowley’s now rather tight trousers, Crowley moved a hand to intercede.

“If you’re going to be so precious about my feet, at least let me get that,” he said, waving at his fly.

“Don’t you trust that I have everything well in hand?” Aziraphale asked. “Or, I suppose I should say, in mouth.”

And then, as though it was just the kind of thing he did all the time, Aziraphale used his teeth to undo the straining button and caught the zipper pull between his teeth. He slowly dragged it down, all the while maintaining eye contact with Crowley.  That was the nail in Crowley’s proverbial coffin. He let out a fully undignified keen, the pitiful pitch of which he couldn’t be fucked to care about.

Once freed, his cock sprang out with a sort of eagerness that might have been mortifying if he had a spare thought beyond the heat of Aziraphale’s breath and his intense gaze. Why was Aziraphale staring? Was there something wrong with his cock? Was it all the garishly red hair around it?

“Look, you don’t have to-”

Aziraphale’s tongue hit the base and moved slowly up. Crowley’s eyes slammed shut involuntarily as his head flew backward. He forced them open and forced his head back up. He wanted to paint that image onto his retinas. He didn’t ever want to see anything else. He’d seen that mouth around food, around forks, around fingers even. Now-

“Fuck,” Crowley panted.

Aziraphale let out a pleased hum that turned Crowley’s insides molten. His whole world reduced to the feeling of that mouth on him. That tongue. Those lips. In even his wildest imaginings he had never thought to see this, to have Aziraphale between his legs sucking him off. And he was entirely at the angel’s mercy. His hips ached to move, to get more , closer , but the angle of his legs didn’t allow it. He needed something, though, and so he finally relented and put his hands on Aziraphale. His fingers dug into the meat of Aziraphale’s shoulder and tangled in his curls. It had to hurt but Aziraphale only moaned and smiled around Crowley’s cock.

Crowley couldn’t understand any of this. He couldn’t fathom Aziraphale actually wanting this, enjoying this . How long had Aziraphale wanted this and why had he finally acted tonight of all nights? Was Crowley going to have to don his best suit and burn his feet every night from here to the end of the world? Because God knew he would. Oh, what he wouldn’t have given to be in Her head at that moment, to know what She thought about the Guardian of the Eastern Gate sucking down the Serpent of Eden’s cock like it was the Cheval Blanc that was still collecting dust somewhere.

That thought made his muscles spasm. Contract. “Aziraphale, I-” I love you. Have for the past six thousand years and maybe you’ve finally found me out. Maybe that’s all this is. Pity. And maybe it’s just tonight. But even if it is, I’ll love you still. Always. Always. Always. “I’m close.”

Aziraphale moaned and took him deeper.

“Fuck. Aziraphale. Fuck. I-”

His jaw snapped shut with a clack, his back arched, and his eyes closed against the explosion of color behind them. A supernova, he thought somewhat deliriously. He’d had his hand in a few, back when he’d been good for creating things. Now, Aziraphale had as well. Or a mouth, rather. Maybe Crowley would suggest he name it. The humans only ever gave them a series of numbers and letters.

Crowley melted into the couch, panting. He opened his eyes just in time to see Aziraphale licking his lips as he stood.

“Jesus Christ.”

Aziraphale only smiled as he took Crowley’s legs up with him and swung them around so that his feet could be propped up on the arm of the couch. Crowley was too insensible to protest. What he did protest was Aziraphale stepping away. Crowley quickly sat up and caught the fleeing Principality by the wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I was going to fetch our clothes and then perhaps finally break open that bottle of wine.”

“Aziraphale.”

Crowley looked pointedly at Aziraphale’s flushed and leaking cock. Aziraphale’s cheeks turned a similar color before he turned his head away.

“Tonight was about you. I wanted to show you how much I… how thankful I am.”

Crowley’s heart twisted, a flaming sword to the chest. “Yeah, well, I’m feeling really fucking thankful now, so come here.”

He didn’t give Aziraphale time to make excuses. He used his grip on the angel’s wrist to pull him down on top of him. Aziraphale yelped in surprise but did nothing to fight against it as Crowley adjusted them both so that Aziraphale was between his legs. Crowley rested his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

One by one he undid the buttons of Aziraphale’s shirt. Every stretch of skin unveiled was a thrill. He ran a thumb over the pert, pink flesh of one of the nipples. He swept his knuckles through the near white cloud of chest hair and followed its trail down, over a soft stomach, to the place where it darkened to blond in the juncture between thighs. He let the pads of his fingers sink into plush flesh, not yet moving to his intended target.

“Why did humans ever invent clothes?”

He hadn’t expected an answer because he hadn’t entirely meant to say that aloud. Aziraphale gave one anyway. “I believe it had something to do with a tree. And an apple. And a snake.”

“Right. Well, time to do my penance for that, I suppose.”

He took Aziraphale’s length in hand. Aziraphale drew in a sharp breath and pressed back into Crowley. A guttural sound escaped Crowley’s mouth before he buried half his face in the thick muscle of Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Crowley had some hands-on experience. As in, his own hand on himself. He knew what he should do, in theory, but the reality of having Aziraphale in his grip, both hard and velvety soft all at once, was a different thing altogether. What did Aziraphale like? Did he enjoy the same pressure? The same speed? Crowley prided himself in being a quick study of things Aziraphale enjoyed and he was damned sure he was going to get it right. He was willing to spend all the time in the world to find out. He carefully catalogued every reaction, each wiggle, moan, and gasp until he had Aziraphale panting in his lap.

“ Oh .”

He sounded so surprised to find himself cared for. It spurred Crowley onward. He slowed the pace just enough to get Aziraphale thrusting up into his fist in search of more. And Crowley would give him more, give him whatever he wanted. That Aziraphale wanted him only served to make Crowley’s head swim.

He was going to lose his mind. He grabbed onto Aziraphale’s chest with his free hand. There was fat there, that wondrous softness that he adored, but also muscle. Strength. He remembered how easily Aziraphale had hefted him up earlier. So damn strong and so damn much. He’d let himself be pulled down and he was letting Crowley control things now.  Everything felt suddenly hot and hazy.

“What do you want?” Crowley asked, desperate for a focus.

Aziraphale put his hand around Crowley’s and guided him. “Like that,” he gasped. “Just like that.”

Crowley followed his lead to the letter. Aziraphale bucked upward and it was all Crowley could do to try to hold him close. He could feel all those glorious muscles tense on top of him. Crowley’s own hips stuttered in rhythm with Aziraphale’s movements.

“Crowley.”

A demonic name sent up like a prayer. Aziraphale said it like he’d never had anything more blessed on his tongue. Crowley blinked away the moisture that had gathered in his eyes. He buried his face deeper into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”

Aziraphale’s entire body shuddered and in another moment, Crowley’s hand was painted with the wet heat of him. Crowley rode the crest of that wave with Aziraphale and did his best to guide him down again. He felt entirely boneless by the time it was all over. It was all he could do to snap away any mess so that Aziraphale wouldn’t fret after it and would, perhaps, lay with him a moment longer.

Aziraphale shifted but didn’t get up. Instead he pulled an exceedingly rumpled suit jacket from underneath him. “Oh dear.”

“Don’t worry about it, angel.”

“But you looked so dashing in your suit.”

A small squeak escaped Crowley’s mouth and he cleared his throat. “Eh. If it makes you feel any better, think I’m sitting on your waistcoat.”

That was the wrong thing to say. Aziraphale scrambled up to his feet. Crowley might have been offended by being cast aside in favor of a piece of clothing, but he was too distracted by the fact that Aziraphale had lifted him up to retrieve said clothing.

Aziraphale put Crowley back down and then held out his waistcoat to examine it. “I’ve had this for nearly a century and now look at the state of it,” he said.

“It’ll be fine, angel. Just get it laundered.”

Aziraphale looked at him with his bottom lip wobbling and Crowley sighed. He gathered up what energy he had left and snapped his fingers again. Aziraphale was dressed tip to toe once more in regular immaculate fashion. He was about to do the same for himself when Aziraphale caught his hand.

“Let me clean them for you,” he offered as he gathered up the discarded clothing. “You really shouldn’t be back on your feet just yet and I can take care of them while you rest.”

“Rest,” Crowley repeated. He blinked. “Wait, you mean here?”

“Well, not there, precisely. I have a small flat upstairs that you can use. I assume the bed would be more comfortable than the couch but I haven’t used it, myself, so I can’t speak definitively.”

“Right. Here. Sleep. Uh…”

He felt like he should say something. There were a lot of unsaid somethings hanging in the air between them still but he was worried if he mentioned any of them, whatever little bubble they were currently in would burst. It couldn’t be too bad to shove that all under the rug for one night, could it? He’d lived through a lot of pain and would gladly live through more if it meant just this one night in Aziraphale’s good graces. Even if it made a space inside him ache so keenly he thought he might split in two.

“Yeah, sure. Why not? Lead the way.”

Aziraphale stooped and gathered Crowley up into his arms once more. “Your feet, remember?”

Crowley’s brain rang with the high pitched squeal of a tea kettle. Once he was sure it wouldn’t escape his mouth when he opened it, he said, “Right, just go ahead and manhandle me. When have I ever gotten in the way of what you wanted to do?”

Aziraphale beamed at him and pressed a featherlight kiss to his temple. “Never, dearest.”

That one word had the power to fell Crowley and perhaps tomorrow it would find its place amongst his many handpicked scars. For the time being, though, he thought he could forget to hurt.

[jostenneil]

I think a lot of my frustration from yjtv is that a lot of its fans I’ve seen and a lot of the “press” that cover it are fans of the show and not the comics at all (which I know sound gatekeep-y but stay with me) it’s frustrating because when you have comic context so many of yjtv’s choices feel shallow and like petty?

Like in a show with literal magic, Greg draws the line at the speed force and Kon being able to fly and Clark having freeze breath, like what is too ridiculous to be in his serious superhero show is so arbitrary.

And that’s not getting into the politics or how the show likes basically creating OCs and focusing on them rather than like the ten billion naked characters they have.

I’m sorry for this rant but the fact that this form has informed so much fandom and is so glorified is…it rattles my brain. To be absolutely petty, its my tinfoil hat theory it’s the reason we’ll never get linda in a adaption and I’m gonna loose my gosh darn mind 

It feels like a show from the gritty era of superhero movies that fell out of favor years ago and like I wish we could have fun superhero adaptions again.

oh no worries i completely agree tbh. esp as someone who watched the first two seasons of the show dedicatedly when they were airing and was heavily involved in the fandom for it at the time, compared to foraying into comics now, the differences are. . . wild. like truly wild. even the super shows in the late 90s / early 00s it seems took Some sort of proper inspiration from their comic counterparts but yj really feels like its own mashed up world of the writers picking anything and everything but failing to understand what created a continuity between any of it, and then trying to create a new continuity that in light of that just makes no, no sense

[neptune-stars]

hey darlings it’s samhain today so here’s a little fic i wasn’t sure what to do w for the occasion!! mwah sorry for the angst

———————————————————————

when sirius was eleven, he walked up to the hat and requested gryffindor.

“your ambition will be the end of you,” said the hat, but put him into gryffindor anyways.

sirius, while in school, could not figure out what that meant, because he wasn’t particularly ambitious. he supposed he liked pranks well enough, but they weren’t his entire life, and he liked pissing off his parents, but he wasn’t going to make a career out of that either.

it came to him suddenly, and when it did, the world stayed the same.

james potter met sirius black when they were barely eleven and defended him against some snotty greasy boy on the train. james potter didn’t care that sirius was a black, didn’t care that sirius’ family was dark - he didn’t mind that sirius wasn’t all that light either.

see, sirius would lay down his life for just about anyone really. but there were only two people that he would kill for. that he would love until the end of time.

and one of those people were james potter.

when james died, all the bright and happy and good things in the world died with him. sirius was the one to find him first, his james lying spread eagle across the stairs, wand still in the living room. but james looked peaceful there, like he was ready and happy it was finally over, and sirius wanted nothing more than to go to the afterworld and yank that peacefulness away.

lily is upstairs. her usual bright green eyes are cold in death, red hair surrounding her head like a halo. her collarbone is bleeding something awful, and when he pulls down her shirt a little to see - to stop the bleeding, to stop the blood from sinking into her shirt because it was lily’s favorite sleep shirt, one of marlene’s old ones - he finds a rune, a cross between algiz and six he’s never seen before carved into her skin. her blood is sprinkled around the edges of the room and there is a matching rune on harry’s crib.

harry is alive. he is bleeding sluggishly from the forehead, and he is wailing something awful, but he is alive. sirius picks him up, closes lily’s eyes and closes his own when he walks past james. puts harry carefully into his sidecar, and then hagrid is there and sirius trusts him and and and

he is filled with a vengeance so deep there is nothing that could possibly stop him. he think he would kill dumbledore, voldemort, Lady Magick herself if they got in the way, and he goes after peter with reckless abandon-

he is tricked.

it is such a slytherin move, such a slytherin move for little, mousy peter pettigrew that when the aurors find him he is laughing and laughing and laughing and then he is crying.

alastor is there, staring at him with nothing less than absolute disgust. his mentor, his and james’ mentor, thinks sirius killed james, and that just makes him laugh harder.

he is thrown in azkaban without a trial. it’s cold there, and they only give you one meal a day, and the vengeance still burns but not as bright as his grief.

bellatrix, his big cousin bella, takes him under her wing. she’s a little bit mad, and she tortured his friends to insanity, but she knows he didn’t betray the potters and she know he didn’t kill all those muggles and she still loves him. she protects him, with their cells right next to each other, by telling him story after story until her throat goes dry and she can’t speak another word, like they are children again and walburga and druella are screaming and banging on the other side of the door while they hide from their mother’s rage.

“why did you do it, bella?” he asks her one day, when his brain is particularly loud. “why did you kill all those people? those innocents?”

“i didn’t mean too,” she says, and she sounds terribly small. “the dark - it’s seducing, sirius. it pulls you in until you can’t get out.”

the death eaters all come from broken homes, homes where there parents were still together in loveless marriages and their mothers liked to scream and slap and fathers like stone cold silence and quiet crucio’s. the dark arts is a savior, a winning, something to help them get away from suffocating under the stress of it all.

it doesn’t help, sirius thinks, that muggle studies is so behind. sirius thinks a lot in azkaban and he thinks that muggle studies class should be mandatory, because most of the death eaters are convinced muggles are still burning witches and wizards at the stake.

“will you kill him?” asks bella another day. “the man who betrayed you, and cousin james?”

sirius thinks of all the people he killed during the war. he thinks about the small part of him that thought it had been fun, literally ripping out spines and burning them from the inside out and back again. he had insisted it was for justice, justice for marlene and dorcas and mary and gideon and fabian and benjy, but now he isn’t so sure.

“yes,” he says. “i will.”

when the ten year mark hits, bella screams in her cell, screams and screams and slowly the rest of prison fills with it too. the next day, in the courtyard, she shows him her arm, the tattoo that was almost faded and now is turning black again.

“he’s coming,” she says, but she does not sound happy. she sounds tired.

“promise me something,” she says later that night. “promise me, when we get out of here, because you know we all will - promise me you’ll aim to kill. i can’t keep going on mad, killing people just for their blood.”

he stares at her, his cousin bella. he remembers when they were just kids, reading in the library and skating on ice in bella’s back yard in the winter, and then later, in hogwarts, when he would find her cursing muggle-borns and half bloods and blood traitors alike. he didn’t recognize her then but he recognizes her now, as his scared, tired big cousin, more like his mum than his mum ever was.

“i promise,” he says. “now promise me the same.”

“you have a godson,” she says. “you must protect him.”

“promise me,” he insists.

she does.

the day before he escapes, he hugs her tight in the courtyard. she hugs him back, hands shaking, and when he sneaks out in dog form she gives him a shaky nod.

the ambition to protect james failed, so now he will do so with harry. the last potter.

harry flies like his dad, maybe even more, with completely recklessness and only the smallest amount of control. harry throws witty comments at draco malfoy and winks at cho chang in the air and all sirius can see is james.

“he’s a werewolf!” hermione granger explodes, pointing to remus, and sirius thinks he is the only one who sees harry’s look of yeah, obviously.

(later, harry will confide in sirius that he figured it out the moment he saw remus’ boggart.)

“i don’t think my dad would’ve wanted his best mates to become murderers, thanks,” says harry, still sarcastic and still so james even as he protects the man who made him an orphan.

sirius does not have the heart to tell him he already is one, and apparently neither does remus, but they back down anyways.

sirius thinks the next two years pass in a blue he barely remembers. he went to the caribbean for a little while, ate good until he was almost healthy and glowed with a light tan. he went back to dreary Scotland because harry was being hunted, again, and he remembers, distantly, living in a cave, watching harry in dog form as he slammed into the ground, a dead boy held tight in his hands.

dumbledore sends him right back to the dursley’s, and sirius wants to kill him. harry does not get grief counseling, or therapy, or to be surrounded by people he loves, because he is harry potter and it is not easy, being him.

sirius moves back into his old, childhood home, and stares at the spot on the living room floor where he had been tortured before he ran away. he throws up in the bathroom where he and bella used to hide.

he cleans the drawing room, where he and andi used to stare at the inter crossing lines, andi promising “i won’t be on there one day, just you wait.” he cleans the kitchen, where he and cissa used to flurry around with kreacher, throwing flour and sugar at each other while they attempted to make cookies.

he walks through the halls, where he and regulus used to chase eachother, to the stairs, where he used to slide down the curling banister, to the cell, where he used to get locked up.

harry comes to grimmauld and he yells at his friends - rightfully so - and then yells some more at dinner, and then he cries. he cries in the living room, in his bedroom, in the kitchen, in the drawing room, on the staircase. he cries when sirius hugs him and he cries when remus pats his shoulder and he cries and he cries and he cries and sirius just has to sit there and listen, because he can do nothing else.

it is quiet when harry leaves for school. sirius drinks a lot of firewhiskey and smokes a lot of hidden cigarettes and it is lonely even after harry comes back for yule time because then he leaves again.

hermione writes him a letter and says harry doesn’t cry anymore. now he’s angry all the time, at dumbledore for ignoring him and cedric for dying and his friends for not understanding and his parents for killing themselves so he could live, at himself for living-

on june eighteenth, sirius wakes up for the last time. he brushes his teeth and uses whiskey as mouth wash for the last time, eats blueberry pancakes for the last time, pets buckbeak and kisses remus for the last time and-

he hugs harry for the last time. there is a voice whispering in his head that he knows it is today, today he will finally rest, so he hugs his godson extra tight.

bella is there. she looks insane, with her hair spiked up and eyes bright, but when she looks at him her smile softens a little bit.

“you promised,” she mouths.

“so did you,” he says back, and they duel.

she doesn’t want to kill him. she hits him with a stupefy, but the veil is just behind him, and he falls through it.

harry is screaming bloody murder, heartbroken and pleading, and wrestles with remus who is trying to hold him back. it’s like the whole world stopped, and bella is looking at him, meets his eyes one last time, and says loudly, clearly, “i promise.”

he says thank you, i forgive you, i love you, with his eyes, and then he falls faster and lands hard on the ground.

“blimey, mate,” says a voice. “you really are clumsy, even when you’re dead.”

james potter grabs his hand and pulls him up, regulus holding his shoulder, and sirius begins to cry.

[faggerardway]

hello stinky i would like to know who is your favourite mechanism and why, i expect a 2k word essay on my desk by friday

ah fuck ah shit they’re all so excellent i will instead list my favorite things about all of them in order of my vague memory of when they joined the crew. also i smell good how dare you. also FYI for anyone not informed about the Lore, all the shit i’m gonna reference below is a hundred percent canonical.

-jonny: has an ego three thousand times larger than his short ass, king of hubris and not understanding anything. loves his sister dearly, but draws the line at random orgies, which i respect. drags corpses onto the ship like a cat bringing home a kill and tells carmilla to fix his new friends. eyeliner and belt game slay me. (four belts? FOUR??) sad and totally made up backstory, he just lied to everyone’s face about his daddy issues and they were like “chill, let’s write a song where you play all the parts and burn down a casino.” eats people sometimes, which is a positive trait in my heart.

-nastya: my god, finally a voice of reason- ah never mind. her vibes are impeccable, my mysterious trans lesbian queen is unique and absolutely vibing <3 “fuck the ship-!” “i do :3″ is my favorite line of dialogue in anything ever. machinefucker and very proud of it, to an almost concerning degree. that one picture where she’s resting two of her fingers on her chin and cocking her hip as she looks up at the sky makes me Yell.

-toy soldier: my beloved it/its inanimate enby ts!! i love it bc it just. vibes. it has so much fun singing and playing instruments and just fucking around with its friends. who would’ve thought the war criminal with a stolen voicebox would be the most babey of this group?? SPEAKING OF ITS VOICE HOLY SHIT. TRIAL BY SONG CAUSES HEART PALPITATIONS. adorable little nutcracker with the saddest fucking backstory infinity/10

-tim: so very very done with jonny but we all know they make out in “secret”. hit that fucking high note as loki so well, my god, he put his whole pussy into that! go gayboy relive that trauma! plays out of tune guitar like a champ and has a ten minute long song dedicated to him blowing shit up, what a power move. excellent hair and long sweeping coats, extremely gender of him.

-brian: ohhh sweet boy. but also totally commits atrocities? like he wouldn’t kill an octokitten that was eating marius alive but he’d let a million people die just so he didn’t have to hurt anyone, and that’s just on mje mode- his morals are so fucked, poor man. also hung upside down inside a sun for a century and respects the hell out of trans people and brings people back to life and those are just a few of my favorite things about him. he fully committed to the steampunk look when he got mechanized and i love that so much. also has the potential to be a tumblr sexyman.

-ashes: ASHES!! ashes ashes ashes. first off what a fucking good name that’s like a murderer naming themself Dead People. they’re the hottest, it’s just a fact, sorry everyone but they are just. mmm. carries around gold bars and cigars and gasoline and nothing else which i respect so much. (though where do they put that stuff? their hat??) sings excruciatingly beautifully and snarks at all the idiots they call their friends and practices the three r’s (rage, repression, and radicalness) so i cannot not love them.

-ivy: mystery wife! her whole thing is stories and yet she doesn’t know her own that’s so fucking pog of her. what does an archivist on a spaceship even do dawg it’s not like the other guys care about the cultures they’re annihilating, i’m pretty sure she just sits in her bunk and reads. why did she need her brain replaced? why does she have such crazy memory problems? how does her new brain calculate all these percentages? we don’t know! she’s very cute and wears fishnets and has a mohawk-ponytail which i adore. play me to sleep on ur flute please miss

-raphaella: twenty points right off the bat for having wings and wearing a knit crop top. what is she going for with her look, we don’t know, but she could do horrific experiments on me and i’d thank her, so it’s working, clearly. alternatively tortures and tops the shit out of marius, i will die on this hill. also a terrifyingly good singer, those little “the void siIings” in losing track make my breathing stop and the entirety of ties that bind is so fucking amazing i. hhhh

-marius: christ i love you mr neither a baron nor a doctor. the other guys are dumb but he’s the himbo of the group just for being That Way. also most of his characters’ (who are also himbos) lines are something along the lines of what the fuck or i don’t understand so i’m gonna punch you. he’s adorable and has such bastard vibes, even his outfit is ridiculous and cute. even though lyf was a cop he deserved to get a happy ending with them ok?? i just love him and his liddol raccoon face and he deserves a slow burn criminal/detective to crew mates to lovers.

OK JEEZ THATS A LOT. ARE YOU HAPPY ALEX. IM NOT GONNA DO AURORA OR CARMILLA BC CARMILLA LEFT AND AURORA NEVER TALKS TO ANYONE BUT NASTYA SO THERES NOT MUCH INFO ON HER PERSONALITY. WOO BOY.

[hunnyuwu]

Soulmates? || NCT Taeyong

Premise : Maybe, just maybe, Fate never wanted us to be.

Pairing : Taeyong x Reader

Genre : angst, fluffy in the beginning

WC : 1.4 K

Warnings : mostly angsty, mentions of alcohol, implied anxiety, confronting one’s inner demons, confusing af lol

Author’s note : hope y’all get where I went with this 👁👄👁 (had to go question what was going on in my brain)

⌫ ⌫ ⌫

“Taeyong.”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Do you… do you ever think about what other people are going through? Like, what is happening to her right now?”

Taeyong shifted his head to look at a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties, hastily typing away at her phone screen with a little smile tugging the corners of her coral-tinted lips upward. He watched her for a little while, observing the way she giggled quietly to herself after receiving a text. After one more ping, the small, quiet smile deepened into a cute, gummy grin, promptly brushing her long bangs behind the shell of her ear with the tips of her fingers. He felt a soothing warmth wash over him as he continued to watch her little actions.

“Like, is she texting a boy she just met, knowing in her heart that he’s the one? Is she texting her best friend an extremely funny meme right now? Did she just find out that she passed the interview to get out of her shitty job as a lowly office lady, and she’s telling her husband about the big news? Or maybe, she just took a pregnancy test, and she’s texting her friend right now to discuss how she should reveal the results to her loving partner in life?”

You drawled out your inquiry as you too, observed the lady alongside Taeyong. You pulled lightly at the flimsy plastic piece connected to the end of your hoodie string, nibbling down at your chapped lips with curiosity. You felt your heart tug downward as you saw the woman’s lips draw further upward.

“I suppose so.” Taeyong answered softly, seemingly drawn towards her every movement as much as you were. You finally tore your eyes away from the subject of your deep, inner thoughts to peer at Taeyong’s side profile. And thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice for the time being.

You exhaled, tracing the smooth, but angular curves and lines of Taeyong’s ethereal face with your tired oculi. You have been blessed enough to see his face thousands of times in your bleak existence, but you never felt like it was enough to quench your undying thirst for the beauty that he truly was. Every time you allowed your orbs to grace his unearthly presence, the need to take a closer look had you reeling even further backwards than ever before.

Like all art museums politely ask of you,

You may look, but please refrain from engaging contact with the artwork.

And you were one to always follow their instructions.

“What do you think is happening to her right now, Yong?” The words slipped past your lips at the decibel of a ghost’s gentle kiss, surprising not only yourself, but your male companion as well. He redirected his head your way, a simple gesture that made your cheeks warm up with significant speed. You scooted back a little, only now realizing how close the two of you were at that moment.

Taeyong offered you a small smile, finding the situation pleasantly amusing, “Hmm, well. I personally think she’s texting a guy right now. He’s the sweet, funny guy that she has been looking for ever since she was a little girl. A guy that she will hopefully be able to bring to her parents after so many years of their endless nagging for the answer to the continuation of their family lineage.”

You nodded slowly, drawing your eyes down the length of your arm to your stretched hand that lay flat on the metal bench that you two occupied. Your head jerked harshly, ridding your mind of the thoughts that brewed upon noticing the millimeters of space that separated your fingertips from his.

“And what do you think is happening to her right now?” Taeyong countered, the softness of his voice soothing your heart like a nighttime lullaby.

“Hmm, what do I think?”

You lifted your chin, daring yourself to meet his eyes at a clean parallel. You swallowed the burning ache that rose within your throat as you maintained the intense eye contact, attempting to formulate your thoughts, which proved challenging.

“Well, I think that she found her soulmate.”

“Her soulmate?” Taeyong tilted his head cutely to the side, brows furrowing in thought. You bit down the smile that threatened to appear on your face.

“Yeah, whether the person be a potential lover, a withstanding friend, a familiar stranger, or even her everlasting enemy.”

“What do you mean?” Your companion naturally loosened his jaw, an action he did whenever he was deep-diving into the pool of thoughts that swirled within his brain.

“Exactly what I meant. No matter who that person is to her, they are a soulmate of some kind, I believe.”

Taeyong giggled, shaking his head, “You make absolutely no sense, but I guess in a weirdly twisted way, I think I get where you’re heading with this.”

“Glad you understand, my good sir.” You tilted your invisible top hat his way, enticing a fat eye roll from him.

“You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you.”

“And a flirt.”

Your grin faltered fractionally, “Yeah, I am what I am. What ya gonna do about it?”

You jabbed your elbow into his general direction playfully, playing it off like the champ you were.

“Speaking of soulmates, though.”

Your heart dropped down to the very depths of your gut, testing out the acidic pool of stomach acid with a cute, teasing nature. You urged him onward, nodding along to the little bubu pout that plumped up his otherwise sharp cheeks.

“Do you consider me your soulmate?”

The air you inhaled hitched at the back of your throat. You couldn’t decipher whether you just swallowed a chicken bone whole or got a sucker punch to the gullet, but it didn’t matter anyways, because you were losing brain cells every passing second you refrained from properly breathing.

You blinked innocently, your pulse quickening with an accelerated velocity.

‘Do you consider me your soulmate?’

These six words bounced within your mind like the DVD paused screen logo. Is there a correct answer to this?

Of course there is, Y/N. Everyone has a soulmate, even the likes of you.

“Hmm, I don’t personally believe in soulmates.”

“B-But didn’t you just-”

“The concept of soulmates implies that someone out there is meant to be the missing piece to the incomplete puzzle that you are. The mere idea that someone was fatefully paired for you… For my life, I want to decide my own fate.”

You pondered your gaze downward, allowing your heart to swell with love for the man beside you.

“Why should I let Fate have that decision, that satisfaction, when I currently feel so empty inside?”

~~~

You could tell him that his fiancé was constantly out drinking and partying with other men whenever he was with you.

You could tell him that his fiancé constantly talks about how annoying he was when he got clingy at nighttime.

Hell, you could tell him that his fiancé looks a second too long at your friend Jaehyun whenever your little gang hangs out.

So why didn’t you tell him everything?

Why didn’t you foil the quandary that sat on your lap like a neatly wrapped package, ready to be sent at a moment's notice?

Well, Fate has a twisted way of leading your judgement and actions.

We dictate our decisions... our choices.

But do you really, Y/N?

You didn’t know the answer to that question, honestly, but what you did know for sure was that Fate played a very cruel, sick game with you, enjoying the way you longed for something, someone, that was just never fated to be yours, no matter what decisions and actions you enacted upon.

Because Fate isn’t something you decide. Fate decides your path, and you were just a chess pawn in its sick game.

Taeyong wasn’t fated to be your lover... 

And now matter how many times you attempt to overcome the sickening game that Fate plays on you, you could never come out victorious. Fate wouldn’t allow you to.

You let the chilling void within you consume your soul as you watched Taeyong and his fiance snuggle on the couch at the party you were currently at. You felt like you could vomit at a moment’s notice, but there was nothing left to expel. You found your last moment’s comfort in the raging neon lights that lit the house in a crude rainbow distortion. You downed whatever liquid was in your red cup, allowing it to keep you company like an old, kind friend.

“Y/N?”

You looked up from your moral plight, allowing yourself to shed one last tear. You shook your head, your facial features contorting into the physical embodiment of eternal agony.

“Why?” You hissed, not bothering to say anything more.

Fate looked you dead in the eyes; its sweet, alluring smile not fooling you this time around.

But Fate doesn’t need to fool you, because you were only a foolish chess pawn fighting for freedom of choice, the freedom to create one’s own destiny.

“Would you like to test the simulation of Fate once again, Y/N?”

⌫ ⌫ ⌫

[firebirdsdaughter]

And just to cover my bases…

… This isn’t me saying a ‘nice’ character has no personality.

For ex. you couldn’t remake Kou from Ryusoulger from scratch, or Ui, or Asuna, or Melto.

Aside from the Ark’s influence making him lack empathy, baby Jin was a full character who was ultimately very sweet and kind, albeit in a different way/from a different perspective. Even through the Ark’s control, he had twinges of identity that were his own, rather than purely a mirror of someone else. Which also brings me to the bs of ‘humans taught us hearts’ bc baby Jin loved Horobi on his own, no humans necessary, but I’m digressing—the point is, you could not have complete remade him sans memory.

To bring up another Takahashi female character who got the short end of the stick, Poppy. I don’t think Poppy could be remade from scratch, even though she was technically a computer program, too. Tsukuyomi. I was nowhere near as into her character as others were, but Koyomi. Misora. Mai. Kirihiko. Kanon. To bring up other female characters who verged on ‘designated damsel’ who were also ‘nice.’

But w/ Izu? Oh, you can absolutely do that. There’s a very heavy dose of… ‘Passivity’ isn’t the right word, bc Koyomi was quite ‘passive,’ but… Izu lacks something specific that even other KR heroines, subject to the same sexism, even the ones who stay in the ‘nice, sweet, pure, devoted to the hero’ box have. And my brain is mush lately and I’m not very articulate in nonfiction already, so it’s hard to explain what it is, but… It’s in contrast to the others, she just… Super never developed.

Even Misora, even Koyomi. Honestly, even Kirihiko, had identities outside of ‘loves the mc.’ How exactly those identities were presented, how well they were written… I plead the fifth. But my point is… These characters had something, be it other relationships, other dreams, other purposes, than just being the mc’s cheerleader. They did not exist purely to support the main (you can and absolutely should point out that that was a large part of their characters, and a narrative purpose of them). Mei in Saber, for instance, is a far cry more developed than Izu was already. It’s not that Izu was ‘nice’ that sapped her character, it’s not hat she was ‘reserved.’ It’s that there was literally nothing to her other than ‘lives to serve Aruto.’ All her other plot lines petered out, and her only purpose was to stand around, look cute, and make heart eyes at Aruto. Even her ‘contribution’ to 02 was about… Surprise, surprise, loving Aruto, and the way their relationship developed was… Not one that felt natural. It mystifies me how people will call Horobi and Jin’s initial relationship ‘toxic’ while calling Izu and Aruto ‘cute.’

It was basically the same thing—intentional or not, Aruto kept her isolated, ‘learning’ only from him, literally the same situation Horobi and Jin were in; and you could also say the same of Horobi and the Ark, too. And here’s the thing… That’s… Not ‘cute.’ Just bc Aruto was ‘nice’ to her, that’s not cute. It’s not different. Deliberate or not, it’s still manipulation and conditioning. Izu learning to see/expect/look for only the good in people is just as dangerous and harmful as Horobi (and Jin) being trained to look for the bad. The concept of self-fulfilling prophecy and confirmation bias. While approaching people w/ the attitude of wanting there to be good in them, choosing to be kind, giving them a chance is one thing, weathering through all bullshit to draw out their ‘heart’ is not healthy.

The message for AI, and for people, shouldn’t be, for people in power who are willingly behaving in the way they are, ‘be nice to them until they’re nice to you,’ esp when the person is… Actively causing massive pain and damage. Gai was not the character to pull ‘the power of kindness’ on bc of everything he willingly did. Additionally, ‘people are actually good’ being used as a justification to excuse the harm they do and to invalidated their victim’s anger… Is also not healthy. Yes, Horobi was too angry (well… given what he went through, I think he was the right amount of angry, but all humanity doesn’t deserve to die bc of the actions of a select, etc. etc.), but Izu… It’s not that she wasn’t ‘angry enough,’ it’s that she couldn’t process that he was rightfully hurt and in pain and had reason to be angry. She could not conceive his point of view. She couldn’t feel his pain, let alone him feeling hers (which… didn’t look that painful). Basically, just like Aruto, she couldn’t understand that there could be very justifiable reasons to be angry at and wary of humans. Despite the fact that the Ark was technically created ‘artificially,’ the data she had was accurate, and Gai’s actions and Yotogaki’s actions were real. Apologies, a sob story, and ‘good intentions’ (if you can call Yotogaki that) do not remove harm done. Some benefits do not remove harm done. Just bc humans can be nice, doesn’t mean all of them are or excuse the harm they can also do. Izu’s argument lost water when it went the way of ‘you’re wrong for being mad at humans they’re actually ultimately good.’

But I’m digressing again. The point is… Ultimately, Izu was an empty mouthpiece for Aruto’s opinions and delusions. Her entire ‘identity’ was parroting his one-sided, unbalanced assumptions. She had no development from the beginning other than giving Aruto a couple extra heart eyes and repeating what he said. Her entire identity was ‘loves Aruto,’ like she was programmed to do, and her isolation w/ him meant that that was all she ever knew, and bc he was ‘nice’ to her and insisted that humans were ‘acvtually good.’

And that’s not a personality.

[itskateak]

(Preface: this is a really long post as I typed it as I was watching the movie so this is unedited, pure thoughts as I was watching this movie.)

I just started watching the new Cats movie and I’m already having issues with what’s going on

Why did Munk spider man his way down a wall

What’s wrong with Misto

Why don’t they just crawl on their knees Jesus Christ if they weren’t on their toes it would be better

“Are you mean like a minx” that’s not in pitch

ThatS NOT HOW JUMPING WORKS

The choreography is going good though- I knew it would. I’ve worked with that choreographer before.

WHY IS THIS NOW A POP REMIX

I have so many questions

Music is too fast. Tempos are everywhere.

Singing isn’t too bad. I can understand the words better.

Munk is a little too feminine for my taste at the moment but I like his design.

ROMANTICAL CATS (heart hands) IS THE MOST ON BRAND MISTO THING YET

Macavity speaking and singing his own song is disgusting

WHY DO THEY HAVE HUMAN TOES AND FINGERS

Why is everyone bullying Misto

AND HUMAN NOSES

Munk there’s a rhythm to the Naming of Cats. You can’t go off it whole everyone else is on it.

You guys can’t keep a tempo can you

HIS name. HIS.

Munk that’s a little sexual. NO YOU ARE WITH DEMETER STOP

stop cutting the scene up. Just let them dance.

AH REFERENCE TO ORIGINAL CHOREO. I SAW THAT

Misto is on brand except he’s not Misto yet storytellers

Also I’m liking the idea that Victoria is new to everything and the plot is they’re introducing her to the wild and the whole heaviside layer thing

THATS NOT THE MELODY MUNK STOP

they have human eyebrows too what

Munk that note is too high for you

Is Jenny twerking excuse me

JennY IS SUPPOSED TO BE MOTHERLY STOP THAT

that’s also not the melody

The human mice are going to cause nightmares

Wait is Jenny lusting after Munk

Why does he actually look interested

Munk do you have an English accent or American. Please decide.

Jenny that’s not the right notes

HUMAN ROACHES NO

WHY DO THEH HAVE HUMAN FACES

The skiN UNZIPPED OH NO

no one needed that undershot of cockroach crotches

Mm meow

huh what Tugger what was that

Okay Derulo is not bad at all

I’m missing the Tugoffolees banter though

This Tugger is a little gayer than the original

THE NEUTER JOKE OH MY GOD

Tugger is reminding me of Dr. Frank N Furter from Rocky Horror Picture Show

Why does he have an English accent though

VictoriaaaaAAAAA? (The TOES)

Jenny’s humor is eh. Don’t see the reason of putting that in.

The ending is pure Tugger though

Not a bad rendition

Grizz isn’t as rough as I imagined her looking

Oh her VOICE

HER VOICE HITS HARD

Who is this cat singing about Grizz (the first) her voice was nice

NO. WHY THE SHORTNESS ON “that”

Munk why did you grab that queen’s head

Edward Hyde is that you?

Jenny stop trying to be the comedy relief you’re too awful at it

Bustopher please STOP singing your own song

PLEASE KIDNAP HER IDRIS ELBA

THANK YOU

I wish they spent more time dancing since that’s really the point of the show and the draw to it.

Bustopher wearing heels? I’m for it. Gay legend.

“Thanks Tugger” stop this whole sequence please

Bustopher is supposed to be a very prim and proper cat. What happened to him

Still can’t get over Idris Elba being in this

THATS NOT THE MELODY OF MUNGOJERRIE AND RUMPLETEAZER

What have thEY DONE TO THE MELODY GOOD GOD

AND THE RHYTHM THEY DESTROYED THE SONG

Oh. Hey that’s pretty neat choreo though

“I bought that for her myself” “hey” “what?”

My brain is rebelling because it’s not right at all in anything I remember

Did Misto just pull a whole femur from his hat

STOP THAT. MISTO LOOKS LIKE A CLOSETED TWINK STUCK IN A STRAIGHT RELATIONSHIP

is he wearing eyeliner

GROWLTIGER IS BACK

I don’t actually know his song so this is new to me

Jenny and Bustopher being comedic relief hurts because they’re not funny

Munk “where have you been?!” Is there a love triangle happening. What happened to Demeter

Also his voice in Deuteronomy is actually really nice

“Sits in the suuun” that was beautiful oh god

Deut looks more like how I imagined Grizz would look

IS THAT DAME JUDI DENCH

I bet she regrets ever saying yes after this.

What cat is randomly wearing a crow skull around their neck. Is that a witch’s cat

JUDI DENCH CAN’T YOU ACTUALLY SING? WHY ARE YOU STRUGGLING

Why are you singing Munk’s line

Oh the Jellicle ball is next let’s go Andy show me that awesome choreo

Asparagus are you okay

Tempo doesn’t exist in this movie does it

Neither does rhythm or time keeping

IS THAT MY BOY SKIMBLESHANKS

Twirly boy Munk

Munk really just wants to be topped doesn’t he

WhAT WAS THAT TWITCHING AND THE PANTING

Andy I love you man but the traditional and classic choreo would’ve worked just as fine

Skimble and Munk being gay

what happened to Plato and why is there something going on with Misto

TUGGER YOU HAD A MOMENT YOU COULD HAVE INTERRUPTED

Ah okay I understand why that happened. No mating dance or slumber party

Cats wearing shoes disgusts me more than the toes

POINTE WITHOUT POINTE SHOESSSS GROSS

honestly? Jellicle ball is disappointing. They just cut the ten minutes of amazing dancing down to like four.

I don’t like the heavy breathing. That’s not something that was ever necessary.

Okay, the end worked okay with the big synchronized dances.

I’m ready for this Memory rendition. Already getting chills.

Those are very human hands

Oh keep with the rhythm I beg of you

Ooh altered verse

Wait that’s jennifer Hudson???

Oh we just removed a whole verse, bridge, and chorus didn’t we.

Sweet moment? See I like Vic reaching for Grizz

Vic gets a song??? Ooh intrigued

I like her voice

I’m going to cry this song is sad and I’m glad she gets a story

Though it’s kind of “you think your life is hard? Mine’s worse” feeling after Memory

Awww I’m gonna cry what a sweetheart what a lovely dear protect her

Ugh meaning of happiness. I hate this song no matter who sings it.

Wait what happened to Rumpus Cat song :( the battle of the pekes and the pollicles

What do you mean you’re about to make the choice

We still have Gus’s song, Misto’s song, and Skimble’s song.

They got Ian McKellen to do this?? How much was he paid

“Cross paws” no stop

Why is Gus singing his own song please don’t

Munk’s face bugs me for some reason

His song always makes me cry for some reason but this is kind of goofy and cute and I love it

Misto in the background is just strange for me

Is he forgetting the words sometimes and mumbling to fill in because goodness

Misto’s so eager to please what a bottom

“Macavityyy” I hate it

Munk starting Skimble’s song has the same energy as Tugger doing Misto’s songs

I’m glad they’ve kept this song the same as it was

Skimble is SO gay oh my god what a classic twink

Oooh I like this addition of the train getting started via tap

I’m actually really liking this rendition and the tap dancing on the the rails

Though the tap continuing when no one is tapping or the rhythm being wrong is uh not good

Such an iconic song and I love the changes in scene

Oh skimble that note was not good

WAIT OKAY THAT WAS MACAVITY’S DOING WITH THE LEVITATION

Oh hi Taylor Swift

Use more breath. Stop doing the pop voice thing. Stop it.

Is Bombi a drug dealer

MISTO BEING TWEAKED ON DRUGS IS THE FUNNIEST GODDAMN THING IVE EVER SEEN IN THIS LIFE

I can say though that what they’ve done to the song is exactly the vibes it needed. Sultry and pushing the boundaries.

Sad there’s not a Demeter.

SORRY MUNK WHAT WAS THAT

I actually rewinded to see what happened there with the martini glass

OKAY MAN NEEDS TO BE TOPPED OH MY GOD

“Green house glass is broken” was changed and that makes me sad

This was a good song for Taylor to show off her vocal prowess but she just didn’t

Why is Macavity naked

Why is he singing his own damn song

PUT YOUR CLOTHES BACK ON

Munk you’re still tweaking out a little

Oh here’s the sleeping orgy

What’s with this drama now with the choice thing

We don’t have Munk’s fight with Macavity. Robbed

VICTORIA YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THE ONE TO GET MISTO OUT THERE. IT HAS TO BE TUGGER

If there are no 23 spins, I’ll throw my phone

Munk that’s gay and I’m here for it. Encourage your twink Misto

“Please don’t make me do this” has phantom vibes

Munk that was a lusty look

Where’s the “ooh ahs”

This is weird without Tugger singing it and being an ego for Misto

Tugger come on. Please save this number.

Victoria I swear to god I will beat you

Why do they have one person on the melody in this. And Derulo going through the stratosphere

WHERE IS THE DANCING >:(

That trombone is playing absolutely nothing in the music at all

DON’T YOU DARE KISS HER

oh here’s the fight music

WHY DID WE UNZIP SKIN AGAIN

oh they used the fight music for the escaping of cats

How much longer is there

Oh there’s the daylight reprise thing

I want to die

To the sun, Vic. To the sun.

Munk, Tugger, be respectful. That’s your mother.

Wait that doesn’t work in this universe because Deut is female.

Oh they gave the Asian cat patterns that resemble tiger stripes hmmmm

Why couldn’t they have just filmed an actual stage version and turned that out

Oh that “smile at the old days” was god awful

How much longer oh god

I’m tired man. I wasted 6 bucks on this

Victoria just stealing Jemima’s parts

“Like a flowER as the dawn is breaking”

Okay here it is

OH COME THROUGH QUEEN. WHOLE FILM IS WORTH THIS CLIMAX

Okay so there are some cats wearing clothes and others not. What are the rules for this universe. Are they naked or are they not.

I have not shed a single tear. Usually I have by now from this show. Not a single tear.

Deut X Grizz is still my favorite ship

Is that the intro to Til I Hear You Sing that I hear. Those F to Gm chords Lloyd Webber loves.

Judi Dench stop trying to sing for the love of god.

Ah yes show off that beautiful ballet dancer that plays Vic

Aww Munk bowing to Grizz

Oh so it’s a chandelier this time and not a tire

Where’d Macavity and Bombi go

Oh there he is. What a child. Hate that.

BUSTOPHER CONFIRMED A GAY ICON

Deut being a proud mother to Munk is cute with the hands on the shoulder

Why are we reprising the first song

Also Air balloon.

WHY ARE YOU STARING AT ME JUDI DENCH

why are they all staring so intently at her too wait

Munk looks like someone is touching him inappropriately this whole scene.

Munk and Misto looking at each other

MUNK STOPPPP JESUS CHRIST DO YOU NEED TO BE REMOVED FROM THE SITUATION

The choreography doesn’t even match the beat of the song. Huh???

Misto you’re gay stop

Munk and Misto looking at each other and the shy glances away

So Grizz gets hot air balloned to death is that what I’m seeing

Oh it’s over okay

I want to cry.

It’s not as bad as I heard. Once you got used to the way things looked and just let things happen and say it might as well happen, it became a bit more enjoyable.

It’s still god awful though and let’s pray the furries never get ahold of it.

[janthonyashtoreth]

Another big batch of asks!

Answering a bunch of asks under the cut! Most of them are ink and flowers centric. I hope you all are doing well <3

anonymous asked: wait wait hold up Anathema works in Azra's tattoo parlour?? amazing, when i was thinking of making my own florist/tattoo artist au, i also had Anathema be Aziraphale's apprentice :D i like when these two are friends. do you have any more headcanons about Anathema in ink and flowers?

she does!! she was doing an apprenticeship under him but has since graduated to doing her own thing (but she still works at his parlor). i can’t get into the whole plot because spoilers but angels/demons and agnes nutter’s prophecies still exist in the iaf universe, but anathema isn’t her descendant. instead, anathema is a wickedly smart computer genius and her boyfriend newt is an endearing but kind of inept descendent of agnes. anathema was azra’s good friend-turned-wingwoman once anthony shows up. i love her

anonymous asked: concept: aziraphale seeing crowley presenting femininely for the first time how'd you think he'd react? in your flower shop tattoo artist au

anonymous asked: OKAY totally not asking bc i may or may not have been thinkin abt this for like. too long. but would anthony have to like, come out as genderfluid to azra/how would azra react to seeing anthony present more fem for the first time

ooo ive been thinking about this as well! i dont think anthony would necessarily have a “coming out moment”, they just kind of do what they want. if they feel like presenting fem or using different pronouns they would just. do it. and azra would just kind of roll with it. i like to think that the first time anthony presented fem she got all dressed up for date night and didn’t tell azra and azra just Stares bc,,,, wow anthony is just gorgeous like that!! azra’s dead!!!

anonymous asked: You're a cutie pie. That's it. That's the fact.

:’ ) you’re a sweety pie!!!

anonymous asked: i deadass tried for 20 minutes to make the finger heart...... how did your friend do it......

i have absolutely no idea and it hurts my brain,,,

anonymous asked: Wahoo

wahoo.....

@alligatorsnbats asked: OK, so what's Oscar's thoughts on Anthony?

oscar LOVES anthony... he’s the worlds most apathetic cat but he actively seeks anthony out when hes around. azra is only slightly salty about it

anonymous asked: Is Anthony cross eyed?

he’s not! i made him a little bit cross-eyed in my latest post on purpose bc he was flustered but i dont know if it came across very well ;;

anonymous asked: not to be *THAT* bitch who comes into your ask box and gushes over your art but i love the way you colour things and your clean line work?? mwah. i wish i could draw like you its just so lovely

bfdkjfdh im cry,,,, just keep practicing my friend!!! i promise it’ll get you where you want to go. the last couple of months have been really nice for me in my ~art journey~ because its the first time i’ve ever really liked stuff that i’ve drawn. ive been drawing for about 7-8 years and this is only just happening and it varies so much from person to person!! some people get to where they want to go in 2 years, some people take 20. just don’t stop practicing!!

anonymous asked: your human!crowley deserves infinite appreciation and the fact that he has coloboma: that right there! is! good shit! he has snake eyes,,,, but as a human. u are a genius good sir and your art is a blessing 👌👌👌

haha thank you!! i think coloboma (i know how to spell it now!!) is such an interesting condition and it’s kind of underused for human aus!!! its so dope!!!

@bolitakawaii-senpai asked: what would crowley's and azi's fav emojies from the cursed emojis??

asking the real questions out here..... i think crowley’s would be the one with all of the teeth and aziraphale’s (assuming he knows what they are in the first place) would be the really cute one with big eyes and the pink hairbow

anonymous asked: concept for the ink and flowers au: something happens to crowley (imma b honest i have no idea) and has a lowkey crisis and chops all his hair off and just. joins his pet snake and snakes around the nursery untill azra comes in seeing crowley crying and cuddling his snake and yeah idk enjoy my the weird shit my brain comes up with

jhuyhaijodfaydgsihfujoi RIP TO THE HAIR...... i love the angst potential (and i can come up with a few reasons for the angst, but i digress) but i dont think i could part with anthony’s hair,,, i love it too much

anonymous asked: I can't handle your ink and flowers Aziraphale. I can't. His hair is TOO fluffy. His face is TOO squishy. He is EXTREMELY friend shaped. His glasses and his eyes are bright like SPARKLES. Every time I see him I want to go feral and show all my friends. I would hug him without letting go of given the chance. 1000000000/10. 💜🐝

anonymous asked: I have a cat just like Oscar (big himbo) and I got him some knit hats for Christmas and he's gonna hate me but I can't wait to dress him up like a little bee so: does Azra ever give Oscar like costumes or footies just for fun? If yes, does Oscar love or hate? 💜🐝

isldakfj im grouping these two together bc im assuming ur the same person anon!! i love your signature!!

you’re correct. his hair IS too fluffy, and he IS entirely too friend shaped. he has the BRIGHTEST eyes. i cant contain my rabid love for him and it spills out into the art. i can’t help it. he gives the best hugs

SLADKFJ YES HE DOES..... IVE BEEN MEANING TO DRAW THIS FOR A HOT MINUTE,,,, as i mentioned earlier oscar is the world’s most apathetic cat so i dont think he would care that much but he’s not super happy about it

anonymous asked: Y'know what? I'm too tired so say smth clever so just know that I love you and your art is amazing 💕💕 PS: i love that you also tag them as Ineffable partners (i guess the point is to be gender neutral)

i love you as well anon,,, and yeah i like the ineffable partners tag! i find that it fits more with their relationship for some reason. though i still tag as ineffable husbands since its such a popular tag lksdfjdfknjbh

anonymous asked: Hello! Fist of all thank you for yor art, you are one of my favorite artists in this fandom and I have Feelings about the Ink and Flowers AU. Second: Don't feel pressured to post daily, we understand that life is complicated and art can be difficult sometimes. Take care! You're the best!

anon i would die for you!!! i never imagined that i would ever be one of anyone’s favorite artists,,,,, im speechless,,,,,,,,

and yeah unfortunately i dont think ill be able to post every other day once this coming semester starts :( i’ll probably have to cut back to once every 3. but there’s more ink and flowers coming at u guys so!! stay tuned for that

anonymous asked: Good omens characters having a game night?

i know this was sent in for the au prompts i asked for but. i dont think im physically capable of capturing the pure chaos that would ensue from this. holy shit it would be so feral. 

thank you to anyone who read this whole thing!! i read all of my asks as soon as i get them and i have a lot that i’ve been sitting on for a while. if you sent me something i promise i haven’t forgotten about it!! if you’ve sent something in that you were expecting a response to and i havent responded, just send it again to be safe in case tumblr ate it

i love all of you! <3

[the-writing-dump-bin]

So I absolutely loved your last daddy dom joot story and I would love another if you could 😍

Thank you for your request!

NSFW 18+ Jotaro x Female reader

“I didn’t think that you were one for parties…” You mumbled to your boyfriend as he pulled up the large house, a hint of bitterness in your voice. “You never want to go out when I suggest something.”

“This isn’t just a party, Y/N.” Jotaro grunted, putting the car in park and unbuckling his seat belt. “My professor is putting this on for his students. I’ve heard that he does this every year to see who stands out, it could be good if I want to become a professor myself.” He turned his head to his right, looking sternly at you sitting in the passenger seat. “So please behave.”

“Do I look like a fucking child to you?” You unbuckled yourself as well, scrunching your face. You felt a little bit of sadness. Jotaro didn’t like social gatherings, it was even a hassle trying to get him to go to a movie with you. Yet here he was, dressed in his black turtleneck, white coat and white pants. He even ditched his signature white hat for the occasion. Letting out a huff, you opened the car door and got out; Jotaro doing the same on the driver’s side. “If you had to warn me to behave, why would you even bring me? Just to make yourself look good in front of your professor and classmates?”

Jotaro didn’t answer you, walking up to the door and ringing the doorbell. Admittedly, yes, he did decide to bring you to hopefully advance his career, but he did love you and wanted to show you off to his class. He was proud of you and wanted to show off his beautiful girlfriend to the world.

~

A couple hours into the party and you became bored. You didn’t really know anybody but was introduced to a bunch of people you wouldn’t really remember. You listened to Jotaro’s professors praise him for be so outstanding in his studies and how he was exceeding expectations. You were proud of him, of course. You wanted Jotaro to be happy and achieve his goals, but tonight was feeling dull for you.

You were standing next to him while he talked with his main professor and a couple of others from his class, listening to them talk about marine animals and different sea plants. You let out a huff that only Jotaro heard, causing him to nudge you with his elbow. He wasn’t looking at you, still in conversation with the others, but his body language told you that he wanted you to stop with your bored sighs.

Pouting, you crossed your arms. Then a thought crossed your mind, something that would at least give you a bit of enjoyment and something that Jotaro hated the most - public displays of affection. Smirking, you shuffled closer to his frame, snaking your hand underneath his long, white coat and rubbed at the small of his back, dangerously close to touching his ass.

Jotaro jumped and discretely moved your hand away from his backside; still not looking at you. Then you did it again, running a finger up and down his spine then grabbed at his ass and squeezed. This time he did look at you, giving you stern eyes. Taking a step back from the conversation circle, he bent down to meet your eyes. “Stop it!” He hissed. “I told you to behave. Don’t draw this kind of attention to us.”

“I’m bored, Jotaro…” You whined. “I’m flattered you wanted me to come here with you, but I’ve been ignored all night, I might as well have been home alone. At least I could have found something to do to occupy my time.”

Rolling his eyes, he went back to the circle, listening to the ongoing discussion about their latest assignment. That didn’t stop you though. You continued your actions, this time flaunting yourself a little more and pressing your body against your boyfriend’s. Jotaro’s jaw clenched, fully annoyed with you. He felt you hook a finger on the waistband of his pants, making him shiver from your touch; blood rushing to a place where it could be visible to the others if you kept going. Bending down again, he growled at you. “I said stop it!”

“Are you going to make me, Daddy?” You slid your tongue across your teeth, grinning with lust.

Jotaro blinked and flicked his eyes to the others he was talking to, they didn’t seem to notice you calling him such an intimate title but they looked in your direction. That was the last straw. Excusing himself from the conversation, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the hallway away from the eyes of the room and pushed you against the wall. “You’re embarrassing me, Y/N. I told you how important this is to me and you’re acting like such a brat!”

You stared up at him, eyes burning into his. “Hmpf, fine! At least now I got a little attention tonight!”

Your words rang through Jotaro’s head. “Is that why you are acting like this? Because I’m not giving you attention?”

“I was just trying find some sort of entertainment.” You looked to the floor again, knowing what you had done was wrong.

“And you thought embarrassing me in front of my class would be entertaining?” He could see that you felt sorry for what you had done but he also felt a little bad for ignoring you the way he had. A switch flipped in Jotaro’s brain and he felt a rush through his body. Thinking your talking to was done, you went to return to the main parlor, only to be pinned against the wall once more by Jotaro. “Where do you think you’re going?” He growled, sliding a hand down your body and stopping at the button of your pants. Undoing the button, he slipped his hand inside your panties and push his middle finger between your folds, rubbing your clit with a vigorous movement. “You have been a bad girl tonight. You think you’re going to just get away with that?” He bent down to whisper in your ear. “Baby girl needs to be punished.”

The feeling between your legs was making you see stars in your eyes. Gripping his shoulders you gasped for breath then realized how out in the open you were. “J-Jotaro… We’re so exposed - OH!”

Two fingers entered you without warning, pumping in and out of you hard. “How dare you call me by my name after you had already called me Daddy. You should know this by now.” Pulling his hand away he lifted you and brought you into the washroom that was just off to the left. Locking the door, Jotaro moved behind you and pulled down your pants. “Bend over.” He simply demanded.

You did want you were told, placing your hands on the sides of the sink to brace yourself. A strong, firm slap connected to your ass. And then another and another and another. You whimpered in pain and tears ran down your face; a red welt in the shape of a hand print forming on your skin. When he thought you had enough due to the sting he was feeling in his own hand, he stopped and backed up a little.

You gasped for breath, trying to recover from the intense spanking you had just received, but you ended up holding it again when your heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down. Bringing your head up, you looked at yourself in the mirror in front of you before glancing over your shoulder at the large man behind you.

Jotaro placed his hands on your hips, sliding them up and down your skin before he lifted you slightly to line up with your entrance. “This is the kind of attention you wanted, right?” He shoved his cock into your dripping pussy, sliding in with ease as he gripped at your flesh. “Nnngghh… I love how you’re always ready for me.”

“O-Of course, Dad-dy…!” You wrapped your legs around him the best you could in this position. One of your hands moved from it’s place on the side of the sink and moved to the wall, trying to keep a good balance as Jotaro start snapping his hips against you. “Ahh…ahh…ahh…” You panted and moaned.

Jotaro put a hand over your mouth, quieting your noises. “Shhhh… You don’t want anyone to hear us, do you?” Deep inhales went through your nose, eyes wide, you shook your head. A devilish grin formed on Jotaro’s face as he moved his hand to hold your chin, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “Look at yourself as Daddy fucks your tight pussy, but be quiet. If you make a noise, I won’t give you what you want. Do you understand?”

You were about to say ‘yes’ but stopped yourself and just nodded, looking yourself in the eyes while you received the thick cock behind you. The way Jotaro was moving and growling in your ear, you could tell he was trying to get you to break and make any kind of noise, even if it was just the smallest whimper, but you held yourself in check.

Still with a firm grip on your chin, he press his cheek against your own. “Look at you taking Daddy’s dick so well. You’re obeying orders, too. You’re being such a good girl now.” Hard thrusts picked up and you felt your core burn with the threat of your orgasm about to explode. “Cum for Daddy, Y/N. Squeeze those walls around my cock and watch yourself cum.”

Heavy, but quiet, panting emitted from you. The feeling of Jotaro’s long, hard cock hitting and stretching you in all the right places was out of this world. He could tell you were about to erupt and he went faster.

There it was. You reached your release; walls clamping around him and mouth hung open as you watched your orgasm take over your body. It wasn’t long before Jotaro spilled into you as well, filling you up with every drop of his seed as he bit down at the flesh between your neck and shoulder.

Coming down from your highs, Jotaro remained connected to you, wrapping his strong arms around your torso as he kissed at the bite he gave you. “I’m sorry for ignoring you tonight. We can go home if you want.”

Pulling your hand away from the wall, you placed your arm on top of Jotaro’s, turning your head slightly to kiss his forehead. As much as you wanted to go home, you decided to stay a little bit longer until he was ready to leave on his own and not when you wanted to.